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separatist-apologist · 3 months

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Something In The Orange

Summary: Someone is trying to murder Eris Vanserra's soon-to-be wife.

And no one can rule him out as a suspect

Note: Big thanks to @octobers-veryown for the mood board and the unknown anon for the song inspiration.

For @sjmromanceweek

Read On AO3 | Chapter 1: First Date

“Knock knock,” came a soft, sweet voice. Arina turned from her usual haunt in the window, surprised to see an actual, living woman standing in the doorframe. She wasn’t from Avalonia if her high, starched neckline and her chestnut colored hair hidden beneath a pearl studded net was any indication. Arina sat up a little straighter as the woman stepped nervously inside. “I hope you don’t mind. Lucien mentioned you might welcome some non-Vanserra company.”

“I would,” Arina replied without mentioning she’d have welcomed any company that wasn’t the sneering, smug face of Eris Vanserra. He came every evening to insult her while seeming genuinely surprised she didn’t like him, hovering in the doorway until he was satisfied he’d done his duty and vanished.

“I’m Elain,” Elain told her, extending a delicate, gloved hand. Arina rose from her spot in order to shake it, delighting in the friendship etched over Elain’s face.

“Oh,” Arina said, because she’d heard the ladies at court gossiping about Elain. “I thought—”

“That I’d be pregnant?” Elain asked with a gleam in her eye. “Yes, I heard that rumor was going around. Lucien was caught kissing me and my father overreacted just a tad.”

“I’ll say,” Arina replied with a laugh.

“Don’t tell anyone, but it worked out for me. He never would have been allowed to ask me to marry him otherwise.”

“And that’s what you wanted?” Arina questioned.

Elain smiled, biting her bottom lip. “Yes, it is.”

“Well, someone should be happy to be married,” Arina declared, ignoring the look of curiosity Elain shot her. There would be time to confide everything given they were about to become sisters through marriage, but right then all Arina wanted was a reprieve from Eris.

That meant thinking about him and talking about him. Anything to escape him, even temporarily.

Unfortunately, it was all Elain wanted to talk about. For the first time since Arina had arrived, she allowed Elain to take her out of her bedroom. “When is the wedding?” Elain asked her, adding, “Lucien isn’t allowed to get married before Eris.”

Eris had such a big ego that Arina believed that was true.

“The end of the month,” she said with her usual glumness.

Elain’s smile brightened. “Rest assured, princess, that nothing happens on time in the palace. If they told you a month, expect six at minimum.”

“You’d wait half a year?” Arina questioned, wondering if Elain knew that Lucien had once been meant for Arina before he was caught. Did it bother Elain? Would it bother Arina were the circumstances reversed? Maybe, if she loved the man and thought the other woman loved him. The problem was Arina’s apathy. Lucien and Eris were nearly interchangeable given how little she knew about them. Maybe she and Lucien would have gotten on better, or maybe they would have been antagonists right from the start, too.

Maybe there was something about her when it came to Vanserra men. Whatever the case, Arina decided it was better to say nothing to Elain rather than risk the budding friendship between them. She couldn’t take another week locked up in her room with the company of a man she suspected had tried to kill her.

“I’d wait half my life,” Elain assured her cheerfully with a bounce in her step. “If you saw my home, you’d understand.”

“Where—”

“The North,” Elain interrupted, as though she’d been dying to say it. “It’s cold and dreary and even when it’s warm it's not. Here, at least, you have the benefit of all four seasons and proper warmth, you know?”

Arina could only nod her head.

“Have you seen the gardens?” Elain continued, plowing forward Arina’s emotional defenses with a single minded determination that could have made a soldier weep. “They were the first place I visited when I was brought here. You can tell a lot about a kingdom based on their royal gardens.”

Arina hadn’t seen anything in the palace and it hadn’t occurred to her to ask. Every time she considered it, Eris would appear with that disdainful smile of his and Arina was angry all over again. He acted as if she had done something to cause this marriage—like it was her fault. Arina hadn’t been consulted. She’d been a baby when the details had first been arranged. It was tempting to try and tell him that but Eris wasn’t stupid.

He wanted someone easy to blame.

And she refused to give him the satisfaction of trying just so he could break her down. If Eris wanted to be at odds then that’s what they’d be. Arina mulled it over as Elain dragged her out into warm sunshine toward a sprawling garden of greenery Arina just did not care about. A building in the distance caught her attention, though.

“Do you know what that is?”

“A kennel, I think,” Elain said, cheerful as ever. “Filled with hunting dogs so I’d stay away if I were you.”

Dogs?

Arina followed Elain, steps slowing as she recalled the little stray that she’d spent the better part of six months feeding, trying to coax it into the palace. She’d almost managed before her father spotted her and forced her to watch as one of his guards killed the animal outright. It was one of many hard, brutal lessons her father inflicted on her. She needed to be harder, colder, less compassionate.

But Arina still thought about that dog, so skinny she could see his ribs poking through spotted fur, and the big, warm eyes that had trusted her. What a mistake that was for the animal. Arina carried the guilt around like a sack of stones tied to her back, wishing she could go back and save it somehow. Save it from her father or herself, whichever was easier.

Did the king treat his animals well? It was all she could think about as her and Elain took a tour around the garden. Arina recognized she wasn’t being a good friend to Elain, who was clearly trying. Elain’s passion laid in the flowers around them, pointing each one out to tell Arina the names and little plant facts she’d gathered over the years.

“Do you know if there is a library in the palace?” Arina heard herself asking Elain as they began to double back through the maze of shrubs and trees all artfully planted around an immaculate lawn and careful, stone laid pathways.

“I’m sure there is. All palaces have one, right? Maybe Eris would know?”

Yeah, Arina bet he would. Perhaps Elain noticed her hesitation because she added, “I could ask Lucien? We could go together, if you like?”

Relief flooded through Arina. “I would like that.”

“I’ll get you a sun hat for the garden,” Elain continued undeterred by Arina’s lack of enthusiasm. “You read, I’ll plant.”

“Only if we can have a picnic while we do it,” Arina agreed, the scene stretching before her easily. Perhaps life wouldn’t be so bad with Elain around. Wherever Lucien was sent to once he was married could likely support her, too. They could be friends, living far from the palace having little adventures and general fun while Eris terrorized the capital.

Elain and Arina split ways once inside, leaving Arina to double back toward the kennels. No one paid her any attention, though a few guards watched with bemused expression until she got close enough she could smell the dogs in the air. Only then did someone in a fluttering, red cape and a white and gold uniform say, “Those dogs could kill you.”

“I won’t touch,” she promised, drawing her hands close to her chest. “The prince said I could be here.”

That was a lie and one that was likely to get her in trouble if Eris ever learned about it. But for the moment it also gained her access which was all Arina cared about. The inside smelled heavily of dog and some kind of minty cleaner, with rows of large, spacious cages that housed the animals. Arina didn’t know what she’d expected.

Something small and hungry like the dog from home. These creatures were big, tall enough that when one stood, blue eyes watching her with interest, the shoulders of the creature would have reached her hip. They weren’t starving with no ribs to be found, and glossy gray coats that were reminiscent of smoke.

They looked fast. Smart, too. No one was inside to watch her—the guards had turned their backs and were chatting amongst themselves. Arina dared to step closer to the cage of the dog standing and looking at her, palm held out in what she hoped was a friendly gesture.

“Hi,” she whispered, watching the dog also creep closer, ears perked up high and tail wagging ever so slightly. That seemed like a good sign, she thought. The two of them came closer and closer, until Arina dared to press her palm to the bars of the cage and the dog sniffed cautiously, his curiosity overriding his instincts. Or, perhaps, they weren’t as mean as the guards made them out to be. After all, all the dogs were sitting at the edge of the crates, some with thumping tails and others with soft, low whines.

Arina was looking at the dog in the next crate when the one smelling her hand offered her palm a tentative lick. She smiled, exhaling as she did. The dog licked again, tail thudding behind him and Arina whispered, “Good boy.”

She went around to all twelve dogs, daring to stick her fingers between the bars to scratch their noses as she became bolder. No one tried to chew off her fingers and by the end of the day, Arina was in a better mood than she’d been in months. She was going to wash her hands, dress herself nicely, sit beside Eris and beg him to let her take them out for a walk. She’d do whatever Eris asked, no matter how absurd.

Maybe things weren’t so bad, she reasoned. Her marriage was a political farce but there were other good things happening around her. Maybe she didn’t need love. Maybe having friends and a fulfilling life could be enough. Arina wasn’t one to give into pessimism if she could help it. The sun always returned, was still a force to be reckoned with and maybe she could be, too.

At least, she thought so right up until she felt something wrap brutally tight against her throat. Arina tried to pull, tried to struggle but whoever held her had an ironclad grip. Arina went down, lungs aching, thinking of the dogs in the kennel.

ERIS:

Eris hadn’t intended to meet his youngest brother’s fiance before the wedding. In his mind he figured he’d have to attend the wedding and he could introduce himself there. Tucked away in his study, lounging in a chair, Eris found himself taken by surprise when Princess Elain stepped inside without knocking, her arms crossed over her stiff dress.

“We need to get you a more interesting wardrobe,” Eris said the moment the door clicked shut behind her. The clothing of the north wasn’t practical or fashionable and had always been his one annoyance about Elain’s older sister Nesta. They were beautiful women dressed like nuns. Elain was, perhaps, the most egregious of the three given how effortlessly beautiful she was. It seemed a shame to put her in those heavy coats and tightly boned corsets.

“Oh?” Elain Archeron asked, her pretty, pink lips upturned with a smile. “Perhaps we could pick out a new wardrobe at the same time we work on your manners?”

“I deserved that,” Eris conceded, sitting up in his chair. “What can I do for you?”

“Where is the library?”

“Off-limits to you,” Eris replied with a small amount of curiosity. “Have Lucien give you the key.”

“It’s not for me. It’s for Arina.”

Eris loathed the way his body seemed to twitch with interest almost as much as he loathed himself for noticing. Elain didn’t notice and Eris refused to give in to the sensation even as his traitorous mouth said, “If she wants access, she’ll have to ask me.”

“She hates you.”

Eris stared at Elain. “I was told you were sweet.”

“I can be,” Elain replied, offering him a truly saccharine smile. “I don’t suppose you want to hear what I was told about you.”

No, Eris was certain he didn’t want to learn the court gossip that surrounded himself. Cruel bastard was likely the most common refrain—but Eris didn’t want to hear it, all the same.

“Well, as compelling as an argument that was, I’m going to regretfully decline. If my beloved wants to visit the library, she can ask me.”

“And you’ll take her?”

Eris didn’t believe for one moment Arina could read. His father had lamented how woefully uneducated women just a little further west to them were—how a formal education was often eschewed in favor of creating a dutiful wife, of which Arina seemed also unskilled at. No, if Arina wanted in the library it meant she was up to something nefarious and Eris would be there.

Supervising.

“Anywhere she likes,” Eris replied, flashing Elain his most convincing smile. Not that it worked on her, of course. Elain merely watched, brown eyes narrowed with suspicion. When had the palace become filled with women who hated him, he wondered? Once, Eris had walked these halls like a god. Now women stared him down with disdain in their eyes.

Well. Elain and Arina did.

But how long before their bad attitude affected everyone else?

“It was nice to meet you,” Elain assured him, her tone betraying that meeting him had been the exact opposite. Eris inclined his head, allowing Elain to leave as he reclined back in his chair, chin resting against his fingertips. So. Lucien’s former and current fiances had teamed up, had they? Formed a little alliance at court?

That annoyed him.

He could have gone to complain to Lucien, who was irritated that Eris was going to marry Arina even after Lucien himself had wrecked everything. Lucien had never considered the consequences of his actions and figured everything would work itself out because it always had.

For him. Not for anyone else, of course, but for him it always had and always would. Lucien got the woman he wanted but had to face down the reality that in doing so, Arina got Eris.

He considered going to his father and demanding Arina be kept away from Elain. Beron would see it done which was precisely what kept Eris in his chair. If his father thought secluding Arina away from court and isolating her from all potential friends was a good idea, that told Eris he was being unreasonably awful.

He didn’t want to align with his father on the personal. Rarely on the political.That didn’t mean Eris was going to stop what he was doing and rush to see Arina. He was in no mood for another showdown with a woman and instead returned to his work with renewed vigor. If there was one thing Eris always found motivating, it was avoidance. He didn’t want to talk to Arina and so work suddenly became fascinating.

His duties, once mundane, seemed to him almost special in comparison. And as Eris finished, well aware he needed to go see her, he had the realization that he wished he could grasp her by the shoulders and make her see that he had not wanted this either. That he had begged and negotiated and argued in circles trying to avoid the fate they’d now found themselves in.

If he could have freed her, he would have. Without hesitation.

He couldn’t. Not without enraging his father and risking a lot of people’s lives. Beron would hurt Eris but he wouldn’t kill him, not after the years spent grooming him to one day become king. In his way, Beron seemed to like Eris better than anyone else in his family. Perhaps it was being the hoped for, first born son that softened Beron—if Beron’s treatment of Eris could ever have been called soft.

He’d suggested just killing Arina’s father, absorbing the territory, and installing Arina at court. It had seemed like Beron might agree for a time before his advisors caught wind of the plan and promptly shut it down. There was nothing nobles hated more than seeing one of their own so easily deposed. It made them restless—hungry for blood. As far as Eris was concerned, this was their punishment for throwing their little tantrum.

Diplomacy had won the day, which meant none of their daughters would ever sit on a throne.

Arina had saved him from that, at least—he liked sleeping with the ladies at court but he didn’t want to be married to them. They lacked ambition, were merely puppets to their more powerful fathers who would attempt to weaponize their daughters against Eris and though Eris knew it wasn’t their fault, he resented them for it.

Was it so wrong to want someone to want him? Yes—and he knew better than to want it. Eris had pushed those notions away until they were so deeply buried he was convinced they didn’t exist anymore. Boys wanted love but men knew better. It was that thought that kept Eris from seeking out Arina until she didn’t come to dinner. Predictable behavior, he thought with some irritation—and rich, too, given she’d accused him of being a coward. Eris spent the better part of the evening preparing his speech to her in which he’d demand her silence as he informed her there was no escaping this marriage.

And to get used to it. They could figure the rest out later, though Eris wanted separate lives. He’d offer her up any of their numerous estates if she wanted to live somewhere else—after she gave him a son. Just one, he thought privately. The idea of having to sleep with an unwilling woman more than he was required to made his stomach turn.

Every step brought him closer to the proverbial hang man’s noose. Hells, but he did not want to have this conversation with her. Eris had nearly convinced himself not to go into her room at all when he arrived. But Arina had called him a coward and Eris needed to prove to her—and maybe himself—that he was no coward. He could do hard things.

He could…walk in on Arina laying dead on the floor.

“Fuck,” he breathed, crossing the room quickly only to slam to the ground, his knees screaming in protest. “If you godsdamn die right now—”

There was a cord twisted around her throat, tight enough it had left a bruise against her otherwise unblemished throat, but not so tight Eris couldn’t slide his fingers through and relieve the pressure against her airway. With his other hand, Eris lifted her floppy, lifeless body into his lap so he could undo the knot behind her tangle of thick hair.

She wasn’t dead. As he worked he saw the faint, frantic flutter of her throat pulsating against her skin. Close, maybe, but not dead and that was all that mattered. Arina began to take deeper breaths as color returned to the gold of her cheeks, chasing away the blue tinge of her lips.

Eris was certain he’d aged a decade in the frantic minutes it took to free her. Arina opened eyes filled with panic as she gripped his forearm, looking around wildly.

“Don’t speak,” he warned, pocketing the cord. “Just breathe.”

“You,” she rasped, the word an accusation. Did she truly believe he’d order her dead only to revive her? It would have been all too easy to slit her throat while she laid there and blame it on someone else. Eris shifted, spreading his legs a little wider as Arina pushed herself from his lap only to collapse between his thighs, palms flat on the marble floor.

“What did you do to make someone so vengeful?” Eris asked, more curious than anything. That was twice now—surely it wasn’t a jilted courtier coming after her. There was something deeply personal about this second attack, though Eris couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Poisoning was detached, removed from the person being killed but strangling seemed intimate. Angry, even.

Arina didn’t answer, turning those too-big eyes on him. “Is there a bruise?”

Eris clenched his jaw. “Yes.”

“I think I’d like to be alone,” Arina whispered, pushing herself off the floor like she’d practiced this before. Eris recognized what was happening—the way she set her jaw, swallowing the urge to cry so she could look at him with blank, dead eyes. No emotion, just a numb sort of detachment he’d perfected himself. For a moment he remained exactly where he was, his mind unable to process what was happening.

And then he stood. “You need a guard.”

“I want to be alone,” she repeated, her voice whisper soft. “Thank you for this.”

It wasn’t good enough. Eris hated her dismissal even more. “Tell me who did this.”

“I don’t know,” she said, refusing to look at him.

“I’ll—”

“Eris, she whispered, twisting her fingers nervously in front of her body. “Please.”

Growling in frustration, Eris stalked from the room unsure what he wanted to do. He heard the lock click behind him, shutting him out definitively. Fine. She didn’t want his help then he wouldn’t offer it.

But all night, all Eris could see when he closed his eyes was Arina lifeless on the floor in a heap, her face hidden beneath all that soft hair. His mind forced him to replay her wrapping those long fingers around her throat, feeling for the dark bruise already forming against her skin as the light winked out of her gaze.

It wasn’t the first time someone had hurt her that way.

But Eris swore it would be the last.

#eris vanserra #do NOT get used to all these updates happening #i will be returning to my goblin cave just as soon as the week is over

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