4 and/or 25 with Eris, please!
Lost In The Fire
Eris x Fem!Reader
Warnings - mentions of arranged marriage, suggestive comments, lots of fluff
(not spell checked sorry x)
What if you -
If you're really about to suggest that I sit on your lap, I will kill you.
Don't leave me here alone.
Balls had never been, nor ever would be, your thing.
The opulence that came with them was sickening, a waste of precious resources that could be put toward something more beneficial. The gold on display, the mountains of food that hardly anyone would touch that sat as a putrid reminder of power and wealth, and the stench of ale made your stomach churn with distaste.
You would forever curse your brother, Thesan, for giving you over to the Autumn Court, you understood that you had a duty to fulfil, and since you were the sister of one of the more liberal courts, with unmatched spiritual abilities, it meant that you were a high prize indeed.
You had long lost your usual clothing, red and gold loose fitting robes that still had the power to accentuate every feature you held lay dormant in your wardrobe and had been swapped out for tighter fitting garments in an arrangement of greens and browns and oranges. By order of Lady Autumn, of course.
There would be a day when her title would belong to you, and you always had to look the part.
It was a part you played well.
Marriage to Eris, the Heir of the Autumn Court, wasn't nearly as bad as you had expected it to be. It was lucky that your talents in spirituality were so advanced, and you were also lucky that his knowledge of your gifts was so little when you had first met.
Despite his cold exterior, you saw a small boy within him wanting more than anything to break free from the chains that bound him to his position. It was his only defence against his father. But, he knew that you could see through it, see through him in a way that no one else could and part of him was relieved to finally have someone who could understand him.
Things were still rocky, you struggled with their way of life, something Beron despised and spoke of frequently, saying he did not want you leading his court if you couldn't bend your morals and do what was needed. If turning your back on the people who needed you was too stiff, then you didn't want to be leading his court anyway.
But everything with Eris was good, more than good actually, you had actually come to care for him beyond the requirements of your marriage. Eris had moved your rooms opposite his own to have you closer to him, to have you speak him into newfound calm when his duties became too much; to have you closer to him so that he could soothe your clairvoyant episodes that pounced on you from nowhere.
It was meant to be a marriage of convenience, a marriage to forge new power and bonds and produce a litter of children who possessed both of your abilities. A new path for Autumn, a stronger path.
The clouds darkened on the horizon, the moon poked through their curls and illuminated them with a faint pale blue glow. Lanterns lined the garden paths below your window, Eris had made sure to give you the room with the best view, and you watched idly as high born nobles and invited guests to the nights festivities strolled down the cobbled stone paths arm in arm, pointing at the array of intricately carved white marble statues and fountains littered across the lawns, scattered between the hedges and lush flowerbeds.
Ladies swarmed you, tugging at your limbs and shimmying skirts up your legs before huffing and ripping them down again, tapping your calves to tell you to lift your feet so that they could try the next one. Lady Autumn ordered that racks upon racks of opulent dresses be wheeled into your chambers, it was important that you look your best in front of all of the nobles attending that evening, from Autumn and those from other courts.
Even Beron knew how powerful your opinion was to others, not like he would ever listen to it himself. You had been the one to accompany your brother to the High Lords meeting to find a path forward against Hybern. It was your grace and elegance that kept the meeting from boiling over since you were able to feel the emotions of others and force them to simmer down before they consumed the room. It was you who had been able to tell them all of Hyberns movements which no doubt gave them the edge they needed. It was you who saved dozens upon dozens of soldiers from all courts.
You had been the one to help Feyre with the complications with her pregnancy, you had been there for the birth of her son and had given a kernel of your own gift to keep her alive; it made you a very trusted ally to the Night Court, a friend. Helion wrote to you often asking for you opinions on research and inventions, even went as far as to ask for your input on some new policies he wanted to introduce to Day.
It was stupid to suggest that you wouldn't be the perfect High Lady.
Diplomatic. Gifted. Elegant. Poised.
And Eris adored every part of you that you decided to show him, he basked in it actually.
You weren't really paying attention as the ladies around you tugged at your hair and pulled another dress up your body, fitting it tightly around your breasts and hips before standing back and humming in approval. Then you looked.
