A Storm of Flames and Deceit

XXXXIX. Burn the Throne

Eris
I leave the refugee camp not a second after I finished discussing my plans with Fergus, having no intention to linger.
I have plans of my own.
That's the funny thing about home: nobody expects you to break in. That's why the glamour is so easy to manage. I always had a proclivity for lying. For weaving and manipulating things around me to make things seem innocent. I knew that I wasn't good from an early age, so I chose to be whatever I wanted. Whatever I had to be in any moment to survive.
And right now, I'm invisible.
My father would certainly question why I'm back from my honeymoon so early, why I'm slinking around the palace at four in the morning. Even I can't create a lie good enough to justify it, I'm sure. Better to not be seen at all.
It startles my mother when I enter her room, so deeply I have to clamp my hand over her mouth until she realizes it's me. She sighs in relief, clutching her heart. "What the hell are you doing here, Eris?" She scalds me at a whisper. I shake my head.
"Do you trust me Mom?" When I ask it, for a second, I'm genuinely uncertain what she'll say.
"Of course, I do- what's going on?" She whispers back, making my worry dissolve.
"You need to leave tonight," I whisper in return. "It's been a long time coming, but you need to leave now."
"Eris honey..."
"Lucien is waiting in the Spring Court for you. You will be safe there, and I promise I will be able to explain everything in a few days," I add, squeezing her hand.
"What about Lev and Darian?" She whispers frantically, grasping at all the reasons she has stayed here so long.
"They are too far gone, too much like him. And I think you know that," my heart aches to say it because it wasn't just her trying to stop the two of them from turning out like father. I was their older brother, and even I couldn't save them. "But I will do everything I can. I won't give up on them yet."
"And what about you?" She cups my cheek, a tear streaming down her face. I always hated to see her cry.
"He dies tonight," I tell her what she already knows. "It's time, and I finally have what I need to do it. I'll be okay."
"Eris..."
"Lucien waits for you," I tell her calmly. "With you out of the palace, you, him, and Neph will all be safe." Lucien alone knows where Nephele is. I had told him as much when I wrote him and told him to expect mother. Telling him about Helion will have to wait until Beron is gone.
"But..."
"Go to Lucien," I whisper. It's a low blow. He always was her favorite, and I can't even blame her. He had the most good in his heart of all her kids which is why she felt so guilty to allow his exile. "I will be alright. Everything will be alright."
Tears stream down her face as she hugs me, and I bite my lip to keep from crying. My mother had endured so much, and to think of it all to end...
I'm only upset I didn't make it happen sooner.
"Be safe Eris," she whispers. "I'm serious- if at any point things turn away from your favor, I need you to run away. You'll never be a coward to me, Eris. I need you to live. Do you hear me?"
I nod, the lie coming to me too naturally. I can't run away- not from this. But if I have to, I'll let her believe that I will.
"Go," I whisper. "Lucien waits for you at Rose Hall."
She nods, wiping her tears, kissing my cheek one last time before she disappears into the darkness.
...
I should hire a painter replicate the way father's face looked when he found me lounging in his throne lazily around noon, twirling his crown in my fingers.
"Eris?" He says, squinting. I recall then how he can hardly see, but unlike me, he never got reading glasses, claiming they made him look weak. Proud in his every bone. "What the hell are you doing here, boy?"
"You know, when I was a boy, I wanted to be you," I tell him, laughing quietly. "Can you imagine that? I tried so hard to make you like me, and you know what? I did as good a job as anyone. I dare say you liked me more than anyone, short of yourself."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"That all changed when I saw you hit Mom for the first time, of course," my expression shifts cold, my fingers burning with restraint. "But I know you remember that part. The way I burnt your skin until guards had to physically restrain me. The way you beat me until I was damn near dead. Did it feel good to beat on a seven year old? It must've- you smiled the whole time."
"I don't know what you think you're-"
"Oh don't act so surprised," I interrupt him, rolling my eyes. "You groomed me for this. You sat me down after that day you beat me, and you know what you asked me? What did you learn from this?"
"And you said you learned never to defy me," he answers. I'm surprised he even remembers.
"Yes, but that was a lie," I smile, slipping the crown onto my head, shifting in my seat so that my feet don't hang over the arm but are planted on the floor, my elbows on my knees. "What I truly learned that day is to never openly defy you. I told myself only once more would I openly go against you." And the time is now.
It clicks in his head then. "Guards," he shouts, and I laugh to myself.
"They clocked out a couple hours ago when I sent them home on your behalf," I smile deviously. "It's just you and me, Dad! It's all I ever wanted when I was a kid! Except now, I'm not going to become you," I whisper, slipping to my feet, my hand coming ablaze. "I'm going to become so much better."
Father let's his hand come ablaze then, aggression shining in his eyes as I throw a ball of fire at him. He barely dodges it in time, stumbling over himself. The old man is out of practice, at last fighting someone who fights back.
A path scorches between the two of us as he scrambles to his feet, him missing me entirely and lighting the throne instead. I smile, burning the golden chair to the ground as I send my flames right back at him. I catch the tail of his pants then, him yelping and patting the fire out.
I go to attack again when I am tackled to the ground, the wind knocked from my throat. Wheezing, I look up at my attackers, finding that there are two people on top of me, to my surprise. Darian holds my hands down while Lev straddles me, slugging me hard across the face.
So much for doing my best with them.
I don't hesitate. They're both heavier than me, but they don't see anything but the obvious move coming. Which is precisely why I head butt Darian, twisting from his grip, throwing Lev to the ground as I knee him in the groin.
Retreating, I at last face my family, the three of them still recovering from my hits against them, slowly starting to circle around me. My sleeves sizzle and spark as I smile, a halo of flames coming from around me as a center point, heading straight for them. They fumble at my aggression, at my power. My father and Darian dodge the flame, but Lev gets scorched by it, crying out as it burns his leg. Of all of us, I am the only one who flinches at his cries, but I don't go to him.
With the wave of my hand, my dagger appears in my fingers, the very dagger Nesta Archeron had forged with death, that Rhys and Feyre had gifted me for our alliance. The silver glows in challenge as I start towards my father and brother, monitoring the swords that appear in their hands, drawn from their magic.
I weave between them when Darian strikes high, Father low. Only my shirt is cut which is enough to make me smile as I lunge and retreat with only my dagger. I am by no means an athlete nor a warrior, but neither were my father and brother. I am the only one who bothered mastering combat beyond his magic which they reach for when they realize I could beat both of them with a blade.
My shirt lights with flame, and I swing it at father, effectively silencing the burn as it smolders against him and he ducks away. I turn just in time to dodge Darian's sword swinging at my head, burying my dagger into his thigh. It's merciful enough. If I would've struck his abdomen, he would be dead, but for all they've done to me, I can't find it in myself to want my younger brothers dead.
He cries out, stumbling backwards and to the ground as I turn to father, a ring of my flames lit around him. I tilt my head, smiling as I approach him, lowering myself to his level, twirling my dagger between my fingers.
"I wish I could say this is going to hurt me more than it's going to hurt you," I muse, quoting what he said to me so many times before so many beatings. "But I think this is going to feel very good."
"Wanna rethink that, Princeling?" A voice says behind me.
Fergus.
I hardly have time to react before I'm struck down, quick as lightning, calm as a storm.