highqueenevankhell - Tumblr blog

highqueenevankhell · 3 years

Text

Spirit Meets the Bones XIII

Find it all here.

Genre: Angst/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Please be mindful: some implied language may be found triggering. Author’s Note: Feedback is always welcome and very encouraging :) I love knowing what you think so thank you for reading!

If you haven't seen it already, check out my lovely commission of my babies here.

The two waited until the steps drew nearer before Eris said in a detached, cold voice. “I thought I told you I didn’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

“I — I —”

“We’ve been over this. You are not to be seen and not to be heard.”

“Son?”

Eris and Iris looked to find Beron standing before them, brow raised.

“Father.” Eris said calmly, removing his hand from Iris’s throat and then turning to face the High Lord, clasping his hands behind his back. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Iris wasn’t feigning the slight tremor in her hand as she rubbed delicately at her neck. He hadn’t gripped her hard, but the sudden movement had caught her off guard.

Her eyes flickered to reason number one to why things were still cautious between them.

Eris’s eyes shifted to her briefly before his eyes met his father’s and he quirked a brow, waiting.

“I was finishing up a meeting and heard you were around these parts.” the High Lord said slowly, his gaze snapping to Iris who slowly slid closer behind him, ever the cowering doll. “I didn’t expect to see Iris with you this late in the evening.”

Iris focused on her feet, on the solid feel of Eris beside her. It was always a game they needed to play around Beron but she still hated it. Hated how a small part of her fear wasn’t a lie.

She focused on his hands clasped behind him, his signature stance, and watched the way his fingers fisted then flexed.

“I prefer to keep her close.” Eris said dryly. “It suits my needs.”

Beron snorted, and Iris felt his eyes slide to her as they always did whenever they seemed to be near each other. Her eyes stayed on Eris’s hands that clenched at his father’s snort.

Since that wretched dinner, Eris ensured they avoided his father as much as possible and Iris was all too happy to stay away from the only other male she hated as much as she hated her father.

“I’m sure it does suit your needs to have her nearby.” he almost purred and Iris worked to keep the disgust off her face. “Let’s hope this means I can expect a grandchild soon.”

Iris flinched and it seemed to be the response Beron was waiting for. He laughed and Eris only spared her another slight glance over his shoulder then back at his father with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I will enjoy trying until we do.” he replied and Iris kept her eyes on his hands, flexing once more.

Iris moved closer into Eris, her hands slowly sliding into his and his fingers immediately closed around hers. Beron kept talking, speaking in that nasty, oily tone that made the bile rise in her throat but she ignored him completely, focusing only on the feel of Eris’s fingers intertwined with hers. She focused on the feeling of his thumb caressing the back of her hand and letting her thumb rub into his palm.

Iris envisioned all the open wounds she could leave in the High Lord’s chest on a daily basis, the joy of watching him bleed out making a moment like this passable.

“Are you listening, Iris? Your father is coming to see you tomorrow morning.”

Iris’s head jolted up and her grip tightened on Eris’s hand, her eyes wide as Beron smirked at her.

“Why?” she breathed, and Eris squeezed her hand tightly.

“Why? To check on his precious daughter. Make sure we’re treating her well.” he said with a pointed look. “And I’m afraid this time, he won’t take no as an answer. Neither will I.”

Iris heard the threat in his words and knew Eris had as well. For they had been declining or altogether ignoring any request to visit from her father. Eris had only asked her once, the first time they received a request, if she’d like to see him. She had said no and her answer remained the same, even when Beron had specifically told them to accommodate him, Eris always found a way around it. But it seemed that avoidance was coming to an end, especially with the look Beron gave them.

The High Lord’s eyes examined Iris slowly and she fought the strong urge not to fidget before his eyes landed on his son once more. “You’ve done a decent job with her.”

Eris nodded tightly. “I do my job well, Father. No worries.”

Beron took one look at the two of them and let his gaze pierce into Iris, a cruel smile on his face.

“You’re doing much better, Iris. Quiet is the best way for a wife to be.” he added and brushed past them as Eris turned to keep Iris firmly behind him. “While her father is here, I’ll need you to survey the new structural plans for our southwest territory. We should give them some quality time together.”

“Yes, of course. I’m sure Iris would love that.” Eris said and again, briefly looked over his shoulder at her again. “Right, wife?”

Iris nodded mutely, her heart thundering in her chest because the idea of her father coming to see her for any other reason than to taunt and rip into her was laughable.

Beron surveyed them both again and seemingly approving of his daughter-in-law shrinking behind his son, he looked at Eris again.

“Shave your face. You look like a mongrel.” He scoffed at his son then waved them off and kept walking. Only when the High Lord had turned down the hall and ten minutes of silence had passed, did Eris slowly turn around to face his wife, his hand still holding hers.

Though she avoided his gaze, Iris felt how his eyes slowly scanned her and she let him, her throat bobbing. His free hand steadily went to her chin until he lifted it to meet his eyes. Amber eyes met hazel and Eris allowed himself one moment to feel the softness of her cheek beneath his touch, then let his fingers slide to her throat for another moment, his thumb resting on her pulse point as she looked at him. She looked at him, at the question he was asking, and nodded before he pulled back.

“I’m sorry for where my hand went.” he murmured. “What do you need me to say to make this moment easier?”

Iris swallowed and shook her head. He hadn’t hurt her at all and she knew why he did it. Let Beron believe what he wanted as long as he left them alone. She licked her lips. “He really thinks you’ve broken my spirit, doesn’t he?” she asked quietly.

“He firmly believes you’re a handful.” Eris replied and the corner of his mouth went up slightly. “Which isn’t wrong. You very much are a piece of work.”

Iris huffed out a shaky laugh and looked down, her eyes zeroing in on their linked hands. She shook her head again. “It still makes me sick that we haven’t been married for that long and he’s absolutely fine with you treating your wife like that.”

“He treats his own wife like that. It’s what he would expect.” Eris said tightly and Iris looked up at him. “But right now, it’s just you and me.”

“Just you and me.” she repeated. A heartbeat of silent understanding passed between the husband and wife, an understanding that seemed to run much deeper than either of them expected.

Eris didn’t let go of her hand and Iris didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry.” he said again softly, and she shook her head.

“It’s his fault. It’s always their fault.” she said, a small frown forming on her lips.

Eris waited, watching her struggle with her thoughts, watching as her brow furrowed. Iris looked up at him then back down at their joined hands then back up at him.

“What is it?” he said, the question a caress but Iris shook her head, tension coming off her in waves.

“Can we go back to our room? I need a moment.” she asked quietly, and Eris frowned but nodded.

“Of course.”

And though she didn’t say a word as they walked back, her hand remained intertwined with his. He wasn’t sure what to say or how to make her feel better so Eris said nothing, content to hold her hand and run his thumb across it.

When they returned, she spared him a small, tired smile and silently slipped into the bathroom, sleeping clothes in her hand. Eris watched as the door closed, his hand twitching at his sides and only when their designated guest of the night, Lyra, nudged his hand with her head did he realize how rigidly he’d been standing.

“She’s upset. I’m not sure what to do.” he mumbled to his hound who whined softly. “Go sit by the door. Maybe you can get her to smile.”

Eris watched his hound go to the door and sit obediently, wagging its tail in a way that matched his own anxiousness.

He distracted himself as he got ready for bed, his eyes drifting to the bathroom door, waiting for her to return. Eris felt her distress and it troubled him that he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason. His father. Him. Her father. Him.

As he finally settled down in their bed, Iris stepped out, dressed in a silk cream-colored slip that reached her ankles, something he hadn’t seen her wear before, and if the situation had been any different, he would’ve been very interested in inspecting it more up close.

But she still wasn’t looking at him and even though she’d given Lyra a small smile and a pat, her expression had fallen too quickly for it to have mattered.

Eris watched her closely as Iris finally slipped into their bed silently and didn’t dare move as she sat next to him, closer than usual, her back against the headboard.

He waited.

Iris focused on the feeling of the smoothness of the sheets beneath her, on Lyra now shifting in the bed near her, knowing Eris was watching her but she still hesitated to speak. Lyra wrapped herself near her legs, nuzzling against her but it didn’t help ease the tightness in her body. After a moment of silence, Eris finally spoke.

“Was it me?” he asked her quietly and her eyes flickered up to his, his expression tense and Iris shook her head. “Then what is it?”

He had shifted to rest his back against the headboard also, close enough to read her every breath but far enough that he didn’t impose on her space.

Iris’s gaze drifted to the wall behind Eris and after a moment, she mumbled, “My father is coming.”

Understanding dawned on her husband’s face and his mouth went into a thin line. “It was bound to happen unfortunately. We can only reject his request so many times.”

“His reason is a lie.” she choked out and Eris’s eyes hardened as she met his gaze. “He’s a liar and I know he isn’t looking for hugs.” Iris swallowed and her expression slipped. “I don’t want to be alone with him.” she whispered. “It hasn’t been that long but — but being away from him helped me forget about him for a while.”

Then Iris took a breath and hesitantly reached out into the space between them, her fingers gently touching his hand. “But it’s been long enough that I know his palm is itching for me. I know him. I know the way he thinks.” she continued and swallowed again. She looked up at Eris and her face burned knowing the pleading look in her eyes. “Do you — will you stay with me when he’s here? If — if it doesn’t cause you trouble?”

"How badly do you think this is going to go?" he asked her curiously and Iris knew he scented the shot of fear that pumped through her veins.

"Very badly."

Eris narrowed his eyes at her, and she felt him go unnaturally still. She watched his eyes as they watched her and could almost see his mind calculating. It only made her flush deeper, her embarrassment rising.

