Shadows, Ice, and Fire (TBC)
A/N: I'm back!!!!!!! I'm done with my work and am resuming writing. I wrote this on a whim and it hasn't been edited or anything so. . . hope you guys like it.
Host of the Nifelheim. Mistress of Narben. Sister to the High Lord of Winter. Aneira only had one thing in her mind—retirement. She had it all planned out. All the foods and libraries and activities she’d try. But then came not one, but two mating bonds.
In Velaris, Azriel feels uneasy especially after hearing that this dangerous female would attend the next political gathering. And even when patience has always been the Spymaster’s strength, he is also someone who has hoped against hope tirelessly and this time, the Mother has a surprise.
Eris Vanserra knew he wanted to kill Beron. But the power of a High Lord could not be overthrown overnight. He has waited centuries for the opportune moment, sacrificed his sanity, endured false accusations, and much more. And now that the wait is about to end, he finds himself in another situation.
The scent reached Aneira first. When it did, she knew that Mor was embarrassed. It was normal for the body to be sensitive during saunas. It’d be even more sensitive in hot springs and then during the massage.
What were the chances that they were the only two guests in this resort?
But this female was so desperately, pathetically soaked by the scent of her own arousal that Aneira couldn’t help but wonder. After all, it’d been a while since she’d bedded someone. And the best thing about retirement was this freedom to make spontaneous decisions.
“Morrigan.” Her clear voice echoed in the sauna room. The blonde female squeaked and Aneira wondered how someone had gotten that aroused already. But then she decided she wanted to play. So Aneira changed her tone. “You’re dripping.”
She heard Mor gasp. A moment of silence followed.
“Yes.” The word came out in half a moan. Desperation.
“Are you going to do something about it?” Aneira was genuinely curious. She was getting aroused but she wanted to know what exactly Mor wanted right now.
“Please,” she begged, hands gripping the edge of the sauna bench.
Aneira remained quiet for a few seconds. She supposed it would be rather enjoyable to indulge in this dalliance.
Sweat gleamed over the blonde female’s tan skin. Hair, damp and sticky. Utterly aroused. Morrigan was attractive and Aneira knew she make her beg.
“What are you willing to do?” She wanted to have fun. And gods did Morrigan become so compliant.
“Anything,” the female gasped. “Please.”
“On all fours,” the Winter fae commanded.
Mor’s knees hit the ground almost immediately, palms pressed against the wooden flooring.
“Crawl to me,” Aneira whispered. And when she obeyed, Aneira stopped her before she reached too close. She crossed her legs and extended the one on top so that her toes were right in front of Mor’s mouth.
The desperation was too obvious as Mor sucked her toe like it was the only task she was meant to do. But then Aneira pulled it out of her mouth and guided it to her chin and raised her face.
And the last thing Mor saw was Aneira waving a hand before a piece of silk covered her eyes.
It was supposed to be yet another day in his life. Contacting spies, browsing through reports, sitting through loneliness or awkwardness. But then Rhysand entered his office and required his presence for a trade negotiation hosted by Winter.
With Rhys, Cassian, Feyre, and Nesta attending and Mor already there, he wanted to refuse. But he never did that.
And this time too, he would.
He’d drowned himself in work to avoid thinking too much about his own state of singleness. And there were more reports to check. Nevertheless, he was ready and so were his things.
“Morrigan has sent word. Aneira is in Athelgard.” Rhysand announced.
Azriel immediately turned to him. Aneira’s presence certainly warranted a lot of safety checks. She was dangerous. As the mistress of an unknown member of the death trove and host of Nifelheim, she was single-handedly one of the most dangerous fae in Prythian. “But why have you delayed informing me about that?”
Rhysand held his gaze and sighed. “I just got word earlier this morning. She ran into her at a hot spring resort.”
As Kallias’s sister, she was initially part of politics before she took her leave, only returning to protect Winter during Amarantha’s reign and the war that followed. After that, both she and her brother, Xethes, had nearly disappeared.
“And Xethes?” Cassian queried.
“No idea,” Rhysand shrugged his shoulders.
“Aneira is more than enough to warrant all of us. Are you bringing Amren?”
“She says she’ll be nearby in Summer but. .”
“Without my powers, I’d be nothing more than a burden to you.” Amren’s unfamiliarly dull voice came. They found her at the door and she had headed over to sit after saying that much. She then continued, “Even without this new restriction on my body, I was never a match for her.”
“That settles it then,” Rhys sighed. “We’re all going.”
Two weeks later, Athelgard, capital of the Winter Court
“Welcome.” One of Kallias’s younger cousins greeted them. Isolde. Younger by three centuries. Twin to Eirwen who was guiding Helion’s entourage a few steps ahead of them.
“How have you been? How’s the baby? Is he fussy? Has he started teething? When do they start teething anyway?” And the questions came.
Isolde was the chattiest among Kallias’s family. And Feyre answered all her questions, knowing fully well why Isolde was asking. Viviane had birthed a lovely little girl very recently. Elsa. This gathering would also be her first public appearance.
“He is mischievous. His magic has also started manifesting. He’s able to winnow although uncontrollably.”
“But isn’t that worrisome? What if he winnows into danger?”
“It is.” Feyre confessed worriedly, hoping that she wouldn’t have to see another day where her son could possibly winnow and endanger himself. “Mor is with him today.”
“Oh.” Isolde then looked at Feyre and smiled brightly. She then looked back at the rest of the Night’s entourage. “Does anyone like desserts?”
“Me.” Nesta raised her hand.
Isolde somehow smiled brighter and turned. She began walking backwards while leading them to the ballroom while ranting. “They’re going to serve my favourite cheesecake along with a few other items. Trust me, there’s nothing better than a cheesecake to end the meal but Aneira says the pudding is better. If you take my side on this, I’ll treat you to more desserts.”
“What?” Nesta asked, thoroughly amused.
“Because Neir thinks her darling pudding is the best thing ever. I’m pretty sure she plans to hog it all for herself tonight.”
“Yes, tonight. Because they’re not serving pudding tomorrow and she was so upset while we decided on the menu. And then. .”
But Azriel heard nothing more.
Because Aneira had been part of the group deciding the menu.
She had plans to hog the pudding.
Which meant she’d be here for the gathering tonight.
And suddenly, even as he was walking, he wanted to run away.
The thought of facing this female rattled him to the core but they’d nearly reached the hall. The doors were open and he could see the inside. The golden robes of Day. The gentle pinks of Dawn. The dreamy blues of Summer.
They were getting closer and closer.
Kallias and Viviane had come over with Helion. They were saying something. He heard nothing. He saw nothing.
Except one part of the room where he could see the back of a head.
He could hear the laughter of a child.
And there she was, Aneira with baby Elsa on her lap.
He didn’t dare to walk over. To take a chance or a glance. But another figure came and took the baby in his arms. Kallias. Elsa happily went to her father. And her aunt finally rose.
The back of her periwinkle gown. . . did not exist.
There was only the long fabric that began from the nape of her neck. He realised that the fabric had come up from the front only to be tied behind the neck. It gently hugged her figure.
Her hair was tied up with a single long ribbon in some hairstyle he dared not decipher. The blindfold matched. And for the first time, Aneira had been dressed in a social gathering as if she was unprepared for war.
As if the universe had allowed her to relax.
The gathering was to celebrate Elsa’s birth and that was the sole reason why Viviane agreed for Winter to host this year’s trade negotiations.
The negotiations would begin tomorrow. And today was for the baby.
A lovely girl that Feyre had immediately fallen in love with. Old enough for her neck and head to have stabilised and to be held upright but young not enough to crawl.
The baby remained with the parents for a while with everyone approaching them to offer their well wishes.
At some point right before dinner was when it happened.
Viviane had dropped the baby off with Aneira right after feeding her. But Elsa began crying within a few minutes. It seemed like Aneira was confused because no matter how much she rocked the child, she’d cry harder.
Before either of her parents could reach her, Eris Vanserra took the baby, held her against his chest, and rubbed her back.
“That’s it.” Eris whispered as he continued stroking her back. He looked at Viviane with a neutral expression and said, “You forgot to burp the baby.”
“Oh.” Viviane simply exclaimed.
“One more.” Eris whispered to the child. And Elsa burped again in a few seconds. She was now at peace. “There we go.” And he looked around. “Which one of you wants her?”
“I’ll take her.” Aneira raised her hands.
Watching the entire scene, as Aneira’s hands brushed against Eris’s chest and his hands brushing against her arms while she took Elsa back, was a nauseating experience for Azriel.
“Six younger siblings, my lady.” Eris straightened his jacket. His words also came with the silent reminder that two of them were no more.
“Ah.” Aneira no longer needed to rock the baby. “Thank you.” Azriel heard the sincerity behind those words. And it seemed to surprise Eris.
“You’re welcome.” He spoke, the words spilling out of practice but his tone had unconsciously gone lower and softer.
Azriel watched as the interaction affected Eris in some manner. And while Aneira took her seat on the armchair where she’d been sitting, Eris stood a few steps away like a guard waiting if she needed him again for the baby.
And amidst that, the shadowsinger noticed how Eris clenched his hands and flexed them.
Indeed, Aneira had shown a new side of herself tonight.
It had surprised many and made them lower their guard as if she was not the same individual who was hailed by the Weaver to be the strongest fae.
Nesta walked over and joined him. “Not sure if tonight’s Spymaster duties involved observing Aneira and only her.”
“You’ve been doing the same.” Azriel did not know how to explain the way he felt utterly apprehensive about the entire gathering. And how he thought Aneira was the reason behind his unease and therefore, he was waiting for something to go wrong.
“I feel a kindred spirit. The scary woman who softens for her sibling’s child.”
“She and you are two different types of scary.” Azriel took a sip of whiskey.
Nesta looked at him as if he’d said something outrageous. “Elaborate.”
“You’re snappy when you want to push people away. She made a promise to Lucien’s mother to gift Beron’s corpse if he ever so much as breathed outside Prythian’s borders.”
Nesta blinked. She then turned to watch the blindfolded female. “What a ferocious thing to promise.”
“She’s fully capable of fulfilling it.”
“How admirable.” Nesta continued to observe her. “I wonder how she’ll fit in with the Valkyries.”
“The last time she got angry, Rhysand had been beaten to the ground.” Azriel now turned to his sister-in-law with a smirk. The two of them clinked their glasses and took a sip.
“In her defense it was my fault.” Rhysand joined them. “I said something untoward about Lucien’s mother.”
“She's very protective of the Lady.”
“She’s the patron of the Misthall. It’s quite similar to the library for the priestesses back home.”
“The promise to kill Beron, beating you up, supporting abused women—sounds like we need more of such females.”
Elsa had been put to bed. Rhysand and Feyre had confirmed with Mor that Nyx had slept too.
Dinner would begin as soon as Aneira entered after her final spells on her niece. The parents had already returned to tell the attendants to start the dining preparations.
The tables and cutlery were set. Everyone knew where their seats were. To his annoyance, Azriel had been placed opposite to a haughty Eris who smirked upon seeing approach his chair.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Rhysand’s dog.”
“Behave, Eris.” Viviane chided. She then looked over to the Illyrian and politely asked, “Is the chair comfortable? Do you need space for the wings? Anything?”
“I’m perfectly fine, my lady. The chair is comfortable.”
“What a distressing thing to hear.” Eris made no effort to lower his voice.
“Will you behave already?” Viviane huffed. “I swear, you’re behaving like a child despite being older than me.”
“My mother knows me to be the most responsible of her offsprings.”
“I cannot wait for the opportunity to speak with her about parenting.” Viviane began.
Eris remained quiet as he stared at Viviane. The Lady of Winter began to feel nervous before Eris quietly spoke wistfully, “I really don’t know how she would feel about that.”
Viviane stared at him. He seemed to be looking at something so far away. Something that continued to escape him.
“Does she like sweets? I can send some with you.”
Eris looked at the hostess, examining her intent, before replying. “Mildly sweet things, my lady.”
And in that moment, Azriel was a witness to a seemingly trivial moment of respect between Viviane and Eris.
“I’ll sneak in one of Aneira’s favourite puddings. And there’s the vanilla butter cake. . .” Viviane continued talking to herself. And Azriel saw pure respect in Eris’s eyes for the way this Lady concerned herself with his mother.
It almost made him want to give Eris a few packets of his instant hot chocolate to pass on to the Lady of Autumn. He remembered that much from whenever Lucien allowed himself to speak of his mother.
Azriel quickly shook that thought away from his head and proceeded to pay attention elsewhere.
But then she walked in like a cool breeze, refreshing his senses.
The scent reached him before the person and when he turned around, Aneira was walking towards them with her hair down and the blindfold no longer covering her eyes.
The blindfold was her trademark by now.
Just as she was about to sit, Eirwen teased, “It seems you’re missing a blindfold.”
Her body was descending for her to take a seat but that comment had startled her so much that she willed her body to stand, thereby creating noise.
The sudden disruption to her composure was a new sight. He couldn’t help but chuckle. This fearsome female who had killed three High Lords was now irritated and had marched out of the hall to retrieve her blindfold.
