Eris Acotar - Blog Posts

Hey, fic writers.

If you write ACOTAR/TOG fanfiction, LET ME KNOW. Reblog this.

I’m creating a post of fanfic writers to add to my blog bio so my readers can find other beautiful writers.

I tried sketching the version of Eris that's always in my head, but I don't think I'm a good enough artist yet to properly draw it :)

Oh well, at least I managed to draw this! I'm really happy with it ^^

I gave him half-elf ears because he always gives me elf vibes, and earrings because I think he'd start wearing those a lot more Beron dies- as an act of rebellion, and to show that he is different from his late father.

Anyway, I'm going to go read more Azris now- hope anybody who sees this is having a good day!! 💅✨️💛💖

Wait…

Are the Vanserras fire proof or fire resistant?

Eris 🤝 Tamlin 🤝 Azriel 🤝 Cassian

“Like him” - Tyler the Creator

“She said that I make expressions like him

My legs to my shoulders to my chin like him

My waist and my posture like him”

So in ACOMAF it is kind of established that although Prythian hasn’t gone through an Industrial Revolution or anything, they still have mechanical items (like Lucien’s eye).

So now I’m wondering how long it’s going to take them to figure out that rising heat (flame) can make things float (hot air ballon).

Which puts the image of the Autumn court (Eris specifically) powering solo hot air balloons around the courts

I feel like we moved on too quickly after Helion said that Azriel strangling Eris (at the high lords meeting) was going to be his new fantasy….

Like..

Hold on…

Elaborate…

Please…

A Court of Shackles and Glass

Chapter Three

Word Count : 7k

Warning(s) : Descriptions of corpses, blood, and possible gore/violence.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (coming soon..)

Lyphon

There was something to be admired about my siblings and their strength. I could sense them from a mile or miles away when we were all at our height of power, though none of us really knew it. I’m sure even now if they entered the Court there would be some slight change, some shift and a little more silence from the wildlife.

Achlys and Gyn truly were ‘The Knight’s Children’. I’d barely been a child when there had been a massive war between several Courts and some far off kingdom. It was a mix of who was against who and the alliances are a little foggy in my mind, but there was one thing that truly stuck out.

One of the Courts managed to form an alliances with our Court and rather than sending out large armies to crush our enemies like usual, Great Great Grandfather had appeared to personally order Achlys and Gyn out into the heart of the battle. He had some sick sort of humour and aura when he arrived. I nearly threw up and passed out, I was terrified for both of them. But our Great Great Grandfather only laughed at my reaction and winnowed us to watch from above. He wasn’t surprised by what happen, but everyone else was. Achlys crushed opponents using their own armour, killed them using their own weapons. He turned every metal thing they had on them against them. And when he seemed to get bored, he either buried soldiers alive or crushed them with boulders made of crystal. Meanwhile Gyn flooded the field with our enemies blood and turned the rest into trees and flowers. That battle had finished within 10 minutes, maybe less. It was horrific.

And then we all went home like nothing happened. Well, Great Great Grandfather challenge me to become as powerful as them, to become their equal. I never fully reached their power, but I came close enough that I was rewarded for my efforts.

For ages and ages I practiced and trained out of pure terror and drive. I didn’t want to disappoint my Great Great Grandfather who clearly saw something in me. But I also wanted respect from my older siblings. So for centuries I perfected my skills and powers, pushing myself to the limit until I couldn’t anymore. And then, when another war came and we were summond by our allies, I was thrust into the fighting too. I never disappointed any of them that day, Gyn and Achlys almost seemed to see me a little differently too, but they kept their looks subtle and their thoughts silent.

And now..I’ll have to restart the entire process. I’m stuck in the Spring Court until I’m strong enough to winnow home again, until I can at least make myself somewhat useful to my family again. I can’t go home completely weak and useless, Great Great Grandfather wouldn’t allow it. He might have a sliver of sympathy or empathy for us, but if we’re too weak in his eyes, we’re not family. We’re something to either dispose of or forget.

Sighing I try to focus on something else, anything else. All these thoughts of home and our Great Great Grandfather are making me anxious, dreading something that isn’t even set in stone. Hissing slightly I will the thoughts from my head, eagerly breathing in the smell of the unditsturbed earth around me.

I frown slightly at the sight of breaking headstones, all barely readable with moss covering many they’ve been so forgotten. I’m aware that this cemetary is abandoned, I asked for one that was abandoned specifically, but it doesn’t stop the disgust and disappointment from seeping into my mouth like a foul poison. Was no one truly here to take care of this graveyard?

Enough, enough. I roll my neck, wincing when loud pops fill the air as I cloes my eyes. Now is not the time to be nitpicky. I have to concentrate and focus purely on my task. I’d love to rush ahead and attempt to resurrect everyone here, but that would leave me so exhausted I wouldn’t be able to move, leaving an entire field of half living creatures to wander and terrorize everything. And High Lord Tamlin wouldn’t be pleased. So I focus on one single soul, one deceased. The grave before me.

Knowledge of names and personal history can be helpful, but it’s not really that neccessary. Truly, all you ever need to do is find their soul, follow that invisible, string from corpse to soul. It’s fascinating, following the string. Some have many strings attached to them from all their different lives, some only have the one. Mates will always have a tether between them, connecting both souls for all eternity. If left for enough time, the string will be weathered, a little harder to follow, but still connected. There have been multiple times though where I attempted to resurecct someone, only to have their new body appear before me, questioning why I summoned them while they were alive and living. Strings always look the same, they never tell you if someone has moved onto their next life or not, so I’ve learned to be cautious, look for any signs of life outside the soul.

Stretching a hand out and pressing it to the ground, I search for the string, reaching subconciously for that small, invisible line tying bones to soul. It’s closer than I realize. The body must be in a shallow grave of some sort, not buried six feet below, maybe half of that. Carefully I follow the string, tugging and pulling softly until I can feel the soft ground below shift. Dirt is moved and pushed away until the pale, stained ivory bones and rotted flesh of a hand and arm push past into the open air.

More dirt is pushed away until the torso of the living corpse can sit upright. An annoyed scowl is present on the man’s face, though the skin around his face is missing a few chunks, showing off dirt stained and holey parts of his skull. His hair is on the longer and more light brown side while his eyes are a dark brown. He’s quick to glare at me, though I ignore the look completely, too focused on my victory to care.

I resurrected a whole human, fully. Quietly I stand up, moving to the next grave beside him, earning me a scoff. I move some dirt away, digging a little with my hands until I’ve dug around two feet. Shutting my eyes again and pressing a hand to the cool dirt, searching and finding the string practically immediately. This time the corpse of a woman sits up, looking around confused and grimacing at the sight of the decomposing man beside her. She avoids looking down though, refusing to see the state of her own body.

I almost giggle giddily as I repeat the process another two times. Two men and two women watching me with mixed emotions as I pant quietly. I’m reaching my limits, but four is a good number. Shakily I reach for a fifth grave. I’m becoming out of breath and the smell of death and dirt and insects and rot and mold will not leave my nose. It probably won’t for several hours. Coughing I snatch at the string, yanking it with a little too much eagerness. Unsurprisingly a hand shoots out, gripping my neck with a surprising amount of strength for a dead man. My lungs instantly loose access to air, though the smell still preasent and nearly heavy in my lungs. My limbs feel like lead, slack at my sides, though still warm from bloodflow. A slow, thumping headache creeps in after a moment. My head feeling as if burning hammers are playing drums in my head. The other bodies watch nervously, as though wondering if my death would free them or trap them eternally. Clicking my tongue I stare right back, managing to open my mouth and rasp out a quiet, ‘help me’.

One of the woman stands, wobbling over on weak, half eaten legs. Her hands prying open the wretched hand around my throat. I cough as air fills my lungs again, I nearly double over. Most of the headache recedes and I watch the arm flail around, swatting and clawing at the air. The woman retreated back to her grave, content to lie down and avoid looking over here. It would seem the only thing alive for this grave is the arm, everything else is still dead. So then 4 corpses and an arm. A good start.

With a grunt I wave my hand, silently commanding them to bury themselves again. I smile softly when the command is successful. I still had enough to do a mental command as well then. Leaning back and resting my head on a headstone, I snap my fingers, all the strings being pulled taught again as the souls rejoined the afterlife, whatever it is.

Gyn

The uniqueness of my family and our abilities has never been lost on me. I’ve always been aware of how different we are compared to everyone else. It’s not necessarily bad, but it’s noticable and not many perceive it as good.

I’ve been told before that none of us felt..like regular High Fae, and to be fair, we’re not. Our lineage and family tree is more mixed than most and in the way that I suspect some were convinced into making deals for power sakes. The goals of my Great Great Grandfather always speak for themselves, clear through the silence.

While there are plenty of differences for others to focus on, many have stuck to prescense and powers. From all my years of being alive I’ve yet to meet another creature with our powers. The first word ever used to describe our powers has always been ‘gorey’. It’s a fair assessment, especially for me. I’m the third in my family to specialize in the manipulation of cells. Not just blood or bones specifically, but cells, the very thing keep so many of us alive and moving and thinking. The complexity of cells is fascinating to me, so at least I wasn’t really bored when studying biology. And as helpful as it can be, being used to create new life or healing many, many people, the fact that it can be so terrifyingly deadly is always what’s focused on.

I’m not sure if it’s my natural expression, or my prescense even, that makes people think, convinces people, that I fully wish to kill and harm everything around me, and I will if I want to. I never really had the intention or the wish to slaughter everyone, even if the chance presents itself. Even in wars I was hesitant, and whenever I was given the opportunity I would ask my enemies if they truly wanted to fight me and die or live a more peaceful, quiet life. Everyone around me disapproved of what I was doing, they scoffed and would mock me. Achlys would demand what the hell I was doing, he never too far and mocked me or called me horrible names since he knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle it coming from him. But I could see it in his eyes, the ugly envy that made him silently demand why he couldn’t be given such a destructive gift, why I was ‘wasting’ it. And I never fully answered his questions, until he snapped and yelled at me. I was stuck staring at the floor, wishing I would just cry like a normal person. And I could say was :

“Why can’t I try to save just a sliver of people? Why can’t I try to give some happiness and peace to souls who never wanted their lives thrown away like the garbage their treated as? Did you even bother pause and look at the world around you, in the heat of everything?

”You never notice their fear, how their hearts pound and their breathing quickens as we approach. For fuck’s sakes Achlys, we’re living death to them! We embody reapers coming to tear out their souls and laugh as we break their bodies. Is it really so bad that I stop and give a choice to some. How many in my garden are actually miserable, how many want to leave. Tell me that. And tell me when have I ever trapped anyone in my garden, refused to let them leave. Believe it or not, I hate their fear.”

Achlys never asked after that..he must have really listened since during any war or battle he always brought me a small group of soldiers afterwards, all brave enough to have some faith in us. I’m definitely glad that my brother is so understanding, I’d probably be hopeless without him.

Anyways. Lyphon’s powers aren’t what I would call ‘gorey’. Yes, he raises the dead, but what do expect from a corpse? Unless they’ve died yesterday, it’s not going to be a pretty sight. Achlys’s powers aren’t gorey either, he works with metals, earth, and stone. It’s more how we all choose to use these powers. Course if we’re fighting someone or an army a lot of blood with spill. The blood will stain our hands red over and over again until our skin matches the colour of the blood beneath. But that’s the way it’s always been, and I doubt it will change.

Sighing through my nose I roll my neck and open my eyes. My room is a very comfortable, wonderful room and a place I’d love to practice in. However, I don’t want to scare any servant checking in on me. Nor do I want Tarquin to watch me practice in case he becomes worried or looses some trust in me to paranoia. Not that I think he would ever loose trust in me because of this power, it’s more I want to be better prepared for when I do tell him. I can’t try to demonstrate something and let it go horribly wrong, unable to fix the problem I made. Plus I don’t need the immediate pressure of eyes on me right now. There’s too many things that can go wrong.

So, with that being said, I’d gone exploring for the past week, hunting for any place that would work for privacy and calmness. And I found the perfect beach yesterday. It’s a good distance from Adriata with white sands and soft, gentle waves that could lull me to sleep if I let it. And at night the waves and sand glow with any movement or weight put on them. Unfortunately I told Tarquin I would return by dinner, which is normally at 6, so I can’t really stay late today. And sunlight is better for reading. I want to master a few things before attempting to change my eyes in any way.

I brought a few anatomy books and one about meditating and keeping calm. The anatomy books are for reminders, I already know everything, but I’d like a bit of a recap just in case. And the mediatation book is just so I don’t freak out or have a meltdown. Having a panic attack when something goes wrong won’t help me, so learning breathing exercises and routines to keep calm is a good aid.

Humming softly I close my eyes again, letting myself search through my body, refamiliarizing the feel of each type of cell when they’re healthy, checking for anything concerning. I only open my eyes once I’ve made sure that everything is in fact healthy and functioning correctly. As tempting as it is to close my eyes again, I focus on watching my hands. In the past I always used my hands as practice do to their simplicity, other times I was just having fun, making the ends of my fingers and nails turn into claws or talons instead.

For old times sake I decide to do that, slowly having my nails grow until they’re long and pointed but slighty curved and thicker. I let the nails grow around my fingertips until it looks like the ends of my fingers are sharp, white talons. Humming I reverse the process, which goes smoothly, to my relief.

It seems quick, rushing to try this next thing, but I’ve already practiced enough and from what I remember this shouldn’t exhaust me too quickly. I could be wrong since when I tried doing this for the first time in my life I had already built up plenty of stamina beforehand. I suppose I’ll be using this moment as a comparison for later.

There was one other thing that I brought with me, a small, miniscule really, jar of a few teeth. Disgusting sounding I’m sure, but they’re my own and it was an easy process, pain free. I just had these ones fall out and then some grow in their place. Simple and easy.

Grabbing the small jar, I take out a tooth, placing it in the center of my palm. I sigh, closely my eyes to take a few deep breaths. This always required more focus, even if I’d done it a thousand times before.

I start small, changing the shape of the tooth into a ribcage, letting it grown into a full skeleton of a bird with the muscles and ligaments following soon after. The body grew as exhaustion slowly crept up on me. Before I could realize everything was finished the now living bird in my hand hopped two or three times, chirping a little and singing a few notes. My eyes fly open, widening at the image of a beautiful, living swallow. It’s head, back, and wings were all a stunning blue that faded into a silver going into it’s tail. It’s underbelly was white and soft looking. It’s eyes were so dark but fixed on me as it watched curiously.

I was successful. I made a small bird, grew it from a tooth. Soon I could make something bigger, maybe a dog or a bear. Or even a horse. But start small, I’m already getting tired, which is what I get for only going on walks for a week and neglecting to practice. Giggling I pet the small bird, it’s feather were soft and smooth. It chirps a few times, flying to stand on my shoulder. What a day, I’ll need to start practicing on the way here. Based on the sun it’s around an hour till dinner, so now is a good time to leave.

I pick up my books and jar, humming softly and then grunting as I stand, brushing off any sand on my legs. The swallow sings along to the humming, much to my delight. Turning I head back to a path that leads up a sort of steap hill. The beach is only accessible through the path since there’s sort of a cliff or wall of dirt blocking it off. That or you jump down, but I wouldn’t recommend it since it’s at least a 10 foot drop.

I’m almost panting when I reach the top. I huff, feeling shame build up at the realization that I’m probably not as fit as I’d like to think. That or I was using too much air to hum. I’d rather the latter honestly.

At the top I look back down at the beach, at the cool blue waves. It really is a haven in the Summer Court sometimes. I sometimes wished I could stop time and just enjoy where I was a little longer, I definitely wish I could recreate a place like this, visit whenever I like and just rest. Though maybe later in the day, midday is way too hot. Cloudless sky with a hot ball of fire just glaring down at you, not great. And I’m moon pale, one of these days I’ll be lobster red and wincing at every muscle movement as I apply aloe verra to my burned, tight skin. Honestly I’m not even sure if Tarquin burns, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if no Summer Court citizen had ever burned in their lives.

The swallow chirps, hopping a few times and drawing my attention. Curious I look at it, watching as it flies off my shoulder and onto a familiar one. With a start I realize the little bird landed on Tarquin’s shoulder. Tarquin was here. What was he doing here? Did he see anything?

The High Lord chuckles quietly, petting the bird a few times before turning to me.

“Afternoon, Gyn. How was your practice? I’m hoping you thought it went well.”

His smile is gentle, something akin to a soft breeze or a quiet sunrise. I almost feel stupidly tense, like why am I so tense about him knowing anything? But another small part of me is restless and anxious, demanding to know how much he’s seen and knows. Still, I don’t want to make it seem like I don’t trust him, that could hurt or insult him and he’s been nothing but kind and understanding. Really this fear is probably for nothing. But it’s not quick to go away and I only barely make myself look less upset.

“It went well..I’m making progress. I-” I pause slightly, swallowing my words and briefly looking away at the grass. “I don’t want to sound rude, or defensive..but what are you doing here? I thought you would be busy in Adriata till dinner.”

There’s another quiet chuckle.

“You don’t, you’re being reasonable. I wasn’t as busy as expected today, and I had some free time. So I decided to try and find you, and wouldn’t you know it, you found the glowing beach.”

“The glowing beach?”

“Yes, me and my cousins would come down here at night sometimes to swim or have some fun. Usually we had to sneak out, but it was fun and beautiful. It was like our own secret place that only we knew about. And here you are, practicing here. You picked an excellent spot. If I was anyone else I probably wouldn’t have found you.”

My eyes widen a little, drifting to look at the beach again. I can almost imagine a teen version of himself, Cresseida, and Varian just running down the path towards the waters, diving in and later dancing and singing around in the sand, probably bringing bottles of alcohol and getting drunk. The thought makes me hum, I almost smile.

“Yeah…I don’t want to..ruin any good moods, but how much did you see? It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s more that I just- I…I don’t want you to be afraid of me or concerned everytime I try to use my abilities.”

He’s silent for a moment, timid breezes attempt to fill in the emptyness. The swallow chirps occasionally, Tarquin petting it he while thinks, considering something. My gut tightens, my fingers curling into my hands to create tight fists that turn my knuckles white. My eyes flick from sand, to grass, to sky. Why do I feel like a child caught breaking a rule, about to be scolded by a too calm parent?

