#the autumn court | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

florencemtrash · 5 months

Text

Flame, Shadow, Beast : Beast I

Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.

Warnings: Some Inner Circle slander. Angst... like a lot of it. And a family dinner that goes horribly wrong.

Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Bryaxis left you to find Eris. You were sure of it.

That is good, you thought, as you wiped away your tears and picked yourself off the floor.

If Azriel was able to enter Autumn unnoticed, you’d both need to reevaluate the security around Forest House and send a strong message to Rhysand that your thin alliance did not mean Azriel was permitted to enter and leave at will.

You swallowed your tears and collected your breath just as Eris rushed into the house like a tornado, scooping you up in his arms and searching you over with frantic eyes.

“I’m alright, Eris.” You murmured into his soft hair, breathing in his scent and finding it eased your aching heart, “He didn’t hurt me.”

Bryaxis followed in behind the High Lord, gave you both a nod and ran out again, this time in the form of a falcon. He was going to make good on your promise. If Azriel wasn’t out of Autumn by now he was as good as dead.

“Physically, you mean.” Eris said, lowering you to the floor and pulling you close.

You sighed, leaning against him. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I worry about you in all ways, Y/n. But I confess, if he was able to best you in a fight I’d be surprised. I’d bet my money on you any day.”

You laughed without humor. Your mind went to business, as it always did when you wanted to ignore your true feelings.

“We should talk about defenses. I don’t like that he was able to enter Autumn unnoticed. Did you feel anything at all? Any disturbance?”

Eris’s jaw tightened. He knew what you were doing and wanted to take the time to talk through what you were feeling. But the look in your eyes told him now was not a good time.

He shook his head, “Azriel’s powers have always been clouded in mystery. My father spent years trying to keep him out. Clearly he wasn’t successful.”

“Once Bryaxis is back, I’ll ask that he keep guard - at least for a short time. Spread his power out over the borders. He’s built from the same darkness that seeps out from the Night Court and might have a better chance of sensing when things are wrong.”

And so are you. You crawled out of that darkness and survived. Eris’s eyes said, but you didn’t like to dwell on that truth often.

Years spent as Beron’s prisoner had changed you - made you more like the Shadowsinger than you cared to admit. Frustratingly it hadn’t made you any better at sensing when he was in your house and in your court.

“Good. I’ll speak to Halvor about increasing the guards posted around Forest House and the borders. We’ll keep it discreet and have Halvor winnow them.”

“And check for any missing guardsmen. He was wearing Autumn Court armor and either had to have stolen it or had it made himself.” You held out the patch of leather in your hand, discretely cut from the folds of his hood when you’d been speaking. Large enough for Myrah to scry with.

“It’s a good start.” Eris said, smoothing back the wrinkles in your forehead that came from irritation. He pressed his lips to your forehead, murmuring, “Talk to me, my love. And not about business this time.”

Your fists clenched and unclenched, anger brewing inside of you. But not all of it was directed at the Shadowsinger.

“I just-” You huffed, “I didn’t know he was here. I didn’t sense him. I thought the next time I saw him it would be on my own terms. That I’d be more prepared.” You kicked at the ground, sending one of your abandoned knives skittering across the floor, “Instead I froze.”

“Bryaxis didn’t seem to think so. He told me he’s never seen you punch anyone that hard.” You frowned at him, but the pride and satisfaction that twinkled in his eyes melted away some of your sadness, like the first rays of spring on winter frost.

You dropped your gaze to the floor, “He said he and Rhysand were the only ones to know about the deal.” Flames flared to life in his eyes, like someone had shone a light through amber stones. “He asked to visit with the others. In Autumn.”

Eris nodded slowly, carefully. He didn’t like this, didn’t like this at all.

“Is that what you want? To see them again?”

You missed some of them more than others. You missed Cassian’s boyish humor, Nesta’s blunt honesty, Feyre’s love for all things creative, and the bright light that Mor seemed to carry around with her as easily as a torch. You even missed Amren, who’d come to tolerate you well enough in the few years you’d spent with the Inner Circle.

But Rhysand and Azriel… You would have missed them the most if not for what they’d done. Rhysand who you’d once seen as a brother, and Azriel, who you could have fallen in love with so easily if he hadn’t constantly pined over other females. Perhaps you had fallen in love with him at one point. Maybe that’s why it hurt so badly to see him again.

“I…I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to make the decision now.” Eris said, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers, “But I would like to ask you one thing.”

“Since when do you ever ask for things?” You said, trying to lighten up your spirits by toying with your lover.

He shook his head, “I am a very greedy male. I ask for many things from you - your time, your love, your attention.”

“And what would you like to ask for now?”

Eris hesitated.

“For you to move to the Forest House. Today. I’ll send for the rest of your things in the morning.”

“Today?”

“Today.” You looked around the house. It had steadily been emptying the last two months, coming with you to the Forest House in bits and pieces as your once nonexistent visits to Court became more and more regular. It was all part of the plan to introduce you to Court life and prepare you for the role you’d one day take at Eris’s side.

“I thought you wanted to take time. Prepare things better-”

“I know. I know that was the plan. But I’d feel infinitely better with you under the roof of Forest House with me… with me.”

“Azriel doesn’t know about us yet. The other courts don’t know.” You said.

Eris had always been so careful, so cautious concerning you, paying the townspeople for their silence, spreading rumors of visiting pleasure houses and flirting with the bolder females in court to disguise the one person who warmed his bed. You didn’t want him to feel rushed.

“I know.” Eris steeled himself. The scars on his back flexed uncomfortably, pulling and stretching at his flesh with memories of the past, “I don’t want to be afraid of that anymore.” He said, “I’ve lived in fear my whole life, unable to protect the ones I love. You know this. I can do it now, with you standing next to me.”

“I just… I want to make sure you’re not doing this against your will because of what happened today.” You said it sincerely. Eris was all about plans and safety and heavily disliked straying from them.

Eris froze and then laughed, a full-bodied laugh that shook his sturdy frame and surprised you.

“What did I say?” You asked. When he didn’t answer, continuing to laugh, you slapped his shoulder, “What did I say?! Tell me!”

“Oh, my love.” He sighed, stealing a kiss, “I’m not asking you to come home with me because of the meddlings of another court. I’m asking you because I want you there.”

You blushed furiously, color flooding into your cheeks.

“Don’t look so surprised.” He said.

“I’m not surprised! We’ve talked about this.”

“We have! We’ve talked about this in great detail.” You glanced around the room. It had stopped feeling like home some time ago. Home was where Eris was.

“Today?”

“Yes.”

“As in right now.”

“Well I would give you time to pack whatever you think you’ll need for the next day. I’m not a brute.”

It was your turn to laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him fiercely on the lips. He tasted like cinnamon and cloves.

You packed a small bag of your most treasured belongings - few in number as most had already been brought to the Forest House - and then you were off. Bryaxis would find you wherever you were and you would be able to sense if anything was wrong with him. Even now you felt his power near the borders of Autumn where he prowled about on his mission. But Azriel was long gone from the Autumn Court.

The Forest House was bustling with energy when you arrived, fae of all shapes and sizes bowing to you and Eris, carrying baskets of bread, honeysuckle, walnuts, and pumpkins against their hips to bring to the kitchens.

Myrah, Halvor, and Aurelia - The Lady of Autumn - were there to greet you.

Myrah bowed deeper than the rest, grinning from ear to ear as she took your belongings and ran them to your room. She had served Lady Aurelia dutifully as a blademaiden for over fifty years, and now she would serve you with just as much fervor.

“My Lady.” You said, bowing your head.

Aurelia’s scarlet hair and amber eyes were a twin to Eris’s and she smiled at you with a light that had never fully dimmed during her marriage to Beron. Lucien might have been her favored son - the one born out of love and passion - but Eris was the most like her in appearance and she thanked the Mother for that every day.

“I’ll have none of that.” Aurelia said, grasping you by the arm and forcing you to stand upright. She ran her thumbs over your cheeks before dipping her head towards her son and leading you away for a proper meal and rest.

So it went for the next few months. You dove into your court duties during the day, attending meetings with Eris and Aurelia, court dinners, and pouring over reports by the warm light of the fires that filled every room in the Forest House. Your evenings were dedicated to your research in the libraries with Bryaxis curled up comfortably in your lap. And your nights were filled with Eris, whispered words under satin covers, hands resting comfortably against your back and thighs, silken strands of red hair between your fingers.

You ignored the letters that arrived on your desk from the Night Court for as long as you could. Nesta had even made her way through Winter to visit you in person, only to be turned away at the border personally by Myrah.

That had been the call for you to finally invite them to dinner at the Autumn Court.

The blademaiden, soft and swift as wind and more resilient than iron, brushed through your hair carefully, weaving thin leaves of gold into the braids until your hair gleamed when it caught the light.

Bryaxis was partial to her, puffing his chest out from his seat on the vanity until Myrah stopped her work to give him a quick kiss on his little black head.

“I think you might be his favorite person.” You quipped, smiling at her through the mirror as Bryaxis continued to sit ramrod straight, waiting for another display of affection. Myrah obliged, scratching him behind his ears as he closed his eyes and rumbled in satisfaction.

“Pffft. Everyone knows he’d go mad if you so much as chipped a tooth.”

“Teeth are important! It’s less impressive when you snarl at enemies with a gap in your teeth.”

Myrah snorted, finishing your hair and wrapping her arms carefully around you. Her hair was similarly arranged with silver instead of gold to better match her gray-blonde hair and steel gray eyes. She looked like the thunderclouds that rolled over the hills before rain.

You patted her arm before moving over to the full length mirror, carved from a single slab of wood to look like birds in flight. Your breath caught in your throat. The wine-red dress hung from your frame as light as air, threaded with black and gold around the careful beadwork so that you rustled with light and energy. You looked otherworldly.

Myrah brought her hands to her lips, glowing with pride and happiness. For years she’d seen Lady Aurelia wilt and endure. It was good to know you would not suffer the same fate. She’d sooner die than let anything happen to you. Even Bryaxis was impressed with your appearance, shifting between shadow and flesh as he regarded you with a molten eye.

A knock on the door drew your eyes away from your reflection. Aurelia stepped inside with an ornate wooden box in her slender hands, looking like a living flame and crossing the room on light and even steps.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” She asked gently, putting the box down and taking your hands in hers. Myrah bowed and took her leave, taking up her position outside the door. The folds of her skirt concealed a gleaming silver sword and no shortage of other weapons.

Bryaxis also followed, rubbing against Aurelia’s ankle with a gentle purr as went.

You took a deep breath after the door shut.

“Nervous.” You said honestly, “More than I would like to be.”

“That’s understandable.” Aurelia said, surveying the curve of your dress, your neck, and ears and nodding. “You look powerful. Myrah did well. Not that you needed the help.” She whispered the last few words like a secret, as if concerned the female outside would overhear and find offense.

You smiled.

“But, I think you’re missing a few elements.”

You blinked, smoothing your skirts and looking around. You hadn’t thought you were missing anything.

Aurelia opened the box, compartments springing outward like the unfurling of alocasia leaves. Rows upon rows of jewelry, some delicate and some that weighed as heavy as stones, were laid out neatly.

You blushed furiously.

“Eris didn’t-I mean this is too much”

Aurelia tipped her head back in laughter, hair swaying across her graceful back like the flickering of candlelight against a window.

“Now that you are here I am sure Eris will spare no expense. But these are from me.”

With patience and a careful hand she helped you pick out a thin pair of bracelets that snaked up your arm like the veins of a riverbed, golden cuffs that accentuated the length of your ears, and finally a dainty necklace of amber and gold.

“This one looks different from the others.” You said, tracing the thin chain against your chest, “It’s beautiful.”

Aurelia smiled, a quiet sadness in her eyes. “It wasn't made in Autumn.”

“Where was it-” You paused. A knowing look passed between you two. “I understand.”

The clock chimed. A gentle ring that made your heart beat faster. It was time. The Night Court would have arrived already - if they decided to be punctual that was.

“I suppose it’s time.” You said, offering your arm to the Lady of Autumn.

“One more thing.” She said, grasping your shoulders so you stood face to face. The crown glittered in her hair - a thin band of gold from which grew garlands of paper thin flowers and maple leaves interwoven with redwood. It was said to have been made by one of Autumn’s Old Gods, a powerful relic that spoke of traditions past that the people still honored.

It rested on your head now, laid there by Aurelia’s slender hands.

“Perfect.” She said with a smile, tilting your head up with two fingers beneath your chin.

“I can’t-I can’t wear this.”

“You can, and you will. Your Lady commands it.” She took your hand in hers, squeezing it with all the love of a mother, and led you out the door.

Myrah was vibrating with excitement and kept stealing glances as the crown on your head. Bryaxis curled up around her shoulders as she trailed after you and the Lady of Autumn.

Eris and Halvor were already waiting by the steps to the great hall - Halvor in his general attire, and Eris looking like the heart of Autumn in a resplendent suit of bronze, gold, and scarlet. He stilled when you approached, eyes darting to the crown in your hair and softening. His mother only nodded, giving you both her silent blessing.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured as you took his arm.

“As do you.”

Halvor coughed and Myrah rolled her eyes.

“You also look wonderful, Halvor.” You said, shaking your head with laughter.

He bowed deeply, “Thank you, My Lady.”

You blushed. With the Lady of Autumn’s crown resting in your hair and the unofficial title rolling off Halvor’s tongue like it was the most natural thing in the world, it all felt like too much.

Eris squeezed your hand in reassurance, flashing you one last smile before he would have to let the mask of the High Lord slide over his face.

“Ready?”

You nodded. “Ready.”

You descended the steps, Aurelia and Myrah (and Bryaxis) to your right and Halvor to Eris’s left. They were the beginnings of a proper court. An Inner Circle of their own. Eris swallowed the emotion, the gratefulness for everyone who stood with him, for another time.

Still, he was looking at you when you all made your appearance and the Night Court’s conversations died in the air.

Nesta, Cassian, Mor, Feyre, and Azriel all stood to one side of the table. Cut from the trunk of an ancient elder tree, the rings spoke of the passage of two thousand years. You felt insignificant in the face of all of that history, gripping Eris’s arm for reassurance as you led the way down the last flight of stairs.

“Welcome to Autumn Court.” Eris said, voice cold and emotionless as he swept his arm out to the side and dipped his head ever so slightly. Everyone in the room followed suit… everyone except you. You weren’t going to waste a single moment on pleasantries when you could drink in the sight of your old family… if they had ever even been your family.

Nesta noticed, never taking her eyes off of you as she searched you head to toe, lingering on the glittering crown on your head with barely concealed surprise.

The sight of it was a dagger through Azriel’s heart, twisting and turning without mercy as Eris placed his hand at the small of your back. Protective, cautious, and ready to winnow you away at the first sign of trouble.

It should have been him standing beside you.

Rhysand was conspicuously absent as you’d expected. There was no way he’d drag the core members of the Inner Circle to Autumn and leave Velaris vulnerable. But perhaps it was better this way.

“Y/n.” Nesta said, breaking the awkward silence that followed. Her voice came out strangled with grief.

You blinked in surprise at the emotion in her voice. There was a hollowness beneath her eyes where dark shadows gathered, thinly covered with makeup to make them less noticeable.

Your teeth ground together to hide the trembling in your lips.

Nesta. Beautiful, sharp, and terrifying Nesta. Nesta who you’d dragged home from bars, stumbling and wasted. Nesta who you’d screamed at and cried with. Nesta who would never, ever let anything happen to the ones she cared about.

“Nesta.” You said carefully. You looked at Eris and he gave you an almost imperceptible nod.

Go on. This is for you. His eyes said.

You let go of his arm, stepping forward like a boat slipped off its mooring.

“Cass,” He smiled at you, warmth flooding his chest when you still used his nickname.

“Feyre,” Her eyes glittered with starlight.

“Mor,” She let out a shaky breath.

You steeled yourself for the last, familiar face.

“Azriel.” He stood there, still as stone while his heart raged inside him.

“It’s… it’s good to see you all again.” The words flowed out of your mouth more easily than you’d expected and you found there was a great deal of truth to your words.

The last you’d heard, Feyre was suspected to have given birth to another child - a girl this time. The gentle roundness of her figure and glow of her smile confirmed it. And Nesta and Cassian had married, twin rings of silver flashing on their fingers. Marriage was insignificant in the face of the bond they shared, but you were happy for them nevertheless. And Mor… Mor was as bold as ever, daring to race across the room and gather you up in her arms in a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” She gasped, burying her face into your hair and breathing in your familiar scent.

You stiffened in her arms.

Halvor’s arm shot out in front of Myrah, her hand hidden in the gathers of her skirt and resting on the knife strapped to her thigh. She was a coiled spring, ready to launch herself at anyone who dared touch you. It wasn’t until you slowly relaxed and returned Mor’s embrace that Myrah allowed herself to loosen, flashing a scowl in Halvor’s direction. He only smirked and winked at her.

“We didn’t know. Please believe me. Please come home.” Mor whispered the words for you and you alone.

Come home.

You closed your eyes, breathing in deeply before peeling the female off of you. You didn’t try to ignore the pain or betrayal that flashed in her eyes when you stepped away and floated back to Eris’s side.

“Please, sit.” You tapped Eris’s arm and with a snap of his fingers, mountains of food appeared on the table in front of you. Any other day your mouth would be watering at the sight, but today your stomach only clenched with nerves as you and Eris took your seats at the head of the table.

Feyre and Mor sat across from you at the other end, Azriel to their right and seated next to Aurelia and Myrah, and Nesta and Cassian to their left. The Lord of Bloodshed scowled at Halvor, who only smirked and dropped into the seat beside him.

If anyone wanted to attack their High Lord and Lady, they’d have to tear through Halvor and Myrah to do it.

Aurelia was a blessing as always, pushing the conversation through the usual, pleasant motions even when tension hung thick in the air.

How do you do it? You wondered, as she managed to draw a quiet laugh from Feyre’s lips.

The High Lady of the Night Court wore a deep, wine red dress so dark it was nearly black. Only the warm light flickering from the three fireplaces and the faelight chandeliers dangling overhead hinted at the color of the fabric. Somehow you knew it was Feyre’s way of showing her support for you.

She was shocked, as was everyone, when you’d appeared at the steps looking every bit like a High Lady beside Eris. And the love in his gaze hadn’t been lost on her. He looked at you the same way Rhys looked at her.

“How long have you been living here?” Feyre finally asked gently.

You’d hardly touched the roasted quail and walnuts in front of you, carefully following the conversation and wondering who would be the first to ask you the questions they were all dying to know the answers to. You weren’t making things easy for them, sitting on your small throne of cedar and gold that was the twin to Eris’s seat and looking as impassible and aloof as a bronze sculpture.

Everyone’s eyes focused on you. Eris shifted ever so slightly in his seat, angling his body towards you and leaning on his hand with a carefully crafted expression of boredom on his beautiful face.

“Eight years. Almost nine now.” You said, swallowing a bite of food with difficulty. The Inner Circle froze, the sounds of singing cutlery falling silent.

“Eight years?” Cassian said, his face paleing.

Nesta’s grip on her fork and knife tightened, knuckles turning white as the silverware struggled not to bend.

“We didn’t hear you were alive until four months ago. If we’d known…” Feyre’s voice faltered.

“You would have visited sooner? Don’t bother yourself with that. I didn’t want you to know. I wanted to be left alone.”

Azriel seemed to shrink in his seat when you said that. After all, he’d helped set this all into motion.

“So what changed?” Mor asked, almost accusingly. It was the first time she’d spoken since embracing you and the sting of your rejection hadn’t dissipated over dinner. “You’ve moved into the Forest House. Been seen at court. With him. If you want to be left alone, to stay hidden, you’re doing a terrible job of it.”

Before Eris could spit back a reply, Halvor growled threateningly, banging the table with his fist. “I’d watch my tone if I were you.” He said as smoke rose from between his fingers.

If it was any other court they were dining with, Eris would have warned Halvor to control his temper. As it was, he only gave a minor nod of approval to his brother. There were many things they disagreed on, but one thing was certain - they’d both protect you to their last breath.

“You’re being awfully silent, Eris.” Mor spit out, completely ignoring Halvor and Eris’s rightful title.

“Mor.” Feyre hissed in warning.

Your eyes turned dark.

Eris swirled the wine in his goblet, taking a careful sip and making a point of looking languid and unimpressed.

“I don’t have anything to say.” He paused, “Actually, that’s a lie. I have much I would like to say to you. Choice words that your precious Inner Circle wouldn’t appreciate hearing.” He looked at you, eyes softening as he downed the rest of his wine, “But tonight’s not about me.”

“Y/n.” Mor said, half in anger and half in desperation, “Stop this and come home. You don’t belong here.”

“And why should you have a say in where she belongs?” Myrah said. Her normally soft and lilting voice was low and deadly, “You were the ones who abandoned her in our court to die. Does the story sound familiar to you, Morrigan?”

“Mor,” Cassian and Feyre both reached for her hands, but she ripped out of their hold, standing up with an ugly groan of her chair as it was sent toppling backwards.

Her chest heaved with fury, fingers twitching for a weapon that wasn’t there.

Myrah matched her anger, knife sliding into her hand with ease as she pointed it at the blond-haired female across the table, “Who’s the villain now? Or will you do what you’ve always done and blame it on my High Lord?”

The tension in the room finally snapped.

Mor screamed in fury, launching herself across the table. Before Myrah could land the first blow - a wild glee in her eyes - Azriel leapt up from his seat. He angled himself in between the two females, wrapping his arms around Mor’s waist and pulling her away as she continued to fight back and scream bloody murder.

Feyre’s jaw clenched, slamming against Mor’s mental shields. Her commands to stop fell on deaf ears.

“You bitch! I’m going to kill you!”

Myrah beckoned her forward, daring Mor to try.

At some point in the chaos of it all, Bryaxis had changed form, taking on the shape of a bear and climbing onto the table beside Halvor. Cassian pushed Nesta behind him, his already pale face blanching further as he recognized the monster that bared its teeth at him and his mate.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” You slammed your hands against the table and stood up, your powers exploding outward in a rush of darkness and dampening the powers of everyone in the room. Everyone except Eris.

He stood up slowly and moved to stand behind you, one hand resting on your waist. His touch grounded you.

He’d felt your power before. He understood it. And he would not stand in the way of it. He would not stand in the way of you.

And he would not let you stand alone.

Mor stilled in Azriel’s arms, gasping as the suffocating nature of your power lifted off of her. Everyone slowly recoiled back into their seats.

Bryaxis returned to your side, inky eyes surveying the scene like a hawk.

“I invited you here so you would know that I am safe and well and happy. Not so you could insult and threaten my family. If you want to continue like this, you may as well save us the trouble and leave.”

Mor took in a shaky breath, face hidden behind her golden blond curls, and went silent.

“You should have told us.” There was no saving this evening, and Nesta finally took the opportunity to say her piece. “You should have told us you were alive. We would never have left you here alone. We would have brought you home.”

“Don’t you dare, Nesta.” You seethed, “Don’t you dare make me out to be some traitor. I never told Beron anything. No matter what he did to me. No matter what he threatened to do. I never betrayed you.”

Nesta’s eyes were two thin chips of ice and the knife she’d kept in her hand snapped in two, clattering to the floor. But the cold anger she harbored in her heart was not aimed at you.

“We didn’t know.” She said, “I nearly killed Azriel and Rhysand when I found out what they’d done.”

Azriel flexed his shoulders, feeling the memory of Nesta’s blade stabbing through the scar there. She’d aimed for his heart. It was only because Cassian intervened that he’d been spared. Now he wished her aim had been true, maybe then he would have been spared the look of heartbreak on your face now.

“What kind of an excuse is that?! If Beron had asked for anyone else in the Inner Circle none of you would have dared to even entertain the idea of a trade to get Elain back.”

“There was no other choice.” Mor said weakly, trying her best to defend Azriel as he had always defended her.

The mighty Shadowsinger looked like death next to her. Still and empty.

He’d never been quite the same after handing you off to Beron. When Elain had been returned to their family safe and sound and curled up in his arms, it wasn’t the joyous reunion they’d been hoping for.

Azriel had left a piece of himself behind with you, something he’d never managed to get back.

“THERE’S ALWAYS ANOTHER CHOICE!”

The rage and heartbreak stirred within you. Never gone. Never forgotten. Only contained.

“You would have gone to the ends of the earth to protect your own. You would have burned the world to the ground rather than agree to a trade of lives.”

Your eyes narrowed in on the High Lady, someone you’d once respected and would have died for.

“Feyre. What would you have done? Hmmm? What would you have done if Beron asked for Mor, or Cassian, or gods forbid Nyx in return for Elain?”

Feyre’s confidence faltered, the mask of the High Lady cracking and splintering under your forceful gaze.

“What would you have done?”

“I… I would have-” Her voice broke, “I would have given myself or died trying to find another way. I never… I never would have done what we did to you.”

“I would have done it.” You whispered. “If that’s what you’d asked of me. If that’s what needed to be done, I would have gone to Beron willingly to help you.”

Eris closed his eyes at the admission. It burned him to see you like this. Pieces of his heart cracking along with yours. He wanted nothing more than to winnow you away from this place. From these people.

“It was my fault.” Azriel said, stepping into your line of sight and hiding his High Lady behind him. His hazel eyes bore into yours, begging you to listen to him. “I was the one who told Rhys to agree to the trade. I was the one who convinced him not to tell anyone until it was too late. If you are to blame or hate anyone, blame me. Hate me.”

Your lips trembled, eyes burning with unshed tears as you took in shaky gulps of air. You should have hated him. You should have wanted to bury him beneath the force of your power, steal away his breath, and kill him where he stood. And with the way he looked at you, propped up by longing and shame and hope, you knew he would let you.

If you pulled out a sword, he’d kneel down and bend his neck forward. If you tackled him to the floor and beat him bloody, he’d smile to have you so close to him again.

It was a terrible, unfortunate thing that the fiercest kinds of hate existed only a hair’s width away from the fiercest kinds of love. Because the truth was you didn’t hate him. No matter how much you’d convinced yourself that you hated him, it wasn’t true. You loved him. And that was a far, far worse thing.

The bond snapped into place for you so suddenly, so much like a blow to your chest that you stumbled back, crashing into Eris’s solid form as he wrapped his arms around you. It burned in the deepest parts of your soul, filling you with a warmth and light that should have comforted you but instead only made you cower.

“No.” You gasped, curling into Eris’s chest and ignoring the looks of horror from everyone in the room.

Azriel was kneeling on the floor, one scarred hand clutching his chest as he felt the fullness of the bond rear its mighty head.

It was everything that he had ever wanted. He could feel you on the other side of the bond as naturally as he felt his own being and you were bright and warm and lovely and fierce. You were more overwhelming than a winter storm. More devastating than an earthquake.

He thought he was going mad. He wanted to kill Eris for holding you like that - for holding his mate. But… you looked so scared. Scared of him.

“No. No. No no no no no no.” You repeated over and over again, burying your face into Eris’s shoulder as Aurelia flew to your side, murmuring words into your ear that you couldn’t register.

“Y/n.” Azriel’s shadows were flying around him now, reaching out to you and desperately sliding up your arms and legs. Through the bond you felt it all - his shame, his self-hatred, his longing... His love.

Your power shot out in a wall around you at the same time that your mental shield slammed closed on the bond. His shadows beat back against your power and against the barrier you’d placed around your mind. You could still feel him there at the edges, begging to be let in.

