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Nesta bent slightly in front of you, two elegant fingers coming to tilt your head up slightly. Your knees ached from kneeling. For over an hour now, you’d been waiting for her to return to her room after she had instructed you to do so. The party had been easy to slip away from, even as one of the few Illyrians in attendance, and you’d found yourself sinking to your knees in at the foot of her bed without much thought. Your wings twitched behind you now, sparks flowing in your blood at her touch.

“Good girl,” Nesta purred, her blue-grey eyes holding yours captive. “I brought a treat for you.” She stepped to the side, allowing you to see who had closed the door not a minute ago. A handsome male with fiery red hair and equally burning amber eyes approached you, one that you knew at the High Lord of Autumn - and Nesta’s husband. Fear struck you, yet despite it, your arousal grew further when you saw him and Nesta next to each other.

“So you’re my wife’s little plaything,” Eris said, amusement coloring his voice instead of the anger you had expected. “Will you be good for me too?” Your eyes slid to Nesta who nodded in approval, and you followed suit. When Eris merely quirked a brow, you had to hold back a sigh.

It was one of those nights.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl,” Eris praised, a blush rising to your cheeks. “My wife says you’re obedient, though I have my doubts. I’d like to offer you a challenge. If you win, you will be allowed to make Nesta come tonight. If you lose, you’ll be forced to sit on your knees while you watch me pleasure her.” You nearly laughed at his suggestion - as if watching your Lady be pleasured by another was some sort of punishment.

Clearly, Nesta hadn’t told him of every detail of your relationship. Watching Nesta pleasure herself while you were ordered to keep your hands behind your back was a frequent occurrence, one that you enjoyed even when you were unable to gain any pleasure yourself. All that mattered to you was Nesta and her pleasure.

You nodded your head, uncaring of what his ‘challenge’ would entail. Whatever it was, you would surely enjoy it.

“Wonderful. Now, put those pretty hands behind your back,” Eris ordered. You moved your hands from their palm up position on your knees to lace them behind your back. “Keep them there until I say otherwise.”

You watched as he freed his erection, the size of him nearly making your eyes water in anticipation. It had been years since you’d been with a male, and as such you were out of practice. Even with that knowledge, it was an effort to not rub your thighs together in search of friction. You opened your mouth without hesitation, allowing the head of his cock to push inside of your mouth. He tasted pleasant enough on your tongue, and you did your best to relax your jaw as he pushed in further. Eris set a slow pace, a gentle push back and forth to get you accustomed to his size.

Your hands ached to reach for his thighs to steady yourself, but you kept them clasped together tightly. As fun as watching Nesta be pleasured was, you wanted to taste her tonight. One of Eris’s hands slid into your hair, tugging gently when you tried to swallow more of him.

“Ah, ah, little flame,” Eris said, pulling you off of him completely. “You are here for me to use, nothing more. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” you said as you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

Eris gave you a burning look before sinking back into your mouth, moving more quickly this time. He bumped the back of your throat, tears filling your eyes at the feeling. You let him fuck your mouth, breathing through your nose as best you could. Arousal burned between your thighs, the blaze increasing when you saw Nesta undoing the ties of her dress from the corner of your eye.

Eris’s pace grew erratic as he neared his peak, and the length of him hit the back of your throat as he spilled himself inside of you with a moan. You gasped for air when he finally pulled out of your mouth, your hands still locked together behind your back.

“I told you she’s obedient,” Nesta said as she walked behind you, her bare skin brushing against your wings softly. You shuddered at the contact. Her hands came to rest on your shoulders, her fingers gently working into the tensed muscles between your wings.

“That you did, my love,” Eris said as he tucked himself back into his pants. He leaned over you to press a kiss to Nesta’s lips, and you were near squirming by the time he pulled away. “I think you deserve your reward now. Get on the bed for Nesta, little flame. On your back with your hands by your sides.”

You followed his orders, sighing softly when you finally got to shake out your legs for a moment. Nesta didn’t waste a moment before she was on the bed, thighs surrounding your head. You could see how aroused she was, her sex glistening as you waited for the command to start.

“What are you waiting for, kitten?” Nesta asked, and that was all the permission you needed before you were lapping at her core, delighting at the sweet taste of her. It was an effort to not lift your hands to her thighs to steady her over you, to grasp at her soft flesh that drove you insane. Each twitch of her hips had you wishing for pleasure of your own, wanting to reach your peak at the same time as she did.

You worked her just how she liked, and though you wanted to plunge a finger or two into her sex, you resisted the urge, choosing instead to move your tongue faster, suckle just a bit harder on her sensitive bud. Her moans were music to your ears, spurring you on further. When she tipped over the edge you were there, lapping up her slick and sending aftershocks of pleasure jolting through her.

Nesta moved off of you and your lips fell into a pout, already missing the warmth of her.

“My good girl,” Nesta sighed as she shimmied up the bed, careful to not touch your wings too much. “Come here.”

With a giddy smile  you pulled yourself up the bed and into her arms, your head coming to rest between her breasts. Aside from giving Nesta pleasure, this was possibly your favorite part of your relationship with her. She was always so soft and sweet in the aftermath of your coupling, and today was no exception. The only difference was the male that settled on her other side, the sight of him making your wings flutter as you kept them from covering Nesta from his view.

He might be her husband, but you were hers. She had made that clear plenty of times before, and assured you that she wouldn’t let you be taken from her.

Nesta’s soft touch over your wings brought you back to the present moment, your body sinking further into hers as she let out a quiet laugh.

“Such a needy girl, hm? Did you want another treat?” Nesta asked. You peered up at her through your lashes, wondering what she had in mind.

“Yes, please, my Lady,” you said as you nuzzled against her skin.

Her arms tugged you over her body so that you were covering her, and you gave her a questioning glance. Your question was answered when the bed shifted around you as Eris made his way to kneel behind you, his hands lifting the skirt of your dress up.

A thrill went through you at the knowledge that this night would be much longer than you thought.

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The High Queen entered her chambers soaked up to her lashes in blood. She exits her bathing quarters pristine, pathing a trail of wet footprints across the floor as she makes her way to the sunlight. The marks of her feet are interspersed with tiny droplets that have slipped from the wet length of her hair—dark as blood, and stuck across her pale shoulders and spine. 

Without a word of greeting or acknowledgement, she settles her naked body along the leather-padded chaise that is positioned in the centre of a fattened sunbeam that’s pouring in from between pale linen curtains. Her hair catches the light—glittering like berries, or the seeds of sweetened jam as she lays it over the back of the chaise. Water continues dripping, dampening the butter-pale rug beneath her. 

Yellow rug, brown leather, and a queen of red and white. 

Wet, and bathing in sunlight to dry. 

It would be nice if she enjoyed her personal chambers with the same freedom—bare skin, and ease. It’s not been long here, you don’t think. Though this is the fourth time your queen has returned to her chambers steeped in blood. This time wasn’t even the worst of it. 

At least it was just blood, this time. 

Amarantha is facing away from you, reclining beneath the sunbeam when she calls for you. She sounds tired—exhausted. Her voice lacks that severity she usually carries. 

Lethargically, you roll to your side, tipping from the mattress but landing on your feet as you wind your way over to her. Brush against the cool stone pillars separating bed chambers from balcony. The balcony makes you wary—wrapping all the way around the tower, highest in the castle. You ease your bare back to the stone, sliding down to settle on the floor in her view, itching the skin you can’t reach. 

One dark eye slides open a fraction, marking your presence at the chamber’s perimeter. 

“Do you know where we are, pet?” She drawls softly, arms lazing at her sides as she settles deeper against the chaise. Her hair shines with the movement, glowing like metal fresh from a forge where it catches the sun’s glare. 

You pull your legs to your chest, leaning over your knees. “Summer?” 

“Almost,” she murmurs. She crosses her legs. Uncrosses them. Shifts her arms. “It’s called the Summer Court.” 

You hum, peering cautiously through the stone balustrade that runs around the balcony’s edge. Beyond, the sea is almost the colour of the sky, and the further out it goes the more you struggle to find the line where up and down meet. They seem to roll into one, ongoing script. Like you’re cushioned within one of those scalloped shells. 

“And do you know why we’re here, pet?” Amarantha asks, saving you from the start of something dizzying. 

You turn to face her, mischief curving the corners of your mouth. “Because you miss the sun on your skin, and desire the freedom to be naked and warm?” You ask, crawling the short distance to her chaise, kneeling at her side. You cross your arms over the wet leather, laying your cheek against your wrist to peer up at her. “It’s too cold for you, being underground all the time…” 

“I’m warm enough,” she counters, her sun-lit eyes gazing across the blinding white clouds speckling the sky. Her gaze slides to you. “Is that your guess?” 

You tilt your head, fondness in your lips. “Is it wrong?” 

“You’re not very bright, are you.”

“Not underground, I’m not,” you reply.

The High Queen’s dark eyes study you, not a trace of amusement to be found. Her expression usually seems to be drawn in the direction of severity when she’s not before her court. Her pale lips pursed, brows tight and drawn. 

Her arm lifts, and fingers push hair from your face. Nails ghost down the outer shell of your ear, and you shiver. Lips part on a breath, and the rest of the world blends and blurs as she draws your focus. Like water circling a funnel, she inexplicably pulls you in. 

It’s not often she touches you without harm in her fingers.

Heavy footsteps thunder in the hallway, the sounds of a commotion ringing out as metal clangs, and the hiss of steal cuts through the air.

Amarantha tips her head back against the leather cushioning and sighs, her eyes falling shut for a moment of peace. Then she nods in the direction of her chambers’ entry, “Go see what it is.” 

Her fingers release the pinch they had on your ear, and her arms returns to rest as her side; her attention in you has been taken. You glance over her once more before gathering yourself to your feet, padding across the rug and back into the shadows of her chambers, unbolting the black-iron lock. 

In the hallway beyond, blood has already been shed. 

A male has been forced to his knees, teeth bared, lips curled. His eyes hold enough power to drown the castle and all of its inhabitants beneath the weight of the sea, and yet he shivers there on his knees, features contorted in rage. A soldier with warm red skin, clad in scaled iron keeps the kneeling male’s arms constricted, while another points a spear to his chest. 

There’s blood in his white hair. Blood on his hands, beneath his nails, staining the once-pristine fabrics he’s clothed in. 

“Let me see her.” The male bellows, breathing hard beneath the oppressive hands and sweltering heat. His skin gleams with sweat, eyes wide and red. His turquoise irises almost seem to glow. “Come out here, Amarantha,” he snarls, and the vibrations thunder through your chest. “I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me. Speak with me.” 

You glance to one of the soldiers who are stood to the sides of the double doors, its eyes hard, and hungry. “What is this?” You ask, “The Queen wishes to know what disturbs her.” 

“This lord thinks he rules the castle,” it snarls, eyes on the male. Red irises glitter. “This lord thinks he has a say in whose blood is shed.” 

“These are my people,” the male growls, features twisting further into fury. “These are my people and they will always-” 

The guard pushes the tip of the spear hard against the male’s chest, and blood bursts beneath, spilling fresh marks over already bloody clothing. The male’s eyes squeeze shut in pain, but his head doesn’t bow. He doesn’t cower, and when he lifts his head again, the storm has quietened in his eyes and manifested within the rest of him. A smooth-surfaced ocean with a raging tide beneath. 

“These are my people,” he growls, lower now, “and they will always be my people.” Blood weeps from the centre of his chest, flowing through fibres down to his stomach. “Amarantha knows that too, or else she would not go to such lengths to weaken an already vulnerable citadel.” He bares his teeth, “why worry when there is no threat?” 

Fury in his eyes, but pain too. Anger, from hurt.

“Until you yield to me, Lord, Summer’s blood will continue to flow,” the High Queen announces, having appeared at your back. You step aside, parting the doors for her. A white robs wraps her figure, linen pooling on the floor, lace patterning the sleeves with a collar that slides up over her nape. Wine-red hair flows down her back, and she peers down her nose at the male on the floor. 

“Am I not on my knees before you?” He asks, and there’s pain and blood and anger in his voice. “Do I not come here, to you, to beg for you to put an end to this bloodshed because I cannot?” His voice is rough, turned hoarse at the end. The male’s nostrils flare, and his chest heaves. Turquoise irises sear against his reddened eyes, “I have nothing left to give, nothing left to yield.” 

“If that is what you insist upon, then your people will continue to pay.” 

“What is there to give?” He asks, and the spear is again pushed to his chest. 

Another set of footsteps sound in the winding stairwell—hurried, heavy breathing. A second male—also dressed in finery, also bloody, also sweating and distraught—appears in the archway. His eyes find those of the kneeling male’s and he makes to run to him but the guard aim their spears to his chest, blocking his path. His skin, though flushed from heat and exertion, drains upon spotting the Queen. 

The male on his knees shakes his head. “Return to the hall. You are needed there.” 

“No,” the High Queen declares. “Let him pass. I imagine our Lord may be too weak to stand. Better he has company.” She tilts her head, angling her jaw—how lucky you would be to press your mouth to such a throat. “Better he learn his lesson now, if he wishes to save his people.” 

The male stares at her, and perspiration shines on his brow. Now there is something like fear in his eyes, contained in the smell of his sweat. Amarantha inclines her chin, and the guard removes his spear, the butt of the weapon clanging against the ground as the soldier returns to attention. Dark eyes flick to the guard holding the male in place, and he steps away. 

Still knelt on the ground, the male does not plead for her to reconsider, but neither does he look at his companion as he slides a clean arm beneath a bloodied shoulder, helped to his feet, a fresh wash of blood dousing the heavily stained shirt. The male’s jaw tightens beneath the strain. 

The High Queen looks the two of them over: bloodied, sweaty, panting. 

Amarantha tilts her head in silent command, then turns to you, murmuring an instruction for you to draw her another bath, before disappearing into her chambers. 

The males eye the guards, the Lord giving you a cursory glance before following after her. 

