laur⁴⁴⁴

iris: transitive word--to make iridescent

[laursdomain]

꒰ঌ ໒꒱ “i must learn to be content with being happier than i deserve”

she/her. twenty. cabin thirteen. mentally iris winnow. bodhi durran’s princess. cherry baby girl. roman kitt's darling. bruce wayne's adopted daughter. eris vanserra's angel.

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[laursdomain]

Hey i don’t know if your request are open, but i would really like more stories for Garrick (fourth wing) Maby something with him falling in love with a fem healer reader and keeping it secret and the others are supriesd when they find out or basically anything else! Also love your stories❤️

secret girlfriend

pairing: garrick tavis x fem!reader

genre: fluff

synopsis: You are Garrick Tavis’ favorite and best secret. None of his friends, especially not his best friend, knows he has been dating a healer for the past year. It’s not until you two secretly take a walk in the middle of the night that you become discovered, forcing Garrick to face the people he’s been lying to.

warnings: protective!garrick, established relationship, cursing, takes place in FW, bff!bodhi, xaden broods

w/c: 2.1k

ྀིྀིྀིgarrick tavis masterlist

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

If there is one thing Garrick Tavis is a professional at, it is keeping secrets. Knowing that Xaden is helping lead a revolution when their parents for condemned for leading a rebellion is one of his best kept secrets. Alongside partaking in said revolution while actively maintaining a leadership position at Basgiath.

Though, those two secrets are far from his favorite ones. His favorite secret was you. 

It started his second year, when he got brutally beaten up during RSC interrogations. Alongside the other marked ones in his year, he refused to allow Nolan to heal him so he could not see into his mind. So, he opted for another healer to tend to his wounds the old-fashioned way.

That healer just so happened to be you. 

It was your first year as a healer, and Garrick could tell. Your stitches were not perfect, but your bedside manner made up for it. Garrick could not help but be ecstatic when he had to go to the Healer quadrant for whatever reason. Either it be to deliver someone or to be tended to himself, he looked forward to seeing you. 

“Tavis,” Xaden barks out, suddenly taking Garrick out of his head.

His gaze snaps to his best friend, Xaden was unamused. “Yes?”

“Where will you be tonight?” Xaden questions, making it obvious of what he is about to ask his friend.

Garrick mentally groaned, he had promised to spend the night with you once your healer duties were all done. He had already blown you off twice because of his duties with the revolution, and he knew he could not get away with it for a third time without coming clean. 

“Whatever you’re going to ask me to do, have Bodhi do it.” Garrick grumbles, folding his arms over his chest.

“This would be a mission both of you have to do,” Xaden retorts, cocking a brow. “What is so important that you can’t do it?”

Garrick rolls his eyes, refusing to answer Xaden’s question. “Bodhi is perfectly capable of handling it himself. If you refuse to entrust him with something he can handle, go with him yourself or send Imogen.”

“Imogen has her responsibilities within her squad,” Xaden bites back.

“Right,” Garrick says, recalling the meeting Xaden had with him, Imogen, Bodhi, and Liam after Threshing. “Liam is to be her personal bodyguard while Imogen is supposed to spend every waking moment training her.”

“You’re not answering my question,” Xaden says, narrowing his eyes. It’s impossible to lie to Xaden Riorson, he can easily tell when Garrick is lying. Simply because he’s known him since they were children. 

“I have…plans,” Garrick weakly responds, looking away from the intense stare of his friend.

“Oh my gods,” Xaden chuckles, “you have a date tonight don’t you?”

“Shut up,” Garrick grumbles, glaring at Xaden. It’s no use, he’s already shaking his head in amusement. Of course the bastard thinks it’s funny.

“Who’s the poor rider you convinced this time?” Xaden levels a look at Garrick, pure curiosity gleaning in his onyx eyes.

“None of your concern,” Garrick bites out, refusing to tell him that you’re a healer.

Xaden rolls his eyes, smirking at his best friend. “Fine, I’ll go with Bodhi tonight. I hope this girl is worth it.” 

With that, Xaden walks away, blending into the shadows as he always does. Garrick releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, turning to head towards the bridge that lead to the healers. 

He hated keeping secrets from his friends, but if they found out that he, the rider that is notorious for sleeping with every woman in the quadrant, has an actual girlfriend—they would never let him live it down.

Garrick wouldn’t mind it, in fact, he’d endure it just for you. But he could never find the perfect time to tell Xaden and Bodhi. There was always something going on, never a moments peace for him to inform them. 

He’s grateful for being a distance wielder, easily using his ability to land in front of your door in milliseconds. Of course, you don’t know about his second signet—only Xaden and Bodhi do. If anyone else found out, he would be murdered. It is not that he doesn’t trust you, he just worries someone will take advantage and comb through your mind for that information. 

Like Nolan.

The light rasping on the door brings you out of your thoughts. You easily recognize the hand on the other side of the door, whipping your door open to reveal your boyfriend. You smile up at him, letting him engulf you in a hug as he kicks your door shut. 

His arms wrap tightly around your waist, hauling you up until you are eye level with him. Your feet dangle in the air, arms wrapping around his neck as he smiles tenderly at you.

“Hi,” you giggle, hands combing through the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Garrick greets, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

You close your eyes in contentment, happy to be in his arms after a long day of healing. He litters kisses all over your face, finally landing on your lips. His lips are soft and gentle against your own, his kiss easily rejuvenates you. You smile into the kiss, tilting your head to deepen it. 

Garrick pulls away for a second, “I missed you.” 

You giggle, “I missed you more.”

He groans, head falling back, “you’ve got to stop saying that, because I hate when your wrong.” 

You shake your head in disbelief at him, playfully rolling your eyes. Garrick sets you down, easily letting you lead him to your bed. When he finally sprawls out on the bed, you climb atop of him, resting your head against his strong heartbeat. Silence coats over you comfortably, but something nags at you.

“Garrick?” You whisper out, hearing him hum out in acknowledgment. “When will you tell your friends about us?”

Garrick stills at your question, carefully choosing his words. “I just can never seem to find the right time.”

You laugh at the idiocy of his words, how could he not find an appropriate time? “What does that mean? What would be the right time?”

Garrick goes silent, contemplating on his answer. Of course, you don’t know about what your boyfriend truly does in the riders quadrant. You have no idea he is apart of a revolution—you have no idea that he is being treacherous every day. 

“You’d be surprised with how off-topic we get,” Garrick says, hoping you’ll buy into his lie. 

You hum out, acknowledging his words. Truthfully, you didn’t fully believe him, but you would not pressure him to tell you anything until he was ready to. You didn’t fully understand everything that went on in the riders quadrant, so it must be related to that. 

Garrick suddenly sits up, taking you with him. “Lets go on a walk.”

You raise a brow, “but curfew.”

He narrows his eyes at you, “you’ve snuck out plenty of times. What is stopping you now?” 

You press your lips together, knowing he has a point. Sighing out, you agree, shuffling off your bed to put on your boots. Your thankful you hadn’t washed up for the night, you had simply stayed in the light gray pants and blue long-sleeved tunic you wear under your robes. 

Garrick tugs you through the abandoned quarters quietly, making sure to not make a noise to not wake anyone up. The last thing you needed was everyone knowing you were awake and that you had a guest over. 

There was a breeze outside, the cold air caressing your skin. Garrick keeps a firm arm wrapped around your waist, his large arm practically covering your entire stomach. You secretly loved the difference, the way he could easily manhandle you without even trying. 

You two were simply walking the length of the bridge, taking your time to occasionally stop and look up at the stars. Nobody was around at this hour, especially not on the bridge. Neither of you had any worries that somebody would catch you. 

Or so you thought.

“Garrick? Is that you?” A deep voice startles the two of you a little halfway through the bridge. You two had just stopped to look at the stars again, and now your boyfriend was deadly still next to you.

You two turn, and you squint your eyes to make out who is speaking beyond the shadows. Two figures emerge, the two looking awfully alike until it registers in your mind. It is Xaden Riorson and Bodhi Durran.

You have never seen Xaden in the healers quadrant, but you’ve seen Bodhi plenty. He had the habit of getting injures, especially during this year. Plus, you had the honor of having him report to you for his morning duties with the healers during his first year. While you have heard the rumors that they look alike, you didn’t think it would be this uncanny. 

“Who is this?” Xaden questions, cocking a brow at you.

“I thought you two were off doing something else,” Garrick bites out, speaking with his eyes to his friends. They are supposed to be doing a supply run, not wandering around on the quadrant bridges. 

“We decided not to,” Bodhi goes along with the cryptic wording, silently telling Garrick that Xaden changed his mind for whatever reason. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Xaden says, reiterating what he spoke of half an hour ago.

Garrick swallows, hand flexing against your waist. It is obvious with the position the two of you are in that Xaden knows you are the girl he’s taking out on a date. He’s probably assuming that you are there for a good fuck, not that you are dating Garrick. 

“Hi, Y/N,” Bodhi finally says, ignoring the stalemate between his cousin and friend. 

Xaden whips his head towards his cousin, looking between the two of you as you finally speak, “hi Bodhi.”

“You know her?” Xaden questions, now glaring at his younger cousin.

Bodhi rolls his eyes, “I had morning duties here first year. I had to report to her during my morning duty. She’s also occasionally tended to my injuries.”

“How’s your arm doing?” His words force you to remember his visit last week, he had a brutal dagger wound in his forearm. He was lucky to not have severed any of his veins. 

“Better,” he assures, rolling up the sleeve of his flight jacket to show the healing wound. 

“This is Y/N,” Garrick begins, tightening his grip on you slightly, “my girlfriend.”

You lightly smile at his words, being referred to ask such never fails to make you smile. Bodhi has a bright and excited look written on his face, clearly happy to see his friend happy with his person. Xaden, on the other hand, looks unamused.

“How long have you two been together?” Bodhi questions, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Since last year,” you say this time, watching as Xaden snaps his gaze to you. 

“A year?” Xaden says, watching as Garrick nods in head in confirmation. “You’ve kept this a secret for a year?”

Bodhi chuckles, elbowing his cousin, “don’t brood because someone actually managed to keep a secret from you.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, glaring at Bodhi to be quiet. Bodhi just rolls his eyes, finding amusement in the way Xaden is acting.

Xaden looks at you, analyzing everything about it. It felt as if he was boring into your soul, finding out everything about you with one look. He sighs out, eyes falling on Garrick once again, “don’t fuck it up.” Without another word, Xaden turns around, walking back towards the riders quadrant. 

“Did he just,” Garrick trails off, brows furrowed as he watches his best friend become smaller.

“Wow,” Bodhi says, looking between the couple, “I expected him to be more mad.”

“Seriously, Bodhi?” Garrick gives him a deadpanned look, in which the younger boy just gives a sheepish look.

“Bodhi!” Xaden calls after him, beckoning him.

Bodhi becomes pale, realizing the duties he has to tend to with his cousin. “Have fun, don’t forget to use protection!”

Garrick goes to shout after his friend, but Bodhi is already launching himself towards his cousin, laughing in amusement at Garrick’s reaction. You laugh at him, knowing Bodhi’s humorous antics too well whenever he visits you.

“That went a lot better than I thought it would,” Garrick mumbles out, watching as his friends disappear into the dark of the night.

You snort, “did you really think Xaden Riorson would kill you for having a girlfriend?”

“Don’t underestimate him,” Garrick retorts, beginning the walk back to your dormitory. The two of you have been out for quite some time now, he knew you needed your sleep for tomorrows responsibilities.

Comfort falls over you and your boyfriend easily, though you find immense pleasure in teasing Garrick of how he expected Xaden to reaction. You joking said you would ask Bodhi to tell you all his most embarrassing moments, earning a groan from your boyfriend.

You didn’t mind being a secret, but gods, were you excited to gang up on your boyfriend with his friends.

Maybe, just maybe, Xaden will let Garrick tell you the truth about everything.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

[ohtaintedlove]

February Ship Challenge 7/28

Naley↠ One Tree Hill (2003-2012)

Nathan Scott and Haley James Scott

"Now don't say that you never gave me anything. Cause you have. You've given me an amazing life and I do love you."

[laursdomain]

Emotions Ablaze: Burning Stares

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x OC

Synopsis: The Court of Nightmare's ball oficially commences, alongside the plan for Nesta to seduce Eris in marriage. Despite her own internal protests, Verena goes along with the plan, watching as the fae she taught seduce her mate. Many feelings come ablaze, nearly putting Verena and Eris at risk.

Warnings: cursing, takes place in ACOSF, Mor critical

W/C: 5.2k

Read on AO3!

Or read below the cut!

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

Chapter 9 | Masterlist | Chapter 11

Rhysand clearly does not know me, because teaching is not my forte. 

On the bright side, Nesta is a natural at seducing. If she were not seducing my mate, I think I would be significantly prouder of her. Nonetheless, I am still somewhat proud of her. Having to be in proximity with Mor these past two weeks to teach Nesta without mentioning her lies is not easy. 

Pretending is my deadliest weapon, and I have been wielding it against Mor. 

“I think you are ready,” I mutter once Nesta demonstrates all the moves I taught her, her face contorting ever-so-slightly in a seductive way. 

“Eris Vanserra won’t know what hit him,” Mor sneers, smirking at Nesta. My friend had declared earlier that Nesta had completely mastered all the dances, completely ready for her act tonight. 

Mor underestimates my mate. She has no idea that the Cauldron has decided he belongs with someone else, someone that is not Nesta. That he belongs with me. Cassian would be content with that–actually, he would be ecstatic about it. 

Nesta dismisses herself to get ready, Mor and I will have to join her in a bit to escort her to Hewn City. I follow suit, feeling Mor on my trail as I lead the way to our chambers–the ones we have been forced to share due to the full house. 

“What dress are you going to wear?” Mor asks once I open my closet doors, flicking through the various garments. 

“I’m not sure,” I hum out, I am not quite sure what color I want to wear. Would it even matter, though? It is not like Eris can dance with me tonight, when I have trained Nesta to keep him occupied all night long. 

The mere thought of my mate being seduced by another female causes me to stiffen. 

“Let me help you?” Mor asks, a soft expression molded into her face once I turn. It reminds me of all the other times she has helped me pick out outfits for balls and parties, before there were too many lies between us. 

Just pretend.

“Please,” I lightly chuckle, stepping aside as she takes my place, shuffling through the dresses. 

I take a seat at the chest at the end of the bed, waiting for her to reveal her chosen dress. It takes Mor a few minutes before she decides on a dress, pulling it out of the closet. She reveals it to me, grinning at me as she silently persuades me to wear it. 

Within the next hour, Mor and I are dressed and heading towards Nesta’s chambers to escort her. Mor settled on her signature red, the dress revealing yet beautiful on her figure as her blonde hair cascades down her back in large, voluminous curls. Her large heels sound against the floor, letting everyone know who was arriving. 

As for my dress, I obliged to the one Mor picked out. Instead of my usual green or black, tonight I am wearing a blue dress. It has a square neckline, accentuating my chest and waist from the corset-like bodice. The skirt is simple as well, but that is to not take away from the main accessory. 

Originally, I was simply going to pair it with a diamond belt, but at the last minute, Mor convinced me to sport a sheer scarf, the material laying gingerly against the front of my neck as it lays behind my shoulders–almost like a cape. The scarf is not long, ending at my waist. 

My loose curls are tucked into a bun, a handful of curled pieces decorating the front of my face. The hairstyle is loose yet sturdy, courtesy of the multitude of pins sticking in my scalp. 

Mor pushes open the door to Nesta’s room, the female sitting with her back to us as the twins finish up her hair. “You look gorgeous.”

Nesta Archeron is already a beautiful fae. But tonight, she is breathtaking. 

“Beautiful,” I compliment, walking towards her once the twins dismiss themselves. 

“Beautiful enough to seduce Eris?” Nesta questions, earning a smirk from Mor. I go along with it, feigning agreement as Mor places a beautiful necklace around Nesta’s neck. The diamonds will steal everyone's attention, especially Eris’. 

Though, as Mor gets lost in her speech to Nesta, I cannot help but notice how worried she looks. She seems unsettled and almost burdened by her responsibilities tonight. I cannot say I blame her. Perhaps a part of her is affectionate towards Cassian, and does not want to part with him just yet. 

If Eris proposes to Nesta, I can only pray she will say no. 

I conceal my nerves and dread as Mor winnows Nesta and I to Hewn City, meeting the rest of our family in Rhys’ private quarters. We had a plan, a grand entrance, as Feyre likes to call it. Mor and I assume our positions in front of Cassian and Azriel, the two Illyrians guarding our backs. 

The four of us enter, allowing Mor to slightly lead us towards where Keir and the remainder of his wretched family waits. Her father instantly scowls at her, though the expression feeds Mor rather than deterring her. I focus on Keir’s rage and anger emanating from his body, slightly heightening it in Mor’s favor. 

Azriel and Cassian guard both sides of the closed threshold as Mor and I approach, and I refuse to look towards Eris, who is sat right next to Keir. I can feel his eyes burning into me, his eyes raking down my body as he takes in the dress I chose tonight. I can feel anger at his core, probably because my dress matches Azriel’s siphons. 

The same way Mor’s matches Cassian’s.

Before Keir can open his blubbering mouth to spew a remark at Mor, the two of us step to the side, the double-doors pushing open to reveal our High Lord and High Lady.

Rhys emanates a black hole, willing to consume and destroy anyone and anything that crosses his path. Feyre, on the other hand, emanates power and beauty. Tonight was about announcing her pregnancy, and the panels she wears tonight does little to conceal anything. I will never understand how her and Mor can wear such revealing dresses and not feel uncomfortable. Especially with the disgusting faes in Hewn City. 

Satisfaction fills my body the way Keir’s face drops. He had not expected the two to be expecting the future High Lord of the Night Court, not this soon, at least. He conceals it far too late, forcing a neutral expression on his face. I sneak a glance at Eris, watching as his eyes glitter in either amusement or amazement–perhaps both.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” Keir finally says, keeping his voice neutral as he speaks to Feyre and Rhys.

“That would be most obvious, Keir,” Rhys is full of male pride, smirking at his uncle. Feyre nods in acknowledgment, refusing to waste her words on him. They breeze past him, taking their seats on their thrones. 

Elain and Nesta enter next, and I frown at Elain. The second Archeron sister is a beautiful fae as well, but black is not her color. She drowns in the dark colors, causing her to look sullen and corpse-like rather than breathtaking and rejuvenating. 

As much as I love her presence in Velaris, she does not belong in the Night Court. Not because she doesn’t get along with us–she does–but simply because she does not thrive in our dark court. She would thrive somewhere such as Summer, Spring, or Day. 

Nesta tilts her chin up, using every piece of advice I have given her. She saunters into the room as if she owns it, keeping her eyes hooded as she looks at nobody in particular. Her and Elain stand opposite to Mor and I, obediently standing close to their youngest sister. 

“Let the festivities begin,” Feyre announces with a snap of her hands, delicacies and wine appearing on the tables. Music begins, the sound lively and beautiful. It is only a matter of time before Feyre re-introduces Eris to Nesta and officially introduces Elain. 

“Eris,” Rhys calls, watching as the Autumn male enters their space. “Thank you for accepting our invite as our guest-of-honor.”

“It is my honor,” Eris curtly bows, paying his congratulations to Rhys and Feyre.

“Have I introduced you to my sister, Elain?” Feyre gestures to Elain, who gives a practiced tight smile. 

The plan for Elain is to be seen as plain, which in all honesty, she was far from it. While being mated to his youngest brother would pose as a reason to propose to her, Elain wasn’t up for being the female sold off. 

Not that I blamed her.

“You must be my youngest brother's mate,” Eris comments, amusingly observing her.

Elain shrinks under his gaze, not expecting to have been referred to as such, but she just offers a smile in return.

“And you remember Nesta, of course,” Feyre sighs, nudging her head towards her eldest sister. 

Nesta lightly glares at Eris, playing the perfect act of hard to get. An act I play like it’s second nature. Eris holds out his hand, in which Nesta begrudgingly obliges, allowing Eris to place a swift kiss on the front of her hand. It takes all my willpower to not grind my teeth out of anger, maintaining my poise of uninterest. 

“Feel free to dance with either of them,” Feyre offers, eyes glittering with stars. 

Eris grins, nodding his head in understanding. I did not think he would actually take her up on the offer, but it took no less than five minutes for Nesta to be swept to the floor by him. I dismiss myself, lingering near the back of the ballroom, nursing my goblet of wine. 

Nesta dances with elegance that exceeds what Mor taught her. The female wasn’t lying when she said she was perfect. It is like she is a natural–her body became one with the music, using Eris for specific moves. All the while, I can feel the amazement from him. 

“You’re practically setting the entire floor on fire,” Cassian comments. I jump, not realizing he has joined me in my sulking. He is sulking as well, he is terrible at hiding his feelings for Nesta.

I snort, “I am surprised you haven't tried to kill Eris yet.”

“If Feyre didn’t forbid me from doing so, his head would be on a platter,” Cassian snarls, folding his arms over his chest. His red siphons glow, practically begging to be used. 

“Do you think he’ll ask for her hand in marriage?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me.

“I hope not,” Cassian admits, eyes glazing with sadness. “She may hate me, but I can’t imagine not having her in my life.”

I nod, understanding his feelings. “For your sake, I hope he doesn’t.” For my sake as well. Though I cannot tell my friend that, we seem to have a mutual understanding–we both don’t want Nesta to wed herself to Eris. 

Cassian looks over, smiling, “thank you, Verena. You’re a good friend.” 

With that, Cassian walks away, resuming his patrol of the room. My gaze instantly falls on my mate, watching as his eyes glitter at Nesta. It makes me remember when we danced at Winter Court’s ball–had he looked at me the same way?

Surely not, because I cannot dance like Nesta Archeron. No, everyone in this room is looking at her, almost in a trance by her movements. 

A mixture of pride and anger swirled in my chest. I want her to succeed in this, especially since she has been working so hard since Feyre condemned her to the House. But, on the other hand, a part of me wanted to keep Eris all for myself.

Am I selfish for thinking this way? I must be, because I have prayed to the Mother too many times in the past two weeks that Eris will not fall for her tricks. For the tricks that I taught her. 

After what seems like forever, Azriel finally interrupts the dance, sharing the floor with Nesta. Eris allows it, stepping off to take a much needed break. I can already sense him looking for me, and I instinctively want to run. I turn towards the wall, reaching for more wine, freezing once I feel him.

I turn once my goblet is refilled, noticing the intense burn from his eyes. His amber eyes flare with heat, but he does not say a word as he extends his hand to me. 

He cannot possibly dance with me tonight. He is supposed to be occupied with Nesta all night. 

I raise a brow, “can I help you with something, Vanserra?” 

Here, under the gaze of all my friends, I must play the part they believe is real. That I want nothing to do with the heir to Autumn Court, that I feel the same hatred for him as the rest of my friends do.

Too bad they do not know the truth.

“Dance with me,” he breathes out, eyes silently begging me. I secretly wish he would have called me by my designated nickname, Wildfire, but I know he cannot. Not here.

“You don’t wish to rest? I am sure Nesta will want to dance more once Azriel is done with her,” I comment, doing my best to convince him otherwise.

Unfortunately for me, my mate is stubborn. He just narrows his eyes, refusing to take no for an answer. Finally, I sigh out, feigning annoyance as I gingerly place my hand in his, allowing him to guide me to the floor. 

Azriel gives me a questioning gaze upon seeing us, but I give him a look that tells him enough–I would fill him in later. Eris places a warm hand against the small of my back, bringing back memories of weeks ago when we danced for the first time together. 

We flow with the music, a Night Court speciality playing throughout the room. I refuse to back away from Eris’ gaze, the two of us locked on an intense staring contest. His hand flexes against my back, the movement sending a shiver down my spine. 

It takes everything in me to keep my mask in place, because I can feel my friends staring as Eris and I glide across the ballroom. At this point, Cassian has taken Azriel’s place, forcing Nesta to dance with him after begging Mor to teach him how to properly dance.

It seems we both found our way to where we want to be tonight. 

The hand holding my own tightens ever-so-slightly, his own way of regaining my attention. There are too many unspoken words between us right now, and a part of me wishes he would drag me to his quarters so we can be alone. I can feel his emotions equating mine and I wish I could know what he is thinking. 

The music reaches its peak, Eris twirls me in sync with the other pairs on the floor. When he pulls me back in, he surprises me by dipping me, leaving my head inches from the floor when the music dramatically ends.

When I’m pulled back up, I am breathless. Our chests heave in sync, far too close that necessary. I instantly gain my senses, remembering where I am. I step out of his hold, curtly bowing my head as I silently dismiss myself. 

I force myself to walk off smoothly, keeping my steps slow as I find my way to refreshments, needing something to calm my racing heart. 

“That was an interesting spectacle,” a voice comments from behind me. I twirl around, taking in Mor’s unamused expression before me.

I chuckle, “he’s the guest of honor. Unfortunately, I have to play nice.”

“It seemed more than nice,” Mor accuses, narrowing her eyes at me.

I feign confusion, “I am not sure what you mean. I acted the way I do with any male I do not know.”

“Nesta is the one seducing him tonight.”

“I can assure you, Eris will still offer his hand.” I bite out, annoyed with the conversation.

“And if he doesn’t?” Mor questions, anger building up within her. 

I furrow my brows at her, confused at why she is so upset that I danced with Eris. She seemed upset at the mere thought that Nesta would not be offered marriage. Her intentions confuse me, because according to her, Eris is a “monster.” 

“What does it matter?” I question, raising my brow this time.

She swallows, eyes darting around. Without another word, she spins on her heel and makes a beeline to her original place near Rhys and Feyre. Weird. Mor has always had interesting intentions, but as of late, they have been different. I cannot quite place my finger on it, but it worries me that she seems eager to sell Nesta off. 

Nesta doesn’t even speak to her, why should she care?

Mor’s body language and words have consumed me this past hour. It bothers me that I cannot understand her intentions–I never have. She is a courtier after all, she should know how to conceal her true intentions when speaking to other nobles. But, whenever she is around me, it is almost like her facade drops. 

Does she want Nesta out of the Night Court for some reason? I could not fathom as to why she would want such a thing. It could not be out of love for Feyre, because our High Lady would be devastated if she had to depart from her sister, even if the two sisters are not close.

Most of my friends don’t truly see who Nesta is. I don’t mind her, not at all. She has a quiet strength, the type of strength that goes unnoticed by most. But that makes her stronger than most of us, a trait of hers that I respect. 

An arm nudges me, recognizing the familiar material of Azriel’s sleeve. I turn towards him, raising a brow, but he just nods towards the thrones. Right. I am needed as the night comes to an end. I approach, keeping my distance slightly as I take in what is being said by the group. 

“I hope you enjoyed yourself, Eris,” Rhys smoothly says, keeping a possessive hand on Feyre’s thigh.

Eris tracks the movement, expression not faltering, “I thoroughly enjoyed it, thank you.” He curtly bows his head in response, thoroughly demonstrating his respect for his allies.

“I must thank you for keeping my sister preoccupied, I am sure she had a wonderful time,” Feyre comments, offering a graceful smile to the Autumn male.

“Speaking of your sister,” Eris begins, and I hold my breath in anticipation. Dread fills my body as his next words fall out of his mouth, “I would like to marry her.”

I refuse to hear what comes out of Feyre’s mouth after that. I silently leave, going unnoticed by my other friends as I make a beeline to the doors, not caring if other faes see me. I am unsure if Azriel and Cassian spotted me, but to be quite frank, I do not give a fuck. 

I feel like I cannot breathe, desperately aching for air. The moment I cross the threshold, the cold air breathes into my skin, slightly rejuvenating me. I place two clammy hands on one of the tables against the walls, needing something to ground me.

It isn’t working.

How could Eris, who is mated to me, offer marriage to Nesta? Maybe I took too long to accept the bond. Perhaps I should have rejected it while I still had the courage, before I got stuck too deep in his fire. 

I am sure Feyre instantly gave her approval, maybe she did want to get rid of her sister. She does not mind having Elain around because she will not cause any issues and will not speak out against Feyre. But Nesta–Nesta has fire. She has courage, and she is not afraid to call anyone out on their bullshit. 

I take gulps of air, attempting to slow my heart, but it is no use.

Is this what heartbreak feels like?

ERIS

Feyre and Rhysand must think I am an idiot. If they thought that Nesta Archeron could seduce me into asking for her hand in marriage, they clearly do not deserve their power. I immediately saw through their plan, mostly because they could not keep their eyes off of Nesta, almost as if they were waiting for her to mess up. 

The highlight of my night was dancing with Verena. I know I shouldn’t have asked her to dance, it would most definitely expose us–but I didn’t find myself caring.

Let them find out. I’ll take my mate with me if they object to it.

After noticing the way Mor had a heated conversation with Verena after our dance, I knew we must have slipped up. I had no other choice but to give in to their plans, and simply pray that Nesta would object to it. 

“I would like to marry her,” I force the words out of my mouth, feigning love as I glance at Nesta. From the corner of my eye, I notice Verena slipping away rushedly, and a part of me wants to run after her. I force myself still, paying attention to Feyre and Rhysand.

“That would be most joyous,” Feyre’s eyes glitter, eager to begin planning a wedding.

Rhysand’s grip on her tightens slightly, “you have our blessing, as long as Nesta consents.” 

I look expectantly at the eldest Archeron sister, noticing how conflicted she seems. I hope she can read my intentions, that I want her to say no. A beat passes before she squares her shoulders, “I am flattered, but no thank you.”

I curtly nod my head, grinning at her. I hope she can feel my relief, but I know only Verena would be able to feel that. Speaking of my Wildfire, I need to find her. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” I announce, bowing once Feyre and Rhysand nod their heads in approval.

I briskly walk towards the doors, feeling our bond warming the closer I near the doors. I slip through them, instantly frozen from the sight before me. 

My mate, my Wildfire, my Verena, is slumped over a table as she struggles to breathe. I am not quite sure if she has any health problems, but I would have noticed them already, would I have not? We have danced twice together now, and she seemed unbothered by our excursion when she came to the forest. Fighting fearlessly in the War didn’t waver her strength either. 

I instantly move, acknowledging no other bodies in the hallway. My hands grip her shoulders–firm, yet gentle–as I turn her towards me. Her eyes flare open, taking too long to recognize me. It is almost as if she is stuck in her own mind, unable to escape. 

“Come back to me,” I whisper between us, hands moving to her waist as I pull her flush against me. In other circumstances, I would enjoy this position. Instead, worry fills my body as I watch her struggle to breathe.

I haphazardly unbutton the first couple of buttons on my shirt, revealing my bare skin underneath. I take her hand, placing it over my steadily beating heart. She seems to register it, her eyes focusing on her hand. “Breathe with me, Wildfire,” I whisper, placing my own hand against her racing heart. 

Her eyes dart up, green eyes distant as she nods. She struggles at first to breathe with me, but I keep whispering praises as her heart begins to slow down. “Eris,” she whispers, her voice raspy and hoarse from all the gasping she just did.

“There’s my Wildfire,” I whisper, resting my head against hers. She closes her eyes, finally calming her heart completely. Her hands rest against my chest, using me to ground herself. 

I become aware of how much of a risky spot we are in, but now that she is breathing normally, I make the decision to winnow us. We move to my guest quarters, the lavish chambers decorated in dark shades of black and purple. For once, I am grateful Keir offered me chambers to stay in for the night if I choose to. 

Her eyes are still closed, fingertips pressing into my bare skin. She’s still doing her breathing exercises, attempting to fully calm down her body and mind. I don’t think twice before dipping down, littering kisses along her cheeks until she fully returns to me. When she’s ready, she tilts her head back, peeling open her eyes. 

“Welcome back, Wildfire,” I whisper between us, watching as she takes in her surroundings. She instantly understands I winnowed us to a private area, responding by sighing out in relief.

“Shouldn’t you be with your new wife?” She questions, attempting to step out of my hold. 

My arms are like iron, refusing to let her become closed off for a conversation she didn’t hear conclude. 

“I am not marrying Nesta,” I firmly answer her, watching as her emerald eyes sharpen.

She raises a brow, “you asked for her hand.”

“And she said no.” 

She pauses at this, contemplating her next move. “Then why did you ask in the first place?”

I sigh out, “I saw the way Mor approached you. I assumed we might have exposed ourselves to her. While I don’t care when Mor finds out about us, I didn’t want to force your hand. So I went along with their little plan.”

She looks up at me suddenly, “you knew?”

I laugh, genuinely laugh, something I rarely do. “Did you really think I would have not realized what was happening when she was using your tricks? Besides, Nesta didn’t know my heart wanted nothing to do with her.” She nods in understanding, finally quitting her fighting to get out of my hold.

“Do you want to tell me what happened in the hallway? You don’t have to, but it might help to talk about it.”

She swallows, contemplating whether or not she wanted to confide in me. If she didn’t, I would not blame her. 

“I was upset that you had requested her hand in marriage,” she admits, her green eyes glazing with sadness. 

I tilt my lips up, selfishly happy she feels that way. I shouldn’t feel this way, especially because it caused her to have a panic attack, but I can’t seem to stop feeling this way. My feelings for her override any rational thought, as I didn’t think twice before taking any action possible to keep Mor away from finding us out.

“I didn’t think my body would react that way,” she whispers between us, her body relaxing under my hold. 

“It’s okay,” I soothe, running my hand up and down the back of her blue dress. 

When I first laid my eyes upon her, a sharp pang of jealousy went through my body at the color. I secretly wish she would sport red, especially Autumn Court red, but I know she will not until she is finally mine. I hated that she wore his color and not mine.

“Are you tired?” She silently nods in agreement, her eyes closed in content. “Will you let me stay with you tonight, here?”

She opens her eyes, green eyes staring into my own. They hold no emotion, just pure relief. She seems to debate for a moment, but after a beat, she gives in, “okay. But I don’t have any clothes.”

I easily find a solution for her, letting her use one of my buttoned shirts as her nightgown. She seemed to want to protest at first, but she must be too tired to argue. She willingly accepts it, finally leaving my arms to change in the connected bathchambers.

While she is gone, I make quick work of changing myself, settling on a pair of brown, loose linen pants and a white cotton tunic. As I am setting up the bed for her, the bath door opens, and I instinctively turn. 

I have imagined what she could look like in my clothing late at night, while she curls up with me in my bed. Of course, those were always dreams, but it being real–it did not compare. 

Verena looks beautiful in my shirt. I can only imagine how she would look if she were in my own chambers in Autumn. Or better yet, on my bed in my cabin. Her hair is unbound, her loose curls laying against her back and shoulders. She has wiped the paint that was previously decorating her face, showing her beautiful, natural skin underneath. 

She is the most beautiful fae I have ever laid eyes on.

I become aware that we are both silent, no doubt making her uncomfortable. She shifts on her feet, diverting her eyes to the painting on the wall.

I clear my throat, “you can have my bed, I will set up on the couch.” I jut my chin towards the awfully small couch near the threshold, earning a skeptical look from Verena. I would be cramped on the small piece of furniture, but I would rather it be me than her.

“Are you sure?” She mutters, folding her arms over her chest. It causes my shirt to ride up a bit, but I refuse to look south. “It’ll probably fit me better.”

“Nonsense,” I instantly retort, “I’ll be fine.”

She nods, watching as I take a pillow and two blankets with me to the couch. I fumble for a moment to find a comfortable position for myself, but I manage. By the time I situate myself, Verena is already sitting up in the bed, watching me with an intense gaze. 

“Goodnight, Eris,” Verena says, reaching for the mage lighting.

“Goodnight, Wildfire.”

The light is snuffed from the room, leaving us in darkness. My gaze stays on the ceiling, finding myself unable to fall asleep. Not with my mate a few feet away from me. I’m not sure how much time has passed since she turned off the light, but it is enough to make my lower back ache. It probably would have been smarter to sleep on the floor. 

“Eris?” Verena’s voice breaks the silence in the room, though I don’t hear her move in the bed. When I don’t reply, she tries again, “are you awake?”

“Yes,” I whisper out, loud enough for her fae ears to pick up. 

Another beat of silence lulls over before she speaks again. “Will you sleep in the bed with me?”

I do not give her answer, my body working on autodrive as I climb out of the couch, finding my way to the bed in the darkness with four swift steps. I feel her move over slightly as I slide in, easily situating myself on the more comfortable furniture. 

We stay on our respective sides of the bed, but there might as well be miles of distance between us. I long to reach out and hold her against me, but I will my body to stay still as I hear her breathes even out, easily falling into slumber.

I turn towards her, watching her from afar as she sleeps peacefully. I will never let anything happen to her, especially not at the hands of the faes she calls “friends.” Even if she does not accept our bond, I will protect her until the day I join the Mother. 

Sleep drowns me, dragging me in dreamland, the last thing I see being her sleeping face. 

✧.*

Tag list: @alexof90s @adventure-awaits13

[pinkfuneral7]

Ok but why would Sarah write that “Autumn Court males have fire in their blood — and they fuck like it too” if it was not going to be a plot in future books?

[laursdomain]

Emotions Ablaze: More Revelations

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x OC

Synopsis: With Eris' revelation, Verena sits with the new truth about her close friend. While still grappling with the news, she receives an unexpected visit from someone. She makes the decision to share her own revelations, a decision she refuses to regret. A dinner with the Inner Circle causes her to nearly expose herself with a plan to keep Eris allied.

Warning(s): takes place in ACOSF, cursing

W/C: 5.3k

Read on AO3!

Or read below the cut!

Please let me know if you'd like to be on the tag list.

Chapter 8 | Masterlist | Chapter 10

The revelation of what occurred between Eris and Mor has weighed on me more heavily than I would like to admit. For the past two centuries that I have known Mor, I have always believed that she was being truthful with us. After all, that is what family does. We don’t lie to each other for no reason.

Sure, Mor has had her white lies here and there, but they were never harmful. A white lie of not finishing Rhys’ favorite wine does not truly hurt anyone. In fact, her cousin finds it humorous. 

