#*eris

[eatsbooks]

one must consider an eris whose entire life is meticulously, exactingly organized and controlled—except for his personal chambers, his study, his desk, where something is always left untidy. pens askew. garments over chaises. books scattered. because it’s easy for a conniving mind to search a perfect room and return everything exactly as it should be; it’s far more difficult for even the slyest, most exceptional spy to return clutter to its precise spot. which sleeve hung over this cushion, and which grazed the floor? which paper had been layered over which, or had none been layered at all? did this book lay open, or was it that one? eris for whom even clutter is a means of control and deception and cunning.

[eatsbooksarchive]

eris vanserra being young and small and wondering why his mother cannot quite bear to hold him. (he doesn’t know it yet, but he — more than being betrothed to beron, more than getting married, more than conception — has sealed her fate. the first born boy. the heir. she is now the mother of a baby beron will ruin, and she can never leave him, but she can never save him. the illusion of choice is taken from her in his first breath.) eris vanserra watching the same thing happen with every baby after him; kept at arm’s length, left to governesses and wet nurses and tutors, chaste smoothing of hair and infrequent kisses to the crowns of heads but no more. (he was so excited for the first brother and incrementally less so with each subsequent. he knew what his father would turn them into; he knew that his mother would not be able to love them.) ((in this way, he is not so unlike his mother, even if he cannot understand her.)) eris vanserra having to mold himself in his father’s image to be able to protect his mother and thus incurring more of his mother’s disgust.

eris vanserra being an adult and watching his mother cradle the final brother, lucien, to her chest like he is something precious, like he is something sacred. eris vanserra still not understanding what made him different at birth than this brother, what made him unlovable. (he knows why she does not love him now, himself seeing only his father in the mirror anymore, but he still cannot quite figure out why she did not love him then.) ((even when he does find out, he will not understand, not fully. he did not choose his sire; she did. how is it his fault that he carries beron’s blood and lucien is fortunate enough not to?)) (((even so, he knows that lucien needs to be protected at all costs. he has never seen his mother so happy, and that is all he has ever wanted for her.)))

[flameandfyre]

that daredevil quote except it's eris vanserra and the lady of autumn —

"i wanted a saviour and you wanted a mother." "then i guess we're both disappointed"

[eatsbooksarchive]

currently thinking about 💭eris vanserra who does not drink, not really. eris vanserra who will have a glass of wine, maybe two, but anything beyond that is just water he has glamoured to keep up appearances. eris vanserra who does not like to be out of control of his faculties, even for a second, because when he is, those he cares about get hurt. eris vanserra who had been too-young and drunk on stolen kitchen spirits the first time he didn’t notice his father’s mounting irritation with his mother and watched her nose get bloodied over dinner. eris vanserra who had been drunk the night he refused to kill jesminda for his father; and perhaps if he had been smarter, if he had played the game better, he could have glamoured another poor soul in her stead and ferreted her away, he could have been there to do more for lucien than simply alert tamlin, he could have kept the three brothers he lost that day, two to death, one to hatred. eris vanserra who does not drink, but when he does, the harsh lines of him relax, and he smiles more, and his eyes twinkle, and color rises to his cheeks, and he looks so much like lucien that his mother cannot stand to look at him. eris vanserra who does not drink, not really.💭

[eatsbooksarchive]

do you think lucien begged for eris when jesminda was taken in? (first it was just pleading — she didn’t do anything wrong. it was me. i wouldn’t leave her alone. punish me. please, father, my lord, punish me. but then, when the screaming started, it was — where is eris? where is eris? please, eris, please, you said you would protect me. you said you said you said.) do you think beron told lucien that eris was invited to join in but decided it wasn’t worth his time to deal with the low-born faerie filth his brother defiled himself with? do you think beron told lucien that eris knew what was happening and simply didn’t care enough to stop it, that eris was upstairs, drunk and entertaining courtiers? do you think lucien was so fragile in that moment that he believed it without question? do you think lucien heard eris screaming as he was being punished for refusing to participate, but lucien didn’t recognize them because jesminda’s had finally stopped, and there was nothing left for him in the world, let alone a brother who was not there when he begged?

[eatsbooksarchive]

how long do you guys think eris’s hounds kept looking for him after koschei stole him away. just snuffling and sniffing, desperate for a scent. they are used to him disappearing, but not like this, not so panicked, not so worried. how long before they started whining. how long before they started braying, even though they know they are not supposed to, because they would rather him be there and upset with them for their disobedience than gone like he is

[eatsbooks]

beron who hears autumn but does not listen. its groans and sighs are toneless, hollow things to his ears despite that they carry words below. the howling on the wind meets him as would that of any other beast to be yolked. he knows the intent. he can follow the patterns. if he made effort to, he could parse the meaning—but he never makes the effort. the land is meant to serve him; why should he bend his ear to listen? he doesn’t notice when it begins to withhold its voice from him. not until its favor is lost to him entirely. by then, it is far too late for him to do anything to win it back.

eris who hears autumn and who listens from birth. he can only intuit at first, for the land tries for so very long and with such intent focus to snag the attentions of its high lord. he catches at fleeting echoes between the branches and plucks mutters from between the fallen leaves until it finally notices him. but once it does—words take tentative form. the more he listens, the more tangible they become. whispers, then murmurs, then outright guidance. he hears the canopy laugh with delight for the first time over something he does and nearly unseats his horse. the court speaks to him constantly: the wind and the trees and the brooks and the vines and the roots and the seeds and the crops and the soil. never alone with autumn around.

autumn which loves and favors its heir so much because he, unlike his father, is someone who listens.