Chapter 5
Eris stood back, hiding himself in the corner to prevent being caught in the crossfire between a High Lord and goddess. Beron didn’t immediately reach for his flames, doubting the identity of those who stood before him, instead glaring intently, lips curling into a snarl. Aquila met his gaze, no fear behind her eyes as one arm lifted to point at him, she started speaking with a voice that didn’t sound completely present in that moment, “Beron Vanserra you have broken your bargain so justice must be served for your people.”
Aquila’s eyes took on the colour of the moon on a dark night, glowing as her hair seemed to be entangled with stars that illuminated each strand, floating upwards and surrounding her head like a halo of the night sky. Golden wings spread, like the sunrise of dawn’s early light blocking Eris’s view of his father. The once meager grey dress that the Night Court had gifted her in the short time she had stayed there erupted in a gulf of flames doused by water and replaced with a ice blue piece that finished in long skirts fading into green.
That was when he realised she now represented every court currently present in Prythian. Her justice was justice for all and could not be contained within any single court.
Justice’s voice cut through the silence, “Kneel.” She demanded of Beron.
“I kneel for none other than my crown,” Beron shot back.
“You will.” Justice promised.
A lone arm rose outstretched towards Beron and slowly closed into a fist. Nothing happened for a second, in which zeros thought he had been fooled as to who was before and was instead an intricate glamour that somehow fooled the son of a High Lord. Then Beron clutched his chest and slid off his throne onto one knee, fear shone in his eyes and scent swallowed the room. He opened his mouth to plead for his life but no words could come out as no air could enter his lungs. Before long he was, as promised, on two knees in front of the goddess.
A single gasp slipped through his lips, hands to the floor as the High Lord was released from her grip and whatever she had done to him. A cold, sadistic smile crept up Justice’s face at the sight before her, sending a slight shiver down Eris’ spine. The face of Justice tilted, assessing the male before her with disregard and contempt that was unexpected of a higher power. Beron, having finally regained his breath looked up at her, a newfound fear apparent upon his face as he finally asked with a tone of incredulity, “What the fuck are you?”
The smile turned into a grin, “Justice. I am retribution. I am your reckoning. The consequences of your actions.”
A wave of her hand caused a shimmering golden light in front of the goddess and an intricately carved golden scale appeared in front of her. A stream of light formed at the epicentre of Beron’s chest and crystallised into a red sphere. Dragged by invisible strings it landed on one hand of the scale, a blue orb formed from Justice’s chest landed into the other. Thirty seconds of bated breaths as the scale tilted back and forth before resting in favour of the inherent lightness of the blue orb. Torches flickered and went out seconds later. The skies outside darkened. Reckoning was upon the High Lord of Autumn and he knew it.
Still on his knees Beron forwent any dignity he still had remaining to plead for his life, for mercy. A mercy that he was inherently undeserving of, a living testament to that standing in the room with them as a witness.
Justice frowned, “Mercy is easier to practice than justice.”
Power itself swirled in the room, searching any nook for as if to cleanse the area itself of injustice. Eventually that power crescendoed at the epicentre of justice, Beron himself. Head tilted to the sky, the silver power pulled an orange strand out of his gaping mouth before dropping him harshly back against the cold floor.
Eris felt it happen, the orange strand worming itself towards him before crashing into his chest, knocking him back a step. An air of authority and power washed over him and he knew in that instant she had done it. Looking back up at the scene before him, his father was laying on the floor seemingly unconscious and Aquila had returned to her slightly less scary state of not looking like she was fully equipped to burn the entirety of Prythian to the ground. It did not help to make him any less intimidated by her.
Aquila turned to him, her eyes returned to a storm grey, and cocked a smile at him, “Sorry for the lack of warning I gave.”
“I-It’s no problem. So just like that, I’m High Lord of Autumn?” he asked.
“Yes.” she simply stated.
Eris nodded, running his hands across his face as his eyes lay less focused on her and her display but rather watching his father. Aquila watched him, not sure what his next move was going to be but praying to anyone that she had made the right move in changing the powers so quickly.
“He’ll live?” Eris finally broke the tentative silence that had settled for the last minute.
“Yes, it seemed a crueler fate to simply take his powers and transfer them to you, let him live his life miserable and suffering.” she replied, no emotion present in her voice other than blanket boredom.
Eris looked a little shocked to hear what she had to say about the fate of his father and whilst she understood, she was curious if he thought her a goddess who would uphold morals and be constantly good simply because she was a goddess. That she had no thoughts and opinions of her own or could be cruel in any shape or form.
Something was moving in the corner of Aquila’s eye, a shadow slinking out under the door frame and off to whatever master it would return to. It made little difference to her, all the courts would soon know of the change of power here in Autumn and most would receive a visit from her personally, to check and fix any existing moral problems or to just enjoy the view, gods did she deserve it at this point.
Somewhere between wistful thinking of a holiday on a nice beach with a glass of wine and planning her next move, someone entered the room in a swirl of shadows. His wings tucked in tightly were the only indication of the origin of the male before her who was slinking towards her, a piss poor excuse of a spymaster if you asked her.
Eris, the newly minted High Lord of Autumn, turned around to face the figure that had just burst into his new throne room rather unannounced and uninvited, “Azriel, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Azriel, the shadowed figure, responded, “I was sent to check the whereabouts of her.”
A nod in Aquila’s direction positively identified the subject of Azriel’s search. She raised an eyebrow in response to the identification, caring little for what the oversized bat would want with her or what demands the male he answered to would ask of her.