You observe the fresh blood on the floor, wondering if it’ll be gone the next time you step out here, then move to return to your Queen’s side, the guards pulling the door shut at your back while you slide the bolt into place.

~~~~

The bath the High Queen had requested is pool carved into the next chamber’s floor, tilted over and smooth. A slab of red-brown rock is placed beside the water’s edge, dips and divots hewn for towel stacks and glass bottles. Each one smells more interesting than the last, and it’s a treat to know where these upper scent layers are coming from when you taste them in your Lady’s skin. 

Amarantha had bid you to stay with her, while the mess next door was tidied away. Flesh stuck beneath her fingernails, your mouth bloodied. The second male had managed to clasp his hands around your throat before Amarantha had torn him away, and promptly disabled him. 

The Lord had watched, silenced and producing a stench. 

Amarantha takes a palm-full of liquid and begins rubbing it into her hair, nails pushing at her scalp, grazing her nape, scratching behind her ears. You watch quietly from the pool’s edge, sat atop a cushion you’d lazily pulled from the cupboard. The High Queen tips her head back into the cool water and rinses out the suds, dipping her hair in and out of the pool. She catches something, and a frown tightens her brow as she examines her nails. Then she turns, and wades back through the water to pluck a clump of bristles stuck into a narrow block of wood from the stone slab, scrubbing beneath her nails. 

You pull your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your knees and laying your chin atop your forearms. “For how much longer are we staying here?”

Amarantha swaps the brush over, scrubbing the nails on her other hand. “At most another week. I’ll see how the Young Lord handles himself.” 

You peer at the water rippling around her waist, the slightly iridescent bubbles littering the sweet skin of her stomach. “And how long is that?” 

“Not long,” she replies. 

You lay down across the tile floor, hips cushioned by the pillow. It’s so…warm everywhere. Like there are invisible fires scattered throughout the castle that no one is talking about. 

It’s a nice change. 

Dark eyes flick over you, and a flicker of excitement sparks to life beneath that appraisal. You push upright, resting your upper weight on your palms. “My Lady?” 

Amarantha beckons you over, and you shift to the edge of the pool. “Take this,” she instructs, pushing the brush into your palm. “I won’t have you touching me with filth on your hands.” Her gaze lifts to your face, and her brows narrow. “You cleaned your mouth properly?” 

You incline your chin and open your mouth, tongue laying over your lower lip. All the blood is gone—you made certain. She won’t use you if you’re dirty. 

The High Queen furrows her brows. “You need better training.” 

You cock your head to one side, tongue pulling back into your mouth. 

Amarantha’s eyes glint. “Did I say ‘close’?” 

Heat pools between your thighs and you press them close together, back curving as you incline toward her, exposing your throat as you open your mouth for her. 

A sharpened nail points to the soft skin of your sternum, slowly scraping up. Between your collar bones, over the column of your throat, scratching the tenderness just below your jaw. Goosebumps brush up your spine, resigning yourself to her touch. She tilts her head, and huffs something like a laugh. 

Her breath touches your lips like a kiss. 

Something swells in your chest, but she’s turning away, leaving your skin surprisingly cool. 

“Don’t close that mouth,” she warns, as she steps out from the pool onto clean, sun-warmed tiles. You peer at her patiently, but with need steadily liquefying between your thighs. Anticipation concentrating your growing arousal. 

The edges of the High Queen’s eyes come close to a smile as she walks the pool’s edge, trailing back around to you. Fingers graze the top of your head, like she’s preparing to sink her nails into your hair and guide you to where she wants you. Instead she licks her lips, teeth biting on the way back in. “Kneel.” 

You obey without question, pulling your legs onto the cushion, pulling yourself onto your knees before her. 

She strokes the crown of your head. 

“Now, wait,” she instructs, passing behind you to unfurl a towel from its placement. “Be good.” 

The white fabric drags across her skin, touching everywhere you’d like to with your tongue, but drying instead of wetting. Her hair remains black as blood while its wet, but dripping clear onto the tiles. 

An ache works its way up between your thighs, and you consider shifting your hips’ centre to align with the heel of a foot—something to grind on, to give release to the growing tension. Watching the fabric gently abrade your Queen’s skin is…it’s something more pleasurable than torture. Drawn-out, and teasing. Playful, in a way that she isn’t Under The Mountain. 

You can’t resent pleasure being withheld when it’s for her benefit. 

The sun has trickled across the pool tiles, warming the small of your back by the time she’s done—towel pooling on the ground as she hold your eyes and walks forward. Slowly; lithely. Trailing wet footprints over the floor. Marks she could leave on your body if she walked her way up to your mouth. 

Amarantha pauses, the tips of her feet settling just under your knees. 

You peer up at her, mouth dry from having been kept open in waiting. 

Once again her touch skims the crown of your head. “Up,” she instructs, lightly. You lift higher onto your knees. 

Her arousal whets your appetite. Makes you eager, and desperate—more so than before. 

Amarantha takes a hold of you, and guides your mouth closer to her hips. Saliva pools below your tongue, eyelids growing heavy as you breathe her in. Close enough to nose at the skin of her inner thighs, her hips, her abdomen. Your fingers trail reverently up the backs of her legs, steadying yourself as your head goes a little light. Dazed. Robbed of sense. 

She pulls you closer, and the undisturbed curls between her thighs deliver moisture to your mouth. Droplets soaking down across your tongue, and she holds you there—mouth parted for her to use as she pleases. 

Her scent is what you need, and right now it’s all around. 

You wait for the order to come. 

It doesn’t.

Opening your eyes, you peer up the strong plane of her stomach. You can’t meet her eyes from how close you are, but tilt your head upwards all the same. The sharp points of her nails rake through your hair, and your mouth waters, arousal gathering at the thought of her dragging them across your back. Itching behind your ears, scraping gently down the sides of your throat. 

A whine builds in your chest, tongue ready to soothe the wet of her heat. 

Amarantha slides her hand to the back of your head and, guiding one leg over the curve of your shoulder, presses you closer to the wet heat of her cunt. Her arousal brushes against the inside of your lower lip, so close to dripping into your mouth, and yet still the order does not come. 

Instead the muscles in her leg flex, making it near impossible for you to move any closer. 

The High Queen cants her hips, dragging her cunt higher, tilting your head back until she can almost sit. The combination of heat, and the resistance she’s dealing with in this land seem to be drawing out something lazy—almost indulgent in her. 

A breathy sigh releases from above you as she gently rocks her hips. 

Preoccupied; in her own world. 

It’s a pleasure to facilitate the trip. To be the thing her ecstasy hinges upon. 

“Bed,” she murmurs through a soft breath, unhooking her leg from your shoulder. A string of arousal beads from her cunt to your lower lip, and now you’re detached from her you’ve the pleasure of swiping your tongue out, bringing that taste into your mouth. 

You’re swift to adhere yourself to her bed, pressing your bare back to the mattress, head near the foot, feet near the pillows. 

The Queen trails closer, nails raking delicately across the beaded sheets, prowling up onto the mattress. Dark eyes glitter and gleam as they rove over you—the facilitator of her pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less.

Amarantha settles one knee over your waist, seating her weight atop your hips. You’re pinned to the bed beneath her, sinking down into the cushioning. Arousal smears across your abdomen as she rolls her hips, the wet curls between her thighs smudging slick across your skin. Her hands press to your sternum as she leans forwards, damp strings of hair swinging forward—wine-red at the roots, black as blood at the ends. The scent of arousal mixes with the fragrances from her bath, cushioning you within the harmony of scents. Something light, and citrusy.

Heat simmers from the stone flooring, curtains fluttering as a breeze courses through the chambers, allowing the dark tips of her long hair to paint wet cuts across your skin. Nails curve into your skin as she drags her hips over your stomach, turning the expanse slick as she glides across. Teeth pull on your lower lip, need burrowing deeper into your bones. 

“Amarantha…” you breathe, a pleading note entering your voice. 

Dark, glittering eyes slide open—a knot in her brow. 

She leans forward, her hand parting between her thumb and index finger to cover your mouth. It hurts your skin, but…

A moan is caught beneath her palm, low and breathless. Pleading for more.

Your thighs press together, hips shifting atop the mattress.

Amarantha leans her weight forward, pinning you to the bed before pushing away, giving a final roll of her hips before languidly shifting further up your body.

Your mouth waters.

The High Queen’s knees settle a little higher than your head, before finally taking her seat atop your mouth. Arousal smears across your lips, chin, and cheeks, spreading across your skin as she rolls her hips, and push out your tongue to glide through the curling mess between her thighs.

Heat rolls from her skin in waves, soft and cushioned by her legs, pressed between the delightful comfort of the bed and the heaven of her skin, and scent. Breaths pant from her chest, and she is worked up enough to release moans through the room, unabashed and indulgent. Decadent sounds.

She flutters on your tongue, pleasure pulsing through her body as her hips buck, and you’ve your eyes closed as you bask in her ecstasy. Nails rake across your scalp as she tugs you against her cunt, scratching through your hair in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

The smell of sweat and tangerine zest clings to her skin, heavy and blossomy as her chest rises and falls.

Another breeze sweeps through her chambers, playing with her hair as Amarantha crawls off of you, settling herself sweet and comfortable against a small gathering of pillows. Basking in the aftermath of her high.

There’s a faint trace of smoke in the air, and the sharp tang of blood brought in from the outside. Able to reach you, even so high up.

You crawl to the top of the bed, settling close to her side but not touching—she doesn’t like to be touched when resting.

It’s only recently she’s allowed you to stay at all, not immediately being returned to your own dark quarters.

Maybe one day she’ll allow you to stay watch as she sleeps, too.

~~~~

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You were chasing after your friends, stumbling drunkenly in your high heels yet managing to stay upright somehow. They were only a few paces ahead of you, their dresses shiny and bright underneath the streetlights. All you needed to do was call out to them, and then you would be reunited. You tried to speak, but no words came out. Your voice was gone even as you screamed for them to turn back, to help you home.

A sudden feeling of dread washed over you, ice water poured down your spine that caused you to shiver. You turned your head to look behind you, and saw a terrifyingly large, winged beast lurking behind you. Again you tried to scream, tried to beg for help, but no one came to your rescue.

You snapped awake, stumbling and scraping your hands and knees on rough concrete. Your dream melted away but you were left with the fear it had stirred, doubled when you realized where you were. Or rather, where you weren’t.

Looking around in a panic, you saw no one watching you, friendly or otherwise. You also saw no signs of the place you now called home, and had no clue which direction you had come from. You scrambled to your feet, wincing at the pain in your knees.

Tears filled your eyes when you realized that you were alone once more, with no hope of finding your way back to your alphas, and you were now at risk of being found by the soldiers that Amarantha had sent in search of you. They fell down your cheeks as you looked around again, trying to choose a path to go down. The one that you had woken facing was unlikely to be the way back home, but the opposite end had two hallways. You had to make a choice, one that could lead you back to your alphas, or further away from them. Neither path looked familiar, and with the same bland, yellow walls and concrete floors, they looked the same as every other hallway you’d gone down in the place.

With a sigh, you started down the hallway to the left, praying silently that it was the correct path to take.

You walked and walked, a half an hour passing before you found a small inlet in a wall, just large enough for you to squeeze into, and long enough that only a creature as small as you could reach you. You paused for a moment as you stared at it, debating whether or not it would be a good idea to sit and wait for Feyre and Rhys to find you.

They’d found you the last time, though it had taken a bit… But surely by now one of them would have woken and noticed that you were missing, and they would be searching for you. Yes, you decided, slipping into the crack in the walls that was just large enough for you to sit down with your knees pulled to your chest.

You waited and waited, each minute dragging on into an eternity. You did your best to recall your favorite songs, singing them in your head to pass the time, and when that failed you thought of your alphas. How pretty Feyre was, with those shining blue-grey eyes and high cheekbones. And Rhys with his dark as night hair and wings that you had once found terrifying, but now found to be a source of comfort. They were both so sweet with you, and knew your needs before you fully realized them. You hadn’t been thirsty or hungry or alone for a minute since you had accepted them as your alphas, except for now.

God, how panicked they must be… More tears cascaded down your cheeks at the thought of them being panicked over your safety. And all because you had sleep-walked out of your home, too far to find your way back to them on your own.

Time ticked past and you heard a distant rustling noise, and fear built in your heart once more. You pressed yourself tighter against the back wall of your little alcove, debating whether or not you should stand so that you could attempt to make a run for it if need be. But the rustling noise grew louder and you froze in place.

The tapping of claws accompanied each step, the monster in the hallway growing closer to your hiding spot with every second that passed. Your heartrate kicked up when it stopped in front of your hiding place, the shadow of it blocking out the light. The monster sniffed loudly three times before letting out a dark, chilling laugh. “Little omega, I know you’re here,” it crooned, it’s clawed fingers tapping against the opening you were hidden in. “Come out, my Queen will treat you gently.”

You didn’t answer, breathing shallowly as your terror rose. The only thing separating you from certain death or worse was five feet of wall, too far for the Attor to reach you.

But that didn’t stop it from trying. Its grey, decaying flesh stank so badly it made you gag as it pawed for you, giant claws scraping the wallpaper from the walls. It shrieked and raged as it tried to grab you, with no luck on its part. You were panting in fear now, shrinking away from the deadly appendage as much as you could.

It tried and tried, not relenting for a single second of what felt like an hour before you felt a warmth in your chest and one tug, clear and sharp, cutting the fear in your chest.

The Attor didn’t notice him approaching, and did not see the sword before it sliced through its neck. The head fell to the ground with a satisfying plop, soon followed by the beast’s body. Rhys’s head popped into the alcove and turned to you, his violet eyes filled with ice.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, voice filled with rage. “You know it isn’t safe!”

You cowered against the wall for a moment before his eyes softened, and then you launched yourself at him. Tears fell freely from your eyes as you stumbled over the Attor’s body and into his arms, sobs wracking your body. “I know,” you cried, burying your face in his chest, not giving a fig about the grey goop splattered across his leather chest piece. “I was sle-sleeping and then I woke up out he-here.”

His strong arms wrapped around you, holding you against him firmly. His lips pressed to the crown of your head and he murmured an apology, waiting patiently for your tears to stop. You pulled your head from his chest, looking up at him with watery eyes. “It’s alright, darling. I… I had thought you were trying to leave us,” he admitted softly, then pressed his lips to yours. “Let’s go home, omega. Feyre is already heading back, and she’ll be anxious to see you.”

You nodded and let him scoop you into his arms, and you tucked your face into his neck, breathing in his scent. The citrus and sea of your alpha combined with his steady, fast pace had you dozing off in his arms, the exhaustion from your unexpected outing finally catching up to you.

“Oh thank the mother,” Feyre sighed when she saw Rhys walk through the door with you in his hold. She tugged you from his arms and squeezed you tightly, her nose finding your neck. It was only after she took a deep lungful of your scent that she loosened her hold on you. ”I’m so glad you’re safe, omega. We were so worried when we woke to find you missing…”

“I’m sorry, alpha,” you sniffled, taking in a deep breath of her scent to soothe your omega. “I was sleep walking.”

“I know, ‘mega. Rhys already explained the situation to me,” Feyre said with a tight smile. “We’re going to work out a way to prevent it, okay? Then we’ll never have another scare like this again. But for now, the two of you should get in the bath.” Her nose wrinkled when she looked at Rhys, a decent amount of grey gunk still covering him.

“That sounds good to me, alpha,” you said, letting her lead you to the bathing room.

🩵💜🤍💜🩵

Every day, there were more reports from Azriel’s shadows about Amarantha’s troops closing in on your home, finding their way through the maze of hallways. The most recent one had passed by this morning, less than a quarter mile away from the door that led to your safe haven.

Rhys and Feyre left each day for meetings with the other courts, coming back exhausted each evening. You spent your days swimming in the bathing pools and prodding Cassian and Azriel for stories, anything to keep your mind from utter boredom.

The visit to Velaris that Feyre had promised had yet to happen, dampening your spirits even further. You hadn’t left your home since your sleep-walking episode three days ago, and you felt as though you were going insane.

Currently you were seated on one of the couches, staring at the door that led to Velaris. Feyre and Rhys were off again today, leaving you in the care of Cassian, while Azriel patrolled the hallways.

“Please,” you begged, using your best puppy dog eyes as you stared Cassian down. “Please, please, please take me to Velaris, Cassian.”

“You know I can’t do that, Y/N,” Cassian sighed, his hazel eyes darting away from yours. “Rhys and Feyre would have a conniption if I took you anywhere without their permission.”

“But I’m dying of boredom. And I would be safe with you by my side the entire time,” you pointed out, watching his face for any sign of him caving in to your demands. “I just want to leave for a couple of hours, that’s all. Please…?”

Cassian sighed heavily. “You have to promise to not leave my side for a single moment. And we’re only going to stay for a half an hour, alright?” You fought the urge to clap your hands in excitement at his acquiescence. “It would be faster to fly…” he muttered to himself.

“I’ll go get some shoes on,” you said giddily, bolting to your room before he could change his mind. You were back in a flash, leather slippers on your feet and a fur cloak tied around your throat. “Are you ready?”

Another sigh and Cassian stood, flexing his wings behind him. “Let’s go,” he said, voice resigned. You were out the door in a flash, walking quickly down the hall. “Stop,” Cassian demanded, something in his tone forcing you to halt in your tracks. He reached you quickly, tugging you into his arms and then taking off at a fast and steady pace. At his speed, you reached Velaris in twenty minutes, opening the door and gazing in awe again at the life that thrived in this place. “Remember, you stick by my side at all times.” You nodded in agreement and let him set the pace as you descended the staircase that separated you from the settlement.

People stared just as much as before, though none came directly up to you again, for which you were grateful. You stayed as close to Cassian as possible as he led you through the crowd to one of the larger buildings. The interior was filled with fabrics of all kinds, including the same type of fur that your mates dressed you in each day.

“Cassian, why are you back this time?” a woman sighed and you came around Cassian’s side slightly to see her. Her blue-grey eyes reminded you of Feyre, and though she’d sounded annoyed with Cassian, her eyes were alight with delight. “Ah, the famed omega,” she said appreciatively. “My name is Nesta, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You introduced yourself, feeling shy when her scent washed over you - another alpha. You couldn’t get over the similarities she had with Feyre, and you final blurted out, “Are you- I’m sorry, but are you related to Feyre?”

Nesta laughed softly. “Yes, we’re sisters. We have another as well, you may meet her at some point if she can tear herself away from the gardens.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said with a smile. “What is all of this?”

“It’s our collection of fabrics, including the furs of the Worins. I sort through the pieces that fall through worlds like yours, with the help of a few others.”

“She’s the best at it,” Cassian boasted, earning him a playful glare from Nesta. “I thought you might like to pick out a few things, while we’re here. If that’s fine by Nesta, of course.”

