Archive of Our Own

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My darling Eris,

How I am grateful for Autumn, for the sanctuary it has become, for the haven it has provided me with when I needed it the most. But above all, before anything and anyone else, I must thank you, from the very bottom of my soul. 

Even when I spewed the most loathsome vitriol, when I grew thorns and wielded my tongue like a sword, you knew exactly what to say, to make sure I never stayed in that dark cell for too long. 

I will be lying if I say that I never linger too long in the depths of my mind. But you, Eris, you have helped me in ways that you never could have imagined.

I know it has only been a short while since you have whisked me away from that brute; my knight in shining armour. But my heart longs only for, you, Heir of Autumn, and whispers only your name. A steady, relentless beat, thrumming through my very essence.

I could not care less about your reputation, about your past lovers, about who you were before and what you did. What matters is that we are married, though under regrettable circumstances.

I hope, Eris, that you do not feel shackled to a female as broken as I. For that, I apologise immensely. Though it will break my heart the day you wish to separate and never look upon my ungrateful face, I will part ways with a sad smile. Just because I have fallen in love with a Prince of Autumn does not mean that you feel a shred of what I feel for you, the daughter of a fallen noble; vain and cruel.

I hope that through whatever luck and destiny the universe has decided, no matter what our fates may be, you choose to stay. I know not what will remain of my heart if you go.

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

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Beloved Nesta,

I couldn’t help but snoop when I saw a mysterious piece of parchment lying there on your bedside table with nothing but my name written in your elegant scrawl. What I wasn’t prepared to see, however, was the undying love and affection I felt when I read your letter to me. I will admit, nothing makes a centuries old warrior like myself cry like your writing, my love. 

The way you express yourself, without holding back, like a bright, inextinguishable fire that burns with the flames of passion and throes of love, has me wholeheartedly enamoured by you. Your tongue, the very thing you hate, is what has me wrapped so thoroughly around your finger. Witty and sharp, you are a kaleidoscope, my dear. Impossible to read or predict, and yet stunning in her glory. A jewel of a person, an Empress among queens. Unrelenting, and utterly ethereal.

And oh, those eyes.

The way they light up, crystal blue like the finest sapphire or the cerulean sky on a clear day; I am lost in the depths of your eyes, the abyss that will haunt me, both awake and dreaming.

The way colour blooms on your cheeks when I shower you with compliments, the way you shy away, despite our brief, fleeting time together, only makes me want to worship you more.

But I cannot tell you this. You are still settling into life here in Autumn, and I cannot burden you with my feelings, burning bright as an inferno. It is not fair to you. You have been through enough, and the last thing you need is my tainted, blackened heart and the poisoned love which flows from it. 

No matter how many temples I go to, how many services I attend, it will not change the colour of my sins. It will not change the amount of blood which has been spilt simply because of my cruelty, nor the people who have suffered under my command.

I am yours in mind, body, and soul, should you accept the ruin that is Eris Vanserra.

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

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My darling Eris,

How it pains me to be away from you for even a moment. The Forest House has become too quiet; the sentries too overbearing. All is quiet, and yet it is not the comforting calm of our chambers. It is the calm before a storm. One that has been brewing for quite a while, though I cannot quite make out when it will unleash hell upon us. It has become a game of cat-and-mouse, and it feels as though I am trapped in a never-ending labyrinth that is your father’s cruel games. 

And yet I have complete faith that we will weather this storm as we have all others. 

I need only be close to my husband. My stunning Eris, how I miss you. Your presence, your wit, your charm. I suppose I know why the people of Autumn consider you their next High Lord. You are every bit molded to this court, this sanctuary that has become my home with your ever-steady encouragement. From your amber hair to your fiery personality, you are everything I could have asked for in a mate, and then some. 

You helped me heal myself, and for that I will be eternally grateful. Not only physically, but mentally, too. You stood up for me, when I didn’t think I deserved it. You showed me how much of the world had been hidden from me, and helped me be independent instead of cloistering me away like a disease. Your persistence has always amazed me. You always put my needs first, never once balked, never feared me. For that I applaud you, and appreciate every small bit of love you have poured into our relationship.

But there are days when I feel as if I have not given enough in return. Love, as you have helped me realize, is not about giving and taking, but rather about sharing. And yet you have given too much. Not only to me, but to this Court.

I see how exhausted you are, how the weight of one day ruling Autumn wears on you. I see how you give up so much, if only to be able to spend an ounce of time with the ones you love.

I see you Eris, and I am not afraid. You do not scare me. You never have, and you never will. Those characteristics you think are flaws, my darling husband, are your greatest strengths.

Come home, Eris. Your mate awaits you.

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

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I write this letter to you without knowing if you are alive or not. It terrifies me, my dear husband, to not know if you are well. Despite the healer’s consolations, my soul will not rest until it sees you well and unharmed. And even then, I shall hold you close for a good, long, while, and will be determined to never let you out of my sights again. 

Even as I write, my hand trembles, my voice shakes, and my body is not my own. It feels foreign, not having such a steady presence such as yourself by my side. 

You must be well and healthy, Eris. I shall allow no other alternative. I cannot bear with another alternative. 