“Never mind — I shouldn’t have asked.” she quickly said and pulled her hand away from his. “You can’t risk it and I can handle my father. It’ll be fine —”

Eris gently but firmly grabbed her hand and slowly pulled her closer to him until there was only a breath of space between them. Iris looked up at him in surprise but he only met her gaze, unflinching.

If he moved a fraction, his lips would be on hers.

“You can always ask and my answer will always be yes.” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I told you. You are my wife. I do not take kindly to anyone speaking to you in a way that isn’t respectful. Let alone anyone trying to lay a hand on you.”

Iris tried not to shudder at the words. At the promise. “I don’t want you to get in trouble with your father if you don’t follow through on his request.”

“I know how to run my court. I need only ask and it will be done without me leaving your side.”

A heartbeat of silence passed then Iris swallowed.

“So...you’ll stay with me?” she breathed.

“I’ll be there.” he promised.

Iris’s shoulders sagged and she allowed herself a moment — just one moment to lean into him. To feel his solid strength beneath her. To remind herself that she wasn’t alone.

“Thank you.” she whispered and when she looked up at him again, her husband gave her a small smile. A smile seemingly reserved just for her.

“Wear something indecent to bed tomorrow and I’ll consider us even.”

Her lips twitched at his words, fighting back a smile. “This is still too modest for you?” she said quietly, her free hand feeling the material of her slip and Eris’s eyes flickered briefly to her fingers sliding on the silk before he met her gaze again. “It’s — it’s something new.”

“I like it. A lot.” he muttered quietly. “But any piece of clothing hiding your body from me is something I consider too modest.” he added all too softly, curling a strand of hair behind her ear.

Iris stared at him without flinching as they shared a breath, shivering slightly at the feel of his fingers, and the urge to kiss him slammed into her full force. All she needed to do was lean in and their lips would meet.

Eris hadn’t moved except to bring his free hand back to his side as the thoughts crashed into her, waiting — waiting to see what she would do and Iris wasn’t sure if she would be the one to handle it if she kissed him right now.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Eris stated quietly. “Remember we are in our bedroom and I will move very quickly.”

Color warmed her cheeks. “Why would you assume I’m thinking about something that will lead down that road?”

“Because you’re looking at me the way I’m constantly looking at you.” he said and the corner of his mouth lifted as her flush deepened.

“What if I’m thinking about how I want to smother you with a pillow?”

“If you’re straddling me while doing it, I’ll take it”

Iris let out a small laugh, finally breaking his gaze. “You’re so annoying.”

“If I didn’t know any better, wife, I’d say you are incredibly obsessed with me.” he said, his voice dropping an octave and Eris let his hand slide up then back down her bare arm, enjoying the sight of the small smile on her face. “It’s okay to admit it.”

“No.” she said with a playful shake of her head, willing herself not to blush as she felt his hand warming the skin of her arm. “You’re not really my type.”

“Is that so?” he said with a snort and let his hand slide back to hers, gently squeezing. “I’d say with how much you stare at me, you are simply infatuated.”

Iris hummed, fighting back another smile and failing. “I’m really only sticking around for the hounds.” she said and Eris put a hand over his heart.

“You wound me, little gazelle. And here I thought I had you head over heels for me.”

“Mmm, no.” she said with a small smile and slowly pulled away, not trusting herself to hold back from doing more. “I’m head over heels for the puppy sitting right here.”

“Not a puppy.” he corrected, his hand still curled around the ghost of her fingers as Lyra’s head shot up and the hound whined.

“A big puppy.” she confirmed and slid back, until she was safely on her side of the bed, her heart thundering and a pillow between them again. She tried not to let the slight disappointment in Eris’s expression shake her as she patted the pillow between them gently, “Lyra, come protect me. Your father has an inappropriate look in his eyes.”

Eris only looked at his wife, eyes narrowed and he desperately tried not to smile as Iris watched him too, with Lyra obediently resting her body between them. His eyes flickered to the hound.

“Traitor.” he mumbled, then looked at his wife and gave an exaggerated sigh, his hand rubbing at his face. He wanted to do anything to keep her from pushing him away, anything to keep her somewhat distracted from her father’s stupid visit.

“It’s because I look like a mongrel, isn’t it? My father seems to hate it.”

A light shade of pink blossomed on Iris’s cheeks as she looked at Eris then quickly averted her eyes. “If your father hates it, you must be doing something right.” she said airily and Eris quirked a brow.

“Is that so.” he said and a small smirk graced his face as Iris’s blush deepened. “Do you, perhaps, like this mongrel look, wife?”

“I don’t like anything about you.” she replied immediately and even Lyra huffed when Eris laughed.

“You’re such a beautiful liar.” he snickered and finally, slid himself to relax against his pillow, Lyra’s large body between them.

It was quiet for a few moments before Iris spoke again.

“I think it suits you.” she said quietly.

“I can tell. You’ve been undressing me with your eyes this whole week.”

“If you really want to be more dashing than Lucien though —”

“I beg your pardon —” he immediately protested, shooting up on his elbows.

“ — I think you should think about updating your hair.”

Eris blinked. “My hair.”

Iris slowly stroked Lyra, her eyes fully on the hound and avoiding Eris’s gaze, even though her heated cheeks gave away her thoughts.

Eris’s lips twitched. “Would you prefer me with shorter hair, wife?”

Iris bit the inside of her cheek, looking at him then looking away again. “Would you like your hair shorter?”

Eris shrugged, a hand running through his locks. “I haven’t really thought about it. I’m merely used to it at this length.” he said, his eyes watching her.

“You’ve had the same look for some time, haven’t you?” she said with as much of a nonchalant air as she could manage. “You’re a married male now. You should update something about yourself otherwise I’ll get bored very quickly.”

Eris’s smirk widened. “Ah. So that’s what this is about.”

Iris finally looked at him with a quirked brow. “What is it about?”

“You want to make sure my past dalliances don’t think they stand a chance now.” he said and Iris rolled her eyes. “Make sure they know I’m yours, hm?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what it is.” she deadpanned.

“You could leave a hickey and they’ll know for sure.” he said with a grin.

Iris sighed then cupped Lyra’s face. “Can you kick him for me? He’s being annoying.”

“Kick me and I’ll skip your next turn and let Sirius have two.” Eris warned pointing one finger at the hound who whined in return.

Iris tutted and hugged Lyra closer, squinting at Eris. “So mean.”

“You’re the one who won’t give your husband a well-deserved hickey.”

“Bold of you to assume you deserve anything.”

Eris smirked at her and Iris didn’t like the look on his face one bit.

“If you lift your slip and show me some skin, I’ll let you cut my hair.”

Iris snorted. “Who said I wanted to touch your hair?”

“Oh wife, I know you want to touch me in many places.”

Iris pursed her lips, her flushed cheeks heating further but she refused to look away from him, refused to let him and his stupid smirk win. Sure, she wanted to touch him. In fact, lately all she had been thinking about was touching him. But that would mean he’d get what he wanted. And well…Iris didn’t want to give him that just yet.

Without breaking eye contact, Iris slid out her foot closer to him and Eris’s attention immediately zeroed in on the bare ankle as she slid her foot up his leg slowly, the slip riding up with it, showing much more of her soft skin than he was accustomed to.

“You wouldn’t handle me touching you in all the places I want to.” she confessed softly and with a small coy smile, she slowly slid her foot back down his leg then immediately turned, giving him her back, shielding herself and Lyra with the covers.

Eris prided himself on many things but trying to avoid his scent changing around his wife was not one of them.

“You play so dirty.” he said miserably and Iris chuckled.

She turned on her stomach, facing him again and watched Eris curiously. He tilted his face and watched her watch him, as they almost always ended up doing each night.

A beat of silence passed then —

“A question for a question.” he said, his voice low and Iris paused, color blooming on her cheeks.

“A question for a question.” she repeated quietly.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, turning his body to face her, resting on his elbow.

She watched him, her gaze roaming his handsome face, dipping to his lips for a split second before meeting his eyes again. “I’m thinking…” she began and swallowed, her heart in her throat. “That the Eris I’ve been getting to know is one I don’t mind being around so much.”

She glanced down at his hand resting on Lyra, only inches away from hers then met his eyes once more. “I’m thinking that...even though I’m used to my father and I’ll take whatever he throws at me,” she whispered. “I feel a little braver knowing you’ll be there.”

Eris’s gaze hardened. “If you think I will allow your father to lay a hand on you, you must not have taken my word seriously.”

“I do.” she said softly, the corner of her mouth ticking up then down. “I just don’t think he will.”

“He won’t have a choice. He isn’t allowed in here.”

It was that tone that had Iris’s eyes glued to his face. The way he spoke left no room for discussion, the threat crystal clear. It was this tone that had her licking her lips before very, very quietly adding, “I’m also thinking that I would like to kiss you but I’m scared and it — it feels like too much.”

Eris’s brows lifted slightly, hesitation in his stare. “Why are you still scared, little gazelle?” he asked.

Iris bit her lip and fell silent for a moment, the thundering of her heart as steady and loud as his. She shook her head and looked away as she asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Eris’s eyes seemed to be memorizing every inch of her face as he pondered her question.

“I’m thinking,” Eris began, his voice dropping an octave. “That I would really like to kiss you too but if I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.” he said simply and Iris’s heart began beating even more wildly in her chest. “I’m thinking about how I don’t think you’ve been kissed the way I want to kiss you and it excites me more than it should.”

Iris looked away, feeling a heat pool low in her stomach. She glanced at Eris through her lashes, at the look in his eyes and softly asked, “How would you kiss me?”

“That’s something I’d have to show you because words...will fail me, Iris.” he said, the corner of his mouth ticking up then went down just as quickly. “But I don’t want you to be afraid of me. Of anything we would do together.”

Iris turned her body once more, to face him, Lyra resting on the pillow between them. Iris looked away from him and bit her lip, wanting to tell him — the real reason she was so terrified.

She met his gaze and found him watching her the way he always did — intensely, like she was a message written in a secret code he had to decipher; like he couldn’t look anywhere else, his attention undivided to her.

And it was because he looked at her like this. Like she carried his world in her palm. Like she was his salvation. Like she was important. She was petrified because he looked at her like she meant more and Iris wasn’t ready for how badly it was going to hurt when he eventually got tired of that mouth of hers. She shook her head once more.

“I’m not afraid of you.” she said quietly and gave him a small smile when he frowned but couldn’t bring herself to say more on it. “If I don’t give you a kiss, will you abandon me tomorrow?”

Eris narrowed his eyes at her then scoffed when he saw that she was teasing. “You could stab me in the balls and I’d still be there.”

Iris gave him a pointed look, her fingers flexing slightly and he squinted.

“Don’t even think about it, Iris.”

She laughed, feeling the weight of her wretched father’s visit ease off her chest slightly.

“Your heart just skipped a beat at the thought, didn't it, you feral little cat.” he said with a snort, but his lips were curved up as he spoke. Iris lifted her shoulder in a half shrug.

“You’re the one that suggested it.” she said innocently. “It would be a great way to test all my new healing skills on you.”

Eris rolled his eyes. “Of course it would.” he said with another snort then gave her a sneaky look. “It also runs the risk of ruining any future pleasure you might have.”

It was Iris’s turn to roll her eyes, even as she flushed. “I can pleasure myself perfectly fine on my own, husband.”

“Can you now?”

“A girl has to know her own body before allowing others the privilege of being near it.” she said with pursed lips. “Wouldn’t want to be disappointed.”

Eris slowly smirked and Iris wanted to melt into the sheets as he said in a voice too sinful with such little space between them, “You and I both know there would be no disappointment between us on that end.”

Iris bit her lip as the scent in the room shifted slightly. She wasn’t sure who the culprit was between the two of them.

Iris tilted her head, watching him. “You’re so confident I’ll enjoy it.”

“I wouldn't rest until you did.”

And she knew what his tone meant. She could ask Lyra to move and find out exactly what he meant as soon as tonight. Her heart thundered in her chest and Eris watched her, his one brow quirked. All she had to do was say the word.

But she wasn’t ready for the fire in his veins to be unleashed on her. Iris wasn’t sure she could handle him following up on his many promises just yet.

Iris could only glance at him silently, feeling the heat blooming on her cheeks.

Eris chuckled at her silence and the sound danced across her skin as Iris watched him shift, getting comfortable on his side, facing her.

“Lyra, I’ll need you to protect me now. Your mother has the filthiest look in her eyes.”

Lyra whined playfully as Iris huffed in disbelief but only shook her head, a small smile on her face.

“You wish, you mongrel.” she mumbled but the words had no heat as Eris only smirked at her.

“Mongrel I may be, but I am still your husband.” he said and Iris stilled when he reached a hand to toy with a hair strand fanned out on her pillow. She watched as his fingers toyed with her hair, his gaze meeting hers and her heart caught in her throat. She may not be quite brave for something more right now but...

“A question for a question.” she whispered before she could stop herself and Eris’s fingers paused.

“Yes?” his response barely above her own whisper.

She licked her lips and her flush deepened, knowing his eyes had cataloged the movement. She certainly could settle for being a little closer at least.

“If I ask Lyra to move...will you behave yourself?”

Her eyes didn’t leave Eris’s face as he froze and Iris never craved to be a mind reader more than she did in this moment.

A heartbeat passed before the corner of his wicked mouth ticked up and he said in a low voice, “Lyra. Move to the end of the bed, please.”

Iris’s heart beat rapidly as the hound obediently moved, leaving only the one pillow between them now. Willing herself not to flush further, Iris shifted an inch closer, her fingers tightening on the pillow.

“Is this okay?” she asked and Eris gave her a knowing smile, his eyes drinking in the sight of her — as if seeing her this up close was undoing him as it was her. And she had barely moved.

“You know I want you closer.”

“I know.”

“Then come closer.”

The request was nearly a purr and Iris felt herself near a cardiac arrest. Eris Vanserra was dangerous for many reasons but him speaking to her in that tone would be the most dangerous thing of all.

Iris toyed with the corner of the pillow, her gaze shifting from his face to the pillow then back to him. “What are you going to do if I move the pillow?” she whispered, watching him as he watched her every breath.

She watched him lick his lips — felt him hesitate for a moment, before very, very softly saying, “I’d like to hold you. If you’ll let me.”

Iris stilled once more, hearing the vulnerability in the statement. How much he seemed to need it. How much he wanted it.

How long had it been since he’d held someone?

How long had it been since someone had held her?

Iris swallowed, realizing just how much she wanted it too. It was as if he was reading her mind, knowing how much she needed to be held tonight.

She bit her lip, her heartbeat erratic as she slowly moved the pillow between them to settle it behind her instead. Iris faced him and her eyes fell to the way his fingers twitched at his side; she couldn't help but chuckle.

“There.” she said quietly, settling on her side, closer to him than ever before. “No more pillow barricades.”

“No more pillow barricades.” he repeated then paused once more, a question in his eyes.

Iris hesitated just for a moment, and Eris only tilted his head, watching her and waiting. She swallowed and reminded herself that it was alright. That she was safe with him. That she wanted to be held. And he wanted to hold her.

Finally, she nodded and watched as the corner of his mouth lifted as he slowly slid a hand up her bare arm then let his fingers trail down her arm again, his eyes never leaving hers. They lit up in amusement when she involuntarily shivered and Iris could only let out a soft gasp as within a split second, Eris had pulled her body flush against his, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Every inch of her was lined up to every inch of him and she felt the breath leave her body.

There was no space between them and Iris didn’t know what to do with herself as she nervously shifted, tilting her head just so to look at him, their lips once again in so many moments, only inches apart.

“I don’t know what to do with my hands.” she whispered and her cheeks flushed as his gaze uncharacteristically softened.

With a gentleness that made her throat tighten, he moved his hand from her waist and bought each of her hands to rest on his chest.

“Right here is just fine.” he murmured and though she hesitated again for a moment, Iris settled her hands where he put them, her fingers spreading slightly as she felt his toned body through the thin material of his shirt. She didn’t know if she was grateful for it or loathed the sight of it.

Tilting her head once more to look at him, she kept her eyes on his as Eris slid his arm back across her waist, tightening around her and Iris felt gooseflesh erupt on every inch of her.

“Is this okay?” he asked, squeezing her gently and the only thing that anchored Iris to this feeling was the wild beating of his heart that matched her own, a steady rhythm beneath her fingers that mirrored hers. She nodded silently, licking her lips before looking back down at her hands. Her hands that now rested on her husband’s chest.

Her husband whom she had never been this close to. Glancing back at him, Iris knew without either of them saying a word that this moment shifted something deeply between them. They were diving into a territory of feelings neither of them were prepared for but right here, right now, this moment was theirs. This moment where everything felt so right.

She hoped he couldn’t hear how loud her heart was beating so with heated cheeks, Iris looked at him with a small playful smile. “My hands are awfully close to your neck.”

Eris chuckled and she felt him tangle a leg around hers, the movement so natural it was unthought of that they hadn’t slept like this before. “I could snap your spine without a second thought.” He said with a twitch of his lips, the arm around her waist squeezing once more and Iris blinked then let out a huff of a laugh.

“Aren’t we romantic.”

“What is romance if not pain mixed with pleasure?” He said with a lazy smirk and Iris rolled her eyes. “I’d say threatening your partner constantly is the height of romance.”

“And I’d say I am deeply concerned about your thought process.”

“I thought you were the one who wanted to smother me with a pillow earlier? And with your hands just now?” He said with a pointed look. “Obsessed with my neck, you are.”

“It’s so…chokeable.” She whispered and felt his chest rumble with soft laughter. “My bare hands would feel more satisfying, I think.”

Eris’s eyes didn’t leave her face as she watched him fight back a smile before shaking his head then pulling her even closer into him, until she simply had no choice but to nuzzle her head into his chest.

“Tomorrow.” he murmured into the top of her head. “You can choke me tomorrow morning to your heart's content.”

Iris smiled into his chest and as his leg wrapped around hers, she slipped a hand around his waist and tugged him into her just as he had tugged her into him. She wouldn’t face tomorrow alone. He would be with her. And the thought settled her just as easily as her battered spirit had settled in his arms.

And for the first time, the husband and wife fell asleep wrapped in each other. The sound of his heart thumping a lullaby just for her and the feel of her in his arms a soothing balm to his aching bones.

280 notes · View notes

highqueenevankhell · 3 years

Text

Stu(died)-Chapter 2

Summary: Nesta doesn’t date frat boys and that’s all you need to know.

Nessian Modern AU-university setting.

Previous chapter on Masterlist

The first time Nesta meets him, it’s freshmen year and she’s wiping down the counter at the register. Her clothes already smell like coffee this morning, and she can’t get the scent out of her nose. People come in bleary eyed and grim, walking zombies as most student seem, but all Nesta thinks about is Chemistry 301.

That is until he comes in.

He asks if there’s a way to order a cup of expresso. Not in those tiny mugs, he says, but a large. He makes a sign with his hands at the size of the cup and his hair falls in his face. He has kind, tired eyes.

“Are you sure?” She asks, her eyes widening in a way she can’t help. “That’s… concentrated.”

Keep reading

150 notes · View notes

highqueenevankhell · 3 years

Photo

LOKI WEEK DAY 1: favorite loki scene

GLORIOUS PURPOSE!