A sense of peace, long lost or long forgotten, entered his body.
And it laid the foundation for the ancient string to settle down.
The mating bond found its place within him.
And Azriel felt it like a peaceful winter morning.
But something else was there.
The crackles of flame sounded.
The sight of Aneira, without the blindfold, made him feel like he could breathe but what was that?
While it was beginning to calm down, it was noticeably there.
In a moment, he felt like the world was now warming up to him.
Azriel was left confused.
And then something prompted him to turn.
Russet eyes stared at him, blazing with the fire that was beginning to settle.
And with utter shock, the shadowsinger realised that two mating bonds had settled within him.
Eris was relieved his father decided not to attend. His brothers, Caius and Marcus, were with him. Both pretending to be Beron’s sons more than their mother’s. But the less they knew about his plans, the better.
It was only a few weeks away.
He knew these two brothers would join him against Beron.
Not even Beron approached him without caution.
And by caution, he meant their mother.
That poor tormented thing who could not even give them the love she wanted to.
Their mother, the only one Eren gave any modicum of respect.
The only one who’d never witnessed his madness.
The only one who truly believed this son of hers could be good.
And while she mourned, Eren ensured no one would disturb her. He left her her meals and medicines. Accompanied her wherever she wished.
This sudden servitude did not please Beron.
Eren dismembered anyone who attempted otherwise. Including one of his own brothers who’d later be killed by Lucien and Tamlin.
Eren Vanserra. The second of the brothers. Absent from this gathering. The main object of Eris’s worries because everything was finally ready. If all went according to plan, the coup would happen in five weeks.
He hadn’t told Rhysand about it. But he’d used as much of their information as possible. Whatever the pesky shadowsinger brought was not all that was revealed to him.
But despite his anxiety over the upcoming coup, he knew he had to attend the Winter gathering. He already had some semblance of foundation to mend Autumn’s relations with Winter. And he’d do it. They were the strongest of the Seasonal courts.
And the way Viviane was eager to send sweets for his mother spoke volumes about the Lady and the person she was.
Eris truly respected that.
The first surprise of the gathering was Aneira’s attendance. The second was her attire. The third was the loving aunt she became for the baby.
Every single one of it had seized him by the throat.
He’d known she was a graceful being.
The way she moved in the battlefield was a dance of death.
And he would not lie to himself by denying his want for that dance.
It was a thrilling sensation.
And he’d once nearly tasted it when he ended up near her during the last war. The bloodlust rolling off of her was addictive and all consuming.
Tonight made him want to ask her for a dance. Or a duel.
But then she appeared without that damned blindfold. The sight of her eyes, albeit closed, made him wonder what her open eyes would be like.
His attention was soon on her scent, the kind that he wanted to drown in after a long day facing the world.
And then on something that made him feel more of her.
Eris felt like he was entering unfamiliar territory. The danger and excitement of it thrilled him and by the time he regained any of his senses, a mating bond had introduced itself to him.
But then there was darkness. Sharp and vicious. And by the time it was over, he was staring at Azriel.
He tried to dispel whatever illusion this was. Eris knew he’d trained his mind against the greatest of invasions and illusions that the most powerful daemati, Rhysand, couldn’t pierce through.
Was it the shadows? Tricking him into believing there was something with their master?
But Azriel also found his gaze.
And the shock within those hazel eyes solidified the bond more than ever.
These were the moments when Eris wished he had some weed—mirthroot, moondust, anything.
He really needed to get high and get some sleep.
But one thing remained. Aneira, for the first time ever, was unaware of something. She didn’t know about the bond. And Eris really hoped she would not freeze his balls when she found out.
Azriel remained shocked throughout dinner. He did not show it, of course. Nobody could know. Not until he was ready about it.
But even Aneira didn’t know.
But that wildfire of an heir knew.
Of all the people in the world, him.
Azriel had half a mind to beat him up. But instead, he took to flying in the chilly night.
The cold made him feel, reminded him of what was real. And just when he thought that he’d attained some semblance of peace, he sensed the warmth from the bond. Eris.
The shadowsinger debated. Should he fly down and see what this one was up to? Or not?
Azriel swooped down and found a little village. The bond led him to a tavern where at a dusty corner sat one of his mates.
“Come to kill me already?”
“Wouldn’t you like that?”
“Oh? Are we past the enmity already?”
“Tch.” Azriel scoffed and looked at him closely. Eris reeked of moondust. “Are you out to embarrass yourself?”