I will not allow you to succumb to Death’s cold and unforgiving grip, even if it is made of iron. Death might have forgotten, but I have not; fire can burn through the hottest steel. Scalding and burning and feral, my love for you could not be more similar to the fires we wield.

Eris, you are everything to me, and I cannot lose yet another who has carved out a space for themselves in my ruin of a heart. For if you leave, there shall be nothing left in me but a dark void, that not even liquor will be able to fill. Not this time. Nothing shall suffice except your presence. 

I will not be able to take care of myself until I take care of you. I shiver with thoughts of what tragedies could have befallen you, of what terrible monstrosities might have found you. I know you are capable of handling them; capable a hundred times over, and then some. 

But it is my job, my sole occupation as your loving wife, to worry about your well-being every waking moment of every day. 

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

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Beloved Nesta,

Every day I train with you is a day so wonderfully spent. I would give up the duties of this Court in a heartbeat simply to spend more time with you, to watch that brilliant mind of yours whirring like clockwork as you try to make sense of the world around you. 

The complexity of your mind, how nimble it is, astonishes me at every turn. Despite being so much younger than me, my own races to keep up with your thoughts. Your sophistication and grace, your elegance and eloquence. I am mesmerised.

Seeing you hone your mind, train it as but another lethal weapon in your ever-growing arsenal has been a sight I have truly been blessed with. You have even managed to astound Maceo. I will admit, that male requires nothing short of a miracle to be surprised. He has seen it all, save for your cunning and quick wit. There seems to be a reason, after all, why you fit in so well with Autumn; with me. The Court of Foxes, the Court of lies and deceit at every turn.

I must commend your training, too. Your determination and grit. The way your magic seems to flow and ripple and arc around my own flames, one cold as ice, the other hot as fire, as if they are two creatures simply reacquainting themselves with the other. Our flames, so deeply entangled as are our hearts, have grown closer over the months. 

I feel such an immense sense of pride every time you train, my love. Not for the benefit of this Court. Where you are concerned, my Court is damned, as am I. You are not a weapon to be used as the High Lord sees fit. First and foremost, you are a person, and you deserve to make your own decisions. It is simply my job to educate you on the implications of them.

Your powers do not define you, Nesta. Remember that. No matter what anyone may say. 

Because I know you. I know your heart, I know how deeply it loves, how deeply it feels, how deeply it wounds. There are many people, my beloved, who say despicable things about you, about me. About us. But you cannot let them get to you. Trust me, if I had spent even a moment listening to all the horrific things they said about me, the lies they spun to help themselves sleep better at night, I would have long succumbed to the darkness. And yet I am still here, aren’t I?

No matter what they say, what utter nonsense they spew, promise me this: you will make your own decisions. 

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

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Hair like wildfire, mind like flame,

He reaches for my soul all over again.

Cheekbones sharp as a knife,

His voice is smooth, holding me in a vice.

Like a lover’s caress, he does beguile,

His wit and charm and everlasting wile.

Enchant and mesmerize and altogether woo,

My broken heart tainted all the way through.

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Beloved Nesta,

I could not help but chuckle at your attempt at writing a poem about me. I cannot decide if I should be flattered or offended. Though, seeing as it is my wife who has written about me, perhaps flattered would be the wiser choice. I must say, it was quite an attempt. You truly have managed to capture the essence of Eris Vanserra in your eight lines of poetry, though I’m not sure I agree with the part about your broken heart.

You are not broken, Nesta. Not a single part of you is broken. Some parts might hurt, they might be bruised or painful. But you are not a broken doll in need of mending. You have never been. If the world chooses to paint you as that, it does not matter. We can both be painted as the villains in their stories, while we are the heroes in ours.

On a lighter note, I’d never have pinned you down as a romantic writing poems by firelight, certainly not that day in Dawn at the High Lords’ meeting, when it seemed like you were the one holding Court, despite your being Emissary. I’d never have known your growing, infernal love for literature had you not been living in Autumn. With me. Beside me. My equal, who will never be downtrodden or treated as a breeding mare. 

Whatever my father may say, Nesta, whatever garbage he may spew, it does not matter. I care not if it is treason to speak against my own father like this, my High Lord. But you must realise, he has never been a father to me. Not truly. He has been absent all my life, as I was handed off to midwife after midwife, none willing to care for me should they face the wrath of Beron Vanserra.

He has been like this for as long as I can remember. But the worst part about him is perhaps how he treats the ladies of this Court. You have witnessed it firsthand, Nesta, how they are seen as nothing but the dirt on the bottom of his polished boots; sometimes even less, depending on how foul his mood is that particular day. It is an ever-changing line, that I somehow always manage to toe. 

But enough about that bastard. Even hell does not deserve him, let alone the pages of my notebook. For the sake of brevity, Nesta, I want you to know that no matter what he says, you will always be loved and respected by me and by the people of this Court. I will not tolerate any disrespect against my wife. Anyone who says a word against you will find that I can be every bit as cruel and cunning as my father. I know you do not relish in violence the way I was brought up to. But I simply cannot, and will not, tolerate a word said against my radiant wife. 

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

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Beloved Nesta,

Seeing you at that meeting was enough to set my heart ablaze. What I had thought had long since been reduced to ash and rubble has once again come alight in your glorious presence. 

