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Eris knew he was in trouble the moment he saw shadows in his bed chambers.
Not surprising after the announcement tonight, just sooner than he had anticipated.
He went towards his desk, opening the cabinets above and taking out the liquor bottles he kept there. Forgoing the glass, he chugs straight from one of the bottles and slumps down in the armchair by the fireplace. The shadows surrounded him, caressed him like they were smoothing all his pain away. They had always been separate entities from their master. But he wasn’t going to think about the shadowsinger right now. That can be dealt with later.
What he did not know was that "later" meant only after a couple of hours.
He could hear shuffling in his private chambers, but his vision was groggy and his entire body felt heavy. It was when he felt a hand cupping his face, stroking his cheek with the thumb, that he attempted to clear his vision and saw the pair of prettiest hazel eyes.
If it were up to Eris, he would never move again. He would die staring at those pools of green and gold, that remind him so much of the forests of his court. The eyes into which he had seen anger, hurt, sorrow, pity, even love.
If it were up to Eris, he would keep looking into these eyes, trying to find that love again. The certainty of their connection to each other. The comfort of a noble soul finding him worthy of sharing his precious time away.
If it were up to Eris, he would forget every responsibility, every betrayal and just remember the comfort, the feeling of finally being home.
But it was never up to Eris. It might never be so either.
"You didn't even tell me," the shadowsinger says, breaking the spell. Eris wretches his face out of those scared hands and assumes the persona of a courtier, as much as he could- which wasn’t much at all.
"I assumed you already knew, spy master," he sneers. Slipping into this mask was not as easy as it had once been. Not in the presence of his shadowsinger.
No, not his
Never his
Az shook his head. Eris could barely understand the expression on his face, it felt something like sorrow. Like a long-forgotten love. Oh, but it must certainly be his eyes playing tricks on him, for the male in front of him had no reason to feel sorrow.
Love, though, he internally scoffs. It would only be in his fantasies that he would see love in those emotionless eyes. Only in his fantasies would he be able to peer behind the Shadowsinger's heart and find joy in what he discovers.
Reality would only give him torment.
In his pitiful state of misery, tongue loosed up by alcohol, Eris mutters, "Here to make me wish I was dead again?"
The other male stiffened, but Eris didn’t really care anymore. He knew how weak and pathetic he looked. He’s just had enough. With everything. He looked at the fire, watching as it moved in the air, so unlike his own. How it used to fascinate him, the comparison between flames. He took another swig from his bottle. He had lost count of what number of bottle this was.
It was all he needed. He might jump into the frozen lake otherwise.
Suddenly, the bottle gets knocked out of his hand. He watches as the glass shatters against the tiled floor, waiting for some kind of anger or annoyance, just about anything. Instead, he feels nothing. He simply closes his eyes. Hands gripping his face, shaking him, he slowly re-opens them.
"Eris... Eris..... Eris...", but he didn’t answer. Then the shadowsinger was kissing him, so tenderly that it would have made Eris’s heart bust out of joy if it were any other day. Today he felt worse. It was just another way for everyone to manipulate Eris. The male was trying to coax Eris to move his own lips against him, and when that didn’t work, he pulled back.
There was panic in his eyes, of course there was. Eris knew what he looked like, it was as if he were dead, and the night court had no use for an empty shell of an ally.
"Leave," he says quietly.He would even beg at this point. All he wanted was a bit of solace. Some peace before the rest of his life continued again. That’s the least he could have.
The very least he deserved
It was silent then, as he picked up another bottle. He felt something missing and realised that the shadows surrounding him had left as well. He had gotten used to their almost comforting presence, and he could admit he missed them.
There was a time when he would have gone against Beron for him. Abandoned all his caution just to be with him. It was a fool's dream. One that, ironically, was burned by the Court of Dreamers. And now,...now he couldn't even go against the Autumn High Lord for his own sake.
He went back to drowning his sorrows. The world could be dealt with tomorrow. After all, he was Eris Vanserra, the Heir of Flame, the son of a High Lord.
He would always be Autumn- ruthless, vicious and cruel.
Tonight he got to be just Eris and mourn in the privacy of his chambers. This was going to be the rest of his life, after all.
Not everyone gets a happy ending.
Some people only get a broken heart.