Peace.

What a godsdamnded joke my life was. Beron - I refused to call him Father, why would I? From what I heard, your father isn’t meant to blackmail, beat and belittle you. But what do I know?

The autumn court is mine - under my rule, and thriving. I kept my word, mostly, in that agreement wirh Rhysand, and that hotheaded general. Peace. The Courts are all in harmony, though I couldn’t say the same for spring. From what the occasional Fae of my court whispers, I know it’s in shambles. Shame.

It was at one of those stuffy events, the ones where the food is delicate, but never enough to fill or feed, only enough to sober those drinking freely. When Rhysand approached me, I schooled my expression into a smile, pleasant enough. “Rhysand.”

“Eris.” He nodded, subconsciously casting a glance over his shoulder at his mate, swollen wirh his child. Feyre. And someone.. else.

Why, she had wings. Perhaps a sister of the general? The shadowsinger, even? “Who’s the lovely lady with the wings?” I asked offhandedly, taking a sip of the spiced wine in my hands, cringing slightly at the overuse of spices. “Someone I wanted to speak with you about.”

I should’ve stopped it the first time he said something. I truly, truly should’ve. But of course, I didn’t. Marriage. To.. her. The gorgeous, stuttering-inducing female wirh wings. Would it cause an outrage of gossip behind facades of congratulations? Or would it be accepted as everything Rhysand promised vehemently - acceptance, peace, and moving forward. ‘An end to segregation.’

He’d sworn she had links to the Autumn Court somehow, but that’s like telling me that we’re all gifted by the Mother. No shit, Rhysand. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I accepted. I was promised a favour, one of my choosing, to use from Rhysand - thats my feeble excuse as to why I said yes. And I mean, I didn’t have much else going on, did I? Running a court? I basically did it for my father when he was still plaguing the poor throne.

Within weeks of preparation that neither I nor she had a say in, her belongings were moved in. And into my future Lady’s rooms - as Vivian, Kallias’ wife had so confidently said to me. Bloody Winter Court. I stood in her rooms, brushing invisible dust off my robes, more like a suit truly, nothing too extravag, just.. polished. Refined.

“..yes, just down the hallway, your highness.” A nymph bowed her head, as she moved to let my bride in.

Everything slowed until my heartbeat was just a dull thump against my chest. Her. Mother Above, she was a sight up front. All smooth skin, and perfect angles and curves.. and those eyes, I would die looking into them and die a happy male.

“My.. Lady.” I forced out, before a polite smile was manoeuvred onto my lips. My.. my.. my..

Mate.

“Please, these are your rooms. If anything needs changing,” I waved a hand, the fire lighting, setting the room aglow prettily. “Let me or one of the staff know. It shall be sorted immediately.” I turned around. “A pleasure to meet you. Now I would stay, but I’m afraid I have a meeting.”

Liar.

“Dinners at seven. Don’t be late. A maid will show you.” Then I was gone.