An assortment of shimmering golds, burnt oranges and flecks of silver, all weaving between one another like the summer tides. It was sheer, enough to be endearing and elegant but not enough to appear indecent. There was a cut out half sphere below your breasts and the bodice flared upward like streaks of sunshine at the crack of dawn. Even you had to admit that it was a stunning piece indeed. Like a stained glass window glowing with dawns kiss.
"This is the one," your fingers brushed around your hips with a faint smile, your hair was unbound and simple, a perfect compliment to the other-worldly dress you adorned, and your makeup was a picture of dewy perfection, shimmers along your cheekbones and forehead, arched brows, glossed lip. "Thank you," you had dismissed the flock of women as soon as they strapped your shoes to your feet, taking a moment for yourself before you slipped from the room.
The quietness of the hallway was enough to tell you that Eris would already be in the ballroom, no doubt sassily quipping the other High Lords and Ladies with cold eyes and a stiff spine. An act that would melt under your presence.
You weren't wrong.
As soon as you had entered the room, it was encapsulated by you. Feyre and Mor rushed to greet you, stroking your hair and running their hands down your skirts, begging for you to tell them where had gotten it. Cassian bundled you into a boisterous embrace which earnt him a curt jab from Nesta for the inappropriateness, Azriel kissed your knuckles as did Rhys, and Helion kissed your cheek in greeting, muttering to you how beautiful you looked in a hushed tone.
No reaction compared to that of Eris however as he remained glued to his seat with lips agape as his russet orbs scoured your figure, the mere action of his eyes on you making heat rise to your cheeks.
Tables lined the room with benches on either side, all packed with goblets of wine and mugs of ale, platters of food scattered at intricately measured intervals. Only Beron and Lady Autumn sat at the head of the hall, the latter of which examined you with approval.
Everyone had floated about you, stealing your attention from the one you desired to give it to. From Rhys asking you, jokingly, to revolt against Autumn and find sanctuary in Velaris, to Thesan pulling you to the side to inquire if you were being treated well. Helion had updated you on the policies you had so gracefully aided him in implementing, and you found a moment to catch up with Kallias and Viviane.
Then you made your way over to Eris who was wrapped up in a conversation with Lucien and Elain, whose gaze jolted from cold to warm in a split second when he saw your dress glistening in the corner of his eye, "Hello, Embers," his voice was as smooth as freshly cracked open whisky as he prodded you with the nickname he had given you, he thought you glowed, not brightly, but like embers on a dying fire, low and warm.
Eris was extremely proud to call you his wife, not only were you clearly beautiful, but you had a heart of molten gold, people sought you out for comfort and aid, you were graceful and poised, and could change the world with your bare hands if you wished it. It was what he needed, a chance of a real future with the woman he was falling in love with.
He couldn't blame you for your feelings toward him, you didn't exactly have a choice in the marriage but you had tried to make the most of it, and you had let him in and spent more time with him away from the duties required of you. Eris thought that you had finally started to feel a certain way toward him as well, from the faint shine in your eyes when you looked at him to the real laughter that sliced through the fogged atmosphere when he quipped something to you. You made him melt, you made him be who he always wanted to be.
"Hello," your voice was as soft as drizzled honey and your hair fell over your shoulders as you leaned forward to place a kiss on his cheek, a necessary act to display your strength as a couple.
Eris felt your eyes trail down his chest and arms, the open collared cream shirt and chestnut brown jacket and pants; he had styled his hair the way you loved it, tamed but still with a playfulness to it, tousled slightly as if he had been stood on the balcony in the wind for a few moments. "Do you like it?" Eris motioned to his suit with that gleam in his eye that made your knees weak, it was certainly a good thing that he wasn't an empath like you, otherwise he'd know his effect on you and no doubt tease you for it.
Just because Eris couldn't feel your emotion doesn't mean that someone else couldn't read you like a book.
You're blushing, a voice infiltrated your mind and you did well to keep a stoic face against Rhys' shit-eating smirk he was no doubt wearing from his seat across the bench from your husband, with his arm loosely wrapped around Feyre's waist, sipping from his goblet with a teasing glint in his eye. Someone might say you might actually feel something for the man.
Ignoring the voice in your head, you spoke, "I love it, we're basically matching."
You'll definitely be matching when both of your clothes are on the floor tonight.
Go fuck yourself, Rhys.
I don't need to. Not when I have my lovely mate.