2K notes · View notes

highqueenevankhell · 3 years

Text

Stu(died)

Summary: Nesta starts tutoring Cassian in o-chem, while Cassian mostly stares at Nesta the entire time. He has a school-boy crush.

Nessian Modern AU-university setting.

Cassian has never met anyone more perfect than Nesta Archeron. He swears she’s come straight out of a book. Fitting, he thinks, since every time he meets her, they’re at the library.

In fact, that’s the only place she’ll meet him at.

He knows of two other places she frequents, two other places that are closer to their respective classes and many other places he suggests for… his own motivations. Nesta only wants to see him in a library. Something about the absorption of knowledge in that tiny brain of his, which frankly sounds offensive when she says it the first time. And the second time. And the third.

I’m your tutor, she painstakingly reminds him. We’re not friends.

Cassian wants to beg to differ. Tries on more than one occasion. He’s known her since freshman year, they have to be friends by now.

But… she’s not wrong about being his tutor.

His problem, Cassian admits, is that he doesn’t like to read. He doesn’t really like to study either, but with Nesta Archeron he finds himself jotting down notes. Not on any subject pertaining to his classes… but in memorizing ever expression she makes, every roll of her eyes as she tells him to pay attention.

Pay attention, he shall!

More often than not she’s donning a grey fitted shirt that says University Printing in orange tiny print. It’s from her second job. Tutoring him is her third. Her least favorite, she says.

Liar, he always wants to say. I’m much better to look at than toner.

But Cassian’s not so sure about that. So far, she only looks at him with disdain and he can rarely get a conversation out of her that doesn’t have to do with covalent bonds or… something or other. He forgets. Cassian only remembers her voice, her hair, her eyes… which defeats the purpose of tutoring and is probably not good for his grades. But alas, Cassian doesn’t find it in himself to care too much.

He remembers just fine.

Sometimes, if they meet on the weekends, she’s too busy to take off her black apron. She works at a coffee shop on the outskirts of campus, and she comes to the library smelling like coffee and Cassian’s sure he’ll focus this time. All adrenaline and caffeine, but then she talks and he’s… listening, but really he only listens to her tone. Such haughty words she huffs, her eyes rolling as if she can’t believe he isn’t understanding after all this precious time.

Are you even listening, Cassian?

He likes when she says his name. It rolls off her tongue and she sneers and he likes that too.

But most days, like today, Nesta Archeron wraps herself in sweaters. All manners of cardigans. And the best thing about her is the way her nose is stuck in a book. Cassian longs to trace her cheeks, pulling the few wisps of hair that falls, tucking it behind her ear. He imagines her blushing as he does it, staring at those well-used pages.

All he ever gets from her is a glare.

Like he’s just stolen her from a world filled with muscles and nervous systems, or whatever people study in human physiology. Her stare often makes him wonder if she’s imagining how his body moves, how he breathes, if she can pull him part and hold his intestines in her hands. He feels like a wriggling rat when she looks at him. A little frog he can’t cut in high school biology without running to the bathroom nauseated.

Cassian loves that look the best, though, so he waves at the girl who glares in her seat. The exact seat she always sits in for these sessions. If he grins more goofily than he cares to admit, well… he’s no less happy to see her.

“What are we learning today, Teach?”

Nesta rolls her eyes as he lays his bag across the table and he shuffles in search of his notebook.

That much noise in a library? He can imagine her saying. Preposterous.

“That’s not my name,” she grumbles out, instead.

“What are you going to teach me then, Obi-wan?”

“Is that why you’re failing o-chem?” She remarks, her nose scrunching in that very sweet, judgmental way of hers, “Watching too much Star Wars instead of opening up a textbook?”

Indeed, she looks at the book he pulls from his bag. It is new, and he hasn’t opened it. Every time he tries, he finds better things to do. Another video on Youtube, or one of his friends suggesting a trip to lunch or dinner… or breakfast. He tries to find numerous excuses on why he can’t open that book. He’s going to study from the slides, Cassian says, from his notes. But whenever he opens his notebook, all he finds scribbles.

Cassian sighs. He hates this class.

But he swallows down his disdain, “I’ll tell you the truth if you tell me what your favorite movie is?”

Nesta shakes her head, her lips pursing as if she might tell him off in a minute or two. Cassian looks at his watch as if he might time it exactly. A ticking bomb. First the pursed lips, then the stern gaze, then the red face and she’ll blow.

“No,” she announces, “I’m here to tutor you, not entertain.”

“Such a shame since I brought the clown suit today, thought you’d look good in the red nose.”

Nesta blinks up at the words and Cassian holds back his grin.

“You’re weird,” she huffs, taking his book out of his hands and opening it up to the first chapter.

“I brought you something today. To sweeten our time together.”

Her brows scrunch at that, but he pulls the container out of his bag, crinkling and noise be damned. Cassian lays out the cake and places the fork next to the textbook.

“You’re bribing me with cake?”

“Chocolate cake,” he explains, “and not just any cake. This is from the dining hall near South Campus. Best cake in the world.”

“I know the dining hall,” Nesta scoffs.

“Then you’ll know how good the cake tastes.” Cassian pulls the container back towards him, pulling apart the packing for the fork. “But if you don’t want it, I guess I’ll just eat it myself.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want it,” she says and he can already see resolve wavering.

It’s always like this. Cassian bribing Nesta with sweets until she’s gliding her fingers down the text book, one sentence at a time. Quizzing him with flashcards until he can only see double lines and circles in his mind… and that tiny smile she makes when she takes just one bite.

Nesta taps her pencil on the page, distracting him from his thoughts. “This doesn’t mean I’ll take it easy on you this semester. You barely passed biology last semester.”

Cassian scoffs, raising his chin. “That was sophomore me. I’m serious now.”

But then Nesta’s reading off the page, drawing diagrams in his notebook, and he’s only staring at her lips.

Cassian sighs.

This is going to be a long semester.

Tagged: @my-fan-side, @sophilightwood, @nestaarcher0n, @duskandstarlight, @soitsgorgeous, @ekaterinakostrova @swankii-art-teacher, @lordof-bloodshed, @arinbelle, @thewhelk, @daisy-in-danger, @highqueenevankhell, @lovelynesta, @sirendeepity, @champanheandluxxury, @ladynestaarcheron, @moodymelanist, @teagoddess99, @spoilersteph, @angelic-voice-1997, @bo0kmaster69, @drielecarla, @generalnesta, @cozycomfyliving08

Poor boy, he’s going to fail his classes.

Anyway, this is another fic Im sure I’m not going to finish but had an idea for so I ran with it for one scene and probably one scene only.

Bye!

195 notes · View notes

highqueenevankhell · 3 years

Photo

stealth mission: date night

2K notes · View notes

highqueenevankhell · 3 years

Note

Soft nessian 🥺

This isn't soft soft nessian, but rather it was suppose to be soft nessian and then it ended up being this, which I don't mind.

This is actually based off of my own headcanon: Where Nesta learns the Illyrian language and doesn’t tell Cassian, so he has been saying heartfelt things to her without realizing that she understands him. I was going to do the last part of that where Nesta finally speaks back to him in Illyrian since that is an extremely soft scene in my head, but... I ended up doing like a first part. It feels like an intro to a longer fic but please don't ask for that.

Nesta listens to the sweet trill of his voice as the rolling r’s rumble through his chest. He won’t tell her what the words mean.

“Will you give me a hint?” She huffs.

Cassian hums a soft sound, shifting in his seat. Nesta raises her chin as if she can command him to tell her.

“It’s something that someone says,” he remarks plainly.

Nesta rolls her eyes, “Animal, mineral, or vegetable?”

Her mate grumbles under his breath.

He mumbles three words. They tumble out of his lips like rolling hills, and Nesta knows they mean something along the lines of Mother save me.

Mother save him, if he keeps this up.

Cassian likes playing this game, she finds. He calls for her in Illyrian, huffs in Illyrian, complains in Illyrian with his big buffoon voice. He crosses his big buffoon arms and he smirks, joking in Illyrian. And Nesta scoffs, crosses her arms, makes a great big show about being annoyed.

He thinks he’s good at this game, she knows, because he’s forgotten who he’s playing against. He likes watching her furrow her brows, pout her lips, her question after question. What do the words mean? He even likes when she gets frustrated. There’s a sadistic sort of gleam in his eyes, as if he’s categorizing every annoyed look just as she’s translating his every word.

Nesta is already winning this game of theirs.

Nesta already won.

He holds his tongue about what the words mean and Nesta takes lessons with Emerie. She’s been taking them since last March.

Cassian talks, rambles on and on, teasing her about not knowing his words. Maybe she learns, to bring him down a peg. Her knowledge is a little needle and his head is a great big balloon and Nesta learns because she wants to see his face as it pops. At least that’s what she’ll tell anyone if they ask.

It’s not because the language sounds like music and when he speaks she can hear a symphony in his voice and she secretly wants to tell him never to stop talking. It’s not because she’s secretly worried that he’s telling her some horrible truth. I don’t want to be with you. I hate you. I never wanted you. Nesta thinks of all manners of words in those first few months. It’s not because it’s the language of his people, his culture, and when they have children who boast like their father and sneer like their mother, she wants to know what stories to tell them, to sing them lullabies of flight.

But, Nesta learns more than the language in her pursuit of retribution.

When her eyes are heavy and she leans on his shoulder, Cassian kisses her on the head and calls her beautiful. When he’s cooking breakfast and she settles between his wings, softly trailing her finger down a vein while the bacon splatters, he fondly calls her witch. When he interrupts her reading, to soften her fury, he calls her his sweet song. My love, be patient today comes roaring with a sigh and some sarcastic tone when he comes baring some bad news.

When Cassian complains, when he gets angry, with those heavy sighs, and those dramatic gestures, the hand held to the brow, he sings her soft praises.

I love you. I’m grateful for you. I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life.

Nesta tries not to smile every time.

Nesta learns that Cassian is a big, romantic buffoon and he loves her so much.

Her favorite phrase is five syllables.

It means something like... you are my sky. Emerie explains each word in sequence, that there’s a phrase for love but that’s not what’s commonly used for people in love. Rather there are multiples phrases. You are my wings. You are my sky. I soar in your embrace.

He once explains that the wings of Illyrian are their pride, their joy. Nesta is the sky in which he flies in, the sun he reaches for, the moon he dances across, and he tells her this. Cassian tells her this and he smiles because he thinks he knows something she doesn’t.

Cassian shifts further on the couch. He grabs under her bent knees and pulls her towards him. He mumbles five syllables as he kisses her shoulder.

“Why won’t you tell me what it means?” Nesta pleads, crossing her arms as if she’s perturbed.

“I said you’re annoying,” Cassian speaks, kissing at her nose.

Nesta likes playing this game, so she punches him in the shoulder, demanding to know.

Tagged: @my-fan-side, @sophilightwood, @nestaarcher0n, @duskandstarlight, @soitsgorgeous, @ekaterinakostrova @swankii-art-teacher, @lordof-bloodshed, @arinbelle, @thewhelk, @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell, @lovelynesta, @sirendeepity, @champanheandluxxury, @ladynestaarcheron, @moodymelanist, @teagoddess99, @spoilersteph, @drielecarla, @angelicvoice19, @bo0kmaster69, @generalnesta

This is a little sappy (shrug, shrug, shrug).

230 notes · View notes

highqueenevankhell · 3 years

Text

nesta & cassian

art: michelacacciatore [instagram]

822 notes · View notes

highqueenevankhell · 3 years

Text

Life’s a Beach (1)

I underestimated how long this fic was, so I smashed them together. I will continue just posting snippets and writing it like that (and then smashing them together), but since most of you will already have read it, I will include a bonus scene at the end. My thank you for putting up with my unconventional writing process.

Summary: Tarquin comes to town and Cassian is jealous.

Cassian doesn’t like when Tarquin visits.

Never mind the ban from the Summer Court or that at one point, blood rubies pilfer their court. Never mind that Summer crowns him holier than the seas and the sun. Cassian doesn’t like the ease in which he walks. He may not have his usual royal garb, but he glides along the Sidra. The mighty king out for a stroll.

Nesta looks like his queen.

His mate is bright and beaming, huffing laughs and smiling wide as she praises his ideas. Cassian has ideas, too.

Keep reading

149 notes · View notes

highqueenevankhell · 3 years

Text

@imasconfusedasyouare 1) your writing is amazing and I love your blog! 2)For the prompts: Nesta is having a bad day with her mental health and during dinner or something the IC make certain comments about how she’s behaving that makes Cassian go into possessive-mate mode and snaps at them… pretty please 🥺

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1) Thank you!

2) I took a bit of liberty with this prompt. The gist of it is the same, but I couldn’t have Cassian outright tell the IC off when I feel he is wrong himself. So I made a fic where Nesta has a bad mental health day, they do see the others and they do say things, and Cassian is selfish but ultimately they get through it because love is not.

So… here goes nothing.

Cassian knows Nesta doesn’t feel good. Maybe he knows her well enough by now to sense her tells or some intrinsic part of his soul sings to him of concern. That when she huddles in their bed, grasping the pillow instead of his chest, she reaches for something he can’t offer her and he knows.

Even so, he lays a palm on her forehead searching for heat and when she shrugs him off, he doesn’t let the feeling make a home in his lungs. He will not yell or chastise or run away with stupid words.

Nesta doesn’t feel good.

Be patient, the voice in his head tells him. Be slow.

Nesta eats less that morning, eats slower, and she stares into space as if she’s asking it questions. He rambles on and she doesn’t listen. She’s waiting for the space to answer, he tells himself.

They go to training. Cassian thinks maybe the routine will keep her grounded, will remind her that she’s capable. That she’s carried more weight than a sword. He asks her if she’s ready and Nesta merely lifts her hands. Fists hit but they don’t hurt. Fists hit but they don’t rage. Fists hit and Cassian thinks something must be terribly wrong. Fists hit and Cassian only wants to hold her close.

He asks Gwyn and Emerie if they notice something off, and they shrug as if they know but don’t want to tell him. Perhaps they know and they just can’t explain. Cassian doesn’t think he could understand if they did.

You can understand, that little voice speaks. You just have to wait.

So Cassian waits. Cassian sits. Cassian listens, and Nesta walks around the house, trailing room to empty room. Nesta doesn’t even turn on the symphonia. He keeps waiting for music, but the egg shaped disk stays closed and Nesta shuts her eyes. Maybe she hears music that he doesn’t.

You offered her time, the voice reminds him. A lifetime of time. What is a few hours? A few days?

But Cassian doesn’t want to wait. Cassian doesn’t want Nesta to feel anything like this–where she looks out the window with that blank expression and she keeps to herself and she sneaks up so quietly she might as well be ghost. Cassian doesn’t want a ghost for a mate.

He can’t wait any longer. Cassian has to do something now, before time slips between his fingers and the floor drops from right under their feet. So, he moves. He makes plans.

Nesta doesn’t argue when he drags her to the city. Nesta doesn’t argue when they go to the streets thrumming with sound. Fill her with noise and laughter, he thinks. Fill her with something I can’t.

But the voice in his head only chastises him. You need to wait.

Cassian can’t wait. Cassian is running out of time.

So he takes her to the only place that will make a difference.

He knows they’re having dinner, and he knows they’ll be together and perhaps they can fill her with the life he can’t.

He takes her to his family. To her family.

But they’re not really her family are they?

Feyre is and so she’s happily surprised to see them, but when she tries to give Nesta a hug, she lays as still as a statue. Feyre notices. Cassian notices. Rhysand notices. Still, they go the dining room where the rest are waiting. Waiting less patiently than him.

That’s when he hears that voice.

Are they really her family?

Cassian wants to think yes, but they laugh with each other and Nesta gets handed a plate. Nesta spoons little handfuls of green beans and mash potatoes and Mor laughs at an inside joke that Cassian knows well and Amren wants to discuss a meeting that Nesta doesn’t attend. Nesta doesn’t know anything about any of the topics they want to discuss. Nesta sits in a tower on a normal Tuesday and gazes wistfully out the window, and sitting here at the table reminds him of that stare.

It reminds him of that stare years ago. On a snowy night in December.

“You’re quiet,” Feyre says after a while. Nesta doesn’t even notice she’s being talked to until Cassian elbows her lightly.

“I’m always quiet,” she says at last, looking to her plate. Cassian watches as a noodle forms a question mark and all he can think about it why, why, why.

“You’re not usually so…”

She looks up at her sister with that blank expression, blinking slow.

“Are you okay?” Feyre asks, concern in her voice.

Nesta doesn’t even think as she says, “I’m fine.”

But he can already see it. The distasteful looks that they hide with a snort. That awkward, you are ruining something look. That you didn’t bring enough smiles for this house. And Cassian knows that they will go home tonight, and something will have gone backwards. That they’ll remember what Nesta’s done, but the Nesta they see will be the first Nesta they think about, and their memory will not be filled with heroic deeds like nighttime fairytales. It won’t even be of a courageous young female who only yearns for her sister to live. They will see this Nesta.

This perfectly good Nesta.

This perfectly, acceptable Nesta. Quiet somber songs or not.

Cassian feels himself moving before he realizes what he’s doing. He can feel himself reaching for her and Nesta looks up as if his movement surprises her. It surprises him, too, but it’s the right choice he knows.

“Let’s go home,” he breathes.

Cassian tries not to let the guilt sink in his chest at her look of relief. The way she sets the fork down as if it’s a great, heavy sword. Cassian won’t let it pierce his heart. His heart is her, and Nesta is going to be okay tomorrow.

But today…

Today, she will watch the sky and listen to nothing and pace back and forth and she’ll feel that restlessness settle in her chest until it settles down quietly. He will protect her ability to grieve. For whatever she grieves. That layer of herself she peels off like paper.

“You’re going home already?” Mor asks, a look of astonishment on her face.

“Nesta doesn’t feel good,” he says. Some part of him wants to say that it was a mistake bringing her here, but he can’t do that. That only makes Cassian a hypocrite and he’s already selfish. He knows who they are. They’re not Nesta’s family…

And this is his fault, not theirs. Not only because it’s the last place Nesta wants to be, but because if he has a hard time understanding her, they don’t even have a chance and Cassian won’t let them make Nesta feel ashamed.

Cassian doesn’t want to make Nesta feel ashamed.

All day he has. When they go to the market, when they walk through the city, when they stop by restaurants and booths and people. When they go to this house and eat with his family, he wants to shame the bad day out of her.

Nothing about Nesta is shameful.

Nothing about Nesta can make him feel ashamed.

“Home?” He repeats and Nesta grabs his outstretched hand. She says a goodbye to Feyre who raises her hand with a small tainted, tilt of her lip. They’re there for a mere thirty minutes before they’re gone.

And when they get home, she goes to the library. Nesta huddles up on the sofa with her favorite book, and sometimes she stares out the window in between pages.

Cassian sets a blanket on her shoulders, careful not to touch her unless she asks. He wants to hold her, but it isn’t about what he wants. So he covers her in I’m here cotton, keeps her warm in I love you wool. He will set his I’m thinking of you tea beside her table, and he will wait and wait and wait. Wait until the night grows dim and he does.

And at some point in the night, he falls asleep on the large chair across from her. At some point in the night he feels her climb in, her body huddled close. Nesta takes the blanket with her and she covers them both. He only needs her, Cassian thinks. He only wants her, but the blanket lays on top of them like a shield. It’ll protect them both in its embrace.

Nesta tucks her head in his neck, he can feel her cold nose on his skin, and she burrows into him, her hands rummaging beneath his shirt. The touch sings as much as it burns, but he falls asleep to the sweet smell of lavender and the soft sound of her breathing.

It’s the most wonderful music he’s ever heard.

In the morning, Cassian wakes up to the symphonia playing and Nesta’s smile is the sun.

Fin

Tagged: @my-fan-side, @sophilightwood, @nestaarcher0n, @duskandstarlight, @soitsgorgeous, @ekaterinakostrova @swankii-art-teacher, @lordof-bloodshed, @arinbelle, @thewhelk, @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell, @lovelynesta, @sirendeepity, @champanheandluxxury, @ladynestaarcheron, @moodymelanist, @teagoddess99, @spoilersteph, @drielecarla, @angelicvoice19, @bo0kmaster69, @generalnesta

Don’t know where these fics keep coming from, but doubt it will last so I’m enjoying the ride.

278 notes · View notes

highqueenevankhell · 3 years

Text

Spirit Meets the Bones XI

Find it all here.

Tagging: @inejjg | @vanserrasvalkyrie | @nina-zcnik | @chloepereyra | @tealnymph24 | @illyrianvalkyrie | @arielle-reads | @gwyns | @highladyofdawn | | @ae-lingalathynius | @gingerwritess | @lovelywordsandwine | | @verifiefangirl | @live-the-fangirl-life | @ellies-iced-coffee | @positivewitch | @helion-ism | @asteria-of-mars | @sfae | @highlady-fireheart || @rarephloxes | @readthelastpaage | @highladyoftheday | @thewilderheart | @starlightorstarfire | @ddsworldofbooks | @deardiarystuff | @steelhiddenbysilk | @rachaels14 | @foxybananaaaz | @ladyelain | @rainbowcheetah512 | @rainbowsnowflake | @rosea324 | @princessofmerchants | @illyrianshadowhunter | @bookologist | @crowchanblackbeak | @audreycressworth | @janeslandrys | @hoodwinkd1 | @lattristantketchup | @pascale-the-bard | | @isha-love | @bibliophilelife124 | @spell-cleavers | @sheisnotwriting | @p-erd | @lovelynesta | @sophilightwood | @ladyofvelaris7 | @weesablackbeak | @tinycosmicangel | @applestrudeldoo

@story-scribbler | @sapphire-faythe | @velvet-rays

Eris stood with his hands clasped behind his back, unbothered as Beron glared at him, per usual. His thumb tapped on the back of his hand as he stood, reigning in his anger that always flared at the sight of his father.

“What is this I hear about the breach in security on the southern border between us and that piece of shit Tamlin?”

Eris tilted his head. “Oh? I thought that was the territory you requested your sentries to oversee, Father? Did something happen?”

“You tell me.” Beron snarled. “Aren’t you the one who is supposed to be responsible for ensuring things like this don’t occur?”

“Yes. I am the one responsible for all security measures of our court.” Eris said and gave his father a small smile. “But again Father, you recently requested a particular group of sentries to oversee that specific area and for me to remove myself from it...I believe it houses a private resident for you? For your...dalliances?”

The High Lord scowled at his son, but Eris only blinked. “Watch that tone, boy. That’s none of your business.”

“Then I’m afraid whatever security breach happened is also none of my business, Father.”

A tense moment of silence passed, and Eris braced himself as his father narrowed his eyes at him.

Over the years under his father’s thumb, Eris had found that while his father was a tyrant, he was quite the lazy one. He thought so little of Eris’s manipulative capabilities that he was more than happy to have him do the grunt work. But Eris had eyes and ears everywhere and this had cost the High Lord his absolute control. He had handed it to Eris slowly over the years, without realizing how much it would eventually cost him.

But Eris always treaded this line carefully, always letting Beron forget about it. Always made it seem as though he was a puppet for his father. Eris was a good son; he always did what he was told...but with a slight tweak, a tweak Beron would be too lazy to care about.

Beron’s mouth twisted into a frown. “I am your high lord. You will do as I say.”

Eris bowed his head graciously. “Of course. I would be happy to assist you with this issue, Father. Would you like me to handle the situation?”

Beron’s glare intensified. “Why else did I bother calling you here? Fix it.”

“But of course, Father.” Eris said then ran his tongue over his teeth before continuing with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Though I would like to discuss something with you in return, if you’d be so kind?”

Beron rolled his eyes. “You and that mouth of yours. Spit it out.”

Eris loosened the slight damper on his anger and rolled his neck back, then met his father’s gaze. “The other night at dinner, I did not appreciate how I was spoken to or how my wife was spoken to.” he said slowly and Beron raised a brow. “I am humbly requesting you never speak to her in that manner again. She is not any concern of yours. At all.”

Beron scoffed. “Is that why you’ve been missing for two days? You’re upset with me?”

“It was disrespectful.” Eris said calmly and though fire was pulsating through his body, he continued to tap his thumb against his hand, desperately trying to smother it. He could only show a little at a time. Too much too soon would not go well for him.

“She didn’t like your punishment for her loose tongue then?” the High Lord said, and a muscle flexed in Eris’s jaw.

“What happens between my wife and I doesn’t concern you, Father.” he said, his fists tightening behind him but he kept his face as neutral as possible. One day he wouldn’t have to. One day he could just rip his father’s head clean off his body. One day.

Beron smirked slowly, watching Eris, and Eris knew exactly what his father would say before he opened his mouth. “Is that so?” he sneered. “Are you afraid she’ll leave you for another Vanserra too?”

He let the comment slide off him, wondering when his father would stop using it as an insult. It didn’t sting anymore. In fact, Eris was bored of it being brought up at all.

“No. Iris gets all that she needs from me and more.” he said and smiled again, allowing the fire flickering in his veins to be found in his gaze. “I’m sure you realize history will not be repeating itself in this situation. So, I am asking again, leave my wife out of your plays. She is not yours to concern yourself with and I will not tolerate you making her uncomfortable again.”

Beron’s smile was a cruel one, laced in amusement. “Oh? And what will you do, son? If I decide I like making her uncomfortable?”

Eris paused here, pursing his lips, his heart thundering in his chest. He would pay for this in some form or another later... but it would be worth it. To not have Iris look at him like she had the other night.

“Well, Father...I will decide to make you uncomfortable.” Eris replied and smiled a dry smile. “You’ll find that I have been a very good son to you. Your son that hardly gives you any trouble, unlike those other two idiots no one ever sees. I am your right hand. Your first-born. I will keep this court running as smoothly as possible for you as I truly do enjoy doing what you ask of me.” He paused here, watching his father as the High Lord assessed him. “But you will find that I can be very unhelpful if my wife continues to be spoken to and about in that way again.”

“You’d shirk your duties, boy?”

“You mean your duties, Father?”

And Eris knew it clicked then, in his father’s small brain, exactly how much deep shit Eris would put him in should he decide to be a menace.

“Your mother’s son through and through, hm?” Beron said quietly and Eris raised his brows.

“I am your son too, father. I was raised by your hand.”

Eris almost wanted to laugh at his own statement. Because quite literally so, Beron had not held back to beat his whole family into submission. Especially his first born, whom he allowed zero mistakes from.

And yet.

The High Lord stared down at his son with slight loathing and Eris waited.

“Don’t make me beat some sense into you, boy.”

Eris shrugged and Beron’s eyes narrowed. It was a long moment before the High Lord finally scoffed.

“I hope her pussy is worth it.”

“Again,” Eris said, a muscle flexing in his jaw, his fists clenching behind his back. “You will not speak of my wife this way. I will decide how she behaves. I will decide what she will or won’t do. I will decide anything that concerns her. She is off limits to everyone else. At all times.”

Beron quirked a brow. “Is that so?”

Eris gave him a tight smile. “I don’t like people playing with my things, Father. You taught me that.” he said. “I hope I have made myself clear enough for you.”

A tense silence filled the room and Eris wondered exactly what Beron would do. What his father was thinking. He had crossed a line here and showed his hand. Eris only hoped Beron thought he knew his son well enough that his declaration was one of possessiveness rather than anything else.

“What about your mother, Eris?” Beron said softly and Eris willed himself not to flinch, not to show any reaction. “It would be a shame if one day you shirked your duties and I...had to have a long conversation with your mother about it.”

Eris’s fist tightened behind his back and slowly, silently, he took a breath.

“I would think that would be unnecessary, father.”

Beron tilted his head and smiled. “That’ll depend on you, I suppose,” he said airily. “If not your mother, maybe your hounds? You seem to have a strange attachment to them. Surely you don’t need all twelve.”

“You know how valuable those hounds are to our security system.”

“Ah, yes. Our security system.” Beron said, interlacing his hands in his lap and watched Eris with a smirk. “Even so...It would be very interesting to see what you hold in high regard, no?”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Meaning?”

“I will hold my tongue about your little wife, sure.” the High Lord with a shrug. “In fact, I won’t talk about her at all.”

“Then we have an understanding.” Eris said tightly.

“Oh yes,” Beron said calmly. “We definitely have an understanding.”

Eris nodded and stood for a moment before whirling around to leave. Except his father cleared his throat and immediately Eris froze.

Slowly, Eris turned back to face his father with a pleasant expression. “Yes, father?”

“While we have an understanding, I do want to make one thing clear, son.” Beron spoke and Eris braced himself. “Should you step one toe out of line and think to speak to me that way again, I will find myself truly testing where your loyalties lie.”

“My loyalties lie with you, High Lord.” Eris said automatically and Beron scoffed.

