#fuck beron

[olenvasynyt]

This is more of a rant than an actual question but I need Lucien to KNOW he is not Beron's son. I will never be able to reallistically believe he is as smart and clever as SJM has hinted at if he DOESN'T know! Plus, if Lucien is Helion's Heir he'd have to have SOME day court powers and he'd probably had to hide them in Autumn and how would he do that if he didn't know he was helion's son/not Beron's son?? I've never bought the theory that eris and his mother "binded" his powers, i truly think he's hiding them on purpose just like Aelin buried her fire magic so deep inside her when she was afraid of it

I feel like he knows he's a bastard, actually! I think there's a lot of hints to it. When we see this thoughts in ACOWAR we see him think about his mother and that he kept some things about her a secret because they were personal and irrelevant.

"I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court." And a whole lot of nothing. He'd told the shadowsinger all he knew--of his surviving brothers, of his father. His mother...he'd kept some details, irrelevant and utterly personal, to himself.

His might be that he knows LoA had an affair, but it could also just be about the abuse she recieves from Beron. But we later discover secrets his mother has been keeping. And I also think "a whole lot of nothing" is interesting to say too, because saying he's the seventh son to Beron is "a whole lot of nothing".

And we also understand how the High Fae magic develops in their youth because of Mor. He probably had his Day Court powers develop as his Autumn Court powered developed, but LoA and Eris might have told him to suppress it.

I don't think he has had the room to explore his Day Court powers. He keeps a lot of things suppressed. And when he breaks free from Hybern's spell at the end of ACOMAF to get to Elain, that was a sudden, in the moment thing fueled by his anger and the mating bond. We don't know his thoughts and feelings about that moment and how he was able to free himself, so it's hard to say.

And I think Lucien is smart enough to figure out that Beron mistreating him might be for a deeper reason. And he does have darker skin than his brothers. Yes, that's technically a retcon because there's signs that this wasn't what SJM intended in ACOTAR because he's decribed to look like Beron UTM, but anyways lmao.

I don't think he knows he's Helion's true son though, mostly because SJM will want the dramatic reveal! He could fully think that LoA had an affair with a random Day Court male. I do have theories that it could be possible Lucien knows Helion is his father based on how the High Lord's powers transfer to the next person and how the heir has to hide their powers--we see this with Rhys and Tamlin.

I feel like there could be a lot of signs that he knows he's a bastard, but think SJM has retconned a lot of stuff surrounding Lucien and his true heritage so it's hard to come up with actual theories. She said that she didn't go into Lucien's full backstory until ACOMAF, so honestly, a lot of potential "hints" in ACOTAR are a bit irrelevant now. But I'm also pretty cynical of SJM tbh lmao and I enjoy coming up with headcanons to fix the holes she left.

#lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #autumn court #lady of autumn #lady autumn #loa x helion #helion spell cleaver #fuck beron #eris vanserra #SJM please give us answers in the next book I'm begging you

[nocasdatsgay]

The reason Eris isn’t allowed in Velaris is cause Nesta would have took him home once during her ✨escapades✨ and it would have been over for Cassian.

#I’m sorry that art I just reblogged rewired my brain #IT WOULD HAVE BEEN OVER FOR THE IC #he would have took her to Autumn and pampered her like a princess #after he killed Beron of course #this is a joke btw #neris #I want to jump to the part they fuck in my story like now #acotar

[florencemtrash]

Brown Eyed Beauty — Lucien x Reader

Fond, childhood memories are few and far between for Lucien. But he's reminded of every good thing when he looks at you.

Author's note: DAMNIT! Brown eyes deserve to be treated with the same tender reverence as any other color. This one is for all the brown eyed beauties (and Lucien lovers) out there.

There was a hidden stream Eris had taken him fishing once, back when he was a stringy child with two eyes and soft hands.

“You’ll need to build up your strength and the calluses on your palms, then the fish won’t be able to slip out of your grasp so easily.” Eris told him, standing up to his knees in the gentle current, pant legs rolled up with the ends dripping. His body was slim as a reed, but strong, and on the cusp of adulthood. Pale bruises were scattered across a pale, freckled chest, purple, green, and yellow.

Lucien watched with bated breath as Eris tracked a shiny, silver-pink body darting between the rocks, his eyes untricked by the bending of sunlight as it dove into the water. 

There. 

Eris leaned down and dipped his hands into the stream with lightning swiftness. “Gotcha.” 

His hands broke the water. The salmon writhed, fighting with every gasping breath and splashing water onto Eris’s already soaking trousers.

“Here.” Eris stretched his arms out to where Lucien stood in the shallows. The salmon was giving up, the rhythm of its whipping body slowing. “It’s tired. Try holding it now.” 

Lucien held on for five seconds before the tail slapped him across the face, startling him so much he dropped the fish and its scaly, sleek body began to race downstream.

“No!” Lucien dove for it, red hair slipping under clear waters. The current was stronger than he expected, or maybe it was just that he was weaker than his brother. He felt something pulling downward, keeping him submerged.

His first response was to panic, to flail his arms and legs out uselessly. But then he stopped. It was peaceful down here, the water so clear that he could catch every grain of sand splashed over brick-brown rocks like stars. Tiny fishes, silky smooth with beady eyes, darted in and out of crevices. Light behaved differently underwater, fragmenting and casting lovely golden shapes on stones the color of fresh-pressed coffee. 

Here it was calm. Here was a place where Beron’s power couldn’t touch him. Here he was safe. 

A strong hand grasped the back of his shirt, hauling him up soaking and sputtering with a brackish taste sliding down his throat. 

The bruises on Eris’s cheekbones stood out on his pale skin, the fright in his eyes turning to anger. 

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Eris yelled and all but tossed his sopping body onto a yellowing patch of grass. 

“I’m sorry,” Lucien mumbled. He sat, shivering in the Autumn chill until Eris caught another salmon and assembled sticks in a neat circle of sand, lighting it with a snap of his slender fingers. 

“Tomorrow we’ll come back,” Eris promised as Lucien sank his teeth into the juicy, pink flesh. The skin was perfectly crisp and grease dribbled down his chin hot and slick. Eris wiped it away with a soft swatch of moss. “I’ll teach you to swim properly.” 

He didn’t seem to mind the descending cold, and for that Lucien was grateful. It meant he would get to keep Eris’s shirt until his was finished drying on the cracked log. 

But unbeknownst to them, Beron had come home earlier than anticipated with their other brothers. Eris was whipped ten times for leaving the Forest House unattended and Lucien was locked in his room for three days. They never went back to that stream — at least not together — and Lucien learned to swim on his own in less forgiving waters. 

Lucien still clung onto the memories of that day. Good memories from his childhood were far and few between. 

“You’re staring again.” You sighed contentedly and shifted in the little cradle of earth you’d claimed for youself. Yellowing, waist-high grasses swayed above you, occasionally bowing down with slender fingers to tickle your cheeks. A hundred yards away the Sidra tumbled over stones, rolled onto gray-sand beaches. The air tasted of salt and seaweed. Crisp, tangy, clear. 

“How did you know?” Lucien asked, and you could hear the gentle caress of his smile in the words.

You cracked open your eyes against the sun’s assault high in the midafternoon sky. Sure enough, Lucien was staring at you, golden eye whirring. You ran a languid finger down the bond, light and airy as a kiss. He braced his arms by your head, sinking down until his body was pressed flush against yours. 

You smiled. “I can feel it. It’s my special talent.”

“Oh?” Lucien chuckled.

“I’ve cultivated it over the years. A product of having a brute like you chase after me like a hound goes after a fox.” Not that you’d ever gone far. 

Scarlet strands of hair slipped out of the braid you’d arranged hours ago. They hung around his elegant, scarred face like liquid fire, casting a warm glow onto his already tanned skin. You tucked them back behind his sharp ears. Traced the curve of his bones until he was leaning into your touch.

“You wound me,” he murmured, kissing your palms. 

You blushed, feeling the brush of his full lips against your sensitive skin. “I didn’t mean it.” 

He smiled — a crooked, boyish smile. “I know.” 

He looked into your coffee eyes. The light bent differently when they touched your irises, curving around the bends like honey, cutting amber crescents at the edges of their rich color. You closed and opened them slowly, letting the light pour in like cream into coffee, swirling and setting them aflame. 

Lucien was back in that stream. The world was still. There was nothing that could hurt him. Just clarity, peace, and the riverbed glittering beneath him. 

“I love you, Y/n.”

#lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #lucien acotar #eris vanserra #you know I couldn't help but include a scene between the only two good Autumn Court boys #Eris Vanserra has untapped potential to become the next Rhysand and no I will not change my mind #this man is a goldmine and has done everything to protect himself and his family from beron #fuck beron he can rot in hell

[darkphilosophies]

Prythian Haute Couture: Autumn Court. Part I

#acotar #autumn court #eris vanserra #lucien vanserra #they are vain #pretty as fuck #haute couture #fashion #sjm #acotar fandom #lady of autumn #even Beron is hot #elie saab #zuhair murad

[the-moon-on-a-string]

Me and Mor just got into a fight and she stormed off saying "i fucked your dad!!"

why is she interested in beron? girlie has such bad taste 💀

no srsly tho, like girl if you didn't like Eris, trust me Beron's not gonna be better

#i dont get it #everyone is saying they fucked my dad lately #expecially people from day court?? #like beron literally never visits other courts #what are yall on about #lucien blog #lucien headcanons #lucien supremacy #lucien vanserra #lucien roleplay acc #lucien acotar #lucien and eris #the vandaddies

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

The Shepherd King duology showed me what reading top notch quality fantasy feels like. From the world building to the the absolute beauty of every single character. There was not a single flaw in it. It's a masterpiece that should be talked about so much more!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#I'll carry this story with me for a real long time #and Elm is just how Eris would have been if Beron haven't fucked him up fully #the shepherd king series #one dark window #two twisted crowns #rachel gillig

[lorcandidlucienwill]

His voice was rough as he said to Kallias, “When your people rebelled …” They had, I recalled. Winter had rebelled against Amarantha. And the children … that had been Amarantha’s answer. Her punishment for the disobedience. “She was furious. She wanted you dead, Kallias.” Viviane’s face drained of color. Rhys went on, “I … convinced her that it would serve little purpose.” “Who knew,” Beron mused, “that a cock could be so persuasive?”

Look I have to hate Beron as a Lucien and Eris apologist, but WHY DOES HE HAVE TO MAKE IT SO HARD????

#why does he have to be so fucking hot #it's not fair #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #beron vanserra #anti feysand #anti rhysand

[queercontrarian]

my favourite prythian headcanon is all the older high lords being fiercely protective of tarquin because in their eyes he's basically still a kid?

like tarquin is hanging out with helion, trying to figure something out at the libraries with the day court's scholars' help (and helion would definitely see a bit of himself in the younger lord, with how idealistic he is and how passionate about his people, like the son he never had - lucien in the distance doing,, nothing actually, because he doesn't know either rip) and he mentions off-hand how feysand stole the book and broke into his mind "but i guess that's normal when dealing with daemati" - cue ten minutes later helion on the front lawn of feysand's mansion (just because you don't want to call it a mansion doesn't mean it's not a mansion, feyre) ripping them a new one for taking advantage of tarquin's kindness like that

or tarquin being invited to brunch with thesan and his husband and they both try to give him advice on how to push the integration of "lesser" fae in government and society in general because they've been through it before

or kallias going easy on him for trade negotiations (before realizing that tarquin is actually a very competent and capable high lord and a skilled negotiator and does not need any help on his part and to think that is kinda ignorant and demeaning). viviane and him would invite tarquin for game nights.

or tarquin being the only high lord tamlin actually talks to - and even almost enjoys it - because 1. a lot of his people are still in the summer court so he kinda has to and 2. they bond over what a shitty neighbour beron is. also tarquin would always bring food, especially fruit and candy from the summer court. and when tarquin shows up at your door with peaches and sweet wine and dried fruit and nuts you just don't turn him away

and ig the closest thing to eris being nice would be turning beron's eye to the spring court instead of summer, which is almost as much in shambles as spring, and sending his most agreeable brother to treat with tarquin. plus he would sorta kinda be on board with tarquin's dream of a seasonal courts alliance

no note for the night court because we already know how they treated tarquin for his kindness. and idc that they "felt bad about it", they still did it. tarquin is way too nice in forgiving them, and i hope cressida is holding that grudge until the day she gets to take her revenge on them

#tarquin #tarquin acotar #high lords of prythian #helion #thesan #kallias #tamlin #feysand #actually fuck them #also no beron because fuck that guy #but an eris snippet instead ig #i love tarquin #if anyone should be high king it would be him #or lucien #feysand slander #ig #is it slander if i just point out what they did? #eh #anti feysand #also anti all that high king shit even though that's not the topic of this post #tarquin protection squad #(helion definitely had t-shirts printed for everyone) #holy shit i almost forgot to tag my fave high lady #viviane #my queen #i will steal her from u kallias

[the-darkestminds]

One thing that’s always bothered me is how Feyre was able to put Beron on his ass at the meeting of the High Lords. It makes zero sense for her to be more powerful than him. She is newly fae and only has a drop of power from each of them, and yet it reads like she has the full arsenal of all the High Lords’ powers. If it was truly just a drop of power given, shouldn’t that be reflected in how she’s able to wield it?

#Beron should be scary and difficult to kill #for example Aelin has a drop of Mabs water powers so she can control a very small amount of water #it makes the high lords seem silly when this young woman can overpower them all #it seems like her powers have no limit #Beron is the oldest of them too #he should be powerful as fuck #sarah j maas #sjm #acowar #acomaf #acotar #sjm critical #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #acosf #ACOFAS #Beron Vanserra #Feyre #feyre ACOTAR #if Feyre can defeat him with little effort then why has Beron been allowed to live all these years #Rhys basically says he could wipe him off the earth with a single thought #idk it’s all very confusing to me

[achaotichuman]

My mutual told me to post something interesting so we here we go.

Beron/Tamlin/Elain.

Tamlin and Beron meet for diplomatic reasons aka Beron is planning to siege Spring and Tamlin’s caught onto his plans.

Elain is desperate for her mortal life back, but knows she can’t have it. She settles on finding power where she knows she’ll find it.

Goes to Autumn, demands to speak to Beron. She gets an audience with Beron and Tamlin.

Beron is about to cast her aside because what would the flower girl know about power.

Tamlin wants to hear her out.

Elain tells her tragic tale, she wants to find control and power over herself and the people who have wronged her then put her in the box of being the ‘empty headed flower girl who will just end up someone’s wife.’

Tamlin resonates with her story. He was a younger sibling only regarded as the spare son who his father tried to use for a marital alliance with Amarantha, obviously he refused.

Tamlin agrees to work with Elain. Now Beron wants in after he hears about Elain’s seering powers and how she’s been secretly learning to control them.

Anyway, plot plot plot etc etc, Elain Tam and Beron take over Hybern, they fuck on Hybern’s throne. Elain meets with Vallahan’s Court and gets them to agree to an alliance after promising to seer for them (she never said she had to be truthful in what she told them she saw in her visions so yay loophole Vallahn is now under their thumb)

Yada yada yada, they fuck in the Spring manor on the throne. Lucien catches them, yada yada yada screaming fighting, broken bonds and angst.

Tamlin’s runs after Lucien, they fight, Tamlin convinces Lucien he deserves to take back power too. Eventually convincing Lucien to the dark side.

Blah blah blah Lucien uses his lineage in Day to kill Helion and take over the Court, they siege Winter and Dawn. By now Tamlin has convinced Tarquin he also deserves to take back power now Summer is on their side.

Blah blah blah, they walk dramatic style into the Night Court. Lucien, Vassa and Jurian burn Velaris to the ground. Rhysand is executed, the IC is imprisoned. Beron, Elain and Tamlin fuck on the Night Courts throne.

The end, I just made this up, so sorry if none of it makes any sense.

@fell-in-luvs was this interesting enough for you?

#acotar #tamlin #elain archeorn #beron vanserra #pro tamlin #pro elain archeron #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #anti rhysand #anti ic #they fuck a lot #on a lot of thrones #its very hot #acotar headcanons #acotar au #berlain #berlin #tamlain

[praetorqueenreyna]

yall are fucking UNHINGED

#so far for the poll I've gotten requests for: tamlin/amarantha tamlin/hybern tamlin/beron and tamlin/murder #we all just want tamlin in a fucked up relationship being evil huh #TAKEN UNDER ADVISEMENT #EVIL TAMLIN ON THE WAY

[kingofsummer93]

Ex Luna Scientia

Summary:

Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the Minister for Magic, is as loved by his peers as he is hated by his family. But behind the charm and irreverence hides a secret, as dark and menacing as the scar on his face.

Elain Archeron, middle sister in a trio of muggle-born witches, has only one wish: for someone to truly see her. Because when she sleeps at night, she can see it all.

Or- an Elucien at Hogwarts AU.

Chapter 19: The Intruder

Ao3 Masterlist

“Don’t look at me like that, Mr Vanserra,” Professor Amren said drily from behind her desk. “You brought this on yourself.”

Lucien sighed in frustration. “Creevy is a dolt. He can barely stay on top of his broom. There’s no way we’re going to win this match.”

It was more than a slight exaggeration, not to mention a wildly uncharitable thought, given Lucien was team captain and had chosen Creevy as backup Seeker, but still. He wasn’t in the mood to feel anything but resentment and jealousy as he slumped in his chair, his gaze trained on the Quidditch match happening in the grounds below. A match he should have the star of, not Creevy.

His punishment for getting caught out of bed after hours and breaking into the teacher’s lounge had consisted of six weeks of Saturday morning detentions, all served with Professor Amren. Lucien had been relieved at first- it had seemed like a fair punishment, considering the scope of rule-breaking he and Elain had actually been doing, and how much worse it could have been had Peeves actually seen them come out of the Floo Network. But then Lucien realized his Head of House had scheduled it this way to prevent him from playing in the last Quidditch match of the year.

Lucien had groveled as he had never groveled before. He’d pleaded, and bargained, and argued- all to no avail. Professor Amren would not be swayed in her decision.

“Then you should have thought of that before gallivanting all over the castle in the middle of the night as if it was your private residence,” the teacher replied, her own gaze fixed on the match.

Lucien knew that Professor Amren was a passionate Quidditch fan, and was deeply invested in the Inter-House championship. Being stuck indoors during the final match must have been as much a punishment for her as it was for him. And yet even that argument hadn’t succeeded in changing her mind.

He grumbled under his breath and turned away from the match at the sight of Creevy just barely avoiding being hit by a bludger. The weekend edition of the Daily Prophet was spread on the desk in front of him, each article more grim than the last.

Lockdown at the Ministry Continues- Minister for Magic growing Paranoid? (full story on pg 8).

Dementor Sighting in South London- A full report by Dellagus Dingle, story below.

The one hundred and forty-second installment of the Tri-Trials Tournament Set to Continue at Hogwarts- A Harmless Competition, or an Inappropriate use of ministry resources during uncertain times? (full story on pg 14).

At least there was no hint of Briallyn Skeeter’s hateful garbage anywhere. There were rumors circulating that the Daily Prophet had gone rogue, no longer subjecting its articles and journalists to the Ministry’s censorship. It thrilled Lucien just as much as it terrified him. His father wouldn’t stand for this- not for much longer. The simple fact that he was letting rebellion of any kind happen amongst the magical community was a sign that he had other, more sinister plans to focus on.

Lucien snapped his head up at the sound of a roar from the Quidditch pitch below. The Slytherin stands were in a frenzy, cheering so loudly the sound traveled all the way to the castle. Their players swooped in formation around their Seeker, who held his clenched fist (and the Snitch he had caught) high in the air. Lucien watched bitterly as they flew a celebratory lap around the pitch. Several magical fireworks were set off, green and silver snakes lighting up the late afternoon sky.

An arrogant, ugly part of him was oddly, wickedly relieved. They had lost, and his team would be furious with him, but at least they hadn’t won because of someone else. It was petty, and childish, but he couldn’t help it.

When he turned back to Professor Amren she was staring at him, her mouth pressed in a thin line.

“Don’t look at me like that!” he said defiantly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’d better wipe that look off your face before your teammates think you’re glad they lost.”

Lucien squirmed uncomfortably. Amren had a way of eerily guessing exactly what he was thinking. “Why would I be glad they lost?” he asked petulantly.

She fixed him with a look, and then pointed towards the door. “Get out before you say something to earn yourself more detentions.”

Lucien shot out of his seat and aimed straight for the door.

“Mr Vanserra,” Professor Amren called before he could escape, “do try to stay out of trouble, will you? There’s only a few weeks left of term, surely you can manage?”

There was an uncharacteristic edge to her tone that made him pause. Not for the first time he wondered if the severity of his punishment had not been because of the crime itself, but as a way to make him think twice about sneaking around, considering everything that was happening.

“You sound like my mother,” he quipped, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them.

The look she fixed on him was nothing short of demonic.

“Who is an incredible woman that I admire, and therefore you should take it as a compliment!” he quickly added.

Amren pointed to the door wordlessly, though it looked as if she was struggling to keep herself from smiling. Lucien gave her a mock bow, and turned on his heel.

“And do try not to get yourself killed in the last Trial!” she called after him.

Lucien spun around, but Amren held up a hand. “No, Mr Vanserra, I cannot tell you what it is.”

“But think of the further shame to Gryffindor if I lose!”

“Consider yourself lucky you weren’t disqualified. Now get out.”

This time Lucien kept his mouth shut and hurried out of her office.

The castle was deserted with everybody still either celebrating or moping down at the Quidditch pitch, so he took a meandering route towards the Great Hall, letting his thoughts wander. Elain would just be coming out of her last detention as well. Perhaps he could intercept her on her way back from the greenhouses and they could take advantage of the empty castle…

Lucien was so lost in thought he didn’t see the other figure walking down the hall until he walked directly into them.

“Oof! Sorry, I didn’t see-“ His words died in his throat as he registered who stood in front of him.

Matted shoulder-length brown hair, haunted dark eyes, a ragged cloak covering robes that looked ready to dissolve into dust from a mere touch. He was barely recognizable- and from the look in his eyes, hardly seemed in control of himself.

“Mr…Mr Koschei, are you alright, sir?” Lucien was so shocked by the man’s appearance that before he could say anything else, or step away, the man had lunged at him and grabbed the front of his robes with an iron grip.

“Spell-Cleaver!” Koschei rasped, “I need to speak to Professor Spell-Cleaver!” Lucien stumbled back, but the man held firm. His eyes were wild, haunted, and he was panting heavily, as if he’d been running through the castle.

Lucien looked up and down the deserted corridor, but there was no sign of anybody. How had the man even entered the castle undetected? He must have snuck in somehow while everyone was down by the Quidditch pitch.

“He’ll be coming back shortly,” Lucien started, trying to free himself from the man’s grasp. “Everyone is down by the Quidditch pitch, it was the finals…”

“Azkaban!” the man rasped. “Tell Helion…tell him…” Lucien’s heart rate picked up, adrenaline coursing through him. Azkaban. Was it true, then?

“Tell him what?” Lucien asked urgently. “Sir…how did you get here? Where have you been?”

“Tell him…before it’s too late!”

Lucien managed to wrestle himself from the man’s grip. “Before…before it’s too late for what?”

But Koschei didn’t answer. Something was happening to him- he was breathing faster and faster, a hand clutched to his chest, as if he was fighting some internal force.

“I can bring you to his office, you can wait for him there-”

Koschei looked up again, and Lucien recoiled. His wild, haunted brown eyes had glazed over, taking on a milky, strange quality. Professor Amren had demonstrated the three Unforgivable Curses on an unlucky spider the previous year, and the look in that spider’s many eyes as the Professor made it twirl and tap dance across her desk was the same currently in Koschei’s eyes.

“Sir?” Lucien asked nervously, taking a step back. He slid his hand into his pocket to grab his wand- for whatever good it would do him faced with a fully trained Auror with decades of experience and training. “Did you…do you want to wait here while I find someone? Professor Amren-”

He trailed off as Koschei’s face split into a wild grin. The man sniffed in his direction, his smile turning almost feral. “What do we have here?”

Lucien took another step back, his heart racing. He couldn’t fight Koschei, but he could maybe outrun him. The man looked haggard and exhausted, and Lucien had the advantage of knowing every nook and hidden passageway in this castle. “A werewolf?”

Lucien’s heart stuttered in his chest. He froze, his wand still clutched tightly in his hand. “What did you say?”

Koschei sniffed again. “You belong with the others.”

“The others…the other what?” Though Lucien had a feeling he knew very well what Koschei was referring to.

“My other little soldiers,” Koschei whispered under his breath. “My master will be so pleased I’ve found another for his army.”

Lucien took another unconscious step backwards, and again Koschei followed. There was no doubt in Lucien’s mind who Koschei’s master referred to, though the rest of his words made bile rise up his throat.

“What does he plan to do with that army?” Another step backwards, closer to the wall. Koschei’s smirk widened as he saw Lucien had placed himself between him and what appeared to be a solid stone wall. Just a few more steps- if he could just keep him talking for a few more moments…

“How the humans will scream,” the man crooned, his glazed eyes shining with glee. “How easy it will be to get them to bend the knee.”

“Bend the…”

Lucien gaped in horror at the implication, but before he could think about it too deeply Koschei had raised his wand.

“You’re mine now, wolfling.”