“I..saw everything, or at least what I think is most of what you were doing. The claws, this cute little bird.” Somehow, I’m sure my heart has plummeted into my stomach. Tarquin seems to notice, my face must really love to tattle my emotions. But he moves closer, a little bit like he doesn’t want to startle me, or make me uncomfortable. He stops a foot away, maybe closer.

“But I’m not scared of you. I’m not sure I could be. Concerned..a bit yes. I don’t want you hurting yourself just to try and perfect what you could do in the past again. And whose teeth were those?”

My gut loosens, some burning following, but it’s better than a tight coil and a wish to disappear to avoid a possible negative reaction. My fingers uncurl and stretch or flex a few times, my nails leaving little moons in my palm, none bleeding thankfully.

“Mine. It didn’t hurt, I just had them fall out and replaced with new teeth. None of what I was doing was painful, it was just a little tiring to make the swallow..I’m sorry I was defensive before. I wanted to master a few things before showing you, that way you’d worry less.”

“It’s fine, Gyn. I should apologize too, I knew you wanted privacy, but I still came here and watched, unbeknownst to you. But I’m not afraid, and I can trust that you won’t..permanently hurt yourself.”

I’m the one that stays quiet this time. I don’t really believe it’s necessary for me to see if he’s lying, but I scan his face anyways, eyes darting around for any tells that weren’t there. I sigh a little, nodding. I’m relieved about his obvious honesty, but still a little tense about being found and observed without my knowledge. I’m going to have to focus on sight next time, sensing any life nearby. There are plenty of silent or illusive creatures at home, I used to almost constantly make sure that every sense was heightened enough to sense each and every living thing, yet make sure I wasn’t overwhelmed by it.

With a sigh I turn, starting to walk. “We should head back to Adriata. Can’t have everyone worrying over a lost High Lord, can we?”

Tarquin smiles, a bit tightly, jogging to catch up, but keeping a steady pace once he was beside me. We both fall into a comfortable silence as we head towards the golden city.

Achlys

The Forest House may be mostly underground, but it’s beautiful. Inside it’s warm and decorated in reds, oranges, and golds. Portraits and paintings hang neatly on the walls, serious and cruel faces staring down at any passer by. I almost smile.

Servants work away in hallways and rooms, cleaning and keeping their heads down. Sentries silently stand at doorways or move to their next station, staring me down as if they’re ready to kill me if I give them any reason.

Sighing softly I look ahead, Fenix is leading me to the throne room, presumably. He seemed rather annoyed that his brother found out about me and took interest. So much so that he’s asked that I meet him, tell him a little bit about why I was found in his lands.

Naturally I don’t believe for a second that he really sees me as anything more than a potential pawn or a threat that he needs to get rid of, and considering that no Court but Winter would know about us, he wouldn’t need to worry about being discreet.

Everything about Autumn is about cunning and power. Even centuries back, I can still remember Regus Vanserra. Quite intelligent that one. He was the fourth son, it was unlikely in the first place that he would become the High Lord. But he waited patiently for years pretending to be nothing but a social prince with no interest in becoming anything more. Behind his parents and brothers backs he plotted though, forming alliances with Gyn, Boreas, Esord, and Nytarur. The heirs he knew would be the next generation of High Sovereigns, and ones he did not want to make enemies of. Regus played the long game, slowly poisoning his eldest brother and Father, training to kill the rest of his brothers when the time came. And he was successful. He made his eldest brother and Father’s deaths look like heart problems, and the other two brothers died in hunting ‘accidents’. He took the title and became quite the High Lord. Part of me was glad he decided to ally with Gyn, because then we weren’t his enemies.

I’m sure that any descendant of Regus is cunning and especially good at tricking others, weaving them a web of lies that they get trapped in but leaves him unharmed. I’ll bet Gyn would agree, she was in Prythian a lot longer than me, she got to see the generation after us. And apples don’t really fall far from the trees.

Fenix and his four guards stop at a pair of well carved oak doors with golden handles and a depiction of the Autumn forest and five of the past High Lords, Regus, his father and grandfather, and who I am guessing are his son and grandson. Everyone waits for a moment, quietly standing a foot from the doors. Then they open, groaning a little as they move. Our little group moves inside, my senses are assaulted by the smell of cinnamon and something smokey. At the head of the room, sitting on the cushioned stone throne, is a male with Autumn’s infamous red hair and eyes coloured amber. He doesn’t smile or sneer when we enter, merely keeping a cool, calm face as he watches us. Around his head sits a gold crown crafted to appear like flames resting on his head. So this is today’s High Lord. He’s dressed well with colours that compliment him and jewels that match, but not too much of anything, a perfect balance that doesn’t feel obnoxious.

Our little group moves until we’ve made it just past halfway in the room. The guards salute and Fenix offers the High Lord a bow, though it’s more mockery than an actual sign of respect or acknowledgement of power. I wait for after everyone’s finished to bow myself, smiling a little. The High Lord raises a brow.

“So this is the male you found..what is your name and why were you found in my Court?”

He’s good at his acting, I’ll give him that. His tone is careful, a planned boredom. His eyes hold a steely ice that was carefully crafted probably over a matter of years. I know for a fact that the entire Court buys every look, every word. It’s just a pity that I was surrounded masks for so long it became easy to learn when one was using it, unless someone was an exceptional liar. I’ve only met few who were able to fool me. Gyn, Cosmas, and a mortal King that ruled while I was in my 200s. No one ever knew when Cosmas was being truthful, it felt like a gamble every time I talked to him. And Gyn is as careful as I am, picking up on others emotions and anything we can learn about others and then using that information to our advantage. I just didn’t expect her to use the information against me, it was fine since I got her back a century later.

I grin at the High Lord. This could be fun.

“Achlys. I had a jealous coward for a cousin who used an ancient prison to contain me, throwing me into a cave in this Court. Don’t worry, High Lord, I’m only a temporary guest.”

He’s quiet for a moment, digesting the information and deciding what to do. It’s not every day something like this happens afterall.

“Which Court are you from? I’m sure your High Lord would have no issue collecting you.”

I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me at the question. Fenix doesn’t really react, just a bit of tensing around the shoulders. The guards keep still, but a few glance nervously at me. Either they’re nervous because of my chuckle, or they think I just tried to ensure my death.

“I don’t you’d be able to. Besides, those of my Court are incredibly picky about which apples they like to keep on the tree. I’m sure I’ll only be here another month and I’ll be out of your hair.”

The High Lord narrows his eyes, hiding the curiosity and covering it with annoyance.

“And why won’t I be able to contact this Court of yours, hm?”

“Well Prythian has forgotten about my home. My Court is mere legend in your history books, if we haven’t been erased entirely. It is not found in Prythian, nor any other continent. We call it the End Court.”

There’s a glimmer in his eyes, something like…recognition. My own mask slips on, keeping the amused face and uncaring attitude. But why does he seem familiar with the name? The Court hasn’t been in contact with Prythian in centuries, but he knows of it. It would appear that I rang a bell and I didn’t know he could hear it. I’m curious about how much he actually knows.

“Achlys of the End Court..an interesting claim. And how am I to trust that you aren’t insane or attempting to deceive my Court?”

“I’m sure you can find records. We made deals and alliances with this Court multiple times. Though, I suppose I wouldn’t be surprised if those records were burned a long time ago. You have to admit though. My prison is nothing like what you’ve seen in Prythian.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because I’m well traveled. Not even the Night Court has the metal needed to create such a thing. And most of the prisons here aren’t just enchanted large cubes that act as a power numbing cell, they’re made of stone and have multiple cells, multiple inmates, less chains, and usually more light.”

He hums, leaning back slightly on his throne.

“What else is there to tell me? Are there more prisons like this around Prythian?”

Should I tell him? With them outside Autumn they aren’t within his reach. However, that if they’ve already been found by now, he could already know about them. Every Court has their spies, keeping their High Lord well informed of everything. Instead of answering I stay quiet, raising a brow and keeping an amused face. I’m sure you already know, High Lord.

He grunts, practically confirming my theory. They’ve been found, and he knows exactly where they are. I’m sure he sent out spies the second I was found, I don’t doubt he knew of me then and got Fenix to confess of my existence, thus giving him a chance to get a closer look and attempt to give me a role.

“I’ll let you stay, however you’re under my rule here until you return home.Till the day you leave, your loyalty is to me.”

It’s a fair deal, and I wouldn’t want to cause issues for my family by causing nothing but chaos here. Naturally there a few things that I won’t do if asked and I’ll always put my family first, but for now I can play along. My siblings wouldn’t be too impressed if I started a war the moment I was freed.

“Very well..”

“Expect to summoned during the week and that you’ll join every meal while having at least two sentries watching you at all times. I don’t think I want to let a wild hound loose in the Court.”

I almost snort, I’m being compared to a dog now. Wonderful. But I’d expect nothing less of a Vanserra. First Fenix with his condescending eyes, always trying to sneer at me as if I was mud on his new boots. Now a High Lord yet to see me as anything other than a mosquito. Patience is a virtue and I can exorcise it.

If he’s expecting a response I don’t give him one. My face has gone to a neutral, just watching him. He stares back, subtly studying me. Once he’s satisified, he returns to the bored mask.

“You’re dismissed. Leave.”

He waves a hand and we all turn, this time with me at the head. Fenix lets out a low growl, not happy with the meeting or me being ahead of him. The doors open again, letting us leave and walk back into the hallway. Subconciously I lead the way, heading straight to my room at my regular pace, which the guards and Fenix scramble to keep up with. Fenix hisses, grabbing my arm and yanking. I don’t stop, but I look over my shoulder at the angry male.

“You walk behind me. Don’t think for a second that you have any power in this Court. You are nothing but a tool for me to use, do not think otherwise.”

I almost scoff, raising a brow at him before shrugging him off.

“I don’t like slow walkers. And I’m heading to my room anyways, calm down.”

The Autumn prince snarls a curse and snaps his fingers, two guards grabbing onto my arms and yanking me backwards. Hissing, I almost go to kick one of them. Fenix walks in front now, motioning for them to follow. Both guards kick my legs, forcing me to my knees, before walking, dragging me with them. A little rude of them. Clicking my tongue I stand again, matching the pace of the guards, who glare and attempt to kick my legs out again. It fails when I move quick enough to dodge and then on at a time.

The one on my right snarls, punching me in the gut. I cough a little, but stay standing. Fenix stops at a door, pulling it open and walking outside into a courtyard..of sorts. Sentries off duty train with wooden and metal swords, sparring or beating a punching bag like it killed their spouse and owes them money. In the center though, is a post. One with several metals loops attached, like something you would tie a rope through or hook something to. Fenix tosses a pair of cuffs to the guards, the left one catching it and snapping one around one of my wrists.

Ah..I see where this is going. Either way at least some of my blood is spilled. I’m either going to be flogged or I’ll be mobbed. Of the two, I would prefer the former. Less broken bones, typically only one area is targeted. Not like Fenix really cares, he’s just trying to teach me a lesson, make me fear or respect him to any degree.

The training sentries go quiet and stop whatever they’re doing to watch as I’m pulled towards the post. I don’t bother fighting much, there’s over a dozen men here, all with weapons on them. Normally I would use this against them. However, I don’t need to piss of a High Lord that controls fire by killing everyone here. Nor do I want to exhaust myself by using my powers that much right now. The guards are quick to loop the remaining cuff through a large loop and snap it around my remaining wrist, forcing me down on my knees and tearing the back of my shirt afterwards. Both snicker as they back away. Glancing quickly behind me I can see Fenix choosing a whip and calling a large male over, handing him the whip. I think it’s leather with some sort of dust on it. The Autumn prince looks at me, almost smug but burying it in time.

“A mutt like you needs to learn quickly that you’re nothing here and will remain that way. No disrepect will ever be tolerated. 50 lashes.”

I almost roll my eyes but I brace myself anyways. Gyn isn’t here to act as my healer, this is going to hurt since I still feel pain. I can hear the whip unravel, some anxiety builds. This isn’t the first time this has happened, it’s not the first time I’ve been punished using whips or tools specially made to counter High Fae’s instant healing. Doesn’t mean I enjoyed any of it though.

There’s a quiet swish before the whip strikes my bare back, a fiery sting following quickly after. Fenix knows what he’s doing, he makes the whipper wait a moment before another strike. I wonder if this will scar permanently or if Gyn can return my skin to normal, even when healed. I wonder briefly if either of my siblings have to face something like this, and I pray to the Cauldron they don’t have to. I keep still as they continue to strike my back, thankfully not hitting the same spot twice, but I can feel warm blood trickling down my back and sticking to what remains of my shirt, gluing it to my skin. My abilities numbed a while ago, around lash number 10. They must coat the whips in faebane for maximum pain and scarring then.

At 40 lashes my punishment is interrupted by the arrival of another Vanserra, one of Fenix’s brothers. At least I think that’s who he is. His hair is long and red, eyes brown with a cunning, almost morbidly curious look in them. He watches me for a moment before moving to stand next to Fenix, who looks rather annoyed by the interruption.

“What do you want? I’m busy at the moment.”

“I heard something was going on in the Sentry Courtyard, so I decided I would come and see what all the commotion was about. What is this exactly? A misbehaving servant?”

Fenix is quiet for a moment, glaring down at me.

“Yes..that’s exactly what this is.”

“Really? I thought he was Eris’s guest. I don’t think he’d be impressed to find out you’ve taken a whip to his back. He might take one to your back.”

Fenix’s scowl deepens, disgust grows like a mold in his eyes. He snatches the whip from the sentry’s hands, pulling his arm back and swinging it forward with most if not all his strength. The whip strikes my back swiftly, leaving a fresh, wretched pain and trail of blood in its wake. I hiss at the feeling, fire spreading once again with a ferocious sting.

“He’s not a guest.”

His words are filled with venom, enough that I’m gritting my teeth and leaning my head on my arms. Mother save me, this isn’t going to end that quickly. Mentally I sigh, of all places I get sent to Autumn. I’m really feeling like I’m fucked.

~~~

Thanks for reading, feel free to give feedback. Enjoy your day/night.

~~~

You can find this fanfiction on Quotev and AO3. On Quotev I go by Ciar, on AO3 I go by Gyra (they're different because some names are already taken).

OKAY YOU ATE THIS UPPPPPPP I LOVE THIS SERIES SM. like i kid u not imo this is one of THE best written eris fics there is out there. love it and love U AUTHOR THANKS FOR WRITING THIS

chapter xxii – gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 5,000+

masterlist

Y/N spent the next three weeks hiding in her workroom, making various potions and charms and candles – and anything else that would help the human women and children who now had sanctuary in the Forest House. Many of them could not sleep due to nightmares or anxiety, feeling like they were still in danger. Others had other mental hurdles that prevented them from even finding the will to live.

So, Y/N had been working day and night, casting remedies for it all with her witchcraft. 

She had barely been sleeping. Even worse, she was barely eating. 

Servants would politely knock on her door and silently bring her giant plates of food for every meal – and even small plates of snacks. But as soon as they left, Y/N would forget the food was ever brought in the first place. She would just get sucked right back into working. 

But the humans weren’t the only thing haunting her. 

Y/N hadn’t seen Eris since her confession in the woods. 

Surprisingly, it was because he had respected her request to give them space. 

But she heard the people of the Forest House, and they gossiped in whispers.

Eris had apparently been working himself to exhaustion, visiting various villages across Autumn Court, speaking with the common folk, and delegating tasks to his advisors. 

The wind constantly urged Y/N to go to him. But she managed to ignore their constant torment. 

Y/N now worked on making a tea for the young humans who were anxious as ever, despite now being safe in Autumn Court. She understood that the fae realm was strange and scary – especially after their first exposure to the realm was nothing but torture. 

Suddenly, the door to her workshop was thrown open. 

The five bloodhounds napping near it jumped to attention and growled menacingly. 

Lucien came strutting in, clearly on some sort of mission. 

The dogs snarled at his interruption and lunged for him.

And if it weren’t for the invisible shield Lucien had clearly conjured with a lazy flick of his wrist, his ankles surely would’ve been torn apart by their jaws. 

Y/N quickly looked back down at her work, not even acknowledging his entrance.

“I’m busy,” she muttered with obvious annoyance. 

“Well, now…” Lucien announced as he got into her space, forcing her to address his presence. “You are taking a break.” 

He stood against her worktable, blocking Y/N from continuing her brewing. 

“Lucien, I do not have the mental energy to deal with your antics today. I have work to do.”

“And it will be here when we return. But for now, you are going on a walk in the woods with me.” 

Y/N crossed her arms. “Can’t you find some pretty courtier to entertain you?”

Lucien smirked. “But spending time with a woman who finds me irritating is so much more exciting.” Then his face turned serious as he studied her face, noting the shadows under her bloodshot eyes. “Come, Y/N. You haven’t left this room in weeks. The servants say you ignore every meal they bring you. And Eris…”

He stopped when he noticed her reaction from someone merely mentioning his brothers name.

“Well, we don’t need to talk about him right now,” he finally finished. 

Y/N sighed, and then glanced outside.

When was the last time she’d left the walls of the Forest House? Perhaps some fresh air would do her good. And then she could get back to her work. 

“Fine,” she snapped. “But the hounds are coming with and I don’t care if they bite you.”

All she could hear was Lucien chuckling behind her as she walked out of the workroom. 

———

Lucien had insisted on Y/N wearing a cloak, but couldn’t convince her to put on boots – or any shoes for that matter. 

“What’s the point of a walk if you can’t feel the ground beneath your feet?” Y/N scoffed at him. 

“If you get frostbite and lose a toe, Eris will kill me…” Lucien muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear him. 

To Y/N’s surprise, Lucien allowed a peaceful silence to settle between the two of them as they walked through the forest surrounding the property. 

No guards insisted on joining them, so they must be safe enough to be unchaperoned.

However, they still had five smoke hounds surrounding them. They now sniffed the ground with precision, never straying too far from Y/N. Every so often, they would trot up to her, asking for pets or licking her hand.

“You know, they eventually will learn how to live again and without fear.” Lucien told her gently after some time. 

Y/N just sighed. 

“Humans are stronger than most fae give them credit for. They’re resilient and overcome such terrible things. They have to. Their lives are fleeting, to do otherwise would be a waste of a short and fragile life.” 