“For my sister’s omega, anything,” Nesta said with a small smile.

Cassian let you get a few paces away from him as you browsed the racks and piles of fabrics, picking out a few pieces that interested you. You heard him chatting lowly with Nesta, the occasional flirtatious laugh having you glancing back at them to see their heated stares. You walked through the building slowly, savoring the feel of each fabric on your fingers. Ever since you had presented as an omega, your senses had been sharper, touch especially so.

After a while you felt a sudden burst of panic in your chest, startling you from your perusal. Cassian let out a groan at the same time, crossing the room to grab a hold of your arm.

“Sorry, Nes. I’ve got to get her back before our Lord and Lady rip apart the court,” he apologized, sending a boyish grin her way. “I’ll come back to visit soon.”

“Come back never, for all I care,” Nesta said, but when you glanced back, her eyes were shining. You shook your head at the two of them, wondering why neither had confessed their obvious feelings to the other.

“Let’s go, ‘mega,” Cassian said, hauling you into his arms and pushing off of the ground and into the air. Your stomach lurched at the sudden movement, hands clutching to the fabrics in them. “I’ve got you, don’t worry,” Cassian soothed, his arms holding you tighter to his chest. He landed in front of the door that led back inside, just as it burst open. A frantic Feyre and Rhys stood before you, eyes going wide before narrowing at the sight of you in Cassian’s arms.

Rhys tugged you out of Cassian’s grasp and into his own, clutching you tightly to his chest. “We will speak to you later, Cassian,” he said in a cold voice, spinning on his heel and taking you back into the maze of hallways, Feyre only a step behind him.

Silence reigned between the three of you for ten minutes, though you could sense their fury through the bond in your chest. You ached to explain the situation to them, but you couldn’t get the words to come out. Instead, you nuzzled into Rhys’s neck, enjoying the citrus and sea scent of him even with it marred by his anger. The press of your lips to his skin had some of the rage melting away from his golden tether, though you had a feeling it wouldn’t be enough to save you from some sort of lecture or punishment.

By the time you entered your home, a heavy feeling had sunk into your stomach. Rhys set you down on the couch gently, and then they were standing before you, arms crossed as they stared down at you in disapproval.

“Why?” Feyre asked furiously.

You blinked up at her, unsure of what to say, but opened your mouth anyways. “I was bored…” you said in a small voice. They were still looking at you the same way, and you scrambled for some other reasoning. "I wanted more nesting fabrics, and Cassian was by my side the entire time. I was safe.”

“Safe?” Rhys chuckled darkly. “The only time that you are truly safe is when you are with us, omega. Even here with Cassian and Azriel with you, you are not safe. If Amarantha decided to look for you herself, there is no way that Cassian could have protected you.”

“I didn’t know that,” you cried. “You don’t tell me enough to know how much danger I’m actually in. And I am sorry that I left without your permission… I’d thought that having Cassian with me would be enough. I thought that Velaris was safe.”

“Velaris is safe, darling,” Feyre sighed, crouching down in front of you to meet your eyes. “It’s the road there that’s dangerous, which is why Cassian should have known better.  I…” She paused to consider her words. “I know that you’ve been tired of staying here, darling, but you must listen to us. And in return, we can take you to Velaris every other day. Does that sound okay?”

“Yes, but… can’t you take me to your meetings too?” you asked quietly. Every day that they left you behind it bothered you more and more, your omega still adjusting to the bond.

“It’s not safe there!” Feyre exclaimed. “The alphas that we meet with are volatile, we don’t know how they would act if you were with us." She was poised to speak again, but a pointed look from Rhys had her backing down for the moment.

“As it turns out, the other court leaders have demanded to meet you, to see for certain that we and Eris are not lying,” Rhys said with a shake of his head. “If that meeting goes well, we will discuss you accompanying us more often.”

“Fat chance,” Feyre muttered under her breath. You smiled at her, reaching a hand out to poke her cheek as she pouted. “I suppose we’ve spoken enough of this matter. But if you ever pull another stunt like that again, you will get more than a talking to.”

“I won’t,” you said. “I promise.”

Feyre smiled at you, and you noticed that most of the tension that was in her body had melted away. “Did you want to show us your new nesting materials?”

You nodded vigorously, releasing the death grip that you hadn’t realized you had on them, spreading them across your lap. Rhys crouched down as well, and they both reached their fingers out to feel each piece as you presented it. It made you giddy, showing off your new finds to your alphas, and you chocked it up to another silly side effect of your presentation.

Once you’d finished, Feyre tugged you off of the couch and into your bedroom. She carefully pushed you down onto the mound of furs you shared, spreading your new fabrics around you, her touch feather light and teasing as she did so.

You propped yourself up on your elbows when she stood once more, watching as she and Rhys slowly undressed each other. Heat rushed through you at the sight of them bare before you, though when they laid down around you, they merely held you close, despite your arousal. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep in their hold, drifting off into the land of dreams once more.

🩵💜🤍💜🩵

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao @twismare @wrenisrad @icey--stars @le-nottibianche @archerxnn @littlest-w01f

Four entire seasons came and went—along with it came many changes.

Spring warmed into summer, summer cooling into rainy autumn days. Autumn bled into frosty, snowy winter weather only to succumb to the birth of everything anew—when spring bloomed once again.

The tiny flame tattoo on your wrist had disappeared the moment Eris winnowed you back to Velaris—the bargain fulfilled. Simultaneously, his had disappeared too, the skin on both yours and his right wrists bare as if there had been no touch of Night Court black ink on either of you.

You could still remember that day like it had just occurred.

Nearly the second you materialized in the sitting room of the River House, you had people on you.

You’d never learned how Eris had gained access to be able to winnow directly into the River House. It had always been amusing to you how Rhys could trust Eris to be their ally, trust him with visits to Velaris, trust him to winnow directly into his private residence, but you were where he drew a line.

“Mother above, you’re back!”

You didn’t even have time to process who had spoken before you were launched at by Elain, who’d thrown herself at you, arms wrapping around you in a hug.

“Did he hurt you?”

“What happened?”

Nesta and Feyre had soon joined you and Elain, each of them throwing their arms around you too. Cassian and Azriel were next to approach you, pulling you into hugs and surrounding you with even more people.

You peered over them—through them—seeing Eris at the edge of the room with Rhys.

The more people that crowded you, the further you became separated from Eris. It was as if when the bargain tattoo disappeared, it cut the last tether that kept the two of you connected.

His eyes found yours, briefly. You weren’t sure how, but you knew that whatever had happened between you and Eris had just come to a bittersweet end. You weren’t entirely sure why you felt such a deep sadness at the fact. Perhaps because you and he had—even briefly—shared something special. Honest, even.

“It’s gone!” Elain gasped.

She’d grabbed your arm, pushing up the lavender sleeve of the gossamer two piece set you’d left Velaris in a few days ago. You’d changed back into it before leaving, earlier.

After the sex—after the declaration of what you intended to do when you returned, Eris had allowed you to stay for two more days. He knew any longer would raise his family’s suspicion.

There had been no more intimacy after that second day. You’d taken another walk in the forest with him—with Smokey in tow—and you both had many long conversations.

You’d talked about what you envisioned for your future—if you could wish for anything. It had been simple, but all you had said was freedom and happiness. You wanted the privilege to find your own path—like each of your sisters had—and whatever happiness that came with that, that was all you could ask for.

He’d helped you articulate your thoughts, work though long shoved down feelings regarding the situation with your sisters. He’d assisted you in ensuring you had a better idea of all the things you wanted to say to them.

He’d even talked about things he hoped to change when he became High Lord. You’d been surprised to hear how many great ideas he had. Not that it was shocking per se—he was such a smart male, was equally gifted in book smarts, but also knew how to handle court affairs and people in general. You had no doubt in your mind that when he put his heart, soul and mind into it, he’d accomplish great things.

Though you’d been eager to have the conversation with your sisters, you’d also dreaded leaving. It was as if you knew once the two of you left the little bubble you’d created, things would never be the same.

By the looks of things now, your gut told you that you hadn’t been too far off.

“So the bargain is truly fulfilled then?” Feyre asked, more than a touch of suspicion in her tone.

“It is. You will not have to worry that I will target your sister for any sort of nefarious plans you think I have.”

His deep voice filled the room and you fought every instinct in you not to look at him. Unfortunately your eyes slid his way, anyways. You were surprised to find what looked like sorrow behind the eyes you’d grown so accustomed to. But it was gone before you knew it, his attention turning back to Rhys.

“Come, I can make you some tea,” Elain said, gently tugging on your arm, “I’m sure you’re still shaken from the exciting few days you’ve had.”

You were dragged away before you had a chance to protest.

“Rhys will be changing the wards so Eris can’t get in. In case he tries to pull something sneaky,” Feyre said, following the two of you.

“And Nuala and Cerridwen know what to be on the lookout for. Az made sure to inform them,” Nesta included, tagging along, “We want you to be safe here.”

“You’re seriously still going to keep me prisoner here? Even after all of this?” you asked, aghast, “I thought you said only until this was over. Well guess what? It’s over.”

You could not go back to the hole you’d fallen in. You refused to—refused to let this happen any longer.

“At least until Rhys can make sure it’s all clear. That Beron isn’t going to try—” Feyre began.

“No,” you said so forcefully it actually stopped all of the older three Archerons midstep.

You squared your shoulders, spine stiffening as you decided to finally take the step you’d been needing to, for so incredibly long.

“I think it’s time for some changes.”

It had been a fight.

A days long fight—four different wills battling against one another.

But—surprisngly—it had led to a string of events you’d never ever expected to happen.

It had been a few days after you’d returned to Velaris when Rhys and Feyre requested to see you.

Things were still tenuous after the days long arguments and fighting with your sisters. Everyone was keen on letting you remain at the River House—as if they were afraid you were going to run off or worse, Eris would come to snatch you away again.

You spent those next few days terrified you’d walked back into the same situation you’d left and had briefly escaped. You didn’t think you’d have it in you if you had to endure the same treatment all over again. An immortal lifetime of just sitting around—being kept from things that were happening all around you, constantly—sounded like nothing but pure torture.

It made your restlessness that much more apparent, the itch to be helpful somehow even greater.

So when Elain had come to fetch you, your stomach twisted in dread, reminding you all too much of the last time this had happened. The worst sort of thoughts plagued you as you followed behind your second eldest sister, all the way to the study.

It was too eerily similar to that morning that started this all—even if the behavior and patterns had started long before Feyre had even first stepped a foot into Prythian.

Rhys sat behind his desk just like last time, Feyre leaning a hip on the side of the desk—at his side just as before—though at least she was standing and not sitting like before.

This time, one of the only differences was that your sister’s mates—minus Rhys—and Azriel weren't in presence. It was only you, Nesta, Feyre, Elain and Rhys.

Which couldn’t mean anything good if there weren’t to be any other witnesses to watch what was about to happen.

“Go ahead and sit down,” Rhys motioned to one of the velvet chairs that was pulled from near the fireplace to in front of his desk.

In fact, there were three. One for Nesta to sit on your left, Elain on your right. Neither said anything as you all settled.

Your eyes drifted upwards to the self portrait of your next to youngest sister—the one Feyre had painted for Rhys. He’d hung it in here behind his head, Feyre teasing him that she’d always be looking over him.

Feyre, the sister that had taken care of not only you, but all four of you and your father—when he was still alive.

The girl that had gone out—at only fourteen years old—for the first time to hunt for food for her poor and starving family. You’d been weeks shy of turning thirteen at that point, still such a child in your sisters’ eyes.

But Feyre had been a child too. Then only five years later she’d made one decision that led all of you to where you were today—not just Feyre being fae, but you, Elain and Nesta as well.

Your strong and brave sister had dealt with cruelties you knew you’d never truly understand. Had fallen in love, found her mate and became the High Lady of the Night Court—all while coming into her own person, her own strength.

She’d become the strong female she was today because of those trials and tribulations.

Nesta had battled her trauma as much as she’d battled the Cauldron when she had been tossed in. Had run from it, using other forms of distraction to ignore her powers and the broken soul that had shattered from the depravity war had exposed her to.

You’d been kept from much of the war with Hybern, left back here in Velaris with a friendly family who ran one of the stores in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. They’d been a well meaning family and you’d appreciated their hospitality and kindness.

What you hadn’t appreciated was how you were the only one not allowed to be present. Elain was far from the warrior type—gentle and caring—and even she had been allowed to go with them. You had been left behind like an actual child they couldn’t trust not to wander off.

That had only been the beginning of you feeling alienated by your own sisters.

But even with all of those horrendous events she’d faced, Nesta had dug herself out of that hole—fought back with the wolf’s determination that’d always laid within her, reclaiming her life. She’d trained, become a Valkyrie, made friends of her own that she survived the Blood Rite with. She, too, had stopped fighting the natural instinct that had warred in her for nearly two years, falling hard for Cassian, finding her true love and accepting her mate.

She, as well, had gone through a messy—not entirely linear—journey and came out of it stronger and better than she’d gone into it.

Even Elain had struggled with accepting her life as a fae, thrashed and chafed against a mating bond and mate she’d never asked for. She’d avoided everything to do with it, to do with Lucien for over two years, going off on side explorations in an attempt to avoid something she couldn’t forever. But then came a time that she could no longer run from it—especially when her work as an emissary and traveling to different courts—had put her in direct contact and proximity to Lucien.

You weren’t entirely sure where they stood currently, but it was a lot better than they once had been. She was clearly more open to giving him a chance, getting to know him. She certainly didn’t seem as torn on whether to reject the bond as some seemed to wonder for a while.

But you? What did you have to show for anything?

You’d been the last Archeron to be thrown in the Cauldron. It was no secret that while the Cauldron adored Elain and considered your eldest sister a thief, you had been an afterthought for it, too. Similarly how you’d felt to everyone in your life.

Maybe the Cauldron had given all it had in gifting something to Elain, had expelled too much in fighting back against Nesta that by the time you’d gone in, it hadn’t bothered to be concerned with you.

Sure, you’d become fae, but you’d come out of the situation with no special powers akin to Nesta’s or Elain’s. You’d been overlooked and underestimated your entire life—it was no surprise that even a magical fae entity such as the Cauldron hadn’t spared you much thought.

But Eris hadn’t treated you like that though. You’d never felt that way with him either.

Which was why it was so hard to accept that the one thing that had been different, had been good in your life was something you could never truly have.

You’d already begun preparing yourself for the worst—more punishment, more confinement, more overprotectiveness—when Rhys finally cleared his throat, obviously eager to get to the matter at hand.

“Firstly, I think it’s important to discuss what happened at the Autumn Court,” Rhys said, cutting to the chase.

Your eyes fell to your lap.

You felt a gentle hand on your arm and you knew without looking it was Elain.

Even if you’d been treated similarly by all your sisters, Elain had been the one to have the tendency to be the most like a little mother to you. Maybe just due to her natural gentle and caring nature.

You knew she meant well—knew that they all did. But right now, it grated on your already worn nerves.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now. Can you please tell us what happened while you were in Autumn?” she uttered, softly.

Images flashed before your eyes.

Anger, arguing, exploration. Peaceful walks in the woods, a kind and energetic hound.

Kindness, sincerity.

Heat. Insistent lips on yours, intentional touch along your body, your mouth on Eris’s cock.

You in his lap, moving with reckless abandon.

Moans, kisses, utterly debauched groans of pleasure.

Recognition. Understanding.

So much had happened in four days, but you knew you would only tell them the things you knew they needed to hear.

When you finally lifted your head to face them, you knew you would never tell them what had happened between you and Eris. It wasn’t any of their business anyways.

Thankfully the scent of him had been erased days ago before you’d even arrived back in Velaris, thanks to a few days and a couple of baths.

“I stayed in his room. I read. I ate. I went on walks in the forest with him and one of his smokehounds. That’s all that happened.”

Feyre and Rhys seemed to eye you carefully. You didn’t look to see what Nesta or Elain’s reactions were.

“You didn’t see anyone else? He didn’t take you to Beron? Or his brothers?” Feyre asked, trying to remain calm, though you saw panic swimming in her blue gray eyes.

You shook your head emphatically.

“Eris and Smokey were the only ones I saw. I didn’t even see a servant.”

“Smokey?”

You turned to Nesta, seeing her brows furrowed.