“We shall see.” the High Lord sneered. “It would be a shame if I had to test that theory. A shame if I had to find out what you valued more...your mother, your hounds...or your pretty wife’s cunt.”

“Father.” Eris snarled but the High Lord only laughed humorlessly.

“You said your piece and I said mine, boy.” Beron snapped. “Now, get out of my sight and go fix that border issue.”

Eris’s mouth twisted in distaste, and it took him a moment — a good minute of trying to calm his thoughts so he didn’t snap the old man’s neck. So he didn’t do anything stupid.

Instead, he smiled tightly and bowed his head, despite his father’s look that always promised violence. He was too used to it, and Eris would take every bruise given to him if it got his father away from the two women in his life. He’d said his piece. He’d drawn a line and he would bear all the consequences for it.

It was not lost on him when his thoughts mirrored that of his wife...what was another bruise?

Iris stared at the bouquet of flowers on the table and blinked. She reached out a hand and hesitantly touched a petal then swallowed.

She had spent the time since her mother-in-law’s visit mindlessly tidying their room and thinking. Thinking and overthinking. Getting angry. Then sad. Then downright anxious.

Lady Enya’s visit had shifted her thought process and it made her realize how narrow her view had been about this whole thing. Thinking about talking to Eris still made her want to vomit but she tried to work through it.

Until she had heard him return and did the only rational thing she could — hide in the bathroom. She only stepped out after he left and that’s when her eyes fell on the bouquet sitting here now.

She had been simmering in anger this whole time. So angry.

At her father. At Beron. At all the stupid powerful males in positions that were able to hurt people and make them feel so small. Which is exactly what Beron had done. He made her feel small. He made Eris feel small.

She swallowed, thinking of the look Beron had shot Lady Enya before they left. He had been making her feel small for years.

But Eris…

“I am not him. I actively try my hardest not to be like him in any way.”

He could’ve been. He could. But he hadn’t.

“I will do everything I can to protect you from him and take the brunt of that as well and I am sorry that it has to be that way and I am sorry that you will likely have to hear more things from him that you won’t like, but I am playing his game so that I can keep worming my way around until I can finish him.”

And she had called him a coward. She had made him feel small too.

She had lashed out this morning knowing what she said would’ve been worse than gutting him. Words were often the best of weapons and Iris had been at the end of those weapons long enough to know how to throw it back.

But what would it cost her with Eris?

“You both are coming from the same place. Trust yourself and your judgement. But also...give him the chance to prove himself to you.”

She swallowed again as his mother’s words rang in her ear and Iris bit her lip, guilt eating away at her, as it had been for hours, the pit in her stomach growing. He hadn’t deserved her throwing words like that at him and had regretted it the moment they slipped out her mouth. Not that he had held back either because clearly, he knew how to hurt.

But...he brought her flowers.

Iris frowned at the beautiful bouquet now. Was it an apology? Would he —

As if summoned by her thoughts, Iris turned at the sound of their chamber door opening and Eris stood in the doorway, a tray in his hands.

He paused at the door, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. She noted how he cataloged the choice of dress that hugged her figure, the loose waves of her hair falling down her back. He met her eyes and without saying a word, stepped into the room, closed the door, and made his way to stop in front of her.

“Wife.”

“Husband.” she said dryly, and the corner of his wicked mouth ticked up.

Eris placed the tray on the table and nodded his head towards the chairs. “Would you like to eat?”

She watched him warily. “I didn’t realize you were part of the kitchen staff.”

“For you, wife? But of course.”

They stared at each other in loaded silence for a few minutes before Eris casually waved a hand for her to sit.

Begrudgingly, and because she was hungry, Iris walked to the nearest chair and plopped down. Eris’s lips twitched as he took the seat opposite her and the two stared at each other again, the tension palpable.

So much for trust. One step forward and two steps back.

“So.” Eris began, and Iris blinked before removing the cloth covering the tray of food and grabbing a piece of bread.

“So.” she said, grabbing a knife and looking at him.

“Did you like the flowers?” he asked calmly, and both turned to look at the bouquet.

Iris fidgeted and slowly put the knife and bread down, her nervousness flaring. She frowned at the sound of her thundering heart. Or was it the sound of his?

“I wasn’t sure what your favorite flowers were, so I went with a seemingly obvious choice.” he added, and Iris met his gaze.

“I like carnations. And peonies.” she replied slowly. “But this bouquet is beautiful regardless.”

A heartbeat passed then, “You fucken hate irises, don’t you?” he asked with a snort and Iris bit back a reluctant smile, the tension easing a fraction.

“I really do.” she said and huffed a humorless laugh. “Blame that on my father too. Whenever he beat me too hard, he'd leave a bouquet of crushed irises at my door. Symbolism.”

Eris tensed for just a moment then forced himself to relax. “He just keeps getting better and better every time you mention him.” he said tightly, then leaned forward and picked up the knife and bread Iris had put down.

She watched him again, as he had done the first morning, methodically buttering it for her and passing it over. Iris accepted it carefully, watching him fill her a glass of juice and again, pass it over to her.

When he sat back, his own piece of bread in hand and buttering it silently, Iris frowned again.

“Are we going to talk about the other night?” she asked quietly as her heart galloped in her chest.

Eris paused. “I was hoping you’d eat something first so we don’t lash out again. Like we did this morning.”

Iris’s frown deepened and she sat back in her chair, taking a bite of her bread. He watched her chew, his brow raised as he waited.

She swallowed and knew his eyes had tracked the movement of her licking her lips. “Well.” she began. “How did you think that went?”

“Terrible. You?”

“Horrible. I’ve been insulted before but never quite like that.” she muttered angrily, and Eris leaned forward, the bread dropping from his hand.

“So was I.” he said curtly. “My father aside, you took something I shared with you and threw it back in my face. You blamed me for things I had no control over. You called me a coward when I have spent my whole life trying to fight against what I was forced into. I warned you about my father. It shouldn’t have been a surprise.”

Iris flushed, scowling. “I was attacked. Your father attacked me and you let him.” she replied. “You warned me but that doesn’t mean I have to accept that this will be my reality. How am I supposed to feel safe if I have to be on the defense all the time?”

“And how am I supposed to trust you if the first personal thing I tell you, you use against me in an argument?” he said with a flattened expression. “I did not let him attack you. He didn’t wait for my permission. In case you haven’t noticed, my father loves to shit on me constantly.”

“And you just put up with it?”

“I know how to play his game.” he replied, and Iris shook her head.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Iris watched him frown, his brows furrowed in the frustration written all over his face. She had the strong urge to push her fingers to it.

“You want to feel safe and want trust. You cannot ask this of me and not give it in return.” he finally said. “There are times to talk back and times to let him think he won so you can do what needs to be done anyway. That is how he needs to be handled. That is the best I can do with him. The best any of us can do at this time.”

They watched each other silently for a moment.

“If you are willing and you find yourself wanting to, be honest with him. He will meet you in the middle if you are willing to meet him.”

Iris took a small breath. “I... have had the same dream about you for the past two nights.” she whispered, and Eris straightened. “It’s not a pleasant one. It was about what you said to your father. What you’d do to me.”

Eris’s face heated and he shifted in his seat. “It was just a dream.” he said quietly, and Iris’s fingers tightened in the fabric of her dress.

“The panic that woke me up was real each time.”

His mouth twisted as he thought this over then met her gaze. “I said this before, and I understand I will have to keep saying it until you believe it, but I have no intentions of hurting you. I will not lay a finger on you.” he said firmly. “I only said that, so my father didn’t make me do anything to you in front of him. It’s the one boundary he wouldn’t cross.”

Iris’s expression furrowed into a frown and a moment of silence passed before she quietly asked, “But he’d watch you beat your wife?”

Eris’s expression tightened for a moment then he mumbled, “He has made me watch while he hurt my mother. It would delight him to watch me do the same to you.”

“And you could do nothing?”

Eris scowled. “I do not appreciate the accusation in that question.” he snapped. “You assume I wasn’t also incapacitated.”

She flushed then mumbled curtly, “I’m not accusing, I’m asking.”

Eris watched her warily, scanning her face. It took him a moment before he finally sighed and rolled his shoulders back.

“Look...I am — my private quarters have always been my safe space.” he said quietly. “Aside from out with the hounds, it is the only place I can just...be. No expectations from anyone. I can’t fight with you in it. I — I don’t have it in me. If you really insist on not wanting to have a functioning relationship, I can arrange for you to have your own space and we don’t need to see each other at all.”

Iris blinked rapidly at the unexpectedness of his answer. “And what? Go our separate ways?”

“You know that can’t happen with your father or mine in the picture.” he said with a humorless chuckle. “You are bound to me as I am bound to you.” And Iris watched him scowl at the words, color blooming in his cheeks. “Or at least for a few years until people are busy obsessing over something else. We could just...orbit around each other. Pretend until then.”

Iris’s eyes dropped to the table, feeling her body suddenly heat up. Pretend? He would —

She took a sharp breath then very quietly said, “You...would do that?”

“I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. If you don’t want to try, I will not be the one to force you.” he said, and Iris lifted her eyes in time to find him running a hand through his hair. He met her gaze once then looked down, his expression hardening, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “I am not my father. I will not shackle you to me. You would just need to endure for a bit until I can make it work.”

It took her a moment to finally speak, her shaking hands bunching in her dress.

“No one’s ever given you a chance, have they?” she said softly and watched as Eris tensed. “Your father has ruined almost everything for you.”

She watched his hands as they fisted then flexed and it took him a moment before replying.

“It’s a lot easier to let people see what they want to see. I am very good at pretending.” he replied, his eyes on the table. “Being a monster makes it easier.”

“Does it?”

He shrugged. “It’s all I have to work with for the time being.”

Her mouth went into a thin line, and she thought over what he said as he watched her. Trust wasn’t so easily earned but...he was drawing a line, making himself clear.

“I...did not react well the other night.” She said quietly. “Or this morning.”

“Neither did I,” Eris said with a shrug. “I think we can agree not to hold it against each other.”

She sighed and tilted her head back to gaze at the ceiling of their room. “I know you told me we have to behave in a certain way. But your tone...your tone. The sneer in it.” Iris said quietly, color bloomed on her cheeks, and she frowned. “I’ve heard that sneer my whole life. You tell me to expect different things from you then...then you spoke in that tone.”

Iris lowered her head to meet his gaze. “It makes me feel like everything you said and shared was a lie. It makes me feel foolish to believe you. You want me to wear a mask but...I can’t wear one where you’re belittling me in front of others. Even if it’s to have your father leave us alone.”

Eris’s eyes were on his fingers drumming gently on the table. “I...have had to wear this persona for a very very long time.” he said slowly and looked up at Iris. “You will need to give me some room...to work through these things.”

He swallowed then added tightly, “You are the first...opportunity I have ever been given to be different with a female. To openly be better. There wasn’t a relationship I had as important as this one with you.” He frowned. “No one that is supposed to be a...permanent partner. This is different for me too. I need patience from you.”

Iris’s eyes widened at that, and she looked away from him. Her heart was definitely the one thundering at his words so at odds with what his father had said to her.

You’re not that important.

She looked up at him and found him watching her carefully. Her eyes darted to the slight color in his cheeks and then to his hands now folded on his crossed legs. He was speaking so calmly but Iris could taste his nervousness. It matched her own.

He had never been bluffing in his declarations.

“Then you want this to work, right?” She asked softly and licked her lips. “You want this to be real?”

“Do you?”

Iris blinked. Did she?

Her gaze dropped to her hands and she considered his question. No part of her going into this marriage had thought about whether it would work or not.

It was just a fact. She was to be married to him. She would be his wife. Whatever happened after that, happened. Anything that came from her father would surely be nothing pleasant and she kept expecting the worst. But...Eris clearly didn’t think that way. He wanted it to be different. He had told her so from the beginning. And she had to be one of few people in his life who had ever heard such words from him.

He could be a nightmare for her. But he had endured so much from his father already. From this life. And he didn’t want to be. She had heard him say it.

I’m not trying to. Don’t you see that?

Her mind went back to the conversation with her mother-in-law.

“You two get to decide how real you want it to be.”

He could be more than just her husband. He could be her friend. But...he could also be more. And she had always wanted more. She wanted love. She wanted a...partner. She wanted a life with someone who would see her and care enough for her to protect her. Help her protect herself.

Swallowing, she looked up at him and the color on her cheeks deepened. “Yes. I do.”

And she watched his shoulder sag, just a fraction.

“Then we’re on the same page.”

Iris looked down at her hands for a heartbeat then met his gaze again. “You’re a very good liar.” she whispered. “It scares me to trust you.”

Eris was quiet for a long moment then very, very softly said, “It terrifies the fuck out of me to have you in my life. I don’t know how to...have whatever this is.”

“I don’t want to be a problem. I just want...to have something normal.” she said with a sigh, her eyes darting to him then back to her hands.

“I don’t think normal will apply in this household,” he said with a soft snort. “But...I think we can figure out what will be normal for us.”

Silence fell between them again and Iris took a breath. A normal for them. A normal she...would be a part of. Iris licked her lips then quietly said, “I’m sorry for the things I said in anger. It wasn’t fair to you. I was very upset and did not appreciate what was said to me or insinuated about me.”

Eris’s brow flickered up, a look of slight surprise on his face. “You apologize so easily.” he mused.

“Acknowledging when you’re wrong is the first step to getting through an issue.”

Eris pursed his lips then slowly nodded. “And I am sorry for what I said and how things had to be. It wasn’t fair to you either. My father knew exactly what to say to push my buttons and I walked right into it.”

Iris nodded in return, her frown deepening and asked carefully, “Why does he do that? What does he get out of it when you do so much for him? Doesn’t he...care for you?”

Eris chuckled dryly. “My father cares for no one but himself,” he said. “He likes to make people feel small when he feels threatened by them. He hasn’t earned anyone’s respect in years, so he keeps things under control by fear. And punishment.”

Iris blinked then said slowly, “At some point...people will not be scared anymore.”

“Yes.” Eris answered carefully. “Fear eventually grows tiresome. But my father has a very hard time accepting that change is coming, whether he likes it or not.”

“You’ve talked about change and pieces at play but never elaborate.”

Eris observed her. “We will need to work on our trust issues more before I can give you additional information.”

Iris nodded slowly. “That seems fair.” she mumbled, and Eris’s lips curved up and he pushed the breakfast tray towards her. Iris bit her lip then sat up. “I have one more thing to say about this subject.”

“Just one?” Eris said with a chuckle and Iris shot him a look, picking up her bread once more.

“Your father was outrageous. It’s hard to pick one thing.” she said, her nose scrunched up in disdain. “I don’t know how you’ve tolerated him all these years.”

“Pretending I’m frolicking in a field of daisies whenever he opens his mouth usually gets me through.”

Iris snorted and rolled her eyes, earning her a smirk from him. “Frolicking with a pretty flower crown, are you?”

“Oh, definitely,” he replied with a serious nod. “If Elain has taught me one thing, you must wear a flower crown while frolicking or you’re simply not doing it right.”

A chuckle slipped from her lips and Iris for once, shyly met his eyes. When the corner of his mouth ticked up, she looked back down at her hands. She sighed then looked back at him, her expression more solemn.

“He had no right to speak to me that way. He had no right to speak to you that way either.”

“I agree.”

“What I want to say is, I do not want to be spoken to like that ever again.” Iris said firmly. “I will pretend I’m your simpering little wife all you want but I will not tolerate the threats and language like that. Not in this home as well.”

“Neither will I. Which is why it won’t happen again.” Eris said and Iris stilled at his tone.

“What does that mean?”

He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve then slowly looked at his wife. “I don’t like people overstepping their boundaries with me. He can take it out on me all he wants but you’re my wife. I will not let it happen again. You should still watch your tone with him the same way I do but my father has been made aware that I will not take him speaking to you that way again lightly.”

Iris blinked then flushed lightly, pleasantly surprised. “So...we play his game?” she asked quietly and he gave her a tight nod.

“We play his game.” he confirmed. “Outside of this room, we play by his expectations. It is a lie, a façade. Inside this room, whenever we are alone, and outside of the court...we can be as we wish. Just you and me. As long as this is what you want.”

Iris bit the inside of her cheek, watching him carefully. It wasn’t different to anything he had told her before but...she was truly listening now. She could play games. She had tried to play her father’s games, even when it cost her. Now she would have a partner.

Just you and me.

“You’re willing to be my friend first, then?” she asked quietly.

“Friendship was the first thing I offered you.” he replied simply.

And it hit Iris then — how incredibly similar they were. A fact Eris seemed to have figured out early on.

He was someone who needed a person just as badly as she did.

So she finally said, “Then this is what I want.”

The corner of Eris’s mouth ticked up. “That’s helpful. I won’t have to waste time redecorating.”

She rolled her eyes then quietly observed him as he finally picked a helping of food. Standing up to his father was a bold move and Eris was careful about all the moves he made. To do it because of her...

She waited until he had a few bites of food then carefully asked, “How did your father take it when you spoke to him about me?”

Eris paused for a moment then slowly replied, “We’ll see in a few days.”

Iris bit her lip, her brows furrowed, knowing what he meant. It would either pass or...Eris would pay for it.

Her face fell as guilt washed over her and Eris straightened.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry.” she immediately said and he furrowed his brows.

“We already stated our apologies.”

She shook her head. “If he decides he doesn’t like what you said because of me —” she started and pushed the tray away, feeling slightly nauseated. “I don’t want him to — if he decides to —”

But Eris held up a hand. “You don’t have to worry about that. I can handle my father. His choices are his own and he is the only one responsible for them.”

Iris bit her lip, glancing at him then down at her lap. Her mouth wouldn’t cost just her now. Eris would be dragged into it by his father if she stepped out of line. He had thought about what his father would do to her if Eris didn’t behave accordingly but Iris hadn’t even considered what Beron would do to Eris because of her.

“I’ll watch myself better now.” she promised quietly. “I don’t want to give him any other reasons to hurt you.”

Eris stared at her, his expression unreadable but she saw the bob of his throat as he swallowed then nodded.

“I see we’ve reached an understanding then.” he said quietly and Iris nodded in return.

“We’ve reached an understanding.”

A sense of relief washed over the room, any tension between them easing. Iris stole a chance at him to find him watching her, his lips slightly pursed.

“What?”

He shook his head then cleared his throat. “Now that we’re on the same page, I won’t have to hear your whining.”

Iris squinted at him but her expression softened when she saw the teasing look he gave her.

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re mean.”

“I haven’t slit your throat yet so how mean am I, really?” she said and gave him a pointed look.

Eris smirked and Iris knew whatever came out of his mouth next would be obnoxious.

“You must really have a thing for my neck, you constantly want to get your hands on it.”

“To choke the life out of you.”

“Don’t tease me, I’ll start moaning.”

Very slowly and without breaking eye contact, Iris flipped him off, earning her a soft chuckle.

“We’ll see what good that attitude of yours will do you once we start training.” he said, giving her an amused look.

“And when will we do that?” she asked, sitting up straighter.

“As soon as you’d like, wife.” he said with a lazy smirk. “I look forward to seeing what you’re made of.”

Iris sat back and met his gaze with a challenging look of her own. “And I look forward to giving you the ass kicking you deserve, husband.”

195 notes · View notes