Eris
I trace the pattern of her curls in the morning to follow, the sun casting its greeting across the room in a golden glow. She had fallen asleep not soon after our... exchange last night, even as she blearily kissed me in the aftershock.
She seemed spent as I snapped new sheets onto the bed with the flick of my magic, drawing her into one of my shirts that she likes sleeping in so much. She had passed out on my chest, and I felt some smug sort of pride as she slipped into sleep with a satisfied smile on her lips.
I feel so strangely. On one hand, I'm ready to bury myself into her as soon as possible, and on the other... last night was enough to hold me into centuries of chastity. In fact, I could die a happy man this morning, though I would go pissed that I didn't have the time to show her more.
To show her everything.
She stretches as she wakes, sighing softly as she rolls her muscles out with the morning, her eyes fluttering open. She squeezes me tighter, a helpless smile on her lips as she gazes up at me. "Good morning," she rasps.
I smile, raising a brow. "Morning," I reply, stroking her hair. "How do you feel?" I hope she didn't wake to regret it all-
"Good," she answers, interrupting my worry. "I feel really fucking good."
I snort, unable to help my smile. "Yeah?"
She smirks, crawling closer on top of me. "Yeah," she answers, her lips hovering over mine.
I tilt my head up at her. "You know, I'm disappointed in you," I inform Neph, her brows drawing together. "You didn't once ask me if I have been drinking my contraceptive poultice last night."
She laughs easily then, rolling her eyes. "I wasn't too worried about that," she smirks. "I've been drinking a poultice ever since I forgave you."
I blink, honestly surprised before a laugh falls out of me. "No kids for us then," I state, a smirk crossing my lips. "Well, not yet anyway-"
"Stop talking," she interrupts irritably, slanting her lips over mine. I smile as she straddles me, kissing me against the bed sheets. Her hand reaches to gently cradle my neck with an ever increasing pressure as she bites into my lip, drawing closer.
I grip the back of her thighs greedily, her sighing out as my fingers tighten over her skin. Flipping her over, I wrap her thighs around my waist as the tempo increases. "Fuck me again," she murmurs into my lips, her back arching against the sheets. "Fuck me again, and don't hold back."
I tilt my head down at her. "What makes you think I was holding back?"
Her brows raise. "Don't be cute. You went easy on me."
I laugh under my breath, pushing a hair out of her face. "You didn't seem to be complaining last night."
"Neither did you," she taunts. "Seems like you do have the capacity for gentleness yet. Who would've thought?"
I roll my eyes. "I'd be more than happy to fulfill your request, Sweetheart," I reply. "So long as you write to Helion and tell him that I cannot make it to his little library tour this afternoon- you know, the one that you so egregiously volunteered me for, if you'll recall."
She narrows her eyes. "Like hell you're getting out of that, Hot Stuff," she shoves me off her, kissing my cheek before she stands. "Helion is really trying. You can't avoid him forever."
"I can certainly try," I mutter under my breath, sinking back a against the pillows in defeat.
She rolls her eyes. "Get dressed," she leans down to kiss me. "We're expected by ten."
...
I hate it when people try to impress me. I'd much rather the standard treatment of wary glares and forced hospitality that I have come to expect from the other High Lords, but I suppose Helion isn't just a High Lord, is he?
He's my Mother's boyfriend, the father of my brother. At this trajectory, he might one day be the grandfather to my children.
My true father had lived, made my life hell, and died, and I had made my peace with that vacancy. I was glad of that vacancy. I don't want it filled again by some other man. I'm glad my mother is happy, but I'm certainly content without Helion stepping into my life.
"-and these shelves were crafted in gold a dozen centuries ago by my ancestors, who wrote most of the books in this section," Helion explains. It's interesting enough. Neph calls me a history nerd, and I suppose she's sort of right, but I'd hardly call myself enthusiastic, right now. Much less would I know how to express such an emotion.
All I can do is nod, shifting on my feet awkwardly. Helion sighs, scratching behind his neck. "I'm really trying, Kid," he says bluntly, looking exhausted more than anything.
I try to fight the twitch in my jaw to be called Kid. I'm a fucking High Lord, same as him. I certainly wouldn't let Rhysand or any other High Lord call me such a thing, even though I know Helion means well. "I didn't ask you to," I reply. "Look, Helion," I rub my brow, a headache building behind my eyes. "You like my mother, love her even, and she loves you too. But that doesn't mean I have to. As long as you keep her heathy and happy, I don't see why what I think of you should matter at all."
"Of course, it fucking matters," he exclaims, wincing. "Sorry, I shouldn't swear-"
"You can speak however you want, Helion. You wanna know why," I laugh blankly. "You aren't my father. You don't have to be a role model or censor yourself or stop throwing parties or stop dressing how you used to," I tell him. I had certainly noticed how his eccentricity dulled when my Mother came back to him. When he found out about Lucien. It was like he was afraid he'd scare them off. "I'm still a High Lord, same as you. We just both happen to love and care about my mother very much."
"You want space, I understand that," Helion says stoically. "But you can't pretend that we aren't- to some extent- bonded for life, tethered by family, even if we don't share blood. I know- in the past- that you haven't had the best luck with family-"
"You don't know a thing about me," I sneer, stepping closer to him. "About what family means to me. About what I had to do. What I had to give."
"I know that you're stubborn," Helion bites back. "I know that you know even less about me than I know about you. And I know that I'm standing here, fucking trying, and you're still deflecting because you're terrified of letting things be okay."
"Fuck you," I spit, walking away.
"I know all that because we're more similar than you think, Eris Vansera," he calls. "You may not be my blood, but we have that much in common. Better to run from it than to have it run from you."
I hear no more of it, winnowing home because I'd never forgive myself if I burnt this entire fucking library to the ground. I'd never forgive myself if I burnt my Mother's boyfriend down with it.