Y/N glared at him. “Our lives,” she corrected. “Our lives are fleeting.” 

Lucien watched her carefully. 

“I see Eris told you of our last conversation…” she mumbled with irritation. 

“Well, I had to force it out of him after he started snapping at everyone who dared look at him for longer than a second.” He looked Y/N up and down. “Believe it or not, he looks worse than you do.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh, you are always so kind, Lucien.”

“When did you start to think so little of yourself?” He countered. 

“E-Excuse me?” 

“Do you really think Eris cares about you being a mortal or without noble blood? I thought you of all people could see through his mask and see him for who is truly is. And does that really seem like a concern that would prevent him from loving you?” 

“Do you hear how advisors and envoys from other Courts speak of Feyre? To them she is an ignorant child. Hardly unhuman. She still is learning so much about the ways of the fae.” 

Lucien scoffed. “Only a fool would underestimate Feyre. She is the only reason we were freed from our curse. And she may also be the only reason we won the war against Hybern.”

Y/N stopped walking. “Why is Feyre a High Lady? She is the only female with such a title. Your mother is only the Lady of Autumn.” 

“Because Rhysand wanted an equal. He values his mate's opinion and ethics – as he should. He is progressive in a way most fae will fail to ever understand. Could you imagine Beron Vanserra seeing my mother as anything more than his breeder?” 

Y/N said nothing, but openly cringed at the word 'breeder.'

“And dare I say…if you truly believed yourself so undeserving of a similar title, then why do you hide away in the libraries of the Forest House, learning everything you can of Autumn Court and the politics of the fae realm?” 

Y/N glared at him. “I do not wish to be ignorant.”

Lucien smirked knowingly. “Aye. That is precisely my point.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Why are you so invested in our relationship, Lucien? Recently, you have inserted yourself in a way that you have usually avoided in the past.” 

Any mischievous expression that was left on his face had disappeared. He frowned and his eyes held sympathy. 

“I believe my time here in the Autumn Court is coming to a close.” 

Y/N’s eyes widened. “W-W-What? Why?” 

“Yes, my banishment has been lifted. But this place holds far too many bad memories. My nightmares are filled with them. I don’t think I was ever meant to return. I feel as if I was never meant to be in this Court at all...” 

“B-But where will you go? Back to Night Court?”

“Most likely. Being away from my mate – despite her ignoring my existence – starts to take a toll on me.”

“You ache for her?” Y/N asked him gently. 

Lucien blushed and hesitated before he finally nodded. 

“Well, who will I make fun of and torment?” Y/N teased. 

But before she could answer, a noise caught her attention. 

Y/N held up her hand, signaling for Lucien to also listen. Which was silly, his fae hearing had picked it up long before she had. 

“It is just a fox cry,” Lucien pointed out. 

Then a small wind passed through and he knew she wasn’t listening to him. 

“Not just a fox cry,” Y/N answered and started to follow the sound. 

Then she suddenly remembered the smoke hounds that were surrounding them. 

Y/N whistled to get their attention. And they whipped around to face her, waiting for her next command. 

“Stay with Lucien,” she ordered them gently. “And don’t bite him.”

They all started whining, not liking her to go anywhere without them being able to follow. 

Y/N rushed forward following invisible directions. 

She didn’t stop until she found the source of the noise. And just around a cluster of trees, she found it.

A red fox kit, shivering underneath the trunk of a giant oak tree. 

Y/N rushed forward, but then slowed when she just a few feet away. 

The kit eyed her, still shaking from the cold and probably fear. 

“Y/N, don’t touch it.” Lucien called out, having followed her a few steps behind, with the smoke hounds at his heels. 

Y/N ignored him and kneeled in front of the kit. “Hello there. No need to be afraid. I won't hurt you.” 

“Its mother will come back for it,” Lucien tried to tell her. 

Then a gust of wind passed through, shaking the dry leaves like a chorus. 

“No, it’s all alone,” Y/N called over her shoulder to him. Clearly, the wind had told her. “His mother was killed by hunters. He’s been here for days, waiting for her.” 

She turned back to the kit. “Come on, little one. I will look after you. I know those dogs over there seem big and scary, but I won’t let them harm you.” 

The kit let out a little whimper. 

“I know you want your mama. But she isn’t coming back. I’m so sorry. But I will keep you safe.” 

Then the kit shakily walked toward Y/N. 

As he did, she took off her cloak, preparing to wrap up the shivering fox in it. 

“What shall we name you?” Y/N asked the kit gently, as she stood with it wrapped cozily in her arms.

The wind brushed through her hair, and Y/N giggled at what they said. “The wind thinks we should call you Ronan. How does that sound?”

The kit squeaked out a happy noise. 

“Ronan it is then,” Y/N answered back with a smile. 

But when she turned to walk back to the others, Lucien was staring at her strangely. 

“What? What is it?” 

Lucien blinked, snapping himself out of it. “Nothing. It is only…there was once a tradition in Autumn Court. High Lords would gift their Lady of Autumn a fox kit to raise. Obviously the tradition hasn’t been practiced since before Beron’s time.” 

“O-Ohh,” Y/N managed to stutter out. 

What was he trying to say?

“Foxes are sacred animals in this Court,” Lucien continued. “Though they are tricky to tame, once you do, they are fiercely loyal creatures.”

“So why are you looking at me like that?” She asked. 

“The Cauldron works in mysterious ways,” was all he would give her. “Come. Let us get our new friend home.” 

Ronan almost instantly fell asleep as Y/N carried him to the Forest House. The kit already trusted her to keep him safe. 

Y/N started muttering to him as they entered the gates. “We will get you the softest bed. And I will feed you fresh fruit and I’ll sneak the best cuts of meats for you. You will be spoiled rotten, Ronan.”

“Motherly instinct has already kicked in, has it?” Lucien teased. 

But he didn’t expect for her entire body to stiffen. 

“I have no desire to be a mother,” she answered darkly before she could stop herself. 

That was when Lucien put together a whole different argument for Y/N forcing distance between her and Eris. 

His posture straightened and his mouth opened slightly. Without thinking, he blurted out. “You are worried about an heir.”

It didn’t come out as a question; it was a statement. 

Lucien now looked at her as if he could read her very mind, like a daemati. He could see every one of her fears on display. And she just stood their, as vulnerable as ever. 

Before Y/N could defend herself or come up with some blatant lie, the guards around them stood at attention and turned to face the direction of the Forest House’s main entrace. And they bowed slightly. 

Eris stood at the open door, watching the two of them. 

It was the first time he and Y/N had seen each other since the lake. 

And the two of them couldn’t take their eyes off one another. Their gazes locked. 

“Leave us,” Eris gently commanded without looking away. 

All Y/N could do was hear the shuffling of armor as Lucien and his guards quickly made their escape from the front courtyard, leaving her with the male she had been trying to avoid for the past few weeks. 

“And who is this?” Eris finally broke the silence, pointing to the fox.

Y/N clutched the kit tighter. “This is Ronan.” 

Eris didn’t question her further. Instead he blindsided her with a subject change. “You haven’t been eating.”

She blinked in confusion, then recovered by glaring at him. 

“I have respected your wishes to keep my distance these past few weeks,” Eris continued. “But when my guards and servants say you have not been eating nor sleeping, I will ignore such a request.”

“I am fine,” Y/N defied him. 

Eris lifted a brow, challenging her. 

But she was too tired to pick a fight. 

“Come,” Eris gestured behind him toward the Forest House. 

And she begrudgingly followed. 

The two of them didn’t speak as they walked down the winding halls. 

Eris didn’t stop until they were in the grand banquet hall. 

There was a feast already prepared on the table. It could’ve fed a royal party. But there were only two dining chairs set at the long table. 

“This is far too much food,” Y/N muttered. 

“Yes, so you will not have the excuse of disliking the options,” he countered. 

And before she could say anything else, he added, “None of it will go to waste. Whatever you don’t eat will be shared with others.” 

For good measure, he sent her warning look and pointed at a chair. “Sit, Y/N. And eat.” 

Y/N knew there was no use arguing about this. And the smell of the food alone made her realize how hungry she was. Her stomach ached from the emptiness. 

She slowly sat with Ronan in her lap, who was fast asleep. 

“And are you here to simply watch me?” Y/N asked Eris. 

“No, I’m joining you.” He answered as he pulled out the other chair. 

Y/N listened to her stomach and grabbed a few things that seemed appetizing, but also would give her fuel to continue working rigorously. 

As if Eris knew she was already thinking about getting back to work, he commented. “The humans are in good health. I have my finest soldiers guarding them at all times. I even sent some of the hounds there to play with the children.” 

“I know,” Y/N mumbled. Her eyes flickered up to his. “I know you will not let any harm come to them while they are here.” 

He blinked. “Then why will you not rest?” 

“If I can keep helping them, then I must.” 

Eris sighed. “I am not telling you to stop. I am asking that you find balance. You will be helping no one if you are not taking care of yourself. Eating consistent meals and getting a full night’s rest is part of that.” 

“I know,” Y/N repeated quietly. 

Eris seemed taken aback by her submission. He was fully prepared for her to spend the whole meal arguing with him. But it only proved how exhausted she must be. 

Without allowing himself to think of stopping, Eris’ hand reached toward Y/N’s face and cupped her cheek so gently. 

“Please, talk to me.” 

His words were pleading. His eyes desperate. 

Her eyes teared up, but she blinked to control her emotions. “I-I-I’m just tired.”

“Yes, I know.” Eris agreed, but his look indicated that it was obvious there was something more than her general exhaustion. 

“I do not like being away from you,” Y/N finally admitted quietly. “But I know it is what we must do.” 

If she was less tired, she would never have allowed herself to speak such words. 

Eris sighed and finally leaned back in his chair, dropping his hand from her cheek. “What I must do to convince you that it isn’t?” 

But Y/N just shook her head, quietly begging him not to have this conversation right now. 

As if sensing her turmoil, Ronan woke up startled. Then he took in Eris and growled as menacingly as a little, helpless kit could. 

Y/N giggled as the ridiculousness of it brought her out of her gutter of emotions and cut the tension that had been building. 

“Hush. None of that,” Y/N laughed before kissing the top of Ronan’s head. 

Eris gave her a look, silently asking, ‘Are you going to explain this to me now?’

“I found him in the woods,” her voice sad as she explained. “His mother was killed by hunters. I’m going to look after him now.” 

“You have a kind heart, Y/N.” Eris explain softly. “Any in need within your reach, you help. But when will you allow others to do the same for you?” 

She couldn’t answer such a question. Instead, she stroked Ronan’s head and went back to eating. 

The two ate in silence for the rest of the meal. 

Eris didn’t stop eating until Y/N did, not wanting to give her a reason for finishing before she was actually full. 

“I am sorry,” Y/N told him. 

He gave her a questioning look. 

“For worrying you.” 

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I will always be worried about you, Y/N.” 

And they both heard the unsaid possibilities with such words.

If she were to truly leave Autumn Court and Prythian altogether, how much sleep would Eris lose worrying about his mate being away from him, living a life without him? Could someone worry themselves so sick that they left the living completely?

“Come,” Eris stood and walked behind her chair to pull it out. “I will walk you to your bedroom.”

Silence once again settled between them. 

But any time Eris got somewhat close to Y/N, Ronan would give him a warning growl. Clearly it hardly took any time for the little fox to grow attached to Y/N – and protective. 

“Now I know how Lucien feels with my smoke hounds…” Eris muttered with a smirk. 

“You don’t mind that I’ve taken him in?” Y/N finally asked. 

“If it will make you happy, you could take on a dragon as a pet. However, it is not all that unusual for the ladies of this Court to take foxes as companions.”

“So I’ve heard…”

Eris nodded. “Did you learn that from your reading or from my loudmouthed brother?”

Y/N smiled. “The latter. He said the Cauldron worked in mysterious ways...but didn't elaborate." 

His face turned serious. “Yes, it does.” 

They were at he bedchambers just a moment later. 

Eris stalled. “Goodnight, Y/N. Do try and get some rest tonight.” 

—🍁—🍁—

Y/N shot up in bed, gasping for breath from a nightmare. 

She was covered in sweat and had even soaked her nightgown, as well as the bedding. 

Then she looked around and immediately found another reason for it: the fire at the other end of the room was roaring and none of the windows were open. 

Strange. She always opened all of them before going to sleep. 

No wonder she had sweat through everything, her room was like an oven. And the wind that comforted her every night while she slept had been kept out. 

But then images of her nightmare flashed in her mind.

Her sister, eyes staring lifelessly up at the full-moon sky. Her dead child in her arms along with her. 

Y/N had repressed the memory for so long, hardly allowing herself to think of her sister.

But Lucien bringing up motherhood and heirs earlier that day must have unlocked it from deep within her subconscious. 

She shook her head as if the movement would erase the memories. 

Then she slowly got out of bed to open the windows.

But as soon as she would swing one open, the wind would slam it shut. 

Y/N glared at the gesture. “What are you playing at?” 

She tried another window, and the wind did the same. 

“Do you wish for me to roast alive?” 

But the wind was not taking her sass.

Suddenly, a tornado-like gust flew into the room, whipping all the windows open. 

“Go…to…him.” The wind called. “Do…not…be…alone.”

Then the windows all slammed shut in unison. 

It should’ve made Y/N jump, but she'd grown accustomed to their dramatics. 

And they were right: she didn’t want to be alone. And she definitely didn’t want to try to go back to sleep, fearing that she’d see more of her sister’s cold, dead body. 

Forgoing a shawl or robe, Y/N tiptoed down the halls. 

When she reached her destination, her fist hovered over the door. 

But before she could knock, the door flung open. 

“Oh,” Y/N gasped. “I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you.”

There stood Eris, looking somewhat alarmed. He was shirtless, only wearing sleep shorts that stopped midway down his thighs. His hair was slightly messy, proving that he had been sleeping at some point – or at least trying to.  

“What’s wrong?” Eris asked. 

“Did you know it was me at the door?”

“Of course. I can smell you,” he explained as if it were obvious. 

Eris could also feel her in his heart and his soul. She was his mate, after all. But he kept that bit to himself.

“Right,” she answered, feeling stupid for even asking. 

He took a step closer to her. “Y/N, are you alright?” 

“Yes, I’m fine.” Her answer hurried out, not wanting to alarm him. “It was just…I had a nightmare. A-A-And the wind is being cruel, making my room far too hot.”

But she quickly shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said once again. “I shouldn’t have woken you.”

She tried to make her escape, turning to leave.

Then she was suddenly being scooped up into Eris’ arms. 

She squeaked in surprise and her arms gripped his shoulders by instinct. 

He carried her fully into his bedchambers and kicked the door closed behind him. 

“Eris, put me down!” But her voice was anything but stern. 

“No.” 

Then they were in his bedroom. And though it was nighttime, the moon still clearly displayed the giant windows taking up an entire wall. And they were all open, letting in the brisk night air. 

‘Traitors,’ Y/N thought to herself. 

Then Y/N realized that she’d never been in Eris' room before. Well, she stayed in his old room. But this was clearly a chamber for a High Lord, and it showed. 

“This is unnecessary…” she groaned when Eris walked toward the giant bed. 

He ignored her, of course, and gently placed her on the side of his bed. 

Y/N expected him to jump right in along with her. But instead he took a step back and kneeled in front of her, forearms balancing on his knees. 

“You have two choices: you can either tell me about your nightmare or you can keep it to yourself. But either way, I am sleeping in this bed beside you. Is that understood?”

Y/N was taken aback by his calm, yet unmoving, authority. 

Realizing that he was expecting some sort of response, all she could mange was a stiff nod. 

He waited a few moments to see if she would speak. 

Instead, Y/N laid down in his bed, turning so her back faced him and pulled the covers high over her shoulders. 

Eris sighed and stood, walking over to the other side of the bed. 

He slowly and carefully joined her under the covers, making sure to keep a respectable distance between them. Which was fairly easy with how large the bed was. 

He settled on his side, watching Y/N as she got lost in her head. 

When he stopped moving, the room was filled with the crackling of the fire in the room that was much lower and calmer than the one in Y/N’s room. 

A rumbling of thunder started in the distance and rain began to fall outside. 

“I dreamt of my sister,” Y/N whispered. 

Eris just waited, silently hoping his mate would keep speaking. 

“She died in childbirth.”

He shifted ever so closer. “I thought your entire coven was killed by a nearby village.”

“They were,” Y/N muttered. “This was only a year before that. She had fallen in love with man from the village before the one that slaughtered us. He was smitten…but he did not love her the same way she loved him. Men were not common companions of ours. They either feared us – or wished to tame us and rip us away from our coven to take us for themselves.”

Her eyes glazed over at the memory. 

“She thought he would travel with us, that she could have a family and her coven. It only took a couple of months before she was with child. But just weeks before the baby was due, there were complications and she went into labor. And even with a whole coven of magic, we couldn’t save her. They said that the man had cursed her – whether he realized it or not – and the magic was too strong to save her. He wasn’t even there when it happened."

Her voice shook as she finished. "I held my sister’s hand as the life left her body. Her baby didn’t survive.”

Tears dripped down Y/N’s face. 

“We had a ceremony for her... and he didn't come. It was like he had never met her at all. He took what he wanted, and didn’t mourn my sister. But he was the only reason she was dead.” 

Y/N rubbed the tears from her face. 

“What was her name?” Eris asked her gently. 

A sad smile pulled at her lips. “Neve. Her name was Neve.”

Eris couldn’t help himself any longer. He pulled Y/N to him, cradling her into his warm chest. 

He kissed the top of her head before he whispered in her ear. “I am sorry that you lost her – and in such a manner.” 

“I thought I was so alone after she died. But nothing could’ve prepared me for the loneliness when all of them were taken from me.”

Eris’ pupils shrunk as he got a dazed look. “I grew up in a home filled with servants, advisors, courtiers, my brothers. But…” His words died out. Perhaps it was selfish to compare his life to hers. 

But Y/N squeezed him.

“The worst loneliness is felt while surrounded by others,” Y/N offered sympathetically. “Yes, I lost my family, my coven…but to live as you did – and for centuries! I am sorry for you, too.” 

Eris pulled away from her so he could look in her eyes. 

“Y/N, we do not have to be alone anymore.” 

