#rufus vanserra

[vanserraseris]

END OF EPILOGUE II - This is set sometime after ACOWAR but before ACOSF. Prince of Ashes is officially finished, and it was so great to share it! Thank you, Ruchi, for everything <3

holy shit oh my god okay okay its happening oh my god everyone just stay calm everybody just FUCKING CALM DOWN

in all srsness tho thank you so much for this experiences. poa was genuinely such a good and well written fic and im honored that you shared it with us :) please feel free whenever to drop by either inbox and say hi, or if you make a tumblr/discord (there is an azris server!). ilysm!!! <3

without further ado:

Prince of Ashes. Epilogue II.

Eris lifted a pale hand. Slender, unscarred fingers danced across the spines of ancient books as he walked among the small library’s mahogany shelves. The Forest House had always been lovely, with its shining marble floors and its carved wooden furniture, but the Lady of Autumn’s personal library, Eris thought, had always been the loveliest of its rooms.

When Eris was young, he would sit in one of the big cushioned chairs by the windows and stare out at the falling autumn leaves as his mother read aloud to him. It was a room that was cozy and quiet and peaceful, a room the High Lord never saw any reason to enter. The small library became a place that Eris and his brothers would run to if they needed a moment of peace. It was easy to find hope in the pages of its many books, at least when they had all been much too young to know any better.

Perhaps it had been because Beron Vanserra had never particularly liked his wife’s library that her children had all come to love it so much.

“What’s on your mind?” The Lady of Autumn asked her eldest son, her voice so soft Eris almost hadn’t heard her. She was sitting right by the stone fireplace, her skirts so close to the flames that if the forest-green fabric had been sewn in any other court, it would have been ruined by the embers.

“Treason,” Eris replied, taking an adventure novel off of the towering shelf in front of him.

“So then nothing is amiss,” Rufus mumbled from where he was sitting. Eris watched as his younger brother managed to make flipping the page of his book look obnoxious.

“Do not joke about such things.”

Eris would have rolled his eyes at his mother’s remark had he not known how much she worried over this sort of thing.

The most harmless of actions and words were punishable in Autumn, so he simply sighed as he put the book in his hands back to its proper place. “Why am I here, mother?” Eris asked, waving his hand in a vague gesture. It had been a long time, even before Amarantha’s rule, since Beron had wanted Eris in the Forest House. It was strange, Eris thought, that his father would want him there now.

“You have better things to do?” Rufus looked up from his book, raising an auburn brow at his older brother. His smile was a knowing one.

Eris glared at him, but didn’t bother replying.

His mother shifted in her seat, closing her own book gently and placing it on the low table in front of her. The golden leaf-shaped combs that held back her hair glittered in the light of the evening sun streaming into the room through the windows.

“Perhaps Beron thinks it best for all of you to be in one place, especially now that Hybern is no longer a threat.” Eris knew that was unlikely considering how all of the Vanserras in one place for more than just brief periods of time was usually disastrous.

Rufus snorted in a way that was not befitting of a prince. “Perhaps he’s worried Eris is planning a military coup, is what you mean.”

“Why?” Rufus grimaced as their mother settled her gaze on him. “Why would Beron be worried about that?”

Rufus looked troubled for a moment, choosing his words carefully before he replied. “The army is loyal to the one who leads them.” He shrugged, trying but failing at upholding an unbothered expression. “Father doesn’t really lead them. If I were constantly worrying about which of my sons was going to try and kill me in my sleep, it would definitely be the one with an entire army at his back.”

The Lady of Autumn turned her head suddenly, staring at Eris, embers flashing in her russet eyes. “Tell me you are not.”

Eris crossed his arms, “I am not.”

“You cannot,” she said rather sharply.

“It’s good to know you think I’m capable, mother.”

She clenched her jaw, straightened the wrinkles of her skirts. “The Royal Guard is loyal to the High Lord.”

And Maddox was the guard’s captain. The words remained unspoken as Eris shook his head, “I’m not planning a military coup.”

She nodded, red embers in her eyes as she spoke. “I’ve been meaning to ask something of you.” Eris stiffened. With her words, he was reminded of a time so many years ago, of a vow he’d once given, and of a promise he’d broken. The Lady of Autumn continued, “What have you done that has angered your father so very much?”Eris shook his head, his father had seemed much more irritated as of late, much more frustrated with his sons and his wife.

In the past few days he’d done a number of things that would make his father absolutely livid, but he was fairly certain the High Lord had not learned of them. He’d spoken to Lucien, which went better than Eris had expected but not as well as he’d hoped. He’d managed to read some of Beron’s private correspondence to one of the former human queens, which was troubling but not yet an immediate problem.

He’d also spent the night before last in Micah’s bed, which was an entirely selfish decision, but he’d promised himself he wouldn’t be doing something like that again. “Nothing,” he said.

“For once, Eris, you could just tell the truth.” The way she spoke reminded Eris very much of the woman from his childhood. The Lady of Autumn had belonged to one of the strongest, oldest, and most vicious families in Prythian, a fact even Eris seemed to forget.

Eris still thought she was a force of nature, but Beron had spent centuries taming her fire. He often wondered what his mother might have been like had she married someone else.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, mother.” He grabbed one of the many books off the shelf and threw himself onto the nearest armchair.

She hummed, “Then I suppose you haven’t allied yourself with the Day Court, too tired to simply wait for the crown.”

The sconces that lined the walls flared, a response to her clear displeasure. Eris rolled his eyes, “You really think I’d ally myself with that useless, self-important librarian?” To be entirely fair to both his parents, Eris had briefly considered using Lucien’s parentage to force Helion into an alliance. He had decided to never mention it to his mother.

“I think that Beron has convinced Maddox of your plans to kill us all and put yourself on the throne.” The many books rattled slightly on their shelves. “Did you know that Beron no longer cares one way or another whether Maddox brings him your head?”

“Cauldron,” Rufus muttered, setting his book on the table in a way that would surely ruin its spine. “Fucking hells.”

“Mother—”

“I will not lose another son because of him.” The last word was nearly a snarl.

Rufus placed a gentle hand on their mother’s shoulder, “Eris will fix this.”

Eris sighed, “I am not planning to kill you all and put myself on the throne.” He couldn’t. Eris looked at his younger brothers and remembered the children that would run to grab hold of his hand, remembered the children that would sit next to him at the dinner table, remembered the children that would clamber onto Eris’s chair as he worked at his desk.

He still felt an overwhelming urge to throttle them most of the time, though. Eris wondered if they looked at him and saw the older brother who had read books to them, remembered the older brother who had taught them how to winnow, remembered the older brother who had tried to shield them from Beron’s cruelties. Eris knew Rufus did, and he sometimes felt as though Maddox and Priam did as well.

“We must kill him,” the Lady of Autumn said, sitting up in her seat.

The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire next to them. Eris had never before heard his mother say it out loud. He always figured she’d thought about it often, but whenever Eris had mentioned it to her, she’d always asked him to speak about anything else.

“Kill the High Lord?” Rufus asked, shocked.

“This court will never mourn him,” she said, flames in her skirts. “And neither will we.”

Eris leaned closer to his mother, “I might have lied when I said I wasn’t planning anything.” He had the good sense to look slightly ashamed.

She nodded, “We must work together, with Maddox and Priam.”

Eris shook his head, “The others do not trust me.”

“They trust me,” she assured him.

“Are we really talking about treason?” Rufus ran a hand through his hair, but the expression on his face was not one of concern. He looked more surprised than anything.

“Try and keep up, Rufus, darling.” There were embers flashing in her eyes, more light to her than Eris had seen in centuries. There was a light flush on her cheeks, her hair bright as blood.

“I have not planned a kind death for him,” Eris warned. He was horrible, really, for wanting to make his father’s death as painful as possible.

“I would not have expected otherwise,” said his mother, golden flames in her eyes. Eris was certain those same golden flames were dancing in his eyes as well.

Eris smiled at her, his first genuine smile in decades, “I have waited a very long time for my vengeance.”

Eris watched as his mother lifted her shoulder in a shrug, as she returned his smile. “What is vengeance, Eris, if not justice taken by your own hand?”

#eris vanserra #fanfic #autumn court #beron vanserra #lucien vanserra #lady vanserra #the lady of the autumn court #helion x lady of autumn #helion x lady vanserra #helion #fanfiction #vanserra brothers #acotar #sjm #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames

[vanserraseris]

END - There’s the apology azris oneshot. It doesn’t really have a title, Flames and Shadows is basic but it’s all I’ve got. I think Eris and Az would be great enemies to reluctant friends to lovers idk. Also, Eris at this point has sort of just been dragged into the ic friend group but still remains an asshole. It is what it is. Hope you enjoy it!!!

YOU HAVE NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE but this was INCREDIBLE. 

Also i LOVE the idea of eris reluctantly being dragged into the ic

Anyway. Here it is in full:

Azriel had been working with Eris for months, he’d trusted the spoiled prince to get them safely out of harm’s way, to take them to a secure location. He’d been expecting Eris to winnow them to his personal home, but as they materialized in the unfamiliar space, Azriel realized it was the first time he was seeing the other male’s room. With a small growl, Eris let go of Azriel leathers, shoving past him but not touching his wings.

