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They'd been travelling for three days before the inn appeared on the horizon. Nesta could only stare at Eris Vanserra, who's face practically lit up. His amber eyes sparked and a smirk curved his lips as they crested the hill.
It was a ramshackle place, made of creaky wooden floorboards and low burning lamps. A few hens were gathered in a pen outside, being fed by a grisly old man, with a long beard and twig-like fingers, leaves sprouting from his back and through his stained vest. Nesta tried to hide her grimace, but Eris fared far better with a charming smile and gracious nod, as he swung the door open. The man muttered something about High Fae and skulked around the back of the inn.
The place was filled with warmth and light and energy, despite it being so late at night. Beer sloshed over the rim of cups as people clinked their drinks together, accompanied by a chorus of cheers. Something had happened, obviously, something worth celebrating.
Nesta wouldn't know, of course, but Eris had insisted upon dragging her on a hike out in the middle of nowhere, with no real explanation other than "training". Her magic was almost definitely under control now, apart from the occasional forest fire. But it was hardly her fault that the Autumn Court made such good kindling, although Eris didn't seem to think that a valid enough excuse for setting alight his favourite hunting grounds.
They went straight to the bar, where a woman with snow dusted skin was serving two men, the three of them chatting amicably with large smiles upon their faces. Nesta imagined her sister doing that right now, with Cassian, of course.
That wound was still fresh, despite the three months and several courts worth of distance he'd put between the two of them. She'd immersed herself in mastering her powers, but it hadn't been enough, apparently, she was still denied access to the Night Court.
"There's nothing I can do," Feyre had said at their "monthly checkup", only around four days ago, "It's Cassian's wish,"
"You're the High Lady, aren't you? Tell him to go to hell and let me come back," she'd spat, and Feyre's lips twisted into a grimace.
"He's also my friend, Nesta," she'd said, reaching forward to rest a hand over hers, "If I were to let you come back now, before he's forgiven you─"
"Forgiven me? What could I have possibly done wrong now?" she gave a bitter laugh, and Feyre's features softened.
"If you don't know what you've done wrong, then how can you even begin to make amends?" she'd said, standing up and smoothing her skirts, "I'll take my leave now, I think."
This unfruitful interaction had led to Nesta channelling all of Eris's dramatic energy into throwing a flaming shoe at the back of Feyre's head. Instead, the Vanserra himself had caught it, extinguished it, and raised a questioning eyebrow in her direction.
Hence this little retreat of theirs, which seemed completely unwarranted in Nesta's opinion. He knew she had a short fuse, it wasn't as though he was unused to a temper, why had she had to sleep in a cramped little tent with the bugs and the mulch for the past few nights? Especially considering Eris hadn't once offered to provide her with any of the comforts she knew were stored in his tent, the little git.
He waited for the barmaid to stop talking, although she still seemed a little reluctant to serve the two of them. Her face looked hollow, as if it were made of ice, although Nesta guessed it probably was just ice. The wonders of Prythian never ceased, it seemed.
"I was wondering, could we get some directions, darling?" Eris said, placing a hand over hers. Nesta huffed, rolling her eyes, and even the barmaid's upper lip curled.
"You're on the outskirts of the Winter Court, fire lord," when he blinked, she chuckled, "Yes, we know our High Lord even out here. Although you..." she turned her frosty-eyed gaze upon Nesta, "I do not recognise you from the Autumn Court, but your face..."
"You're thinking of my sister. High Lady Feyre," she said after a pause, when the barmaid did not seem to understand. Upon hearing the name however, her face lit up and she nodded fervently.
"Ah, the High Lady's sister. The firecracker," she nodded once more, and turned around, taking a key off the wall, "Take two flights of stairs, your room is third on the right,"
"Thank you ever so kindly, darling," Eris tried once more, but she merely waved them away, already turning back to the two men she'd been speaking to before.
Nesta nudged him gently, and he turned to her, brow furrowed.
"What?"
"Darling? Really? Your charms are rusty, Vanserra,"
"As if you would know what charm looks like, Archeron," he purred, giving her the slimiest grin to date.
"Yes, well, I know that whatever you call this, it isn't working on anyone,"
"Hmm, we'll see, darling, we'll see," he said it with just enough smugness to make sparks fly with each step she took.
Okay, so maybe she didn't have the magic under control. But, in her defence, Eris was a total git.
"Here we... are," he said, coming to a stop before a battered looking door, with an even worse looking lock.
"I'm going to be kidnapped in my sleep," Nesta muttered, as Eris tried to fit the key into the jammed lock.
"Well don't expect me to save you, I could do with a decent night's sleep for once,"
"You sleep perfectly fine, Vanserra. Your beauty sleep has you waking up at noon, for crying out loud,"
"As if I need beauty sleep with a face like this,"
"Your face is precisely the problem. Very indecorous like, I think," she said, as he finally managed to shove the door in, only serving to mangle it more.
She took in the small, circular shaped window, with half the glass either cracked or smashed, the little writing desk shoved against the wall to her right. There was a door which connected to a dingy looking bathroom, but the bed...
She stared at it, king size at least, with a soft, sinking mattress and perfectly fluffed up pillows. It was the most inviting thing she'd ever seen, she could only imagine how comfortable it would be on her aching limbs.
She looked for the other, to match it, only to find that was it. Her daze faded, as she realised that was all there is. Just the one bed. Eris, who had also only just noticed, looked up at her, lips pressed into a thin line.
"I have no intentions of being a gentleman, darling," he said, taking off his boots and resting at the foot of the bed.
"As if you could ever be a gentleman," she replied, a bit too sharply, taking off her own shoes and folding her arms, "Now what?"
"Now, I suppose I can see if there are other rooms available but... well, this looks quite comfortable to me," he said, folding his arms behind his head and laying back, an irritating grin on his face.
"It would look better if you rolled over," she said, giving him a hard shove.
"Oh, darling, that's not going to work. Look at these muscles," he said, sitting up again to flex his bicep.
"What muscles?" she said, and he merely gave her a satisfied look. There was something about him, something deeply infuriating, that made sure she never quite got under his skin. Which was more annoying than she would ever let on, considering all she'd ever done before meeting him was get under people's skin.
Cassian's especially, it would seem.
"I'll go and see if there's any food," he stood up and made his way to the door, "Want any?" he tossed the last words over his shoulder, and Nesta couldn't help but stay surprised for a few moments. It wasn't like Eris to consider somebody other than himself.
"Anything that's good enough for you will be edible for me," she said, already rummaging in her pack for more comfortable clothes.
Her hiking gear was sweaty and stank of forest. Not in a good way. Not like─
That was not a line of thought she would be entertaining. Sharing a bed was one thing, but sharing her head space? That was a step too far.
She pulled on a thick, oversized jumper she found, and a pair of leggings, with some warm socks that hadn't been soaked in rain for the last forty-eight hours.
Nesta realised too late that the jumper was not hers, when Eris walked in with a tray, and paused.
"That's mine," he said flatly, setting the tray down on the desk and holding out his hand, "Give it back,"
"It was in my pack," she sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest, "I'm sure you have another jumper somewhere,"
"Come on, darling, nobody likes a thief," he said, and Nesta couldn't be sure but, he looked quite flushed, "Hand it over,"
"It's just a jumper, Vanserra, don't be a baby. We're about to share a bed, after all. Or did you procure another room?"
"I did not," his jaw clenched, "They were unwilling to give us another, and that barmaid did not appreciate my endeavours to retrieve a key,"
"Yes, because despite what you may think, your flirting skills are abysmal," she said, and he merely smirked.
"Of course, of course, darling, and yet you're wearing my clothes," he gave a little gasp of delight, "And is that a blush I see?"
"I don't think so," she snipped, although she placed a tentative palm against her cheek. Perhaps it was the heat. The icy, below freezing heat.
Eris handed her the tray, with several, not too kind reminders not to drop it, and disappeared into the bathroom to get changed.
She surveyed the meal he had acquired with more than a little disdain. Some kind of grey-brown stew, or broth, with chunks of meat and stringy vegetables floating in it. And half a loaf of bread each, with a small stick of butter on a dish. Peasant food, if she was being honest, but she was starving, and so it would have to do. Paired with the steaming mug of what smelt like pure alcohol and a little hint of apples, it wouldn't go down too badly, she reasoned.
Eris reappeared, in a thick black turtleneck, a pair of circular glasses on his face. She opened her mouth and his eyes narrowed.
"One word, and I'll set your hair on fire," he snapped, grabbing one of the bowls and grimacing, "Gosh, what even is this?"
"Rabbit," she answered immediately, cooling a spoonful, only to find Eris staring at her, "What now, Vanserra?"
"Nothing, just that you were pretty quick at identifying that. I hope there hasn't been any shady business going on whilst you're under my roof, Archeron,"
"No shady business. When you live starving in the dead of winter, you learn that rabbit and squirrel are a starkly different breed," she shuddered at the memory, "My youngest sister thought she could fool us but she was quickly proven wrong,"
"I see," he shook his head, "I forget that you lived in poverty, sometimes. You act like..."
"A queen?" she gave him a half smile when he nodded, "Well, that is what everyone says. But, before the poverty, we had quite the sum of wealth. You don't unlearn those mannerisms very easily, I've found,"
"I doubt you've tried," he said, and she gave a short, shocked laugh.
"No, I don't suppose I have," she said, picking apart her bread, "It's not as though I can be anything other than a stone cold bitch though, in my family's eyes,"
"I'm nothing more than an arrogant prick in your family's eyes," Eris said, shrugging, "They are quite judgemental, I've noticed,"
"I also think you're an arrogant prick sometimes, Vanserra," Nesta grinned, and he shook his head.
"Well, the feeling's mutual, Archeron," he sliced and buttered a piece of bread, "But I can say that because I know you. Do they know you?"
"What else is there to know?" the words came out more melancholy than she'd intended, staring into her stew, not meeting his gaze.
"That you're extremely talented, and beautiful, and smart. You also share my intense disliking of the Night Court so, you know, you're not always that bad," he paired it with a soft smile, before spluttering all into his drink.
"It's more like vodka than cider, isn't it?" she said, sniffing her drink before downing it. She was already feeling light-headed, and usually she was not considered a light-weight when it came to alchohol.
"You'll find this happens a lot around borders. They know their alcohol," Eris wheezed, thumping his chest, "Regardless, I meant what I said,"
"I suppose you're not so bad either, Vanserra. You're calm, you're quick-witted, and... yes, you're handsome," she sighed, seeing a grin forming on his lips, "To be honest, we're quite alike. I'm not sure why we hate each other,"
"Our families, I suppose. How very faerie," he said, and Nesta stiffened.
"Ha, yeah," she muttered, finishing the last of her drink.
"Is something the matter? Did I say something wrong, again?" he tried for a joke, but the tone was more "desperate" and "concerned" than anything.
She looked up at him through lowered lashes, setting the tray down on the floor. Their knees were touching, she noticed, from where they sat cross-legged on the bed. Eris followed her gaze, and made to move.
Hesitantly, she stopped him, a hand on his inner thigh.
"Archeron..." his voice was low in warning, "This isn't a good idea,"
"I don't know about that," she said, her voice low, sultry, staring into his amber eyes, watching his pupils blow out.
"You have a mate, for one. And for two, this is just alcohol. I have honour, you know," the words were hesitant though, as she leaned in, pushing down on his leg.
He stayed utterly still, as she hovered before his lips, eyes wide and fervent, darting around the room. Nesta paused, huffed, and sat back.
"Oh Vanserra, I am not a slutty drunk, I promise you," she purred, glancing at her nails, "I'm rather apathetic, actually,"
"I─" he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck, "Of course. Don't... don't do that, okay? I think I'm just going to go to bed, thank you very much."
She placed a hand on his chest, intending to stop him, and was surprised by how rapid his heartbeat was. Was that normal? It didn't seem normal.
He raised an eyebrow at her hand, but she was focused, listening to his heartbeat, before he eventually snatched her hand away.
"Are you done, Archeron? It's late, we should get some rest,"
"What was that?" she demanded instead, and he stiffened almost imperceptibly.
"What was what?" he said lightly, pulling off his jumper and folding it neatly, before placing it on the bedside table.
"Oh you know what," she snapped, jabbing a finger against where his heart was, "Are you sick? Do I need to go downstairs?"
"Don't," he grabbed her wrist, pulling her back onto the bed as she made to go, "My heartbeat is racing because of you, Nesta,"
"No it's not," she said firmly, and he managed a little chuckle.
"I'm afraid it is, darling," he brushed a lock of hair from her face, cupping her cheek, "You are very good at raising my pulse, actually,"
"Don't joke," she said sharply, and he sighed.
"I promise you, I don't appreciate this feeling either," he gave a little huff that could've been a laugh or a sigh, "If I could get rid of this, I would. How unprofessional is it to fall in love with a Night Court delegate, let alone Nesta Archeron herself?"
She leaned into his touch, a wistful noise escaping her. Perhaps it sounded a little too much like a moan because suddenly, Eris's spine straightened, and she felt him pulling away. She went with him though, close enough that she could feel his breath, warm on her cheeks. He stared at her, his gaze flicking lazily between her eyes and her lips, a smirk beginning to tug against the corners of his lips.
"I think we should..." he trailed off though, and leaned into her instead. She'd thought he was going for her lips, but he lowered, ducking and burying his head in the crook of her neck.
His lips were gentle, pleasant, feather-light against her neck. She arched, as one hand rested against her lower back, the other pulling her by the hip. Nesta complied, as he made his way along her jawline, up to one corner of her lips, and she parted them, allowing his tongue to slide in.
That was enough. Now she was in control.
Nesta gripped him by the shoulders, lowering him into the pillows and duvet. She removed the jumper slowly, as Eris propped himself up on his elbows. Then, deftly, he reached up and removed her bra, his fingers dancing along her skin, to her nipples, pebbling from the chill. She'd meant what she'd said, she was quite apathetic, but it seemed the night was full of surprises.
This, momentarily, reminded her of another time. A time before she'd truly known Eris, when she'd stumble out of seedy taverns every night, a new young male draped over her. They would flush pink with embarrassment when they returned to her apartment, smelling the dozens of others who had been in her bed before. Once she took her dress off though, any complaints ceased.
Despite herself, she hesitated in the present, and Eris noticed immediately. His eyes flashed in the light, and he tilted his head to the side.
"I'm..." she couldn't bring herself to apologise, so instead she gave a sharp sigh and said firmly, "I won't do this. Not here, not now."
She tensed, bracing herself for the row that would inevitably come. Cassian had never understood that, when she was in that big, empty house with him, that her not wanting this had nothing to do with him. It was her, her desire for boundaries, that had led him to create boundaries of his own. To send her away, into Eris's arms, where she was on the verge of making the most regretful decision of her life.
But the shouting did not come. He merely stared at her, hand reaching up slowly, only for her to realise he was offering her his jumper. The one she'd been wearing, moments before. Nesta could do nothing but smile, as she pulled it on over her head, the soft material warming her considerably.
"You...?" she swallowed the words, but Eris heard them regardless.
"I am a patient male, Archeron. If you want to do this, just say the words. If you don't, let me know. I'm five hundred years old, I've learnt more than my fair share of things when it comes to women," he flashed her a quick smile, the words came out drawling, and Nesta rested a healthy distance away from him.
"Cassian is older than you, and yet he doesn't understand that," she said with a dry laugh, and Eris shrugged.
"Cassian is a man-child, Archeron. You can do better than that,"
"Ah, and that's you, Vanserra?" she said, and he smirked.
"Not necessarily in the bedroom, he's fucked his way through half of my court, let alone his own. I can be intimate, and am able to satisfy a lady. In all manners. Can he say the same?"
"Definitely not," she snorted, the light burning low on the table. She blew it out quickly, and rolled over, hearing Eris do the same. She hugged a pillow to her chest, and found that sleep came easily to her, the knowledge that Eris was there for her keeping her satiated.
***
When she awoke, she was buried against Eris's body. Her arms were wrapped firmly around his middle, her legs tangled with his, her head buried against his neck. He smelled of smoke, and alcohol, a pleasant combination. She could hear his slow, rhythmic breathing, still deep in sleep.
His arms were tossed around hers casual, and without warning her pulled her closer to him, nearly suffocating her in the process. Nesta tried not to splutter, not meaning to wake him, and rolled so that her back was against his chest.
She was surprisingly comfortable, lying there, and would've happily fallen back asleep after about ten minutes of staring at the dawn light creeping along the wall, had Eris not chosen that moment to startle into waking.
He made to move, and she grabbed at his fingers, pulling his hand against her breast.
"Archeron?" he said hoarsely, and she could hear him shifting, his shadow appearing slightly above her.
"If you say a single word about this, to anyone, then I will tie you up and set you on fire without thinking twice," she murmured into his wrist, pressing a gentle kiss there.
"Well, if you really want to use bondage so early into this relationship... how about I keep this memory stored for when Feyre next visits?" he whispered against the shell of her, making her shiver.
"Oh Vanserra," she sighed, merely shaking her head, "My sister has seen enough of my sex life in my own memories to interpret this as nothing more than platonic,"
"And is it?" he said, and she could practically feel him raising an eyebrow.
"We shall see," she said, brushing kisses against his knuckles, "We shall see."