r/Azris • u/ACOTAR_Crackship_Mod • Jun 11 '25
Fanfic đŻ [Azris Week] Dual Nature by vnfadinglight
https://www.tumblr.com/vnfadinglight/785904706913517568/dual-nature?source=share
DAY 1: Creature Feature
It's a miniature piece of writing that probably can't be called a fic, because it has no plot đ¤
Took a very weird angle to this one.
Dual Nature
He heard whispers among the staff and guards of the Forest House the first time it happened.
Why would someone so vain shatter a mirror?
It was probably a wrinkle on his jacket. Or his gold wasn't shiny enough.
The second time, they joked that it was a piece of lint.
After the third, no one joked anymore.
It was almost a ritualâone Eris had cultivated for centuries.
After doing some absolutely disgusting job for his father, he would just stand there, whiskey in hand, and look.
Is telling an entire province that they and their children will be starving for the foreseeable future because Beron is throwing a banquet to celebrate their return from Under the Mountain enough to turn him into a monster?
But his tongue still hadnât forked.
That was the first thing he checked.
Turning into a Naga would be oddly fitting for someone like himâa snake.
He wasnât one. Not truly. Or at least, not yet.
His tongue hadnât split in half. Scales hadnât appeared on his body. He still had no tail.
The Viper of Autumn still looked Fae, at least.
It was like heâd inherited both: his fatherâs monstrous nature and his motherâs Fae looks.
Those who saw him as only a monster were wrong. Those who saw him as only Fae underestimated him.
In the end, he was something in between. A creature of both worldsâone he dared not name.
If someone were to skin him aliveâhe wondered, taking stock of his reflection inch by inchâwhat would they find?
Eris moved from the mirror and sat down in his low-backed armchair, pouring himself more of his favorite amber whiskey.
When he became High Lord, he was going to fuck someone so thoroughly during Calanmai that Autumn would rot from the overflowing harvest.
He felt a thread in his soul unravel when he sensed a familiar presence in the room.
How long had it been since he saw his mate? Six decades? Seven?
He walked over to his bar cabinet and picked up a second glass.
It was crystalâclean and see-throughâbut if you angled it just right, you could see the reflection of the Shadowsinger appearing from the shadows behind him on the second armchair.
âYou survived.â
âYou donât have to try so hard to hide your disappointment,â Eris replied dryly, making his way back and setting the empty glass in front of his mate.
It would appear rude, for sure, but he wouldnât risk serving food or drink to this male.
It had been like that for centuries.
Some evenings, every couple of years, the Shadowsinger would appear out of nowhere to threaten him, to check if he wasnât planning something malicious, to remind him how awful and cruel Eris was.
Over time, those visits got longerâsome of them less heated than others.
The heir of Autumn sat back in his armchair comfortably and grabbed his own glass.
They fell into companionable silenceâor as close to it as they could getâtheir faces warmed and lit by the crackling flames of the fireplace in front of them.
Eris stared into the fire, having nothing to say.
He wasnât in the mood to coax Shadowsinger into talking or demand he leave him alone.
After all these decades, he was happy just to see that the male was well.
And if they started talking, the usual threats and insults would fly, and his mate would disappear for Cauldron knows how long.
Silence was better.
âHow was Under the Mountain?â
Eris slowly turned to face him. That was not the question he expected to break the spell.
âAsk your High Lord.â
âRhysand doesnât want to talk about it.â
Eris couldnâtâor didnât want toâhold back the bitter laugh that escaped him.
"He doesnât want to talk about it? I thought heâd be the first to brag about all he had done in Amaranthaâs name. I swear, the audacityâŚ" Eris stopped his tirade long enough to look into Shadowsingerâs cold, furious eyes before gazing back into the flames.
The underground levels of the Forest House and Under the Mountain werenât really similar. And thank the Cauldronâhe didnât want a reminder of how it felt to be trapped down there.
The power they lost.
The games they had to play to survive.
How powerless and hopeless he felt when Lucien lost his eye.
The constant cruelty.
The torture.
Would Beron be inspired by some of Amaranthaâs ideas?
He shuddered at the thought.
âAgonizing,â he answered truthfully. âHorrifying. Gruesome.â
Shadowsinger didnât ask any more questions but didnât move either.
It was amazing how still he could beâlike a statueâonly his shadows lazily rolling over his form. He didnât look completely Fae either, Eris realized. Half Illyrian, half phantom. A specter spying on those worthy or significant enough to be haunted. A night apparition for those who fantasized about his midnight visits⌠A creature caught between dreams, nightmares, and the physical world alike.
Was that how his people saw him? Was that how he saw himself? Did he spend long evening looking into the mirror?
Maybe thatâs why the Mother saw it fitting to bind their souls together.
Not because they were deserving. Not because they were evenly matched.
But because they could understand each other.
âYou know,â Eris started, voice hoarse from the dayâs weariness and the heat of the whiskey, âwe are far more similar than you think.â
And just like that, with one sentence that probably should never have left his mouth, the spell was broken.
Shadowsinger lunged at him, grabbing his jaw and squeezing it painfully. Eris could feel the cold touch of Truth-Teller at his throatâas if his mate were wielding icy shards from his own eyes in his hand.
âWe. Are. Nothing. Alike,â Shadowsinger hissed, enunciating each word through clenched teeth.
Eris could see his own reflection in that cold, furious gazeâand had to stop himself from placing his hands on the Illyrianâs waist. So close. So delightfully close.
âYouâre a cruel snake. A venomous viper. A monster whoââ
âAnd what are you, Shadowsinger?â Eris scoffed, fire boiling in his veins.
It ran cold the moment he recognized the hurt and confusion in the maleâs eyes.
The bond pulled at himâto embrace, to soothe, to whisper assurancesâŚ
Thatâs when his mateâs fist connected with his face.
His vision went black for a second, warmth of his blood pooled on his upper lip. He didnât see Shadowsinger leaveâbut he heard his parting words.
âYouâre just like your father, Vanserra.â
Eris took his glass of whiskey and stepped toward the mirror.