The table shook and groaned, bottles of wine tipping over and crashing into waves of red over the floor as Cassian, Nesta, Mor, and Feyre slid backwards.

Azriel stood his ground as best he could, half-crawling towards you against the whirlwind of your power. You faintly heard him roar your name over the sounds of the room tipping and turning.

You were afraid to look at Eris. The one who’d given you a home. The one who’d promised you the world by his side. The one you loved and the one who loved you more than anything.

Eris held your clinging form to him, fire exploding from around him and wrapping around his family members in a protective circle as Feyre, Cassian, and the rest called out to you, begging you to listen to them.

“Get out.” He roared. You trembled in his arms, clutching him tighter, but his words were not for you. “Get out of my house. Get out of my court or I swear to the Mother I will burn you where you stand.”

His words, dangerous and unyielding, echoed throughout the room.

Cassian pulled Nesta to his chest.

“Nes, we need to go. Nes… She doesn’t want us here.”

Every part of her being screamed at her not to leave you again, but Cassian was right. You didn’t want them here anymore. So after one last look at you, she took her husband’s hand and disappeared without a trace.

Tears streamed down Mor’s face as she and Feyre shook Azriel, murmuring to him to get up. He stared, slack jawed and unrecognizable as he looked at you with more feeling in his expression than anyone had thought him capable of, silently begging at you to look at him, just once.

Feyre shook her head at Mor, grabbed him by the shoulders, and winnowed them all away.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

This was a really tough chapter for me to write because I wanted to get the nuances of all the characters correct and give everyone their own 'moment' during the dinner scene.

I want to make clear that I really like Nesta and Mor as characters and just because I write them be more 'hostile' towards Reader and just because Myrah attacks Mor and invalidates her past trauma does not mean I dislike them or have any hate for them.

*(And by 'Myrah' I mean me because... you know... I wrote the damn thing)

They're both complicated characters and I don't always condone the actions of the characters/versions of characters I write. It's just part of the fanfiction writing process that sometimes characters you have a lot of love and respect for have to become the antagonist in another person's storyline.

I just wanted to leave a note about that because I think Nesta and Mor get a lot of unfair hate from readers and I don't agree with that.

Thanks for reading and thanks for listening to my Ted Talk.

Love,

Florence B.

P.S. I know this chapter is pretty long (I think it's 6,000+ words) but I didn't want to disrupt the momentum by breaking up the chapter. Forgive me. Or don't.

Taglist: @nightless @mmb-09 @thesnugglingduck @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @logankemaek @the-sweet-psycho @a-frog-with-a-laptop @flameandshadowx @applerubyy @esposadomd @imma-too-many-fandoms @bubybubsters @kalulakunundrum @chasing-autumns-chill

398 notes · View notes

achaotichuman · 3 months

Text

Eris Vanserra

Through a combination of spite and wanting to write out my feelings, I've created this slice of tragedy. Thank @fell-in-luvs for putting the idea in my head.

Trigger warnings- Domestic violence, physical abuse, mild thoughts of suicide, implied self-harm.

Head between his knees, hands over his ears. Just keep breathing.

Porcelain smashed against the ground, and he heard her screaming. Just keep breathing.

He yelled at her, voice reverberating through the hallways.

She screamed at him, still young, still unknowing of what pain it would cause, to never raise his voice at her.

Then she screamed, she screamed in pain and Eris sobbed into his knees. His small, red face, wet with tears. On wobbling knees, barely big enough to open the door he had been sitting beside, he reached up and pulled down the door handle. The glistening gold burning from fire leaping under his skin. The five-year-old threw the heavy wood open with all the strength in his body.

She was thrown across the wooden floors of the bedroom, crying so loudly as blood poured from her nose, and her eyes swelled from a bruise now blooming. Beron reeled his fist back, screaming at her disrespect, at her insolence.

Eris screamed, the boy leapt at his father, flames sparking on his hands, “Stop!”

He hit his fathers legs as his lungs burned for air. The continuous chant of begging and demanding pouring from his hoarse throat, “Stop! Stop! Stop!”

Even with all the fire he found within himself, Beron grabbed his short red hair and threw him down to the ground. Eris cried as the air whooshed from his lungs, he gasped and gasped, but his throat refused to allow any oxygen within.

“See what you’ve taught him, you fucking whore!” Beron screamed at his wife.

She cried, arms trembling as they tried to lift her from the ground, but it was of no use as her husband descended upon her again. Fist pulling back, a scream and the cracking of bone as he met her jaw again and again.

“Let her go! Let her go!” Eris shrieked. A bruise appeared on his face as a red mark. He was shaking until it was so hard to so much as walk, he tried to rush at Beron again. But the male pulled up a wall of fire that scorched Eris’s hands and face.

