#eris vanserra fanfic

[daycourtofficial]

Amber eyes, looking into mine

Summary: Eris finds something in his study that triggers him into a frozen state of panic. Who better suited to pulling Eris from his past than his future?

Author’s note: I wrote this in under an hour so please be nice and if there are any typos, no there aren’t 💕 Also technically this is part of my gingerfucker series, but can be read alone and she doesn’t make an appearance, it’s all Eris and the baby okay byeee

TW: panic attack, mentions of being whipped and being burnt

Word count: ~1k

A trade agreement sat on his desk, one that predates his tenure as high lord. Eris had found the document stuffed away in a drawer, abandoning what he was searching for as soon as he recognized it.

His father’s large, obnoxious signature at the bottom, the ridiculously high tariffs on imported goods. He could hear the whip in his ears, feeling his body tense with memory.

It was all too much. He had spoken with his father about the deal, wanting to give incentives for traders to come into Autumn rather than deterrents. Beron had laughed at him, telling him that everything anyone needs can be found in Autumn.

The night hadn’t ended there.

Beron had whipped him for having such a ridiculous idea in front of the other courtiers.

“No son of mine will appear so idiotic before others,” he had said, his voice ringing in Eris’s ears. 

Eris was seated in his chair in his study, but his mind was elsewhere. Down deep, deep in the dungeons of the Forest House, a trek he made many nights, his blood dripping through the house as he limped back to his own chambers.

Chubby hands grip the fabric of his trousers, a body too small traveling up his legs, climbing for what they love most in this world. Little feet find their footing on his thighs, hands leaning against his torso to support their weight.

Amber eyes look at him, searching for praise at the impossible task they just completed. 

His eyes.

What his eyes used to look like, before Beron burnt the joy out of them.

Eris is frozen in place, caught in a spiral of hatred and loathing by his son. His beautiful, wonderfully funny son, who looks at him with the love and adoration his mother looks at him with.

If his son knew all that he had done to prevent Beton’s ire, would his eyes still look for Eris in every room? Would his eyes still fill with tears, his lungs exhaling every breath at bedtime, unable to sleep without seeing his father one last time?

The spitting image of him, his mother finding an old portrait of himself at this age, his son a direct image of the portrait. Was this how he looked when Beron began his tirade of cruelty against his family? Did soft coos of a babe turn into wails at any contact with Beron?

All he had ever known was the flame, the flame within himself that refused to be extinguished, and the flames his father tormented him with for centuries.

He feels those flames on his skin, his own flame desperate to fight it. He feels the heat licking up his forearms, he feels it cascading down his back in waves, searching for every inch of unclaimed skin. He clenches his fists, desperate to bring himself back to reality. Instead, his breathing becomes more ragged, his jaw clenching.

He can smell the flesh burning off of him, feel his stomach churning, his throat filling with bile at the smell, so strong he could taste it.

Tiny fingers grip into his hair, yanking lightly, trying to find balance. The feeling jolts him back, back from the past, back from a place that doesn’t exist anymore. 

The babe stands in his lap, toes gripping his trousers as he tries to learn how to use them. A warmth so unnatural from something so young radiates off of his son. A tear splashes onto the little foot, which the babe immediately burns off. 

Giggles fill the room at his show of his powers and Eris is finally able to move again as he wraps his arms around the young princeling, so unaware of how the world can burn.

He holds him in a tight embrace, squishing his face into the tiny neck, breathing him in. He gives himself five seconds, clutching the clothes covering the babe’s chest.

Five.

He breathes in deeply, his chest heaving with sobs that escape his mouth.

Four.

It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair. It had never been fair. Nothing was fair.

Three.

It took hours to kill Beron, centuries of scheming, and his presence was still felt throughout the court, throughout him-

He feels something cold and wet on his neck, tiny hands still gripping his hair, but his son is slobbering across his neck, his cheek, the movement tickling Eris’s neck. He laughs as he realizes that his son is mimicking how they make him laugh by blowing raspberries into his neck, his cheeks, his stomach.

He delicately pulls the face from his neck, leaning his forehead against his firstborn’s forehead. His eyes are wide with wonder. Everything is new to him and the worst thing he’s experienced is dropping his favorite toy in a mud puddle.

He looks at his father, not sure what to make of him, until Eris slowly smiles at him, his eyes lightening with fondness, catching a bit of the spark from his son’s eyes.

And the baby in his arms smiles back, grabbing Eris’s nose in excitement as he babbles noncoherent sounds. Eris stretches his legs out, sinking into his chair a bit, letting his back relax into the chair. Eris responds to the babbling, occasional hums and responses to whatever he was trying to convey to his father. 

Someday, the words would come. They would flow freely, spilling from his mouth in anger, in sadness, in disbelief. They would come more easily, small things setting off his memories and not allowing him to think of anything until they left him. He would share the burden of his memories.

Someday, the words would come. But not today. Today the incoherent babbling was enough.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar fanfiction #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris x reader

[prythianpages]

You're Good To Me | Eris x Reader

summary: Eris realizes two things. One, he's in love with you, his brother's betrothed. Two, he's put you in danger.

warnings: angst, mentions of killing, but there is some fluff in the middle!

a/n: This one is inspired by Hozier's Would That I. Eris is so Hozier coded and when I heard this song, I couldn't help myself but write this. You can find the masterlist for this series here or just read this as a stand alone imagine. I rewrote the last scenes to this so many times within the past couple of hours but I think I'm finally content with this.

The late morning sun casts long shadows through the towering trees of the Autumn Court's sprawling estate, dappling over Eris with golden hues. Resting against a centuries-old oak, he reads a book–your book–while his hounds run about freely. Occasionally, they bring him a random stick that he happily throws.

She was soft as an angel but oh, she could love with the fury of a demon–

Clover, his youngest hound, barks, pulling his attention from the book. It’s one that has an adorable chirp to it. His fingers still on the page he was about to turn. Recently, there’s been only one other person–besides him, of course– who can elicit such a sound. 

With a roar of a fire, Eris’s heart rises to its feet, mirroring Clover’s excitement. He can feel you too. You’re close. The book he was reading lays forgotten in his lap as he listens for the telltale sound of hoofbeats drawing near.

You had gone for a morning ride with his mother as you’ve done nearly every morning for the past week. How convenient for Eris to be reading near the stables around the time you’d return.

He was strategically positioned not to be in your direct line of sight but for you to come into his.

You’re laughing at something his mother said and the small smile that tugs at his lips is almost inevitable. He lifts his gaze, admiring the carefree expression on your face and the way the sunlight catches your hair. Clover lets out a small wine, tail wagging in anticipation as she watches you. She looks back at Eris, as if asking if she could run to you, and though Eris isn’t one to deny his hounds, he shakes his head at her. He wants to bask in your presence from afar awhile longer.

He can tell your lips are moving but from where he sits, he can’t discern your words. The soft pat you give your horse, Maximus, and the responding loud neigh is enough to clue him in. Maximus stands proud, his long white mane blowing in the gentle morning breeze as you dismount him with the help of one of the stablemen. You traded your pretty dresses for something more fitting for your morning ride. His gaze lingers on the way your pants cling to your curves longer than it should.

A low growl from Clover has him abruptly tearing his gaze away from your body. He watches as you run toward an older male. Your smile is so bright it competes with the sun as you throw your arms around your father. There’s something unsettling about the way your father looks at you. Something that makes your father undeserving of your smile. 

While you look up at him in admiration, he looks at you as if you are his most prized possession. An object. He can tell his mother senses it too by the forced smile on her face as she politely greets him.

In the blink of an eye, Clover is darting toward you with an urgency that startles Eris. The rest of his hounds pause, their muscles tensing as they watch the scene unfold. Your eyes widen in pleasant surprise. Clover bounds towards you, her tongue eagerly reaching out to shower you with affection.

“Do they just let vile creatures roam around freely here?” He hears your father loudly ask with a scowl on his face.

“Her name is Clover,” you are quick to correct, turning toward your father again.

Clover turns with you and suddenly, she’s growling and snapping at him. With a yelp, your father falls to the ground on his butt while Clover lowers her head with another growl in warning. Eris rises to his feet and brings his finger to his lips, letting out a sharp whistle.

Just as quickly as Clover had escaped his side, she obediently makes her way back to him. Your gaze follows after her, and it's then that you spot Eris. There's a softness in your gaze as it lands on him. Despite the tension between Clover and your father, you seem unfazed. Your focus solely on Eris as the stablemen rush to help your father, who is groaning out profanities while his mother apologizes on Eris’s behalf. 

Eris holds your gaze, patting Clover’s head in a reassuring manner. He’s not sorry about the whole ordeal. His hounds are trained to appear menacing and fearsome but they never attack without reason. Now, he’s inclined to investigate further, realizing he does not know enough about your father.

“Come along,” your father says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and forcing your attention back to him. He looks down at your outfit and a frown appears on his face. “You’re a Lady now, y/n. You need to dress like it.”

“I’m sorry,” he hears you apologize, unsettling him further. He watches as your body is enveloped by a golden glow and when he blinks, your riding outfit is replaced by a soft pink gown.

As your father rushes you back toward the forest house, you can’t help but glance back. There’s the slightest curve to Eris’s lips at that. He waves your book in a teasing manner, reveling in the immediate response he receives. You quickly turn back around and even from his distance, he can appreciate the blush that warms your cheeks. He feels a similar warmth swell in his chest, leaving him already anticipating seeing you again at dinner.

**

Eris hesitantly turns the final page of the book, as if reluctant to part ways. He had needed something to preoccupy himself with until dinner and with his father thankfully busy entertaining yours, he decided to immerse himself further into the book you held dear. He knew it was one you treasured by the worn-out cover and the pages threatening to detach from the spine. He’s almost distraught at the creases that line the top edges of random pages but is willing to forgive you for it. 

His gaze settles on the last words, a bittersweet ache tugging at his heartstrings.

"You are the love that came without warning. You had my heart before I could say no,” he breathes, holding her close. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” she croaks out as she looks up at him, blood seeping from her mouth. “I love you too.”

And as she drew her last breath, he felt his world end with it.

He stares at the words, reading them over and over again. Finally, he closes the book, but the words linger, echoing within him like a haunting melody. They stir emotions in him he’s never felt towards the ending of a book before. He feels lost. Angry. Disbelief. What kind of ending was this? If this book wasn’t yours, he would’ve flung it across his room.

He lets out a deep exhale, eyes fluttering shut momentarily. When he opens them, he looks at the clock hanging across the wall from him. Two hours until dinner still looms ahead. He wants to find you, to tell you his thoughts like you told him to but it’s too risky at this moment. 

Rising from his seat, he gingerly sets your cherished book down on the small table beside him. He grabs his coat, deciding fresh air will do him well. Perhaps, even a walk through the village. There is a shop he’d like to visit. Anything to quiet his thoughts and the clamor of his racing heart. The characters from the book struck a chord too familiar with him.

**

“Hold my hand.”

“No.”

Eris pauses at the voices, eyes immediately finding the owners. There's a notable gap between you and Sawyer, tension crackling in the air as you exchange heated glances. For a moment, Eris wonders if there’s fire coursing through your veins too.

“Listen,” you start. “I don’t want to hold your hand but I want my father to believe I’m happy.”

Sawyer lets out a chuckle. “Your father doesn’t care.”

The look of hurt that flashes in your eyes is enough to have Eris’s blood boiling. “Can’t you at least do this one thing for me?” You plead, clasping your hands in front of him.

“Nope,” Sawyer repeats, accentuating the “p” sound, evidently relishing in the opportunity to further irk you.

“Gods, you’re such an–an…”

Sawyer raises a challenging eyebrow, his gaze locking onto you as your voice wavers, the resolve slipping away. "Say it," he whispers sharply, and Eris's muscles tense instinctively, not liking his brother's tone. Maybe, he should intervene…and teach Sawyer another lesson.

“You’re an asshole.”

Eris almost chokes on his own spit. He fights back the urge to laugh. Not at you, but at the sheer surprise written all over Sawyer's face. Sawyer clearly hadn't expected such boldness from you, and if Eris were to be honest, he is surprised too. Pleasantly surprised. 

“Only for you,” Sawyer hisses back, surprise morphing into offense.

“I won’t even breathe in your direction for the next week.”

“And?” 

You look at him incredulously. “And?”

Sawyer doesn’t respond. He folds his arms tightly across his chest, letting you know he expects more from you. Your response is a frustrated huff, a sound that would have typically elicited an amused smile from Eris. But not at this moment. 

“Fine. I’ll cover for you for all the days leading up to our wedding. Do whom and what as you please. But–” you pause, holding a finger out to him. “–you have to say something nice to me in front of my father too.”

Sawyer’s lips curve into a pleased smirk. “That’s more like it, poo bear,” he purrs, bringing his hand up to pinch at your cheek a little too rough for Eris’s liking.

His fists clench at his sides, watching with envy as Sawyer slowly offers you his arm. Though it’s what you asked for, you eye it with caution. As soon as your hand is lifting to take Sawyer’s arm, Eris finally decides to make his presence known. He walks forward and toward the still notable gap between you and his younger brother. His shoulder purposely bumps into Sawyer’s, a mask of indifference on his face as he does so.

On the other side, his fingers graze against yours. A gesture so subtle it appears to be accidental. There’s no nuance in your expression but your fingers respond, gently lingering over his own. A tug on that golden thread in his chest has his steps wanting to falter. He does not give in, pushing forward instead.

Eris walks into the dining room and settles into his seat beside his mother, nodding a greeting to both his father and yours. They’re already immersed in what sounds like a pointless conversation over Prythian’s economy. Knowing that you and Sawyer will be following shortly, hand in hand, he yanks the bottle of wine from Oliver’s grasp. The heated glare he receives is instant but he couldn’t care any less as he fills his glass to the brim, wishing it was something stronger.

“There’s my blooming flower,” he hears your father happily greet as you grace them with your presence.

“The prettiest flower,” Sawyer remarks in a tone as smooth and soft as velvet. His younger brothers snicker, clearly amused with the drastic change in Sawyer’s attitude toward you. 

Eris, however, does not find it amusing. 

The grip on his glass tightens so harshly that his mother spares him a glance. She gives him a discreet kick under the table, silently urging him to relax. While his grip on his wine glass loosens, the tension in his jaw doesn’t. He remains quiet during dinner, chiming in only enough to not raise suspicion. He doesn’t dare to sneak a glance at you. Nor at Sawyer. Not even to glare daggers at him for every sweet word he speaks your way.

He knows it’s all an act but the thought does nothing to soothe him. Not when he heard you begging Sawyer to act like he likes you, to hold your hand, to say sweet nothings to you. To do all the things Eris is desperately yearning to do. 

The Cauldron was cruel.

**

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well here,” your father says as you walk arm in arm.  “A flower like you needs the right soil to flourish.”

After dinner, the two of you had taken a stroll through the gardens, catching up with one another. He told you all about his recent business adventures, gloating over how the deals coming his way were endless as the word of your family name mixed with the Vanserras spread throughout Prythian. It was when the autumn winds began to pick up and grew too cold for your liking that you made your way back in the forest house and toward your room.

“Do you really have to leave so soon?” You ask, a frown settling over your brows. Please stay, you want to add.

“I’m afraid so. I have a meeting with a potential business partner in Hewn City so I’ll have to leave early tomorrow to prepare,” your father replies in an apologetic tone. “I’ll try to make it in time for your next dress fitting.”

“Okay,” you respond, forcing another smile to your face. You hope your father can’t see right through it. “I’ll wake up early tomorrow to bid you farewell.”

“Lovely,” Your father says, the two of you coming to a stop near your door, where an Autumn guard is stationed right in front. With a nod of his head, the guard steps aside, allowing you access to your room. “Sleep well, okay?”

You lean your back against the door in contemplation. There’s so much you want to say. You want to tell him the truth. To ask him to call off the wedding. To have him take you with him, even if its to Hewn City. 

Perhaps, if it were your mother standing before you, you would’ve confessed it all. She was always willing to listen. Your father…not so much. Given the way he was already bragging about the benefits from your arranged marriage, you worried it’d only be a waste of your breath. You also feared burdening him further, knowing he already had a lot on his plate.

You worry your father senses your inner turmoil when he reaches out a hand, lifting your chin. He smiles at you, his eyes seemingly capturing every detail of your presence. Almost like he’s etching it into his memory forever. “You’re everything I could’ve asked for and more in a daughter. Your mother would be proud too.”

There’s a pang in your chest and your smile falters. Something tells you, you wouldn’t be marrying Sawyer if she were alive. Unlike your father, she would see right through you and find a way out for you. But you can’t blame your father, either. Your mother’s last wish was to see you married and happy. Your father only wishes to honor it. 

So instead of voicing your worries, you nod. “Goodnight, father.”

**

When you enter your room, you swear your heart skips a beat. Eris stands tall by your window, his red hair glowing like strands of molten copper under the pale moonlight. His gaze is fixed on the rustle of the leaves from the cool breeze, the shadows dancing across his delicate features. He looks ethereal just standing there.

“Your view is better than mine.”

You’re quick to shut the door behind you. “Lord Eris.”

Eris lets out a snort at your formality. He turns to face you with a small smile. “Just Eris,” he reminds softly as you approach him. 

“Sorry, it’s a habit now,” you reply in a sheepish manner. You walk further into your room, joining him at his side. “What are you doing here? You didn’t leave a note this time.”

“I finally finished it.” Eris says as he reveals what he’s holding in his hands. Your book.

“You did?” Your eyes widen as you take it back from him.

The spine is gently bowed from decades of being held dear but you notice that the pages that were teetering away from the spine have been carefully attached back. What catches your eyes most, however, is the golden thread dangling from the midst of the pages. Your fingers toy with the autumn leaf charms that hang from it. Opening the book, you realize the string is attached to a bookmark. It’s placed exactly where you had last creased the page you had been on.

“I can’t believe you dog ear your pages, angel.”

Eris’s nose crinkles in disgust yet there’s an amused gleam in his eyes that has a laugh bubbling in your chest. “You say it like it’s a crime.”

“Because it is,” he insists with an incredulous furrow of his brow.

“Did you like it?”

“Like?” He laughs and you feel a flutter of uncertainty course through you. “I loved it,” he admits, soothing the flutter but then adds: “But I hated the ending.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoes, his tone mirroring the playful glint dancing in his eyes.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment and you remind yourself to breathe properly. “Do you want to talk about it?” You offer tentatively, your heart racing with anticipation.

Eris grins. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Sitting on the window seat, he adjusts his body so that his back leans against the window. He carefully angles his legs, giving you space to sit too. You settle across from, hugging your knees to your chest. 

“Start from the beginning.”

And so Eris does, pouring out his every thought. 

He tells you how he enjoyed the author’s world building of the human world, though he knows in reality, it’s actually very boring. You attempt to defend the mortals but Eris dismisses it, claiming he knows their world is dull based on a human he knows. He then tells you how the slow burn romance between the two protagonists nearly drove him insane. That he’d never been more happy to read about two characters holding hands.  

“And don’t even get me started on the intimate scenes between those two. It went on in extravagant details for pages and pages,” he says with an amused exhalation. “How something so vulgar can be written so beautifully is beyond me!”

You can’t help but laugh at that, despite the heat rising to your cheeks. Eris continues with his passionate rant and you drink every single word. At some points, he pauses, asking for your interpretations of certain scenes, bringing forth small arguments and laughter.

"I just can't get over that ending," Eris remarks with a sigh, his brow furrowing in frustration. "It's just so... sad. Disappointing, almost. After all that trouble the hero went to save her only for her to still die at the end...”

"But isn't there a certain beauty in tragedy?" you counter softly. "The way it makes you feel, the emotions it evokes. The angst. Because as you read, you slowly begin to realize that it was not her who needed saving but him.”

Eris tilts his head, contemplating your words for a moment. Of course, you would see the beauty in the ending. His lips curve into a pout. He needs to protect you at all costs. He doesn’t want you to end up like him, spirit crushed by the cruel confinements of this court and forced to wear a mask at all times.

"I suppose I just prefer stories with happy endings. Life's already filled with enough sadness, isn't it?"

“It is,” you murmur, gaze softening with empathy. Then, your eyes are lighting up as a thought crosses your mind and you’re smiling at him. “Who would’ve thought Eris Vanserra, the heir to the Autumn Court, is a hopeless romantic with a soft spot for happy endings.”

The smile that breaks out brightens his entire expression and he lets out a chuckle, sending a warm flutter through your chest. He leans in closer, his amber eyes alight with an intensity that mirrors the flickering flames of the hearth in your room.

“And who would’ve thought a saint like you has the mind of a sinner.”

“Hey!” You gasp and give a playful kick to his thigh. 

Eris laughs, body relaxing as he slumps against the window for support. He’s lost count of the amount of times you two have laughed tonight but he knows it’s more than he ever has before. When you shift to give another kick, his hand grasps at your ankles. He raises a brow at you in challenge, almost daring you to try again.

“You said and I quote ‘something so vulgar can be written so beautifully,’ meaning that you enjoyed them too.”

“I did,” Eris agrees, lips curling into a smirk as he lifts his gaze. His fingers mindlessly dance across your exposed leg, sending a delightful shiver through you. “But I am no saint.”

It’s when he feels your leg twitch that he realizes what he’d been doing. He stands abruptly and lowers his head. He fears he’s getting too comfortable around you. “I sh–”

Standing from the window seat, your hand grasps for his, stopping him. “Since you read one of my favorites, it’s only fair that I read one of yours.” 

Eris's eyes widen in surprise and he turns back to look at you. No one has ever asked him about his favorite book. He read yours because he wanted to, curious to learn more about you through it. He didn’t expect you to return the gesture. 

 "Deal.” 

The word escapes him with such ease it scares him but it’s short lived as he’s overcome with excitement. His passion for reading had always been a solitary pursuit. It was something he never really shared with others, but he wants to with you. 