She gave him a pained look. So, Eris wouldn’t push her. 

“At least for tonight,” he corrected slowly. “We will not be.” 

He pulled her into his chest again. “Sleep, Y/N. I will fight your nightmares.” 

And it only took her minutes of listening to the sounds of the rain mix with Eris’ soft breathing and smelling his autumn scent for her to give in to sleep. 

—🍁—🍁—

The next morning, banging at the bedroom door startled Y/N awake. Either Eris had heard the interrupter long before her or he had already been awake for awhile, because he barely reacted to the sound. 

Though with Eris’ magic, no one was permitted to enter without his permission. 

Y/N was sleeping on top of Eris’ chest as he sat with his back against the headboard and his arms wrapped around her. 

“Eris!” Lucien yelled as he continued to bang. “Y/N has gone missing! She was not in her room and she slept through her lessons! No one has seen her in the house all morning!”

Eris and Y/N shared a mischievous look, but still didn’t move away from each other. 

Suddenly, Y/N couldn’t stop herself from falling into a fit of giggles. When Eris smirked down at her, she stopped, moved away from him, and hid under the covers. 

With a groan, Eris got up and moved to the door. 

Even just the subtle action of opening the door was done with clear irritation. “She is fine,” he growled at his youngest brother. 

Lucien looked over his shoulder just in time to see Y/N peak out from the covers, her face clearly hot with embarrassment. 

“Oh, good.” Lucien’s tone was sarcastic, but it was clear he was honestly relieved to see her alright. “Mother wishes to prepare you for the coronation.” 

“W-What?” Y/N stuttered out her confusion as she sat up in bed. 

Lucien glared at his brother. “You didn’t tell her.”

Eris rolled his eyes. “We both know this is an unnecessary spectacle…”

Lucien glared harder, then turned his attention to Y/N. “An official celebration for Eris becoming High Lord. It will be a grand ordeal, I assure you. And my mother was looking for you to get your dress fittings started.” 

––––––––

Thank you thank you thank you for being patient with me. Also, thank you to everyone you messaged kind and supportive words. hope this was worth the wait. 😅

Romance, Requests, and Redirection

Part 1 - Romance, Requests, and Redirection | Part 2 - Eris' Reply | AO3 | Nesta Week 2025 Masterpost |

A/N: This is Eris' reply to Nesta's letter (which I wrote for Nesta week linked above), as requested by @aleksandra25cracow. I hope you like it!

Word Count: 590

Dear Nesta,

I must confess, I was puzzled at the correspondence that arrived this morning at the Forest House. I certainly wasn’t expecting a letter bearing the telltale signs of the Night Court to show up at my breakfast table. Even lacking the official insignia, I would recognise a letter from Night, though I can assure you the surprise was a pleasant reprieve from the monotonous court life here in Autumn.

Solstice was another such welcome break, a place where I could enjoy the festivities, though they took place elsewhere, a place I will acknowledge I am not particularly fond of. However, I must admit, the dancing that night was perhaps the jewel in the crown, so to speak. It has been a while since I have been able to dance so freely, to revel in the celebrations as one ought to do but as politicians rarely get the chance to. A night to let my inhibitions down and rid myself of my mask, if only for a fraction of a while with a skilled dance partner is something I will be grateful for. I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy that night thoroughly.

But while I would love to converse at length regarding your love for the noble art, I must confess how pleased I was upon hearing of your interest in exploring Autumn and the wonder it has to behold, despite hearing what troubles you. My court is truly a wondrous place, like no other in Prythian, and though talking about it at length is perhaps one of my favourite pastimes, I will let you see this jewel for yourself.

Regarding your previous letter, I implore you to be careful with your words, lady. Though each court has its own ways of punishing treason, the Night Court’s being no less brutal than any other nor any less creative in the torment, I must ask you to avoid throwing caution to the wind when discussing such matters openly. The fae are never what they seem, and they will certainly grasp any opportunity they can to lie, contrary to the mortal myths I am sure you have heard. We will keep correspondence (we will have to, if you are to visit), but like you, my letters may be cryptic, and I will leave it to you to decipher them (though I have no doubt you will be able to do so without an ounce of difficulty, from the brief glimpse I have gotten of you).

A visit could be arranged, though it will require immense amounts of planning and logistical support from both sides. Despite this, it will be fleeting, and that will have to suffice, if only for now. Though we do not know each other, though we have hardly met, I shall need you to trust me in these upcoming weeks, if you truly mean to visit. We shall have to work together to create a plan so intricate that nothing and no one will be able to deter it. We will need to have contingency plan upon contingency plan, though I can assume this is not news to you. We will be able to talk at length upon your arrival. Rest assured that our conversations will remain confidential at all times. I trust the High Lord and Lady have informed you about the nature of Fae bargains, and the terms of one shall be discussed at length should you see the need for such a measure.

I will await your arrival.

~ Eris Vanserra

A/N: When Eris said “I need you to trust me” the only thing going through my head was Aladdin and how he asked Jasmine to trust him before they went flying on the magic carpet (can you tell it’s one of my favourite Disney movies)

Vibrant Velaris

AO3 | Nesta Week 2025 Masterpost |

@nestaarcheronweek

Prompt: Day Six - Birthday Girl (While Nesta doesn’t have a specified birthday in canon, that doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate our favorite character turning a year older! How do you think Nesta and the people who love her would celebrate her special day?)

A/N: I hope I’ve captured the Valkyries' banter and general interactions in a way that’s at least a little bit canon-accurate. If not, apologies! I also haven’t watched the Phantom of the Opera (even though I’d like to), so forgive any plot inaccuracies! The info is mostly from Wikipedia and fanart I’ve seen, as well as one quote from IMDb. Also: extremely slight use of drugs for recreational purposes (they get high on mirth root, which is pretty much fae weed), and general horny insanity towards the end (no actual smut, just teasing!)

Word Count: 4253

“Surprise!” Nesta blinked, bleary-eyed and still not quite within the world of the waking as Emerie’s voice floated to her, light and breezy. Sunlight filtered in through the now-open windows, and Nesta bet it was her best friend who had drawn the curtains in an attempt to rouse her.

“You couldn’t have waited a little longer, Em?” Nesta mumbled, eyes drifting closed once again. “Nope! It’s your birthday, which means it would be considered criminal if we let you sleep in late.”

“Come on,” encouraged Gwyn, who was standing on Nesta’s other side. “It’s your thirtieth birthday. You can’t tell me you’re not excited, because then you’d be lying.”

“I am excited. But we didn’t have to start this early-”

“Nonsense!” Emerie’s voice cut through Nesta’s grumbling, and she yanked the covers off. Nesta gave a small yelp as the cold air hit her bare legs. “Aren’t I the birthday girl? Don’t I decide what we do today?”

“You can and you will,” Gwyn said, nearly hauling her friend out of bed. “Once you get up, that is.”

“Cruel, evil females.” The words had no real bite to them, but Nesta let herself be dragged outof bed anyways. She rolled her eyes and began making her way to the bathroom, having figured out the hard way it was easier if her best friends got their way.

When she came out, Gwyn and Emerie were already seated by the table in her chambers. All the grander, more opulent chambers tended to have one, and the House certainly didn’t mind, not as it was currently plying the two Valkyries with pastries and sweets galore.

“What’s all this, then?” Nesta asked, glancing over at her best friends whose mouths were now stuffed with delectable pastries. “Oh, the House wanted to wish you a happy birthday,” Gwyn mumbled around a particularly delicious raspberry tart. “Mmm, these are delicious. Nesta, you have to try some.”

“Oh, trust me, I wasn’t planing to miss out on these treats.” She plopped down beside Emerie. The House had likely sensed her there, and a plate immediately appeared in front of her, along with a spoon and a glass. “Thanks, House,” Nesta said to the ceiling, beginning to pile a slice of chocolate cake and a small block of fudge onto her plate.

At her hum of approval, Emerie only grinned. “Told you. I swear, the House makes such good food.” It seemed that they’d managed to please the House immensely because it only kept serving them increasing amounts of sweet treats until they were all about to burst. Even with Nesta’s infatuation for baked goods, she could tell this was getting out of hand.

Reclining in her chair and letting out a long sigh, Gwyn closed her eyes. “Oh that was the best breakfast I’ve had in a long while.”

“Shut up,” groaned Nesta, too full herself to actually muster much of a coherent response. “You’ll only encourage the House more.”

“Ow,” came Emerie’s voice from beside Nesta’s. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts to breathe, I swear to the Mother. It’ll be a miracle if I manage to walk at all after this.”

It seemed that Emerie’s request for a miracle did not go unanswered after all. Indeed, the three Valkyries spent the afternoon wandering around Velaris after having been flown down by Cassian, Azriel, and Mor. Rhysand was at the townhouse, accompanied by Feyre, meeting with the governors of the city about a particularly pressing matter regarding labour migration.

“I thought you didn’t want anyone ‘interrupting you’ on your birthday, Nes,” teased Cassian as he flew them down. “Yes, well, it’s not like we were planning to waste four hours climbing ten thousand steps, either,” she quipped back.

“Fair enough.” Cassian’s answering grin was sharp enough to cut.

✦ ✦ ✦

The Rainbow emerged in front of them, alight with life and colour as artists and customers alike meandered through the stalls. The theatres of Velaris stood in the distance, elegant and refined in their own way as the Sidra cut through the city’s famed district, glistening in the bright sunlight.

Window-shopping after lunch had quickly turned into actual shopping, and the females had bought their weight’s worth in jewellery, clothes, and shoes, then ordered some items to be collected at a later date. Shop until you drop had been Emerie’s answering phrase when Gwyn asked if they really needed all of this, and none had objected since then.

Now hauling at least four large bags each, they clambered their way up the crowded streets, dodging hordes of people who seemed to be enjoying the pleasant weather. Spring was beginning to properly set upon Velaris, and everyone wanted to be getting as much sunlight as possible before a bout of April showers overtook the City of Starlight once more.

“What time is the play?” Gwyn asked, trying to be discrete but failing miserably. “Four, I think,” came Emerie’s response. “Play? What play?” Nesta’s curiosity had gotten the better of her. “Oh, my bad. It’s not a play. Well, it’s this romantic opera,” came the Illyrian’s clumsy explanation.

Nesta stilled, coming to a halt in front of a stall. She didn’t care if she was blocking someone’s way. The thoughtfulness behind the gesture had tears welling up in her eyes. “That’s…you’d do that for me?”

She’d once mentioned off-handedly how much she loved dance and music, and that she’d never been to a dramaturgy, even as a human. Nesta had been too young, and her family had lost their wealth shortly afterwards. All dreams of one day visiting a production had been lost until today.

“Don’t be silly. Of course we would.” Gwyn’s light voice cut through Nesta’s inner whirl of emotions. “Now come on. I don’t want to be late.”

After managing to coax the information out of them, they let slip that they’d managed to get Azriel in on Nesta’s birthday festivities. He’d found a way to book last-minute tickets for them all. The Shadowsinger had likely had to pull a few strings, but Nesta would properly thank him later.

Making their way up to the Theatre of Margravia, one of the city’s largest, Nesta had to physically restrain herself from gasping. The opulence and grace that the theatre exuded was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Fantastical domes and spires covered the entire structure, each design decorated with enough gold for a small kingdom’s treasury.

Velaris really did like to go all out, splurging on the smallest of luxuries until Nesta was sure she couldn’t possibly see any more wealth or decoration. Oh, how wrong she was.

If the exterior had been breathtaking, the interior was nothing short of heavenly. Nesta had to crane her neck to glimpse the stained glass and intricately painted murals that covered the ceilings in the main lobby. Receptionists’ desks lined in gold and crafted of marble were artfully arranged along the far side of the wall. Neat queues had begun forming as fae waited to be let in, chattering quietly amongst themselves.

To her left, an archway stood with a sign above it: Locker Area. It was beginning to get more crowded, and the three females had to make a decision before they were trampled under the throngs of Fae now entering the main hall.

Thankfully, they managed to make it to the lockers without being jostled too badly. It was half-past three, which meant that they had plenty of time to leave their shopping, go to the bathroom, and get situated with time to spare before the play started.

Leaving their coats and everything else inside, and ensuring that her shopping and woolen overcoat was neatly locked, Nesta glanced towards Gwyn. “Do we ask them at the front desk?”

“I think so.” A slight furrow was visible on the redhead’s brow as she, too, attempted to make sense of this entire social setting. She’d be damned if she committed a single social faux-pas tonight. “The operas here are so different from choirs and singing of Sangravah.”

“That’s what I saw everyone else doing. I mean, we can always ask the receptionist.”

As the three females made their way to the front desk, each clutching a small handbag, conversation resumed in full force. “See? I told you you’d need to dress fancy today,” said Emerie as they walked. “You should start listening to me more.”

Indeed, all three females wore formal dresses, though none was traditional enough to be considered entirely formal. Nesta’s was a plain, crimson gown as if she wore blood on her body. Lady Death indeed. It complenented her complexion wonderfully, and her friends’ gowns contrasted hers. Emerie was in black; Gwyn in teal, both wearing gowns with high slits. While Emerie’s showed of her shoulders with an elegant low cut, Gwyn’s was backless, the gems on it artfully placed and glittering as it caught the light.

“Alright, alright,” came Nesta’s response. “Let’s not get ourselves on a high horse over this, shall we?”

✦ ✦ ✦

“Hi. Three tickets for The Phantom of the Opera, please.” Gwyn flashed a charming, polite smile to the cashier who sat at the reception. Sporting a head of long, indigo hair and stunning silver eyes, she had a slight frown on her face. She seemed to be busy, making notes and writing things in the margins of her ledger. 

“Certainly. Give me one moment, please.” Her voice was smooth, practiced. As she took the tickets from Gwyn’s awaiting hand and crossed off what Nesta assumed to be their names on a checklist, she gave them a tight smile. “Hall three. Straight down and second door to your left. Enjoy the show.”

Thanking the receptionist, they began making their way to the hall, and Nesta’s breath left her lungs in a gasp as she saw the true resplendence that the Theatre of Margravia had to offer its guests.

Seats made of the plushest velvet were placed in a semicircle all around the hall; soft to the touch and rising in height to create a sort of indoor amphitheatre with clear views of the stage no matter where she looked from. Chandeliers hung from the domed ceiling, shimmering with iridescence as the daylight struck them from different angles; entering through the elevated windows.

Balconies rose on either side with cutouts that allowed unimpeded views for the members of the audience. Sconces were place periodically along the walls, bathing the entire chamber in a warm, mellow, and almost regal light.

Finally, Nesta’s attention was dragged to the stage itself. A crimson curtain was drawn over the stage, leaving little of the oak paneling visible to the audience, but Nesta had no doubt it was just as, if not more magnificent than any other feature of the theatre.

“Oh my gods,” Emerie breathed beside, clearly as awestruck as Nesta herself. “It’s so…” She trailed off, and Nesta couldn’t agree more. The theatre had left all of them speechless, all playful banter whooshing out of their skulls as a newfound admiration for the stunning architecture overtook them.

Neither of her friends had ever had the chance to visit something so majestic, that she was sure of. Illyrians didn’t exactly value the richness and culture that Velaris had to offer, and Sangravah had its own traditions and rituals unique to the temple.

Needless to say, it was an experience in itself, and Nesta wasn’t going to waste a single moment of it.

✦ ✦ ✦

The music filled Nesta’s blood, imbuing her veins with exhiliration and making its way to her heart, giving it life. It made her feel…Nesta wasn’t even sure what she was feeling, only that she was, and it was wonderful.

She hadn’t realised she’d been crying until her vision went blurry and she could no longer see the singers on stage. Their outlines softened, and she felt a drop of something warm land on her cheek. The last time she’d been this emotional over a piece of music had been at the Solstice Party in the Hewn City years ago, and even that had been short-lived as she was forced to uphold the role of cruel, calm courtesan attempting to seduce a shrewd Eris Vanserra.

Nesta hadn’t realised how much of the world she was missing out on because she’d been healing. It brought a certain air of melancholy to her, despite being surrounded by music and art and her best friends. She made a mental note to herself to come to the opera more often.

The male on stage, a musical genius and the phantom haunting an opera, sang about his love for the singer who was employed there. His fierce passion for her, her adoration for him as he made her his apprentice…Nesta was in a world of bliss.

Their voices were more than apt for these roles, she thought. They complemented each other, and formed a glorious harmony when they sang together. The notes flowed around them and over them, arcing and circling throughout the hall until they crafted an arrow aimed straight at Nesta’s heart. It’s aim landed true, and Nesta could only stare, transfixed, as their voices raised gradually in pitch. 

Sweeping arpeggios and increasingly dramatic chord progressions had her gasping in amazement. Never had she heard something that sounded so chaotic in its glory, something so wonderful it had her heart nearly leaping out of her chest in an attempt to get closer to the music. Indeed, she found feelt her own pulse quickening in time to the escalating tempo, the thud-thud-thud of her heart becoming louder and louder until it filled her eardrums.

Suddenly, applause erupted all around them, and Nesta stood, still in trance, to applaud the performers. They deserve more than flimsy cheering and whistling as if we’re some hooligans, she thought to herself, but only clapped harder. She was still at a loss for words, and didn’t quite know how to show her appreciation for them.

“That was incredible.” Gwyn’s sigh to her left had Nesta’s mind reeling back to her friends. She could only nod dumbly as Emerie and Gwyn, who seemed to have recovered much better than she had, discussed the show.

“-And the way he said his lines-”

“They expect us to be normal after she sang ‘God, give me courage to show you you are not alone’? What the hell?”

“I swear to the Mother, his mask-”

“Did you know, I would have ripped the thing off his face with my teeth if he would have let me, and then fucked him in that suit.”

Nesta hadn’t quite managed to come down from the high, the exhilaration that the theatre pieces had brought her. In fact, it was all she thought about on the way to retrieve their jackets until Emerie’s hand on her shoulder had her jolting.

“Are you alright? You’ve been very quiet since the play finished.”

“I’m fine,” she responded quietly. “I’m just…processing, is all.” Gwyn laughed. “I can imagine. I’ve seen a similar production at the temple once before when I was younger, but the actors were so good I was on the edge of my seat the entire time. I knew what was going to happen, I knew about the Phantom and Christine and yet it felt like I didn’t. It felt like I was experiencing everything all over again. I can only imagine how amazed you must be.”

“Well, that’s enough sappy business for one evening,” came Emerie’s reply. “What’re we doing for dinner?”

“We were having a moment, you know,” Gwyn grumbled, reaching into her purse to fish out the key to her locker. “You didn’t have to ruin it.”

“I’m being practical, Gwynnie dearest. We won’t be able to discuss whatever it is you Priestesses do without something to fill our bellies, now will we?”

Their banter continued as they stepped out into the now cooler spring air. Nesta sorely regretted buying so much, because she could barely carry the bags anymore. Her arms had cramped up, and she’d be thankful if she had any ability in her upper limbs tomorrow. 

“I think it’s better if we go up the House and have dinner there, no?” She asked her friends. “We’ve been dragging these bags around with us the entire day like pirates with our loot.”

Emerie snorted. “True, that.”

“Besides,” the redhead chimed in. “If no one else is already there, then we’ll stay the night.” It wasn’t rare for the other two to spend a night at the House of Wind, seeing as it was safe and secluded enough from the city that no one would bother them. It wasn’t like they needed to go into the city in the early hours of morning or some godsforsaken time at night anyways, so the steps didn’t bother any of them, at least not as much as they used to.

Emerie’s initial trepidation at being trapped in the House had thawed, though it had taken her a while to become fully comfortable with the place the way Nesta and Gwyn were. 

“Rhys is away, I think, and Cass and Az might be in Illyria tonight. We should be fine.”

“What about Mor?” Nesta couldn’t help the wolfish grin that overtook her face at Emerie’s question. “What about her?”

“Not-not like that!” She hissed, smacking Nesta lightly on the arm as Gwyn burst out laughing. “Oh yes like that.”

“I don’t like her that way!” She said indignantly, now visibly blushing. “It’s so cute how you get flustered,” Nesta replied coolly. “One would assume you only get this hot and bothered because you fancy her.”

“I hate both of you. Did we really have to discuss this in public?”

“Yes,” Gwyn wheezed, shopping bags forgotten as she clutched at her stomach. “Our goal for delivering maximum embarrassment has been met.” She fist-bumped Nesta, who was still smirking. Emerie’s glare only deepened, and she rolled her eyes. “Why must you terrorise me so?”

✦ ✦ ✦

“Thank the Gods we managed to make it up here in one piece,” Gwyn huffed, wiping sweat from her now-damp brow.

Nesta only grunted like a heathen, not even bothering to grace her friend with a response. 

Currently, all three of them were sprawled out on the living room sofa, panting lightly in an effort to catch their breaths.

They’d made it halfway up the steps with their fuckton of shopping, as Nesta had called it, before Gwyn had the enlightening idea to simply ask the House for help. “House?” She’d called out in her sweetest voice. “Can we have a ramp or something to help get all this stuff upstairs?”

Immediately, it had summoned a platform lift of sorts, and had waited patiently as they loaded everything into it. That seemed to be where it’s tolerance ended, however, because as soon as they’d gotten situated, the lift had darted up with no warning nor preamble.

They stumbled out of the thing like drunkards, each clutching their stomachs and sporting a complexion that was such a delightful shade of green it would have given the swamps in the Spring Court a run for their money.

The nausea had yet to abate, hence, their intoxicated-like stupor and unwillingness to converse normally.

Simply collapsing on the couch had done at least some good for them, it seemed. They were all feeling much less like half-dead fish and much more like functioning people around half an hour later, and were at least speaking to each other.

It was then the debates for dinner had started.

“Okay, okay. What about…” Gwyn screwed her face up in her concentration as she tried to come up with an idea that all three of them would like. “What about lasagna?”

Nesta made a face. “I like lasagna, but I want something more…” She trailed off, not quite sure to how finish that sentence. “Nesta,” Emerie grumbled. “Just pick something or we’ll be forced to choose for you.”

“You wouldn’t,” she shot back. “I’m the birthday girl.”

“I would. Especially if you take this long to pick dinner, for Cauldron’s sakes. You must rival even me for sheer indecisiveness.” The Illyrian’s patience was wearing out, and they were all getting increasingly hungry.

“Fine. How about shawarma? Or kebab?”

“I can’t handle the spice, remember?” Gwyn objected immediately. “The House says it makes the food less spicy, but I don’t trust it.” She frowned up at the ceiling, eyes narrowing as if trying to get the House to confess.

“Oh my Gods. We’re having fajitas and it’s final.” It was the one Illyrian dish Emerie knew Nesta had fallen in love with. The first few times when Nesta had visited her shop, she’d decided to make fajitas as a treat. Meat in such large amounts was rare, but the vegetables had been no problem since Emerie grew her own. They’d made do, and Nesta had adored the recipe despite its simplicity.

“Ooo, yes, that sounds lovely. These won’t be too spicy for you, will they, Gwyn?” Nesta teased.

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbled.

By the time their argument finally died down, the House had finished summoning plates, cutlery, and a large saucepan of fajitas, as well as a large chocolate cake which Nesta was sure would give them a heart attack if they ate more than two bites of. A plethora of sauces along with still-warm tortillas had also appeared, meaning the House had them freshly made.

For the first five minutes, only the sounds of munching filled the room. They were all famished, and no one wanted to waste time on something as frivolous as talking. As their bellies began to fill, though, conversation slowly began trickling back. “Mmm, this is delicious,” were Gwyn’s first words as she spoke around a mouthful of chicken, peppers, and tortillas. “You outdid yourself this time, House.”

It merely flapped the curtains once in response, as if to say, You’re welcome. 

General topics of Valkyrie training, the newest stores in the city, good restaurants, and the like drifted around, punctuated by the occasional teasing jab or giggle.

The sun had begun setting over the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow throughout the open chamber, but no one paid any heed to it. Currently, they were all scarfing down more chocolate cake than what a normal person would deem healthy, but…it was Nesta’s birthday, which meant that she could eat whatever she wanted. By extension, the same rule applied to Gwyn and Emerie, and none cared about the stomachache they were likely to be hit with later that same night. Right now, Nesta’s story was far more interesting, with her friends hanging onto every word like entranced children.

“-And then he called me a witch in front of everyone.”

“What? Just for using the weapons while you were on your cycle? What a bastard.”

“Please tell me you didn’t let the prick get off that easily, Nesta,” said Gwyn, glowering. “Oh no,” she responded, grinning. “Most certainly not. “I went up and brushed a finger along every single one of his weapons, you know the ones on the racks? And then I looked at him sweetly and told him that he had to bury all the daggers now, because I’d cursed them.”

That sent Emerie howling with laughter, and she collapsed on the couch, wheezing. Despite herself, Gwyn cracked a smile, which dissolved into a cackle almost immediately as Emerie trembled.

“No way.” Gwyn was still in disbelief. “I’m not joking about this one,” said Nesta. “I’m dead serious.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Nesta’s mind was blissfully hazy, and she had the stupidest grin plastered on her face as Gwyn rambled on about…something. She’d long since lost track of what anyone was saying. She heard Emerie’s voice join the conversation, but didn’t have the energy to pay attention.

The scent of lavender and vanilla permeated the air, as well as the distinct smell of smoke.

Ridiculously high on mirth root and lounging in a large bathtub with expensive soaps and oils, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d indulged in something like this. The joint they’d shared was currently in Gwyn’s hands, and she let out a puff, eyelids drooping shut.

“Nesta,” Emerie called, drawing her name out. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re fucking hot?”

She couldn’t help as a snicker left her lips. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back on the edge of the bathtub.

Inhibitions were nearly non-existent at this point, seeing as they’d been in here for well over an hour. The House, Cauldron bless it, had kept the water warm this entire time, almost as if it, too, was enjoying watching the three naked females’ antics.

“Thanks, babe.”

“No, like, I’m serious. Like you’re ass is so fine in those training leathers, did you know? I honestly don’t know how Cassian hasn’t fucked you yet.”

“You can’t be talking about Nesta’s ass when you were practically flashing half the city in that gorgeous dress of yours. Oh my Gods, your tits, Em.” Gwyn groaned. “I’d lick them if you let me.” With that, she passed the pipe to Emerie.

Their conversation only became more depraved after that. Comments about certain body parts quickly devolved into detail descriptions and explanations about how they’d fuck each other. At some point, the House had materalised bottles of some of the strongest liquor. Despite their best judgement, they gave in letting the sentient structure pamper them for this one night.

It was, after all, their best friend’s birthday.

A/N: The “Theatre of Margravia” I mentioned here is actually based on the Bavarian Margravial Opera House in Southern Germany. I thought the name sounded pretty and I encourage you to search up pictures! We also don’t know very much about Velaris’ Rainbow, and I’m never one to pass up an opportunity for worldbuilding!

Sleepy Affection

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Prompt: Day Five - Mother (Not only does Nesta have a bond with the Mother, but she's also mommy Mother. How do you see this word applying to her?)

A/N: I wanted to capture a more domestic side of Nesta, one where she’s relaxed instead of constantly having to act or sound a certain way, and I hope I did that here!

Word Count: 1492

Nesta groaned as a distinct, wet tongue brushed over her cheek, Instinctively turning over and pulling the covers over head, she mumbled, “Down, Roxy.” At the hound’s refusal to comply, Nesta groaned again. “Down, girl. I’ll get you breakfast soon. Just let me-”

She broke off, yawning. “Let me sleep for a few more minutes.”

Today, however, it seemed that Roxy wasn’t having it. A whine escaped the dog’s lips, and Nesta could tell, even from her under the covers, that she was pouting. 

Eris’ favoured hound and usually the most well-trained, she tended to keep the other hounds in line when they misbehaved. They were all forbidden from climbing up onto the bed, but it seemed that particular restriction wasn’t about to stop Roxy this morning. 

Nesta was just about to call Eris to get his hound off of her when she realised he was away. A slight chill enveloped her at the reminder, and it was enough to push herself out of bed.

Her husband was currently away on the continent for a meeting about trade routes between Autumn and Rask. He’d been making renewed efforts after the War to attempt to make trade global and more streamlined, claiming it took ridiculously large amounts of time for the smallest things to travel on inter-continental trade routes. Currently though, the Dukes of Rask continued to be stubborn, somehow even more orthodox and traditional than some of Prythian’s High Lords. They prided themselves on traditionality, and simply couldn’t seem to grasp the gem of a deal that Eris was offering them.

Indeed, Nesta had gone over the deal and paperwork so many times with her husband she wouldn’t be surprised if she would now be able to recite the contracts orally without hesitation. They had debated these things long into the night; how they were planning to integrate not only trade, but migration, too. 

It had been one of Eris’ many well-crafted and well-documented plans once he ascended. Some had come into effect immediately upon his coronation, while others had taken longer to implement. There were others still that were awaiting approval or negotiations, but Nesta could not bring herself to dislike it. How could she, when she’d been trained for Court life from birth? If anything, she found it intriguing.

But none of this was going through Nesta’s mind at the moment. Right now, she was intent on satiating Roxy’s hunger, if only so that she could go back to bed. It wasn’t likely that she’d fall asleep again, but it was a Sunday morning, and her duties could wait. There was a particularly thrilling erotica series she wanted to finish by the end of this week. The smut isn’t going to read itself. Gwyn’s light, airy voice entered her mind, and she couldn’t suppress the grin at her friend’s comment at their book club earlier this month. 

Though the females lived in different courts and had busy schedules, they’d found a way to meet at least once a month despite it all. Emerie and Gwyn were Nesta’s oldest friends since she’d been Made, and she’d be damned if she lost contact with them because of something so trivial as distance when winnowing was commonplace.

Once she’d flung the covers off and began making her way to the main room, Roxy followed diligently behind her, looking up at her mistress with wide, imploring eyes that said I’m hungry. Feed me.

Scrounging the cupboards near the fireplace, she found a neatly packaged collection of both treats and entire meals for the hounds. 

As soon as Nesta got the packet out, Roxy’s entire demeanor changed. From wagging tail and lolling tongue, she immediately sat down, sitting so still Nesta would have thought something would have happened had she not been used to this behaviour. 

“Good girl.” The hound’s ears perked up when Nesta complimented her, and perked up even further as Nesta poured the food into a bowl which had Roxy written on it in a fancy scrawl. 

By now, the other hounds had sensed the commotion and woken up too. Clambering up to Nesta, they surrounded her, and she pet them all. “Oh, are my other babies hungry too?” She cooed, scratching them behind the ears and under their chins as they nuzzled into her touch. 

They greedily slurped up their breakfast as she poured a bowl for each of them, and the sounds of twelve dogs munching delighted Nesta to no end.

Eris had helped her get over her initial fear of dogs by assuring her that they were hounds, not stray dogs, and wouldn’t attack unless provoked. She’d retorted that they were still animals, and would attack whenever they felt like it. It had taken a long time for her to warm up to them, but now she was just as, if not more dedicated to taking care of the hounds than Eris was. 

He’d caught her on multiple occasions chatting with Roxy as if she could understand her, and Nesta’s only excuse had been that they did. One simply had to be patient with them, and treat them with the love and care she knew all animals deserved. 

“My baby,” she’d murmured to Apollo one particularly cold and rainy night as she planted a light kiss to his forehead. He was one of Eris’ youngest; one he’d adopted after nursing it back to health on one of his journeys to the more secluded pockets of the Court. 

They still didn’t know where he came from, but it didn’t matter. Nesta hadn’t hesitated for a moment when Eris had brought the bleeding hound in, and he’d slowly become theirs.

Day by day, they’d coaxed the hound into the healthy, well-fed dog that now sat heeling at Nesta’s feet. “Are you bored, sweet boy?” As his eyes widened, Nesta let out a chuckle. “We’ll go out on a walk after everyone finishes breakfast, yeah?” She punctuated her words with a slight ruffle of his fur.

One of Eris’ first rules when it came to his hounds was that no one, absolutely no one was to feed them except either him or Nesta. Claiming that true loyalty only came when owner and pet spent quality time together, he made sure to take time out of his bustling schedule to take care of his dogs. He also insisted on all the food that came in for his cherished hounds to be checked and re-checked for any signs of poison. 

As always, Eris’ immaculate and air-tight plans had Nesta marveling at that mind of his. However did he manage to think of so much in such a short amount of time?

A soft bark dragged her back to the present, as Nova, another fierce, if not just as sweet, hound tilted up her head so that her caramel eyes met Nesta’s steel-grey ones. “You want to go out too? Come on, then.”

Hastily changing into a dress and stockings that she deemed appropriate should someone approach her, she grabbed the leashes and sat about fastening one on each dog’s collar. She tugged a coat and shoes on, grabbing a pair of leather gloves to put on later, and ushered the dogs out of her chambers.

✦ ✦ ✦

Nesta spent the better part of the morning playing with the hounds; asking them to play fetch with a ball that she’d summoned, or having them chase around the courtyard as they yipped playfully at a ribbon of silver fire that she’d conjured. They pawed at jumped at it, attempting to catch the string and figure out, once and for all, what it was, but Nesta’s control on her magic never slipped. She managed to keep it just out of their grasp as she twirled her fingers idly, crafting silver stars with her other hand. 

She came back upstairs around half-past noon, cheeks tinged red from the cold and a grin on her face. The hounds had bits of frost on their paws, and Nesta only shook her head as they sullied Eris’ rug. He wouldn’t mind, of course. In fact, he’d bought a rug so that it would be easy to clean. Dog fur and some perpetual state of frost always seemed to coat it after he’d taken them out on a walk or into the courtyard, but it tended to be cleaned by the afternoon or late evening at most. 

The servants, too, had gotten used to Eris’ hounds, and catered to them on his command. It was routine for them to offer the hounds the best care that was available in the Forest House.

A fleeting thought of reviewing budgets and other documents crossed her mind, but right now, Nesta couldn’t bring herself to care. Work and endless duties were always going to be there. Right now, she was content simply sitting by the fireplace, lavish armchair and plump couches forgotten, cuddling with her hounds, a beam of true contentment on her face.

A/N: Even though not much happened and this submission wasn’t plot heavy, I wanted to write something short and fluffy!

Crimson

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Prompt: Day Four - Lover (Nesta has had many opportunities for love across Prythain — who do you ship her with? Cassian? Emerie? Eris? Gwyn? Azriel? Cresseida? Any and all ships are welcome!)

A/N: I decided to title this contrapuntal poem "Crimson because the word fits Autumn, blood, and love all in one!

Word Count: 118

A/N: Tumblr wouldn't let me insert a table, so I had to upload a picture instead

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 23 - Eris | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

A/N: Inspired by this and this Tumblr post

Word Count: 747

Beloved Nesta,

You engulf me so thoroughly in the throes of passion and desire I cannot know or even begin to understand where you end and where I start. I am ravenous for you, for your being, your presence, and your very soul, that charming wit, that dry humour. I feel nothing but burning want and an incessant need to be close to you, to hae you selfishly all to myself. I want to hide away from the world simply for us to be able to be together. I want your steel, I want your fire, I want your unbending will and that rigid suit of armour none have managed to pry off. I want to be singed by your fire, I want to be burned so thoroughly I can do nothing but return, begging on my hands and knees as I crawl on hot coals to be able to have even a single taste of you. A single glance, a single smile or grin or something else entirely. I want to walk out completely and utterly besotted with you, enamoured by you, until my heart beats only to keep yours alive. I want to live and survive for you, to give myself to you in my entirety so that when the world hears your name, they will whisper mine alongside it. I want us to be immortalised in every way imaginable: marble, carvings, literature, anything else that you can think of. I want the world to know that you are mine and that I am yours. 

While the world stays ice cold and frozen as the barest of tundras, we will be reveling and celebrating as our longing, our lust keeps us warm. Stolen kisses, gasps and yearning, a pining which I do not think will abate nor diminish for as long as I live. On the contrary, it will grow. My love for you will increase tenfold, over and over again until there is no more room in my heart to hold all of it in. Until the love heals me and covers me, running over my veins and bones and muscles and flesh, until all the cracks are healed with that golden nectar, that cleansing, sweet fire.

Perhaps the fire that was once meant to ruin me, that which was destined to be my demise, shall be my salvation. You are salvation and sin and ruin and lust all at once, so much so that I cannot look at you without my breath catching or my heart stuttering for a beat. Not enough for anyone else to notice, except for you. You always notice, always seem to be observing me in that keen, sharp, and utterly deliberate manner of yours. 

It seems as if our eyes cannot stay away from each other, as if we are drawn to the other by some mysterious force pushing us together. Fate, destiny, whatever Gods you believe in, I do not know. I do not care. I do not care if I am deserving of it, of you, of this love, never mind that my hands are tainted and bloody and ruined and broken. If I have been gifted with this love, I would be a fool to squander it, to give up that which has been given to me. Greater than any treasure, any wealth or jewels, you are the one I covet now. 

Let me kiss you, broken and bloodied and scabbed over even as fresh wounds consume us, but I will see nothing but my burning desire for you, and the incessant need to claw my heart out of my chest, the wretched thing, and present it to you on a silver platter. It will lay beating at your feet, perhaps the only true thing of value I shall be able to grant you; gift you. I have never had much need for it anyway, for every emotion I feel must be within your presence, otherwise it is not an emotion at all. But you will have the damned organ, and it will be yours, precisely how I am yours. 

The mere thought of something happening to you fills my heart with dread, fills it with such agony I feel as if the all the oxygen has been torn out of my lungs, crass and violent and bleeding.

Do not leave me. Not like this, not now, not ever. You are all I need, all I have ever needed.

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

Part 24 - Nesta

Line dividers credit goes @enchanthings

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 22 - Nesta | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 440

My darling Eris,

You do not need grace and fluidity to express your love for me. You already possess it in abundance. It surrounds me and cradles me like a gentle breeze on a warm summer’s day or the crunch of leaves under my feet in autumn. It is what has kept me afloat when I could not swim, a lifeline that I have clung so tightly to like a piece of driftwood it is a wonder I have no lingering splinters, no wood embedded as deeply into my soul as my love for you is.

Every little action of yours has a plethora of love packaged into it. The way you stay up late just so we can kiss each other goodnight, the way you stay in bed a little longer just to catch my first smile of the day so that you can wish me a good morning. How you save the last bite of the pastries for me. Each action is so deeply consumed by your love for me. You are the love you seek. I only hope that I am enough and that I can give you the love you cherish and deserve.

Know that the only face I dream of as I am whisked away to the land of sleep is yours. Those amber eyes, full of such deep pain and longing and a hundred other emotions it would take years to name; those stunning, wicked lips, that have healed me beyond measure. 

Your resilience to life and all its hardships has me enamoured by you. I am in awe. Despite all that life has thrown at you, despite everything, you choose to persevere and you continue to choose to be a good person. For the sake of this court and for the sake of your family, you choose to persist.

You, who have had every reason, and then a few more to become the villain in others’ stories, have chosen to become the hero in mine. You have chosen to fight no matter how difficult it may be. Every day I am inspired by you keep up my own fight.

There are, of course, days when this battle, this war within myself becomes so exhausting I feel as if I want to want the Earth to swallow me whole and never spit me back out. But I have learned, through experience if not anything else, that hiding only makes the problem worse. 

And so I will hope you will stand by my side as I fight, sword drawn, eyes blazing, covered in blood, gore and mud. 

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

Part 23 - Eris

Line dividers credit goes @enchanthings

Romance, Requests, and Redirection

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Prompt: Day Three - True North (The eight-pointed star has many meanings in Nesta’s journey, but the path is far from over. Where do you think her star is pointing?)

A/N: As promised, the letter that Nesta writes to Eris on Day 1 is revealed here!

Word Count: 434

Dear Eris,

I am aware that this letter seems untoward and sudden, and I will start off by saying how apologetic I am. I also need you to know that I would not have contacted you if this was not a matter of extreme urgency.

You once asked me to write to you if I got tired of the scheming and games which the Night Court seems to revel in. If I’d managed to find a good dance partner in my twenty-five years of being alive. My answer to you is no. No, I must admit that skilled dance partners are indeed difficult to come across. So here I stand, pride, armour, and all my defenses stripped away, asking you not as an unearthly, unworldly Cauldron-Made being or someone who hoards power like jewels or gold, but simply as Nesta Archeron. I was loath to admit what effect you had on me in the Hewn City. It was enthralling; to know that someone appreciated the art of moving one’s body with a grace so lethal, almost as much as I appreciate it. 

I saw your amber eyes shimmering that night, Eris. I saw that them glisten with more than desire or lust.

You possess a heart of gold. Not of a dreamer, but one that is not afraid to act when the time is right. I implore you to act now.

The bond has not been accepted, and I will not accept it for reasons I will only tell you when I see you. I cannot put them in writing. The Blood Duel will not be invoked, at least not from Night. I will ensure it. 

Despite that, I would be lying if I said that the Autumn Court did not intrigue me, at least to some extent. It would be better than the horrors of Night. Though I cannot tell you too much about what has been going on here, for the risk of being found out remains, I shall try to get as many messages across as I can. Know that they can come in any shape, any form, any way, for I fear that I will have to become more creative with my ways of correspondence lest interception becomes commonplace.

I would not put anything past Rhysand. Treason it may be, but you must understand that I have reason to have caution. I am once again apologetic that I will not be able to recount details of my life here in Velaris, but rest assured that I will tell you everything once we meet.

I will await your letter.

~ Nesta Archeron

Part 2 - Eris' Reply

A/N: I hope I captured Nesta’s writing style accurately and I’m sorry if I was slightly redundant!

A Lesson In Façades

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Prompt: Day Two - Mask (Nesta wielded the mask in ACOSF, but she's also an expert in hiding her true thoughts and feelings. What does Nesta wearing a mask mean to you?)

A/N: This submission deals quite heavily with negative self-talk, mentions of mental health and recovery, and Nesta’s not-so-great relationship with the Inner Circle. Please read with caution.

Word Count: 4155

Nesta heaved, expelling the contents of last night’s dinner into the toilet. Sounds of her retching filled the chambers, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not as she shivered, trembling, and gripped onto the porcelain for dear life, knuckles white and gasping for breath.

She was sure she looked like a stray; a heathen hauled in from the ragged streets and the dirtier, rougher areas of Velaris. Matted hair, dark circles under her eyes, and an increasingly narrow frame had become common for her as she lived in perpetual numbness. She’s not even trying. Her sister’s cold words as Nesta overheard them, and it was then she felt a flicker of rage. A small ember, but it was snuffed out just as quickly as it had come alight.

She hadn’t found the energy to be able to care these days. Not for the city she lived in, not for her sisters, and certainly not for herself. She wouldn’t even know where to begin should she wish it. Maybe Feyre was right.

Nesta somehow managed to get to her feet, make it to the sink, and rinse her mouth out. The foul taste of her own regurgitation sat in her mouth like an iron claw that refused to loosen its hold on her. Swallowing a healthy amount of water she would no doubt end up retching later anyway, she took a seat beside the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up nearly an entire wall. 

Curling her knees to her chest, she looked out at the laughter and joy and life teeming from the city below. She could see eager patrons encouraging potential customers to enter their ridiculously priced restaurants or vendors attempting to haggle prices and selling useless knickknacks much the same as the ones her father had made. 

Velaris, Feyre had mentioned to her briefly, and had refused to elaborate. Nesta hadn’t bothered to ask. What would it matter anyway, if her bastard of a brother-in-law was bound to throw her out on her ass whenever he felt like it? It certainly wasn’t worth getting attached to, and it wasn’t like she planned to go outside and explore the city anytime soon. 

You dragged me into this mess, this horrible place.

I am not a thing to be controlled by you.

I won’t go.

None of it had mattered, in the end. She’d still been forced, kicking and screaming and crying and pleading to be left alone, but she’d still ended up in the House of Wind like a petulant child that refused to listen.

The House of Wind. Where she’d been contained and watched Elain destroy herself, her sister ready to jump out of the red-stoned mountain as she deteriorated further. Nesta’s bones chilled at the memory, and she fought to suppress them before she another bout of panic settled so deep into her she wouldn’t be able to get it out. Her breaths turned shallow, and her eyes refocused on the wall beside her. What she’d thought would have been a sanctuary, a place for her and Elain to heal, had now become her prison.

No way to leave, save for the ten-thousand steps leading down to the city itself that would likely kill her if she tried. Or flying with Cassian, then winnowing, said a small voice in the back of her head that she promptly shut down. The point was, she was trapped, and it was useless to come up with elaborate escape plans that would encourage Rhysand’s already bloodthirsty attitude towards her. She wouldn’t be surprised if he requested for her head on a pike, simply because he could.

Despite having…whatever powers she had, despite being High Fae, there was something in Nesta that cowered upon the sight of Rhysand. Violet eyes that seemed to contain the stars themselves were unnatural on a number of levels, and the ethereal, unnatural grace that he possessed terrified her. It took efforts to clamp down on that fear lest it show, lest he scent it like some sort of rabid animal.

It was the same feeling that had overtaken her at that disastrous High Lords’ meeting. Fear, so thick and cloying that it choked the very life out of her, until she was breathless and dizzy with anxiety as she fought to keep her cool. No one had noticed that day, how she’d felt. No one ever did.

Feyre might have known about her splurges in the darker areas of the city; seedy taverns and pubs that she went to solely because of the music, but what she didn’t know was what Nesta was feeling. I understand how you’re feeling. Hollow words making up hollow promises that made even hollower relationships. Nesta was surprised theirs hadn’t crumbled yet, though she supposed it wasn’t long before that happened. Perhaps it was better if she burnt that bridge, too. What would it matter in the end, if they were all the blame her?

How was she to explain to anyone what was wrong? Did she even know what was wrong? Everything, that voice crooned again, latching onto the vulnerable, wounded parts of her mind like a parasite determined to suck all the life out of her. Nesta tried not to dwell on the fact that it was succeeding, burrowing itself deeper into her mind with every passing day.

Everything. Your personality, your failures, your inability to form relationships. You barbed, thorn-tongued witch. You failed your father. He might not have cared for you when you were younger, but he did come to save you. You hated him, but he came, and you failed him, just like you failed Elain when you couldn’t protect her or Feyre from having to hunt. You’re a failure.

Nesta shut her eyes, attempting to keep the familiar tears at bay. All it took was one crack for the entire dam to come crashing forward, and who knew how many tears Nesta had shed these past few months?

You could have been one less mouth for your family to feed had you married that Tomas Mandray. You knew he was bad, but at least Elain or Feyre wouldn’t have ended up with him. You wouldn’t have been a burden. 

She dug her nails into her palms, relishing in the sharp sting as she fought to keep her breathing even. Breathe, she’d instructed Elain every time she was on the verge of a panic attack. In, out, in, out. Do it with me. Her commands were laced with nothing but concern then; concern for her sister and worry that she might find her mangled corpse thousands of feet below if she finally decided to jump.

Now, Nesta’s words to herself were cold, commanding as she chided herself. Stop crying. You have no reason to cry. Stop this.

Nesta couldn’t tell if it was her voice or her mother’s, telling her to keep her emotions at bay.

A lot of that seemed to be happening these days. The lines between reality and her nightmares seemed to blur, even more so when she drowned herself in alcohol. Her head spun the more she drank, but she knew that she’d never felt more free, more uninhibited than when the faerie wine was in her bloodstream. It was stronger than human wine, but it was one of the reasons she favoured it.

Oh, how Nesta longed for a drink now. It would help whatever she was feeling, subdue it to a dull ache that allowed her to revel in the wild debauchery and raucous music playing in the bars she frequented. Seeing the familiar patrons and bartenders, having her usual game of cards, gambling…her hands itched to do it again, if only to stop herself from collapsing entirely.

The alcohol would make her more palatable, easier to digest. Maybe some of her sharp edges would be dulled, maybe she wouldn’t feel her wounds. She’d do that until they stopped festering and lying there infected, unwilling to heal as she simply stared at the blood pooling down her body. The blood would clot eventually, until she’d have another outburst that would lead to more wounds. Nesta wouldn’t be surprised if her arms and legs were all covered in scars by the time she made it to her grave. Maybe they’d be a reminder that whatever she’d endured had been real, and not just a fantasy she’d made up inside her head.

Maybe that would finally be enough to get that writhing creature inside of her, whatever it was, out. She only hoped that it would stay out once she got rid of it and wouldn’t ever find a way back in.

Nesta wasn’t sure she’d be able to survive something like that again.

✦ ✦ ✦

Sunlight streamed in through the window, bright and piercing, and Nesta blinked her eyes open. She’d forgotten to close the windows last night, and she turned over to the other side in a futile attempt to get a few more minutes of extra sleep.

The House, however, seemed to have other plans. Tugging at the blanket she’d curled over her head, it managed to win the battle between it and an extremely disgruntled and sleepy Nesta. 

“Seriously?” She huffed to it as she lay on her bed in shorts and a tank top, the blanket thrown haphazardly over the enormous bed as it trailed onto the floor.

In answer, it only flicked the lights of the bathroom on, signalling to Nesta that it was time to get ready. “Fine,” she grumbled, but began her morning routine for the day anyway. 

Forty-five minutes later, she was showered, dressed, and had done her makeup as best she could to cover her dark circles. Her hair was braided in the usual coronet fashion that Nesta favoured as she sat at the breakfast table, facing an equally exhausted-looking Cassian.

“Morning Nes,” he crooned with an upward tilt of his mouth. She wouldn’t go so far as to call it a smile, but it seemed that he was at least attempting to be civil. She gave no acknowledgement, only picking up a bowl and beginning to pile cereal onto her plate. They might have hauled her here against her will, but she’d be damned if she didn’t enjoy good food while she was at it, never mind that she threw up most of it anyway. They didn’t need to know that.

“Still don’t want to talk to me, huh?” His question hung in the air for a brief second before Nesta sliced through it, snapping it clean in two. “What makes you think I want to talk to you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he started, placing a hand on his chin in mock contemplation. “Maybe because we live in the same house and because I’m training you?”

“I’m not obligated to talk to you outside our training sessions. Why don’t you bring Morrigan over here? It’s not like she has a job anyway. And if she does, it’s not like she does it. One would think her job is drinking wine and going to that unholy place she calls a club.”

Nesta knew the blow had landed the minute Cassian’s face contorted into a snarl. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” she countered coolly, unphased by his sudden change in demeanor. “I’ve never seen her do much else.” If he attacked her, it would give her all the more reason to leave this damned mountain. She only hoped she was smart enough to provoke him, and that he was sutpid enough to take the bait.

Cassian merely pursed his lips in response as he glared daggers at her. Any decent person with an ounce of common sense and a slight bit of self-preservation would have the good sense to look at least a bit worried, but not Nesta. Maybe she’d never cared enough for her own good.

What he didn’t know, however, was why Nesta had insulted Morrigan. That self-righteous, haughty superiority complex had waltzed into last night’s dinner over an hour late, the one that Nesta had been forced to attend as a sign that she was getting better. The blonde had then proceeded to joke around with everyone, given and received the appropriate pleasantries, and turned her serpent’s gaze on Nesta.

“Well, you certainly look like you’ve been eating,” she’d remarked so condescendingly it had made Nesta want to rip the skin right off her flesh. Her brown eyes, void of any warmth or consideration, had roved over every curve and plane of her body, though there hadn’t been many curves there to begin with. A brief murmur had landed on Nesta’s ears, but she hadn’t bothered to properly listen in. Knowing them, they were likely encouraging Morrigan to continue insulting Nesta publicly.

“Yes. Nutritional requirements tend to increase when one trains,” she’d responded, voice bored and carefully neutral. It wouldn’t do to start a brawl in the middle of the High Lord’s dining room. She’d be pulverised to dust before she even had the chance to say I’m sorry. It wasn’t worth it. Besides, there were far better and far easier ways to get under their skin.

For all their supposed diplomatic skills that they showed to the world, the Night Court’s Inner Circle wore their emotions on their sleeves, with the exception of Azriel. It had led Nesta to notice many things about them, things that her sister had missed because she’d never been the observant one of the lot. Simply sitting and observing, Nesta’s mother had drilled into her, let you know more about the people than you might ever need to. Tuck this information away into the crevices of your mind, she’d whispered into the ears of a barely twelve-year-old Nesta as she stood poised about to enter that year’s summer gala. You never know when it might come in handy. Use it then.

Nesta was using it now, throwing their pathetic hearts on their sleeves right back at them every time they said or did something particularly heinous. For instance, when Morrigan’s conceited attitude came head-to-head with her favourite pastime of picking on Nesta for no particular reason.

“Oh, so you are training now?” She asked again with a quizzical tilt of her head. “Did your decision to do actually contribute to the well-being of this Court instead of its ruin take place before, after, or during you were fucking Cassian?”

Nesta would consider herself a heroine if she didn’t murder the pompous blonde by the end of tonight. Honestly, Rhysand should keep his lackeys in check. Then again, the bastard was likely enjoying the free entertainment he was receiving at her expense. The day he stepped in to help Nesta was the day Hel would freeze over.

“Did your decision to target me like some sort of game animal take place before, after, or during you saw me fucking him?” She retorted. Her tone was the same as Mor’s; light, breezy, and completely contradicting the vitriol they were spewing at each other. 

Unluckily for the Night Court’s Third-in-command, she didn’t know who she was up against. Nesta had always prided herself on her viper’s tongue, had honed the weapon to such precision it hardly took her half a thought before she was poised and ready to strike at the slightest provocation. 

It was what kept the hordes of people away, those with false promises and honeyed hopes that all would be right in the world and she would be okay. All was not right in the world, and she was not okay. She was far from it, but they didn’t need to know that. Besides, it wasn’t like they cared, despite what they attempted to show her and the world.

“Nesta,” came Feyre’s exasperated voice as she clutched her swollen belly. “Can we not? It’s…you’ve been doing so well, and this…can we have a nice, quiet night? Please?”

She nearly gagged at Feyre’s imploring tone that would no doubt turn into a hardened command if she declined. They loved giving people the illusion of choice, she realised. They wanted everyone, but mostly her, to think that she had some say in whatever twisted politics they relished in playing. It was what their court thrived on.

But Nesta was done. She was tired of playing games like these. She’d been trained to play them with such expertise it would shock her opponent, instructed and coached to be a deadly weapon that she was sure it would never come out of her, not if they tried it a hundred different ways. She was the weapon, and short of killing her, they’d have to deal with her.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said to no one in particular, her voice firm, leaving no room for argument. She might have lashed out then, might have screamed at whoever tried to stop her. 

Thankfully, they appeared to retain at least that amount of sound judgment. No one stopped her, but they watched as she tugged on her boots and coat, and then stepped out into the biting cold.

✦ ✦ ✦

Nesta didn’t know how long she wandered the desolate streets of Velaris for. It had begun to get colder now, the warm rays of the sun giving way to the watery gloom that was autumn.

Nesta remembered how she’d hated autumn as a child. Colds, sniffles, and fevers had frequented the Archeron manor every year. She remembered having to stay cooped up in bed while cold-blooded and dispassionate servants had ensured she swallowed enough doses of whatever vile medicine the doctors had prescribed.

As an older girl living in a cottage, she had somehow managed to hate the frigid season even more. The moment the leaves had started yellowing was the moment she knew that winter would soon be upon them. It would mean scarce game, less food, and hungry bellies. It would mean raised tempers, aching bones, and the risk that they might not all make it through the season. 

No, Nesta had never been particularly fond of autumn. Certainly not now that it had started to rain, the drops falling in thick clumps and filling her ears with a pitter-patter that was almost soothing.

For all of Nesta’s hatred towards the autumn, she loved the rain. Something in the quiet, steady rhythm of the drops and the silence that seemed to envelope the world stilled the restlessness and unease in her.

Wiping a drop off her eye, she continued walking towards the general direction of the House of Wind. She’d make it there eventually if she followed the river. There was a bridge somewhere along there, she knew, and all she needed to do was cross it and keeping walking straight. 

While she’d never been into the city itself, she’d gleaned enough from the aerial views and flights she’d been on to make her way around Feyre’s four (or was it five?) mansions, estates, and properties all over the city. 

Another ridiculous notion of her youngest sister’s; to insist on having literal palaces around the city when there was still rampant poverty throughout Velaris, she thought to herself as the familiar taste of bitterness began to seep into her bones once more, as sharp and resentful as it had always had been.

Nesta had drank, dined, and gambled with a few of the less…financially stable patrons. She hadn’t thought less of them, only given them the grim understanding a stranger could give as both parties’ priorities were the same: drowning out their worries for the night as they laughed and joked and toasted to the small moments like those instead of wallowing in their own self-pity.

It was what had kept many of them from giving up entirely. Nesta often thought that the power of indulgence was exceptionally undersold. It was a luxury that the rich were looked up to for, while anyone not in the same elite status was demonized. The double standard was sickening.

Nevertheless, it was Rhysand’s governing that had led to the financial divide, and his unwillingness to even acknowledge, let alone bridge the enormous wealth gap, was mortifying.

She came to a sudden halt as the crimson stone of the House loomed in front of her, now slick and wet with the pouring rain. She hadn’t realised she’d made it all the way here; she’d been so consumed by her own thoughts.

Panting lightly, she decided it was best to at least attempt to climb the steps. If she didn’t make it back up to the House by midnight, she’d camp out on the stairs. She’d be dry if nothing else. It wasn’t like they would care much for her absence anyhow. 

Sighing, Nesta began the unholy ten-thousand step climb, and prayed to the Mother that she’d have enough energy to deal with the aftermath of her behaviour tomorrow.

✦ ✦ ✦

Nesta didn’t know how long it took her to climb those steps, only that she had eventually made it to the House, and that she was now soaked with sweat. The city glowed golden beneath her, alight with joy and love and and life and a hundred other things that now seemed foreign to her, but she didn’t notice it, nor did she care.

It took Nesta more energy than she cared to admit to make it back to her room. As she passed the common corridor, (because Cassian had insisted they stay on the same floor), she heard the male’s snores faintly echoing around the space.

She relaxed slightly, relieved that she wouldn’t have to interact with anyone else lest she act so malicious they would consider throwing her into the Hewn City.

As much as she told herself it was an empty threat, there was a part of her that wasn’t so ready to accept the lies the self-proclaimed Inner Circle fed her. She had no doubt they’d dispose of her as little more than trash and be altogether too happy to be rid of her the minute she ceased being of any true value to the court. 

The only question was when.

✦ ✦ ✦

Turning onto her side, Nesta glanced at the clock and sighed. 3:02, it read. Three in the fucking morning, and she hadn’t managed to catch even a wink of sleep.

Some nights, the sleeplessness was due to her nightmares. Other times, it was worry and anxiety roiling so deep in her gut she ended up expelling most of it anyway. This time, she wasn’t sure what it was, only that she couldn’t stay in bed like this any longer. She’d lose her mind with boredom.

She was sure the House was sleeping now, too, and wouldn’t play any music if she asked it to. In fact, she was sure it would be grumpier the next day, acting more stubborn and cocky than usual.

Nesta tossed the covers off and got up, making her way to the bathroom to wash her face. Maybe some fresh water would help. 

Once that was done, she put on her slippers and padded to the common library. It was by no means the library, but it was a smaller collection of books that happened to be there on each floor to avoid traipsing up and down the steps every time in search of a particular novel.

A touch so fatal, read the first title, piquing Nesta’s interest immediately. She’d always been a romantic at heart, and she simply loved the House’s extensive erotica collection. It seemed that it, too, had been starved of good smut to read, and a companion to share its niche love for literature with.

Picking it up off the shelf, she situated herself in an armchair, curling her legs to her chest, and began to read. 

✦ ✦ ✦

Nesta didn’t know how long she was sat there for, only that the words flew over the page and her mind was filled with images of knights and dragons and castles. Stolen kisses, lingering promises and fleeting touches had her melting, and she couldn’t help it as her heart soared.

She was nothing and no one, simply enjoying the literature that was in front of her, indulging herself and her desires in something so frivolous and silly her past self would have chided her for it. 

But the Cauldron had Made something in Nesta. No, she thought. Not Made. Uncovered. For the part that had adored books and music and dance had been with her, in her since she was a child. The only difference now was that she had the opportunity to fulfill that aching want of knowing a character in a book deeper than she knew herself. To explore worlds that might otherwise have been out of her reach, to think and grieve and laugh and sing with each individual.

Starry night bled into blossoming dawn, the sun creeping steadily over the horizon, and still Nesta did not stop.

A/N: I used an unofficial map of Velaris and this is another one that I thought was cool (but didn't use)

A Waltz With Magic

AO3 | Nesta Week 2025 Masterpost |

@nestaarcheronweek

Prompt: Day One - Bonds (Nesta has forged many bonds during the series, from the Valkyries, to Elain and Feyre, to even a brotp with Azriel. What do you think of the bonds she's formed with her family and friends?)

A/N: I wanted to write a fic/drabble where she learns to get comfortable with her magic and not treat it like something horrible. I’m also a major Neris shipper, sooooo

Word Count: 1225

Nesta awoke, panting and drenched in sweat, eyes blown wide as she gasped down air into her lungs. Clawing madly at the blankets now pooled around her waist, she scrambled for something, anything, to dampen the odd, otherworldly glow emanating from her hands. 

As soon as she touched the blankets, though, they erupted into a silver fire that had her reeling back with a shout. 

A sharp pain radiated through her shoulder, and when she blinked open her eyes she realised she was on the floor. Hissing in pain and wincing as her shoulder gave another painful throb, she gingerly got up and began making her way to the bathroom in a futile attempt to calm her racing heart. 

Nothing worked, of course. Her head was aching, and her hands were shaking as she fought to regain composure.

No, no, no, she begged to her powers. Please. Not now. She clamped her eyes shut to ground herself, but the action only made her feel more untethered. The darkness had never helped soothe her, and it certainly wasn’t going to help her now. 

She’d always been more suited to fire than she had been to the night.

Something warm and wet landed on her cheek, and rage filled the already uneasy stirring of emotions in her gut. Stupid girl. Why are you crying?

It was a voice Nesta hadn’t heard in her mind for a long time. It was safe to say that she was startled, but she also couldn’t help her hackles raise at the harsh disappointment that brought back unwanted memories of tears and humiliation.

I’m sorry, Grandmamma. I promise I won’t cry again. Her own voice, only fifteen years ago, pervaded her mind. Meek, shy, and so desperate for the dame’s approval, Nesta hadn’t realised the old woman didn’t care for her until it was too late.

What have I told you about making promises? You don’t, because you never know what’s going to happen. I expected you to listen more. 

You’re going to have to do better if you want to get married someday. No decent man will want you if you keep acting like a flimsy, frivolous child.

I’m surprised your mother hasn’t deemed you a complete failure yet. Then again, I suppose she hasn’t tried to improve you the way I have. Be grateful you’re under the tutelage of someone who cares.

A child needs a good beating and they fall straight into line, that’s what I say. 

Each dialogue, delivered with that same, sharp blow dug nails so deep into Nesta’s heart it was a miracle she was breathing at all by the time her panic had abated.

Nearly all of her episodes followed a similar structure: she’d wake up, panting or yelling, her powers would spiral out of control, and she’d fight to keep them contained but to no avail. It wasn’t unusual for sleep to evade her for hours after that, so she didn’t exactly have high hopes this time around.

Indeed, the silver blaze coating her palms hadn’t subsided in the least. If anything, it had increased, seeming to glow brighter as if it was feeding off of Nesta’s self-hatred and anxiety.

“House?” Nesta managed to croak out, throat parched and raw, presumably from screaming. “Can you replace the sheets on my bed, please?”

It obliged without question, and the bed was immediately covered in fresh, perfumed linens smelling lightly of vanilla and lavender.

While some might say they were the most basic, plain scents, they were also the ones Nesta adored the most. There was beauty in simplicity, she’d realised early on, choosing to forgo any gaudy or tacky jewellery in favour of something more modest and established. It was one of the reasons she’d had so many eyes on her as a mortal girl, she knew. That regal, timeless look she managed to exude had enthralled many, far too many of whom had been predators.

Sighing, she lay down in bed and attempted to cleanse her mind of the thoughts ruminating in her head. They were like weeds, she thought to herself. The longer she let them fester, the worse she would feel.

She had to try, even if no good came of it.

✦ ✦ ✦

Nesta didn’t remember drifting off, only that she did at some point in the middle of the night. She’d woken up decidedly groggier the next morning, the dark circles under her eyes long since having taken hold of her face, but she’d also woken up with a mission. 

Venturing to the Library after training and lunch, she sat down in a quieter section where she knew neither Gwyn nor any of the other priestesses would wander. Their work tended to be on the higher levels, usually from six upwards, and Nesta was currently sitting on level four. 

Taking a quill from the inkpots that stood on every desk, and asking the House to summon a piece of parchment, she began to write.

✦ ✦ ✦

It took Nesta an embarrassingly long amount of time, countless scraps of parchment, and more groans and sighs than she cared to admit before she finished that letter. It was disproportionate, really, seeing as the letter wasn’t more than a page. But the courage she’d needed to summon to write it, and the utter shame and relief she’d felt when she had finally managed to get the words down on paper…

“House? I’d like to get this letter to Eris Vanserra, please.” Her whispered request echoed in the silent antechamber, and she cringed internally. Hopefully, no one would think her insane for talking to a sentient structure.

The letter vanished in an instant, disappearing in a cloud of puffed smoke, leaving Nesta with nothing but her swirling thoughts.

✦ ✦ ✦

Dinner had been quiet and almost….civil, considering the way her other meals with the General had gone. They hadn’t talked, but they hadn’t been hostile, either. To Nesta, that was about as pleasant as it was going to get, and she certainly wasn’t complaining.

Indeed, the stars shone brightly overhead as she made her way up to the training ring. It was peaceful, she admitted to herself, having the area all to herself as she sat cross-legged in the center of the arena. All was quiet save for the occasional rustle of the wind and the call of a distant swallow soaring overhead.

But Nesta did not notice that. She had her eyes closed, and was attempting a mind-stilling. The task was proving more difficult than she would have liked to admit.

While the activity had seemed easier when she’d begun it, it was only now she was realising how difficult it truly was. Calming her head on a good day proved to be difficult enough, but on a day when her thoughts were scattered and there was no one and nothing to ground her? She might as well be asking for a miracle.

Come on, she coaxed. Come out. I know you’re desperate to come out at night. But no matter how she tried, her magic refused to answer. 

Cajoling and pleading did not work; neither did threats. Eventually, Nesta left the ring with nothing to show for her practice save for a block of disappointment that sat deep in her gut, and another sleepless night ahead of her.

A/N: The letter Nesta sends will be revealed on Day 3! I hadn’t planned on doing this, but I’m thinking of continuing this drabble as a series where Nesta goes to Autumn to learn more about her fire and scrying powers, let me know what you think!

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 21 - Eris | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

A/N: Partly inspired by this Tumblr post

Word Count: 448

Beloved Nesta,

I never thought I would get to see an ethereal being until I saw you at the altar.

Straight-backed, regal, and with a dress flowing like an angel’s halo, I realised I was blessed the minute I lay eyes on you. Your cheekbones sharp enough to bring an emperor to his knees, the sun glinted behind you, a silent witness to the radiance shining from within.

Your smile, something serene and yet knowing in it as we watched each other from opposite ends of the room, eyeing the other, taking the other in as if we had been separated for centuries and were drinking our fill. Eyes darting over one another, lips slightly parted as we fought to keep our breaths steady and our gazes on each other.

My eyes did not leave yours for a moment, and I swear to the Mother I was in a trance. 

The bouquet you held, your hair in that coronet fashion I have come to love, and those stunning eyes, blazing with the fires of determination as if they had been raised from Hel themselves. Icy eyes, pools of cerulean and turquoise and a hundred other shades I cannot name, eyes burning like they had been set on fire. Burning, and yet cold; such an accurate embodiment of your powers I was once again stunned by you and your ethereal grace. 

Something stopped in my heart when I saw you walk out into the aisle, a Queen presiding over her court. Did you know, Nesta, that I was about to drop to my knees the moment I saw you, to kneel before you like a knight would yield to his Queen?

And as the priestess glanced around to all those assembled, then turned to face me, asking, “Do you love her?” I could not help but think that love is too weak of an emotion for what I feel for you. Perhaps I will spend this entire lifetime trying to find the eloquence and grace that lacks in me, the words that are in me but have not yet found their way out. They will reside in me always, clawing and desperate to be able to make their way to you. 

If only our souls could intertwine, would that not be easier? To simply be able to transport my emotions to yours without a word?

Easier, certainly, but then I would not have these articulately written letters to cherish, to look back upon on those nights when I feel lonely. It settles something in me, I think, to know that I will always have a part of you with me, immortalised on parchment. 

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

Part 22 - Nesta

Line dividers credit goes @enchanthings

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 20 - Eris | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 380

Beloved Nesta,

Even as the role of High Lord is becoming unbearable, my adoration for you has increased tenfold. Even as the pressure builds, I cannot help but think that it is merely bringing out the facets of you which have been hidden from the world. Ever the patient, polite, and utterly pristine consort, you have been by my side from the very beginning.

Every day my love, you inspire me to become a better version of myself. I want to heal. I want to get better. For you, I want this. You deserve a version of me that is not broken. I refuse to stand by and watch as you feel unworthy. If no one will step up, then I will. 

Broken, bloodied, and battered, I will crawl to you if I must, but know this: I will stand by you. No matter what may go on for the world to see, I will stand by you as you have stood by me. It is the very least you deserve, to have someone care for you as your duties for this Court increase. 

You once told me, Nesta, that it is vital to care for ourselves. But I know that you would rather swallow glass before you do anything for yourself. And so it is my responsibility to ensure that you are taken care of. 

Will you accept the care by my hands, scarred with phantom blood and pain? Trembling and shaking like a newborn fawn, fingernails chipped and ugly? Will you accept utter ruination, and love it anyway? 

Ache is the only language they have known, and I must beg for your forgiveness before I let them in your vicinity. Aching for you, aching for a simple life that can never be mine.

I know that I am well beyond simple, mortal love now. For the depth of adoration I feel for you cannot be normal. This kind of love will either heal me or ruin me and I have not decided which it will be. This kind of love must last. I will not allow there to be another alternative. I must spend my future with you.

I beg you, Nesta Archeron, hold on to me, and never let me go. 

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

Part 21 - Eris

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 19 - Nesta | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 351

My darling Eris,

A crack runs through my heart, as swift and dooming as lightning at each one of your letters. I had not known the burden of your grief until I peeled back the layers and saw in you all your glory. I had known it haunted you, yes, but I had not known the extent to which it was palpable, both to you and those around you.

I know it can make us feel like we have nothing to live for and that we are bound to this life. I know how it feels. But I also want you to know that never in this Court, never once beside you have I felt shackled or trapped. If anything, it was the Night Court who smothered me, and nearly blew out the flame of my heart. 

I have experienced it, and there was not a single moment with you when I felt the same way. 

Life can be overwhelming when one is burdened with responsibilities, but know that you are strong enough. More than enough. You have been through so much, and you will get through these initial days of worry and confusion. I suppose it is easy for me to say this now, but I truly believe in you. If you do not believe in yourself, Eris, that is fine. I will believe in you, enough for the both of us. 

I believe that you are a good person with a kind heart who wants the best for his Court. I believe that you are your own individual and that you will be a different ruler than the one before you. You will not find a shred of him in your soul. Bit by bit, the pain will clear, and it will all fall into place. It will take a while, but it will happen. You must be patient. I will be patient with you. I will sit with you for however long it is you need me to, and then some more, simply because I can. Because I love you.

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

Part 20 - Eris

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 18 - Eris | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 498

Beloved Nesta, 

I apologise that I must write to you under such regrettable circumstances. I am not in the right mind, and everything seems to be doing its very best to set me off. Be it small footsteps or laughter echoing in the halls, I seem to get irritated at the slightest touch or whisper of a voice. I am sorry for all those who must see me like this; full of rage and unable to settle, plundering these halls like the monster before me. I am afraid that I shall morph into a worse caricature of him. It feels like inviting misfortune into our home by saying his name, so I will not. But I hope the message is glaringly clear. 

But most of all, I am sorry that you must be the one to see me like this. After everything you have endured, you deserve a husband who will grant you the sweetest love, who will fill your senses with scents of cloyed jasmine and rose; who will ply you with mountains of gifts. 

I do not want you to fear this being that I have become. I want you to know that I am trying, Nesta, even as I am being smothered alive by the amount of work that seems to hound me day and night.

I had once thought that a High Lord was granted with freedom. In reality, I have been given golden shackles to keep me bound to my throne for all eternity. 

And you, my dear, have been shackled along with me.

As I rule, as I occupy that seat, I need to you know one extremely important thing: I will always be your loving husband. No matter what happens outside the walls of our chambers, I am yours, always and forever. I do not want you to be afraid.

I do not want you to bow and my every whim and wish; to concede and grovel in front of me. I do not want a servant: I want a wife.

I enjoy being challenged, being spoken to without fear, being called out. It is, inevitably, what will make me both a better leader, and a better person. For that, I crave your presence. It is refreshing, you must understand, to not have to second guess and doubt every opinion that leaves your lips, for I know you speak with the utmost honesty and care for the well-being of this Court. I do not have to consider your words, for they are truth unto themselves. They are not coated in layers of lies, grimy and filthy with the ever-changing intentions of another. They are not shrouded in mist, indecipherable until someone falls into the maw of an ever-looming trap.

I appreciate honesty; and you have been honest with me from the very beginning about every part of yourself. You have given and given, while I have only stood, starstruck, in awe.

Keep burning, my flame. 

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

A/N: Thank you so much for 50 followers! (People actually want to read this stuff?!)

Part 19 - Nesta

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 17 - Nesta | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 275

My darling Eris,

I had known from the beginning what a demanding role one of a High Lord was. At least I thought I did. Every day I wake up and you are not there, lying next to me, my heart sinks just a little bit. Every time I see your breakfast untouched or a half-eaten meal, the worry that I have carefully folded away into my heart comes pouring out. 

I see everything that you are doing for this Court, Eris. I see everything that you have done. I see that you have the best interests of this Court at heart. 

I also see that you are working yourself to the bone. If there is anything my life in Autumn has taught me, anything you have taught me, it is that we all require rest, no matter how invincible we may seem on the outside. Our souls must periodically alleviate the stress and pain they have been building up. 

You cannot help others if you do not help yourself first. Then again, it seems ironic that I am the one speaking so when it seems more fitting for you to lecture me on topics like these. But perhaps that is all that a partnership is, is it not? To support each other in every phase of our lives, no matter how taxing or gruelling or utterly horrible it may be.

It is my duty as your wife to support you, Eris. Remember that you will always have one steadfast, unwavering ally in this fickle and slippery Court. I will stand by you no matter what happens. 

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

A/N: I needed this reminder just as much as Eris (so I decided to write a new chapter about it)

Part 18 - Eris

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 16 - Eris | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 466

Beloved Nesta,

As the toll of this new life is starting to take over, I have realised how exhausting it is to be High Lord. 

They say the first few days after the ascension are the more difficult ones; I know. But what of the rest of my rule? How difficult will that be? These questions are what plague my mind like the parasites and insects they are; oozing thoughts of insecurity as they try desperately to bury their hungry claws into my mind, attempting to rip through it like a knife through butter. 

Now I know why people wish for plainness and mundanity in their lives. It would certainly be more peaceful. Indeed, I cannot remember the last time I have been without a headache, nor something that requires my utmost and immediate attention. 

Simpering courtiers, ministers who otherwise wouldn’t have given a damn about me or this Court are all charging after me as if I am a piece of meat, an animal they wish to conquer and then butcher, putting me up on display like some rare specimen they wish to admire from afar. Yet they refuse to be true allies, friends and comrades I can trust. I have known this game, have seen it in a hundred different forms in the centuries I have lived: wanting power without willing to work for it. Laziness corrupts the mind, indeed. 

It seems that whatever task I attempt to do, no matter how menial, they are all swarming at my feet like a colony of ants, insignificant, and yet cumbersome. I truly don’t know how my father managed to rule for so long without going entirely insane (though I suppose he already was from the beginning, so there wasn’t much sanity to lose after all.) It feels like I have won a war, conquered a territory each time something small is accomplished. 

But I am certain, my sweet, that I will conquer whatever it is I wish to conquer, with no other than you by my side. 

Perhaps I will one day be able to provide you with all that your magnificent heart desires, and will see that ethereal smile on your face that has me on my knees every time I glimpse it. I will make it my life’s mission to keep that smile for all eternity.

That is all I have ever wanted with you, my love. Your happiness is all that matters. I want us to be happy together, no matter where we may be. 

I want to grow old with you, my love, however long it may take with our eternal lives and Fae blood coursing through our veins. I want to experience true joy, elation, with you by my side, an unfaltering, grounding presence. 

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

Part 17 - Nesta

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 15 - Fate | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 103

Son of Autumn, daughter of flame,

Born to come together again.

Both will suffer though differently,

Aches and blows, heartbreak and agony,

Will be all they will ever know

Until their souls entwine.

One of fire, one of ice,

This will happen only thrice.

Twice already it has occurred,

Now it is fate who will have secured

The fate of Prythian, the magic of the land,

It is not mine, but rather fate’s hand.

Cunning and devious, it may be,

But it does not stop the urge to flee.

Flee from all that brings us sorrow,

You shall witness the dawn of morrow.

Part 16 - Eris

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 14 - Nesta | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 514

My darling Eris,

You being the calculated male I have known you to be, and then watching that mask slip away, fall like the crimson and amber leaves; the very lifeblood of this court has been utterly enchanting. To watch every layer chip away ever so slowly, to see the male who has been forced to hide himself away, who has donned a mask for long enough. It has been like seeing a hidden gem reveal itself, a butterfly metamorphosis in its own unique and blissful. To watch a play, to watch as everything clicked into place.

It seems fitting, after all, that the scheming Heir I fell in love with, who plotted and was so stunningly skilled in the ways of nobles, in the ways of the court, was also the one that taught me chess. 

It is a game of sacrifice, in the end. A game of planning, a game of strategy, one that works the brain so beautifully, hones it and trains it in ways I didn’t think possible. The elegant movement of the pieces across the board, their roles and functions all defined clearly. A thousand different combinations of how something could go right, a hundred different ways to win, and yet even more ways something could go wrong. A battlefield in its own right, as the board begins to litter with fallen pieces. An unpredictable and volatile game; chess. Easy enough to learn, but one begins to go mad the second she decides to conquer it. It seems fitting that the male who brought courts to their knees with a few well-placed words was also the one who was a master of chess.

He eventually became the master of my heart, commanding it as he commanded Autumn’s armies before his ascension to the throne. Vying for control, vying for power, he was every bit the Prince I had heard of, as well as the face that haunted my dreams. And yet the stories I had heard whispered of him did not seem to fit him, his demeanour, his actions. It seems that he always had a plan up his sleeve, a hundred other ways and backup plans should the slightest things go wrong. A magician.

It intrigued me just as it baffled me. A true enigma, Eris Vanserra. A slippery person; difficult to talk to and even more difficult to get a straight answer out of. A twisted male, in more ways than one. He had a way of extracting information that did not seem abrupt. Smooth and eloquent was his speech, never faltering, never missing a step, no matter how the others tried to trip him. Somehow avoiding them within an inch of your life, you also managed to craft traps of your own. You kept me up at night, your grand plans and schemes unfoiling and unraveling more perfectly and beautifully than I had imagined. 

It was his mind that enamoured me more than anything else. 

Eventually, he became a part of my soul, and now occupies it entirely. 

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

Part 15 - Fate

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 13 - Eris | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 437

Beloved Nesta,

Your presence in this court has truly transformed me in ways I did not think possible. Eris Vanserra, cunning, cold, and calculated to a fault. A merciless male, who did not do anything without considering every alternative, every way the game could play out. A male who was more snake than High Fae, who did not do anything and bowed to no one unless he benefited from it. A schemer, a liar, one full of deceit and false charms, honeyed lies he poured into unsuspecting ears as he wove webs and traps so thoroughly even the prey did not understand what was happening until long after it had happened and left nothing but ruin in its wake. 

But you, Nesta, you awakened a side of me I had long thought to be eternally dormant. You have changed me (for the better, I must emphasise). My demeanour has changed, as has my worldview has been flipped upside down, and then some. I have become impulsive, passionate, and irrevocably soft, though I cannot bring myself to regret it. Not with you by my side. Not with you as my equal. If anything, the softness makes me stronger in a way that I had not realised I was weak until you waltzed into my life like a Queen, chin held high and back ramrod straight.

This is a way for me to make up for all those loveless years, a way of repentance. At least that is what I tell myself. By loving you, not only am I giving in to my heart, to my desires, but I am also healing a part of myself I thought long gone. The part capable of free and unburdened love. 

Recently, I had not used those words at all. They have never crossed my mind. Not until you stepped into my life, Queen of Death. 

A revelation I have had is that Death is not always bad, it does not imply mourning and grief. It can mean freedom, liberation, and a new beginning. You killed part of me, Nesta. You killed and smothered the insecurity, the shame, the pain, that I had managed to hide away from the world for so long so thoroughly. Only now that I have been rid of it can I see how much I had let my wounds fester and rot, let them blacken. But my heart glows now, warm as an ember, as it has slowly kindled to life with your presence.

I cannot be more grateful to you, but I will certainly try, in more ways than one.

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

Part 14 - Nesta

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 12 - Nesta | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 586

My darling Eris,

How I yearn for you to fill me with liquid amber, weave my soul with threads spun of gold, until the darkness which has dictated me is forever banished. Pour yourself into me, and I shall drink it up like the plants swallow the sunlight. Hungrily, desperately, and with no regret nor remorse. Perhaps you can fill the parts of me that are lacking and make me whole again. Maybe you can sew together the parts which have been torn and ripped into shreds I am not sure how much is left anymore. If it is possible for you to fix it, fix me, Eris, then I beg of you, do it.

I yearn and long so painfully, not only for your love, but for you. For your presence. 

If there were a way to etch your name onto my soul, my heart, my very being, I would. If there were a way to meld your entire self, I would. But alas, this world despises lovers, and only wishes for them to be kept apart for their cruel entertainment. 

They drive us to the breaking point, until we are not sure if we are broken or have broken others. Perhaps both. But the lines have long since gone blurry, as has my vision when it fills with a pool of tears. Tears of longing, tears of desperation, tears of yearning. For what, I do not know. A life which has not been dictated by others, or perhaps a family who has truly loved me. 

My birth family has long since stopped being my own; perhaps the day I was locked up like a rabid beast who bit when cornered, or perhaps the day they dismissed me and my experiences as nothing but the scum on the bottom of their shoes.

But I have a new family now; one which rules Autumn and all that decays. I am eternally grateful to have you all. Brothers, who jest and joke now that the ever-looming presence of your father’s shadow has long since departed (how utterly unfortunate, that he had to have passed from a disease). A mother who is nothing like my own; who radiates warmth and a quiet strength I sometimes envy. A support I did not know I needed until I had collapsed into your waiting arms. Not a maiden to rescue, but merely someone who needed a partner to lean on, people she could trust.

And I will be eternally grateful to have found that in you, Eris. Your heart of gold, your mind as nimble as the flickering flame of passion, you have been my friend first, my lover next. Perhaps that was all I needed. Someone who would listen, without judgement or remorse, who would not condemn me as cruelly as fate had. For it seemed to hate me the moment I was born, cursing me as it blessed my sisters. And yet I found a lover. One who would help me shoulder those burdens, as it became startlingly clear that I had been carrying them for far too long. I am glad I have found that in you, no matter that we were forced to wed under less-than-convenient circumstances.

Despite that, I want you to know, that simply because our first marriage was not true in the sense of a union born of love, my admiration for you, and my dedication to be the best wife I can be stands true.

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

Part 13 - Eris

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 11 - Eris | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 458

Beloved Nesta,

I am becoming desperate. Desperate for the thought of you, for your presence, for your very being that my body seems to crave at all times of day. 

I beg of you, my darling Nesta, my flame that burns as bright as passion, accept me or damn me. For there is no other option. Either I am blessed by your presence, allowed to revel in it and rejoice as if it is the last thing I shall ever experience. Or I shall be damned to the prison that has become my mind, or perhaps my mind that has become a prison. I cannot tell. 

All I know is that I will be ruined should you leave me. As much as it will pain me, I will let you go, even if it tears my soul, my very being apart from the inside out. As if I am being set on fire from the flame of your rejection that will wound and burn me more than any injury I have gained in battle. 

I care not what the world thinks. What do you think, my dearest? Do you accept me, broken and bloodied and bleeding? I have seen your wounds, those festering, rotting scars that are yet to heal. Perhaps it is time I show you mine, and we can heal together in a world where I am not a High Lord’s son, nor you a fallen noble’s daughter. A world where we are just us: simply Nesta and Eris. A world that will not condemn us, where we at least stand a chance of winning the game that is life rather than being doomed so eternally from the beginning, with suffering being the only constant in our increasingly miserable lives. 

But you have always been the opposite of death, my love, despite that being your power. Lady Death, who wished for nothing but life, who could turn the world to ash if she wished with her flames and yet chooses not to. Not out of mercy, but out of dignity; out of duty.

Nesta, you are the flame I needed to not freeze to death and be forgotten, to give me warmth and heat and protection and your undying love.

Trust me when I say that you will not burn me no matter how bright you burn. I have grown up in Autumn, Nesta, I am a Son of this Court. Let me experience those delightful flames, let me play with them. 

I am not deserving of any of it, my love, but if it is me that you have chosen, then I will not mind one bit. For who will deny the love of a Goddess such as yourself?

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

Part 12 - Nesta

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 10 - Eris | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 488

Beloved Nesta,

How I enjoyed reading your previous letter. I must admit, I did not think you would have loved bloodshed and vengeance so thoroughly, thoroughly enough to want to truly maim and kill. But rest assured my love, you will not need to.

I will fight and stand to protect everything you hold dear, no matter if I perish in the process. I have committed enough heinous crimes, enough sins, so many that even the Cauldron will have to come with some special hell for me. 

But you; Nesta, you deserve it all. 

I will give you the world, my love. You only need ask for it. I will lay it at your fingertips, and I will be with you wherever it is you wish to go. I will abandon my Court, abdicate my throne, if only to be with you for a moment more. 

We will flee to a place we call home, where we can be nothing and no one but our true, authentic selves. Two lovers, who have found themselves in each other at last; so similar and yet so startlingly different. 

There is magic, I believe, in choosing who we love. Without the presence of a mating bond, without the Cauldron deciding our fates and our lifelong partners, and pairing us up like jigsaw puzzles. We can still be whole without someone to call our own, after all. Our partners simply complement and amplify us; they do not complete us. I find joy in that thought. I find joy in choosing and finding love every day that I wake up; in every action and every word. 

Know this, Nesta; know that I shall choose you, from today until I am no more; until there are nothing but ashes, dust, and a ruined name to call my own. 

It seems only fitting, my dear, that we chose each other, seeing as life drove away all the other choices from us. From the day we were born, our fates were set, and yet we managed to defy them, finding each other despite all odds, despite the hardships we have both endured. It seems fitting we chose the one person who would understand us, mind, body, and soul, and would not resent the other for what we have been through.

We are similar in more ways than one, my love; our souls entwine even more the longer you spend in Autumn. 

I suppose that just as you were befitting me, so was this Court. Lady Death and Lord of Decay, who command the power of destruction as but a tool in the plethora of weapons they possess. Who are rulers and lovers, powerful and yet soft. A dichotomy of personalities, a contradiction in itself in the absurdities of how we love. 

Mark my words, Nesta. There will be poems written about us; songs; literature, and the Cauldron knows what else. 

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

Part 11 - Eris

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 9 - Nesta | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 693

My darling Eris,

Reading your letters strewn about your study like the pieces of your heart has truly been an experience. I had not known how much love you harboured for me until I read through your confessions, and it was then my tears began to flow so freely they could not be stopped. You must forgive me if any stain this piece of parchment as I write to you. 

My Eris, how pure your heart is. You cannot know how much I adore you; it is impossible. Not only for what it would mean for our tentative relationship, but also for the opinion of your father, and of the people. If you were here right now, I know exactly what you’d say: Nesta, his opinion does not matter. It is yours I care about. But Eris, how can I not listen to him, to the voices in my head that do not allow me a moment’s reprieve, a minute’s rest? Waking or asleep, they plague me, as do the thoughts of my undying love for you.

I do not know which ones I should listen to, if any at all. The urge to run away and flee from the horrors of the Forest House runs through my mind every day. Imagine how beautiful it would be, to not worry about the inner rulings of this court and instead focus on being happy, living in a quaint little cottage where no one would recognise me or know my name. Where the cursed name of Lady Death would not be whispered like a curse or damnation, as if the powers I fought for and stole were my punishment and burden to carry. I truly think I would be happy then. 

Happiness. What a foreign concept. I had heard of it, yes, had heard of people experiencing it and finding such immeasurable and immense joy in their lives that anything I had ever felt paled so drastically in comparison it made me sick to the stomach to even contemplate. 

I was raised as a Lady, poised to seduce a wealthy Duke or Lord and get married off as soon as my parents found one suitable enough. It did not matter who he was, so long as he had enough money to waste on the most useless of trinkets. I do not believe my witch of a mother gave me the opportunity to truly experience joy for myself. I was her puppet, her mannequin, her doll, who would do her bidding obediently without any resistance.

But a little girl is not like that. She must experience, and play, and live, before the expectations begin to suffocate her carefully cultivated spirit. But what spirit is there to crush if the child has had no chance to develop one? My mother truly believed that, and so I did, too. 

Much like your father, my mother, too, relished in my woe. Some nights, I wonder if she truly required any food at all, or if she simply fed off our misery like a vampire. I would not be surprised if that was the case. 

But the environment one finds themselves in truly does play a role. Being in Autumn, simply residing here, has given me all I need and more to heal. You, Heir of Autumn, are all I need to heal.

We are a match made in hell, my love, and we shall rain nothing but hellfire upon every being who has wronged us, as we stand and rise to protect the fallen, wielding crimson and amber flames that glow with our wrath, that same rage reflected in every aspect of our lives. We have been wronged by the very people whose only duty was to love us unconditionally. Were we so unlovable that our own parents could not muster up the smallest inkling of care, of compassion for their oldest child?

As I sit here contemplating this truly sorry thought, a tear wells in my eye, thinking of how far away across Prythian you are, and how it shall feel like an eternity before I glimpse your face again. 

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

Part 10 - Eris

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings