#chandie.writes

I haven’t seen Eris for a few days, and I’m starting to think I imagined him.

If it weren’t for this room, I would have believed it already.

Eris doesn’t visit, but that woman does. I’ve since learned her name is Mabel, and she is mostly silent.

Her hair is a muddy sort of brown, like wet terracotta, slowly shifting towards a dull silver. She reminds me of a cardinal, nearly as delicate looking as one too, red fading into grey. Mabel’s eyes never leave her work, but I’ve managed to see that they are brown too. Aged and wise. 

I pay attention to the details of her. I pay attention because it is easier.

Her quiet voice is smooth and comforting, hot maple seeping through my bones. 

“Please, move this way dear.”

Her hands are withered but sure, calloused but soft. They never press too hard. They never startle or hurt, gentle and precise.

“May I see the other side?”

Mabel is only ever here in the mornings and evenings. She checks bandages, cleans scabs, and replaces dressings. She looks after me with her wrinkled lips pursed, and flinches when I flinch, as if my pain is hers. She does her work and does not linger. 

Mabel always gives me a sad smile as she waddles out of the room. 

I can never find it in me to smile back.

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I am at the desk tonight.

I keep coming back here, keep staring at the marbled wood grain, keep trying to find the energy to pick up the pen.

I know I should write home. I know they are worried about me. I know that they don’t know I am safe.

The past three nights I’ve sat here, unable to start, but tonight? Tonight, I am unable to stop.

There are crumpled drafts littering the floor, as well as a few broken pens. I start, and I write and write and write, but none of it is coming out right.

I give up.

Again.

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I am crouched in a corner when he comes in.

Eris’ eyes sweep the room as he closes the door. I watch him. I watch as his eyes wander over the books and papers on the floor, then the empty shelves. He sees the open window and the curtains fluttering softly in the cool night breeze.

Then he sees me. 

I watch him watch me.

Slowly he makes his way over to me, crouching low to meet my eye level. He holds out a hand and motions toward the door.

“Come on.”

Gingerly, I accept his hand and his invitation. I ignore the hairs that stand up on my neck when I do. He smiles softly as we stand together. He leads me towards the door, then down a hallway.

I don’t have the common sense anymore to ask where he is taking me.

Eventually, we make it out to a courtyard surrounded by trees. The moonlight trickles down through the leaves, and the wind floats over my skin.

“I figured you would enjoy being outside for a bit,” he says as he drops my hand. “I realized that you’d been stuck up in that room and you were probably going crazy.” 

He isn’t looking at me anymore as he rambles, favoring his shoes instead. The hand that was holding mine now rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

He looks like a boy.

Something about that thought has a laugh bubbling out of me before I can even process it, and I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle it.

Eris stops talking and looks at me with wide eyes.

“What?” He questions incredulously, “What did I say that was funny?” 

His reaction only fuels my amusement and I start to laugh openly.

“Nothing! Nothing, it’s just,” I say while trying to catch my breath, “this is the most normal interaction I’ve had in a while.”

My laughter subsides, although the smile remains, and I exhale. For just a moment, I don’t feel like I’m drowning.

Eris smiles and starts walking into the trees as I follow.

We wander and talk about nothing until the sun peaks through the canopy.

I smile the whole time.

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I’m at the desk tonight.

Again.

Although this time no drafts litter the floor, and my eyes are dry. The sleek black pen is weighted in my hand, and it feels as if I do not hold it, I will float away. A small, crisp sheet of parchment lay in front of me, empty aside from Rhys’ name at the top. The thought of writing my father makes me want to throw up.

I sit staring at the rough scratch of my handwriting for what seems like hours. 

What am I supposed to say to him?

Sighing, I lean back, the mahogany floorboards creaking under me. I should write him, the thought persists in my mind. This being one of the few times I’ve had the energy to drag my body to the chair, to pick up the pen, I know that if I do not write home now I won’t at all.

Gripping the pen tightly, I drag the tip across the paper, the sound grating against my ears.

Rhysand,

I am safe.

Am I? I know that it will calm his worried mind if I say I am, and as much as I don’t want to trust Eris, I can’t help but relax when he’s nearby. That doesn’t mean I should. It doesn’t mean I shouldn’t either, I think to myself.