“I’ll bring it to you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you respond happily.

“But,” he begins, not allowing you to let go of his hand, his thumb brushes against the back of it. “You’re not allowed to dog ear my pages.”

“I’ll also need a book in return. It’s only fair,” he adds, mimicking your tone from earlier. His mind then drifts to thoughts of the both of you, curled up against one another with a book in your laps. Or maybe, you’d read to him while he holds you close, his head resting atop your shoulder and–

“Of course,” you reply, pulling him from his fantasies and toward the other side of your room, where many books were neatly lined atop a shelf. “I couldn’t bring all my books but I brought all my absolute favorites!"

Eris watches as you hum in contemplation. His attention is drawn to the way you tap a finger against your lips. He remembers the way they felt against his cheek. Lovely and sweet. Like your heart. He’s dying to know what they’d feel like against his lips…

He knows you’ve finally decided on a book when your other hand frees itself from his hold to reach out for it. You carefully slide it off the shelf and then turn around, presenting it to him. “You’ll love this one,” you tell him and you’re so confident it has his lips twitching upwards for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.  “It has a happy ending."

"I think I...," his voice wavers with a delicate tremor. He looks away, his cheeks tinged with a delicate blush over the words he couldn't bring himself to articulate. "You're good to me," he murmurs instead, taking the book from you.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Your words coax his gaze back to yours and the sincerity he finds in your eyes is one that’s never been directed at him before. It stirs a desire in him that he never even knew he was searching for. 

The fire in his veins burns brighter. The bond in his chest sings louder. He allows it to pull him closer to you. You're also leaning in until the book in his hand is the only barrier between your bodies.

There's nothing else to interrupt this moment between you both. No bells chiming like that day in the fountains. No cloak to trip over or lanterns like that night he snuck you out. It's just you two, in the stillness of the night, where the only sounds are your breaths and the crackle of the hearth nearby.

His movements are slow, giving you the chance to pull away at any moment. You don't. He watches your every shift in expression as his free hand tilts your chin up towards him. Your eyes flutter shut in anticipation.

And then he's kissing you.

Softly and delicately like a butterfly's wings. Your lips are warm and perfect against his, your taste sweet and intoxicating. Even better than he could ever imagine.

Your hands travel up his neck and thread themselves through his hair, pressing his lips harsher against yours. Heat courses through him as you kiss him back. You're like a wildfire, burning away all memories of past lovers and leaving only the embers of your essence to light his way.

When he pulls away, a shared breathlessness lingers between you. As he looks into your eyes, it's like the world has somehow shifted. All at once, everything is different. He longs for the night he'll be able to hold you tight and let the blinding light you bring consume him fully.

For now, he leans his forehead against yours, breathing you in and taking in the soft smile on your face that mirrors his own.

**

But the very next morning, he's harshly reminded that though he's had a taste, your radiance remains beyond his grasp. He fears it will forever, like a forbidden flame that flickers just out of reach.

"Who does he think he is, making demands of me?" Beron seethes, his voice laced with frustration, as he paces back and forth in his study.  “I’ve graciously taken in his daughter. I’ve even granted him half of his money upfront. And yet where is my promise?”

Eris, standing nearby, observes with cautious eyes, gauging the storm brewing within his father. He knew it was going to be a bad day the moment he woke up from a nightmare. A nightmare whose cruel grip he still cannot shake off…because for the first time, you were in it.

 He prays his father can’t hear the rapid beating of his heart as he says, “Cancel the deal. Call off the wedding with Sawyer...”

And wed her to me, he wishes to add but the words stick in his throat. The painful truth lingers deep in his chest, nestled next to the strings of fate that bind him to you. It’s best if you leave this court and go somewhere far.

Far away where happiness might embrace you. Far away from the cruel clutches of his father’s power and even your own. Far away where you may free him of this torment…but the more time he spends with you, the more precarious the thread his honor hangs on becomes.

He fears that nowhere would be far enough now.

“Call off the wedding?” Beron laughs in an incredulous manner. The gold and crimson tapestries adorning the walls seem to shiver in response to his father’s simmering frustration. When Beron abruptly turns to face Eris, the younger male can’t help but flinch. “When you were the one who suggested this arrangement to begin with.”

Eris’s throat tightens. He had been the one to suggest this arranged marriage. 

Your father, a respected merchant, extended an offer to Beron – an offer that, even now, Eris grapples to comprehend fully. It was a proposal that was lured with promises of enhanced power for the High Lord of Autumn in exchange for wealth and elevated status through matrimonial ties.

With no available Vanserra daughters to marry your father to and Sawyer's nightly endeavors tarnishing the family name, it led Eris to suggest an arranged marriage between you and Sawyer. A futile attempt to protect his younger brother from a fate similar to Lucien’s…but at what cost?

The Cauldron must be bubbling with amusement at the irony of it all. For, unknowingly, Eris orchestrated the union between you, his mate, and his brother. This is all his doing. All his fault.

Eris wills himself to maintain an outward appearance of calm. “What’s so important about this exchange anyway?” He asks with a measured voice.

“Jareth has access to something precious,” Beron responds, his words chosen with deliberate care. "Something that may hold the key to immortality."

Eris's eyebrows furrow in contemplation, his mind racing to grasp at what special thing your father could be harboring. "What if he is bluffing?" 

Beron's eyes darken, sending a shiver down Eris's spine. His heart sinks to his stomach as he can already anticipate what his father is going to say.

 “I’ll kill his precious daughter. Then, I’ll kill him.”

If your father keeps his end of the bargain, you’ll marry Sawyer. Doomed to a life of misery, where danger lurks at every corner. If your father doesn’t keep his end of the bargain, you’ll be the one to face the consequences of his father's wrath.

And you're in this situation because of him. The bond in his chest tightens, the golden strings pulling taut with a piercing resonance. No, no, no. Panic seeps in with an agonizing intensity. The mere thought of any harm coming to you, especially because of his actions, sickens him to his stomach.

He can’t allow that to happen. He won't allow it to happen.

“That won’t be necessary,” Eris says, carrying the weight of centuries of practiced composure. “I’ll ensure Jareth keeps his end of the bargain.”

“As expected,” Beron replies in a pleased tone. “I’m counting on you.”

Eris manages a nod, silently excusing himself. He’s never been more desperate to leave his father’s study. He feels his hands begin to shake and he shoves them into his pockets, not wanting to allow anyone a glimpse of the turmoil raging inside.

It's only when he's in the comfort of his room that he allows his facade to crumble. Leaning heavily against the door, he slowly sinks to the floor. His hounds are immediately rushing to his side, noses brushing softly against his arms.

"I made a terrible mistake," he tells them quietly and a low whine comes from one of them in protest. Then, with a strong determination, he says, "but I'm going to fix it."

"I swear it," he promises, rising to his feet, his hounds following after him as he makes his way further into his room.

You're not going to marry Sawyer and you're not going to be the one to pay the consequences of your father's actions, should he betray them. No. Eris will make sure of that. He's running out of time but he's going to find a way to get you out of this mess. He knows he can.

Eris realizes then he'd do anything to keep you safe, even if it means losing everything. Because if there's one thing he can't lose, it's you.

a/n: and here comes the angst train. I hope you enjoyed Eris and reader talking about her favorite book as much as I enjoyed writing it ♡

tagging: @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @fxckmiup @stormhearty @skyesayshi @sfhsgrad-blog @crazylokonugget @evergreenlark @secretlyhers @mybestfriendmademe @ib525, @96jnie, @kennedy-brooke, @scooobies, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria, @glitterypirateduck @thatsassyhufflepuff @acourtofbatboydreams, @mal-adaptive-dreams

#eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris angst #eris vanserra angst #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #eris angel au #eris vanserra imagine #eris vanserra fanfic #eris acotar #Eris vanserra

[throneofsmut]

BOUND IN FLAMES - Part 9

Eris Vanserra × Archeron-Sister- Reader

Description: Feyre and her younger sister go hunting in the forest behind their family's cottage and go through life changing experiences.

A / N: I’m back !! sorry for being so inconsistent and inactive but i hope you guys like this part.

I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep, but it couldn’t have been for long because from the window in Eris’s cabin — our cabin — I could still see the night sky and lit bonfires in the distance. We were still in the same position we were in when we had finished fucking.

Me on top of him with him still inside of me.

Eris still had a hand on my hip while the other rubbed lazily across my back.

I slowly push up, my hands braced against his muscular chest, “How long was I asleep ?” I whispered, my voice still thick with sleep.

He didn’t respond, he only gave me a small smile and continued to rub his hands along my thighs.

“How long was I asleep ?” I asked again, and noticed a hint of red in his cheeks. “You were asleep too ?”

Eris let out a small laugh, “Until you started squirming trying to get more comfortable.”

I let out a small laugh of my own, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll wake you up before I go back.” Something like anger and pain seemed to flash across his face, his eyes, at the last four words he spoke.

“Before you go back… Under the Mountain ?”

He nods. Once. Tightly.

My hands cupped his face, making him meet my gaze, “I don’t want to sleep then. Let’s spend our last night together.”

Those amber eyes, his eyes, searched my face, for what I don’t know, but then he was kissing me. Wordlessly he pulled away and then he was carrying me to the bathroom and sat me atop the counter.

I watched him as he filled the tub with water, added soaps and oils to it. Grabbed bottles of hair products and towels before setting them on the chair near the tub then carrying me to the tub and placing me in it. He followed in right after and silently washed my hair and my skin. Placing soft kisses as he went and I did the same for him. When we were done he dried us off and then we dressed.

I was waiting for him to finish lacing up his boots and he caught me yawning, “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep, little flame ?”

“I’m sure,” I nod. “Do you have any food here ? I’m starving.”

“No, but, there is an orange grove and grape vineyard a mile back.”

I arch a brow, “What kind of grapes ?”

“Green.”

“Autumn or Spring ?”

“Autumn,” he smirks, “why ?”

“I haven’t had Autumn grapes in years and they’re my favorite.”

He laughs softly, “So, no, oranges ?”

“I mean, I love oranges too but, I don’t want to peel them. I hate how my hands feel after. And Autumn grapes are always crispy.”

He walks up to me, placing his hands on my hips, “I’ll peel them for you.”

But before I get a chance to respond he leads me out of the cabin and the crisp autumn night breeze hits my face. Eris puts his arm over my shoulders, tucking me into him and my hand fists the back of his tunic as if he’ll vanish. As he leads us down a trail, towards the vineyard and grove.

“So your favorite color is blue and autumn green grapes are your favorite, you love oranges. . . What else ?” Eris asks.

“What do you want to know ?”

“Anything. Everything.”

“I don’t know anything about you. So how about a question for a question ?” I offer.

“All right, fair enough.”

“What’s your favorite color ?” I ask.

“Red.”

I snort, “That’s not surprising.”

“Family ?” He asks.

“My mother died when I was young and my father doesn’t know about me… at least he acts like he doesn’t.”

My mate leans down and places another kiss atop my head, “I’m sorry, little flame.”

“Me too,” I whisper. “Anyways, what about you ?”

“My mother and father are both still alive. No sisters. Six younger brothers, but two died years ago.”

“Lucien told me about that. Where you. . . one of the ones—“

“One of the ones holding him down while his lover was executed ? No.” He looks over his shoulder, “Who do you think got word to Tamlin and slowed down my other brothers ?”

“Does Lucien know ?” I ask.

“If he does, he doesn’t show it.” He answers. “What about you, any siblings ?”

“No,” I breathe. “But, after my mother died, another family took me in and they already had three daughters. They became my family or the closest thing I had to one. The three of them were like my sisters — they are my sisters.”

“Older or younger ?”

“All older.”

“Are you close with them ?”

“Uh, no, not really. Just with the youngest one out of the three. The two oldest ones were closer to each other and the third one and I were closer.” I confess and some part of me wishes I had tried more to get along with Nesta and Elain. To get closer. Since I might not have the chance to later. “What about you and your brothers ? Are you close with them ?”

Eris lets out a bitter laugh, “Gods, no. When we were younger I tried to protect them from our father, before he could turn them into cruel, sick bastards—“

“Like him ?”

“Like him,” he nods. “Then when we got older, I had to keep them in check,” another bitter laugh, “while playing the cold, cruel and calculating heir of autumn.” He stops. Then moves to stand in front of me and struggles to meet my eyes. “You’re going to hear things about me, if you haven’t already and—“

“I’ve done things too,” I tell him. “And I’m going to do more.”

I’ve already made my peace with doing whatever I have to do to kill Amarantha and those who get in my way. For my mother, for the summer court faerie, for Lucien and anyone else she’s hurt. And for me.

“What are you talking about. . . what have you done ?” His large hands cup my face, tilting my head up, making me look at him. “Talk to me. . . please,” he says. Softly. Gently.

“We become monsters, to survive monsters.” I say deathly soft and Eris’s brows furrow as he searches my face for more answers, but it’s too late. I’ve already put on the cold mask I’ve worn for years.

“What happened ? What have you d— What are you going to do ?”

I shook my head, “I won’t ask you what you’ve done or what you’ll do and neither should you.” I hardly recognize my own voice. Except for the coldness of it. The sharpness of it.

Eris let go of my face and took one, two, three steps back. Away from me. Then he runs his right hand through his hair before covering his mouth with the back of it. He lets out a shaky breath, “Do you not trust me — did I do something ?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, I look at him. Really look at him and realize that his hands are shaking, his heart is racing and his breathing is uneven.

He’s nervous. Scared.

Scared of what I’ll say and the fact that I haven’t said anything is only making it worse. I blink once and I can see myself through his eyes. My head is cocked in a way that is more animalistic than anything. Like a predator sizing up its prey. I blinked again and I was looking at him through my own eyes again.

I shook my head, “No, Eris, you haven’t done anything.” I tell him, hoping to soothe his nerves.

He let out a sharp breath. His hands have stopped shaking and his heart isn’t racing anymore. “So you don’t trust me.” He’s says it more to himself than to me.

“I never said that.”

“Then what is it ?” He says feigning nonchalance, but I can still hear the doubt lacing in his words.

“There’s no point in me telling you, when you’ll see it,” I admit.

He prowled closer to me until we were chest to chest, needing to crane my neck back to look him in the eyes because of our height difference. I forgot how tall he was — how powerfully built he was.

A muscle in his jaw feathered before he spoke, “If you’re not going to tell me what you’re talking about, then tell me something real.” Not a request, a command.

“I’m scared,” I whisper. His brows furrowed and his eyes widened, that wasn’t at all what he had expected me to say. “I’m scared of how you’ll feel when you find out about the real me. . . When you see the real me. Who I am.”

It’s no secret that none of the seven courts are really friends, but my mother used to tell me about how feared she and her brother were. Her twin. He is the most powerful High Lord in history and she is — was — the most powerful female in history. And how feared their inner circle was.

My mother was second in command to her brother. His third in command is more powerful than them but her power is different. Otherworldly. Their cousin is his fourth and she has the power of truth. The general of his armies and his spymaster are the most powerful Illyrian’s in history. Each needing seven siphons to hold the raw killing power they possess. And his spymasters is a shadowsinger.

I inherited my mother and her brother’s magic and then some from my father, but I had also been born with fire. I used to ask her why I had fire and she didn’t, if she was from Night and my father wasn’t from Autumn or the Day Court. And she would simply kiss the palms of my hands and say, “Is the sun not a star ?”

She always told me I was blessed by the Mother and the Cauldron for having so much power. But, as I got older I realized it was because I’d been born with a target on my back. Which was why she trained me the way she did.

I let out a few sharp breaths, trying to will away the tears pooling in my eyes, to no avail. “When you find out what I did and. . . what I’m going to do. What I can do. What I will do.” My throat working as I spoke my last fear, eyes squeezing shut, “I’m scared that you’ll die because of me. Just for being my mate. . . and I won’t be able to do anything about. ”

My eyes are still squeezed shut as I felt Eris gently, so gently, tuck my hair behind my now rounded ears. His fingers tracing the rounded curve of them so softly. And it’s all I can do to not flinch beneath his touch.

I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until he whispered, “The real you. . . the real you, that has pointed ears.”

Not exactly a question, but I nodded my head anyways.

“Can you show me ?” His voice was gentle like his touch had been moments ago.

I shook my head, “Even if I wanted to, I can’t.”

“Can you tell me, why ?”

“It’s a blood spell.” My voice was barely audible, I only knew he heard me because of how close we were. “My mother made it so that only someone on her side of the family could undo it. I can’t do it.” I left out the part that there’s only one person alive in the entire world that could do and I don’t even know if he would do it. “I can show you my true form for a couple seconds, but the p—“ My voice trailed off as I remembered how much pain I’d felt when I showed myself to Raihn. How it intensified until it was all I knew. Until it nearly killed me.

“But, what ?”

Eris’s voice brought me back to the present and I shook my head, “But, the pain I’d feel, would be all consuming. Searing. So hot that it felt impossibly cold, until it killed me. . . I’ve only done it once before and was surprised I survived. I doubt I would survive it a second time.”

The only reason I survived then was because Raihn had channeled some of his power into me. And continued throughout the next couple days. Since the blood spell suppresses my powers. I can only feel that I still have my magic, but I can’t access it. Except for one, but it’s not much. It feels like a drop instead of a vast ocean like it used to.

“Why are you scared of how I’ll feel when I see you ? Did the blood spell affect your physical appearance ?” Eris asked.

I nodded my head, “I still look the same, but my coloring is different. This isn’t my true hair or eye color.”

“Do your sisters know ?”

“No,” I breathed, “and they’d probably hate me. For lying and being fae.”

“Look at me.”

I shook my head.

“Little flame, look at me.” His voice a plea and prayer.

So I did.

“Because you told me something real, I’ll tell you something real,” his throat bobbing, “You're capable of hurting me in ways I'm not sure you've even begun to fathom. I might be skilled enough to land a death blow, but you alone have the power to fucking destroy me. And I would let you because you are everything to me. Do you understand that ?” His voice raw with emotion.

“Yes,” I said softly.

I didn’t even realize I had started crying again until Eris was wiping them away. “I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done, you’re my mate. Mine.”

I had no more words for him — my eyes saying what I couldn’t put into words. A new sort of vulnerability as I laid myself bare for him. Eris. My mate. Mine. A challenge thrown down. Waiting to see how he would react.

Eris Pov:

How many others had run from this part of her, not being able to handle all that she is ? I hated them all merely for putting the question in her eyes.

I love her as she is. All that she is.

I wouldn’t run from her. No, I only met her stare as I let her see all of me too. Her throat bobbed before her lips curved up into a smirk. My eyes falling to her lips, tracking the movement and then back up to her eyes. Without even thinking my hands settled on her hips, her cheeks flushing from my touch, her pupils flaring.

I see you, I silently conveyed to her. And I like all of it.

Likewise, her smirk seemed to say.

Dragging my eyes from the smirk that made the floor a little uneven. I gripped her hips a little tighter with hands that were surprisingly shaky. Then my mouth was on hers. Claiming her.

I begrudgingly pulled away from her when my stomach growled, quietly cursing myself while she laughed at me. “Come on, let’s get the grapes and oranges.”

****

Eris winnowed us back to the cabin, his arms full of grapes and oranges along two plates piled with meat and sauce and bread, and a bottle of red sparkling wine — he said he would hold it all.

Eris was hesitant to take it, but Bayne — the owner of the vineyard and orange grove — insisted. I was the one that had knocked on his door. The last time I saw him I was eight years old, yet something like recognition flared in his eyes when he took me in. It took him a moment to respond when I asked if I could pick some grapes and oranges, but he said yes and went back into his home. So Eris and I went about picking them when he came out with two plates in hand. Startling when he saw I was with Eris.

It didn’t help that, Eris immediately stood between us. I walked around him, to hand Bayne a few gold coins — more than what was needed — but he had always been kind to me and my mother. He politely declined and insisted we take the plates. I inclined my head in thanks and took them, Eris’s voice cut between our silent interaction. “Why ?” he asked.

Bayne never took his eyes off me as he said sadly, “She reminds me of someone. . . of an old friend who passed a few years ago.” An old friend — my mother.

Eris didn’t say anything else as I handed him the two plates I was holding and placed the gold coins in his hand and thanked him again. Then Eris winnowed us back to the cabin. And we ate our plates in comfortable silence. I sat atop the kitchen counter and he remained standing, next to me.

He finished his plate before I did and kept true to his word. He silently went about rinsing the grapes and peeling oranges before plating them between us. And once I finished my plate, he took it and washed, before pushing the plate of fruit closer to me. I moaned at the taste of them and he laughed softly. “Good ?”

“So fucking good.” I said around a mouthful of orange, which earned me another mirthy laugh from him.

****

We had moved back to the bedroom, my head settled on his chest, his hand playing with my hair as the other rested on the small of my back.

I huffed as I looked out the window.

“What’s wrong, little flame,” he asked.

“It’s almost dawn,” I grumbled. Which meant it was almost time for him to go back Under the Mountain.

He kissed the top of my head, “We’ll see each other again. Soon.” He promised.

And he had no idea how true that was.

But, right now, I wanted him. No, needed him. I needed him. To feel him, incase I wouldn’t have the chance to again.

He didn’t stop me as I moved to straddle him. Not as I pulled at his tunic — a silent request for him to take it off, and he did. He didn’t say anything as I leaned down, kissing his lips, his neck, his chest. The only thing I heard was his heart pounding, when my fingers lightly skimmed where his skin and his pants met. I wasn’t sure he was breathing and just to see what he’d do, I palmed him through his pants.

Eris barked a curse.

I laughed quietly, kissing his chest again, and then swirled my tongue around his nipple, teasingly, letting him know what was to come.

And when I laid my palm flat on him again, “You’re mine,” I breathed.

Eris’s breathing started again, jagged and savage. Feral. I flicked open the top button of his pants. “I’m yours,” he ground out.

Another button popped free. Then the third, but then I felt him before I heard him.

Raihn.

“It’s nearly dawn,” his deep gruff voice sounded in my head. He was pissed and now so was I.

I growled and Eris just stared at me confused. I shook my head him and before I could tell Raihn to go back to the Manor, his growl shook the entire cabin and seconds later he had broke down the door and was in the bedroom. Snarling and baring his teeth.

It was all Eris could do to put me between him and the wall. His body a solid wall between me and the white wolf. Raihn’s eyes fell to the dagger Eris was clutching, his knuckles white from the grip. Then the wolf’s eyes tracked the hand Eris had placed on me protectively. Raihn cocked his head, his snout twitching once, twice, scenting us. Scenting Eris and he growled, baring his teeth in a snarl.

Eris readied himself for the massive wolf’s attack, but before he could do anything I snarled at Raihn, “I’m gonna kill you !” Raihn only growled in response.

Trying to make my way to him, but Eris was holding me back, Raihn noticed and took a step forward. He snapped at Eris in warning and Eris to his credit didn’t falter, he only readjusted his grip on his dagger. I rolled my eyes, pushing past Eris, standing right in front of Raihn, “I’m gonna kill you.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, “I told you to stay in my room, you know it’s not safe out here for you. They’re hunting you !”

He let out an annoyed huff.

“And you can’t just barge in like that, where are your manners ?” I scolded him like a mother would a child — my hands now on my hips — and he whined. I turned back at Eris, shaking my head at Raihn, and he was just gaping at me.

For other parts: Bound In Flames Series Masterlist

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 10 part 11

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#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #eris vanserra #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra smut #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar #eris fanfic #eris smut #eris x reader #bound in flames

[redbleedingrose]

since ur drabbles are open… thinking about girl dad!Eris and reader having another baby and Eris wants to name her Lucy after his baby brother 🥹

heheheh another babe for girl dad!Eris ???

If I am being so completely honest, I think it is gonna be a long long time until girl dad!Eris and you have another child. One fae pregnancy is extremely rare, and the fact that you had a twin pregnancy??? Almost unheard of in Prythian.

Eris for sure wants more children, I think it takes you a long time to be ready for it. You want to spend time with your twin babes, and your pregnancy with them was very, very difficult... it makes you less than excited to be pregnant again. And Eris is fully aware and ready to wait as long as you need, and is content if you decide you don't think you will ever be ready for another.

And to clarify, I think Eris would truly really pray for another girl. I think he has his own insecurities when it comes to having a son. He truly feels more comfortable with having daughters he can spoil and love on to the fullest extent. The thought of having a son... it makes him fear (even moreso than he does with Marwa and Twila) that he will act like his father.

Needless to say, I think Er has a lot of trauma he is working through, and You, Marwa and Twila are the reason he feels so inclined to do so. So, at the end of it all, it will take some time for him to be ready for another babe as well.

Now, your thought, dear anon, is a very sweet one, and I have had thoughts as well. So, maybe I can share some Girl Dad!Eris lore for the class since you brought it up so kindly!! <3

It takes a very long time for there to be reconciliation between Eris and Lucien, not for Er's lack of trying. Lucien is deeply, deeply scarred by what Beron did to him and Jesminda. And the role that Eris played, or at least the role that Lucien thought Er played, is one that broke their relationship.

Prior to this, Er was the only brother Lucien actually loved and was close to, and visa-versa. Eris truly adored Lucien, ever since he was a babe. Eris tells you later on, in the darkest hour of night, while he is wrapped up in your arms with his face buried in your chest, body shuddering from sobs, that he always knew that Lucien was different from the rest of them, from the rest of his brothers. Er's mother came clean to Eris years after the incident with Jesminda, but part of Eris already knew. And Eris thinks that there was a part of Beron that already knew. And maybe that is why what happened with Jesminda, is because of Lucien's crime of being born.

Eris' relationship with Lucien is honestly really difficult for Eris to talk about, he rarely wants to, even with you, his closest confidant, his best friend, his wife, his mate. It is not something he wants to spend time dwelling on, though you know, and he knows, that Eris will spend an hour a day, at least, thinking about how things could have ended differently, if he had just tried harder.

Eris was made aware of Beron's hatred for Jesminda the moment Lucien introduced her to their family. He caught the dark, hungry glint in the evil high lords eyes when she introduced herself as a young maiden coming from the rural farms of Autumn. As the eldest son, Eris was responsible for a lot of Beron's duties (in secret of course). As such, the night after Jesminda was introduced, Eris was summoned to Beron's office and was made aware of the plan to ruin the young loves relationship.

Eris spent a long time, with lots of effort, trying to put off or ruin Beron's plans. And he was often successful. What Eris counted on, was Beron letting things go between the two young loves. Eris counted on this being Beron's attempt to "protect the family image." Eris truly believed that if he delayed Beron's plans that many times, that eventually his father would give up.

What Eris didn't count on, was Beron's utter hatred for Lucien. Eris didn't count on the fact that the plan was to ruin Lucien's life. By the time Er figured out what was going to happen to Jesminda, it as already too late. Jes had already been brought to the prisons for her end, and Lucien was already being held back by their second oldest brother, Dragos.

The way that Eris explained to you, and he only has once because he really hates talking about this night, is that he grabbed onto Lucien to make sure Dragos didn't kill him right then and there. But with that, with his intent on protecting his youngest brother, he had to force Lucien to watch the beheading of his first love. It is not something Eris will ever find forgiveness in himself for. He will never forget the wails and shrieks of his youngest brother. And he will never forget the ringing silence that came after.

All that Eris had in his mind, trying to tamp down the sheer panic running through his arteries, pumping through his heart, is getting Lucien out. Once Jesminda was murdered, Eris wasn't sure what the fate of Lucien was. So, while he and Dragos were dragging Lucien away, when they were finally out of the sight of Beron and the other brothers, Eris released Luc and used the dagger hidden against his forearm to stab into Dragos' carotid. Lucien was soaked in his second eldest brothers blood as he scrambled away from Eris, but Er didn't let him get too far, winnowing the both of them out into the depths of the Autumns Forest.

"Go," he hissed between clenched teeth, shoving Lucien towards the spring border, "I will hold them off." The shouts of the other Vanserra brothers approaching closer and closer through the forest, Eris couldn't bring himself to look back as he shouted at Lucien to "Get out of here! Go! Leave and never ever come back!"

Eris described this night, as one of the worst ones of his entire life. He lost his most beloved brother, possibly forever. And he would never be able to explain himself. He would forever, in the eyes of his brother, be an enemy and one of the reasons Jesminda is not alive.

You coming into Er's life brought a lot of hope. A lot of strength for Eris. Centuries of planning to assassinate his father are finally carried out because there is nothing more that Eris wants, than a world where he can love you freely and openly, without putting you in danger. After Beron is... eliminated... Autumn Court flourishes under Eris' rule with your help as high lady. Eris has long let go of hope that one day, maybe Lucien will forgive him. But he has hope that he will build his own family, one that he will love and protect forever, one that he won't fail like he failed Luc.

Lucien, struggles with his emotions regarding Eris. He has long remained confused and angry and hurt about the night Jes was killed, and it takes him centuries to work through all of the trauma of it. And he has to do it without his oldest brother, without his mother. He has to do it alone. After that night, Lucien thought he would be alone forever, without a family.

Of course, as time passes, wounds heal slowly. From a distance, truly peripherally, Luc watches the Autumn Court flourish under Eris' rule with the new high lady, you. Lucien was stunned that Eris even created teh position of high lady, he always assumed that the woman to marry Er would live in a loveless marriage as lady autumn as his mother had. Lucien didn't think Eris would find love. He didn't think Eris would let himself have love. Despite these changes, Lucien remains wary for several more decades.

It is not until one fateful evening, in the middle of Summer while Lucien is in Day court, the truth of his conception being exposed after Beron's death, that Luc receives a letter with delicate, beautiful handwriting addressing him as "brother." It doesn't take long for Luc to figure out, that the handwriting belongs to the High Lady of Autumn, you, his brothers wife and mate. You never told Eris you were writing Lucien this letter, because you didn't want to get his hopes up, but you wrote to Lucien imploring him to come visit one day, if only to meet his new sister in law, if only to see the changes that have brought true joy to Autumn Court. In this same letter, you inform Lucien that you are expecting. That he will be an uncle, and that you hope to the mother, that you pray to the gods, that one day your babe will be able to meet their fathers favorite brother, their youngest uncle. Lucien, as you expected, does not respond to your letter.

At least, not right away...

Part 2 coming soon!

A/N: this is unedited but part 2 is coming tomorrow hopefully, Thursday evening at the latest 💞

#rose rambles #rose answers #girl dad!Eris x reader #girl dad!Eris #eris vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra fanfic #acotar fanfic #acotar hcs #acotar drabbles #autumn court #eris vanserra #eris vanserra drabble #eris vanserra fanfic #girl dad eris lore #marwa and twila

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | one

☁︎ summary: The Lady of Autumn hires a healer behind Beron's back. Sworn to secrecy, the healer helps Eris when he is punished by his father and forbidden to see a healer from their court. Eris did not expect to find himself growing attached. He comes to realize that he may know plenty about sacrifice, but he has a lot to learn about choosing to live for the ones you love.

☁︎ notes: let me know how you feel about the order of this chapter. I felt like it didn't read the same to have that last scene at the beginning, but if it's confusing I will change it:)

☁︎ warnings: descriptions of wounds and blood, talk of physical abuse, implied domestic violence

☁︎ word count: 2.8k

☁︎ AO3 Link // Masterlist

“Hurry,” Lady Edana hissed, a sound like pinching a candle flame. It echoed in the quiet, the only sound in the dark hallway.

The silence was so immense it seemed to roar. Every hall and passage was empty and utterly dark. Aya would have thought every court had secrets veiled by this hour between night and morning. But there was no sign of life in the Forest House.

And yet, Lady Edana led the way with a knife in her hand, poised to attack. It was not even a hunting knife or one of the jeweled daggers gifted to young boys of the court. Just a knife, likely stolen from the kitchens or even the dinner table. Aya had to wonder if it was the only weapon Lady Edana had access to.

To her credit, she held it like a fighter, blade pointed down and out so she could still strike if pinned. In her other hand she held her shoes, her stocking feet making no sound as she shuffled across the stone floor. Urgency radiated from her. If it were visible, it would have given her a corona. An aura of flames.

They came to another corner and the Lady tugged Aya against the wall before peering around the corner. She deemed it safe and pulled the healer after her. One last eerie hallway and then they stopped at a large wooden door. Lady Edana fished a chain of keys from its place tucked into her bodice and unlocked the door. It opened without a sound, like the hinges had been oiled or silenced with magic.

The lady snapped and the fae lights came to life in their sconces, revealing the heir of Autumn laying face down on a large bed, bleeding profusely into silk green sheets.

Aya had been warned of his condition but it still sent a jolt through her. He was so still, his red hair stark against pale skin and moss colored bedding. His mother tossed her knife onto the side table and knelt by the bed.

“Eris,” She whispered, her face nearly as pale as his, “Are you awake?”

“Mother,” He croaked. Something in Aya’s chest twisted at the utter brokenness of his voice. It hurt more than looking at the torn up flesh of his back.

“I brought a healer,” She said, beckoning to Aya.

“Mother,” He said again, reprimanding. Pleading.

“I will take care of everything.” She stepped back to let the healer take her place, disappearing into the washroom to fetch water. Eris’s eyes, surprisingly alert, locked onto Aya’s face. They roamed over her features, assessing.

“Worry not,” Aya whispered, unable to resist the urge to brush back a strand of copper hair. She understood the urgency now, as her gaze flickered to the blood pooling around his body.

His eyes softened at her touch, chin trembling like he was a thread away from shattering. So she took her hand away from his forehead, hovering it over his injuries instead. He flinched and she closed her eyes so he would not see the anger in them. The anger at whoever had done this. He needed tenderness and she would give it.

Aya reached into the spring of power within her and willed it to the surface. Willed it to pour from her fingertips into his being and soothe the pain. She urged the bleeding to slow to a stop, for his body to numb enough that she could clean his wounds before the true healing began. She felt his energy begin to pull away, lulled by sleep.

When she opened her eyes she saw that his own had closed, his breathing deep and even.

“You are as talented as the High Lord said,” Lady Edana whispered from beside her. She held a pitcher of water and an arm full of towels.

Aya stared at the mess, wondering where to begin. Even with all her doubts and wariness, she had not pictured an injury this severe when she accepted this position. She had known to expect the sneaking and the secrecy, but not to be led to Eris’s deathbed.

It did not help her uneasiness in the slightest when the lady said, as she mopped up her son’s blood, “Whatever we can’t get clean by morning, just throw into the fireplace. We’ll have to burn it all.”

It was a long moment before Aya said anything. Perhaps it was a risk to ask questions, but Eris’s blood coating her hands felt like justification enough.

“Why?” She murmured, keeping her eyes on the work before her. Lady Edana took her own time answering, lips pursed as she dabbed at the prince’s back.

“The High Lord forbade Eris from seeing a healer. It is part of his punishment.”

“So that is why the job was a secret,” Aya said quietly. They still avoided each other’s gaze.

“Yes.”

“What is the prince being punished for?” Another risky question, but Lady Edana seemed to think her questions were deserved, too. Or maybe she just wanted Aya to understand. From this perspective, dishonesty seemed to be built into the foundation of the Autumn Court.

“He visited the Winter Court without telling his father first. His father wanted to know why. And decided that Eris must be granted permission to leave the court borders.”

Aya clenched her jaw, looking back at the deep wounds on Eris’s back. No doubt from a whip or a belt. They would leave deep scars, and would have easily become infected without a healer. Though that seemed to be what Beron wanted. She decided not to ask what Eris was doing in the Winter Court.

“Beron will be called away first thing in the morning,” The Lady continued, “Not that he would have checked on Eris, anyways. But you will be long gone before he wakes, just in case.”

Aya wondered for a moment how Beron would know that Eris had obeyed his order not to see a healer. And she realized with a sick feeling in her stomach that he had likely left the enforcement of that order to Edana. The entire structure relied on their fear. They would do what he said because they had to, to protect themselves and each other. So what would happen to Lady Edana if Beron knew what she had done? What would happen to Aya?

She looked down at the ring on her forefinger, the blood on it glimmering like a ruby. She wondered how much Thesan had known any of this. It didn’t matter now, anyways, since she was bound to Edana by that golden ring. And looking at Eris, his brows furrowed and skin shining with sweat, she knew it was all for him.

How often was he destroyed this way? Torn apart in mind and body, forbidden from being put back together? Often enough for Aya to be paid a monthly salary. A very handsome one. But perhaps that part truly had been to make sure she wouldn’t change her mind.

As if she had a choice, now.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Upon returning to the Dawn Court, Aya headed straight for the throne room. She did not bother to change first, her clothes still covered in ash and blood. Her whole body was stiff from sleeping on the floor and heavy from how little rest she had managed to get.

The mammoth wooden doors opened before her, revealing Thesan and a few of his councilors lounging near the throne. Their easy laughter rose into the air, dancing with the cool breeze. The open archways of the throne room showed the pastel skies and fluffy clouds around them.

It was such a stark contrast to the last hours of her life, dimly lit and painted in the dark tones of the Autumn Court. It blew a puff of air into the fire burning in her chest.

Thesan’s brows rose as his gaze landed on her, jaw clenched and eyes blazing as she strode through the room.

“How much did you know about this job?” She demanded. The irreverence shook the High Lord more than her appearance. This was the way she spoke to her cousin, and not Thesan the High Lord. And never in front of others.

He asked the councilors for a moment, keeping his eyes on Aya as they scurried away. One dared to flash her a disdainful look and click his tongue. Aya ignored it.

“What was your question?” Thesan asked softly when they were alone.

“You told me this job would require discretion,” She said, her tone cooling a touch, “Did you know why?”

“Lady Edana requested a healer for personal matters,” He took a sip from his goblet, “I did not think it would be polite to inquire about the details.”

Aya shifted on her feet, her rage slowing to a halt. How delicate was this secret? Thesan could always be counted on for his discretion. But surely there were political implications that she didn’t know or understand. There always was, and figuring them out had never been one of her talents.

“Did you not ask the details before you accepted the job?” He pressed. His curiosity about the state of her clothes was rising into anxiety.

“I assumed the details. I thought maybe she was having age-related troubles. Or perhaps an affair.”

“And you were wrong,” Thesan prompted, “You are very troubled by whatever this secret is.”

“Yes,” Aya admitted, her shoulders drooping.

Thesan’s gaze flickered to the ring on her finger. If he was surprised to see it he did not let it show.

“You bound yourself to her?” His voice still smooth, collected.

“She said a physical contract would leave evidence.”

Thesan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He did not believe Edana to have particularly evil intentions, but she had played Aya like a piece in a game.

“Are you able to tell me this secret?” He sighed.

Aya considered the contract. It seemed that Thesan should be exempt from the secrecy. She would find out if she tried to say it out loud, anyways.

“Beron tortures his son for information,” Aya said, dropping her gaze to the marble floor. The heaviness of her body returned and she resisted the urge to let her wings rest on the ground.

“Lucien?” Thesan tilted his head to the side. He did not seem all that surprised.

“Eris,” She whispered, lifting her eyes to his. She knew he would see how haunted they were. Filled with imagery of her long night.

Thesan pursed his lips, his own eyes sparkling with anger. Many things clicked into place with this new information.

“And that is the secret?” He asked, “Beron mustn't know you heal Eris?”

“Yes,” She felt much smaller now, all of her fury laid out before Thesan, “He forbids him from seeing a healer. But he would have died if I wasn’t there.”

They did not speak of what this meant for Aya. The danger she would be in every time she stepped foot in the Autumn Court. It passed between them without words, the worry forming like storm clouds.

“I think I should speak to her,” Thesan rubbed his chin in thought.

“Please don-” Aya began, rushing forward to plead with him. He held up a hand to stop her.

“Worry not, little bird,” He soothed, “I will make sure you keep your job. I just want you to be safe. Now rest, I can see the weariness in your eyes.”

Her mind was far from settled, whirling with countless thoughts and worries. But Eris was well and her own safety was in Thesan’s hands now. That was enough. So she obeyed, gathering the energy to trudge back to her room and rest.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

“Thesan tells me you are looking for work experience outside of the Dawn Court,” Lady Edana took a sip of her tea, amber eyes locked on the girl in front of her.

The Lady of Autumn had requested to meet with Thesan’s best healer in training. In private, in a quiet place. Thesan did not see a good reason to deny her. And he knew that she worked hard to separate herself from her husband in any manner she could. He’d heard the whispered rumors and seen the bruises hiding just beneath the fine lace of her gowns. If he could help to enable her independence, he would.

“Yes, my Lady,” Aya nodded, resisting the urge to ring her hands, “It is the last requirement I need to complete my training.”

She was proud that Thesan had chosen her as the best of her class, but now she was nervous. Edana had come alone, save for one guard who loomed off to the side of the balcony. His eyes were fixed on the glass doors behind them, but Aya had no doubt he had been listening to the entire conversation. Which, up until then, had been all pleasantries and small talk. But now the Lady’s eyes were narrowed, her focus sharp. It sent a shiver through Aya’s feathers.

“There is a certain situation in my home that requires a healer with greater skill than my court can offer,” The Lady began, “And the position requires discretion. I cannot ensure that a healer from my court will not betray me.”

She paused, watching Aya and waiting for a reaction. Aya knew her brows had drawn together, but she willed all other emotion away.

“There are many distinguished healers in a court, my Lady,” Aya said slowly, “Surely you would want someone who has finished their training?”

“No one with a title,” Lady Edana pursed her lips.

Aya only nodded, feeling ever more confused. The lady’s secret was that salacious? Perhaps it would be wildly foolish to get wrapped up in this situation. But offers for work outside of the court did not come along very often for trainees. And Aya would be lying if she said she was not itching to experience something outside of the soft colors of Dawn.

“I would pay you a monthly salary,” The Lady tilted her head to the side, looking as if she knew exactly where the girl’s thoughts had gone, “You will receive the same amount no matter how many calls you receive in a month. Sometimes, I may call on you often. Other times I may not need your help for a long while.”

“You need not pay me if you don’t use my services,” Aya frowned. Many healers in training took positions without pay.

“I was hoping the salary may make the strange requirements worth their while.”

She named the amount and watched Aya’s eyes widen.

“So you need a healer on call to help with private matters. And I must keep the job a secret?” Aya clarified.

That did not sound so suspicious when summed up concisely. Or perhaps the money had dulled the warning signs. She had never let Thesan spoil her just because they were related. She insisted on living in the healer’s dorms and earning her own living like the rest of her class.

“That is correct,” Edana nodded.

“And I would be under contract?” Aya asked. Another common facet of training positions.

“Three years. And it would be through an Autumn Court bargain, and not written,” She said, still watching with those bird-like eyes. She would fit well into Dawn with all of those avine features.

“Very well,” Aya said, “But I would like a written copy of what the bargain entails.”

Edana’s lips twitched up into a smile that Aya couldn’t quite decipher.

“I will write it up and send it your way,” The Lady stood from her chair, “It should be in your hands by this time tomorrow.”

Lady Edana held out her hand. Aya told herself later that she should have been clever enough to wait before shaking hands. She should read that bargain first and study the details. But she did not think of that.

When the magic snapped she let out a yelp and snatched her hand back. Her forefinger was adorned with a simple golden band. She tried to twist it but it did not move, as if it were now a part of her.

“What is this?” She asked, incredulous, turning her hand as she examined the ring.

“A symbol of our contract,” Edana said, straight-faced as ever, “It is a tradition similar to the tattoos in the Night Court.”

Aya stared at it, the pit in her stomach growing larger. How she would be scolded for her oversight. She was certain a version of herself from the future was watching this conversation and screaming at her for being so foolish.

As all of this raged in her mind, she missed the flash of guilt in Edana’s eyes, quickly overtaken by something else. Something too desperate to be sorry.

#i'm kind of in love with this story #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #eris #eris acotar #eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #eris fic #eris fanfic #eris fanfiction #eris x oc #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra fanfiction #autumn court #dawn court #dawn court oc #acotar healer oc #eris x healer #lady of autumn #vanserra brothers #beron vanserra #thesan #dawn court healer #acosf #acomaf #acowar #acofas

[lucienarcheron]

Spirit Meets the Bones - I

Eris and Iris.  Son of a high lord, daughter of a fiend.  An arranged marriage brought them together and beneath all the hate, the two are more alike than they’d like to be. 

Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse.

Author's Note: Today marks the three-year anniversary of when I first posted this story and what better day to start reposting than today! It means so much that people stuck around and are still excited for it to continue. I hope you enjoy how it unfolds!

biggest shoutout will go to @abruisedmuse ♥️ without you, I don't know how I'd finish this fic. ily!

Tagging: @abruisedmuse | @elizascarlets | @vanserrass | @climb-the-mountian | @positivewitch | @ladyelain | @helion-ism | @readthelastpaage | @sarions | @spinachtz| @elizab3th-grace | @ladystarrynight| @daily-dose-of-sass | @highlady-fireheart | @carnythian| @viewfromtheotherside | @lovedbyth3sun | @carolynmezzosoprano | @thedarkinmansfield | @moonfawnx | @imma-too-many-fandoms | @krem-does-stuff | @that-golden-lyre | @cynicalpotatoe95 | @lattristantketcup | @tiny-dragon-lover | @runningwiththeoceans | @sweet-but-stormy | @illyrianshadowhunter | @this-is-rochelle | @applestrudeldoo | @comingupbexx | @foxybananaaaz | @weesablackbeak | @roseliey | @my-otrand | @thewilderheart | @rityrooroo | @highladyofduskcourt | @electromagnetic-waves | @eastofatlanta | @secret-third-thing | @feysandfeels | @mali22 | @theeternalstruggle | @devilsfoodcake22| @maidr-00 | @the-midnightwriter | @moobell55 | @alohaangels | @readychilledwine | @lalaluch | @ladywhilemia | @easchies | @animezinglife | @zenkindoflove |

Find it all here.

Eris's hands were clasped behind his back as he stood rigidly next to the female who had now become shackled to him. His bride had only repeated the words of binding in a dull, dry tone and shifted her face slightly so he’d kiss her cheek rather than her lips in front of everyone. Already, she had more nerve than he anticipated. He had only smiled.

The two now stood in their finest before his parents, the festivities of the wedding raging on behind them. It would continue to rage on when the bride and groom took their leave. It all meant nothing to either of them.

Eris stood in his suit, tailor-made, and fitted in forest green. Iris’s bridal gown of white covered every inch of her, painted against every delicate curve. Eris had only stolen glances, not looking for too long. The hatred in her eyes had become grating. 

He spared Iris another side glance, aware his father was watching him, and gave his parents a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, Father. You spared no costs on this wedding.”

“If only the bride and groom seemed to enjoy it as well.” 

Eris offered his father another tight smile. “It all happened so fast. We’re both a bit whiplashed but I’m sure Iris loved it as much as I did,” he said and finally fully looked at his bride. “Didn’t you...wife?”

Iris automatically bowed her head towards the Lord and Lady of Autumn and turned her gaze to her now-husband. “Of course...husband. Forgive me, I am a little tired. It’s been a long day.”

Eris and Iris.

Iris and Eris.

He only looked at her with boredom.

She looked at him wanting to desperately snap his neck.

“Well, run along then. Enjoy your wedding night. Don’t embarrass me, son. Make sure to show your bride a good time.” Beron mused with a laugh and the Lady of Autumn, Lady Enya, gave Eris a pleading look as he nodded to his parents. 

“Welcome to the family, Iris.” Lady Enya said softly.

Iris bowed her head in thanks and turned once more to look at her now-husband who gave her a small smirk and Eris couldn’t take his eyes off her. Couldn’t help the slight glee at how hard she was trying not to sneer back at him.

“Come along wife, it’s time for the fun part of being married,” Eris said with a coy smile and held out his arm. 

But Iris only stared at it. She stared at his arm and wondered what would happen if she just...snapped it off his body. Or stabbed him. Or at least attempted either option. Her father had nearly ripped her head off when he found out about the small knife hidden beneath her dress. The sting of his smack had barely settled down before she walked into her wedding. Nonetheless...her fingernails could be sharp enough to maim.  

When a moment passed and Iris still hadn’t taken his arm, Eris stepped closer to her.

“Take my fucken arm before I drag you out of here.” he hissed and Iris blinked then tilted her head towards him with a shy smile, the ever-blushing bride as she approached him and slipped her arm through his. Never mind that it was trembling slightly.

“Try dragging me out,” she said softly. “I’ll only end up dragging your bleeding body back across this hall.”

It was Eris’s turn to blink then his lips twisted into a smirk. “Is that what your eyes have been trying to tell me? We can fulfill your dirty little fantasy once we’re alone.”

Iris stood before her husband and schooled her expression so that anyone looking at her would see her gaze reverent rather than murderous. As if they didn’t know how reverent murdering someone you hated could be. 

“Oh, does that mean once we’re alone, I can run a blade several times through your torso?” she said sweetly. “Because that’s exactly what I was fantasizing about.”

Eris chuckled, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. The challenge in her voice. The sternness in her hooded eyes. “Big words for a shaking gazelle in a room full of wolves,” he said softly and leaned in to kiss her temple, ever the besotted groom. “Don’t forget, you married the worst of them. I’d watch that pretty mouth if I were you.”

Iris let him pull away and let him see the shy smile on her face even as rage flashed in her eyes. Her grip tightened on his arm and she leaned into him again.  “Or what?”

A chuckle slipped out before he could help himself. Bold. She was bolder than he expected. “You’ll find out once we’re behind a closed door, wife.”

He felt her body tense but paid her no mind as he nodded his acknowledgment to the people congratulating them, as he did practically drag her out of the room. The sooner they got out of there, the sooner this night would be over and he could somehow think of how to handle this female that had been shoved at him. 

They walked in silence down the hall, nodding to any lingering guests before turning a corner and the path before them was empty.

“Did you lose your tongue, little gazelle? No more big words now that you don’t have an audience?” he said quietly, as the two walked down the halls of The Forest House towards their wing. A whole wing where he was to now live with his little lady. “Not going to try and run?”

She finally yanked her arm free from his and openly glared. “And go where?” she spat. “As if you wouldn’t drag me back here and humiliate me for trying.”

Eris only hummed his response and watched as she huffed then continued walking and he took the time to openly observe her in the silence. In a tense, nearly suffocating silence. 

His wife. 

Wife. 

He mouthed the word silently to himself then frowned thinking of how, for the second time, he was forced into a union he had little say in. At least this one hadn’t fucked anyone else as far as he was aware. 

It wouldn’t have mattered if she did at this point. She was now his and he was hers. There was no escape. There would be nobody else. And Eris wasn't exactly sure how to feel about this. 

How was he supposed to feel about a female he knew nothing about? How, exactly was he supposed to feel when he had only found out a month before the wedding that she was to be his?

Her father, a wealthy merchant — a criminal as Eris had understood, wanted to build better ties with the High Lord of Autumn to no doubt get away with things he shouldn’t. Never mind that the male was as big of a piece of shit as his father. He had simply offered his daughter to Beron as a bride for Eris like she meant nothing to him. Wrapped her up for him like a delicious dessert to be eaten. 

And delicious she was. Eris let his eyes roam her body as she stalked in front of him toward the room. She didn't even know which way they were supposed to be going and yet, the confidence in her walk of rage didn’t hold her back. Her chestnut brown hair coiled up in braids, the tiara sitting atop her head, exposing her long lovely neck.

The train of her dress trailed behind her and he only quirked his brow at the design, not as frilly as he had expected. Then again, he knew nothing about her. No one had given him the chance.

Eris stepped on the tip of the dress’s train and she startled, a small gasp escaping her lips. Turning sharply, she glared at him.

“Get off my dress.” she seethed but he only gave her a small smile.

“We’re here.” he said and watched as she froze again, color seeming to drain from her face. He pursed his lips and wondered just how badly she thought this was going to go. “Are you thinking about running now?”

This seemed to unfreeze her body and Iris blinked at him. “Just open the door.” she muttered quietly. But he could hear her heart beating. He could almost taste her fear and his lips curled in disdain.

Eris waved his hand for the door to open and with a mocking bow, he gestured for Iris to step inside. She gave him a withering look then slowly stepped into the room and Eris followed her in. 

The two stood in the doorway of the suite taking in the grandness, the room a swirl of all the autumn colors in one, coming together to give it a look of a magical place of rest. Never mind that the two people required to live here wanted to do anything but be in this space. The suite was huge, decorated with a seating area in one corner, a small dining space in another, a bedroom set that included a large closet across the wall, a vanity, and —

Iris’s eyes fell on the bed that was big enough to fit six people and her fists clenched. She only gave him a look of loathing and wrapped her arms around herself, wanting to refuse even acknowledging the space.

But then Eris closed the door and locked it, and the sense of panic she had been holding back all day filled the room. He heard her swallow and as he took one step closer, Iris whirled around.

“Don’t touch me.” she snarled.

Eris paused then took a deep breath, his hands once again clasped behind his back, a sour taste in his mouth. Naturally, she was to assume the worst about him. Naturally, he might as well oblige her. 

“You’re my wife now. I thought the whole point of the wedding night was for us to be touching as much as possible,” he said quietly, his signature smirk gracing his face as he moved closer to her. “Or did they not teach you that?”

Iris flushed and shot him a glare, pointing viciously. “Don’t you take that tone with me or I’ll make you regret it.”

Eris’s smile was feral at the challenge. “Claws are coming out now, are they, wife?” he said quietly and took another step closer. “I wonder if you have claws like that in bed.” He tilted his head, observing her. “Why is your dress so modest? Didn’t they tell you I like to see some skin?”

She took another step back, hating the predatory look in his gaze. “You won’t be near my dress for too long so don’t concern yourself with it.”

“Are you sure about that? I do need to fulfill my husbandly duties and take it off of you.” he said again and took the final step for them to share a breath. “Make you feel all the wonderful things a husband should make his wife feel.”

“Stop talking to me that way.” she hissed, shoving him back.

He chuckled and grabbed her arm firmly, pulling her into his chest. “I will talk to you however I see fit, especially when it makes you flush so beautifully.” 

And indeed, Eris hadn’t gotten the chance to stare at her so openly until this moment and it was unfortunate how beautiful she actually was. Very unfortunate, he thought, especially when his own heart started beating wildly in his chest and he felt hers sing to the same erratic rhythm. 

The world seemed to still as his fingers gripped her arm. His amber eyes found her hazel ones and both pairs of eyes widened slightly. His gaze intensified as he soaked in her features and how a few loose strands of hair had slipped to frame her face so wonderfully. Iris’s own thoughts had paused at how close his lips were to hers and the way he stood so elegantly and effortlessly towering over her. 

It was truly unfortunate. Because Eris’s eyes had flickered down to her lips and back, the corner of his lips lifting. How much would she hate him if were to kiss her? Could he have one taste? 

Iris flushed deeply as Eris leaned in even closer and she did the only thing she could think of to get away from him.

Eris let out a groan of pain as she kneed him in the balls and crossed to the other side of the room.

“What the fuck was that for?” he hissed, doubled over, his glare meeting the one Iris shot at him.

“I told you not to touch me. Married or not.” she hissed, taking a step back. “And based on everything I’ve heard about you, I definitely don’t want you touching me.” 

Eris ran his tongue over his teeth as he straightened and took another step towards her.

A chair flew towards him then and he barely ducked in time.

“What the ever-loving fuck —”

“Stay on your side of the room.”

“I’m not going to —”

“One more step and the dagger will be next.”

Eris stared at her in confusion, at the dagger that looked so much like —

He looked down at his belt where he knew his dagger to be sheathed...except it was not.

“You were too busy trying to intimidate me to notice,” she said with a snort, and gone was the trembling gazelle that he’d seen all day, his dagger twirling her hand. “Surprise.”

Eris blinked then huffed out a noise of disbelief. “Well, wife. This is an interesting turn of events...How did you manage to steal it?”

“Most males are stupid and get easily distracted by beautiful females. If I let you believe I was weak, you automatically assumed you could dominate me and lose the upper hand,” she said simply and shrugged. “Your mistake.”

He narrowed his eyes. “From the things your father told me about you, handling weapons wasn’t on the list.”

“My father is a lying piece of shit and doesn’t know an actual thing about me.”

“He told me your passion was piano and you prefer to stay indoors because you were sensitive to the sun,” Eris stated flatly and Iris rolled her eyes.

“I do love piano but the only thing I’m sensitive to are the bruises he gifts me that people would notice if he let me out as often as I’d like.”

Eris froze. A distant roaring filled his ears as he stared at Iris. He stared and stared and when she narrowed her eyes at him, he clenched his teeth and took a breath.

“Your father beats you?” he asked quietly. 

Iris shrugged and it was a shrug that he knew well. A shrug he had mastered to deflect Beron’s marks on his own body. A shrug he had mirrored from his own mother.

“My father seemed giddy at the idea that you’d be beating me too,” Iris began and sunk the dagger into the table with a loud thud, before meeting his gaze again. “But if you think that gives you permission to lay a hand on me, I will break every single one of your fingers and carve your heart out of your body. I would die trying.” 

Eris stared at her. Trying to think of a response. Trying to think of all the things he’d heard about her before this moment.

“My daughter is delicate.” her father had told him. “She’s also foolish and needs guidance with a heavy hand. Don’t be afraid to put her in her place.”

There was nothing delicate about the fiery rage he saw in the female in front of him. Nothing but sharp glares and determination. Her stance alone told him she would be nothing of what he had expected.

His mother’s bruised skin flashed in his mind and Eris swallowed then met Iris’s gaze. 

“I would never harm you,” he said firmly and she tilted her head, quirking a brow.

“Your reputation says otherwise.”

“My reputation is catered to a specific audience.”

“Your reputation is the reason I am willing to kill you and face death myself rather than let you turn me into the broken doll my father tried to make me.”

Eris pursed his lips at that and slipped a hand in his pocket, the other coming to brush back his hair. “It appears wife, that you and I aren’t what we seem.”

Iris crossed her arms. “So it seems, husband.”

“We wasted time not getting to know each other a month ago.” Eris scoffed with an eye roll and Iris froze. “Your father insisted you were too nervous and shy.”

“What do you mean a month?” she asked breathlessly, her hands fisting at her sides.

Eris’s blink marked his confusion. “A month. Our engagement was announced a month ago.”

Iris blinked then blinked again and Eris watched as a cascade of emotions flashed across her face. 

“A week.” she gasped out. “I was told a week ago.”

Eris’s eyes narrowed and he took in her shaking hands. “A week?” he asked quietly. 

Iris only stared at him and he felt his chest tighten when she started taking deep breaths. Eris opened his mouth to say something — he felt compelled to say anything — but she held up a hand.

“I will only say this once,” Iris spoke, her voice surprisingly steady. “We may be sharing a bed but we will not...go further than that.”

Eris frowned, his own hands fisted at his sides. “Alright.”

She blinked in return. “Alright?”

His expression immediately turned sour at that. “I think the expectations for tonight have been made very clear. What more do you want from me?”

“Nothing. I don’t want anything from you.” Iris replied, all steadiness was gone from her voice as her face fell. “I wish I had nothing to do with you.”

And with that statement, she darted into their shared bathroom and slammed it shut. 

Eris remained rooted to his place and simply stared after her, at the closed door she now hid behind, his thoughts a thousand miles a minute. 

He thought about their names and the silly way they matched.

He thought about the similar father figure they seemed to have and the history they seemed to share.

He thought about the small thrill he had felt when he had been within kissing range. 

Eris's frown deepened at the sniffle he heard from behind the door and wondered...just how much hell would they be in for now.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x oc #smtb chapters #spirit meets the bones #acotar fanfiction #gfics

[illyrianbitch]

A House of Hunger — Series Masterlist

Pairing: Reader x Eris Vanserra

Summary: Every Autumn court citizen is hungry for something; beasts starved for influence, desperate for control, ravenous for power. Your tastes are no different—albeit a bit specific. It's a deep craving that boils in the pit of your stomach, hot and heavy, all consuming.

You’re hungry for revenge.

Overview: arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, technically enmies to allies to lovers, angst, canon-typical violence, politics and deception, angst, eventual smut.

[Coming soon...]

posting this as i start prepping all my series! hoping itll give me the motivation to get them all started. lmk if you want to be on the tag list <3

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris x reader smut #eris vanserra x reader smut #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris #eris acotar #eris angst #eris fic #eris fanfic #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar fanfiction #eris x reader fluff #autumn court

[acourtofmenandthirst]

Bartering for a Life

Eris x Archeron Sister Reader, back by popular demand! Same storyline as Cauldron of Fire, but can be read independently for the most part! I really like this theme, but I feel like I’m mostly critiquing the Inner Circle lol I took a lot of shots at them this time - a little uncalled for but I got carried away! In this fic, Feyre & Rhys try to convince Eris to return you to the Night Court

Word Count: 6.2K

Warnings: Family angst maybe, soft Eris, none really lol

You woke with dread, pulling the sheets over your head and swallowing yourself in darkness. The sun had just barely started to rise as the clouds parted just enough for a few beams of light to break through your bedroom windows.

Eris stirred beside you, reaching for you under the blankets and pulling you into his chest. You slinked around him, hooking your arm around his neck and sliding your leg between his, an action not unnoticed by the sleepy male, as he smiled and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“What’s got you up so early?” He whispered, nuzzling his nose into your messy hair. “I surely thought you’d sleep far longer after last night’s activities.”

You hummed, tracing a finger across his shoulder blade. The warmth of his fiery veins seeped welcomingly into your hand, the cool Autumn air still swirling across your skin. “I had a nightmare,” you replied, not completely true.

“The nightmare is yet to come,” he huffed, wrapping his arms around your waist, keeping your bare chest pressed tightly to his. You grumbled incoherently in response, a curt curse slipping past your lips. “You know,” Eris offered. “We don’t have to go. I’ll gladly burn that monstrosity of a house down, should you give me the go ahead.”

You shook your head against him, ruffling the sheets - Eris pulled them tighter around you. “If we go and they see how well I am, perhaps they will leave us alone.” You and Eris had received a multitude of letters from your sisters, daily, begging for you to come home. They thought Eris held you as prisoner, torturing you for information about the Night Court, about Feyre and Rhys, about their power.

You spent almost a year with Eris, the first few months in which you’d be left wholly alone. They’d broken contact with you once you willingly left their precious court. It wasn’t until you and Eris had set your date to be married, for you to take your place beside him on the throne, that they had resumed contact.

Desperate pleas to return home, where you belonged. You laughed when you read the first letter, how wrong they were. How they still couldn’t see how toxic their court and inner circle truly was to you. Feyre had both of her sisters, the ones she liked better. It took a special invitation from Rhys - extended to Eris, not you - that you’d decided to act. An invitation to the River House, to be exact: their own private home. It was a request for you both to join them for brunch, to all be together one last time before the wedding, in which Rhysand would offer your betrothed anything he wanted in return for you.

“How political,” the male whispered, fingers tracing deftly down your back. “You will make a fine High Lady.”

You tilted your head up to kiss him, to which he happily captured your lips in his. “And as a wife?” You whispered against his lips.

“Utterly irresistible.”

____________________________

After you’d spent the morning with Eris in a long, drawn out bath and dressing each other in your most exquisite clothes, you were ready to step foot in Velaris for the first time since you’d left. Eris pressed his palms down his blood red jacket, smoothing out the gold embellishments. As you turned to face him, he held your coat out for you and slung it over your shoulders. The thick wool was heavy, draping nearly to the floor, as you bundled yourself up for the Night Court winter.

Eris took your hands in his, warming you instantly. “You can still say no,” he reminded you, gazing down at you sweetly under his eyelashes. “I can think of much better ways to spend our day.”

“It took me nearly an hour to drag you out of the bath,” you replied, giving his hand a squeeze. “Now that I’ve convinced you to dress, we have to go. Otherwise all of my efforts would have gone to waste.” With a satisfied smile you gazed up at your future husband. His red hair swirled around his temples and you admired how his eyes sparkled with that same fire.

Eris smirked. “Half the fun is taking your clothes off.”

With a tut, and failed attempt to hide your growing smile, you shook your head. “Once we get back, I will let you take my clothes off.”

“No,” he sighed, hand dropping yours to run his hand along the collar of your coat, pulling the thick material between his fingers. “When we get back, you will take them off for me - ” his hand dipped below the hem of your coat, playfully tracing along the neckline of your dress, dipping a finger underneath, lighting a fire against your collarbone. “Layer by layer.”

He pulled the breath from your lungs as his finger danced over your flushed skin. You swallowed sharply, knees trembling with anticipation. Your eyelids nearly fluttered closed as he worked his way up your neck. Eris’s warm breath tickled your skin, leaving you surrounded with his scent: the last burning embers of a bonfire, the crisp fall air.

As soon as Eris leaned forward to press his lips to yours, you snapped out of it. “Eris,” you hissed, palms laying flat against his chest to keep him standing arms length away from you. He had already worked your coat half off, cloak falling loose from one shoulder.

He smiled down at you with pink tinged cheeks. You could have sworn you smelt his arousal. “Not so easily tricked,” he said coyly, twirling a loose strand of your hair around his finger. “I’m looking forward to your show later.”

