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[otterthewasted]

[SNIPPET] ACOWAR - Rhysand's Perspective (Rescuing Feyre)

What if, instead of Cassian and Azriel rescuing Feyre in book three, A Court of Wings and Ruin, it was Rhysand who came for her?

Includes scenes before Feyre flees the Spring Court, Rhysand's search for her, and their reunion.

This started out as a little side project to take a break from my other ACOTAR project (having some writers block with the next section, which is why it isn't out yet). Next thing I knew this has taken days and a couple of re-writes, (I messed up the timeline initially) and is kind of ridiculously long.

There is some mature content:

This is my first time in like fifteen years that I have written a full blown sex scene - I am praying it isn't awful.

There is some mild violence, but nothing too horribly graphic.

Also yes, one of the chapter's is titled after a Nickleback song, I might have listened to it while writing this... I'm so sorry. *dons the cone of shame.*

This is only Chapter 1 out of 3 - to read the rest of this fic head over to AOS HERE.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

*Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

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It had been weeks since the disastrous night in Hybern, weeks since my Mate sacrificed herself to get us out, weeks since she willingly returned to the Spring Court - in order to bring it to ruin. It had been weeks and every single second of it had been torture, every second that she was not at my side had left me feeling broken, and empty. I never let her know that however, not because I thought she would ridicule me, but rather because I knew how much my pain would hurt her.

And right now - I needed her to be focused. To be a wolf.

Because she was deep in a den of vipers, and one wrong move could mean the difference between life and death.

In the first weeks after our escape I spent all of my time focused on my brothers and their recovery. Azriel recovered first, once the ash arrow and the bloodbane were out of his body, his natural Illyrian healing and Mor’s quick work put him on the road to recovery. I had a difficult time making him rest a few extra days when he had woken up and heard the rest of the story, heard about Feyre. His rage burned nearly as bright as my own - but it was his feelings of failure that threatened to crush him entirely.

Azriel was struggling to get out of bed, his face set in a mask of pain and rage - only his eyes showed more than that, they spoke of failure, and self-loathing.

“Azriel!” Mor yelped and tried to force him back into bed, to hold him there.

He growled at her and she froze with shock, but didn’t let go of him.

“Let me go Mor,” he said between gritted teeth.

I stood on the other side of his bed and spoke quietly, “Mor, let him go.”

She looked at me, pain and doubt in her eyes, but she finally released Azriel’s shoulders and stood up.

“Azriel, you can not go get Feyre.” I said in the voice of the High Lord, a voice backed with my darkness, with my power - something I rarely did, and even less often with my family.

Both Azriel and Mor froze as the echo of that power ran through them, then Azriel looked at me, a look of betrayal flashing across his face.

I gave him the barest hint of a smile, without a trace of humor, and spoke again, this time in my normal voice, “I am not ordering you to leave her Azriel, I am asking you to respect the decision of your High Lady. She made this sacrifice, knowing the risks it entails, and has made the decision to follow it through. If you go and get her right now you will undermine her authority only days after she has accepted that very authority. Yes, her life is in danger - but Feyre is not without weapons and not without training. I am asking you, as a friend, as a brother, to trust your High Lady.”

Azriel had stared at me, and I read the heartache in his eyes, but he finally sagged back into the bed.

“I will abide… as my High Lady wishes.”

I gave him a nod and looked at Mor, unshed tears in her eyes as she sank back into the chair at Azriel’s side.

I left the room then, and as I was shutting the door behind me I heard Azriel’s soft words, “Mor, I’m sorry…”

“There is nothing you need to apologize for Azriel. Just rest.” Was Mor’s only response.

Azriel continued to blame himself, and it didn’t matter what I or anyone else said to him. He truly felt as though he had failed to protect my Mate when I had relied on him to do so - except that he had protected her the entire time I wasn’t there with them, once I was there it had become my responsibility and I - I had failed to protect Feyre.

It was my burden to bear, a guilt that was all my own.

However Cassian was dead set on sharing the same burden as both Azriel and myself - though it took longer for him to get to that point, and that was due only to his healing. I had not been sure that it would even be possible to heal his wings, they were so damaged… and I knew if his wings could not be healed, that Cassian would pine himself to death for want of the sky.

I sat with him for days as the healer came and went, hour by hour, watching him lay there unconscious and pale with the loss of blood. We had been forced to keep him unconscious in order that he didn’t move and jostle the delicate membranes the healer was so carefully growing back in place. If there was such a thing as hell, then this had to have been it - my Mate gone, my brothers injured, my hands tied… Everything I had feared and fought to prevent happening Under the Mountain had come to pass, every torment I had taken on my body and my soul so that my family would not suffer it - here it was lying before me.

I was so sick at heart, it ate at me until I feared I might be devoured by it. I shared none of this directly with Feyre, she had enough to deal with - but she would ask about Cassian and Azriel, late at night when she was completely alone. I would tell her the truth - because I would not lie to her, but I never showed her the full extent of my suffering, yet I think she knew regardless. She would say nothing in words, but down the bond she would caress me, it did little to assuage my guilt, but it eased the pain. A little.

When Cassian finally came awake after nearly a week unconscious and healing, he had looked around the room confused, and I could see the memories flickering in his eyes as he tried to organize them.

Suddenly he tried to shove himself up on his elbows, letting out a long hiss of pain. I was ready for this - I knew he wouldn’t be content to lie still, and due to the extent of his injuries I couldn’t just strong arm him back into bed.

With a look of regret, I reached into Cassian’s mind and took control of his body, and as his eyes widened, I forced him to lie back down on his stomach.

“Rhys!” He yelled at me with pure anger and betrayal, unable to resist my control of his body.

“Cassian,” I said calmly, keeping a firm but gentle grip on his mind, “you are still too badly injured to get out of bed. I’m sorry, I don’t want to do this, but until I can trust you won’t be an idiot I won’t let you get up.”

He was breathing hard, the movement of his heaving chest causing his wings to shift and making him wince in pain each time.

“Rhysand,” he said hoarsely, “don’t-”

I crossed the room and crouched beside the bed so I was eye level with him.

“Feyre is alive. Azriel is alive and mostly recovered. You’re the only one we’re concerned about right now.” That was partially true - we were terribly worried about him, but my fear for Feyre went far and above my fear over Cassian’s recovery; just another piece of guilt to add to the pile.

He stared at me, his eyes narrowed and his mouth set in a grim line. “Tell me everything that happened.”

I arched a brow at him, “Get your breathing under control first, Cassian, you aren’t doing yourself any favors right now.”

Cassian glared at me, but he focused and forced his breathing to slow, and I nodded finally.

“Tell me the last thing that you remember.”

He shook his head once, “I… The Cauldron, they… put Feyre’s sisters… Nesta…” His body tensed and he let out a low growl and tried to push up again, struggling in place as I held him down with my mind, forcing his body to relax.

“Rhysand let me go!” He snarled at me viciously.

I swallowed and said, “Nesta and Elain are safe Cassian, we got them out, brought them here - they’re alive and they’re safe.” I held his gaze as he began to calm down again, and repeated calmly, “They are alive and safe.”

The pain in his eyes was nearly unbearable - I understood and shared his pain, and his guilt at what happened to Feyre’s sisters. I hadn’t just failed to protect my Mate, I had failed to protect those she loved as well.

Cassian closed his eyes, forcing his breathing to slow before he said softly, “What happened… after.”

Sighing I reached up and ran my hand through my hair, “We were trapped - I thought to possibly make a bargain but Feyre… Feyre acted faster.” My throat tightened and Cassian’s eyes snapped open at my hesitation.

“What happened?”

“Feyre used her gifts to fool everyone,” I explained quietly. “She made it seem as though I had been controlling her, but that she managed to break free of me. She… ran to Tamlin and begged him to save her, and then she begged the King to break the bond.”

Cassian’s eyes widened and he made to reach for me, but found that he still couldn’t move his body.

“Rhys…”

I gave him a vague sort of smile, “He couldn’t break the Mating bond, but he didn’t know that - he broke the bargain between us instead. Feyre begged for our lives, for us to be allowed to leave. Mor grabbed Feyre’s sisters and winnowed them out while I winnowed you and Azriel out.”

He stared at me then asked in a near whisper.

“Where is she?”

I stared at him for a moment, it had been nearly a week since everything had happened, but it was still hard to say it, to admit what happened and where she was.

Cassian deserved the truth however.

“Feyre is in the Spring Court.”

Cassian’s power surged up as he struggled to break my hold on his body, rage washing through him, coloring all of his thoughts in red.

I hated myself but I had to do it, I couldn’t let him jeopardize the healing to his wings. Reaching into his mind, I set a block in place, denying him access to his own power.

At first I don’t think he believed it was me, that I could or would ever do that to him, but after a minute of futile thrashing inside of his mind, he looked at me with disbelief and betrayal, and yes, even a touch of hatred.

It hurt to see that look on his face, it hurt to know I deserved every second of it.

“Cassian, it’s not permanent, as soon as you have calmed down I will give it back to you.”

“You BASTARD!” He shouted at me.

I let out a sigh, and reached up, rubbing my aching eyes - I hadn’t slept in days, and they burned with tears I refused to shed.

“Cassian do you ever want to fly again? Because if you do-”

He cut me off with a snarl, “If you think for one second I care more about my wings than I do about my family, about Feyre-”

I dropped my hand and looked up at him, my heart aching with pain and love and despair.

“I know,” I said nearly in a whisper, but the tone of my voice stopped him in his tracks. “Cassian, I know how you feel. She is my Mate - do you honestly think there is anything in this world that could stop me from going to her?”

“Then why haven’t you?” He spat at me angrily.

I stood up finally, taking a slow, steadying breath. “Because she is my Mate, and I trust her.” I paused, holding his gaze before I continued, “She is also my High Lady.”

He froze, body and mind, all of his thoughts suffused with disbelief.

“I had her sworn in as my High Lady just before we left for Hybern, Cassian. She is not my consort, she is my queen, my equal - and as High Lady she made the decision to sacrifice herself to save all of us. I haven’t gone to rescue her because she doesn’t need me to rescue her - she has a plan, and she is acting on it. As her subject you are expected to obey… and heal. Because when she comes back here, if she finds out you ruined your wings on a piss poor attempt to save her when she didn’t need to be saved, she is going to throttle you.” I arched a brow at him, “We all will, for that matter.”

“Feyre is… High Lady?” He said slowly, trying to wrap his mind around it.

I nodded, and watched as he slowly relaxed, his mind and body no longer struggling against me. I cautiously removed the block in his mind so he once again had access to his power.

“Will you rest now and let the healers do their work? If so I will let go of your mind.”

He gave me a slow nod, and I withdrew out of his mind completely, poised to take control again if he decided to be a stubborn bastard - but he remained laying in bed, staring at me.

After a few quiet minutes he asked, “How bad are my wings?”

I took a breath, “They were bad - we weren’t sure if anything could be done, however they are healing and Madja is confident you will be able to fly again.”

Something tight inside of him eased and he nodded, closing his eyes. “Good,” was all he said and the door opened, Madja walking inside with her small tray of medicine and tools. Seeing me she bowed her head, and then seeing Cassian awake she smiled kindly at him.

“Do as she says Cassian, I’ll be back soon.”

He nodded again and I left, retreating to my own room that was less a haven these days and more a place of torment - without her…

Cassian was up and flying again now, he had lost some of the strength in his wings, but he worked every day to rebuild it. We were all recovered in body, if not in mind, and we were waiting - waiting for Feyre to call for us, waiting for Hybern to attack.

Waiting for the axe to drop.

- - - ~*~ - - -

I had begun to notice that there was something wrong with the bond over a week ago. Feyre had buried it deep inside of her mind when she first returned to Spring Court, to shield it in the hopes that Tamlin would not realize she was still Mated to me, but this felt different. It felt like Feyre was… masked. Like she was the top of a mountain, I knew it was there, but she was hidden under heavy clouds. It could just be that she was having to hide the bond even deeper than before and that was why she felt masked, except there was something undeniably wrong about it.

I was finding that the panic I felt since that day in Hybern was growing nearly hour by hour now and it was becoming difficult to control my instincts which screamed at me to go to my Mate, to bring her back. I beat those instincts back by mere inches; I trusted my Mate and trusted that she would call for me if she needed my aid.

It was pure torture to wait.

There had been a moment, a little over a week ago, when I had damn near given into those instincts - a moment when a brief surge of pain had struck down the bond and I saw flickers of Tamlin and another exploded room. The bastard had done it again, and this time I knew he had hurt her. This time she hadn’t been able to shield in time! Rage had surged through me until I tasted it, and I had been seconds away from winnowing to her side when… amusement. I had felt amusement flickering down the bond at how Tamlin had fallen for it. It had hit me then that Feyre intended to push him, to make him explode and purposely did not shield against it - I didn’t know why but I knew that she was ok. I had cancelled everything for that evening, I wasn’t going to be able to focus on any of it anyways, and retreated to my bedroom to wait for the signal that she was alone.

Are you hurt?

I had sent to her then, forcefully keeping my panic in check. I had to wait several long minutes for a response, and her words were… faded, almost weak sounding, as though she was yelling them over a vast distance.

Sore, but fine. Nothing I can’t handle.

I had gritted my teeth as I sat on our bed, thinking of all the ways I wanted to kill Tamlin - hurting her was just one more damn reason to add to the pile. I gathered my response together, unable to keep the rage out of my thoughts, and sent it to her.

I know better than to tell you to be careful, or to come home. But I want you home. Soon. And I want him dead for putting a hand on you.

Another insufferable length of time before her response came, just as weak and stilted, but I could taste the humor that came along with it; though it did little to ease my rage, there was a relief in hearing her humor again. It had been too long since I last saw her smile or heard her laugh…

Technically, his magic touched me, not his hand.

Shaking my head at her and whatever quality of her character it was that drove her to do reckless things, like attack the Attor in the air, freefalling towards Velaris - or goading Tamlin into attacking her. Bravery I suspected, but whatever it was, it made my heart race with fear.

I’m glad you have a sense of humor about this. I certainly don’t.

I waited, and waited, and wondered if there would be no further responses - perhaps she had fallen asleep… Then the response came, an image of her beautiful face, eyes crinkled up in laughter as she stuck her tongue out at me.

I laughed.

I couldn’t help it.

Ah Feyre, my Feyre.

Smiling, with a touch of mischievousness, I had sent her an image from my favorite memory of her stretched out on the table at the cabin, both of us covered in paint as I knelt before her and used my tongue in sinfully, delightful ways.

Her moan, the last thing she sent me that night, had driven shivers down my spine.

But as I lay in bed that night, thinking about her, always about her, I worried about the bond, worried about how she felt so masked. Carefully, so as not to bother her while she slept, I had inspected the bond, drawing claws of darkness across it lightly, brushing my mind delicately across hers… she was there, I could feel her, but it was becoming harder and harder to see her.

I couldn’t, for the life of me, fathom why.

I had considered asking Feyre about it, asking if she was feeling the same thing, but our moments of communication were far and fleeting. Each time we spoke she was adamant about sending me as much information as she could, we rarely talked about anything other than what she had discovered about Hybern. I had been loathe to alter that plan, because as soon as she felt she had gathered enough information then she would be home.

Home.

I had fallen asleep that night, imagining her in my arms.

And woken up hours later to a nightmare of watching her turning into mist and no matter how hard I tried to hold on, when the sun rose, she vanished entirely.

My heart had raced in terror, and I hadn’t been able to banish the image from my mind. I hadn’t slept for the rest of the night.

- - - ~*~ - - -

The bond went silent.

At first it was like I couldn’t process it. I could feel the emptiness in my mind where Feyre had been, but my thoughts wouldn’t wrap around the reality that she was… gone.

I was sitting with my family, having dinner, and I didn’t realize that all conversation had stopped, that everyone was staring at me.

My body had gone rigid with terror, my breathing coming in ragged gasps.

Mor was out of her chair in an instant and at my side, grabbing my shoulders.

“What’s wrong? What happened to Feyre?” She asked, her voice calm but her eyes were wide.

Feyrefeyrefeyre

I stared at her, and couldn’t speak - couldn’t think.

“Rhys?”

Feyre where are you?

I reached for Feyre, reached for the bond and pulled on it… there was resistance. Oh gods… she was still on the other end of it, she was alive, she was there, I just… couldn’t see her, or feel her…

“Rhys.” Mor’s calm demeanor cracked slightly.

Swallowing hard, I shook my head slowly, “I… don’t know. The bond, it’s gone silent… she’s gone, but she is still alive. I can’t feel her or hear her…”

Feyre!

I knew I was rambling, was likely making no sense at all, but no one interrupted me. A second later I felt another set of hands on me, these ones small and delicate, and looked away from Mor to see Amren placing her fingers lightly on my temples.

“Let me in Rhysand,” was all Amren said.

I did what she said without thinking, lowering my shield and letting Amren into my mind.

Amren was not daemati, but Amren was… other. She couldn’t do half of what I could do mentally, but she did have abilities that no one left on this planet fully understood. Staring into her swirling silver eyes, I guided her to the bond, and felt as she traced a featherlight touch down it, following it to where Feyre should be and… wasn’t.

Interesting.

I heard Amren say in my mind.

What is? Where is she?

I asked, still panicking, struggling to keep my thoughts under control so they didn’t overwhelm Amren while she worked.

Amren didn’t respond at first, she was still examining the bond and then she… did something I didn’t expect and wasn’t sure how to explain. She took part of her “self” and almost seemed to mist it, until that part of her being became similar to a fine silver powder and she somehow blew it over the end of the bond where Feyre should be, but wasn’t.

Yet when the powder settled - there was Feyre, or an outline of her, barely visible, but there.

Amren… w-what does that mean? I asked, hardly daring to hope.

I felt Amren withdraw from my mind, and watched her take her hands away from my temples as she frowned at me slightly.

“Amren-” I began hoarsely.

“I’m not sure what it means Rhysand,” she cut me off. “She’s there, you saw her, but she is… blocked.”

“Blocked? How? By what?” The panic that was pumping through my body began to be replaced with rage.

Amren shook her head, “I don’t know Rhysand. It could be something Feyre did herself, self defense possibly.”

I stared at her.

Self-defense? Was Feyre in danger this very instant and I couldn’t sense it at all?

“Let’s go get her,” I heard Cassian saying and he was already standing, agitated.

I shifted my attention around to each of them, studying their faces - hard and resolved, prepared to go to war for Feyre, for their friend. For their High Lady.

I laid my head back against the chair and closed my eyes, thinking everything through, forcing my thoughts to calm so I could consider every angle.

“Feyre told me she was planning on returning soon…” I said quietly, “She may be currently working on escape - the situation could be delicate. If we go barging in there we could do more harm than good.”

Opening my eyes, I looked towards Azriel, who was standing beside Cassian, the shadows swirling thickly around him.

“We need information - any information you can get.”

“We haven’t been able to infiltrate Spring Court since before Hybern,” Azriel warned me quietly, “but I’ll do everything in my power to find out what is going on.”

I gave him a stiff nod, “I know. We… We’ll give Feyre a day or two - if she is escaping then she could easily winnow here in that period of time.”

Azriel nodded, Cassian didn’t look happy, Mor was obviously upset and Amren… looked puzzled. It was Amren’s expression that worried me the most.

Looking back at Azriel I nodded, “Go.”

He bowed his head and vanished.

I stood and swallowed then said, “I’ll be at the House in a few hours.”

Everyone nodded, remaining silent as I made my way upstairs, into our bedroom. It was night but the bedroom seemed darker than it ever had before, almost forlorn, stripped of color and life.

Feyre, where are you? What’s happening?

I called out down the bond over and over, only to be met with deafening silence. I watched as the silver powder Amren had used to identify where Feyre should be slowly faded, and when at last it was gone completely I felt myself sink to the floor.

Feyre…

[otterthewasted]

The Dog of Dreams

Feyre hears a whine coming from the alley way, and goes to investigate.

This was written as a thank you to a very kind reader, who mentioned their dog in their comment.

Total fluff piece, set post-ACOFAS.

You can also read this on AO3 HERE.

I hope you enjoy!

*Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

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There it was again.

Furrowing my brow, I reached over and turned the sink faucet off, still holding the paint drenched brushes in my hand as I cocked my head to one side, listening.

It was faint, but as I turned to look towards the back door of the art studio, I could just hear it - soft little whines. Setting the brushes down in the bottom of the deep sink, I reached for a towel and wiped my hands as I walked towards the door and pushed it open, looking out into the alley. The alley looked like any other, except perhaps for the trashcans which were stuffed with art materials - empty jars of paint, falling apart paint brushes, paint stained paper and even a few broken easels.

However I didn’t see anyone or anything that might be whining, and was about to turn back inside when I heard it again. Concerned, I walked out in the cool evening air and began to look around for a sign of what it might be, when a subtle bit of movement caught my eye. There, under a bit of ripped painters tarp that was hanging off the edge of a crate. I crept closer, then dropped down into a crouch and hesitantly reached forward to lift the tarp up - please don’t be a rat, I prayed fervently in the back of my mind.

I was met with brown eyes, wide with fear, and golden brown fur that was so covered in dirt it looked almost black. I froze for a second with surprise at finding a little puppy tucked back against the wall, shivering with cold, and watched as it let out a little whine.

“Oh…” I breathed softly, then lowered down to my knees. “Hello there,” I said and held out a hand towards the puppy.

The puppy didn’t budge, still watching me with uncertainty, even as I continued talking calmly, coaxingly, “It’s ok, come on, I won’t hurt you… it’s ok.”

The cool air bit into me, I hadn’t put on my jacket before coming out here, but I didn’t move an inch from my spot. Finally the puppy lowered its head and began to cautiously take a few steps towards me, stretching its neck out to sniff at the tips of my paint stained fingers. The puppy suddenly sneezed and shook it’s head, it’s long, floppy ears tossing, and I let out a soft laugh at the sight.

It was almost as though my laughter convinced the puppy of my intentions, because it let out a little yip, then bounded towards me, it’s tail wagging wildly. Reaching down I picked it up, feeling its little body wiggling in my arms as I held it up in front of me, and giggled when it began licking my face. Standing up I began to carry the puppy back towards the door of the art studio when I felt a brush down the bond.

What has you so happy all of the sudden, darling?

Rhys, the worlds biggest snoop.

I found a puppy.

I responded, my mental voice tinged with the laughter I was still letting out as the puppy continued to lick my face.

At first I didn’t notice the silence as I re-entered the back of the art studio, kicking the door shut behind me, but then I frowned a little. I wasn’t sure what response I expected from him, but silence wasn’t it, and suddenly I was worried.

Rhys? Is everything ok?

“Of course everything is ok, why wouldn’t it be?” I heard him say from the front of the studio. Gasping with shock I whirled to look through the doorway as he strolled towards me, my heart racing with the brief panic I felt from being startled.

“You could knock,” I said a little breathlessly, and Rhysand grinned. “Feyre, I was supposed to meet you here before we went out to dinner tonight, did you forget?”

I had forgotten.

Wincing a little, I gave him half-smile, “Uh… yes. I’m sorry - the last class ran late and then-”

Coming to a stop in front of me, his gaze dropped to examine the puppy in my arms as he cut me off gently, “You found a puppy. So I see. May I?” He asked and held his hands out.

Without hesitation, I lifted the puppy into his arms - though for a moment the puppy didn’t seem too sure about my decision, and kept it’s tail tucked between it’s back legs. Rhys smiled and held it with one arm, then began to stroke his other hand down the puppy’s back soothingly, leaning his head in to whisper something softly to it.

I didn’t recognize the language, and frowned a little in confusion when I felt his thoughts brush against mine.

It’s Illyrian. ‘Hello little brother’ is the loose translation, it’s a term of endearment to a beloved pet - though most Illyrians don’t keep pets, there are the rare exceptions.

I froze, staring at him, but the puppy seemed to pick up on Rhys’s calm affection, and soon began wagging his tail in earnest, licking his chin and making him grin.

“Rhys,” I asked quietly, “did you…” I trailed off, trying to remember if he had ever told me about owning a pet before and couldn’t recall a single story.

Glancing up at me, he understood my question and shook his head. “No, my sister, she loved animals.” He paused, and swallowed, and I could see the memories flash in his eyes and my heart ached at the pain that shone there. Even after all this time, Rhysand still had not shared all of his memories of his mother and sister with me. “She had a cat that she found as a kitten, here in Velaris,” he continued after a moment. “That cat adored her, followed her everywhere…”

Trailing off he looked back down at the puppy and lifted his free hand to swirl a touch of darkness around his fingertips, then pressed them gently against the puppy’s head. I took a step towards him as he used his power - not out of fear, I didn’t believe that he would ever hurt the puppy - but out of curiosity as to what he was doing.

Rhys’s head cocked to the side a little, as though listening to something, then he looked back at me, noting my curiosity. “I just checked to see if he had been marked as owned by someone, and checked his memories as well.” Rhys saw my surprise and smiled, “It’s a bit more difficult to read the mind of animals but it can be done.” Lifting the puppy he handed him back to me as he continued, “He is a stray though.”

Something inside of me swelled as I held the puppy against my chest, looking down into his wide brown eyes, and through the bond I could feel Rhysand’s amusement.

“I had no idea you were an animal lover as well,” he said as I finally looked back at him.

A faint blush touched my cheeks and I stroked my fingers through his fur. “I… when I was little, I always wanted a dog. The grounds keeper had one, and I used to sneak out to play with him, but mother refused to allow me to have one of my own. She said they were dirty and un-ladylike.” I gave a faint shrug and looked back down at the puppy, “And then when I was older, the thought of one more mouth to feed - even if I could train it to help me to hunt…”

Trailing off, I shook my head once, to clear my mind of the memories of cold and desperate hunger. Looking back towards Rhys, I found him smiling, a curious look on his face.

Furrowing my brows slightly, I asked, “What?”

He let out a low chuckle, “You even have to ask?”

Seeing my puzzled look, he reached up to cup my face lightly, chuckling again as the puppy pushed up in my arms to lick at his hand - and my face.

“Ah, Feyre darling, the answer to the question you are so very hesitant to ask me, is yes. You can have a dog, this dog if you want.”

My eyes widened with shock, and a touch of embarrassment - because the idea had been there, in the back of my thoughts, swimming to the surface the longer I held the puppy in my arms.

“Are… are you sure? I mean… we already have so much work to do, and…” I trailed off as Rhys took a step closer, his hand tilting my head up as he leaned down to kiss me, light and sweet.

Drawing back slowly, he slid his hand down from my face and stroked the puppy’s soft ears. “Feyre, there will always be work to do, but that doesn’t mean we give up the things we want, the things that make us happy. Just look at this place,” he gestured to the studio, “it has nothing to do with your official duties as High Lady, but it makes you happy. And,” he said with a smile so filled with pride and love it took my breath away, “it is helping so many people in the process. Perhaps this puppy can do the same, help other people - but even if that is not the case, even if all he does is make you happy, then that is all the reason I ever need.”

My cheeks flushed red with embarrassment and pleasure, and  still holding the puppy between us, I flung my free arm up around his neck and pulled him down for another, deeper kiss. Down the bond I sent him waves of my happiness and excitement, letting him feel just how much this meant to me.

When we finally broke the kiss, gasping for breath, he grinned at me widely, delighting in my joy. “So,” he asked, “what are you going to call this rascal?”

Looking down at the puppy, our puppy, I smiled brightly, “Sabre.”

Rhys arched a brow at me with amusement, “Why Sabre?”

I blushed again and shrugged, “I decided when I was little, if I ever had a dog of my own, I would call it Sabre.”

Rhys chuckled, and looked back down at our new puppy, “Well then Sabre - welcome to the family.”

Sabre, apparently pleased with his name, and his invitation to the family, let out a little bark before he finally settled in my arms, resting his head in the crook of my elbow.

The Court of Dreams - that is what they called it, and it truly was. The dreams of bastards and half-breeds, of monsters and Queens, and of a little girl who grew up to be a hunter with the soul of an artist, who saved a realm and became a fae with the heart of a mortal. A little girl all grown up, still full of dreams - and perhaps the Mother or the Cauldron, or simply the hand of fate, chose to grant this one now.

Sabre, the dog of dreams.

[otterthewasted]

Healing Hearts

Feyre has opened an art exhibit to feature the artwork some of her students have been creating in the classes she teaches at her art studio. The morning after she wakes up to a surprise...

Set post-ACOFAS.

You can also read this on AOS HERE.

I hope you enjoy!

*Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

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I woke to the smell of bacon.

Letting out an appreciative sigh I stretched slowly and yawned before rolling onto my side to see my Mate walking into the room, carrying a breakfast tray and a grin.

“Finally, you’re awake,” he teased as I glanced out of the window at the sky and was surprised to see it was late morning.

“I didn’t think I would sleep so late,” I admitted, a little embarrassed as I sat up in bed, scooting backwards to lean against the headboard.

Rhys sat the tray on my lap once I was settled, then carefully sat at the end of the bed to face me, smiling gently.

“You were up late love, you have the right to sleep in on occasion. Besides, the gallery opening was an unmitigated success.”

I felt a blush touch my cheeks - because he was right. Upon inheriting the art studio nearly six months ago, Ressina and I had been reaching out to the community, offering lessons and space for people to express themselves, to work through their wounds with the use of art. Painting, sculpting, drawing, even weaving - whatever outlet let them process their pain and grieving and to find solace. It wasn’t just children anymore either, we had a large group of adults who joined us weekly as well.

A month or two ago I’d had an idea to exhibit some of the art, with the creator’s permission of course, and rented a gallery to do just that. We called the exhibit, Healing Hearts, and somewhat to my amazement, it seemed as though almost the entire city had turned up for opening night last night. Instead of charging a ticket price we had donation bins - clothes, money, food, whatever anyone could or felt comfortable donating to the many non-profit organizations that existed in the city. It had been an unparalleled success, and Ressina and I had been nearly overwhelmed with the number of inquiries many of the guests had towards our classes.

The event had stayed open nearly until dawn and was packed almost to the very end, and Rhysand - Rhysand had stayed at my side through all of it, beaming with pride and love at me, and with such warmth towards his people who had welcomed him with open arms. There had been healing in last night for him, who still struggled with guilt over the attack Hybern had sent to Velaris close to a year ago. When we finally made it home I hadn’t been sure I would be able to sleep, the adrenaline of such an amazing night had still been coursing through me, but almost as soon as my head touched my pillows I was out. I had been up since dawn the previous morning though, so perhaps it was understandable.

Smiling at Rhys, I picked up my cup of tea, already with a splash of milk in it - Rhys knew me so well. Taking a sip I reclined back against the headboard, “Last night was amazing - I wasn’t sure anyone would want to see the art, some of it is difficult to look at, just with all of the emotions.”

Rhys nodded, understanding, “I think… seeing that other people feel that way, that other people are hurting and healing, it gives people hope.”

My throat tightened a little at his words, but I nodded in agreement. A moment of silence passed between us, a shared feeling of hope so precious it made my heart ache.

Then Rhys suddenly grinned at me again. “Though, I’m not sure you will be getting a lot of rest today, Mate.”

I arched a brow at him, confused, and he chuckled while raising a hand and snapping his fingers. Beside me a large stack of letters appeared, the envelopes all different colors, some of them elegantly addressed, others written in what looked like crayon, but every single one of them was addressed to the High Lady. Blinking, I picked one up and opened it, pulling out a folded letter, which I opened and began to read.

-----

To the High Lady,

I had the pleasure, and the honor, of attending the gallery opening last night.

I’d heard of the classes you were offering, and didn’t think much about them. In fact they had seemed a little silly to me to be honest - perhaps a good idea for children, but not for adults. However my sister started attending a class or two of yours a few weeks prior and I thought she was foolish for doing so, but she convinced me to join her last night and see your gallery exhibit.

I… find it difficult to express properly in words what the experience was like. Beautiful. Painful. Heart breaking.

Heart healing.

I hadn’t realized how much pain I was still in over the attack on Velaris, or the war with Hybern. How deeply the loss of friends and loved ones had affected me until I saw that pain mirrored in another’s artwork.

It changed me.

Thank you for the gift you have given this city, for the kindness you are offering so freely to a people so newly your own.

Thank you,

Your’s truly,

Hyler Ryben

P.S. I look forward to attending one of your classes in the future.

-----

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked up to meet Rhys’s gaze.

“Are they all…” I began to ask, my voice trembling.

His violet eyes were soft with kindness and love as he nodded, “All for you, just arrived this morning… and there are more arriving every hour.”

A tear escaped and rolled down my cheek, and Rhys leaned forward to wipe it away before cupping my face between both of his hands, holding my gaze.

“Feyre, you have done a very kind, wonderful, and beautiful thing. Never forget it, and never, for one second, believe that this world, that our people, that I, am not richer for what you give all of us, each and every day.”

The tears fell freely then, and Rhys released me only long enough to move the tray aside before he pulled me into his arms. His lips brushed over my forehead, across my eyelids, on the tip of my nose, and then finally my mouth, kissing me long, and deep. I wrapped my arms around him tightly, pressing against him, kissing him back just deeply. I wasn’t sure how it was possible, but I swore that in those moments when I was kissing Rhysand, infinity happened, all of time and space, and through every single star-flecked minute of it, I loved him. Had always loved him, would always love him, till my very last breath and beyond - and I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he felt the same.

When finally we both drew back, breathing quickly, our foreheads pressed together, I could feel Rhysand smile as he said, “My beautiful Feyre…”

Sliding one hand up, I brushed my fingers over the curve of his face. “Do not think,” I said to him softly, “for one second that this world, that our people, that I, am not richer for what you give us, Rhys, for what you have sacrificed for us.”

I felt his body tense, and then felt as he let out a deep breath and tightened his arms around me, holding me closer to his body. “Thank you,” he said after a long moment.

We sat together like that for a while, holding each other close, sharing our breath, our pain, our love… our hope.

For this moment I wanted nothing more than to be in his arms.

In a little bit I would read each and every one of those letters, and respond to all of them. Tonight I would attend the exhibit again and greet all of the fae who came to see the proof that a broken heart could heal, and tomorrow I would return to the art studio with Ressina and resume teaching classes to those still in need of healing.

Right now though… right now I sat curled up in the arms of my truest love, and reveled in how he, above all things, healed me.

[otterthewasted]

A Call to Arms

What if Feyre decided to not stand on the sidelines during the first battle in book three A Court of Wind and Run? What if she decided to take to the fight in her own, unique way?

I decided to take a small break from my other project (a retelling of ACOMAF from Rhysand's point of view) to write this short story up. I was not satisfied with the battle scenes ACOWAR, I really felt like Feyre was not given the opportunity to kick ass. In the second book, Rhys had suggested to Feyre that she might have the ability to freeze over an entire army... but we never get to see her try.

I chose the first battle (not the one in Adriata), instead of the second battle, even though her help would have been more useful in the second battle, because... well I'm not sure why. Honestly, there would have been complications with either battle, so what the heck, I went with the first.

I used bits and pieces from the actual book, but twisted things up to work the way I wanted.

This is slightly mature because there are some mildly graphic depictions of violence, as well at the end I included the sex scene from the book, but in my own way and it isn't over the top explicit.

You can also read this on AO3 HERE.

I hope you enjoy!

*Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

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War was… awful. No, that’s not right, that word wasn’t strong enough – it was gut twisting, soul wrenchingly abhorrent.

Mor and I stood on a tree-covered hill, overlooking the battle, and every bloody second of it ripped my soul to shreds – and I was not even in the thick of it. We were both armed and armored, in case things went badly, in case there was a trap, but neither of us were expected to fight today. I was untried and untested, and it had been agreed that I should watch and learn instead, and Mor would remain behind as my guard, and my friend.

I had understood the logic of this decision – I had been receiving training in fighting, with both my magic and my sword, but my training could be measured in months instead of years – unlike most of the fae fighting down below. I was also High Lady, were I to fall in battle my death would not just impact Rhysand, or my family, it would send shock waves through our people that could be disastrous to their morale. So, it made sense to stand back and watch, even if just for this first battle.

It made sense… and it didn’t. Because those were my people down there, not just fae from my Court, but fae from my home – Prythian. To stand back and do nothing… it ate at me, tore at me, ground me to nothing, until I was less than nothing.

I did quickly see that there was no place for me amongst the Illyrians – not only was my flying not strong enough, my reflexes not quick enough to keep up with them, but to hack away with sword and spear and shield over and over until you could no longer feel your arms or body. I had no experience with that, I was not even strong enough for that. Even Keir’s soldier fought in a way I had no training in, lined up in obedient rows, their shields up and interconnecting and hacking away in the same manner as the Illyrians, only on foot.

The battle in Adriata had been different, it was not facing off against an untold horde of soldiers standing side by side with your fellow soldiers, trusting in them as surely as you trusted in your own skills. It had been me and Mor, sweeping through the palace, wiping out small pockets of soldiers with our swords and magic, and I had been good at that. Even the attack on Velaris I had held my own, entirely by myself, against the invading force of Hybern in the Rainbow.

Even knowing all of that… I watched as Rhys and Cassian and Azriel hammered at the army – they were easily recognizable amongst the Illyrians by their armor, and by their single-minded ferocity. Rhys alone stood out from the sheer power that radiated from him – it was glorious and beautiful and so very deadly. And as much as the fighting scared me, as much as I had no desire to kill anyone, despite what Hybern had done to my family and intended to do to my people and my former people, as much as I knew I had no place down there… I knew I needed to help.

I could feel it in me, my power, bubbling up inside of me until it pulsed through my veins and danced over my skin. So maybe, I was not meant to fight as an Illyrian or as a Darkbringer, but I could fight in a way no other in Prythian, no other in the world, could. I could fight as Feyre, reborn from the power of seven High Lords. I could fight with fire and water, wind and ice, darkness and light, and shape-shifting.

I could vaguely hear Mor beside me, vaguely hear her calling my name through the rush of power in my ears – but I ignored her. I could not distract myself – what I would be doing would be hard, and it would have to be precise or I would risk harming my own people.

Along the other side of the battle field lay a shallow river, but it had water enough for me – it was a fair distance away, but I could still feel it. I cast my power out and reached for it, dove into it, twisted and swirled among the lazy current, and then pulled. I drew the water up and over the banks and spun it, molded it, until it took on the form of the water wolves, I had used in Velaris. They stretched and writhed and danced in place, as though anxious to join the battle.

I had enough forethought to reach out to Rhy’s mind, Rhys, inform the others – the wolves are coming.

And I cast him an image he had seen before in my mind, of my battle in Velaris, of the pack of wolves I had run with to track down the beasts that attacked our city. Shock echoed down our bond, tinged with delight, and agreement that he would inform our soldiers.

And then I released the wolves.

They charged into the side of the Hybern army, driving into them with such speed and brutality that for an instant it felt like the battle froze in shock… and then the screaming resumed in earnest. My wolves leapt onto soldiers, enveloping them in water, not just surrounding them with it but actually clawing down their throats into their lungs, until they dropped their weapons and clawed at their throats. Until they dropped to their knees, and their eyes rolled back, and they fell to the ground, dead.

One after another they fell, and if a solider managed to shield just before an attack my wolves would simply move to another, and then another, working their way across the battlefield. Their path formed a small, tight wedge in the army, and I continued to drive them forward, creating more of them and plowed them into the army, until there were a great many of them near the middle mass of the Hybern army, weaving in and amongst them.

And then I released my hold over the shape of the water, and the wolves fell apart into a splash of water that hit the ground like a small wave, soaking the already muddy, trampled ground below. It turned the thick mud into a quagmire, and the soldiers sank down into it. The weight of their arms and armor tugging them down until they were stuck near to their calves in it, making their movements slow and arduous. I was not finished with them yet however – I could do more. This day of battle was hot, the sky clear and the sun punishing us with its heat – but inside of my there lived such icy rage.

Ice.

I cast out my power again, sinking down into the thickly mired mud that sucked at the soldier’s legs and slowed their movements – but did not stop them. With a twist of my power that turned from fluid as the water I had used before, to hard and crystal, I froze the water in the mud. The ground turned solid, and instead of slowing the movements of the soldiers it stopped them completely, trapped them in place. The water resisted being frozen – the air and ground were warm from the sun and the season, but I pushed hard against that heat. Fire was another of my gifts, and I splintered my power so that one part of it could swallow the heat of the day; I was not strong enough to turn this day into winter, but I could… dampen it.

The ground remained frozen, and a large, roughly circular swath of Hybern’s army was stuck in place, unable to advance or flee. I could see them using their weapons to hack at the ground, trying to free themselves, and ultimately bloodying themselves in the effort. The rest of the army – those I had not trapped, panicked. The realized, between my efforts and those of the Illyrians and Keir’s Darkbringers, they were losing. They began to flee, turning tail and running.

I would not allow that to happen.

I could feel exhaustion creeping into me, but I ignored it – there wasn’t time for it. I was juggling fire and ice already, managing them with smooth efficiency, but I was going to add another ball to the performance.

Wind.

The Illyrian’s powerful wings buffeted the air as they dove and swooped and attacked, they rode the currents of the wind, masters of the element. I was its master too – and while I still might not be able to fly as well as the rest of them, I could certainly soar among the wind in other ways.

I splinted off another portion of my power and it leapt into the sky and dove, soaring down until it swirled in front of the retreating army. I spread my power out around the field like a band – it was not long enough to trap the entire face of the army, my strength was beginning to run out, but it did cover a generous portion of it. I took in a deep breath, and as though my power mimicked my body, it sucked in the air around it, causing the grass and small bushes to rustle with the movement, and then I pushed.

And the band of power I put in place became a solid wall of air – like the shield I had once made to protect myself in Tamlin’s study out of pure instinct, this one however was made with vicious intent. The retreating army slammed into it, and bounced back, the reverberation of their movements echoing through several rows of fleeing fae.

Pure panic rippled through them, and even at this distance I could taste it. I could feel them pounding against the shield, with weapons and hands and magic. I knew instinctively that the shield would not last for long, it was too large, and I was fast becoming depleted – but it did not have to. I was not shielding them from something valuable, I was preventing them from fleeing. These precious minutes that I held them in place, most of them at least for a large contingent of them had raced along the edge of the shield and found where it ended and begun to flood around it, gave time for my army, for the Illyrians to swing around and meet them on the other side, and trap them from all sides.

When the Illyrians held solid against their retreat I finally released my control over the air, dropping the shield – causing no few of those shoved hard against it to stumble and fall to the ground and be nearly trampled by those behind - an advantage my armies used to its fullest.

Realizing their defeat, Hybern’s army began casting down their weapons and falling to their knees, begging for mercy.

It was only then I felt Mor touching my arm, shaking me, and heard her calling to me, “Feyre! Feyre enough! It’s done!"

And with a gasp, I released my hold on the fire, and ice, letting the ground melt back into mud and mire, and I, I fell to my knees in the grass. My hands managed to catch me before I went down face first and panted for breath.

Mor crouched beside me, her hand on my back. Her voice held a note of awe to it, “Feyre… Feyre are you ok?”

Before I could respond I felt him, before I could lift my head, I heard him; his wings beating hard, and the sound of him landing firmly on the ground in front of me.

Rhysand.

“Mor, go help Cassian and Azriel with cleaning up,” his voice was rough with yelling, and husky with emotion.

I felt Mor rise from my side, walk a few steps, and winnow away. And then he was there, kneeling in front of me and his hands on my shoulders, lifting me up, supporting me. I felt his hand slide over my cheek, and then cup my chin and lift my tired head so that he could see my eyes, and I fell into pools of violet.

There was pride in them, and concern, and shock and awe… but mostly there was love, such all-encompassing love that it filled me with warmth and strength, and in between one heartbeat and the next, I was holding my own body up.

“Feyre…” he whispered, and before he could say more, I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him to me, hard and desperate, burying my face against his neck as I trembled. His arms wrapped around me, solid and warm, and held me against him. I was home, and the battle had been won, and he was safe.

Nothing else in the world mattered for this moment.

It couldn’t last though, such things never did, but these moments did not always end in terror and grief, but sometimes just in practicality and duty. He drew back from me slowly, when my trembling had eased, and looked into my eyes again, his hands sliding up to cup my face.

A slow smile curved along his lips, “Feyre darling… you are… radiant."

I let out a small laugh, tears welling up in my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall – not yet. Later.

“We have work to do,” I said quietly, and he nodded. He did not tell me no, to stay back here out of danger, he did not tell me I was too tired, he did not even ask me if I was. He trusted me to know myself and what I was capable of. He stood, and I did to, though I did take his proffered hand to do so. We stepped up to the edge of the hill and looked down over the terrible scene of battle, and his hand tightened around mine.

It was awful, and the screams of those injured and dying clung to the midday air, turning it heavy and nearly suffocating. This was battle was won, and the loss of life on our side minimal, but it was still terrible. I had not thought there was glory in battle before this but had there been even a glimmer of that lie still inside of me, this day would have utterly destroyed it.

I looked over at Rhys and knew he felt the same way.

He looked at me again, no smile on his face, and asked me quietly, “Where do you want to go? Down to the field, or to the medical tents?”

That had been the plan originally, after battle I was to return to the medical tents to help with the wounded – but he was giving me the choice, always my choice.

I decided, however, to stick with this plan. “The medical tents, I’ll be of more use there.”

A nod and he opened his arms to me, I stepped close and he held me as he winnowed me into the camp, into what was quickly becoming chaos. Leaning down, he kissed my forehead lightly, then stepped back, giving me a small smile, and winnowed away.

The next few hours were exhausting, in body and spirit. By the end I felt nearly numb with exhaustion and soaked near to the bone with the blood of the injured. When the healers finally ordered me to bed, an action which did manage to amuse me, I had stopped at a wash barrel and scrubbed the blood from my hands and arms. The trek across camp to the tent Rhys and I shared was arduous, and I might have just winnowed if my own powers hadn’t been so depleted from earlier in the day.

When I reached the tent it was dark inside, so I entered quietly and shed my clothes in a dirty pile on the floor. Walking to the edge of our pallet I lifted the blankets and slid in beside Rhys, who shifted and wrapped his arms around me, nuzzling his lips against my ear, “You smell like blood.”

A little surprised to find him still awake, I wrapped my arms around him and wiggled closer, feeling the warmth of his bare skin pressing against mine. “Sorry,” I murmured quietly, though I had been too tired to mess with a full bath.

He stroked a hand over my waist and down to my hip, “You must be exhausted.”

And I was, bone deep – and he should be as well. We had both spent our bodies and power today, and it was truly a wonder we had not passed out by now.

“And you should be sleeping,” I admonished gently.

He hesitated a moment then answered, “Can’t.”

That made me lift my head a little, peering at his face through the heavy darkness of this near moonless night, “Why?”

I felt his fingers trace along my spine then, long, languorous touches that sent shivers racing through me, and caused my back to arch in response.

“It takes a while – to settle myself after battle,” he explained quietly as he rolled closer to me then, and began to trace his lips along the curve of my jaw, and to my lips, whispering against them “And the sight of you, of what you did, of your powers…” He pressed his lips to mine, hard and hungry, and I responded in kind, meeting his growing passion with my own enflamed fervor.

He drew back, too soon for my happiness, and rested his forehead against mine, breathing quickly, sharing air with me, “If you’re too tired…”

And I was tired… but I needed him. I needed this: us, together, wrapped in each other, body and soul.

I tilted my head and pressed my lips to his again, parting them to brush my tongue over the curve of his and felt his part to accept my tongue. I slid my body closer, running a foot over the curve of his leg as I hitched my thigh over his, half rolling on top of him. He groaned against me, his hand still on my hip, fingers tightening there, and pulling me the rest of the way on top of him. Our kiss did not break as I settled there, straddling him, feeling the hardness of his erection nestled between my thighs, pressing against my stomach.

He drew back from the kiss a little, and looked up at me, his eyes shining, and face flushed, and so heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Feyre…” He whispered and I kissed him again, lightly, before I whispered softly, “Shh…”

No words, not now, not when I needed him this much.

He understood, and we spoke with our bodies instead, in the touch of our hands as his reached up to cup my breasts and rubbed his thumbs over my nipples, causing me to gasp and arch against him; in the touch of our mouths, as I brushed my lips down the curve of his neck, kissing and licking, tasting the sweet salt of his flesh; in the joining of our bodies as I slid down onto him and he filled every inch of me. Our joining was hard and fast, gasping as we held tightly to each other, afraid to let go.

An act of love in defiance of death.

When we shattered, it was soul deep, and I was trembling on top of him, my face buried in his neck and his arms wrapped tightly around me, holding me firmly against him.

Minutes passed before I finally pushed myself back up to look at him, and he reached up to brush his fingers over my face lightly.

“You,” he said quietly, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, “are simply amazing… I… when you reached out to me today, and told me what you were going to do… I never imagined what it would lead to…”

He fell quiet, as though at a loss for words, and I pressed my cheek into the touch of his hand, thinking, then said, “I realized, watching the battle today, that there wasn’t a place for me in that kind of fighting. Not yet anyways, I don’t have the skill for it… but I couldn’t bear to just watch – those were my people fighting and dying, and I had to… I had to fight alongside them.” I swallowed, and suddenly the realization of what I had done today hit me.

Rhys saw the impact of it and pushed himself up, shifting me backwards on his lap, then reached up to cup my face with his hands, “So you made a place where you fit.” He smiled at me tenderly, “War is ugly, and messy, and unforgiving. You saw that today, became part of it today, and it will weigh on you for all of your remaining days.” Tears came to my eyes, the tears from earlier that I had not let fall and now rolled down my skin, over his hands that held me.

He wiped them away gently, lovingly, “But you can’t lose sight of the good you did today, of all the lives you saved. The deaths will weigh heavily, but the lives you saved should hold equal weight.”

I swallowed, and nodded, and he let my face go to pull me against him and I buried my face against his shoulder. He held me the rest of the night, keeping me close against him, and we slept and while I knew I dreamed of fire and water and ice and death… the warmth of him, and scent of his skin, kept the pain of it from overwhelming me.

We had won this battle, and though there were many more to come we would, as we always had, face them together.

[otterthewasted]

A Portrait of Love

Rhysand's birthday is coming up and Feyre wants to give him a unique, and extremely personal gift. She needs help from their family to accomplish it.

A short story containing all of the Night Court's inner circle; Feyre, Rhysand, Amren, Morrigan, Cassian and Azriel. Loosely set some time after A Court of Frost and Starlight. Contains unique memories of Rhysand's mother and sister.

I had the idea for this story will working on my other ACOTAR project, and decided to take a break from the chapter I was working on to write this.

Fairly gooey, but also some substance to it. There isn't a full fledged, detailed sex scene, but there is mention of it so I slapped a mature rating on this.

You can also read this on AO3 HERE.

I hope you all enjoy!

*Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

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To say I was nervous was a bit of an understatement.

I had come up with this idea weeks ago and then promptly agonized over it until I was almost out of time. Rhys’s birthday was only a few days away, and I wanted to give him something special, something unique, something he did not already have.

This idea would most definitely qualify – and it might also be painful.

However, when I explained what I wanted to do, to my family, they had whole heartedly agreed to help, and conspired with me to make it happen.

So now I was ensconced in the cabin, far in the mountains, it’s walls bedecked with colors and images of life and love, and our amazing family that I had painted years ago. The plan, or perhaps to put it better, plot, was that Mor and I were coming to the cabin for a short just-us-girls retreat. However, over the course of the next few days Azriel, Cassian and Amren would be joining us, one at a time while the other two made sure Rhys was distracted and did not notice their absence.

Right now though, it was Cassian sitting across from me at the table, leaning back comfortably in his chair, one elbow on the table, his head propped on his hand.

His eyes were closed, and his brows were furrowed, a look of deep concentration on his face.

Had there been a mirror in front of me I’m sure my look would have mirrored his.

In front of me on the table was a medium sized sketch book, and several sticks of charcoal. I was leaning over it and sketching, never once looking up at Cassian, too focused on what I was doing. Because right now, my mind was resting over his, like a fisherman in a boat over calm seas, and he was throwing me fish – or memories rather, for me to catch.

Memories of Rhysand’s mother and sister.

One by one, he would throw me a memory, and I would catch it and sketch it out, and he would wait for me to nudge him, and then he would throw me another.

Like the memory of the first time he met Rhysand’s mother, when he had been dirty and freezing, and she had ordered him into a bath and then sent him to sleep for the first time ever in an actual bed, promising him that she understood and that he would have a bed here for as long as he wanted. It had been the first kindness he ever remembered receiving.

He showed me the time he had fallen sick with fever, and she had sat beside his bed for days, bathing his forehead with a cool cloth, feeding him broth and tea, and reading to him while he recovered.

Or the time he caught her dancing in the kitchen to music only she could hear, twirling with happiness – until she saw him, and with a mischievous grin, had pulled him forward and taught him how to dance while he blushed furiously.

And of Rhysand’s sister, beautiful and wild, like her mother, laughing as she ran through the camp with the other younger children, her hair flying out behind her on the cold mountain wind.

The time he had taught her how to make soup in the kitchen at their old house in the Illyrian camp, laughing when she suggested putting honey in the soup, because she loved it so much. The soup had been terrible, and they had all eaten several bowls of it that night, just to see her smile.

He showed me a memory of her sitting on his lap at night by the light of the fire, while he had helped her learn how to read, the same way Rhysand’s mother had taught him, and the feeling of pride and quiet joy in the memory at something so simple was radiant.

I sketched for hours, filling the pages with his memories, until my fingers were tired, and he looked as though he had a headache.

Then there was a knock on the door and the memory Cassian had been showing me faded as we both looked up, startled. Mor walked over to the door and opened it and Azriel stepped inside, nodding to Mor then looking over at us. “He wants to see you, he was going to winnow to the camp, but Amren distracted him. We need to go now.”

Cassian glanced at me and I smiled at him, “Go, and thank you Cassian.”

He winked at me and stood up, “Any time.”

I looked back at Azriel and asked, “Are you or Amren coming tomorrow?”

“Most likely Amren, she has mentioned to Rhysand about visiting Varian for a few days.” A corner of his mouth quirked up and Mor snickered.

The romance between Varian and Amren was something that still continued to shock and amuse all of us even all these years later.

“Well that’s good, save’s the best for last then!” I grinned at Azriel, who I would have sworn blushed, but then he just bowed his head at me before the two of them headed out in order to winnow to the camp.

Mor walked over to my side then, leaning over my shoulder to look at my work. I glanced up at her, a little nervous, but she smiled and said, “They look incredible Feyre. Stop doubting yourself, he is going to love it.”

I blushed and let out a sigh, flexing my fingers a little, they were stiff from hours of clutching the charcoal.

She caught the movement and grinned, “Too tired for my turn? Or would you like to eat first?”

I groaned pitifully, “Food please. And wine. I can feel my stomach wrapping around my back.”

She laughed and walked into the kitchen, pulling out a pot and the jars of soup we had brought with us – neither of us could cook.

“We should have made Cassian cook for us before he had to leave,” I commented, getting up to wash charcoal dust off my hands.

Mor chuckled, “Yea, let’s remember that next time. Oh well, at least we won’t have to share the wine with him.”

We both laughed, and I helped set the table and before long we were both stuffing ourselves with rich soup and crusty bread and working through a bottle of wine.

After finishing our meal and cleaning up, Mor took the seat Cassian had perched in, and I started to sketch her memories – she had more memories of Rhysand’s sister than anyone else, it seemed that they had spent a lot of time together. Though she had a plethora of memories of his mother as well, it felt as though she considered Rhysand’s mother more like her own, than her birth mother ever had been.

My favorite memory that Mor shared with me was one she had of Rhysand’s sister. They had all taken a small vacation here at the cabin during the spring sometime before the War. Mor and his sister had found a field of wild flowers and sat in the middle of them, braiding the flowers into their hair – the memory was so sweet and innocent and colorful… I knew someday I would have to paint it.

When it became too dark, we had to call it quits – though I wasn’t concerned, we had the next few afternoons to work through her memories to fill the book with, while I was only getting a couple of hours with everyone else during the morning.

That night, after sitting up chatting for what felt like hours, we had gone to bed. I curled up under the sheets of the bed we had shared the first time we had made love after we had accepted the Mating bond, reaching up to curl my fingers over his pillow.

Busy day? I sent down the bond – careful to keep my thoughts of what I had done all day shielded. It might have been safer to not talk to him, but I couldn’t bear the thought of blocking him out.

Very. He responded a moment later. I miss you. The coloring of that thought was full of longing and desire, and it made my toes curl and I grinned into the dark room.

Just a few more days… I teased back, and I swore I could hear him groan.

I laughed and decided to tease him further, sending him a memory of my own of him on his back in this very bed, and me sliding on top of him, the feel of him inside of me, his hands sliding up over my hips, cupping my breasts…

Another groan, tinged with a seductive growl, You cruel wicked thing… Anymore and I will be joining you there tonight.

A shiver ran down my spine, and I was so, so tempted to invite him… but I didn’t want him to catch on to my little project, so instead I deflected gently, Save it for when I’m back…

Make it soon, he purred.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

- - - ~*~ - - -

Amren’s memories of Rhysand’s mother and sister were… different. Amren didn’t seem to see the world quite the way anyone else did, she failed to catch many of the nuances the rest of us would have noticed; not details in environment but in behavior. She also didn’t have all that many personal memories with them, but she did however recall their faces very clearly – more so than any of the rest of them. As though she had been able to map their faces in her own drawings, inside of her mind – ready to be displayed just for me. It was interesting, and a little unsettling, but I sketched them out just the same.

She was finished faster than Cassian had been, the lack of memories being the only reason, and though she had been happy to help she did not seem displeased to leave earlier – more time spent in the Summer Court with Varian.

I spent the rest of the afternoon working with Mor, and when she had a headache, I used the memories she had already shared with me to flesh out some of the details in both Cassian’s and Amren’s, giving each sketch as many details as I could. Some were rougher, the older the memory – and these were all old memories, the less defined they were, but they were still clear enough to sketch.

Later in the evening, after we had finished dinner and just finished doing the dishes. Mor sat the towel she had used to dry them on the counter and turned to look at me, her eyes dark and her brows furrowed.

I dried my hands off with another towel and looked up at her, frowning a little, “What’s wrong Mor?”

“I… have a memory, of Rhysand’s mother that…” She hesitated, and crossed her arms, obviously uncomfortable, but went on, “That I want you to sketch. It isn’t… it isn’t a happy memory exactly. But… it meant a lot to me, and I want him to have it too.”

I studied her face, then nodded, “Of course, come sit down.”

We sat at the table and I pulled out the charcoal, flipping to a new page, and reached out to Mor’s mind. It seemed to take her a few minutes to relax, but finally she sent the memory to me and for a moment, my hands froze. Then I began dragging the charcoal across the page as though those dark marks could draw out the roiling emotions that colored this memory for Mor, like leeching poison out of a wound. It was not a happy memory, she was right, but it was… beautiful in its kindness.

Her father had promised her in marriage to Eris, the heir presumptive of Autumn Court, and she had been devastated, nearly inconsolable with rage and frustration and terror… and Rhysand’s mother, who had heard the news, went looking for her and found her tucked away in a tiny room in the castle in Hewn City. Found her and held her for hours in a way that no one ever had before. This wild woman, who had starved herself to stop her own bleeding in order to keep her wings, who understood what it felt to be powerless and overlooked as she had once been in an Illyrian camp, shared with Mor her strength and understanding, and her love without saying a single word.

The gratitude Mor felt towards Rhysand’s mother was overwhelming, and I spent far longer drawing this memory than I had any other. When I finished it, and Mor let the memory slide back into the ocean of her mind with the others, I looked up at her and asked quietly, “Do you want to see?”

Mor’s face was pinched and pale, and she shook her head, “No. Thank you for sketching it though.” She smiled at me vaguely, “I’m going to head to bed. Don’t stay up too late, ok?”

I nodded and watched her leave. The Morrigan. A woman with such depths of strength and kindness, she never ceased to amaze me.

- - - ~*~ - - -

Azriel arrived a little later in morning than the others the next day, and after accepting a cup of tea from Mor with a brief smile, sat down across from me at the table. He looked… oddly nervous. I don’t think I had ever seen Azriel look nervous in all the time I had known him.

Fiddling with a stick of charcoal I leaned forward a little, “Azriel, if you aren’t comfortable…”

He shook his head, “I don’t mind you looking inside my mind Feyre, though it’s hardly a pleasant place to be.” A corner of his mouth quirked up in a smirk. “It’s that I think you might find it… disturbing. It is difficult to explain however – but please know that I will understand if you aren’t comfortable with using my memories.”

I frowned a little with confusion but said simply, “Alright. We’ll begin when you’re ready.”

He nodded once, took a sip of his tea, then leaned back and closed his eyes. The shadows that always hovered around him, turned thick and dark around him, almost like armor as though to protect him while his attention was turned inwards.

I watched him like this, and for a moment my mind turned from thoughts of working on the gift for Rhysand, to painting this – Azriel, the shadowsinger, swallowed by shadow and yet not an ounce of menace or evil leaked from him. No, everything about him spoke of peace and calm, even possibly, contentment. As though the memories he was summoning up were bastions of happiness for him.

I knew that I was what I would call it, A Bastion of Shadow.

I smiled briefly before looking down at the journal and the fresh blank page, then opened my mind and reached out, brushing against Azriel’s and… and I understood then what he had meant. The shadows that clung to him, danced around him – they were not just outside of his body, but inside of his mind. Tendrils of shadow that twisted and reached for me, like the legs of an octopus, wrapping over me, around me… And for a moment I panicked, and tried to pull away, when I realized – they were not holding me.

I stayed still and watched them caress my mind, gentle and inquisitive, but not invasive or restraining. They reminded me of a woman I knew once, when I had been mortal, who had lost her sight as a child from fever, and how she explored the world with her hands instead of her eyes. These tendrils of shadow were learning about me, learning the touch of my mind, and I had no doubt they were whispering to Azriel what they discovered in that language only he could translate. I relaxed and settled back in place, and as though the shadows told him I was ready, he offered me his first memory.

Like Cassian, Azriel shared with me the memory of the first time he had met Rhysand’s mother, on his very first day in camp. And like Mor, this was not a happy memory, except for the kindness that she had given him without question or hesitation. She had taken in the sight of him, thin and pale, and how the sunlight hurt him – and it was the first memory I had seen where she looked angry. He showed me how she had hovered over him, worried about him not eating enough, and helped him adjust to the sun with such simple kindness.

Next he shared with me the memory of his first winter solstice that he celebrated at the camp, the dinner that had been a feast, and the first gift he had ever been given – a sweater that Rhysand’s mother had made for him out of such rich, luxuriously soft wool that it had been a pleasure to touch.

He showed me the memory of the day that he, Cassian and Rhysand had returned from the Blood Rite, bruised and bloody, and victorious. How he had looked out at the crowd of waiting families – of which there were none for him – until he had seen her right at the front of the crowd, with tears in her eyes and a look of such relief on her face – not just for Rhysand, but for him and Cassian as well. How that night, in their small home, she had hugged him fiercely, and hadn’t let him go for what had felt like hours.

The memories he had of Rhysand’s sister held not an ounce of darkness in them, despite the shadows that swirled around them. His feelings towards her were achingly sweet, he had seen her like his little sister and doted on her.

The first memory he showed me was the first time he had held her when she was a baby – he had been terrified, she was so small and he was certain he would hold her too tight, or drop her, even frightened that the scarring of his hands would be too rough on her petal soft skin. But he remembered how she had looked up at him with her vibrant blue eyes, without fear, and smiled.

He shared with me the time he had found her near the edges of the forest by the Illyrian camp as a small child, crying over an injured bird. He had helped her carry it home and bandage it and they had cared for it together – and the day they had released it and it had flown into the sky and she had laughed with joy.

He shared with me the memory of her waiting for him, outside of her father’s war room for hours during the War. She had paced, waiting to see him because he had only just returned after being gone for weeks on a dangerous mission. She had thrown herself into his arms and cried when he had finally been dismissed by her father. He had held her tight, and had felt how afraid she was, for him, for all of them.

After hours of working, it was Azriel himself who broke both our concentration this time, drawing back his memories and sitting up straighter, making me look up. His eyes narrowed a little, head cocked to the side and listening… then chuckled, “And that’s my cue, Cassian tipped off Nuala who just reached out to me. Rhys needs some information I collected for him earlier this morning. Do you need me to come back later, or was that enough?”

I looked down at the journal, flipping through the pages, and realized… it was full. All except for the last page – which I had been saving.

Looking back at him I smiled brilliantly, “You finished it for me Az, thank you, so much.” Then suddenly I reached out, brushing the fingers of one charcoal covered hand over his and said, “There is nothing disturbing about your mind Azriel, thank you, for sharing with me.”

He froze, staring at me for a moment, then smiled faintly, “Thank you.” He stood, spotting Mor looking at us, and nodded to her before quickly heading out of the cabin so Rhys wouldn’t grow suspicious.

After the door shut, Mor joined me at the table, peering over my shoulder as she had done when I had finished with Cassian, admiring the memories.

“What are you going to put on the last page?” She asked me, stepping around to sit in the chair Azriel had just vacated.

I looked up at her and smiled, my stomach flipping a little with nervous excitement, “I’m going to paint a family portrait.”

She smiled widely, “That is going to be perfect. I’ll leave you alone, while the light is good.”

I smiled at her gratefully, then went and collected my box of paints. The next few hours were spent painting a brand-new memory, the pieces of it drawn together from the collective memories of everyone who had loved Rhysand’s mother and sister best.

I finished by late afternoon, and left the book pinned open so the paint could dry. The rest of the day was spent with Mor, enjoying what was left of the girls-only-vacation we had only been playing at until now. The hours were filled with laughter and stories, and quite a few bottles of wine, and that night I went to bed with my soul feeling light and my body jittery with anticipation.

- - - ~*~ - - -

The next day dawned bright and beautiful, and despite having slept soundly my body was still thrumming with excitement.

At the sight of me fidgeting, Mor paused at pouring me a cup of tea, “I’m not sure you need this, you look hyped up enough.”

I snarled at her playfully and she laughed, then poured my tea.

I checked the painting throughout the day, likely giving it longer to dry than it honestly needed, but by late afternoon, it was done. My chest tightened and I found my breathing hitching, anxiety suddenly hitting me hard.

“Feyre,” Mor said as she looked at me from the couch, “calm down. He is going to love it. Trust me, ok?”

I swallowed hard, then nodded. Checking one more time that it was dry, I unpinned the book and closed it.

Resting a hand on top of it, I looked up at her and smiled, still anxious, but holding it at bay. “How soon can you be packed?”

She laughed and stood up, “Already packed sister-mine, just give the word and I’m out the door.”

I walked over to her and hugged her fiercely, and she hugged me back just as tightly.

“Thank you so much Mor, for all of it.”

She pulled back, grinning at me, “Of course. Do you want me to send him, or…?”

I shook my head, “No, I’ll call for him, can you avoid him in Velaris for an hour or so?”

She nodded, “I might just go visit my estate for a few hours, that way we don’t have to worry about him sensing my return.”

My shoulders relaxed and I smiled at her gratefully, “Thank you again.”

She waved a hand, dismissing my thanks and made her way to the door of the cabin, pausing to glance back at me. “You two will be back tomorrow for the family party?”

I snorted playfully, “Yes, don’t think I am letting him get out of a party when he makes me have one each year.”

She laughed and opened the front door, “See you tomorrow then.” With a wave she headed outside, then winnowed away.

The panic bubbled up inside of me again and I had to take several deep breaths to work it back down.

Retrieving the book, I reached my power into the pocket realm that we could store things in, and withdrew from it a simple wooden box, carved of walnut and dyed a rich brown. On the front of it, etched into the wood and dyed black was the emblem of the Night Court – a mountain, with three stars.

I opened the box, and it was lined with fine dark blue velvet, so dark it was almost black. Lifting the sketch book up I placed it inside the box and closed the lid, then carried it over to the low table in front of the couch, setting it in place.

Heading to my bedroom I stripped out of my simple pants and shirt – and pulled on a dress of midnight blue, lighter in color than the velvet in the box down stairs, but still dark, reminiscent of the night sky. The hem of the dress fell to just below my knees, a loose flowing skirt that swished around my legs when I moved. The back and sides of the dress were sheer black lace and the top wrapped around the back of my neck halter style, leaving the upper half of my back bare and exposing part of the moon phase tattoo that ran down the line of my spine – the mark from the bargain I had made with Bryaxis.

I pulled on a pair of black satin slippers, and then went to the bathroom to finish. Gathering my hair up into a loose bun at the nape of my neck, allowing a few tendrils free to frame my face, and held in place with a pair of silver sticks that were topped with a falling star. I didn’t bother with make-up often, but I took the time tonight, darkening my lashes and lining my lids with kohl, then painting my lips with a dark red. Leaning back from the mirror I studied my visage, and blushed a little, the color highlighting my cheeks.

I was ready. It was time.

I walked back out into the main room of the cabin, took a deep breath, and then sent a thought down the bond.

Are you busy?

A second passed, then, Surprisingly no, are you ok?

I smiled, bless my friends, they had likely made sure his schedule was light today.

Yes, I sent and said, join me, please? At the cabin.

Not even a full minute passed, and then he was there, the darkness ebbing from him as he arrived and turned to see me and… froze.

His violet eyes drank me in, every inch of me. Traveling from my feet, along my bare legs, touching on my hips and waist, my breasts and shoulders, along my neck, tracing the curve of my lips… then he met my eyes. And I could see the delight, and the hunger and the love – the love that shone so brilliantly out of his eyes, it dazzled me.

“Feyre…” he whispered my name… and then he was across the room in two long strides, and had me in his arms, pulling me tight against him, and kissed me long and hard and so unfathomably deep.

I fell into him, into his body, into his soul, kissing him back with all the burning intensity of my love for him. I felt his hands sliding over my back, his fingers tracing over the lace and then gliding along the length of my spine, and I shivered with pleasure.

Days. It had only been a matter of a few days since I had seen him last and yet… until he was here, holding me, kissing me, I hadn’t realized quite how painful the ache had been without him, until his presence banished the pain inside of me and I was filled with a relief so sweet, it was almost its own form of pain.

After what felt like eternity, he drew back from me with an effort, and we were both breathing hard. He slid one hand up, cupping the side of my neck lightly, his thumb brushing over my jaw and leaned forward to press his forehead against mine.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered to me, “I carry the image of you in my head each day, all day, and yet when I see you again I realize it was a pale comparison to how breathtakingly radiant you are.”

I blushed and felt the heat of that blush trace a path down my neck, and over the top of my breasts. I reached up and brushed my fingers over his cheek lightly, and then teased him playfully, “You’re not so bad looking yourself.”

He laughed, rich and deep, completely unfettered. Leaning back he took in the sight of me again and then smirked a little, “Girls-only-retreat hmm?”

I laughed and titled my head, “Well… Mor was here. So were Cassian, Azriel and Amren.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, “Have you been playing with illusions again Feyre darling?”

Smiling, I shook my head, “No, they weren’t here the whole time, only a few hours each day.”

I took a step back from him, but reached down to take his hand, squeezing gently. “I have a gift for you… but it’s from all of us.”

He arched a brow, but followed me willingly enough to the couch, where I bade him sit. I picked the box up and handed it to him, then slid onto the couch beside him, leaning into his side and tucking my feet up beneath me.

He held the box, brushing his fingers over the smooth wood, then glanced up at me. “What’s the occasion?”

I rolled my eyes at him, “It’s your birthday tomorrow, but… I wanted to give this to you, alone.”

My stomach fluttered with nervousness, and he seemed to read a touch of it on my face, his brows drawn together again as he tried to understand why.

I nudged him, “Go ahead… open it.”

He studied me a moment longer, then opened the box and eyed the sketch book curiously. “If this is filled with Mor’s stick figures, then you must be a mind reader.” He teased, glancing at me, “I’ve been dying for an entire book of those.

I huffed a laugh and smacked his leg lightly, “I’ll get you that next year.”

He grinned, then lifted the book up, and I took the box from him, leaning over to place it on the table before sitting back to watch him.

He opened the book, and his entire body went rigid.

The first page was one of Cassian’s memories, his first memory, meeting Rhysand’s mother that night she had welcomed him into their home. Her face was soft and sweet, her lips curved in a kind smile, and her eyes were knowing and full of welcome. Home her eyes seemed to say, you are home.

My hands were fisted in my skirts, and my eyes never left his face – which was blank, in shock or anger, or a grief too consuming to be expressed, I wasn’t sure.

Minutes passed before he moved again, reaching up to turn the page.

The next page was a memory of Mor’s, walking through the streets of Velaris with his sister, her eyes bright and alive and fiercely happy.

Another minute, another page, another memory.

Amren’s this time, a stunning profile of his mother as she looked out over the city of Velaris from the House of Wind.

Then Azriel’s, holding his sister during the war as she cried with fear and relief.

He didn’t speak, and his body remained rigid, but over time the look on his face changed from blank nothingness to… relief. I didn’t know of another word to express how else he looked. Like a man gone blind from injury, having only the memory of the sun to comfort him, and then miraculously opening his eyes one day to see the radiance of the sun again anew.

I stayed by his side, still and patient, refusing to even touch him lest I distract him from the memories he now walked through.

A few of the sketches he lingered on, I would glance down to see what caught his eye, and sometimes it was a memory I knew he shared with one of the others, but sometimes it was one I knew he had never seen.

The memory Mor had shared, of his mother holding her as she wept, he lingered over for several long minutes.

But it was the memory Cassian shared that almost brought the hint of a smile to his lips, of his mother dancing in the kitchen, of teaching Cassian to dance.

As he flipped to the last page of the book, I stopped breathing entirely.

I told Mor I was going to paint a family portrait. A new memory, born of all the combined memories they had shared, and my knowledge, and love of him.

It was his mother, her face lit with kindness and freedom, his sister with her hair wreathed in flowers and laughter dancing in her eyes, and him beside them, his true face and not a mask, warm and compassionate, and happy.

He stared and stared… and then closed his eyes and I saw tears roll down his face.

“Oh Feyre…” he whispered to me, then turned, holding the book in one hand and his other wrapping around me, pulling me tightly against him as he buried his face in the crook of my neck, and I could feel the wet warmth of his tears trace a path across my skin.

I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly within the shelter of my arms, stroking my hands over his back and through his silky hair. I felt his body trembling against mine and swallowed back tears of my own.

And then I felt his mind brush against mine, light and loving as he whispered to me, You gave them back to me, Feyre. You, all of you, gave them back… I… I don’t even have words…

His mind fell silent though he didn't retreat from me, and I reached out, brushing my mind against his, twirling myself around him, holding him even here.

They were never gone, I whispered to him, but now you can see them as others have loved them and were loved by them.

And I felt him shudder with a low sob and I held him tighter.

- - - ~*~ - - -

It was hours later, and we were still curled up on the couch together, his arm still tight around me, refusing to let me go, and he was going through the book, over and over. He told me about the memories he knew, that he had shared or been told about, and listened as I told him about the memories that were new to him – sometimes even showing him in his mind what had been shared with me while I sketched them.

And it seemed with each memory the old sorrow inside of him eased, the pain of their loss would never fade, but the sorrow of it which had weighed so heavily on his shoulders all of these many years began to lessen.

And it was hours after that, when he had finally sat the book aside and carried me into our room where we made love, slow and sweet, and so tender I nearly wept. Curled around each other, skin to skin, our bodies warm and damp with sweat, that he whispered in my ear, “I have a birthday request…”

I tilted my head up to look at him and smiled, “Anything.”

He looked down to meet my gaze, filled with such radiant love, and smiled, “I want another book of memories…” he leaned down, brushing his lips across mine as he whispered, “our memories together, our life… I want a book of those memories, so we can share it with our children someday.”

And the tears I had not shed earlier, that I had held in check, they came now, hot and sweet, trailing down my cheeks.

He kissed them away, brushing his lips over my skin, tasting the tears with his tongue light and teasing, then whispered, “My darling Feyre… I love you.”

[otterthewasted]

[SNIPPET] ACOMAF - Rhysand's Perspective - Part 5

WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it’s undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.

I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand’s perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.

This is Chapter 1 of Part 5 - click HERE to read the rest of the chapters in this part.

I hope you all enjoy!

*Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

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I stayed at the Night Court for several hours by myself, until I felt like I might not shatter. I wasn’t ready to face Feyre again though, not yet – if I saw that sympathy in her eyes again…

I cleaned myself up and changed out of my leathers into my normal town garb, dismissed the bubble around myself, and then winnowed above the House of Wind, snapping out my wings to catch the current, and glided into the war room once again. Amren was gone now, and it was Cassian and Mor standing around the black stone table, looking over reports.

Landing on the polished stone floor I walked over to join them while they flashed me welcoming smiles.

“Cassian told me that Feyre beat the crap out of the Weaver,” Mor announced before I had even reached the table.

I arched a brow at Cassian, “Well, she smashed a brick into her face, I’m not sure that constitutes kicking her ass, but she definitely had a unique approach to escaping her. At least now she knows that she can fight back and escape.”

Cassian grinned at me “She’s got some spunk; I’ll give you that. You should have seen her, Mor, she looked ready to kick his ass when they got back.”

Mor laughed and I shook my head, “Well she’ll fit right in with the rest of you then.”

I walked around the table to a chair designed for Illyrian wings and sank back into it with a sigh.

“Has there been any word from Summer Court?” I asked them as I leaned back.

Mor shook her head, “No, though you know it can take time for those requests to get processed, so it’s not unsurprising.”

I let out a sigh and nodded, “I know, that’s why I sent it off as early as I did. Well, then we need to attack the other front in regard to the Book, we need to head to the mortal lands.”

Mor crossed her arms and Cassian perked up with interest, and I arched a brow at him.

He shrugged and grinned, “Hey, it will be something different, don’t fault me for being excited.”

I rolled my eyes, “Getting bored in the job as General?”

He smirked, “No, just bored with seeing the same damn, pig-headed Illyrian camp leader faces all sneering at me every damn time I show up.”

The Illyrian’s were a proud, stubborn and steadfast group of fae – they did not take to change well at all - but one would think that even if Cassian was a bastard, he was still full blooded Illyrian and the best warrior that had come out of the camps in a millenia or two, and as such they might not resort to being such colossal assholes. No such luck – and I knew that while he had no intention of throwing in the towel on the whole lot of them, there was a part of him that did get worn down at their consistent behavior towards him. Truthfully, I would love to go and throttle the whole lot of them, but with war approaching we had to make some concessions – a reality I had not approved of with my father, but now as High Lord I understood better.

They were still assholes.

I managed a vague smile at Cassian, “Well then consider this trip to the mortal land a mini-vacation, you know, while still working, just in a new environment.”

Cassian gave me a rude gesture while Mor laughed.

I actually grinned this time while I glanced at Mor, “I would like you to go with us, you had more experience with humans, it might go a long way towards Feyre’s sisters agreeing to work with us.”

Mor studied my eyes for a moment, then shook her head, “No. I don’t think I should go. Maybe… not yet.” She hesitated then continued, “Maybe when the Queens arrive.”

I frowned a little, my brows furrowing, “Why?”

“Are you ordering me to go, Rhysand?” She asked me suddenly, sharply.

I blinked, shocked. “No… I just want to understand why, Mor.”

Shrugging, she looked away, “I have my reasons, and I would prefer not to have to explain them.”

I studied her for a moment, then glanced at Cassian, the question written on my face – do you know why?

He just shrugged at me – which was really not a useful answer.

I wasn’t entirely ready to drop the subject – but I would address her about it in private later.

“Alright. In any case, I would like you,” I nodded towards Cassian, “and Azriel to join us. I don’t expect there to be any problems, but with Feyre joining us I would prefer to be cautious. We will be passing near the Spring Court – I doubt he will be able to sense her, but I want to have options in defense and escape just in case.”

Cassian nodded, “Makes sense to me, Az is off checking the Summer Court fleet again – he says it hasn’t made any movement north, but he is still keeping an eye on it. I’ll let him know when he gets back.”

“Good. I didn’t get a chance to talk to Amren before, does she have any updates for me?”

Cassian glanced down at the paperwork on the table, “Not really, she has been spending a lot of time in the library, hunting down any information - even children’s stories - about the Cauldron, anything that might give us an edge.” He glanced up at me and smirked, “I think she might be going a little stir crazy, either you need to get her a bigger library or a new shiny piece of jewelry.”

I barked a laugh and reached up, rubbing my eyes. “I would give her the libraries at the Day Court if I could, but I will have to settle with the jewelry I’m afraid.” I glanced to Mor, “Anything I need to know about with the Hewn City? Or Velaris for that matter?”

Mor’s shoulders had relaxed again after I didn’t pursue her about going with us to the Mortal lands. She shrugged a little, “Status quo in both, though I think you should make a trip to the Hewn City and hold court soon, they’re starting to act up again – petty stuff. They seem bolder about it since… Under the Mountain,” her eyes darkened a little. “Velaris is doing well, the trade changes you made a month or so ago have been working well – no major complaints.”

I reached up, running a hand through my hair – if Mor was suggesting that I go to Hewn City to hold court, then it was likely that my court was doing a bit more than acting up. She wouldn’t suggest that until their behavior was truly beginning to become a concern – she would instead try diplomatic means and blackmail to force them to behave first. I wasn’t up for going right now though, I felt raw inside after… after the memories.

“Alright, I’ll go after we get back from the Mortal lands.” I glanced out towards the sky, gauging the time, then back at Mor, “Want to go shopping with me cousin? I want to pick something up for Amren before we leave tomorrow.” I grinned at her playfully, “I’ll buy you something pretty too.”

Cassian rolled his eyes, but Mor smiled brightly.

“Why don’t we make it an evening? We haven’t all gone out together in a while… please, Rhys?”

I raised a brow, but Cassian butted in, “I’ll go to dinner or out for a drink, but I’m passing on the shopping. How about you two go, and I’ll wait for Azriel and we’ll meet you somewhere.”

Well… this was turning into more of a night than I had intended, but… it might be nice.

“We should invite Feyre-“ Mor began, but I shook my head suddenly, sharply – shocking them.

“No. Feyre… she needs to rest. I’ve pushed her hard the last two days, and tomorrow I am taking her to see her family, and that won’t be easy on her. She hasn’t seen them since… since she was changed.” I glanced at them, at the shock on their face, and the concern, then glanced away. “And I’m not up for being out long tonight, it’s been a rough few days for me as well.”

They were both quiet for a few minutes, then Mor nodded, “Shopping and a few drinks,” and she smiled at me, “sounds like fun.”

I stood up, “Alright. Are you ready to go now, or do you want to go change Mor?”

Cassian let out a sigh of disgust and Mor reached over to slap his arm, “Comb your hair before you join us tonight, bastard.”

He smirked, “You could comb it for me.”

Mor rolled her eyes, “I’ll shave you bald, you giant bat.”

Chuckling a little, I made my way to the window, “If you two are going to be a while…”

Mor waved a hand, cutting off the retort Cassian was about to say, and walked over to me. “I’m ready, I’m ready, you’re so impatient sometimes Rhys.”

I shrugged, still grinning a little as Mor stepped up onto the window with me..

“Where should we meet for drinks?” Cassian asked as we both began to leap into open air.

“Rita’s!” Mor yelled as we began free falling through the air until we were past the wards, then we both winnowed to the streets of Velaris, just outside of the Palace of Thread and Jewels. Once we were on the paved stones, I tucked my hands into my pockets and we began to stroll towards the throng of crowds.

Mor remained quiet for a while, but it didn’t take her too long before she asked, “Did something happen with Feyre? Is she alright?”

I glanced at her, then away, examining a display of fabrics through a shop window. “She’s fine. Why?”

Mor arched a brow at me, “You didn’t want her to come tonight – you have been adamant about including her in everything, but tonight you don’t want to? Why?”

Because, I wanted to say, she saw something good in me, and the relief is too painful to face again tonight.

I shrugged instead, “She’s tired Mor, you’ve seen her – she’s still not sleeping well, and she’s struggling to keep food down at night. We’ll bring her out one night soon, I promised to show her Velaris at night, just give her time. Crowds still upset her; they make her anxious. Just give her time.”

Mor reached over and grabbed my arm, stopping me while she stepped around to meet my gaze, studying my face. Her eyes narrowed, reading something there that she didn’t entirely understand… but she decided not to push me about. Instead, she released my arm and nodded, managing a teasing smile, “Alright. But you should buy her something pretty too – she’s been working as hard as Amren.”

I stared at her for a moment and felt my heart race at the idea – I wasn’t sure why. I had bought things for Feyre, well… Nuala and Cerridwen had bought them for her, but out of my funds. This… would be different though. Picking something out myself, just for her, maybe… maybe something she could wear tomorrow.

Immediately I knew what I wanted to buy her, and it made me jittery with excitement.

I grinned at her, “That is a wonderful idea cousin – I should give you a raise.”

She laughed and I led her to my favorite jewelry shop.

Neve’s shop was my preferred shop of choice when it came to buying jewelry for Amren – it tended to boast flashier pieces, those with larger stones. Being Tartera – a species of fae that dwelled in the deep mountain caves – her own family were the ones that supplied her shop with their marvelously crafted pieces.

Mor browsed around while Neve pulled out a few trays, displaying several different selections, from rings to necklaces to brooches. Considering my options, my gaze kept returning to a piece, braided gold as thick as my thumb, with a large emerald draping from it, the top of it capped with gold, and diamonds set around the edge. It was stunning, and bold – just the way Amren liked it. Perhaps a bit much for a random gift and not a holiday, but I knew that very shortly she would be faced with an extremely difficult task. I might as well go bold with the gift - pay it forward as it were.

“That necklace would be perfect.” I gestured to it as Mor came up beside me to see what I picked.

She laughed, “Oh yes, Amren will love that.”

Neve smiled, though you couldn’t tell by her lips as her entire body was wreathed in permanent shadow, rather just the vague crinkle around her black glowing eyes let me know she was amused, and pleased.

“Excellent choice High Lord. Shall I have it wrapped? Would you like us to deliver it for you?” She asked quietly, her voice almost gravely.

“Please wrap it, but I will deliver it myself.”

A nod while she removed the necklace from its display and began to wrap it. I turned to look at Mor and arched a brow, “What about you, hmm? Anything here you want?” She glanced at around, “Mm… no, I don’t think so. Honestly, just getting you to go to Rita’s with us tonight is gift enough.”

That shocked me, but then I realized that I hadn’t gone out with them – not in the three months since my return. We had dined together at my house often enough, but I hadn’t agreed to spend the night out on the town. I frowned a little and wondered why I had resisted…

Mor interrupted my thoughts, “What about Feyre? What are you going to get her?”

Always happy to think about Feyre instead of my own troubles, I smiled. “You’ll see, I have one more stop to make.”

I saw Neve closing the lid on the black box containing the necklace and turned to thank her, “Thank you Neve, please just send the bill to the House.”

She bowed and handed me the box, “Of course High Lord, thank you for your patronage.”

I accept the box and sent it to my pocket realm for safe keeping, nodding another thanks to Neve, then led Mor out of the shop.

We walked through the streets, still busy despite the lateness of the hour, and turned around a corner. A few shops down, I stopped in front of a tiny little store, and opened the door, gesturing for Mor to step ahead of me.

There were fewer displays of jewelry, and all of the designs were simpler, not as bold as the last shop – but every piece boasted one thing similar - the most prominent gemstone used was lapis lazuli. While not as sought after as diamond or sapphire, it was still a treasured gemstone in the Night Court, as it often resembled the night sky. The shop owner, a tall slender male fae, with gray-green skin and dark brown eyes, reminding me of richly tilled soil, looked up as we entered and froze in shock.

“H-High Lord!” He exclaimed and quickly bowed.

I smiled warmly, “Hello Gantry, it’s good to see you again.”

I had visited this shop before, buying gifts for Mor and Amren in the past. The quality was good, excellent even, and I was fond of how the simple designs seemed to enhance the beauty of the gemstone.

He quickly crossed the room and bowed to me.

I gestured to Mor beside me, “This is Morrigan, she has been the recipient of one of your pieces before.”

Mor grinned at him brightly, “It was truly lovely, you do fine work.”

He flushed with pleasure and bowed his head to her, “Thank you my Lady.” Turning his attention to me again he gestured broadly and asked, “How may I help you my Lord?”

The jittery excitement bubbled in me again, but I kept my voice calm, “I’m looking for a diadem.”

Mor looked at me, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Of course, of course, I have several available currently. This way my Lord.” Gantry gestured, and I followed after him to a counter where he removed a tray and sat it in front of me.

Mor joined us, standing at my side as I looked them over – most were made with silver, but two were made with gold. I thought about the gold, twisting in amongst her brown-gold hair, and knew it would be lovely.

Of the two designs, the one that caught my eye was a simple gold band, with pieces of the lapis lazuli set around the entire perimeter of it. I glanced at Mor and gestured, “What do you think of that one?”

She examined it, then looked at me and smiled, “She will look lovely wearing it, Rhys.”

My heart tightened and I nodded, “I think this one will be perfect Gantry.” I paused then added, “Do you have a set of earrings that would go well with it?”

He did of course, setting the selected diadem on a black velvet tray, and then led me to a display of earrings. I chose a pair of dangling earrings, hanging low and heavy with the lapis lazuli, accented with matching gold.

“Excellent choice my Lord,” he said as he placed the earrings on the tray beside the diadem. I saw him hesitate, then ask, “May I ask who these are for?”

Mor looked at me, curious if I would answer, but I smiled and said quietly, “Feyre Cursebreaker.”

His eyes widened.

- - - ~*~ - - -

On the way to Rita’s I broached the topic to Mor again.

“Mor… why don’t you want to go with us tomorrow? It will only be Feyre’s family this time.”

Her eyes flashed to mine, then away, “Exactly.”

I frowned at her, confused.

She let out a sigh and shrugged, “Rhys, I’m not sure I could behave myself.”

Now I was extremely confused.

“I don’t-“ I began.

She cut me off with an agitated jerk of her hand, “Rhys, her family failed her. They did not protect her, they let her go into danger to ensure their own survival – and in the end, they benefited wildly from it, at the cost of her sacrifice.”

I stopped dead in the street and stared at Mor, who stopped and turned to look at me.

It was her story, Mor’s story, all except for one detail – no one had saved Feyre. Not until… it was too late. She had died, and we had brought her back – but her family had failed to save her, had in fact let her go into danger and death. Anger burned inside of me as I considered what Feyre’s family had done, or rather, had not done to protect her.

Mor watched my eyes, and nodded, agreeing.

I let out a breath, and started walking again, and she fell into step beside me.

“I understand,” I said quietly, “I still wish you could come. If for no other reason than to be there for Feyre. She likes you and trusts you – if she had one person there that she believed stood behind her, in her favor, it might go a long way to helping her not shatter tomorrow.”

Mor was quiet for several minutes, but I could hear the smile in her voice, “Feyre doesn’t need me tomorrow for that. She has you.”

I just shook my head, “She barely trusts me, and doesn’t particularly like me at all. I’m happy that she at least tolerates me – and that’s when I’m not pissing her off.”

Mor tossed her head back as she laughed, “Oh Rhys, sometimes we all only tolerate you, especially when you’re pissing us off.” She paused then said, “And she does like you, whether or not you want to admit it, it’s not hard to realize. Stop looking for all the ways you think she should hate you and take some time to look at the ways she might like you.” She glanced at me, “Try it tomorrow – it might surprise you.”

I swallowed, quiet for several long moments, then said, “I’ll try.”

Mor didn’t answer, except to wave enthusiastically at Cassian and Azriel, who were walking up to Rita’s from the opposite direction of us. Cassian grinned, and Azriel smiled briefly, his eyes drinking in the sight of Mor. I realized, that must be me with Feyre, and realized that the brief flash of pain I felt for my brother, because Mor had never reciprocated the love he had for her, must be how my family felt for me. I let out a sigh and followed them all inside.

The music was loud, and the floor was crowded with fae dancing and laughing, and Mor’s face lit up with happiness.

Cassian just shook his head at the dance floor and made his way to the bar. I followed behind him, with Azriel hovering near Mor who had taken off to talk to a group of fae who waved at her.

We ordered drinks for the everyone and waited for them to be served before weaving our way through the crowd, finding an empty booth tucked to the side and settled into it.

I sipped at my drink, watching the fae around us, their faces bright and happy, and smiled briefly. This was what being High Lord was all about – ensuring the safety of my lands so that my people could gather, and celebrate, dance and laugh and live, freely. To see it happen, to see this joy…

Cassian leaned forward on the table, glancing at me, “You try to convince her to go again?”

It took me a moment, but I slipped out of my thoughts and looked at Cassian, nodding, “Yes, but she is still adamant about not going.” I hesitated a moment for I said, “She explained why though…” I fell silent again, the anger simmering in me once more.

He took a long drink before setting the glass back down between his hands, looking down at it, “I’m going to struggle with it as well, I’ll do my best not to say anything, but Rhys…” He trailed off, letting out a sigh.

I understood and knew it would be a trial for me as well.

“It’s no different than the situation with Mor and her family, it’s Feyre’s family and she gets to decide how they will be handled, and we must abide that decision.” I met his eyes for a moment, and he nodded, agreeing.

We both took a drink and looked up as Mor and Azriel joined us.

Azriel slid into the booth beside Cassian and picked up his drink, sipping at it. Mor stood, leaning against the table and grinned at us, “Don’t tell me you three are just going to sit here drinking and brooding all night long.”

Azriel smiled a little, “Brooding is what some of us do best.”

Mor huffed a laugh and picked up her drink, downed it and then put it back on the table. “Well I’m going to dance, if any of you grouches decide brooding is too tiresome, come find me.” She winked at us and twirled off to the dance floor, melding effortlessly with the other fae there.

We all watched her, before glancing at each other and laughed.

“How many nights a week does she spend here?” I asked.

Cassian smirked, “She tries to drag me here all the time, nearly every night it seems like. The drinks are good, but the music is too damn loud.”

Azriel chuckled, “That’s not what really gets to you brother, it’s that she gets you drunk enough to dance, and you pay for it the next day.”

Cassian glared at Azriel and I laughed.

Azriel smirked slightly at Cassian, then looked at me, his face going serious, “I checked the fleet, all ships accounted for and still no troop movement in the seasonal courts.”

All humor wiped clean I nodded, leaning back into the booth with a sigh. “I can’t believe Tamlin is doing nothing, but if there is no troop movement then it is being done in stealth.” I frowned a little, thinking, “Before, when Feyre was still a part of the Spring Court, there was rumor that Tamlin was looking to make a bargain with Hybern.”

I glanced at Azriel, who nodded slowly, “You said it had to do with breaking your bargain.”

I nodded and crossed my arms, “Yes… but what if the terms were changed, retrieval... and breaking the bargain.”

Cassian hissed and leaned forward, his eyes flashing, “You think he would be that stupid?”

I laughed, humorlessly, “Oh, I think he is that stupid, and that possessive; and he has a solid bargaining chip.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened, “The Wall.”

I nodded and Cassian let out a growl, “You can’t think… He would betray his people, all of Prythian, for her?”

Leaning my head back, I looked up at the ceiling above, swathed in shadows with flickers of light dancing over it – reminding me of the night sky. “Why not?” I said, “He did it before. He had fifty years to break the curse, and he squandered that time – only trying at the very end, and he failed.” Granted, I was the reason he failed, but he could have ignored my attempts and chose not to. I looked back at them, “It took a human girl with a brave, selfless heart to face horror and torture and death to save us.”

Azriel frowned, twisting the glass between his hands, his Siphons flashing in the light. “If that’s the case, they will be looking for her. There may even be eyes around her family’s home. Perhaps… she should not go.”

I let out a breath, “She has to go – they won’t trust us. Besides… if I suggested she shouldn’t go, she would only get stubborn about going.” I smirked a little at that, “However… we might be able to use this to our advantage – a way to send a message to Hybern.”

Cassian frowned at me, “I’m not going to like the sound of this.”

“Probably not, I don’t like it either, but it would be decisive.” I looked at Azriel, “I would need your help.”

He nodded, without hesitation. “How will you get her to go out alone? Will you tell her?”

Cassian blinked and then growled, “You’re going to set her out as bait for someone to grab her? Damnit Rhys!”

I looked at Cassian calmly, “She is likely being hunted already, I would rather they make an attempt on my terms than theirs. We will be waiting for it and will capture whoever comes after her. It will give us a chance at valuable information, and we can send them a message – come after her at your own peril.”

He continued to glare at me but didn’t argue with me further. He knew it was a solid idea, but he didn’t like it – and ultimately neither did I, but sometimes hard decisions had to be made, and this would be for her benefit in the end.

I looked back at Azriel, “No, I’m not going to tell her. She needs to be unaware to make the attacker feel comfortable enough to make an attempt.” I unfolded my arms and reached up with one hand to rub my eyes, “I’m not sure how I will get her time by herself, but I’ll figure that out once we’re there.”

Azriel nodded and leaned back, the shadows swirling thickly around him.

I glanced around, and suddenly I had a strong desire to be alone, somewhere quiet. Home. Taking one last drink, I sat my glass down and slid out of the booth. “I’m heading home.” I smiled at them briefly, “Come for breakfast tomorrow, Feyre hasn’t had a lot of time around you, and I would like her to get more comfortable with you.”

They both nodded their agreement, and I made my way out, pausing for a moment at the door to watch Mor dancing, and Azriel leaving the booth to join her while Cassian headed to the bar again.

I chuckled a little, I had a feeling that the two of them would be the worse for wear tomorrow.

[otterthewasted]

[SNIPPET] ACOMAF - Rhysand's Perspective - Part 4

WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it’s undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.

I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand’s perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.

This is Chapter 1 of Part 4 - click HERE to read the rest of the chapters in this part.

I hope you all enjoy!

*Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

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I was up before the sun crested the mountains, tired of my swirling thoughts. I dressed in my form fitting Illyrian leathers, then sat down on the end of my bed to tug on and tie up the laces of my boots. I went back to my armoire and opened the doors, peering down at a wrapped bundle resting on the bottom shelf. My mouth went dry as I reached in and pulled it out, a jittery sort of anxiety and excitement coursing through my body at the reality of what Feyre and I would be doing today.

The Bone Carver.

An entity at least as old as the world. Malevolent and yet… not. Powerful, equal to that of Amren, or at least what Amren had been before she became trapped in her current form. And full of ancient, terrible knowledge.

And we two broken souls were going to go ask him questions.

I exhaled a long, low breath. Feyre.

Today was not going to be pleasant for her, in any kind of capacity. Today I would ask her to push herself hard, physically, mentally and emotionally. The Prison would be a trial. The Bone Carver though, I knew he was going to ask her questions that would force her to face truths about herself that she had been running away from for months. That was one of the reasons I was taking her to face him – I needed the answers he had, yes, but I needed her to try and accept what happened, not just cringe away from it. She needed to accept the horror of it and begin to move past it. Because she would never recover unless she could do that – all the purpose in the world would not save her from the darkness inside her unless she could embrace it and grow from it.

Tucking the bundle up under my arm, I made my way out of my room and into the hallway, pausing beside her door for a few minutes and listening. I heard nothing – and I extended a tendril of darkness to ensure there wasn’t a bubble around her room again, shielding in her screams. The realization of that last night had horrified me more than the nightmare itself – what if she had been attacked, and in her panic shielded herself and no one could hear her cry for help? The bond between us was the only thing that had let me know at all. There was no bubble now though, and she seemed to be sleeping peacefully for once. I wanted to open her door and check on her, to see her sleep peacefully just once, a memory to carry with me for the rest of my life… but I would not invade her privacy like that, not unless there was just cause.

Leaving her door, I made my way down the stairs, heading towards the kitchen. Nuala and Cerridwen were already at work, I swore sometimes it seemed as though those two never slept. They were always at work in the kitchens or around the house – and I was heartily grateful for all their hard work, especially now with Feyre here. I had the feeling that Feyre liked them and was comforted by their quiet manner.

They looked up as I entered and smiled at me, “Good morning my Lord,” Cerridwen said, while Nuala stepped around to put the kettle on the stove – I must have looked bad if she did it without asking if I wanted tea first.

I smiled at them in turn, “Good morning. When Feyre wakes up, will you help her dress in this today?”

I hefted the bundle for them to see and Cerridwen walked around to relieve me of it, tilting her head curiously, “Of course my Lord. Would you like us to fix you something to eat right now?”

I shook my head, “No, thank you, though tea would be greatly appreciated, as strong as you can brew it.”

Nuala chuckled, “Of course, we’ll bring it out to you in a minute.”

I nodded my thanks and headed back down the hallway into the sitting room. Walking over to the small table in front of the windows at the front of the town house I sat down and summoned several sheets of paper and a pen in front of me. Leaning forward I began to work on a draft of a letter I would need to send soon – I knew any response for it would take a while and the sooner it was off the better.

Cerridwen came out a little later with a tea tray, setting it on the table in front of me and then headed back into the kitchen while I poured a cup of tea so dark it reminded me of Azriel’s shadows. I heavily sweetened my cup of tea, expecting it would bitter and sure enough it almost puckered my mouth – but soon felt more awake.

Not long after I heard the quiet creak of Feyre’s bed, and Nuala making her way upstairs. I scratched a sentence out on the draft I was working on and waited until I heard Feyre’s door open for a second time. Setting my pen down, I stood up and walked to the threshold of the sitting room and looked up as Feyre reached the top of the stairs and stared down at me.

I swallowed once.

I had ordered a set of Illyrian leathers made up for Feyre months ago out of… hope. Just that. I wasn’t really convinced she would ever actually wear them, but if she did agree to work with me, I wanted a set of them ready to go for her.

Seeing her now, wrapped in the dark, form fitting leather, the edges trimmed with fur, straps wrapped around her arms and thighs to ensure the fit remained snug. Though even with the straps it was loose, she was so much thinner than she had been when I first ordered these made, but they were still… sexy. How was it she made an outfit I had worn most of my life, that I had seen Mor and Amren wear and never thought twice about, look sexy? I couldn’t stop my eyes from tracing how the straps curved around her inner thighs, or the way the leather hugged her hips. My mouth was dry, and I was certain I was just gaping at her.

She just stared at me with confusion, “What? Do I have it on wrong? Nuala said this was right.”

I let out a low rasping breath and shook my head to clear it, “No… no that’s right.” Swallowing I gestured to the dining room, “We should eat, the trip through the Prison will take several hours.”

She continued to stare at me in for a minute or two, but finally headed into the dining room as Cerridwen came down the hallway carrying a tray of food. I followed after Feyre, letting her choose where she wanted to sit, and then sitting opposite of her and hoped I could manage not to stare like an idiot through the meal, or for the rest of the day for that matter. Cerridwen placed the bountiful tray of food down between us, and Nuala came in behind her with plates and cutlery. Feyre smiled her thanks at them before beginning to fill her plate with food.

I mimicked her, and we ate in comfortable silence for several minutes, the scrape of our forks and knives the only sounds in the room. Then Feyre paused, refusing to look at me as she said quietly, “Thank you, Rhys… for last night.”

I looked at her, a little surprised that she brought it up at all, but smiled, “Any time.” I told her, with heartfelt honesty – though she still wouldn’t look at me. The set of her shoulders relaxed however, and she resumed tucking into her food.

Nuala came back in shortly, bearing another tray of tea and cups and setting them down for us. I leaned over to pour us both a cup of tea, adding milk to Feyre’s before handing it to her; she nodded her head in thanks and took it without further comment. Watching her I realized that I loved the look she wore on her face when she drank her first cup of tea – it was pure bliss. Her eyes would half close as she held the cup to her lips, pursing her lips to blow air over it lightly, the steam curling up around her face, over her nose and into her hair, and then she would take her first sip and let out a low sigh…

Somehow, she took such a simple, almost mundane act and made it purely sensual. I felt my heart race and my breathing start to hitch and I had to look down and focus on my plate for several long minutes.

“I assume…” She began quietly, forcing me to look up at her and let out a sigh of relief that she had put her cup down and was cutting up some fruit on her plate, “that this choice of clothing is indicative of where we’re going?”

I managed a smile, “Yes and no. Where we’re going isn’t inherently dangerous, though there are dangerous creatures inside, but they are restrained quite securely. However, should a situation arrive it's best to be dressed in a way that won’t hinder any form of fight or flight. Literally.”

She rolled her eyes at my play on words and I smiled a little broader.

“These outfits are something all Illyrian warriors wear, and they have been designed to withstand a beating, and we’ve adopted them as our unofficial uniform for dangerous situations. Even Amren and Mor have a set they wear when necessary.”

Another lapse of silence, I watched her continue to eat – replacing the nutrition she lost to her nightmare last night.

She glanced up at me, and there was no fear in her eyes as she asked me, “What do you need to me to do today?”

I smiled a little, “I need you to be the lure. You will intrigue him. You will need to ask him the questions.”

She frowned a little, as though confused as to why she would intrigue anyone. Her next words confirmed that, “Why?”

Quirking a brow at her, “You are unique Feyre. Yes, there are two other beings in the world that have been Made, but you are the first fully mortal human to be made fae… ever. You will intrigue him.”

She dropped her gaze, her face colored by disbelief, but she didn’t argue. I wanted to reach over and tilt her chin up and make her believe how unique, and special and wonderful she was. My fingers tingled to touch her again, and I remembered what it had felt like to hold her hair last night, to stroke my fingers over her back…

“Is he dangerous?” I came back to myself at her question, she hadn’t looked back up at me yet and was toying with her fork.

Uncrossing my arms, I rested my forearms on the table and let out a breath, “Yes, but we will be safe if you remember three very simple rules. The first of which is that you are to never, never lie. You can choose not to answer a question, that is your right – though he might not answer yours in kind, but you must never lie.”

I waited to continue until she looked up at me again and I studied her eyes, to make sure she understood how serious this rule was, and she nodded in silent understanding.

“Never give him something unless you will receive something of equal value. He craves knowledge, information, and he will take you for everything you have, unless you set the ground rules. An answer for an answer.” She nodded again, understanding. “Be specific in what you ask him – being too general will give him the freedom to answer broadly. It’s a game to him, and you can’t let him dictate the rules or the outcome. Do not be rude but be precise.”

Another nod, another moment of silence as she thought about what I said. “What do you need me to ask him? What information are we looking for?”

I reached up to rub the back of my neck lightly, and let out another sigh, “We need to know how the someone might be able to bring back Jurian without a body – all they have is the finger bone and the eye; if it is even possible. If it is, we need details on how he would do it, and if there is a way to stop it. If you can think of any other good questions to ask, feel free – but remember Feyre, it’s an answer for an answer, so ask those ones I just mentioned first.”

Another nod, another moment of silence before she asked, quieter than before, “What… what will he ask me?”

I think maybe she knew. Or guessed. Amren had given her part of the clue last night: an immortal with a mortal soul. Feyre had said it about herself before, the last time we had talked, Under the Mountain – but Amren had tied it to the Bone Carver. So yes, I think she guessed, but I would not lie to her – I wanted her to face what had happened Under the Mountain, but I would not make her go unprepared.

I met her gaze, unflinching, and answered, “He will ask about your death.”

I saw her muscles tense, the corner of her eyes tightening, but she did not flinch. She nodded and asked her last question, “When do we leave?”

I lifted my napkin and sat it on the table before standing, “We leave now – I only need to do one thing first.” I gestured for her to follow as I walked back into the sitting room and picked up my sheets of paper, then led her to a door on the other side of the room that led to my study.

I didn’t use it often, when I had a lot of paperwork to attend to, I tended to do it up at the House of Wind, preferring to keep my house separate from my work as much as possible. However, there were times it was convenient to have an office here, and it did afford me more privacy.

Stepping around my desk I pulled out a finer sheet of paper than I had scratched my draft onto, the emblem of the Night Court embossed on the top center of the page – a mountain with three stars. Still standing, I leaned over and penned the short but polite message I had come up with, requesting the privilege to visit the Summer Court at their earliest convenience.

Feyre shifted and asked curiously, “Who are you writing to?”

I glanced up at her and smiled, “The Summer Court.”

Looking back down, I signed my name at the bottom, then folded the sheet of paper in thirds. Reaching across my desk I opened a wood box and pulled out a pre-made wax seal with the matching Night Court emblem on it. Pressing the seal onto the outer edge of the paper, I brushed a tendril of my darkness across the underside of it and ‘glued’ the seal onto the letter. My signature of power, holding the seal in place, would be proof of the letter’s validity.

Standing up again, I looked over at Feyre, and saw her brows furrowed. I arched a brow at her in question.

She let out a breath, “Why?”

I chuckled and deflected lightly, “Improving diplomatic relations.”

She frowned at me and I grinned playfully.

Reaching down I picked up the letter, and winnowed it to Amren, waiting until I felt her receive it. Amren would ensure the letter was delivered through proper channels – everything by the book. With that step completed, I gestured at the drafts on my table, causing them to disappear. Stepping around the desk to move to her side I looked down at her, and smiled reassuringly, “Are you ready?”

She studied my eyes for a moment, then nodded.

Releasing a grip on my darkness, I felt the weight of my wings take form behind me, causing her eyes to widen as she examined them appreciatively. Lifting a hand, I snapped my fingers, and across my back my sword harness appeared with dual Illyrian swords sheathed, and across both thighs a harness holding a row of daggers sheathed. Her already wide eyes only widened further as she took me in.

I held it out to her – letting her choose.

Without hesitation, she reached up and took my hand and stepped willingly into the range of my arms, a realization that made my heart skip a beat. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I drew my darkness up and swirled it around us both, sending us across the world until we came to land on the side of a cliff of a lonely island. Sliding my arms from around her, she stepped back and turned, and froze at the sight of the mountain.

The sight in front of us was pretty enough, a steep grassy slope leading to a large, flat topped mountain. Behind and beneath us the dark sea tossed violently against the high cliffs we now perched on. Wisps of mist curled around our calves, hugging the dew damp grass beneath us. Where Velaris had been bright and sunny, this place was cold and overcast, the clouds hanging low, pressing down on the mountain peak above us. Pretty, but there was something about the island that felt… ancient. Ancient and secretive, it made the hairs on the back of my neck raise – and though I had been here before, it was always the same.

I kept my eyes on her however and prayed. Cauldron… give her strength.

Her still form was tense as she took it all in, quiet and withdrawn. “Where are we?” She asked in a near whisper.

I glanced from her to the mountain, “On an island in the heart of the Western Isles. And that,” I said as I raised an arm to point at the mammoth mountain in front of us, “is the Prison.”

Dropping my arm, I looked back at her and could see her lips were pale, and my heart constricted. “I don’t see anything,” she said quietly.

“The rock is the Prison. And inside it are the foulest, most dangerous creatures and criminals you can imagine.” I would not lie to her, if she was to do this, she would know the truth. “This place,” I continued to explain to her, “was made before High Lords existed. Before Prythian was Prythian. Some of the inmates remember those days. Remember a time when it was Mor’s family, not mine, that ruled the North.”

She still hadn’t moved, but she also hadn’t asked to leave. It was a start.

“Why won’t Amren go in here?”

I shrugged my shoulders, “Because she was once a prisoner.”

She swallowed once, “Not in that body, I take it.”

I smiled coldly, without humor, “No. Not at all.”

She shivered. With cold or fear or both, I wasn’t sure. “The hike will get your blood warming,” I told to her, “since we can’t winnow inside or fly to the entrance – the wards demand that visitors walk in. The long way.”

I felt the panic in her now, until this moment she had distracted herself with trivial questions, but now she was facing the reality of going in, going under another mountain. The panic was clawing its way up through her, and down the bond, I could hear her breathing hitch, her heart racing. “I-“ she tried to speak, the word choking in her throat.

Mother… please… don’t let her break. I prayed as ardently as I had ever prayed for anything.

Leaning towards her I spoke quietly, “It’s helps the panic, to remind myself that I got out. That we all got out.”

A shudder ran through her as she whispered, “Barely.”

I swallowed then said calmly, “We got out. And it might happen again if we don’t go inside.”

I watched her, watched as it looked as though she was trying to take a step, trying to force herself forward… Please… I prayed.

“Please,” she echoed my prayer, and her plea was so broken I knew exactly what she was asking without even seeing the tears in her eyes. I shifted to stand in front of her, blocking her sight of the mountain and wrapped my arms around her, feeling her bone deep shudders beneath my hands. Without a word I winnowed us back to Velaris, to the town house, right in front of the door to her bedroom. She pushed out of my arms and fumbling with the door to her room, stumbled inside, shoving the door closed behind her.

I stood there, in the hallway, staring at her door for long minutes, my arms so empty and my heart dying a slow, painful death as the horror of what I had just done to her took root inside of me. I realized, after a few minutes, that I was trembling, body and soul.

Feyre.

What… what had I done. To her. Oh… oh gods.

The panic I had felt down the bond only moments before was gone, and in its place was the deadly silence that I had once felt from her before, when she was at the Spring Court – the silence that had scared me so deeply that used to pull on the bond just to make sure she was still alive. I realized now what it meant. She had shut down completely.

I had done that to her. Me. Not Tamlin. Me.

The tears sprang hard to my eyes and my breathing hitched.

“High Lord?”

I spun and saw Nuala standing in the hallway, a pile of linens in her hands, her dusty features drawn in concern.

Staring at her I swallowed back my tears, I refused to let them fall. I could not show weakness.

Raising a hand, I gestured for silence and led her down the hallway, away from Feyre’s door, then turned and looked at Nuala, trying to order my thoughts.

“Feyre… she… please, check on her. Bring her… bring her anything she wants.” I swallowed and looked away from Nuala’s searching gaze, the guilt hammering down on me hard, making it difficult to think, to breathe. “I’ll… be in my room. If she needs… anything.”

Nuala nodded, her brows tightening with concern as I stepped around her, heading to my room. Once inside I shut the door solidly behind me and leaned back against it, closing my eyes tightly. The unshed tears burned hotly, threatening to fall, and I beat them back by inches only.

After a few minutes I pushed myself up and crossed the room to the small desk and sank down into the chair, hard and heavy, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees and holding my head in my hands.

What had I done...

- - - ~*~ - - -

I’m not entirely sure how long I sat there, staring at nothing and holding myself together by the barest thread of sanity. If I had broken her…

There was a knock at my door.

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.

Another knock.

I remained silent. I knew it wasn’t Nuala, I knew Feyre did not want anything, and most especially not me. Of course not. I had broken her.

The door to my room opened.

When no one spoke I finally looked up, and Amren was staring at me, her face unreadable.

My throat tightened and she understood, without a word being spoken, what happened.

“She isn’t broken.” Was all she said as she stood there, staring at me.

The tears burned again, and I shook my head at her – how could she possibly know that?

Amren arched a brow at me as she read the question in my eyes. “Because,” she said simply, “you aren’t either.”

I closed my eyes and dropped my head for a long moment, before finally sitting up, looking at her once more.

“She couldn’t do it Amren.” I said, hoarsely, my voice rough with all the unshed tears living inside of me. “I… what do I do?”

Amren studied me before she said, “You get out of this room, for one. Come down stairs with Mor and myself.” She managed a half grin at me, “I’ll even pour you a drink.”

I shook my head once, “But, Feyre-“

She cut me off with a wave of her hand, “I’ll take care of Feyre.”

I stared at her with confusion.

“What?” I stammered.

“I said, I will take care of Feyre.”

My brows furrowed, “How?”

That half grin returned, “That isn’t your concern. Trust me Rhysand, I can help her. Now come down stairs.”

I stared at her, uncertain, but then stood up. Amren opened the door and lead me down stairs to where Mor as already sitting on the couch. She looked up at me with such kindness and love, without a single drop of judgement in her warm brown eyes. It was more than I deserved, and it just made me hate myself more.

My legs were heavy, but I made it over to the couch where she was sitting, and sank down beside her, leaning back and letting out a deep breath. Mor shifted and pressed her shoulder against mine, leaning into me slightly, and her warmth beside me was comfortable and reassuring. Amren went to the sideboard and actually poured me a drink, walking over to set it on the side table beside me, before stepping around the couch and settling into an armchair.

I glanced at her again, then looked towards the fireplace where a small fire burned away.

“You really aren’t going to tell me what you’re going to do, to help her?” I finally asked.

I could hear the smirk in her words, “It’s better if you don’t know.”

My brows raised and I looked to her in concern. Beside me, Mor let out a laugh. I shifted, and looked at her, confused, and asked her, “You know?”

Mor grinned at me, “Of course. It was my idea.”

I stared hard at her, and I wasn’t sure if I felt better about this mysterious plan now that I knew Mor had thought it up, or worse realizing Amren had agreed to it.

Mor just grinned wider and winked at me, “You worry too much Rhys.”

I looked over at Amren, who was still smirking.

Shaking my head, I let out a low sigh and sank further back into the couch. “You two,” I said with the most honesty I had ever uttered, “are going to be the death of me.”

Mor just laughed.

[otterthewasted]

[SNIPPET] ACOMAF - Rhysand's Perspective - Part 3

WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it’s undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.

I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand’s perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.

This is Chapter 1 of Part 3 - click HERE to read the rest of the chapters in this part.

I hope you all enjoy!

*Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

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I watched her make her way towards her bedroom then, still a little unsteady on her feet but determined and… maybe even a little excited.

Excitement coursed through me in waves and I alternatively felt like I was freezing and burning as my thoughts bounced around in my head. I walked to the balcony around the veranda and stared off at the mountains for several minutes, filling my lungs with the cold mountain air as I tried to center myself.

In many ways everything was about to get a lot more difficult – if being apart from her had been torture, being so close to her day after day was going to be its own form of torment. But at least, if absolutely nothing else, I would know she was safe and cared for – even if she decided she couldn’t stomach working with me, well, that would be fine, but I would know she was eating and sleeping and that she wasn’t alone.

Taking another deep breath, I made my way back around towards the dining table, over to a column, and leaned against it, crossing my arms and waiting.

She took longer than ten minutes. She could have taken ten hours and I would still have waited for her. But I was glad she hadn’t taken too much longer, otherwise I would have felt the need to go and check on her – and I doubted she would have appreciated me knocking down the door.

When she appeared at the top of the stairs, her skin flush from the bath, hair still damp and pulled back into a messy braid, dressed in another set of Night Court clothes that she always looked radiant in, I felt my body nearly tremble with excitement.

She approached me and I couldn’t help but tease her lightly as I extended my hand towards her, “That was fifteen minutes.”

She didn’t scowl at me, in fact she looked completely worn out again – she did need to sleep some more, perhaps once we got there, I could convince her to lay down again.

She lifted a hand, taking mine and stepped towards me as I pulled her into my embrace before I winnowed us through the world, landing us lightly in the foyer of my home.

I lowered my arms as she staggered back slightly, and I held my breath as I watched her take it all in. The early morning sun filtered in through the windows with cheery warmth, pooling over the thick ornate carpet beneath our feet and caressing the warm, wood paneled walls around us. Choice pieces of artwork, all favorites of mine, dotted the walls, and straight behind me was a stair case leading to the second story. On either side of us were door ways, leading to a comfortably appointed sitting room, and on the opposite, a snug dining room, large enough for my family but nothing like the grandeur of the House of Wind. A tiny hallway down the side of the stair case led to the kitchen and the doors leading to the garden.

She drank it all in, her gaze moving steadily across the floors and walls, taking in the art only briefly, then seeming to notice, all at once, how ordinary it all was – the quality was all good, but I had chosen every piece for comfort instead of style. And I drank in the sight of her standing in the middle of it.

And I did not feel quite so empty.

“Welcome to my home,” I said quietly.

I could see the thoughts that crashed through her mind at my words, the sudden uncertainty of her decision to come here and images of the destruction she had seen in the Spring Court flittered through her mind, along with the reactions people had towards her that made her so uncomfortable. My concern for her was abated by the certainty of the knowledge that she would experience neither of those things here.

Looking up at me she asks in nearly a whisper, “What is this place?”

Crossing my arms across my chest I leaned back against the threshold to the sitting room and answered her, “This is my house. Well, I have two homes in the city. One is for more… official business, but this is only for me and my family.”

She looked around again and the thought about servants hovering flashed through her mind.

“Nuala and Cerridwen are here,” I explained, hoping that they would be a comfort to her, a known variable in a world that had gone to pieces for her in such a short amount of time, “but other than that, it will just be the two of us.”

I saw her tense. As though suddenly the thought of being alone with me was frightening – which both saddened me and made me want to laugh, we had been just as alone at the Night Court, only the size of the building had changed. But if sharing this house with me would bother her too much… I would stay elsewhere, for her... for her to feel safe. I opened my mouth to say as much when there was suddenly pounding on the front door.

“Hurry up, you lazy ass,” Cassian drawled from the other side of the door. I ignored him as I noticed Feyre’s eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. Instead I changed direction from what I was going to tell her, “Two things, Feyre darling.”

The pounding continued, soon followed by Azriel’s cooler voice. “If you’re going to pick a fight with him, do it after breakfast.”

“I wasn’t the one who hauled me out of bed just now to fly down here,” Cassian grumbled before adding under his breath, “Busybody.”

A corner of my mouth threatened to curve up, as I never once looked away from Feyre’s tired eyes, “One, no one – no one – but Mor and I are able to winnow directly inside this house. It is warded, shielded, and then warded some more. Only those I wish – and you wish – may enter. You are safe here; and safe anywhere in this city for that matter. Velaris’s walls are well protected and have not been breached in five thousand years. No one with ill intent enters this city unless I allow it. So go where you wish, do what you wish, and see who you wish. Those two in the antechamber,” I explained with a bit of a smirk, “might not be on that list of people you should bother knowing, if they keep banging on the door like children.”

Another bang on the door followed by Cassian calling out, “You know we can hear you, prick.”

“Secondly,” I pushed on, “In regard to the two bastards at my door, it’s up to you whether you want to meet them now, or head upstairs like a wise person, take a nap since you’re still looking a little peaky, and then change into city-appropriate clothing while I beat the hell out of one of them for talking to his High Lord like that.”

Feyre’s eyes looked from me, to the door, and then back, and without her saying a word I knew what she would choose – she looked so very tired, and soul sick.

“Just… come get me when they’re gone.”

There was a brief moment of sadness in me, because I did want her to meet my friends, my family, but it quickly passed in light of everything I knew she had been through. And it was her choice, always her choice.

Right at that moment Amren’s voice joined the other two, scolding them, “You Illyrians are worse than cats yowling to be let in the back door.” The knob turned then, and her scorn quickly shifted to me as she called through the door, “Really, Rhysand? You locked us out?”

I ignored Amren and watched as Feyre turned and began to make her way up the stairs, spotting Nuala and Cerridwen at the top waiting for her. I watched until I couldn’t see her before I finally turned, and with a gesture, unlocked the front door, letting the trio inside with a mock scowl.

Cassian stepped through the door first, dressed in his normal simple city attire, dark pants and a blue sweater, and growled at me, “Welcome home, bastard.” Followed immediately by Azriel, dressed remarkably similar to Cassian in style if not color, tending towards blacks and dark grays, “I sensed you were back. Mor filled me in, but I-“

And then by Amren, who wore a pair of deep red slacks and a silver blouse that nearly matched the color of her eyes, with a cream colored trench coat over the top, who cut him off, “Send your dogs out in the yard to play, Rhysand. You and I have matters to discuss.”

I let out a sigh and reached up to rub a temple as Azriel replied back coldly, “As do I.”

Cassian smirked back at Amren, “We were here first. Wait your turn, Tiny Ancient One.”

Amren snarled at him.

Suddenly I heard Mor walk up behind me, dressed in loose fitting pair of sweats, having obviously spent the night here waiting for me, as she yawned and said sleepily, “Why is everyone here so early? I thought we were meeting tonight at the House.”

Shaking my head, I grumbled at all of them, “Trust me, there’s no party. Only a massacre, if Cassian doesn’t shut his mouth.”

Cassian just raised his arms in mock offense, “We’re hungry,” he complained, “Feed us. Someone told me there’d be breakfast.”

Amren snorted and quipped at all of them, “Pathetic. You idiots are pathetic.”

Mor just grinned at her, “We know that’s true. But is there food?”

I just shook my head at her, “You just came from the kitchen.”

“Oh god,” Cassian laughed, “if she’s cooking then I don’t want it.”

Mor’s eyes shot daggers at him and I couldn’t help myself, I laughed. And it was the first truly free laugh I felt like I had since before I went Under the Mountain.

The all stopped bickering long enough to look at me and smile.

I met their smiles and then gestured into the sitting room, “Let’s get this over with friends, and let’s do it quietly please.”

They nodded and filtered into the sitting room, taking up various seats as Mor gestured at the coffee table and a selection of breakfast items appeared: scrambled eggs, sausage, various fruits and pastry’s, along with a stack of plates, cutlery, napkins and a steaming pot of tea. Everyone except Amren made a selection, then sat back munching in silence for a moment before I finally said, “Amren, I am sure what you need to discuss with me is important, but I would like for it to wait until after dinner tonight – if it is about what I think it is.”

Her silver gaze met mine for a moment, then nodded, “As you wish.”

I turned my gaze to Azriel, “What is the fall out?”

Azriel sat his plate down on the side table beside the couch and wiped his mouth on his napkin before leaning forward. “Tamlin has sealed his borders, no one in or out – has to be some of the finest shield work I have ever seen him do.” I arched a brow at him, and he conceded, “it might not be his shield work.”

I let out a low sigh. Hybern. “Your spies? Are they safe?”

He nodded, “I did not have any full-fledged spies in Spring Court, I worked with some of the more ‘unsavory’ fae that the Spring Court denizens were not fond of. The water-wraiths seem to be particularly fond of Feyre, or at least as fond as they care to be about fae that isn’t their own kind.” That made both of my brows go up in surprise, what in the world had Feyre done to make friends with the water-wraiths? He shrugged at me; he had no idea. “Regardless, they should be safe enough, since they were already ensconced, no one suspects them.”

I nodded and leaned back, thinking, “Summer and Autumn courts? Any troop movement to suggest Tamlin is asking for aid?”

He shook his head again, “No, and we both know it would be a cold day in hell before Tamlin would ask Autumn court for help, not unless he wanted to watch Lucien defect.” He was right about that at least, Cauldron bless Berron, I finally had a good reason to be thankful that old bastard was such an asshole.

“So, if he did ask for aid, it would be from the Summer Court then.” That was not a good thing, not for us and what we needed. Nothing was every easy. “Azriel I need you to keep track of their fleet, I want numbers and I want to know their positions daily.”

He nodded and picked up his plate to eat again as I looked over at Cassian, “I do not expect Tamlin to come for Feyre directly – for all that he is a beast, he is essentially a coward, except at the very end of the battle when someone else has done all the hard work.” I couldn’t help the sneer that leached into my words. “That being said, we need to be ready to call up the Illyrians, because even if Tamlin does not come for Feyre directly there are others who might. It just depends on how quickly he sealed his borders and if the word of her powers has reached any of the other High Lords.”

Or if he would be willing to sell that tid bit – I doubted that however, Tamlin did not want to share her with anyone.

Cassian however nodded and said, “They aren’t ready to launch into a full-fledged war campaign yet, but we can be prepared to defend Velaris if need be. Although, so long as she stays here, she should be safe.” He shrugged, “No one knows where she or Velaris is.”

I nodded, “That’s true, and a blessing, but it’s a possibility I want us to be aware of and prepared for.”

Mor piped up, “How likely do you think it is that if the other High Lords knew she had some of their power, that they would come for her?”

I set my own plate aside and leaned forward, sighing, “I’m not sure. I think most of them would not be happy about it, that’s pretty much a given. Upset enough to go to war with us over keeping her here? Unlikely. But they might try stealth. When we leave the Night Court territory, we will need to be vigilant.”

Amren sniffed, “And you need to train that girl on how to defend herself.”

I smiled vaguely and nodded, “Agreed. Her mental shields are rather impressive already, but she has no control over her other gifts.”

Cassien reached over, picking up and apple and biting into it, chewing, then asked, “Physical fighting?”

I shook my head at him, “Not that I know of, hunting is all. I was hoping I might be able to convince you to take her on – she will learn faster under your tutelage.”

He grabbed his chest and gasped, “A compliment!”

I rolled my eyes at him and Mor smacked his arm.

He chuckled and leaned back against the couch, “Let me take a look at her, if she is tough enough to put up with your bullshit, I’m sure I can teach her something.”

Mor smacked him again and I just grinned. Mor turned back to me and said, “So what is next? Other than teaching her and making sure she is safe, what are we going to do with her?” I could read between those lines easily enough – when are you going to tell her?

I picked up my cup of tea and took a long swallow before I answered, choosing to answer only the question she asked out loud. “I’m going to give her a choice, if she wants to help us or not. If she does, then we’ll figure out the rest from there, if she doesn’t, then I will help her find something she wants to do to stay occupied, and we’ll keep doing what we have been doing.”

Mor sighed at me but nodded in agreement.

“I want us all to have dinner tonight, up at the House, I would like to give her a chance to meet all of you since I’m certain that will be the deciding matter and not the difficulty of the job.” I grinned at them as they all respectively grinned, hissed or rolled their eyes at me.

But then I eyed each of them carefully and said quietly, “No fighting tonight. Feyre is… she is raw right now, I am not asking you all to coddle her – she needs, wants, a purpose and we can give that to her. But I am asking you, not as High Lord, but as a friend, not to shred her to pieces – and for you all not to be the monsters I know you can be to each other.” I managed another grin at them, they all glanced around at each other, silently agreeing, promising to behave and I relaxed slightly.

Trust Cassian to lighten the mood as he suddenly asked with a grumble, “Do I have to dress up?”

I laughed, “No, in fact, wear your Illyrian leathers if you don’t mind… both of you.” I nodded to Azriel who nodded in return, “I want her to see what we really are, who we are and what it is that we do.”

Mor beamed at this then asked brightly, “Can I dress up?”

Cassian snorted.

I chuckled and shrugged, “Whatever makes you happy Mor.”

Her eyes glittered with mischief, “Whatever-“

“Here we go…” Cassian muttered as I cut her off, “In regard to clothing Mor.”

She let out a dramatic sigh. Amren just shook her head at us all with mock disgust.

Smiling I looked around the group again, “Does anyone else have anything pressing? My plan was to stick close to the house today, in case she has any problems.”

They all looked at each other and then shook their heads, “Alright then. Azriel see what the Summer Court fleet looks like, check in with your Summer and Autumn court spies, then get back here for dinner tonight. The rest of you, go do whatever hard work it is I’m sure you do.” I flapped my hands at them in mock dismissal.

Cassian threw me a rude gesture and made his way out, grabbing another biscuit before he left. Azriel simply shifted into shadow, but Amren and Mor stayed in place. Mor glanced at Amren, considered then said, “I’ll go change for the day, I’ll be back down in a minute.” Hint: You two can talk, but you don’t get to escape me that easy, cousin.

She got up and breezed upstairs to the room she sometimes borrowed when she occasionally spent the night. I let out a sigh then turned my attention to Amren who arched a brow at me, “Well this is an interesting turn of events.”

I shrugged a little, “It’s not what I had planned but it is hardly a disaster.”

“Oh hardly,” she said with a touch of sarcasm, “Do you think she will help?” Her swirling silver eyes studied me minutely.

I tilted my head back, looking up at the ceiling as I considered the question. Two months ago, when I first told her about Hybern she had seemed… interested in helping. Protecting her human family mattered to her. I don’t think that had changed; I think Tamlin had just beat her down enough she felt like she didn’t have an option to do anything useful. Given the opportunity, the freedom, and the training… “Yes,” I said and looked back at her, “I do. And I know what you want to discuss, like I said, let’s talk about it after you meet her tonight.”

Amren tilted her head slightly, considering, then nodded again. “Very well.” She stood up and smiled briefly, “Hope looks good on you Rhysand.” Then she turned and walked out.

I stared after her, a little shocked. Hope? Was I hopeful? Perish the thought.

- - - ~*~ - - -

Mor bounced back down the stairs as I was pouring another cup of tea, dressed in dark grey pants and a knitted forest green sweater, she looked like a pine tree, stolid and timeless. She glanced around the room to make sure we were alone, then walked over to sit on the end of the couch closest to me. “Rhys-” she began, and I cut her off.

“Mor, do not start, please. I know what you think, and why you think it, but it is not the right time.” I shook my head at her and took a sip of my tea.

Her eyes turned reproachful, “Rhysand, you are the happiest I have seen you in close to six months and that’s just with her being in this house for less than a day. Do not tell me it is not the right moment to tell her.”

I smiled at her, my lovely cousin, “And that Mor, is exactly why it is the wrong time to tell her.”

She frowned at me, confused.

“Because telling her right now would be for my benefit, and yes, maybe – maybe – it might be good for her as well, or maybe it would be too much for her to handle on top of everything else she has just gone through. Think about it Mor, the love of her life, the man she was going to marry, the man she sacrificed and died for, just broke her trust, if not her heart. He locked her up and abandoned her, and he has been neglecting her for months, and the longer she is here the more she is likely to realize that.” I shook my head, “I will not add to her burden right now. Maybe someday, when she doesn’t look half dead or flinch from the thought of being near strangers, but until then… just leave it be Mor. Let her get healthy, let her get her confidence back, let her taste freedom again.”

Mor stared at me for long moments before she leaned back into the couch. “She has a right to know the truth.”

I nodded, “She does. She also has a right to not be burdened by it.”

Her gaze darkened, “What makes you so sure it would be a burden?”

I looked away from her then and said, “It was for my mother.”

Mor leaned forward again and grabbed my hand, “Rhys - Rhys your parents were different people. Your father was an asshole and you are not him.You would never treat Feyre the way your father treated your mother. You love her Rhys.”

I swallowed once, then said softly, “But she does not love me. And a Mating bond would just complicate matters that are simple right now. And that is what she needs – simple. If she agrees to work with me, with us, I will be sending her into darkness and danger, the very least I can give her is simplicity in matters that have broken her heart.”

Mor let go of my hand and sat back with a huff of disgust, folding her arms across her stomach and staring at me.

“Let’s play a game Rhysand.” She said tartly, “Let’s say you tell her, but she rejects the bond and decides to leave – how is that any different than you not telling her? She could leave any day; she could go back to the Spring Court tomorrow. At least then she would know and make an educated decision. And yes, your heart would break, but your heart will break if she left tomorrow and you hadn’t told her. But let’s say, just for the shits and giggles of it, you tell her, and she picks you. Hell, maybe even loves you, if you gave her a chance to. In one fell swoop you run the risk of mending two broken hearts – are those odds so damn bad?”

I looked away from her, my heart was beating too fast and my thoughts were all jumbled, but I forced myself to focus, forced myself to think through the chaos and say simply, “And if I tell her, and it’s just one blow too many? You saw her yesterday Mor, she imploded. She is just barely functioning today. What if I told her and she couldn’t handle it? What if the guilt of being Mated to me, and not Tamlin ate at her? What if she decided it was a failure on her part? You want to play a game Mor? Prove to me that telling her will guarantee she will be ok on the other side – pick me, don’t pick me, I don’t care about that. Promise me it won’t break her, prove it to me, and I will march up those stairs right now and tell her.” I looked back at her, staring at her with eyes hot with tears that I felt and refused to shed.

Mor was quiet for a moment before she said, “I can’t.”

I nodded with resignation but Mor leaned forward and stopped me with a look, “But I can promise you nothing would ever hurt her more than if she found out and that you had chosen not to tell her.”

My eyes widened and then narrowed, “Mor, you-“

She shot me a look of disgust, “I am not going to tell her, do you think so little of me? But I am not the only one who will ever know. Azriel already suspects, it won’t take Cassian long to catch up and you know how Amren is about things, she will figure it out. That would mean four people who will know when she doesn’t, and you can trust the four of us. What about anyone else? Rhys it shows, spend enough time around you, and now that she is here, it isn’t too damn difficult to put the pieces together. Honestly, I suspect the only reason she hasn’t figured it out yet herself is that she wasn’t born fae and her mind still functions the way her human mind did. All it takes is one person to tell her and for her to think back through everything to figure out that you knew and chose not to tell her and I promise you,” she glared at me, “That will hurt her more than anything else you could possibly do.”

I sat frozen in my seat, staring at her, wavering… and then I heard the bed creak upstairs. The sound of her feet on the floor and of Nuala and Cerridwen climbing the stairs to go tend to her. The entire time Mor held my gaze, she did not flinch away.

Swallowing once I said quietly, “I’ll think about it.”

She let out a low sigh and shook her head, standing up. “You do that Rhys. See you tonight.” Then she turned and headed to the foyer, pulling a knee length black coat out of the closet and slipping it on before she headed out of the house, leaving me alone to my chaotic thoughts while I waited for Feyre.

[otterthewasted]

[SNIPPET] ACOMAF - Rhysand's Perspective - Part 2

WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it’s undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.

I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand’s perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.

This is Chapter 1 of Part 2 - click HERE to read the rest of the chapters in this part.

I hope you all enjoy!

*Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following three weeks were… indescribable. They were pain and longing, nagging fear and solid hard work. There were brief moments of happiness with my family, a constant source of comradeship and trust that always helped ease the ache of the emptiness, even if only for a few minutes at a time.

I remained resolved in my intention to release her from the bargain, though there were moments that tested my resolve. Occasions when the bond between us would thrum with emotion, and never feelings of joy but rather of pain and grief. But that did not mean she wasn’t happy, she was still recovering, we all were – it could take time, years, centuries even for her to work through everything from Under the Mountain.

But if I was honest with myself, worse than the moments when the bond echoed the feelings of grief and guilt, were the moments when the bond echoed… nothing. Despite the distance, and the rather impressive shielding she was doing, I should have still been able to feel… something. Some hint of her being alive. And there were moments, hours and days, when I felt absolutely nothing. And terror would grip me, and I would not be able to resist reaching out and tugging ever so lightly on the bond just to feel the resistance of it – insuring she was still there, at the end of it. Still alive.

With only a week and a half to go before I would see her again, I was finding it more difficult to focus, but I was trying. Because it would always be this way and I had to find a way to manage these times when she was the only thing I could think about. I had a responsibility to my people, and I couldn’t shirk those jobs just because my mind was so full of Feyre there was hardly room for anything else.

And unfortunately, this was one of those days. And I was in a meeting with Amren that could not be avoided any further. I was sitting in her loft apartment, across from her as she sat in front of her desk, leaning back in her chair, books piled in front of her on the table and her eyes narrowed at me with accusation.

“Rhysand you have been holding back on me.”

I winced slightly – she was not wrong. For months now she had been digging through books, looking for answers to the dilemma of how the King of Hybern intended to take down the wall.

“Let me guess, your research has not been… successful.”

Her eyes narrowed further, “I have come across some theories, but no, it has not been. Until I decided to take a wild leap of faith.” She leaned forward and tapped a scroll, the only one on her desk. “I remembered something and went digging and found this.”

I arched a brow at her in silent question at what that scroll might be, but instead of her answer that she stared at me and spoke the words I had been dreading to hear.

“The Cauldron… is real.”

I sucked in a slow, shallow breath and closed my eyes briefly. I had heard Amarantha mention it in passing while she was having a conversation with the Attor – a conversation I was not meant to hear. It had not been easy to garner information about it while I was still trapped Under the Mountain, but I had worked at it cautiously. Snippets of information collected over the years, and often correlated by the High Lord of the Day Court – an old friend who few realized was even a friend of mine. His knowledge of the Cauldron was limited, and without his libraries to aid him, there was little he could tell me, but it had been a start.

I opened my eyes to meet Amren’s and nodded once before I said, “I know.” I wished it wasn’t true, the implications were not good.

I gestured, “What is that-“

FEAR

FEAR PANIC BLOOD

Red blood… or was it paint? Coating a wall, and fear so strong it pumped through my veins thrummed down the bond. I saw Tamlin, standing in front of me, breathing hard, his face shifting from pure anger to terror and then… Nothing.

All emotion cut off. All vision to what she was seeing disappeared.

I sat frozen in my chair, my heart racing and my lungs burning with a need to breath. I gasped hard for air, my nails digging into the arms of the chair as I reached out blindly and felt for the bond, running my claws along it, pulling…

Please please please…

Resistance. She was still there. Feyre was still there, still alive.

I nearly sobbed, as it was a low sound choked out of me as I sagged back in my chair.

I had no idea what happened, what caused that surge of panic, that overriding fear, but the brief flash of Tamlin gave me a hint.

Rage built up inside of me… if he had hurt her, if he had even raised a hand to hurt her – I would slaughter him, I would peel him apart piece by piece…

My vision was tinted with red, rage so thick it coated my tongue as I felt my darkness clawing its way out of me, beginning to spill out in waves…

“Rhysand.”

One word. My name. But spoken from a creature who was more ancient than our world.

I froze and raised my gaze to meet hers.

Amren was not prone to sympathy, but there was kindness in her eyes.

“Is she alive?” Was all she asked.

How she knew I could not guess. But I managed a nod.

“Then reign it in boy. Destroying this city will not save her, especially if she is not dead.”

My anger surged again at her words, but I recognized the logic in them, and drew my darkness back inside, inch by inch, until none of it leaked out.

When I had control again, I spoke harshly, my voice rough with the rage that was still there beneath the surface, “I need to find Azriel. Now.”

She nodded once, “Go. We will finish this later.”

I stood and prepared to winnow to the House of Wind but hesitated and turned back to her. “What did you find in the scroll?”

She smirked slightly and lifted it, “Oh this?” She unfurled it and showed it to me. Blank.

“Nothing – you confirmed my suspicion.”

Any other day I might have said something in response, called her out on it – but this time I just turned and between one breath and the next, stepped through my shadows and to the air above the House of Wind, falling freely for a moment before spreading my wings and circling down to the roof, landing with a soft thud and tucking my wings in, making my way inside to the war room – looking for Azriel.

- - - ~*~ - - -

Azriel had very little to report to me.

After I had found him and asked him to call in reports from his spies at the Spring Court – of which he did not have many – they could not report many details to either of us. There had been a fight, they could confirm that, and they could confirm that Feyre was alive and unharmed.

And that was it.

And it was enough to drive me nearly to madness. I still had over a week to wait, and the resolve I had once held to free her wavered until it was practically nonexistent. Not because she didn’t deserve her freedom – but because I couldn’t bear the thought of having some way, any way of getting her out if I needed to.

Mor cornered me only once during the week, to prudently remind me that I already had a way to get her out – and it was more solid than a silly bargain made Under the Mountain. I had managed not to kill her, but I had yelled at her – an action I regretted and later apologized to her about. She forgave me, I suspected before I had even apologized. She did not push me about it again.

The day before I could collect her, I was useless, and Cauldron bless my family, they left me alone. I had retreated to the Night Court and spent the day pacing the palace, trying to hold myself together by inches, checking the sky over and over, waiting for the sun to sink behind the mountain and the stars to appear. And then wait just long enough for midnight to pass.

Finally.

I pulled the darkness in around myself and cast across the world until my feet landed on the flagstone pavers in the Spring Court outside the manor house. It was pitch black out and the manor and all its inhabitants were asleep. But I knew he would feel me arrive. My heart thudded and I could taste the echo of rage I had felt that moment her fear had raced down the bond through me.

I still wanted him dead.

I made my way up the steps to the front of the manor house and felt the wards there and almost laughed – they were soap bubbles, fragile constructs. He had always been more beast than fae, his control of magic was child’s play compared to the constructs I could form. A gesture of my hand and they were pushed aside.

I opened the carved front door and stepped inside. The scent of her hit me so hard it was almost like a physical impact.

Feyre.

I swallowed and made my way to the stair case and began to climb up it, step by step.

I had done this once before – climbed these stairs, but that had been with the intent to kill. This time, while I would not hesitate to kill Tamlin, this time I had the intent to rescue.

I reached the landing and began down the hallway, when a door opened suddenly and Tamlin stepped out to meet me – his face suffused with rage. And I could smell her on him. Bile rose in my throat.

“Get out.” He growled, his talons extending past his knuckles.

“Good morning to you as well.” I purred.

“I’ll say it one last time-“

“I’m not interested in anything you have to say. Where is she?” I grinned at him tauntingly.

As if in response, the door he had walked out of opened, and peeking past it was Feyre, hair a total disaster, wrapped in a blanket.

And my heart froze. My grin faltered and fell.

She was worse. So much worse.

I scanned her from head to toe and her body was thin, too, too thin, her cheeks were sunken, the marks under her eyes nearly black, and her eyes… they seemed nearly vacant. That radiance in her… it was… it was dimmed, so dark, it seemed almost snuffed out.

“Feyre,” I managed, nearly choking on her name. I shifted my gaze to Tamlin, as rage had begun boiling up in me at the sight of her. The thoughtless, self-absorbed coward! Why couldn’t he see what was happening to her? I nearly growled as I asked, thinking maybe, just maybe, he might finally recognize how bad off she was. “Are you running low on food here?”

He was completely oblivious. “What?” He demanded without an ounce of realization.

One day I was going to kill him, and I would take a long time doing it. But not today. Today I had to get her out.

I turned my eyes back to Feyre and extended a hand to her, “Let’s go.”

In an instant Tamlin was in my face, snarling, “Get out.” He pointed towards the stairs, “She’ll come to you when she’s ready.”

If he thought for one second that he could intimidate me – he was sorely, sorely mistaken. The only reason he was still breathing was because the only thing more important than killing him was standing behind him in the doorway, and I had to get her out. Now.

And I wanted him to realize how absolutely powerless he was against me. I wanted him to feel just a fraction of what Feyre must be feeling every day beneath the yoke of his control.

I reached up, and brushed a fleck of dust from his sleeve, and smirked at him.

Feyre’s shields were lowered slightly, they had been since she had come to the door, and I had been avoiding looking too closely – respecting her privacy as best I could.

But I couldn’t help when she shouted things down the bound at me, which this time was almost a relief as it had been nearly a month since she had done so, and this thought nearly made me laugh – her fear of his teeth anywhere near her throat.

I shifted my gaze to her, “No you wouldn’t have.” I told her and grinned, “As far as your memory serves me, the last time Tamlin’s teeth were near your throat, you slapped him across the face.”

I felt her shield snap back into place solidly, and though this meant her contact with me was ended, I was still proud of her.

“Shut your mouth,” Tamlin snarled at me, stepping further between us, “And get out.”

This was getting us nowhere. I could have just winnowed into the bedroom and grabbed her and winnowed out – but that would have led to all sorts of additional problems, the least of which being Feyre thoroughly pissed off with me. Instead, I conceded one step back and slid my hands into my pockets and continued on conversationally.

“You really should have your wards inspected. Cauldron knows what other sort of riffraff might stroll in here as easily as I did.”

I shifted my gaze back to her, examining her minutely, continuing to note the subtle marks of neglect, the rage continuing to simmer inside of me.

“Put some clothes on.”

She bared her teeth at me before slipping back into the room, Tamlin following right behind her and slamming the door hard enough to make the chandeliers above my head shake.

I waited and listened, ears straining to hear through the door.

“…get in…”

“…part of…. game he’s playing…”

Silence.

“…war is coming… mend things.”

Interesting, so she had mentioned what I told her to him, at least in part.

“…releases you… bargain.”

“…listen to him.”

“…recover in peace... earned it… relaxed… sentries…. isn’t the time….”

Silence again.

And I was impatient. So, I coughed, once.

The door opened a moment later and Feyre stepped through it, walking towards me and I couldn’t help but frown at the sight of her. She wore the Night Court clothes she had left in last time, but they were so loose on her, they slid across her skin, which was pale and sallow, and her hair, still tangled with sleep, was dull and failed to shimmer with the dim lights of the hallway.

She looked half dead. And it killed me. Get her out – I had to get her out.

I locked down my face, removing all expression, and just raised a hand for her to take.

But Tamlin appeared in front of her, shoving my hand aside roughly – the panic riding high across his face, “You end her bargain right here, right now, and I’ll give you anything you want. Anything.”

Feyre went still. “Are you out of your mind?”

Tamlin didn’t even look at her as he stared me down.

I simply arched a brow at him. “I already have everything I want.” Which was the most bold-faced lie I had ever made about anything – ever. But I doubted he would give me her… besides, she was not an object, a prize to be given.

I stepped around Tamlin and reached for Feyre, taking her hand, and without letting her say goodbye, I winnowed us to the Night Court.

[otterthewasted]

[SNIPPET] ACOMAF - Rhysand's Perspective - Part 1

WARNING: If you have not read A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas I strongly suggest you go read it first - it's undoubtedly better written and what I have written will spoil the book for you.

I am re-writing all of ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective, using all of the original characters/scenes/dialogue, and adding in new bits and bobs to flesh his story out more.

This is Chapter 1 of Part 1 - click HERE to read the rest of the chapters in this part.

I hope you all enjoy!

*Disclaimer - I do not take credit for the any of the characters or the world created by Sarah J. Maas.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mate.

My Mate.

My…

The cold darkness whipping around me settled and ebbed as I stumbled back against a column, hands reaching back to grip the cool moonstone, my breath caught in my throat as my eyes cast about wildly, finally settling on Mor, my cousin, standing in front of me, her eyes wide and silver with tears welling up.

“She’s…. she’s my Mate.” I stammered, my heart pounding so hard I thought my ribs my crack.

“Rhys…” Was all Mor got out before she lunged at me, her arms wrapping tight around my neck, pulling me into her tight embrace as her body racked in sobs.

I managed to raise my hands from the column behind me and wrapped them tightly around her, swallowing hard as I pressed my face against her shoulder, trembling with the emotion of being home, of seeing my cousin, of… oh god. Oh god.

“She’s my Mate…” I whispered again into her shoulder as I clutched Mor tighter, desperately, feeling my body and mind spiraling out of control with the reality of the situation. My Mate and the woman I loved beyond all reason all sanity, loved another male. Had sacrificed body and mind for that male. And beyond being my Mate’s love, he was my enemy, his betrayal of my one-time friendship had cut deeper than any other in my lifetime. I would have laughed at the irony were it not for the sob caught in my throat at the reality of the situation.

Mor’s arms tightened around me, and finally having choked back her sobs she asks, “Who is Rhys? Who is your Mate?”

I swallowed and pulled back enough to lean my head against the column behind me, tilting my head slightly to the side as I cast my gaze at the night sky that for fifty years, I had only dreamed of ever seeing again. And the sight of it, brilliant, radiant, unmatched anywhere else in the world, did nothing to ease the pain inside of me.

“Feyre…. Her name is Feyre.”

- - - ~*~ - - -

Velaris was exactly as I had remembered, which was both a surprise and a comfort. The streets lively and colorful, the inhabitants cheerful, even celebratory as news of the victory Under the Mountain began to spread. Standing at the front window of my townhouse I watched the swirl of commotion as the people spread the news, pausing at the front of my home to bow and wave and yell words of greeting and welcome. I smiled at them, though my heart was broken, I could still feel happiness at seeing them again, at knowing they had been safe all these years, that my choices had been rewarded with this, my city, my people, alive and well.

Behind me, scattered on the couches and chairs in the sitting room were my friends, my family. Their own welcome had been joyful, even Azriel had smiled as he clapped me on the back. Amren had simply bowed her head, a gesture of respect, but I had seen the way her body relaxed subtly, as though she had been holding her breath for fifty years and had only now just been able to let it out. Cassian had been boisterous, grabbing me hard, and then shaking me with pent up grief and frustration, only to hug me again so tight I thought my bones might crack. Through it all Mor had cried yet again, though a smile more jubilant and beautiful than the sun graced her lovely face.

Home. I was home.

And I had never been more broken or empty.

But feeling them there, my family behind me, and my people out front of my house, I knew I could never, never, let them see any of it. Masks had always been a part of my arsenal, but fifty years Under the Mountain had honed them until it was second nature to wear them… in fact I wondered vaguely if it would even be possible for me to not wear one anymore.

So, I settled an old one in place, not the one I had typically worn under the mountain, built of malice and indifference, but rather one constructed of calm confidence. I forced my spine to stand straight, and my shoulders to pull back, forced my lungs to take in a deep breath and not catch on the weakness buried within. I forced my mouth to ease into the vaguest hint of a smile, and then I turned to face my family again, sliding one hand in my pocket, and gesturing briefly with the other.

“Well friends, as much as I might want to revel in this unexpected turn of events, the reality is that we have problems that must be handled quickly and carefully. The two most pressing issues are Hewn city and the Illyarians.” My gaze shifted over each of them, lingering on Mor and Cassian before finally settling on Azriel.

My old friend stood against one wall, his arms crossed in front of him, his face nearly masked in shadows that swirled and caressed around him. Meeting my gaze solidly, the shadows eased back, revealing an expression born of resolve as he nodded understanding before I had even spoken the words.

“We need information, and we need it fast. We’re going to have to take control back and do it so solidly that it won’t be questioned again. Because if my suspicions are correct, then we could be facing a Cauldrons load of trouble very soon.”

Silence met my statement for a few heartbeats before it was Amren who broke it. She looked at me with her swirling silver eyes, the ancient power of them boring into me, through me, “Rhysand, do not toy with us. What are your suspicions?”

I managed a wane smile at her tone, she was never one to beat around the bush. Taking a breath, I said, “Amarantha was just a test.” I paused and glanced around at each of them again before I continued, “Hybern is coming.”