here’s a Neris snippet because I’m bored and crave external validation. forcibly tagging @arinbelle as usual 🥰
Fae custom dictated that Eris and Nesta walk to the altar together, but Eris had been adamant that Nesta’s human traditions were allowed space during the ceremony. He never failed to take her breath away with his thoughtfulness, and as she approached Lucien just outside the bridal suite, she was immensely grateful that she’d have someone she trusted to give her away. In another life, it might have been some other male — her father, Azriel, hell, even Rhysand — but she was pleased beyond measure that the youngest Vanserra had agreed to her offer.
“You look…” Lucien trailed off, his jaw dropping slightly as he took Nesta in. “Eris is one lucky male.”
“Don’t let my sister hear you say that,” Nesta teased. She looked over him in return, appreciating how his emerald and gold tunic brought out the best in his coloring. “You look handsome.”
He chuckled as she took his offered arm, the two of them slowly making their way to the ballroom where the ceremony would take place. “Are you nervous?”
“No,” she answered immediately, but then she added, “Well… perhaps I’m a little worried about embarrassing myself on the way to the altar. But not about actually marrying him, no.”
“If I let you embarrass yourself, Eris would have my head,” he responded. “It’s in my best interest to ensure your safe travels, my lady.”
“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes but made sure he caught the grin that followed. “You know good and well that you’ve always been his favorite.”
“Until you came along,” he grumbled good-naturedly.
Nesta took a deep breath as they came to a stop in front of the ballroom doors. “I can’t believe this is my life.”
“Believe it, because you deserve it,” Lucien told her. She had to hold back tears at the sincerity in his voice — she couldn’t remember the last time she believed something like that, not until Eris had wormed his way into her life — but the way Lucien said it made her want to believe him.
“Thank you,” she whispered, squeezing his arm just as the doors magically swung open before them.
Nesta hadn’t realized just how many fae would be in attendance at her wedding. She’d left the guest list mostly to Eris and Solenne, her only requests being Elain, Gwyn, and Emerie, and a shocked gasp spilled from her lips as she took in what must have been hundreds of fae. Everyone had their eyes on her and Lucien as they made their way down the aisle, and he was the only thing that kept her from toppling over until she got her first glimpse of Eris.
He looked resplendent in his Autumn finery. He wore a white and gold tunic, white pants with a similar gold pattern down the sides, and a shining pair of black boots. A shimmering gold cloak was fastened around his shoulders, the same shade as a crown of leaves settled into his red hair. He looked every bit the prince she’d spent countless nights dreaming of as a young girl, and as she met his eyes from across the room, she subtly pinched herself to confirm this was truly happening.
Nesta let herself smile at the awed expression on his face, the way he had to place one gloved hand on the ceremonial sword belted at his waist to stop himself from reaching out to her too early. Everyone else faded away as she took a deep breath and focused on making her way to him.
“You are the most beautiful female in all of Prythian,” Eris breathed once she was close enough.
“And you are the luckiest male in all the realms,” she teased. Instead of quipping something back, he just nodded his agreement, thanked Lucien for walking her down the aisle, and took her hands in his.
Nesta could feel the warmth in Eris’ hands even through his gloves, and she wondered if he knew just how reassuring the feeling was. Judging from the way he was staring at her, she thought perhaps he did.
tags: @dustjacketmusings | @a-court-of-valkyries | @rarephloxes | @jaskierismyrideordie | @vidalinav @ssardothien | @theladyofbloodshed | @lyzriel | @my-fan-side | @iamreykylotrash | @starlightorstarfire | @meher-sumedha | @sv0430 | @wannawriteyouabook | @separatist-apologist
also @gimme-mor and @unhealthyfanobsession if you wanna see this idk sksksks
Nesta couldn’t recall the last time her birthday had truly been celebrated. Over the past several years, it hadn’t taken priority over the other vast changes in her life.
Ironic, she supposed, as birthdays marked the passage of time.
It seemed as though even those who did know her birthday hadn’t bothered to remember.
There was little use mentioning it or bringing it up herself to her sisters. She’d rather her birthday be glanced over or forgotten as opposed to being seen as petulant or petty - causing any new strain or tension between the three of them.
They’d only recently begun to heal their familial wounds after Nesta had accepted Eris’ proposal and taken her place alongside him as his wife.
The healing could not have even started had she stayed in Velaris; pretending to be a part of the Inner Circle and forcing herself to mask her trauma. Had she stayed.. Nesta trembled at the thought. She could only assume they would have followed through with forcing her to work through her experiences their own way. Their, hereby meaning Rhysand and his followers.
It had been a different experience entirely at the Autumn Court.
Processing trauma, it seems, was not uncommon in Autumn. There were healers of physical, mental, and emotional ailments. Nesta assumed that was how the Lady of Autumn was able to stay somewhat sane during her union to Beron.
The Lady was still distant, often times Nesta found her staring out upon the breathtaking scenes of Autumn. Yet she was attentive to Nesta’s own healing.
Admittedly, she would have had a significantly more difficult time healing and processing her thoughts, emotions, and experiences without Eris’ mother. She had become a great comfort.
Eris, too, had become a comfort and trustworthy foundation.
But that was a few years ago.
Nesta now found herself comfortably as Eris’ wife. After their union, they agreed to start as friends and companions - allowing their relationship to naturally flourish as they became more besotted with one another. During the years time, they had formed a close bond.
They had begun to learn so many nuances and subtle details of one another. They learned to read one another and understand the other.
He had asked once about her birthday.
Eris couldn’t recall the last time his birthday had truly been celebrated, either. His mother never forgot, naturally. She would provide him with a gentle reminder and a small gift over the years. Lucien, too, would send a small token of recognition every other year or so.
Since their union, Eris had never forgotten Nesta’s birthday.
No lavish celebration, no decadent gifts. She did not want that for her birthday. Nesta made that abundantly clear. She didn’t mind other opulent celebrations - especially when magnificent galas were held in their honor. Yet never for her birthday.
In a similar fashion to his mother, Eris would provide Nesta with a meaningful gift, always heartfelt and well thought out. He would enclose a letter within the pages of the book she was currently reading, as well as a vibrant red, orange, or yellow leaf he would find on his walks. Often the letter would highlight her strengths, the countless reasons for which he admired her, the ways in which he adored her, loved her, cherished her, respected her.
On occasion, the letter would not be a letter at all. It would be a deliciously worded piece of erotic fantasy where Eris and Nesta were the main characters.
Nesta kept every letter. Nesta kept every leaf.
She couldn’t recall the last time her birthday had been traditionally “celebrated” with a large gathering, far too many presents, and a feeling of emptiness at the end of the celebration.
She also found, with some amusement, she was beginning to have difficulty recalling the time she hadn’t felt so unconditionally loved, respected, and seen for who exactly she was - just as she was - by the one who mattered most to her.
A fic about Azriel and Eris hooking up in the Autumn Court when Az happens to go for collecting info abt Koschei (I don't really care about that but I just want to see them banter and shoot words at each other and somehow end up making out -dagger to the throat would be very good )
I got you! This is in the Night Court, but here's a little Azris scene (my first time writing them, please be gentle):
& & &
One thrust, and Eris will bleed out. It’s only this knowledge that keeps Azriel in control of himself.
He’d caught Eris sneaking around the river estate, headed for Rhys’ office, and the heir to Autumn wouldn’t reveal his objective. Naturally, Azriel had become convincing as only he knew how, and Truth-Teller rests at the hollow of Eris’ throat.
Still, the prig has a smirk on his face. Eris will never not believe he has the upper hand until each finger is removed.
“Can’t you blast me with one of those jewels you wear?” he asks, his russet eyes meeting Azriel’s. “This is a new jacket and I’d hate to get blood on it.”
“Tell me what you were doing,” Azriel says, trying not to grind his teeth, “and I’ll let you choose the manner of your death.”
“And then your High Lord will be forced to put you down like the bad dog you are. But tell me, bat, how would my blood smell, once you’ve spilled it?”
This is a new game, a shift in Eris’ strategy, but for some reason Azriel breathes in deep, considering the question.
“You’d smell of iron, like everyone does. And the smell of dying leaves. Musky and sweet.”
He can’t read Eris’ expression, only realizes that the other male has moved when their mouths collide. How Eris managed to dodge his knife, Azriel will never know, but it slips from his fingers and on to the carpet. Azriel does not bend to pick it up.
He’s too distracted by the taste of Eris’ mouth, the wine he drank at dinner combined with a spicy scent that’s all his own, and Eris’ teeth, biting his bottom lip only enough to pull an involuntary groan from him.
This is wrong. Eris is is sworn enemy for a thousand excellent reasons, and yet all Azriel can think of is his fucking perfect courtier’s posture, the elegance of his hands, each of his sneering remarks, leading up to this moment.
Azriel should push him away, but instead he threads his fingers through Eris’ copper hair and tugs, a reminder that he’s the one in control, the warrior who could smash every one of this princeling’s bones, but Eris only whispers, you like to be in control, do you, and begins a new onslaught on Azriel’s mouth.
When his lips move to Azriel’s neck, to the whorls of his Illyrian tattoos, he forgets entirely what brought him to this hallway in the first place. He’s never been gone like this, not for anybody.
It’s wrong for a thousand reasons, and still, when Eris pulls Azriel into the nearest closet and then reaches for the fastenings of his leather armor, he only turns to give the heir of Autumn better access.
summary: A story between the forgotten Vanserra sister and her mate, the shadowsinger of the Night Court.