“Sorry—the smokehound,” you clarified for them.

“And that’s truly all that happened?” Rhys asked.

You nodded.

“I think…I think he was trying to help me. In the best way he knew how to,” you said gently.

Your heart twisted at the words, knowing that it was the truth and how much you’d appreciated what Eris had done for you—all the way back to the beginning of your encounters with him.

“Help you? When has Eris Vanserra ever helped anyone?” Nesta snorted.

You reigned in your temper that flared. But you still said your next words firmly.

“He offers Rhys and Feyre—the Night Court—aid whenever they need it. He wants to overthrow his father one day because he knows the people of the Autumn Court deserve better. He knows Prythian will never truly be a place of peace until Beron is dead. You may hate him for whatever reasons you choose to, but it is not the entire truth to say he has never helped anyone.”

Rhys was studying you—with enough scrutiny that it made you tempted to squirm. Added on to the fact that you couldn’t tell what was going on behind those assessing violet eyes.

“So you read…and went on walks…for four days?” Nesta asked disbelievingly.

“Mostly, yes. We also talked. I was angry the first day because I thought he’d taken me there to force me into a situation that was no better than when I was here.”

You winced internally, not meaning that to come out so abruptly or so soon. You had planned out what you wanted to say days ago, but now you wondered if you’d even get to say them.

Rhys was still studying you, still haven’t yet to have spoken. But Nesta bristled.

“That is not fair. You know we did that to protect you. It’s not like we kidnapped you like he did.”

You looked at your eldest sister, straight in the eye, not backing down. You did not shout, you didn’t cry. You didn’t show an ember of temper like you had in the past. It was possible that was why other times you’d tried to articulate this same sentiment had gone unheard—simply because all parties had been too emotional at the time to listen, to digest what you were saying.

“Eris Vanserra did not kidnap me,” you said calmly, “I went willingly and it was to fulfill the bargain. The matter is now finished. I am in no further danger and it would not be fair to continue to punish me by smothering me into nonexistence.”

Nesta actually seemed stunned, actually blinked at your calm yet serious tone.

“We would never smother you,” Feyre insisted.

Despite the urge to snort or make some sarcastic remark, you remained level headed.

“But you have. You wondered why I became a ghost in this huge, lovely manor for six weeks? It wasn’t simply because of a male, it wasn’t simply because of being punished. I had given up hope on ever finding a place for myself in this world.”

“But you do have a place here,” Elain rushed to reassure you.

“Please, let me speak,” you insisted, firmly.

Elain fell silent but nodded.

“You have given me no choice in anything. Not even before we were turned fae. When we were human I was happy to let it slide. I needed to be taken care of then. But I’m not the same female I was. You won’t let me do anything for this court, won’t involve me in anything that’s happening—and when you have it’s because I’ve had to fight for every inch you’ve allowed me. It is not fair that I still have to endure this treatment. It is one thing to be concerned for me but it is a completely different thing to coddle me, stifle me and protect me from the world.”

“This is ridiculous. You don’t get to make the orders around here,” came Nesta’s scathing retort.

“Nesta,” Feyre said softly.

Whatever Feyre held in her tone softened the bite in Nesta’s own tone significantly.

You knew this conversation would be a fight—mostly with Nesta who was the most strong willed of the four of you. But you’d been prepared for this.

“We only try to protect you because we know of the dangers we’ve each faced. We’d do anything to keep you from having to endure the same.”

This time Nesta’s voice came out more broken, agony laced in her voice. She’d been the first to run to you when you’d been dumped out of that Cauldron, skin glowing unnaturally, limbs longer than you were used to, arched ears under your fingers when you’d blindly felt for them.

Elain had been traumatized enough in her own right, held in the arms of the same male who’d been revealed only moments later to be her mate.

Besides the icy chill of the Cauldron that had slowly choked the mortal life out of you, all you’d remembered most nights from your nightmares was Nesta’s petrified face at seeing her baby sister also forcefully turned fae. The image flashed behind your eyes even now, haunting and agonizing. You knew you had no idea what she’d gone through in those moments.

Pure fear—like in that moment—had been the driving force for your sisters’ behavior, but despite their well meaning intentions, you still pushed forward with the discussion.

“What life is worth living if one doesn’t take a chance or two? How will I ever learn if you don’t let me encounter danger occasionally? I’m not asking to go out and fight in a war tomorrow. I just need room to grow, to breathe…to find myself. Who I am besides the baby Archeron sister.”

Eris had been something—someone—for yourself. Something that had been wholly yours, if only for a short amount of time. He had been something that wasn’t automatically related to you being an Archeron sister, but just you, yourself.

“You truly think that lowly of us?” Elain’s voice shook and your heart ached at her wounded tone.

You’d been so angry with all three of your sisters for so long, but you’d never intended to hurt her—hurt any of them.

“No, but I’ve felt like you’ve thought that lowly of me,” you said matter-of-factly.

Rhys had been monitoring the conversation for some time now. He finally sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers.

“Well I’m glad this is all finally coming to the surface because I’ve been wanting to bring this subject up for some time.”

“Me and Rhys have argued over it plenty,” Feyre winced.

You were surprised to know that Rhys—your brother in a sense—had actually been fighting in your defense all this time.

“You have?”

Rhys looked solemn.

“We had many disagreements over you, yes. I thought you showed promise for more, could do more. Feyre disagreed. We often didn’t get far.”

You tried not to let it sting that your sister had thought so little of you that she didn’t find you worthy enough to even give you a chance. Feyre must’ve seen your crestfallen face because she quickly jumped in to explain.

“It’s not that I didn’t agree with him, but I was scared. Scared to let you experience things I didn’t know if you were ready for. But maybe…that’s never been my call.”

You couldn’t disagree with her.

“You three need to stop treating her like a child. She is grown and capable of making her own decisions,” Rhys said, looking at each of your sisters, “I’ve watched her try to tell you this time and time again and you refused to listen.”

“Now listen here, this is between us and our sister. It is none of your business,” Nesta snapped, clearly not appreciative of being scolded.

“Nesta,” you chided gently, giving her a look.

While Nesta and Rhys hadn’t always seen eye to eye, they’d gotten better when it came to most things. It would do no good to start an argument though.

“While I understand your desire for privacy, it actually is my business because I have a proposition of my own for her. It’s something I’ve been discussing for quite some time with Feyre and I’m curious if she’ll be interested.”

Rhys’s eyes landed on yours again as he spoke the last part of that sentence. You straightened, not having expected this turn in the conversation.

“What’s that?” you questioned, curious.

“Well you know Cassian has been my temporary courtier for some time now, but it’s not a position he wants to hold forever. Would it be something you might be interested in? It would come with the opportunity to get out of the court, visit other courts, meet new people. I happen to think you’d excel at the position.”

You blinked, trying to process the barrage of information.

“But…I have no training in such an area. Why do you think it’d be a good fit for me?”

“Because you have a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue—one you do not hesitate to use on your sisters. Or Eris,” Rhys answered with a grin before becoming serious once again, “He let me into his mind to show me what happened during your visit to the Autumn Court.”

Your breath caught in your chest. Had he seen everything? Was he going to tell the others? Or had Eris only showed him the same parts you’d told them?

Rhys’s face gave nothing away, leaving you wondering just the extent of what he’d seen.

“You were always quick on your feet with him,” Rhys continued, “Didn’t let him outsmart you. Which is rather impressive since it’s Eris we’re talking about.”

You relaxed a fraction when it seemed like he didn’t know the full truth, especially when he didn’t bring it up to your sisters. It was more likely that Eris hadn’t shown him that memory and Rhys had no knowledge of it.

“Even though I’m completely inexperienced?”

Rhys lips twitched upwards in a genuine smile.

“Well that’s the entire purpose of training under Cassian, is it not? That is, if you’re interested in the position.”

You remembered Elain’s words from a few weeks ago—how Feyre mentioned the possibility of finding something for you to do. Had this been what she meant?

Shockingly, none of your sisters jumped in to speak for you. There were no raised voices, no shouting, no hysterics like there had been in past rounds.

For once, your sisters let you speak for yourself.

Something tugged at your heart, the sadness that came with the strange feeling that though you’d gained your freedom, you’d sacrificed something special to achieve it. You gave Rhys a small smile.

“Someone once told me that the world is mine, I just have to pursue it. I think I’m finally ready to do just that.”

Now, a year later, you were the official courtier of the Night Court.

Your first few times accompanying Cassian on different tasks made you a nervous wreck—always afraid you’d stumble on your words. You spent too much time second guessing everything you said or did, wondering if it was Rhys, your sisters or you that was the most out of their minds to think you could do this.

“I spent my first task from Rhys second guessing every move I made. My first task also involved me being sent to meet with Vassa, Jurian and Lucien. Eris was also there, so talk about throwing me in the deep end almost instantly.”

Cassian had reassured you with that tale, assuring you that even if he’d fumbled half of his first mission, he’d soon learn to grow better at it—even if he still didn’t consider himself as great at it as Rhys was.

But you’d continued shadowing Cassian, the Illyrian soon letting you take the lead.

Before you knew it, you’d officially taken Cassian’s place and were truly on your own to command a room as you saw fit. While your first few solo missions had made you anxious, initially, you soon learned the best approaches, learned to read the individuals you dealt with the most.

True to Rhys’s word, your work as a courtier took you to different courts, giving you the opportunity to explore and discover things you’d once only dreamed of. You met new people, made new connections, both personally and for the benefit of the Night Court.

You attended banquets, events, meetings with other High Lords and their councils. You learned how to foster relations, always leaving people with the planted seed of an idea of working with the Night Court, allying with them, or even simply being on better terms.

With each and every mission successfully accomplished, your confidence grew. Somehow you had quickly developed a reputation across Prythian, too, even coming with your own moniker.

The Dove of the Night Court is what you were playfully nicknamed—ironically started by Helion, High Lord of Day. Ironic considering you were sure you’d been told he’d created his own surname of Spell-Cleaver.

But it had stuck, as you were known to come in with a sharp mind and tongue, but always managed to leave even the most complicated and tense situation with a wave of peace in your wake. Maybe it had to do with you knowing how to keep a level head and even tone that meant business while still remaining respectful and open to listening to any and all parties.

Who knew you had a penchant for settling difficulties? It was as if all your conflict with your sisters had trained you for this, alone.

It was also quite ironic that your nickname was exactly what Eris Vanserra had once called you.

The last time you’d truly encountered Eris was the day he’d winnowed you home to the Night Court.

Of course, it was impossible not to see him occasionally, but you hadn’t spoken to him since that day. At most you’d receive a polite nod of the head before one of you inevitably were pulled away or had to move along.

You weren’t sure if he purposely had managed to avoid you the majority of the time, but he’d also l been through a significant amount of changes himself over the last year.

About seven months ago, Eris Vanserra became the High Lord of Autumn.

Following an intense period of time of inner conflict across the land of Prythian—when you were still training under Cassian—Beron Vanserra had tried to incite a war against the other courts. It had begun with him trying to acquire lands from the Spring Court. Tamlin had still been at his worst, letting the court fall to ruin and not bothering to rule his own court or people anymore.

Not many had resided in the Spring Court at that point anyways, most having relocated to other courts or even across the sea to the Continent. It had been a mess—not even including the fact that the wall that had separated the mortal lands from the faerie lands had been destroyed in the war with Hybern. That alone had been a precarious situation between mortals and fae alike.

Beron clearly had more bad intentions than he did sense though. When Eris had secretly relayed to Rhys of Beron’s plans, Rhys had started readying to go on the defense, gathering intel and potential forces to protect the Spring Court.

Until Beron Vanserra had attacked the Spring Court in an attempt to conquer it.

Thus leading to weeks of Eris secretly working with the Night Court against his father—something he’d been doing for years, but this time it was far riskier, far deadlier.

Beron’s plans? He’d wanted to become High King of Prythian, even if it meant he attacked each and every court to conquer their land.

Fortunately no one was gravely injured in the attack on Spring, Tamlin managing to protect his court and the people he had left. Though the damage had been done to an already destroyed land. Though there’d been no fatalities, there were still many left injured. Many had been left unhappy with their High Lord.

It would take a long time and hard work to rebuild the court to its former grandeur, even longer for the people to fully trust their High Lord—but at least that was currently still ongoing, looking more positive than it had in a long time.

The final blow came when Beron discovered the extent of his eldest son’s treachery, while his troops launched a surprise attack on their neighbor, the Winter Court.

Kallias, High Lord of Winter had called for help from his allies. Rhys and the Night Court showed up from the North, Tarquin and the Summer from the South.

It had been brutal and bloody according to Feyre. Several died from the Summer Court’s armies and some of the Autumn Court soldiers had also perished in the attack.

You hadn’t been there, which you’d understood this time as to why—you knew you’d have been no help since you possessed no fighting skills. Frankly, you were glad you had been saved from the brutality as you’d felt sick just from the stories your family had relayed.

Later, Rhys told you, he’d found Beron just as he was about to put his sword through Eris’s chest—likely for his treachery at the bare minimum. Rhys had had excellent timing, apparently, blasting the High Lord away with his night-kissed power, enough to stun and disorient.

Rhys had added he’d been tempted to mist Beron on sight, but figured Eris deserved to have the killing blow.

Which he’d gotten.

Eris had been the one who put the sword through Beron’s chest instead—after he beheaded him with one sharp slice of his sword. A true general as much as he was an heir.

When you’d said you’d felt sick—it hadn’t been from the gruesome and graphic details, no. It had been from the raw fear of knowing how close Eris had come to death.

How dangerously close he’d come to being completely eliminated from this world.

And that thought alone made you nearly want to vomit.

You didn’t know exactly what you’d say to Eris if you were facing him right now, but when you’d heard how close he’d come to death, you had been fearful that you’d never get the opportunity to thank him for saving you. It was strange how it needled you time and time again—as if something was unfinished that you were being urged to complete.

Eris had saved you in so many ways that you didn’t think you could even put in words how much it meant to you, anyhow.

But, he hadn’t died. He’d become High Lord, the power instantly transferring to him, as did the heavy weight of all of the responsibilities ruling a court came with. Especially one as corrupt and twisted as Autumn.

You remembered all the dreams Eris had once told you—the wishes and hopes he wanted to make a reality for his court. You knew with time and determination only he had, he would make those dreams into a reality.

In the months since, the relationship between Autumn and Night had strengthened significantly, your entire family realizing what you had once long ago—that Eris wasn’t as horrible as they’d all come to believe. Though, Rhys seemed to handle most of the dealings with Autumn himself.

You tried not to take it personally, but you figured you dealing with Eris—despite the fact that they’d come to have a higher opinion of him—was still a deal breaker for your sisters. At least with Feyre.

You’d been pleasantly surprised at how supportive they were with your life changes.

Ironically, staying busy meant you all weren’t always in the same place at the same time—you didn’t see them all the time as you once did. But, somehow, it seemed to help your relationship with them.

You and Elain had fallen into the habit of grabbing little gifts for one another in your respective travels—meant to exchange with one another the next time you saw each other. Sometimes it was decorative items, sometimes it was practical items, others it was candies or other little treats.

You and Nesta often exchanged book recommendations, though you didn’t find as much time to read as she still managed to, despite her busy days. Her and the Valkyries were considering starting a book club just so they could introduce you to all the best Sellyn Drake novels. Ironically, considering the situation with Eris in the past, Nesta didn’t seem to balk at you reading the same steamy romances she did. After all, it wasn’t like you hadn’t done some of that stuff by now.

You and Feyre typically spent time sipping tea, going over reports. Even if it was work related, it was nice to spend time with the sister that was closest to you in age. You were still able to catch up and chat in between all the courtly matters.

But with the newly strengthened relationships came a new development—your sister’s eagerness to set you up with eligible males across Prythian.

You’d been hesitant at first—haunted for far too long by the image of flaming red hair, burning amber eyes and constellations of freckles across a face that knew how to be soft.

But after they kept hounding you, you eventually gave in.

Elain was first to present you with a male—Florian. He was a younger sentry from the Spring Court that Lucien had taken under his wing.

“He’s only three hundred.” Elain had said cheerfully, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Way to sell it,” you’d mumbled.

But you’d been pleasantly surprised. Florian was definitely attractive—unsurprisingly so as all males in Prythian were.

Florian had blonde hair, roughly a shade and a half darker than his High Lord’s, leaning more between a brunette and blonde hue. His eyes were as green as Tamlin’s, though not unusual considering green was a prominent eye color in individuals from the Spring Court.

But oh was he charming.

Not in the way Eris was charming though. No, Florian was ever the gentleman—or gentlemale as was the term used in Prythian. That was one thing you’d yet to get used to, too often falling back on the mortal term out of habit.

Florian was well spoken, chivalrous, attentive and polite. He was so polite he made Eris—even when he was at his most pleasant—look utterly crass.

He would kiss your hand in greeting, pull out chairs for you, open doors for you, offer his arm for you to take, on a stroll.

You’d been on such a high, especially when an afternoon tea with him—in Elain’s garden at the River House—had gone incredibly well. You had definitely anticipated seeing more of him.

Which you had.

Maybe you’d gotten your hopes up too high and too fast—too excited too soon.

For when the opportunity had presented itself—after only a short time of seeing him—where he’d wanted to take you to bed, you’d been thrilled.

After all, it’d been…awhile.

The sex had been…nothing like you’d expected. To the point you’d been left so disappointed and dissatisfied that you’d wondered what the fuck that even was.

You’d worried something was wrong with you. Or if maybe you weren’t as good at sex as you’d assumed—at least without Eris’s tutelage.

Florian had spent the entire time treating you like you were made of glass, afraid to touch you too firmly even as he thrust into you. You couldn’t help but wonder the entire time you laid there if he was too apprehensive because of who you were—the youngest sister of his mentor’s mate.

Not to mention the High Lady of the Night Court’s sister. It had been a double whammy against you.

Which even more bizarrely—despite him going overboard with the gentleness—he’d wanted you to take charge. You’d only ever done that once before with Eris and you hadn’t felt like you even knew what Florian wanted you to do, anyways.

So you’d let him take over, trying to enjoy it—had tried to do more than just lay there. But it had seemed like a futile effort when he’d hardly touch you, despite his cock literally being inside you.

Then there had been the fact he’d tried to attempt some filthy language. That had been so disastrous, you still cringed, remembering it.

The entire experience had been so different than how it’d been with Eris—who was always so sure of himself, so confident. But it hadn’t been just about comparing to how it’d been with Eris—frankly you’d been just trying to survive the situation most importantly—but it had been the fact that it felt subpar, as if something had been missing.

Needless to say, you hadn’t seen Florian after that.

You’d let him down easily, though with as relieved as he’d seemed, you hadn’t been sure if you had been more offended or relieved, yourself.

You’d simply told Elain that it turned out you and Florian had little in common.

After Florian had come Alban, a Winter Courter courtier introduced to you by Feyre.

You’d crossed paths with the male several times before in your work as courtier but had yet to really talk to him.

He was more stoic and quiet than you were used to, but he was good-looking. Similar to most that hailed from the icy Winter Court, he had snow white hair and striking blue eyes. So striking they’d definitely captured your attention instantly, drawing you to the male.

His skin was the palest skin tone in all of Prythian—even paler than Eris’s—individuals from Winter having an almost frozen appearance to their complexion.

You’d quickly bonded over courtier work, having long discussions over certain aspects of the job and trading stories.

It had been an easy sort of friendship that formed, making you happy that things seemed to be going well—as he was a gentle spirit with such knowledge to him, too.

So when the time rolled around that you and he had taken that next step, inviting him to your bed, you’d thought you’d been prepared. Thought you’d tampered your expectations enough to not be disappointed.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

It had been a disaster from the start.

For one—though you had no idea just how old he was—as an immortal that had been alive longer than you, he hadn't even been able to get his cock inside you properly for the first few minutes.

That really should’ve been your first warning sign right there.

When he had actually been able to meet your rhythm—the few seconds he had in the entire experience—it had felt good. But Alban would move one way just as you’d moved another.

You’d even made a sarcastic and witty remark in an attempt to ease the obvious awkwardness—a remark that Eris for sure would’ve tossed an equally sassy one back.

It had completely eluded him and you’d received no comment in return.

The entire experience had felt hollow and performatory, only a means to an end.

Not like there had been an end for you. At least you’d somewhat enjoyed Florian better, even if there hadn’t been an end in sight for you there, either.

Afterwards, when he’d pulled out of you, your thighs had been slick and warm from his release.

Gods, you’d sometimes wondered how males had it so easy, able to still reach completion even if they wouldn’t deem the encounter good.

But that hadn’t even been the worst part. No, after he’d pulled his cock from you, he’d started discussing a trade routes deal that Kallias had been currently working on.

You’d had no desire to continue to see him after that.

Meanwhile, Feyre had had the hopes of potentially arranging a marriage between you and Alban—as Kallias had told her that Alban was in search of a wife.

You’d politely and firmly shut that idea down right that moment—especially when you no longer heard from him after your night spent together.

Clearly it hadn’t been very special to him either. At least it’d saved you from another awkward conversation à la Florian.

Nesta’s pick had come last and by this point, you’d been understandably wary.

But when you’d seen who she’d presented you with, you’d changed your tune quickly, a thrill of excitement shooting through you.

You’d heard whispers from some of his own conquests in passings—at how good in the bedroom he truly was. You’d had half the hope you’d get to find out for yourself.

Balthazar was one of the more decent Illyrians. He had been the male Nesta’d told you and the others that she’d encountered in the Blood Rite— long ago now—and how kind he’d been to her and Emerie.

Balthazar was extremely handsome—to the point you’d found yourself practically preening in his presence. He was all powerful body, golden brown skin and dark hair, brown eyes to round out the appealing package. Not to mention the leathery wings at his back.

You’d never stopped to wonder what having an Illyrian in your bed would be like. Of course, you were sure Nesta and Feyre knew all about that.

You couldn’t help but stare at him when he’d talked to you, though your mind had kept thinking of how those deep brown eyes just weren’t the same as amber ones you’d once been so used to.

Your entanglement with Balthazar truly could’ve been labeled as nothing more than a fling, though.

He’d been nice, but truly only interested in a tangle in the sheets, which if you’d been honest, you hadn’t minded in the slightest.

If it had been any good, you might’ve convinced yourself it would’ve been something you’d been interested in doing casually.

Balthazar—admittedly—had been the best of the three males though, having managed to pull some measure of pleasure from you.

For one, he’d been huge. But not in a good way.

Whereas Eris was gifted, he’d never seemed to be too much for you to handle—he’d fit you perfectly.

Balthazar’s cock had been too overwhelming, hitting deep enough that it hit your cervix—and not in a pleasant way, in a painful way.

He’d basically been wound tight, ready for a rutting and nothing else.

He’d been rougher than the other two, gripping your legs and pushing them open just so as he’d pounded into you. He’d also been pretty inconsiderate, too far gone in his own pleasure that he hadn’t been paying attention to your body or picking up on your cues.

Whereas Eris would’ve known when to slow down, when to give you more, Balthazar had been all about the finishing goal.

It had been almost disappointing to admit how much of a let down it was. And while the encounter had been the most pleasurable of the three—you had to admit the male did know how to use his cock well, just not exactly in the way you’d needed him to—it had been painfully obvious that it was no more than a quick release for him.

Which again had made you truly question how and why it was so easy for the males to find their pleasure.

He’d left nearly immediately with the parting of if you were ever interested in his company again, just to let him know.

You definitely hadn’t been.

When Nesta had questioned you on what had happened to Balthazar, you’d simply told her there were already too many bats in the family.

You were sure that Balthazar was a fine male—likely a wonderful one to treat a female amazingly. All of the males had been perfectly fine, all of them you sure would be wonderful to someone.

But that someone just hadn’t been you. You had lacked something with each of them—not only in bed, but in their general company. That easy comfort one had with someone—similar to what you saw Feyre have with Rhys or Nesta with Cassian.

You even saw it sometimes shine through with Elain and Lucien.

It had been the kind of ease you’d had with only one other male before.

Between the time of Florian and Alban though, you actually had encountered Eris for the first time in a while.

Your mind drifted as you thought back to the memory, only a few months ago now.

Four months after Eris took his throne, he was invited to the Hewn City’s Solstice ball for the first time since becoming High Lord.

He’d looked absolutely resplendent in Night Court black—very reminiscent of the time you’d first met him at this same ball, two years ago now.

It was astonishing to think how all of this had started in this same room two years ago. The curiosity that led to the proposition, the bargain, the favor, the sex. You tried not to think too hard about it with him in such close proximity, though.

You’d been at the refreshments table, refilling your wine goblet, trying to avoid the curious, wandering amber eyes that had kept finding yours all night. But you were weak and you looked up as you took a sip. Your gaze met his and he held it for a few, intense seconds before it slid back to whoever he was conversing with.

“You’re staring,” Rhys murmured, coming up beside you, under the guise of acquiring something to eat.

“You act like staring is a war crime,” you mumbled, feeling the inquisitive gaze burning on you again.

“It is when you and Eris are practically setting fires to a room from looks alone,” Rhys drawled, taking a bite of one of the sugar dusted confectioneries he’d nabbed.

“I thought you were supposed to be on your throne observing your court’s festivities,” you retorted dryly, eyes sliding sidelong to him.

He motioned to the head of the room at the dais where Feyre sat, talking with some dignitaries from other courts who’d been invited to the ball this year.

“My mate has it covered.”

That she did.

You hummed noncommittally, eyes scanning the sea of people—some dancing to the lovely pieces the musicians had been performing all night, others content to stay in groups and converse on an array of topics.

As if by magic, your gaze snagged—was pulled his way again—and you found Eris’s gaze on you, a small, familiar smile on his lips.

“Cauldron, you two are insufferable,” Rhys murmured.

You pulled your gaze away first, turning to look at Rhys, finding amusement in that violet gaze—lining his handsome face.

You contemplated deflecting, but when you’d looked back Eris’s way, he’d returned to his conversation. His face was contemplative as he listened to the individual, crossing those strong arms across his chest. His pale pink lips pursed in thought as he nodded, shifting a few long strands of his hair into his face. A pale hand came up, absentmindedly brushing it out of his face before he tucked it back under his folded arm.

Your eyes, the traitors, had tracked every movement.

It was then you realized you couldn’t do anything but be honest to your friend, your brother. He would’ve likely seen right through any sort of deflection anyways.

“He’ll always be the one who got away,” you uttered softly, a touch wistfully.

You didn’t know whether Rhys would retort with a smart remark or something profound, but you hadn’t expected what he did end up saying.

“I suppose there are worse choices you could make. Perhaps one of these days I may look the other way long enough—merely out of curiosity of course.”

You huffed a laugh, trying to make sense of his statement.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He just gave you a knowing grin, those stars twinkling in his eyes.

“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been a female to always fight for what you’ve wanted. Don’t let that practice stop now.”

Much later, after Rhys had returned to his mate and High Lady—after you’d spent time milling about, making polite conversation with many people you’ve encountered due to your courtier work—you heard a familiar voice behind you.

Smooth, deep and always filled with an air of amusement. One that was always as cocky as it was arrogant.

“Well doesn’t this feel familiar? Seems like we’ve been here once before, but my, how things have changed since our first meeting, have they not?”

Your heart instantly lifted, the familiar push and pull you’d always easily had with him seeming like a breath of fresh air.

Unlike the first Solstice ball where the two of you had met, he had approached you this time.

You turned, a smile already on your lips.

“High Lord,” you greeted, warmly.

“Dove,” he greeted back, lips twitching in a smirk.

“I apologize that I have yet to extend my congratulations on your newly acquired throne.”

Your fingers tightened on the stem of the goblet that you’d been carrying around with you all night—savoring the cup of rich and velvety smooth wine you’d poured for yourself hours ago before speaking with Rhys.

“One does stay busy being courtier to the Night Court,” Eris mused, eyes taking you in.

You were in a simple dress of Night Court black—actually quite similar in shape to some of Mor’s dresses, just a tad more modest.

This year’s dress was a floor length gown made of midnight velvet, two thin straps resting along your shoulders. Accompanying it was a sharp dip in the neckline, in the shape of a vee—enough to show off a small amount of the swell of your breasts. The only other addition was the thigh high slit on one side, exposing your bare leg—appearing even longer thanks to Mor lending you some of her sexiest black heels, ones that you’d donned tonight.

If there had been any time to face Eris, at least it was when you looked and felt good.

“All thanks to you,” you pointed out.

His head tilted as he took you in—likely noting the difference in the individual that stood in front of him from the female he’d taken for a walk in the Autumn Court woods nine months ago.

The female he’d taken in general.

“I’ve seen your work—heard of it, mostly—I must say I’m rather impressed.”

“Quite the compliment coming from a High Lord,” you grinned.

“You forget I spent many centuries mastering the games of courtier, too,” he said smoothly, a brow flicking upwards in amusement.

You hummed, smiling. Those all knowing amber eyes took you in, never missing anything.

“You’re not the same female I once knew,” he observed, thoughtfully.

“I was never a broke bird,” you reminded him, “I believe you once told me that.”

He smiled, soft, as if meant just for you alone.

“No, you never were. Although,” he chuckled, sliding his hands into his pockets casually, “The Dove of the Night Court, hm? Seems I was a step ahead of Prythian and they never even realized it.”

You grinned, ducking your head—not out of shyness, but the flattery in his not entirely straightforward compliment. The sentiment had been there enough for you to pick up, though.

“You’ve always been smarter than most give you credit for, Eris,” you said simply.

You meant it though. People had underestimated him for plenty over the years—over centuries if truth be told. You were glad he was finally getting recognition he, too, deserved greatly.

“Though if I were smart, I might find the need to consider bargaining with a High Lord.”

He looked curious—brows furrowing in slight confusion—not quite picking up your meaning.

“A bargain to fuck a High Lord,” you said plainly.

You’d never been shy to express what you’d wanted—something you’d displayed when you made that bargain with Eris long ago—but you’d also grown more bold in the months that’d passed since you’d last stood in front of him like this.

“But not just any High Lord,” you smiled coyly, peering at him through your lashes, “The High Lord of Autumn, specifically.”

You might’ve been mistaken, but you thought you saw him swallow hard. For a change, Eris Vanserra seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Sounds like you’ve developed quite an appetite for danger, dove,” he rumbled, voice low.

Ignoring his remark, your eyes flicked to the top of his head, his red hair perfectly placed and smooth as always.

“No crown tonight?”

That infamous smirk returned.

“It felt pretentious.”

Either you’d grown bolder than you’d ever anticipated or the wine you’d consumed had truly loosened your tongue and gave you courage beyond your comprehension.

“I’d be interested in seeing you in it someday. In your crown and only your crown, that is.”

You bit your lip, biting back the grin that threatened. You saw his eyes flicker, heat in them from the little game the two of you had fallen into.

He chuckled deeply.

“You’ve got a sharper tongue than most in these faerie lands know.”

You grinned wickedly.

“You’d know that best, wouldn’t you, Eris?”

His eyes remained sharp on you, jaw working as if he was trying to keep a hold on his restraint in such a public place.

You had no idea how a simple conversation had taken this turn—and so organically too.

Over his shoulder you saw an individual from the Day Court—that’d been meaning to speak with you all night—attempt to get your attention.

“If you’ll excuse me, High Lord, I’m needed elsewhere. I hope you enjoy the festivities,” you dipped your head to him, respectfully, before stepping away, but paused a moment.

His eyes watched your every movement.

“If your throne ever gets too lonely, you know where to find me.”

You shot him a playful wink, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at his brief but stunned expression. The last thing you saw before walking away completely was the way his shoulders straightened, that insanely attractive smug smile of his crossing his face.

And similarly to last time, you left Eris staring after you—long after you’d parted from him.

After the Solstice ball had come your underwhelming experiences with Alban and Balthazar. Maybe such a disappointing experience with Florian had motivated the way you’d spoken to Eris that night—as if you’d been testing to see if something in you really was wrong. Though you still weren’t sure what it had proved since you’d gone on to have two more dull and lackluster experiences.

Eris had always had an effortless way of making you feel confident and sexy—even in times when you’d felt the furthest thing from that. It was even more ironic, too, when he was intimidating to many.

You hadn’t seen Eris since the Solstice ball, now three months ago—spring now beginning to dawn on Velaris.

Courtly duties had kept you busy and you knew him being so new to the position of High Lord had to have kept him busy. Days bled into one another as you bounced from court to court, mission to mission.

Until one afternoon, Rhys summoned you to his study.

It was during an unusually slow period for you—when you’d spent an extended amount of time back home in Velaris with a lighter work load.

You’d been so used to staying busy that you were itching to do something again.

When you’d knocked on Rhys’s heavy wooden door, you couldn’t help but think of how different it was from the time you’d been summoned here, this time a year ago.

How different life looked now.

“You wanted to see me?” you asked, walking in, resting your hands against the back of the chair that sat in front of his desk.

“I have an assignment for you, if you’re interested,” Rhys said, looking up from whatever he’d been writing.

You nearly bounced on your toes in excitement and he chuckled, already sensing your eagerness. He knew he wouldn’t have to ask you twice.

“I’d like you to visit the Autumn Court.”

Your brows lifted in surprise.

“Since I’ve been kept rather busy lately, I thought I’d send you to meet with Eris. I want to maintain and strengthen our alliance with Autumn, even more so now that Eris is High Lord.”

“You’re sending me…” you trailed off dubiously.

Rhys had yet to do such a thing, especially since Eris had become High Lord.

“You handle Eris well,” Rhys said simply.

You could’ve laughed. He didn’t know the half of it.

“Besides, our relationship with the Autumn Court is the best it’s ever been—at least in all the time I’ve been High Lord.”

“So I’m supposed to do what, exactly?”

“Just be a point of contact between the Night Court and him. I just want to ensure that he and I are on the same page when it comes to our alliance.”

“I can do that,” you nodded firmly, knowing the topics you’d need to highlight in a discussion of this kind.

“You should probably get going then, I sent a letter earlier this morning telling him to expect you. Also, take as long as you need. If you need to take the entire rest of the day, that’s fine. These things take time.”

That was what truly sparked your suspicion. You could tell he was talking with quite a heavy amount of double meaning to his words.

“You’re sending me off to visit Eris and telling me to take all the time I need,” you said bluntly, disbelievingly.

Rhys merely shrugged.

“I just want to make sure you’re thorough in ironing out any issues.”

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion, growing more so with each passing second. Rhys must’ve decided to quit with the cryptic talk for he finally spoke freely.

“I know what happened in the Autumn Court last year,” he said neutrally, “All of it.”

You were positive all the blood drained from your face.

“In a gesture of good faith, when Eris let me into his mind the day he brought you home, he showed me everything. He wanted me to trust his word.”

Your face colored, the blood rushing back—but all to your cheeks. In embarrassment and vulnerability. At knowing that all this time Rhys had known, had seen what had taken place.

“He didn’t show me everything, but enough to get the gist of what occurred,” Rhys rushed to assure you.

“Did you tell Feyre?” you asked, in a much smaller voice than you cared to admit.

“No,” he said adamantly, “It wasn’t my place to tell her something like that. If she were to find out, I wanted it to come from you or Eris alone—preferably you.”

You found yourself at a loss for words, trying to process the fact that your year long relief in thinking Rhys hadn’t known everything, had been a lie. You weren’t ashamed of what you’d done with Eris, but knowing Rhys had seen even a little of it made you feel vulnerable in ways you’d never expected to feel.

“So…you’re sending me…right to him…” you said slowly.

Rhys studied you, as if trying to settle on just what exactly to say to you.

“Sometimes things need to be worked out—settled—to see where people stand when the dust finally settles,” Rhys responded, then added as if it was an afterthought, “Between courts of course.”

“Of course,” you nodded, sounding dubious.

Rhys’s mouth turned up in a smile—not one of his sly or deceptively charming ones, but a genuine one, as he gazed at you. A female that had become part of his family, even if it had come to be from complicated and twisted situations.

You meant a lot to Feyre, so by default you meant a lot to Rhys too.

You’d been surrounded by a circle of people who’d loved and cared for you so much that they’d do anything to keep you safe—even if it hadn’t been in the healthiest of ways. Though those days were long past, you couldn’t help but feel appreciation and love for the unusual family you’d made, along with your own sisters.

Rhys’s voice sounded contemplative and more than a little curious when he spoke again.

“I always knew something…unique existed between the two of you.”

Your brow raised and he chuckled.

“I’ll see you whenever then?”

“I’ll make sure I’ll do my job thoroughly, Rhys.”

He smirked, that wicked amusement sparking in his eyes, along with the stars that often twinkled in those violet eyes of his.

“I’m sure you will.”

Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, had essentially given you permission to do whatever it was you needed to do.

And just as you had once been told to pursue the world, you winnowed to the Autumn Court—ready to pursue the one thing you’d never been certain was truly yours.

•••

You appeared directly in Eris’s study, finding the male standing in front of his desk, flipping through some papers, clearly reading them.

In the half second before he was alerted of your presence, your eyes took in the side profile of him. Head bent to read, pale face contemplative as he took in whatever was on the page, a few strands of his long red hair falling into his face that he hadn’t bothered to move.

Today he was in an appropriately colored russet jacket with gold embroidery.

Eris had always been devastatingly gorgeous. Ironically, that had seemed to amplify even more since he’d become High Lord—as if the surge in his power after taking the throne had only aided in making him that much more ethereal.

He turned, sensing your arrival and sat the papers down with a wicked grin.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Archeron sister.”

“Pretty sure that was Nesta at one point. It’s also improper to play favorites.”

“I’m High Lord. Who’s to stop me?” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, but it was good-naturedly, as you smiled.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Eris.”

He turned to the decanter he had sitting on a side table, pouring himself some wine.

“Can I get you anything?” he peered back over his shoulder.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

You fiddled with the long sleeve of your sweater, feeling nervous and out of place with the more casual attire—in comparison to his courtly finest. You’d taken after Feyre, preferring the more comfortable clothes like oversized sweaters and leggings—at least for at home. You often wore ensembles much more appropriate for whichever court you were traveling to or whatever event you were to appear at.

It just so happened that you hadn’t considered even changing before you’d winnowed here.

You also couldn’t say why you were so nervous. You’d been in much more compromising positions with him before with less nerves.

But you couldn’t help the way being around him made your stomach constantly flip and your heart to flutter.

“Rhysand said you had some business to discuss with me?”

You straightened, shaking off any apprehension and instead became more professional and serious.

“Yes, he’d like to continue to discuss and strengthen Autumn’s relationship with the Night Court.”

You approached him as he sat in the low backed, tufted chair, the color a deepest burgundy. You eyed it enviously as it happened to look rather comfortable.

You might have to talk Rhys into getting something similar for your room back in Velaris.

You also forced yourself not to think of the last time you’d seen him sitting in a chair in his private residence—or just what you and he had done in it.

“I’m listening.”

For the next hour, you and Eris spent a good amount of time discussing court politics. Since you were technically the official representative for Rhys and the Night Court, you made sure to relay the variety of subjects Rhys would want you to cover and keep Eris updated on.

For instance, you made sure to include reports on other courts’ allegiances—who would be the strongest and best for Autumn to ally with, who would be the most cooperative.

Other menial topics such as trade agreements and trade routes between courts were discussed, along with other important matters you knew would be wise to cover in this meeting.

When the conversation had lulled, you found yourself leaning a hip against the edge of his desk, standing in front of where he’d remained sitting. You watched as a fingertip traced the rim of his cup. You assumed he was turning matters over in his head—figured he was sifting through the information you’d provided him with and was trying to determine if there were any other subjects he wanted to cover.

What you hadn’t expected is what he actually ended up saying.

“Rumor has it you’ve benefitted from some entertainment—of the male variety—here lately.”

You snorted, amused, even if you were thrown off by his out of the blue statement.

“Always the nosy bastard aren’t you?”

“I make it my business to have the utmost intel and knowledge on people.”

You lifted a brow.

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

He merely shrugged.

“People talk.”

“This isn’t exactly appropriate courtly talk,” you quipped, lips twitching in a smirk, though you tried to sound more exasperated than you currently felt.

“Our official business is done,” he waved a hand dismissively, “We’re allowed to speak beyond our titles.”

“Which is a slick way of saying you’re morbidly curious,” you shot back, easily.

His amusement radiated from him as he reclined further back in his chair, drink in hand. He leaned an arm across the back of it as he stared at you. You turned to fully face him, resting your backside against his desk, arms still crossed, trying to temper your curiosity at his questioning.

“Perhaps. Though I did hear through the grapevine you had quite the sampling of males—from an array of territories, too.”

You snorted.

“Are you merely curious or are you actually jealous?”

His eyes sharpened, that cultivated smile revealing nothing of what he was truly thinking or feeling. He swirled the wine in his goblet, watching the dark liquid eddy.

“If my intel was correct there’s been a male sentry from the Spring Court, a courtier from Winter and an Illyrian.”

You swore softly, mildly impressed. He peered up at you, amber eyes unreadable as he spoke, coolly—though not cruelly. More as if he was attempting to hide any sort of reaction that could give him away.

“I assume you enjoyed their company in all the thorough ways then?” he drawled.

Your brows really rose at that.

“This is definitely not an appropriate line of conversation,” you pointed out, chuckling weakly.

He took a slow sip of his wine, watching you before he responded. His intense gaze never left yours—all consuming—causing your stomach to flip.

“Humor me.”

You sighed deeply, rolling your eyes, knowing he would stop at nothing to satisfy his curiosity.

“Yes, I enjoyed them thoroughly.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

Interesting.

You grimaced, remembering the encounters though. You were sure Eris likely picked up on it instantly, so you went ahead and told him the truth.

“Either I just got lucky the first few times or sex is actually—absolutely—horrible.”

He actually blinked a few times—the only sign of his surprise.

“I’m…sorry?”

He wasn’t apologizing, he was clarifying he’d just heard you correctly.

“You heard me,” you scowled, “It’s awful.”

“Awful,” he repeated, still sounding stunned.

You were already in it this deep, so you kept talking.

“Florian—that’s the Spring Court male by the way—treated me like I was made of glass. Simultaneously, he wanted me to take charge, yet would barely touch me. Talk about mixed signals!”

Now Eris looked fully invested, mild amusement sparking in his eyes.

“Oh, this is bound to be good,” he mumbled, taking another sip.

“Oh it gets worse,” you huffed, “He also tried out some filthy language, but he was so polite it would come out awful.”

Eris raised a brow, but let you continue.

“I swear on the Cauldron every remark he made came out sounding like a question. ‘You’d blush if I said what I was thinking?’ ‘Would you like me to fuck you harder?’ ‘Do you want me to put it here?’ Eris, I wanted to melt through the bed, it was so horrible.”

The High Lord of Autumn looked like he was trying extremely hard not to laugh.

You pointed a finger at him, scolding him.

“You think that’s bad, wait until you hear about Alban.”

It was as if once you’d started talking, you couldn’t stop. It all came spilling out. After all, this was the first time you’d spoken about this. You hadn’t even told your sisters.

Eris’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, but he motioned for you to continue talking—likely not trusting himself to speak right now.

“Alban is the courtier from Winter and wouldn’t know rhythm if it slapped him in the face,” you deadpanned.

“I fear my morbid curiosity is winning here, please, elaborate,” Eris smirked.

“Should I start with how he couldn’t even get his cock inside me properly, how he had no idea how to get a good rhythm going or how afterwards, he pulled out of me, immediately rolled over and started talking about a trades route deal?”

Eris’s eyebrows could’ve disappeared into his hair from the way they kept raising higher and higher, the longer you talked.

“Mother above,” he mumbled, “It’s as if you’ve lived the handbook of what not to do.”

“It was painfully awkward so I decided to go something like ‘Well…since this is going so smoothly now would be the perfect time to drop something devastatingly charming’—you know just to break the tension? I figured we could laugh it off or something. He just looks at me blankly! All I could think of is how at least you would’ve said something witty.”

“Aw, you were thinking of me, dove?” Eris flashed you a smoldering grin, tilting his head slightly.

You ignored his taunting remark.

“Plus, his hands were freezing. I know, I know, Winter Court and all. But it was unbearable.”

“This is far more delightful than I thought it’d be,” Eris noted, crossing an ankle over a knee.

“Stop enjoying this,” you glowered.

Once again he wordlessly motioned for you to continue.

“Balthazar I was actually pretty excited for,” you admitted, tilting your head thoughtfully.

That made Eris sit up straighter—perhaps even grip his gilded cup a bit tighter, though you might’ve just imagined that part.

“You have a wing fetish I don’t know about?”

His voice was definitely terse.

You rolled your eyes.

“You are incorrigible and insufferable.”

He grimaced at you, body still unnaturally rigid.

“That didn’t answer my question.”

You decided to test a theory, curious to his reaction.

“He might’ve been…particularly gifted.”

Eris’s jaw clenched like he was gritting his teeth to prevent himself from saying more than he should.

“How fantastic for you,” he gritted out.

“I’m talking there were more stars behind my eyes than in a Velaris night sky,” you fibbed.

He shifted, displeasure radiating from him in very obvious waves.

“Coming from an Illyrian brute, that’s shocking,” he grumbled.

You decided to give him a break, sighing as you tucked some hair behind your arched ear.

“Alright, you want the truth? There were whispers about him—stories. That he was amazing in the bedroom. Life changing experience, apparently.”

That seemed to get his attention and he eyed you, likely wondering if you were being honest—which was fair. You probably shouldn’t have toyed with him. But the temptation had been so great.

He continued eyeing you warily before speaking.

“I take it he was not,” Eris responded dryly.

“Not even close.”

Eris snorted.

“Of course it was a miserable experience—he’s a brute born to rut.”

You sighed again, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“That’s basically what it was. He was rough—rougher than I’d been used to or expected.”

His eyes flashed.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No!” you rushed to answer, “Well I mean yes, a little, but not really.”

Eris didn’t look convinced.

“He was uncomfortably big? I mean getting your cervix slammed into every other thrust isn’t what it’s chalked up to be.”

You had no idea how you’d ended up discussing your sexual encounters with Eris—had no idea how you were so casually candid with him.

“An Illyrian just looking for a fuck—why am I not surprised?”

You noted how Eris seemed more relaxed than he had a minute earlier, filing away that intriguing tidbit for later.

“So, that was my grand foray into the wild—if you will,” you shrugged, “Though I’m still amazing how easy males are able to find their pleasure. I’m half amazed they even managed to come.”

A spluttering sound followed your comment, along with coughing, indicating he’d just been in the middle of sipping his wine when you’d spoken.

“Cauldron, warn a male before making a comment like that,” Eris wheezed, halfway between laughing and coughing.

You gazed unamusedly at him.

“Please don’t die—it’d be rather inconvenient to have to tell Rhys I accidentally killed a High Lord,” you said dryly.

He just shot you a look.

“I’m so glad you find my grievances amusing,” you deadpanned.

“I don’t find it amusing, I find it sad.”

“You and me both,” you mumbled.

He finally sat his goblet on the desk in front of him, standing from his chair. You looked up at him as he straightened to his full height in front of you. Your backside still leaned against the desk, fingers curled neatly around the edge, anchoring yourself there.

“Sounds as if your body just missed me,” he smirked down at you, the infamous cocky charm once again making an appearance.

You scoffed, a sharp remark on the tip of your tongue—likely having to do with just how highly he thought of himself. It died the moment you saw his features soften, taking you in.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” he murmured.

You were momentarily thrown off at the abrupt change of topic.

“You are?”

His lips turned up in a small, soft smile—one of the ones he’d only ever seemed to share with you.

“Yes. You went out and pursued the world—just like I knew you would. Made a name for yourself, found yourself, learned and grew as an individual.”

Eris had drifted closer to you and your head tilted slightly so you could look into that pretty pale face you’d seen display so many emotions, wear so many masks.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, dove.”

He swallowed hard, eyes roaming your face as if there were more he wanted to say and was either trying to figure out how to say it or whether he should.

“What is it?” you murmured, brows pinching in concern.

“I would be…lying if I told you I haven’t missed you though.”

Your heart did something funny at his confession.

“You have?”

He took a beat before nodding his head—just barely.

“I’ve never known anyone quite like you. My little dove—the female that was never a broken bird, but was just desperate for freedom, for the peace that came with that. For some reason, you stuck with me and I couldn’t forget you.”

Your breath caught in your chest. You felt his touch skim your sides, gently. Then his hands were at your waist, lifting you to set you on his desk in one swift movement, coming to stand between your legs.

You leaned closer into him as if it were a response as natural as breathing.

“But then,” Eris continued, voice low and serious, “You were suddenly everyone else’s and you no longer belonged to just me.”

Before you could say anything, he continued on.

“Which is ridiculous, I know. You don’t belong to me—you don’t belong to anyone but yourself. But some days I’d find myself wistful, wishing for how things were before.”

You knew he didn’t mean the way your sisters had treated you, but in the moments the two of you had shared. Moments meant only for the two of you.

“When my father…”

He trailed off, anger and more complex emotions flashing across his face, in those eyes. You instantly bristled, somehow knowing exactly where this conversation was leading.

“As I laid there, staring down my father’s sword, the only regret I had was that I hadn’t told you how proud of you I was. How all I wanted to see was you happy. I made a vow to the Mother that day that if I lived, I would one day tell you that.”

You didn’t know what to say. Your breath had been stolen from your lungs—as if a fist had reached into your chest, snuffing it out like one would the flame of a candle.

“It’s funny you say that,” you huffed a breathless laugh, overwhelmed, “Because the moment I learned how close you’d been to death, the only thing I could think of was I came so close to never getting to thank you.”

Now it was his turn to look confounded, puzzlement filling his face.

“Thank me? For what?”

“For saving my life.”

He shook his head.

“I did no such thing.”

“You did,” you insisted gently, “You believed in me, you gave a truly absurd idea a chance—you actually went through with it, too. You taught me how to be bold in my choices, you inspired me, pushed me to make the necessary changes I needed to.”

Your gaze had drifted down as you’d spoken, lingering somewhere around the intricately gold stitched pattern of his jacket. But your eyes lifted before you could voice the last part of your sentiment.

“You saw me, Eris.”

You were mere inches from his mouth and your eyes dropped to the lips you’d definitely missed. The same ones that had been on yours, on your body in the past.

The same ones you ached to kiss again.

When your eyes found his once more, you knew he’d taken in the way your gaze had dipped.

“One more question.”

His breath fanned over your face, his voice dropping to a deep rasp.

“Yes?” you breathed, inching closer to his lips.

So close, but so far away.

“Did you feel anything with them—any of those males?”

“I think we’ve circled back to you sounding jealous,” you whispered, lips curling in a smug smile.

“Answer me,” he said tersely, hand coming up to grip your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

Your eyes flickered up to his, your face turning serious.

“No,” you answered honestly.

His eyes searched your face.

“Truly?”

“I spent so much time trying to figure out why I didn’t—why those experiences were so lackluster. It’s because they weren’t you.”

He groaned lowly, face finally dipping, letting his lips finally meet yours.

You met him eagerly, relieved to no longer have a necessity to hold back these conflicting feelings he’d always evoked in you. It wasn’t a gentle kiss either, but a heated one, filled with so much left unsaid for far too long.

He whispered your name against your lips and you sighed in response, head tilting as he chased your lips with such fervor. This time, instead of letting him be in charge, your teeth sunk into his bottom lip just sharply enough for his lips to part. Your tongue swept effortlessly forward, tangling and brushing his.

His hands had settled on your thighs, spreading across them as he kissed you like his life depended on it. His mouth moved with yours with such rapid intent it made your head spin. Your hands glided along his chest, fingers curling in the lengths of his hair, the other sliding to the back of his neck.

The longer you kissed him, the hungrier it seemed to become. Your breath tangled with his as you—or he—parted long enough for a breath, never straying far before kissing again.

While your lips were preoccupied with his own, your hands couldn’t stay still—wanting to touch every inch of him. They slid along his shoulders before dropping and dragging down his chest.

He finally parted from your mouth—much to your disappointment—lips relocating to your jaw. His touch dipped beneath your sweater, warm hand meeting your bare skin and you moaned, desperate for more of his touch. He nipped along your jaw towards your ear where his teeth gently pulled the lobe in a playful tug.

“Tell me,” he said, in a low, seductive timber, thumb brushing high on your ribcage—just under where you ached for his touch.

You waited for whatever it was he had to say, tilting your head to give him more access. He dropped a kiss to the side of your neck before murmuring in your ear.

“Did any of those males make you come like I have?”

You bit your lip, momentarily embarrassed. He instantly pulled back enough to look at your face, instantly picking up on your silence. You winced slightly at the truth on the tip of your tongue.

“I didn’t even get that far.”

Something flashed in his eyes—determination perhaps, likely satisfaction that no one but him had ever been able to please you.

“Tragic,” he mumbled, “You’re at your most stunning when you’re unraveling.”

Disappointingly, his warm hand left your bare skin, retreating from under your shirt. His thumb brushed your lower lip as he studied you.

Your lips parted, wrapping them around the digit, so incredibly similar to that first time he’d pulled your finger into his own mouth—demonstrating what it felt like for him to be inside of you. His gaze heated, flame sparking to life as you sucked on it gently, tongue flicking over the pad of it.

When you released it, you grinned sweetly, innocently up at him.

But Eris knew you well. You hadn’t been innocent for quite some time.

“Perhaps you can make up for lost time,” you taunted lightly.

“Oh, I intend to,” he purred.

Fingertips tilted your jaw just right before he kissed you again. You whimpered slightly, keen on not wasting any more time, fingers quickly busying themselves by undoing the buttons down his jacket.

He nibbled your bottom lip playfully, roaming hand brushing your clothed breast enough to make you moan and press closer to his touch. It also made your fingers speed up—desire beginning to blaze within you.

When the last button was pushed through the hole and his jacket gaped open, your hands slid over the smooth skin, fingers tracing the dips and grooves of his impressively muscled stomach.

You didn’t stay there long, fingers working the button of his pants, mouth hot against his. Then your hand dropped further.

The moment your hand pressed against the hardened length in his pants, everything in you went molten. He groaned into the kiss and you pulled back, a wicked gleam in your eyes.

You leaned forward, lips tracing his jaw as your fingers curled around the bulge in his pants.

“Seems like someone came to call in their bargain today, huh?” Eris rasped, fingertips of one hand digging into your hip.

You bit back a giggle as your palm pressed harder, pulling upwards to the tip. You knew he meant your loaded remark from the Solstice ball months ago—a bargain to fuck a High Lord.

But not just any High Lord.

Eris.

“Only if there’s enough interest,” you stated carefully, sitting back, hand falling from him.

For all you knew, this was just a moment of weakness—for both of you. He was still close to you, standing in front of you, chest heaving, hair askew, with both his jacket and top of his pants gaping open.

He looked like a dream.

He didn’t break his smoldering gaze from you though and you sat, resisting the urge to fidget, the fear that you’d completely overstepped and misread the situation completely growing until it pressed tight against your ribs.

He swallowed hard, eyes narrowing infinitesimally.

“Dove, no one has ever compared to you,” he uttered, sounding as devastated as he looked.

You chewed your lip nervously, not knowing if it was the right thing to say, but knowing it was the truth.

“And no one could ever replace you, Eris.”

His hand curved around your waist, pulling you close again, his lips hovering over yours.

“We only do this if you want this. If you choose to.”

For that had always been important to him—he’d always given you a choice. Especially during a time when you’d seemed to have little of it. You tilted your chin, showing that spark of defiance that had always been within you—the one he’d always known existed. Your lips curved upward in an alluring smile.

“It’s your lucky day, High Lord—because yes, I choose this.”

“Thank the Mother,” he mumbled, hands diving for your face.

His hands had clutched your face, your lips just joining with his when you felt the sensation of a quick free fall—and then your back was hitting a mattress.

Your mouth fell from his in a gasp as you tried to orient yourself and realize he’d just winnowed the two of you from his study to his own personal chambers—his High Lord chambers.

And directly into his bed.

A quick peek around revealed it was a different—even larger—bedroom than the one you’d been in a year prior.

“Show off,” you mumbled.

A deep chuckle rumbled from him as his lips traced your neck, stopping to briefly suck on a spot.

“I do tend to enjoy displaying what I’m capable of from time to time.”

“You have little difficulty with that, Eris,” you mumbled.

He just hummed as the bed shifted, his mouth still exploring, coming around to your throat. You gasped as he pressed a knee between your legs, the friction exactly what you’d needed. His hands bunched your sweater, pushing it up, lips parting from your body long enough to pull the garment over your head.

He wasted no time ridding you of the rest of your clothes, hands tracing your body like you were his own sort of masterpiece.

“Gods, you’re beautiful.”

He mumbled it so lowly, you wondered if you were meant to hear it at all. His lips traveled across your décolletage making you shiver.

“Have you seen yourself lately?” you mumbled, in return.

He chuckled against your skin, lips curving in a smile. Then his mouth brushed one breast, making heat curl in you, drawing a soft breath from you as you arched into his touch. The touch was much more tender here, surprisingly filled with more devotion than hunger—though that was still there, too.

He took his time, lips tracing over the mound like he was memorizing it, kissing the tightened bud at the peak of your breast. You watched him, breath deepening at the reverent gestures.

Then, he turned more playful, tongue flicking it before covering it with his mouth. His other hand came up, thumb brushing the peaked nipple of your other breast as he gave a gentle squeeze, providing both with stimulation.

You moaned appreciatively at the attention and he shifted after a moment, worshipping the other breast with his lips—as if it was his life’s mission to do. The desire grew hotter within you, flushing your body and warming you as if he’d summoned a fire in you with the magical fire in his blood.

You hated to compare in the moment, but no one had ever worshipped your body the way Eris had.

As he kissed a path of hot, open mouth kisses down the center of your stomach, amber eyes flicking up to you in the process, you realized another dangerous truth.

No one had made you feel like Eris had—and not just in the bedroom either.

Your eyes tracked every movement as he sat back, finally pulling off the jacket that’d been hanging from his frame since you’d tore the buttons open earlier. Your gaze took in the shift of every muscle as his arms bent backwards to remove it, strong shoulders flexing with the movement.

Your eyes fell over the pale toned form, mouth already beginning to water.

He was a work of art.

“You test every ounce of my restraint when you stare at me like that, dove,” he murmured, fingers at the waist of his pants, pushing them down.

“How can I resist when the view is so appealing?” you gave him a saucy grin from where you lay against the pillows.

Your teasing tone instantly died the moment his cock came in view. The sight alone had your arousal doubling and you shifted impatiently. Your eyes took in the sight as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

“Such a pretty cock,” you cooed, fingers wrapping around the base of him as you sat up fully.

He hissed, arching into your touch, a smug smirk curling his lips though.

“You flatter me, sweetheart.”

His fingers tipped your chip up and kissed you as you stroked him slowly—causing him to groan into the kiss. But despite his words, he pulled your hand away as he broke the kiss.

“Come here,” he murmured, shifting you with him.

He laid back, reaching for you, making you instantly go to him. You gasped as he pulled you to the point you were straddling his chest. Your hair fell forward as you peered down at him, but his eyes only gleamed wickedly as he smirked up at you.

“I’m in the mood for a feast and it just so happens that feast is you.”

You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he was gripping you under your thighs, moving you closer to hover over his face. Your gasp of surprise turned into a moan when his tongue immediately licked one drawn out path along your slit.

You reached out, hands gripping the headboard for balance and stability. You felt gentle fingers parting you, making a low noise of approval as he lapped at your entrance, never fully committing, never giving you too much before moving on.

He dragged his tongue upwards, playfully flicking your clit. You moaned again, your hips jerking, inadvertently grinding against his tongue.

“Eris,” you whimpered, one hand reaching down to thread through his hair.

All you heard was a satisfied hum as your eyes slid closed, enjoying the way he worshipped you.

Then an idea popped in your head—one far too tempting to ignore. Your eyes opened and you peeked over your shoulder, a plan forming. You allowed him only a few licks more before you were twisting and bending, reaching down the length of his body.

You felt his grip tighten on your thighs, holding you steady so you wouldn’t topple over. His voice was deep and raspy, edged with his own arousal.

“What are you up to, dove?”

Your answer was simple.

“Feasting.”

Repositioning yourself, you bent down, tongue gliding over the length of his cock as his hands gripped your ass, his mouth getting to work on you, simultaneously.

Your tongue coated him, swirling around the tip like he was the sweetest concoction you’d ever tasted—though he might’ve been close to being the best. You wasted no time, knowing you were on limited time. As skilled as his tongue was, you knew it wouldn’t be long until you’d fall over the edge.

You wanted to make sure he went first.

Your hand wrapped around his cock as your lips finally slid onto him, taking him into your mouth. You moaned around him—both at the feel of him between your lips and the way his tongue had just plunged into your entrance.

He groaned against you as your hand and mouth worked in tandem, intention lacing your every move. His tongue flicked your clit then pressed flat against it.

You felt the vibration of his moan as his fingers dug into your ass, pulling you closer to his mouth. You grinded against him, trying hard to focus on your own task, especially as his own hips bucked upwards, sending his cock deeper into your mouth.

Every lick and suck you gave him, he answered with a pointed suck or flick of his tongue.

His mouth was deadly—in more ways than one—and you were quickly losing this battle.

You inevitably came on his mouth seconds before he exploded in yours.

You were already panting and trembling by the time he gently pulled you upwards, back towards him. But you still weren’t anywhere near satisfied, you still had the deep desire to be filled by him.

His pale, freckled face was flushed, mouth still slick from you. You bypassed his mouth though and licked along the top of one of his cheeks, running your tongue over the splattering of freckles, over the blush that stained his cheeks.

You were out of control and you couldn’t help it.

His hands gripped your hips as he leaned his face upwards to kiss you. The minute your lips met his, he was rolling the both of you until you were under him, mouth still hot on yours as his tongue dragged against yours sensually.

His hair fell around the two of you like a curtain and you gripped it in one fist, your other hand anchored on his bicep. His touch slid high on your leg, pulling it up to his waist as he pressed his—once again—hardened cock against you. You moaned into his mouth, lifting your hips in invitation.

“I never thought I’d get to do this again,” he breathed hotly against your throat, mouth moving on to other areas of your body.

“I’m glad you are,” you panted, body like a livewire, craving him desperately.

You were burning so hot for him you thought you might combust. He nudged your entrance and you whimpered pitifully, tired of waiting.

“Eris, please,” you whined.

There was no teasing remark or smug response, he instantly gave you what you needed, pushing into you with such little effort—unlike that first time you’d taken him to your bed.

How far you’d come since then—how far both of you had.

The instant he pushed into you, you were already reacting. Your moan mixed with his groan—as if you were coming home, as if you were back where you always belonged.

You didn’t think you’d ever tire of the way he seemed to fit you—seemed to stretch you perfectly. His hips pressed flush against yours and you reveled in the closeness to him, your leg sliding higher on his waist.

“Gods, you alway feel so fucking perfect,” he groaned, head dropping forward.

You couldn’t argue.

You pushed strands of his hair back, palm cupping his jaw as you brought his face back to yours, kissing him as he began to move in you. Unfortunately, the kiss didn’t last long for the moment he thrust back into you, your lips fell away from his in a moan.

“Cauldron,” you breathed.

His hips jerked forward again on a rough thrust and you delighted in the incredible feeling. A part of you had half convinced yourself that you’d made it all up—how amazing being with him had been—but you definitely hadn’t.

His hand planted on the mattresses by your head, peering down to watch as his cock slid in and out of you. Your eyes dropped to the sight as well, observing how he was already drenched with your arousal.

“Look at us, dove,” he smirked, eyes flicking downwards again, watching as he pulled his cock out of you again, “Already making such a mess on me.”

He thrust back in causing you to whimper at the sensation—and his words.

But it wasn’t enough. You wanted to see just what he was fully capable of. You didn’t know how to convey it though. Luckily, Eris seemed to sense your train of thought—or maybe he, too, no longer wanted to hold back when it came to you.

And you no longer wanted him to.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, tone momentarily serious as he pulled out of you.

You answered instantly, practically before he could get the question out entirely.

“Immensely.”

His command came immediately.

“Turn over.”

You were half scampering, half being aided by Eris’s hands as you flipped over on your stomach. You balanced your weight on your hands and knees, figuring that’s how he’d want you, until you felt him shift behind you.

“Not quite, sweetheart,” he purred with what sounded like a healthy dose of amusement.

You weren’t sure you understood his statement enough to respond though.

You felt him reach towards the front of you, taking one of your wrists, lifting it from the bed. He held you with his opposite hand, making sure you didn’t lose your balance. He pulled your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of your hand softly before moving it forward and placing it on the sturdy oak headboard.

Your breathing became more labored and you watched his every movement as he repeated the action with your remaining hand—bringing it to his lips and setting it on the headboard. Your grip instantly tightened, anticipating whatever he had in store for you.

His large palms slid from your hands, down your arms and up to your shoulders. He brushed your hair to the side, placing a lone kiss on your neck before sitting back, hands gliding down your bare back. You instantly arched into the touch.

“That’s right, arch for me, dove.”

One hand traced up your spine as he bent, leaving a kiss on your back. Then your hips were in his grip and he was entering you so sharply it took your breath away.

“Fuck,” he groaned lowly.

His thumbs smoothed circles into the skin of your hips, a silent question, checking on you.

“More,” you demanded, still trying to catch your breath—but not from pain, but from being so overwhelmed.

He grunted in response, pulling his hips back and thrusting back into you roughly. You responded with a moan you didn’t even realize you could make.

He gave a breathless laugh from behind you.

“I always knew you could handle a little wildness.”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” you snapped, aching for things you hadn’t even realized you’d wanted until this moment.

And with that realization came an additional one—he couldn’t give it to you fast enough for your liking right now. His laughter was strained but warm, familiar as he did just that.

Another choked moan fell from your lips at another deliciously rough thrust into you, enough for you to jerk forward. Your body took over before you could even have the thought to, hips moving backwards to meet his thrusts as the two of you quickly found a pleasing and perfect rhythm.

“Gods,” you rasped, knuckles turning white from the way you were already gripping the headboard.

Eris repeatedly retreated to thrust back into you, harder, deeper until all you could feel was him everywhere. His fingers gripped your hips with such strength you knew it’d result in his mark being left behind. He pulled you back towards him with each and every movement to meet each rough thrust.

His hips slammed harder into you and you let go of any inhibitions.

“Fuck!” you cried.

Your moans were raw, spilling free as his hips pistoned, slamming against yours, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. One shift of his hips had his cock hitting a particularly perfect spot that made you cry out, cunt clenching around him.

“Holy gods, sweetheart,” came his guttural groan, “There, huh?”

“Eris— fuck— yes, yes, yes—” came your whimpered chants.

He focused on that exact spot and you nearly screamed each and every time. His cock inside of you was a feeling of absolute fullness—never too much and just right—a sensation you’d only ever experienced with Eris.

It wasn’t the same depth or discomfort you’d experienced with Balthazar though—it was just enough. Another perfect example of how in tune with you—and your body—Eris had been from the very beginning.

Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head with each and every brush of his cock against the spot. He pounded harder, each movement making your body rock forward and cling harder to the headboard—just for the insurance you wouldn’t collapse from sheer pleasure.

Then his hand was at your shoulder, grip firm as he yanked your body back towards him. Your hands fell from the headboard as you went willingly. One strong arm came around your middle holding your body to his, fingers curling around your hip. You felt his teeth scrape along your shoulder a second later.

“Louder,” he demanded, panting against your skin, “Let me hear how only I can make you feel.”

His hips were brutal, harsh thrusts accompanying his following words.

“Wanna— Hear my name— On those pretty lips—”

“Eris,” you panted, automatically giving in to his demand.

Your body was instantly answering his own without a single hesitation—as if he needed the reminder that the other males were nothing but a footnote in your history compared to him.

You could feel the press of his muscled form against your back, brushing it enough with every movement that it drove you wilder. You reached back, tangling your fingers in his hair as you tilted your head over your shoulder, pulling his head closer to you.

His eyes cut down to your face before his head dropped, covering his mouth with yours. Your fingers tightened in his hair, moaning into his mouth as he worked himself into you over and over.

You were spiraling, pleasure building and your lips parted from his, moans falling from you more than any intelligible words. His touch slid between your legs, face leaning forward to drag his tongue along your neck as his fingers flicked your clit.

You mewled at the added sensation, head falling back against his shoulder, letting him unravel you with each and every motion.

“Who makes you feel this good?” Eris growled against your ear.

Your pleasure was rising to levels you didn’t think you could handle much longer.

“Y-You,” you rasped, brain so fuzzy you could barely think straight.

All you could focus on was how deep his cock was, how he felt pounding into you, how you wanted him to spill into you and take you a second time, a third, a fourth.

“Only me,” he grunted, affirming your statement.

As if proving his point, he thrust harder, rougher, plowing into you ruthlessly. You loved every second of it.

It didn’t take much longer before the tension snapped and you were careening over the cliff, falling into your release with such a shriek of his name, you might’ve been horrified at yourself—if you were in your right mind, that was.

All you could hear was his drawn out groan as your cunt clamped around him, your orgasm rocking through your body, making your vision nearly white. Then his teeth sank so hard into your shoulder it made you hiss. You felt the vibration of his groan against your skin as his own release rocked through him. You felt the warmth a beat later as he spilled into you, it already trickling out and down your thighs.

Your hand fell from his hair as he pulled out of you with a hiss. You were sure your body had turned to jelly by the way you swayed, trying to catch your breath, body absolutely limp from pleasure.

“Easy,” he murmured.

His hands were gentle on you as he lowered you to the bed and you collapsed onto your side, chest heaving. You were sweaty and spent, but still buzzing, body tingling from the orgasm he’d just wrung from you.

You felt the bed shift behind you and felt him situate himself at your back. Your eyes closed as you tried to slow your heart rate, your breathing, try to come back down from your high.

You felt fingertips tracing the hurt at your shoulder and you winced.

“Thanks for the bite,” you commented wryly.

You felt his tongue run over the area where his teeth had broken through the skin. His voice was warm and low, soaked with the remnants of pleasure.

“It’ll heal soon enough.”

His hand smooth over your hip until it slid down to your leg, lifting it until it tangled between his, cock pressing against you once again.

“Gods, you’re insatiable,” you moaned.

“I don’t hear any complaints coming from you,” he uttered, tilting his hips enough to push back into you.

No, you definitely weren’t complaining—definitely not at the warmth, the feeling of being filled with him, the intimacy of it.

Which was what this was—intimate. His hips tilted in a shallow thrust into you. You let out a content noise as his hand splayed over your stomach and you reached down, lacing your fingers with his. You automatically melted back into him, head tilting back and back arching into his body as he decided a second round was definitely what both of you needed.

You felt the brush of his mouth by your ear, breath warm against it.

“If you’re gonna fuck a High Lord, one would think you should get the full experience,” he murmured against the shell of your ear.

You huffed a laugh, turning into a soft moan as his hips rocked gently. His mouth covered your neck with kisses, spread across your neck and shoulder as his hips moved languidly, a soft and smooth rhythm in and out of you.

You luxuriated in this sort of touch just as much as you did when he was rougher. His nose nudged your cheek and you arched back into him further.

His lips brushed a kiss to your cheek and you felt yourself melt at the simple gesture.

Your hips moved gently with his, enjoying the slower pace. This time was softer, less wild, but it was still as consuming as earlier had been. He squeezed your fingers laced with his as yours and his body moved, his lips tracing patterns only he could make out, on your skin.

“I think I’ve been yours for far longer than I realized,” he whispered.

The intimacy—his words—made goosebumps rise on your skin. The vulnerability that laced his tone.

The truth bubbled up from your chest—your heart—before you could stop it.

You didn’t want to though.

“I’ve always been yours, Eris.”

You heard him heave a breath that sounded like it came from the depths of his very soul, his hips rocking a little faster. His hand slid down your stomach between your legs, fingers working to coax another release from you.

You mewled softly, body responding to him instantly, that building pressure already on the horizon.

Then came the two words that were your utter undoing.

“My dove,” he groaned in your ear.

It sent you spiraling into another orgasm, this one less wild and untamed but nonetheless intense. You gasped, body arching, soft sounds falling from you as your body surrendered itself to him yet again.

His free hand pressed firmly to your stomach, pressing your body as close to his as he followed suit, falling victim to his own release. You felt the reverberation of his deep groan against your back, heard it fill your ears as he released all he had into you—physically and emotionally.

When you’d both calmed, he eased out of you gently, maneuvering you so you could face each other. You went easily, looking up into his beautiful face. He slid one muscled arm underneath you and you rested your head on it, staring up at him, content.

His gaze was soft on your face but he looked just at a loss for words as you were. You brought the corner of your bottom lip between your teeth as you stared back at him, taking him in.

“I don’t need to be anywhere for a while,” you smiled softly, “Rhys knows not to expect me back for a while.”

“Thank the Cauldron for that,” he mumbled.

You let out a breathy, happy laugh and the way Eris’s face warmed—lit up—at the sound of it did funny things to your heart. Your hand pressed against his warm chest, feeling the solid strength of it under your touch.

His gaze fell to the hand that you’d just rested against him. He took your wrist gingerly, studying it—the smooth skin—where once a dark outline of a tattoo lay. He was likely reminiscing on the history that lay between the two of you.

He brought it to his lips, leaving a soft, slow kiss to your pulse point—similarly to how he did when that bargain tattoo had first appeared. But this time the gesture held a lot more weight—more meaning—than it did back then.

“What would you say if I had a proposition for you this time?” he asked, voice softer, gentler.

“What do you have in mind?” you asked, humoring him, curiosity in your gaze as you looked up into his beautiful face.

“Well, I would propose that I get to see a lot more of you,” he murmured, “Regularly.”

You chuckled.

“Are you proposing making another bargain with me?”

His lips curled upward in a genuine smile.

“If need be, yes.”

You just raised an amused brow.

“No bargain needed for that, Eris.”

“No?”

A fingertip began tracing patterns over your shoulder and across your collarbones, his eyes tracing the path it took. You simply shook your head in response to his inquiry.

“You already have me.”

His wandering touch stopped and his amber eyes flicked up to yours, filled with such emotion that it made your breath catch. His hand cupped the back of your head, a genuine smile blooming across his face as he brought your face towards his, lips hovering right over yours.

His actions made your heart sing, a chord played that only he could hear, could recognize. A mark was currently being etched into your heart—akin to the one that had been marked upon the skin of your wrist once upon a time.

But this time, it wasn’t from a magical bargain. This time it was from something much more powerful than any bargain magic.

It was from love.

His grin grew even more as he uttered the words that made that mark permanent on your heart—a bargain of another sort being struck between you and Eris.

“That is one bargain I will happily accept, dove.”

The decorated teaspoon clinked against the saucer, and with the noise came the sweetly spoken onslaught of complete and utter honesty. Honesty you had hoped never to hear, wishing desperately into the air between you and Cassandra in your more intimate moments that nothing so humiliatingly truthful would spill from those lips of hers. 

She was not unkind when she turned her gaze to you, bringing her teacup to her lips with a straightened and immovable poise you could never achieve. Her eyes were hard, not kind enough to melt at the sight of you, not solid enough to appear unfeeling at your shared predicament. Her stomach was larger now, as came with later stages of pregnancy. 

You recalled the first few times you noticed her growing, when you thought back to your own mother and how sickly she had been when she was pregnant. Not your Cassandra, though, she had all the help and care a woman with child deserved. 

‘Do not panic, do not think i am her. As painful as it may sound, we are not the same.’ 

She didn't mean it at the time, but you understood the thing itching the back of her mind even if she did not intend to believe it herself. 

‘This child matters, I matter. For the sake of house Kiramman.’ 

As you stood, near the steps of a glass and golden gazebo somewhere sun facing in her estate, you thought back on the moment. She has not opened her delicate mouth to speak, you think mercifully allowing you a moment under the falling petals and shade casting tree branches to  simply exist with her. 

And then her mercy was gone, replaced with something clinically straightforward and confrontational. She placed her teacup down, brought her embroidered handkerchief to wipe the corners of her mouth, and cleared her throat. You let yourself imagine she was nervous for this, but knowing your cassandra, she had practiced this for hours as to avoid any stutter or imbalance in tone. 

“I cannot keep you any longer.” 

There she was though, oh 

Oh,

Shining through the perfect craftsmanship her family had chiselled books upon her head and rulers across her knuckles. A wear mark in her side, just under her lip and to the left, the first place you had kissed her so long ago. It tilted downward, then not at all. 

But you saw, and she knew you had, which is why she became less truthful and more forceful. 

“I have a duty to uphold, I am to inherit my fathers council position.” 

You nodded, swallowing a lump that had nestled into a burrow in your oesophagus. 

“Yes?” 

You said it as a question, meant it to come out as something understanding, but neither of you had the privilege of keeping up your acts it seemed. 

“Yes.” 

She agreed. 

You pushed, walking further into the gazebo. The warmth that flooded you was because of the sunlight teetering through the glass panels, it was almost enough to pretend that she simply had that effect on the world around her, though. 

“Cassandra, do you…” She did not interrupt, allowing you to continue. That was not an act of mercy, typically she would push you to finish your sentence  “Do we need to separate because of that?” 

Sure of yourself, but with one slight furrow of her brow all that self assurance melted away under the heat. “What more is there to do?” 

Oh. 

Yes, of course. 

What more? 

“What more?” You whispered as if in disbelief yourself, laying a hand on the small table in front of her for support. She did not move away, did not feel the need to. She could feel you a little longer this way, smell you and breathe you a few more moments. Not that she would admit to that. “Cassandra- there can be so much more” 

Your tone was pleading, she was unmoved now, resigned in her decision at least outwardly.

“I have a duty.” Repetition, perhaps in saying it a third time it would start to sound believable. “I have a husband, I have a family. I have a position of power. I cannot allow myself to become compromised-” 

“-you've been compromised with me for months.” You seethed, leaning down to her. Still she did not move, did not break a sweat. An unmoving force, your Cassandra. “Compromised while you still had a husband- still had a baby on the way and i- i thought i was your family.” 

“My family is my title, is my house.” She flicked her wrist, as if gesturing for a butler to make himself scarce. There was no butler, only you. “You are a distraction, something to occupy myself with before the truth of my position found me.” 

“Cassandra-”

“Leave me, before I order the guards drag you back over the bridge.”

...

And...

...

You did not know why you thought of her now. 

Bleeding in an alley in Zaun, coughing up your lungs from the grey smoke. You were yet again rendered unimportant, a distraction to the battles others fought. You thought of your Cassandra here, perhaps she would reprimand you for being hunched over. 

Perhaps 

…Perhaps 

Seeing her in the reflection of blood on the floor, a petal landed in your open palm. 

… perhaps she would find you in the afterwards of this life.

Perhaps, 

Caitlyn is not unsympathetic, Vi is not a brute. contrary to what you had in your head, what you had told yourself to remind yourself this situation wasn't normal. When they saw you cry, they would hold you so tenderly that you started to forget why you were crying. The smell of Caitlyn's perfume mixed with the fading dye from Vi's hair and everything seemed lost.

They knew they had caused this, they knew it was considered wrong, but when they found themselves in moments like this with you, vulnerable in their arms and weak without them, everything seemed worth it.

But toward the end , you'd pick yourself up again. remember why you were crying, break through the musk you'd become trapped in and ask, quietly.

"Please" Pleadingly, "Let me go"

Gently, because your stomach hurt from exhaustion and your throat ached and your nose leaked grim snot. and you were exhausted.

And they would not dignify you a response, maybe vi would look concerned or upset that you had not changed your desire to leave them. but it would be over your shoulder, and you would not notice. and they would bring you back to bed and keep you warm until the next evening when the cycle repeated.

She was never cruel to you, beyond keeping you by force. But at times when you argued- when she let you argue back- she could be firm. A slight sneer and narrowed eyes, a hand pointing to the hand sewn carpet below you- "This is where you belong"

And it was never that that set you off into tears, at last that's what you told yourself. she wouldn't listen, and it was mean to let you think she would when she asked what was wrong like she didn't know. You hadn't fallen though, which was better then the last time.

"Mel" Your voice wavered just after her eyes shone a little golden. Your own eyes glistened, though not with the same power she had, with a fragility you desperately tried to hide. You failed at hiding it though, and cursed yourself for it when her shoulders dropped and she came to you like approaching a wild animal. Tears fell without permission, arms crossed defensively over your chest as you continued to fight for yourself. "Let me go"

"Come here" She begged in tandem.

You had no choice in the matter, comfort was not a choice but a sort of punishment for revealing yourself as affected by her cruelty.

cruel, she could be cruel and she was cruel to you. Cruel when she held you despite your tone rising, despite trying to get her off. cruel because she held you like a lover and kept you like a pet.