I crave you, the taste of you, the feeling of you, and of your presence, more than I crave air, more than I crave life itself. Because you are life, and you are the light that this wicked, wretched world does not deserve. That I do not deserve, and never will. But rest assured that I will do everything in my power and beyond to be worthy of your love, every day until the die my heart stops beating. Rest assured that when it does, it will be with my name on your lips as fate drains the life out of me. And even then, fate will not keep us apart. I will find you in a thousand different lives, again and again, because we both know, and the world knows, that our souls were meant to be together. The day they are separated is the day that the fires of hell will unleash themselves upon this Earth, and I will be content to watch it burn. For you, I would ruin myself, do anything you asked of me. You tell me to drive a knife into my own heart and I will do it, if it means that you will loathe me or love me. 

I would wage wars the likes of which this world, nor any other, has seen for you. I will bleed and perish and kill and whore my way across this world for a glimpse of you. For a glimpse of those ethereal eyes, those artist’s hands, and wicked, sinful mouth of yours that I fantasise over. You are my ruination and my salvation, all at once. You have my heart, my soul, my body, my very essence in the palm of your hand and you may do with it what you will. I care not, for if I get to have you, then nothing will matter. 

You, Queen of Queens, Empress, deserve a throne of diamond, a crown of flames and darkness that pulses with power like the never-ending might of the ocean and the power of a thousand winds. 

I will kneel before you, as will your kingdom; your people in your palace crafted of light and warmth and everlasting happiness. And we will revel, and dance, and celebrate to our heart’s content. 

I will spin webs of lies, schemes of deceit for your safety, without a shred of regret, an ounce of doubt. 

My Queen. 

My Empress.

My Goddess.

My only religion, the religion I shall never lose faith in. 

I want to bind myself to you in every way imaginable, tie myself and my soul to you with such vigour that even the Mother will not separate us. 

Even the blessing of immortality is not enough for me to explore you. Even eternity feels too short. 

I know that I shall not tire of you. Your voice, a soothing melody in my ears, wrapping its vice full of love around my shrivelled heart. Your arms, the only embrace I feel cared for in. Safe in. Your eyes, like pools of starlight glowing with mirth, with love, with passion. 

The thought of losing you cleaves my soul in two, and it is then I pray to the Gods who have long since abandoned me to keep you safe, even if it means that I shall not be here in this world to see your happiness. 

I know I have crossed the line of simple, meek, mortal love when my biggest fear turned into losing you rather than my losing my own life. 

And it is then I wonder, is love too weak of an emotion for what I feel for you?

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

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My darling Eris,

Reading your letters strewn about your study like the pieces of your heart has truly been an experience. I had not known how much love you harboured for me until I read through your confessions, and it was then my tears began to flow so freely they could not be stopped. You must forgive me if any stain this piece of parchment as I write to you. 

My Eris, how pure your heart is. You cannot know how much I adore you; it is impossible. Not only for what it would mean for our tentative relationship, but also for the opinion of your father, and of the people. If you were here right now, I know exactly what you’d say: Nesta, his opinion does not matter. It is yours I care about. But Eris, how can I not listen to him, to the voices in my head that do not allow me a moment’s reprieve, a minute’s rest? Waking or asleep, they plague me, as do the thoughts of my undying love for you.

I do not know which ones I should listen to, if any at all. The urge to run away and flee from the horrors of the Forest House runs through my mind every day. Imagine how beautiful it would be, to not worry about the inner rulings of this court and instead focus on being happy, living in a quaint little cottage where no one would recognise me or know my name. Where the cursed name of Lady Death would not be whispered like a curse or damnation, as if the powers I fought for and stole were my punishment and burden to carry. I truly think I would be happy then. 

Happiness. What a foreign concept. I had heard of it, yes, had heard of people experiencing it and finding such immeasurable and immense joy in their lives that anything I had ever felt paled so drastically in comparison it made me sick to the stomach to even contemplate. 

I was raised as a Lady, poised to seduce a wealthy Duke or Lord and get married off as soon as my parents found one suitable enough. It did not matter who he was, so long as he had enough money to waste on the most useless of trinkets. I do not believe my witch of a mother gave me the opportunity to truly experience joy for myself. I was her puppet, her mannequin, her doll, who would do her bidding obediently without any resistance.

But a little girl is not like that. She must experience, and play, and live, before the expectations begin to suffocate her carefully cultivated spirit. But what spirit is there to crush if the child has had no chance to develop one? My mother truly believed that, and so I did, too. 

Much like your father, my mother, too, relished in my woe. Some nights, I wonder if she truly required any food at all, or if she simply fed off our misery like a vampire. I would not be surprised if that was the case. 

But the environment one finds themselves in truly does play a role. Being in Autumn, simply residing here, has given me all I need and more to heal. You, Heir of Autumn, are all I need to heal.

We are a match made in hell, my love, and we shall rain nothing but hellfire upon every being who has wronged us, as we stand and rise to protect the fallen, wielding crimson and amber flames that glow with our wrath, that same rage reflected in every aspect of our lives. We have been wronged by the very people whose only duty was to love us unconditionally. Were we so unlovable that our own parents could not muster up the smallest inkling of care, of compassion for their oldest child?

