The Raven’s Ilk (Eris and Ever- The Oakwood Throne.

In all of his time, in all the time in the world truly, Eris never once expected to be a father. 

It wasn’t that he never dreamt of it, quite the opposite actually. He’d had many a sweven with little ravens flapping their wings, flying aside perky kits that raced for the mossy hills of emerald and ate bejewelled daisy flowers along the way. He’d imagined the way he’d cradled their crowned heads and tucked them into bed, repeating the many endings of the Fox and the Raven. 

Which, he now knew, were never actually endings but side adventures, leading them down their own ending. Tricky things, tales were. Especially when told by backwards-handed hobgoblins who never spoke plainly. 

The fable may have been contradicting in certain spots, downright gaudy in others, and fantastically obnoxious overall, but it was the reason for where he was today. And Eris was more than grateful for his life. 

Because that was his four-year-old daughter that scrambled into her bed- once Ever’s- and excitedly hopped under the gentle pink covers. She wriggled her tiny legs like an earthworm as it buried itself into the sodden earth, writhing around until it became perfectly content. She sneezed softly before wiping at her nose and blinking up at him as he approached. 

“Hello Papa.” Fable smiled at him as Eris carefully lowered himself. He rested on the very edge, fluffing the covers just as she liked. She seemed as finicky as her mother, which was a trait that he quite adored. “Can I have a story tonight?” 

“And which tale would tickle your fancy?” He asked as he adjusted the pillow behind her dainty head of brambleberry hair, handed directly from himself. There may have been questions regarding his lineage, but there was no doubt about it when it came to either of his children. Her huge eyes were near replicas of Ever’s lapidary peridot, down to the shimmering flakes of pearl in between the strands. 

Ever had given birth to Fable first, born in the dead of spring. Then Henri followed only two years later, with honey blond hair that matched his uncle’s. 

Of course, their small den of four was nothing compared to the large expanse of Lark and Vairo’s, who currently stood at four younglings, as soon as the latest one deemed it appropriate to enter the world. Lark was currently in her sixth month, heavily awaiting the birth with easy anticipation. The procreation of the Fae wasn’t unknown, but somehow the pair put the rarity of pregnancy behind them, marking a new record for siring a litter. 

“Perhaps the fox and the snake?” Eris reached for the familiar, fat bear at the end of the low-to-the-ground bed, handing it to his young daughter. “I could tell you how much of a tragic end your mother might have faced if I hadn’t boldly dashed after her and saved her life for not the first time, but neither the last.” 

“No,” Fable giggled in a high-pitched warble that reminded him of a lilac-breasted roller, and wrapped her arms around the bear, squeezing tightly. Monte looked as though his cotton stuffing might burst out of the seams, his button eyes bulging at the intensity of the hug. “But Mama tells it a little bit differently than you do.” 

He lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? And how does your devious mother tell the story then? I find myself curious to know her side of things.” 

“She says that she would have been perfectly fine without you.” Fable nibbled on her little lip, stained from chocolate tarts with strawberries and blueberries that Pikah had snuck her before bedtime. Eris had had a strict word with the goblin before he’d tenderly scolded his little heir about accepting sugary treats before the night. 

Of course the look she’d given him almost made him melt, with his heart beating furiously at his near replication of himself and the female he loved more than anything else in the courts. But he held firm, escorting her back to her chambers before he could wither into a pool of divine delight and give in to her every wish and whim. He may have been King of Faerie, but his children ruled his heart. 

As did his wife, to be completely fair. 

Though she’d owned it since the very start, even if he hadn’t known until far later. 

“Oh, has she now?” Eris laughed lightly, which he found himself doing far more than he’d ever done before. Especially with the joys of barefoot younglings who captured every inch of his soul with child-like glee. “I think she’s found a way to dip her wonderful tongue in silver, and lie so cunningly.” 

“I’ve done no such thing.” Ever cooly interrupted from the curved doorway. “I earnestly believed I would have been fine without your intruding assistance, silly bird.” 

“Tsk,” Eris turned his chin, catching a glimpse of his radiant wife as she rocked young Henri to sleep in her arms. “Do I have to remind you of how many times I caught you wandering into places you did not belong? Places that would have swallowed you whole like Zavriji attempted to do so many times if I had not happened upon you?” 

He pushed off the bed in a fluid motion, striding over to them and gently flattening a wisp of dirty blond on his son's head. His violet eyes were closed, framed by dark lashes that he could have gotten from either of them. Ever stuck her tongue out at him, and he smirked as he leaned over her, resting a lean arm on the door frame in a way that always turned her knees to jelly. Among other things that turned to molten liquid, which in turn, was the very reason for Henri. 

The years had not curbed that fun part of their relationship quite yet, and he hoped she never stopped commanding him. Though he found pleasure in reversing their roles occasionally. 

When she allowed it, of course. 

Eris bent forward until he was a breath away and whispered against her heated cheek, “I think you would have been fine as well, dearest, darling, divine wife of mine. But I’m of the personal opinion that you rather enjoyed the fact that I would race after you to save you from perilous situations.” 

Her face turned crimson, and he placed a chaste kiss to the apple of her cheek. She remained silent, which only provoked him further. He could see her lips twitch as she tried to figure out what to say without lying to him because she could not. 

“So clever, my Forever Ever.” Eris rumbled against her pale flesh. “Always looking for the last quip, the last lash, the last word.” 

“I want to say I hate you.” She mumbled, something rather fierce crossing over her lovely expression. It made the gold flecks in her green eyes turn to the burning sun. 

He loved it. 

He loved her. 

“I’m afraid that the opposite is quite true, proven time and time again.” Eris hummed with a goblin glee as he returned to his full height. “Or shall I remind you of the several events that you’ve survived in order to save my wonderful self?” 

“If anyone needs a reminder of anything”, She began as she shifted Henri. He wasn’t big by any means, but a two-year-old youngling was no easy feat to carry. “It's you, and it’s how to be humble.” 

He chuckled and took his son, motioning for her to follow them towards the bed. She did, her feet silent as they padded over the caged unicorn tapestry. Ever had requested it for her daughter, wanting the best for either of their children. Eris wholeheartedly agreed without complaint, even going as far as to have the walls repainted with the different paths they’d taken. Of the Fox and the Raven in various stages of their life, of the tale. 

It was those he admired as he placed Henri beside his sister, with Monte Carlo in between for an additional package of tender love and care. Henri dropped his head onto the plush stomach, bubbling something about crows and trolls. 

Ever set herself beside him, and Eris came behind her. “Little Fable was requesting a story tonight.” He murmured as he lowered a kiss to her bare shoulder. She wore a dress that rose to her collarbones, plummeting down into a bundle of silk and chiffon. A gown representing a rose in full bloom, with a ruby hue that looked marvellous against her lavender hair. 

“Oh has she now?” Ever turned towards her daughter. “And is that why your father was trying to convince you of his good deeds?” 

Fable bobbed her head quickly. 

“Any suggestions on what tale to unfold?” 

She shook her head this time. 

Eris drowned out their conversation as they continued on, debating over which ending would best suit the diamond-drizzled night. He absent-mindedly ran his fox-and-raven ring clad finger over his wife, his Queen’s shoulder, running up and down the length of her arm as she leaned into him. Her body was a warm, welcome heat, and he savoured the scent of blackberries, blueberries, and sweet cream that was as intoxicating as any wine had been. 

Not that he did much of that anymore. 

Eris felt more free than he had in his entire life, with everything he'd ever wanted right by his side. He’d thought his once black heart- which now fastly beat white, he was proud to admit, could never grow to love anything as much as he loved Ever. And then his daughter, his precious heir, came into the world with a loud wail, and he’d been proven utterly wrong. Followed shortly by another expansion of his heart to make room for his irreplaceable son. 

Eris never looked ineffable towards things that seemed far out of his grasp, things that he would have never thought possible. He was never one to picture an undiluted bliss and picture the dazzling stars fizzing to life inside of him. 

But what was exactly what this felt like. 

His daughter, Fable Thistle Fiaich, curled around the bear he’d despised so much as a child. The very one that he’d sobbed into and cradled as he wished for Ever to love him back. As he wished for someone, anyone, to love him that powerfully. Now, he had three souls in the room that could never feel any other way about him. Named for a hobgoblin who loved him in her own, backwards way. One that Eris loved in return. 

His son, Henri Arwan Fiaich, was named after the very reason this was all here, all happening. To honour the way their story started, even with its tricky fables and multiple endings that never made any sense. He wanted to pass down his true father’s name so that it would belong not only to history but to them as well. 

Eris laced his long fingers with Ever’s, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a deep kiss there as they finally settled on a fable for the evening. No doubt a mind-boggling carriwitchet with endless turns, reverse and upright endings that could be interpreted differently. 

“Once upon a time…” Ever began with her lilting, glossy voice that he adored so much. “There lived a fox and a raven, with their little kits…” 

He couldn’t help the smile that rose to his face. 

Eris may have liked the term Once Upon A Time, but he preferred Happily Ever After. Because even with the finality of the sentiment, even if the tale seemed over, it never was.