"The Autumn Court was silent. Completely and utterly silent, save for the ear-splitting screams coming from the Lady of Autumn’s bed chambers as she gave birth to the seventh and eighth children of the Vanserra line."
pairing: azriel x vanserra sister!oc
word count: 1.9k
series warnings: graphic sexual assault, mental illness, graphic violence, falling in love, soft sex, mentions/recalling of past rape, right person-wrong time, tragic love story, fluff.
notes: hehe. the way its actually hard for me to write this because of how sad it is. like im scared to finish this because then that means i'll have broken my own heart. i want some feedback here before i begin posting on ao3 and wattpad so please leave comments and reblog <3.
The Autumn Court was silent. Completely and utterly silent, save for the ear-splitting screams coming from the Lady of Autumn’s bed chambers as she gave birth to the seventh and eighth children of the Vanserra line. After the birth of her first two sons - Eris and Damon - Beron had stopped showing up and had even ripped away her accommodations in the Healer's temple. Instead, he ordered for her to be confined to her room during the process, from the beginning of the labor until she has pushed the child out.
The brothers, however, went. Sat outside her room for hours as they listened to her screams. Beron had granted them this small reprieve, to welcome their new sibling into the world. Eris had watched it happen six times, each time harder and more complicated than the last. She had never come close to dying, thankfully.
Eris wasn’t sure he could say the same about this birth.
“That bastard is going to kill her, isn’t he?” Aliath, the youngest boy, asked. He was only six years of age. And at a time like this, Eris didn't have the energy to correct his language. This was the closest time frame in which two siblings had been born, the rest of the boys had decades, centuries even, spanning between them. His question went ignored as Odessa screamed again. You could vaguely hear the sounds of the midwives' attempts to calm her nerves by offering her medicinal herbs, ones they knew she would refuse anyways.
“Probably,” Damon sneered as he kicked a rock with the toe of his boot.
“What do you care?” Neels asked. He was the third-born son, not too useless to be forgotten, but not as important to be cared about. He and Finnagan - the fourth born - took after their father the most with their appetites for senseless violence and destroying anything good that came their way.
“Neels, he’s a child.” Johan chastised his older brother.
“And?” Eris rolled his eyes. Useless, callous bastards, the lot of them.
“You’ve been awfully quiet brother, what’s your wager? Do you think it's our dear mother's time to finally leave this world?” Finnagan asked him, that hellish smirk sitting forever plastered on his face. And just when Eris thought he would make it through the conversation unbothered.
“I wish she had died during your birth only to save us the misfortune of having to speak with you now.” He didn’t mean it...most of it. He did wish Finnagan a long and painful death, but not at the expense of his mother. His, because he, Aliath and Damon seemed to be the only ones who gave a shit about her. Johan cared more than the remaining brothers, but he kept his distance.
It wasn’t until Eris had said that did he realize that it had gone quiet, the rest of the boys seeming to catch onto that as well. He could feel the nervousness and possible regret as they waited for a sound to be heard from that room.
Maybe she truly had died.
Finn and Damon must have thought the same if their taut muscles were anything to go by.
A collective sigh of relief came from them when they heard the cries of a baby clang through the room. The door opened not a second later, the midwives scurrying quickly out of the room. That was also custom, for the women overseeing her to leave directly after delivery. Beron didn’t want to give her any more comfort than he had to, instead forcing her to wash and clean the babies by herself.
Aliath rushed in first, his little legs running to his mother's bedside. He tried to cover the fear on his face when he saw her, his body stopping short. She was pale, so pale. Blood stained her once white covers, legs, and arms. Her breaths were coming in in short, shallow pants.
“Mommy?” He asked, moving to get into bed with her.
“Get away from her.” Eris’s voice carried through the room. Aliath moved back quickly, stepping to the side so that Eris could inspect her. Her pulse was still there, and her chest was moving.
He didn’t know for how much longer.
“The twins.” His voice shot to Odessa at her barely audible words. “Where are they?” She questioned, weakly holding Eris’s shirt.
“What the fuck?” Damon said from the other side of her chambers.
“Holy shit,” Neels said, standing over the two cribs with the rest of his brothers.
Aliath had joined them as well, awe written all over his features as he looked at his new siblings.
“There’s two of them.” He said dumbly, reaching into the crib on the right. The babe was wailing, its tiny hands balled into fists as he cried and cried. Aliath cooed at him, making faces that were doing nothing to calm it down.
Him. The baby on the right was male.
The one on the left was quiet, suspiciously quiet.
“Eris,” Johan called. Eris didn’t hear him as he tried to soothe their mother, pressing a damp cloth left by one of the healers to her head.
“Eris!” He repeated, louder this time.
“What.” He seethed.