As I sit here contemplating this truly sorry thought, a tear wells in my eye, thinking of how far away across Prythian you are, and how it shall feel like an eternity before I glimpse your face again. 

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

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Beloved Nesta,

How I enjoyed reading your previous letter. I must admit, I did not think you would have loved bloodshed and vengeance so thoroughly, thoroughly enough to want to truly maim and kill. But rest assured my love, you will not need to.

I will fight and stand to protect everything you hold dear, no matter if I perish in the process. I have committed enough heinous crimes, enough sins, so many that even the Cauldron will have to come with some special hell for me. 

But you; Nesta, you deserve it all. 

I will give you the world, my love. You only need ask for it. I will lay it at your fingertips, and I will be with you wherever it is you wish to go. I will abandon my Court, abdicate my throne, if only to be with you for a moment more. 

We will flee to a place we call home, where we can be nothing and no one but our true, authentic selves. Two lovers, who have found themselves in each other at last; so similar and yet so startlingly different. 

There is magic, I believe, in choosing who we love. Without the presence of a mating bond, without the Cauldron deciding our fates and our lifelong partners, and pairing us up like jigsaw puzzles. We can still be whole without someone to call our own, after all. Our partners simply complement and amplify us; they do not complete us. I find joy in that thought. I find joy in choosing and finding love every day that I wake up; in every action and every word. 

Know this, Nesta; know that I shall choose you, from today until I am no more; until there are nothing but ashes, dust, and a ruined name to call my own. 

It seems only fitting, my dear, that we chose each other, seeing as life drove away all the other choices from us. From the day we were born, our fates were set, and yet we managed to defy them, finding each other despite all odds, despite the hardships we have both endured. It seems fitting we chose the one person who would understand us, mind, body, and soul, and would not resent the other for what we have been through.

We are similar in more ways than one, my love; our souls entwine even more the longer you spend in Autumn. 

I suppose that just as you were befitting me, so was this Court. Lady Death and Lord of Decay, who command the power of destruction as but a tool in the plethora of weapons they possess. Who are rulers and lovers, powerful and yet soft. A dichotomy of personalities, a contradiction in itself in the absurdities of how we love. 

Mark my words, Nesta. There will be poems written about us; songs; literature, and the Cauldron knows what else. 

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

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Beloved Nesta,

I am becoming desperate. Desperate for the thought of you, for your presence, for your very being that my body seems to crave at all times of day. 

I beg of you, my darling Nesta, my flame that burns as bright as passion, accept me or damn me. For there is no other option. Either I am blessed by your presence, allowed to revel in it and rejoice as if it is the last thing I shall ever experience. Or I shall be damned to the prison that has become my mind, or perhaps my mind that has become a prison. I cannot tell. 

All I know is that I will be ruined should you leave me. As much as it will pain me, I will let you go, even if it tears my soul, my very being apart from the inside out. As if I am being set on fire from the flame of your rejection that will wound and burn me more than any injury I have gained in battle. 

I care not what the world thinks. What do you think, my dearest? Do you accept me, broken and bloodied and bleeding? I have seen your wounds, those festering, rotting scars that are yet to heal. Perhaps it is time I show you mine, and we can heal together in a world where I am not a High Lord’s son, nor you a fallen noble’s daughter. A world where we are just us: simply Nesta and Eris. A world that will not condemn us, where we at least stand a chance of winning the game that is life rather than being doomed so eternally from the beginning, with suffering being the only constant in our increasingly miserable lives. 

But you have always been the opposite of death, my love, despite that being your power. Lady Death, who wished for nothing but life, who could turn the world to ash if she wished with her flames and yet chooses not to. Not out of mercy, but out of dignity; out of duty.

Nesta, you are the flame I needed to not freeze to death and be forgotten, to give me warmth and heat and protection and your undying love.

Trust me when I say that you will not burn me no matter how bright you burn. I have grown up in Autumn, Nesta, I am a Son of this Court. I have walked beside fire all my life, have learned how to curb and soothe its moods like the feral and yet kind animal it is. Let me experience your delightful flames, let me play with them. 

I am not deserving of any of it, my love, but if it is me that you have chosen, then I will not mind one bit. For who will deny the love of a Goddess such as yourself?

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

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My darling Eris,

How I yearn for you to fill me with liquid amber, weave my soul with threads spun of gold, until the darkness which has dictated me is forever banished. Pour yourself into me, and I shall drink it up like the plants swallow the sunlight. Hungrily, desperately, and with no regret nor remorse. Perhaps you can fill the parts of me that are lacking and make me whole again. Maybe you can sew together the parts which have been torn and ripped into shreds I am not sure how much is left anymore. If it is possible for you to fix it, fix me, Eris, then I beg of you, do it.

I yearn and long so painfully, not only for your love, but for you. For your presence. 

If there were a way to etch your name onto my soul, my heart, my very being, I would. If there were a way to meld your entire self, I would. But alas, this world despises lovers, and only wishes for them to be kept apart for their cruel entertainment. 

They drive us to the breaking point, until we are not sure if we are broken or have broken others. Perhaps both. But the lines have long since gone blurry, as has my vision when it fills with a pool of tears. Tears of longing, tears of desperation, tears of yearning. For what, I do not know. A life which has not been dictated by others, or perhaps a family who has truly loved me. 

My birth family has long since stopped being my own; perhaps the day I was locked up like a rabid beast who bit when cornered, or perhaps the day they dismissed me and my experiences as nothing but the scum on the bottom of their shoes.

But I have a new family now; one which rules Autumn and all that decays. I am eternally grateful to have you all. Brothers, who jest and joke now that the ever-looming presence of your father’s shadow has long since departed (how utterly unfortunate , that he had to have passed from a disease). A mother who is nothing like my own; who radiates warmth and a quiet strength I sometimes envy. A support I did not know I needed until I had collapsed into your waiting arms. Not a maiden to rescue, but merely someone who needed a partner to lean on, people she could trust.

And I will be eternally grateful to have found that in you, Eris. Your heart of gold, your mind as nimble as the flickering flame of passion, you have been my friend first, my lover next. Perhaps that was all I needed. Someone who would listen, without judgement or remorse, who would not condemn me as cruelly as fate had. For it seemed to hate me the moment I was born, cursing me as it blessed my sisters. And yet I found a lover. One who would help me shoulder those burdens, as it became startlingly clear that I had been carrying them for far too long. I am glad I have found that in you, no matter that we were forced to wed under less-than-convenient circumstances.

Despite that, I want you to know, that simply because our first marriage was not true in the sense of a union born of love, my admiration for you, and my dedication to be the best wife I can be stands true.

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

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Beloved Nesta,

Your presence in this court has truly transformed me in ways I did not think possible. Eris Vanserra, cunning, cold, and calculated to a fault. A merciless male, who did not do anything without considering every alternative, every way the game could play out. A male who was more snake than High Fae, who did not do anything and bowed to no one unless he benefited from it. A schemer, a liar, one full of deceit and false charms, honeyed lies he poured into unsuspecting ears as he wove webs and traps so thoroughly even the prey did not understand what was happening until long after it had happened and left nothing but ruin in its wake. 

But you, Nesta, you awakened a side of me I had long thought to be eternally dormant. You have changed me (for the better, I must emphasise). My demeanour has changed, as has my worldview has been flipped upside down, and then some. I have become impulsive, passionate, and irrevocably soft, though I cannot bring myself to regret it. Not with you by my side. Not with you as my equal. If anything, the softness makes me stronger in a way that I had not realised I was weak until you waltzed into my life like a Queen, chin held high and back ramrod straight.

This is a way for me to make up for all those loveless years, a way of repentance. At least that is what I tell myself. By loving you, not only am I giving in to my heart, to my desires, but I am also healing a part of myself I thought long gone. The part capable of free and unburdened love. 

Recently, I had not used those words at all. They have never crossed my mind. Not until you stepped into my life, Queen of Death. 

A revelation I have had is that Death is not always bad, it does not imply mourning and grief. It can mean freedom, liberation, and a new beginning. You killed part of me, Nesta. You killed and smothered the insecurity, the shame, the pain, that I had managed to hide away from the world for so long so thoroughly. Only now that I have been rid of it can I see how much I had let my wounds fester and rot, let them blacken. But my heart glows now, warm as an ember, as it has slowly kindled to life with your presence.

I cannot be more grateful to you, but I will certainly try, in more ways than one.

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

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My darling Eris,

You being the calculated male I have known you to be, and then watching that mask slip away, fall like the crimson and amber leaves; the very lifeblood of this court has been utterly enchanting. To watch every layer chip away ever so slowly, to see the male who has been forced to hide himself away, who has donned a mask for long enough. It has been like seeing a hidden gem reveal itself, a butterfly metamorphosis in its own unique and blissful. To watch a play, to watch as everything clicked into place.

It seems fitting, after all, that the scheming Heir I fell in love with, who plotted and was so stunningly skilled in the ways of nobles, in the ways of the court, was also the one that taught me chess. 

It is a game of sacrifice, in the end. A game of planning, a game of strategy, one that works the brain so beautifully, hones it and trains it in ways I didn’t think possible. The elegant movement of the pieces across the board, their roles and functions all defined clearly. A thousand different combinations of how something could go right, a hundred different ways to win, and yet even more ways something could go wrong. A battlefield in its own right, as the board begins to litter with fallen pieces. An unpredictable and volatile game; chess. Easy enough to learn, but one begins to go mad the second she decides to conquer it. It seems fitting that the male who brought courts to their knees with a few well-placed words was also the one who was a master of chess.

He eventually became the master of my heart, commanding it as he commanded Autumn’s armies before his ascension to the throne. Vying for control, vying for power, he was every bit the Prince I had heard of, as well as the face that haunted my dreams. And yet the stories I had heard whispered of him did not seem to fit him, his demeanour, his actions. It seems that he always had a plan up his sleeve, a hundred other ways and backup plans should the slightest things go wrong. A magician.

It intrigued me just as it baffled me. A true enigma, Eris Vanserra. A slippery person; difficult to talk to and even more difficult to get a straight answer out of. A twisted male, in more ways than one. He had a way of extracting information that did not seem abrupt. Smooth and eloquent was his speech, never faltering, never missing a step, no matter how the others tried to trip him. Somehow avoiding them within an inch of your life, you also managed to craft traps of your own. You kept me up at night, your grand plans and schemes unfoiling and unraveling more perfectly and beautifully than I had imagined. 

It was his mind that enamoured me more than anything else. 

Eventually, he became a part of my soul, and now occupies it entirely. 

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

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Son of Autumn, daughter of flame,

Born to come together again.

Both will suffer though differently,

Aches and blows, heartbreak and agony,

Will be all they will ever know

Until their souls entwine.

One of fire, one of ice,

This will happen only thrice.

Twice already it has occurred,

Now it is fate who will have secured

The fate of Prythian, the magic of the land,

It is not mine, but rather fate’s hand.

Cunning and devious, it may be,

But it does not stop the urge to flee.

Flee from all that brings us sorrow,

You shall witness the dawn of morrow.

Chapter Text

Beloved Nesta,

As the toll of this new life is starting to take over, I have realised how exhausting it is to be High Lord. 

They say the first few days after the ascension are the more difficult ones; I know. But what of the rest of my rule? How difficult will that be? These questions are what plague my mind like the parasites and insects they are; oozing thoughts of insecurity as they try desperately to bury their hungry claws into my mind, attempting to rip through it like a knife through butter. 

Now I know why people wish for plainness and mundanity in their lives. It would certainly be more peaceful. Indeed, I cannot remember the last time I have been without a headache. 

Simpering courtiers, ministers who otherwise wouldn’t have given a damn are all charging after me as if I am a piece of meat, an animal they wish to conquer and then butcher, putting me up on display like some rare specimen they wish to admire from afar. Yet they refuse to be true allies, friends and comrades I can trust. I have known this game: wanting power without willing to work for it. Laziness corrupts the mind, indeed. 

It seems that whatever task I attempt to do, no matter how menial, they are all swarming at my feet like a colony of ants, insignificant, and yet cumbersome. I truly don’t know how my father managed to rule for so long without going entirely insane (though I suppose he already was from the beginning, so there wasn’t much sanity to lose after all.) It feels like I have won a war, conquered a territory each time something small is accomplished. 

But I am certain, my sweet, that I will conquer whatever it is I wish to conquer, with no other than you by my side. 

Perhaps I will one day be able to provide you with all that your magnificent heart desires, and will see that ethereal smile on your face that has me on my knees every time I glimpse it. I will make it my life’s mission to keep that smile for all eternity.

That is all I have ever wanted with you, my love. Your happiness is all that matters. I want us to be happy together, no matter where we may be. 

I want to grow old with you, my love, however long it may take with our eternal lives and Fae blood coursing through our veins. I want to experience true joy, elation, with you by my side, an unfaltering, grounding presence. 

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

Chapter Text

My darling Eris,

I had known from the beginning what a demanding role one of a High Lord was. At least I thought I did. Every day I wake up and you are not there, lying next to me, my heart sinks just a little bit. Every time I see your breakfast untouched or a half-eaten meal, the worry that I have carefully folded away into my heart comes pouring out. 

I see everything that you are doing for this Court, Eris. I see everything that you have done. I see that you have the best interests of this Court at heart. 

I also see that you are working yourself to the bone. If there is anything my life in Autumn has taught me, anything you have taught me, it is that we all require rest, no matter how invincible we may seem on the outside. Our souls must periodically alleviate the stress and pain they have been building up. 

You cannot help others if you do not help yourself first. Then again, it seems ironic that I am the one speaking so when it seems more fitting for you to lecture me on topics like these. But perhaps that is all that a partnership is, is it not? To support each other in every phase of our lives, no matter how taxing or gruelling or utterly horrible it may be.

It is my duty as your wife to support you, Eris. Remember that you will always have one steadfast, unwavering ally in this fickle and slippery Court. I will stand by you no matter what happens. 

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

Chapter Text

Beloved Nesta, 

I apologise that I must write to you under such regrettable circumstances. I am not in the right mind, and everything seems to be doing its very best to set me off. Be it small footsteps or laughter echoing in the halls, I seem to get irritated at the slightest touch or whisper of a voice. I am sorry for all those who must see me like this; full of rage and unable to settle, plundering these halls like the monster before me. I am afraid that I shall morph into a worse caricature of him. It feels like inviting misfortune into our home by saying his name, so I will not. But I hope the message is glaringly clear. 

But most of all, I am sorry that you must be the one to see me like this. After everything you have endured, you deserve a husband who will grant you the sweetest love, who will fill your senses with scents of cloyed jasmine and rose; who will ply you with mountains of gifts. 

I do not want you to fear this being that I have become. I want you to know that I am trying, Nesta, even as I am being smothered alive by the amount of work that seems to hound me day and night.

I had once thought that a High Lord was granted with freedom. In reality, I have been given golden shackles to keep me bound to my throne for all eternity. 

And you, my dear, have been shackled along with me.

As I rule, as I occupy that seat, I need to you know one extremely important thing: I will always be your loving husband. No matter what happens outside the walls of our chambers, I am yours, always and forever. I do not want you to be afraid.

I do not want you to bow and my every whim and wish; to concede and grovel in front of me. I do not want a servant: I want a wife.

I enjoy being challenged, being spoken to without fear, being called out. It is, inevitably, what will make me both a better leader, and a better person. For that, I crave your presence. It is refreshing, you must understand, to not have to second guess and doubt every opinion that leaves your lips, for I know you speak with the utmost honesty and care for the well-being of this Court. I do not have to consider your words, for they are truth unto themselves. They are not coated in layers of lies, grimy and filthy with the ever-changing intentions of another. They are not shrouded in mist, indecipherable until someone falls into the maw of an ever-looming trap.

I appreciate honesty; and you have been honest with me from the very beginning about every part of yourself. You have given and given, while I have only stood, starstruck, in awe.

Keep burning, my flame. 

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

Chapter Text

My darling Eris,

A crack runs through my heart, as swift and dooming as lightning at each one of your letters. I had not known the burden of your grief until I peeled back the layers and saw in you all your glory. I had known it haunted you, yes, but I had not known the extent to which it was palpable, both to you and those around you.

I know it can make us feel like we have nothing to live for and that we are bound to this life. I know how it feels. But I also want you to know that never in this Court, never once beside you have I felt shackled or trapped. If anything, it was the Night Court who smothered me, and nearly blew out the flame of my heart. 

I have experienced it, and there was not a single moment with you when I felt the same way. 

Life can be overwhelming when one is burdened with responsibilities, but know that you are strong enough. More than enough. You have been through so much, and you will get through these initial days of worry and confusion. I suppose it is easy for me to say this now, but I truly believe in you. If you do not believe in yourself, Eris, that is fine. I will believe in you, enough for the both of us. 

I believe that you are a good person with a kind heart who wants the best for his Court. I believe that you are your own individual and that you will be a different ruler than the one before you. You will not find a shred of him in your soul. Bit by bit, the pain will clear, and it will all fall into place. It will take a while, but it will happen. You must be patient. I will be patient with you. I will sit with you for however long it is you need me to, and then some more, simply because I can. Because I love you.

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

Chapter Text

Beloved Nesta,

Even as the role of High Lord is becoming unbearable, my adoration for you has increased tenfold. Even as the pressure builds, I cannot help but think that it is merely bringing out the facets of you which have been hidden from the world. Ever the patient, polite, and utterly pristine consort, you have been by my side from the very beginning.

Every day my love, you inspire me to become a better version of myself. I want to heal. I want to get better. For you, I want this. You deserve a version of me that is not broken. I refuse to stand by and watch as you feel unworthy. If no one will step up, then I will. 

Broken, bloodied, and battered, I will crawl to you if I must, but know this: I will stand by you. No matter what may go on for the world to see, I will stand by you as you have stood by me. It is the very least you deserve, to have someone care for you as your duties for this Court increase. 

You once told me, Nesta, that it is vital to care for ourselves. But I know that you would rather swallow glass before you do anything for yourself. And so it is my responsibility to ensure that you are taken care of. 

Will you accept the care by my hands, scarred with phantom blood and pain? Trembling and shaking like a newborn fawn, fingernails chipped and ugly? Will you accept utter ruination, and love it anyway? 

Ache is the only language they have known, and I must beg for your forgiveness before I let them in your vicinity. Aching for you, aching for a simple life that can never be mine.

I know that I am well beyond simple, mortal love now. For the depth of adoration I feel for you cannot be normal. This kind of love will either heal me or ruin me and I have not decided which it will be. This kind of love must last. I will not allow there to be another alternative. I must spend my future with you.

I beg you, Nesta Archeron, hold on to me, and never let me go. 

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

Chapter Text

Beloved Nesta,

I never thought I would get to see an ethereal being until I saw you at the altar.

Straight-backed, regal, and with a dress flowing like an angel’s halo, I realised I was blessed the minute I lay eyes on you. Your cheekbones sharp enough to bring an emperor to his knees, the sun glinted behind you, a silent witness to the radiance shining from within.

Your smile, something serene and yet knowing in it as we watched each other from opposite ends of the room, eyeing the other, taking the other in as if we had been separated for centuries and were drinking our fill. Eyes darting over one another, lips slightly parted as we fought to keep our breaths steady and our gazes on each other.

My eyes did not leave yours for a moment, and I swear to the Mother I was in a trance. 

The bouquet you held, your hair in that coronet fashion I have come to love, and those stunning eyes, blazing with the fires of determination as if they had been raised from Hel themselves. Icy eyes, pools of cerulean and turquoise and a hundred other shades I cannot name, eyes burning like they had been set on fire. Burning, and yet cold; such an accurate embodiment of your powers I was once again stunned by you and your ethereal grace. 

Something stopped in my heart when I saw you walk out into the aisle, a Queen presiding over her court. Did you know, Nesta, that I was about to drop to my knees the moment I saw you, to kneel before you like a knight would yield to his Queen?

And as the priestess glanced around to all those assembled, then turned to face me, asking, “Do you love her?” I could not help but think that love is too weak of an emotion for what I feel for you. Perhaps I will spend this entire lifetime trying to find the eloquence and grace that lacks in me, the words that are in me but have not yet found their way out. They will reside in me always, clawing and desperate to be able to make their way to you. 