Eris barely lifted a finger, the stunning, stone fireplace to his right roaring to life along with the bronze sconces that lined the walls. All of Eris’s cottage was elegant, the furniture in it made of expensive carved mahogany that matched the gleaming hardwood floors and sideboards, everything organized, orderly, and tasteful. Eris’s bedroom was much the same.

Two comfortable-looking cushioned chairs were placed near the fireplace, a low table between them was covered in multiple neat piles of thick books. His bed was huge, pushed up against the opposite wall, big enough for multiple people to lie in it. The carved pattern on the dresser, mirror, and nightstands was intricate - beautiful. Not knowing what to do with himself, Azriel merely stood where Eris had left him - right in the middle of the bedroom.

Azriel took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, livid that they’d been caught by surprise but the anger not showing on his face. Some of Azriel’s shadows skittered around him, the rest trailed after Eris as he stumbled to the dresser, knocking into it with his knees so that it hit the wall with an ugly thud. Azriel watched as Eris leaned toward the mirror, wincing as Eris wiped at his mouth with the dark brown sleeve of his well-tailored jacket.

“What the fuck?” Blood nearly the same colour of Eris’s hair dripped from his nose, leaking down his face, staining the collar of the offwhite shirt that peaked out of Eris’s jacket. Eris tugged open the dresser’s top drawer, all his shirts neatly folded inside, taking one out and holding it up against his face. He turned to face Azriel, his newly cut hair in disarray as he gestured wildly in Azriel’s direction, “Some fucking spymaster.”

His voice was muffled by the shirt, but it did nothing to hide his angry tone, “I thought those shadows were useful.” 

Azriel clenched his jaw. For the most part, Eris had been treating Azriel’s shadows like he treated his hounds: with an unexpected softness. The shadows liked brushing up against Eris’s hands as he wrote, or curling up over his shoulders as he read. Azriel had apologized the first few times it had happened, but Eris had assured him that he didn’t mind.

He didn’t like the way Eris was talking about them now, though. “They are useful.” 

“They are not.” 

“They were distracted,” Azriel snapped, defending them. 

Eris moved the shirt away from his face, the bleeding seemed to have slowed. He snorted, the sound watery, “By what?” He turned back to the mirror.

Azriel was moments away from retorting “by you,” but he stopped himself. There must have been a reason his shadows monitored the Autumn Court Heir’s every move. Azriel assumed it was because they didn’t trust Eris Vanserra, and he didn’t want to offend one of the Night Court’s most important allies by telling him as much. 

“Give me that pitcher,” Eris demanded.

Azriel would have ignored him had he not felt slightly responsible for Eris’s current state. It wasn’t that Eris hadn’t been a decent enough fighter, but they both hadn’t been expecting an ambush, and as the more experienced one, Azriel should have kept an eye on him. Azriel handed Eris the pitcher that had been sitting on the nightstand, watching as water sloshed over the edges and onto the dresser as Eris shoved a clean part of the shirt into it before he brought the wet fabric to his face.

Eris leaned closer to the mirror, nearly knocking over the pitcher, and made a funny noise deep in his throat before he spoke. “Cauldron fucking boil me,” he bemoaned, one of his fingers gingerly touching the tip of his nose. “I think it’s crooked.” 

Azriel rolled his eyes. His nose looked fine, perfect, even. “It is not.” 

Azriel was debating whether or not to sit in one of the chairs when Eris turned an accusatory gaze in his direction, “I blame you for this complete and utter disaster.”

Azriel blamed himself too. That night was supposed to be nothing more than a routine lookout. If he’d known that Koschei was going to send others after them, he wouldn’t have taken Eris with him in the first place. Azriel would have thought about what it might have meant that he’d wanted to take Eris with him, but Azriel was too focused on the way his shadows seemed to be trying to warn Eris that he’d probably end up making his injuries a lot worse if he didn’t calm down.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Azriel suggested, his voice smooth. 

Eris paid him no mind, scrubbing a little too aggressively at the blood on his face. Most of it had come off, and his nose had finally stopped bleeding. “Don’t tell me what to do,” Eris muttered, wiping at some of the blood on his neck.

Azriel regretted that Eris had gotten hit in the face with the pommel of a sword, not really knowing why.

He’d spent years fantasizing about doing the very same thing, but spending so much time with Eris had Azriel - and he could barely believe it - liking him. “Vanserra, get on the bed,” Eris straightened, raising his brows, “Let me have a look.” 

“First Cassian, now you. I don’t like being ordered around by overgrown bats.” Despite the statement, Eris made his way to the bed, leaning up against the headboard, boot clad feet on the dark red covers.

Eris was still scowling as Azriel tipped his head back just a bit, cradling Eris’s jaw in one hand, taking in every feature of his face. He was beautiful in an undeniable sort of way, and now that he’d cut his hair, Azriel thought he looked even better. Eris’s strange friendship with Nesta had led to the change; he'd let her, Feyre, and Elain cut it for no apparent reason and still managed to look ridiculously stunning.

Azriel gently wiped at any remaining blood that stained the other male’s skin. Through the thin fabric of the shirt, Azriel could feel the sharp planes of Eris’s face and was reminded of the first time he’d ever seen the Autumn Court prince. He’d thought Eris was classically beautiful in a way that reminded Azriel of broken shards of stained glass. Lovely, yet dangerous.

Azriel put the ruined shirt on the bed, using the hand that wasn’t holding Eris’s chin to move some of the hair that had fallen over Eris’s brow. His nose wasn’t bleeding anymore, a small cut underneath his eye was already starting to heal, and the bruise on his jaw seemed to be fading. His nose definitely wasn’t crooked, but Azriel ran the tip of his scarred finger along the sloped bridge of it just to make sure.

Azriel hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten to Eris. “I don’t think it’s broken,” he murmured. 

Azriel watched as Eris’s eyes fluttered. “I heard the crunch,” he breathed. 

Azriel didn’t know what came over him, in the moment he thought it might have been madness. Eris was one of his oldest enemies, he was cruel, and ruthless, and he deserved only the worst. That was what he’d believed for centuries.

He didn’t know what might have possessed him to press his lips to the mean line of Eris’s mouth, but he knew that it felt… right. Eris parted his lips in a shocked gasp, golden flames bright in his wide eyes. Azriel was completely out of his mind. He’d never, not once in his entire life, done something without thinking it through. The panic seized him quite suddenly, his wings flaring just a bit as he made to move back, to move away.

Azriel was more than just a little surprised when Eris lifted his hand, threading his slender fingers into the dark hair at the base of Azriel’s scalp, pulling him closer in another kiss. Azriel kissed Eris harder this time, grabbing the other male’s face in both hands, thumbs sliding against sharp cheekbones, lips moving with the force of weeks’ worth of wanting. Eris’s bottom lip was caught between Azriel’s teeth, his other hand coming up to fist in Azriel’s leathers.

Weeks upon weeks of working with Eris, talking to him, trusting him. A helpless sound escaped Eris’s lips when Azriel slowly moved his hands so that his thumbs traced the shape of the smooth, pale, column of Eris’s throat. Azriel had more than a million things to do, but as Azriel opened his mouth, Eris’s tongue pushing against his in a savage claiming, Azriel leaned into him, all those things forgotten.

Azriel wanted to move so that he was right between Eris’s thighs, to press the other male into the bed, to watch a prince of Autumn come undone. Their kisses were messy, urgent, desperate. Eris pulled him closer, and Azriel thought he could drown in the feel of him, the taste of him. The taste of crackling embers, of rich cognac, of Autumn mornings.

Azriel’s hands slid down to Eris’s chest, undoing the golden buttons of his jacket, pulling it wide. Eris tugged on the roots of Azriel’s hair in a way that nearly had him forgetting his own name. Azriel couldn’t deny that he was drawn to Eris like a moth was drawn to a flame, he just hoped he didn’t get burned. The tips of Azriel’s fingers found the laces of Eris’s bloodied, ruined shirt. He wanted the shirt to come off, he’d never wanted anything more.

Never in his wildest dreams did Azriel think he’d want - need - Eris Vanserra. A prince born into the most savage of courts, born of blood, and ash, and fire.

Azriel was playing with fire. 

Azriel didn’t like fire. 

With only half a thought, Azriel roughly shoved Eris away from him.

Eris had red embers dancing in the deep amber of his eyes, his cheeks were flushed and his lips slightly swollen. They were staring at each other, no one speaking for what felt like an eternity, the only sounds in the room their ragged breaths and the crackling of the fire in the hearth. 

Eris ran a hand through his hair, flashing Azriel the pale skin of his wrist as the sleeve lifted. “Well,” Eris started, “That was unexpected.” He huffed a breathless, awkward laugh.

Azriel guessed that it might have also been unwelcome. 

“That was…” Azriel paused. He didn’t know what to say. That was nice? That was entirely unplanned? That was something they should do again? He couldn’t read the expression on Eris’s face and his shadows weren’t being very helpful. “That was a mistake.”