Eris was scared. Odessa had never looked this terrible after a birth before, there was always a small kernel of light flickering in her as she beheld her new child. But now, there was nothing. No happiness or light shown in those eyes. Only exhaustion.
“She’s not breathing.”
“Who’s not breathing?” Eris asked.
“The child, Eris. She’s not breathing.”
Eris strode across the room, pushing his brother aside as he looked at the little one.
A girl. Odessa had given birth to a baby girl.
Beron would kill her. Hell, he’d kill both of them for this.
Maybe it would be better to not try and help her, allow her a premature escape from the hell that would be her life if they tried to revive her.
No. No, he would not think like that.
He had never been more thankful for the time he had spent in this bedroom on these very occasions, watching as the healers helped his mother. Aliath had been born like the girl as well, still until one of the females had revived him.
He began to gently press on her chest with two fingers, before bending down to blow oxygen into her mouth. He repeated those same steps multiple times. Give the child oxygen, then tap her chest. Next, he tapped her feet gently, flicking her skin with his pointer finger.
Again, and again, and again, until he was sure that there was nothing he could do to save her.
A soft breath, a whimper, and then a scream.
Eris nearly sunk to the floor in relief as the baby girl began throwing a fit much like her brother in the next crib. Tears rushed to his eyes as he smiled, grabbing the girl from her crib to tuck her into his chest.
A sister, he had a sister.
He let himself be happy for a moment. Let himself think of raising a girl, allowing her to grow up happy and live a life full of happiness. He knew it was foolish to think such things, but for a few seconds, he let himself dream.
Johan had picked up the boy and had already placed him in Odessa’s arms. Eris walked over to her, the rest of his brothers following them like a hoard of seagulls.
A watery gasp left her mouth when both of her babies were swaddled in her arms. She hung her head as she cried. Tears of happiness or regret, Eris couldn’t tell. But he stayed and watched, they all did, as they all came to terms with what this meant.
“Do you have names?” Neels asked, a rare moment to even address his mother.
“Lucien,” She said as she looked towards the boy.
“And Freya.” The Ancient Goddess of Love.
That was enough for Neels. He left the room after hearing the names, Finn and Damon following him. The three no doubt were going to the throne room to tell Beron of the news. While Eris wished his mother could have some peace after this strenuous birth, there wasn’t much he could do to stop them.
“Congratulations, mother,” Johan said before he began to leave the room.
“I want to hold them,” Aliath whined from the side of the bed, standing on his toes to try and get another glimpse at his two siblings.
“Mother is very tired, you can see them tomorrow when she’s better.” He looked like he was going to retort, but the look on Eris’ face made him reconsider. With a small nod and a sad look thrown towards his mother, he left the room with Johan.
“I should have killed them both.” Odessa cried once she was alone with her eldest. Eris looked at his mother in alarm, his eyes widening as he stood from the chair he had dragged over.
“What the fuck did you just say?” He looked at the children. Would she kill them if he left the room? Why? Why would she say such a terrible thing? To kill innocent children. She couldn’t- she wasn’t capable.
“I’m sorry, my children.” She said, her thumb stroking Freya’s face.
“What is going on?” Eris asked, feeling like the scared little kid his brother was.
Eris had to grasp the arms of the chair he was sitting in to keep from falling out of it as his mother opened her heart to him. Her decades-long affair with the High Lord of Day that resulted in the conceivement of these two children.
“Beron will kill you when he finds out the truth,” Eris said as he looked at Freya. He had asked to hold her halfway through his mother’s tale, knowing it would hinder his ability to lash out if he were holding one of his siblings.
“He won’t find out,” Odessa said, shooting a rare, sharp look in Eris’ direction. He knew what she was asking. Would her favorite son betray her to gain favor with his father and her bastard husband? Eris knew the answer, had known the answer the very second he had laid eyes on the children.
“He won’t.” Eris agreed.
“You couldn’t have been more careful though. Lucien. Really?” At least she hadn’t gone and named Freya something that meant day.
“Helion picked the name Freya. He told me that if he ever had a girl, he’d give her that name.” Eris ate his words.
“Are you going to tell him?”
“No. He can never know about them.” Eris nodded. To keep them safe, Eris knowing was already a risk, but if she told Helion...who knows what would happen. He could claim the children as his own, start a civil war that would be more trouble than it's worth for the birthright of two children.
“You have to protect them.” Eris knew that too.
“Freya. You have to - keep her from Beron as long as you can. Please, my son. You are the only one.” Aliath would most likely help him when he got older, if Beron didn’t corrupt his good heart before then.
He would try. He would try his best to give these children a childhood that wouldn’t haunt them for the rest of their immortal lives. He would be there for them when they cried, listen as they told him stories, comfort them when they were chased from sleep by nightmares of his father.
He would do all of it.