“What do you want?” she demanded, not intent on going anywhere without that knowledge with her.
“Your help, in Velaris.” he simply responded.
Aquila scoffed, the arrogance of males knowing no bounds in their pursuit of whatever it was they desired.
“I have more important things to do, should the most powerful High Lord in history not be able to take care of his own Court?” she retorted. Even Eris chuckled at that comment, some of his obvious disdain for the High Lord of the Night Court present in that moment.
“There are people who need your help, not help that can be given solely by the Inner Circle. He wants you to know that we are a Court of Dreams and need help with rebuilding after the war effort.” pressed Azriel, wings flaring slightly, the only hint that he felt anything for what he spoke of.
“What about Spring, that your Lady destroyed, what about Summer that felt the effects of the destruction of Spring due to Hybern’s invasion? What of the loss of life in Winter with 12 children killed by a daemati? What about the decimated pegasi in Day or their destroyed knowledge? What about the resurrection of Dusk?” Each word Aquila spat led to a step closer to Azriel, until they were toe to toe. Silver lightning flashed across her storm grey eyes as she stared into Azriel’s, head tilted.
He simply glared back and spat back, “Don’t speak about my High Lord and High Lady like that.”
“I’ll judge how I please, that is why I’m here lest you forget.” Aquila responded as a smile crept on her face, stepping back from the shadowsinger. Turning her back to him, she approached Eris and started a new conversation, ignoring the Night Court spymaster in the room.
“What do you think about a High Lord’s meeting to announce your new title? I will be present of course, it can serve as a reminder of the bargain they make whether they knew they made it or not.”
Eris nodded slightly, the gears in his head turning far quicker than Aquila could watch nor understand. After mulling the idea over for a little while he finally said, “that does sound like a good idea, slight threat with what happened to my father. We will hold it here, start a new tradition to reunite courts on a neutral path.”
Aquila smiled, a slight weight lifted off her shoulders as she felt more confident in the decision to depose of Beron and make Eris the High Lord. Suddenly remembering the previous High Lord she turned to his slumped figure in front of the throne. A sharp click of her fingers and he was gone, the knowledge of his new location only known to her and him now. A crueler fate for the arrogant and selfish male was to strip him of power rather than kill him as it would prolong the suffering. No one said God had to be merciful.
Finally, Aquila slowly turned back to Azriel to relay the information to him about where the meeting will be taking place as well as to inform his High Lord of unwillingness to return, citing her vague disdain for his rule as the reason.
Azriel nodded and mocked, “any other messages you would like me to pass on to Rhysand, since I seem to be your messenger now?”
Aquila shrugged, responding with similar levels of mockery, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Might be his best bet, since he’s on thin fucking ice right now.”
A surge of shadows and he was gone, disappeared to report to the other bats at the residence on the mountain, leaving Aquila and Eris alone in the throne room.
“I must move on with my journey, I shall see you again when the meeting occurs. Good luck and I know you will succeed, if you need me, pray, I do hear those but so few people do it I’ll only hear yours.”
“Thank you. For giving my family their lives back. For giving this court another chance at redemption, to change perceptions and for us to be good.” Eris replied, emotions lacing the words to represent things he wasn’t able to say himself, couldn’t find the words for.
Aquila nodded and smiled, “You’ll do well, Fire of Autumn.”
Those parting words hung in the air as a crackle of electricity strung through the air and two pairs of white feathered wings unfurled. Where the goddess once stood, only a minor scorch mark remained to indicate her presence.
Autumn, the season of change, was prepared to fell its dead leaves and start afresh with firmer beliefs and a commitment to the truth and all that would prevail.
A commitment to justice.
-=********=-
Azriel had returned, Nesta knew it was so because the kitchen that was gifted to her, though not truly her own, was once again filled with conversation, heated and calm voices laced together in a steady cacophony that saw her trudging into the kitchen in a fresh grey gown.
As she entered the conversation died down to a mutter before Rhysand commanded, “So we understand she doesn’t want to help but what exactly did she say?”
Azriel looked a little uncomfortable before responding, “She said ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’ and that you are on thin ice, everywhere else needs help. Spring and Summer from the destruction… she claims were caused by Feyre. Winter, Day and Dusk.”
Feyre looked shocked and blurted out, “How can she claim I caused the destruction in Spring and Summer!”
Nesta thought to herself how the goddess wasn’t entirely wrong but also needed the context behind the destruction of Spring and how their High Lord had mistreated her little sister, surely no goddess of justice could forgive that.
Rhysand looked positively thunderous when an envelope arrived on the dining room table with the Autumn Court seal in red on the front. He opened it and his eyes widened, as did Feyre’s who was reading over his shoulder, before he looked up at everyone seated before him and stated, “Eris is the new High Lord of Autumn and has invited us to a ball to celebrate.”
Almost everyone in attendance looked shocked at how he had managed to defeat Beron without the help of the Night Court but Azriel soon was able to clear up any confusion by explaining:
“I saw it, Aquila judged him. Quite literally, placing a sphere symbolising his morals and a sphere symbolising justice on a scale and seeing which came out on top. It was a show of true power, when he failed this judging and was deemed an unfit ruler I watched as the magic left him and entered Eris. He was left completely powerless and Aquila left him like that, sending him away to who knows where to live out his days.”
People look horrified before Mor finally asked quietly, “Will she do that to Rhys if she judges his ruling as unjust?”
Azriel was unable to answer and everyone was left looking at each other in a stunned silence before a mildly shocked Rhysand said, “I guess we should prepare for this ball. To show we are not afraid of her.”