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Sunlight streamed through the open white pillars of the Day Court palace. It glinted off the gold gilding on the marble, filling the halls with an ethereal glow. It was in stark contrast to the deep, vivid jewel tones and the dark wood of the Autumn Court.
Eris’ footsteps echoed through the halls. Officially, he was here to discuss some new trade routes with the High Lord of Day. But, the real reason for his visit…
“Eris,” the former Lady of the Autumn Court said his name softly.
Eris turned towards her voice and smiled. “Mother,” he greeted, nearing her. In recent months, her skin had taken on a healthy glow. Still pale, like porcelain, but no longer gaunt, faded, ghostly. A rose blush had returned to her face, and gold glitter shimmered on her russet eyes and cheekbones. She wore white cloth draped around her figure, the fabric similar to that of Helion’s togas, but it went to the floor, with a belt of gold around her waist, the dress attached to a gold collar around her neck. Bands of gold wrapped around her arms and wrists, no longer frail and fragile.
Her hair was down, a few strands pinned back. It was so different from the elaborate, often painful updos she’d worn in Autumn. Her auburn hair fell like waves, framing her face. There was a gold circle laurel around her head.
Beron had put her in heavy hair pieces and pins that weighed her head down.
Helion had given her a crown.
Overall, the fashion suited her, much more than her stifling gowns at Autumn, the weighty jewelry. It was funny, how much more like a collar those heavy necklaces, dripping with rubies and emerald, appeared as compared to the gold collar necklace supporting her dress right now.
She led him past gossamer curtains to a balcony overlooking the mountains and ocean, golden sunlight reflecting off both the snow caps and the water, the view looking just as breathtaking as the last times he’d visited her. A table was set up, full of tea and platters of small cakes.
Eris waited for his mother to sit, then followed, pouring both of them a cup. He methodically added in a cube of sugar (just as his mother did), stirring the tea with a gold spoon. The gold was lighter in color, brighter, than the heavy ones in Autumn. He took a sip, before asking, “How has Day been?”
Eris always started first, always with Day, to ease her into the conversation. It stung, a little, knowing that his face, presence, reminded her of, of…
But Eris understood.
The worst had been after a particularly brutal few weeks in Autumn. He’d been up to his neck in papers, incredibly busy, and had developed a slight stubble.
Eris knew he took after his mother more than he did Beron. His slenderness, cruel, almost delicate beauty like porcelain, rather than the rugged muscle characteristic of “strong” Autumn males, had just been another challenge to overcome growing up, another thing that faded from people’s minds once he’d started establishing his ruthless reputation, his power. Of course he saw Beron in the mirror, sometimes, but it had been a comfort that at least physically, he resembled his mother.
But when she’d seen him… she’d flinched, recoiled with lightning speed as if the very sight of Eris had burned her.
She’d breathed, settled and come back to the present, but the look on her face… the stricken, fear-filled anguish. It made some broken, lost part in Eris want to cry.
It wasn’t her fault. It was Beron’s. He was gone from their lives, but still haunted them.
Helion had shown up then, sensing her distress. Then there was the look on Helion's face - the distrust, the fury, the vengeance. He’d relaxed once he realized there was no clear danger, but still on guard and wary. Of Eris. Until his mother had placed a hand on his bicep, gave him a small yet dazzling smile that Eris had… never seen on her before.
It kept Eris up at night. Wondering just how much of Beron she saw in him.
“Lovely,” she said, in the present, answering his original question. She gave him a warm smile - formerly unfamiliar, now becoming more common. “I’m currently overseeing renovation on one of the central libraries, out in the eastern cities…”
Eris listened as she talked, prompting her with questions occasionally about the project. He loved it, seeing her like this: peaceful, happy, even excited.
“How is Autumn,” she asked. It was a good day then, if she was talking about the court. Great, because she’d brought it up herself (though her mood did not make what Eris was planning to do today any easier).
“Busy,” Eris said, choosing his words carefully. “I’m mostly focused on preparing for the Autumn Equinox ball. It will be open to all courts…”
“Yes, Helion had mentioned the invitation.” It was her favorite Autumn holiday, Eris remembered.
“There’s still lots of planning to be done, but I think you’ll like it.” He took a deep breath, set his cup down. “Mother,” he started.
She looked at him, confused by the change in his tone.
He’d promised himself he’d do it. Today. Now, before he lost his nerve. “I…” Eris cleared his throat. Say it. Just say it. “I’ve been seeing someone, lately.”
His mother’s eyes widened fractionally. “Oh, Eris, that’s wonderful.” She smiled at him. “Tell me about her?”
Eris swallowed thickly, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. Cauldron. This was a mistake.
But her eager eyes, watching his face… it was too late to back out now.
“They… they’re from the Night Court,” he began. She nodded in encouragement. All of Prythian was now aware of the close alliance between Autumn and Night, so that part wasn’t surprising to her. “Illyrian,” he added. No, no, no, no, no.
Her smile softened even further. Eris knew she was remembering Jesminda. The reforms Eris had enacted in Autumn, abolishing the High Fae and lesser fae system, were one of the very few things he could be sure she was proud of him for. It made her happy, had healed some of the wounds left from seeing her son suffer so much.
“Do you love her?” She sounded so excited.
Eris let himself close his eyes for just a moment, nodded, and forced his eyes open. She was looking at him directly, in his eyes, more than she’d ever before. “What’s her name?”
Eris drew a shuddering breath. “Mama,” his voice broke on the word he hadn’t used in centuries.
Her brows furrowed in concern.
“I’m…” He took a deep breath. “He’s Azriel.”
Her lips parted. Eris dropped his gaze to his tea, watched his reflection in the cup. She was silent, didn’t say anything. Eris felt his eyes begin to burn. He would not cry. Not over this. Not here, not in front of her.
“Does… does he make you happy?”
Eris nodded again, not trusting his voice to stay steady.
He felt a light touch at his hand, looked up to see his mother. Smiling.
“My son,” she whispered, gripping his hand. “My Eris.”
Eris was crying now. Tears fell from his face, splashing into his tea.
“I'm happy,” and then they were both crying. “I’m so, so happy, that you could find what I have.” She dabbed at her eyes, sniffed. “Helion and Lucien have good things to say about him and that court. I’m afraid I’ll still have to meet him and decide for myself.”
Eris gave a shaky wet laugh through his tears. He hadn’t cried - other than in front of Azriel, which in itself was still extremely rare - in so, so long.
Cauldron.
“Mama,” he said again.
She squeezed his hand, brought her free one up to touch his face gently, which only served to make him cry harder.
“You’ll love him,” he promised, voice quivering,
“I’ll be the judge of that. Not just anyone will do for my son.”
Eris laughed again.
“I’m happy,” she repeated, a reassurance she somehow knew Eris needed to hear. “I’m so happy.”
And so was Eris.