Before I lose myself in my thoughts, I sign the letter and fold it. 

I haven’t tried using my powers since that night, but I can’t risk this getting into the wrong hands. I don’t know who has sticky fingers here.

Focusing on the small rectangle that has become a temporary lifeline, I close my eyes and breathe deeply.

It sends small earthquakes through my lungs.

Warmth licks at my bones, a smothered fire reigniting, and I try to focus on my brother’s face as it grows. Slowly the warmth gets stronger, heating me through until it almost burns when all at once it disappears.

I open my eyes as another earthquake shakes my body.

The letter is gone.

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Eris is sitting at the edge of the bed today.

He’s visited more since we walked in the forest. I don’t complain, and neither does he. Sometimes he just sits with me, sometimes I ask him questions, sometimes he asks me.

I hardly ever answer.

Today, he reads aloud. Whether it is for his or my benefit I don’t know. I can’t remember what book he said this was, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you what it was about, I’ve been too busy examining him.

He wears a tan shirt today, tight around his shoulders and chest, billowing out gracefully around his stomach and forearms. His hair, glinting in the fading sunlight, drapes around his face and down his back.

I feel his eyes on me for a moment. If he notices my staring, he makes no comment about it.

His eyes. They burn everywhere they look over me, not that they ever stray from my own for very long. As they now sweep over the pages, I wonder how it has not burst into flames. 

Even his voice, as it drags through the air, is warm. It sticks to my insides, melting and reforming them, licking up my sides and back. 

“Are you even listening?”

I wonder if I am on fire yet.

“No,” I admit.

Eris rolls his eyes and the lines that only show when he smiles wink at me.

“I don’t want to read anymore,” I huff as I lay back on the bed.

The bed shifts and I feel him lay a few inches away from me. There are a few moments of quiet as we stare up at the ceiling.

“Why did you bring me here?” the fleeting thought makes its way through my lips.

“Because you needed help,” he states matter-of-factly, “why did you stay?”

“I don’t know.”

I don’t tell him it’s because I am scared to leave. I don’t tell him it’s because sometimes it feels like I can breathe again when he’s nearby. I don’t tell him that I am terrified I won’t be able to anymore. I don’t tell him I’m afraid that the ghosts will follow me home, but it’s easier to face them with the light of him nearby.

“I like it here,” I do tell him.

We stare at the ceiling and pretend I mean it.

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I’m going home tomorrow.

I’m going home tomorrow.

I’m going home.

The thought isn’t as comforting as it should be.

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Sun streams in as Mabel unwraps my bandages for the last time.

She is gentle as always, although chattier than usual. We make conversation, and she keeps saying things trying to make me laugh. She reminds me of a grandmother, although I have none to compare her to.

She looks back at me as she leaves the room and says a choked goodbye.

She is not smiling today. Instead, she is holding back tears as the wrinkled corners of her lips wobble.

I smile for her.

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Eris and I walk through the forest one last time today. 

It’s still early, and the birds sing happily as the rising sun warms their wings. The leaves rustle in an invisible breeze and the smell of dew coats the inside of my lungs.

We dare not break the silence between us.

Eris stands a little closer to me today than usual. I can feel the radiating warmth tickle the skin of my arm and fight the urge to engulf myself in it.

Eventually, we sit together underneath a birch tree, and I absentmindedly pick at the white wisps of bark that cling to it. 

“I hope you’ll write me,” Eris breathes. Almost too soft to hear.

Too many seconds of silence pass.

“I want to tell you something,” I say, just as softly.

I want to tell someone. Just one person.

He turns to look at me with severe eyes, and nods. We both know what I mean.

So, we sit. I talk, and he listens. I cry and he comforts. I spill the tattered messes of my insides on the ground in front of him.

He treats them like they are polished gold.

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The light is fading by the time we’re ready to leave.

Eris and I stand and dust the mud off our clothes. Eris holds out a hand and I take it as a metallic twinge takes to the air. 

We take a step and the forest I’ve spent nearly a month exploring morphs into the gray outline of my home.

Eris drops my hand as I turn around just in time to see his tall form disappear into the darkness.

I hope you’ll write me too.

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note: hehe, this was fun. if you haven't noticed i LOVE writing angst. i also love writing about mental health. speaking of, i was struggling with my own quite a bit when i was writing this chapter so i wonder if that came through or not. anyways, i really like how this turned out in the end, and i like the build-up we're getting here. its setting up really nicely for the next major plot point. also bonus points if you caught the imagery with Mabel! if not, I'll give you a hint: 🕊️. let me know what you thought, i hope you enjoyed this chapter!

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taglist: @owllover123 @sol2694 @theviewfromtheotherside @bankerfrog @ummmmmwat @wishfulwithwine @baebeepeach @emptyporsche

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Nobody tells you what it feels like when your heart breaks.

You would think it’s sharp, like someone pushing a dagger through your heart. A stabbing pain that twinges every time you move.

It’s more subtle than that. A gentle throb, only enough to know it’s there. The feeling is a dull ache that knocks your breath out of your lungs, persuading you to not move too fast, breathe too deep, or cry too hard. It feels like falling, like the warmth after a burn, like a bruise starting to form. The breath never seems to reenter your lungs, and your mind never seems to defog.

If you had asked me to explain how it felt to look at him at that moment, I would’ve described it as heartbreaking. To know that we would never be able to love each other freely. We would always be looking over each other’s shoulders for threats. Cursed to only fleeting looks and heated gazes; a brush of a hand or a tug on a shirt.

The metal of my necklace burns my skin under my tunic, and his anguish vaguely floats into my mind.

I can see it echo in his eyes as I look at him from across the border, my family scrambling to take my cousin to the nearest healer. I linger only a moment, trying to convey what I can’t through words, and as I turn away, I wonder if I can see a hint of wetness in his eyes.

There was no other way.

Just as soon as the moment comes, it goes, and all I’m left with is a host of shattered dreams and an ache in my chest where they used to be.

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I’ve never seen Spring Court as beautiful as this.

Flowers decorate every arch and doorway, even the floor in some places, their perfume wafting through the air. The sun is low in the sky and casts a golden glow on everything it touches. Music and laughter sing, light and happy, in the space as the court’s guests twirl and dance in the courtyard.

I stand awestricken at the entrance for a moment before Spring’s High Lord walks up to me with Tamlin and his brothers in tow. My father steps forward to greet them with my mother on his arm, and I can’t help but think for a moment that they look made for each other.

As they exchange pleasantries, my eyes lock with Tamlin. He has a slight smile on his lips, and his auburn hair is swept up in a loose knot, a few strands tumbling from it and brushing against his brow. He tilts his head slightly in my direction, amusement in his eyes, and leans in to tell his father something.

I let my gaze wander to the courtyard as I feel my lips curve upwards, and my brother bumps his shoulder with mine.

When I look up, Rhysand dons a knowing smirk, and his brow quirks. I ready myself for whatever teasing remark he’s about to make as I feel a tap on my shoulder.

Tamlin suddenly stands in front of me with a hopeful expression and extended hand as he asks, “Care to share a dance with me?”

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The night goes by quickly, and as the hours go by, I find myself standing off to the side after Tamlin excused himself to greet more of his guests.

There’s a gentle smile on my lips while I sip the drink he had offered me before he left. My mind wanders to the pleasant conversation we were having, about a picnic, I believe, when I decide to stray from my place near the tables a bit. I’m sure Tamlin will find me regardless.

I stroll around the courtyard, noting some familiar faces and fae types. While looking off to the side, I fail to see the man standing with his back turned to me as I softly stumble into his broad shoulder. 

As he turns around, I’m already apologizing, and he’s starting to say something, only for the words to die on our tongues as our eyes meet.

My breath hitches and I look into the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. They are somewhere between brown and orange, glinting like warm caramel and shining with mischief. The longer I stare into the warm pools, I begin to feel a tug, almost like something going taut.

I’m pulled out of my trance by Tamlin setting a gloved hand on my forearm. With a struggle, I force myself to look over at him.

“There you are; I’ve been looking all over. I wanted to catch you before you left.”

“Oh, I was just taking a walk,” I say quietly as I look back towards the man I had disturbed to find that he had effectively disappeared.

Tamlin says something else and mentions a walk in the garden, guiding me away from the crowd. 

All I do is nod, pushing the experience to the back of my mind and faintly wonder if I’ll ever see those eyes again. Tamlin looks at me with a smile, and I hate the twinge of guilt that prods my chest.

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Rhysand hasn't stopped bothering me since the party.

Well, neither has Tamlin, but that's a different story. My darling brother, however, everywhere I go, he's already there with a teasing glint in his eye and a question on his tongue.

'You seemed to be having fun at the Spring Court.'

'Make sure to invite me to the wedding!'

'Don't forget protection!'

I think my head might explode from the embarrassment.

After Tamlin had pulled me away to the garden, the party ended pretty quickly. We spent most of the night chatting and strolling, and I managed to push that enchanting stranger's eyes from my head for the time being.

Thankfully, Rhys had waited to start tormenting me until after we were back in Night Court, but now I cannot escape it. Even now, as I sit reading on the couch, I hear his loud footfalls approaching the room I'm in. 

"I hope that's a romance because you'll need all the help you can get."

Scowling, I don't take my eyes off the page as I retort, " At least I have someone interested in me for longer than one night."

"Ouch," Rhys hisses as he flops down next to me, "you wound me so, little sister."

Settling back, he leans his head back on the seat, stretching his arms out to either side, almost resembling a large house cat getting comfortable, and peeks an eye over me.

"We're going to a meeting today, so we won't be able to get to Spring until late."

"Whose we?"

"Dad and I," he breathes, closing his eyes with a huff, "Mom and you will have to go greet Tamlin and them by yourselves."

I take my turn to sigh as I set my book to the side and swing my legs up onto Rhys' lap. 

Tamlin had invited us to a picnic with his family a few weeks ago. Something about that the cherry trees are beautiful this time of year. Faintly, I wonder if it's late enough in the season for them to bloom yet; after all, here in Velaris, there was still snow on the ground.

"Well, it's all the better then," I snort, "the fewer people to embarrass me, the better."

That snarky grin makes its way onto Rhysand's face again as he gets up, throwing my legs off in the process. He ruffles my hair and pinches my cheeks as he chuckles, "I'll just have to make it up to you next time we have a ball."

I purse my lips and swat his hands away, getting in one good smack before he disappears around the corner laughing.

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I gasp as I enter the clearing Tamlin has led us to.

You wouldn't think that trees would be blooming this early in the year, but with the temperate climate of Spring Court, the ordinarily green canopy is covered in pink blossoms. A sweet fragrance wafts through the air, and a small stream gurgles in the distance. A small blanket is set out with an array of bread, fruits, jams, and cheeses. I almost can't believe that a place like this exists, and with a wide grin, I turn toward Tamlin.

He is standing towards the front of the herd of brothers while his father smiles gently at us. Everything seems perfect, and my mother comes to my side as we gape at the meadow around us. 

"I'm so glad you could join us," the High Lord comments, "though I'll admit I am a little disappointed that Night's High Lord and Prince aren't with us today."

"They send their apologies," I reply with a smile, "sadly, they had some meetings to attend in Day Court."

The High Lord nods thoughtfully, and Tamlin walks towards me while his brothers head towards the food. Tamlin gently grabs my arm and smiles down at me.

"That's fine," he says softly, squeezing my arm tighter. I squirm a little, trying to relieve some of the pressure on it.

His father steps up to my mother and me, and two brothers grab her arms, a fair bit rougher than they ought to. I scowl and try to move to her, but Tamlin's hold is steel and holds me firmly in place.

I look up in confusion at him before the High Lord smirks, the mirth in his eyes turning dark.

"Yes," he laughs, "it's fine."

"Two sets of wings will be just fine."

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Everything is on fire.

My arms are covered in cuts and bruises, and my forehead must be bleeding because my sight is tinged red while one eye stings horribly. A foot is pressed down on my back between my wings, now bent at odd angles and bleeding. 

My mother lies on the other side of the clearing on her stomach, staring back at me with tears running down her face as she grits her teeth. Muffled cries ring out as one brother holds her while another slashes randomly with one of the cheese knives. Her back is bare and bloody, and two obsidian wings lay in a neat pile a few feet away.

Loud hearty laughs echo through the now dark clearing; the High Lord has pulled up a chair between us. He takes turns glancing between my mother and me with a sinister grin, like a lion toying with his food.

"I must say I do wish the other two were here," he chortles, "but all's well that ends well. I'll just have to make do."

"Filthy pig!"

He laughs even harder, even holding his stomach in mock pain. The boot pressing me down suddenly rams into my ribs, and I swear I can hear the bones crack.

"You're quite the mouthy one, aren't you? Thank goodness you didn't marry in; I'd have to make Tamlin beat it out of you."

Another crack sounds through the air, followed by my mother's cry as the High Lord makes his way over to me.

He jerks me up by my hair, so I'm almost kneeling in front of him, and puts his face close to mine, "You should learn from your mother and shut up if you want this to go quickly."

I can smell the fruit and cheese on his breath, mixed with the smell of wine and something rancid, and I try to hold back my bile.

"I'll kill you," I seethe as I spit at him.

A crack sounds, and fire blooms against my cheek as I'm thrown to the ground, a groan escaping. As I look back up, black dots swim in my vision, and I am met with another kick to the side.

"We'll see about that," he huffs and sits back down, turning to his two sons.

"One of you, go help Tamlin hold that one down. It's time we finished this."

As I'm still reeling, someone moves my body, so I lay on my stomach again, and another holds my arms to the ground. I'm too weak to move, and someone settles themselves on top of me, knees on either side of my waist, caging me to the ground.

A burning pain flares out from my back as if someone has poured hot metal on my skin, and immediately my body goes stiff before trying anything to get away from it. My limbs thrash around, and one arm comes free, meeting something hard as a low groan sounds out. My sight goes in and out, and I can see my mother thrashing to come to me, lips moving frantically.

She's trying to say something. 

Someone is screaming.

My throat begins to ache and burn, my mouth goes dry and I realize it's me. I am the one screaming. 

Something pops, the burning subsides, and a large black mass flops down to my side. In horror, I realize it's my wing. They're cutting off my wings.

I hear shouts and curses, and suddenly the weight on my back is gone, and soft feminine hands cradle my face.

Through my blurry vision, I see my mother, sobbing over me and brushing my hair away from my face. Her arms wrap around my shoulders as a throbbing pain sets in, and she whispers something.

"Winnow away."

She is ripped from me, and I am yanked backward by the shoulder as they drag her back across the clearing. We both thrash and pull, trying to get back to each other, and I hear a loud sigh.

The High Lord stands, wiping his hands on his pants as he does, and looks between my mother and me again. 

"And here I was hoping we could kill you two simultaneously."

He looks at me, almost disappointed, and sighs again.

"Well, we still need that one, but I think I'm done with the other," He says as he waves a hand at the son holding my mother. 

"Kill her." 

My body stills, and I look over at my mother. She has a resigned look on her face and mouths back to me.

'Go.'

"Father," Tamlin glares, "you never said anything about killing them."

"Well, we can't exactly let them run free now, can we?"

The High Lord looks back at the one holding my mother, "Do it. We have to finish before the other two get here."

He nods and pulls my mother to her knees, unsheathing his sword. My body begins to move on its own, and I try to go towards her, to save her, when I see a determined look on her face as she shakes her head.

I still, and the brother raises his sword into the air. Her eyes soften, and I start to understand what she asks me to do. 

My jaw quivers as tears stream from my eyes. With my remaining strength, I jerk my arm from Tamlin's grasp, freeing myself for a moment. That's all I need, is just a moment.

My mind steels itself, and I raise myself to my feet, my mother's eyes never leaving mine as she nods.

The sword swings through the air. 

I take a step.

Shouts ring out as darkness swirls around me, and the last thing I see is my mother smiling, a tear running down her cheek.

"I love you."

And then everything is gone.

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I cough as I step out into a forest, gracelessly falling to the floor as my knees crumple under me.

The bloody meadow, covered with cherry blossoms, is replaced with aspens and oaks. The overwhelming scent of maple fills the air, and small scatterings of snow coat the forest floor. It's getting dark now, the sun filling the trees with the last reds and oranges before night sets in.

I manage to pull myself a little away from where I had stepped out before my arms and legs finally give out, and I barely have enough energy to keep my eyes open. Resting my head on the soft earth, I let out a shaking breath and fight to hold the tears in.

I am not safe yet. I have to keep moving.

I try and try to shuffle further along, with no luck. I couldn't lift a feather right now if I tried. Throbbing pains radiate through my body, and leaves stick to the drying blood. 

My eyes get heavier, and I can faintly hear the soft grasses and fallen leaves crunching. My vision goes blurry and begins to dim, and something reddish-orange comes into view.

A warbled sound makes it to my ears, and warmth covers my body like a thick blanket. Exhaustion wins, and I close my eyes.

Faintly, I think that this isn't the worst place to die.

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note: and there you have it! it has been a long time coming but here is the first chapter!! as you can see i did end up keeping in the death scene, because there are a few things i needed in it for certain progressions later, but i hope it wasn't too intense. if i missed any tags please do let me know! i hope you all enjoyed it, i certainly enjoyed writing it. i've actually reread it a few times myself, and i am just loving the momentum it has. thank you all for reading and i'll see you soon!

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taglist: @owllover123 @sol2694 @theviewfromtheotherside

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A gentle sway rouses me from my slumber.

My eyes slightly part, revealing dark blurry shapes obscured by a thin slash of red. Taking in a breath, the overwhelming smell of smoke enters my lungs. Somewhere between a fireplace and tobacco, with faint hints of something warm and sweet behind it. Instinctively, my eyes close and I pull it closer, reminded of winter holidays with my parents.

As the thought enters my mind I am swept back in time, now spectating one such holiday.

A much younger Rhysand and I sit on the floor near the fire, grasping large cups of melted chocolate and cream, looking up at our parents. Our hair is shorter and our wings are mere bumps poking out of our sleep shirts. 

My father and mother sit together on the couch, a blanket wrapped around the two of them, as my father recalls a story of his recent excursion to the winter court. My mother looks around at us lovingly, a small sigh leaving her lips as she sips from her mug.

My heart pulls as I look at the scene, and I can’t faintly recognize the feeling of missing someone bubble up in me.

I open my mouth to talk, but no sound comes out, and the scene in front of me changes. 

I no longer stare at my happy family of days gone by. Now I stand in a meadow covered in cherry blossom petals and blood. My mother and father lie deathly still, grasping each other in a final declaration of love. My brother, now his proper age, sits crumpled against a tree, sword in hand and mouth open in a silent yell. Everything is tinted red and pink.

I try to scream, try to shout, yell, anything, but I am left staring at the horrifying scene in front of me. My legs are locked to the ground, and I can’t move, forced to look.

Tears form in my eyes, blurring my vision, and I shake my head in agony. 

‘No, no, no. This is wrong.’

My thoughts swirl around me in circles, screaming against the walls of my head.

‘Please don’t leave me! Don’t leave.’

Please don’t leave me alone…

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I wake with a start,  gasping while my eyes open to the stark light.

As I look around myself, still trying to get a bearing on reality, the first thing I realize is the pain that throbs and radiates through my body. The second is that I’m not alone.

A woman, clearly aged over the years, sits a few feet away from where I lay on a very overly plush bed. She is folding strips of white, bandages I realize, and humming softly to herself. There is a small table in front of her with an assortment atop it that would put any town healer to shame. 

Looking away from her, I take in more of the room. 

The harsh light that blinded me previously filters in through an open window, white curtains fluttering in the sun. Heavy blankets anchor me to the large bed I’m in, and an unlit hearth lies directly across the room from me. The walls are a pleasant shade of beige, contrasting with the warm wooden shelves that line them.

The woman beside me shuffles, and I quickly close my eyes. I hear her walk up to the bed, make an approving sound, and waddle out of the room. 

Slowly, I let out a breath, one I didn’t realize I was holding, and reopen my eyes. 

It seems that wherever I am, I am being cared for. The thought doesn’t bring as much comfort as it should.

I slowly stand, letting out a groan as a knife of pain shoots through my side, and hobble over to the open window, catching a glance at myself in the mirror aside it.

My clothes are barely that, more so scraps that hang off my body by a few threads. Through the many tears, there is a flash of white mottled with splotches of red and brown, bandages. I dare not look any further than the front of my stomach, but the lightness on my back reminds me of what I’ve lost.

A different kind of pain stabs my heart.

With a shaking breath, I continue my seemingly endless journey to the window. Pulling back the curtains I examine the surrounding terrain. 

The room is far off the ground, the tops of trees brushing lightly against the stone walls a few feet below. An easy jump for someone whom the winds surrender, but a deathly fall for me now. The sun is high in the sky, nearly overhead, so it must be late in the day. A chill breeze caresses my face and I take a deep breath of the piney smell.

Closing my eyes, images filter through my mind, and a foreign emotion bubbles to the surface. I can almost faintly hear the tinkle of children laughing.

My reverie is cut short by a handle turning, and I suck in a breath as my body tenses. My eyes shoot open, and I press myself back against a nearby bookshelf, not that there’s a lack of them.

The door opens and footsteps gently sound against the floorboards. I slowly grab the nearest thing to me, a weighty book, and clutch it tightly in both hands. 

I’ve learned my lesson about those who show you kindness.

The footsteps come closer, stopping just before the end of the bookshelf, and the person lets out a small sigh.

Ignoring the pain in my side, I swing around the corner, the book raised, close my eyes, say a little prayer, and swing. I hit something hard, and without lowering my arms, I slowly reopen my eyes, only to be met with another set staring back at me, twinkling with amusement.

Surprised, I look up at my makeshift weapon. His hand is raised, holding the book that was meant to hit him square on the temple with a smirk.

“I don’t believe Shakespeare would quite enjoy you using his work to take my head off.”

Scowling, I let go of the book and take a step back, trying to put distance between us.

“I’m sure he would understand.”

The man lets out a laugh, “So, is this how you repay everyone who saves your life, or am I lucky?” he gestures to the book in his hand.

“I don’t remember asking anyone to save me.”

“Well, I distinctly remember you bleeding out all over my forest floor.”

He sports a cheeky grin and I glare back at him. A flash of a memory flits through my mind: a gentle swaying and a comforting smell. With a sigh, he sits down on the edge of the bed and stretches his legs. 

I skirt around the edge of the room, choosing to sit a few feet away in the chair the old woman had been using. The man watches with a curious eye but doesn’t turn to face me.

Now that I’m not actively attacking him, I decide to investigate my… savior? Captor?

He’s a large man in build, maybe around Rhysand’s height, but rather muscular in comparison. His broad shoulders barely seem to be contained in his very expensive-looking jacket, which he proceeds to take off, exposing a loose-fitting white tunic. His long auburn hair sweeps against his shoulder blades as he leans back on his hands, and his face seems almost ethereal in the streams of sunlight.

I can’t help but think that this man, whoever he is, is probably the most beautiful person I’ve met thus far. 

I feel a faint tug somewhere in my mind.

Huffing, I cross my arms, “Well are you just going to sit there, or are you going to tell me who you are?”

Turning his head towards me, that cheeky smile returning. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I mean,” he continues, now turning his body towards me, “you can imagine my surprise when as I’m out on my nightly patrol, I find a woman dead on the forest floor.”

“I wasn’t dead.”

He lets out a snort and shakes his head.

“Weren’t dead yet.”

Sighing, I rest my head on the table next to me, the cold wood soothing my growing headache.

“You don’t have to tell me who you are,” he relents, “I know enough to know you’re not dangerous anyways.”

At that I glance at him, to see him observing me, a small frown on his face.

“Then who am I,” I quip, partially out of curiosity.

He stands and moves to sit back on the bed, this time directly across from me.

“You’re Illyrian for one,” making a vague gesture to my back.

My heart squeezes uncomfortably.

“Secondly, you’re likely high-born. And thirdly, you’re from Night Court.” He grins as he finishes, “Oh, and you’re weaker than a newborn.”

I lift my head if only to scowl at him, and his eyebrows raise, taunting me.

“How did you know I’m high born?”

“Your clothes, besides I think I saw you …” he hesitates, almost as if debating whether to say something, “somewhere before.”

“Where?” I press.

I see his lips twitch down in a frown for a split second, “While I was visiting Spring Court.”

My own face falls for a moment as memories flash through my mind. Clearing my throat, I mumble out an “Oh.” He makes a face, almost akin to empathy, before abruptly standing.

“I hate to cut this short, but I have somewhere to be.”

I move to stand too before he tuts, “You’ll be staying here until my nurse says you’re strong enough to travel. Then I’ll take you back to Night Court.”

My mouth turns down.

“So, I’m a prisoner.”

“No, you’re healing.”

“But I can’t leave this room.”

He frowns back at me.

“Look,” he sighs, “I’m not going to keep you locked up here.”

My disbelief must show on my face because he quickly says, “Trust me you won’t want to meet the other people who live here. You can leave with me whenever you want.”

“I thought you said I was safe here, why can’t I see anyone else?” I question him, subtly scanning the room for another makeshift weapon should I need it. 

His face lifts slightly in amusement as he observes me, “It’s not that you aren’t safe, it’s more that you would save yourself quite a few pointless conversations and assumptions should you stay in here.” 

Huffing, I let the question drop.

“You still haven’t told me your name,” I challenge.

“And you haven’t told me yours,” he raises an eyebrow at me.

I stay silent as he looks at me expectantly. In the silence I can’t keep my eyes from wandering again, observing every part of him. He really is quite handsome, and the thought makes my brows furrow. There’s something about him that makes me want to trust him. A small part of me wonders what it would be like to be friends with him.

I remember the last person I trusted that way and shove it away.

“I won’t tell you my name.” I declare.

The man looks down at his shoes and I think I see him smile while shaking his head. He lets out a breath that sounds oddly like a laugh.

A part of me would give anything to hear it again.

He makes his way back to the door and opens it in silence. He seems about to leave before he turns around and looks at me with something bittersweet in his eyes.

“I won’t force you to tell me anything,” he sighs, “ but I will ask you to stay here until you’re well enough to travel again.”

He pauses for a moment before continuing. “I don’t know what happened to you out there,” my breath catches as he says it, fighting to keep the memories at bay, “ but it messed you up pretty good and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I let you go now only for you to end up hurt again.”

I look down at my hands, trying to avoid his eyes that I feel burning into me. He takes a breath, and I can hear him shuffle on his feet.

“Besides, assuming this is a …” he pauses and takes another deep breath, “ person… who did this, they’ll never find you here. It’s a great place to lay low and lose your trail.”

Slowly, I nod, agreeing with more the second statement than the first. “Okay.”

I hear the door open more, and I assume that he’s gone before he says softly, “Eris.”

“What?” I ask while looking up at him confused.

“My name. It’s Eris.”

Eris. Somehow it suits him.

“I figure you should know who to ask for if you need anything,” he grumbles, and I swear I can almost see red tinge his ears.

“Okay.” I breathe and nod, “okay. Eris.”

His lips twitch upwards for a split second before he nods and steps out of the room.

After he leaves, I say his name a few times to myself, testing it out on my tongue.

“Eris.”

It feels right in my mouth. Like a warm drink on a cold evening.

“Eris,” I say as I climb back under the covers.

Like coming home.

Laying my head down, soon I fall into a gentle sleep, my mind filled with brown eyes, copper hair, and the smell of pine.

Eris.

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note: soooooo, it took me a lot longer to finish this chapter than I thought it would, I'm starting to think the is going to be a very long project. thankyou all for waiting so patiently for me! you can finally start to see my fluff brain coming out in this one haha. this story is gonna kinda be an annoyances -> lovers at the beginning so look forward to that. I'm planning on posting chp 3 before February so look forwards to that! thank you all for reading and i'll see you soon!

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taglist: @owllover123 @sol2694 @theviewfromtheotherside @bankerfrog @ummmmmwat @wishfulwithwine @baebeepeach

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