#oc eris

[practically-an-x-man]

Ok ever since I sent out that "what your characters would say is their favorite thing about their partners vs. their actual favorite" ask to a few friends I've been wanting to do it for my own OCs/ships so here goes:

(long and somewhat sappy-romantic post ahead, you've been warned)

____

Rae Would Say: Warren's eyes Her Actual Favorite: The moments when he shows his gentleness and kindness in subtle ways, like offering to help carry a stranger's groceries out to their car for them if he sees them struggling. He doesn't always believe he's a good person after what he's been through, but she loves to see how kindness still seems automatic to him despite that doubt.

Warren W. Would Say: The way Rae puts her hand on his back, right between his wings, when she comes up behind him His Actual Favorite: How unbelievably dedicated she is to protecting the things she loves - it can border on dangerous and that scares him, but he's also included in that list and it makes him feel valued and wanted.

____

Robin Would Say: How Peter can turn anything into a good time Her Actual Favorite: How much focus and attention he gives to her, especially when it comes to things like learning ASL or helping her through her TBI recovery. She knows slowing down isn't easy for him, but it means a lot that he's willing to take the time to learn and support her.

Peter M. Would Say: Robin's singing voice His Actual Favorite: Genuinely her singing voice, though really it runs deeper than just liking the way it sounds - it's tied to how they first met, he finds it calming and just hearing her sing can make him happy after a bad day, and it's even more special since it took a while for her to start singing again after her TBI

____

Madison Would Say: The way he always has her back Her Actual Favorite: The way he makes her feel at ease - it takes a lot for her to genuinely trust someone enough to let her guard down all the way, and she loves that she can relax around him.

Alex Would Say: The little fascination she has with his hands (she'll just reach for his hands and start kind of...fidgeting with them? He finds it wildly endearing) His Actual Favorite: The way she unconsciously leans into him even when she's asleep - like she knows it's him and trusts him even when she's not even awake

____

Ophelia Would Say: The way she can joke with him Her Actual Favorite: The way he really understands and empathizes with what she's been through, even the dark patches of her life

Peter P. Would Say: Her intellect and quick wit His Actual Favorite: Similar to Ophelia's actual answer, the way she understands the dark parts of his life and helps him move past them

____

Gia Would Say: Kate's laugh Her Actual Favorite: The way Kate doesn't judge her for her anxiety issues or illness flares, and the way she'll try to rearrange the plans to accommodate them so they don't have to cancel things entirely

Kate Would Say: When Gia gets a little flustered- it's just adorable! Her Actual Favorite: The way Gia's willing to expand her comfort zone for her... that's not easy for her and Kate knows it, and even more once she has the context for everything Gia went through before, so it means a lot that she's willing to expand those boundaries.

____

Jasper Would Say: How he's always there for them - even when they've had fights, he always shows up when they need them Their Actual Favorite: Same as above, but with the context that their dad got into an accident just a few days after Jasper and Kyle got into a big fight, and Kyle still showed up and drove them across three states so they could be there for their dad- he really does show up when it counts

Kyle Would Say: How they don't flinch at the bad times, they just take it all in stride His Actual Favorite: How unafraid they are to be themself - it takes a lot of guts to be openly alt and openly queer in Louisiana, especially while still being a part of female-dominated spaces like nursing and roller derby, and he respects the hell out of them for it

____

Kestrel Would Say: His eyes, they're that gorgeous hazel color that reminds them of autumn leaves Their Actual Favorite: His confidence, both out in the field and in their relationship. He's steady when Kestrel falters, and that's what they need sometimes.

Warren B. Would Say: Their adaptability and problem-solving His Actual Favorite: The place they've found amid his family - his family is everything to him, and so is Kestrel, and he's grateful to see them find a home with him.

____

Katherine Would Say: His chivalry, he's always such a gentleman Her Actual Favorite: She really does love his chivalry, he treats her with so much respect and she always feels incredibly loved and valued

Ahk Would Say: Her creativity His Actual Favorite: How open-minded she is - and not even about the magic itself, she's just always willing to learn more about the people around her, and she never has judgements about their experiences

____

Quinn Would Say: How he notices all the little details Their Actual Favorite: All the little things he does to support her, and how he genuinely enjoys doing those things for her - it's never a burden to him, he just wants her to be happy and will do anything he can to make that happen

Billy Would Say: The way she looks, he just thinks she's stunning His Actual Favorite: How they've always got each other's backs, he can always count on her to watch out for him, to have a backup plan ready if things go wrong, and to trust her when he's not sure who else to trust.

____

Eris Would Say: His body - they'd insist it's a purely physical, carnal attraction His Actual Favorite: How Rick seems to see her as more than just a weapon or an embodiment of chaos, he seems to genuinely value them as a person and see the depth that others - even Eris themself - tend to miss

Rick Would Say: Those quiet late-night moments where Eris allows himself to be soft His Actual Favorite: The little moments when Eris proves they care about him - tossing his favorite snacks into the grocery cart, stashing an extra mag in their armor pouch so he doesn't run out of ammo, the rare moment they openly show that affection in larger ways, etc.

____

Nikoletta Would Say: Abner's gentleness Her Actual Favorite: The way he always seems to notice when she needs attention or support, even when she's bad at noticing that for herself. He's good at pulling her away from her self-destructive and isolating spirals

Abner Would Say: *wouldn't actually be able to articulate any verbal thoughts, it's too on-the-spot and too personal His Actual Favorite: The way he never feels like a burden when it comes to her - he's able to speak his mind, he's able to express his wants and needs and have those things actually met instead of ignored, she remembers his routines, etc.

____

Jimmy Would Say: Lars' intelligence His Actual Favorite: The fact that no matter how much of a workhorse Lars can be, and no matter how much he might put up a show of being annoyed when Jimmy tries to coax him to take a break, he always does put a bookmark in his work if Jimmy asks. The theatrics are just for fun - he knows where Lars' priorities really lie.

Lars Would Say: Jimmy's genuine kindness and generosity His Actual Favorite: His intrinsic love for humanity and the people around him, no matter their background - not only surprising for a man of his background, but refreshing against a world of cynics.

____

Vivienne Would Say: How strong and competent he looks when he's working on the ship Its Actual Favorite: His pet names for her - she finds them endearing, for one, but it's also reassuring to have those little reminders of how he cares about her since she didn't get that affection or respect from her first husband

Wojchek Would Say: Her stories His Actual Favorite: How transparent it is - it wants something and it tells him without waiting for him to guess, she tells him she loves him all the time, she might enjoy playing with language but she's very clear about what she feels

____

Indigo Would Say: How well-spoken he is Her Actual Favorite: Just how much he cares about her - maybe that feels cheap, but for someone who's been on her own effectively from the beginning, there's something incredibly valuable about everything he's willing to do for her in both the big gestures and the little moments

Hux Would Say: How she's so unafraid to be herself His Actual Favorite: How she's always seen him as more than his past or his reputation; he can't change the past, but he's trying to be better, and her faith in him helps him fight for that.

____

Prometheus Would Say: His voice Their Actual Favorite: The way he always reaches for them. He's always got an arm around their shoulders, a hand on their knee when they're sitting down, an excuse to hold them when they take a break for the night... it's like he always wants to keep them close.

Corinthian Would Say: Their dedication to what they do His Actual Favorite: The fact that he's not exempt from their protectiveness if he were to harm the dreamers they defend - it seems a little backwards, but to him it helps keep things grounded, and it reminds him that they really see him for what he is and not just some romanticized image of him.

____

Might add Spider and Terra later on, but I don't have a firm grasp on their relationship dynamics just yet.

[tdaywasamaritale]

what if i give myself away, to only get it given back?

(neris board for @yaboieif and @jingledbell)

[carnivorousyandeere]

Maybe Eris acting unhinged? like insanely jealous or something?

Imagine Cecilia keeps you at the Cliffside Inn to repay a debt she orchestrated… you’re just trying to do your job as waitstaff in the casino to repay it. Serving platters of food and drink, chatting politely with customers.

Eris can’t stand watching you talk with other people. She interrupts your conversation, pressing herself against your side and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“E-Eris!” You try to protest as she leads you away, roughly grabbing the platter with xir other hand and letting it clatter onto a random table. You hide your face, mortified, as the angry voices of customers follow the two of you a short distance.

Once she’s got you alone, she pins you to the wall with a growl. “The fuck are you doing out there?”

“I-I’m just—”

Eris leans in, pressing her face into your neck and inhaling deeply. You shudder, and she presses you against the wall more firmly. Xir grip hurts. You try to say so, but she only grumbles and holds on a little tighter. Her sharp teeth press against the skin of your neck. Your heartbeat races, uncertainty and the reminder that you’re a prey animal to something like her turning your legs to jelly. Eris only lets go after breathing your scent for altogether too long.

Xe finally releases you with one last agitated snarl, looking down on you as you sink to the floor. She rolls her shoulders irritably as she walks out towards the beach, letting the both of you compose yourselves.

[ludcake]

I think I'm in love with ur oc. do u have any more ocs to share with us?

yes. i do actually!!!

I have so many of them. in the brain

Quick list and you can follow it up with a specific ask about them!!

Alyseris Rogare, a scion of House Rogare long after they lost nearly everything in the Lyseni Spring - all she has is the family name. Daughter of the Old Blood of Volantis. Thinks Westeros fucking sucks compared to Essos - thinks that peasantry and feudalism is just slavery with more steps (and this is bad because it's not *just* slavery). comically missing the point of the cycles of tragedy because whenever the tragedy starts rolling they hop on a boat and skip before it gets too bad. Used to be the wife of a Ghiscari noble but jumped ship and left him with their kid. Actually a trained brava. Incredible gender swag

Lady Asha Codd, of Codd Hall. She has a twin named Yara Codd. They're both married to another set of twins who are their cousins. They might actually all be siblings instead of cousins. She thinks it's a shame that House Codd's words are "Though All Men Do Despise Us". Thinks people should like them better, so she invests her money and house funds into mimicking a Greenlander court. Comically misses the point as the incest, stealing, reaving, thralldom and cannibalism still happen, she's just now prim and proper about it and has a single silken gown she bought from Lannisport and likes staring at the pretty stained glass window that broke when they stole it from a motherhouse. Very much manners forward.

Lord Mors Dustin. Actual total freak. Lord of Barrowton circa Dunk & Egg, so right after the Spring Sickness - everyone in his family died and he's obsessed with it <3 he spends all the money of House Dustin into barrows and graves and turns farmlands into graveyards and knows the cause of death of every major family in their lands at least five generations back. Thinks that the ghosts talk to him sometimes, he actually just has really bad insomnia. Convinced that he'll die under very specific circumstances. Gets into a relationship with a wildling that wants to murder him real bad during the Raymun Redbeard thing. It's cute and very violent

Lenore Sand beloved..... She's an Orphan of the Greenblood. Daughter of a major courtier in the Sunspear court and an Orphan, was raised by her mom until she almost drowned in the greenblood and got sick from it, was dumped on dad's footstep after that. Really keeps to the Rhoynish customs, dreams of getting to do a pilgrimage to the Rhoyne. Also a Greenseer!! But in a weird Rhoynish vibe of being underwater.... merging with fish and turtles and eels and critters. keeps a pet white raven she stole from the citadel that she named after her annoying younger legitimate brother Edgar and makes the raven say bad things in his voice

Lady Eris Hightower. Originally an Oakheart, she married a second son of House Redwyne. It was originally a pretty classic courtly romance, and they got married, but he didn't actually want kids!! And that fucked with her deeply because. Like. That destroys every conceit of womanhood in Westeros, right? And it's not like they have protection, so it's just. Moon tea and moon tea and being on bed half the time until eventually he dies mysteriously :). She marries a widower but childless Lord Hightower and they actually have a pretty good relationship, until he goes off with Daeron the Daring into Dorne with her eldest son and that's a breaking point. She goes full stereotype of an evil lady - she starts sleeping with septas, septons, knights and courtiers, ruling the court while he's at war and occupying Dorne, when he returns she's a little bit pregnant and the baby comes out not really looking like her or the dad, so she dyes her hair to pretend her hair was the right color all along for the kid :) kills her husband again so that's two for two and rules as regent for her children for a good hot second. just everything wrong with feudalism in a single woman. she was driven crazy by it and she's the exact flavour of crazy that only these highly hierarchical and fucked systems can produce.

Florian Storm! This is my less fucked OC but I still love them. They're a Steward of the Night's Watch that thoroughly embezzles the NW's funds to get themselves nice silks and jewellery and trades with the wildlings on the side to get some better food and all that. Bastard from House Trant, was gonna be a maester because they were an awful fighter and their dad hated them for that and being feminine until they beat up an acolyte a bit too much and they died (this is because they were having gay sex on the side and it spiraled out). the fact that they were condemned to hang for murder made their dad very happy and proud of them so they got to pack to the Wall with a nice set of sable gloves and mink cloak. They're just a bit scummy <3

those are the big ones!! I also have a few I haven't developed quite as much like Steffon Pyke, local loser maester who is a meathead but had to struggle through citadel college because the alternative was indentured servitude (they later get involved in colonialism), Alyn Whitewolf, who is a freefolk songstress descended very distantly from Jon in an AU where he stays with the wildlings instead of going back to the NW (her mission is going south to steal a wife <3) and Ser Robert Buckwell, knight of the Kingsguard who is utterly uninterested in anything but straightbaiting girls with his perfect little shining golden armor and big vow to never shed blood (this is why he uses a mace to make sure all the bleeding is internal) while sleeping with another knight of the Kingsguard on the side. he's like if the kingsguard was a boyband for real

[practically-an-x-man]

oooooh yeah I can definitely see that!! Powerful vibes all around <3333

source

📸 Jonathan Weiner

[ijustwannahavefunn]

Look at my babies 🔫🎃

[practically-an-x-man]

Oh wow this really IS Eris! Thanks for sharing!

You are a literal god who pretends to be a d-list superhero. You’ve grown extremely attached to the people of the village you protect. You get news that an epic battle is taking place near your village and would most likely destroy it…

[practically-an-x-man]

Since I was just talking about this with a friend... here's the symbolism for my various OCs' names!

At least... here are the main OCs, though I usually apply symbolism to the antagonists, secondary characters, etc. as well (I can talk about them too, but that would make this post ridiculously long)

____

Rachel "Rae" Ayla McKinney: the name Rae is used as a shortened nickname from Rachel, but on its own means "protector" - fitting, with her protective personality and ability to create impenetrable energy shields! Middle name was chosen from her grandmother's first name; the same grandmother that she inherited her mutation from. Surname was not chosen with intentional deeper meaning, just chosen for a Scottish surname. Hero name, Aegis, is a reference to Athena's mythological shield.

Robin Eleanor Cassidy: first name is both a traditionally Irish name and links back to the music- and sound-based themes within her story. Middle name is also Irish in origin, and can be seen as a variation on the name Leonore, as in the opera Fidelio. Surname wasn't chosen with deeper symbolic meaning, just to connect her to the X-Men's Cassidy family as a whole. Hero name, Aria, is a reference to her sound-based mutation and operatic background.

Madison Sarah Douglas: first name has multiple derived forms, one of which means "strength in battle", and was also chosen with nicknames in mind to symbolize the stages of her life: she goes by Maddie until she's 15, then leaves that behind once she runs to the wilderness and begins going only by her full name, then begins to adopt the nickname "Mads" as she grows comfortable with Alex. Middle name was chosen from a list of popular names for the time, intended to be simple and unassuming like Madison's parents (her mother especially) expected her to be. Surname is can be translated from Gaidhlig to mean "black stream", a symbol towards her aquatic-based mutation. Hero name, Lionfish, is a reference to the physical traits her mutation grants her, and in the earlier stages of her story can be seen as foreshadowing towards the venomous fins and more lionfish-like traits she will later develop.

Ophelia Jo Octavius: first name stems from the Shakespearean Ophelia, intended both to connect her to her literary-focused mother and to foreshadow the tragedy she will experience throughout her life (and at one point, foreshadows her multiversal variant that genuinely goes mad and later dies to her own actions). Middle name is also literary, stemming from Little Women; however, her middle name is only Jo, not the full Josephine, meant to symbolism Ophelia standing apart from expectations. Surname is not chosen with deeper meaning, just to tie her into the canon Octavius family, but the alliteration of her first and last name is meant to be "superhero-like" and further connect her to her father. Hero name, Argonaut, represents both Jason's mythological Argo and a species of pelagic octopus.

Giovanna "Gia" Isabelle Pantazis: First name, in both its full and shortened forms, translates to "God is gracious", symbolizing Gia's faith and feeling that her surviving HYDRA was an act of God's will. Middle name also holds faith-based translations to further this symbolism. Surname is derived from the Greek blessing "live forever!", representing how having her life force bound to her clover makes her effectively immortal (at least in certain ways).

Jasper Nightingale Wilson: First name was chosen from a list of modern gender-neutral names, mainly meant to be a fitting, likely choice for a name a genderfluid teen would choose for themself in the 2010s. Middle name was chosen to honor Florence Nightingale, Jasper's personal hero and the person that inspired them to go into nursing. Surname can be derived in some ways from "desire", but was also chosen for an ongoing joke with their partner about having "two first names". Derby name, Gemstone, is meant as a connection to the name Jasper. [note: I will not be analyzing the symbolism of their deadname, and I didn't choose extensive symbolism for their deadname even if there's some to potentially be found. The only thing I chose to line up is that they chose their former derby name to be derivative of their first name, the same way Gemstone is derived from Jasper]

Indigo: Uses no surname until marriage - first because she didn't know her family, later as an act of rebellion for how "loaded" her family surnames would be. She chose her first name herself, for the deep blue color of her eyes, because being a foundling on the dog-eat-dog world of Corellia meant nobody bothered to choose a proper name for her (prior to choosing her name, her guardians would just summon her with "girl!" or "hey, you!"). Name was also chosen with a nickname in mind, both to provide variety and as a symbol of familiarity as she moves through the story.

Prometheus: Name as a nightmare was Nyx (from the Greek god of night), or the Fear of the Dark, for them being a primal nightmare of the dark. Name as a dream keeps the Greek mythological roots, but represents them claiming fire for the sake of the human dreamers they choose to protect, as well as representing the day-by-day injury they undergo in order to protect those same dreamers. The transition from Nyx to Prometheus also represents them becoming closer to their human dreamers - beginning as a primordial god, ending as a human hero.

Eris: Given name from Themyscira was Adamantia, meaning "untameable" or "unbreakable". After their bloodlust and sense for conflict became clear to the people around them, those on Themyscira began referring to them as Eris - believing they were an embodiment of conflict itself, a reincarnation of the Greek god Eris (similar to the Ares story in Wonder Woman)

Nikoletta Bordeaux: First name means "victorious" and is drawn from the Greek Nike. Surname is a region in France, but has no other translated or derived meaning (especially considering that Nikoletta's family stem from Louisiana Cajun French, not traditional French, and the further linguistic separation there). Altogether, her name symbolizes "a victory that means nothing", indicating the various façades she implements while in Belle Reve - holding a position that only grants her power while within the prison, and her abilities themselves being used as a symbol for death while actually having no tangible danger.

Azalea Jordan "AJ" Campbell: First name is a flower, connecting her to her mother Violet as well as representing her career as an assassin in disguise: azaleas are beautiful flowers, but are toxic to humans and animals. Middle name, as well as her nickname, are intentionally gender-neutral, meant to symbolize her ongoing disguises and anonymity as an assassin (since the names apply to any gender, there are fewer visual assumptions that can be made about her). Surname translates to "crooked mouth", representing and foreshadowing the reveal of her facial scars.

Quinn: Any surname or former name for her have not been revealed or even decided, and I don't intend to choose any - that stage of her life has been left long in the past, and she's intentionally placed a distinction between that life and her current identity. The name Quinn has various meanings: it can be derived from "wise", "beautiful", or "chief", but was also chosen in-universe as a reference to Harley Quinn. Her rooftop name, Aces, furthers the association with Harley Quinn, decks/suits of cards, and luck/gambling.

Kestrel: Name and character design as a whole are pulled from an American kestrel - solitary animals save for their lifelong mating bonds, known to be adaptable to a variety of habitats and nesting conditions, and extremely effective hunters despite their small size. Former name, Deborah "Debbie" Browning, was merely meant as a mundane and human identity for them to have held before they revealed themself as a changeling.

Katherine Alessia Johnson: Name is largely derived from the NASA astronomer Katherine Johnson, known for contributing valuable research and computations to the moon landing (the moon symbolism also being tied back to the moonlight-powered Tablet of Khonsu). Middle name Alessia means "defender" or "truthful", notable elements of Katherine's character as well as her connection to Bastet, the Egyptian god of domestic protectiveness.

James "Jimmy" Aaron Luciano: As a whole, name was just chosen on a whim based on what sounded right, and wasn't intended with particular deeper meaning aside from being a period-accurate name for an Italian-American New Yorker in the 1910s. However, there is symbolism to be found in that both his former partner Robert and current love interest Lars choose to refer to him as James rather than his nickname.

Vivienne Siversdatter Andenæs: First name means "life", representing her being saved from death by her transformation into a siren - the name was also chosen to be a classically beautiful and feminine name, both for a siren's ethereal beauty and as a subversion towards Vivienne being nonbinary (at least, that it would be nonbinary by modern standards). Middle name is a family surname from Norwegian naming conventions, preserving her father's name. Surname has no listed translation or meaning, but is also Norwegian in origin.

Souriya "Spider" Prakash-Cooper: First name is Lao in origin and means "sun" to symbolize his explosive energy and social "brightness", and was chosen by his parents to honor his maternal grandfather. Surname is his parents hyphenated last names - his mother Adhira Prakash and his father Darius Cooper. Prakash also means "sunlight" to double that earlier symbolism; and while the surname Cooper originally derives from barrel-making, the name was chosen more for the juxtaposition between his father's family in America and his mother's family across India and Laos. His nickname Spider comes from friends at his speed-climbing gym, who gave him the nickname for his long limbs and fast, eclectic climbing strategy.

[twsted-canvas]

"Why are you afraid? A wonderful future awaits you."

In which Eri takes 2 weeks to draw and animate a 10-second static scene 😆 enjoy!

SFX used: x x

[carnivorousyandeere]

how would the cliffside yans be like with a darling that is possessive of them?

( MDNI, No Age in Bio DNI )

CW: violence, murder, unhealthy relationships, d/s dynamics in some ways, enabling

Kurtis: happier than a puppy in a room full of tennis balls. Dramatically swooning into your arms about it. Kurtis’ dream, after all, is to be your possession, your accessory, your plaything, your lover— anything yours. He also kind of likes to tease you about it, though~! If you’re more of the shy and sensitive type, he won’t go out of his way to make you jealous because he wouldn’t want to see you cry, but he also thinks it’s cute when you’re pouting from jealousy and clinging to him. If you’re more of the confident and aggressive type, Kurtis might let other people flirt with him, so he can see you get riled up (and maybe have jealous sex~).

Cecilia: thinks it’s cute, romantic, even sexy. You might even catch her hiding a blush and a smile with a fan~! It’s kind of like foreplay or dirty talk to her, in some way. She might softly chide you and whisper in your ear to save that kind of thing for the bedroom, where she’ll allow you to smother her with your affection and tell her how jealous you were of other people getting to talk to her at that boring business meeting. She’s not ashamed of you and being yours, but she’s also more private and not very big on PDA.

Isla: Isla is so satisfied and content, like a cat that got the cream~! And honestly, with her job as a singer, she gets a lot of unwanted attention from patrons of the Cliffside, and so it’s a relief when you shoo those other people away. She’s extremely likely to feed into that behavior, almost training you like a dog to keep being so possessive and protective by giving you all the treats and affection you could want. Deep down, Isla’s still filled with anxiety, wondering if your feelings that seemed to burst like flames might fizzle out just as quickly one day. You might catch her staring off into space with that conflicted look as she ponders what she’ll do when that day comes— she’s increasingly sure it will, the more you know about her— but if you ask what she’s thinking of, she just smiles, presses a kiss to your nose and brushes off the question.

Airna: Gets very flustered about it, constantly blushing up a storm. It makes her heart race whenever you tell people to back off, that she’s yours! It makes her heart race even more if you actually get into a fight for her (though she would never instigate, like Kurtis might). She daydreams about that a lot, getting hot under the collar thinking about you caving somebody’s skull in, and then getting to take care of you after. Forgive her if she squirms a little bit on your lap while staunching the bleeding from your eyebrow, and bites her lip if you hiss at the burn of the disinfectant…

Eris: confused, discombobulated, in disarray. Like a cat that watches you comfortably from a distance, so you think they might want some scritches, then hisses when you try to approach. As obsessed as xe is with you, the unexpected constant proximity of you makes her heart beat too fast and her mouth water. It lights xir nerves up to an almost painful degree. She can’t handle it, and so she tries to retreat to that safe distance to watch you from. It’s rather confusing, to be honest, having her scare other people away from her and then acting strange when you try to do the same for her. It makes xir anxious to see you start fights she’s not confident you can finish. If your possessiveness and clinginess start slow and grow with time, it’s much easier for Eris to adjust.

[carnivorous-arboretum]

whew, ok.... my big project is finished! my own refs and headcanons for a whole lot of ffxiv characters, as well as me and my friends' ocs :3 [wheeze]

[bookwormjust]

Hidden pregnancy (established relationship Eris, protective hound)

You’ve noticed it for the past few weeks—Eris’s chief hound, the leader of the pack, has become more possessive, hovering around you constantly. His behavior has shifted from his usual loyalty to something far more intense. He never leaves your side, growling at anyone who comes too close, even Eris on occasion. At first, you found it endearing, but now, the overprotectiveness is becoming hard to ignore.

You’re in the sitting room of your shared estate in the Autumn Court, lounging by the fire. The hound lies at your feet, his golden eyes fixed on you with a sharp, almost vigilant focus. Anytime you move, he’s right there, nudging at you gently as if to keep you still. It’s almost as if he knows something you don’t.

Eris had been busy, as usual, with the duties of being the High Lord, but today he finally found time to join you for a rare moment of peace. He enters the room, his fiery hair catching the light, and as soon as he steps toward you, the chief hound growls low, his massive body shifting to block Eris’s approach.

“Again?” Eris mutters, eyebrows raised as he glances between you and the hound, a mixture of amusement and mild frustration in his amber eyes. “He’s been acting like this for weeks. What’s gotten into him?”

You shake your head, resting your hand on the hound’s massive shoulder. “I don’t know. He’s just... more protective than usual.” You give the hound a reassuring pat, trying to calm his overprotective instincts, but he remains tense, standing between you and Eris like a sentinel.

Eris sighs, walking around the hound cautiously, his gaze softening as it falls on you. “Has anything felt different?” he asks, sitting beside you and taking your hand gently. “Any reason he might be sensing something?”

You shrug, leaning into Eris’s touch. “I’ve been a little tired, but I thought it was just stress. You’ve been busy, I’ve been restless—maybe he’s picking up on that.”

Eris watches you closely, his brows knitting together in thought. His hand moves to your cheek, gently tilting your head to meet his gaze. “You’ve been more than tired. I can tell.”

Before you can respond, the hound lets out another low growl, his nose twitching as he presses closer to you, almost nuzzling your abdomen. You laugh softly, though the possessiveness in his eyes makes you feel slightly unsettled. “See what I mean?” you say, gesturing toward the hound. “He’s never this intense.”

Eris is silent for a moment, his sharp gaze flicking from the hound to you. Slowly, his eyes narrow, his posture stiffening. “Wait...”

His nostrils flare slightly as he leans closer, inhaling deeply, his focus entirely on your scent now. His eyes widen suddenly, and you see the shock and realization wash over him, his usual calm composure faltering.

“By the Cauldron...” he breathes, his voice low, filled with awe and disbelief. “You’re pregnant.”

You blink at him, stunned, your heart racing. “What? No, I—I couldn’t be...”

But before you can finish the sentence, the truth of it hits you. The exhaustion, the small changes in your body you’d brushed off—all of it suddenly makes sense. Your hand instinctively moves to your stomach, where the hound had been so possessively guarding.

Eris reaches out, his hand gently covering yours, his expression softening with a mixture of joy and concern. “He knew before I did,” he says, glancing at the hound, who is now lying at your feet, his head resting protectively on your lap, watching both of you with sharp, possessive eyes.

You’re still processing the news, your mind spinning. “How is that possible? It’s too early—”

“Fae hounds are attuned to life in ways we aren’t,” Eris says softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “He sensed it before your scent changed enough for me to detect it.”

You look down at the hound, a new understanding settling over you. His protectiveness, his possessiveness—it wasn’t just instinct, it was his way of guarding the new life growing inside you, something he had known long before either you or Eris.

Tears prick at your eyes as you meet Eris’s gaze, overwhelmed by the sudden realization. “We’re going to have a baby.”

Eris smiles, a rare, genuine warmth in his expression as he leans forward to kiss your forehead. “Yes, we are,” he whispers, his voice full of love and wonder. “And he’s already started guarding both of you, hasn’t he?”

The hound lets out a soft huff, as if in agreement, settling more comfortably by your side, his head resting protectively against your stomach.

Eris wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his lips brushing the top of your head. “I promise, I’ll protect you both with everything I have.”

And with his hound at your side, you know he means every word.

[surielstea]

Embers Entwined

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader was one of the most affected by Beron’s rule, after his death Eris was crowned High Lord and Reader became his personal servant by extension, what happens when she begins to recognize Eris for his kindness and not his cruelty?

Warnings: Beron being a right asshole as usual, and some kissing (*gasp* the scandal!)

A.Note: Sorry it’s been forever!! This one took me awhile but I’m pretty happy with it. Hope you guys enjoy too! Some Azriel smut coming out in a few days also! 💋💋

Word count: 7.9k

The ball was decadent, far grander than in previous years, though I supposed tonight warranted the excess. A special occasion, one that carried far more meaning than the usual frivolous gatherings meant only to remind the rich of their own wealth.

Tonight, the Autumn Court celebrated the coronation of Eris Vanserra. More importantly to me, we celebrated Beron's death.

I would never say such a thing aloud, never give voice to the hatred that simmered in my veins. But I knew I was not alone in my sentiments. Most despised that wretched male—just not enough to ever act against him. Beron had been cruel, but only to those within his grasp. His wife. His sons. His staff. Me, in particular—his personal courtier.

It had been my duty to obey him without question, to smile and nod and endure, no matter what vile thing he asked of me. The words he'd spoken to me, the way he'd toyed with me, broken me, forced me into submission—I would never find peace after him. I knew that.

I stood against the wall of the ballroom, my hands clasped in front of me, a pleasant, vacant smile painted on my lips. The same as always. My black dress marked me as staff, distinguishing me from the nobles twirling beneath the golden glow of the chandeliers. It wasn't an ugly dress—not physically—but the symbolism it carried made my stomach churn.

I was meant to be invisible. To stand for hours, heels biting into my feet, lips aching from feigned delight, waiting. Always waiting for the High Lord's command. That was my place.

But tonight, for the first time at an event like this, someone spoke to me. Not just someone. The newly crowned High Lord.

"Do you not wish to dance?"

His voice was smoother than I expected, rich and effortless, as though the words required no thought. When I turned my head, Eris Vanserra stood before me, resplendent in his deep forest green attire, gold-threaded embroidery glinting beneath the chandeliers. Rings adorned his fingers, catching the light as he gestured vaguely toward the center of the ballroom.

I had known Eris Vanserra since I was a girl—back when my father served as Beron's personal courtier and I trained under him, shadowing his every move. In those early years, Eris and I spent countless hours in the kennels, where I had been sent to feed the hounds, and he had sought my company. Even then, I knew better than to refuse a Vanserra. But it hadn't felt like an order. Not when he spoke so passionately about his dogs, his amber eyes alight with something rare and unguarded.

I had listened, quietly captivated, as he ran his hands through thick fur, naming each hound like they were something precious, something his father could not tarnish. And though I rarely spoke, I knew he never minded.

But time had a way of reshaping things. Our duties grew heavier, our paths diverged, and whatever thread had once tied us together frayed beneath the weight of expectation. I often wondered if he remembered—the girl who once sat beside him in the straw-covered kennels, listening in rapt silence as he spoke of things he loved. Or if I had faded into nothing more than a ghost of his childhood, long forgotten.

I snapped back to the present when I realized my hesitation, startled by his presence, by his question. By him.

I glanced at him only briefly before averting my gaze. I had long since learned better than to expect kindness from the Vanserras, Eris or not. "I'm working, my lord," I answered smoothly, forcing the usual mask into place. "Besides, the late Lord Beron was always particular about the servantry enjoying themselves at these sorts of things."

A flicker of something crossed Eris's face at my words. Perhaps it was amusement, perhaps something else. I wasn't certain. Then, he did something I never would have expected. He extended his hand to me, palm up. A silent command. I stared at it, my heart stuttering.

Was this a trick? A test? Was he waiting for me to disobey so he could remind me of my place? "Well," he mused, tilting his head, "I'm not Beron, am I?"

I swallowed thickly, but I did not take his hand. His amber eyes gleamed as he studied me, something unreadable lurking beneath their molten depths. "You were my father's personal courtier, yes?"

"Correct, my lord."

"And now that he's gone, you're mine." A statement, not a question.

I nodded.

"And you're required to do as I say."

Another nod.

"Then take my hand." His voice was softer now, quieter. "Dance with me." My breath caught in my throat. I hesitated. Was he attempting to humiliate me?

I had seen what his brothers were capable of, how they had reveled in Beron's cruelty, how they had wielded it against others for their own entertainment. I had heard the stories about Eris—his ruthlessness, his ambition, his callous disregard for those beneath him. I had no reason to believe he was any different.

Yet something about the way he stood there, hand still outstretched, gaze unwavering, made my stomach tighten. He wasn't forcing me. He wasn't demanding. He was patient. I hated him for that. For making me doubt my own certainty.

But in the end, I had no choice. With a deep inhale, I placed my hand in his. His fingers curled around mine—warm, steady. Not gripping. But I knew better than to believe in illusions.

Eris Vanserra was his father's son. And I would never trust him.

The moment my hand settled in his, a hush seemed to fall over the space around us—not total silence, but a ripple in the atmosphere, a shift in attention that pressed against my skin like a physical thing.

They were watching. The nobles, the courtiers, the sycophants who had spent years learning to fear and obey Beron, and by extension, his eldest son. They watched, likely waiting for me to make a mistake, waiting to see what game Eris Vanserra was playing.

I was waiting, too. But if this was some cruel trick, he did not let it show.

Eris led me toward the dance floor with unhurried ease, his grip firm but not forceful. A reminder, perhaps, that I was following him willingly. I didn't know what unsettled me more—that he had given me a real choice, or that, despite knowing better, a part of me wanted to believe he truly meant no harm.

The moment we stepped onto the floor, the nearest dancers shifted subtly away, giving us space without making it obvious. No one wanted to be caught in the High Lord's wake, in whatever he was planning.

He turned to face me, releasing my hand only to settle one warm palm against my waist, the other clasping mine once more. I stiffened beneath his touch, the weight of it burning even through the fabric of my dress.

"Relax," he murmured, amusement curling through his tone. "It's a dance, not an execution."

I forced my muscles to remain neutral, my expression placid, though I could still feel the weight of a hundred gazes searing into me. "That remains to be seen."

His lips curved slightly. "If I wanted to make a spectacle of you, I'd have chosen something far more dramatic." He guided me into movement, a slow, fluid step that I had no choice but to follow. "But I much prefer this."

I nearly scoffed, but reeled in my tone, replacing it with a polite one. "Dancing?"

His gaze flickered down to mine, something unreadable within it. "Yes," he admitted, voice quieter now. "It's one of the few things I enjoy."

I arched a brow at him, skepticism bleeding into my tone. "Truly?"

"Truly." A small pause, then, "My mother taught me."

His hold on my waist remained steady, his movements effortless as he guided me through the waltz. "She used to say that knowing how to dance was just as important as knowing how to wield a blade. Both would assist me on a battle field."

I couldn't stop the flicker of surprise at his admission. Not because I doubted his mother's wisdom—if anything, I had always pitied the Lady of Autumn, the horrors she must have endured under Beron's rule—but because I had not expected Eris to share something so personal.

And yet, before I could decide how to respond, he added, "It was the one thing Beron couldn't take from me."

I swallowed, focusing on my movements, on the way his body angled just to keep me steady, to keep the dance seamless.

He was watching me closely, I could feel it. I hated that I could feel it.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice quieter than before, as if the words might shatter between us.

His lips twitched, though there was something different in his expression now. A quiet sort of challenge. "Because you're expecting me to be my father."

I stiffened.

"I'm not," he continued, tone smooth, unwavering. "And I think you already know that."

I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing down the retort that sat at the edge of my tongue. I wanted to deny it.

Wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I had no reason to believe him, that I had no reason to trust him. That, after what I had endured, I had no space left in me for blind hope. But I couldn't. Because, for the first time, I allowed myself to see him—not the heir of Beron Vanserra, not the male who had stood by and done nothing while his father ruled with malice, but the High Lord before me now.

Eris Vanserra was dangerous, cunning, and far too quick-witted for his own good. But he was not his father. And as much as I hated it, as much as it made something twist deep in my chest—

He was also undeniably beautiful.

His russet hair gleamed beneath the chandelier light, his sharp, angular features like something carved from fine marble. And those eyes—deep amber, filled with fire and calculation, but not cruelty. Never cruelty. It unnerved me.

I averted my gaze, the pressure in my throat tightening. "I don't know anything."

His fingers flexed slightly against my waist, the only indication that he had caught the tremor in my voice.

"You will," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. A promise.

I did not know whether it was a comfort or a threat. But I did know one thing—

The game, whatever it was, had only just begun.

As the waltz came to an end, Eris's grip on me loosened, but he did not immediately step away. His amber eyes remained locked onto mine, searching, calculating—always calculating.

I did not look away. I refused to.

Even as my heart pounded against my ribs, even as my throat tightened with the weight of memories that clawed at the back of my mind, I held his gaze.

He exhaled softly, something almost amused flickering in his expression before he lifted my hand, his touch lingering just enough to send a sharp jolt of awareness through me.

Then, with a deliberate slowness that sent heat curling in my gut, Eris pressed a kiss to the back of my hand.

A calculated move. A display of power.

And yet—his lips were warm. Gentle.

He let my hand slip from his grasp, stepping back with an air of ease, as though he had not just sent my already-frazzled mind into chaos.

"Thank you for the dance," he murmured, voice like silk and embers.

I said nothing. Because I couldn't. I simply bowed my head and turned away, ignoring the stares, the whispers that followed me as I slipped back into the shadows of the ballroom.

Eris Vanserra was dangerous. And not for the reasons I had always believed.

I had not been able to get him out of my head.

I hated it.

No matter how much I tried to shove the thoughts away—to remind myself of the horrors I had endured under Beron, of the way his sons had stood idly by for years, of the haunting whispers that surrounded Eris himself—I couldn't stop replaying that moment in my mind.

The warmth of his touch. The softness of his voice. The way he had looked at me, not with hatred, not with indifference, but with something else entirely.

It was a trick. Had to be. And yet, I found myself watching him more than I should have.

Every time he called for something, every time I had to be in his presence, I bowed low, just as I had always done for Beron. I kept my voice neutral, my head down, my routine unchanged.

As if nothing had changed at all. As if I had not danced with him. As if his hands had not burned against my skin. As if I had not spent the past few days wondering, against all reason, if perhaps he was not as evil as I had once believed.

I would not let myself believe it. Not when I had learned, time and time again, that kindness was a dangerous illusion.

So when one of the guards found me in the halls, stopping me with a clipped, "The High Lord is requesting you," a cold dread curled in my stomach.

Requesting me. Not a general summons for any courtiers. Not a task that could have been handled by anyone else. Me.

For a moment, I couldn't move. Memories crashed through me—memories of Beron's summons, of being called for with no warning, no explanation. Of standing before him, knowing what was coming but never being able to predict just how bad it would be.

My hands clenched at my sides. I swallowed hard, pushing down the panic, shoving it deep beneath layers of practiced control.

This was not Beron. I knew that. And yet, my body did not.

With carefully measured steps, I made my way to Eris's study, every inch of me wound tight.

My mind whispered warnings, my heart pounded against my ribs. I forced my hands to remain steady as I knocked once, then pushed the heavy wooden door open.

And there he was—seated behind a grand desk, amber eyes lifting to meet mine the second I entered.

Eris Vanserra, High Lord of Autumn.

And the male who, for reasons I could not begin to understand, had called for me.

I braced myself, preparing for whatever awaited me next. And prayed that I was not about to be proven a fool.

The door shut behind me with a soft thud, the sound too final, too reminiscent of a past I wanted to claw away from.

I stayed near the entrance, hands clasped in front of me, chin dipped ever so slightly—not meek, but neutral. Just as I had been trained to be.

Eris sat at his desk, one elbow braced on the armrest of his chair, fingers resting against his temple as he watched me. Not impatient. Not cruel. Just watching. Then, with that signature tilt of his head, he asked, "What's your name?"

I blinked. "My name?"

He arched a golden brow, the flickering candlelight making the sharp angles of his face seem all the more severe.

"I'd like to know who to call for to keep my company, so yes, your name."

Company. Was this a game? A test?

I studied him, searching for the trap, but found nothing except expectation.

I told him my name carefully, waiting for the moment his expression would shift, for him to sneer or mock or twist the knowledge into something mean.

But he only smiled slightly, a soft curve of his lips that felt almost out of place on a face like his.