You rolled your eyes, huffing a breathy laugh as you fixed your coat. “If Rysand doesn’t manage to kill you at brunch.”

At that, Eris took your hand, readying to winnow you to the house. “I’d like to see him try.”

Warm air swirled around you and you buried your face into Eris’s chest. His hand snaked around your back, holding you against him as you both appeared in the snowy streets of Velaris. Eris’s hand slung through your hair, brushing lightly against your scalp as his hand rubbed your back. The winnowing always made you dizzy, perhaps you hadn’t had enough time to adjust to your new Fae body, or merely hadn’t gotten used to the winnowing powers yet. You weren’t sure if you ever would.

You stepped away from Eris, the cold already biting at your nose as you swiveled around, spotting the River House not far off. You slipped your hand in Eris’s warm one and trudged your way through the freshly fallen snow. “It’s fucking freezing,” Eris said, kicking at the snow with his boot. “Who would choose to live in this?”

You laughed, peering up at him as your shoulder brushed his. “You know, when they were all warning me of all the terrible things about you, that first time we danced together in the Court of Nightmares, nobody mentioned you complained this much.”

A small smile pulled at his lips, he hadn’t felt a genuine smile in years. Not since you’d shown up. “Consider yourself lucky.” His thumb brushed against the back of your hand. “I could simply not talk to you at all. Which, conveniently, is how I like to keep things with these Nightmare dregs.”

At that you rolled your eyes. A part of you was thankful, afterall. Eris had not turned out to be the male they’d made him out to be. He cared for your wellbeing, ensuring you were always comfortable and well fed in the Autumn Court. Beyond that, though, you’d broken down his walls, and he yours. You were able to confide in him, laugh with him, and hold him in your arms. He held you back just as tight, spending every evening with you.

The two of you strolled along the icy Sidra, the wind blew harshly off the water. You walked up the grand entrance to the River House, the cobblestones coated in white, not a footprint or trace of life to be seen, save for the glowing lights and smoke from the fireplace.

It was a house built on forced love. Two souls barred together by the Mother, forcing the two physically together despite any cognizant force. Despite what Feyre said, how much she told you of - and constantly physically showed - her love for Rhys, you still didn’t know how the Mother would will together two beings in Feyre’s darkest moments, as she lay dying for another male. She hadn’t been mated to Tamlin, yet she endured three months of pure torture for him. She’d fallen in love with Rhys only after he enacted their bargain - a visit every month. If she had learned to love Rhysand when she was stolen away to the Night Court, how come she couldn’t believe that you could love Eris after willingly going to Autumn?

Feyre was luckier than she knew. You’d wondered, in that moment, what happened between Eris’s parents. How fate was not always so kind as to mate you with the most powerful High Lord, with riches and glory galore. How your older sister had managed to end up with the alleged most accomplished general in Pythian history. Elain, gifted with some supposed magical powers, gifted a kind mate who she wouldn’t even spare a glance at. You wondered how it had been for those who had found their so-called mates, High Lords and esteemed generals alike, yet suffered greatly because of their powers and titles. Your heart ached for the Lady of Autumn, and all the tortoure she’d endured at the hands of her mate.

But through that, she had given you the greatest gift of all.

You supposed the mates worked out well enough for your sisters - for everyone in the Inner Circle. So they must have assumed it was that nice for everyone else. If you’d had a mate in the Night Court, they could hold him over your head like they had done for Nesta. How they wouldn’t allow her peace or a place to live, even, until she accepted him and only him into her bed.

They lived ignorantly in their grand River House, gaudy carpets and the smell of oil paint. All while the remainder of the Court of Nightmares suffered at the hands of Morrigan’s father, left to rot like the scum of the earth every other court thought them to be. You scoffed aloud as you climbed the stairs.

While you’d never be able to argue with the imbeciles of the Night Court - that they were as bad, if not worse, than Autumn - you’d taken pride in your new court, the court that would someday belong to your future husband, and you. If Rhys and Feyre wanted to remain blind to their own faults, that would be fine. They were hypocrites and there wasn’t anything you could do to change it.

But you wouldn’t sit idly by.

So, as you and Eris stood in front of the grand black door, you were prepared to tell them exactly that.

Eris glanced at you, white clumps of snow stuck to the loose strands of his hair, and offered you a firm nod. His cheeks and nose were red, contrasting harshly against his pale skin. He squeezed your hand and raised his other hand to knock, knuckles inches from the door, waiting for your signal.

You bit your lips and swallowed the lump in your throat, the nervousness that bit into your chest. You inclined your head, maybe only a centimeter, but enough for Eris to proceed, offering three sharp knocks against the solid door.

It swung open immediately, no doubt Azriel warning the High Lord and Lady upon your arrival the minute you’d winnowed in. Feyre stood in the doorway, a bright smile pulled across her lips, as she greeted you quietly. She stepped to the porch in nothing but her socks and sweater, and wrapped her arms around you. You would have stumbled backwards, if not for Eris’s hand pressing into your back, holding you steady. He cocked his brow at you, no doubt surprised at your sister’s hello. “You look well,” she said, her bright eyes scanning your face.

“I am,” you replied curtly, trying your best to start off on the right foot. While you and Nesta had always been close, coping with the aftereffects of the Cauldron very similarly, you’d seen first-hand how her apathy and coldness toward your youngest sister had affected her. You promised yourself you’d enter her court on a new foot - after all, they were the ones that presented you with the opportunity to dance with Eris, and to choose your new future for yourself.

“Come in, please.” You took one step in, Eris following quickly behind you, his hand not leaving the span of your back. Feyre’s gangly crew stood in the entryway a few feet back, all at attention, lined up in the hallway, as if this was well rehearsed.

Elain broke out in a quiet sob, tears welling up in her eyes and palm covering her mouth. Her own red-haired mate was nowhere to be seen, no doubt still an outcast among the group. Nesta stood beside her, stoic and firm, the silver fire in her eyes noticeably missing. Cassian stood behind her, mirroring the way Eris stood behind you, with his arms crossed and wings splayed widely. He flexed the muscles in his arms, shirt tight around his broad chest. Eris stood a bit straighter, challenging the Illyrian,a few inches taller than the black-haired male. Azriel lingered behind the lot of them, shadows swirling around him. While he’d never been one to attack you, insult your trauma after the Cauldron, or outwardly comment on your relationship with Eris, he’d never defended you, either. But you often thought of him as a friend, and felt deep down the two of you had some parallels, trapped in the Night Court with no sense of belonging.

Rhysand stood oh so casually, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His wings were nowhere to be seen and instead of dressing casually, like his mate wearing one of his sweaters, he wore the normal black jacket, material that no doubt cost more than what any of the others sported. That’s why Eris insisted on dressing you in your finest gown, it was something between the High Lords, the sense of who looks more powerful… even if it was just a meeting between family.

The two of them were to be brothers soon.

Feyre took your coats and ushered everyone down the hall, urging you all to be seated in the dining room, as brunch would be brought out soon. The others moved first, begrudgingly turning their backs to you to be seated. Nesta wrapped a slim arm around Elain, pulling her to her side and dragging her away by her side. Cassian stared at the Shadowsinger, then nodded his head toward you and Eris, indiscreetly telling his brother to keep tabs on Eris - or you - or probably both.

As you walked down the hall, you felt the eyes of hundreds staring at you. You hated being in that house. How Feyre had painted her most intimate moments with her mate and family, and had plastered it up on the walls for all to see. Every image, hers or not, was bolted large and high, leering eyes absorbing every detail.

The birth of baby Nyx. Nesta in the Rite. The Valkyries. The Illyrian males atop the mountain. These moments were not hers. They did not belong to her. Yet she was privy to every meeting, every conversation, every life event through that gods damned Daemati power.

There were no private moments shared in this Inner Circle. Not like what you and Eris had. If you’d stayed here, and by some Cauldron's blessed miracle you found a male or had one of these life altering experiences - been swooped up in the Rite or another war - every moment would be put on display for everyone else to see.

You noticed how Eris visibly cringed at each painting, how he shuddered as Feyre’s blue-grey eyes seemed to follow him down the hall. He leaned in close, lips nearly brushing against your ear. “Where are the paintings of you?”

You could have laughed, had it not been so tense. “Trashed.” Eris hummed in that insulting mocking way he so often did. It wasn’t a lie though, Feyre had painted you with the sisters curled up in the tattered bed at the cabin. But it was hidden away. Of all the memories strewn along those walls, that was not accepted. Perhaps Feyre couldn’t look at you now that you’ve ashamed and embarrassed her and her mate at their own ball. After all, your portrait was the only one noticeably missing. You scanned over the familiar faces, each of your sisters, Feyre’s new brothers, Morrigan, even Amren and Varian.

Eris’s hand brushed against yours. “I’d offer you hundreds of paintings if it weren’t so vain. Even I’m not that narcissistic.” At that you smiled, almost unsure if he was joking. Your heart swelled though, as you knew Eris would give you the world if you asked.

There were only two remaining seats in the dining room once you’d made it down the hall. It was so unlike the Court of Nightmares or the Autumn Court. No grand table, rows of empty chairs on either side. It was a narrow room with only ten seats.

You and Eris both were delighted to see Morrigan waiting at the end of the table. She held a babbling toddler on her lap, orange food smudged across his mouth and dribbling down his chin. His black hair curled away from his face, bright blue eyes that seemed to be exact copies of Feyre’s. You frowned, heart tightening a bit as you watched the baby flap his tiny bat-like wings. Your sister had been so excited for her family to grow, for all the Archerons and Illyrians to be together as a whole unit. Only for you to break her dreams of having a whole family.

At least, that’s what Rhys had said when you left.

Eris pulled one of the chairs out for you, which you took, and found yourself seated next to Nesta, Cassian to her other side. Eris sat beside you, which put him at the corner of the table, far too close to Rhys, who sat at the head.

Feyre strolled in and sat across her mate, calling in the servants, who brought out steaming hot trays of food. They placed them all at the center of the table simultaneously and left immediately. You glanced to Eris, who seemed unimpressed at the action. You weren’t expecting such a formal brunch, servants and so much prepared food, something you grew familiar with in the sophisticated Forest House. You’d been invited for a casual family brunch, so you’d thought.

You took a spoonful of porridge - the tray that was placed closest to you - and poured yourself some tea. You hadn’t managed an appetite all morning, since you woke up with the dread of this visit four hours ago. The table was utterly quiet, only the sounds of forks and knives scraping porcelain plates, and the giggling baby echoed off the walls. “This is Nyx,” Feyre said, running her tattooed hand over his black hair, gazing down at him fondly.

You smiled at your baby sister, so young and once so innocent, with her perfectly healthy child. “He’s beautiful,” you replied truthfully. You were happy for her - you tried to be, at least. Everything she’d wished for had come true. She had a home and a doting husband, a winged baby and large home, a whole new family. Feyre smiled in thanks, returning to tending to her son, cleaning his chubby cheeks with her napkin. You hadn’t met the heir to the Night Court; she’d only been a few months pregnant when you left for Autumn.

Everyone ate in silence until the High Lord spoke up. “Have there been developments on any gifts from the Cauldron?”

Eris choked on his water, a sight you’d never seen. He gaped at Rhysand, amber eyes shimmering with fire. He couldn’t stop himself from stifling a laugh, taking every offense to Rhys’s words. “That’s what you care about? You haven’t seen her in nearly a year, you’ve been allegedly so worried about her well-being, begging her to return to your precious court, and that’s the first thing you ask her about?”

Rhys’s jaw set, but he was cut off. “Every one of us was given something, it’s surprising that (Y/N) wasn’t. Unless she was and is hiding it.” You’d never heard Nesta come to Rhysand’s defense before. You weren’t sure you liked the sound of it too much.

“You’re starting to sound more and more like Amren,” you muttered, taking a sip of your tea, gazing down at the brown liquid before you.

“Funny you should mention that,” Cassian grumbled, stabbing his fork into the thick slab of meat on his plate. “Since you’re in her seat.”

“I’m sorry she and Varian had to make the sacrifice to miss brunch to make room for us,” you replied, setting your cup down a bit too harshly, eliciting a sharp noise from the glass.

“A sacrifice I was ready to take, as well,” Morigan mumbled from across the table, eyebrows raised at Cassian.

Before Eris could jump back in the conversation, Rhys stood at the end of the table. He pressed his palms against the wood, earning silence from the entirety of the room. Your eyes flitted to Feyre’s as she swooped Nyx up into her arms, holding him against her chest, rocking him back and forth. She shot Rhys a pleading look, to which he understood immediately, and nodded at her. You saw Elain wipe at the tears that streamed silently down her rosy cheeks.

“Join me in my office,” Rhysand said to Eris, barely able to even look at the male’s direction.

Eris stared blankly at Rhys, still seated, back immaculately straight. He dropped his hand to your knee and gave it a light squeeze from atop your dress. He turned when he offered you that same hand, standing and pulling you upright beside him. “Surely the matter at hand will be discussed with (Y/N),” he replied, ready to follow Rhys out of the room.

Rhys narrowed his eyes at the red-haired male. “I think this deal would be best discussed High Lord to…” he trailed off, you weren’t sure if he was outright intending to offend Eris, or simply couldn’t finish the sentence. You decided it was something of male ego, to flex his superior position.

Eris smiled the same smile the Autumn courtiers taught him so many years ago. “High Lord and High Lady,” he corrected. “To Autumn’s heir apparent, and his High Lady,” he replied smoothly, ushering you away from the table to stand before Rhys.

You had to admit, Eris calling you his High Lady made you stand a bit straighter and hold your head up a little higher. The male oozed confidence, always so calm and collected. You’d never seen him without the upper hand or at the mercy of the other High Lords. He knew these kinds of conversations were just duels of wit, and he was never the first one to back down.

Rhys bit back whatever comment was bubbling up as Feyre stood across the room. Nyx was once again in Morrigan's arms, and Feyre moved to join the three of you at the opposite end of the table. “Then let’s talk.” She smoothly walked past Rhys, not without giving him a warning look. You could tell they were mind-speaking, as they so often did, simply based on the twitch of Rhysand’s eyebrow and the plea in Feyre’s eyes.

You followed them down the hallway, Eris’s hand falling to rest on your hip as he huffed out a breath of annoyance. Your sister shuffled anxiously, thick socks gliding against the wooden floors. Rhys walked a half step behind her, as if ready to pounce between her back and Eris, should he choose to misstep.

Your fingers twisted before you, hands clasped together in nervousness. Being around the Inner Circle made you want to drink; something they so often did together, a pit that you and Nesta had fallen deep into. You wished there was a drink in your hand, something deep red or dark brown, to hold in your palms to hide your fidgeting.

Feyre led all of you past large black doors, which Rhys was quick to shut and ward. He sat behind the great desk and waved a hand over the surface, clearing away all the papers and maps strewn across the top. Feyre took a seat on his lap, propped up against his chest, legs crossed over his thighs. His hand snaked around her waist and her hands immediately fell to meet it.

You sat in the armchair on the other side of the desk, Eris in the seat beside you in a matching chair. You sat on the edge, hands held firmly in your lap, resisting the itch to reach out to him. Eris, ever so proper, sat tall in his chair, legs spread ever so slightly, boot-clad feet pressed firmly against the floor. His eyes washed over the artwork around the office, the Illyrian mountaintops and the sky on Starfall. He was caught up on the large portrait behind Rhysand, though, the larger-than-life self portrait of the High Lady. Lifeless blue eyes that stared straight back at him, her tattooed hand curled under her chin, and a glimmering crown atop her head.

Why there ever needed to be two of her staring into his soul, he would never know.

“The charade is over, Eris,” Rhysand began indifferently, lounging in his seat. The tone in his voice could have made you flinch, as it was the same one he used when he first dismissed you to Autumn. It’s her choice if she wants to go with you. “You’ve made your point in taking (Y/N). All we’re asking is that you release her back with her family.” Your choice, indeed.

Eris smiled, not an inch of him moving, remaining impossibly still as he countered the High Lord. “Does she look like she needs to be released?”

All eyes flitted to you, studying. You felt them scrutinizing your every flaw, from the quirk of your brow to the frown on your lips. You sucked in a breath and remained levelset, eyelids falling forward as your mask fell into a cast of pure boredom. You’d been watching Eris closely lately, picking up on his own mask of disinterest.

And he was quite impressed.

“You gave me the option to take Eris’s marriage proposal on my own free will,” you reminded Rhys, who, he himself, seemed impartial to what you had to say.

“He made the offer, (Y/N),” Rhys began slowly, emphasizing each word. “To keep the alliance between our courts for the upcoming war. And - ” his purple eyes flitted to the red-headed male. “ - should he need backing in a certain internal war.”

You swallowed your tongue, willing the Mother to give you the strength to not drop your facade and stare at Eris. He shot back immediately, though his words remained unrushed. “I do not need your assistance in dealing with my own father. And in regards to my future wife, she was never meant to be a tool in the game. I proposed because I want her by my side in the Autumn Court.”

“There is no need to return with him, (Y/N),” Feyre chimed in. “You have a room here, a life and family. Elain has been utterly beside herself since you’ve left. And Nesta has been so different without you.”

Different. Of course, without her drinking buddy or someone to bitch about Rhys to. She’d changed before you left, right at the time she had become mated to Feyre’s war general. She ought to have been glad you left, no longer the thorn in her side tying Nesta to her old life of sleeping around and drinking herself into a coma. Without you, she had been able to be molded into the female warrior they wanted. “They both seemed well to me.” Again, not entirely true, but at least Elain was out of her room, no longer shut away from all people and food, and Nesta was… out and about with her male companion.

“You missed her mating ceremony,” she added, after dipping into your thoughts.

You nodded. “I remember when she was disgusted by him and that word - ”

“She was apprehensive,” Feyre interrupted, leaning forward off her husband’s chest, not leaving his lap. “Look at her now, happily mated, married, and living her own life here in Velaris, on her own free will.”

“And that’s how I am living now, Feyre,” you replied, raising your voice more than intended. Your hands fell to the arms of the chair, fingers digging into the plush fabric. “The only difference is that I am not in your court. And I chose Eris.”

“It’s not real, (Y/N),” she interrupted. “He’s not your mate.”

“For some powerful High Lady, you are still somehow so blind. The Mother gives you a male you’re tethered to for the rest of your gods forsaken life and suddenly everyone needs to live the same way as you?”

“You don’t know everything, (Y/N),” she added, trying to settle herself back down in Rhysand’s arms. He watched the two of you, deciding some things were better left for siblings to resolve on their own. Afterall, he and his brothers had far harsher ways of dealing with their problems. “There is such a thing as fate. You’ll meet someone here that you actually love - ”

You narrowed your eyes at your younger sister but couldn’t bite your tongue. She really did live in her own little world. “Is that what you were telling yourself when you were dying for Tamlin? That you loved him and it was your fate to suffer - ”

“Enough, (Y/N),” Rhys cut in, eyes darkening and brow narrowing. “I will not have you speaking to my wife - your own sister, I might add - in such a way. And you ought to know that name is not to be mentioned in my home. I’ll only be advising you once.”

Eris rolled his eyes and couldn’t stop himself from teasing the couple. “Such a welcoming family, I wonder why she ever would have wanted to leave.”

“The only reason you were brought here,” Rhys continued. “Was to call off the alliance between our courts. You said it yourself, it’s unnecessary. You can leave (Y/N) out of it and take care of Beron yourself.” Eris remained silent and utterly still. You never wanted the Daemati gifts, but in that moment, you’d kill for it. He didn’t reply, perhaps he was weighing his options. “I will make it worth your while.”

Rhys refused to look anywhere but at Eris, not daring a glance at your eyes. Your heart lurched up into your throat, and you forced yourself to breathe slowly through your nose, working past the increase in your heart rate. You could feel the blood swirling in your ears, the room suddenly growing hotter the longer it took Eris to reply. “There is nothing you could offer me,” he stated simply, as if it were the only logical answer.

Rhysand conjured up a black box atop the desk, large enough to spread the whole surface. He opened it up and suddenly the room lit up, a silver glow casting over his features. “Three Made swords,” he explained, turning the box to face Eris. “The power of the Cauldron in each one. The silver flames that no longer exist anywhere else in the universe.” Feyre bit her lip.

Eris waved his hand at them, not even bothering to look inside. “You can keep your cursed blades.”

Rhys shot Feyre a look, as if to say I told you so, but continued on. “Then name your price. Money? Jewels? Diamonds?”

While in any normal instance, the male beside you would have loved to toy with Rhysand groveling to make a deal. He would have asked for land or riches from the other courts. He would have teased the male until they reached an agreement Eris knew would be near impossible for the Night Court to fulfill. His red eyes watched as Feyre toyed with the cuff links on Rhysand’s sleeve, waiting with baited breath for him to succumb to an agreement.

But when it came to you, Eris was in no mood to barter.

He stood and brushed his hands down his jacket with a huff. “(Y/N) is not a piece of property to be traded. She is far superior to anything you might offer - or any of you at all. It is an insult to think I would accept such meaningless trades, and an insult to my future High Lady and your sister that she is an object to be purchased.” Eris held a hand out to you.

Rhys stayed silent, defeated - maybe. Ready to give up - definitely.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed Eris’s hand. Feyre wasn’t about to plead with Eris to let you go. She simply sat atop her mate and let him handle it. He handled all matters. The same way he handled Nesta’s out-of-control drinking, by making Feyre cry at the breakfast table surrounded by her newfound family. She probably had to beg him to organize this meeting.

At the root of it all, Feyre didn’t want you back. She wanted her perfect little happy family together. She wanted Elain off her back, wondering what you were up to in Autumn; she wanted Nesta to quit drinking away her sorrows on evenings she missed you.

She didn’t miss you - she probably enjoyed the silence and the spare change in her pocket. You were no longer picking fights at bars, sleeping with random males, or ruining the reputation of the High Lady of the Night Court. You could only assume that the morning breakfasts were much happier while you were gone, no longer forced to have any conversations on how you were a toxin to the court.

“Remove the wards,” Eris ordered, peering down at Rhysand and Feyre. Rhys looked half like he wanted to snap at the Autumn heir, probably for some final satisfaction, or simply to prove that Eris couldn’t order him around. But with one look at Feyre, her eyes fallen to the floor below, completely done with the conversation and the two Fae standing before her, Rhysand waved a hand and lifted the spell.

Eris bitback his snarky farewell comment - something about revoking their invitation to the wedding (which he would gladly do) - and winnowed you away without so much as another glance at the High Lord.

His arms wrapped around you when you’d landed in Autumn, the soft sound of the crackling hearth surrounded you as Eris had taken you right to your bedroom. He pulled you tightly against his chest, bowing his head to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

You selfishly dreamt what the pull of that mating bond felt like. The one that so easily swayed Feyre’s decision, that had her head filled with nonsense and shrouded her free-will. The one that so securely bound your sisters to their mates, and the lady of Autumn to her husband way back when. Something so primal and desperate, that you’d be mated to someone you hated, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.

You looked up at Eris, meeting his soft red eyes and the frown that pulled across his lips. His brows were pulled taught in frustration, pity perhaps. You were almost embarrassed at the charades the Night Court had pulled to try to have you sent back to their court, if you weren’t already outright offended by their gesture. His fingers drew back and forth against your back, through the thick material of your dress, reminding you that he was a constant, and that he wouldn’t let you out of his arms, nor trade you for any amount of money or treasure.

Your arms wrapped around him and you dragged your hand up to the nape of his neck, running your hand through his hair. You couldn’t muster a false smile, not even in reassurance that you were feeling alright. You weren’t, but he knew that and already accepted it. He had his own shitty family to deal with, he was no stranger to the feeling. He leaned forward into your touch, dropping his cheek against the top of your head and hugging you tightly.

You wondered if you could grow a mating bond. That if perhaps you could come to realize you’d met your perfect equal, your exact opposite, that you could feel that same innate tie in your chest, have that otherworldly pull to one another. You twirled a red curl between your fingers. Perhaps you’d one day have that with Eris.

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris x you #eris vanserra x you #eris/reader #eris vanserra/reader #eris fanfic #eris vanserra fanfic #eris fanfiction #eris vanserra fanfiction #eris acotar #acotar #eris/you #eris vanserra/you

[zenkindoflove]

Summer Heat - Chapter 14

Title: Summer Heat

Relationships: Elain x Lucien, Eris x Male OC

Rating: E

Status: Multichapter - WIP

Summary: Summer Court is hosting the Summer Solstice Summit and the Night Court is sending their best emissaries to attend. It will be Elain's first time mingling in another court, and it's a good thing she has an expert guiding her: the mate she's been ignoring for the last two years.

READ ON AO3

Author's Note: No excerpt today because I think it'll all be too spoilery. Instead I will entice you with a little list of why you should read today: regency style ball, dancing, a revenge dress suit, dancing, flirty and jealous Lucien, more dancing, bitchy Eris and also bitchy Elain, Alexius being gay and doing crimes, even more dancing, Elain and Lucien being idiots in love, Nesta, oh yeah, and did I mention dancing?

Thank you to @cauldronblssd for giving me the idea of one of the events of this chapter like... 7 chapters ago haha. I think you'll know what it is when you see it. ;)

Under the cut I've included the inspo pic for Alexius' suit if you'd like to check it out before reading.

#elucien #elain x lucien #eris vanserra #eris x oc #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #pro elucien #elucien fanfiction #eris vanserra fanfic #zenkindoflove: summer heat

[chunkypossum]

Soft in the way that drowning was a soft way to die 

-Quotes in my Azris notes that don't have a home fic... yet #1

#azris supremacy #eris vanserra #acotar #azriel x eris #azris fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #azris #azriel shadowsinger #angst #eris acotar #acotar angst #acotar fanfic #acotar quotes #azriel fanfic #eris vanserra fanfic #my Azris quotes

[daycourtofficial]

We started alone, in the end we’re okay

| Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Rhys’s sister!reader

| Summary: on a rare night alone, Eris reflects on the loneliest night of his life, and how he’s a long way from the person he had to be.

| Author’s note: yes this is inspired by Pretty Little Girl by Blink-182 how’d you know the last 45 seconds of that song are everything to me

| TW: mentions of physical abuse, blood, death

| WC: ~2k

Servants bustled up and down the halls of the Forest House, preparations being made for the Starfall holiday, one he and his family won’t be attending.

He was the only one left in the house - you had taken the kids to Night a day early so they could have a sleepover with their cousins. Meanwhile Eris had a meeting with some advisors in the morning he was unable to reschedule.

Eris strode toward his chambers, his long legs carrying him through the halls that have been the only witness to his comings and goings during his long life. He walked a path so familiar to him he could be reincarnated and still, his feet would carry him where he needed to go.

He had broken tradition when he became high lord, opting to stay in his previous chambers over taking Beron’s previous ones. He wanted to burn those rooms down, wanted to feel his fire consume every remaining remnant of Beron on this plane of existence.

He turned it into additional servant’s quarters instead. His father would have hated it. Lucien was delighted at the news.

Walking through his chambers, a pang echoes through him at the missing toys across the floor, especially the wooden sword he had been tripping over all week, asking Atlas to put it away, his request falling on deaf ears. The floors looked so empty, the room too quiet, despite his children being gone for only a handful of hours.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he breathed in deeply, the scents of his family already several hours old, the rooms slightly colder without their body heat warming them, especially the younger ones, unable to properly regulate their powers yet.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey, sitting in the old leather chair that’s been in this room as long as he has. His amber eyes roam about the room, taking in every detail, despite very little physically ever changing about the room.

His mind wandered, opening doors into his past he had sealed shut. Doors he would give anything to forget where they sit, doors that he can hear screams from the other side of.

Without intending to, he stumbles through one of those doors, perhaps the largest and most foreboding of all.

The rag made a disgusting squishing noise as it met the tile of his bathroom. The pile was growing larger, his blood seeping out of the rags onto the floor.

He braced his hands on the counter, fingers gripping tightly to the marble counter, sucking in a breath through his teeth, trying not to think, to feel.

He grits his teeth, grinding them together as he pours more alcohol on the fresh rag, preparing himself for the sting.

He quickly placed the rag on his back, a small gasp coming from his lips at the pain. He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, and he sparks a flame on the tile, needing something to distract him.

He skitters the small flame across the floor, rubbing the rag across his torn and shredded back, the alcohol seeping into his wounds, sterilizing them from Beron’s cruelty.

If only he were given the same treatment.

He closed his eyes, breathing deep and slow, trying to stop the images flashing behind them.

Lucien, his baby brother, the best of them, running through the woods, intentionally taking the paths most covered in root.

Lucien, whose long hair resembled Eris’s, and whenever they smiled, they both had the ability to unsettle people.

Lucien, who was slightly taller and stockier than his big brother. Lucien, who spent his young and vulnerable years searching for Eris in every room. Lucien, who Eris took on walks through the woods, teaching him how to snare rabbits.

He was too late to save his lover, had barely arrived in time to send word to Tamlin and redirect Lucien’s running towards the border with Spring.

He had warned and warned and warned Lucien not to test Beron, that he would fail as a father, fail to do the right thing every time.

Lucien, the snarky bastard, could never resist biting back, always testing the boundaries of those around him.

Eris wasn’t surprised when his father had called him to his office one night, desperate for answers to how any son of his could dare be enchanted by a lesser fae. He was, however, more than surprised at Beron’s ridiculous plan for punishing Lucien: forcing Lucien to watch as they killed Jesminda and then killing Lucien.

He couldn’t look at himself, couldn’t believe that they had gotten here, to this point, to this ridiculous sham of a family.

He didn’t know what he was doing until the knife was in his hand, blindly sawing at his hair until the ground around him was covered in strokes of red.

He ignored the throbbing in his back as he moved his hands, ignored the warmth spreading down his back as the wounds reopened. The hacked hair began coating his chest and sticking to the blood on his back.

He stood in a pool of his past, years and years of decay around his feet, a ghost looking back at him in the mirror.

At least his hair was dead before he took the blade to it.

There was no sign of his brother in his reflection. Just a short crop of red hair and some creature looking back at him. Something new roared beneath his skin, some new sense of purpose.

He dropped the knife, the blade clattering against the floor, the sound echoing through the room, but he couldn’t hear it over the rushing of his thoughts, the one thought consuming him.

He knew what he had to do. He would kill Beron. For Lucien, for his mother, for his brothers, for Jesminda.

For himself.

He walked out of the bathroom, into his chambers, opening the large window. The wind was sharp on the wounds on his back, but he couldn't help being drawn into the night sky before him.

An endless sea of stars above him, ones he knows are watching him make poor decision after poor decision. But still they call to him in some language he can’t understand, something deep within him yearning for their company.

He put on a loose shirt, the fabric suffocating his wounds. He slipped through the open window, the night sky infinite before him. Treading through the woods, he walks through unmade paths, paths that one day his children will forge in these woods.

They will never know the path he took that night, searching in the moonlight for a body, disrespected and desecrated. It took him a few hours, but he found what remained of her, parts of her body missing from predation. He waves his hand to shoo off some birds, their annoyed caws growing softer as they flew away.

He uses the shovel he brought to break ground, the wounds in his back that had began healing reopening, fresh blood mingling with the sweat dripping down his back.

All he could feel was the night air, somehow colder without his brother. His hands blister as he digs and digs and digs, offering penance for an atrocity not of his own.

He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe it was the right thing to do, even though Eris was never able to properly discern between right and wrong. Was it out of respect for Jesminda, whose last moments were filled with nothing but terror and the worst the fae had to offer? Was it out of mourning for Lucien, his youngest brother gone forever? Was it penance for all the terrible things he had done in his life so far?

He pulls himself out of the hole, grunting as he gets out of the grave. He looks into it, thinking how easy it would be to just bury himself instead.

Will this be his end? A burial under the cover of darkness by someone he hardly knows?

Knees meet the dirt, his hands moving to her face. He never knew her, not really. Met her in passing at one of the markets in town. She gave him some pastry, her little stall so homey despite its impermanence.

Her eyes are open, not seeing anything. He offers a prayer to the Mother - for Jesminda, for Lucien, for everyone who comes into Beron’s orbit. He asks for safe passage for Jesminda, into whatever afterlife exists.

He closes Jesminda’s eyes, his movements slow and deliberate. He takes her arms - what’s left of them - crossing them against her chest. He fishes from his pocket, putting a gold coin in one hand and an apple in the other.

Food for the journey, to nourish the soul. Gold for enlightenment, a hope that Jesminda will receive some peace in the journey before her. He delicately kisses her on the forehead - a last touch, performed with love and selflessness. Words never before used to describe Eris Vanserra, words that won’t be used to describe him for centuries to come.

He gently scooped her into his arms, taking care to keep her head from rolling back. It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter.

Except to Eris it did.

He walked with her over to the grave he had dug, gently lowering himself into the grave. His knees bent, delicatelt placing her on the ground as his chanting continued, pleading for safe passage, for a better ending than this. For an opportunity to come back, for her to get anything better than this.

Her body presses into the ground, relaxing into what will be her final resting place. Eris climbs out of the grave, peering down at his brother’s lover. His brother’s hope for the future, cruelly ripped from him by their father.

He grabbed the shovel, beginning to scoop dirt over her. It felt wrong to do so without Lucien or an audience. But it had to happen.

Once the grave was completely covered, Eris walked over to a patch of asters, using the shovel to scoop several of the flowers up. He lowered them onto her grave, a marking of sorts as he patted the soil around it so the roots would stay in place.

He looked at the asters, their purple hues looking so bright in the moonlight. Words are on the tip of his tongue, begging to be let out to pay some form of respect for Jesminda.

But nothing comes out. After a long time, the inly noise around him the chirping of insects, he turns, treading back to the Forest House. His footsteps are quiet, but much heavier. He finds his window easily, taking one last look towards the night sky, wondering what their everlasting gaze would have to say about what they’ve seen before slipping back into his room.

But Eris isn’t there anymore. Many sleepless nights had been spent since then gazing at the stars, dreaming of a better life. Dreaming of the day he would get to see Lucien again, silently asking the stars for any help they could provide.

Eris never put much faith into the Mother, assuming she had forsaken him and left him to be on his own. Until he met you. You who walked on stardust and moonlit skies. You who facilitated a reconciliation between himself and Lucien.

Eris’s fingers push through his short hair, reminding himself of how far he has come since that fateful night. For the first time in a long time, his fingers ache to feel more length.

#eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris x reader

[prythianpages]

Catching Fire | Eris x Reader

summary: When word of Sawyer's nightly endeavors reaches Beron, he summons you both to his office. Meanwhile, Eris is away on a secret mission where he discovers a troubling truth about you.

warnings: violence, mentions of blood and homophobia (bc Beron is an asshole toward his son); A hint of dark Eris torturing your father

a/n: This is part five to my Like An Angel Series, where Eris falls in love with his brother's betrothed. I do try to write each imagine as a stand alone but I don't think this one can.

Eris moves with silent grace as he steps out from the shadows and into the grounds of your family’s home. His father had sent him to Dawn to handle some unfinished business with Nuan so of course, he took advantage and paid the Night Court a visit too. Now, on his way back home, he decided to stop and pay your father a surprise visit. 

Determination burns bright in his eyes as he observes the guards patrolling the perimeter. He reaches for his bow and arrow, placing an enchantment over the sound. Each arrow released is laced with a poison, weak so it doesn’t kill but strong enough to knock someone out for hours. A slight smirk plays at the corner of his lips as the guards fall one by one.

Given his status, he knows he could’ve requested to see your father at the gates and easily been granted it. But it’s important that no one but your father knows of his visit.

Eris allows the moonlight to guide him down the cobblestone path, leading to the entrance of your house. He uses his magic to unlock the front door and slips in.

The hour is late but Eris keeps his senses on high alert, in case there are still servants lurking through the halls. Your house is great and vast, adorned with expensive furniture and sculptures. One would think this was a lord’s house and not a merchant’s. He can’t help but notice the fabrics wrapped around some furniture and the random boxes littering the floors. Some boxes are filled with stuff, others still empty. Almost as if your father is planning to move.

He stops for a brief moment when he finds himself in the sitting room. Torches line the walls, enveloping the room in a dim glow. It’s bright enough to discern the family portrait hanging on top of the mantelpiece. Immediately, his eyes are drawn to you. A softness envelops his features, his heart skipping a beat. 

It’s only been a couple of days since he had to leave the Forest house and he misses you already.

As he looks at the painting, he admires how the artist managed to capture the brightness of your presence well. Beside you stands an older female, unmistakably your mother. The resemblance between the two of you is striking and the notable absence of resemblance in all ways to the male seated in the portrait leaves Eris feeling a sense of relief.

He forces himself to carry on, tearing his gaze off the painting. His keen senses guide him down a certain hallway and as he walks forward, he takes in every detail. It becomes apparent that the portrait in the sitting room must have been the most recent, for older depictions of your family adorn the walls of the hallway he traverses, each one offering a glimpse of you through the ages.

When he finally reaches the door he was looking for, he takes a deep breath and then reaches for the handle.

**

Casting a glance toward Lady Raelynn, you take a deep breath and then mimic her stance. True to her words, she had taken it upon herself to teach you how to shoot a bow and arrow. Her movements are graceful and effortless as she notches an arrow onto her bow.

“You’re so good at this,” you say in admiration when the arrow hits its target.

“I’ve had centuries of practice, my dear,” Lady Raelynn smiles warmly at you, easing her stance. Though subtle, a hint of sadness flickers in her russet eyes once more, causing a pang of guilt to tighten your brow. 

During your first practice session, you had asked her why she pursued archery, dancing around the real question you had meant to ask…How did Beron allow it? Considering the strict standards of the Autumn Court, you're certain that archery wasn't deemed appropriate for ladies such as yourselves.

Her answer had been short and simple, “it saved my life once.” You’ve heard some stories from the war centuries ago, how Lady Raelynn’s family estate was attacked by Hybern’s forces and she was the only one to escape. You didn’t ask any questions after that, sensing it was a sensitive topic.

“Your turn.”

You nod and then steady yourself. This time, you’re relieved to find your hands steady, lacking the nervous tremble that plagued previous sessions. Slowly, you draw the string of your bow back and then release. It sails through the air, missing the target by a small margin. With a sigh, you lower your bow. You were so close.

“Is that the best you got?”

Your head whips around. You recognize the voice but still, you can’t help but hope maybe you heard wrong. Reality deflates your hope as your gaze falls upon a disheveled Sawyer. Some irrational part of you had been clinging to the hope that it was Eris. Even though he had left a note for you in the book he promised to bring you, telling you he would be gone for a week. The note had burst into ashes after you read it but the words he had written were still engraved in your mind.

Angel, I’m afraid I have some business to partake in for the next week. Allow my book to keep you company and reach out to my mother, should you need help. Until then, I’ll be thinking about you and those sweet lips of yours.

-E

Sawyer lets out a tut in disapproval, pulling you out of your thoughts. He seats himself on one of the lawn chairs in the gardens, squinting at the blinding light of the sun. His hair is a mess, bags under his eyes are heavy and the clothes he wears are wrinkled and not fitting for a male of his status. If High Lord Beron could see him now, you fear what would become of him.

“Sawyer.” Lady Raelynn says in what appears to be a warning, a frown etching onto her features as she takes in the sight of her son.

Your nose crinkles as the stench of alcohol and something else reaches you. He must’ve gone out. Again. When you had bargained with Sawyer and offered to cover for his night endeavors, you hadn’t expected how frequent they would be. Sawyer was becoming reckless, as if each night closer to your wedding drove him further and further into despair. You weren’t handling it well either. The judgmental looks sent your way often followed by scoffs and rude comments as you walked around the Autumn estate weren’t helping your situation.

“What a shame,” they’d say. “I heard Sawyer hates her.”

“There must be something wrong with her. Or him.”

“Clearly, she’s not worthy. I doubt she’ll last long.”

Your fingers tighten against your bow. You didn’t care that Sawyer had no interest in you nor for the rumors that circled around him of his preferences. It was the fact that he was being careless with his actions and you worried about what it would mean for the both of you, if the High Lord finds out.

Sawyer’s lips tug up into a smirk. He leans back onto the chair, grabbing a ripe red apple from the basket of fruit laid out on the table beside him. With newfound focus and determination, you raise your bow. You’re thinking before even acting, and in the blink of an eye, the arrow is soaring. It pierces straight through the apple in Sawyer’s grasp, sending it flying and pinning it to a nearby tree.

“I was going to eat that!”

Your eyes widen in surprise, the bow falling from your grasps and onto the floor. You didn’t miss. Your mouth parts, the beginning of an apology about to roll off your tongue. Not toward Sawyer but toward Lady Raelynn. 

“Good aim,” she says before you can even speak, soothing your worry.

She then approaches Sawyer, a disapproving look on her face. She brushes his hair back and gives a small tug, tilting his head to look up at her. “Please go bathe and freshen up before anyone else sees you. Or worse, your father.”

Hurried footsteps draw near and immediately, a tight knot twists in your stomach as a servant who cannot look any of you in the eyes comes forth. She keeps her head bow, shaky hands clasped before her. 

“High Lord Beron requests Lord Sawyer’s and Lady Y/n’s presence.”

It's already too late.

**

Eris’s teeth clench as he reads over a letter that had been left in an open box atop your father’s desk. It’s a letter addressed to his father and as his eyes skim through the page, he feels a dark heat seeping into his bones.

Dear High Lord Beron,

By the time this letter reaches you, I will be far out from your grasp. I sense you’ll be angry but I urge you to not bother looking for me. The thing you seek most is already with you. It’s been with you all this time, coursing through my daughter’s veins. The essence of the sundrop flower lives within her. Not the original intention but when my wife found out I planned to sell it to the highest bidder, she decided to foolishly take matters into her own hands. 

Attached to this letter is a journal where I’ve kept all records of the sundrop flower and my daughter. Do with this information as you will. She’s all yours now.

Best wishes,

Jareth

Eris's hands are immediately reaching out for the journal that lies in the box, fingers tightening around it so harshly his knuckles are turning white. He opens it, eyes skimming over the pages and reads just enough to know what’s so precious about this sundrop flower.

When he closes the book, he’s furious. It was no surprise to him to confirm that your father was not a good male. However, it was surprising that he sold you, his one and only daughter, out. He probably killed your mother, too. With the journal still in his hand, he quietly finds and sneaks his way to your father’s room with an urge to seek out more answers.

The sun is beginning to rise when Eris makes himself comfortable on the grand armchair. It had originally been facing the window but he moved it to face your father, who was currently still sleeping. A muscle in his jaw tightens at the peaceful expression on your father’s face.

Not wanting to waste any more time, his magic yanks the covers off from your father. Your father jumps to wakefulness with a startle, eyes wide and frantic as he sits up in bed. The blood leaves his face as he spots Eris.

**

The heir to the Autumn Court reclines on the armchair as if it were his throne. There’s an air of practiced arrogance around him. He’s dressed in a fine suit, every thread woven with the finest fabrics of deep navy, highlighting the richness of his crimson hair that cascades around his broad shoulders. His amber eyes, gleaming with an unsettling intensity, pierce through the dimly lit room with an almost predatory glint.

“Call for help and I’ll slit your throat.”

“Lord Eris,” your father breathes, blinking back at him in surprise. His gaze lowers to where Eris’s ring clad fingers tap on the journal in his lap. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I came to relay a message from my father. I’m sure you’re well familiar with his impatience. But then, I found this,” Eris says, holding up the letter he found and taking pleasure in the fear that flashes through your father’s eyes. “Planning on going somewhere?”