If only our souls could intertwine, would that not be easier? To simply be able to transport my emotions to yours without a word?

Easier, certainly, but then I would not have these articulately written letters to cherish, to look back upon on those nights when I feel lonely. It settles something in me, I think, to know that I will always have a part of you with me, immortalised on parchment. 

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

Chapter Text

My darling Eris,

You do not need grace and fluidity to express your love for me. You already possess it in abundance. It surrounds me and cradles me like a gentle breeze on a warm summer’s day or the crunch of leaves under my feet in autumn. It is what has kept me afloat when I could not swim, a lifeline that I have clung so tightly to like a piece of driftwood it is a wonder I have no lingering splinters, no wood embedded as deeply into my soul as my love for you is.

Every little action of yours has a plethora of love packaged into it. The way you stay up late just so we can kiss each other goodnight, the way you stay in bed a little longer just to catch my first smile of the day so that you can wish me a good morning. How you save the last bite of the pastries for me. Each action is so deeply consumed by your love for me. You are the love you seek. I only hope that I am enough and that I can give you the love you cherish and deserve.

Know that the only face I dream of as I am whisked away to the land of sleep is yours. Those amber eyes, full of such deep pain and longing and a hundred other emotions it would take years to name; those stunning, wicked lips, that have healed me beyond measure. 

Your resilience to life and all its hardships has me enamoured by you. I am in awe. Despite all that life has thrown at you, despite everything, you choose to persevere and you continue to choose to be a good person. For the sake of this court and for the sake of your family, you choose to persist.

You, who have had every reason, and then a few more to become the villain in others’ stories, have chosen to become the hero in mine. You have chosen to fight no matter how difficult it may be. Every day I am inspired by you keep up my own fight.

There are, of course, days when this battle, this war within myself becomes so exhausting I feel as if I want to want the Earth to swallow me whole and never spit me back out. But I have learned, through experience if not anything else, that hiding only makes the problem worse. 

And so I will hope you will stand by my side as I fight, sword drawn, eyes blazing, covered in blood, gore and mud. 

De tout mon coeur et plus encore,

Nesta

Chapter Text

Beloved Nesta,

You engulf me so thoroughly in the throes of passion and desire I cannot know or even begin to understand where you end and where I start. I am ravenous for you, for your being, your presence, and your very soul, that charming wit, that dry humour. I feel nothing but burning want and an incessant need to be close to you, to hae you selfishly all to myself. I want to hide away from the world simply for us to be able to be together. I want your steel, I want your fire, I want your unbending will and that rigid suit of armour none have managed to pry off. I want to be singed by your fire, I want to be burned so thoroughly I can do nothing but return, begging on my hands and knees as I crawl on hot coals to be able to have even a single taste of you. A single glance, a single smile or grin or something else entirely. I want to walk out completely and utterly besotted with you, enamoured by you, until my heart beats only to keep yours alive. I want to live and survive for you, to give myself to you in my entirety so that when the world hears your name, they will whisper mine alongside it. I want us to be immortalised in every way imaginable: marble, carvings, literature, anything else that you can think of. I want the world to know that you are mine and that I am yours. 

While the world stays ice cold and frozen as the barest of tundras, we will be reveling and celebrating as our longing, our lust keeps us warm. Stolen kisses, gasps and yearning, a pining which I do not think will abate nor diminish for as long as I live. On the contrary, it will grow. My love for you will increase tenfold, over and over again until there is no more room in my heart to hold all of it in. Until the love heals me and covers me, running over my veins and bones and muscles and flesh, until all the cracks are healed with that golden nectar, that cleansing, sweet fire.

Perhaps the fire that was once meant to ruin me, that which was destined to be my demise, shall be my salvation. You are salvation and sin and ruin and lust all at once, so much so that I cannot look at you without my breath catching or my heart stuttering for a beat. Not enough for anyone else to notice, except for you. You always notice, always seem to be observing me in that keen, sharp, and utterly deliberate manner of yours. 

It seems as if our eyes cannot stay away from each other, as if we are drawn to the other by some mysterious force pushing us together. Fate, destiny, whatever Gods you believe in, I do not know. I do not care. I do not care if I am deserving of it, of you, of this love, never mind that my hands are tainted and bloody and ruined and broken. If I have been gifted with this love, I would be a fool to squander it, to give up that which has been given to me. Greater than any treasure, any wealth or jewels, you are the one I covet now. 

Let me kiss you, broken and bloodied and scabbed over even as fresh wounds consume us, but I will see nothing but my burning desire for you, and the incessant need to claw my heart out of my chest, the wretched thing, and present it to you on a silver platter. It will lay beating at your feet, perhaps the only true thing of value I shall be able to grant you; gift you. I have never had much need for it anyway, for every emotion I feel must be within your presence, otherwise it is not an emotion at all. But you will have the damned organ, and it will be yours, precisely how I am yours. 

The mere thought of something happening to you fills my heart with dread, fills it with such agony I feel as if the all the oxygen has been torn out of my lungs, crass and violent and bleeding.

Do not leave me. Not like this, not now, not ever. You are all I need, all I have ever needed.

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris