Another Damned Meeting-Part Two
Summary: Eris’s POV of how Y/n evolved over the years, and more insight into Y/n’s story and why Eris does what he did in Part One.
A/n: I know this probably isn’t the kind of part two people were expecting, but this is what I wrote, so enjoy. If this gets more likes than the first part, then I might make a part three, we’ll see.
Warnings: Swearing, violent themes, death, Eris not being the bad guy for a change
I never thought that (M/N) would die, I thought that she would outlive us all. What I felt for her wasn’t love, per say. It was some kind of respect. It had taken one night, just one time, and she was pregnant. Any other woman, any lesser woman would have gotten rid of the fetus, especially knowing who the father was. But not (M/N), no, she was too brave for that. The healers told her early on that she would likely die during childbirth and she had the option to terminate if she wished, but she still did not falter.
And because of that bravery, this beautiful baby girl was in my arms. With her (h/c) tufts of hair and (e/c) eyes shining up at me. She had her mother’s bravery, perhaps that was (M/N)’s gift to her upon her death. This tiny little baby only cried for a few moments after she was born, and then she calmed down, like she understood what happened and where she was. Like she understood that she was safe.
She was safe, I made sure that the midwives who helped deliver her understood that if any of them breathed a word of this to anyone, they would find themselves at the bottom of a ravine. Never to be heard from again.
I smiled down at the child in my arms, she shared absolutely none of my features, only her mother’s, but I could see that fire in her eyes, even as a baby. I let myself pretend for a moment that I would get to nurture that fire, help it grow and thrive. I let myself pretend that I would get to raise her.
For months, I prayed to the Mother that (M/N) would survive, and would be able to raise our child. I knew that she would raise this tiny, adorable creature to be strong, confident, and to never bow to people, males, who wished to tear her down off her pedestal.
With Prythian on the verge of war with Hybern, I could not take any chances. My father, if he ever found out about her, would either be furious or he’d see it as a way to gain more power. My marriage to Morrigan had been a bust, but if he had a daughter, or a granddaughter, he could use her the way that Morrigan’s parents planned to do to her.
A tear fell onto the little babe’s cheek, but not her own, mine. She started fussing in her red blanket that she was swaddled in. I sucked in a shuddering breath and lifted her up, I tucked her into my chest, careful not to squeeze her. Tears fell down my cheeks as I held her, possibly for the last time. I cradled her head in my hand while she settled down, stopped fussing.
I took a deep breath and forced the tears to stop falling. She wasn’t crying, I didn’t have the right to cry either. I pulled her back and looked her in the eyes, making her a promise. I leaned my forehead against her delicate one, “he will never get his hands on you. I swear it to you, you will go untouched by him, no matter what I have to do to ensure that for you.” I kissed her forehead softly and hugged her one more time, “I’m sorry, I wish things were different, I wish I could be the father you deserve. But I promise you, when my father is no longer a threat, I will make it right. I will struggle every day of my immortal life if it means that you will forgive me for this.”
And then I brought her to the one person I knew would keep her safe, however cruel he made himself out to be.
At the Illyrian Camps, 453 years earlier…
I stood beside Rhysand who watched her train with a prideful look. I’d left (Y/N) with him, I knew she’d be safe with him, in his court, and my father wouldn’t dare look for her in the Night Court. Especially with Rhysand’s father still on the throne and his ruthless court.
I could see a resemblance between me and her now, not in looks but in the behavior. I’d heard that when children were adopted into different family’s, they took on the traits of those who raised them, but that clearly wasn’t true in her case. We moved the same, we smiled the same, there was no doubt about it, she was my daughter.
“She’s thriving here, Eris,” Rhysand assured me.
“She’s so small,” I muttered while staring at my daughter in the training ring. She was so small compared to the boy she was training with. I noticed that the boy she was up against was one of the biggest in the camp, maybe it was just my fatherly instincts kicking in, but I couldn’t believe that it was safe for her to be sparring with him.
“She’s only seven, she’s about average sized,” Rhysand chuckled at my unfocused expression, frankly, it was more starstruck than anything. “The last time you saw her, she was a baby. I swear, she’s grown a lot since then. Both mentally and physically.”
“I didn’t expect her to be training with the Illyrians,” I watched her quick movements, expertly executed. She had clearly learned to use her size to her advantage, she was faster than the rest of them. “I expected to find her cooking and cleaning with the other females.”
“She decided she didn’t want to be cooped up in the kitchen about a year ago,” Rhysand shook his head fondly. “She supposedly confronted Devlon and told him that she could fight just as well as the boys in the camp. Devlon wasn’t convinced and told her no. But according to him, he found her training with the other boys the next morning,” I felt pride blooming in my chest for her, I crossed my arms over my chest and kept my face neutral though. Rhysand had no idea that she was my daughter, just that she was a baby I’d found in the woods, alone and scared. And I preferred to keep it that way. “He wasn’t very happy, but he informed me that she was such a natural that he caved, again, this is just what he told me.”
(Y/N) threw a punch, aiming for the boy’s throat. I saw the consequence coming from a mile away before she got flipped onto her back with a heavy gasp and then kicked in the gut. It seemed she still had a bit to learn. No matter how good she was, even at such a young age. That was the good thing about the Illyrian Camps, they were barbaric, but they turned children into warriors, feared warriors across Prythian. And she was on her way to becoming one of the best. I knew that if her mother were alive, she would be just as proud as I was. Being a Valkyrie, I knew (M/N) would have been so proud of (Y/N) for not waiting for a male to save her, for not listening when a male told her that she had no power of her own. She simply took her power.
(Y/N) moved to get a drink of water while the boy did the same, I could see it in her eyes, (Y/N) was trying to figure out how to beat him. I frowned and moved over to her, despite Rhysand’s odd look at me.
“Hey kid,” I called, drawing her attention, she raised a brow at me in question, the same look I’d given many people before. I smirked slightly at that, “that boy you were sparring with just now, he’s the biggest of the boys here, yes?”
“Yes, he is,” she answered before sipping from her cup. Even her voice was just like her (M/N)’s. She eyed me suspiciously, having never seen me before.
“Go for the right leg,” I leaned against the water table.
“He injured his left and is keeping his weight off of it as much as possible and leaning too much on his right. If you take out the right leg, he won’t have any legs to stand on.” I offered, she looked back at the boy she’d been sparring with, taking in how he stretched in the ring while waiting for her. He was keeping weight off his left leg.
My brows flew up, “there isn’t one.” She was smart, covering all the bases, but I wasn’t expecting her question. “I just thought I’d help.” I smiled slightly, “or you can just go for the wings, though I don’t think that’ll work out for you if you lose. Illyrians tend to be protective of their wings.”
She looked down at the ground, frowning a bit in contemplation. She gazed at the females bustling about, trying to get laundry done, then she turned her attention back to me. “Thank you for the suggestion, Mister….”
“Mister Eris.” She set her glass down and walked back to the training ring while I went back over to where Rhysand stood with a dumbfounded expression.
“Did you actually just help somebody?” He asked.
I just watched (Y/N) as she wrapped her hands back up, based on her condition and her clean clothes, her brushed hair, she was strong, not one to be trifled with. She’d clearly won quite a few victories and was rewarded for them. “I want to see if she’ll actually win this time.”
“If she messes with his wings, Eris-”
“She’ll be fine.” She would be. I knew she would be, whatever she chose to do. I’d seen that look in someone’s eyes before, the exact look that she had. I wasn’t entirely sure what she would do, but she was thirsty. Not for water, but for blood. I’d seen that look in (M/N)’s eyes before, when a midwife she visited once told her that she needed to terminate her pregnancy and keeping the baby wasn’t an option.
I was so thankful to her, for choosing to keep (Y/N). Because even though (M/N) would never get to meet her, she left me with something to keep me going, she left me with something to live for.
I heard the boy taunting her as she finished wrapping her hands. “You ready to get your ass kicked, princess?”
“Do I look like a princess to you?”
“You sure as hell act like a princess,” the burly boy laughed, “you’re entitled. You think that you’re so tough, you belong with the other females.” He gestured to the onlooking females who were watching the fight. I realized that this fight meant something to them. If (Y/N) lost to this kid, those females also lost hope for a better life than the shit one they knew.
From the glance (Y/N) gave them, I knew that she didn’t fight just for the hell of it. She was fighting for them. Even at such a young age, she knew that how females were treated at the Illyrian Camp wasn’t right. Even though she didn’t know anything else aside from that.
