DEEP IN AUTUMN'S HEART
A FOX, SLENDER AND ELUSIVE, PRANCED between the rust-orange trees, avoiding the piles of dried shredded leaves and never once disturbing the serenity of the woodland.
Strangely, he wore a golden eye, catching the rays of the late afternoon sun.
Even stranger, he accompanied with him a girl, unassuming at first glance but the onlooker could never have known that she wielded the powers that all of Prythian could offer.
They lingered in the shade of the towering oak trees, leaves crunching under their feet as they danced on the border of the Autumn Court. Tiredness ached their limbs and though a voice inside urged them to keep going, a flow of water teeming with small fish caught their eyes.
They were souls of strong hearts, that much was true. But they grew weary, faebane soaring through their veins and they jumped at every little sound. And sounds were plentiful in the Autumn forests — the woodland was alive with critters and animals and foxes, the cycle of prey and predator a constant in these parts.
It was only a matter of time before these two visitors realised what category they fell into.
Prey or predator.
And by trespassing on Autumn Court lands without the High Lord's permission, the fox and the girl gambled their safety every second they remained on his territory.
· ─────── ·☽𖥸☾· ─────── ·
Deep in the heart of the Autumn Court, Auroria Vanserra awoke with a startle. Sweat drenched her nightgown and bedsheets, her heart threatening to escape as the silence of Ember Hall came rushing in. And two soft words graced her chambers, words that would change everything.
"He's back."
· ─────── ·☽𖥸☾· ─────── ·
A little over half a year had passed since Feyre Acheron came to Prythian shores. A little over half a year since they were all liberated from the clutches of Amarantha, she who perfectly executed the overthrowing of powerful High Lords, but could not even topple this one mortal girl.
And in that time, it had been a process of rebuilding.
Thousands upon thousands of lives were lost during Amarantha's reign of terror — both High Fae and Lesser Faeries alike. What was needed now was order. Stability.
If Prythian had any hopes of reverting back to how it used to be before the usurper queen claimed her throne.
For Auroria's little territory, situated south of Autumn Court, she had spent less time in Ember Hall and more time out there. Out in the decimated villages, out in the manors of High Fae lords. Holding court. Listening to their needs, their ambitions to rebuild. And for those High Fae, holding court took the form of luncheons on the first of every month that, at first, was so suffocatingly tense, each of them hardwired to that cold and aloof shell they all put on to survive Under the Mountain. But, slowly, that shell cracked. Slowly, the lords began demanding once again, the ladies began sneering and gossiping, and their children began running around without a care in the world for what vase they toppled down.
Auroria would rather have that. Broken vases over broken people.
This month's luncheon was held at Smithhouse, the seat of House Napier.
And Auroria would much rather be somewhere else — not only for the dream she had the night prior, but also because its host wasn't Lord Napier at all, who was permanently stationed in the Forest House so long as he held a position within Father's advisory council. It was the Dowager Lady Napier, his mother who was just about the oldest fae... ever.
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A Delicate Darkness | AZRIEL (ACOTAR)
FanfictionAuroria of House Vanserra has much more in common with Azriel, the Spymaster of the Night Court, than she could have thought - than either of them would care to admit. But when she feels the burn of his flame, she realises that she doesn't want to f...