**

It’s eerily quiet as you and Sawyer step into the High Lord’s office. You pray to the Cauldron that the glamor Sawyer placed over himself is strong enough to mask the evidence of whatever he got himself into last night. But as you turn around to face Beron, your heart sinks to your stomach. The pure anger simmering in those brown eyes of his is enough to let you know he sees right through it.

“Father, I can–”

You flinch, curling into yourself as a loud cracking sound echoes through the room followed by the sound of Sawyer’s body falling to the ground. He grunts in pain, struggling as he turns on his side to sit up. But a sharp kick from Beron sends him back to the floor, his head banging against the floor.

“You continue to disgrace this family,” Beron seethes with another powerful kick and you hear something crack. “Tarnishing the family name I spent centuries bringing up! Where is duty? Where is honor?”

Sawyer’s brown eyes light with an indignant fire. “Fuck honor,” he manages to spit out, setting Beron alight.

Tears sting at your eyes as you watch the scene unfold before you in horror. You knew the High Lord of the Autumn Court was cruel and violent. But this? And toward his own blood? This was unforgivable. Unjust and absolutely terrifying. It confirmed all your suspicions over the bruises and scars you'd seen on Eris.

Oh, Eris.

A scream catches in your throat and your entire body freezes as Beron continues to unleash his wrath on his son.

“I’ve been generous in offering you a solution and you dare make a mockery out of it?”

“There is no solution for who I am,” Sawyer cries defiantly, despite the blood trickling from his mouth.

The hurt, the agony in his voice tears at your heart–

“I dare curse the Cauldron for making you the way it did!”

“I don’t.” You’re taken aback at the firmness of your own voice.

Beron turns to you sharply, your words reminding him of your presence. You swallow thickly but stand your ground as he walks toward you. While Sawyer has not been the kindest to you, he does not deserve any of this. If anything, you now understand him more. Why your marriage came to be, why Sawyer hates you. It has your heart aching for all the suffering he must’ve endured and is still currently living through. 

“You,” he hisses with a pointed finger. “You just marked your death sentence.”

Fear creeps into your heart and a sickening smirk begins to form on the High Lord’s face. He can sense the terror filling your veins. Still, you hold his gaze, though it’s threatening to burn you alive at any given moment. 

“You’re undeserving of all the blessings the Cauldron has bestowed upon you," you say.

A harsh slap sends a stinging pain to your face. Your body stumbles backward but Beron holds you steady, gripping onto your arm. His nails cut through the thin fabric of your gown and pierce into your skin. His other hand grips your face sharply by the chin as he studies you.

“What a terrible disappointment you are. I would kill you right now but much to my discontent, I have to wait until after the wedding,” he threatens and then lets out a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine. The way he’s looking at you. You’re almost sure he’s thinking of all the ways he’ll enjoy torturing you to death. Your body is screaming internally in panic and there’s a strange sensation stirring in the depths of your chest.

 “You could’ve had it all, you know? What every female of your status wishes for. Money, jewels, a good family name."

“No,” Sawyer groans out, keeling over. “None of this is her fault. It’s all mine. I was careless. Eris warned me but I threatened her to stay silent.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding as Beron releases his cruel grip on you. He turns back to Sawyer, who remains on the floor and you’re quick to come between them. A foolish move but you worry Sawyer doesn’t have it in him to take any more blows. Nor do you want him to.

“I do not care who is at fault for I am putting the blame on both of you anyway. But,” Beron pauses to lift a finger. “Let this be clear to you both that this is a warning. One more mishap from either one of you and it’s over. You think you know pain? I will have you longing for something as sweet as pain.”

Beron looks over at you both, delighted in the sight of your trembling form and his son, who remains on the ground. Bleeding. He’d say his message is pretty clear but just in case...

“Oh. One more thing,” he says as he makes his way toward the door. His hand grasps the door knob but he pauses, wanting to make sure you hear his next words well.

“There will be a bedding ceremony at your wedding.”

**

Eris wasn’t above inflicting pain onto your father. He meant it when he said he’d do anything to keep you safe. What a harsh twist of fate it was that the person who helped bring you into this world was also the same person content with you leaving it. 

Your father didn’t deserve you. Eris feared he, himself, did not deserve you either. But he’d be damned, if he allowed the ruthless hand of fate to have you at its grasps.

This thought crosses his mind as he gazes down at your own father’s hands. Eris had brought your father to his study, forcing him to sit at his desk while the Autumn heir loomed over his shoulder like an oncoming storm of darkness.

His hands reach for his belt, where he keeps his favorite dagger sheathed at all times. “What hand do you write with?”

Jareth’s body tenses. He turns his head to look up at Eris with wary eyes. “My right, my Lord,” he replies with quiet hesitancy.

“Good,” Eris says. The only warning Jareth got before Eris brought his dagger down, piercing through your father’s hands. He muffles his scream with his free hand as he twists the dagger further into his skin. “That means you won’t need your left hand anymore.”

“Here’s what I need you to do if you wish to live.” Eris roughly pulls Jareth’s head taut to his chest, forcing his gaze upwards. The hand at Jareth’s mouth lifts and finds its place against his throat. Eris gives a tight squeeze in warning. 

“I need you to write a letter to your daughter. Confess the truth. Apologize for all the wrongs you’ve done. Then, you pray to the Mother that y/n has it in her to forgive you… because I sure as hell never will.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Jareth mutters hurriedly, desperate to live. His right hand shakes as it finds his quill, eyes glistening with fright under the intense gaze of Eris. 

How pathetic, Eris sneers quietly as he sits himself on the chair directly across from Jareth. Though small, he needed to put some distance between them both. He fears if he didn’t, the primal instinct urging him to protect and defend you would consume him whole. 

Eris leans back into the chair, bringing the journal filled with details of your father’s twisted experiment with you to his gaze. Every so often, he casts a glance toward your father, who continues to scribble words down with haste. The more and more he learns of the truth, the more it sickens him. And the more he wishes to give in to that primal instinct, to unleash the beast that lurks deep within him. 

But he knows how much it’d hurt you if he killed your father. Even if your father deserved it. Ironically, Eris can only pray to the Mother himself that you would find it in you to forgive him for what he has planned for your father instead.

After what feels like an eternity, Jareth lets out a deep exhale. “Done.”

Eris lifts his gaze, slowly taking in the sight of your father like the calm before the storm. The older male’s face has turned ashen, coated with a sheen layer of sweat that Eris can scent.

The Autumn heir rises from his seat, leaning over to take a brief look at the contents of the letter. The corner of his lips lift into a sinister smirk.

“Looks like you won’t be needing your right hand either.”

**

Eris watches from a distance, bright flickering flames casting an eerie reflection in the darkness of his eyes. Your house is catching fire with a ferocity that thirsts to devour everything in its path. The letter your father had written to you is secured into the breast pocket of his coat along with the journal.

It all makes sense to him now. Why on that night he rushed to comfort you, you had not been concerned at all with your bleeding hand. Why the scar on his lower abdomen had magically disappeared after you touched it that same night. Why the yellow flower you had embroidered and proudly showed him looked familiar. Why your father would refer to you as a flower a lot. Why his father was obsessed with obtaining it for himself.

The sundrop flower surged through your veins.

A long, long time ago, it was whispered that a solitary drop from the Cauldron had spilled over in what is now known as the Dawn Court, giving birth to the radiant sundrop. The golden flower was no ordinary bloom as it possesses the ability to heal any ailment or injury. It blooms at a different location within the Dawn Court every fifth century or so. A phenomenon carefully overseen by the reigning High Lord of Dawn. As it is rumored that whoever beholds the flower is immortal, for nothing can harm or kill them.

Eris has no idea how your parents managed to not only find but obtain the flower before Thesan could. The sundrop is a divine creation, blessed by the Cauldron itself. A divine creation whose essence is intertwined with your very being. As Eris’s thoughts drift back to you, he feels a stirring deep in his chest.

His hand instinctively reaches for his heart, his breath catching as a tumultuous wave of emotions washes over him. Fear, panic, anger—all swirling within him. Yet not his own. No, these emotions are coming from you, echoing loudly through the bond.

A sense of foreboding settles over him. Something is terribly wrong.

a/n: Sorry for the lack of Eris x reader interactions in this one and the lack of softness this series usually holds but it was necessary to build up to the future parts. The next part will make up for it. Hope you still enjoyed! and also hoped you enjoyed the continued Tangled references lol and the one quote from the Avengers as well as some House of Dragon ones. I know a lot of information was dropped in this part so if you have any questions, just let me know. There's just three more parts to this and the bond snapping for reader is coming soon 👀

tagging: @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @fxckmiup @stormhearty @skyesayshi @sfhsgrad-blog @crazylokonugget @evergreenlark @secretlyhers @mybestfriendmademe @ib525, @96jnie, @kennedy-brooke, @scooobies, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria, @glitterypirateduck @thatsassyhufflepuff @acourtofbatboydreams, @mal-adaptive-dreams, @dandelionfairyyy

if you asked to be tagged and I didn't, please know it was a mistake and just let me know again so I can add you!

you can find a sneak peak to the next part here

#eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra imagine #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar imagines #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra angst

[throneofsmut]

BOUND IN FLAMES: MASTERLIST

Eris Vanserra × Archeron-Sister- Reader

Description: Feyre and her younger sister go hunting in the forest behind their family's cottage and go through life changing experiences.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11 (updated 4-14-24)

Part 12 ( coming soon )

( I have 12 parts planned out so far but i'm pretty sure it'll be more. I'll update it as I go. )

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #eris vanserra #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra smut #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar #eris fanfic #eris smut #eris x reader #bound in flames

[redbleedingrose]

Girl Dad!Eris when the Babes are Sick Headcanons

A/N: I was harassing @augustinerose with all my girl dad!Eris thoughts today, so I thought I would expand and share with you all, and maybe go into what the newborn stage was like for you and girl dad!Eris if y’all would like. And then maybe even what it was like postpartum with Girl Dad!Eris supporting you every step of the way.

Sigh, I am in love with the male!!! Send freaking help!!!!!!

During toddlerhood, when one of the girls is sick, the other babe is also feeling crummy :(

They are absolutely gonna climb outta their small beds and hold each others hands walking from their room to your door at the end of the hall, their guard dog following them on their heels and standing closely behind them. It is usually precious Twila who uses her small chubby fist to knock on the door, barely making any noise, but enough that the pups laying at the foot of our bed will come and see what's going on first.

Eris wakes up so fast, he is sucha light sleeper at a baseline that the slightest noise has his eyes snapping open. You, on the other hand, would stay passed out cuz its 3:30 in the morning, and also, you are incredibly warm and comfortable with Eris in bed. You feel utterly at ease and protected with Eris, so as the years went on, your sleeping has become heavier. Eris often teases you for snoring, like the smug bastard he is because he sleeps like the dead with at least one hand resting somewhere on your body.

Anyway, by the time the girls are poking their very curly, messy, bedheads beyond the door to peer inside your room, Er is already halfway to the door to see what they need. When they are feeling sick, all they wanna do is cuddle up to mama and papa and each other in your huge bed, and Eris has no qualms pressing soft, gentle kisses onto their warm foreheads and scooping them up into his arms, resting both of them on each hip before bringing them to your bed.

Marwa usually snuggles with you, ever the mamas girl, and Twila, ever the papas girl, will snuggle in with her papa. Don’t get me wrong, Marwa shoves at least one foot into Eris' side, her tiny toe nails digging into his rib cage, probably to feel his warmth, because she too, just like her mama, and gets overheated way too fast. It doesn't matter cause regardless, she will press her entire body up into yours, practically climbing on top of you while you sleep and shoves her face into your neck before passing out.

Marwa will pass out soooo fast, but Twila, our chatty little girl (maybe less so when she is sick), will babble quietly though not as quickly as usual, to her papa who is exhausted but will quietly hum and nod along to his babes ramblings while rubbing her back and stroking/brushing through her messy hair with his warm fingers until she falls asleep against his chest. And only then, when his girls are comfortably asleep, with one tiny foot digging into his side and a toddler resting on his chest, one of his hands tucked underneath your head (that is extremely numb though he will never ever complain about it) acting as your pillow, will he let himself go back to sleep.

He would obviously be the first to wake up in the morning, being high lord has trained his body to wake up at around sunrise. Before you and your babes, he would be up and out of bed within seconds of waking up, anxious to start his day to avoid the scrutiny and abuse of his father. After becoming high lord, after you coming into his life and giving him the best thing that has ever happened to him (that being your love and your children), he tries to stay in bed for at least half an hour to soak in the warmth and peace. He adores listening to your soft snores, and whenever the girls join you in bed, he cannot get enough of the small huffs and puffs of Marwa and Twila while they snooze away.

He shifts Twila into your side so he can get up, but you better believe that if his babes aren’t feeling well, he is going to be the one taking care of them alongside you. He would never let you feel alone in parenting, never make you feel like you are with a male who is incompetent in taking care of his girls.

The first thing he would do, is really only a secret between you and him. But he does have a morning cigarette to ease his nerves. It is a horrible habit he picked up during his teenage years, and after centuries of using it as a coping mechanism, he hasn’t been able to fully quit. You know he does it, and while you encourage him to stop, you recognize that he used to chain smoke, one cigarette trapped between his pretty lips after the other. The fact he only needs one in the morning to get him through the day, he finds quite unbelievable. It is another thing that he credits to you, another reason that he marvels at you.

Plus you cannot deny how hot Er looks while leaning against the balcony railing, shirtless with a cigarette held in his mouth . The hazy look in his hooded eyes, the smoke blowing out of his nose after a deep inhale, the way his entire body relaxes against the crisp autumn air. He is a sight to behold, so you can let one cigarette go. Knowing Er, he is probably gonna quit before the babes are old enough to realize he does smoke.

Anyway, moving on, after his morning routines of his cigarette, a 15 minute cold shower, mouth smelling minty fresh, and dressed in the most immaculate grey sweatpants and white long sleeve (that does nothing to hide his broad chest and toned arms (the slut knows what he is doing smh)), he is headed to the kitchen to cook you all up some breakfast. Usually, this is around the time that you join him, hugging him from behind and pressing kisses into the space between his shoulders while he leans back into you, but you are in bed with the babes, which means it will be nearly impossible for you to escape without one of them noticing, so he remains in the solace of the empty kitchen.

Because the girls are feeling crummy, I think Er would focus on making a warm maple and cinnamon flavored oatmeal for them and herbs steeping in the warm spring water that he will put into their sippy cups for them to use. Then he focuses on making you some breakfast. He knows you usually don’t each much in the morning anyway, so he makes for the both of you, a couple of pieces of honey and cream toast that you will share, and two cups spiced cardamom chai on the side.

He would wanna spend the day with you and the babes, especially if they aren’t feeling to good. Most of the day is probably going to be spent in your bed, and to be honest, those are Eris’ favorite kinds of days. The girls love to snuggle up next to you both and take naps intermittently throughout the day, and the times they are awake are spent reading books to them, playing games like “I-spy” while they peer out your balcony with their big curious eyes, and also just listening to their babbles and rants.

They are very opinionated girls, and they are happy to share with their papa that they think Forest House should be painted pink and purple, and all the curtains should be changed to a daisy yellow color to make your home look more inviting and “princessy.”

He would probs do it too, make Forest House into a doll house for his perfect little babes, but your amused nods, your cooing and giggling as they prattle on about making sure the carpets are yellow to match the curtains has him nearly certain your babes interior designer skills are too top tier for you. Though, he might be able to convince you to change up their play room decor.

Ugh and he just lives for when you are asleep with the babes, he spends hours watching over you three, thanking the gods and mother that he was blessed with such a beautiful, elegant mate who is the perfect mom, thanking the cauldron for his perfect babes, and honestly, praying for time to stop so that he can live in that moment forever, in pure happiness and peace.

#rose rambles #Eris x reader #Eris vanserra x reader #girl dad!eris #girl dad eris #marwa and Twila #Girl dad!Eris x reader #girl dad hc #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar eris vanserra #acotar hcs #acotar headcanons #Eris drabbles #soft eris #acotar drabbles #rose writes

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Two

☁︎ notes: so much tea drinking in this chapter?? my bad

☁︎ warnings: descriptions of wounds and blood, talk of physical abuse, implied domestic violence

☁︎ word count: 1.9k

☁︎ AO3 Link // Masterlist

☁︎ tags: @mybestfriendmademe @teddyhoneybear @cauldronblssd @imma-too-many-fandoms @tele86

Eris barely remembered the night before. He did not remember the questions his father had asked or the nonsense he’d given as answers. He knew in his gut that the truth remained tucked away and that’s all that mattered. 

He did recall his mother hurrying away, though the image was blurry from the pain. He thought he remembered an angel, kneeling by his bedside and blessing him with a touch to his brow. But of course, that was delirium from the blood loss. Every snap of his father’s whip, however, echoed through his memory in a loop.

He woke once in the night, head pounding as he surveyed the room. The moonlight revealed his mother’s sleeping form on the couch by the fire. On the floor beside his bed, another figure slept curled up with a throw pillow. Maybe two figures? It was hard to tell, their outline bulky beneath the quilt. He had a vague understanding that he should be dead, or at least in a great deal of pain. But the bedding felt real enough beneath his hands, the ache in his head like an anchor.

He did not have a chance to wonder about it any further before sleep pulled him away again. He dreamt of the angel and her lovely voice, deep and smooth, easing his pain. 

Worry not , she had said. So Eris slept deep and easy. 

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ 

When Eris woke he braced for the full impact of his injury to envelope him, but it never arrived. There was a dull ache throughout his body, but nothing compared to what he felt the night before. He found that he could sit up and move and even stretch with no resistance. 

He flicked on the fae lights and twisted in the mirror, examining his back. There were large, pink scars still tender to the touch. And he was clean, not a hint of the ocean of blood that had threatened to swallow him in his bed. 

That was how his mother found him, staring at his back with confusion and frustration written across his features. She let out a silent sigh as she set down the tea tray, preparing for his interrogation. 

“Someone else was here,” He said. Or rather, demanded, eyes meeting hers in the mirror. 

“Yes. The healer I hired.” She did not look at him, focused on spooning tea leaves into the sieve. 

“Beron forbade it.” His tone was sharp. 

“He will not know. He was called away this morning and you leave for the Spring Court this afternoon.” 

Here she was, pulling strings again. He would always admire her cleverness and always dread the consequences. She was constantly doing favors just so she would be owed one in return. It was the oldest Fae trick in the book and the only way she could gain footing in this court. 

Most of the court and its people would follow her over Beron in a heartbeat. But his reach was wide and his eyes all-seeing. Not to mention his punishments, always cruel and disturbingly creative. Thus, these games of bargains and favors remained. Whispered in dark halls and midnight meetings. Sometimes outside the borders of the court. So far, she had managed not to be caught. Beron underestimated her and one day it would be her salvation and the last nail in his coffin. 

“You hired a secret healer?” 

“And swore her to secrecy, yes,” It was an idea she’d toyed with for a while, but Eris had always asked her not to do it. It was not worth it, to risk some healer’s life on his sorry behalf. 

“Did you tell her the nature of the job?” 

Edana pursed her lips, quiet as she placed sugar cubes into cups. He sat down slowly, releasing a long sigh as he went. 

“The risks, mother,” He said, weariness making it sound more thorny than he meant. 

“Do not scold me, son,” Her tone was firm but her voice shook. She looked at him, russet eyes gleaming. “You would have died last night if she had not been there. I have said it before and I will say it as many times as it takes for this court to hear me. I will not lose another son.” 

Her lips trembled as she let her body crumple into a chair. Eris stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her ruddy hair. Two sides of the same coin, they were. Too soft for Beron’s preferred shade of games, too stubborn not to play their own. 

The purple smudges under her eyes were so pronounced Eris wondered if she’d slept at all. If she’d truly slept in years. 

“Why now?” He asked, his voice soft. An uneasiness grew in the pit of his stomach. Edana took a moment to answer, her eyes troubled and distant as she warred with something that Eris couldn’t see. 

“Things are brewing, Eris,” She said, “Not just in your father’s court, but in Prythian. I needed to ease my mind. To have one less things to worry about.” 

He didn’t bother asking what she alluded to. She would have told him already if she were able to. Whether it be Beron or some other higher power, she stayed vague for a reason. It did nothing for that sense of unease.

“Thesan has requested to speak with me,” Edana sighed, sounding a little more like herself again, “I assume I will be receiving a scolding from him as well.” 

“No more scolding from me,” Eris sat back down and pulled a cup of tea towards himself, “You know what you’re doing. I just don't want to see you hurt.”

She gave him a small smile and took a sip from her own cup. 

“You’re a force to be reckoned with, mother. One day you will get your justice.” 

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ 

Lady Edana sat across from Thesan, tea and pastries arranged on lace runners between them. The table sat on a balcony, so similar to where she had met with Aya. Fluffy clouds floated past the stone pillars, the arches between them like picture frames housing masterful paintings. 

Edana did not care for the Dawn Court. Everything here was too farefree, threatening to float away with the lightest touch. She preferred to be on solid ground, back in her own court with its scents of humus and ripe apples. 

“Edana,” Thesan began. His eyes avoided hers, as if her opinion would be read clearly within the amber. 

Edana said nothing, anger ebbing and flowing through her like the tide. One moment she had herself worked up, convinced that everyone around her was trying to prove that she was nothing but a fool, a paranoid little housewife. Then she would remind herself that those ideas were Beron’s creation, her anxiety his design. And she calmed, letting all of those feelings flow away until the cycle began again.

“I understand your machinations,” He said, “I know their importance, and I will contribute where I can. But you cannot draw my loved ones into this game. Especially without consulting me.” 

“Loved ones?” Edana asked, meeting his gaze as she took a sip of her tea.

“Aya is my cousin, Edana,” Thesan sighed. 

“Is there a reason you kept her hidden?” 

“She is not hidden. The Dawn Court knows her. But she has always insisted on earning her own living. She wants her success to be her own.” 

“I see,” Edana said, though her expression suggested that she did not see.

“I have a feeling that you elected to ask for forgiveness instead of permission.” He continued. 

Edana tossed her head, but she did not disagree. That was exactly what she had done. Though she had to admit that the fact of Aya and Thesan being related made her decision look much bolder. She had never meant to make a statement. 

“I suggest you do not make a habit of it,” Thesan’s voice rumbled through the balcony. 

Some considered Thesan to be the weakest of the High Lords. Even Tarquin, young and experienced as he may be, could move oceans with his power. But to hear Thesan speak this way painted a different image. Like he possessed some hidden blade within him that was as sharp as he was gentle. Like perhaps, the other courts would be grateful that he stayed close to his palace in this sky. 

Edana finally accepted that perhaps her plans had been rash. Maybe she had underestimated how easily Thesan would forgive her. The clouds floating by the balcony grew dark with the threat of a storm. 

“I cannot break the bargain,” She said, eyes on the table before her. She studied the crumbs of her macaron, pastel purple and flavored with lavender. 

“No,” Said Thesan, a growl full of warning, “But if you misstep, I will have Helion dismantle it.

“I did it for Eris,” Edana choked out, looking up at him. The lovely brown of his eyes was so soft compared to the command in his voice.

“Then he will help protect her. Or he will need more than one healer.” 

“Beron will not touch her.” 

“Do not make promises you cannot keep.” 

They were quiet for a long moment. Then the clouds lightened again, all of the tension gone from the sky. Thesan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. 

“I did not call you here to scold you,” He said, and Edana thought bitterly that it was a little late for that sentiment. 

“I wish to warn you.” 

She took another sip of her tea and wondered if this was merely a bridge to another lecture about her schemes and manipulations. As if she was a reckless child with no self control, and not a woman trapped in the underground halls of the Autumn Court. They all gave her sympathy, but if they would not help her with their actions then their words meant nothing. She prepared to tell him off. 

“I wish to warn you about Aya,” His eyes narrowed at Edana’s refusal to answer. But he had her attention now. She pursed her lips and locked eyes with him. “There are facets to her power she has not yet discovered. She could rival the best of us one day.” 

“And you have not told her this?” Edana’s brows furrowed, “You do not wish for her to control it?”

“Not all of us fancy ourselves puppet masters,” Thesan said tightly, “I was hoping it would be her own discovery. She’s so unsure of herself.”

Edana stared for a moment longer. It had crossed her mind, the depth of Aya’s power. The ease with which she manipulated Eris’s wounds. Her skill was greater than any other healer Edana had met.

“And I suppose you will not tell me any more about her?” 

“It is not my story to tell.” 

Edana’s nerves were feeling a bit frayed. A scolding, a threat, and now a warning. 

“Are we done here, Thesan?” She sighed and dropped the napkin from her lap onto the table. 

Thesan’s eyes narrowed. No, he had hoped this conversation might last a little longer. He had more to say. But he was as tired of Edana as she was of him. 

“Yes, Edana.” 

Truthfully, she had always been this way. Paranoid, calculating. Even in her days as a young and single courtier, she gambled for scandals and drama, her ante paid in lovers. She had played these games for so long now, her entire world was tinted. Perhaps the right person could have encouraged her to hone that energy. But Beron brought out the worst in everyone. 

Some thought her sons inherited their cunning from their father, but it was all their mother’s. All of their scheming they learned from her. Beron was as dense as he was cruel. 

Thesan watched the Lady leave, her burgundy skirts swishing over the stone floor. Lady of Autumn, Queen of games, mother of foxes.

#acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #eris #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris fanfic #eris fic #eris fanfiction #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra fanfiction #eris x oc #eris x healer #pro eris vanserra #acotar oc #dawn court oc #dawn court #the dawn court #thesan #autumn court #lady of autumn #beron vanserra #dawn court healer #acotar healer oc #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

[lucienarcheron]

Spirit Meets the Bones - XV

Genre: Angst/Romance  Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. PLEASE NOTE: This chapter will contain physical abuse with some implied language that may be found triggering.

shoutout to @abruisedmuse for always listening to me ramble <3

tagging: @climb-the-mountian | @vanserrass | @positivewitch | @zenkindoflove | @animezinglife | @readthelastpaage | @clockwork-ashes | @carolynmezzosoprano | @carnythian | @runningwiththeoceans | @readychilledwine | @goldenmagnolias | @thedarkinmansfield | @mali22 | @maidr-00 | @electromagnetic-waves | @theeternalstruggle | @devilsfoodcake22 | @the-midnightwriter | @moonfawnx | @weesablackbeak | @ladywhilemia | @illyrianshadowhunter | @alohaangels | @moobell55 | @bibliophiliaxvignette | @easchies | @feysandfeels | @thelovelymadone | @corcracrow | @dawneternal | @teddyhoneybear | @sinnerrsworld | @queenoftheworld1998

Find it all here.

The promise of death had slipped out of his mouth before he could process what was happening, and Eris’s jaw clenched as he glanced at his father-in-law, thinking of the time he had wasted playing his father’s games.

Eris had known his father would fuck around to keep him from being here when Lord Aron arrived, but he hadn’t realized the asshole had already slipped in undetected.

All the High Lord had said was, “Stay. The sight of you brings me joy, son.”

And Eris had been forced to stand in silence as his father ignored him, while Iris met with her father alone.

But if Eris pushed, Beron would only delight in twisting this nugget of information. And Eris couldn't risk it.

Although none of it mattered in the end.

Anger and a slight panic had fueled his steps, knowing his father was likely laughing his ass off after he finally released him, but it was as he set foot into the hall leading to their chambers that he froze and every single nerve in his body went on high alert. Because Eris heard Iris.

He had felt her calling for him and didn’t stop to think about how when he felt her panic course through him.

Eris winnowed directly to the front of their door and froze again, listening for a moment — his jaw clenching at the sneering of her father. To his threats against her. So many threats and Eris saw red.

Now he was crouched before his wife, his Iris, who was on the floor with bruises. Who had flinched back from him because of her father.

His wife, whom he had promised to be here with her when this piece of shit came.

He’d welcome Lord Aron warmly alright.

“Can you stand?” he asked her ever so gently and Iris massaged a hand to her throat then nodded. He held out a hand and waited as Iris watched him, her eyes looking at him with an expression he certainly wouldn’t read into now. An expression that made the beating of his heart turn erratic.

But then Lord Aron snorted and Iris flinched back, her hand shooting back to her side, her eyes snapping to her father. Eris’s hand slowly curled into a fist and he spared the Lord one look before his eyes fell back on Iris.

“I’m going to have a word with your father. Would you like to be here for this or go elsewhere?” he asked her quietly and Iris licked her lips, shaking her head.

“I’m staying.” she said hoarsely and he nodded. He had expected nothing less from her.

Slowly, Eris straightened as his father-in-law stared at him.

“That isn’t the warm welcome I expected, Eris.” Lord Aron replied then cleared his throat. “That statement is a threat.”

“Yes. It is.” Eris said simply, his eyes cataloging every detail about the awful male in front of him and his mind drifted back to every foul thing Iris had told him about her father. “Bow.”

His father-in-law blinked then flushed. “Is that necessary? We are family.”

Eris cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “Do you bow to the High Lord?”

“Of course. He is the High Lord.”

“And I am the High Lord’s son.” Eris said coldly. “I do not consider you my family, Bertillon. Bow.”

Lord Aron’s flush deepened, and he shot Iris a glare. “Look what you’ve done you stupid bi —”

A growl slipped from Eris’s lips, cutting off the lord’s rant and he held himself taut enough that it was almost painful. It took every ounce of Eris’s willpower not to rip the male apart. “I strongly suggest you not finish that statement.” Eris hissed and finally, his father-in-law had the decency to have some fear in his eyes.

Swallowing, Lord Aron shot Iris one more look of contempt before bowing his head towards Eris.

“Lower.” Eris snarled lowly.

The Lord hesitated for a heartbeat before bending at the waist.

Eris surveyed him then hummed. He glanced at Iris, still on the floor a few feet away from where both he and her father stood, watching her father with disgust. It eased his tension only slightly that her bruises had already started to fade but didn’t stop the guilt — the anger — that she had them in the first place.

His mother’s bruises flashed in his mind and Eris looked back to the second male who he would daydream about viciously shredding to pieces.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Eris spoke calmly. “I will give you one chance to answer this correctly.” he began and Lord Aron’s eyes narrowed. “Why, exactly, are you here? Other than to tell lies about your daughter.”

“I don’t have to answer you when you speak to me that way, Eris.” Lord Aron snarled and shot Iris a glare.

Eris smiled.

“Oh, but you do, Bertillon. The only reason you’re still standing where you are and not dead is because of your daughter.” he said, his tone a lethal calm and Lord Aron’s mouth twisted.

“Your father wouldn’t like that.” he replied quietly and Eris’s smile darkened.

“I suggest you worry less about my father and fix that face. I’m not one you should be looking at like that.” he said quietly. “Especially when my fire could wrap itself around your throat and I could so easily...let it burn.”

Lord Aron blanched then cleared his throat, attempting to fix his jacket for a quiet moment before answering. “I came to make sure my daughter isn’t giving you a hard time.” he replied and despite the lack of color in his face, he shot Iris another look of disdain. “I know she has the tendency to overstep her boundaries often.”

Eris blinked, feeling the very tight leash on his anger very close to snapping, his rage building and building and building. How often must he watch the people he cares about deal with this? He already had his father to deal with and now...this vermin seemed to think he could come in here and put his hands on his wife. He took a step towards the male as the room drastically heated. “Who gave you permission to come in here?”

Her father blinked. “As your father-in-law, I assumed I was welcome to come see my daughter as I wished.”

Eris let a heartbeat of silence pass, the fury whirling in his body, giving his father-in-law a moment to realize just how badly he had fucked up. A moment passed before he said too quietly and too calmly, “You assumed wrong.”

And then Eris was on him.

Fire encompassed them both as Eris wrapped a hand tightly around the lord’s neck and slammed him into the ground, hovering over him.

“No one has permission to be in here. No one.” he snarled softly. “Did my wife want you in here?”

“Let go of me.” his father-in-law hissed but a deadly smirk found its way to Eris’s lips and his grip tightened.

“Answer. The. Question.” he demanded softly. “Did she grant you permission to be in here? Because I certainly didn’t.”

“Your father —”

“Isn’t here.” Eris snapped, his fingers digging into Aron’s throat. “Answer. The. Question.”

“No.” Aron choked out and Eris’s hand heated around the lord’s throat.

“Then it seems to me,” Eris began, and it was the wrath of a god streaming from his fingertips. “That if anyone has the tendency to overstep their boundaries here, it’s you.” He spat and leaned in closer. “You forget yourself, Lord. You forget that while you are in the home of the High Lord and in his pocket, whatever permission my father gave you, doesn’t — apply — to — me.”

Eris leaned back again and whatever damper he usually had on his anger was loosened slightly so that nothing but fire could be found in his gaze.

“You made me break my promise.” he said in a deadly calm. “And then you put your hands on my wife.” Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he slid his free hand to Aron’s and with the truly sinister smile he was known for, Eris twisted his arm back and simply...snapped it.

The lord howled and a savage grin bloomed on Eris’ face.

“Yes, you should scream.” Eris said quietly. “You decided to come in here and put your hands on my wife and then have the audacity to think you’d be able to do it again. She flinched back from me because of you. And well...I don't like that.” Eris tightened his grip on Aron’s twisted arm and the lord let out another yelp. “I really, really don’t like it. So now, I’m going to break every bone in your body.”

“She’s my daughter.” her father-in-law snarled. “You can’t do this! I’ll tell your father.”

Eris let out a low laugh. “On the contrary, you can’t do anything.” he said and slid his hand to Aron’s broken one and then one by one, bent his fingers back far enough to break. Eris watched with feral delight as the lord screamed in agony, thinking of Iris’s bruised cheek. Thinking of her bruised throat.

“Consider everything I’m going to do to you as payback for everything you’ve done to her over the years.” he snarled softly and any color left on the lord’s face disappeared as the stench of his fear filled the room. “Oh yes, I’ve heard all about it. I’m going to make you regret every waking moment of your life until now.”

“Eris — son, let’s not —”

But Eris didn’t let him finish. A fist of flame slammed into Aron’s face and it sent him flying back into the table then he crumbled to the floor with a groan, his broken arm hanging useless on his side.

Eris ran a hand through his hair and rolled his shoulders back as he watched Lord Aron pitifully try to sit up. He watched him struggle, watched and knew how his cheek would swell up and that blackened eye would remain closed for a while. Delighted in the slight burn marks on his neck like a pretty necklace.

But it still felt too little. It didn’t feel like enough. He had touched his wife. His wife who he was supposed to protect and had failed. Because her father decided to overstep just like his father tried to overstep. The urge to kill and kill and kill consumed him.

His feet moved on their own, flame licking at his heels, until he crouched in front of Aron again and gripped him by his hair, yanking his head back. “Do not ever call me son, Bertillon. You are nothing to me.”

“Enough.” the lord rasped. “T-this is enough.”

Eris slanted his head, assessing him calmly. “Is it? You put bruises on my wife. You threatened her with more.” He leaned in closer as Bertillon flinched back and a wicked smirk found its way to Eris’s lips. “Did you think you could walk out of here the same way you walked in? With no consequences?”

“Eris — we can —”

“Didn’t anyone tell you?” Eris spoke and it was almost like he was in a trance as he let his fire wrap around his father-in-law’s neck once more. “I really, really don’t like it when people think they can overstep their boundaries with me, and you are too confident for your own good.”

He watched Lord Aron swallow thickly and his smirk widened.

“I - I’m sorry — let’s just —”

Eris clicked his tongue and Aron silenced immediately. “You shouldn’t be apologizing to me. You should be apologizing to Iris.”

Lord Aron’s face flushed, and he sent a glare toward Iris, who watched all this in stunned silence.

“I have nothing to apologize to her for. She’s my daughter. I will treat her as I see fit.”

Eris said nothing for a moment, simply watching the male then nodded. Tightening his grip on the male’s hair, Eris slammed him back into the table once more then pulled him closer.

“Let’s try that again.” he said calmly. “Don’t be stupid now, Bertillon. If I tell you to apologize, you will apologize.”

Lord Aron blinked a few times, the slam to his head clearly dazing him. Eris only watched him as he blinked again stupidly then his eyes flickered to Iris, his gaze hardening. “Why would I apologize when she puts me in positions like this?”

“These are the consequences of your own actions. Your mouth and hands put you in this position, you scum.” Eris snarled softly. “You are the only one responsible for your choices so apologize.”

Aron attempted to glare, barely able to with one eye swollen shut. His lip curled in disgust, glancing once more at Eris then back at Iris.

“I can say the words all you want,” he spoke quietly, his eyes never leaving his daughter. “But I will never mean them. I am sorry for nothing, you useless girl.”

Eris blinked then smiled slowly, ever so gently tugging his father-in-law’s head back, bringing his gaze back to meet his eyes. “I see.” he said softly. “I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way then.”

Aron licked his lips quickly, glancing between Iris and Eris before opening his mouth to speak. “W-wait —”

But Eris tightened his grip and Lord Aron blanched, falling silent immediately. Eris let the blazing flame in his gaze rest on Aron, his hands heating around his throat once more, taking a deep breath.

“I wonder,” Eris began, his voice as soft as a lover’s. “Where should I begin with you?”

Aron made a choking sound as Eris dragged him by the throat closer to him, watching as he turned slightly blue.

“Should I start with your spine? I know exactly where to break it so you don’t die too quickly and suffer properly. Make sure you really feel it.” he said with an unhinged smile. “What about a few burns? We can start right at a second degree then quickly go deeper. Maybe some permanent damage? I could give you a permanent facial deformity. Your physical appearance should match how disgusting you are on the inside, no?”

“Eris — wait —”

Eris slammed Aron’s head back into the table again, earning him a groan. “You know what? Let’s start with your other arm. You don’t really need your hands anyway.”

And Eris saw nothing, registered nothing else aside from his fists and his magic unleashing themselves on his father-in-law. He was vaguely aware of him snapping Aron’s other arm. Recalled briefly the feel of his nose crunching beneath his fist. 

But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t enough.

He wanted his blood to fill the halls. He wanted every bone in his body to turn to dust. He wanted him to shrivel into ash.

Most of all, Eris wanted to take back every moment Iris had been alone with him, take back the panic she had felt — that Eris had felt.

The panic Eris had felt at his own father’s smug smile from earlier. His father, who Eris had no doubt, allowed this idiotic male to walk around this cocky.

A scream of agony tore through his thoughts, and it made Eris grin as a sound of bone crunching followed. The feeling of the bastard’s blood coating his knuckles as his fist collided again and again and again until —

He heard something else.

“Eris.”

His name.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder through the flame encompassing him. Flame that would burn anyone else but one —

Only when her voice said his name once more, did he pause and turn to look at his wife slowly.

She was standing before him, her eyes wide but Eris saw no fear in them, just — just concern.

“Eris, it’s okay. You can stop now.” she said softly, her hands still on his shoulder.

He blinked. “He hurt you.” Eris said simply and Iris licked her lips as she squeezed his shoulder gently.

“I know. But I think that’s enough.” she said, and her gaze flickered to her father for a moment before meeting Eris’s gaze again. “I think he’s learned his lesson.”

“He’s owed more than this.” Eris replied, his gaze locked on her beautiful face, still healing. “He made me break my promise.”

“I know.” she agreed and didn’t break his gaze, giving him a tight smile. “But I don’t want him ruining the carpet. I think you can let him go.”

Eris blinked again and the corner of his mouth lifted. He kept his gaze on his wife and when Iris nodded briefly, he nodded back. He turned back to her father and gave his swollen, broken figure a look of disgust.

“Consider this a warning,” Eris began coldly. “You are no longer related to Iris. You will have nothing to do with her or with me. You will not come near either of us. You will not ask about her, attempt to visit, or attempt to contact her at all.” He turned to Iris. “Does this sound reasonable to you, wife?”

She blinked in surprise then nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” he said with a smile that was anything but kind as he turned back to his father-in-law. “If I find out that you even thought about crossing those boundaries, I will tie you to a column in the middle of the courtyard and torture you in all the methods you think the High Lord has tried and more. Do I make myself clear?”

The lump of flesh that was Lord Aron gave a weak nod. Satisfied, Eris stood then dragged the limp body of his father-in-law and opened their chamber door to find several of his sentries waiting there.

“Dump him in an empty room. He isn’t allowed to see a healer for a few hours. I want him to be reminded of this pain every moment until then.” he commanded. “If anyone asks, tell them it’s my business. Should they ask again, I’ll gladly pile them right next to him.”

Eris glanced down at what was left of Lord Aron and granted his father-in-law one last look of burning rage. “Consider yourself lucky to be alive, you filthy piece of shit.” he swore and crouched down to meet his trembling gaze. “This time you got off easily. Next time...there won’t be anything left of you to find. I can promise you that.”

He watched his father-in-law twitch slightly, a small whimper slipping from the male’s lips and savage satisfaction coursed through Eris’s veins. Using one finger, the Prince of Autumn pressed into his father-in-law’s throat and let a little heat surge through it. The lump that was his father-in-law made a choking sound that only caused Eris to smile darkly. “You are very very lucky your daughter wanted to grant you a little mercy. I don’t consider it in my nature when it comes to filth who overstep their boundaries, especially when you don’t deserve it.” he snarled softly. “I pray you aren’t foolish enough to approach Iris again because I will simply delight in showing you exactly how much I like to let it burn.”

With that, Eris straightened and waved a hand, watching as his sentries dragged what was left of Lord Aron.

Eris let a ragged breath shudder out of him before turning back into their chamber and closing the door behind him. He needed to calm his rage. Calm the level of anger and tension coming off him in waves. He knew the room had heated the moment he stepped back into it but was hesitating to turn around, hesitating to find Iris and see fear in her eyes. Turning slowly, his eyes immediately found his wife who was staring at the spot where her father had been, the flecks of his blood splattered on the floor.

He swallowed hard then cleared his throat and said, “I’ll have someone clean it.”

Iris’s head snapped up to him and Eris paused in place. His throat bobbed at her assessing gaze and he clasped his shaking hands behind his back. He knew he looked rumpled, wild even, and knew he was still running on a lot of anger, his body coursing with so much adrenaline at the way his magic had thrived to be released.

He had always held himself on a tight leash and this wasn’t the way he wanted Iris to see him unrestrained. Not in a way that could instill fear. Only last night she had told him she was still scared and now —

Eris waited, watching her with a look that matched the intensity of what he was feeling. He couldn’t help the cascade of emotions coursing through his body when he looked at her, cataloging how she stood. The feeling of it was about to bring him to his knees. He took a quiet breath, relaxed his shoulders, and let his hands fall to his sides as he waited for Iris to speak.

But he said nothing. And she said nothing.

Iris watched him as he watched her, and a faint sense of dread began to slide its way through his bloodstream. After a moment, she took a hesitant step towards him then froze as her gaze fell to his hands and Eris felt his heart drop. He watched her swallow then turn and silently make her way to their bathroom. He watched her go and waited for a tense moment, wondering if she would lock herself in there to stay away from him. Had he gone too far? Had he scared her?

He swallowed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to handle her avoiding him again. Not after last night. Not after everything that just happened.

He felt that dread start tingling in his fingertips and make its way steadily up his arms and his chest — he felt too much. And he wasn’t ready for something he had barely begun to enjoy to crumble.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris x oc #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar fanfiction #smtb chapters #gfics #if you'd like to be tagged or removed (no hard feelings!) please let me know! #thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!! #let's see if the damn tags will work this time lol