Rhysand watched intently, not the fight, but my expressions. Then the fight started, it didn’t take long for me to see that (Y/N) was tiring. That was what the young male wanted, he was wearing her down so that he could beat her. Because he knew he couldn’t if she wasn’t at her full strength.
(Y/N) seemed to realize this, she slid in between his legs and across the training ring floor. She would have some serious rashes from that move, but she didn’t seem to feel the burn yet. She pulled a short sword from the rack and turned back to the boy whose eyes widened for a second before he sprung into action again.
(Y/N)’s swordsmanship could use some work, but she was doing well enough. She wouldn’t let the male disarm her. Devlon stopped to watch when he exited his tent, watching (Y/N) pant in exhaustion, sweat dripping off her forehead.
The boy got a sword of his own at some point and started to fight back just as hard as she was. She landed a kick to his right wrist, the one holding his sword. His hand spasmed and let go of the hilt of the blade, she grabbed it out of the air and then sprinted behind him, slashing with her sword at his knees. He fell forward onto his hands and knees with a gasp and grunt of pain as loose gravel dug into his open wounds.
(Y/N) placed one sword at his throat and kept him in his position. The boy froze and slightly turned his head to look at her from behind him with a fearful look in his eyes. I chuckled, my daughter definitely had her mother’s skill, but she had my burning fire. Her fiery will.
(Y/N) brought her other sword that was unoccupied down in the center of his wings, swiping across. The boy growled and made to turn, but she dug her sword harder into his throat, making it drip with blood. His growl turned into a loud scream while onlookers stared in horror, along with Devlon.
(Y/N) was looking at the females who were watching the scene unfold, she nodded at them. I glanced at them, and then I knew. Their wings had been clipped. Perhaps this was (Y/N)’s attempt at retribution for the Illyrian males taking away the females’ ability to fly.
Rhysand audibly gulped, “I need to get a healer.”
I held up a hand, “no, don’t.” Rhysand looked at me questioningly, “he made his bed. Let him lay in it.” Rhysand seemed uncertain but stayed in place.
I found myself smiling as (Y/N) let the boy go, tears streaming down his face as he stared at his beloved wings. Cut, no, shredded, straight down the middle. Devlon pulled (Y/N) to the side when she left the ring, and I could practically hear the scolding from him.
I had absolutely no doubts, she was my daughter, through and through.
After the Meeting, Present Day….
Lucien grilled me, but I had no regrets. I would do anything to protect (Y/N), anything to make sure that Beron never hurt her like he hurt the rest of his family and countless others in between. The shadowsinger hovered over her.
I hated that brute, I found him entirely repulsive. But I was glad that he was her mate, because I knew that he would do anything to protect her, just like I would. I knew that if Beron made any attempt to even touch her, Azriel would strike him down without hesitation or thought of consequence. I knew she was safe with him.
Then she said those words. “Thank you, Eris…” she muttered while sipping from her wine glass. In her armor that matched her mate’s, aside from the siphons. She did not have any, but I could see the power that lurked beneath the surface anyway.
She was more powerful than she even knew. And when my father was dead and gone, when I was, and my brothers, she would rule the Autumn Court. I could already see it, a clear image, her with a crown on her head, sitting on the throne of Autumn, her shadowsinger at her side. The land being a much happier place. And she would not be the ‘Lady of Autumn’, no, she would be High Lady.
I didn’t need thanks from her. I was just doing as I promised her when she was a baby. She was my reason for breathing, and as long as she needed me, as long as Beron lived, I would continue to keep that promise. I nodded once anyway, trying to convey with my eyes what I was feeling.
I could live with what I’d done to my mother, I could. I didn’t regret it, though I did feel bad for her, I would never regret doing what it took to protect my daughter. I knew my mother could understand that, her having Lucien and all, she knew what it was like. But the difference between me and her was that I would do anything to protect my child, while there were limits to what she would do.
I gulped at that realization. I could only hope that (Y/N) would forgive me for giving her up one day. I would do whatever it took, once my father was dead, I would do whatever it took to get her to forgive me, I would make up for it. No matter what, because she was extraordinary. And she was worth it. She would always be worth it.