Eris screamed and threw up across the floors. Darkness edged in his vision and he looked up to see the image of his mother, bawling as she bleed and bleed. She begged and pleaded, but Beron’s hand wasn’t merciful.

“Stop it! Please stop it!” Eris cried from the floor.

He remembered the light of the moon from that night. How it shone in through the large glass windows, all shut and locked. He remembered how it shimmered across his mother’s blood smeared across the floor.

Eris blinked the images away, forcing his eyes back to what he was seeing. His mother stared into her food, hands neatly folded in her lap. Beron howled with laughter, and the sudden laugh caused both to flinch suddenly. Though Eris’ was far less noticeable.

With no eyes on them, with every courtier at the dining hall preoccupied with sucking up to Beron. No one at any particular spot, as the formalities had been forgotten after the thirteenth bottle of wine had been opened.

Eris reached out, hands gentle and calloused, they just managed to brush the back of his mother’s hand. The six-year-old that begged for his father’s hands to keep off his mother’s skin peeking through.

But this was no longer the woman that remembered her own will. This was no longer the woman who braided flowers into his hair at celebrations, and she was no longer the woman who patched his knees when he fell off his horse.

She pulled away from his fingers so abruptly a nearby lady looked over. Quickly her eyes turned back to Beron’s sneering grin.

“Mother-” The word slipped from his throat before he could stop it.

“You’re just like him.” His mother hissed.

Eris stared.

Not one of his father’s hits, not one of his words, or training, had ever…

Punched him as hard as that.

“Mother-” His voice cracked, breathing was hard again.

He was back on the floor, without air in his lungs, he was back in that bedroom. He saw her behind that wall of fire again.

“You are just like him.” She said again.

Her flaming russet eyes looked up to see him. They burned. They burned with a hatred so bright, Eris flinched again.

Those words held words, words that stung more than ones she actually voiced. ‘Go on, tell him I am willing to defy you.’

“Please-”

He wanted to sob. He wanted to run into the arms of his mother in a field of grass under the protection of oaks and Autumn leaves. He wanted her to look at him and smile.

‘Please.’

‘Please, I’m still your baby boy, aren’t I?’

“Please-”

“I hate you.”

Beron standing over her, tears streaming down her face as she cried and begged.

Eris felt his father’s leg underneath his hands again as he tried to burn the male.

I hate you.

You’re just like him.

Just like him. Just like him. Just like him. Just like him.

“Eris!” Beron boomed. Eris’ head snapped up and his face fell into the mask of false respect and bitter smirks.

“Yes, Father?” The words had the slightest of shakes to them. Not enough that anyone noticed. No one would ever notice.

“Come join the head of the table, my boy! Lord Entrice has some news to share.” Beron had such a sadistic glint in his eyes.

Run, every bone in his body said so. He didn’t feel safe. He wasn’t safe. He was never safe.

Eris stood and beside him, his mother huffed a laugh. His eyes snapped to her once again, and there she stared at the meal before her, but he saw her hating eyes, and her smirk, ‘Go suck up to him.’ Was what that smirk said.

She didn’t dare lift her head to meet his eyes. Beron called again, voice beginning to border on agitated.

Just like him.

“Yes, Father.” Eris answered.

When Eris retreated to his quarters that night, he saw nothing. He felt nothing. Like his whole body was on another plane. His soul retreated to some small corner where it heard nothing. Like a child putting their hands over their ears and chanting ‘Lalalala I can’t hear you’.

He didn’t remember when he locked the door, he didn’t remember when he bathed or changed, or sat down beside the fire. He didn’t know why he was sitting on the floor and not on the lounge. He didn’t know why he was sitting so close to the flames, and he didn’t know why he was staring into them without ever looking away.

Just like him.

You’re just like him.

A smile curved on his face, even as tears welled in his eyes.

I hate you.

Then what’s left?

Lucien was gone.

His other brothers refused his help.

If his mother hated him?

What was left?

The rest of the Autumn Court, a logical voice told him, trying to pull him back from the edge. The rest of the Autumn Court would need him one day, he would have to be living for that.

The Autumn Court had survived this long, was he that necessary?

To improve their lives he was.

Was he?

Just like him.

He was just like him.

Eris didn’t remember taking a knife in his hands, and he didn’t remember holding it over the fire.

But he did remember the pricks of the blade over his arms. And he did remember the marks it left.

Just like him.

I hate you.

What was left?

#eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #lady of the autumn court #acotar #acotar headcanons #acotar au #a court of thorns and roses #i wrote this in like half an hour #eris vanserra deserves better #eris goes through it #thats basically the whole oneshot #the autumn court #beron vanserra

99 notes · View notes