The man’s mouth opened, but instead of a spell, he let out a ragged gasp. His eyes seemed to clear, if only for a moment, and they widened as he focused on Lucien.

“Run,” the man choked out.

Lucien didn’t wait to see if whatever hold was over Koschei would take over again. He lunged- not at Koschei, but at the wall, and the tapestry that he knew concealed a hidden passageway behind.

The sound of stone shattering echoed behind him as Koschei’s spell missed him by mere inches. He hurtled down the narrow stairwell hidden by the tapestry, almost slipping down the stairs in his hurry. He didn’t dare pause to check if Koschei was chasing after him. Perhaps the part of his brain that seemed to be fighting the Imperius charm would slow him down enough to give Lucien a head start.

The bottom of the hidden stairs were concealed by a suit of armor. Lucien jostled it as he burst out of the stairwell, wincing as the clang of metal echoed around the empty corridor.

“Oy!” the armor called after him. “Watch yourself, there, comrade!”

He raced down the corridor, and then another one, hurtling down staircase after staircase. By the time he reached the marble stairs leading to the Entrance Hall he was panting. The front doors to the castle were thrown open, a steady stream of chattering students drifting towards the Great Hall. A few people looked at him curiously as he jostled his way through the crowd.

“The Headmaster!” he gasped, still breathless. “Where is Spell-Cleaver?”

Someone pointed over their shoulder, to the gently sloping lawn and the swarms of students returning from the match. Lucien almost tripped over his own feet as he raced down the front steps, pushing through the crowd for a tall figure with onyx hair.

“Professor Spell-Cleaver! Sir!”

The headmaster’s golden eyes flashed in alarm as he spotted Lucien. “Mr Vanserra!” he exclaimed, the smile wiping from his face. “What is the matter?”

“Koschei!” Lucien gasped, bracing his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Bartemius Koschei, he’s…he’s here, looking for you.”

“What matter of nonsense is this?” demanded Professor Hybern, frowning at Lucien.

“You saw him?” the Headmaster asked sharply, cutting off the Potions master.

“Yes! Inside the castle, he was asking for you. He seemed…” Lucien struggled to find the right description. “Not right.”

“Where?” Professor Spell-Cleaver had already pulled out his wand, and Lucien followed him as he hurried up the castle’s front steps.

“Third floor, near the library, but he…well, he was chasing me at one point, so I don’t know where he is now...”

The headmaster’s face paled slightly. “PREFECTS!” his voice echoed around the Entrance Hall, and the gathered students halted. “Gather your houses into the Great Hall. Nobody leaves until you are instructed to. Head Boy and Girl- you’re in charge. Professors, come with me.”

---

The search went on for so long that at some point the long house tables were replaced by squashy purple sleeping bags, courtesy of a flick of Professor Tarquin’s wand. Gossip and rumors spread like wildfire, each more absurd than the last. At one point during his rounds around the hall Lucien overheard a second year swear up and down that she had seen a troll near the second floor girls’ lavatory.

“I heard there were two of them,” he couldn’t help but whisper to her, smirking as her friends all gaped at him in horror.

“Lucien!” Vassa scorned with an eye-roll. “He’s joking. Get in your sleeping bags, it’s lights out soon.”

The second years scurried under their blankets, eyes still wide with fear.

“Are we in danger?” the girl asked as she pulled the sleeping bag up to her chin.

Vassa glared at him again before kneeling next to the girl, and Lucien winced, walking away quickly. He glanced at the closed doors to the Great Hall for the thousandth time. Professor Spell-Cleaver had dispatched the teachers and ghosts to search the castle with such swift efficiency that he had little doubt they’d not only been trained for such a probability, but had been expecting it as well.

“Lucien!” someone whisper-shouted from the rows of Gryffindor students. “Psst!”

Lucien spotted Feyre, who had dragged her sleeping bag suspiciously close to Tamlin’s. Jurian, to his credit, had seemingly not made any comments. Both of them were still in their Quidditch robes, and reeked so badly that at one point he and Vassa had doused them with streams of water from their wands.

“Is it true?” Feyre asked, eyes wide.

Lucien had never once seen her look so fazed. He’d seen her march onto the Quidditch pitch in all kinds of weather, zooming towards the goal posts while dodging bludgers left and right, even arguing with the referee when she disagreed with a ruling. Feyre usually acted like she’d seen and done it all, but at this moment she looked like what she was- a scared teenager. It rattled him enough that he momentarily forgot about his own fears, desperate to get her back to her usual spirits.

Lucien sat at the end of her sleeping bag, smirking at her. “About the troll?”

Feyre gasped at the same time as a hand smacked him on the back of the head. “Stop that.” Elain sat down next to her sister, eyes grave. “That rumor is spreading like wildfire. The younger kids are terrified.”

“Better than them knowing there’s a madman on the loose in the castle,” Lucien said drily. He shivered at the memory of the haunted look in Koschei’s eyes. He’d battle a troll over a mind-controlled, battle-trained Auror any day.

“So it is true.” Feyre scooted closer to her sister. “Why is he here, though?”

“I don’t know.” Lucien glanced around them, keeping his voice low. “Don’t spread it around, though. The teachers don’t want people to panic.”

“And he really attacked you?” Feyre whispered incredulously. “I’ve read about him in the Daily Prophet. Some people think he’s been going mad for years. Maybe he’s finally snapped.”

Lucien avoided her searching gaze, not daring to look at his friends or Elain, the only people to whom he’d hurriedly whispered the full details of exactly what Koschei had said to him. That, and the fact that he had seemed to be fighting like hell against the Imperius Charm.

Had he come here on some wild attempt to alert Spell-Cleaver to what his father had been forcing him to do? It had certainly seemed like it, though judging from the state he was in Lucien didn’t think they’d easily get information out of him. If he had taken the risk of traveling all the way from Azkaban to Hogwarts, though, he must truly have been desperate- to admit to what he had done, or perhaps to escape.

You’re mine now, wolfling.

A shiver went down his spine not just at the implied threat, but at what would have happened if someone had overheard. His friends seemed to edge closer around him in silent solidarity, unable to speak freely in the packed Great Hall.

“Lights out in ten minutes!” Rhysand called from the front of the hall. “Get in your sleeping bags!”

The noise in the Great Hall seemed to increase, until a loud BANG! accompanied by a spray of red sparks stunned everybody into silence.

“Get in your blasted sleeping bags!” Nuan called, pointing her wand at her throat to magically amplify her voice. “NOW!”

The search went into the night. Professors came by every hour to make sure that everything was under control, and then swiftly left again. Without the glow of the hundreds of floating candles near the ceiling, the only light came from the pearly sheen of ghosts drifting in and out of the Hall, and from the clear night sky above.

Lucien refused to look, though it pulled at him like an itch. He knew what he’d find there without having to look up. A perfect crescent moon, bright and silvery, as innocent and harmless as the winking stars around it. And yet powerful enough to ruin lives- to turn innocent people into monsters unfit for society, according to his father.

Would he feel the same way, if he had never been bitten? Or if he hadn’t found such a fierce circle of friends? Lucien never let himself dwell on that for too long.

The doors to the Great Hall opened, and Professor Amren slipped in, looking uncharacteristically frazzled. Lucien paused from where he’d been pacing between the rows of sleeping bags, half-heartedly shushing younger students. He locked eyes with Elain, who had also paused her sleepy monitoring of the Huflfepuffs. She hurried over to him, almost stepping over some tiny first years.

“This can’t be good,” she whispered.

Lucien grabbed her hand and squeezed, just as Amren finished her conversation with the Head Boy and Girl, and then turned in his direction.

“That can’t be good.”

With a wave of the Professor’s wand the floating candles ignited, bathing the previously dark hall in golden light. All around them students grumbled, shielding their eyes from the light.

“Mr Vanserra,” Amren said as she approached them. “Come with me, please.”

“What’s going on?” he blurted.

“Have you found him?” Elain whispered.

Something like distress flashed across the teacher’s face, but a second later her neutral mask was back in place. “The castle is secure. The Prefects have been instructed to escort their houses back to their dormitories.” She turned to Lucien. “The headmaster would like a word with you, Mr Vanserra.”

His heart dropped. Either they had found Koschei, and what he had to say somehow concerned him, or they hadn’t found him at all- and perhaps didn’t believe him. He opened his mouth to protest, and quickly shut it again at a warning look from Amren. Elain squeezed his hand again, her mouth set in a grim line, before disappearing towards the rows of sleeping Hufflepuffs.

“Professor-”

“Not here, Lucien.”

The unusual use of his first name shut him up once more. Students stared as they passed, some curiously, some looking annoyed. Perhaps they’d all think he’d made this up, too.

But Koschei…where could he have gone? He couldn’t have left through the front doors unseen, and nobody but Spell-Cleaver could apparate in or out of the castle and grounds. The fireplaces in the teachers’ lounge and Helion’s office were connected to the Floo Network, but they would have been immediately sealed off once the teachers started their search. The only other way in or out of the castle was through the secret passageways- the one leading to the basement of Honeydukes amongst them. Lucien doubted someone like Koschei would have been aware of secret passageways during his years at Hogwarts.

“Professor,” he tried again once they were out of earshot of the Great Hall. “I didn’t make it up, I swear-”

Professor Amren held up a hand, her eyes wary. “Nobody is accusing you of lying, Mr Vanserra. The Headmaster wishes to know everything Mr Koschei told you when you…encountered him.”

“But-”

“We have found the evidence.” Her tone did not invite for further questions, but Lucien was relieved enough to keep his mouth shut. They’d found the scorch marks on the walls from Koschei’s attempted hexes, then. Or perhaps the man had left some other evidence as he fled. Or perhaps…

“Did you find him?”

Professor Amren didn’t reply, which was answer enough. Lucien’s gut churned with dread. Not just at what Koschei might have revealed, but at whatever state the man would be in.

“Cockroach Clusters,” Amren said once they had reached the gargoyle that guarded the headmaster’s office. It jumped to the side, revealing a spiral staircase moving upwards of its own accord. Once they reached the top Amren gave a single knock and pushed open the doors.

Lucien had been in trouble enough times during his years at Hogwarts that this was not his first time inside the Headmaster’s office. The many tables with their curious silver objects spinning and puffing, the model of the solar system (it’s soft clicking and whirring so similar to the sound his magical eye made), even the portraits of previous Headmasters and Headmistresses were familiar.

What he never expected to see was the sight of his eldest brother sitting in front of the Headmaster’s desk, looking as agitated as Amren. Eris jumped out of his chair and crossed the room in three long strides, crushing Lucien into a hug.

“Lucien! Helion told me what happened, are you alright?”

Lucien huffed an awkward laugh. “I’m fine. Are you…what are you doing here?”

He looked around the room, but there was no sign of Koschei. “Where’s Koschei? I thought he was found?”

“Please have a seat, Lucien.” Professor Spell-Cleaver gestured to the armchairs facing his desk.

“What’s going on?” Lucien asked uncertainly, sitting down next to his brother.

“Bartemius Koschei was indeed found,” the Headmaster started carefully. “Dead, on the grounds below the Astronomy tower.”

Whatever questions he had been preparing to ask instantly died on his tongue. “What? But you said…” Amren’s words landed in his consciousness. We found the evidence. “Oh, shit.”

“Language, Mr Vanserra,” Amren snapped.

“Oh, shit, indeed,” his brother echoed.

“What…how-”

“It would appear that he jumped,” Helion said solemnly.

“He-“ Lucien gaped in horror. “What? Why?”

“You were the last person to see him alive. We were hoping you might enlighten us about his state of mind when you saw him.”

Koschei had jumped. Had he done it of clear mind, to put an end to his torment, or had the Imperius charm forced him to do it? Either way, whatever knowledge he possessed of his father’s plans would have died with him.

“He…” Lucien loosed a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. His face burned as he remembered the way Koschei had sniffed at him, as if he could scent what he was.

You’re mine now, wolfling.

“He wasn’t right. One second he was asking me to take him to the Headmaster, and the next he was trying to take me. It’s like he was fighting for control of himself.”

Amren and Helion shared a cryptic glance. Eris’ hand clamped on his shoulder, so tightly it hurt.

“He wanted to take me,” he mumbled. His fists clenched in his lap, from equal parts anger and humiliation. “He said something about me belonging with the others. He said his master would be pleased he’d found another for his army.”

“What else?” the headmaster prompted gently.

Lucien ran through the encounter, from Koschei’s pleas to speak to the Headmaster, to his veiled references of Azkaban, and his final, desperate urge to Lucien to run.

Eris’ hand tightened on his shoulder. “It’s what we suspected, then,” his brother said darkly.

“What did you suspect?”

Amren cut a sharp glance to Eris. “Perhaps it wouldn’t be wise to-“

“He’s my father!” Lucien snapped. Out of the corner of his eye he could have sworn he saw Helion flinch. “Estranged or no, I deserve to know what you think he’s planning!”

“Let us worry about that,” Eris said. “You don’t need to concern yourself-“

“It started concerning me the day that madman tried to kill Elain during the first trial! He was already under the Imperius curse- he must have been.”

“Why would he do such a thing?” Amren’s face had gone pale.

To Lucien’s surprise it was Helion who answered. “Because she is a Seer, and may have once Seen something Beron wishes to keep quiet.”

“We have it,” Lucien said, before he could fully process the implication of what he was saying. “We have the prophecy, it’s here in the castle.”

Helion’s face slackened with shock. A deafening silence fell. The only sound was the gentle clicking of the golden solar system, and the whirring and puffing of the various odd instruments. Lucien could have sworn one of the odd sounds seemed to grow louder- a faint hissing growing into something resembling a shrieking kettle, coming from something that looked like a spinning top. Helion turned to look at it sharply, his eyes flashing in alarm.

The next moment a flying paper airplane zoomed out of the fireplace and landed smoothly on Helion’s desk. Lucien recognized the Vanserra seal immediately- an oak tree surrounded by a circle of flames, in blood-red wax. Dread slithered down his spine in an icy drip.

The Headmaster tore the memo open, and then jumped to his feet. “Go,” he told Eris urgently. “Alert the others, quietly. Keep a low profile and don’t do anything until my signal.”

Eris clapped Lucien on the back again. “That goes for you too. Don’t do anything crazy. I’ll send word when I can. The third Trial is in a few weeks, I’ll be back then.”

“Go!” Helion pointed his wand towards the fireplace, and flames roared to life. “They’re coming.”

“How did they hear so quickly?” Amren asked. Lucien noticed her hand was shaking as she clenched her wand. Something about that made him jump to his feet also.

“Wait!”

But Eris was already throwing a handful of powder into the fire, and with one last grim wave he disappeared into the emerald fire.

Amren whirled towards him. “Go back to your dormitory at once.”

“Who are they?” Lucien asked urgently, making no move to leave. “Who’s coming?” Although he had a bad feeling he already knew the answer.

“Your father,” Helion said grimly. “Likely to twist this situation to his advantage.” Before Lucien could react the Headmaster stalked around the desk and gripped him by the shoulders. “Lucien, listen to me. It’s very important that nobody else find out about that prophecy. Keep it hidden,” he urged. “Wherever you put it, keep it there. Don’t look at it, don’t show it to anybody. Things could be very bad for Ms Archeron if your father decides she’s more of a threat than he already thinks she is.”

“But-”

“And for Merlin’s sake, Mr Vanserra. Please remind your friends that they are not allowed out of the castle after hours. It’s not safe anymore.”

Lucien was so shocked that he could barely process what Helion was saying. “How did you-“

“Helion!” Amren warned.

The flames in the hearth were glowing emerald once more. From a little table near the Headmaster’s desk the spinning top was whirring madly, hissing a high-pitched noise.

“What is that?”

“A warning,” Helion said darkly, “that my enemies are near.”

A figure appeared in the flames, and then two more. And then his father was stepping out of the flames, flanked by two burly wizards who had to be Aurors. His father’s cold eyes, so like his brothers’ but missing the wry humor, blinked in the briefest hint of surprise before darkening once more.

“Minister,” Helion greeted his father coldly, his tone dripping with disdain.

His father didn’t deign to reply, and instead narrowed his eyes at Lucien. Behind him one of the Aurors nodded towards Helion, almost imperceptibly.

“Lucien,” Amren murmured. “Go back to your dormitory. Now.”

Lucien turned on his heels, for once not inclined to argue.

“Wait.” The Headmaster’s voice made him halt in his tracks. “Lucien is a key witness to what happened here tonight. I’m sure the Ministry will want to hear his account of the events.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Beron asked with a sneer. “Why is the boy here?”

Hearing his own father speak of him as if he wasn’t even in the room jolted him out of his shocked silence. “Because your puppet attacked me today, before flinging himself off the Astronomy tower, that’s why!”

The two Aurors stiffened slightly. Had they not been given all the details?

“He attacked you?” The one who had nodded to Helion asked, his eyes flashing in anger. “Were any other students involved?”

“No, everyone was at the Quidditch match. I was…” Lucien shuffled awkwardly. “I was coming back from detention.”

His father snorted with disdain. “Of course he was. This is nonsense. Why would an upstanding member of the ministry attack a helpless student?”

Lucien opened his mouth to retort, and then shut it again, all too aware of the two strangers in the room- and what it would likely mean for him, if anyone ever found out why Koschei had been so interested in him.

“The real question, Beron, is why one of your lackeys was inside my school, attacking one of my students, while seemingly fighting the influence of a powerful Imperius charm? What did he wish to tell me so badly that he risked coming all this way?”

“Nonsense,” Beron said again, waving a hand impatiently. “I was well aware that Koschei was coming here tonight, as I was the one who sent him here.”

Lucien glanced to the Auror on his father’s left, who was once again looking in the Headmaster’s direction. A slight quirk of his eyebrow was confirmation enough that his father was lying, if he hadn’t already been certain of it.

“Oh?” Amren asked drily. “And for what purpose? And why was he slinking around like a criminal instead of walking in through the front gates like a normal guest?”

“Perhaps he was afraid of the new guards,” Beron replied with an asp’s smile.

“What are you going on about?”

“He means,” Helion replied calmly, pointing to the window, “them.”

All heads turned towards the windows, facing the Hogwarts grounds and the Forbidden Forest in the distance. And facing the tall, imposing figures prowling along the perimeter of the grounds like nightmarish guards. Lucien whipped his head towards the Headmaster, who seemed perfectly unconcerned by the presence of giants on his lawn.

“Precisely. And the reason for Koschei’s presence here tonight. You see, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I sent him to negotiate with you on my behalf about the removal of these absurd creatures. But of course you couldn’t see reason, and while protecting himself from you he fell to his death from the top of the Astronomy Tower. A convenient place for a duel, if one wishes to make a murder seem like an accident.”

“What?!” Amren exploded, stalking up to the Minister, shaking from head to foot. “That is a preposterous lie, nobody will believe you.”

Lucien backed up a step towards the door, even though they all seemed to have forgotten he was there. The impossibility of the situation was becoming clear to him, horribly so. People would believe the Ministry’s version of events- or at least, enough to shed doubt on what had really happened.

“Stand down, Deputy Headmistress.” The second Auror spoke for the first time since arriving, his voice nothing but pure menace.

“You do not threaten my teachers inside my school.” Violence seemed to radiate from Helion, enough that the window panes raddled within their frames.

Lucien noted with some satisfaction that his father balked slightly at the power thrumming from the Headmaster. But then his face changed, and he grinned with an awful sort of glee.

“Alas, Headmaster, I’m afraid this school is yours no longer.”

“What?” Lucien blurted.

All heads whipped towards him. “Lucien,” Amren urged. “Go!”

“No need,” Beron crooned. “Let him see how merciful I can be, when faced with criminals. Let him remember his father this way.”

“Why would I-“

“Enough!” Helion thundered. His deep complexion had turned ashen. “If you wish to accuse me of a crime, Minister, then get on with it.”

The Auror to his father’s right stepped forward, his wand clenched in his hand. “Helion Percival Wulfric Brian Spell-Cleaver, you are accused of murder in the first degree of Bartemius Koschei. Whatever titles you previously held, including Headmaster of this school, have now been revoked.”

“You cannot be serious-“

“It’s alright, Amren,” Helion said calmly. He stood up slowly, glancing out the window towards the figures in the distance. A sharp glance in his direction had Lucien backing up a few more steps.

“You will call off all giants on this property and around it, and you will come with us to Azkaban, where you will await sentencing.” The Auror’s slimy grin widened, as if picturing the fate that would await Helion at Azkaban.

“Ahh, see, that’s where you’ve got it wrong.” Helion was still calmly standing behind his desk, though his wand had slipped into his hand. “Because I don't intend to do either of those things.”

“Put down your wand,” the Auror warned, taking a step towards the headmaster.

Another rumble of power rippled through the office, making the floor tremble. Lucien’s back was against the door, but he couldn’t look away from the scene unfolding in front of him.

“I’d suggest you put down yours, Nox,” Amren snarled, standing between the Ministry members and Helion’s desk.

“Amren.” Helion’s tone was deadly calm, as if he wasn’t seconds away from being arrested for a crime he didn’t commit. “Take care of the school. The students need to know what really happened here tonight.”

His father scoffed. “And you seriously believe anyone will believe the word of a madman and a delinquent teenager?”

Helion turned towards Beron with a savage grin. “I’d suggest you stay far away from this castle, Minister, and advise your men to do the same. My new guards, as you call them, are extremely loyal to me. And by extension, this school.”

“That’s enough,” Beron drawled. “Take him.”

Both Aurors’ wands rose in unison, but not quickly enough. Before either of them could do much as open their mouths, a burst of light flared from Helion’s wand, sending them sprawling to the floor. Lucien’s hand closed around the doorknob, but before he could wrench the door open Helion’s gaze flicked towards him.

“Help will always come to Hogwarts students who need it,” he said cryptically.

He outstretched his arm, and in a flutter of wings a vibrant phoenix swooped from his perch near the door. The two Aurors were jumping to their feet, but with another flash of light both Headmaster and phoenix had disappeared into thin air.

Lucien yanked the door open and hurtled down the stairs, not waiting to see his father’s reaction, or Amren’s. The halls were deserted, all students having made their way back for their respective dormitories, and his footsteps echoed as he sprinted back towards Gryffindor tower. He didn’t dare stop until the Fat Lady came into view.

“Bubbling brooks! BUBBLING BROOKS!!!”

“Alright, alright,” she huffed, though she appeared alarmed at his appearance. “All this fuss tonight.”

He almost tripped over the portrait hole, and once he was inside he blinked in surprise at the room full of students, none of whom seemed to have any interest in going to bed.

“Lucien!”

“Merlin, where were you?”

“Is it true?”

“Did they find Koschei?”

“Did he really attack you?”

“Helion,” Lucien croaked, his mind spinning from what he’d just witnessed. “They…He’s gone. The Headmaster’s gone.”

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!):@labellefleur-sauvage @headcanonheadcase @separatist-apologist @velidewrites @c-e-d-dreamer @queercontrarian @hallway5 @areyoudreaminof @tuzna-pesma-snova @corcracrow @vulpes-fennec @octobers-veryown @autumndreaming7 @sunshinebingo @asnowfern

#fuck you Beron #elucien #elucien fanfiction #elucien fanfic #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #how many references can I fit into one chapter

[nocasdatsgay]

The Price You Pay For Power Ch. 3

Pairing: Neris

Word Count: 3767 | Warnings: Beron, minor NC slander because of Beron| Chapter Rating: T

Story Summary: Eris revises his bargain with Rhysand: Nesta for Autumn Healers. He agrees and Nesta is sent to Autumn under the guise as Eris’s new bride in order to assist with removing Beron for good. Now she has to navigate a new court and also decide just how much she will trust her new husband

AN: I am terrible with descriptions but I think I did okay with this chapter. Shout out to google so I could look up smells and color palettes

Chapter Summary: Nesta enters the Forest House and is forced to swear loyalty to Autumn

MasterPost | Read it here on AO3 | Previous Chapter

Or read below

Eris did not wait for her. He walked ahead, hands behind his back. She picked up the skirt of her dress to keep it off the dirt path. She followed him up the stairs, doing her best to keep her head high and back stiff. They made it to the doors and Eris nodded to the guards. 

The large hall that appeared through the doors was nothing like anything Nesta had seen before. High vaulted ceiling with panels of windows to the right and left almost floor to ceiling. Like a brightly lit tunnel that would lead her to her doom. The ceiling was a light gold, beams dark wood. A long, large ornate rug, colorful as the Autumn trees with gold, orange, and rust red swirls stretched out to the end where the hall split to left and right corridors. There was another set of large doors at the end of the hall, closed. 

Eris stopped and looked at her. “The throne room is at the end there. I will escort you to your rooms. I wasn’t lying when I said you smelled.” 

Of course she was forced to be made presentable- acceptable to their standards. Like she always was. 

His eyes raked over her. “The servants will provide you with less drab clothing.” 

“I will wear what you ask but I want to keep this dress,” she looked down her nose at him, heart beating fast. One of the few dresses she owned that she loved. 

He considered her for a moment. “No one will be taking your dress from you.” 

“Good.” 

The moment of silence that followed, and she held his gaze wondering if he would lash out at her. Instead he broke first, turning and walking towards the end of the hall. She followed him. The house was a maze and definitely more like a castle than a ‘house’. Numerous doors lined each hall they passed through, no windows to be seen save for the first staircase they ascended.

“Who all resides here?” She dared to ask as they walked. 

“Autumn families have always been large, second to Winter. My brothers and I all have a set of chambers of our own. Some prominent court members and their families live here as well. Servants reside on the farthest end.” They ascended another staircase. “There is a large courtyard and orchard in the center. The house surrounds it.” 

This hallway only had four doors, spaced greatly apart from one another. They stopped at the first one on the right. 

“These will be your chambers.” Eris opened the door and held it for her, guiding her in. 

The door opened to a massive sitting room. The walls were cream colored, the beams similar to the ones in the entry hall lined the roof. A sole large window graced the wall in front of them with a sitting cushion on the window sill. There was a door to the left. Nesta assumed it led to her bed chambers. A fireplace was stationed centered to the right from that door. It had a beautiful onyx mantel. The polished wooden floors were covered with large burnt orange rugs.

A couch, sitting tables, plush chairs- her eyes ran over them with disinterest. Then she gasped when she glanced at the right wall. The entire wall was shelves covered in books with potted flowers scattered in between. She was not Elain and could not tell what most of them were; she only knew they were beautiful to look at. She recognized the roses and the daisies, though their coloring was something she’d never seen before. 

Eris’s voice drew her out of her thoughts. “Is it to your standards?” 

“I suppose it will have to be,” she replied without thinking, sarcasm getting the better of her. She looked back at Eris and couldn’t read his expression so she added, “Yes. It is.” 

“Through that door,” he nodded his head to the left. “Is a hall. You’ll have a study, bathing chamber and bed chamber.” He paused. “There is a door that leads to an empty room in your bedchambers. You won’t have to worry about it.” 

“What is it?” 

Though his expression was unchanged save for a slight crinkle of his nose when he replied, “A nursery.”

Right, Nesta thought. She let the realization wash through her- she remembered this was for show. 

“And your rooms?” She asked. 

“Across the hall.” He waved his hand and she felt the magic casted in the room. “Your rooms will be warded but only for tonight.” He then reached into the air and pulled forth a pouch. He held it out to her. 

“What is this?” She said, taking it slowly. It felt full of coins. 

“Your wages.” 

She frowned. “You’re paying me?” 

Nesta looked back at the coin purse in her hand with a harder scowl. It felt wrong to accept it. It reminded her of solstice; money in exchange for the presence of her body, like a common whore. 

“Would you rather I pay Rhsyand?” Eris’s voice brought her back to the present. When she didn’t respond, he smirked. “I suspected you’d want to save your actual wages. I will provide them to you for every week you’re present. You will have access to my accounts once we are wed for anything you’ll need while here.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll run up your tab?” She didn’t stop the bitterness that laced her remark. 

He studied her for a moment. Something flashed across his features. Nesta swore it was a brief understanding. 

“My credit is only good within this court and honestly- it would not hurt for some of the money to go back where it belongs. Just don’t spend a thousand marks in one go and no one will be the wiser.” Eris added, “we may be getting married but you are working. I can’t speak for your high lord but I pay the people who work for me, female or not.” 

Nesta scowled at his tone but didn’t comment on his remark. Thankfully a knock came at the door. 

“You brought that with you, understood?” Eris said sternly, glancing down at the purse. She nodded and he went to the door. 

Two females came in, heads bowed and not looking up. They were pale like Eris, but their hair was a deep brown. She could see their ears poking out their hair. They were high fae. They wore plain ruby red linen dresses, with white aprons. Eris looked down at them with contempt. 

“These are the assigned servants for your chambers.” Nesta’s eyes widened at the horrible realization. “They will help dress you. I’ll retrieve you for dinner shortly.” 

Nesta only nodded. She felt her shoulders relax when he slipped out the door and shut it. She looked at the servants, who still did not lift their heads. 

“I’m Nesta,” she said, breaking the silence. They didn’t reply. “Do you have names? You can stand up straight, I won't harm you.”

She watched their heads tilt towards each other. Finally one of them spoke. 

“We are not allowed to look our betters in their eyes, Lady Nesta.” The one on the left whispered. “It’s easier if you simply pretend we aren’t here.” 

Nesta frowned. “I don’t want for you to be in trouble but I would like to at least be able to address you. If that’s acceptable.” 

Another pause and the other female spoke. “My name is Opal.”

“Opal. And you?” Nesta didn’t want to push but she also did not wish to say ‘you, female’ any time she needed something. 

She shifted her feet. “You may call me Lynn, if that’s acceptable.”

“Lynn. Pleasure to meet you, Opal and Lynn.” Nesta let her shoulders relax. She didn’t realize she had held them tensely. “I was told you would help me get ready for this evening.”

“Yes,” Opal nodded. 

They both lifted their heads finally but neither looked her in the eyes. Nesta did not have time to linger her gaze; both went to the door to the right and opened it to walk through. It was a small hall. Eris was correct that there was an open study, with a desk and more sitting chairs. The hall ended in another door. 

She followed them through and her eyes widened. The bedroom was enormous. The four post bed was as large as the ones made to hold the Illyrians. A blood red duvet and matching pillows covered it with a peak of white sheets folded over at the top. There were red curtains tied to the headposts. Near the bed was a privacy panel. It was decorated in a simple fashion to the rug in the entry hall. 

Two doors were on opposite ends. The one on the right was opened. She could see the tiled floor and assumed it was the bathing chambers. Which meant the other door was the nursery. She decided she would avoid it. The two girls scattered, one to the bathing chamber and the other to one of two massive wooden wardrobes along the wall. Nesta watched her open the doors and her eyes widened at the amount of dresses inside. 

“Lady Nesta. I was informed you will need to wear blue. Once you are finished with your bath, would you like to choose your dress or would you prefer we lay out the options?” 

Opal kept her eyes to the ground. She could at least see her face now. Opal had a round face, small lips, simple nose, and wide flat cheeks. Nesta’s mother would have called her plain. 

“Lay out the options.” It was easier than she thought to slip into the persona she held when she was human and running the household. “I prefer long sleeves and a modest bodice.” 

Opal nodded. Nesta left her and went to the bathing room. It was the most plain room, white tiles and a large tub, sink, and toilet. Lynn was bent over running the water and Nesta stared at the tub. She could bathe now without much issue but already being on edge made old thoughts skirt the outer edges of her mind. She stepped forward and saw the water was already close to where she would be comfortable. 

“That will be enough.” Lynn startled and turned off the faucet. She knew she sounded condescending but she couldn’t let them think she was weak. “I would like to bathe on my own, thank you.” 

Unlike Opal she did not lift her head. She curtsied and went quickly out the door. Nesta went to the door and shut it. She took a deep breath and looked back to the tub. She walked up to the tub and stuck her hand in the water. It was too warm- almost scalding. With a quick debate in her mind, she decided she would weather it. 

Bathing was easier once she was in the water. She scrubbed at her skin until it turned pink. The smell of the soap caught her off guard. It had a faint wooden undertone, but mostly smelt of vanilla and something citrus. A strange combination; something she would not have anticipated for Autumn. Yet it worked. She refused to wash her hair as she did not have the time to dry it. Eris could fuss at her if he wanted to.  

Nesta found a robe to wear once she was done and dried. She came out with her dress on her arm and found the maids had laid out two dresses on the bed. She sat her own dress and coin purse from Eris on one of  the end tables. 

Opal came up to her. “I spoke with the other servants and Lord Eris requested you pick from the two.” She gestured to the bed. 

“Was he in here?” 

“No my Lady,” she shook her head, downcast eyes wide. “He specified the color.” 

Nesta wrinkled her nose. “Will he always be choosing the color?” 

“No, my Lady. That is the Lady of Autumn who manages the weekly dinner color schemes.” 

Nesta hummed and looked at the dresses. They were both a varying shade of dark teal, more blue than green. She picked up the one on the left and studied it. It was warmer in tone and would probably look better against her skin. The sleeves were long as requested; high neckline and a faux corset when she turned it. The fabric was soft but thick. Simple and safe. 

“I will be fine with this one.” She looked back at Opal. “Where is Lynn?”

“She went to retrieve some refreshments for you.” 

“And how much longer until dinner?” 

Nesta stayed and ate lunch with her sisters one last time before leaving. It was Feyre’s request; it postponed the meeting with Eris by at least three hours. Of which Cassian and Rhys made themselves scarce while she and her sisters contemplated on what information Nesta could gather while there. 

And what horrors might await her. 

“In a few hours. However I was requested to help you get ready as soon as possible. Shall I help you into your dress, Lady Nesta?” 

“Yes, thank you.” 

Nesta ended up being thankful for the help. Two layers- her underthings and a shift, were required before she was helped into the dress. It was as heavy as she anticipated. Lynn came back with a pitcher of water and some fruit. Nesta muttered her thanks and the female scampered off again. Opal left once the dress was tied and new white heeled boots laced onto her feet. 

Now she simply had to wait with nothing to do. 

She went to leave but a noise startled her. A letter had landed on her bed. She froze for a moment, before grabbing it and ripping it open. Her chest was in knots seeing it was Gwyn. 

Nesta

I went and waited for Cassian to return the moment I got your letter. I was wondering why training was canceled. I’m livid I didn’t get to say goodbye. He did clear a few things up once I was able to corner him. You should have seen him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cassian cower before. He says we need to be vigilant on how we communicate and what we say. I wish you could see my eyes rolling as I write this. I suppose I should congratulate you on your marriage. I wish I could be there with you as you take this next step. Emerie too. I didn’t see her today but she wrote to me to discuss your announcement. 

We love you Nesta. I hope we can visit sometime after your ‘honeymoon period’. 

Nesta held the letter close to her chest. Tears welled in her eyes, from what she couldn’t pinpoint. It was possibly the notion that her nor Emerie were angry with her. Or that her friend left the library to hunt Cassian down. She pulled it back and looked it over again. 

She needed to learn how to send letters through magic. She dreaded what Eris would ask in return for such assistance. She folded the letter and placed it under her dress and coin purse. She didn’t need the maids seeing it and reporting her. 

Satisfied, she left her bedroom and went to the sitting chamber. She was startled to find Eris waiting for her. His coat was the same color as her dress, his pants the same white as her boots. Oddly, it didn’t wash him out. If anything it made him look somewhat appealing. His eyes raked over her quickly. Nesta scowled when he leaned in towards her and sniffed the air. 

“You smell better. That alone is a vast improvement.”

“I cannot say the same for you,” she replied, crossing her arms. “I was told dinner was in a few hours.”

“It is. However, we’re meeting my family in the throne room. Beron is going to make you swear your allegiance.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“You don’t have a choice,” Eris replied darkly. “Come, or we will be late.” 

—————

The throne room reminded her of the one in Hewn City. Only the pillars mimicked massive tree trunks and the tile was crimson red. At the end of the room sat Beron on a golden throne. His wife sat beside him on his left and the Vansera brothers flanked both sides. All of them except for Beron, wore varying shades of the same dark blue she and Eris wore. 

Nesta’s gaze lingered on a female she didn’t recognize next to one of the stocker brothers at the end. Her dark blonde hair looked out of place amongst the row of dark brown and red hair. That must be the wife Eris mentioned. Soon Nesta would be up there looking just as out of place. 

Eris walked in front of her and stopped a few feet from the steps to the dais. Nesta stood behind him. 

“High Lord Beron,” Eris said, cutting through the silence. “I formally present my betrothed, Nesta Archeron.” 

Nesta curtised. 

“Nesta Archeron,” Beron’s voice rang out through the hall. “My son told me you accepted his proposal. Quite a shock you willingly left the Night Court.”

Nesta did not reply. That seemed the correct thing to do. Beron stood and came down the steps, stopping in front of them. 

“You will swear your loyalty to me if you wish to remain in this house.” 

Just like with Rhysand, she felt the pull. The fae part of her wanting to submit. She curtsied deeper than before and bowed her head. 

“I swear my allegiance to the Autumn Court. And it’s high lord.” 

Ancient magic washed over her. She tried to not vomit from it. She straightened and stared Beron in the eyes. He sneered at her. 

“Show me your powers, girl.” 

Nesta’s eyes widened. He laced his words as a command. She looked at Eris beside her. He simply nodded at her. Could he not see the fear in her eyes? Gwyn’s voice was suddenly loud in her mind. I am the rock against which the surf crashes. She repeated it in her mind. Numbly she held out her left hand. She kept repeating the phrase and she dug deep into herself. To the part she buried for so long. It seemed like everyone in the room waited on bated breath. Finally a silver ball of flame manifested itself. 

Beron approached her, his hand covered in flames. He held out his own flaming hand over hers. She extinguished her own fire before he could touch it. 

“I agreed to allow Eris to bring you here because the crone Briallyn has expressed her desire for you.” He lowered his hand, putting out his own flames. “She thinks you are the reason her youth was stolen in the cauldron.” 

Nesta lowered her own arm and stood still, back straight and unmoving. She did not answer him. A test. 

Beron chuckled to himself darkly. “I think you’re a valuable asset. Much more valuable here than with her. Much more valuable alive. After the wedding, you will show me where on a map this prized city Rhysand has kept secret is located. You will explain to me its inner workings.”

Nesta laughed. She didn’t even stop when rage graced Beron’s features and flames rose in his eyes. 

“High Lord, I was the eldest daughter of a wealthy merchant. I was raised to marry and run a household. To bear children. I do not know how to read a map nor do I understand the workings of a city like Velaris. It was not becoming of a female to do so.”

The lie fell easily off her tongue. Beron did not seem to buy it. 

“Your sister is High Lady.” He said it with such venom she almost recoiled. You were at the High Lord’s meeting and you were present during the war.”

“I was forced to be present for the war. My sister being High Lady has nothing to do with my own abilities. And even then, they are incomparable.” 

“What exactly are you suggesting?” 

Nesta needed to play this right. Beron was scrutinizing every word she spoke to find a fault. She wished she could glare at Eris. He could have warned her. She calmed herself and responded. 

“I am suggesting Rhysand is a fool. My youngest sister was practically raised feral. Youngest and least beautiful of three daughters; my mother had no time nor the patience for her. She didn’t even know how to read until recently. He puts her on a pedestal because she is his mate. He lets her play pretend. She only understands a map herself because it has pictures.”

One of the brothers snickered at her comment and Nesta felt the bile in her throat. She prayed to whatever gods were listening that if this got back to Feyre, she would understand. Understand she said these things to keep them all safe.  However, she kept going, her harsh tongue knowing no end once it began. 

“Rhysand despises me. I was not allowed into the city. I was sequestered to a house built into the side of a mountain. House of Wind, he called it. The only way out being ten thousand steps or to be flown down. Punishment for my sister’s inability to read and her feral behavior which got her caught by a fae in the first place. He forced me to work in its library. The only time I was allowed to leave was during Solstice. I was flown directly to their home and only at Feyre’s request. He was looking for an excuse to be rid of me without killing me.” 

Beron studied her for a moment, taking in her words. “Show me your flames again. This time do not extinguish them.”

She did not let her expression change as she held her arm out again. The flames came forth easier this time. Beron manifested an apple. He reached over her hand and dropped it into the flame- onto her palm. Nesta willed it to not burn- to not turn to ash. She had no understanding of her powers and she knew whatever Beron saw, he would use against her. 

Her power cooperated. 

He plucked the apple out of her hand and turned it, studying it. She let her flames die and hoped he would not punish her for it. He finally looked back at her, a gleam she couldn’t place in his eye. 

“Welcome, Lady Nesta. I look forward to having you as my newest daughter-in-law.” 

Next Chapter

#nesta archeron #neris #eris vanserra #eris acotar #nesta acotar #pro nesta #pro eris vanserra #fuck Beron and his ugly ass #I had to say it #The Price You Pay For Power #Chapter 3 #acotar #acotar fanfic #Acosf #Acosf AU

[theladyofbloodshed]

autumn court having the power of fire in their blood and fucking like it too but not having dragons is a crime

#i mean beron would likely be unstoppable if he had a dragon #but eris would be sexy as fuck

[thesistersarcheron]

We need to stop pretending Lucien and Azriel are going to fight a Blood Duel when it's clearly going to be Helion and Beron.

#blood duel this blood duel that #azriel literally! does not give a fuck about lucien! #and i would wager that the feeling is mutual!!! #you know who does gives fucks though?! small dicked beron vanserra!!! #he's going to call a duel and then in typical sjm fashion the lady of autumn is going to kill him with nesta's made dagger #that she steals from eris/eris gives to her for protection #before he can touch helion #i'll put money on it

[vidalinav]

At first I could excuse what you said about Nesta being the main character of acotar but seeing now that you’re also a Nesta and Rhysand shipper? You truly just have the worst takes and deserve what people are saying about you. People who are up Nesta’s ass just aren’t smart.

The problem with stupidity is that it doesn’t always recognize itself 👀

#also I’m a shipper of everyone with Nesta #I’m into reverse harems #at some point I will say fuck fey/re Nesta has all the high lords with Eris included and minus beron lol #bc I think it’s funny and fun #knock that stick out of your ass #this is fake #the world sucks okay live a fucking little