But to deliberately lie this entire time about what happened? That she purposefully got herself in the situation she was in, knowing Eris could not help her? How could she not tell us that Eris wanted to break off the engagement as well, that he had told her that Autumn Court is a deadly place for a female? 

I cannot even confront Mor on the matter because that would expose me. That I have been spending time with Eris, that I have gotten close enough for him to entrust me with this information. 

As of late, Nesta has been concealed in the House of Wind, training every day with Cassian and a few other females as per her orders from Feyre. To be honest, I betted against Cassian being able to successfully train her. Looks like I owe Azriel a lot of gold. 

I walk into the River House, Rhys and Feyre’s new home since the war ended. I was astonished to say the least when Rhys purchased an entire chunk of land that was destroyed from the battle, but I kept my thoughts to myself. If I had that type of wealth and power, I would be restoring it as a safe haven for faes who lost their homes during the battles.

But I digress.

“Ver!” Feyre’s voice comes from above, my High Lady standing at the top of the stairwell. 

“Hi, Feyre,” I respond, watching as she descends the stairs. 

She has been a lot more happy lately, despite everything that happened during the War with Hybern. She, just like the rest of us, deserves to be happy, especially since she lost her father. She opens her arms for a hug, before realizing the shield Rhys still has on her. Helion has been training Rhys in certain types of spells to better protect us, more so Feyre than anyone else. It seems to be working.

“Thank you for answering my call swiftly,” Feyre says, folding her hands against her thighs. 

“I was in the neighborhood,” I answer, though I was much farther. The truth is, Eris and I have been secretly meeting on the outskirts of Winter Court every few days for a couple of hours. We do not do more than simply conversate, though I feel our bond strengthening every second we spend together. 

“Come join me for tea,” she leads me into one of the two sitting rooms, the room decorated in beautiful lavender. I sit on the large chair–all of the furniture accommodates Illyrian wings. She sits across from me on the sofa, pouring us each some tea. 

“So,” I break the comfortable silence between us, “what did you wish to speak about? Your correspondence seemed urgent.” 

“Nothing bad,” Feyre rings out, taking a sip of her tea. “I have some news I wish to share with you. Only my sisters know, so please do not tell Amren and Mor until I can sit down with them myself.” 

I furrow my brows in confusion, but nod in agreement. “This will stay between you and I.”

She smiles, “Rhys and I are expecting.”

I stop mid-sip, staring at my High Lady blankly. Instinctively, my eyes fall to her stomach, the shield Rhys has kept around her finally dissipating. Her stomach is slightly swelled, though it can still be easily concealed with a baggy shirt. Her scent fills the room, a mix of honey and lavender.

“That’s amazing,” I whisper, excitedly placing my teacup down before I stand, coming over to her side of the table. “Do you know the due date or the gender?”

“We know it is a boy,” Feyre answers, finally engulfing me in a hug. She releases me, though still holds firmly onto my hands, “but we do not know when he’ll be born, as faerie pregnancies are unpredictable.” 

I understand what she is saying, fae births can be dangerous and unexpected. But if anyone can survive it, it is Feyre. I squeeze her hands, “I am beyond excited for you and Rhys.”

“Thank you,” Feyre warmly smiles, a beautiful glow decorating her cheeks. It must have been glamored with the shield Rhys has been keeping around her, because I hadn’t noticed until now. “I would prefer if Mor and Amren heard it from me first. I’m seeing Amren soon and Mor should be back later today.”

The mention of Mor returning from her duties sends a sharp anxiety through my body. The thought of having to face my close friend after recent revelations…I see her in a new light, and a part of me desperately wishes to try to compel her to give me a detailed account of what happened. 

Most of what I previously knew of Mor’s story was through Azriel, who advised me not to bring it up in front of Mor because it is traumatic, which I fully understood. Mor will refer to her story every now and then, but will not give a detailed account. At least, not in my presence she hasn’t.

“That’s great, I am sure Mor will be ecstatic. I’m not quite sure if Amren will smile or snarl.”

Feyre giggles, nodding her head in agreement. “Will you join us for dinner tonight? It’ll be the first night everyone is available since the Winter Solstice.” 

I hesitate, but ultimately know if I attempt to make some excuse, my High Lady will just order it. She does that a lot, and while it does irritate me to an extent, I always oblige. At the end of the day, I am a part of this court. 

Even though Rhys has told us we are all equal, he seems to never enforce that to his wife. 

“I’ll be there,” I agree, setting down my now empty teacup. “Our usual dinner time, six?” Feyre nods in agreement, getting up to walk me to the door. 

She is going to see Amren now, and I insisted I walk her. While Rhys fully trusts his mates’ capability, he would threaten me if I didn’t at least offer. Of course, Feyre accepted. She links her arm through mine–Rhys allowing a small hole in her shield for it–as we walk through the bustling and beautiful streets of Velaris.

“I heard Rhys had you interrogate Eris,” Feyre muses, smiling to herself.

Gooseflesh tingles my skin, though I ignore it as I maintain my composure. I roll my eyes, feigning annoyance, “if you mean he forced me to dance with him all night, you would be right.”

Feyre snickers at my dramatics, “how did it go? Is he as insufferable as everyone claims to be?”

“I expected him to be incredibly sufferable, I would say it was moderate,” that was sugarcoating it, but I had no choice as I did not have any clue as to how my High Lady felt about Eris. It’s easier to play the part than to gamble, especially with my group of friends.

Feyre nods, “between you and I–sometimes I think he just puts on a facade.”

“I think we all put on a mask,” I agree, “in order to protect ourselves.”

Silence falls over us, drowned out by Feyre’s low hum in agreement. The one perk of Feyre previously being human–she understands things not many other faes do. She understands what it is like to struggle in many ways, how it is to protect your family with no power, and how to conceal your true emotions. 

When I first met her, despite her being fae at that point, I could easily tell how strongly she changed her emotions. It is not an easy thing to do, it does not even involve shielding. Shielding would involve concealing them. 

Feyre would hide her true emotions with a fake one. With a mask. 

The walk to Amren’s is short, bidding my High Lady farewell as I figure out how to occupy my time before dinner. I settle on returning to my bedroom in one of the numerous houses Rhys owns. This one is usually empty, save for myself and Mor, though these past couple of weeks have been awfully quiet.

“Hello, Wildfire,” a voice comes from behind me. 

Instinct flares within me, fingers easily finding the hilt of the dagger underneath my skirts and throwing it towards the intruder. Eris’ hand wraps around the hilt, the tip of my blade millimeters from his perfect face. He smirks at me, emotions ablazing at the sight of it. 

“What are you doing here?” I hiss, furrowing my brows. I check to ensure nobody saw him before closing the door, securely locking it afterwards. 

Eris shrugs, “that is no way to greet your guest, no?” He amusingly smiles at me, his expression deepening at the deadpanned expression I give him. “Besides, Rhysand has given me permission to roam Velaris as long as he or Feyre know. He’s aware I am here.”

My shoulders loosen, taking a couple steps towards him. “And does Rhysand know you are in one of his homes?”

He gives me a devilish grin, “that, you will have to keep to yourself.”

I roll my eyes at him, moving past him and towards the kitchen to make some tea. I fill the kettle with water, placing it on the stove to let it boil. I feel Eris silently gravitate closer to me, though he breaks the silence with a sound of approval when I take two teacups out of the cupboard. 

“Are you the only one who stays in this home of Rhysand’s?” Eris questions from behind me.

I busy myself with placing two teabags in their respective cups, “no, Mor also stays here with me. She has been away for some time under Rhys’ orders, though she’ll be back today.”

“I see,” Eris mumbles, understanding he cannot stay long. The mere mention of Mor creates heavy tension within the room, especially now that I know the truth. I now understand how Eris has felt in her presence these past years, and if I’m being honest, I don’t know how he does it.

How has he acted unaffected by her true actions for centuries?

It is far too risky to have him here, with me, alone, without anybody knowing. Of course, I could chalk it up to still doing recon for Rhys, but that excuse will not work on Mor or the other two Illyrians I call my friends. I turn, resting against the counter as I wait for the water to be ready. Eris has gotten far closer than I expected–standing a foot away from me. 

I tilt my head at him, “why are you here?”

His amber eyes burn into mine, “I wanted to visit you.” I raise a brow at him, silently telling him I do not believe him. I partly believed him, but Eris Vanserra always has a deeper-rooted reason. “I missed your presence,” he confessed, body slumping. 

“You could have sent a letter,” I retorted, folding my arms over my chest. 

“I apologize, but you sensed me before you even walked through that door.”

My heart stops momentarily, acknowledging the truthfulness of his words. I felt our bond thrumming as I approached the house, that is true, and perhaps I knew who I was aiming for when I threw my dagger. 

“Perhaps I did,” I feign innocence, shrugging my shoulders. 

Eris narrows his eyes at me, taking three steps forward. Three steps too close. The toes of his shoes touch mine, the male easily towering over me with his height. We are easily breathing in each other’s air, though I don’t dare to move. This close to him, I take in the freckles that decorate his cheekbones and nose. They look like stars on his skin, and I find myself counting them as if my life depended on it. He snaps me out of my trance when I get to twenty-one.

Eris moves first, his hands coming up to rest against the marble, easily caging me in. I thickly swallow, understanding I am trapped under his gaze. I could probably escape if I truly wanted to, but it seemed my feet were stuck to the ground. 

His amber eyes ablaze with fire, and I am perfectly content with burning in them. 

“Tell me to leave,” Eris whispers, amber eyes flickering down before returning to my gaze.

The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I could not bring myself to open my mouth. Perhaps my eyes spoke the truth, that I did not want him to leave, because his eyes brightened even more. Another beat of silence stretches between us, neither of us daring to move. We seemed to be engaged in an intense staring contest, trying to figure out who will back down first.

Eris loses.

Faster than I can comprehend, Eris dips down, his lips meeting mine. I become frozen for a moment, shocked that this has gone this far. I know I should not be entertaining or indulging in this, but every instinct in my body rejects those thoughts. 

I melt into the kiss, blood roaring at the contact, as my hands come up to rest on his collarbone. Eris’ hands move from the counter to my hips, lightly holding me in place. His lips are soft and hot, making me want more with every second he keeps us connected. 

He tilts his head, deepening the kiss as he fully wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer to his body. My body responds instantly, moving my hands to his shoulders as I dig my nails into the jacket underneath, pulling a deep chuckle from Eris. 

Eris’ tongue caresses the seam of my lips, silently requesting for me to grant him entrance. Before I can accept his request, the sound of the squealing kettle brings us out of our moment. Reluctantly, I part from him, heaving from the loss of air. Eris rests his forehead against mine, and I can feel his gaze burning into me as I stare at his kiss-swollen lips. Surely mine are also swollen. 

I rip myself from him, much to my dismay, as I take the kettle off the hot stove. When Eris’ hands leave my body, it tingles in his absence. I should not crave it, but I desperately want to feel his body against mine again. 

I do not make any movement to pour the boiling water, taking a moment to recollect myself. The mating bond practically roars at us, begging to be accepted, but I force myself to drown out the sound and feeling. To ignore it. 

If I could conjure a meal or food for Eris at this moment, I would. But, there is a part of me that refuses to do so, at least until I can speak to Mor. Until I can gain the courage to confess to her. 

Eris steps forward, placing a warm hand on my hip as he takes the kettle with his free hand. Without saying a word, he pours the boiling water into our cups, silently handing me mine as silence engulfs us. 

While our previous silence has always been comfortable, this time it is more charged. The tension could be cut with a dagger, and I loved it. The irrational part of me wanted to put down my cup, and drag him to my bedroom without another word.

“Tell me a story,” Eris pleads, standing perpendicular to me against the counter. “I want to hear your voice.”

A ghost of a smile graces my lips as I lift my teacup, allowing the sweet liquid to rejuvenate me. I know it is only fair that I tell him my story of how I joined the Inner Circle, since he so willingly told me what happened between him and Mor.

“Do you know why I am Rhys’ seductress and assassin?” I question, earning a shake of his head from Eris. “I have abilities that allow me to feel, manipulate, and heighten emotions. I use that to my advantage when I seduce other males for information and when fighting my enemies.”

“Have you used these abilities on me?” Eris questions, raising a red brow.

I laugh, the sound light despite the heaviness in the room. “Gods, no. I can feel your emotions, but I do not manipulate or heighten them.” Eris nods in understanding, silently beckoning for me to continue. “I did not know I had these abilities until later on in my life, when I accidentally heightened my father’s anger. He realized, and thought he could use it to his advantage.”

“Use it? How?” Eris furrows his brows, intrigued by my tale.

“My father is a soldier for Beron, and is very high in his ranks. He proposed to sell me to your father for his own personal gain.”

“What type of gain?” Eris snaps, anger boiling in his body. I did not need my abilities to know how he was feeling, it was written all over his face. 

I shrug, “wealth, title, a promotion–I am not quite sure. I attempted to run away at night, but my father caught me. He imprisoned me within our village, planning to bring me to Beron in the morning. I had prayed to the Mother to grant me freedom from my father and Beron, and my calls were answered.”

“Rhysand heard you,” Eris attempted to fill in the gaps, but he was very wrong.

I smile, “Azriel did. He was doing recon in Autumn, and found me. I begged him to free me, willing to do anything in return. He obliged, and took me to Velaris. He took me to Rhys, who pitied me and gave me shelter in my time of need. It did not take long for him to hear my story, and offer a position in his circle for me.” 

Eris nods mindlessly, “is that why you were uneasy about returning to Autumn upon my request?”

I can feel his gaze burning into the side of my head as I focus on the teacup in my hands. “Yes,” I admit, “I am petrified of running into my parents or my brother. I fear they will recognize me, even after all these years of believing I am dead.”

Eris contemplates, lost in his own mind from my words. I let the silence fill the room again, grateful for the momentary break. “Now that I am thinking of it,” he finally says, “I do remember my father speaking with one of his guards about a potential deal. At the time, I did not realize they were speaking of a person, it seemed like they were conversing about a relic.”

I smile sadly, “to my father, I was a relic. A powerful weapon.”

“I guess we have something in common, then,” Eris muses, giving me one of his rare, warm smiles. I feel the truthfulness in his words as I nod in agreement. 

“My parents are Soren and Xadria Kohler,” I whisper, watching as Eris’ gaze snaps to mine once again. He instantly recognizes their names, as they both serve his father.

“Your father is my father’s leading personal guard,” Eris mutters, “while your mother trains all the troops.”

I nod in confirmation, watching the way his eyes dart back and forth, lost in thought. 

“Your brother is Arwan Kohler, one of my personal guards.”

I look at him this time, realizing my brother actually managed to climb the ranks as a soldier. Of course, he always wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps. I had no doubt that my father personally recommended him, except he was assigned to the future heir rather than the current High Lord.

“My brother is the only one in my family who never wronged me,” I say, “he was the only one I thought of when Azriel proposed I fake my death. I felt guilty for doing that to him, but I knew I could not tell anyone my plans.”

“Because you didn’t trust him?” Eris questions, furrowing his brows.

“No,” the word flows out of my mouth, releasing on instinct. I trusted my brother with my life, but I knew the severity of the situation at the time. It hurt me more than I realized to do that to him, and a part of me wanted to take him with me. “But had I told him, only gods know what my father would have done to get that information.”

Eris nods in understanding. He, at least, understands what it is like to have a brutal family. To feel alone and isolated, desperate for a chance at a better life. Not knowing who you can trust until they prove it themselves. Or, you betray them over and over again in the name of protecting them.

Telling someone outside of the Inner Circle my tale is far more relieving than I expected it to be. I thought I would feel anxious they would feed this information to my family or to someone in Autumn Court. Oddly enough, I trust Eris Vanserra, enough to the point that I wanted to tell him my story. 

He would take my story to his grave, as will I with his. 

“Thank you for trusting me with your story,” Eris mimics the words I spoke when we were at his cabin.

I finally look at him, his eyes open and bright, “I would not have told you if I didn’t trust you.” My eyes fall on the window behind him, noticing how late it is getting. I am unsure if Mor will be stopping here or if I will meet her at the House, but I cannot risk it. “You should leave before Mor returns.”

“Morrigan doesn’t scare me,” Eris retorts, but he obliges my request. 

He sets down his teacup and heads towards the door. I follow him, set on seeing him out, just as he did before for me. His hand grabs the handle, but instead of twisting the knob, he turns, placing a kiss against my temple. I’m temporarily taken aback by the movement, his lips warm and calming against my skin. When he pulls away, he gives me a soft smile before exiting the house, winnowing away the moment he leaves the shield around the home. 

I am royally screwed. 

There is no way in this universe that I could reject the mating bond between Eris and I. But, there is no way I could give up my friendship with Mor, no matter how betrayed I feel by her lies. 

I did not expect my immortal life to be this difficult.

Do I love Eris? Loving someone is an extravagant declaration, especially someone as forbidden as Eris, but it is not a no. I keep telling myself that our bond is manipulating my emotions, that they are the culprit for what I am feeling.

But I know deep down that a mating bond amplifies emotions, not manipulates. 

My lips still tingle as I get flown up to House in Azriel’s arms, a comfortable silence coating over us, as always. That is the one good thing about our friendship, I could be unnaturally quiet and Azriel would not mind. 

He’s a good friend like that. 

We land easily, Azriel silently setting me down on my feet as we enter the House, already hearing Amren and Cassian bickering. The sound of my two friends relieves my anxieties just slightly, perhaps I can get through this dinner without mentioning Eris. 

“Finally you two join us,” Mor’s voice fills me with dread as my friend stands with a wine glass already decorating her hand. She is clad in her usual bold red dress, though I can detect how overbearing these past weeks have been on her. 

She walks towards us, immediately embracing me. I feign normalcy, hugging her just as tight as she relaxes in the embrace. The moment she moves to hug Azriel, I feel relief. 

Gods, I am not surviving this dinner. 

Our entire circle has shown up for dinner, Nesta and Elain included. After all, she does live in the House with Cassian now, unless she wishes to take the ten thousand stairs down. Nesta is clad in a simple dark purple dress, the garment loose yet elegant on her. She has gained a noticeable amount of weight back, her hollow and thin frame now filled out with strong muscles she has been training. Cassian looks at her with pride, and I cannot blame him.

Elain, on the other hand, is wearing a beautiful, light pink dress. Her hair is unbounded as she helps the twins set the table. Lately, she has preoccupied her time with cooking and baking, finding thorough enjoyment in it during the winter months, when she cannot attend to her garden. Elain is the embodiment of sunlight, stuck in a court that is full of darkness and night. 

It is a surprise to me that she has not requested to visit Day or Summer. 

“Everyone sit,” Rhys’ voice booms over the rest of us, easily gaining our attention. Since everyone in the room knows of it, he drops the glamor on Feyre’s shield, allowing her to show off her swelling baby bump. 

I find myself between Azriel and Nesta, across from Mor, Amren, and Cassian. Azriel practically fights for the seat next to Elain, who pays him no mind. I know what he is doing, taking advantage of her mate not being around, especially since she is not ready to face the bond just yet.

Elain and I are more alike than I originally thought. 

Feyre sits at the head of the table, her usual spot ever since the War ended. Rhys sits next to her, holding her hand gently. The moment the last plate of mashed potatoes is placed onto the table, it is every fae for themselves.

I am thankful for Azriel, as he easily manages to help both Elain and I with filling our plates up. I do my part by assisting Nesta, who silently thanks me by lightly nudging me with her forearm once I finish. 

“So,” Feyre begins, taking time to cut her steak, “Mor, how is it going in Vallahan?” 

Mor groans, stabbing her garlic string beans with her fork. “They are absolutely insufferable, they refuse to fully agree to any notions.” 

“But you are achieving at least something, right?” Rhys questions, staring at his cousin.

“Of course,” she easily retorts, “it just takes a lot of arguing and convincing. Ver could probably get them all to agree with our notions in an hour.” 

I chuckle, “I am honored you think that.”

“She may not be wrong,” Azriel comments, alluding to his few encounters at Vallahan decades ago. 

“Verena has been doing reconnaissance for us here, where I need her,” Rhys retorts, easily understanding what his cousin was getting at. To give her a break and send me in her place. 

“Like what?” Mor questions, directing her question at me. 

My mouth becomes as dry as sand, mind scrambling to find an answer. I secretly hope Rhys will answer for me, but he is too preoccupied fussing over his mate. I internally groan at him, Feyre can take care of herself, especially in a thoroughly protected place such as this.

“I have been doing recon to ensure our alliances are strong,” I simply say, keeping my expression neutral as I take a sip of my wine.

Mor furrows her brows, “why wouldn’t our alliances be strong? Has Eris done something to suggest otherwise?”

I freeze, glancing at Rhys, who is now paying attention. To be honest, I have no idea if there was an action that led Rhys to send me to the Winter Court ball. 

Rhys clears his throat, “no, he did not. But considering his history, I just wanted to ensure. Plus, Verena can easily read males, so I wanted her confirmation. She did just that.”

I have to resist the urge to speak out at the mention of Eris’ history, knowing that history is tainted by Mor’s lies. Instead, I stuff my mouth with mashed potatoes, clenching my jaw in the process. 

“We actually have an idea on how to solidify our alliance with Eris,” Rhys continues, earning everyone’s attention. 

“Well, spill it out,” Amren bites out, narrowing her eyes at Rhys. 

Rhys ignores her, “we will be hosting a ball in the Court of Nightmares, to announce Feyre’s pregnancy. Of course, our ally will be invited, and Eris will be the guest of honor.” 

“I am lost on how this is supposed to solidify our alliance,” Cassian says, earning a nod of agreement from myself, Nesta, and Mor.

“We are going to manipulate him into proposing to marry a female from our court.”

“What?” Mor questions, dropping her fork onto her plate, causing it to ring out. “You want to sell a female from your court off to that monster?” I slightly flinch at her words, thankfully everyone is too preoccupied to notice. 

“Calm down, Mor,” Rhys snaps, glaring at his cousin. “I have the perfect female in mind.”

My blood becomes cold, becoming awfully aware of where this conversation is heading. Rhys is going to ask me, to seduce Eris into proposing to me, in the hopes of solidifying our alliance. While it would not take much to convince Eris, it would expose our truth. That we are mated by the Cauldron.

“Our female will seduce Eris during the night, convincing him to offer his hand in marriage in order to fully solidify the alliance.”

Feyre’s words are a bucket of cold water, further confirming my suspicions. I would not even have to use my abilities on my mate, he would easily give in. He would probably figure out what I am attempting to do. 

I am sure the color has drained from my face as I frantically look to my High Lord and Lady, willing the words out of their mouths.

“And who is this female you are proposing to do this?” Amren questions, raising a brow at the couple.

Feyre looks directly at Amren, “Nesta.”

I am completely taken aback by the revelation, having expecting my High Lady to say my name instead of Nesta’s. A part of me is relieved that I do not have to expose myself, but another part of me is enraged. If Nesta succeeds, and Eris proposes to her, what does that mean for him and I? 

Hours ago, I could not accept Eris’ bond because of Mor. Now, I wish I did accept it, so I could tell the truth to my friends in an effort to keep any female away from him. 

“I cannot seduce a male,” Nesta retorts, glaring at Rhys.

“Verena will teach you how,” Rhys instantly responds, “and Mor will teach you all of the dances necessary. Dream, Nightmares, and Autumn dances.”

I notice the way Cassian clenches his fork, slightly bending the metal from his strength. Clearly, he is upset by this just as much as I am. It is no secret that Cassian yearns for the eldest Archeron sister, but would it be too much to say that they may be mates?

“When is this ball?” Mor asks, gauging how much time she has to prepare Nesta.

Unfortunately for her, Nesta did not have a choice in the matter. She had a debt for all the money she had spent in Rhys and Feyre’s name, and she knew that. She resumes eating her food, refusing to utter another word towards this conversation.

I secretly wish she would object to it, to stand her ground as she always does. It is one of my favorite traits of hers, yet she stays silent.

“In two weeks.” Feyre answers, “you two have two weeks to make Nesta capable of seducing Eris Vanserra into marriage.”

I want to throttle Feyre and Rhysand.

✧.*

Tag list: @alexof90s @adventure-awaits13

[formerlyluckymanticore]

Reblog if you will never. Ever. Use AI in your writing.

[laursdomain]

Hello! I literally love your work, you're such a good writer ❤️ ♥️ I saw request are open so here I come 🤣 (although if theyre not then ignore it pls). I had this idea what if xaden had a girlfriend during his basgiath days (and later too just they'd meet there) but she wasn't a rider, maybe scribe or healer? However the thing is that sgaeyl just really likes her? (Basically almost fic about reader and sgaeyl lol) I find it so funny because sgaeyl is always introduced as a dragon you dont approach and she does whatever she wants but with reader shes really protective. Shes really find of her and xaden is almost jealous lol

maternal

pairing: xaden riorson x scribe!fem!reader & sgaeyl

genre: fluff

synopsis: Introducing his girlfriend to his dragon is not an easy feat. In fact, Xaden nearly expects Sgaeyl to not like you. His dragon throws him in for a loop when she repeatedly takes your side and becomes fiercely protective of you. On the other hand, you absolutely love it. 

warning(s): cursing, very mild spoilers, maternal!sgaeyl, sunshine x grumpy, possessive!sgaeyl, slight jealous!xaden

w/c: 1.6k

a/n: sorry this request took so long!! i hope you enjoy <33

ྀིxaden riorson masterlist

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There were many things in his life that Xaden Riorson could predict. Having to bear the responsibility of hundreds of children, bonding a powerful dragon, becoming his generation’s shadow wielder. 

But he didn’t quite predict you. 

It started off with morning duty to the Scribe Quadrant during his first year. He took on the duty begrudgingly, but it was better than breakfast duty. While you were always kind and respectful towards everyone who entered the quadrant for tomes, that is not what lured Xaden in. 

It was the way you did not look at him with fear, like every other cadet. Instead, you looked at him with admiration. 

For a moment, Xaden had wondered if perhaps you were from Tyrrendor or in a nearby province, but it seemed you did not understand the language when he greeted you in Tyrrish one morning. 

As for yourself, you could not lie to yourself that Xaden Riorson is a handsome man. Despite his broody and cold exterior, you could tell there were true and genuine qualities apart of him. As you got to know him more, he proved you right.

He was kind to those that earned it.

He had a good sense of humor—sometimes dark, but you didn’t mind. 

While he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, he still demonstrated in his own way that he did have a heart. 

The way he always spoke highly of the marked ones, especially Garrick and Bodhi, never failed to make your heart melt. 

He always found ways to show his gratitude for your kindness. As such, he began organizing the tomes alphabetically, to save you the trouble. 

It did not take long for Xaden Riorson to catch your heart, but he refused to tell you that you had his from the moment he met you. In his opinion, he had not met anyone like you, man or woman, and he swore he would protect you with his life. 

The other thing he didn’t predict? 

The way Sgaeyl instantly took a liking to you, far before you two became a couple, and would even threaten Xaden if he ever fucked up. 

Even though his dragon is supposed to be on his side. 

At first, Xaden was nervous to introduce you to his dragon, because if Sgaeyl did not approve or tried to attack you, his heart would be split in two. So would his mind. Would he have to protect you or allow his dragon to do what she pleases? 

He didn’t have to make that decision. 

When you met Sgaeyl, you were nervous to say the least. You weren’t dreading the interaction, in fact you were looking forward to it. While your boyfriend didn’t speak much about his dragon, they always seemed like a perfect pair. If you love your boyfriend, why couldn’t you also love his dragon.

You didn’t show an ounce of fear as Sgaeyl’s golden eyes looked down at you. Her blue scales were a beautiful sapphire color, reflecting in the hot sun. Her golden eyes were prettier than golden nuggets themselves, and you were sure she knew it too. 

Xaden held his breath as the interaction unfolded. You, tilting your head in bravery and respect. Sgaeyl, looking down at you as she decides how she feels. Xaden didn’t breathe until Sgaeyl bowed her head, allowing you to place a ginger hand on her snout to caress it. 

He could feel the content and approval through his bond with the blue dragon, until she finally spoke up, “it would be a shame to have to kill my rider if she ever got hurt.”

Xaden’s gaze snapped towards his dragon, “you would seriously choose her over me?”

“Of course,” Sgaeyl replied, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “She is clearly outstanding if she melted your heart.”

Xaden internally rolled his eyes, purposefully being dramatic with it so his dragon could feel it. She huffs in response down the bond, fed up with his antics. All the while, she is perfectly happy with you itching and petting her snout, while your eyes glitter in amazement and happiness. 

Xaden did not think his dragon was being true to her words. That she would choose you over Xaden. It was not until you two had gotten into a petty argument, in which Xaden was brooding and refusing to cross the threshold to the Scribe quadrant, that he realized the truthfulness in her words.

He approached his dragon, ready to mount her. He wanted to fly to release his energy, not wanting to take his rage out on anyone—especially not you. Except, when he went to climb, his dragon aggressively shook him off of her.

“What the fuck?” Xaden seethes down the bond, his anger getting the better of him.

Golden eyes pin him down as they narrow, “have you apologized to your human?”

Xaden rolls his eyes at her, “no, I will speak to her tomorrow. Now, let’s fly.”

“No.” Sgaeyl stomps her front feet in response, “you are going to apologize to her.”

“You don’t even know what we argued about,” Xaden deadpanned, raising a dark brow at his dragon.

“What I do and do not know doesn’t matter. Until you apologize to her, do not even think about mounting me.” 

“Wouldn’t you rather I approach her with a calm mind than a frustrated one?” Xaden attempts convincing his dragon, but she refuses to budge. He internally groans, understanding instantly that Sgaeyl had taken your side. 

It almost makes his envious of the way Sgaeyl instantly became bonded and attached to you. She is his dragon for gods sake, shouldn’t it be the other way around? Shouldn’t she be taking his side in every argument. 

Apparently not. 

The envy dissipates as quickly as it forms, understanding quickly how maternal his dragon truly is. While he has always bathed in that love from her, he would have to learn to share with you. But because it was you, he didn’t mind.

Later that night, he snuck into the Scribe Quadrant, shocking you at his appearance. You were happy to see him, even happier to hear him apologize for the argument you two had. You had even apologized yourself, and the silly argument faded into nothing the moment he showed up. 

“You know,” Xaden mutters between you to, “Sgaeyl threatened me today.”

You turn towards him on your bed, “what do you mean she threatened you?” 

He lets out a sound between a scoff and a chuckle, “she told me I am not allowed to ride her until we worked through our differences.”

You giggle, taken aback by her actions, “she took my side?”

Your boyfriend places a gentle kiss on the crown of your head, “she once told me she would choose you over me.” 

You didn’t respond at that, but his words caused warmth to bloom in your chest. Knowing his dragon not only liked you—but is protective of you in the same way she’s protective of Xaden, was everything to you. While you believed there wouldn't be a moment where you needed her protection, you could tell. 

There were times you had caught a familiar blue dragon soaring over the archway between Scribe and Rider as you crossed to deliver some tomes. You pretended you didn’t notice, but Sgaeyl did not rest until you were safely back in your quadrant, quickly flying back to the Vale. 

When it was time for you to join Xaden and the other cadets in Aretia, it was Sgaeyl who came for you. Originally, you had planned with your boyfriend to meet him a few villages outside of Basgiath. Imagine your surprise when a large, blue dragon landed on the bridge, silently threatening every scribe until you came out. 

Thankfully, Xaden had been with her, so you didn’t have to worry about attempting to ride her alone. Sgaeyl was sure you could figure it out, and she swelled with pride when you successfully mounted her without Xaden’s help. Even you boyfriend was proud. 

Since then, you had been on Sgaeyl’s back many times—with Xaden, of course. While Sgaeyl was not against you riding her alone, there was something unnerving about riding a dragon as a scribe. Alone, nonetheless. 

“Xaden?” Your voice fills the night sky, earning a hum from your boyfriend next to you. You two were laying on the grass outside of Riorson House, the busy fortress finally quiet under the beautiful stars. Sgaeyl slept not to far from you two, her tail resting possessively over yours and Xaden’s legs. “Is it…common for dragons to be affectionate towards their riders significant others?”

Xaden paused at your question. He knew the answer too well, he’s asked himself the same question ever since he properly introduced you to Sgaeyl during your first year. Nearly four years later, and she loves you as her own. 

It’s unsettling. 

“I do not think so,” Xaden finally says, his hand flexing against your waist. “But Sgaeyl is maternal, especially with me and Andarna. I’m grateful she feels the same way towards you.” 

“Me too,” you confess, keeping your voice low as to not disturb the creature you’ve become so fond of. “She’s important to you, and now, she’s become important to me.” 

Xaden smiles, lovingly watching the two most important females in his life. This is the future he wants, when all this war and bloodshed is over. To be able to rest in solitude with his dragon and the love of his life, completely content and happy with himself and his life. 

ੈ✩‧₊˚

[laursdomain]

Emotions Ablaze: Eris' Story

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x OC

Synopsis: Verena Kohler answers Eris' call to join him in Autumn Court. Despite her worries and anxieties, she follows through. Revelations come forth about Eris, changing everything Verena has known and felt about him.

Warning(s): cursing, mentions/talk about trauma, mentions of abuse, takes place in ACOSF, headcanons of lore!!

W/C: 4.2k

Read on AO3!

Or read below the cut!

Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Chapter 7 | Masterlist | Chapter 9

ERIS

This past week is most definitely the longest week of my life. 

Every minute, I have longed to gaze into Verena’s emerald eyes–those eyes make every single traitorious thing I have done in Autumn Court worth it. Maybe, one day, when I succeed my father, she will be by my side.

Too bad she’ll probably reject the bond because of Morrigan. 

Even if she does reject it, I am content with being in her presence for now. Dancing with her at Winter Court’s ball was the highlight of my immortal life. The Mother must deem me greedy, because I spent that entire time dancing with her as an excuse to admire her from close-up. 

I memorized the way her green eyes become more sharpened when she is around people, the way the corner of her mouth twitches when she wants to smirk, and her hair. Her hair looks as soft as silk, and I would not mind spending my days running my hands through it. Her curls always hang loosely, framing her face in an elegant yet natural way. 

I told her to meet me at the edge of Autumn Court’s woods today. For some strange reason, she seemed uneasy to do so, perhaps because she did not wish to get caught. Even if she did get caught–either by Autumn or Night–I would protect her with my life. 

Six of my hounds follow me towards the edge of Autumn that leads to Winter, presumably where Verena would enter from. I am certain she cannot winnow, or perhaps she is still learning how to master it. 

I settled on taking only half of my hounds simply because I did not want to overwhelm her. If it were any other fae from Rhysand’s ‘Inner Circle,’ I would not care as much. I hear a twig snap behind me, my hounds instantly falling quiet as they seek out the intruder. 

I do not have to turn before I feel our bond coming to life, the thread tying us together as warm and familiar as a fireplace. When I do turn, the air is nearly knocked out of my lungs when I take in the female before me. 

Half of Verena’s silky black hair is pulled back with a pin, though there are a few stray pieces that frame her face. She is wearing a dark green coat, long enough to look formal enough for a female but still allowed her mobility. She wore a pair of black pants, though I can easily make out the daggers sheathed on her thighs. 

She looks absolutely breathtaking. 

“You came,” I say, taking a step forward before a growl from one of my hounds steals my attention–I need to call them off. As of right now, they think she is an intruder, a threat. I look down at the dogs surrounding me, “heel.”

They oblige, instantly understanding my command and returning to what they usually do–sniff and eat the grass. 

Verena watches them curiously, before her eyes find mine. Her eyes pierce into mine, but I can see the warmth shining behind them. “Well, if I recall correctly, you were the one who demanded an audience.” 

I chuckle, grinning at her, “that is correct.”

She holds something out, the familiar maroon garment catching my eyes. My coat. The one I had given to her last week, opting to go home cold, as long as it meant that she would be slightly warmer. I did not expect her to be giving it back to me, but here we are. I accept it, folding it over my arm.

“So,” she takes a tentative step forward, eyes observing around the woods, “why are we here?”

I blink at her, unaware of what she had asked me, too preoccupied with observing her features and body language. She was nervous to be here, her fingers lightly twitching towards her thighs in case a threat presented itself. She looks at me expectantly, ready to reiterate her question when I finally clear my throat, “come, I would like to show you something.” 

We fall in, side-by-side, as we walk along the edge of Autumn Court’s forest. We are incredibly far from the palace, my family believing I am currently out hunting. 

Technically, I am not lying. I am not hunting for food or prey, but for Verena’s heart and love. 

A few of my hounds walk ahead and behind us, acting as guard dogs. They must realize how important Verena is to me–can they sense a mating bond? Animals like them do have a sixth sense, maybe they can sense magic such as a mating bond. 

My eyes fall on the other side of Verena–one of my hounds trots next to her, already enjoying her company. I smile to myself, it is rare to see my hounds like someone aside from me–they absolutely hate my brothers–so to see one of them already attached to my mate, I could not help but smile. 

I divert my eyes, hoping she didn’t catch me. 

VERENA

This past week, I was ready to retch from the idea of going out of my way to spend time with Eris Vanserra. It was not even spending time with him–it was going to Autumn Court. This is my first time returning to the land since I faked my death. To say I was worried is an understatement. 

When I had arrived, I nearly ran for the hills when I saw six of his hounds looking at me as if I were their lunch. Thankfully, Eris had called them off, in which one of them had begun to be affectionate towards me. 

Whatever is happening between Eris and I–it cannot happen. Even if the animal is adorable. 

I cannot say that Eris feels the same way, because I have caught him looking at me the same way Rhys looks at Feyre. He was looking at me with love. 

We have been walking for some time now, the silence as comfortable as a blanket in front of a warm fire. I am still unsure of where he is taking us, and I desperately hope he is not using our bond as a way to murder me. 

“Just a little up ahead,” Eris mumbles between us, watching as a few of his hounds run ahead of us. 

“Where are we going?” I question, peering at him from next to me.

He grins, “you will have to wait and see.”

I playfully roll my eyes, chuckling at his antics. Having to slip out of Velaris as early as I did, under the guise of getting some fresh air, was not easy. Especially when Cassian is too much of a busybody. 

As we make it up to the peak of the hill, a small and quaint cabin sits alone within the trees. The area around it is slightly cleared out, demonstrating that a fae does live in this cabin. Eris leads me to the door, unlocking it with a key hidden in one of his pockets. He opens the door, allowing me to walk in first. 

I step inside, taking in the beautiful cabin before me. I have been in Rhys’ cabin near the Illyrian camp, but it does not compare to Eris’. His cabin feels comfortable, the smell of wood, fire, and cinnamon lingering in the air. It is decorated beautifully, with hues of red, yellow, and orange furnishing the area. 

“It is beautiful,” I comment, unsure of where to look. 

Eris lets out a breathy chuckle, closing the door behind us. “Welcome to my home.”

My eyebrows crinkle, “do you not live in the palace with your brothers?”

“I do,” he admits, his amber eyes flickering with sadness, “but sometimes I need to get away. This is my sanctuary." 

The weight of his act is not unbeknownst to me. For Eris to show me a place that is only for him…I realize the gravity of our bond and I have not even accepted it yet. 

Yet? I am going to reject it, not accept it. I hate the way I am thinking, because there is no perfect positive outcome of being Eris’ mate. Either lose my mate or lose my friend. 

I follow Eris towards the sitting area, taking a seat on the plush couch. With a flick of his hand, the fireplace roars to life, making the cabin even warmer, if that is even possible. Eris joins me on the couch, letting out a sigh of contentment as he lazily lounges. His hounds join us near the fireplace, curling up on the floor to absorb the warmth it provides. 

Being in Autumn Court–it brings on a lot of buried memories. Memories of playing with my brother and Lucien at a young age, of admiring my parents as they defended their land with honor, and of how at home I felt before everything went downhill.

“What are you thinking about?” Eris’ voice brings me out of my mind, amber eyes softened. He looks relaxed from his spot on the couch, evidently at ease and comfortable in his sanctuary. Oddly enough, I feel the same way. Almost as if nothing outside these cabin walls matter. 

“My childhood,” I whisper, though I know he hears it from the way he mindlessly nods. 

“How was it growing up in the Night Court?” His words are like ice cold water, causing me to still as I process the words. Of course. He’s under the impression I was born and raised in the Night Court, a fae who was probably training to be in Rhys’ Inner Circle her entire life. 

I go silent, contemplating whether or not to be truthful. Despite living a lie my entire life, a part of me longs to confide in someone about my history, even if it is just one part of it. Eris Vanserra is the last fae I should tell, and perhaps it is our bond that is making me act this way, but I decide that he will be the person I tell. Even if it is not the full story.

“I hail from Autumn,” I breathe out, noticing the way Eris’ head snaps towards me from my peripheral vision. I keep my gaze locked on the fire, the heat of it warming my face. I notice the way Eris squints at me, almost as if he is attempting to recall ever seeing me as a young fae. 

“I feel like I would have known that,” Eris mumbles, returning his gaze to the fire. “My brothers and I were always running around the lands, making ourselves known to villagers.”

“I know,” I comment, “I was close with Lucien before everything happened with him.”

“You were there for that?” Eris queries, pure horror crossing his face. Probably because he knows he did not do anything to aid his brother. How he stood by as his other brothers chased Lucien out of Autumn, until Tamlin saved his life. 

“No,” I answer, “I had left some time before Lucien got involved with Jesminda. I caught wind of it years later, but that was after Lucien was banished.” 

“Then you know my father does not take kindly to certain faes being involved with his sons,” Eris says, “it’s cruel, but it is his way of having some control over the throne–even when he eventually steps down or dies.” 

“It’s ironic,” I mumble, not intending for Eris to hear. Of course, he did. 

“What do you mean by that?”

I look over at him, noticing the neutral expression written on his face. I turn slightly towards him, leaning my shoulder against the back cushions of the couch. “I am far from nobility. I am essentially just one of Rhys’ soldiers, just with a prettier title.” 

Eris crinkles his brows, “you essentially a courtier for Rhys, are you not?”

“That is usually Mor’s job,” I retort, cocking a brow. “I may have enough elegance and title to get into balls, but it is for one objective only. I am the one who is able to get her hands dirty without other faes noticing.” 

“Well,” Eris says, folding his arms over his chest, “what Beron doesn’t know, doesn’t hurt him.”

I laugh, shaking my head in amusement as I divert my gaze from Eris. He laughs with me, the sound rich and warm. The air around us is light and comfortable, my body slowly easing to a rest the longer I stay in his presence. Is this just a side effect of the bond? Surely I would not feel this way if we were not bonded. 

The hound that was affectionate towards me earlier is now resting her head against my feet, sound asleep alongside her pack. I look down at the animal, softly smiling to myself before I speak, “it seems that one of your hounds likes me.”

Eris follows my line of sight, smiling as well when he notices. “Oddly enough, he is not one to like anyone, he barely shows affection towards me.” 

“We do not have many pets, aside from our horses, in the Night Court. It’s enjoyable to have a companion.”

“I’m sure Rhysand would let you have a pet if you requested it,” Eris adds, eyes focused on me again. 

I smile to myself, “probably. But I’m too busy to be able to take care of it accordingly.” 

My gaze falls on Eris again, who is looking behind me. He seems to realize something, as he stands, holding his hand out for me. “Can I show you one last thing?”

I look at his hand, thickly swallowing. I recall our dance from a week ago, how his hand felt against my own and on my back. How I wished to feel his skin against mine again. Hesitantly, I place my hand in his, allowing him to pull me up and off the couch once his calloused fingers wrap around mine. 

The warmth of his hand hasn’t changed, perhaps it is because we have been in front of a fire for some time nor or it is because he is naturally warm. Our hands fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces. It’s like the Mother is mocking me right now, but I can’t bring it in me to rip my hand out of his. 

Eris leads me outside, autumn wind cooling off my warm skin. Eris does not lead me too far from the door, only a couple of paces. He allows me to step in front of him, his free hand resting on my clothed shoulder. Even with the layers of clothes, his touch is practically burning me. 

“Look,” he gestures towards in front of us, his hand leaving mine and joining his other on my shoulders.

I oblige, looking before us. The sight is breathtaking. I have forgotten how beautiful Autumn Court is, it has been about two centuries since I have last been here. Eris’ cabin stands atop of a peak, giving the perfect view of an Autumn Court village below. The sky splashes with hues of orange, red, and pink–creating the most marvelous sunset. I become captivated by the beautiful sky, committing it to memory. The odds of being able to see this again are rare, because I am always hesitant on stepping foot in Autumn out of fear of being recognized. 

I feel eyes on me, instantly knowing it is Eris’ amber eyes burning into me. I turn, forcing his hands to leave my shoulders as they leave a featherlight touch on my arms as they fall back to his side. My body instantly misses his warm touch, and I scold myself for feeling that way. 

His eyes are already burning into mine, a million unspoken words between us. I cannot help but get lost in the gold specks floating around in his fire, mesmerizing me far more than the sunset behind me.

“Tell me something about you,” Eris rasps, mimicking his words he spoke to me in Dawn Court. 

A ghost of a smile etched onto my face, “what do you want to know?”

I half expect him to reiterate his words from Dawn, to tell him anything I desire. Instead, he says, “what were the signs?” 

I furrow my brows at him, until it dawns on me. The words I spoke to him at the ball. Even though our bond snapped into place for me at the battle, I felt the signs far before that. I had told him I would tell him the next time we met.

This is the next time we meet. 

I gulp, diverting my gaze as I desperately find my words. I wring my hands against my pants, instantly feeling nervous under his gaze. If only I could winnow, I could just disappear with the will of my mind. 

I did not know much about Eris. But, if there is one thing I know for sure, it is that he is not going to let me escape until I tell him.

“During the few times we had met before the battle, I have always felt drawn to you,” I confess, refusing to look in his eyes. “I just wrote it off as I was trying to analyze you, figure out who you were. If you are the monster Mor paints you to be.” 

“And?” Eris queries, my gaze snapping to him. His gaze flickers with vulnerability and sadness, “am I that monster?”

I go silent, because I know the truth. I have known the truth for some time now. Despite all of his faults, history, and bloodline, Eris Vanserra is not a monster. I do not know what truly happened between him and Mor. None of us do. She refuses to tell that story, and perhaps Eris will never either. But, if he was truly a monster, he would not be showing this emotion to me, he would not be showing me his safe haven. I would not be able to feel the love coming from him through our bond. 

“No,” I breathe out, watching as his eyes fill with relief. “I don’t know what truly happened between you and Mor, but you are not what she says you are.”

“Do you want to know what happened?” Eris questions, folding his arms over his chest. He looks like he is holding himself rather than simply folding them, but I do not comment on it.

Do I truly desire to know the truth? A part of me does what to know, wants to know how unforgivable the act Eris committed is that warrants the hatred Mor has for him. But another part of me, the other part is terrified that knowing the truth will change how I view Eris. That I will view him in a good way. 

“Yes.” 

Eris gestures with his head, gesturing for us to return inside the cabin–where it is isolated, quiet, and safe. Where we can easily speak as we wish, without any lingering ears. I nod in agreement, leading the way as we re-enter the cabin, the door closing and locking behind him. We resettle on the couch, though the air is more charged. 

The tension could be cut with a dagger. 

Eris stands up straight, though I can easily see through his mask–he is nervous and maybe even scared. Has he ever told anyone his side of the story? Perhaps not, maybe there has been nobody worth telling it to. 

“I am sure that you know that Morrigan and I were bewedded to one another at a young age. It would have created a strong alliance between Autumn Court and the Court of Nightmares.”

I nod, watching him let out a heavy sigh. I watch his fingers clench and unclench in his lap, an attempt to compose himself as he tells his tale. 

“Obviously, Morrigan did not wish to marry me, which I was not insulted by. In fact, I did not want her to marry me.”

I tilt my head in confusion, “then why agree to the notion of marrying?”

He smiles sadly, “I learned a very long time ago that there is no disagreeing with my father. He is a…cruel man, to put it lightly.”

I furrow my brows, attempting to piece together what he is implying. From his body language alone, Eris looks vulnerable and almost afraid at the thought of his father. It would be a stretch to say, but surely it could not be.

“Growing up, I always witnessed my father’s brutal tactics to keep myself, my brothers, and my mother in line. His favorite weapon was a dagger.” 

I gulp, instantly understanding his words. A wave of anger washes over me, how could Beron Vanserra lay a hand on Eris? On anyone in his family? I thought my father was bad, but Beron…Beron is worse.

“I always tried to protect my mother growing up, which I am sure you saw for yourself at the High Lords meeting. I only wished the same for Morrigan. But…” Eris’ eyes become distant, as if he is gathering the courage to finish his story. “I was not strong enough at the time to protect her. I was still a young fae, not strong enough to influence my father or withstand his fury.”

Mor has never mentioned that. Did she know Eris wanted to protect her from Beron? Did she know how Beron was? Surely, she had to. It is hard to believe Mor would lie like that to us…but it would not be the first time. She has her white lies here and there, but a whole thought-out story like this? 

“Morrigan and I both agreed we did not wish to marry each other, for our own reasons. I have my suspicions as to why she did not want to, but she never informed me. She knew my reasoning, in detail. I had the plan of breaking it off myself for whatever reason I could conjure. Morrigan had other plans.” 

“By sleeping with Cassian,” I supplemented, earning a nod from Eris. “But that does not explain what happened in the woods.” 

“What Keir did was brutal. Almost as brutal as the things my father has done to his family. While I did pity Morrigan for what happened, I really did, I knew I could not help her.”

“Why?” I whisper, even though there was nobody else in the room with us, save for ourselves, his hounds, and the fire.

Amber eyes find mine, truth and sadness extinguishing his fire, “had I touched her, had I helped her, I knew my father would have killed her for her traitorous actions. My actions were brutal and unkind, but it was for her own good.” 

This entire time, I have been using what he has done to Mor as an excuse to not be his mate. That whatever he did is inexcusable. But, hearing his side of the story…I pity Eris. His actions, as terrible as it is, was his way of protecting Mor. 

I reach out, placing my hand atop of his, feeling how cold they have gotten since he began his story. I reach within me, manifesting my Autumn abilities as my hand warms, sending my warmth into him. His own hand curls around my own, bathing in my warmth.

“Thank you for trusting me with your story,” I whisper, feeling his hand beginning to warm beneath my own. “I will not tell another soul.”

“I know you won’t,” Eris says, his words hoarse and broken. His eyes were slightly teary from recalling memories of five centuries ago, “I would have not told you if I did not trust you.”

A tear escapes from his eye, kissing his cheek. With my free hand, I reach out, hesitant at first. With a surge of confidence, I reach fully, my hand cradling his cheek as I wipe away the tear. He leans into my touch, a small smile gracing his lips at the contact. 

His eyes open, fire coming to life as they connect with my own. “You should probably head back.”

“I should,” I agree, though I make no motion to move. I am content with where I am, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of Eris’ skin beneath my own as we sit in front of the fire, surrounded by adorable animals. 

Is this what my life could look like? From Eris’ story, it would be risky for me to live within Autumn Court. At least, with Beron alive. I should not be able to imagine a life with him, a life with him as my mate, but I cannot help it. 

Reluctantly, my hand falls from his cheek. My palm tingles, already missing the feeling of him. I stand, slowly heading towards the door. Eris follows me, determined to see me out. 

“Thank you,” Eris says as I touch the handle to the door.

I turn, “for what?”

He smiles, two small dimples popping, “for joining me today.” 

I smile back, and then I do something even I was surprised to have done. I lean forward, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. I retract not even a beat later, “you’re welcome.” 

I did not give him time to respond before I breezed out of the door, leaving him at the threshold as I disappeared into the trees. 

✧.*

Tag list: @alexof90s @adventure-awaits13

[laursdomain]

Emotions Ablaze: First Dance

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x OC

Synopsis: The War with Hybern has finally come to end, forcing Verena to face new revelations head on. With a new job from the High Lord of the Night Court, she dives head-first into a night of dancing and socializing with a specific Autumn Court male.

Warnings: cursing, takes place during ACOSF, slightly possessive!Eris, banter

W/C: 3.9k

Read on AO3!

Or read under the cut!

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Chapter 6 | Masterlist | Chapter 8

Eris Vanserra is my mate. 

I am so fucked.

The past couple of weeks, I have been able to sit with my thoughts on the entire situation. I cannot possibly tell any of my friends, especially not Mor. To her, this is a betrayal. 

The right thing to do would be to reject it, out of respect for my best friend. But there is a part of me that hesitates. I have always been the person to give someone a chance to prove themselves…does Eris deserve the chance to prove himself to me? 

No, with what he did to Mor, he deserves hell and more. But on the other hand, a mating bond. I throw a dagger towards my wall, aggravated at my own thoughts.

“You seem…upset,” Rhys’ voice comes from behind me. I turn, my friend leaning against the threshold. “What is on your mind?”

“Nothing,” I instantly respond. I notice the flash of hurt on his face because I won’t let him in, but I can’t. Not even for this. I love my friend, but not even Rhys can know about this.

“Will your emotions interfere with the job I have for you?” He inquires, cocking a brow.

A job? I tilt my head, “no. If anything, it will fuel it.”

He chuckles, “good. But this is not an assassination job, much to your dismay.” 

I frown, though I smother it into a tight line. “What is it?”

“I need you to do reconnaissance. On a person.”

“On who?”

“Eris.”

His answer is like a bucket of ice-cold water on me. I was hoping this job would take my mind off of my mate, not on. “What? I thought you trusted him enough.” I try to mask my surprise at having to find information on my mate. Even referring to him as such is foreign, but feels right at the same time. Ugh, I hate emotions.

“I do, but I just want to make sure. Now that the war is over, I want his intentions to be in the right place.” 

“So you just want me to observe from afar?” I inquire, folding my arms over my chest. Observing Eris from afar is easy enough, as long as he doesn’t discover me. 

Rhys laughs, a knowing grin crossing his face, “no. You will have to spend time with him to gain this information.”

My eyebrows fly to my hairline, “you want me to socialize with him?”

Rhys’ eyebrows furrow, “you are our seductress. You are supposed to be good with faes and humans. Unless you want to change your position in my court.”

I groan, “no, I’ll do it. How exactly am I to socialize with him when we are in two different courts?” 

“Leave that to me. For now, get ready.” 

When the door closes, I groan into my hands at the idea of spending time with my mate. I suppose I don’t have to make my own decision, as Rhys made it for me. Just wonderful. 

I settle on an emerald green dress, the gown falling to my feet. The material is silk, one of my favorite materials from the way it feels against my skin. It is strapless with no special designs–something simple, yet elegant.

When I am situated and ready, I make my way downstairs and into Rhys’ office, who has been waiting expectantly for me. “Where are you sending me?” 

“Eris is attending a party at Winter Court on behalf of Autumn. Every court was invited by Kallias, so you will be attending on behalf of us.”

I furrow my brows, “this is usually Mor’s job, is it not?” Does Rhys know something that I do not? Mor’s presence has been lacking as of late–ever since Winter Solstice–but she usually always handles these types of situations.

“Yes, but her priorities are somewhere else for the Court. I need you to do this. Besides, Mor would simply argue with Eris all night and get no conclusions. You are the only one in my circle who can do this.” 

I nod, “when is this ball?”

“Right now,” he grins, taking me aback. The dress I am currently in is not fit for a ball.

“Let me change,” I immediately take a step back from Rhys, who groans in response. “I have the perfect dress. Give me five minutes.”

He shakes his head, knowing it will be longer than five minutes. He is not wrong, but it will be worth it. I swap my simple, strapless dress out for a halter dress, one that falls to the floor as well. It is silk and simple like the previous one, but the difference is that the waistline is decorated by a belt of sequins and jewels. It contrasts beautifully with my skin, especially since my back is revealed by this dress. 

I make my way back downstairs, in which Rhys is now waiting at the bottom of the staircase. He rolls his eyes at me, though he knows deep down I was right. This dress is much more suitable for the occasion. 

“Are you ready?” Rhys questions in a posh accent, and I have to resist the urge to slap him for such a ridiculous tone. 

I roll my eyes, “yes, take me to my destination.” 

His hand wraps around mine, our environment changing as we end up in the cold atmosphere of the Winter Court. I most definitely should have taken a shawl with me, the frost already biting my bare skin. 

I turn to bid farewell to Rhys, though he has already winnowed away. Of course. I sigh, starting the small walk up to Kallias’ ice palace. While I always dreamed of visiting his palace, actually being here is a whole different experience. I could not take my eyes off of the way the light radiated within the room as it bounced off the white-blue ice. 

I expected it to be just as cold inside the palace as it is inside, but I was very wrong. It is warm, far warmer than I expected. Clearly, there are enchantments at play as the ice sculptures and chandeliers do not melt with the heat, enchanted to stay frozen forever. 

“Lady Verena!” Vivane’s voice comes from behind me, causing me to twirl around. “It is wonderful to have you here.”

Kallias is next to her, who offers me a kind smile. “Thank you for coming.”

I curtly bow my head at the High Lord and Lady of Winter. “I should be thanking you both for inviting me.” 

Viviane giggles, “you can thank me by having a good time tonight. Come, we have much to discuss.” The Lady of Winter interlocks her arm with mine, pulling me away from her husband as she leads me through the palace. 

The fae wine that Winter Court serves bests our collection. While ours is more rich, theirs is more enchanting and fresh. I don’t allow the wine to fully get to my head, as I do have a job while I am here. Speaking of which, Eris Vanserra has yet to make an appearance. Or, I have not found him yet.

“So, Verena,” Viviane crosses an ankle over the other, retaining her posture despite the amount of wine she has consumed thus far. “Tell me about yourself.” Her question reminds me of the same question Eris asked me months ago, though I force the memory away.

“What would you like to know?” I lounge gracefully in my own chair, my glass of wine begging to be drunk from.

“Anything,” she answers, before thinking. “Do you have someone at home? A male? Or perhaps a female?”

My eyes widen at her intrusive question, though I fix my mask. I did not mind being asked such questions, but I did not expect that of all questions. I smirk, “no, I do not have anyone at home. Maybe one day.” 

She sits up, “then why are you letting me bore you here? You should be near the floor, where other males and females are dancing.”

“I am enjoying myself with you,” I reassure her, though I should try to seek out Eris sooner rather than later. 

She settles, lounging back into her chair as she begins speaking about Kallias not letting her redesign their bedchambers. I entertain her story, trying to waste time as much as possible. The truth is, I haven’t been here for a full hour yet. 

Tonight will be a long night.

“Sorry to interrupt, Lady Viviane,” a smooth voice interrupts our conversation, in which Viviane nods in acknowledgement. The male turns to me, “care for a dance?” 

I open my mouth to say no, only for Viviane to nudge me with her foot. Her expression alone is like an icicle waiting to pierce me. I nod in agreement, placing my hand in his warm one. His hand is slightly larger than my own, the warmth from his skin distracting me from the feel of his calloused fingers.

Eris Vanserra leads me to the ballroom floor, other pairings dancing in accordance to the music. Thankfully, he does not lead me to the middle of the floor, opting to stay to the side. Eris’s hand finds its way to the small of my bare back, my skin burning at the touch. I place my free hand on his shoulder, lightly digging my nails into the fabric of his jacket. 

When the song begins, it takes us with it. Despite being a general, Eris is a wonderful dancer. He becomes one with the music, gliding across the ballroom floor with such elegance as he keeps up with me. 

“I’m surprised they sent you rather than Mor to this ball,” Eris finally breaks the silence, still leading us across the floor. He’s close, too close, I can feel the faint feeling of the bond that ties us together thrumming to life. 

I chuckle, “I was as well.” Up close, I can examine Eris’ eyes. His amber eyes are a beautiful sight, the color reminding me of fire. Of course, he has that fire in his veins, a homage to his bloodline. What I did not notice at first were the golden specks littering his eyes, complimenting the amber color. Gods, I could get lost in his eyes for eternity.

Stop. I need to stop. I should not be entertaining the foolish idea of being Eris’ mate, I cannot do that to Mor. She wouldn’t do it to me…right? 

He leans in, lips brushing against my ear as he speaks, “who are you assassinating tonight?” His voice sends a shiver down my spine, his natural body heat warming mine. Any closer, and my skin will be burning from his words and gaze.  

Mustering all the power I can gather, I smirk, “you.” I play the part, not letting him know that he has an effect on me. But if the bond has snapped into place for him–which I assume it has–he must have some inkling of how I am feeling. 

“I thoroughly look forward to it,” he grins, his grip around my waist tightening in a possessive way. I wonder if he can feel the way my body burns under his touch. 

“Trust me, you won’t see it coming,” I purr, my nose nearly touching his. Any closer, and I would be able to feel his breath against my lips.

Eris smiles at my response, not saying another word as he continues to glide us across the floor until the dance ends, both of us out of breath. He drops my hand, but keeps his hand on my back as he leads me away from the floor. I furrow my brows, confused as to where he could possibly be taking me. 

I take the opportunity to grab another glass of wine, Eris mimicking me as he continues to lead me through the palace. We end up in an abandoned sitting room, the fireplace keeping the room warm for any guests.

He sits on the couch, subtly gesturing for me to join him. I oblige, keeping a good foot away from him. Silence engulfs us, and I wonder why he brought me here. Nerves get the best of me as I take a sip of my wine, attempting to distract myself from being so close to my mate. 

My mate. The more I think of it, the more I do not mind how it sounds in regards to Eris. Mother above, I need to get away from him and stay away. I can’t possibly do this to Mor. She would never forgive me.

“I am assuming you know,” Eris breaks the silence, peering over at me. His curtain of red hair lays behind his shoulders, still perfectly in place despite the lively dance we just performed. The fire in front of us casts an ethereal light against his creamy, fair skin, making him look like a god. Curse the Mother for giving my mate perfect features. It’s too hard to not look at him and admire him.

I raise a brow, “know what?” He gives me a knowing look, which is all I need to realize we are thinking of the same thing. About our bond. “We are mates.” Saying it aloud…it sounds so wrong but so right at the same time. “The Mother has a wonderful sense of humor.” 

“Humor? Please enlighten me.” Eris turns towards me, giving me his full, undivided attention.

I gulp under his gaze, a rare action for me, as I have been under the gaze of many males before. And not once have I felt nervous. “You are my best friend’s enemy. It is only ironic that I end up mated with you of all males.” 

“You could always reject it,” Eris snaps, though it holds no bite. No, I can tell he does not want me to reject it just yet. Neither do I. I should. Before I leave, I will reject it, just to see the look on his face. 

“When did you know?” I ask, watching the way his face scrunches up in confusion. “About the mating bond.”

He turns towards the fire, amber eyes glowing from the light. “When I first met you in the Court of Nightmares. It snapped into place when I first saw you.”

The breath gets knocked out of me as I turn towards the fire. He has known for weeks. Is that why he made an effort to have all of those conversations with me? My fingers twist in my lap, my body language betraying me in the moment. 

“I assume it snapped into place during the battle,” Eris softly comments, still gazing into the fire.

“Yes,” I answer, recalling my thoughts towards him since meeting him. “Though if I’m being quite honest, the signs were there before it snapped into place.”

This got Eris’ attention. He turns towards me, brows crinkling. “Now, do not leave me in the dark, Wildfire. Pray tell what you mean by that.”

“Wildfire?” I question, glaring at him for giving me a nickname. My body warmed at hearing a nickname just for me on his tongue. I really need to stop thinking this way.

“Are you going to answer my question or not?”

I gulp, “that’ll be a story for the next time we meet.” Without another word, I drain my goblet before standing, not allowing Eris to get another word in before I’m putting as much distance as possible between us. 

Truthfully, I could not admit to him what I have not admitted to myself yet. Of the feelings I so dutifully ignored and passed off as being too distracted with the war going on. 

“Verena!” Viviane’s voice brings me out of my thoughts, the Lady of Winter holding onto Kallias’ arm as she beckons me over. 

I oblige, curtly bowing my head before them as I embody the perfect poise of a friendly face. Viviane removes her arm from Kallias’, wrapping it around my arm instead. 

“Darling, maybe it is time for you to rest–” Kallias begins, softly smiling at his wife’s antics. Not many faes are still in the palace, most have already left or are lingering in other rooms.

“I’m not tired,” Viviane retorts, “I want to talk with my new friend.” 

I smile, “why don’t you show me your chambers? I need to freshen up before I depart anyways.”

Viviane gasps, clasping my hands in hers. “That is a wonderful idea, let us go!”

I bid Kallias goodbye as Viviane drags me up the grand staircase, nearly getting dizzy from the many twists and turns we take to get to her bedchambers. We enter, and I am immediately in awe of the magnificent room. There are a handful of white wood furniture, decorated with beautiful pillows of light blue and white. The most exquisite aspect of their room, though, is their ceiling. It seems as if Kallias put up an enchantment above their bed–it gives the illusion that it is softly snowing. Of course, no snow actually landed on their bed, but it is beautiful nonetheless. 

“Wow,” I breathe out, unsure of where to look.

Viviane giggles, “yes, Kallias took his dear time renovating the room before we wedded. The ceiling is my favorite.”

“I would have to agree with you,” I take my gaze away from the ceiling, sitting in one of the sofa chairs while Viviane makes herself comfortable on the couch. 

“So,” Viviane begins, glaring at me playfully. I can only imagine what words are about to leave her mouth. “I saw you dancing with Eris Vanserra.”

I gape at her, cheeks slightly flushing. I guess the amount of wine she indulged in has made her loose-lipped. “It was just a dance.”

She mindlessly nods her head, “Beron Vanserra’s eldest son is quite the eye candy.”

I laugh, “Viviane! You cannot possibly be saying that about Eris.”

She giggles, “so many females approached me tonight asking me who he is. It was getting bothersome. They were not happy you were occupying him all night.”

“I was not,” I retort, lightly glaring at her. Eris must be dancing with another female now, after I had abandoned him. It’s not like I care anyways. 

She frowns, unconvinced of my words. “You two went into a different room together afterwards.”

Fuck. I needed to come up with an excuse–quickly. “Beron gave him a message to deliver to Rhys.” Maybe that is not the best excuse.

Viviane perks up, easily sobering up. “What type of message?”

Now I’m screwed. I sigh out, rolling my eyes as if I’m bothered to have to relay the message. “Something about Tamlin’s rogue soldiers seeking shelter in his lands.”

“Ah,” Viviane hums out. “Feyre started it, so they must resolve it.”

“That is exactly what Beron was getting at,” I smoothly lie, internally grateful for my abilities. I hate to use it on females, especially Viviane, but I truly had no choice. 

As if on queue, the Lady of Winter yawns, stretching her limbs. “I should probably listen to Kallias and get some rest.”

I chuckle in agreement, “you should. Besides, I have a long trip home now. Goodnight, Viviane.”

“Goodnight,” she bids me goodbye sleepily, having enough energy to get herself ready for bed. I close her doors on the way out, thankful I remembered the path here. 

By the time I make it to the entryway, the palace is mostly abandoned. I faintly hear Kallias speaking with a couple of males in a nearby sitting room, but it is quiet. No more beautiful music, assistants have begun putting the food and drinks away, and most of the garments on the clothing rack are gone. 

Noticing the time, Rhys would be here to winnow me away in a couple of minutes. I did not mind having to wait a couple minutes in the cold, not wanting to gain the attention of any fae inside. The cold greets me as I step outside, heels clinking against the white marble. 

“I am surprised you’re still here,” Eris’ voice startles me from behind, causing me to jump.

I spin, facing him. He’s leaning against one of the pillars, hands stuffed in the pockets of his trousers. “I could say the same for you.”

He lightly smiles, taking a step forward. He looks around, almost expecting someone or something. “Where is your horse?”

I raise a brow, “my horse?”

He laughs, “is that not how you’re getting home?”

“Rhys is going to winnow me home. He’ll be here soon.”

Eris’ mouth makes an O shape in understanding, being able to put two puzzle pieces together–that I have yet to learn how to winnow. In times like now, it would be quite useful. 

“Next week,” Eris says, amber eyes gazing into my soul.

“What?” I question, did he say something that I had missed? 

He grins, “next week, meet me on the outskirts of Autumn’s forests.” 

I gulp, not particularly fond of returning to Autumn. What if he brought one of my parents along? No, they were not a part of Eris’ personal guard as far as I was aware. 

“Why?” 

He raises a red brow, as if it’s obvious. The approaching wind brushes through his hair, causing it to become slightly disheveled. Even so, it still looked perfect. The same wind sends a shiver coursing through my body. Curse me for not bringing a cloak. I wrap my arms around myself, a pathetic attempt to warm myself. 

“Because,” Eris begins, shrugging his deep red coat off, draping it over my shoulders. “You said you would answer my question the next time we meet. So we will meet next week.” He buttons the collar, keeping it secured around my shoulder with the wind.

His coat instantly warms me from being worn by him all night–or if it is just a perk from being an Autumn Court male. Perhaps he has an enchantment that causes all of his clothes to always be warm. 

I would rather not lose my dignity, but I preferred to not get sick from the cold. So, reluctantly, I take a hand and wrap the jacket further around me, even with it buttoned. I half expect Eris to smirk at the movement, but instead, he softly smiles. 

I went to open my mouth in an answer, to decline his invitation because truthfully I could not tell him the answer to his query. Not because I didn’t have the answer, but because I couldn’t bring myself to utter the words yet. 

“Ready?” Rhys’ voice comes from behind me, causing my head to turn. I turn back, ready to give Eris his jacket back, but he winnowed away before Rhys could see him. 

Bastard. He knew what he was doing. 

I sigh, stepping towards Rhys as he waits for me. He furrows his brows, eyes taking in the jacket that is definitely not mine. “Don’t,” I threaten, knowing damn well he wants to say something.

“Are you wearing Eris’ jacket?” 

“You said to get information,” I point out, in which he shrugs. “Just bring me home.” 

He laughs, his hand wrapping around my arm as the environment around us changes. I was supposed to reject the mating bond tonight. But for some peculiar reason, I could not bring myself to do so. 

Next week. Next week, I will return his jacket and reject the bond. 

✧.*

Tag list: @alexof90s @adventure-awaits13

[laursdomain]

CHAPTER 7 OF EMOTIONS ABLAZE TOMORROW BECAUSE AO3 IS DOWN...

[laursdomain]

Emotions Ablaze: Hybern's War

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x OC

Synopsis:  The War with Hybern is beginning, the Courts of Prythian rushing against time to get to the human lands to stop Hybern before it is too late. Verena finds herself battling numerous soldiers at once, protecting herself and her friends. Out of pure instinct, she finds herself doing something she would never imagine doing.

Warnings: cursing, general spoilers for ACOWAR, descriptions of blood/wounds/fighting/death

W/C: 3.7k

Read on AO3!

Or read below the cut!

Let me know if you'd like to be included in the tag list!

Chapter 5 | Masterlist | Chapter 7

“Of course both of my best fighters are injured before this war,” Rhys mumbles to himself, oblivious to the way both Cassian and Azriel glare at him. Cassian is almost fully healed by this point, he just has to be careful with overwhelming himself. Azriel, on the other hand, is forbidden from using his wings. 

Azriel is not happy about that.

“We need a plan,” Rhys mumbles between his Inner Circle, “one that will work.”

“I have an idea,” Amren offers, swirling her goblet of blood in her hand. We all look to her, expectantly waiting. If there is anyone who has a good enough plan to turn the war in our favor, it is Amren. “When you are Cauldron-Made, like calls to like.”

“Are you implying that any being made by the Cauldron can destroy it?” I inquire, looking into Amren’s silver eyes.

“That is exactly what I am saying, Angel.” The corner of her lips tilt up in a smirk, explaining the details of her plan. Herself, Feyre, and Nesta can deactivate the Cauldron once again since they were made by it. 

“Well, we better get going,” Rhys announces, “because Hybern was spotted marching through Spring Court’s lands now.” 

If I die in this war against Hybern, at least it will be honorable. There is no other way I would want to die. I want to die for my land. 

For my home. 

Tamlin and Autumn Court have not shown up. By the looks of it, they most likely will not, which is troubling. We need all the help we can get if we are to stand any chance of winning. Especially with the Cauldron in Hybern’s possession. 

If he uses the Cauldron again…Mother help us. 

“Whatever you do, do not stray from your objective,” Cassian orders from next to me. In our Inner Circle, I may have authority over him, but when we are on the battlefield–he’s in charge. 

“Are you saying that to yourself or to me?” I question, cocking a brow at my friend. He gives me a knowing look, answering the question silently. It was for him rather than me. “Let’s see if I can kill more Hybern soldiers than you.”

Cassian lets out a dry chuckle, “we’ll see about that. Don’t die.” 

I nod, returning my gaze to the enemy’s army before us. While most generals stay at the end of their army, Cassian stands at the front, proud to lead his soldiers into battle. That is what makes Cassian so admirable. He leads his soldiers with such care, bravery, and authority that most generals lack. 

I run my hands over my sheaths, taking account of all the daggers I had. I had strapped my shortsword against my back as a precaution, but I’d prefer to stick with my usual. Two daggers find home in my palms, finding familiarity in their hilts. 

It is time for us to fight for Prythian. If we lose, I will not allow myself to surrender to the King. 

At Cassian’s call, I run with him and our first line of soldiers towards Hybern’s first line. The only calls I listen to of Cassian's is when to fight and when to fall back. The blades of my daggers instantly meet the exposed necks of two Hybern soldiers, their bodies collapsing next to me. 

My focus sharpens on the objective before me, making my way through countless bodies as they fall before me, not having to summon my powers at all. The last I need is to summon my Autumn Court abilities in front of every court at our side. 

Besides, I am supposed to be dead. 

I dodge a soldier’s advancement, disemboweling him with my dagger. In the corner of my eye, I see a soldier advancing towards Cassian from behind. My dagger leaves my hand before I can think, the blade meeting its mark–his neck. 

Nine daggers left. 

I grip a new, clean dagger, taking in the group of soldiers that are beginning to circle around me. 

“We’ll keep this one alive,” the leading soldier says amongst his group, “for our pleasure.”

I clench my jaw, eyes observing the group of them. I lightly chuckle, “if you can take me down.”

“There’s five of us, sweetheart,” another soldier says, the pet name sending a shiver down my spine. 

I can feel a mixture of their emotions–satisfaction, towards me, and rage. I tap into their emotions, slightly heightening their rage, in an effort to make them more reckless when fighting. 

Their behavior towards me only fuels the want to kill all of them slowly and painfully, “my kind of odds.”

The soldier on my right advances towards me, and I sidestep him, a whirl of fists and blades meeting one another. I dodge his sword as I flick a dagger towards another soldier, the blade embedding in his jugular. 

Eight daggers left. 

I duck once again, running full force at the soldier, the blade of my dagger meeting his naval. With all the force I can muster, I force the blade up to his collarbone, watching as he falls to the ground once I remove my dagger. 

I turn back, watching with satisfaction as the main soldier swallows nervously, regripping his sword. “Get her,” he hisses to the other two soldiers, watching as they move and take an advancement towards me. 

I replace the dagger I had flung not too long ago, resettling my grip on both daggers as I eye both of them. “Don’t get all shy now. Moments ago, you were claiming how easy it would be to take me down.” 

The soldiers move at the same time, swords lifted to strike me. I move faster than them, ducking one blade while my foot connects with one of their stomachs. I put distance between myself and them, keeping a steady eye on the main soldier. 

Do I risk another dagger or do I try to do this the slow way? Time is of the essence, but do I really want to be down to seven daggers? 

This time, only one of the soldiers walks towards me, my dagger meeting his sword. I hold myself against him, refusing to back down against his strength. In the corner of my eye, I realize what their plan is. The other soldier attempts to creep up behind me, ready to take me down while I am distracted.

I smirk at the idea of them successfully taking me down. 

With all my force, I get his sword closer to him, putting enough space between us for my foot to collide with his stomach, relieving me of his strength. I spin, barely dodging another sword as I reach up, digging my dagger into his neck. I slice my dagger through, a stream of bright red following once I take back my blade. 

I turn, clashing my bloodied blade against the soldier’s blade again, but this time, he doesn’t expect my speed. In a flash, my other hand reaches up, impaling itself in his heart. His strength quickly diminishes as an expression of shock crosses his face. I smirk satisfactorily as he falls to the ground, turning towards the main soldier. 

“What was that you were saying about taking me down?” 

“Witch,” he hisses, “fight fair.”

I tilt my head at him, “and how would you like me to fight? No weapons?”

His eyes focus on something behind me before resettling on me once again, “swords. It’s not fair if you have two weapons in your hands. Fight me with your sword.”

I grit my teeth, but oblige. I could easily throw a dagger his way and be over and done with this…but there is something rewarding about killing him fairly. My bloodied daggers sheath into their respective spots at my hips, in an easy spot to grab if need be. 

My right hand finds the hilt of my sword, unsheathing it as I bring it in front of me, ready to block his advancements. The soldier smirks, fully believing that he will best me. I can sense the pure rage and malice emanating from his body, but I will make sure he will feel pain instead. 

Our blades meet, clashing against one another as we both easily dodge any advancements the other makes. He’s good, but I am better. I swing my sword out, narrowly missing his jugular as he dodges. 

He laughs, “it seems you are not as skilled with a sword.”

I’ll prove him wrong. So very wrong.

This time, he swings his sword, and I make a very risky move. I grab his blade, pulling him forward. His expression falters, shock and confusion taking over his emotions. He doesn’t realize what I am planning until it is done. Until he is impaled on my sword. 

“Checkmate,” I bite out, smirking victoriously as my blade cuts deep right through his heart. I remove it, pushing his body to the ground as he gasps for air, for help. 

I leave the five dead soldiers behind me as I continue making advancements. Most soldiers don’t hear or see me approaching until my blade is embedded into their bodies, rendering them useless on the ground. 

As I go to approach another group, I notice a flash of red in the corner of my eye. My gaze falls on Eris Vasnerra, clad in Autumn Court colors as he commands his army to fight alongside ours against Hybern. 

He’s fighting fearlessly against a Hybern soldier, though he doesn’t seem to realize there is another soldier creeping behind him. My eyes widen, flight or fight taking over as I run towards Eris, dodging and pushing aside other soldiers in my way. 

My vision narrows, other soldiers from either side blurring as I only focus on a specific red-haired fae. My mind is not catching up to my body as I palm a dagger, ready to impale the soldier sneaking up on him the moment I am in proximity. 

I make it to him in time, thank the gods. My body moves instinctively as my dagger meets the soldier’s heart, who gasps in shock. Eris kills the soldier before him, turning to investigate the noise as he realizes what could have happened. I push the soldier off my dagger, watching him fall face-first to the ground.

My gaze meets Eris, and I feel a power I cannot quite name. It is powerful and makes me feel nauseous–something I have never experienced in my lifetime. It’s not emotions, nor is it any fire abilities from Autumn. My focus remains solely on Eris, every fae and monster around us fading into blurriness. 

Despite being bloodied up from the battle thus far, Eris Vanserra still looks effortlessly handsome. His long hair, usually unbound and neatly laid behind his shoulders, is in a loose braid, keeping it out of his way. From running or simply fighting—I am not sure which—a few strands have escaped, framing his face in an exquisite way.

Why am I thinking this way?

My mouth dries, and I suddenly become aware I have not spoken since saving his life. “You’re welcome,” my voice cracks, and I curse myself for it. It is not like me to act this way, especially in front of a male. 

“Weren’t you on the other side of the battlefield?” Eris questions, gesturing to the area I was moments ago. 

He is right, I was rather far from where we are now. “I have good eyesight,” I say, “and I’m quick.” 

The corner of Eris’ mouth tilts up, his amber eyes blazing to life. I love his eyes. I can’t be thinking this way, but I would destroy the world if it meant I could look in his eyes for the remainder of our immortal lives. 

“Thank you,” he drags me out of my mind, and I try to think of something, anything, to say in response, until a familiar roar brings me out of my mind. 

My head whips to the side, instantly finding Azriel landing and fighting a group of soldiers. Is he stupid? He is supposed to stay behind and be a last resort effort. A quick glance to where Rhys is tells me Azriel did this against his orders. 

Without another word, I take off towards Azriel, mind stuck on a particular pair of amber eyes. Those eyes don’t leave even when I slide against Azriel’s back, protecting his bandaged and tucked wings as I eye the large soldiers. 

“Nice of you to join, sister,” Azriel mutters to me, pressing his back against mine. I know the action hurts him, but it is his way of telling me to not leave his side. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Shadowsinger, I go where the action is.” 

He chuckles, focusing on the four soldiers in front of him. I do the same, going into my familiar stance as Azriel and I begin our familiar dance of fighting at each other’s back. I’m suddenly grateful for all the previous fights we’ve fought in together and the training we have done for the past two centuries.

There is not one other illyrian that I could do this with, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. Azriel is one of my best friends, he was the one who saved me all those years ago. The least I can do is always have his back and ensure he does not die. Besides, who else am I to bother on reconnaissance missions? 

I lose track of the amount of soldiers I have killed. The entire time, all I see are amber eyes haunting me as I fight for Prythian. Every time I try to look for their owner, he’s never looking at me. 

Why am I thinking this way? Why did I not hesitate to save his life? He’s our ally, we need to keep him alive. Rhys said it himself, this alliance is beneficial for both parties, especially us. Yes, that’s it. 

I don’t think about it more when a blast from the Cauldron steals my attention. Azriel and I look towards the Cauldron–towards what has come out of it. Holy gods.

“Is that…” Azriel mutters under his breath, awestruck at the sight.

“Amren,” I finished for him, watching our friend turn into the monster she previously was. She is all fire and pure power as she easily destroys the remainder of Hybern’s army. It does not take her long to do so, until she barrels down towards what is left of Hybern’s army, encased in pure light as she dies with them.

Our friend, Amren, sacrificed herself for us. I gasp, tears forming in my eyes at the act. She must have been what she was referring to as our last option to win this war. I knew how wise and knowledgeable Amren was. She would not sacrifice her life unless she was sure it would end all of this once and for all.

“Ver,” a voice rasps out from behind Azriel and I. Gooseflesh appears as I instantly recognize the voice. Azriel and I both turn, taking in a gravely injured Cassian, being barely held up by Nesta. 

“You idiotic fool,” Azriel scolds, rushing forward to relieve Nesta of his weight. “What did you do?”

“He’s dead,” Nesta says solemnly. “The King and my father.” 

I furrow my brows, looking towards where they came to. I take in the three boats and the inscription on each–Feyre, Elain, and Nesta. 

“I am sorry for your loss,” I say softly, in which Nesta nods in response.

“It seems that Lucien came through. He found my father and Vanya, bringing them here.” I nod, pride filling my body at my friend's accomplishment. I knew he could do it, and I owed him a thank-you once I found him. 

“What is happening?” Cassian breathes out, looking towards where the Cauldron was. 

Azriel, Nesta, and I follow his line of sight, watching power begin to form around where the Cauldron was. I take up Cassian’s left side, helping Azriel bring him towards the hill where faes have begun to gather. 

The sight before us is heartbreaking.

Our High Lady was determined to fix the Cauldron, because with it broken–only gods know what it would have unleashed. In her effort, Rhys had helped her. He had given her what power he had left.

Rhysand is dead.

My eyes water, tears spilling down my cheeks as Feyre clutches his body, sobs wrecking her body. Cassian’s arm that is slung around my shoulder wraps firmly around me, his own way of comforting me. He himself is shuddering as he silently cries for his best friend. 

Azriel keeps himself together as best as possible, but his emotions are as clear as day. He is grieving his best friend as well. Mor stands on the other side of Azriel, holding herself as she silently cries for her cousin. 

The remaining High Lords are surrounding Feyre and Rhys now, watching as she cries for her mate. I am unsure how it feels to lose your mate to death, but I can only imagine how painful it is. 

“Help him,” she yells, directing her words to the High Lords. “You helped me, help him. Please.” 

Silence engulfs the hill, and for a moment I am ready to start threatening the High Lords until Helion moves first. He steps towards Rhys’ body, letting a drop of sunlight fall into his chest. Thesan follows, his own golden-colored drop joining Helion’s. Kallias goes next, the white-haired High Lord letting a drop of ice fall into Rhys’ chest. Tarquin moves next, nodding to Feyre as he extends a drop of his power. 

Mor pushes Beron forward, her blade at his neck as she threatens him to give his power to Rhys. He obliges, an amber droplet falling from his fingers. 

Feyre looks up when Tamlin approaches. For a moment, I’m surprised he joined the fight, that he decided to join us. Especially with what Feyre did to him. I fully expect him to refuse to revive Rhys, as payback for what was done to him. 

“Be happy, Feyre,” Tamlin says, extending his hand as a green droplet falls into Rhys’ body. 

“Thank you,” she rasps, clutching Rhys’ body closer.

Tamlin doesn’t say a word, he simply turns and leaves the hill, presumably to return to his desiccated lands. My attention turns back to Rhys, who is still unmoving. Why isn’t he waking up? I quickly realize Feyre, too, has to give her power.

“Feyre,” my voice cracks from my tears. I notice Eris looking at me in the corner of my eye, his amber eyes dull from the somber atmosphere. “You need to give him your power.” 

“How?” She mumbles, unsure how to do so.

I become at a loss for words, unsure of the process myself. Helion answers it for me, “search deep within your power, pretend you are extracting a droplet of it. Envision it forming in your hand and let it fall into him.”

Feyre nods, closing her eyes as she concentrates. A beat later, her palm opens, an onyx droplet with shades of purple within falling into Rhys’ body. I hold my breath as we wait, willing Rhys to wake up. 

Please, Mother. Let him live. Don’t let our friend leave us.

As if the Mother herself heard my prayers, Rhys slightly stirs. Feyre stills, back straightening as her eyes roam his body, waiting for another inclination of life. His eyes peel open, instantly meeting Feyre’s. She gasps, pulling him fully into her arms.

“Thank the gods,” I mutter, leaning my head on Cassian’s shoulder as he lets out a sigh of relief, slumping in Azriel and I’s arms. 

“What the hell?” A voice comes from the Cauldron, all of us looking at it. Rhys is the only one who doesn’t look shocked when Amren’s face appears, in a new body. A fae body.

Rhys chuckles, “if I’m coming back to life, you’re coming with.” Amren rolls her eyes at him, demanding for clothes as Varian comes to help her.

I feel as though someone is looking at me, and my eyes trail along the group of faes on the hill until they fall on amber eyes. Eris. I don’t break his gaze until his father beckons him, forced to look away from me. 

“Rhysand, you are a bastard,” Cassian hisses from next to me. Rhys is now standing and is approaching us, his usual sly grin decorating his face. 

“For someone who just died, I look a lot better than you,” Rhys teases, supporting Cassian as he lifts himself out of our arms and into Rhys’.

Rhys extends an arm to Azriel, who joins their circle as they hug their best friend. When they release him Rhys turns to me, opening his arms as an invitation. I oblige, stepping into his arms and wrapping my own arms around his torso. He grips me tightly, silently reassuring me that he is alive.

“If you ever do that again,” I threaten in his ear, “I will disembowel you.” 

He chuckles, “I expect nothing less, my beloved seductress.” I roll my eyes at his nickname for me, stepping out of his arms as he turns to Mor, who practically tackles him in a hug.

As if I cannot stay away from him, my eyes find Eris once again when we all reconvene to settle on agreements of what will happen with Prythian now that Hybern is gone. The obvious answer is to be a unified front, all the High Lords and High Lady working together in their respective lands. 

The arguments around me fade into nothing as I get lost in Eris’ amber eyes. He seems to be doing the same, and I cannot figure out why I cannot look away. I feel the power from before again, but this time I can focus on it more clearly. Before, the distractions of the war muted it slightly. But now, with the adrenaline wearing off–I can feel it and understand it fully. 

I can feel a bond–one that is strong, golden, and fiery. This is the culprit responsible for my frequent attention towards him. The reason why I enjoyed our conversations and did not hesitate to save his life.

Eris Vanserra is my mate. The golden thread between us is taut, as if it can only be seen by us. He must understand that I have realized the truth–has he known about it? He tilts his head, almost as if he’s silently asking me if I am feeling what he is feeling. 

Mor is going to kill me. 

✧.*

Tag list: @alexof90s @adventure-awaits13

[laursdomain]

I just read all of emotions ablaze and I fear I’m OBSESSED!! It was soooo good and I love your writing style!! Can’t wait to read what you do next!!🫶🫶

thank you!! it means so much to me that you’ve been enjoying it! it is only just the beginning hehe

[laursdomain]

Emotions Ablaze: The Battle

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x OC (Verena Kohler)

Synopsis: The first battle between Hybern and the Night Court has begun, causing the Inner Circle to scramble in an effort to protect the human lands. Many of their own soldiers become wounded, leaving them vulnerable as Hybern steals one of their own. It seems that nothing is in their favor with this impending War.

Warnings: cursing, general ACOWAR spoilers, mentions/descriptions of wounds, blood, and fighting

W/C: 2.8k

Read on AO3!

Or read below the cut!

Let me know if you'd like to be included on the tag list!

Chapter 4 | Masterlist | Chapter 6

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Everything was a blur of yelling, blades sheathing, and commands as we winnowed back to Velaris to gather our armies and change properly. I don’t waste a minute before running up to my room, practically turning my room into a disarray as I throw my dress off my body and begin tugging my Illyrian leathers up my body.

It takes me no less than five minutes to place all my daggers and my shortsword into their proper sheaths. While I didn’t use my shortsword often, desperate times call for desperate measures. If we are to have a chance at winning this, we will need everything in our arsenal. By the time I make it downstairs, Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel are already suited up. There are no sisters in sight, along with Mor. 

“Where is everyone?” My words are rushed as I speak, fingers weaving expertly in my hair. 

“Still changing,” Rhys mutters, impatience getting the best of him.

“You winnow Cassian and Verena there, I’ll wait for the females,” Azriel offers, hands balled into fists at his sides. I easily finish braiding my hair, securing it before letting it fall against my back. 

Rhys glares at him, considering the idea for a moment. Reluctantly, he nods, holding his hands out for Cassian and I to grab. We oblige, Cassian and I linking hands as well to form a circle. Winnowing to the Illyrian camps is not as difficult, as it is much closer, but the change in temperature never fails to set gooseflesh alight on my skin. 

Here, in the Illyrian Mountains, Rhys embodies the High Lord of the Night Court to its full extent. His power wraps around his body like an invisible shield, striking fear and respect in the Illyrian warriors. 

“Hybern declared war, gather the troops,” Rhys barks to Lord Devlon, who begrudgingly obliges, turning to begin rounding all his warriors together. Rhys turns towards Cassian and I, “I gave Mor instructions to meet the Illyrians at our meeting spot with the Darkbringers.”

“What do you need us to do?” I question, carefully observing the troops beginning to form.

“Prepare yourselves for flight,” Rhys mutters, “because we have a long flight ahead of us.”

Right. Of course, it is too risky to winnow all the troops to where we predict Hybern is going to attack first. It would be wasting too much time and strength on the few High Faes that can winnow, like Mor, Rhys, Azriel, and Feyre. 

Two centuries of being with the Night Court hasn’t prepared me for how flying actually feels. Though, I know Azriel won’t drop me–I’ve been in his arms countless times in the air. I trust him more than Cassian, for many reasons. 

I keep a fixated eye on the multitude of Illyrian warriors, including Rhys and Cassian, around us as we fly to our first destination. Of course, Nesta and Elain refused to be carried during the flight, so Mor is currently draining all of her energy by winnowing them. Feyre decided to join me in being flown, or moreso, Rhys didn’t want Mor having to carry more faes than needed. 

So, here we are. Me in Azriel’s arms, Feyre in Rhys’. 

It doesn’t take long for us to land, the Illyrians and Darkbringers easily setting up all the tents for the night. Azriel and Cassian themselves take time to easily put together our tents, ensuring they are prepared for when Mor arrives with Nesta and Elain. Gods, she’s going to want to sleep after winnowing the three of them to Hewn City and then here. 

“So,” Rhys breaks the silence. Rhys, Cassian, Azriel, Feyre, and I sit in a circle in his tent, the mage lights casting an orange hue around the room. “What are the odds we lose this battle?”

Cassian’s stare hardens, gaze falling to the dagger in his hand. “We’ll need a goddamn miracle from the Mother herself if we are to win this.”

Azriel blows out a raspberry, leaning back on his scarred hands. “Any ideas?”

Cassian thinks for a moment, fist clenching and unclenching around his dagger. “We gain an advantage over them. We know where they will be, we scout out the terrain and try to get some advantage.”

Rhys nods, “okay. Tomorrow morning–we beat them to the location and get a better spot.”

“Thats an easy way to put it,” I muse, drawing my knees to my chest. 

Rhys gives me a knowing stare, in which I tilt my head in response. Cassian is right–we’ll need a miracle if we want to win this war against Hybern. Maybe, just maybe, if we gain an upperhand in the beginning, we’ll have a shot. Maybe that was the delusions talking.

Cassian’s plan had no loopholes. Upon winnowing to the battleground, we realized one side had a hill. Stationing our troops on the hill allowed us to see every line of Hybern’s army, to see where they were weak and where they were strong. To put it lightly, it gave us an upperhand. 

Perhaps the Mother did hear our pleads last night.

I am stationed towards the back of the lines, with Rhys. Cassian is stationed at the front, leading all of our troops. Mor and Feyre, on the other hand, stood at the very top of the hill, overlooking us all. While this is not Feyre’s first battle per se, Rhys requested she observed–only to intervene if absolutely necessary. And because he does not trust his mate to stay put, he stationed Mor with her. 

I don’t blame him for not trusting her on that part.

So far, we had the upperhand. Our troops were plowing through Hybern’s forces. Until we didn’t.

With Rhys’ permission, I slide easily through our forces, making my way to the middle of the fight. Our lines are starting to weaken and spread apart, which is not good. My daggers easily find their marks in thighs, abdomens, arms, and necks in our enemies as I navigate through all the soldiers, bodies dropping behind me in the process. 

Being smaller has its advantages. I could easily slide through larger bodies. I was faster than the majority of the other warriors. In the midst of the battle, I went unnoticed by Hybern soldiers until they found themselves mysteriously wounded. 

My gaze falls on Azriel, who is being swarmed by Hybern soldiers. I start towards him, practically destroying enemies in the process to reach my friend.

“Need some help?” I tease Azriel as I break the circle swarming him. He looks back, the look in his eyes enough to answer my question. 

We take formation, guarding each other’s backs as we size up our enemies. My eyes track the four soldiers within my peripheral, the other four sizing up Azriel on his side. I sheath my daggers, opting for my shortsword instead. I track the millisecond the first soldier moves forward, ready to engage with me. He is fast, but I’m faster. 

Our swords collide, but he doesn’t notice my foot coming up and forcing its way into his abdomen. He grunts, stepping back lightly to recover from the force of my foot. I take the opportunity to retract my sword, plunging it where my foot previously was. Blood oozes out as I remove my sword, throwing his body away with my foot as I take on the next soldier. 

The next three soldiers put up a little bit more of a fight than the first. But, they are no match for me. I gutted the second soldier. I permanently disarmed the third soldier, rendering him unconscious afterwards. For the fourth soldier, I was so exhausted I settled on slitting his throat. 

By the time I was done, I was gasping for air. Azriel had finished not too long after me, also winded from the effort. The battle was over by the time we finished–the captain of Hybern’s forces retreating after Cassian killed their strongest warrior. 

“Where is she?” A voice comes from behind Azriel and I. We turn, met with a frantic Rhys. We share a look, Azriel and I are equally confused.

“Where is who?” Azriel questions, voice hoarse from not using it for a few hours.

“Feyre,” Rhys mutters, turning back to where we had all left her. 

On the hill, only Nesta remained, arms crossed with an angry expression written on her face. Where is Mor? Before I can even voice that question, I track her walking towards us with Cassion, the two splattered with blood. Of course. Mor couldn’t resist the battle–she just had to leave Feyre’s side to fight with us. 

I can feel Azriel stiffen next to me, and I can only begin to imagine the expression written on Rhys’ face. He doesn’t say a word, instead he lets out a shaky sigh, and then he’s gone–winnowing to wherever Feyre is. 

“What do we do?” Cassian questions from next to Mor, who looks visibly distraught. 

When neither she nor Azriel speak up, my voice fills the space between us, “we wait. Until then, tend to our wounded and prepare for what comes next.” 

Rhys returned with Feyre and Helion. How they stumbled upon the High Lord of the Day Court, I am not quite sure. Though I didn’t question it as I left the High Lords and High Lady to plot on our next movements while I assisted my friends and other soldiers in tending to our wounded. 

Alone with my thoughts, worry began to gnaw on my mind as I thought back to the impending war. Day, Dawn, and perhaps even Winter will aid us in this war against Hybern. Aside from Tamlin himself, who is a beast on the battlefield, Spring had little to nothing to offer the war from Feyre’s dismantling of his court. As for Autumn…if there is one thing I remember about Autumn Court from my time there as a child, it is that they are unpredictable. Eris may be in our corner, but who knows if he can sway Beron to fight against Hybern rather than with. 

Eris. 

Truthfully, the Autumn Court male has not left my thoughts since the High Lords’ Meeting. There is something about him–something I cannot quite name–that makes it impossible to stop thinking about him. 

The most unsettling thing, though, is how easy it is to become comfortable next to him. Knowing what he has done to Mor all those years ago, I should be repulsed by the male. Instead, I find myself wondering when I will see him again. 

Perhaps my comfortability was a fluke when we were in Dawn Court. I was already exhausted from being in that room for hours arguing, surely I was not in the right head space to be determining any opinion on Eris Vanserra.

Yes, that’s it.

The next time I see him, I will not feel this comfortability and he can be gone from my thoughts. He won’t be distracting me any longer. I can only pray to the Mother that my suspicions are correct. 

Because it is impossible for me to feel anything but distaste for Eris. 

The next couple of battles against Hybern are bloody and ruthless. We know he’s doing this to wear down our armies to make his invasion of the human lands easy and quick. Unfortunately for him, we refuse to give up. 

“They took Elain,” Nesta hisses out, eyes widened in fear.

“What?” Feyre breathes out, eyes locking with her mate. “Where is she?”  

“At Hybern’s base,” Rhys guesses, eyes hardened as he realizes the reality of the situation. Feyre and Nesta will not allow Elain to be stolen away in the middle of the night. We will have to get her back, one way or another. 

It doesn’t help that Cassian is gravely injured, our general is in no condition to lead us into enemy territory to retrieve her. While Feyre and Rhys figure out options to somehow get Elain out without being detected, I notice Azriel lost in thought. Before he can even open his mouth, I know exactly what he is going to say.

“I’ll get her,” Azriel says, silencing Feyre and Rhys instantly. 

“What?” Rhys says this time, bewildered that Azriel would do something as risky as this. It’s true, Azriel always has a plan ready, Cassian is the usual suspect that would do this type of stunt.

“I will invade his camp, undetected, and I will bring Elain back.” He makes it sound easy, as if the thought of getting tortured to death if he’s caught does not bother him.

Rhys opens his mouth to speak, but Feyre beats him to it. “I will go with you.”

Are they insane? Possibly, because this is a death wish. Even Rhys looks defeated as Feyre puts on her blue robes, fitting into the part of Ianthe. Azriel holds his hand out for Feyre, who takes it as he winnows them away. 

I join my friend outside of our main tent, watching over our restless camp. “I can’t believe you’re okay with this,” I mutter from my spot next to Rhys. He is set on taking watch over the camp, too restless to try to sleep. Not while Feyre is risking her life for her sister.

“I’m not,” Rhys admits, shoulders slumping in defeat. “But she is my mate, and I have to trust that she will survive this.” I nod absentmindedly, eyes trailing over the mountains before us. “Besides,” Rhys begins again, “had I forbade it, she would have killed me.”

I chuckle, the sound light, a stark contrast to our camp, “I would have paid a considerable amount of gold to see that.”

Rhys shakes his head in amusement, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trousers. As silence engulfs us, my mind wanders to Eris Vanserra. As always. I peek at Rhys, who is also lost in his mind. Would it be risky to ask about the heir to the Autumn Court? After all, we are allies now. 

“Can I ask you a question?” I whisper, the words reaching Rhys and then fading into the wind.

He tilts his head towards me, “what is it?”

“Will it stay between us?” I sheepishly question, knowing my body language is a dead giveaway of what I am about to ask. Rhys nods, swearing to keep it between us. I take a deep breath, treading carefully as I form my question. “How much do you trust Eris?”

Rhys looks at me quizzically, and for a moment, I think he’s going to catch on to the stolen conversations between Eris and I. A beat later, the expression is replaced by one of thoughtfulness, as if he himself is thinking of the answer to that question for the first time. 

“Not entirely,” Rhys answers, “he has not given me a reason to not trust him since solidifying our alliance. But, we all know what he has done in the past, and for that, I cannot trust him fully. However, if he does try to betray us, it would still be treasonous to be secretly allied with us–at least in Beron’s eyes. He knows if he tries to betray us it will only hurt him.” 

I nod, silently agreeing with him. Silence returns to us yet again, and I think for a moment, I get away with my question until Rhys speaks again. “Why do you ask?”

I try not to be noticeable with my jaw clenching as I think of a response. Rhys could easily sneak into my mind and find the truth himself if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. Because according to him, he refuses to enter my mind without my permission or unless it is an emergency. 

Or if my thoughts are too loud. 

“I don’t know,” I admit, which isn’t a lie. “I wasn’t sure of your stance on it with his history with Mor.” 

“Mor is family,” Rhys says, “I would never fully trust a male that traumatized her. Our alliance with him, it’s purely beneficial for us. She knows that.”

“Good,” I find myself saying, “because we need to be unified when we face Hybern.” 

“Do you think they’ll make it out? The three of them?” Rhys questions, his voice small and vulnerable. 

There are rare moments where Rhys will allow himself to be vulnerable in front of me. This is one of those moments, one of those moments that give me more reasons to trust him as my High Lord. Because the truth is, if a High Lord cannot be vulnerable in front of his friends–then he is not a strong High Lord at all.

“Yes,” I answer, my voice strong despite the uncertainty of our friends making it out. “Feyre is quick and powerful. Azriel is intelligent and stealthy. They’ll make it out.” 

A crash sounds behind us, and upon turning, we are met with three familiar bodies. Feyre, Elain, and Azriel. Almost as if they knew we were speaking of them. Rhys instantly rushes forward, engulfing Feyre in a hug, oblivious to what else lays before us. 

Azriel’s wings. They are damaged in a way even I cannot comprehend. I reach Azriel, examining the damage on his wings. 

“We’re going to need Madja,” I breathe out, watching as Azriel winces without anything touching him. “Now.”

✧.*

Tag list: @alexof90s @adventure-awaits13

[laursdomain]

"why are you so weird?"

god forbid a girl has flavor god damn

[laursdomain]

Hi!!! I know you already wrote the 'current boyfriend' prank with Liam and Xaden, but could you also write it with Aaric? Maybe with male reader if you feel like it?

his current boyfriend

pairing: aaric graycastle x male!reader

genre: fluff

synopsis: The “current boyfriend” trend is going viral on TikTok, so naturally, you had to participate with your boyfriend. Only, Aaric Graycastle has a few of his own tricks up his sleeve. 

warning(s): modern!au

w/c: 975

ྀིaaric graycastle masterlist

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You eyes follow your boyfriend as he waits at the pick-up counter, patiently waiting for the barista to finish the two drinks he ordered. An americano for him, and a dirty chai for you. 

Since the two of you left this morning, you have been anxiously waiting for this moment. The time where you could prank your boyfriend. For the past couple of days, a particular couples trend has appeared on your social media feed. 

No, not the usual cheesy ones—a prank. One that would most definitely make Aaric annoyed with you, but he secretly loved it. The entire prank revolved around referring to your boyfriend as your current boyfriend. 

As you and Aaric walked over to a cafe near the hotel you two were sharing on your trip, hand-in-hand, you kept talking about how you cannot wait to review the drinks for your TikTok account. Were you an influencer? Gods, no. Men typically blow up for thirst traps, and that is something that you do not want to do. Instead, you post stupid and silly trends with your friends and boyfriend. 

You set up your phone, lowering your brightness as to not disturb anyone else enjoying their coffee and pastries around you. Aaric moves his seat to sit next to you, his tall frame looking not so tall next to you. 

He accepts the left earbud of your wired headphones, plugging it into his ear as you do the same with the right one. You adjust your Carhartt hoodie before pressing record.

“Okay guys, so today, my current boyfriend and I are trying a new cafe in town. It’s called Gold Coffee, and has great reviews. I got a Dirty Chai while Aaric got an Americano, because he’s boring,“ you ramble, not fully paying attention to what you were saying. 

Your attention was on Aaric, on the reaction he would have. Much to your dismay, not one muscle in his stupidly perfect face moved. Was he seriously unphased by this?

On cue, Aaric hands you your dirty chai while he cups his americano in his hands. He watches you curiously as you take a sip, waiting for your review on the drink. 

“Not bad, I wish there were more chai in it than espresso,” you hum out, taking another sip. “I say a solid 9/10.”

“Is my boyfriend going to let his current boyfriend try it?” Aaric teases, playfully narrowing his eyes.

His remark leaves you flustered, as does everything he does. You look away, pushing your drink towards him while he snickers at how easily he riled you up. The drink reaches his lips, taking the tiniest sip.

He hums, “I agree, a nine.” 

“Told you,” you grumble, slightly annoyed he didn’t have a reaction to your master plan. How could he have not thought your prank was good? 

Aaric’s hand slides around your waist, settling in its usual place. His hand is warm and heavy, a stark contrast to the way he just teased you on video. You reach forward, ending the video after giving a goodbye to the camera. 

Aaric’s lips brush against your ear, “did you really think you could call me that and get away with it?”

You lightly scoff, though you refuse to move away from his warmth, from his lips, “you could have at least had a reaction.”

“A reaction? That prank was awfully unfunny,” he muses, though you both know he is teasing you. You roll your eyes, slumping in your seat as you cup your hot drink in your hands. “Maybe if you hadn’t loudly spoken about this mastermind of a prank to Sloane on the phone, I would have had a reaction.”

You sit up, turning to face him fully as your jaw falls agape at him. “You knew about it?” 

“Of course I did, I know everything,” he retorts, hand leaving a featherlight touch against your waist as you moved. 

You narrow your eyes at him, hoping your glare holds enough anger to make him apologize. It’s no use, Aaric loves the way your nose scrunches up when you get upset with him. 

“Then you truly could have at least had a reaction,” you bite back, brows crinkling. 

“I could have,” he agrees, “but catching you off-guard and pranking you myself is far more fun.” 

You slump back in his arm, allowing it to curl further around your body. You were still upset with him, though it would dissipate once he kisses you. You bring your drink to your lips, not speaking a word to him until you both finished your drinks and it was time to leave. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Aaric mumbles in your ear as you two walk out of the cafe. 

When you don’t respond, he pulls on your hand, forcing you to stop and tumble into his arms. You reluctantly look up at him, waiting for him to get on with it. Instead of speaking, he dips down, his lips colliding with yours. 

He tastes like coffee, cinnamon, and slightly like chai. His lips are soft against yours, and you easily lose yourself in the kiss. Aaric Graycastle had that way with you. Easily making you lose your mind whenever he touched you. When his lips leave yours, his forehead rests against yours, rubbing his nose against yours in an affectionate way. 

“I’ll forgive you,” you begin, “if we takeout Chinese food tonight and I get to pick the movies we watch.”

Aaric groans, knowing he hates the movies you love to force him to watch. But, because he loves you, “fine.” 

You smile triumphantly, allowing your hands to interlock as you head downtown for the next activity of your trip. Maybe failing in your pranks on your boyfriend had good outcomes, if it meant you got to choose what movies you got to watch with him. 

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[laursdomain]

perfect for me

pairing: bodhi durran x fem!reader

genre: slight angst + fluff

synopsis: Bodhi Durran wanted many things in life, especially things that Xaden had. He couldn’t help it, he was his younger brother in a way. The most difficult thing to figure out what he wanted most of all…was you. 

warnings: Bodhi having self-doubt and being insecure

w/c: 1.1k

a/n: day 3 – wanting!! @empyreanevents

ྀིbodhi durran week 2026 masterlist

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

His entire life, Bodhi always lived in Xaden’s shadow. He’s grown accustomed to it over the years, especially considering his father wanted Bodhi to be just like Xaden.

Especially when their parents died, Xaden had taken Bodhi under his wing. He trained him, acted as a brother to him, and so much more. The two of them having similar features was just the cherry on top.

Over time, though, living in Xaden’s shadow and learning from him became something more. Bodhi found himself wanting certain things Xaden had. 

He wanted to be a respected leader like Xaden, so he became section leader his third year. 

He wanted friends he could trust with his life, like what Garrick is to Xaden. So he found a trustful friendship with Imogen.

He wanted to be one of the best fighters Basgiath has ever seen, just like Xaden is. So he became an exceptional rider.

There was one thing he couldn’t quite obtain. If there was one thing Bodhi truly wanted in life, it was someone who he could love with his mind, body, and soul. In the way Violet and Xaden love one another. 

He never thought he would find that type of love, not at Basgiath, at least. Until he met you. 

“Bodhi,” Quinn calls out, dragging you behind her. Imogen and Bodhi turn at the same time, both eyes falling on you. You were in the same year as the other three cadets, except you were in a different wing. “This is Y/N.”

Imogen raises a brow at you, but remains cordial because she knows she won’t hear the end of it from Quinn if she does otherwise. She inclines her head in greeting, “I’m Imogen.”

You smile brightly, a trait that you haven’t quite lost in the gloomy and traumatic experience of Basgiath War College. “I’ve heard a lot about you–both of you.”

Bodhi realizes he hasn’t quite said anything, internally scolding himself for standing there silently like a creep. He extends his hand, smiling softly, “it’s nice to meet you.”

In hindsight, you never thought you would fall in love with a marked one. Your parents would be livid, recalling all the stories they told you of the rebellion. But, the more you spent time with Bodhi, the more you found yourself enjoying the presence and friendship the marked ones provided.

They are not their parents.

“What are you doing?” Bodhi’s voice comes from behind you, the boy sitting in the open seat next to you in the library.

“Studying,” you answer, as if it’s the most obvious one. You flip to the next page in your textbook, reading over the information that may be in your exam next week.

Bodhi takes matters into his own hands, closing your textbook mid sentence. On cue, you finally glance up at him, glaring at your friend. 

“Was that necessary? I need to study,” you bite out, though your words hold no weight. 

“The test isn’t for another week,” Bodhi retorts, raising a dark brow, “you can take a break.”

You scoff, “unlike you, I’m not perfect in everything.” 

Bodhi’s amused expression drops for a moment, before putting his mask back on. You easily caught his look, crinkling your eyebrows in confusion. 

“I’m not perfect in everything.” Bodhi’s words hold truth, and for a moment you wonder why he would think such a thing. 

You cock a brow, “name one thing you aren’t perfect in.”

Bodhi opens his mouth to answer, but he’s at a loss for words. The one thing he isn’t perfect in, he cannot bring himself to say in front of you. That he absolutely sucks in finding a relationship. Not one like Xaden’s, at least. 

He settles on a different answer, “Xaden is more perfect than me.”

Your fist clenches, holding yourself back from slapping Bodhi across the face. How could he say something like that? To you, he was perfect. But he couldn’t know that, not when you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you hold so near to your heart. 

“You’re top of our year in every class. You have been asked personally by professors to assist first years in preparing for sparring, the gauntlet, and threshing. You were the first cadet in our year to be asked by leadership to be in a leadership position.”

“What are you–” Bodhi begins, but is silenced when you hold your hand up. You weren’t finished.

“You have mastered every weapon in training. You and Cuir have mastered every single maneuver in flight lessons, while the majority of us are still struggling to learn some of them. Every single feature on you is perfect, so much so that you’re the only marked one cadets feel comfortable going to. You’re also fiercely loyal, have so much kindness for everyone despite any type of anger they have towards you, and you love people the way you do. All those things are perfect, and to be quite frank, nobody I have met can top that.”

Bodhi gulps, rendered speechless from your words. Yes, he has the habit of putting himself down when he doesn’t deserve it–but he didn’t expect this. Especially not from you. 

His body moves without his mind. His hands cup your jaw, pulling you closer. Your noses touch, and Bodhi hesitates. He wouldn’t follow through without your permission. 

Your eyes widen at first, out of shock, before your mind catches up. With a sudden burst of confidence, you close the remaining distance between you and Bodhi. His lips are soft against your own, and you can’t help but think of how perfect he feels against you. As if two puzzle pieces finally came together.

Your hands rest against his forearms, silently telling him not to move. That you’re right where you want to be. He smiles into the kiss before tilting his head, deepening it. For once, you’re grateful to be at a table in the corner of the library, isolated by shelves of books. 

When he was with you, Bodhi felt like he could be himself. He wasn’t a shadow of Xaden, or known as Xaden Riorson’s cousin. He was simply Bodhi. And gods, he couldn’t get enough of it. 

Originally, he thought he wanted someone that could love him just like Violet loves Xaden. But, he was wrong. Very wrong. He wanted someone to love him truly for himself, especially all of his flaws and mistakes. 

Bodhi Durran was a simple man, he just wanted you.

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