Before I could think better of it, before I could convince myself to stay silent, I blurted, "Have you been lonely, my lord?"

Eris's head tilted further, amusement flashing in his amber eyes.

I stiffened immediately. "Forgive me for asking. That was incredibly impolite. I'm so—"

"I have." He cut me off smoothly, his voice quieter now, but no less firm.

I swallowed.

"I imagined being High Lord would be quite different," he mused, gaze flickering to the stacks of papers on his desk, the glowing hearth, the empty room around us. "Nevertheless, here we are." He nodded as if conceding something to himself.

My lips parted slightly, but I had nothing to say to that. Nothing that wouldn't cross a line I was still hesitant to even approach.

Instead, I dropped into another practiced bow. "Will that be all, my lord?"

His eyes snapped back to me, something unreadable stirring behind them.

"Eris," he corrected.

I hesitated.

"I am not my father," he said, voice quiet but edged with finality, as if he were daring me to argue. "Nor do I wish to become him. So please, call me Eris."

I nodded slowly. "...Well then, Lord Eris."

"Just Eris, my dear," he corrected again, leaning back slightly. "Like friends."

I didn't know what startled me more—that he wanted me to call him by his name, or that he had referred to me as a friend.

Still, I tried to ignore the warmth curling in my stomach as I forced myself to say, "Eris."

His lips twitched, something satisfied gleaming in his gaze. "Good girl."

The praise sent something unfamiliar down my spine, not in the way it had whenever Beron complimented me... this was different.

"Now come, get comfortable." He gestured toward the plush green chairs adjacent to his desk.

I stared at him. "You want me to sit?"

"Stand, lean, lay, I don't care." He waved a lazy hand. "Just relax."

"My lord—Eris," I corrected, still trying to wrap my mind around the strangeness of this entire interaction. "I don't get paid to... relax."

He smirked. "No, you get paid to follow my orders. And I am ordering you to get comfortable."

I stared at him for a long moment, my heart hammering in my chest as I tried to decipher the true meaning behind all of this.

But I saw no malice in his expression. No cruel intent. Just anticipation.

I swallowed and, slowly, I did as he said. I sat stiffly, hands clasped in my lap, my back straight as if Beron himself was still lurking behind me, waiting to scold me for stepping out of line.

Eris, however, did not acknowledge my rigid posture. He only let out a pleased hum, as if my mere presence was enough to meet whatever unspoken standard he had set for this moment. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he returned his focus to the parchment before him.

The only sounds in the room were the quiet scratching of his quill and the faint crackling of the candlelight.

I should have been grateful for the silence. It was better than savage words, better than commands meant to humiliate me. But instead, an odd tension settled in my chest, as if I were waiting for the real reason he'd called me here to be revealed.

Minutes passed. Then—

"You're staring," Eris murmured without looking up.

I blinked, feeling heat creep up my neck. "I am not."

His lips curved slightly, and he flipped to another parchment. "You are."

"I was merely looking in your direction." It was wrong of me to talk back, but something about him let my tongue a little looser, he didn't seem displeased by it in the slightest.

He hummed, unconvinced, dipping his quill back into ink. "And why, pray tell, were you looking in my direction?"

I hesitated. "...I was thinking."

Amber eyes flicked up from the page. "Dangerous habit."

That small smirk still played on his lips, but something about it was softer than usual, teasing rather than taunting.

I frowned, not ready for this interaction to feel comfortable, for me to feel comfortable. "I don't find it particularly dangerous."

"That's because you've never played with fire." He twirled the quill between his fingers before dragging the tip across the parchment again. "Not the kind that burns."

I scoffed. "You forget who I served before you."

He paused at that, glancing at me fully and my heart rate spiked. Too far, I'd gone too far, just a few words and the walls I built were crumbling before my very eyes.

Something unreadable flickered in his expression, but it was gone before I could place it. Instead, he dipped his head slightly, understanding the point. "Then I imagine you know better than most that fire, when wielded incorrectly, only ever destroys."

I stiffened, his words striking something deep within me.

Is that what I was? A thing destroyed? Is that what he saw when looking at me, or himself?

Eris exhaled, shifting his focus back to his work. "For what it's worth," he murmured, quieter now, "I don't intend to wield it incorrectly."

I studied him carefully, as I had done many times before, searching for the game, for the cruel edge I knew so well from his father.

But there was no trick. Only a High Lord—no, a male—focused on his work, offering me something I had never once been granted in Beron's court.

Peace.

I swallowed, forcing myself to look away, to ignore the unfamiliar warmth creeping into my bones.

Minutes passed again in silence, but this time, it didn't feel quite so heavy.

"I was serious, you know," Eris mused, not bothering to look up as he broke the quiet.

I frowned. "About what?"

"Keeping my company." He flipped to another document, signing something at the bottom. "I'd prefer your presence over my advisors any day. They're old and dull. You, at least, have some spirit."

I scoffed. "I think you are confusing obedience for spirit."

"Oh no, my dear." His lips curved in a knowing smirk. "You and I both know you're anything but obedient."

I bristled, opening my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand. "It's alright. I find it... refreshing."

I wasn't sure what unsettled me more—the implication, or the way my stomach twisted at his words. Beron preferred all the servantry to have a fiery spirit, which makes it more fun to break, but he never really could stomp my flames out, and now Eris was sparking the embers. It was dangerous, so dangerous.

Silence fell between us once more.

For a moment, I thought that would be the end of it. That I would sit there, a piece of furniture in this room while he worked, just as I had been in Beron's court.

But then, without looking away from his parchment, Eris murmured, "Tell me something, Fawn."

The way he said that nickname—so deliberate, like he was testing the way it felt on his tongue—sent something sharp down my spine.

"Tell you what?" I asked carefully.

He leaned back slightly, fingers steepled in thought. "Something real."

I hesitated. "That's vague."

"Intentionally so." He arched a brow. "Consider it a challenge."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but he only waited, watching me with that same expectant look, as if he truly wanted to hear something about me.

I exhaled. "I don't like the cold."

His lips twitched. "A courtier of Autumn who doesn't like the cold? Shocking, really." His voice was sarcastic, but something in his eyes told me he knew what I meant.

I shrugged, explaining anyway. "It reminds me of your father." The words left me before I could stop them, before I could think better of them.

Eris didn't flinch, but something in his expression shifted. "I hate the cold, too," he admitted after a beat.

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty.

He returned his attention to the paper in front of him, but his next words were soft, almost contemplative.

"It's why I keep the fire going."

And despite everything I had come to know about Eris Vanserra—despite everything I feared—those words stayed with me long after I left his study that night.

It became routine.

Every evening, after the day's duties were done, I was summoned to Eris's study. At first, I had thought it was some kind of test, some trick to lull me into a false sense of security before he reminded me of my place. But the days passed, and the cruel words never came. The taunts never sharpened into something harsher.

Instead, I found myself sitting across from him as he worked, the fire crackling between us, filling the silence in ways neither of us felt the need to.

And I was learning things.

Not just about him—but about myself.

I learned that despite being raised under Beron's thumb, Eris did not rule with a hand of iron. He listened—to his advisors, to the reports of the court, to me, even. And when I spoke, he truly listened, as if my words meant something.

More recently I learned that he was—Gods help me—attractive.

That fact had been easy enough to ignore when I hated him, when I thought he was just another Beron in the making. But the more time I spent with him, the more I noticed things I shouldn't—like the sharp angles of his face, the golden hue of his eyes, the way his hands moved across parchment with effortless precision.

It was incredibly inappropriate.

He was a High Lord, for the Gods' sake. I was a mere servant. A courtier, yes, but still beneath him in every sense of the word.

But there were moments—subtle, fleeting—where I felt that he didn't see it that way.

Like when he'd catch me staring and smirk, as if he knew exactly where my thoughts had gone. Like when his fingers would brush against mine as he handed me a book, a touch so brief it might have been an accident, but my traitorous body knew better. Like when he said my name—not the way Beron used to, as if I were an object, a thing that existed for his whims, but as if I were someone worth hearing.

It was dangerous. He was dangerous. And yet, I kept returning to his study, night after night, drawn to him in ways I did not understand.

I was comfortable around him now. Too comfortable. And I wasn't sure if that terrified me or eased me more.

The fire crackled behind him, casting golden light over the room as I sat at his desk, scanning over the trade agreements he had asked me to review. Eris stood in front of the hearth, a glass of whiskey in his hand, watching the flames with a contemplative expression.

"They're bleeding the smaller villages dry," I murmured, flipping to the next page. "The tariffs are nearly double what they should be."

Eris hummed in response, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "And what do you suggest, fawn?" His voice was rich, edged with amusement.

I exhaled sharply through my nose, biting back a smile at the teasing lilt in his tone. "Lowering them would be a start."

He took a slow sip of whiskey, then turned, his gaze burning even hotter than the fire behind him. "Very well. Lower them."

I blinked. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." He smirked, as if amused by my surprise. "You have a sharp mind. It would be a waste not to use it."

A compliment. A genuine one.

I busied myself with the documents, ignoring the warmth that curled in my stomach. But before I could shift to the next matter, I felt it—him.

The space between us disappeared in a breath. Eris leaned over my shoulder, one hand bracing against the desk as he peered down at the papers with me.

His warmth seeped through the thin fabric of my dress, his scent—smoke, cedar, spice—curling around me, intoxicating. I stiffened, my fingers tightening around the quill.

"See?" His voice was softer now, smooth like velvet. "That wasn't so hard."

I swallowed, forcing my focus back to the parchment. "I assume the next set of reports won't be as easy."

His chuckle was low, deep. "Unfortunately, no."

We worked through the rest of it together, his proximity never wavering, his breath occasionally ghosting against my cheek as he murmured his thoughts. It should have been unbearable. It was unbearable. And yet, I didn't pull away.

Not even when he poured me a glass of whiskey.

I had refused at first, telling him I was technically working but he had simply raised an eyebrow and said, "I won't tell the high lord if you don't."

It burned going down, leaving warmth in its wake, emboldening me just enough to loosen the tight grip I always held on myself.

Perhaps that was why, when we finally leaned back in our chairs, the tension of duty momentarily relieved, I dared to meet his gaze with something close to ease.

"You're a better High Lord than I expected," I admitted, surprising myself with the honesty.

He turned his glass between his fingers, watching me over the rim. "High praise, coming from you."

I rolled my eyes, but the smallest of smiles played at my lips. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late," he quipped, grinning.

I shook my head, but I wasn't fast enough to hide the way my lips twitched in amusement.

Eris noticed. Of course, he did. And he leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming. "Careful, fawn. Keep looking at me like that, and I'll think you actually enjoy my company."

I should have ignored the remark. Should have cut the moment short, should have reminded myself that this was Eris, that I was his courtier and nothing more.

But the whiskey hummed in my blood, and I found myself tilting my chin up slightly, arching a brow.

"Who said I don't?"

His gaze darkened, a flicker of something wicked dancing in those golden eyes.

The air between us tightened, the tension shifting into something heavier, something dangerous.

And for the first time, I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted to run from it.

The room was suffocating with heat—not just from the fire, but from him. From the way he looked at me, like he could see through every carefully placed wall I had built around myself.

I should have left. Should have bowed my head, murmured a polite good night, and returned to the servantry quarters where I belonged.

But I didn't.

Instead, I stayed, rooted in place, watching the way Eris's eyes flickered between my lips and my eyes. The tension stretched unbearably tight, wound so thin that one more word, one more breath, would surely snap it.

And then it did.

One moment, we were speaking, our words slow and softened by whiskey. The next—I was in his arms, and his mouth was on mine.

It was a collision, a wildfire consuming everything in its path.

His lips were searing, his hands gripping my waist as if he couldn't bear to let go, pulling me flush against him. I gasped into the kiss, and he took full advantage, deepening it, his tongue sweeping over mine in a way that made my knees threaten to buckle.

He groaned, low and guttural, and something inside me snapped.

I met his fervor with my own, fingers tangling in his hair, feeling the silk of it between my fingertips as he backed me into the desk. The papers we had worked so hard on crumpled beneath us, utterly forgotten.

He exhaled a quiet curse against my lips as his hands gripped my hips tighter, and I—I didn't stop him. I arched into him, into the warmth, the danger of it.

And then—it happened.

A tether snapped into place.

Invisible, undeniable, unyielding.

My entire body locked up as a force stronger than anything I had ever known latched onto my very soul. The bond—a mating bond—solidified between us like molten steel cooling into iron, a force so absolute it stole the air from my lungs.

No, no, no.

I stumbled back so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet, my hand flying to my lips as if I could erase what had just happened.

Eris reached for me, eyes wide, something dangerously close to awe written across his sharp features. "Wait—"

But I didn't.

I turned and ran.

I ignored the way his voice followed me, calling my name, ignored the way my heart thundered in my chest, the way my mind screamed at me that this was impossible, that it couldn't be real, that it shouldn't be real.

Because if it was—if it was real—then it meant I was bound to him. To him.

Not just the male who had been slipping under my skin, infiltrating the cold emptiness I had built to protect myself. But Beron's son. Beron's heir. A Vanserra. A High Lord.

By the time I reached the servantry quarters, my breaths were ragged, my hands shaking as I shoved my door closed behind me, locking it with trembling fingers.

I pressed my back against the wood, squeezing my eyes shut.

This couldn't be happening. It was a mistake. A trick. A cruel, cruel joke.

I was nothing.

A courtier, a servant.

I did not get to have mates.

And certainly not him.

I curled onto my cot, my hands gripping the fabric of my dress as if I could anchor myself back to reality. I forced my breathing to slow, willed myself to forget the feeling of his lips, the taste of whiskey on his tongue, the way his hands had fit so perfectly against my waist.

I did not sleep that night.

I had been avoiding him.

Days had passed, and I hadn't stepped foot in his study again. I hadn't so much as looked in his direction, even as the court whispered about me, about us, about the undeniable scent of a bond snapping into place.

They all knew.

I could feel their stares, the pity in some, the amusement in others. I knew what they thought—that it was only a matter of time before I bent, before I folded myself into the neat little role fate had carved out for me at Eris's side.

I refused.

I stayed tucked away, keeping to my duties, bowing as I always had when in his presence, keeping my head low, silent. I had done it for years under Beron. I could do it again.

Or at least, I thought I could.

The bond had other plans.

It had been clawing at me, a sick, twisting thing in my chest, gnawing at my ribs every time I kept my distance. The more I ignored it, the worse it became, a restless, aching pressure that built until my hands trembled with the need to do something—run to him, scream, sob. I didn't know which.

I was too caught up in my own mind, too focused on fighting the invisible thread tethering me to him, that I didn't notice the male approaching me until it was too late.

"You've been rather elusive, haven't you?"

I turned sharply, expecting him, expecting Eris—

But it wasn't him.

It was Kyden.

My stomach twisted.

Kyden Vanserra had always taken the most after Beron compared to the rest of his brothers, cruel for the sake of cruelty, sneering down at those he deemed beneath him. Which unfortunately included me.

His smirk was slow, predatory. "I almost mistook you for one of the nobility, standing there all stiff and proper. But then I remembered—you're just a servant, aren't you?"

I forced my body not to react, not to let the memories claw their way up my throat. He had that same look in his tawny eyes that Beron always had on one of the particularly hard days.

Kyden stepped closer, voice a lazy drawl. "And yet, despite your lowly position, you managed to ensnare a High Lord." His lips curled, eyes gleaming with something dark. "Or rather, the bond did. Funny, isn't it? How fate makes fools of us all."

I kept my chin high, my hands at my sides. I would not cower.

He leaned in, his breath brushing against my ear. "You reek of him."

I flinched. Kyden chuckled. "It's amusing, really. Eris, of all people, shackled to someone like you." His gaze flickered over me, assessing, and I knew that look—I had seen it before, a lifetime ago, picking apart my worth, deciding how best to use me.

"What do you think he'll do?" Kyden mused. "Surely, you don't believe he'll actually keep you. A High Lord's mate should be powerful, worthy." He tutted. "You are neither."

The words hit their mark, sinking into my skin like tiny blades, because deep down I knew he was right. This is why I've been avoiding Eris, avoiding having that confrontation that will only result in rejection and sorrow.

"I wonder," he continued, tilting his head, "how long it will take before he grows bored of you. Before he realizes you're nothing more than the same little courtier Beron used to—"

A deep, guttural snarl split the air.

And then Kyden was no longer in my space, no longer crowding me like a looming shadow.

Eris had him by the collar, dragging him back, his teeth bared in a vicious snarl beside his brother's throat.

"Say another word," Eris hissed, voice like fire crackling over dry wood, "and I will tear out your fucking tongue."

Kyden, to his credit, did not flinch. He only grinned. "Touched a nerve, did I?"

Eris's fingers tightened, the flames in the nearby sconces flaring wildly.

"Walk away, Kyden," Eris said, voice quieter now, deadlier. "I raised you better than this."

A beat of silence. Then Kyden huffed a laugh, shoving Eris off him with a roll of his shoulders.

"As you wish, brother." He turned to me, and there was something smug in his eyes, something knowing. "See you around, little courtier."

And then he was gone.

Eris exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair before turning to me.

"Are you—"

I shook my head, stepping back. "Don't."

His jaw tensed.

I couldn't do this. Not here. Not now.

The hallway was silent except for the distant clatter of pots and the hushed murmurs of servants slipping past us, their eyes darting away the moment they caught sight of Eris. I could still feel the ghost of Kyden's words slithering over my skin, the way he had looked at me, spoken to me. But more than that—I could feel the weight of Eris's gaze, burning into me as if he were unraveling every thought in my head.

I didn't want to look at him. Didn't want to feel the way I did when he looked at me.

His amber eyes flickered with something unreadable, something heavy and tense. He hadn't moved since Kyden left, his hands clenched at his sides, as if he was still fighting the urge to chase his brother down and finish what he started.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. We stood nearly a yard away from each other in the servants' passages, the house was so vast that to get from place to place quicker in the manor there were secret paths to take. It was odd for the High Lord to even know about them.

I swallowed hard, then whispered, "Why are you here?"

Eris blinked, as if startled by the question. And then, with the ghost of a smirk, he drawled, "It's my house, isn't it?"

I narrowed my eyes. "You know what I mean."

More silence.

His smirk faded.

"I was looking for you," he admitted finally.

I stared at him, heart hammering against my ribs. "You could've called for me."

His expression darkened, and he took a step closer. "Would you have come?"

I said nothing.

He huffed a bitter laugh. "That's what I thought."

I clenched my hands into fists, nails biting into my palms. "It's my job, Eris," I whispered.

His jaw flexed. His fingers twitched—like he wanted to reach for me, wanted to touch me—but he didn't. Instead, he just stood there, looking more defeated than I'd ever imagined a Vanserra could.

"Can we go somewhere more private?" I asked, my voice quieter now, because we were standing a distance apart with maids and cooks scuttling silently past us, pretending they weren't listening, pretending they couldn't see the invisible string between us.

Eris studied me for a long moment, then nodded. Without another word, he turned on his heel, leading the way.

I followed.

The room he brought me to was small, tucked away in one of the unused wings of the estate. A study, maybe, or a reading room—the kind of place someone could go to disappear.

He shut the door behind me, and then we were alone.

Eris exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Are you alright?"

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "I don't know."

His jaw tightened. "Kyden—"

"I don't want to talk about Kyden."

He stared at me for a moment, then nodded. "Then talk to me about something else."

I let out a breath. "About what, Eris?"

He stepped closer, slow and careful, as if I were something fragile. "About why you've been avoiding me."

I scoffed. "You know why."

"I want to hear you say it."

I met his gaze, and the heat in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine. "Because this—" I gestured between us. "—isn't supposed to happen. Because you're a High Lord, and I'm a servant, and this bond—" I swallowed hard. "It's cruel."

Eris's expression was unreadable, but his fingers twitched again, and I wondered if he even realized he kept doing that—kept stopping himself from touching me. "You think the Mother is cruel?"

I hesitated. "I think fate is."

Eris exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Do you hate it that much?"

I didn't answer.

Did I?

Hate was easy. Hate was something I understood, something I could hold onto. Hate had kept me alive under Beron's rule, had hardened me, protected me.

But this? This tether between us, this thing that hummed in my chest, that made my body ache to close the distance between us—

I didn't have a name for it. And that scared me more than anything.

Eris watched me carefully, as if searching for something in my expression. He let out another sigh and retreated, taking a seat on the small leather couch adjacent to the popping fireplace. I watched him silently, still standing by the door.

"I never wanted this either," he admitted, voice softer now. "I spent years ensuring I would never be bound to someone who could be used against me. And yet..." His lips quirked into something bitter. "Yet here we are."

My throat felt tight. "Do you hate it?"

His amber eyes burned. "No."

The breath I took was unsteady.

"You never answered?" he looked up at me.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Shook my head. "I don't know."

Eris nodded once, as if that answer was enough.

Silence stretched between us again.

Finally, he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You don't have to accept it," he said. "Not now. Not ever, if that's what you choose." He met my gaze, something like resignation flickering in his eyes. "But I won't apologize for it."

He wanted to keep it? Wanted me to accept it?

I swallowed against the lump in my throat.

He tilted his head, considering me. "So what now?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips. "That's twice now."

I scowled. "Shut up."

He chuckled. "I suppose I should be grateful I got anything out of you at all."

I rolled my eyes, but there was no bite to it.

Eris studied me again, quieter this time. "I meant what I said," he murmured. "I was looking for you."

I looked away. "I know."

Silence settled between us again, but it was different now. Less suffocating.

More dangerous.

Because I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep pretending I didn't want him to find me. I approached his side quietly and sat.

The leather couch was cool against my skin as I sank into it beside him, the silence between us thick with unspoken words. The bond thrummed like a second heartbeat, relentless and inescapable.

The son of the man I loathed most in this world was the one I was expected to love beyond reason.

Fate was a sick, twisted thing.

I sighed, tired of thinking, tired of fighting, tired of everything. Slowly, hesitantly, I tilted my head, letting it rest against his shoulder. His body stiffened for a fraction of a second before he relaxed, exhaling a breath I might've imagined.

It was enough for now.

"I'm High Lord," he said after a beat.

"Painfully aware," I murmured.

"Meaning—there are rules of the Autumn Court that I can... simply get rid of."

I huffed a soft, tired laugh. "You're a lord, not a king."

"Mm, true," he mused, tilting his head back against the couch, "but if Rhysand can bend the rules to marry his mate, so can I."

I hesitated. "His court is much more pliable. Autumn is notorious for its... old-fashioned ways."

"Well, the Autumn Court has a new High Lord." His voice was steady, sure. "Let's just hope I'm changing it for the better."

I smiled faintly, my eyes fluttering shut. "You are, 'Ris."

The name slipped out before I could think better of it, before I could remind myself that familiarity with him was dangerous.

His body went still beneath me.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he looked down at me, amber eyes burning with something I couldn't name.

We stared at each other for a long moment, really seeing each other.

And then, quietly, almost reverently, he murmured, "I'm going to kiss you now."

I nodded.

And then he did.

His lips pressed against mine, slow and deep, as if we had all the time in the world. As if the bond wasn't something to be feared but something to be savored. His hand lifted to my jaw, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone before sliding into my hair, tilting my face up, pressing deeper.

I sighed into him, gripping the front of his tunic as the bond pulsed between us, as the warmth of his body and the scent of campfire and rainy mornings wrapped around me like something familiar, something I could fall into.

It should have scared me.

But all I could do was kiss him back.

Eris pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my lips. My heart pounded, my thoughts a chaotic mess, but the bond hummed in quiet contentment—as if it had known all along that this was inevitable.

His fingers stayed tangled in my hair, his other hand still cupping my jaw, holding me there, keeping me grounded. "We'll figure this out," he murmured, voice low, steady. Sure.

I let out a slow breath, my hands still fisted in his tunic. "You make it sound so simple."

"It doesn't have to be complicated."

I swallowed hard, my mind already spinning with the realities of what this meant, what it could mean. But as I looked at him, at the quiet determination in his gaze, at the warmth that had nothing to do with the firelight flickering around us, I found myself wanting—just for a moment—to believe him.

So I nodded, just barely.

His lips brushed my temple, lingering there for a heartbeat before he leaned back, his hand finally slipping from my hair. "One step at a time, my dear."

I exhaled, my pulse still thrumming in my throat, and echoed, "One step at a time."

And maybe, just maybe, we'd find our way through this. Together.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @hufflepuff-pa55 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-angst @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143 @bubybubsters @joshysloshy @username199945 @ivy-34 @notsarareallynot @vixenshiftsvrs @aurorab99 @pey2618 @loving-and-dreaming @mmg777 @andreperez11 @thatacotargirl @123345566 @one-big-fangirl @moonslitluna @imyherondale @salvawhxres @bookishbabyyyy @anuttellaa @breadsticks2004 @azriels-human @mamita-vera @ @lorosette @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tothestarsandwhateverend @ahaha0246 @mellowmusings @mythicalcookie