Thank you so much for answering my ask also it was so good! I love maronia also her name fits so well. And Marius is absolutely a little rizzler. I need more of them 🥹. So maybe maronia + don't leave or hide. Actually write anything you want for them- I will love it
maronia + don't leave, hide
At some point, the sheets are pulled back. The fire in the hearth has long since burnt out, and the cold seeps in with a vengeance, as it always does. Never just a chill pebbling at his skin anymore, but the marrow-deep iciness known only in death.
Marius catches Adonia's wrist, and it is warm to the touch. “Don’t leave,” he rasps. “Not yet.”
Conflict writes itself across her face, tugging down at the corners of her mouth, flattening her brow. He knows it is an unfair thing he asks. Emile will kill him if they are found out, but his brother will do far, far worse to her.
Still, he cannot bring himself to retract the words.
Adonia glances to the balcony doors, where the light of false dawn is too bright behind their curtaining, then looks back to him.
“Alright,” she murmurs. Again, like she is reassuring herself, “Alright.” She tucks back in against his chest, and her heat presses into his flesh, far enough he can pretend it is all he knows. “But just for a little longer, hm?”
He might nod, but already drowsed by her comfort, sleep overtakes him before he can be sure.
Marius is jostled into waking with his heart already in his throat. It takes him a moment, first to realize that he is conscious, then to wince against the bright of late-morning, then to realize who is shoving at his chest.
"Adonia," he mumbles.
She gestures frantically at the door as he pushes up onto his palms.
Emile’s voice filters in through wood that seems suddenly insubstantial: “…ny my entry?”
Marius is on his feet before he makes the choice. He shakes his head, a paltry attempt to clear away the muzziness of sleep. He has no time to reckon with whether this buzzing in his body is fear or thrill.
His chamberlain, the blessed fool: “My sincerest apologies, Lord Emile. I would never—”
There is no hiding Adonia. Emile would sense another presence in the room and grow suspicious not to see it plainly. No doubt already does.
“—be so bold under any other circumstances, but—”
He could send her out onto the balcony to slip away, but that would only rouse Emile’s suspicions further. None amongst them has ever been precious about their conquests, spare the one.
“But?”
If he could stomach it, he might be able to glamour her, but even as minor a use of their ability as that stings up his throat.
“Well, it—it is only that the master does not—”
Unless he did not need to call on their magic at all.
Marius looks to the clutter of his desk. There sits a recent request from Eris: a bangle, charmed to disguise the appearance of the wearer. It is not yet finished, but it will serve purpose enough.
“—take kindly to his rest being disturbed. If-If—”
He plucks it from the pile and tosses it onto the bed, where Adonia still sits, stricken and small and paler than he has before seen. She looks down at it with wide eyes, then obediently slips it onto her wrist. When she looks back up at him, it is with honey-gold hair framing her face—a vernal cascade, shimmering its deception.
“If you could only—”
A gesture towards the pillows at her back as he makes for the door. She turns over into them, positioned that only the spill of her hair and curve of her back are visible amongst the ample bedding.
Assured enough by the ruse, Marius yanks open the door as though freshly woken and irritated for it. His chamberlain is convulsing at his feet, the tendons of his neck strained as he fights for breath that will not come with Emile’s smoke clogging his lungs.
It is a wonder his brother held off so long at all.
“For fuck’s sake, Emile,” he grouses. But he supposes the servant deserves more than just that, for sparing Adonia. “Don’t be a prick. I've no interest in spending my day training a new chamberlain.”
Nearly, he thinks this will not be sufficient. But then there is a gasp from below, followed by a wretched cough. Those burns will linger long and heal slow.
Without a care, Emile flicks his eyes up Marius’ naked body and steps over the sputtering male, no more than a bit of debris on a footpath. His lip curls up as he crosses the threshold into the room.
“It reeks of cunt in here.”
Marius watches his chamberlain scrabble to his feet, then summon as much dignity as he can muster to flee down the hall. He glances to Emile once the male is out of sight and says, “You think you were the only one to lose yourself in a whore after the banquet?”
Narrowed and assessing, Emile takes in the disarray of the mattress and the body sprawled within it. “You permit her to stay the night?”
“We only just finished," he simpers. "You give yourself away, being free to intrude on me so early.”
It is not enough of a barb to ensnare his brother’s attention. Emile takes a few leisurely steps towards the bed, perusing what he can see of Adonia as one would a jeweler’s samples.
Pulling back the sheets for better view, he hums his appreciation. “Where were you hiding this one?”
Marius has the perverse urge to laugh and crosses his arms over his chest as if that might settle it. “She’s one of mine.”
At this, Emile glances back to him, sheet still in his hand. “It doesn’t do to get attached to them.”
“Is this what you’ve roused me for?” Marius goads. “A bit of brotherly advice?”
“No,” Emile replies, finally letting the covering fall and turning to face Marius fully. A pause, brief. “Adonia is not on the grounds. Her maids are unable to account for her whereabouts.”
Wretches. They ought to lie through their teeth for their mistress. They ought to offer their lives before letting her befall this sort of suspicion. If Marius hadn’t been certain they’d been bought by Emile before, he is now.
On a roll of his eyes, “I didn’t realize you were so deep in your cups last night.”
Emile stiffens, as though someone has wound a string about the top of his spine and abruptly yanked it. He has been this way ever since they were young: so quick to offense, so quick to intimidation. Unwilling to ask after the information, he only flicks his hand in impatient gesture for Marius to continue.
“She mentioned at dinner that she’d be visiting her parents’ estate today.”
Marius watches as Emile thinks on the lie. Some spymaster, to have his thoughts flit across his face so. That press of his mouth—how deeply he indeed drank. That furrow of his brow—how his mind did wander whenever Adonia spoke. That tilt of his head—how she very well could have mentioned such a thing to him, perhaps while he had been caught up in the breasts of the servant leaning across the table from him.
At length, “But not to have her maids ready her? Not to take them along?”
It is not an accusation, though some part of Marius wishes that it were. He shrugs, fending off his disappointment. This is for the best. He might face death, but, he must remind himself, Adonia would face worse.
Marius says, “Much as I relish playing soothsayer for you, Emile, your mate’s dealings are not my concern.”
“No,” Emile grouses, “I suppose not.”
But his tone assures that they will be Adonia's.
Marius wishes, then, for S—
No, not him. He cannot think to him now.
Marius wishes, then, for Eris to be here. He would have lied more convincingly. He would have known how to keep her from any consequence at all. He would have been wiser than to ask her to stay in the first place.
Suddenly at his side, Emile says in his exit, “Have a servant by to tidy this hovel.”
And that will be that.
Emile will leave. Adonia will be punished. Marius will not.
Wanting for something more, Marius says, “Of course, brother. Shall I fetch one of my own, or shall I select directly from your retinue to spare you the coin?”
Emile pauses at the door. He is drawn up so tall, and when he smiles, thin on his mouth, he looks very much like Beron. “You are so much bolder now that Silas isn’t around to fight your battles, Marius. I know it was a… difficult time for you, at first, but you should be glad of your freedom. It becomes you.”
There, Marius thinks. That is better.
He does not realize he has been left staring into his empty doorway until the door closes and Adonia is before him, her hair dark once more. She looks up at him with those soft, round eyes, the same ones she wore when she first slipped into his chambers.
“I’m sorry,” she says, hushed.
Marius does laugh, now. Just a chuckle. “You are sorry, Adonia? For what?”
Adonia reaches up to cup his jaw, the cradle of her palm a suggestion of warmth. Her thumb slips too easily on his skin as she slides it across his cheekbone.
He must be crying.
Marius says, “He will hurt you for this.”
“Yes,” Adonia replies.
“I am the one who should be sorry.” Lamely, “I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.”
Like a gardenia wilted around its edges, Adonia smiles at him. “Where else did I have to go?”
34 bauble for adonia/emile gimme the other side of the coin
adile / maronia + bauble
When Adonia was a youngling, her mother had a statuette on display in their sitting room. Not a single guest came to visit without heaping compliments on her.
Every strand of her mid-night hair had been lovingly carved, then painted over with so fine a brush that none clumped together. Her dress, a rich, royal crimson, fluttered down her body as though caught on perpetual breeze. Always, she was laughing, the beautiful, tinkling noise that males preferred. Her dewdrop face was bright with it.
The detail was so fine, it seemed impossible to Adonia that she was not alive and simply faking. A pixie seeking safe harbor, perhaps. Such pests were known for their trickery.
Adonia would often leave the room — with intention, mind you, so that the pixie would not sense the lie — then exercise her newfound ability to step through the world and appear before the statuette to catch the pixie, finally, in motion. Devious herself, she never fell for such a ruse. Adonia was still not convinced.
Frustrated one afternoon after her etiquette lesson, and not yet tall enough to reach for the pixie to shake her into truth, Adonia flicked her fingers at the statuette and set her on fire. She did not want to hurt the pixie, of course. Just startle the little thing into action. Her flame never hurt her, you see, so she did not think much of it at all.
But her mother, who had been walking by, was at once aghast.
She is alive, was all Adonia first said by way of explanation.
She is not, her mother said. Why would you want to hurt her, if you thought she was?
I did not want to hurt her. Angry, suddenly, and uncertain why, Adonia asked, What is she for, if she does not do anything at all? If she only stands there, laughing, day in and day out?
Her mother looked at her quite sadly, then. It would be many years before Adonia understood why, and when she did, she would make a very similar face. She brings people joy, little love. Just by being. She does not need to do anything but that.
After that, Adonia came to live like the statuette.
She brushed through her hair, until it shone, until every strand was separate and fine.
She donned the latest fashions, in royal colors, in eminent cuts.
She laughed, beautiful and tinkling, in the way that males preferred.
Not a single suitor came by without heaping compliments on her.
When she attended court for the first time and the mating bond snapped between her and Emile — when she felt it, before he had even looked her way — when she could not keep from blurting it out and earning his sneer — she was glad that even for her indignity in the moment, all she needed to do was be, and she would soon bring him joy.
Sitting at his side now, Adonia stares into the flickering centerpiece of the banquet table and thinks to the statuette, as she has not done for some time. In her memory, it is alive. In her memory, it is still a pixie, tricky, devious, aflame.
The fire before her goes out. It is such a trivial use of her ability that she waves her hand before she can think better of it, and the flame roars back to life.
In her periphery, Emile’s grip on his fork tightens. He interrupts his conversation to snap, “That is servants’ work, Adonia.”
One of his brothers snorts from across the table, just as she murmurs out, “Apologies, my lord.”
Emile cuts a look to him. “Something amusing, Marius?”
But it is the same-faced one beside who leans forth and says, “It’s such low-hanging fruit. Must we even give it voice?”
Marius laughs, then incites the fire into a dance between them.
Silas waves a hand, and a centerpiece down the table flares up. “Come now, Emile,” he says, tipping his head to the other end of the table, where a third candle burns tame. “Your turn.”
In her lap, Adonia feels her fingers twitch. She does not mean for them to. It is much like setting the statuette on fire: frustration set free.
The flame soars towards the ceiling.
Down the table, the eldest brother issues command, cutting and final: “Enough.”
All of the centerpieces die down, abruptly.
Emile, staring daggers at his brothers across, thankfully does not seem to realize it was her who lit the third. But the twins do.
Marius slides his eyes to meet hers and smirks, a clandestine curve to the corner of his mouth.
Adonia drops her gaze to her plate.
But late into the night, when Emile has left their bed in pursuit of another, she dreams about it: a statuette burning up into a pixie, and a male who prefers her that way.
Do you have any more lore drops about Emile, Adonia and Marius?
[Insert freaky sonic gif]
after emile dies—regardless of what variation of death he meets—adonia takes it very, very hard. he was still her mate, no matter how awful he was to her, and the bond had atrophied between them but it was still very much there. a part of her has been shredded through, and where the roots of him had once been, there is now only a gaping wound. it is much like what marius went through with silas. there’s also the mourning of what could have been, if only, if only, if only.
i’m picturing: adonia sobbing into marius’ chest, curling her fingers into his shirt, trying to claw her way into him to ease the pain of losing her mate. marius’ heart shattering against her because now his adonia knows what it is to have an irreparable rend in the world where someone should still be. but it won’t be the same as what he went through—because he knows how to take care of her. he does all the things for her that he couldn’t do for himself after silas, all the things that no one else did for him. (a mixture of their own grief, discomfort, and uncertainty surrounding caretaking. loa tried, but looking at marius only made her see silas, and ronan, and lucien, all the sons she’d lost to what beron made them.) he makes sure she eats and washes her hair and keeps her chambers tidy and reads to her and takes her out into the sunlight to remember that it’s still there for her when she wants it again. she is his other half now, and he will fit himself against her until they are whole once more.
24. Are any of the brothers married, engaged and / or mated?
emile — emile has a mate, adonia, and they are married, as i hc is custom in autumn regardless of mate status. in classic emile fashion, he views her as a slight to him. she is from a weaker bloodline in autumn, which confirms to him that he is unworthy and weak, which makes him angrier and more vindictive. she can also wield flame where he cannot, which feels like a cosmic sort of fuck you to emile, that she has weak blood but strong power and he has strong blood but weak power. he is an absolute piece of shit to her. if she hadn't felt the bond between them snap into place and announced it in her shock, he never would have married her. at least ... he doesn't? cheat? unless you consider bed slaves and servants cheating, which none of the vanserra boys really do when they're the ones to use them.
carmine — carmine, who rules the province along the border of winter, is betrothed to kirsi, first-born daughter of the winter court family that owns most of the land bordering autumn. this is an entirely strategic alliance, and the exception to marrying within autumn is made by beron because this is a means to expand his rule without violating the treaty. kallias very much wants to contest this betrothal, especially once freed from utm, but he does not have the political strength to. carmine runs her absolutely ragged, especially at first. he is not at all subtle about the fact that he's fucking around on her. i don't think she much cares, except when he does it while in winter, where rumors spread that she must contend with directly. but then she doesn’t care about him so much that he becomes desperate for her attentions and affections->genuinely comes to have feelings for her->finally wins her over.
silas — there were talks of betrothal for silas (and marius) before his death. ladies of fine birth in their respective provinces were brought forth for them (beron) to choose from. this was also done as a way to see if any mating bonds would snap into place. he died just after one was chosen for him. beron conidered just marrying her off to marius, since marius assumed rule of silas's neighboring province after his death for being 1) bold enough to go after lucien and 2) bold enough to attack beron — but amalia intervened. she managed to convince beron to put marrying marius off. not sure how. she is much smarter than me and knows how to handle beron, so she knows what to say to guide his hand without overstepping and earning the back of it. also probably sex. anyway.
marius — marius is having an affair with emile's mate<3 it started as a crashout, self-destruction sort of thing for him after silas died. she came to check on him when he retired to his chambers in the middle of a feast one night. because that is what you do for someone who is grieving — not because she always liked marius the most of all the vanserras; not because she thought it sort of charming, the way he made such an angry face while reading, only for it to smooth away the moment he looked up from his book; not because when word reached her that two of the three brothers had died, she sent a prayer to the mother that neither was marius. and she was so concerned, so soft, so supple, in a way emile hated but sparked something in marius. the first thing he felt at all since silas died. he didn't know if it was the hope that emile would find out and kill him for it, or the pleasure in indulging in something irrational and ill-advised. he didn't care, not after the first time he lost himself in her, or the fifth, or the twentieth. by then, the way emile treated her began to truly rankle him, and he knew that it had become neither. that it had become love.
once emile dies, however that happens, if marius hasn't already been married to gisele, eris marries adonia off to marius. it's a perfect play as high lord. regarded as both ruthless and benevolent. from the outside looking on, he has tied lord marius' hands in ever finding a female of his own, restricting his ability for an heir, effectively neutralizing him as a threat to the throne. he has also taken care of the late lord emile's mate, going above and beyond the norm to ensure adonia's protection by the family is unquestioned and the castelets are assuaged of their status by proxy while managing not to breach established custom; there's precedent for such marriages in autumn, especially amongst high fae.
meanwhile, of course, he knows this allows marius and adonia the opportunity to properly be together the first time ever. they can be seen together at public events without raising any questions. even if they're affectionate with each other, the most they'll get is harmless gossip. how of course a vanserra would move in on his dead brother's mate. how of course she would cling to one who reminded her so much of her mate. if adonia bore any of marius' children, he even gets to be their father. all of this is ideal, because adonia finds no joy in sneaking around after emile. it reminds her too much of him. it reminds her of him being alive, which frightens her, which she desperately longs for. she finally understands what it is to have lived a half-life—and how cruel it was for them all to keep marius alive for one. but she can't leave him :•) he needs her :•)
do you have any more headcanons of adonia and marius you could share? i love them SO much and would devour anything about them!
let me see let me see!
well into their affair, marius begins to seem okay again to adonia. not like his old self—he’ll never be like his old self again, and she knows that—but alive, at least. he smiles easier. laughs. he shows unfeigned (!) interest in things. sometimes even enough for her to see something like that long-dead sparkle in his eyes. she makes offhanded comment about this in front of someone—amalia, maybe, or carmine—that marius at least seems to have found his footing. they look at her like she’s bonkers bananas, and she’s quick enough on her feet to say: granted, it is not oft that i see him anymore. they log this away because of course they do, but neither suspect anything beyond maybe her trying to fish for information on behalf of emile.
turns out uhhh marius is not okay! not unless he’s in adonia’s company. but she and emile live in their own estate in the province he oversees—so all adonia ever sees of marius is him 1) realizing she’s around 2) knowing she’s around 3) being around her. she doesn’t see the way that fire she’s singlehandedly managed to kindle in him gutters so violently the moment she isn’t around. how he’s just . listless—self-isolating. his only purpose being the tasks eris puts him to. even then, there’s no passion for it really. he’s just good at charms and runes. something he only ever learned for how it would benefit silas. that sparkle she sees, that unfeigned interest—it’s in her. it’s when she plays harp for him, or he manages to catch her playing it for her ladies in the parlor. it’s when she sits near him at dinner and acts like she has no care in the world for him, only to melt in his arms. it’s her, it’s her, it’s always and only her.
this probably should be more of a concern for her. but why would it be? her mate, preordained by the mother, treats her so abysmally. he barely pays her any attention, and when he does, it hurts. nothing she ever does is good enough for him. but marius—she’s his whole world. she’s his everything. she wouldn’t have been had silas still been around—he barely even looked twice at her then. but silas isn’t around, and emile doesn’t love her like he ought, and marius literally only ever comes alive for her. the way a mate should. the way a mate does in those storybooks of her youth. and marius doesn’t have any criticisms for how she talks or acts or thinks. he loves it when she speaks her mind. he loves it when she shows off her flame. he loves it when she does anything at all. so it should be a concern for her that marius is so bereft without her—and it does sadden her to think about.
Once adonia has kids, does she try to protect them from emile or is it very much a beron and amalia situation? What does amalia think of adonia :0
what a spectacular thing to rotisserie style rotate ! i think adonia hopes having emile’s children will warm him to her—that the kindness he shows her in pregnancy will extend beyond into motherhood. it, of course, doesn’t. i think at first she has a lot of displaced resentment for her baby over this. i could see her being a pretty hands-off mom to the firstborn. i could also see eris experiencing some intense emotions about this (weird! wonder what that could be about?) and having some sort of fraught half-spoken conversation with her about it. or more likely arrange a situation where, some way or another, she comes out of it spooked into taking a more active role in her baby’s life. probably by arranging for the temple she frequents to speak on motherhood or by psyop implanting the idea to marius to talk about his upbringing, how little he ever saw of his mother, how he was fortunate, for beron had such intense focus on silas and eris. emile, once, he heard, but certainly not by the time he had been born. by then beron had tossed emile aside, and emile hadn’t even had their mother to land in the arms of.
this way adonia thinks—i can’t let my baby be cast aside like i’ve been with no one to cradle them in the after. probably a few years in, she grows very protective. puts herself in between emile and their child. earns his ire but also just a little bit of his respect. just a little! if their child has the flame, she’s absolutely training it in them. even if that’s just their secret, just a silly game to pass the time, something that father mustn’t ever ever know about, not ever, swear it to me. then i think if they have any other children, she’s a bit better prepared. it still rocks her shit, the way emile goes from hyper-concerned with her wellbeing during her pregnancy to fully abandoning her to the midwife the moment he’s assured that the baby’s healthy. it’s hard for her, but at least she has marius. at least she can pretend when he holds her recovering body that it was his babe she bore, not her mate’s, and that he had been there the whole labor through, and that he had dampened her brow with a cool cloth, and that he had pressed his forehead to her temple as she strained, and that he had shared in her joy as the babe finally came into the world.
does adonia try to hide from marius when emile hurts her, or does she seek comfort from marius in these moments? what is marius's reaction to finding out when emile hurts adonia, both emotionally and physically?
hm hm hm i think adonia experiences shame and embarrassment for marius to see that her mate treats her that way, but there’s not a lot of point in hiding the marks from him. the vanserras all know what adonia endures. emile feels it well within his right to correct his female as he sees fit, a lesson he learned from beron and implements indiscriminately. so marius knows what sort of creature his brother is, and adonia knows he knows—plus he’ll see as soon as her clothes come off anyway. she seeks comfort from him mostly by way of him just treating her softly and unlike emile. if he draws too much attention to the way emile treats her, she’s liable to grow indignant and snappish in her shame, much like emile might. if she were only a better mate, maybe he would love her, maybe he would see her worth.
marius wants to kill emile sooooo bad every time he sees how emile treats adonia, whether that’s the way he speaks to her over dinner or the marks he leaves on her that only marius ever actually sees. he becomes a bit more like the silas of their dynamic—he will gladly be the bark and the bite on her behalf, but he won’t do anything that puts her in a bad spot. he also won’t do anything that’ll make her leave him. taking her mate from her in any way that isn’t completely justifiable (her asking him to, emile nearly killing her, etc.) would 1) devastate her personhood, as he well knows from losing his carranam bond; or 2) risk her leaving him, which he wouldn’t survive a second time. so it’s a lot of unspoken and physical comfort between maronia. the carving out of something that’s only theirs to try to overwrite the looming threat of emile. because god marius would kill that brother of his So Quick if she gave him leave to—and her knowing that he cares that much is comfort enough for her