Azriel knew he’d chipped away at Eris all these weeks. They’d gotten past Azriel’s one-word answers and Eris’s cruel remarks. They’d researched, and spied, and fought together. They talked to one another, trusted one another, but as soon as Azriel finished his sentence, he thought that perhaps he’d taken any progress they’d made and thrown it into roaring flames.

Watching Eris flip from open and vulnerable to cold and aloof, was like watching the last rays of sun disappear over the horizon - blink and you’d miss it. Eris nodded once, his eyes cold, lifting his chin just a bit. Eris’s voice as he spoke was smooth, arrogant, not a hint of the warmth Azriel had gotten used to. “Usually, males and females alike wait until the morning after to say something along those lines.”

Azriel stiffened, well aware that he’d managed to hurt Eris. He didn’t know what to say to make this whole thing better, but was saved from having to speak when the door to Eris’s bedroom slammed against the wall as it flew open. 

“I think I’ve found those—” Eris’s younger brother faltered, stopping suddenly, almost as if he’d hit some sort of ward.

Azriel nearly tripped over himself as he abruptly stood, him and Eris weren’t even that close to each other anymore but he felt like he desperately needed the space. Shadows frantically swirled around his feet, some skittering towards the Vanserra by the door. They hadn’t warned him for the second time that night of someone else’s presence, and Azriel was starting to think they were playing some sort of cruel joke on him.

Azriel had spoken to Rufus many times in their combined efforts to stop Koschei, and the young male almost always had something to say. Rendering him speechless wasn’t something that Azriel would have thought possible, but there he was, multiple ancient looking scrolls in his arms, his jaw slack as his russett eyes looked between the Autumn Court’s Heir and the Night Court’s Spymaster.

Azriel was certain that alarm was evident all over the features of his usually blank face, his shadows dancing around him as he waited for someone else to speak. - Rufus angled his head, amusement glittering in his all-too clever eyes. He looked very much like Lucien as he drawled, “Am I interrupting something?”

Eris’s sharp response nearly had Azriel flinching. “No.” 

Rufus smiled, elegant auburn brows raised as he adjusted the scrolls in his arms, “I have many questions.”

Eris’s smile in return was more of a bare of teeth, “And you will ask none of them.” 

“I’ll ask them later,” Rufus didn’t even look in Azriel’s direction as he threw himself onto one of the cushioned chairs by the fire. “I got those maps you asked for.” 

Azriel had forgotten that they’d asked Rufus to look for some older maps of the continent. Eris had been sure that they would be able to find some in the library of the Forest House, and Rufus had been the one who offered to look for them.

“Are you going to look over these with us, Shadowsinger, or are you going to stay by the foot of Eris’s bed the whole night?” 

Rufus spoke to Azriel, but Eris answered for him. “Azriel was just leaving.” 

Azriel turned his head sharply to face Eris. He was still leaning against the headboard of his bed, his hair messier than Azriel had ever seen it, his mouth set in a way that suggested he wasn’t very pleased.  

“Eris…” Azriel made to take a step towards him.

The Autumn prince just waved a hand dismissively, “Have a goodnight.” 

Azriel barely heard him, the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. He couldn’t help but feel as though leaving Eris’s cottage might be an even bigger mistake than the kiss. Azriel nodded once at Eris, deciding he’d winnow straight to the House of Wind as shadows swarmed him; he wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone right now. Eris’s flame bright eyes was the last thing Azriel saw as he was engulfed in darkness.

#eris vanserra #azris #azriel #fanfic #autumn court #rufus vanserra #koschei #fanfiction #vanserra brothers #acotar #sjm #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #azriel x eris vanserra

[vanserraseris]

END OF PART XI - Ok, so Eris finds out about Jesminda and confronts Lucien about it. He says some pretty not nice things to his younger brother (he gets pretty mean), things couldn’t stay great between them forever. Thanks for reading!!!

oooooh boy we’re getting into it now

Prince of Ashes. Part XI.

masterlist.

Eris stumbled when someone slammed a large hand onto his shoulder, reaching for the knife at his side as he whirled on whoever it was. 

“Easy, brother,” rumbled Owain, his red hair a mess and his brown eyes on the snake-head knife hilt in Eris’s hand. Eris had to admit that he’d gotten very used to no one approaching him, let alone having someone lay a hand on him, especially if he wasn't expecting it.

Eris also figured it wouldn’t be good for anyone if he accidentally killed a new servant, and that perhaps his first instinct shouldn’t be to reach for his weapon. Eris returned the dagger to its place on the sheath at his side. “I didn't know it was you.” Owain looked troubled as he opened his mouth to speak, closing it and opening it once more as his eyes looked at anything but his oldest brother.

This sort of behaviour from Owain was unexpected, and Eris’s first thought was that something had happened to their mother. “What’s happened,” Eris demanded. The dominance in his tone suggesting it was best to just spit it out.

“Lucien,” was Owain’s response.

That one word had Eris freezing. “What’s happened,” he repeated, voice low.

“I would have just said — I would have spoken to him, but… He doesn’t,” Owain ran a hand through his hair, “He might listen to you.” Owain was usually stoic, composed. Eris was panicking slightly to see that he looked worried.

“Owain,” Eris snapped, “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, yes, alright, sorry,” Owain lifted his chin just slightly, he was taller than Eris by a lot, but he was looking Eris straight in the eyes. “I saw Lucien in Calchas with a female.”

Eris paused, blinking once before he grinned. “I don’t really see the problem.”

Owain licked his lips, “Right, no, it wouldn’t be, not normally.” 

Eris’s grin shifted, turned more into a bare of teeth, “Then why are you bothering me with this.” Eris had countless things to do, a territory to run, prisoners to deal with. He didn’t have time for whatever this was.

“The female is a lesser faerie, Eris,” there was a hint of desperation in his usually calm tone. “And he’s with her … constantly. You know how father feels about this sort of thing. If it was one time, I wouldn’t have bothered coming to you,” he awkwardly waved one of his large hands, “If someone loyal to father had seen him…” Owain trailed off. Owain hadn’t needed to finish his sentence, Eris knew very well what Beron would do if his youngest son was with a lesser faerie.

Cato’s warning from nearly two decades ago rang clear in his head — Beron wanted to make Lucien’s life as miserable as possible. Eris moved closer to Owain, his hand gripping his younger brother’s thick arm, “What do you know?”

Owain shook his head, “Not much.”

“Tell me everything.” Eris would rather know what little Owain had discovered than nothing at all. 

“She’s a farm girl, works in the orchards with her family, can’t be older than three decades.”

Owain sounded like he was giving Eris a report, “Priam and Maddox have seen them as well, usually out in the fields, by the rivers, they don’t go to the city often, but knowing this court, they go enough that commoners have noticed.”

“What are the rumours?”

“Amongst the High Fae? Just gossip. No different than what they say about the rest of us.” There were always rumours surrounding the Vanserras. “I’m just,” Owain’s cheeks turned red as he mumbled, “Worried, I suppose.”

Eris scanned Owain’s face for any signs of deception. He seemed sincere, but Eris wasn’t entirely shocked, Owain wasn’t horrible. “I’ll talk to him,” Eris assured his younger brother, “But this stays between us.”

Owain nodded once, embers in his brown eyes, “Of course.” Eris gave Owain what he hoped was a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but Owain’s hand snapped up, grabbing Eris by the wrist.

“You can… You can trust me, Eris,” he said, voice low, auburn brows furrowed. “I don’t want Lucien dead anymore than you do.” Eris didn’t get a chance to respond as Owain let go of him, winnowing away with a loud crack, leaving Eris alone in the otherwise empty hallway. Eris would think on this later, about possibly trusting Owain. Owain had always been closer to Cato, closer to Maddox, but he knew they’d all be stronger together if they could all stop fighting amongst themselves.

With a shake of his head, throwing his shoulders back, Eris walked down the hall, making his way to Lucien’s room. Eris couldn’t understand where in the hells he went wrong. He’d spent decades telling Lucien not to make any attachments, not to do anything that would draw any unwanted attention, not to do anything that would anger their father. Not their father. Eris was certain if Lucien knew the truth he wouldn’t refer to Beron as such.

Eris growled just thinking about the vow he’d made to his mother nearly thirty years ago. He bounded up a flight of stairs, flames flaring in the sconces on the walls. He’d been in such a rush that he almost ran past Lucien’s bedroom door, backtracking with an annoyed snarl. He still hadn’t decided what exactly he was going to tell his youngest brother, but he lifted his fist, banging a little too loudly on the dark wood. Once Eris heard the muffled “come in,” he shoved open the door.

Lucien was lounging on his bed, shoes off, the laces of his shirt loose. He was holding a book, one that Eris had read before. “Fallon’s Fables” was painted in an elegant, gold script on the cover. It was more of a story book than an actual tome for educating oneself. It had been Eris’s favourite when he’d been young, he’d gifted his to Rufus decades ago and he wondered whether the book Lucien had in his hands was the same one.

Lucien grinned up at him, his eyes bright. “I thought you were Rufus.”

Eris slammed the door shut, locking it, “I need to talk to you.”

“Hello to you as well,” Lucien’s grin faltered just slightly, and Eris briefly thought that he should have greeted his youngest brother, but he’d already started speaking.

“Lucien, tell me right now it’s not true.” Eris was trying to keep calm, he was trying not to yell, he was trying not to get angry. He would give Lucien a chance to explain himself.

Lucien closed his book, laughed a little nervously. “Tell you what?” He questioned.

Eris’s nostrils flared. The unmistakable scent of his little brother was obvious. But among the familiar citrus, weaving in and out of that scent, was apple blossoms. Eris groaned, “Lucien, what the fuck are you thinking?”

“You’re starting to worry me a bit, you know?”

Eris could have set the room on fire. “You don’t worry about me,” Eris shook his head, “Stick to worrying about yourself.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lucien was wary now, but his eyes were still bright. “Is this one of your riddles?”

“Yes,” Eris stepped closer to the bed, a mocking smile on his face. “I’m an idiot who chooses to ignore my older brother’s good advice.”

“Easy,” Lucien smiled, just like he’d done when he was younger and he’d found the answer to any of Eris’s riddles, “Rufus Vanserra.”

“Rufus isn't the one parading around Calchas with a lesser faerie,” Eris crooned.

Lucien’s face dropped, his smile gone, Eris could practically see Lucien trying to come up with some lie. He noticed when Lucien decided to just tell the truth, arms crossed defensively in front of his chest, jaw set. “So?”

“So?” Eris wanted to laugh, “That’s all you have to say?” Eris was going to light the whole room on fire if he didn’t get a handle on his anger.

Lucien looked up at Eris, flames in his eyes, “I don’t know why it matters, most of what I do doesn’t matter.”

“Well, it does,” Eris spat. He had to remind himself to take deep, calming breaths. “Find another female to fuck.” Eris found he was absolutely horrendous at this. Even Eris thought that was crue, too cruel. He should have gone straight to their mother and asked her to deal with whatever the hells this was.

Lucien’s face unexpectedly softened, “I love her, Eris.”

Eris threw his hands in the air in defeat, “You’re not supposed to love things in this cauldron-forsaken court,” Eris was getting angrier by the second. “This court is cruel and brutal, there is no place for love in it.” It was a lesson all of them had learned, a lesson that Beron had taught them, a rule each of them tried to follow. In Autumn, a rule like that kept you alive. 

“You sound just like father.”

Eris flinched, just slightly, Lucien probably hadn’t even noticed. Eris would have rather Lucien stabbed him then tell him something like that. But he would stand his ground, “End it.”

“I’m not going to,” Lucien lifted his chin, his jaw set. Had Lucien always been this stubborn?

“And I’m not going to say it again,” Eris growled, “End it.”

“What about you, then?” Lucien snarled, eyes flaring. “You and all your lovers? Everyone knows you’ve had countless.”

Eris felt his rage mounting as he waved a hand dismissively, trying to act as unbothered as possible. “They meant nothing.”

Eris felt the tips of his ears heat as Lucien asked, “What about Micah?”

“I didn’t tell you that so you could throw it in my face.” Eris snarled back, his voice low. Eris was regretting having trusted Lucien and Rufus with it now, even if they both hadn’t seemed to care when he’d mentioned that Micah had been his lover.

“I’m not throwing it in your face,” Lucien shook his head, he looked hurt that Eris would consider it. “I just don’t think you have any right to sit there and lecture me about forbidden love.”

“I didn’t love him.”

Lucien didn’t look like he believed him for a moment. “Honestly?” 

Eris ran his tongue over his teeth, ran his fingers through his hair, “Honestly.”

“Cauldron, that’s bullshit and you know it,” Lucien raised his brows.

“Cauldron fucking boil me, Lucien, I was young and reckless once, too,” Eris started, probably as close to an admission of the love he’d had for Micah as anyone would get, “But I know better now.” Eris’s relationships never lasted, either because of him or because he ended them before they got too serious, before he got too invested. Micah had been one of his only exceptions, and even that had ended. Eris shook his head, “End it and court a female father will approve of.”

“Yes, because all you do is court lovely females father would approve of?” Eris knew he was being a ridiculous hypocrite, but this was different. Eris was the heir, and his father didn’t pay much attention to anyone he took to bed, and Eris had had a whole lot of practice making sure his father only knew about the females he’d wanted Beron to know about. No matter how often Eris messed up, Eris figured his father probably wasn’t going to kill him - he couldn’t afford to, not anymore.

Eris was a damn good courtier and a fantatsic fucking commander, his father would have to be an imbecile to kill him off. But Lucien wasn’t important, not to Beron. He was young and worthless. Lucien was the runt of the litter. “This isn’t about me,” Eris snapped, finally having reached the end of his rope. “This is about you.”

Lucien jumped to his feet, throwing the book from his hands onto his bed, “You don’t get to do that,” he shouted.

Eris growled, opening his mouth to speak, but Lucien wasn’t finished. “You’ve been gone for over a year, you don’t get to come back when it suits you and tell me how to live my life!” Eris stiffened, watching as Lucien waved a hand in his direction. Embers fell to the floor from Lucien’s fingers. “Don’t act like you care, Eris, when it’s obviously not the case.”

It was true that Eris hadn’t been to The Forest House in quite some time, but he hadn’t thought Lucien would be so angry at him for it, that Lucien would accuse him of not caring. Eris wanted to stomp his foot like some spoiled child, say Lucien was being unfair, that he was acting like a youngling. “Just think of the mess I’ll have to clean up when this goes wrong,” Eris snarled. “Think for one moment and you’ll see nothing good can come of this ridiculous dalliance.”

Eris knew he’d been too harsh when Lucien’s face hardened.“Get out,” Lucien spat, a strange golden glow to his eyes.

Eris scowled. “Fine then, don’t fucking listen,” he moved to the door. “See if I’ll fucking help if you get caught.”

“I don’t need your fucking help,” Lucien sneered. “I’ve lived my whole life without your help.” Eris had his hand on the doorknob, frozen on the spot, as he gasped out a choked laugh.

Turning to face Lucien, brows raised, lip curled, Eris cocked his head to the side — the words he spoke quiet. “Have you?”

Lucien’s expression changed, almost imperceptibly, almost like he regretted having said that, but he stood his ground. “Get out, Eris.”

Eris should have stayed, should have apologized, but he had never been very good at admitting when he’d been wrong. With one last shake of his head, Eris threw open the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Eris heard something shatter in Lucien’s room, he heard Lucien’s muffled shout, but he kept walking. Eris knew there were flames in his eyes, flames trailing behind him as he walked towards his study with fast steps. He could practically hear his mother’s voice from when he’d been young, urging him to tame his magic. The flames should not control you, she’d tell him, you must be the one to control them.

Eris had struggled with his magic as a child, tutors thought him too dangerous to teach, and his mother had taught him to control it when even Beron hadn’t been able to. Eris was having trouble keeping his magic controlled now, though. The temperature around him raised, the air holding some of that choking feel that his father’s magic so often had. Eris really was becoming just like Beron.

Eris slammed the door to his study open with his shoulder. The fireplace flared to life as he entered, flames wild. Eris needed to be careful, or he’d set all his books on fire. Eris took a deep breath, “I’m in control,” he muttered. “I’m in control.” He clenched his fists, the flames disappearing, “I’m in control.” Eris took another deep breath, picturing dying embers in his mind. He was going to speak to his mother, she would be able to help him.

Lucien had always listened to him and Eris didn’t know what he was going to do now that he hadn’t. Perhaps Eris would damn the consequences and drain his father’s stash of good cognac. Perhaps Eris would go to the streets of Calchas in search of some company. Or, Perhaps Eris would simply stay at the Forest House and pray this did not end badly.

#eris vanserra #fanfic #autumn court #beron vanserra #lucien vanserra #jesminda #lucien x jesminda #the lady of the autumn court #helion x lady of autumn #helion x lady vanserra #helion #fanfiction #vanserra brothers #acotar #sjm #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #queer eris #bisexual eris #bi eris

[vanserraseris]

END OF PART V - This part sort of just gives a little insight into the Vanserra family dynamics, and they’re kind of a mess. The brothers probably aren’t as shit as they are supposed to be, though, but they’re still pretty bad. There are a few mentions of child abuse, Beron is literally the worst. It got a little longer than I’d first planned, but I hope you enjoy it (and big thanks to everyone who is reading)!!!

ahhhh i love it sm. love the brothers. fuck beron

Prince of Ashes. Part V.

masterlist.

Eris’s eyes snapped open, the incessant banging coming from the front of his cottage startling him out of a dreamless sleep. Despite having just woken up, Eris’s movements as he reached for the dagger he always kept on his nightstand were quick, controlled. Even in the dark of the room, Eris could see that there were no intruders. Not many people knew of his personal cottage, but that didn’t mean Eris never worried about being killed in his sleep while there.

“What is that?” Eris had nearly forgotten about Lucien. His youngest brother seemed to have fallen asleep curled up on the large cushioned chair by the stone fireplace again instead of going to the smaller room he’d claimed as his own. Eris didn’t know why, but when he took Lucien to his cottage, Lucien often preferred sleeping on one of the chairs in Eris’s bedroom. Lucien’s red hair was a mess and his shirt was wrinkled as he sat up, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms.

Eris grabbed the pair of old brown boots he had by the foot of his bed, wondering who in the hells was capable of getting past the wards he’d had Lagos put around his personal home. “Don’t worry, it’s just the door,” Eris answered, irritation lacing each word in the hopes that Lucien wouldn’t think anything was amiss. 

Lucien didn’t seem worried in the slightest as he yawned before he asked, “Is Micah back? He left a bunch of scrolls on the table.”

“Micah has a key.” All three of his friends had a key, and the only other person he could think of that would be coming to see him so late at night was Rufus, but Rufus could easily winnow through the wards. 

Eris snarled softly when he saw the wrinkles on his own shirt, briefly considering whether or not he should just put another one on, but decided not to when the banging started once more.

It was probably Beron. Eris figured he had absolutely nothing to worry about, his father was most likely just angry with him, and that was nothing new. Or perhaps Beron had come for Lucien. Eris ran a hand through his hair, his other hand still clutching his dagger as he tried to decide if it was Lucien his father wanted, what he might do. With a few large steps, Eris made his way across the room. He crouched down in front of Lucien’s chair, holding the dagger out to him, “Take this.”

Lucien straightened, suddenly looking a lot more troubled, but he didn’t reach out to take the dagger. “What’s happening?” 

“Nothing,” Eris desperately hoped it was nothing. “Rufus probably just got drunk and forgot how to winnow again.” 

“Eris,” russett eyes wide, Lucien grabbed onto the loose sleeve of Eris’s shirt, “Where are you going?”

“To open the door,” Eris flashed his brother a small smile, hoping that it would be enough to convince him that everything was alright. “Take this and stay here.” Lucien knew how to use a blade, most Autumn court children did. 

Lucien was just a little older than half a decade, but despite his age, he knew all too well how dangerous the Autumn Court was, how cutthroat. Lucien took a deep breath, eyes now on the dagger in Eris’s outstretched hand.

The hilt of the dagger was ornate, golden, and fashioned to look like the head of a snake, green jewels that acted as the snake’s eyes glittered brightly as Lucien curled his small fingers around the weapon. Eris brought his now empty hand up to ruffle Lucien’s hair, “I’ll be back,” he promised. 

Lucien nodded once, pulling his knees up to his chest, a look of pure determination on his young features as he watched Eris stand to his full height.

Eris regretted that he’d left all of his hounds at the kennel in the Forest House I’m his rush to leave. He’d have preferred at least Enya, his oldest hound and the alpha of the pack, to have watched over Lucien. Eris no longer had a weapon, but his magic would most likely be enough, so with one final glance at Lucien, Eris tore out of the room. As Eris walked with fast steps down the hall, the bronze sconces that lined the walls flared to life behind him.

The banging on the door hadn’t gotten any louder or any more frantic, and as Eris approached it, he lifted his nose in the air, taking a deep breath. The familiar scent of red apples lingered in the small foyer - not father - but it did nothing to ease Eris’s worries. His features schooled into a practiced look of irritation, Eris pulled the latch on the door, unlocking it before he yanked it open, “Cato.”

His brother smiled. To anyone else, it might have looked sincere, “Eris.” When Eris didn’t move to the side, Cato made a face that looked genuinely confused, his brows raising in a look of mock puzzlement, “Not going to invite me in?” 

Eris didn’t move, he was taller than Cato, and while they were both lean, Eris’s shoulders were broader. He effectively blocked the entrance to his home as he asked, “Why are you here, Cato?”

His younger brother frowned, “Can’t I come say hello to my older brother?” He tilted his head a fraction, russett eyes widening slightly. “I only have one, you know.” Perhaps that was why Cato and Eris never really got along. Eris was the only obstacle to Cato’s place as High Lord, and they had never spent much time together while Cato was growing up - Eris had been sent to a war camp right after he’d been born.

They had almost no relationship, and yet, they still managed to fight over the smallest of things. Eris supposed that their non-existent brotherly bond meant that there would be no regret for Cato when he would inevitably end Eris’s life. Sending Eris away had been smart on Beron’s part, he’d practically ensured that his two eldest sons were always at each other’s throats. 

Eris growled, “No. No, you cannot come say hello, especially not at the crack of dawn.”

“Did I wake little Lucien?” Cato’s voice dripped with such a convincing act of concern. Even Eris could admit that Cato was the best fucking courtier in all of Prythian, a snake in the grass in every sense. 

“You woke me,” Eris spat. 

Cato was no longer acting the part of the concerned younger brother as he practically shoved past Eris, “Don’t worry, I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

Eris bit the inside of his cheek so hard he drew blood. Slowly, Eris shut the door, mumbling a frustrated, “I doubt it,” under his breath. 

When Eris finally turned to face Cato, he looked closely at his greatest rival. Not a single one of Cato’s deadly throwing knives was in sight, but that didn’t mean none were there. Cato’s eyes looked tired - troubled - and if Eris didn’t know any better, he'd have guessed that he looked a bit nervous.

He was holding himself up a little too straight, the sleeve of his shirt sloppily peaked out of his jacket, and a muscle in his jaw was working. Wonderful, Eris thought, Cato had finally decided to kill him. Eris took a breath, controlling his flames, getting ready for a fight. 

“I know you favour the runt, Eris.” 

Eris blinked. His brows furrowing slightly as he shook his head, “Cato—”

Cato raised a hand, “I don’t know why, but father’s given us orders to make his life as miserable as possible - probably to piss you off as much as because he’s just a horrible old bastard - and I’m not going to go against a direct order from the High Lord.” 

Eris froze, “And you’ve come to tell me this because?” 

Cato flashed him an adder’s grin, “I’m in a benevolent mood.”

Eris eyed him. Eris didn’t know if Cato had ever done him any favours, at least not in the last century. He sometimes wondered if Cato and him could have been close, knowing very well that it was much too late now. The resentment Cato had for his only older brother had been ingrained in his very young and impressionable mind by their father. Eris would be lying if he said he didn’t resent Cato as well.

Cato’s grin, faltered, turned into a frown, a seemingly real and true emotion Eris didn’t think he’d ever seen on his younger brother’s face. “It is an act I’ve done in good faith,” Cato wasn’t meeting Eris’s gaze, “Owain, Maddox, and Priam got the lecture, too.” Cato tugged on the cuff of his jacket sleeve, “I’m sure Rufus would have gotten the lecture if he’d been at the house, waste of father’s breath if you ask me - he only ever listens to you.”

Cato had gone out of his way to warn Eris, and while Eris was grateful, he couldn’t very well let almost all of his brothers turn on Lucien just because Beron had ordered it. “I’m going to say it once, Cato, don’t you dare lay a hand on him.” 

Cato huffed a laugh, flames in his eyes, “I don’t follow your orders, brother, and if you're asking me, I’d say the little runt would benefit from having the rest of us beat on him as well.”

Eris wasn’t usually one for any sort of physical violence, but he was blinded by rage as he lunged at Cato, grabbing him roughly by the collar and shoving him back up against the wall. Eris snarled, teeth bared, “Don’t touch him.” 

“I wasn’t being entirely serious,” Cato rolled his eyes, “But it’s fucking nice to know your weakness, Eris.”

Of course Cato would use their youngest brother against him. “I think all of us would benefit if I cut out that silver tongue.” Eris didn’t mean it, but it worked in Eris’s favour if Cato feared him just a bit. 

Cato grinned again. “I’d be very careful, Eris, I’m not in the mood to gut you tonight, ” Eris hadn’t felt the point of the knife pressed up against his side until Cato applied just a little more pressure, “I’d hate to get blood all over my good jacket, but I’ll do it if I have to.”

Eris snarled, pressing Cato harder up against the wall, “You always manage to make my blood fucking boil, you know.” 

“The feeling is mutual.” Eris thought he felt Cato’s knife cut through his shirt.

With one final growl, Eris loosened his hold on Cato’s jacket. He took a few small steps back, running a hand through his long hair.

Cato adjusted his jacket with one hand, in the other, he twirled the knife between his fingers, the simple silver blade flashing. “Be honest with me, Eris, just this once.” Eris would have asked him what the hell he was talking about, but Cato didn’t wait for a response before he asked, “What’s so very special about Lucien?” 

Eris couldn’t actually tell him about the oath he’d taken, wouldn’t risk Cato using that against him, so he simply sneered, “Absolutely nothing.”

Cato scoffed, “I know you dislike it when precious little Lucien gets a beating, but I think you’re overreacting. Father’s hands aren’t as painful as the whips he was using on us at Lucien’s age.” 

Eris set his jaw, opting to give his brother some of the honesty he’d asked for. “I want to protect him from that - maybe then he won’t end up like the rest of us.” Eris made a vague gesture with his hand.

There seemed to be a sort of understanding between the both of them when Cato met his eyes once more, a strange sort of openness that Eris couldn’t really read. Cato sounded a bit defeated as he spoke, “You cannot protect him forever.” 

Eris knew he couldn’t, the vow he’d taken haunted him some nights, but that didn’t mean he wanted Cato to point it out. “I can try,” Eris snapped.

“I appreciate the honesty, truly, but let me tell you something, brother. Your efforts will have been for nothing if the outcome is no good.” Cato shook his head, “I reckon no one - not mother, not Rufus, definitely not Lucien - no one will remember that you tried.” His lip curled over his teeth at the last word like he was disgusted by it. “Father’s got it out for little Lucien, I don’t know why, so try and protect him if you must, but when it all goes to shit, just remember I warned you.”

Eris couldn’t even begin to guess why their father was acting this way so suddenly, but he dipped his chin at his brother. “Thank you, Cato,” Eris said with as much sincerity as he was able. Eris wasn’t very used to thanking anyone, and he didn’t think that Cato was very used to hearing any thanks, either. Eris could practically hear his father’s voice, see the sneer on Beron’s face, as he’d hissed at a young Eris that sons of Autumn never gave thanks.

Cauldron boil me, Eris thought, he was going fucking soft. 

Cato’s russett eyes widened at the words before his genuine look of surprise was replaced by a scowl, the masks were back, it seemed. “You won’t be thanking me when I steal your crown, brother.” 

“If you are feeling benevolent when you decide to kill me,” Cato flinched, but Eris continued, choosing to ignore it, “Do me a favour and make it quick.” The silence that dragged between them as they stared at each other was uncomfortable.

They looked so alike, very much like their mother. Long red hair, sharp cheekbones, elegant brows, the only difference was the russet colour of Cato’s eyes and the much softer lines of his face. 

With a shake of his head, Cato moved past Eris, ensuring that their shoulders hit. He threw open the door, the heat of the room leaving as he stood in the doorway for a moment, as though he wanted to say something.

Cato stepped over the threshold of the door, the first few rays of the sun peaking over the horizon. “And not like you asked for my advice,” Cato picked at a thread on the sleeve of his shirt, turning to face Eris once more, “But you should stop spoiling the little runt, you’ll make him as useless as Rufus. And father is growing impatient with you and I’d rather not be dragged out of my duties to watch your flogging.”

Eris nodded once absently, his mind reeling, but nothing except irritation showed on his face. Perhaps Beron had learned in truth that Lucien was not his son. Perhaps Beron was no longer questioning the blood that ran through Lucien’s veins. Perhaps Eris would not be able to protect him, and Eris would rather tear out his own throat than let Beron harm his youngest brother. He’d made a vow, after all - he found he had to remind himself that was the only reason why.

Before he winnowed away, Cato called back to his older brother, “Be careful, Eris.” It could have been a warning or a threat, but Eris was choosing to believe that Cato might have actually been a bit worried for his well being. 

Eris shut the door, turning and leaning against it with his eyes closed. He slowly slid to the floor, breathing in through his nose, wrapping his hands around his knees. He hadn’t felt this helpless since he was a child.

Eris felt dizzy as he thought about how he would have to find a way to get his father to pay even less attention to Lucien, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. He was also trying not to think too much about Cato. Cato had fucking warned him. The brother who he competed against, constantly fought with, never trusted - had warned him. Cato was young and ruthless and cruel, just as Eris was, and Eris knew they were more alike than they were different.

They were two-sides of the same tarnished coin. Eris took another breath, he didn’t like thinking about his brothers too much, it made his chest ache. Eris thumped his head a couple times on the door behind him. Perhaps if he hit it a little harder he’d knock some sense into himself. Eris could feel flames dancing on the tips of his fingers. He’d gotten much too emotional, all his actions driven by that stupid oath, and he’d lost his edge. 

“Eris?”

Eris opened his eyes at the sound of Lucien’s worried voice. He was sure he hadn’t managed to control his magic, and he knew that there were wild flames flaring in his eyes. Eris was almost certain Lucien would flinch away from him, away from that all-too familiar and dangerous fire, a fire that reminded most people of his father. “I thought I told you to stay put.” 

Lucien was no longer holding the dagger Eris had given him, but he took a small step towards where Eris sat. “Are you alright?”

In the light, Eris could clearly see just how terrible Lucien looked after Beron’s beating. It had taken all of Eris’s strength not to go after his father, and just like a coward, he’d done nothing but winnow Lucien away from that cauldron-damned house. Eris hadn’t been there to see Lucien’s punishment - he didn’t even know what Lucien might have been punished for - but Beron’s marks were all over his little brother.

Eris could barely look at the black eye, at the split skin near Lucien’s eyebrow, at the dark bruise on his cheekbone. Eris knew there were more bruises he couldn’t see. 

“I’m fine.” Eris lied, willing the flames in his eyes to vanish. 

Lucien took a few more small, slow steps towards Eris, like he was approaching a wounded animal. It must have been a shock for Lucien to see Eris in this way, but Eris was tired, and he didn’t think he had it in him to act alright even for Lucien’s sake.

Lucien sat right next to Eris, leaning up against the door, mirroring the way Eris was sitting. Eris knew he should perhaps be offering Lucien words of comfort, but he didn’t know what to say. 

Lucien was the first to break the silence. “It’s light.” 

“What?” Eris turned his head to face Lucien, confused. 

Lucien looked up at him with a small smile, “What can fill a room, but takes up no space. Your riddle.” 

Eris raised an auburn brow, “I’m going to have to start giving you harder ones.”

“I’ll solve those ones, too.” 

Eris felt the corner of his mouth tilt up just a fraction, “I bet you will.” 

Lucien turned away from Eris, moving so that he was leaning up against Eris’s side. “Don’t worry too much about whatever’s bothering you,” Lucien muttered, “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” 

Eris took comfort in knowing that at least Lucien believed in him, and he figured that Lucien was probably right 

Eris would figure something out, he always did.

#eris vanserra #fanfic #autumn court #beron vanserra #lucien vanserra #lady vanserra #the lady of the autumn court #helion #helion x lady of autumn #helion x lady vanserra #fanfiction #vanserra brothers #acotar #sjm #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #sarah j maas #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames

[vanserraseris]

END OF PART IV - This is just some more Lucien and Eris. Eris is pretty ooc, idk, I just imagine that Lucien and Eris got along at some point. I hope you enjoy it :)

yesssss im so here for lucien and eris being brothers <3 

Prince of Ashes. Part IV.

masterlist.

Eris had read the same business proposal three times. With a small, useless snarl, he threw the sheets of paper onto his desk and frustratedly rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms. He took a deep breath. His father had been demanding more from him, a strange thing Eris couldn’t understand considering how quickly his father had shoved him out of The Forest House after the War.

Eris had also managed to get into another fight with Cato, which, while a very common occurrence, still managed to leave him in a terrible mood. Blowing at a strand of blood-red hair that had fallen into his face, Eris lifted the proposal once more, hoping that this time the words would make some semblance of sense. When he became High Lord, Eris decided he was going to make his brothers answer all of his correspondence so that he wouldn’t have to.

Eris almost growled when the heavy oak door to his study slowly creaked open, but he opted to ignore whoever thought it would be a good idea to interrupt him. Perhaps they would just leave, Eris hoped, eyes scanning the document in front of him. With a scowl, Eris raised his head to snap at what was most likely a new servant, but when he saw no one at the door, Eris paused. He carefully placed the proposal off to the side, the fireplace on the other side of the small room flaring.

Just when Eris was about to stand, a small face peaked up at him from the opposite end of his desk. Eris frowned, “Lucien?” He asked it in a soft tone, one that he reserved for only three people in his life. Mother, Rufus, Lucien. Eris didn’t know what it was about them that put to sleep the dark thing inside him, but for whatever reason, he felt at peace in their presence.

“I knew you had come,” his youngest brother must have been on the tips of his toes to look over the desk at Eris. He didn’t look too pleased. 

The frown did not leave Eris’s face, “I am not to stay long, but I have much to do.” 

“You couldn’t be bothered to come say hello?” Lucien lifted his chin, the loose curls of his short hair shifting with the movement. Eris had not realised how upset Lucien was, his little face red in the cheeks with what Eris supposed was anger.

“Our father has given me a task, I can’t be spending the day with you,” too harsh for a child that had yet to reach half a decade, but Eris always had a hard time with softness. 

Lucien didn’t back down, with a small shake of his head he spoke, “You could have said hello.” 

“Go pester Rufus, Lucien,” Eris mumbled, lifting the paper and taking his eyes away from the sad gaze of his brother. Eris waved his other hand in the door’s direction, “Or go back to the lessons I know you should be in.”

Eris heard Lucien’s frustrated sigh and his small steps as he scrambled out of the room. While Eris knew that Beron paid very little attention to the whereabouts of Lucien, Eris had gotten plenty of beatings for missing a lesson. Noticing that Lucien had not closed the door but feeling much too lazy to do it himself, Eris settled once more into his cushioned chair. Grabbing a pen, Eris began to write out a lengthy response to the proposal.

He almost snorted when he got to the bottom of the page and signed it with his father’s name. As if Beron had such lovely writing, Eris thought rather arrogantly. His father hadn’t learned to do anything other than fight for the crown of the Autumn Court. He’d slaughtered five brothers for it. It was not hard to imagine how ruthless Beron must have been in his youth, but Eris also couldn’t believe how his father had killed his own brothers and slept at night.

Eris had always been thankful for having been firstborn. If being the eldest was good for nothing else, Eris was glad he wouldn’t be the one killing any siblings for a centuries old scrap of metal. 

Eris almost fell out of his seat when he heard the loud clang of the plate that landed on the desk, knocking him out of his miserable thoughts. Eris peered over the top of his desk, scowling. Red hair that was the same as his own was all he could see.

“Old Sae says you haven’t eaten,” Lucien made his way to Eris’s side, a small sneer on his face. Eris thought Lucien had never looked more like a Vanserra, like one of them — stubborn and determined, his chin tilted up and his nose lifted in a snobbish sort of way. 

“Lucien,” Eris began, but stopped to help his younger brother as he climbed onto the arm of the chair. “Fox, what in the hells are you doing?”

Lucien didn’t bother answering him — something that he did quite often — as he settled onto Eris’s lap, curling his small body up against his oldest brother. 

“Lucien,” Eris sighed, “I’m busy.” 

“I know,” Lucien said, looking up at Eris, russet eyes pleading, his mouth set in a pout, “I swear it, Eris, I swear that I won’t ask you to read to me or give me riddles or play chess with me, I swear.”

It was true that Lucien was always looking to Eris for attention, but he found it strangely calming to sit around with Lucien and do such ordinary things. Eris had thought about what he would do if he’d been born ordinary — if hadn’t been the Autumn Court’s heir — much more than he’d like to admit. 

Eris shook his head, but he was finding it very hard to say no. So much for not getting attached to the little runt, “I’m busy,” he repeated.

Lucien frowned, settling against Eris’s side and facing the desk, “So you be busy, and I’ll stay here and watch.” 

Eris felt something spark in his usually hollow chest. He sighed, leaning his chin onto the top of his brother’s head, hoping that Lucien understood how much Eris appreciated him in that moment. Lucien was a creature that gave love so freely, Eris prayed to the Mother that he would always be this way. “Alright,” Eris scooted the chair closer to the desk, “But I have a lot to do.”

Lucien hummed, knowing very well that he’d managed to do something great. Lucien had gotten very good at getting Rufus and their mother to do whatever he wanted, Eris was a bit more of a challenge. Small fingers lifting an apple slice from the plate he’d dropped onto the desk, Lucien handed it to Eris before he took a slice for himself and bit into it. Eris ruffled Lucien’s red locks, biting into his own apple slice with a small smile.

And so that was how Eris would spend the rest of his day. With Lucien sat quietly on his lap as he did the brunt of his father’s paperwork. Lucien had stayed true to his word and hadn’t asked Eris for anything. The sun had set by the time Eris was on the last letter, some marriage request for a young female in the aristocracy. The lord was hoping for a beneficial union between his daughter and one of the Vanserras.

Eris guessed that no harm would come from throwing that particular letter in the fire. It would be just his luck that Beron would choose another potential bride for him, assuming the old bastard had forgotten what a disaster it’d been the last time he had tried to marry Eris off to the first available female. With a knock on the door to his study, Eris wrapped an arm around little Lucien, who’d fallen asleep against his side. The door was thrown open, Priam walking inside with silent steps.

“Father knows Lucien missed his lessons and wants to speak with you,” he sounded calm and unbothered, but the embers flaring in his russett eyes gave away the fact that some emotion was brewing behind that cold façade. 

Brilliant, Eris thought, handing the sleeping Lucien to Priam, “Find Rufus,” Eris said, trying to keep his frustration at bay. He often had to remind himself that none of his brothers were at fault for whatever Beron was about to do, but he often got angry at them instead.

Priam didn’t give Eris a response, and as soon as Lucien was settled in Priam’s arms, they winnowed away, hopefully to Rufus. Rufus loved being around children, Eris wasn’t surprised. Rufus had always been the kindest of them, the most understanding and most loving. Eris had kept Rufus far away from their father, and while their mother had mostly ignored little Rufus, he didn’t seem to hold it against her. Eris supposed he should ask Rufus how he did it the next time he had a chance.

Only moments after Priam and Lucien had left, Eris felt the heavy, choking presence of his father’s magic, the smoking scent of it. He could only wait for whatever punishment his father had in store. Eris didn’t bother standing as his father walked into the study, his short brown hair brushed back and away from his face, his crown nowhere to be seen.

The High Lord of the Autumn Court slowly walked to Eris’s desk, his hand absently picked up a book that Eris had lying there. Eris wondered if Beron would throw it at him. 

Beron’s beringed fingers flipped through the pages of the book, his eyes scanning the words as he spoke. “I don’t pay those tutors for nothing, boy.” 

Eris swallowed, licked his lips, “I wasn't aware they were being paid.” Eris watched as his father huffed a humourless laugh.

“I don’t think I have to tell you that your behaviour has been unacceptable as of late.” Beron elegantly set the heavy book down, his voice calm. 

He’d been told countless times by his father to stop spoiling Lucien. Eris found that even without a vow to protect Lucien, he would have done it just to keep the smile on his youngest brother’s face. Mother above, Eris was a real idiot for thinking he could love someone in this court and not have it be a weakness.

Eris set his jaw, opting to act like a fool, “What behaviour?” 

The back-handed blow to the face he’d earned for that would surely bruise. Quick as an adder so that he hadn’t seen the hit coming, but Eris knew he wouldn’t have moved out of the way even if he had. 

“Don’t play the idiot with me, Eris, I have no patience for it,” Beron growled, his hand snapping up to hold Eris’s face in a tight, uncomfortable grip. Beron leaned over the desk, “I don’t think I need to teach you another lesson?”

Eris shook his head, his father’s grip on his chin still too tight, “No, High Lord,” he ground out. Eris had been beaten bloody less than a fortnight ago for taking Lucien and Rufus to the city for a day trip, but Beron’s lessons had always taught Eris absolutely nothing, and that one had been no different. Not only that, but Eris found he was very good at repeating his long list of stupid mistakes that managed to make his father absolutely livid.

Beron practically threw Eris’s face to the side, “Be careful, boy, I have six other sons to take my place. I have no use for an heir who can hardly obey a simple order.” 

The sudden urge for Eris to bark that Beron only had five was overwhelming, but he settled for glaring at his father’s back as he stalked out of the study. Eris would gladly give one of his brother’s the throne, he’d never fucking wanted it anyway.

Eris slumped back in his seat as his father left the room, the control on his own magic slipping so that golden flames flickered in his eyes. Eris wanted to flip the desk in his anger, but he hated making a mess of things, so he took a deep breath instead, cooling the fire in his veins. Eris raised a pale hand, wiping some blood from his split lip with the pad of his thumb. It would heal by morning, Eris thought, and all would be as if it had never happened.

#eris vanserra #fanfic #autumn court #beron vanserra #lucien vanserra #lady vanserra #the lady of the autumn court #helion #helion x lady of autumn #helion x lady vanserra #fanfiction #vanserra brothers #acotar #sjm #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #sarah j maas #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames

[vanserraseris]

END OF PART VIII - Sorry everyone, this part is a little short and a little boring lol. It’s just some more Lucien and Eris stuff. Thanks to everyone for reading and I hope you enjoy!!!

its not boring!!! i love them!!!

Prince of Ashes. Part VIII.

masterlist.

“Your footwork is absolutely shit,” Eris heard Maddox say. Even though Maddox sounded angry, he almost rarely was, but the permanent scowl that always graced his features made him look the part as well.

“Your footwork is absolutely shit,” Lucien echoed, more high-pitched and sort of nasally.

Eris heard Lucien yelp as he walked to the large, open space they all used for training. Lucien was in the middle of the fighting ring, a sword hanging loosely from his one hand as he used the other to rub his forehead. “What the hells was that for?”

Maddox smiled, barely a flash of his white teeth, “It slipped.”

“Not a very good teacher, are you, Maddox?” Eris looked to the apple core that was still sort of rolling away from Lucien.

Maddox shrugged from where he was leaning up against the raised training ring, “Can’t be good at everything.”

“Eris,” Lucien looked at his eldest brother, his forehead red from all the rubbing or red because Maddox had put a little too much strength into throwing that apple core at him, “Tell him to stop throwing fruit at me.” He said it in a way that made Eris think that Maddox did it quite often.

Maddox merely rolled his brown eyes, “Eris, tell him to pay attention to his lessons so father doesn’t beat him for being useless.”

Eris sighed, “Lucien, listen to Maddox and pay more attention to your tutors.” Lucien sputtered, probably trying to find something sarcastic to say, but Eris raised a hand, “And Maddox.” Maddox raised his brows, still not scowling, just waiting for Eris to scold him. Eris wasn’t very good at scolding, Maddox so he just settled for, “Don’t throw fruit at Lucien.”

“He’s lucky we don’t live in the Day Court,” Maddox grumbled, “I’d be throwing watermelons at him instead.” Eris would have laughed if he were in a better mood. He’d spent the better half of the morning with Cato, torturing some criminal his father insisted was causing upheaval among the lesser faeries of Autumn, and he was feeling like absolute shit.

Lucien frowned when he looked at Eris, his brows furrowing in concern. “You alright, Eris?”

Eris couldn’t help but wonder what Lucien had seen on his face to warrant that question, “I’m fine,” he lied. Even to his own ears, that sounded a little flat and emotionless.

“Didn’t know you’d be coming over today.” The words were a little bitter coming from Maddox. Eris understood why, no one really bothered telling the younger brothers what was going on in The Forest House.

Being the middle child, Maddox never really listened to their father and never really fought to be High Lord, but he still liked knowing what was happening. Eris guessed that perhaps he was annoyed at Owain a little as well. Owain and Maddox were close, Owain leading the Royal Guard and Maddox having been at his side as soon as he was able. Eris supposed he would have been bitter, too, if no one was telling him anything important.

“Father had some things for me to do,” Eris replied, deciding that he wasn’t going to give Maddox any details of what he’d been doing with Lucien around. Maddox’s eyes flicked down to Eris’s hands before he turned away from him to look at Lucien again. Eris hoped there was no blood left under his fingernails. He felt as though he’d washed his hands a hundred times, but the smell still hadn’t gone away entirely.

“Better for us,” Lucien said with a smile, “It’s been a millennia since I’ve seen you.” In truth, it had been almost a year since Eris had last seen Lucien.

“Well,” Maddox said, pushing himself away from the ring, “If you’re staying, I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?” Eris asked, more from curiosity than concern. Maddox could take care of himself.

“To find Owain, and if I can’t find him, I’ll go to Priam.” He flashed Eris a lupine grin, “Try to teach the little runt a thing or two, great eldest brother, perhaps he’ll be able to learn something from the best of us.” Before Eris could respond, Maddox had winnowed from the training area, the smell of roasting chestnuts left in his wake. Eris frowned, he wasn’t particularly happy about being mocked.

Maddox and Eris weren’t necessarily close, but Maddox was too young to ever really fight his way to the throne. If he’d managed to kill Owain and Cato, killing Eris might have proven very difficult. Little did Maddox know that Eris wouldn’t have lifted a finger against him. Eris didn’t know if he could live the rest of his life knowing that he’d caused his mother the grief of losing a child.

If his father knew how easily he’d give up if one of his brothers truly wanted him dead, Beron might have killed Eris himself.

“I challenge you, Eris Vanserra,” Lucien said in a loud, clear voice from his place in the training ring. - Eris shook his head, not feeling up to it. “Lucien, I’m not really in the—”

“Come on, Eris, humour me,” he grabbed a second sword from the rack on the other side of the ring. “I’m challenging you.”

Eris sighed, taking off his very expensive jacket and throwing it on the floor. It would probably wrinkle, but he didn’t want to risk it getting ripped. Lifting himself into the ring, Eris muttered, “Fine, I accept your challenge, Lucien Vanserra.” He was feeling a little horrible for having avoided Lucien for so long.

After Eris had rolled up his shirtsleeves and tied his hair back, Lucien handed him the sword, “I’m sure I’ll be able to beat you this time, I’ve gotten a million times better.”

The smile on his face was a little contagious. Eris took the sword, raising an auburn brow, “Have you now?”

“And I’m sure you’ve gotten rusty, spending all that time behind a desk,” Lucien flashed him a wide smile, “You know, doing father’s paperwork.”

Eris huffed a small laugh, if only Lucien knew what Eris had been doing for Beron lately. Eris tossed his sword from one hand to the other, “You shouldn’t underestimate your opponents.”

Lucien hummed his response before getting into the ring and raising his sword so that the tip was pointing at Eris, “Prepare to lose, brother.” He'd gotten quite tall, Eris noticed, probably as tall as Rufus.

Eris shook his head, kicking Maddox’s apple core off the ring, “I hope you know, fox, that I won’t be holding back.”

“Neither will I.”

Before Eris could get into his fighting stance, Lucien had lunged at him, a blur of red hair and brown fighting leathers. Eris lifted his sword, meeting the blow that had been aiming for his legs. He cocked his head to the side, raising an auburn brow, “Is that the best you could do?”

Lucien shook his head, “You haven’t seen anything yet, Eris.” He drew back his weapon and rushed at Eris once more, his attack deliberate and from many angles.

Lucien’s footwork seemed just fine, Eris noticed, and had to wonder whether Lucien was just being a bit of a nuisance to get a reaction out of Maddox that wasn’t a scowl. Given that Maddox had been ordered to make Lucien’s life miserable, Maddox had taken to just sort of bothering their youngest brother. The same couldn’t be said for the others, but Lucien had assured him more than once that he was fine.

Eris was actually quite impressed with how well Lucien was fighting. He’d been handling a sword for years, starting with a real weapon as the rest of his brothers had, but Eris still saw him as small and clumsy.

They went back and forth for some time, and when Eris tired of it, he disarmed Lucien efficiently. His sword clattering to the ground on the other side of the ring, Lucien raised his hands in defeat.

Eris grinned, “You should be less confident, fox, arrogance does not become you.”

Lucien rolled his eyes, “You think it becomes you?”

“Yes, yes I think it does,” Eris was still smiling, “You accept defeat, Lucien Vanserra?”

Lucien returned the smile, but there was mischief blazing in his russett eyes, “Never.”

Eris frowned, “What do you mean—”

Eris gasped as he felt someone grab the back of his shirt and pull. Before he realized what was going on, Lucien kicked out his foot and knocked the sword from Eris’s hand. Eris fell on his ass with an inelegant “oof” as the person behind him pulled down on his collar.

“I have a feeling arrogance is not becoming on anyone,” drawled Rufus from behind him, pressing a small knife to Eris’s neck.

Eris definitely should have been paying more attention to his surroundings. “Fucking cheaters,” Eris mumbled.

Lucien stood over him, grin wide, “You accept defeat, Eris Vanserra?”

Eris threw his hands up, palms out. “Yes, fine, I accept, you win.”

Lucien laughed, dropping down to sit next to Eris. He had just turned sixteen and he was still growing into his bones. Much too gangly and tall to be useful at much else other than one-on-one combat.

Eris was glad, Owain, who had been big and muscular for most of his life, had been sent to a war camp at seventeen. Rufus dropped down on Eris’s other side, his shoulder-length red hair tucked behind his pointed ears. All of the small hoop earrings going up the arch of his ear glittered in the light of the training ring. “You’re becoming cocky in your old age, brother, I think me and fox have taught you an important lesson.”

Eris snorted, “What was the lesson, exactly?”

Lucien looked at Rufus, “Yes, Rufus, what was the lesson?”

Rufus made a face, “Not sure yet, but there’s bound to be something he’s learned.” Lucien laughed, Rufus laughing with him after a moment, and even Eris smiled. Rufus knocked Eris’s shoulder with his own, “Did Widge show you what he’s been working on?”

Eris nodded. Widge had come to him earlier that week, running into the sitting room of Eris’s cottage, his copper hair a mess and ink stains on his face. The last time Eris had seen him like that, he had discovered a way to get fire to stay aflame on water. He’d had a mad sort of sparkle in his eye as he’d thrown a large scroll onto Eris’s lap, shoving Micah aside as he sat down between him and Eris to show them what he’d done. “He’s brilliant.”

“What did he do?” Lucien asked.

Eris turned to face him, “Found a way to make a shield out of flames that might protect an entire legion. Only problem is, he’s made all his calculations using our magic,” he waved a hand at Rufus.

“Which means that he’s got to convince three Vanserras to test his theory, or convince 30 soldiers with average magical abilities instead, I suppose.”

“I could try,” Lucien offered.

He could, but Eris wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out what would happen if Lucien tested the limits of his magic. And he also wasn’t as strong enough as the rest of them when it came to his flames. Eris wasn’t entirely certain that asking Lady Morai to suppress Lucien’s magic hadn’t affected the flames he’d gotten from their mother as well.

“We’ll see,” Eris mumbled.

“That means no,” Rufus said, reaching past Eris to ruffle Lucien’s hair.

Lucien swatted away his arm, “I’m challenging you, Rufus Vanserra.”

Rufus sighed, but stood up. “Not this again, you never win.”

As Eris watched Lucien and Rufus, he decided that he had learned something. He’d learned that Beron was a fool for trying to pit them against each other when clearly they could have been a force all of Prythian would have feared had he pushed them closer together.

#eris vanserra #fanfic #autumn court #beron vanserra #lucien vanserra #lady vanserra #the lady of the autumn court #helion x lady of autumn #helion x lady vanserra #helion #fanfiction #vanserra brothers #acotar #sjm #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames