Chapter Text
Eris Vanserra was always meant to be a High Lord. All the signs said so. Too much of Beron’s power had passed into him for him to not be next in line. His brothers have known since they were children. No one thought to challenge him except for the twins, but now the twins were dead.
In the Autumn Court, High Lord was the same as ‘cruel’. In the Autumn Court, survival meant being cruel. Eris had been a soft child. A kind, apple-cheeked, little wonder. Beron had drawn that out of him the first time he’d made Eris kill his own pet fox.
Eris Vanserra did not cry, because all his tears were dried up. He’d learned not to let them slip—he’d learned how to survive. He never got scared. Showing fear meant showing Father weakness and if Father was shown weakness, he would kill Eris. No High Lord wanted a weak heir.
The only time Eris had allowed himself to feel fear was when Mother had been in her room the entire day, screaming at the top of her lungs. Mother’s maid said it was a wonderful thing. Father had an interesting gleam in his eyes. Eris thought that if it brought Mother this much pain, it wasn’t worth it.
Mother spent the night sobbing. Father spent it destroying his office. Mother’s maid spent it cleaning up a messy pool of blood and…something else from Mother’s floor. She was weeping. Mother didn’t want to see Eris for a few days after that. Eris cried himself to sleep.
Eris grew up and learned not to feel anything when Mother shied away from him. He vowed to never let another female turn into…whatever Mother had become.
Eris was 38 when the twins were born. Robyn so loud in his cries and Korren so very quiet. They were scared he’d been dead when he was born. They were both so pale. Mother’s maid said they looked beautiful, Mother was quiet, and Eris thought they looked halfway to their deathbed already.
Father never failed to remind Eris that he now had two challengers for his place as High Lord. Eris had stood above their cribs, considering, and then vomiting over the fact that he’d even thought the thought.
The twins grew up and Joash was born. He also looked sickly. Not really there. Korren was protective over the little runt. Eris let him be. Didn’t tell Father about it, even. Robyn clung to Eris. Eris let him. Mother’s maid told Father. Robyn’s clinginess persevered in spite of Father’s beatings.
Neri was the change. Neri was so alive when born. Laughing and giggling, and eyes filled with so much happiness. Eris melted. Robyn melted. Joash hated him. That was why Neri nearly always came to Eris with tears in his eyes.
Rennari was born between two miscarriages. Mother was so distant to him, it was no wonder he turned out the way he did.
Lucien, she loved. With all her heart. Eris hated it and loved it at the same time.
He’d stopped showing emotion a long time ago. Lucien didn’t know him outside of coldness and cruelty. A part of Eris wanted to cry at that, most of Eris wasn’t able to anymore.
Eris was Father’s favorite because Eris was the one detached far enough from his feelings to do the difficult things. Mother wouldn’t look him in the eye anymore, not even privately. Especially after Eris confronted her about Lucien and Helion and what he knew.
Lucien was in danger—would always be while in the Autumn Court. Just another thing to add to Eris’ constant headache.
He really wanted things to change. To save his brothers from this goddamn hellhole. While Beron was in charge, he couldn’t. Unquestionably so. Eris started planning—carefully, subtly, and out of sight. Beron didn’t see him coming.
Eris had turned many of the fae in the court, with great effort. All small words, stinging comments and planted doubts. Eris turned Beron’s pride and power into cowardice and selfishness. So quietly not even Beron noticed it himself.
The war was almost a blessing when it came like a blight upon the land. Beron refused to join it, to help the people—his people. That’s how the Court saw it—How Eris made the Court see it.
Tamlin coming to their court—dragging Father out screaming and kicking, was the last drop. The last shove Eris needed to take the Court. Father was weak in his indecisiveness and folly, the Court had whispered many days after the War, it is time the power moves on.
Eris sent a letter to Lucien, thinking he might want to be present for this.
The hallway is dark and empty. No guards at any doors, at Eris’ quiet order. Joash is leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Rennari is sitting by Eris’ feet, knees drawn up to his chest. Neri is leaning on his shoulder.
Lucien arrives in a winnow of warm air and the smell of a hot summer’s morning. His hair is tied in an intricate braid, following the standard Day Court fashion. He has a glowing, silver necklace around his throat. A gift from Rhys and Feyre. It looks good on him.
Lucien gives Eris a nod, which he returns, and they set course for Father’s chambers.
It’s not particularly bloody or violent. No dramatic words or speeches. Just Eris with his knife across Beron’s throat, watching his eyes widen in surprise before his body starts jerking around. It’s not a quick death, but it is silent—Beron’s eyes flickering to his sons who do nothing to help him.
Eris could’ve done this on his own. It would’ve been safer, by all means. But he wanted them here. To give them his death, and to show him the fruit of his labor. He raised his sons in cruelty, and now his sons killed him in cruelty. Justice, in a way.
The Court doesn’t think much of it. There are rumors, of course, and some Courtiers that need to be taken care of, but it is otherwise a quiet affair. Eris takes his throne without much fuss, falling into a position he’s been comfortable with for many years.
Most of the other High Lords and their Courts don’t expect much change. After all, he is a spitting image of his father in their eyes. Maybe that’s why there are so many widened eyes when the Autumn Court is the second court, after Summer, to get rid of the arbitrary High Fae – Lesser Fae system. The reform is named after Jesminda, Eris made sure of that.
Lucien gives Eris the longest hug he’s ever gotten after the verdict, curling into his shoulder with all the vulnerability only a little brother can show. They’re fully in public, affection would be a weakness to show. Would leave Eris open to betrayal and over-rulings.
But those were the rules of his father’s court. This is Eris’ court. And he can do whatever the hell he wants. He very nearly lifts Little Lucien off the ground with the force of his grip on him. A smile he’d almost forgotten how to make creeps onto his lips, and he lets himself sink into the warmth of having Little Lucien against his chest.
The change is slow but inevitable. Eris can’t stop smiling when he realizes. He’s done something his father never could do, and only through words and determination. He’s changed the way they think, the way their traditions are displayed. Eris has changed the entire goddamn Autumn Court when his only goal was to save his brothers from it.
It is exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.