Archive of Our Own

PROLOGUE

"Don't do this, Eris" his brother warned.

He wanted to laugh at that. Stopping now would be like signing his own death sentence.

"It's over father" he said, the dagger in his hand was heavier than it had ever felt. Even when he was a youngling and wielding the dagger for the first time, it had felt lighter, "Surrender quietly and I'll give you a quick death."

Beron spat on the ground at Eris' feet, "You're my greatest disappointment, you runt– just like your mother, in the end wagging your-"

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by Beron's own scream as Eris dug his dagger into his father's thigh.

"How ironic, isn't it?" His voice shook despite centuries of training his cold facade, his courtesan's calm and the smirk befitting of a tyrant prince. "Wasn't this the same Ashwood dagger you handed me and told me to kill Pyrrhus as an infant if I dared? How ironic the dagger made to kill your own son will end up killing you."

He wouldn’t look back, he couldn’t. Standing behind him were people who’d helped him get here, who’d shared his sentiments and supported his ‘cause.’

What will they call me, I wonder. Kinslayer? Liberator? Would they mock me in the streets of other kingdoms?
None of that would matter now. The choice was sealed when Beron had married his mother, The Mother probably wrote the ending to this tale of Autumn since the moment he was born.

What did his mother look like right now? Proud? Terrified? Relieved? Regretful? She agreed to support his ideas centuries ago when she was just as desperate as him, but what did she think of him now?

..What did Lucien think? He wasn’t ever against the idea, he hated Beron just like everyone in Autumn did— with undeniable respect and disgust.
Probably similar to how he feels now.

But it was Eris who had been doing the dirty work since the moment he was born and he didn’t suppose he’d be stopping until he was dead, not when the man chained in front of him happened to be his father.

“Eris–” Lucien began, and he heard the chink! of metal bars,  “I– I know what you said before but let me be there t—”

“NO!” The walls around them went up in flames, fiery inferno covering father and son from all sides.

He turned and glared down at Beron, “I should have killed you in your sleep.”

“I should have killed you in your crib.”

Eris took a deep breath, the words wrapping him in an eerie sense of calm. Yes, he had died in his crib in one way. “Your rule was longer than most’s, father–”

“You’re no son of mine,” Beron growled.

“...But one that carried Autumn Court to a new identity. A place where all our people came together, truly came together for one shared cause. If nothing else, I have you to thank for that. I don’t love  you, I don’t like the life you’ve given me, none of us love you and you’ve never, ever been loved since the moment you became High Lord and I’d assume before that too because– because you never spoke to any-” he swallowed and swallowed around his dry throat when his words choked up, I need to do this, I need to let him know.
“If you have any last words, Beron Vanserra.”

Beron struggled and grunted as the ropes of light made from Day Court tightened around him, he inched his face higher to Eris and enunciating with spittle flying and teeth grit,  “You don’t have the balls to carry this through so let me go and I might make your death half as painful as you deserve—”

It wasn’t exactly a spontaneous decision, he knew he’d do it after Beron was done speaking his last words, he still felt strangely calm as he watched his father speak with the fire of Autumn one second, then grow cold as Winter as blood rolled down his mouth the next.

Eris pulled his hand away, looking down at the throbbing heart cinched between his claws, “..I meant to use the dagger.”
Maybe it wasn’t completely an emotionless decision.

 ݁ ˖  ⋆˖⁺‧₊˚༺☽ ༻˚₊‧⁺˖⋆  ˖  ݁

Eris left his chambers and descended the stairs. Outside the palace a crowd that went on as far as the eyes could see– High Fae and Fae alike gathered around and skittering nervously, all with anxious and expectant expressions. The tension was palpable, everyone was hanging on his every word. Most seemed to have a good idea of what would be said (given he was standing, alive and breathing still) but didn't dare break the tense silence.

"Beron Vanserra is dead." Eris announced, his mouth dry as ash, "The title of High Lord has been passed down... to me, Eris Vanserra, your new High Lord."

His mother was supposed to announce this but Helion was too impatient to wait a whole three days, so there he was.

Deafening cheers erupted among the crowd, everyone threw up their weapons— rakes, hoes, shovels, sticks and occasional sword and bows. There were bursts of bright magic colouring the sky from the High Fae who were unable to keep their excitement. In one corner, the excitement was contained- the courtesans of his father's court, the nobles. The spread of relief and joy was palpable and Eris, as the new High Lord, practically felt it caress across his skin.

"As promised, your efforts and sacrifices will be commemorated, and I, Eris Vanserra, will strive to change every aspect of the Autumn Court to serve the people..." Everyone quieted down to hear him and Eris felt something in the emptiness of his heart swell. "The dark reign of Beron has ended— forever. And I know... there will be scars that will be impossible to heal but measures to make sure such a dark time never befalls us will take place, I promise you a brighter future for you and your children."

Lucien smiled at him as he stepped forward. He wore his special diplomat robes, a symbol of peace, showing the alliance of other Courts in the matter. "Today shall mark the start of a new Era for Autumn!"

Eris is terrified to think about what would happen to Autumn Court in his death; after the painstaking efforts to bring equality, slave and serfdom abolishment, freedom, practically rearranging his entire Court and titles among other severely needed changes and making critical mistakes and having to learn the hard way— Autumn Court was finally becoming a massive, strong unit that could eventually rival even Night Court.

The show of alliance of other Courts was just what it sounded like, a show. It was Lucien who decided to wear his diplomat robes to give the people some peace of mind.
All Courts except Day were wholly uninvolved in the rebellion. Some soldiers from Day that they were able to sneak in, only the thousands of farmers, lesser Fae, High Fae and a few factions of like-minded soldiers that Eris had rallied led the rebellion.

But it succeeded.

Beron Vanserra was truly dead because Eris had killed him and felt it. He also felt the roiling powers of Autumn choose him, burning in his veins for release and felt the vast forests hum to the beat of his heart. Felt it abandon its owner to choose him (Part of him thought it was possible the Magic wouldn’t choose him and he couldn’t really begrudge it if it did. But that wasn’t what happened.)
Now Eris was the High Lord like he had always planned. His wish as a youngling and his oath to himself as a teenager– it had all come true now and he was certainly not wasting any time reveling in it because more than plans of how to get the throne, the number of plans he made for after he became the High Lord were hundred times more varying. 

He'd spent tireless nights wiling away at papers and strategies while the only good companions he had were Healers and servants who fretted over his health.
Helion had arrived at the crack of dawn upon his father's death for his mother. It was no secret at this point that the Lady of Autumn court was mated to the High Lord of Day Court, Helion Spell-Cleaver and that Lucien Vanserra was actually their only son and heir of Day Court. How his mother kept this secret from the world and her mate for centuries was beyond his imagination but at least she was free now. She looked happier when she visited and was regaining the fire in her eyes that was resolutely stamped down by Beron.
Lucien had his own matters with the new mating bond in place with one of the Acheron sisters and between her and his diplomatic duties, it didn't look like he'd be visiting the Autumn palace anytime soon.
Eris' own brothers had scattered across the continent, so tracking them down was another thing to add to his ever-growing list of duties as High Lord— he knew his brothers; Sylas would try to lie low, he was smarter than to show his face in Autumn Court, but Killian and Pyrrhus were likely biding their time to rebel against him for the throne. Not that they could ever accomplish it but they were probably committing crimes across the continent to blow off steam so he would have to drag them back.

With rising opportunities of education for all creatures and fae alike, he supposed the only reprieve from his lonely and tiresome life was how concerned his citizens were for him. Granted they didn't know how their High Lord spent sleepless nights chipping away at his immortality to fix his father's mistakes, they did know of growing tensions between other Courts who previously hated and now were growing wary of Autumn Court.

And Eris tried, he tried to manipulate information— to prevent leaking out the concerningly growing stability of his Court- after all, such information was better kept hidden from neighboring courts who were previously lax about chances of invasion. But with a fed, educated and large prosperous populace, the fear of expansion would loom in the hearts of the High Lords in such an unstable post-war climate.
Eris took everything into account— from every bit of information his spies gathered, changing reforms with an iron fist, to making sure the ones he cared about were safely far away from him.

With the growing peace, he also had a faint guess he wouldn't live long. 

Really, it was nothing more than a guess— just a slight hunch from the deep hollow in his heart. 

Because a mating bond had snapped in place for Eris, at the worst possible time.

And just as quickly as it had snapped in place, it was cut and rejected without a minute's delay.

He had a feeling Morrigan would take this as more of a reason to finally finish the waltz they'd been edging along for centuries.

There was a chill in the air, a dampness in the fire roiling in his blood and a cloudy darkness that enshrouded the stars in the night sky that gave him the hunch. His Death was coming. And he would have to wait like a good, abandoned mate for it to take him.

He wasn't going to leave his Court and flee; he couldn't do that to his citizens. He made a promise when he took the crown, and he could only wile away every precious second to fulfill it until the inevitable.

"You have nowhere to hide, Eris. Give up."

"I wasn't planning on it. Running away like a rat with tail tucked between my legs– that's more like your High Lady's style."

A pillar beside him exploded and then another in front him, shadows wrenching along the path and more pillars before them.

"How dare you-"

Looking at Azriel, Eris had realised something he wished he hadn't. He could've died without that information picking at his conscience— Azriel had no idea. He did not know that Eris had cut off a mating bond. Their mating bond. Because that's what they were.

Eris was Azriel's mate.

And he was damn sure that's what killed him.

I should've known, he sighed. It wouldn't be Beron who killed him— in a dungeon, left to bleed and rot for centuries in the dark, he was silver-tongued and too stubbornly resilient for that. It wouldn't be the enemy lines— pierced through the heart with Ashwood spears and swords, left for crows to feed on, he would never be at the frontlines, he was too powerful and equally a shrewd coward for that— and it certainly wouldn't be at the hands of his brothers— poisoned, maimed or pushed into a jagged-sharp trap, he was too smart for that.

But this? He really should have fucking known.

"Are you seriously still so easy to rile up? Once a brute, always a brute I guess."

This would be much more difficult if Azriel didn't know they were shoved together by the Cauldron— because whether he felt the mating bond snap or get cut off or not– he would definitely feel it die.

Maybe it was a small mercy before, Eris thought to himself, they were far away from each other when Eris noticed it— a faint thread but without a doubt there– so maybe Azriel didn't feel it. But now? Now he would feel it.

"Couldn't your Truth Teller-General come get me herself?" 

"You keep her name away from your filthy mouth." A muscle in Azriel's flexed as he glowered at Eris. He felt crazy for smiling when he thought that the wordplay was called for though.

It was a small comfort that he got to choose the place he died. Dying where you were born was ironic, he huffed. He had thought of drinking to make it easy, but even that would waste minutes he could spend writing and implementing new laws and straightening his courtesans.

He was at home, Autumn Court overlooking the cities below, enshrouding that were golden fields dotted with small houses and huts and wide forests of maple and cedar. The forests beheld a variety of colours among their leaves; there was blue as pretty as an evening sky, green as raging as the seas, red as warm as blood, orange as fierce as fires in grandiose braziers at every turn of Autumn palace. They always fascinated him as a youngling and perhaps they did even now. For as long as the landscape stretched, that was all he could see.
He stood at the highest point of his home Court, a worthy resting place that he perhaps deserved. There was a small temple atop the volcano overlooking the Autumn Court, which was mostly dormant but from the palace, you could feel it rumble like a beast groaning in its sleep.

As much as it scared Lucien, it calmed Eris when he lay on his bed and heard the palace shake. He could count a rhythm when it started and somehow, he always did find a rhythm in such an unpredictable phenomenon. Perhaps because he was born atop that very volcano that he had this small, useless ability.

"I have come to hear you out!" Azriel shouted at him.

"Doing a really good job at that, aren't you?" Eris rolled his eyes, "What was that you said a few minutes ago– shut your goddamn mouth, Eris before I tie your tongue around your neck-"

"I'm giving you a chance to talk yourself out of this." They both faced each other as Eris' fire ate away at a fallen pillar in his path.

"I don't need your pity, Shadowsinger" Eris bared his teeth, "You have been ordered to kill me, haven't you? 

Azriel neither confirmed it nor denied as he stared down at Eris from a wary distance. The sun rays outlined his figure from above, fighting his shadows as they fell around him. He looked frighteningly beautiful. Like an angel of Death, rebelling against his glorious halo.

"I know you want to. I know you want to keep her safe, I know you want to make her happy— the woman who will never acknowledge you the way you want her to" Eris spat out, every word chipping at his soul like the pillar behind him. "I know Morrigan wants me dead, and she finally picked up the guts to do something about it." Three years. She gave him three years before deciding she finally wanted to kill him.

"It's pathetic this is all she could muster up after years of cowering behind you lowly Illyrians-"

"I've been watching you," Azriel said through grit teeth, "What you're doing for your Court– I'm willing to hear out your plans."

"So you can go report them back to Rhysand? I knew you were dull, but I didn't think you'd be this stupid."

"Rhys doesn't-" his lips formed he word ‘know’ but he clamped his lips shut as soon as he said it.

Oh this was dangerous. 

This was very, very dangerous.

"...Do you have any idea what you're implying here, Shadowsinger?" 

"...I do, but I'll make it so-"

This was insane. Azriel was going to betray Rhysand's command– the Azriel Eris knew would spit at the idea.. that meant...

"The mating bond" he whispered so quietly he knew no one else heard him. "Cauldron damn it."

Eris began running up those flights of stairs again with Azriel following behind impatiently, shadows darting at him but Eris being too fast for them. Eris felt those shadows before they even attacked, no doubt the damn mating bond again but it was at least finally of some help.

"Give it up, Eris. You're not weaseling out of this one, fight me if you must but this is pointless."

Who said I was trying to? He couldn't hurt Azriel with his powers even if he tried to. Just like he felt Azriel's shadows instinctively did.

They reached the summit of the volcano and Azriel finally fluttered down, stretching his magnificent Illyrian wings as if they were just another one of his shadows.

"It will do you no good" Eris sighed as he teetered at the edge of the volcano. "Morrigan detests me- so does everyone else and you were all waiting for her to say yes before killing me. No matter the state of affairs of Autumn Court, Rhysand will not listen to you."

"Rhys is not as simple-minded as you think-"

No, Rhysand certainly wasn't. "So you will tell Morrigan you will not let her kill me?"

Azriel went silent.

"You will tell her that she cannot kill the man who essentially tried to buy her like a slave?"

It was too dangerous– for both of them. Azriel being manipulated by a shredded mating bond he didn't know existed- when he did– when Rhysand did, oh, they would find him alright. They would scour the continent if they had to, perhaps even the globe, to avenge the cruel fate thrust upon their brother. But they would certainly not give him the peaceful and quick death he was offered right there.

"You will tell her that she cannot kill the man who left her to die with nails hammered to her womb?" Don't you see? You won't ever be trusted by her again.

"Shut up."

Kill me, kill me. He was practically shouting it. There's no other way. You and I both know it. "You will tell the woman you love she cannot kill the man who spat at her defenseless self because she defiled her goods? Told her she deserved it for being a slut and that she should burn in hell when she was bleeding out?" 

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

"I know every single pathetic roach in your Court wants to—" he was picking at every thread of personal insult he could find and praying he didn't look desperate. "Though I suppose there is a butterfly there... Nesta Archeron was not half bad. Only she wastes away opening her legs for that dull, brute bastard. Wasted potential. Just another one of your Court sluts-"

His breath was knocked out of his lungs as his world tilted. Eris scrambled to get up, gasping for air and grasping at his throat.

It's fine, he'd laid down enough groundwork for his brother to pick up easily. He'd keep his promise to his subjects; maybe he wouldn't be there to witness it, but Mother Above he knew Lucien was capable of pulling it off. Maybe in a few decades he and his mate would have to busy themselves from their life-plans but it's not like forever was going away anytime for them.
The last threat to Autumn Court was Eris' existence itself; unallied and hated by every single Court and utterly at mercy if any, with a mentionable exception of Spring, if they decided to attack.
It wasn't like he had any other regret, all his loved ones that were alive- they were happy and safe just like how'd wished so really, it was fine.

"Rhys was right— you're irredeemable. I don't know why I tried," he growled, striding up to Eris.

I know, Eris thought sadly. "Get it over with, Shadowsinger. So much talking doesn't suit your stature."

Azriel stared down at him, his face was shrouded with his shadows, and he looked downright terrifying with his intimidating, broad set of shoulders, muscled and tattooed arms that flexed as he tightened and relaxed his fists— but Eris wasn't afraid in the slightest. Eris stared right back at those burning hazel eyes. They glowed green in his shadows, they always did. Dying looking at his mate's eyes at his home Court... he supposed it was a much more generous death than he deserved. 

Only he would be leaving his mate traumatised and alone.
But Eris believed in him. He knew Azriel would get through it and see it was for the best in the end. He had his friends to help him and soon Eris would be just another one of his scars, there but forgotten.

He was too smart to be killed by his siblings, too powerful and shrewd to be killed in a battlefield, too resilient to be killed by his father... but to love and hope? To the offer of a chance at finally being happy, to be given the chance to do what his heart wanted instead of not what he had to do? He was at mercy to be shredded to the barest shreds of his soul.
And that was dangerous. Eris wasn’t in the position to go give naivety a chance. He wasn’t in the position to leave anything to chance anymore at all.

"You remain as stubborn as a mule," Azriel towered over but made no move to grab him.

"What?" Eris scoffed, discreetly looking down behind him. The stairs led straight down again— this time directly into the bubbling and gurgling lava. The smell of sulfur and smoke clung to the air and struggled against the smell of wet clouds. 

He had nowhere to run.

"Not once have you revealed your plans" he gritted out, "your brother said we could trust you— that you were better than any other one of your brothers. He told me I should hear you out."

Of course, that bastard did, Eris glared at him, "So what? You've gone soft now?"

"Elain told me I should hear you out."

Oh, so that's why. He should have felt relieved but instead there was also an ugly, bitter emotion rising in his chest that he couldn't suppress, "So you suddenly believed it'd be rainbows and roses if you listened to her and heard me out?"

"No, but we can make it better-"

"I left Morrigan to die. I left your High Lady to die. I would've killed your High Lady if you didn't stop it both times."

He could see the way Azriel tightened his fists again.

"And I would've loved t-"

Another blow. This time it almost snapped in neck to the side; the scent of coppery blood added to the smell of sulfur and smoke.

"You're lying."

Okay, perhaps. "What, have you gained that slut's powers now?" he forced a cackle, as he nursed his jaw "Maybe that bond finally snapped for you? Oh no, wait- I almost forgot, not only is she a slut she's also a fa-"

Another blow. This time he saw stars and was unable to get up, so he accepted the inevitable.

"Like you?"

Eris stilled, "What the fuck did you say to me?"

"You fuck males like she fucks females, is that what you wanted me to say?"

How did he know? Eris hadn't brought a single male to bed for over two centuries.

Unless.... Lucien.

"I see my brother has a loose tongue around your court of traitors."

"Rhys saw it in his head... accidentally- for necessary reasons."

Eris blinked, feeling a spike of actual anger that wasn't directed at himself for once. "I expect nothing less from daemati. Always looking for a way to force past behind people's walls whether they like it or not."

"Rhysand is not-" His fist curled as if he might hit again and Eris braced himself, but he only growled, "You're pathetic, Eris. Just because you hate who you are, you take it out on others."

Sure, it must look like that, "Fuck you. Tell your High Lord to stay the fuck out of my brother's head if he doesn't want me haunting their pathetic manor." The manor Feyre designed was actually quite tasteful (but Eris would drive a stake through his heart before he admitted it.)

"No one's threatening Lucien," Azriel hunched over him, "Not any more than his time in Autumn Court."

Eris bared his teeth again, "Careful now, if you continue this, I really might take it as Night Court's official stand about my court," His lips pulled his bared teeth into an vicious grin. "Speaking of, aren't things really delicate at the Court? Any you really afford to make such statements? Wouldn't want to put your little High Lord in danger..."

Azriel hauled him up by his collar, "Take. that. back."

"After this show of disrespect? You fucking wish."

"Dammit Eris, I'm trying to protect your brother and Court!"

None of which would matter if anyone found out who he was bonded to.

Getting that mating bond was a death sentence.

Nothing more, nothing less. The thought was as clear as a midsummer lake to him. It was karma for everything he had done in the name of self-perseverance— a death sentence branded on him the moment he committed his last sin, killing his own kin.

Eris stared right into those green eyes and pushed up his walls the firmest he ever had as he said, "I mean every word I say."

Something stuttered and died in Azriel's eyes as his grip on Eris' collar tightened, the grip reaching across his neck.

"You've never said my name."

Eris gaped, momentarily stunned at the statement, but mustering every bit of his wit to respond. Azriel tried to find any sign of humanity (the irony)in his eyes, of feeling– but he wouldn't give him that.

"Why won't you say it?" his eyes narrowed.

Eris kept his face carefully neutral other than the ugliest parts of him. 

"Let's keep up the record" Eris swallowed a lump in his throat, his eyes stinging. "A worthless Illyrian bastard-born isn't worth naming." He promised himself his eyes only stung because of the sulfur and acrid air.

Azriel shook his head and the disappointment in his eyes hurt physically. "You're the worthless one, Eris" Azriel's grip on his throat tightened and his face was one of gorgeous fury, "You're pathetic, weak, a coward who hurts everyone around him. You hurt everyone around me- everyone I love, and you will pay for it. You're a fool for not giving up your pride and Mor was right to not even deign you her presence in your death."

Eris gasped, his lungs struggling and screaming but the sensation also washing across like a wave of déjà vu.
Right... This has happened before. His mate's scent enveloped him just like it had that day at Dawn Court, burying him in comfort he didn't deserve; a scent of sweet tang of grass, musk, ozone, fresh laundered leather....and cold. The cold of Death.

Despite everything, Eris wasn’t going to let the last words to his… mate be ‘A worthless Illyrian bastard-born isn't worth naming.’

"I said I would kill you. I'm keeping my promise to you. Burn in hell, Eris Vanserra."

 Fitting. " K—Keep-" As his vision dimmed to black and he expedited all his last, carefully, saved up breath to say into the void that welcomed him, "..Keep living, and be happy … Azriel." 

It was cliché in hindsight, but he really wanted to convey what he always meant to in his last moments. Call him selfish, he wouldn’t let his last words be as ugly as all the words he’d spoken throughout his life

Even as he felt his consciousness leave his body, he felt the suffocating force across his throat leave. Yet he had no idea if that was because he'd left his body or because Azriel released him. 

It was the strangest of experiences, he watched the scene unfold from above, strangely right there, watching Azriel release a red-haired male and scream, "NO!" as the body of weaving red strands- like a fire, maybe like a firework, Eris thought- fell down into the inferno.

Eris realised the red-haired male was him— he was watching himself falling into the gurgling volcano— and he wanted to shout at Azriel to stop as he watched the male dive in after him to catch his body.
Much too late anyway. Eris could see the broad back of the male stopping just narrowly a foot away from the popping magma, held up by his membranous wings, and Eris heaved a sigh of relief as Azriel just barely flew out again and slumped onto the ground, grasping at his chest, shaking and then- screaming. 

Terrifying screams, more tortuous than the screams of prisoners Eris had handled by himself. His voice may have been raspy from disuse but it was undeniably a cry of pain.

No, no it shouldn't hurt him this much.. we weren't ever close, and the bond wasn't even wider than a thread!

Lucien's words came to mind, "your bond is not normal— it's incredible. I've never heard of something like this."

He will get through it, Eris swallowed, forcing himself to pace around Azriel.

Was that why he still had this omniscient consciousness? He felt time floating by him and felt more helpless about not being able to do anything.

He would get better.

But Azriel only remained hunched on the ground, clawing at his chest as if he could tear through.

Fuck, fuck– this was a bad idea.. this was such a bad idea- He needed to go back.

He will live.

I can't- his screams—

Every being of his soul cried out, hearing his mate in pain.

His soul, that's all he was now. He was a wandering soul without a body.

He swiveled towards the volcano, swallowing. Not even knowing if that meant anything since he couldn't feel his throat, or tongue, or saliva for the fact.

Azriel's screams turned into small, pained whimpers and Eris saw a patch of pure dark envelope the sky as it landed beside Azriel.

Rhysand.

He calmed down as he saw the patch disappear along with Azriel. He would be safer with his High Lord.

The chaos of the situation had died down by now, leaving Eris to finally calm down and assess his situation. He was conscious.

But he was dead, there wasn't even a trace of his body on the surface.

Calm down, assess the situation. He floated a wary distance from the lava before he realised he didn't have any body that could be harmed and instead cautiously dived into it.

There was no pain or intense heat, it seemed like the only pain he could feel then was hurt to the soul.

Is this punishment? He thought as he floated across the boiling lava, looking for any hint of char or bone. He felt a pull from the lava and since he was a High Fae, a High Lord for the fact, his body was slow to decay so he should find something— not that he knew what to do even if he did.

Would he forever be stuck as a floating spirit, slowly going crazy from being unable to speak anyone and become a mere specter? He knew his death was too good to be true or not recompensed for. He must have deserved this fate by the eyes of the Mother.

Cauldron, is it because I spoke of becoming a cursed spirit? But cursed spirits were visible, intangible but visible. He was something else entirely.

As he was thinking so, he suddenly slipped down the lava and landed on air. Under the lava.

What the fuck, he probably would have said so as much if he could.

Because there was a chamber. Under the volcano.

And at the center of the volcano was his body. Charred and burnt to the bone but undeniably his. Which should also be impossible because he was thrown off at the edge of the volcano— how his body reached the middle of the chamber was beyond him. Eris was already accepting the fact there was a massive chamber under a ceiling of floating lava and the fact that no one ever found it before.

At this point there were two things tying his consciousness, the pull to his body and a distant pain deep inside, probably from the severed bond and his mate in agony a few Courts away from him.

He floated down and observed his body, trying to prod himself into it. Even if he did- what would happen to him? His beautiful, long and silky red hair that could once be done into the most intricate plaits now fell in clumps, his eyeballs were completely burned through, and he could see organs, including his brain, melting into a puddle in the front.
His body lay impaled atop the broken glass of a massive hourglass. It was so massive Eris didn't know if 'hourglass' did it service when it looked like it measured years or decades. It was as tall as three fortresses and wide as a swamp. The sand inside was a pristine, crimson red but now quickly being defiled by his blood and melting flesh, the sand falling free from where his body fell and broke through. The glass was clear but had carefully carved inscriptions on it as well, in a language that seemed to prethe old tongue.

He surveyed the room that had all sorts of mysterious contraptions, tables with papers and more contraptions scattered and walls tall enough to accommodate the hourglass stacked with full shelves of books. He tried to look for an entrance other than the staircase from the temple– one that wouldn't result in the visitor arriving in a puddle of melted flesh– but could find none.

Structurally, where a door should have been, there was a mirror just as large as a door should have been. It was in the shape of an hourglass and he made another realisation— it wasn't his body that pulled him inside the volcano... it was this mirror.

Eris stood before it and halted. The mirror was perfectly angled to capture every inch of the massive hourglass behind it, not an inch out of place if you stood toe-to-toe.
But that wasn't what stopped him- though the reflection showed the broken part of the hourglass and pouring sand, his body was nowhere to be seen, instead it stood before him exactly where he was intending his consciousness to stand. But it wasn't his burnt body, it was a younger and still-alive version of him.

He whirled around and confirmed his suspicions; his burnt body still lay atop the broken glass. But back at the mirror... it was him, but not even him before he died. No, he looked years younger. Maybe around a decade younger because the toll of working tirelessly as the High Lord had taken was always visible on his figure.
Where he had once been an impeccable High Fae Heir, the image of nobility of grace with his dewy fair skin, arching lashes falling over cold, amber eyes, and lithe and hardened build from hunts and training; after becoming the High Lord they were replaced by heavy eye bags, a pale face and hollowed-out cheeks. He'd lost his muscle mass and everything about him...had turned lesser from the outside. Other than his paperwork and politics, there was also dealing with rebellion from all fronts from vengeful courtesans to High Fae traders who thought the new High Lord was a low-hanging fruit when blood-relatives were still alive and hostile.
But he didn't mind, it had been the happiest he'd been in centuries on one side and on the other unbearably lonely. The fact he was a High Lord disguised the 'lesser' of him because he radiated power... but in the mirror, all of those that made him 'him' were gone. Both his new hollowed out and powerful self.

He reached for the mirror, following the way his mirror-self moved. Amongst everything else that happened, amongst everything in the room, the mirror seemed the closest thing to change something since it acknowledged his consciousness. The only change he could bring in the world at this point.

His mirror-self had been following exactly what he intended to do if he had a body– but as soon as he touched the mirror– he felt it. He felt the mirror and his mirror-self smiling against his will– he also felt the chill in his bones. He felt the clamp of a sandy, rough hand grab his fingers as they disappeared through the glass and felt it pull his soul through.

His vision turned a blurry red, and even his eyes stung– as if the red sand from the hourglass had broken free and wrapped itself around his body, "Wai-" he tried to shout but sand went into his mouth, and he coughed and halted again. He talked and undeniably heard it.

So, he waited, he waited and waited for the slithering, tight embrace to drop away. It went on for so long he almost thought it'd never stop, and he'd be stuck in this tight, sandy embrace... but then the slithering stopped. Eris heard a distinct crack like glass breaking before the sand gave away all together. 

When he could finally open his mouth, he fell to the ground and hacked and coughed wetly in attempts to push out all sand from his lungs before he tried to speak again, "What.."

He tried to veer around and get an idea of surroundings but that only made him feel dizzier as if he'd just been tied to a waterwheel (and he had before.) So, Eris simply did the next possible option of crawling away to a corner as quickly so he could wait as he got back his bearings. Dark stone floor, red sand all around, the smell of sulfur and ash still there... but no longer the unmistakable stench of charred flesh.

In a moment of panic, not his finest ones, he spat on his dry hands and cleared the aching sand from his eyes. And he wasn't wrong. He was still in the room... with a bed of lava for ceiling- but no more a body. No more a giant hourglass, for the fact either. Where there stood an hourglass nearly as tall as the volcano itself, there was a whole lot of nothing. Eris got up on unstable feet and looked around him. There were still walls of books, desks with papers on them that were written in a variety of languages, including some he knew, which he reminded himself to circle back to later.

What mattered was the fact he had a body.

His body.

A very not-melted-to-a-puddle-body.

He whirled back around and ran to where he remembered the mirror was.

"You're kidding me." The hourglass shaped mirror was still there, but now it was a regular, completely smashed in mirror. He no longer felt any kind of force pulling him towards it and the male in saw in those broken shards looked terrified, dusty and young.

But he now had his body.

"Where am I?" Yet as he looked up at the ceiling of lava that shone natural lighting across the room, the question that really nudged his mind was how he was going to get out.

The power that flowed through his veins and even the rustling of leaves in the Autumn forests had gone silent. Try as he might, he couldn't summon even a weak flame longer than twenty seconds. He had never felt so bare, so vulnerable especially having gotten used to being a High Lord, not until... since Amarantha.

Then, not for the first time that day, he veered back around and strode up to the mirror to pick up the largest shard he could find.

Bringing it close to his ear, Eris willed himself to look at his broken reflection, at his long ears specifically. Arching up the pale length that meandered into a pink blush, were etched five empty piercings. Eris had ten piercings in total, four on his left and six on his right... if he did not have his sixth piercing on his right ear... 

"...I am back to when Amarantha ruled."

Oh no. No. 

"This cannot be possible." But it was. It was undeniable that Eris had gone back in time but specifically during that creature's reign?

"W-why now?! Why not earlier-or later even-" he paced the room and spoke to no one in particular. Coming back to life wasn't so unnatural in Fae records, the Archeron sisters and Rhysand were proof of that... but coming back to life years in the past?

Eris pinched his wrist and winced, "Okay, alright, definitely not dreaming." Rubbing soothingly over the cut, he trailed back to papers on the desk nearest to him.

Upon searching the entire room, Eris started to separate the scrolls and books on the tables into ones he could understand and ones he couldn't, exactly where he found them. There was no exit in the room except the blatant temple staircase that led into the chamber and no piece of paper spoke of the structure of the chamber. There was a lot about the hourglass he'd seen, however. Diagrams and measurements, the incantations and runes written around them were the only proof he'd not hallucinated the whole thing. He tried to read as much as he could but usually every scroll seemed to be an experiment log that ended with the same line: Error, attempt overruled.

The books were about various invaluable old enchantments and theories about time and space, highlighted and noted upon in various colours of ink but all having faded over time; it was a miracle they were even intact, no doubt it was a very strong preservation spell.

Everything was scattered about like the people or people in there had left in a hurry.

"No way one person ran this whole thing," he deduced, scanning the number of stone chairs and the carpets that looked like they were used to make the ground a more comfortable seat.

The languages seemed to predate Fae-times, so this place was almost certainly made during the age of Old Gods and given how there was the use of Fae-tongue, it was abandoned during the rise of High Lords.

"Why though? The information here is invaluable... even if most of it can't be read, the ones that can, could get the Day Court to be a slave for Autumn..." an idea he would have to put a pin on for now.

Reading the scrolls and manuscripts was running him in circles, there were invaluable theories and suggestions yes, but nothing to help him get the knowledge out of the lava pit; and he needed to get out fast. He couldn't imagine the hilarity of the situation if it was found that Eris Vanserra had lost to starvation of all things.

"Could I winnow out? I suppose that depends on what time of her reign I went back to..." Whoever made this chamber under the volcano were obviously playing with some very dangerous semantics. Semantics that were way beyond their understanding... and somehow Eris managed to crack it (literally.)

"Time travel, huh..." he would have to worry about the how's later on, for now he had to worry about the what now's.

Seeing no better option, Eris started to scale the stairs leading up to the ceiling of lava. When he was young, he tried to control it; when he turned into a High Lord, he'd tried again, to control it, but it seemed the will of lava was different from the will of fire; and given how he'd seen the state of his body after it fell through the sea of molting hell....

Up this close, the brightness of the ceiling threatened to blind him so he squinted and stayed in a near-crawl position, "Okay, it's not like you're going to die if you touch it... just, test the waters- oh that's ironic."

If he reached out his hand just a little, he could graze the pit of hell; if he stood up accidentally from the pain or made one wrong move, he'd be waist-deep in lava upside down.

But Eris still reached out his hand, his index-finger stretched to its limit as he neared the ceiling. And it went right through.

Eris yelped and snatched his hand back, almost falling down the three-hundred steps he climbed and steadied himself by the nearest quartz railing.

He hadn't expected the lava to just suck him in as if it knew the laws he was breaking just by standing under it. He whipped his finger up, expecting to see char and maybe even bone... but nothing. His finger was completely unharmed if not a little excessively warm, but it was unharmed. He knew his Fae healing abilities were suppressed from Amarantha's power drain but even they couldn't have mended his finger that quick.

Eris warily crept up the last two steps back to the ceiling and flicked his finger out. This time he flinched but didn't pull back, yet it didn't hurt.

From the tip of his finger, he slowly dipped in the rest, then his wrist, then his arm before he was sure he was immune to the lava pit that had turned his body to a smoking puddle mere minutes ago.

"That's... not strange at all," he murmured as he looked at his hand as if it might combust at any moment, and back to the room that looked much more massive now that the hourglass was gone.

He wouldn't lie saying he didn't release a breath of relief at that, he would have to come back and check the whole place later but for now he was just happy Eris Vanserra wouldn't be written off as the eldest heir who died of starvation.

Eris scaled the rest of steps, closing his eyes as his head went under (or over,) and blindly felt along the railings as his body pushed past the lava as if it were water and he had a water-resistant tunic. When he didn't have to hold in his breath, fearful of the lava melting his lungs, he opened his eyes to moonlight.

Bright, dazzling moonlight. Something he hadn't seen for the last two months when he was still sure that Rhysand was punishing him.

But if Eris' powers were gone... if he was back to the time Amarantha ruled... then so were Rhysands'. And so was entirety of Prythian for the fact.

"No, no, no, that means father..." It meant Beron was still alive. And Feyre was not the High Lady, neither was there an heir to Night Court, The Inner Court of Night were still locked up in Velaris and he had only himself to protect his people.

"Wait, stop, why am I here? I can't.. I can't leave Under the Mountain... Amarantha would kill me." Eris raced up the rest of the steps and looked over to where Amarantha's court presided. It was no more than the hazy outline of a mountain. But there were no searchlights because if Amarantha was hunting him, he'd know. The fact the fields of Autumn weren't ablaze meant he couldn't have been gone long.

The moon in the sky tipped back some more during the time he paced near the edge of the volcano. During that time Eris had tried every corner he could possibly reach around the lava and seen he remained unaffected no matter where it touched, "Okay, I seem to have gained an immunity to lava, or this one in particular- that's great. Now.. now I need to go back before that deviless actually notices I'm gone."

Eris skidded down the railings of the staircase because no way did he have the time to walk five thousand steps and not have his body a bloodied corpse on his two thousandth one. Try as he might, Eris could not winnow, so he did the next best thing. Among the few parchments he carried with him, he plucked out one and bit into his finger enough to draw blood. As he wrote a quick message for his aide, he whistled into the wind and sure enough, within a minute a brilliant golden eagle swooped from the sky, letting out an ear splitting scream as she landed on his shoulder.

"Yes, yes. I know you were worried, girl. I can't imagine the scare I must've given you when I disappeared out of the blue," he soothed his best girl as he tied the parchments around her talon, "Go give this to Nalo, I'm sorry but no treats this time."

His eagle gave a disgruntled hoot at the back of her throat before taking off into the sky again. Eris blew out a quiet, misty breath as he stared at the stars above. Great and brilliant streaks of otherworldly purple and blue dotted with millions of twinkling lights— all painted into one giant canvas of navy. Elain said Feyre Cursebreaker liked to paint the night sky when she didn't feel like painting anything in particular. Eris was a multi-tasker, so even if Elain thought she was speaking into air, he was really listening to everything she said. 

He thought she was an idiot for exposing such personal details so easily to him, Feyre was not only her sister but also the one and only High Lady ever and High Lady of the Night Court at that. But then he realised this was her way of caring for her mate; to show she accepted and trusted his family as her own. Though Eris hardly classified as family. He'd told Lucien as much, but he'd scoffed and said 'bull' but thanked him for the compliment on Elain.

As he stood reminiscing the past under the starlight, there was the sound of hooves thundering on the ground and the distinct neighing of a horse.

Eris smiled but also readied himself to a fighting stance in case it was someone unwelcome instead.

"You fucking prick!" Roared a voice behind and Eris' shoulders relaxed.

"That's no way to speak to your High Lord."

"What the fuck are you on about?" Eris turned around and scanned the male in front of him accusingly before he remembered he wasn't High Lord anymore.
"Uh, nothing. Just a loony dream... I need a ride, could you maybe get me back to.." Eris gulped and forced himself to say the rest because didn't believe he was actually volunteering to go back to that hellhole, "..Under the Mountain."

"Why the-" his friend sucked his lips into his teeth in a show of restraint before he helped Eris up disbelievingly, "Why are you here? How in Cauldron's name did you get out of there?"

"I... sleepwalked," Eris improvised, "the stress must be getting to me."

"The stress?"

"The stress." Eris glared at him, "Are you questioning your master?"

"No sir," Nalo grumbled, "I suggest since you managed to get out... you should run away from Prythian."

"So Hybern can trace my magicless-self down and kill me and make a show of it at that? No thanks, I'd rather not." Eris replied as he swung a leg over his steed.

"Amarantha is too focused on Tamlin to care, you should run away and carry the bloodline when things go south."

"Things will not only go south and if I flee, but she'll also only harass Father and thousands of innocent citizens of Autumn will have to bear the price."

"With all due r-"

"That's enough, I have a killer headache here and you have much too many questions. Here's one from me, what date is it today?"

"It is a month to Fall Equinox, my lord, fiftieth year of Lady Amarantha's-."

"A-a month? Exactly... a month?"

"If we count from this midnight, yes sir, exactly a month to Fall Equinox."

Eris' face paled as white as the moon above them, "Cauldron save us...."

Nalo glanced about before titling himself back,  "Eris..? Is that... a problem?"

Eris gulped and dug into the edges of the saddle for support lest he fall off, "You could say that."
Horses for Fae were specially bred so that they were seen as a means of faster travel than your day-to-day Fae marathon. Peering through the woods, Eris could already see the bridge that would lead them back inside Amarantha's lair. They would ride straight into her lair, voluntarily after six years of freedom, powerless and vulnerable yet again. But he had something, didn't he? Eris smiled at the ring-like contraption he nicked from the Chamber along with the three scrolls."...Tonight's the night Feyre Cursebreaker arrives."

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