“In front of who?” He took another careless drag from his pipe before Azriel snatched it.
The shadows began praising the quality of moondust this errant mate had sourced.
“Try, if you wish.” The heir chuckled. “It’s not poisoned.”
Azriel was irritated. The irritation that the flight was supposed to have calmed returned greater than ever. This was his mate. This irresponsible, arrogant, entitled male who was currently floating above the clouds.
And in his irritation, Azriel took a puff.
One became two. Two became eight. And he was sitting with him, beginning to float.
“Two mates.” Eris scoffed. “Where does the Mother get her sense of humour from?”
Eris looked at him blankly. “That was lame.”
“So is your sense of humour.”
“She doesn’t know.” Eris pointed out.
Azriel remained quiet. Because the mate he thought of was the one who didn’t know. And the one who knew was the one he didn’t think of.
“Funny thing, life.” Eris stood up, dusted his jacket, pocketed his pipe, and headed for the door with not so much as an intimation to Azriel.
“Take care of her. If and when she needs it.” Eris said it like a farewell message. “On my behalf too.”
Before anything else could happen, Azriel felt the taste of something sweet. He wasn’t eating anything. And he’d avoided sweets for the night after hearing about those and Aneira from Isolde and Viviane.
“She’s eating pudding.” Eris chuckled.
Fire burst from his body and Azriel took a step back. Winnowing always came with a manifestation of the elements that favoured you. And for Eris, that was fire. The same that burned him and still haunted him.
He was left alone in an alley where the tavern was. He could head back for a drink of solitude but the females eyeing him wouldn’t allow that. And it made him uncomfortable, the idea of another female.
Azriel winnowed and let himself drop from the sky before he let his wings catch the wind. He flew harder and landed on a cliff from where he could see the sea.
And he hoped things would not be crazy.
Aneira felt it all. Anxiety, worry, distress; whatever anyone wanted to call it. And with good reason.
To be mated to Eris and Azriel.
Her retirement plan had gone to hell.
Why couldn’t it have been a completely normal, unknown person with whom she could hide away from the world?
It had to be two of the most significant people in Prythian’s politics.
A triad bond. Narben seemed to be waking up. A rare occurrence. Only my lady would be at the center of things like these.
Aneira ignored the ancient weapon. She had better things to think about.
Like the two most immature males in Prythian? Narben queried.
They hate each other. Aneira seemed to be giving up. They always have. And that was going to ruin her retirement plan. They would interrupt her at restaurants and all the activities and gods, the pleasure halls.
She recalled the times when the two of them had verbal spats. Sometimes, those escalated into physical bouts. And while it was none of her concern back then, it was now.
They are both yours. Narben gently reminded, a tone it rarely chose.
That doesn’t make up for them hating each other.
You know well what happens if it boils down to only two parties choosing each other and one being left out.
She knew. Because this ancient weapon had the habit of gloating about all the things it had borne witness to over the years and one of them was a triad. Three mates, all connected to each other.
It was either acceptance between all three or rejection or inaction.
Two parties accepting each other and leaving one behind would lead to all of them going mad.
And this has always happened with extraordinary individuals. You, the host of Nifelheim and my mistress. The future High Lord of Autumn. And an Illyrian shadowsinger.
But what if those two never ceased their hatred for each other?
Aneira had already tossed and turned multiple times and yet, she couldn’t sleep.
She thought she could go to the balcony, stand and gaze at the moon like the protagonist of a novel but she was too lazy to rise from the bed. So she remained.
The blankets rustled. She still couldn’t sleep.
What if they actually kill each other?
They know. And they know that the other knows. They don’t know that you know. You shielded yourself well for that.
All of it was eating her up. So she removed her blindfold, allowing herself to open her eyes.
Piercing icy orbs gazed at the ceiling and then turned to the only source of light. The moon outside the balcony doors was a brilliant crescent.
Did the moon always seem that lonely? She asked rather whimsically.
The weapon slithered out of its master’s grasp and found the ground. From there, it rose in height and form until a figure emerged, larger than fae. With inky blank hair and eyes, robes to match, and an unhealthily pale skin, Narben replied, “It shines beside the stars but it is not one of them.”
When Aneira turned, the hooded figure bowed on one knee. “You’re awake.”
“I’ll try to sleep. Don't get into trouble.” She waved a hand and returned to bed.
The figure rose, took a final look at his master, and then headed for the balcony where it disappeared as it had withered away like dust.
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