A Court of Flame & Shadow - Eris x OC

The Day Court

Nestled amidst rolling hills and bathed in sunlight, Elysium gleamed like a jewel in the heart of the Day Court. The city's architecture boasted elegant columns and graceful arches, grand domes adorned with intricate friezes, and shimmering mosaics that reflected the vibrant hues of the sky above. Streets lined with lush greenery wound their way through the city, while crystal-clear fountains sparkled in every plaza, their waters dancing in the sunlight.

Vel surveyed the city from the palace's veranda, her eyes tracing the familiar contours of Elysium's skyline. The capital was indeed a beacon of beauty and prosperity, its streets bustling with life and vitality. It had recovered well after Amarantha. For someone unfamiliar with the Day Court, the city might have looked entirely untouched. Yet, amidst the splendor of the Day Court's resurgence, there was a stark absence that weighed heavily on Vel's heart.

Gone was the ancient library, a cornerstone of knowledge and wisdom that had stood as a testament to the enduring spirit of the Fae. Reduced to smoldering ruins by the merciless flames of Amarantha's wrath, its golden ornaments melted to make jewelry for the Deceiver.

The library had been the oldest building in the city, perhaps even in the whole of Prythian. A massive ziggurat of weathered stone and timeworn, indecipherable carvings. Everything else in Elysium had been built around it. The capital evolved, but the library stood unchanged for millennia, beautiful in its contrast with the white bricks and delicate architecture that emerged over time. Vel still remembered losing herself between the endless bookshelves for hours, sometimes days. When the Daglan's powers started eating her alive it was there she went looking for answers. Something that had always felt so permanent, so enduring, was gone.

In place of the venerable edifice rose a gleaming temple of white marble, its pristine facade a stark contrast to its predecessor. The somber, square walls of the ziggurat had been replaced by graceful arches and sweeping curves that seemed to reach toward the heavens. Towering white columns held up the many levels of the building while intricately carved statues stood sentinel at every entrance. Modest detailing had been replaced with solid gold.

Vel had visited the new library on her first day in the court. At the heart of the temple-like structure, a magnificent dome soared into the sky, its open design inviting the sunlight inside. Torches and faelights had been replaced with cleverly placed mirrors that reflected and amplified the sunlight indoors.

By all accounts, the building was a work of art. Glynn and the other gargoyles must have toiled day and night for months. But it had felt empty. As she brushed her fingers over what remained of the largest collection in Prythian, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow for all that had been lost. When she'd heard of the attack she'd winnowed in and saved as much as she could. The librarians had also managed to smuggle a good portion of the texts and whatever Amarantha had looted had been eventually returned. Yet, as she'd gazed at the empty spaces it hadn't felt like enough.

"Your last day in my court and I find you moping around instead of drinking?" Helion drawled, pulling her away from her bleak thoughts. She turned to face him, elbows leaning on the balustrade behind her as he sauntered over. The cold marble bit into her bare back, sending goosebumps up her arms.

With the glimmering crown of golden spikes atop his head and the glow of his skin, Helion looked like the sun personified. It was almost impossible to imagine him as anything but the High Lord of Day. And yet he was the most recent High Lord of Prythian, a title shared with Tarquin.

"I am only here as an advisor, not as a courtier. I try to stay away from the revelry, otherwise I would never get anything done."

"What a shame," Helion mused as his eyes swept over her body, catching on the exposed skin beneath the dress he'd gifted her. 'Dress' was a bit of an overstatement. It was one single bolt of dark green cloth that crisscrossed her chest and flowed down her navel and over her backside draping between her legs. Everything was secured in place with a golden belt that accentuated her waist – not that it was necessary since the outfit barely left anything to the imagination. Apparently, undergarments had gone out of fashion in the Day Court. She'd had to learn quite quickly to not make any sudden movements and avoid any windy balconies. Vel almost missed the stuffy dresses of the seasonal courts.

"There is one last thing I would ask of you before I stop abusing your hospitality."

"There is one thing I would ask of you as well, but I doubt you will entertain my request." Helion chuckled before sliding into a more serious tone. "There is no abuse of hospitality. Your presence here is welcome, Oracle. Adjusting to the shackles of being a High Lord has been ... strenuous." He rolled his neck and rested his forearms next to her on the balustrade. The golden crown seemed to weigh more heavily as he scanned the horizon.

"I am calling a meeting of all the High Lords. It will take place in two weeks time."

"Oh?" Helion turned away from his city to arch an eyebrow in her direction. Gone was the easy smile and the flirtatious glint in his eyes. Vel was suddenly reminded of her visions. This new High Lord of Day was clever and cunning; sharp as an eagle. It had been why she had chosen him. So she kept quiet and let him prod her. He didn't.

They stood in silence for a while, him watching her, her staring at the white marble palace, at the way the rays bounced off the stone. Eventually, she threw her head back, exposing her neck, bathing in the sunlight as she waited. Helion sighed in defeat.

"I see why the others say you are a stubborn old goat."

"If you've been warned then you have no excuse in testing my patience." She frowned up at him and he had the good sense to start talking.

"Usually, when an emissary comes to my court with a request they petition it first and then wait around to hear the answer. You have spent weeks here, only to drop this on me on your last day."

Truthfully, Rhysand had only sent her the message that very morning—confirming Feyre's safety, along with Lucien's presence in the Night Court, and the insidious plot of Hybern poisoning the Spring Court with Faebane. Now, the rest of their plan needed to be set into motion. It was fortunate happenstance that she happened to still be in the Day Court.

But to Helion, she only said, "I didn't think you'd make my life difficult, after everything that Amarantha has done to your people. I know you know Hybern soldiers have been making landfall in Spring. I don't need to tell you that war is coming. And I certainly don't feel like repeating the same story seven times. If you want to hear it you'll have to come to the meeting, just like the rest."

"Where will it be?" The question was all the affirmation she needed.

"I haven't quite figured that part out yet. I doubt anyone wants to go back Under the Mountain so we will have to find a new neutral ground. I'll send word of the location."

"Why not host it yourself? I'd be curious to see what kind of palace you live in," he said with a grin, a ghost of the flirtatious glint in his dark eyes returning.

Vel threw her head back and laughed. Helion had said the exact same thing a few hundred years ago, back when he had been just a prince of Elysium. Although he wouldn't remember ever meeting her before taking the crown, it was a small comfort to know that the power hadn't changed him much.

"What a smooth way of inviting yourself into my home. But I think you'll find my living arrangements to be quite disappointing. Now, I have a long day ahead so I would like to be on my way. Thank you again for your hospitality. I will see you in fourteen days." Vel turned back to the city, mindful of her robe. She looked up towards the sky squinting slightly. "I don't think my eyes will ever adjust to so much light."

There was a flash of light and she was in her owl form, flying south, her big eyes futilely blinking against the sun.