The walls in your mind flew up then, trapping his talons against the roof of your consciousness with such force that the High Lord visibly winced and rubbed his temple tenderly.
"You look angelic," Eris stood before you, taking your hand in his and pressing his lips against the back of your hand, dipping low and peering at you through his lashes, making no effort to mask the desire in his emotions.
"Thank you," it came out as a whisper and he placed your hand back to your side, sitting down again beside his brother, allowing you to glance along the table which housed not only Eris and Lucien, but also Elain, Rhys, Feyre, Nesta, Cassian, Azriel, Helion, and your brother, meaning there was no space for you, "I suppose I'll go and sit with Kallias and Viviane," you picked up your skirts to turn away when Eris' hand shot out and secured around your wrist.
Eris' eyes glowed in the candlelight, you could see the flames flickering in his russet orbs that had you in a constant chokehold, "What if you-"
"If you're really about to suggest that I sit on your lap, I will kill you," Azriel choked on his wine and coughed as Rhys and Cassian howled in laughter, even Eris chuckled and ran a hand through his hair at your words, standing to tower over you and cup your face in his hand.
"Perhaps later," he smirked and you visibly blushed at the words, even Eris couldn't miss it and he stroked a thumb over your rosed cheek.
In defence, you quipped, "Maybe I'll go back to my chambers then," the words flew from your mouth and you only realised how they sounded when Eris' focus darkened, the tension between you both was palpable to the point that even Azriel let out a whoosh of air he didn't realise he was holding in his lungs.
"So tempting," he took a step closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and speaking a low, rough tone, "Don't leave me here alone, you know I don't do well without you."
"Fine," you strained and he grinned victoriously before ordering his brother and Elain to scooch down slightly to make room for you, and you slotted beside Eris like the final piece to his puzzle, thanking him for the goblet of wine you had taken from his offering fingers and looking upward at Rhys and Feyre who both sent you a knowing glance.
Knocking on the doors of your mind, you allowed Rhys to slip in, doing your best to stay distracted against Eris' hand on your hip that sent fire coursing through your veins and heat pooling between your thighs.
I've never known him to be like this, you know.
Like what?
Rhys' eyes flickered to Eris in examination before finding you again whilst Feyre kept the heir ignorant to the conversation between you and her mate.
Soft. Caring. He loves you, Y/N.
Well, it's a good thing I love him too then.
Rhys smirked, raising his goblet to you to which you clinked against your own, sipping the spiced wine and smiling with happiness at his words.
Eris sighed and turned to you, placing a kiss to your cheek, allowing his lips to graze against your cheekbones and his breath to fan down your neck. The rest of the room had moved on, wrapped up in one another, wrapped up in the ale and music, leaving you and Eris alone and untouchable in your little bubble. His eyes scanned you, sketching every part of you onto the canvas within his mind, "Your presence has impacted me so deeply that I'm convinced that if we never met then something would feel missing," he rested his forehead against your own and his hand gripped your waist as his gaze bore into you, "Don't leave me alone, don't ever leave me," a breathless plea that stole your heart.
"I will never leave you, Eris. I will be here to watch all of your dreams come true, I promise."
Flames danced in his eyes and he became unbothered by who could be watching, "They already are," his finger stroked a line up the curve of your throat as he lifted your chin up, wasting no time in pressing his lips to yours in something you could only call ethereal, so tender but passionate that you felt your heart burst with golden light in your chest.
Eris smirked against your lips, a knowing thing, like he knew exactly what had just happened, pulling away, you gasped as your hand ghosted over the fabric of your heart, "You knew?"
"From the moment we met at that meeting in Dawn," his nose brushed against yours, "You were too busy helping Thesan and keeping Tamlin under control to notice, but I saw you, and I knew I needed you."
"You never said anything."
"How could I?" Eris pressed a kiss to your nose, "You had to fall for me on your own, I couldn't influence that."
You inhaled his scent, of crackling firewood and spiced oranges and sighed, you curled your fingers around the lapels of his jacket and kissed him again, more forcefully, and luckily for you both, the room hadn't noticed your infatuation due to Cassian's well played distraction to give you both a moment, one that you needed.
"I need to get you out of here before I take you on this table," his voice possessively growled and it made you shudder in intense delight.
Rhys watched from across the way as Eris took your hand in his own and pulled you from the room, smiling at the large grin on your face and the faint giggles passing through your lips as he saw the silhouette of Eris flinging you over his shoulder cascaded in shadow onto the white stone floor.
If anyone deserved true happiness, a life of wonder and love, it was you, and it was something Rhys believed Eris was now fully capable of providing for you.
Author's Note
Back from Paris in love with the idea of love so expect lots of fluff coming your way x
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There’s a problem with the way Sarah J Maas depicts physical abuse/intimidation in ACOTAR
The fact that Tamlin’s physical abuse of Feyre being communicated through a magical/emotional outburst is problematic in the sense that it undercuts the reason why abuse happens. Incorporating magical concepts into a portrayal of domestic violence muddles the issue at hand and makes the abuse an accidental consequence of involuntary magical impulses as opposed to a deliberate tactic of intimidation and control. This issue is exacerbated by the fact that Feyre too, experiences an uncontrollable magical/emotional outburst during the High Lords meeting due to Beron’s provocative remarks. To be clear, I don’t view Tamlin as detestable or as an irredeemable abuser, but the text very much does. What I want to comment on is the problematic framing of Tamlin’s actions that are meant to characterize him as an abusive partner to Feyre.
So, I’m going to compare and contrast a scene from ACOMAF with a scene from ACOWAR, both of which depict magical outbursts that are brought on by intense emotional stress or rage.
ACOMAF
Here, Feyre objects to Tamlin’s protective measures he had enacted earlier. She expresses how suffocated she feels and how she wishes that she had the breathing room to cope with her new reality and that Tamlin’s actions are making her suffer. Furthermore, Feyre introduces her doubt in their engagement and expresses her reservations. Tamlin then goes blank, reacting explosively with his power blowing the room into splinters.
This is a good first step towards characterizing Tamlin as an abusive partner (despite the leaps it took to get there) But, where it goes wrong is the emphasis the text puts on Tamlin's blank expression and subsequent magical response. He loses control momentarily, but the issue about this portrayal is that abuse is not "losing control" or accidental, it is a conscious decision made by the abuser. But here, Maas makes it seem as though Tamlin really was not in control, that the heightened emotions made him react that way.
It gives Tamlin an out and consequently undercuts the message Maas is trying to communicate. Bringing magic into the scene takes away Tamlin's agency and removes a portion of his culpability in harming Feyre.
This scene should not have been Tamlin simply losing control of his temper, if Maas wanted to enhance her abuse narrative, she should have taken Tamlin’s temper and had him weaponize it. Intimidation is a possibility, one that would work towards making Feyre feel scared about voicing ver true feelings on their relationship. But Maas doesn’t go all the way, she doesn’t lean into that interpretation and instead plays it straight.
This is also undercut by Tamlin's second magical outburst in ACOWAR. Feyre intentionally provoking him does nothing for Maas's abuse narrative and actively undermines it by strengthening the idea that Tamlin's destructive outbursts really were caused by overwhelming emotions. Once again, it gives Tamlin a way out and dilutes the message.
The notion of an involuntary magical outburst is applied again in ACOWAR
Beron’s inflammatory remarks provoke an immediate reaction from Feyre, she goes blank so to speak, and can no longer focus due to the intensity of her emotions. This manifests in a fiery outburst that throws the meeting into disarray and injures the Lady of Autumn accidentally.
She’s so angry that she can’t think straight or logically, and it manifests in an attack. Though this isn't exactly the same, Feyre's "blinding fury" is so powerful that it cannot be restrained and ends up harming an innocent party. This moment strengthens the case for magic manifesting strong emotions as external attacks, characterizing it to some extent as involuntary.
Ultimately, the magical element removes the agency of the individuals in question. It frames their violence not as a conscious act designed to inspire fear, but as a genuinely accidental reaction to intense emotions. This is why the "Tamlin is an evil abuser" narrative is so weak. Because it dilutes the severity of the violence and makes it seem as though these kinds of emotional outbursts are an element of possessing magical powers. It gestures at a larger issue of Maas picking and choosing when and where she wants to apply real-world standards to her characters' morality. It makes events less believable and hypocritical, making allowances for certain characters, but condemning others without adequate narrative set-up.
This is why Maas is fundamentally incapable of recognizing the abusive dynamic she constructs with Feysand. It is a combination of double standards, authorial bias and a misunderstanding of how abuse manifests.
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