Icon by @vermilionskiinmorning Keira You’re going to see a whole lot of Eris and Lucien here! Oh and probably my cats! I will discuss *almost* anything ACOTAR - I am not here for ship wars.
Eris Vanserra has known his mate's identity for centuries. In order to keep her safe from Beron and his brothers, he must keep her secret and even she cannot know what she means to him.
When Beron decides to change the rules to the game, Eris must change his strategy.
Masterlist
Prologue
Part 1 - Alone
Part 2 - Ella
Part 3 - I Hope She Likes the Vanserras
Part 4 - May I Have This Dance?
Part 5 - Gilded Cage
Part 6 - P-R-I-C-K
Part 7 - Shut Up or I’m Using You As Bait!
Beautiful Ella and Eris artwork by @vermilionskiinmorning here.
Moodboard for my Eris x Male OC ship, trauma, mistakes, pain and longing all rolled into one 💕💕 also a snippet of ACOEAS that I will post eventually probably:
The door creaked open. Sanguine footsteps sounded across the carpet. Koivu, who lounged at his place before the fire, lifted his head curiously before going back to dozing.
The scent of yarrow, violets, and oakmoss swelled in the air.
When Eris finally forced himself to look up, Ensel stood in the threshold of his lounge. Light from the fire danced across the smooth porcelain of his jaw and ignited his auburn hair. The curve of his neck peeked above his slave tunic, where the thick collar sat. Its rubies and topazes looked somehow dark in the firelight, as if the gems knew the true meaning of their beauty.
They stared into each other’s eyes. Tension as thick as a rope stretched between them, seemingly wrapped around Eris’s very lungs given how he suddenly struggled to breath.
Ensel looked to the fireplace, where Eris’s sword was displayed above the grand mantle. The light from the hearth reflected in the half-human’s dark gaze. “Beron has some hounds heading north to look for the Jvalana who escaped.”
The use of his owner’s name instead of title marked his as one of their trysts instead of a formal message he was required to carry. It was Ensel as the secret companion, conniver, and enemy of the High Lord and his court.
And Jvalana. The name of the faeries was also a direct betrayal. They were to be wiped from history, Beron had ordered: a volatile obliteration, a complete and final burning, a dusting of bones scattered to the wind.
Eris kept his eyes on the fireplace coals and said nothing. His whiskey glass sat cold in his palm, the fire burning his face.
Ensel continued, “Winter is probably their best option, if they can get through the mountains safely.”
Ice clinked against his glass as Eris took a sip of whiskey, grateful for the burning in his throat. “They might if they’re careful,” he finally replied.
Cold, brutal logic. It sat inside him despite the images that came to mind: motherless children climbing over boulders and through crevasses, males who had been too cowardly to stay and fight clinging to their lover’s hands.
Maybe he could help them. Maybe that was what Ensel wanted.
Silence. Unbearable, crackling silence.
“I sent a letter to them,” Eris heard himself say. “Before Beron moved us into Nivala.”
The silence only continued.
When he turned, the half-human still gazed into the fire, the light raging in his eyes.
He blamed him. Yet again, he blamed him. Even after seeing that he had done nothing.
—males stood along the treeline.—trees of oak, mahogany, chinar, and—
—swords hissed against their scabbards—
A pang of anger, of desperation. Eris leaned forward, set his whiskey down on the desk, and pushed himself off the armchair. “Those who did not wish to listen to me,” he quietly said, “walked into their deaths on their own fruition.” He prowled to the half-human, who remained standing with his hands tucked behind his back, eyes emotionless, chin tilted up in challenge.
When Eris stopped before him, Ensel’s arms slid from his back to hang at his sides. “Just like all the others before?” the male asked.
A curl of Eris’s lip.
Others. Yes, the countless others that Ensel somehow managed to remember every detail of. The faerie who also tried to rebel or simply speak out against Beron, only to be silenced.
Eris stood for a moment, steeling his frustration. “Why did you come here tonight?” he finally asked. “To turn your displeasure on me yet again? As if this isn’t a cycle that we have both experienced hundreds of times?”
A cycle you can stop.
Ensel’s voice hit the walls of Eris’s mind, but he ignored it. “I do what I can. We both do. And when we can do nothing, we simply stand by, watch, and plan for the next—”
“And every plan goes by and you continue to watch, my lord,” Ensel interrupted. “Or maybe even commit the act yourself. Just like the ones caught in a golden collar, bleeding in the jaws of your smokehounds, bleeding from your own whip—”
Another surge of anger shot in him. Eris didn’t realize he had lunged forward until he felt the coarse fabric of Ensel’s tunic in his fist. He gripped his tunic, pulling him closer...or maybe he wished to shove him away, or hit him, he did not know.
—Bodies crumbled and fell—wings and limbs and heads—
—the tip of his boot nudged a grey stone—
A smile, bitter and carnal with temptation, twitched on Ensel’s mouth, but his cruel words gratefully stopped as Eris held him by the shirt. They swayed together, lips close to touching. He swore he could hear the male’s heart pound under his fist, the heat under the tunic pooling against his forearm.
“I don’t wish to discuss this tonight,” Eris said quietly. He did not wish for them to exchange words at all besides the quiet moans and suppressed thoughts that always occurred during their trysts.
Ensel laughed, the deep timbre resounding through Eris’s whole body. “You go from trying to write away your guilt to saying you do not wish to speak of this?”
—the screaming rose higher and higher, above the burning canopy—
—the tip of his boot nudged a grey stone—
I am not guilty of anything. He wanted to say it. He should scream it in his face.
Instead, he retorted, “Is this not what we have always done? Snuck around, gone behind Beron’s back to point fingers and discuss plans, only to end with saying nothing at all?” He leaned forward, dragging the last words out like a quiet finger on bare skin.
A flicker in Ensel’s eyes: lust, then cold. “Yes,” he answered, his voice quiet. “Always.”
His hands—his soft, cursed hands—slid around Eris’s waist. Maybe he too, was unable to resist such temptations. A flex of his jaw, and his fingers tightened around Eris’s skin. “But if tonight comes and goes, my hope for discussing this later will fade,” Ensel softly added.
Eris would have asked what he wished to discuss, even though he already knew. What did you wish to rip apart with your pointless teeth? This rotting flesh we both so often share, the flesh and bone of politics, Beron’s cruelty and rage…why do you constantly point out this fucking stain that is so impossible to avoid?
But he didn’t even want to give the male the opportunity to make it worse. “There is nothing to discuss.”
A muscle in Ensel’s jaw twitched with amusement. “I suppose you wish for the silent part of our trysts then?” He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down Eris’s spine. “The fire is still hot and cruel upon our skin, our hair smells of ash and death…and you wish to fuck a half-breed because it’ll make you feel better? It’ll make you forget the cruelty and pain?”
—ash choked the sky—
—nudged a grey stone—
His half-mortal hands, so cold compared to a High Fae’s fire, slid under his tunic, brushing over his bare skin. Eris’s grip tightened around the fabric of his shirt, his knuckles brushes so close to his gold collar.
Ensel leaned closer, their lips nearly brushing. “You know it won’t,” he murmured. “It’ll only make this stain you wish to avoid fester and grow.”
“Do not get into my head.”
A small smile, so close to Eris’s lips that he could practically feel it. “Your thoughts bleed when you’re desperate. But I’m sure you already know that, given how often I trained you against it.”
He stared into Ensel’s Hel-colored eyes. The smooth greys and browns, the muted greens.
Yes, he knew how he bled, and he fucking hated it. He did not want the guilt—the useless fucking guilt—to rise back up within him, to spill out like some guttural wound.
Though despite everything he threw at him, Ensel was the same.
Lucien eats box until he’s a crying, overstimulated mess and cumming in his pants just from giving you pleasure and he’s thanking you for letting him please you like “Oh beautiful oh my sweet girl thank you so so so much, you taste so good-“
Eris eats box to make YOU a crying, overstimulated mess who can’t stop cumming and you’re begging him to stop and he’s all just “I know, I know. Just one more my love, I know you can do it.”
Sometimes you write something that makes it feel like you’ve caught the character like an insect. Like when you pin a butterfly to a board to study it.
Hey - tag game. post a time when you "got" it. Like a section of your fic when you got that character down like a bug and you're proud of yourself. :)))))
It was absolutely fun to read through my work without being critical!
Sooo I think one of the parts of Bound to You that I’m most proud of is the very first section of Gilded Cage, not only did I feel like I got Eris but also Beron. Although, I do love writing Beron.
The section I’m talking about is below so no one has to go digging for it…😘
Ella
Ella sat next to Eris in one of the matching over-sized wing-backed chairs in Lord Beron's private office.
His office had the earthy scent of the Autumn forest but his dark furniture that made Ella feel like they would be sitting in pitch black if it wasn't for the fireplace on the wall adjacent to where they sat.
His office was a complete contrast to her bedchambers. The sunlight filtering through her large windows had made her room so bright and warm earlier that morning. She had situated furs on the floor beside her vanity and sat with Eris’s smoke-hound in the cozy beams of light.
Beron's office was cold, even with the roaring fire and it hadn’t taken long for that coldness to seep into Ella’s bones.
She and Eris had been summoned midday by the High Lord of Autumn to settle the details of their betrothal. Eris had retrieved her from her bedchamber and winnowed them to the hallway outside Beron's quarters of Forest House.
As soon as they reached their destination, Ella had let go of Eris's hand and turned away from him to hide the unsettling feeling she had from winnowing. She held her hand to her mouth as if it would keep her from puking when Beron's troll-like valet led them into the room they sat in now. She could already tell the valet was someone she wasn't going to like and glared at the back of his head as she followed him.
"Do you need a governess to teach you the expectations of a High Lord's consort?" Beron asked her now, sitting his inkquill down and looking up from the parchment that was on his desk. His voice held a mocking tone that made her have to bite back her anger.
On the desk in front of her, Beron had been writing up the terms of their arrangement, something that only a few short months ago, her father would have been a part of. Now, Ella was certain that her mother had made her fair share of demands. What did she finally ask for in the end? Money? Power? Political gain?
She kept her face indifferent as she lifted her eyes from the parchment to his, willing herself to keep the hostility she felt inside.
The answer to his question was no. Her mother had been planning this her entire life and Ella knew exactly what was expected of her. She could remember sitting with a governess for hours as a young fae receiving such lessons.
She had been taught everything from how to oversee a noble household, to proper Autumn etiquette and how to present herself appropriately, to socializing with the members of court and interacting with potential suitors.
And yes, there were specific lessons on how to be a High Lord's consort. Even back then, Ella had found them to be nonsensical. She never understood why she needed such meticulous lessons on royal protocols or customs of other territories in Prythian.
When she was given instruction as to how she would appear to the Autumn public, she remembered snickering when her governess insisted she learn how to wave properly.
"No, my lord. I was well prepared for my new future. I understand my responsibilities." Ella kept her hands clasped in her lap.
"Good. So, we can trust your little outburst yesterday was from the shock of being given such an honor as to marry the Heir to the Autumn Court?" Beron sat back in his chair, crossing his left ankle over his right knee.
Ella bit the inside of her cheek. Yes, being forced into a loveless marriage to the male next to her was an...honor.
"Yes, my lord."
"And we can trust that you will be more...obedient?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Good, Eris is to be High Lord one day. He doesn't have the time to walk you to every destination in Forest House because you refuse to winnow." Beron scolded.
Ella wrung her hands in her lap as she felt the residual anger from yesterday smoldering within her, trying to reignite. Of course. Eris probably complained to his father about her unwillingness to winnow.
"Of course not. I understand." She nodded at Beron before turning towards Eris. "I apologize for my insolence, Lord Eris. It won't happen again." She said peeking up at him, only to meet amber eyes that seemed to flare to life at her submissive words. She wanted to throw her fist, or at the very least an insult, his way but refrained from doing either.
From now on we winnow and I vomit all over you.
"I am sure the excitement from yesterday had you close to swooning. I believe I can pardon your infantile actions just this once," he answered.
There was a cold smugness in his tone and expression that told Ella this was a completely different male than the one that had sided with her yesterday. Today, Eris appeared to be more agreeable with Beron. After the way she treated him yesterday, she probably deserved it.
"Thank you for your patience, my prince. I will do my best to perform my duties and be the consort you desire," she told him.
The way Eris's gaze darkened as he sat back further in his chair and looked her over told her he was going to tear her apart the first time she gave him what he desired. She shivered at the thought of the last time she had watched him leave a party with a female on each arm. The hideous rumors of how he treated them had swirled through the court for months afterwards.
Ella knew she was never going to be enough to satisfy him. But what vile things would he do to her until he reached that conclusion?
Even his brothers had made comments that he saw her as a challenge. What would he do to her after he realized she wasn't this grand prize he had won? She dropped her gaze from his, not wanting him to be able to read her face.
"It shouldn't be too hard," Beron said, sliding the parchment across his desk to his son. Ella's eyes flicked up to the High Lord's and then to the document on his desk.
Eris sat forward in his chair and Ella couldn't help but notice the amount of money her mother was gaining from her union with Eris.
She watched as her betrothed tapped two of his long slender fingers against the desk as he quickly scanned the document. He used the quill to sign his name and slide it back to his father. He hadn't even flinched at the obscene amount of money the Vanserras were spending on her.
He sat back, his eyes studying her again. Was he assessing if she was worth the amount they were paying?
They weren't even going to ask her to read over the agreement. There was no need. She would be told what was expected of her. The point of this meeting was simply to show her how helpless she was now that she belonged to them. To him.
"To put it in a nutshell, you are to be his silent consort when in public and spread your legs so he can fuck you like a brothel whore in private."
