A Storm of Flames and Deceit

XXXXVII. Compromise

Eris
I'm the villain.
This much I have known my whole life.
The universe can give me my Princess Charming, the love of my fucking life, it can give me the chance at true and ignorant happiness, it can give me the whole world in a silver gaze, and still, nothing will change who I am.
I will never be painted in a golden light. I will never be spoken of fondly. My heroics will never inspire limericks. I will always attract glares rather than smiles, and that's something I've learned to accept about myself.
It's never easy for the villain to keep what he cares about safe. What he cares about is far more contested than it would be for any hero. I've never been allowed uncontested happiness- why would I be able to have it now. Poison is easy- all it takes is misdirection and trust, but breaking the trust of someone you love? I'm convinced it poisons you right back.
I laid her in her bed, a bouquet of lavender on her nightstand for when she wakes and wants to kill me. An incentive for her to make it quicker than I deserve.
I'm certain it's worth it, though I am a man of little certainty. If I'm successful and I free my mother and stop my father, if I keep her safe and away from the palace, then I can't say I'll regret what I did, even if she kills me for it.
And as I kiss her brow goodbye, I find my only regret to be that I didn't have more time to love her before I ruined her perception of me. I would've given anything to love her the way she deserved. For her to look at me like I hung the sun how she hung the clouds.
It's not something I can think of now- now, I must pay a visit to my father in law.
My body hardly allows me to part with our home, begging me not to winnow away from her. I ignore the ache, winnowing to the refugee camp.
The air is more bitter here, the golden sunlight swapped with blank darkness. Righting myself, I follow the scent of the bonfire. It's nearly nightfall, and the soldiers appear to be unwinding after likely a long day of training. I'm no stranger to war camps- I've been in two wars myself. I could hold my own on the battlefield sure, but my father quickly learned that I was more help in the commander's tent, strategizing and scheming.
I find Fergus easily where he converses with a man who appears to have bouldered skin. One of the soldiers Neph spoke of, I presume. He freezes when he sees me, so rarely taken off guard.
"Prince Eris," he says neutrally, giving away nothing. "How very surprising to see you here? Is your father behind you?"
"It's just me," I reply, shrugging. "But I think we should find a place more private to discuss who really is running the show anyway."
The world slows for a second, and all I feel is my heart beating and screaming at me to turn back. Then, a slow smile breaks across his lips as he nods, inclining his head for me to follow.
...
"So you say my daughter awaits at your home, tending to the household as instructed?" He asks, and I nod. "The home that- I'm told- your family has never seen, in a location that nobody knows?"
I tilt my head from the tent we sit in, spacious enough without the massive meeting table Fergus set up for us. "Is this really what you want to talk about?" I raise a brow, laughing quietly. "Because somehow, I doubt you care about the whereabouts of my private life nearly as much as you wonder why I'm here."
"I imagine it has something to do with the fact that your father has been your puppet for centuries, and you don't like that he's running deals around you right now," he answers perceptively. I'm reminded them where Neph gets her intelligence from.
I shrug. "More or less," I answer. "And I'm just wondering if you have begun to consider that the deal you have with my father grows more fragile everyday I'm not involved fully."
"Because you're so well versed in these things, Princeling," Fergus scoffs.
I smile. "Let's just say Beron's winning personality isn't what has kept Autumn diplomatically sound these past centuries," I tilt my head. "Hasn't been what's kept him alive either."
"And what brings you here then?" He asks impatiently.
I laugh again, shrugging. "I think it's about time he wasn't alive."
Fergus laughs abruptly, the sound gruff and wicked. I may be a villain, but I never did have such an evil laugh. "I'll hand it to you, Kid," he says, still chuckling. "You have bigger balls than I expected. I thought you were just a cowardly little bookworm when I met you." He has stopped treating me with the formality of his ally's son. It doesn't matter if you offend someone you now have leverage over.
"So are you in?"
He laughs again. "Why so ever should I want to compromise my current arrangement with your father?"
I tilt my head. "We both know my father is a loose canon. He doesn't have a good head on his shoulders for all the power he has. It makes him dangerous," I reply easily. "How long before he boasts your army to the other courts, a flex of his bicep? He hasn't a mind for strategy. He only has a mind for pride, and that gets him in trouble, makes him attract attention to you."
Fergus seems to consider, leaning back in his chair, knowing with every bone in his body that my judgement is true. I reckon he probably had the same judgements. "And why do you need me?" He laughs blindly. "You could've killed him this whole time if you wished. He's not physically formidable in any capacity."
"True enough," I agree. "But Beron does one thing exceptionally well: he takes care of his friends. The feudal lords would never forsake him for me, and I had no intentions of keeping them as pacified as my father had. Keeping them so spoiled. With your men, I wouldn't have to. The threat would be pressing enough."
"So now you want to flex my army?" He raises a brow. "How is that any less risky than keeping my alliance with Beron?"
I shrug. "The feudal lords are well aware of your occupancy. You already strike fear into them. Already they lobby for my father to dissolve his alliance with you," I reply. "It's only a matter of time before they push you out of your asylum and out of Prynthian altogether. You need the support of the high lord."
"I have the support of the high lord," he scoffs.
"That may be true," I concede. "But he'll never choose you if he's to pick between his allies. He will choose his courtiers any day of the week and kick you and your men into the ocean if it's what they wish. Beron isn't smart. He isn't good at making friends, and he's even worse at keeping them. How many conflicting alliances does he have? The courtiers? You? The mortal queens?"
That strikes his interest, and I have to restrain myself from smirking. "Don't bring up those bitch queens," he groans. "Hyberns damning mistake was allying with them."
"I take it you don't get along with them?" I raise a brow, and he shrugs neutrally, not giving to much away.
"They want me dead," he replies. "Feeling is mutual. The human land should be ruled by fae, just all realms."
I struggle to keep my face neutral. This man is a tyrant, a conqueror. He hasn't any interest in peace, only conquest. "If I were High Lord, I'd swiftly drop their alliance," I smile, inclining my head. I do everything not to think of how my father tortured me on their behalf. How he milked me for answers until I felt even more hollow than I already was. I can still feel that dagger on my throat to this day, but so much worse was it against my mother's throat. That's when I caved. That's when I hinted at my... friendship with night. I said as little as I could to satisfy him before he left me bleeding on my bedroom floor, my mother quietly sobbing to see my body so broken.
But I kept the wounds from her skin, so I can't find it in myself to regret my choice to tell him things he was never meant to know.
I clear my throat. "I'm not as partial to them as father is," I disclose, finding common ground. "I think you might prefer me if only to be free from babysitting my father. You need a High Lord that thinks beyond his failing court and his damning pride."
Fergus tilts his head, considering, but I can see in his eyes that I've already won. "Let's discuss the terms of my asylum," he says decisively. "And we'll go from there."