Eris smirked and lifted his eyebrows at her. He moved his hand so that his index finger rested on his temple, his thumb under his jaw, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair so he could stare her down. His other hand rested on the opposite chair arm, his fingers drumming along the edge. The golden rings on his index and middle fingers glimmered in the fire light, causing Ella to notice how long and slender his fingers were.
She felt her stomach twist at the thought of him touching her but fought to keep her wits about her. Beron's words had given her an idea.
"Once we're married, of course," Ella said coolly, turning her head and looking at the High Lord of Autumn again. She immediately felt the magic from her words wrap around her like a toasty blanket.
Beron's eyes snapped from the parchment on his desk to hers.
"Of course,” he echoed through clenched teeth, glancing sideways at Eris. Ella's eyes followed. The Prince of Autumn continued to look at her with an amused smirk, not even acknowledging his father being in the room with them.
She needed to refrain from saying anything more. Although she was irked enough, she didn't need to be struck again today. Her point had been made to both males in the room and she could feel the friction she had caused.
As soon as she spoke the words, Ella had been protected by the Spell of Chastity. The ancient spell could be summoned by any unwed female, even those without magic, and essentially prevented the male she was betrothed to from touching her until their wedding night. Eris would have to wait to have his way with her until after their vows were said.
Her anger immediately flared at the sound of the snicker that came from Eris.
"Of course,” he repeated. "So sweet and pure. We wouldn't want to ruin your virtue,” he taunted with a snort. The sound of his laughter alone was enough to make Ella's blood boil and she quickly lost the self-control she had struggled so hard to keep in check.
"I suppose I am compared to you! Tell me, are there any requirements for the females you take to bed other than having legs to spread?" she sneered.
His laugh sounded like silk but she knew it was laced with venom.
"Yes, they also need to act like a lady instead of a common prig. Maybe you need those lessons after all,” he drawled.
She huffed a laugh.
"I'd rather be a prig than a pig. Lord Beron, may I also request a healer look him over for any venereal diseases before our wedding night?" Ella asked as she glared at Eris. His eyes glowed as if fire burned in them but his smug grin remained in place.
Beron snorted. "It sounds like you two are already married! My Ella, you are a feral little bitch, aren't you?" he asked as he stood and carefully rolled up the marriage contract.
Ella's jaw clenched and she averted her eyes to her lap again, willing herself to calm down. She had to stop letting them rile her. Letting Eris rile her.
"You're very clever, my girl. The Spell of Chastity will protect you from any advances by Eris until after the wedding. However, there are other ways to break a female," Beron continued as he walked around the desk.
Ella felt dread form in the pit of her stomach. What would the Vanserras do to her to make her obey?
"I must take my leave to attend business elsewhere. Eris, I trust this issue will be resolved when we speak again?" Ella didn't raise her eyes to watch Beron as he walked behind his heir.
"Yes, father." She also didn't have to look up to feel Eris's eyes burning into her.
"You have your hands full, son. But she will be worth the wait,” Beron said, squeezing his shoulder before continuing toward the exit.
Ella looked up and bared her teeth at Eris.
"Indeed. She will be fun to break," he said standing and moving so he was next to her. He looked down at her with a condescending sneer and caressed her cheek with his thumb. Ella flinched but didn't pull away. She was tempted to bite him.
"The priestesses are suggesting the ceremony be held on the Autumn Equinox," Beron added.
"Thank you, father. She will make the perfect bride and when I am done with her, the perfect consort." He nodded at his father before leaning down and resting his forehead against hers much like he had the night they had danced. He tangled his hand in her hair, and Ella prepared for the worst.
Beron's smile was nothing short of wicked as he exited the room, his boots thumping against the wooden floor in his wake.
Eris sighed and looked her straight in the eyes. He was so close that she felt like she was crossing her eyes to look back at him. His masculine scent of forest and warm spices made her feel heady. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You can't speak like that in front of him!" he hissed quietly before releasing her.
Ella pulled her face away from his. "What is wrong with me? You're the one who started it!" she huffed. Two of his long slender fingers brushed against her cheek, bringing her face close to him again.
"Ella, he expects me to act that way," he said lowly into her ear, his breath hot on her skin. "I didn't mean what I said about..."
"Save it! I don't care what you meant. Just take me back to my room!" She finally lifted her arms, planting her hands firmly against his chest and shoving him away. She barely moved him.
He looked at her for a long moment.
"Okay," he whispered finally as he gently tucked his hand into hers and winnowed them away.
I hate you shipping discourse I hate you unnecessarily aggressive DNI banners I hate you dehumanization of those you disagree with I hate you harassment over ships or favorite characters I hate you purposeful lack of nuance I hate you false equivalencies I hate you policing how people engage in fandom I hate you actively trying to make fandom spaces hostile I hate you refusal to filter your feed I hate you making it everyone else’s problem
