#like confirm that rhys kept the eye and for whatever reason they now need to know something only jack knew

[krotiation]

ima be so real... i hate the idea of jack being some "greater mastermind who actually escaped death and will come back in bl4 as the Big Bad"

the biggest appeal about jack to me is the fact that despite being genuinely really smart and tough, he's really just human in the end. angel died, he got reckless, he died. same with tales tbh. he found out angel died, rhys betrayed him, he crashed out, he "died". he's extremely self destructive and THAT is why i really love jack as a character. it just wouldn't hit the same if he somehow survived and it was all part of some secret plan

[famouscyclenerd]

Mor's reactions to Az and Elain are explained in his BC

this is my opinion btw, nothing's been confirmed.

I've seen both sides use her reactions to "prove" that their ship is endgame in whatever way. We don't have her pov in any of the scenes however.

So as of right now, we don't know why Sarah chooses to highlight Mor's reactions whenever there is an interaction between Elain and Az in her presence, but I have my theories, and ya'll already know it's not going in e/riels favor, SO BUCKLE UP MY DUDES WE'RE GOING FOR A RIDE!👹

I think it's important to note that Azriel and Mor's relationship has been slightly... turbulent throughout all of the decades they've known each other. Don't get me wrong, it hasn't been absolutely unstable, but there is a huge lack of communication on both sides that's been in dire need of resolvement in order for them to have a good and healthy friendship.

Although Sarah hasn't confirmed it, moriel was supposed to be endgame. PERIOD! I still can't believe there are moriel deniers. Reading ACOMAF, moriel was the plan and that's a !fact! (TRUST, I was there when MAF realeased and the couples were feysand, elucien, nessian and moriel) and it became evident in ACOWAR that she changed her mind on them for unknown reasons.

So what do we know about them and their feelings for each other? In MAF Feyre noticed Azriel reactions towards Mor. I honestly find that so fucking funny when "Beautiful, but near-unreadable." and "His skin was as cold as his face." is how Feyre first describes his face, yet she clocks his feelings for Mor almost immediately.

"It was almost enough to distract me from noticing Azriel as those shadows lightened, and his gaze slid over Mor's body (...) A wisp of shadow curled around Azriel's ear, and his eyes snapped to mine. I schooled my face into bland innocence."

"Mor patted Azriel on the shoulder (...) The lurking shadow vanished entirely as Azriel's head dipped a bit (...)"

This was the very first scene where Feyre observed Mor and Az together.

"Yes - Azriel, who kept a step away, whose shadows trailed him and seemed to fade in her presence."

I find this interesting since some of you can say: "GOTCHA! His shadows vanishes around Mor like they do with Elain and moriel was supposed to be endgame in MAF" but I don't think this is good for the e/riels at all, as Sarah kept this going even after she decided that they weren't going to be together. This basically established e/riel to be moriel 2.0 and it didn't work out the first time, so why would it work a second time?

I find it interesting when Feyre, Rhys, Cassian and Azriel leaves to go see Elain and Nesta for the first time - Azriel decided to leave behind his shadows.

"(...) No shadows trailed us, as if he'd left them in Velaris."

Why? Because he didn't want to unsettle the sisters as they were there to convince them to work with them.

"Then I shifted to the right, grateful those shadows were nowhere to be found (...)"

"But Azriel's attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit. I wondered if Rhys's spymaster often got his information through stone-cold manners as much as stealth and shadows."

How sweet! First meetings :D

To speed things up a bit, we have Mor finally telling Feyre more about their relationship. How she's aware he wants her, but doesn't see himself good enough to be with her.

“He might have defied and proved those Illyrian pricks wrong at every turn, but it won’t matter if Rhys makes him Prince of Velaris—he’ll see himself as a bastard-born nobody, and not good enough for anyone. Especially me.”

This is very crucial and something I'll circle back to later!

Then we have the cauldron scene that seemed to be what would finally make a change in their so far static relationship.

"Faster than any of us could see, Jurian fired a hidden ash bolt through Azriel's chest. Mor screamed."

"Mor was shaking - trying hard not to, but shaking as she stared at the protruding end of that arrow, visible between the gap in Azriel's wings."

"Jurian's sword was already out - and he was looking at Mor as if he was going to kill her first. Azriel's blood-drained face twisted with rage as he noticed that stare."

"Azriel cried out in pain. She froze."

"Mor looked at Azriel and there was real fear there. Fear - and something else. She didn't stop moving until she kneeled beside him and pressed a hand to his wound. Azriel hissed - but covered her bloody fingers with his own."

I've said this before and I'll say it again. If you know SJM terminology, you know what the "something else" means. This was the mating bond snapping into place for Mor. We were all waiting for it to be adressed in ACOWAR, but clearly that never happened.

As of WAR and FAS, Azriel's feelings for Mor doesn't waver. He continues to stare after her with longing, hunger, sadness whatever - even with Elain in the room fyi. But Mor's feelings for him has been changed irrevocably - as Sarah decides to sink the moriel ship once and for all by telling us Mor is not romantically interested in men, something Az is not aware of, as far as we know. And she continues to sleep with men, which makes him confused and hurt. Their relationship remains the same as it always has been.

So with this out of the way, let's take a look at Mor's reactions to e/riel!

"Azriel's hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. And without a word, he winnowed away. Mor watched the space where he'd been standing long after he was gone."

This is... an interesting reaction and something that Sarah obviously wants us to notice. So why is that?

"Az said nothing. No, he just moved toward her. Mor tensed beside me."

Ah, the lovely potato scene! As I was re-reading it, there really was nothing romantic about it whatsoever. Rhys explaining why, as this was more to highlight Azriel's ptsd than show any romantic indication between him and Elain.

However, Mor's reaction is certainly something to note on. She tenses as she watches them. And in here comes my reasoning as to why Az's POV is so important to her reactions. Because previously, we see Elain and Az together through other people's eyes, and it can come across as very sweet and innocent, ♫the start of something new♪ perhaps. But the BC really just threw any sliver of a chance for e/riel out the window, imho.

There was simply nothing sweet about Azriel's inner thoughts as he was interacting with her. His self worth is at an all time low around her, meaning it has most likely always been like that whenever they've been together.

He is so aware of his own flaws, his status, his looks etc and basically comparing himself to her. She is so flawless and good and he is this ugly monster.

"Az tried not to look at his scarred fingers as they took the gift."

"His shadows skittered back at the sound. They'd always been prone to vanish when she was around." ← as they do with Mor

"Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin."

"Wrong - it was so wrong."

"She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open that he knew she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things that sullied his hands far beyond his scars."

"Such terrible things that it was a sacrilege for his fingers to touch her skin, tainting her with his presence."

"He hadn't gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to." ← this is straight up diabolical💀

Although we have never gotten Az's POV when he's around Mor, I imagine it to be very similar in terms of how he views himself and them. And I think Mor understands this. When she looks at Elain and Az, she sees herself and him. And I think her heart breaks for him as she watched history repeat itself, likely knowing that there isn't much she can do but watch as he self destructs again and again.

As I mentioned, this makes me look at e/riels interactions differently when knowing how Az views himself around her. I believe this made every interaction between them, that could carry hints of potential romance, into something much darker than what it seemed like on the surface. And I think Mor sees this, as well as Rhys.

This kinda leads into a post I was planning on writing, but couldn't be bothered. But it was about Az and Rhys and how as of SF, the character that knows Az the best is Rhys. And we see Rhys shut down any e/riel interaction known to man. Feyre: "how handsome they could be together" and Rhys: "Azriel has been preoccupied with the same female for five hundred years" etc.

With the bonus chapter in mind, I have a headcanon that, like Feyre did to Lucien, Rhys used his daemati powers on Azriel and essentially read what we read, leading to him interrupting them as he (like many of us) did not view what was happening as something romantic. If you read on a surface-level, what Rhys did could appear mean, but to me, he did this because he cares for his brother and that particular kiss would not make Azriel feel better about himself. At all!

"What of Mor, Az?" Azriel ignored the question." ← He is not completely over her, even in SF.

If my headcanon is true (which we might never even find out) I just have to point out that Feyre found no ill will when it came to Lucien's regard for Elain, only concern, sorrow, longing etc. Compared with Rhys and Az, where good intentions was not on the table, but simply lust and self-hatred on Azriel's end at least.

I'm not sure why Sarah decided to toy around with e/riel except because Azriel was suddenly available after she decided to ditch moriel, but I do believe that they've turned into nothing but a red herring for gwynriel and elucien. And it worked, a little too well maybe.

See I could pull in my girl Gwyn and her scene with Azriel to compare and show the contrast of it, but I'm not going to..

"The young priestess smiled - and he thought it might have been directed at his curious shadows."

This is already... so different to what we've seen with the other two.

"He blocked out the bloody memory that flashed, so at odds with the Gwyn he saw before him now."

He thinks about her and how far she's come compared to when they first met.

"Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music."

"He blinked. It wasn't every day that people took him by surprise, but..."

This is just cute c:

"Azriel couldn't help his soft chuckle."

"(...) rubbing his hands against the cold, grateful for its bracing bite and the distraction of this impromptu lesson."

He is aware of his hands and not thinking about how "ugly" they are when she is around him. He is also happy about this surprising lesson, not at all interested in being alone to mope anymore.

"Azriel laughed."

"(...) something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch."

You already know. But Az was in a shitty mood right before this, and it did not take much of Gwyn to calm him down, leading him to feel slightly better about himself and even feeling like he could get some sleep after all.

Compared to both Mor and Elain, his shadows are present and interacting with her and she's paying attention to them as well. Which is a first. And let's not forget the ✨spark✨

Which of these three ladies is better for Azriel? Mor and Elain are basically the same for him, himself and his shadows reacts more or less the same around them. Or Gwyn, which read in a lot more positive note than the previous two?

I think Sarah knows at least🤷‍♀️

[silverdreamscapes]

A THING OF SECRET LOVELY BEAUTY APPLIES TO BOTH ELAIN AND GWYN:

While “secret, lovely beauty” was used for both Elain and Gwyn in the bonus, it really only has romantic significance and relevance for one of them in ACOSF.

“Elain shall wed for love and beauty.”

“His secret to tell, never hers.”

Both of those sentences have romantic connotations because one references who Elain will marry, and the second one is in reference to Azriel secretly having feelings for Elain, which Nesta discovered and was then it was confirmed in the bonus. And both of them tie in thematically to Elriel. Both of them have kept their feelings for one another a secret and Elain will wed for love (not a mating bond) and beauty (a man who hides his scarred hands and considers himself tainted and not good enough for Elain but she sees the good in him anyway).

And this isn’t even mentioning all the times Elain and even Azriel are described and noted for their beauty and attractiveness. Or how many times Elain calls something from Azriel “beautiful”. When he gives her the necklace she calls it beautiful. The first time they meet and she asks him about flying she called his explanation beautiful. When she looked at the scarred hands that he considers ugly and tainted she called them beautiful.

And now for Gwyn:

As for Gwyn she’s described as being lovely as well but there’s nothing about “secret, lovely beauty” to connect her romantically to Azriel in ACOSF. The only thing that I really believe connects her to that phrase is the lightsinger theory.

High Fae, and yet … Nesta couldn’t explain the way she sensed that there was something else mixed into her. Some secret beneath the pretty face.

“There are lightsingers: lovely, ethereal beings who will lure you, appearing as friendly faces when you are lost. Only when you’re in their arms will you see their true faces…”

So in the very same book where we’re introduced to Lightsingers, which share an awfully close resemblance to sirens (creatures who sing/use their voice to lure people to them)…we are also then introduced to a character who is noted for her singing and is surrounded by light and musical imagery. Who’s voice is described as beckoning and luring Nesta in (and even Azriel’s shadows in the bonus).

Lightsingers who have a facade of beauty and appear friendly on the surface, but their “true nature” is hidden beneath that facade, and then we have Gwyn. Who the first time Nesta meets her she states that Gwyn appears high fae but there’s something else there as well that she can’t quite pin point…a secret beneath the pretty face.

When Azriel is describing the necklace (the thing of secret lovely beauty) which was given to Elain and maybe/maybe not given to Gwyn, I think that phrase applies to both Elain and Gwyn and that’s why it was used for both of them.

Yes it was used in reference to the necklace first, but the fact that it was a rose necklace and when he described it he was basically describing Elain/their relationship is important. A rose necklace that seems ordinary and easily dismissed (Elain is constantly being dismissed as boring and useless by people who underestimate her). But when it’s brought into the light everyone will see it’s many facets and beauty. (Much like Elain who Rhys said had more to offer than being sweet and kind but just needs the confidence and the space to show her other facets, and elriel’s growing attraction which had been secret and something they kept from each other and everyone else up until the bonus)

As for Gwyn, “secret lovely beauty” is used in reference to the image of her teal eyes lighting up. Which again, I feel like is more of a reference to her being a lightsinger. It’s an image so it isn’t necessarily real and it comes to him for “whatever reason” meaning he doesn’t know why he imagines it, and it’s difficult to believe it’s romantic in nature when just a few lines up he states that he and Gwyn aren’t even friends. And we also know that it’s 7 o’clock when Gwyn would be singing based on Nesta’s chapter. Where Nesta also heard Gwyn sing and had visions and images that came to her as well. Where Nesta felt lured and beckoned while Gwyn sang.

Which also ties into Azriel giving Gwyn the necklace. He had “every intention” of taking the necklace back to the shop but “found himself” at the library at 7 in the evening (again when Gwyn would be singing), almost as if he was beckoned there by her voice if it was 7 in the evening when the priestesses sing.

And when Azriel described the necklace “the thing of secret lovely beauty” he said that it appeared ordinary but was in fact beautiful when the light hit it. Almost as if it’s true nature was hidden, and when the “light” (truth was exposed) it’s true facets (face) is revealed. Kind of sounds like lightsingers who appear as one thing on the surface to lure people and then are revealed for what they truly are later…no???

(As always a disclaimer because this fandom can’t have nuanced conversations about anything: no I’m not implying Gwyn is evil or a villain. No I don’t think she’s intentionally manipulating anyone. I think Lightsingers are misunderstood. This is just me tying in things from the bonus to the text in ACOSF)

[hacawijo]

Alright, If We’re Gonna Play with Az’s Bonus Chapter, Let’s PLAY with Az’s Bonus Chapter (Pt. 2)

Yeah baby, part 2 of a PAINSTAKING close read lol.

Azriel winnowed into shadows before she could say anything he uses the shadows to ESCAPE, they are a coping mechanism, appearing at the door to Rhys’s study a heartbeat later. His shadows whispered in his ear that Elain had gone upstairs. It’s interesting that the shadows specifically report on Elain’s whereabouts here and not earlier, as well as later not reporting on Gwyn.

Rhys sat at his desk, fury a moonless night across his face. He asked softly, “Are you out of your mind?”

Azriel donned the frozen mask he’d perfected while in his father’s dungeon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rhys’s power rippled through the room like a dark cloud. “I’m talking about you, about to kiss Elain, in the middle of a hall where anyone could see you,” he snarled. “Including her mate.” It is not out of line for Rhys to acknowledge that this was stupid. If for no other reason than that it would hurt Lucien if he saw/felt them.

Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it. Which is the mirror to something that Rhys notes in ACOFAS, that they are similar in their darkness. Because Rhys is really the only person Azriel can be himself with, completely, I think it’s important to acknowledge that this is unprecedented ground for them and specifically for Azriel. This is the first time Azriel can actually voice ANY of these thoughts out loud, and only because Rhys saw them, he did not bring this concern to Rhys himself. “What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

Rhysand blinked. “What of Mor, Az?” Also very not out of line thing to ask. Feyre is the only person Mor has really told about her sexuality, and so to Rhys and co. AND Azriel, nothing about this situation has changed in the past 500 years. The fact that Azriel is able to get over Mor, without that confirmation of her sexuality, because of Elain, is significant I think.

Azriel ignored the question. Hmm yeah, but he can’t keep ignoring this question forever, and that’s another reason he and Elain did NOT kiss in this chapter. He and his family and Mor all need closure regarding their relationship. “The Cauldron chose three sisters. Oh boy, I have a lot to say about the number three later on! Tell me how it’s possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.” He had never before dared speak the words out loud. NEVER BEFORE DARED TO SPEAK THE WORDS OUT LOUD. This is the first time he’s even verbalizing these thoughts - of COURSE he doesn’t know how to navigate this conversation. This is raw emotion being spewed out right now, enhanced by the unresolved tension from his interaction with Elain.

Rhys’s face drained of color. “You believe you deserve to be her mate?” So, he says that his two brothers ARE WITH two of those sisters, which is a way to acknowledge the fact that both people in each pair accepted the bond and that it was a mutually built connection. Then he says “the third was given to another” which is actually really different. He’s saying that Elain was given to Lucien by the Cauldron, suddenly one member of that bond is not an active participant - and this is mostly true! Elain has ignored Lucien diligently, and she hinted about her lack of feelings for him when she asked Feyre why he should be entitled to her affections just because of the cauldron and whatever amends he has made. I don’t like Azriel saying that Elain is something to be given as opposed to a person to be connected to, but I’m not sure exactly what it means that he did that. ANYWAY, Rhys really does supply the word deserve, and we have evidence from earlier in this chapter that essentially proves that Azriel does not believe he deserves Elain, anyway. He is having an argument with Rhys, yes, but it almost feels like he’s arguing with himself.

Azriel scowled. “I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him anyway.” (THE ONLY TIME ELAIN’S ACTUAL FEELINGS, ACTIONS ARE CONSIDERED IN THIS DISCUSSION BTW) Also, not that he doesn’t answer Rhys’s question. For Azriel, this isn’t necessarily about what HE deserves in this moment, it’s about what Elain wants. Almost certainly, Azriel DOESN’T believe that he deserves Elain, but he sees the injustice of her being forced to accept a bond with someone for political or spiritual/societal reasons. So while to Rhys it may seem like Azriel is is putting Lucien’s claim down in order to boost his own, I actually think Azriel is trying to distinguish a different issue - Elain’s agency. This same thing happened with Mor and Eris. ABSOLUTELY THIS IS NOT ALL LIKE THAT SITUATION BECAUSE LUCIEN IS NOT ERIS!!! I am not trying to compare their behavior. BUT, Azriel would have dueled Eris for Mor’s agency regardless of whether or not she chose to be with him.

“So you’ll what?” Rhys’s voice was pure ice. “Seduce her away from him?” Rhys, I think, misinterpreting Azriel and it’s mostly not Rhys’s fault. Azriel doesn’t communicate well and is not currently communicating well. That being said, I wish he would give Azriel more benefit of the doubt.

Azriel said nothing. He hadn’t got that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to. HE HADN’T PLANNED ANYTHING, this whole conversation is just like a raw nerve.

Rhys growled, “Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her.” Well come on, now, Rhys, what if she doesn’t want to stay away from him? BE A FEMINIST RHYS, just add, “unless she wants to see you”!

ALSO, DID RHYS TELL FEYRE ABOUT THIS? MY MONEY IS ON NO, AND IF RHYS DIDN’T TELL HER ITS BECAUSE HE KNOWS HE’S NOT WHOLLY DOING THE RIGHT THING BY ELAIN.

“You can’t order me to do that.”

“Oh, I can, and I will. If Lucien finds out you’re pursuing her, he has every right to defend their bond as he sees fit. Including invoking the Blood Duel.” Another really big sign that this is going to play out Elriel style is the mentioning of the Blood Duel. Chekhov’s gun eh?

“That’s an Autumn Court tradition.” The battle to the death was so brutal that it was only enacted in rare cases. Despite being an outsider, Azriel had wanted to to invoke it when he’d found Mor all those years ago. Had been ready to challenge both Beron and Eris to Blood Duels and kill them both. Yes see? He would have done this regardless of Mor’s feelings toward him. Only Mor’s right to claim their heads in vengeance had kept him from doing so.

“Lucien, as Beron’s son, has the right to demand it of you.” But hey fun fact Rhys knows that Lucien is almost CERTAINLY not Beron’s son. Interesting to consider in context.

“I’ll defeat him with little effort.” Pure arrogance laced every word, but it was true. Again, Azriel is dodging Rhys’s points and is honestly being pretty immature right now, but he hasn’t actually said ANYTHING about an intention to pursue Elain with any of this. Rhys has filled in the blanks, and Azriel has responded to smaller aspects of Rhys’s macro-points with which he finds fault. I think this is also because he knows Rhys is right about a lot of the realities of the situation, but he is in the mood to be contrary right now, so he’s fighting back where he can stomach it.

“I know.” Rhys’s eyes flickered. “And your doing so will rip apart any fragile peace and alliances we have, not only with the Autumn Court, but Also with the Spring Court and Jurian and Vassa.” Rhys bared his teeth. Rhys’s motivations are based entirely on things that have nothing to do with Elain’s feelings, which is sad. But, they’re not insignificant considerations. Though come on dude you did pretty much enable Hybern’s arrival to Prythian by alienating The Spring Court with Feyre’s escape.“So you will leave Elain alone. YES, ALONE, because Elain probably is PRETTY FREAKIN LONELY If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.” Low. Blow.

Azriel snarled softly.

“Snarl all you want.” Rhys leaned back in his chair. “But if I see you panting after her again, I’ll make you regret it.” I do think this is a really ungenerous description of what was happening downstairs with Elain. Their interaction was careful and consensual, we have painstaking detail to prove that, and it was far from panting/animalistic in action.

Rhys had rarely threatened punishment or pulled rank. It stunned Azriel enough that it knocked him from his rage. This is another person taking ANOTHER choice away from Elain. I think she may find out about Rhys doing this and I personally think she’s gonna be rightfully pissed.

Rhys jerked his chin toward the door. “Get out.”

Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him.

Until he felt nothing. Was again nothing at all. With Elain, he is SOMETHING. Because he feels things.

Then he flew to the House of Wind, knowing that if he slept in the riverside manor, he’d do something he regretted. He’d been so vigilant about keeping away from Elain as much as possible, Further evidence that Azriel never intended to fight Lucien or make a stink over Elain and had stayed up here to avoid her, and tonight... tonight had proved he’d been right to do so.

He aimed for the training pit, giving in to the need to work off the temptation, the rage and frustration and writhing need.

He found it occupied. His shadows had not warned him. I am not sure what it means that his shadows didn’t warn him. It could mean that Gwyn is protected from his shadows/immune to them. It could mean that his shadows wanted him to go see Gwyn - either out of a desire for Azriel to find some peace with her or out of curiosity as to who/what she is?

It was too late to bank without appearing like he was running. Azriel landed in the ring a few feet from where Gwyn practiced in the chill night, her sword glimmering like ice in the moonlight.

She stopped mid-slice, whirling to face him. “I’m sorry. I knew you all were going to the river house, so I didn’t think anyone would mind if I came up here and—“

“It’s fine. I came here to retrieve something I forgot.” The lie was smooth and cool, as he knew his face was. His shadows peered over his wings at her. They are… wary of her? They’re shy around her?

The young priestess smiled — and Azriel thought it might have been directed at his curious shadows. But she just hooked her coppery-brown hair behind an arched ear. “I was trying to cut the ribbon.” She pointed with her sword at the white ribbon, which seemed to glow silver. Some interesting language here and above (glimmering, glow etc.) to do with light, and again a juxtaposition between light and dark. But not a golden light, a colder/silver light.

“Aren’t you cold?” His breath clouded in front of him.

Gwyn shrugged. “Once you get moving, you stop noticing it.”

He nodded, silence falling. For a heartbeat, their gazes met. Gaze is definitely a romantically charged word, this is one of the tiny details that makes me unsure about the future nature of their relationship. He blocked out the bloody memory that flashed, so at odds with the Gwyn he saw before him now. I definitely do not think they are mates. I’m not closing the door on them being romantically involved, I don’t have enough evidence to do that, but I really think that if they were mates, Azriel would have known when he saw her at Sangravah.

Her head ducked, as if remembering it too. That he’d been the one who’d found her that day at Sangravah. Shades of Cassian’s reactions to Emerie’s wings having been clipped, in ACOFAS. “Happy Solstice,” she said, as much a dismissal as it was a holiday blessing.

He snorted. “Are you kicking me out?”

Gwyn’s teal eyes I have a lot to say about these teal eyes :) flashed with alarm. “No! I mean, I don’t mind sharing the ring. I just... I know you like to be alone.” Her mouth quirked to the side, crinkling the freckles on her nose. “Is that why you came up here?” I’ll talk more about this later, but there are a few small moments in the book where it seems like Gwyn might have a crush on Azriel, or some kind of special awareness/interest where he is concerned. I have seen almost no evidence that Az returns those potential feelings, except PERHAPS for the moment where he hears her screech and pays attention. But I think anyone would pay attention if someone screeched? Also he watches reverently as she cuts the ribbon, but that also feels like it would happen regardless of any romantic feelings he might have. But I don’t know for sure!

Sort of. “I forgot something.”

“At two in the morning?”

Pure amusement glittered in her stare. Better than the pain and grief he’d spied a moment before. So he offered her a crooked smile. He cares that she not be feeling pain and grief, as he does with anyone he deems good, and that is part of why he offers her the smile, as he clearly says right here. “I can’t sleep without my favorite dagger.”

“A comfort to every growing child.”

Azriel’s lips twitched. I think her irreverence matches his sense of humor quite well. He refrained from mentioning that he did indeed sleep with a dagger. Many daggers. Including one under his pillow.

“How was the party?” Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music. This shadow is acting totally independent of him. She’s asking a simple question of Azriel at the moment, and he CAN’T hear the music he believes that shadow might be dancing to. Lightsinger evidence, I’d say.

“Fine,” he said, and realized a heartbeat later that it wasn’t a socially acceptable answer. “It was nice.” LOL I will say here that Azriel has to make a lot of conscious effort in this interaction. He makes himself respond in a specific way, which is not language that was used to describe his interactions with Elain earlier in the chapter. This could totally just be because he doesn’t know Gwyn that well, and certainly that’s a big part of it, but I think there’s something to be said for the fact that he is still filtering himself here with Gwyn in the quiet.

Not much better. So he asked, “Did you can the priestesses have a celebration?”

“Yes, though the service was the main highlight.”

“I see.” LOL

She angled her head, hair shining like molten metal. More glowing-type stuff “Do you sing?” I love Gwyn.

He blinked. It wasn’t everyday that people took him by surprise, but... which is great! Elain surprises him with the headache medicine in ACOFAS, Feyre surprises him with her intuition and tenderness throughout. I think this indicates that they will have a significant relationship regardless of its exact nature. “Why do you ask?”

“They call you shadowsinger. Is it because you sing?”

“I am a shadowsinger— it’s not a title that someone just made up.” It’s super-duper interesting that they actually discuss the fact that he’s a shadowsinger. When Feyre meets Azriel, she is curious, but specifically doesn’t ask follow-up questions or for expansion on the ability. Why specifically remind us here that Azriel is a shadowsinger and that Gwyn sings? If not to foreshadow something related to the ability and Gwyn?

She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. “Do you though?” She pressed. “Sing?”

Azriel couldn’t help his soft chuckle. “Yes.” I love Gwyn. She is the reason I now realize a lot of what I’ve been doing in my life is irreverence :P

She opened her mouth to ask more, but he didn’t feel like explaining. Or demonstrating, since that was surely what she’d ask next. So Az jerked his chin to the sword dangling from her hand. “Try cutting the ribbon again.” I love this so much. Maybe it is romantic, but I think that’s debatable. What’s not debatable is that it’s completely charming.

“What— with you watching?” It’s actually pretty funny that in order to avoid giving a demonstration of something that makes him vulnerable and puts Gwyn in the role of expert he flips it and makes her demonstrate vulnerability while he is the expert. Gwyn might be quite a bit braver than Azriel in some ways.

He nodded.

She considered, and he wondered if she’d say no, but Gwyn blew out a breath, steadied her feet and balance, and sliced. A beautiful, precise blow, but it didn’t sever the ribbon. SEE? Brave. I love Gwyn.

“Again,” he ordered, rubbing his hands against the cold, grateful for its bracing bite and the distraction of this impromptu lesson. Distraction is a notable word here. Azriel’s thoughts don’t really ever stray from Elain and his turmoil throughout this interaction, that’s what the word distraction tells us.

Gwyn sliced again, but the ribbon remained unyielding.

“You’re turning the blade a fraction as it comes parallel to the ground,” Azriel explained, drawing his Illyrian blade from down his back. “Watch.” He slowly demonstrated, rotating his wrist where she did. “You see how you open up right here?” He corrected his position. “Keep your wrist like that. The blade is an extension of your arm.”

Gwyn tried the movement as slowly as he had, and he watched her self-correct, fighting against the urge to open up her wrist and rotate the blade. She did it three times before she stopped falling into the bad habit. “I blame Cassian for this. He’s too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days.”

Azriel laughed. “I’ll give you that.” I sense a lot of compatibility, just, again, not sure it’s romantic.

Gwyn smiled broadly. “Thank you.”

Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch. This is another line that I think offers the most evidence for something significant between Gwyn and Azriel. It’s lovely that she has helped to settle something restless in him with the distraction - and I think it’s important to note that it might not have done the same thing had he encountered Emerie or another trainee on the roof. At the same time, maybe it would have. Also love that his shadows like to watch Gwyn. Lightsinger/Shadowsinger evidence! This all being said, I can’t really think of an SJM romance that is built around a comfort zone. I can think of many friendships that operate that way, but not so much with the romances. There’s usually nervousness and flutters and passion and… restlessness, somewhere in there.

But— sleep. He needed to at least attempt to get some.

“Happy Solstice,” Azriel said before aiming for the archway into the House. “Don’t stay out too much longer. You’ll freeze.”

Gwyn nodded her farewell, again facing the ribbon. A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone. I love Gwyn.

Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer. This feels VERY much like Lightsinger/Shadowsinger evidence. His shadows, as this chapter has demonstrated time and again, operate independently of him, and they react to Gwyn’s song. I also think it’s possible that Gwyn is sort of always singing, even when she’s not. Like she glows with song on some level, and that’s what his shadows are reacting to - because I don’t think she’d necessarily actually sing while attempting to cut the ribbon.

He slept as well as could be expected which means pretty much not at all y’all — he makes it clear he never expects to sleep well, but when Azriel returned to the River House to gather his presents before dawn, he found Elain’s necklace amid the pile. He pocketed it. Spent the rest of his day, even the blasted snowball fight, with every intention of returning it to the shop in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. How did the necklace get there??? Did Elain really put it there??? Seems like even more evidence that he assumes too much about her understanding of his feelings. Also, though, it seems really rude/OOC for Elain to do that. She gave up very quickly after he gave her a really thoughtful gift. SOMETHING’S FISHY.

But when he returned from the cabin in the mountains, he didn’t go to the market square.

Instead, he found himself at the library beneath the House of Wind, standing before Clotho as the clock chimed seven in the evening. Important to remember that this is one of the longest nights of the year, which means dusk is coming on later than it was when Nesta attended the evening service weeks/months prior- a service that started almost exactly when seven bells rang the time. It is very well possible that Azriel finds himself at the library as the evening service is happening. The one in which Gwyn sings. If she does have some kind of Lightsinger power in her, it may be that he was lured by that power instead of returning the necklace. Even if they always start at 7, he still arrives exactly at 7. The only point against this surmising that I’ve done is that Clotho led the service which Nesta attended, and yet she is here to greet Azriel. Either I’m wrong and the service is not happening at or around this time, OR the service can take place without Clotho occasionally, and this served the interest of the plot so that Az could speak with someone.

He slid the small box across her desk. “If you see Gwyn, would you give this to her?”

Clotho angled her hooded head, and her enchanted pen wrote on a piece of paper. A Solstice gift from you?

Azriel shrugged. “Don’t tell her it came from me.” Yes, it really doesn’t seem super romantic to re-gift a necklace to Gwyn. It just feels sour, if this is the start of a romance between them.

Why?

“Does she need to know? Just tell her it was a gift from Rhys.”

That would be a lie.

He avoided the urge to cross his arms, not wanting to look intimidating. He blocked out the memory that flashed— of his mother cringing before his father, the male standing with crossed arms in such a way that made his displeasure known before he opened his hateful mouth. This feels very important. We know VERY LITTLE about Azriel’s story, his past, and his family, and so I want to point out ANY and EVERY nugget we get!

“Look I...” Az searched for the words, his voice becoming quiet. “If there’s another priestess here who might appreciate it, give it to them. But I’m not taking that necklace with me when I leave.” I’m not exactly sure what it means that Azriel says this. It could be that he doesn’t want to make a thing of his potential feelings for Gwyn and so tries to deflect with this statement, both to convince Clotho and himself that it’s not about Gwyn. It could also mean that Azriel needed to be rid of the necklace, and wasn’t in the mood to fight with Clotho over an ultimately secondary (to getting rid of the necklace) impulse to give it to someone who provided him comfort and companionship at a time when he needed it.

He waited for Clotho’s pen to finish writing. Your eyes are sad, Shadowsinger.

He offered her a grim smile. “I lost the snowball fight today.” HE LOST THE FIRST SNOWBALL FIGHT IN 200 YEARS! And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because Gwyn made him feel better the previous night. I think he lost because he is in anguish over the situation with Elain. Again, I understand that anguish shouldn’t necessarily be a romantic thing, but in SJM’s writing it often is. This is a romance series, angst is a thing, stakes are a thing. It’s not necessarily the most healthy, but it’s also not all-the-way unhealthy. He just feels strongly about Elain and there are a lot of obstacles between him and finding a way to resolve those feelings for good or bad.

I am a counselor for folks who have and are dealt/dealing with sexual, gender-based, and interpersonal violence, and if you want me to do an analysis of all of the relationships in SJM’s writing that aren’t wholly healthy, there won’t be any left over. Except for maybe Sartaq and Nesryn. they really do have their shit together. I suspend a fair amount of my disbelief and professional knowledge in reading these books because I love them and they are fictional :) Also, relationships are complicated. It’s pretty rare for me to work with a client that has a cut-and-dry, black-and-white story.

Now, in my PERSONAL NOT PROFESSIONAL experience, shit is messy, and messiness, even in real life, doesn’t always mean something isn’t worth the strife. Though absolutely abuse and assault are a whole other thing. I think it’s really good to think critically about relationship dynamics in fiction, because it’s a safe place to do great learning and reflection. I also think it’s important to consider that the rules of our reality are not necessarily the rules of the reality being written by an author. Maybe you personally find Azriel’s feelings toward Elain (as they have been expressed so far) are beyond redemption, and are unhealthy to a point where the relationship cannot be salvaged. But that is not realistically a reason that the relationship in question won’t happen. Pretty much any negative/toxic assertions that can be leveled against Elriel based on the VERY SMALL amount of first-person perspective we have in the relationship could be leveled against at least a few of SJM’s other endgame couples. Totally happy to get into this more and provide those examples :)

Clotho was smart enough to see through his deflection. She wrote, I’ll give it to Gwyneth. Tell her a friend left it for her.

He wouldn’t go so far as to call Gwyn a friend, but... “Fine. Thank you.” Not sure what this means. Maybe just that it takes Az a while to open up to people and call them friends.

Clotho’s pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring her.

Something sparked in Azriel’s chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn’s teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it. And here we have the most romantic evidence for Az and Gwyn as a couple. Maybe he is falling for her and that’s why he can picture her smile. I really don’t know. I think it could also be that he is happy to be able to make her happy, in recognition of the comfort she gave him the previous evening. Maybe he can picture her because of her potential lightsinger status. Thoughts?

But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. The image glowing, again, lightsinger-supporting language.

A thing of secret, lovely beauty. So now he is referring to Gwyn’s smile here. This is interesting, because Gwyn’s smile wouldn’t necessarily be a secret, but perhaps it is if you think of her as being hidden in the library, or that he’ll know about her smile and her receiving the necklace even though she won’t know that he’s the one who gave it to her. Or maybe he’s drop dead in love with her! Another thing that I don’t think is true given his stony attitude post-Solstice (when Gwyn is very much around) and the fact that he doesn’t seem to react viscerally to Gwyn’s kidnapping until Cassian points out that bad things could be happening to both her AND Emerie, as well as Nesta. He knows Gwyn just as well, if not better at this point, as he knew Elain when he reacted to HER kidnapping in ACOWAR. He was very riled, he was the one who noticed she was gone, he vowed almost immediately to go get her, knowing it might mean certain death (to be fair, he seems to have a bit of a death wish, BUT he’s still a pragmatist and doesn’t try to WASTE his life on things - either they’re essential to the court and/or Prythian’s wellbeing or essential to someone for whom he cares deeply.)

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {10}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I figured two chapters in one night is okay since, you know, it’s short....and everyone should go to bed sad.

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“He left bloody fingerprints on the rock, but there was something satisfying about that. I was here. I exist. I’m alive, because I bleed.” ― Maggie Stiefvater, Blue Lily, Lily Blue

Rhysand sat in the quiet interrogation room. 

At least they had uncuffed him.

He’d been sitting there, in the silence, running on pure adrenaline for at least forty minutes. He wanted to call Feyre, but even if he had his phone, they would have taken it from him.

On the ride to the station, no one answered his questions. And he had asked a lot of them. Eventually, he had given up and let the nature of things take its course. 

The door to the white, nearly empty room opened and Beron Vanserra walked in. Rhysand said nothing as he sat in the chair opposite of him.

“Rhysand,” Beron began, and cleared his throat. “Tell me why you’re here.”

Rhysand blinked. “Surely you’re aware, because I sure as hell am not.” 

Beron nodded, face grave. “Look, Rhys,” he began, using that old, familiar nickname. “We got a call-”

“From Tamlin?” Rhysand guessed. “Beron, you’ve known me since I was five. Alright? You know my character. I’m not some dumbass teenager who gets high in his mom’s basement then thinks it’s fun to go spraypaint dicks on historical landmarks.”

Beron rubbed his temples. “Rhysand-”

“For fuck’s sake!” he said, unable to keep his cool. “I just get home from work, get handcuffed and dragged out of my fucking apartment - while my girlfriend and the entire fucking neighborhood watches, might I add - for what?” Rhysand shook his head. “Because Tamlin’s rich and his daddy has a lot of power? Because that’s my fucking guess.” 

“Rh-”

“If you’re going to interrogate me, I have nothing to say. I was at work all day, every day, and when I’m not at work, I’m at home with Feyre-”

“Rhys, if you do not stop talking, I will have an actual reason to throw you in jail,” Beron snapped.

Rhysand blinked, and closed his mouth.

“Thank you,” Beron hissed. “Now, I’ve talked with the officers that picked you up.”

Beron hesitated, and Rhysand was certain it was the only time he had ever seen the man hesitate.

“You were always a good friend to Lucien before he moved away,” Beron said, voice quiet, “and because of that, I won’t lie to you, but if you tell anyone what I’m about to tell you, and I lose my job, I will find a reason to lock you up.”

Rhysand’s jaw went stiff.

He nodded.

“You and Tamlin have never gotten along, I understand that,” Beron went on, and Rhysand stilled. “And as you said, he hails from a powerful family - one that owns this force and half of everything else in this city. Unfortunately, Rhys, whatever you’ve done recently to piss Tamlin off, he’s vengeful. As far as the police go, I’ll do what I can to set matters straight, but this isn’t the only thing he’ll try.”

With a muttered curse, Rhysand shook his head.

“Now,” Beron said, tossing a plastic bag on the table with Rhysand’s wallet in it that was taken from him when he entered the station, “go home.”

He snatched the bag from the table and pushed back the metal chair, which screeched along the tile. 

“Thanks,” Rhysand said, as he and Beron walked toward the door.

Beron gave him a curt nod. He’d always been a hard man, unreadable, but Rhysand appreciated his honesty. 

“Need a ride home?” Beron asked.

Rhysand shook his head. “I’ll take the bus, thanks. Can I use the phone, though?”

He made a quick call to Feyre before he left, promising to be home soon and to explain everything when he got there.

Beron said nothing more as he and Rhysand parted ways. He exited into the station lobby before ending up in the steps out front. The streetlights were on as the sun had completely disappeared.

He was so fucking tired as he slumped down the steps and down the sidewalk, towards the bus stop.

He couldn’t wait to get home.

But he didn’t even make it to the bus stop before someone grabbed him by the elbow.

Rhysand didn’t have the chance to turn around before he was knocked in the back of the head, and everything went black.

~~~~~

Feyre paced back and forth as Mor, Azriel, and Amren sat on her couch, Mila asleep on Mor’s lap. Rhysand had called Feyre from the police station, telling her he’d be home in thirty minutes, tops, and he’d explain when he arrived, but that had been over an hour and a half ago.

“I don’t understand,” Feyre said, shaking her head. “I don’t fucking understand.” She had googled for news stories after Rhysand left. There was nothing on any vandalism done to the chapel. Amren had even stopped there on her way over and confirmed it. 

“I wish you’d at least try to relax,” Amren said, calmly. “It won’t do Rhys any good if you have a panic attack.”

She had already cried and gotten pissed off. Now, Feyre was just worried. 

“At least let me get you something to drink,” Mor said, patting Mila softly on the back.

Azriel was the only one who hadn’t said a word since he’d arrived. 

“He doesn’t have his phone?” Mor asked, for the third time, when Feyre didn’t answer.

Feyre shook her head. “It’s in the kitchen.”

The front door burst open and everyone’s eyes shot to the entryway.

Cassian strode in.

Nesta at his heels.

Feyre froze.

“Sorry,” Cassian said, walking to Feyre and taking her face into his hands. “I came as soon as I got the message. You alright?”

Feyre shook her head before stepping back and looking at Nesta. “Why are you here?”

Nesta didn’t answer. She showed no emotion as she sat in the armchair in the corner. 

“She was with me at the garage,” Cassian said, softly. “What happened?”

“Cops came in,” Amren began, “arrested Rhys for vandalism that never happened.” 

Cassian’s brows scrunched together. “That makes no sense.”

“Obviously,” Mor said, sighing, “which is why we’re all sitting here looking confused as shit. Doesn’t help that he said he’d be here an hour ago and, as you can see, he’s not.” 

Amren was looking back and forth between Cassian and Nesta, but as she opened her mouth to say something, Cassian shot her a look and shook his head. 

Feyre’s hands raked through her tangled hair. She kept going back to the same thought, the same man. Rhysand didn’t have enemies, just one. “It was Tamlin. I know it was Tamlin.”

Azriel looked up at this, and Feyre saw the wheels moving inside of his mind. Feyre had sounded certain, and Azriel had never doubted her. “What’s his number?”

“What?” Feyre breathed. “No, you’re not calling-”

“No, I’m not,” Azriel said, words clipped, “but give me his number.”

She did so, and Azriel fiddled on his phone for a few minutes. As he concentrated on whatever it was he was doing, Feyre felt like she was going to puke. The rest of the room sat in tense silence.

Nesta included. 

As the minutes passed, which Feyre felt lasted far too long, Azriel didn’t give much away, but then he froze. “Fuck.”

Cassian was instantly turning around. “What?”

But Azriel was already on his feet. He looked to Mor. “Take Mila home, put her to bed.”

Mor nodded, no questions asked.

“What’s going on?” Feyre asked, that panic returning in the pit of her stomach.

“Stay here, keep your phone on,” Azriel said. “Cass and I are going for a drive.”

“Azriel,” Feyre begged, hurrying after him.

He stopped at the door to pull on his shoes. “He’s sitting in the middle of nowhere, near the forest on the other side of town. Either he’s looking for a fight or he’s fucking some poor girl in the backseat of his car.” 

Feyre froze, and paled.

“Cass and I are going,” Azriel repeated, his voice calm. Cassian was already throwing open the door. “I’ll call.”

Feyre nodded, but by the time she had, they were already gone.

~~~~~

Rhysand woke up to nothing but darkness.

His head hurt like shit. He was dizzy. He was stuck in a compact compartment, the world moving around him.

He was in the trunk of a car. 

A small one, he imagined. He couldn’t move, at all, his body, tall and lean, scrunched together and lying awkwardly. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been out.

Didn’t know where he was.

Didn’t know who had him. 

He didn’t have to wait for long, though, because the car came to a screeching halt. 

Rhysand jolted in the trunk, hitting every inch of his body against something.

Didn’t help his headache.

A minute later, the trunk opened and Rhysand was staring into the eyes of Eris Vanserra. 

He took Rhysand by the collar and dragged him out of the trunk. The second Rhysand’s feet hit the grass, he felt like he was going to fall over.

His head.

His vision was blurry. 

“It’s been a while, Lunasa, hasn’t it?” Eris crooned, forcing Rhysand down on his knees before jamming something hard into Rhysand’s side.

He grunted, trying to keep his vision steady. 

Rhyasnd saw a gleam in the side of his eye, the moonlight reflecting off metal.

He’d been hit with the hilt of a knife.

Let’s hope I don’t get the other end.

The driver’s side door opened and he got out, his hair cut shorter than Rhysand remembered, but still that bright, golden hue. He could be seen from a mile, even in the darkness. 

Tamlin said nothing as he walked, slowly, to where Eris had Rhysand. 

He stopped in front of them and tilted his head. “Second time I’ve seen you get your ass kicked recently.”

Rhysand said nothing.

Instead, he fought to get up, but didn’t get far.

A long blade snuck up beneath Rhysand’s chin, against his neck.

Rhysand stilled.

Tamlin shook his head. “Did you enjoy your run in with the law?”

Rhysand stayed quiet. 

“I thought it’d be pretty funny,” Tamlin grinned. “Turns out, I was right. Anyway, I won’t keep you long. Just wanted to talk.”

Rhysand scoffed. “I have a phone.”

“This is much more interesting,” Eris said, from over his shoulder. “For us, anyway.”

Prick.

Tamlin went closer to Rhysand before he said, “Feyre promised me you two weren’t together, that you weren’t the reason she left, but she forgets that I know a lot of people in this city, as does my father. It seems you two are closer than ever lately.”

Rhysand grinned. “Stalking us? Surely you have better things to do.”

Tamlin’s eyes hardened. “How long has she been whoring around in your bed, Rhys?”

Rhyasnd didn’t answer, but his eyes flared. The minute Rhysand tried to move toward Tamlin, the blade pressed into his neck. 

Rhysand could feel a streak of blood trailing down his neck as he spat at Tamlin’s feet. 

Tamlin didn’t seem bothered, though, as he said, “You didn’t answer my question. Has it been a few months? A year? Has it been going on all along and I’ve just been there to get her nice things and take her nice places, because you sure as hell can’t on a waiter’s salary.” 

“Fuck you,” Rhysand said, lifting his chin, his vision blurring, once more, as the pounding in his head returned at the faint movement. 

“Tell me!” Tamlin screamed, his voice echoing in the silence of the abandoned street. “Feyre has been mine since high school, and then she leaves without feeling any sort of guilt and goes straight to you, her lowlife lover, and that’s not a coincidence.”

Rhysand, despite feeling the need to pass out, laughed. “She left you because you’re a fucking cunt, Tamlin! You’re possessive, and manipulative, and make her feel like shit about herself. She didn’t feel guilty because she was so fucking tired of your bullshit!” 

Rhyand screamed the words so violently that the blade Eris was holding pressed tighter against his skin. 

Tamlin didn’t react, though. He simply looked at Eris, and nodded. 

The blade was removed from Rhysand’s neck, but the moment Rhysand let out a breath, Tamlin had kicked him in the abdomen.

Clutching his stomach, Rhysand fell forward as Tamlin’s boot met Rhysand’s knee, then his side, his back. He could hear his nose break, but couldn’t convince his hands to reach up, to try and stop the blood. Tamlin’s boots made contact over, and over, and over again.

Rhysand didn’t bother to fight.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t move.

For the second time in a matter of months, Tamlin had caught him off guard and weakened him - the only way Tamlin knew how to win was to play dirty, and he was good at it.

His eyes fluttered shut as he heard the car engine turn on.

Rhysand’s world was dark before they even drove away.

~~~~~

Cassian and Azriel were driving with their windows down, speeding down the road where Azriel had tracked Tamlin’s phone.

They hadn’t seen a car in a while, but that didn’t mean anything. If anything at all, it meant that it was the perfect place to kick somebody’s ass.

“Anything?” Azriel called from behind the wheel, eyes scanning the road.

Just as Cassian was about to say no, he stopped himself. “Fuck- stop!”

Azriel slammed on the breaks, his truck sliding before it came to a complete stop. Cassian was already unbuckled and throwing open the door, though, before Azriel had even put it in park. He hurried to the shoulder, at the limp body that laid there. 

Azriel came up behind them, face paled. “Fuck.”

Cassian was on his knees, rolling Rhysand over. He pressed his cheek against his chest, felt his pulse. “Breathing is okay. Come on, let’s get him up.”

With Azriel on one side and Rhysand on the other, they carried Rhysand into the backseat of Azriel’s truck. He was completely unconscious. In the light, he hardly looked like himself. His nose was bloody, definitely broken, his eyes swollen, his neck cut. A dark, black and blue bruise covered the faint one that had just about healed, on his cheekbone. 

“Shit,” Cassian breathed, and met Azriel’s gaze.

There were very few times Cassian had seen Azriel’s murderous gaze.

This was one of them. 

“Let’s get him to the hospital,” Azriel said, pulling up the hem of Rhysand’s torn shirt, his eyes hardening at the discoloration. “Make sure he doesn’t have any internal bleeding.” 

Cassian nodded before hopping back into the truck. The minute Azriel sped off, Cassian pulled out his phone.

Calling Feyre, hearing her heartbreak, was the last thing he wanted to do.

~~~~~

Feyre couldn’t stop herself from crying. “Okay, I’m-I’m on my way, I’ll meet you there.”

She hung up the phone, turned to the others.

Amren and Nesta were already on their feet, Mor clung to Mila, still asleep, on the couch. 

“They’re taking him to the hospital. He…...They’re taking him to the hospital. I have-I have to go to the hospital.” 

“Give me your keys,” Nesta said, instantly.

Feyre shot her a glare. “Why.”

“Because you’re in no condition to drive,” she explained. “I will bring you.”

Feyre hesitated, but nodded.

“I’ll come, too,” Amren said, then looked to Mor. “Go home, put her to sleep, we’ll call as soon as we hear anything.”

Eyes weary and lined with silver, Mor nodded.

The three of them piled into Feyre’s little car, Nesta behind the wheel. She wasted no time starting it up and pulling out of the parking lot.

Feyre couldn’t stop trembling, couldn’t stop panicking, couldn’t stop sobbing.

Amren reached up from the back seat and put her hand on Feyre’s shoulder. 

“It’s my fault,” Feyre sobbed. “It’s my fucking fault.”

“It’s not your fault that Tamiln’s a hateful prick,” Amren said. 

Nesta stayed quiet, but she drove, quickly, through the city. 

Feyre screamed, loudly, deafening.

No one stopped her. 

They couldn’t go to the police, couldn’t say anything. It would just be brushed under the rug. Feyre felt helpless. Feyre felt sick. Feyre was terrified of getting to the hospital, terrified of seeing Rhysand in pain because of her faults. 

Because of her past. 

By the time Nesta pulled into the hospital’s parking lot, Feyre could hardly breath. Nesta looked in the rearview mirror and caught Amren’s eye. “I’ll drop you both off at the door?”

Amren nodded, and when Nesta pulled up to the doors, Amren got out, and waited for Feyre, but Feyre couldn’t move. 

She looked at Nesta.

Her oldest sister was already watching her. For once, her eyes were not hard, emotionless. She gave Feyre a nod of encouragement.

Feyre got out of the car.

Hand in Amren’s, they walked into the hospital. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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@mynewdreamwasyou​ @humming-asong​  

@candid-confetti @awkward-avocado-s​

@my-fan-side @queen-of-glass​  @stars-falling​

@ifangirlninja  @sleeping-and-books  @burritowithfeels

@morebooks-pls @kindofawalkingpoem​

@sannelovesreading @empressnesrynfaliq​

@halstudies @sleeping-and-books​ @alwayss-reading​

@amren-courtofdreams

@wifeofchrishemsworth

@goldr0ses @blackjacks-donuts​

@humanexile

@booksbooksbooksworld

@girl-who-reads-the-books

@mis-lil-red

@shhhimreading03​

@emilyrose111294​

@negativenesta​

@argentumstella​

@itsme-malin

@flora-and-fae​

@feyrethedarklady​

@starryandbooks​

@gingerglides​

@gloriouspaintercreatorbandit​

@6255igntm​

@littlehoneyybee

@the-regal-warrior​

@awkward-avocado-s​

@aelin-rowan-whitehorn​

@julemmaes​

@regular-nessian-trash​

@ugh-avila​

@superspiritfestival  @the-dark-swan​  @girlgotattitude448​  @eversincebeirut​

@midnightrose-reader​  @lord-douglas-the-third​  @thestarguidingyouhome​

@empress-ofbloodshed​

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

[illyrianwingspans]

Do Not Go Gentle: listen before i go

Link to song: listen before i go by Billie Eilish

Synopsis: If you know this song, you know how Feyre's feeling right now.

Song of the chapter: listen before i go by Billie Eilish Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P4z1O3miesI

TW: Suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation and suicidal intentions. Please, if you are feeling suicidal or aren't comfortable reading these situations, do not read this chapter. You are never alone. You are loved, and you are cared for. Here are some helplines if you are ever feeling suicidal (both available 24/7/365):

US: 1-800-273-8255 Suicide Crisis Hotline Canada: 1-833-456-4566 Suicide Prevention and Support Canada

Ao3 Link

Chapter 15: listen before i go

Rhys

Prythian, I’d decided, was beautiful no matter the weather. Sun, rain, snow—I loved it all. 

The Sidra glowed no matter the weather as I cruised down the city’s main artery street, parallel to the river where people walked lazily beside the careening stream. Though the rain and overcast skies usually chased many into their homes, today had been warmer than previous weeks, and my legs ached to be back out on the path for a quick morning jog, like I used to do every morning. Life and work had seemed to cut into every waking moment, including the time I dedicated to exercise—it’d shown in my body composition. Eating like shit also didn’t help, but my current levels of stress always begged me to break into a bag of chips or eat the office cupcakes that were brought up to the executive floor every few days. I needed to get back to the gym, to get exercising, but any time not spent working or helping Feyre seemed wasteful and selfish.

Cassian had to stay later this afternoon, and probably further into the evening because of an issue that arose with Night Corp’s security team. Some of our agents had grown restless in the recent absence of management since Cassian was spending so much time tracking Tamlin and Lucien instead of his usual dealings. He held an emergency meeting to address their questions and concerns, which would probably extend far longer than needed. I didn’t want to leave Feyre alone, and besides, I thought it I’d spent enough damn time in that stupid office chair this week to deserve a night of quiet peace.

The condo complex, though tall and large in its occupancy, was perfect for Cassian. Spacious, enough for him and his entire ego to fit into, but minimalist in the sense that he had only the bare necessities: place to sleep, eat and shower. Nothing compared to Mor’s complex that offered an indoor gym, rooftop pool and meal plan services from a five-star chef. But my cousin deserved every morsel of glamour and luxury she wanted after the life she’d come from.

The elevator opened onto Cassian’s floor, and my heart leapt up into my chest when I saw his door at the end of the corridor. I hated the feeling in my chest, the one that kept pounding at me whenever I knew I was near her. It was sickening, the emotions stirring up within me—I could barely harness them in whenever she was in close proximity. The fluttering, the pounding of my heart, they were dangerous. So very dangerous, and all I could do was force them down as best as I could as I pulled my keys out and opened the condo door.

“Feyre?” I called out after shutting the door quietly behind me and locking the door. Silence was all I was met with. The lights in the kitchen were on, and as I slipped out of my shoes, wandering further into the house, so were the lights in her room. Quickly, I bounded up the steps to see where she might’ve been, but a quick examination of the guest room told me she wasn’t there. The bathroom was also vacant, and Cassian’s door was closed, lights off.

Unease spread within me. She wouldn’t have left. I didn’t think she would, anyway, unless she’d gone out with Cassian this morning without telling me. My fingers crept into my pocket and grabbed my phone, ready to call my brother as panic began to arise. I pounded down the stairs once more and did a once-over of the living space to confirm once again that she was gone.

I would’ve seen the slender figure, draped in a dark sweater, on the balcony if today were sunny. If whatever mysterious forces that controlled the weather had woken up this morning and decided to bathe my world in sunshine, I would’ve seen Feyre immediately, sitting on the ledge of the balcony, looking down at the city below her.

Waiting. For what, I didn’t know. But she was waiting, and the way her shoulders were slumped, the way she seemed like Atlas himself with the weight of the world on her back, told me that there was only one reason.

I’d never known fear like this as I realized she was about to jump.

My feet moved slowly. Too slowly, as if they weren’t sure if this was another one of my fucked-up nightmares, or that she was indeed sitting there, ready to leap at any moment.

I slid open the patio door. Rain fell on my face, droplets wetting my lips.

“Feyre?”

Her fingers curled tighter around the cement lip she clutched. Her knuckles were white, her clothes soaked, but she didn’t turn. Her gaze remained fixed on the ground below her.

“You really shouldn’t scare someone on a ledge fifty storeys up.”

Some sick part of me wanted to laugh. Because I knew exactly what that dry, fucked-up cynical humour was. The one born of a darkness so deep there was no way to express it but with self-deprecation.

Heart pounding furiously across my body, I forced myself to focus, to think straight. If she pushed off too quickly, I wouldn't be able to grab hold of her. If I got too close, she'd get scared and do it anyway. “What are you doing, Feyre?”

She scoffed. “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“Only if it helps you,” I replied, trying to keep the cool, nonchalant tone to my voice. If I panicked, then she would panic and do something stupid, which I could never let happen.

“Tell me what you're feeling right now. I want to try and help you.”

Please, I whispered over and over in my mind, swear pouring down my back, please don't do this. Please don't leave me. Please don't do this to me.

Feyre

Over and over, I asked myself how I got here. How at this moment, everything had gone wrong before it, so drastically that I was sitting up here on a roof, waiting for the moment to strike that I'd finally push off.

I knew how I got here. I knew every curve and crevice of my life's story, every twist and malicious turn it'd taken to make my path so gloriously fucked up.

Admitting failure is the most difficult of them all because you simply aren't enough. Your efforts, your time, energy and passion are all for naught, and you're left with nothing but this big ... void.

It's hard to describe how that feeling comes and goes. I've called it failure to thrive. The person I've become was not enough to keep going.

“Tell what you’re feeling right now. I want to try and help you.”

Help me. Was there anything at this point that could help me? Fix me? Or was this ledge, this fall, all I had left?

Slowly, carefully, I let out a shaky exhale. The wind and rain whipped at my face, but I couldn’t pull my hand away from the ledge, lest I wanted to lose my balance and have it all end right then and there.

“I…” A gust of wind flew over, making me clutch the ledge tighter, “I don’t feel anything anymore, Rhys. It’s like I’m already gone.”

“Why do you say that?”

A sob bubbled up within my chest. I pushed it down, took another quick, shallow breath. “There’s nothing left for me, here. My life’s over. Whatever’s left of it, anyway.”

“Feyre, you just went through an extremely traumatic experience. It’s completely normal to feel this way. That doesn’t mean your life is over. Just because you left him doesn’t mean your life is over.”

“He came back today, Rhys, while you were gone. Him and Lucien. They know where I am, they know how to find me.” I let out a small, mad laugh. “He’ll never stop. Not until I’m right back where I was, dying slowly before my very eyes. May as well finish the job while I can, right?”

“He was here? At the apartment?”

I nodded, slowly. Unfeeling. The cold seeped into my bones, through my clothes, but I couldn’t even feel that anymore. It was like my body had already died and all the warmth leeched from my flesh.

“Did you speak with him?”

“No. I just heard him through the door. He knows I’m here. How he found me…” I shook my head. “I don’t know. But it’s not going to change, Rhys. I am stuck in this forever.”

“You’re never stuck. You’re never trapped. There’s always another way out, you’re just not thinking clearly right now.” I could hear his voice getting closer, and it made my muscles clench tighter. Too close and it would be over. “Feyre, you’re too focused in on the situation. Everything is happening so quickly, and you’ve barely had time to recover. You need to zoom out. Focus on the bigger picture.”

“I don’t think you understand, Rhys,” I countered quietly, and I didn’t care that my voice began to waver, I didn’t care that there were tears blending in with the raindrops on my cheeks, and I didn’t care that if I pushed off this fucking building that everything would be over.

My voice was riddled with uncertainty and nervousness, but I shakily said, “I, um, read this thing once in a book. How your life gets to a point where it’s all too much, and you…” I swallowed, throat dry, eyes wide, “you don’t know what to do? It’s like being an apartment building, high up in the sky, and everything’s on fire. It’s blocking your door, your only exit. The only other viable option is to jump down and hope you survive.

“You’re standing there, staring at the flames,” I said, voice trembling, “and you’re trying to weigh which is worse: the flames or the fall?”

Rhys remained quiet behind me. I took another deep breath.

“The flames or the fall?” I repeated. “It’s not that I want to jump down. It’s that I’m so terrified of the flames that I don’t know what to do. And you’ll never understand that, Rhys, until you’ve seen the flames. Until you’ve felt how they burn. Only when you’ve felt that pure terror that I am feeling right now will you ever understand why I need to do this.”

“Feyre,” Rhys wondered, his voice too close for comfort, “why did you hold on for so long?”

“What?”

“During everything that you went through, all that’s happened over the course of your life, why did you hold on?”

My mind reeled while trying to find a viable answer, a possible counter-argument, but all I was left with was the cold, whipping wind tearing at my clothes.

I said quietly, “Because I thought eventually something would change. That it would get better.”

“What happened this time? What’s happening right now?”

As more rain poured down upon me, my eyes closed, my shoulders slumped after being clenched for so long.

“I’ve been holding on to scraps of hope my entire life. Every day it just seems to be getting worse and worse, like I’m stuck in this constant never-ending cycle of misery. I can’t—“ I choked on a sharp intake of breath as my heart began to pound louder in my chest, and my lungs heaved with the burden of being alive, “I can’t feel anymore, Rhys. I don’t feel anything, I destroy everything that surrounds me, and I’m—” my voice broke, and I choked out a sob, composure finally crumbling after days of emptiness.

Darkness reigned around my mind; around my heart. For so long there’d been that sliver of light to keep guiding me forward, like the doors sealing me shut in my prison were cleaved just the slightest bit to keep me going.

Now they’d shut in on me completely. Teasing me, leading me along, making me sacrifice my flesh and blood and tears, in the hope that that stupid fucking light would some day welcome me home.

But that day never came. And now…

“I’m just so tired.”

My head dipped forward, and for a second, I let go.

But I knew there was a warm presence just behind me, fingers clutching my body before it had the chance to fall.

“I know,” Rhys assured me, “I know, darling.”

Then his arms wrapped around my waist, and I didn’t protest as he gently carried me off the concrete ledge, and pulled me into his arms.

*

We both got out of our drenched clothes. There was a trail of water leading from the patio up to both bedrooms that Rhys was currently wiping down with a towel. His hair was unkempt and shaggy, dangling around his head, and through the loose grey t-shirt I could see the movement of every muscle in his back and arms.

The adrenaline had faded, and I was back to that numbness, that apathy, that stuck to me like a second skin.

Once Rhys finally got all the water, right to both bedroom doors, he tossed it in the bathroom and closed the door.

We both stood there in the dimly lit hallway, staring at each other. I couldn’t read his face: not since we’d gotten in from the balcony. It was completely neutral, his lips and mouth forming a flat line. But his eyes gave him away, with the way they scanned my face in an unmistakable concerned manner.

“Let’s go for a drive, Feyre. Get out of the house for a bit.”

The offer surprised me, and though my bed sounded mighty appealing right now, I wanted to get out of here. I wanted to get as far away from that entire sequence of events as I possibly could.

Prythian was dark tonight, and clouds hung low with only the bright city lights shining through them, creating a silvery mist shimmering over the skyline. I leaned my head against the window, looking out to the Sidra ever flowing with its golden gleam. Rhys was quiet, and soft music played in the car that thrummed quietly through the slowly emptying streets. The closer we got to Spring Corp, though, the more the knot in my chest tightened once more. Rhys, ever the perceptive person he was, noticed and began taking alternative streets.

Breaking the silence, he said, “You can stay at my place if you want, Feyre. When we get back, we’ll pack your stuff up if you’re not comfortable there anymore.”

“He’ll still find me, Rhys,” I mentioned quietly. “He’s always following me, always watching me. Even when we were together he’d have people follow me.”

Silence. Then, “Feyre, you have an iPhone, right?”

I paused at the completely unrelated remark then said, “Yes.”

“Guessing you have iCloud. And a shared account with Tamlin.”

My eyes closed, and I swore under my breath. He’d been tracking me through my phone. By the Gods, he could know where I was right now.

I immediately fished it out of my back pocket, and after a few swipes deleted his account off my phone completely. How Rhys had figured it out, I didn’t know, but some of the tension released from my muscles, and I could relax a little more into my seat.

A few more minutes passed by until we began nearing a large complex. When I saw the “H” symbol, my brows furrowed. When Rhys pulled into the parking lot, my head whipped to meet his gaze.

“Why are we here? Did somebody get hurt?”

“Everybody’s fine, Feyre.” He said calmly, quietly. Nonetheless, a ball of worry had formed in my stomach, but Rhys’s gaze remained impassive. He pulled into a spot nearest to the emergency doors, put the car in park, then turned to me.

“I’m not forcing you to do anything, but I’m giving you two choices from which I strongly recommend you pick one. The first is to come with me into the emergency and let them check you in on a seventy two hour hold—”

My mouth opened in a gasp as I realized what he was suggesting. Incredulous and royally pissed, I yelled, “No, Rhys! No!”

“It’s seventy-two hours. They watch you, evaluate you, try to triage your case and give you an action plan with follow-ups so we can try to help you through everything you’re feeling right now.”

The indignant tears flowing from my eyes trailed down my cheeks and my neck, to my chest. Resentment swelled in my chest, and I couldn’t even look at Rhys as I ground out, “And what’s the second option?”

“I give you my private psychologist’s number and watch you call her to make an appointment in her next available slot. I personally prefer option one, but it’s your choice Feyre.”

I rested my head against the car window, and tried to quell the sobs threatening to rise within me once more. This was all too much too fast. All of it. It was like my senses were overloaded and shocked, unable to process the events that unrolled over the past few weeks. The audacity Rhys had to pretend like he could just exercise that much control over my life was infuriating. Forcing me to make decisions about my life? My health? Who did he think he was?

And I was still so, so tired. I just wanted to recline in this chair and let my body go numb again.

“Feyre,” he said, but I ignored him, slipping into my own bottomless abyss never to resurface. He said my name a few more times, but I ignored him.

“Look at me,” Rhys pleaded, and the desperation in his voice made my eyes open, and my body turn so I was facing him. There he was, turned in his seat, one hand clasped on the wheel and the other on the compartment between us. His eyes were bleeding with worry and sorrow. I swallowed hard at the look, unable to take my eyes off of his.

“I’m not trying to force you into anything. I don’t want to control you or make you do something that you don’t want to do. But I…” he trailed off, and looked away for a moment into the distance where the ‘EMERGENCY’ sign glowed a bright red amidst the dark parking lot. “What happened today is not something you can brush off or ignore. I couldn’t live with myself if I brushed it off or ignored it. You need help, Feyre.”

Wet desperation streaked down my burning cheeks.

“You need help, and I want to help you, but I can’t do it alone. I don’t have the skills or education to be able to personally help you through this. But I can do everything in my capabilities to ensure that you do have the necessary people to care for you.”

More silence. I still couldn’t face him, couldn’t respond. I didn’t know how.

“Feyre.”

Slowly, so slowly, I inched my gaze towards his. Rhys reached between us and extended his hand.

“You’re not alone in this. I am here, we’re all here, for you.”

There was a cleaving, a crack in my chest, as my trembling fingers reached out and curled around his.

“What’s the number?” I croaked as I fished my phone back from where I’d stored it in the dash.

When it went through, I passed the phone to Rhys. The call was long, and Rhys’s soothing voice had filled the car for nearly twenty minutes trying to explain my situation. He’d initially put me on the phone to ensure that I consented to him sharing my private information. When the phone was passed to me after fifteen minutes of back and forth, I swallowed hard and said, “Hello?”

“Hi Feyre. This is doctor Suriel. Rhysand was telling me about your situation and I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“Um, I’m, uh, better than before.”

“That’s great. I know these are difficult questions, especially since we’re doing this over the phone, but I want to ensure that you’re safe until we meet on Monday.”

“Alright.”

“Feyre, are you still feeling suicidal?”

The question felt so loud in the small space. Rhys was looking away, out the window, and my cheeks heated with embarrassment as I mumbled, “Yes.”

“Do you feel unsafe, like you’re going to harm yourself or others?”

I bit my cheek. “Not right now.”

“But possibly if you were in a different location?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I know you have Rhysand with you. Do you trust this person?”

My stomach twisted with unease as my eyes darted to the man in the driver’s seat. After a moment, I said, “Yes.”

“Alright. My recommendation Feyre would be to check into the emergency room if you’re feeling suicidal. But if you believe that you can make it through the weekend and wait until Monday, and I know that you have somebody with you that you can trust, then I feel comfortable with you going home.”

“Okay,” I said, unsure of what else to say. I’d never spoken to a psychologist or mental health worker. It was oddly… comforting, knowing that there was somebody out there thinking it crucial I stay safe over the weekend; that I was looked after.

“If you don’t have any questions for me, Feyre, then you can pass me back to Rhys.”

“Okay.” I didn’t trust myself saying anything else, not as my throat closed up, and my eyes welled with a new wave of tears.

Rhys spoke for a few minutes longer, then set his phone back into the holster before starting the car back up and setting out to exit the parking lot. I kept staring straight ahead, unable to stop the stream of emotion on my face.

I realized that the cleave in my chest, the sliver that’d opened up within me, was that same teasing ray of light coming to settle back within me.

It’d sparked to life the moment Rhys had reached his hand out to me.

[chibimultishipper]

Zerhys prompt: dinner party

(Okay so just a heads up, this prompt request will be split into parts!  I was writing the dinner party out and it was just getting much to long, so here is part 1!)

(Slight AU in which Zer0 and Rhys’ friends have no idea they are dating each other.)

Rhys had been trying to keep his relationship with his current datefriend a secret from his friends.  It wasn’t that he was ashamed of Zer0 or anything like that, he just knew his friends could be very judgemental.  Vaughn and Yvette were overprotective and Sasha and Fiona were skeptical of just about anything.  He wouldn’t be surprised if they somehow thought Zer0 was just using him for free weapons or whatever.

On the other hand, Zer0 had also kept their relationship a secret from their friends.  Okay, secret was a strong word, they just never told them.  When Rhys had asked out of sheer curiosity Zer0 shrugged and stated “They have not asked me.”  Which in Zer0 terms was a pretty valid argument.  Rhys also had no right to judge since he had been actively avoiding telling his own friends.

Rhys would have honestly been content with just keeping quiet for another year, maybe two, but he got too comfortable.  

You see, Zer0 was still one of the best assassins out there, so Rhys often hired them for missions.  He strictly forbade all romantic interactions when on Atlas property.  Rhys excuse was that he had an ‘image to maintain.’  Zer0 had for some reason found that hilarious, but respected his wishes.

Then Rhys got greedy.

He figured a little flirting was fine as long as he was in the office.  He wanted to blame Zer0, since they had originally instigated with heart emojis and suggestive banter but it was really his own fault.  Rhys had to admit that he was a huge sap and that ended up being his downfall.  After giving Zer0 another assignment, Rhys had leaned over and quickly kissed their helmet.  It was something so simple, just a quick peck, but of course Yvette had to open the door at that EXACT moment.

Before Rhys could explain, Yvette briefly apologized, left some papers on his desk and left.  Rhys silently hoped that she wouldn’t mention it once Zer0 left, and she didn’t.  However an hour later he got many angry texts and voicemails from Sasha and Fiona and also Vaughn coming into his office screaming about “Making out with a highly trained assassin who could kill you in seconds!”

They didn’t take the news well.  Overall, they seemed more upset that he didn’t say anything and assumed the reason was because Zer0 was secretly holding him hostage. (“Blink twice if you’re in trouble.” Sasha had joked at one point).  They were all very adamant about meeting his new partner so they could “size them up” as they put it, whatever that means.

Okay so that was fine.  He knew he had to go through this at some point.  He hadn’t expected to keep their relationship a secret forever after all.  Also, he could handle his friends.  He knew that at the end of the day they just wanted the best for him and even if for some reason they didn’t approve of Zer0, he would tell them that it wasn’t their choice to make.

No, what really threw him off guard was when after he returned home and received a knock on his door.  Opening it revealed Zer0 covered in blood.

“Are you okay?” Rhys asked on reflex.  It was a silly question really, the blood on their suit was clearly not theirs.  Still, Rhys felt the need to make sure.

“We have a problem.” Zer0 said walking in.

“Zer0…” Rhys scolded as blood dripped onto the floor.  Thank goodness the apartment was hard wood.

“Sorry, I’ll help clean later.”  They promised.

“Okay good you know how squeamish I get.” Rhys said with a smile, but it fell from his face when Zer0 didn’t follow up with a witty comment.  “What’s wrong?”

“Do not freak out Rhys.”

That was not the right thing to say, as Rhys was already pre freaking out. “What? What happened?”

Zer0 shifted from one leg to another, a habit Rhys noticed they had whenever dealing with awkward or uncomfortable conversation. “My friends are aware / we are dating. Meeting is / inevitable. “

Rhys paused as he processed the information.  And then the panic began to set in. “So you’re telling me that not only do my friends want to meet you but now your friends want to meet me?” Rhys groaned. “This is the worst case scenario.  What if your friends don’t like me? What if they think I’m lame? What if they help you realize how lame I really am and you break up with me because I am so lame.”

“I’m fully aware / of how lame you currently / are. I still like you.” [ :) ]

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “Is that suppose to make me feel better?”  Zer0 nodded. “It doesn’t.” [ :( ] “Okay… it does but just a little!” [:D]

“My comrades often / spend time at Moxxi’s.  I can / accompany you.”

“No no no.” Rhys groaned. “Sanctuary is basically there turf.  They know the layout the best.  No, we should all meet at least on equal ground. Oh, better yet let’s meet up in a place they’ve never been!  It’ll throw them off guard.  Unfamiliar territory, that’s a thing right?”

“They’re not enemies.” [:/]

“I know that! I just feel it would be easier for everyone to meet each other somewhere I’m comfortable in. It’ll help me be less nervous.  Oh! We could get everything out of the way and invite my friends too!  Most of them already know who you are after the traveler mission but they don’t KNOW know you.  And then our friends could meet each other! Hopefully keep each other busy and keep some attention off us, the perfect strategy.”

[?] “You’re overthinking again.”

Rhys shook his head. “Zer0 this is your first time around the relationship rodeo isn’t it? You have no idea how big of a deal this moment is!  I mean our friends meeting us and also each other is like, it’s like in movies when the couples family meet each other.  If for whatever reason they hate each other or the other’s partner that’s it!  Wacky Shenanigans that lead to complete turmoil and potential ending of relationships!”

Zer0 was almost positive that Rhys was blowing things out of proportion.  Rhys was known for being a bit dramatic.  Still, they had spend many nights in watching movies and TV shows with Rhys.  Plus, Zer0 still didn’t fully understand human relationship customs.  Maybe Rhys had a point…  “It’s that serious?”

“Yes! That is what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Zer0 nodded in understanding.  “Then we should come up with a / strategy.  Ideas?”

Rhys grinned.  “Now you’re talking!  As I was saying, if we have everyone meet at the same time not only would it get both awkward encounters out the way, but also draw some attention off us.  But we need to set up a place to meet where you and I are both comfortable.  That will throw both of our friend groups off guard.  That’s going to be pretty tough though…”

Zer0 tried to think of a place that would be new to both parties, make them slightly uncomfortable, and give the two of them the advantage.  The struggle was Zer0’s friends were vastly different from Rhys’ so it didn’t leave a lot of options.  Zer0 turned to look around the apartment.  “Have any of your / friends visited this place yet?”  Zer0 asked.  Rhys had recently got a new apartment with his new Atlas money.

Rhys shook his head no. “Only Vaughn, he helped me move in.  No one else has seen it yet.  Why?”  [:D] “Oh my gosh Zer0 you are absolutely brilliant, I could kiss the beautiful mask of yours.”

“Later.” [;)] “First we must /  think of a way to /  convince them to come without  / raising suspicion.”

“Okay let me think, what can I offer here that can simultaneously  convince a bunch of vault hunters and former Hyperion now Atlas employees to come over to my apartment?” Rhys questioned.

“Something in common?” [?]

Rhys bit his lip. “Something they all have in common? Uh they’re all human?” Rhys joked. [:/]   “Yeah sorry that wasn’t funny.  Alright um-”  Rhys glanced over at his unused kitchen and snapped his fingers. “Food! That’s what they have in common they all love food! Right?”  He turned towards Zer0 for confirmation and was reinvigorated when Zer0 nodded.  “Alright I have the perfect idea! A dinner party! It can be semi formal.  You know, not too formal but formal enough to make everyone uncomfortable.”

Zer0 didn’t looked impressed.  “Rhys, you cannot cook.  At all.”

Rhys scoffed. “I can cook alright?  I can make basic stuff.”  

“You will need food for / at the very least / ten people.  I am unsure / if it’s possible.”

“Yvette is great at cooking so I’ll just ask for some of her recipes.  How hard is it to follow a recipe.” [ … ] “Come on Ze, have a little faith in me? Please?”  With that Rhys batted his eyes at the assassin.

Zer0 still seemed unconvinced, but they showed their support with a heart emoji. [<3]  “I will assist in / anyway I can.  When should / We host the event?”

“Can you see if your friends will be free this Saturday night?  It’ll give us time to get the ingredients and do any prepping.  It’ll also give everyone time to find something formal to wear.”

Zer0 pulled up their Echo and began to send messages to everyone in the vault hunter squad.  “I’ve notified them / I should hear back shortly.  Are / you sure about this?”  Zer0 asked.  It was more of a formality since they had already sent the invitations.

Rhys laughed nervously.  “As sure as I’ll ever be.  Operation dinner party is a go.  Don’t worry, we are going to nail this.”

They weren’t going to nail this.  

(That’s it for part 1! I am definitely going to continue this so keep a lookout! <3  Also as always, HMU if you notice any mistakes!!!)

[clairekatswritingcorner]

Glimpse of You

Word Count: 1,316

Summary: D has some misgivings following the decision she made to cut a certain someone out of her life for good. But their presence still looms over her like an ominous cloud, and Rhys is the only one that can help stifle the influence of her chaotic concerns.

*Author’s Note*: I have a small backlog of comms I’ve been hoarding for no particular reason other than I just haven’t gotten around to posting them. But now I am! This is another one for my good friend @robotarmjokes of the best selfship otp ever, and I can seriously never thank her enough for her patronage! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

If you enjoyed reading this piece, please consider leaving a tip or commissioning me!

 The events of the past few days kept whirling around her mind like a hurricane. Understanding and following the course of that final, perilous decision with Rhys’s help, pushing herself to her emotional limit as she struggled to make what she’d been told time and time again was the right choice. She still wasn’t convinced it was, no matter how many times she was fed the opposite, no matter how much evidence she was presented that supported such a claim. How could she possibly come to that conclusion after all she’d been through? After all she’d been told and shown that indicated otherwise, thoughts and feelings that overwhelmed her and dominated her psyche without letting up?

Was this what it had felt like for Rhys to have Jack stuck in his head, instructing him and advising him and encouraging him? Although she’d never experienced the exact same circumstances, she figured they were similar enough that she could reasonably compare their situations to a certain degree. That was one of the things she appreciated most about Rhys, the fact that he could identify with her perspective in a way no one else she was acquainted with could. It hurt her, of course, that the man she loved had had to suffer in any way akin to the way she had, but there was little she could do about it—that either of them could do about altering the past. Their best option was to continue moving forward as steadily and confidently as they could, and as long as they had each other, there was still a chance that they would succeed.

“D, are you feeling alright?” His worried inquiry startled her. D almost dropped the tool she’d been using to tinker with his cybernetic arm, keeping her eyes focused on her work. “You’ve been kind of distant lately…does it have anything to do with—”

“I’m fine,” the broker replied curtly, getting back to the tweaking she’d been doing on some of the hardware’s wiring. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

Rhys sighed, regarding her with eyes that shined with sympathy and unconditional affection. He placed his human hand over the one of hers that was currently hard at work. “I don’t want you to keep things from me, even if you think they’ll trouble me. They won’t. You never trouble me, babe, so please…don’t shut me out. You’ve come so far in opening up to me, sharing things with me that I know have been painful and difficult to admit—even to yourself. I don’t want to push you to do more than you’re ready for, either, but…if something’s bothering you, I’d at least like to know if there actually is or not. You can just confirm my suspicion for me, that’s it, unless you’re uncomfortable going further. But the only way you’re going to be able to overcome most of this stuff is if you start facing it head on instead of trying to bottle it up, or sweep it away like it didn’t happen.”

“Don’t you think I already know all that?” the broker huffed in a gravelly tone, her soft, timid eyes starting to turn misty. “I’m doing my best, but…I know it’s still not enough. I know I should be over most of this by now, that I should just be able to let it go—”

“Sweetheart, I’m not blaming you.” That was almost enough to send her straight into a fit of sobbing. He raised his hand to her face, cradling her cheek and guiding her gaze until she reluctantly met his own. One gentle brown eye and one that glowed honey gold—she never got tired of seeing them; on the contrary, she kind of wished she had more time to just sit and admire them, to admire all of him. “If it ever sounds like I am, that’s not my intent. I never want to blame you, and I never want you to feel like this stuff is your fault. Because it’s not. And I know that’s hard for you to believe, so I’ll just keep telling you that it’s the truth, and eventually it’s bound to rub off on you. At least, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

“But what if that’s not true? Not for me…what if I’m never able to shake this? What if these people, these memories keep their claws in me forever?” she disputed, a stray tear or two escaping her eyes. “Even after all the help you’ve given me. It’s like I’m throwing your kindness back in your face by not being able to deal with this. It’s like I’m taking all you’ve done for me and just—”

“Stop,” Rhys’s voice was compassionate yet firm. Moving closer, he pulled her into a kiss that made her want to melt against him. She almost always felt that way when it came to this handsome man and his overwhelming gestures, his displays of love that made her wonder if she was really still living in reality at all. Everything seemed too good to be true, even with the demons that refused her any respite from their presence, from the constant and unpleasant influence that bled into almost every aspect of her life. “No more negativity, I can’t stand hearing you beat yourself up this way. You deserve so much better than that, from yourself and everyone else. And don’t worry about me or what I think, because the truth is you are never and have never been a burden to me. You’re not a nuisance, D, you’re a blessing. I’ll keep doing whatever it takes, whatever I can to prove that to you.”

Dropping the tool she’d been gripping tighter and tighter as his words continued to flow, the broker couldn’t help burying herself in her boss’s arms. It probably would have been stranger, and borderline inappropriate, if they weren’t an official couple. Neither of them wanted it to look like she was trying to get some kind of special treatment. But she never expected anything like that and had never fathomed that one day she’d find herself taking solace in his embrace like this. Rhys made her vulnerable, but he also made her feel loved, and she was only able to let her guard down with him because she knew he was the one person who could keep her safe; who would. But was he really powerful enough to protect her from the past that kept coming back to haunt her?

“What if this stuff isn’t just in my head anymore? What if these people, especially that guy, come back in person? What if they come to punish me, to find me and try to drag me back into that life? What if they come looking for revenge, or even to do something as horrible as trying to hurt you? You heard those voice logs…they know who you are. I can’t…I can’t s—stand the idea of…”

She couldn’t stave off her quiet tears any longer, and Rhys rubbed her back and brushed his lips across her forehead. He kissed away a few of her tears while he was at it before pulling her closer, letting her hide her face in his shoulder. “They aren’t going to hurt me, or you, ever again. I won’t let it happen, and I certainly have the means and position to keep my word. You don’t have to be afraid of them anymore, babe. They may have had power over you in the past, but that was a long, long time ago. Now you’ve got me, and so many others, and we’re all going to stay with you even in the future. You can rest easy knowing we’re here, I’m here, and I’ll never let them get so much as a glimpse of you ever again.” 

[doom-dreaming]

After The Dust Has Settled

In the aftermath of opening the Vault of the Traveler, Rhys and Fiona decide to act on their feelings.

Read it on Ao3 here!

******

"So, Rhys, now that all that…” Vaughn stopped short as he crossed the threshold into Rhys’ room. “Uh...Rhys? What's...um...what's Fiona doing? In...your bed?" Vaughn squinted, making sure he was seeing everything correctly. And...yes, he was.

Rhys, looking smug (more smug than usual, Vaughn thought), merely glanced over his shoulder with a smirk and went back to fixing his disheveled hair. "It's not what she's doing, Vaughn...." he laughed quietly and shook his head. "It's what she did..."

Vaughn's eyes widened and he looked back and forth between his friend and....his other friend. His friend who was currently asleep in his best friend's tangled sheets. "You...." he couldn't seem to get more than one word out. He swallowed thickly as Rhys pulled on a shirt, finally forcing out a laugh. “Well...um, that would sure explain the noises—wow, really? You two actually...?" He tilted his head with a subtle click of his tongue, hoping that conveyed what he was currently trying to say.

"Yes...." Rhys answered slowly, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Surprised?”

“No, no...well...maybe a little?” Vaughn shrugged semi-helplessly. “I didn’t even know you two were...a thing. I mean, are you? You never really seemed to show any kind of...but I guess opening a Vault is a big deal, so if you were going to make any commitments... I’m not saying you shouldn't have....but....it's...." Vaughn stopped himself and took a breath. "Does Sasha know?"

Rhys' expression morphed from passively amused to horrified in a heartbeat. "...shit."

"Cause...they are sisters. And...she'd probably want to know if Fiona's going to be..." Vaughn motioned to the bed vaguely. He still couldn't say it, for whatever reason.

Rhys slumped with a sigh. “Yeah...you’re right. But...she’d do better hearing it from Fi…” he glanced back at the bed. “You know what? I’m...just gonna take a shower and let her sleep and hope that I don’t have to say anything. Sound good? Sounds good.”

He almost managed to brush past, but Vaughn stopped him before he could make it through the doorway. “Hang on. I’m not gonna just let this go, either. Is this all...pretty new, or...did you two have some kind of thing going without the rest of us knowing?”

“We…” Rhys cracked his knuckles. “There’s always been some...uh...tension? I guess we just figured, hell, we’d come this far, why not...go all in, you know? And, um...we did—well, I did. Went all in—and...I’m gonna shut up.”

“Yeah...that’s probably good,” Vaughn muttered, allowing Rhys to pass him. “But hey. I’m actually really happy for you, man. You and Fiona...well, I’ve always kinda thought you two would be good together.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It just seemed to...work. The more time I spent with Fiona, the more she reminded me of you.” Vaughn shrugged again. “And...well, the fact that you two argued like an old married couple certainly helped.”

Rhys rolled his eyes, but couldn’t fight a smile. “I’ll be in the shower if you need me.”

******

Fiona woke up feeling warm. And...a little sore. She blinked a few times, turning toward the other side of the bed, fully expecting to see— She frowned and sat up slowly. He wasn’t there. She looked around the room. Their clothes from the night before lay strewn haphazardly across the floor and over furniture, and her hat was perched delicately on the end of a bedpost. He must have picked it up off the floor that morning. “How sweet,” she murmured, stretching and sliding out of the bed.

Wow, it had been a long time since she’d...spent the night with anyone. It had been...well, to say “unexpected” wasn’t really right. They’d both been able to tell that whatever it was between them was only getting stronger and harder to ignore as the days passed. Opening the Vault had apparently been the tipping point. Or maybe it had been almost dying. Or maybe it had been when he subtly confirmed that he’d been thinking about her the whole time. Maybe it was a combination of the three. Everything had come together so quickly that it was hard not to get caught up in the rush of adrenaline.

Standing in the aftermath, beside him...it seemed right. They’d already been through so much...why stop there? So as the day turned to dusk and the last of the color left the sky to make room for the stars, she resolved that she wouldn't try to fight it. Her entire life had been built around taking each situation as it came, and adapting to make it work. This was no different.

Still, she'd put up a characteristic (if minimal) amount of resistance as they'd talked about the future, taking good-natured jabs at him whenever the opportunities presented themselves. She knew he'd been chipping away at her willpower since they'd first met, and she wasn't sure she could hold out through one more sly sideways glance or confident smirk.

And when their collective restraint finally crumbled and she found herself following him through the halls of the fallen space station, back to the room he'd claimed, she didn't even mind. She hadn’t protested when he'd shut the door or gently pushed her back against the wall and pressed his lips against her own. And she’d let go of the act altogether by the time the first piece of clothing hit the floor.

Shaking her head with a smile, she wandered across the room toward the dresser, picking up stray articles of clothing as she went. At least she could make things look a little more presentable if someone decided to come in. Before she could get dressed or glance in the mirror, though, a slip of obnoxious yellow paper caught her eye. Hyperion stationary. Of course. Tossing the clothes into a nearby chair, she picked up the note.

Mornin, Fi. I’m in the shower. Whether or not this is an invitation is up to you.  -Rhys

Fiona immediately felt her face turn at least three shades of red. How could that bastard be so charming on paper and make a complete ass of himself when he spoke? Gritting her teeth, she crumpled the paper, then grabbed the first shirt she could find and threw it on. Damn him.

The base was strangely quiet, which she was actually grateful for. The fewer people to see her scampering down the hall toward the showers, wearing one of Rhys’ shirts—and nothing else—the better. She rounded the corner and crept into the big washroom as quietly as she could—not that he could hear her over the water anyway. Luckily, it seemed that they were the only two people there at the moment.

She shrugged off the shirt as she approached the only occupied shower, and hesitated just slightly before tapping on the wall. “This is the address on the invitation, right?”

Rhys responded by poking his head out and flashing her the stupidest grin she’d ever seen. “Thought you’d get a kick outta that.”

She just rolled her eyes and pushed him aside so she could step in. “You’re an idiot,” she finally muttered, reaching around him to grab the bottle of soap. An idiot that looks great with wet hair.

He feigned insult with an exaggerated pout. “What happened to all that sweet talk I heard last night…?”

“Oh, there’s plenty more where it came from, you just don’t deserve it right now. I shouldn’t have had to run here in one of your shirts this morning. That’s trampy.”

Rhys scoffed. “Well, what were you expec—wait, you...wore one of my shirts?”

“You should have been sitting in bed with some coffee for me, like a gentleman. And yes. I did. It was huge.”

“I’m tall,” he mumbled, snatching the soap back from her. “Besides, I’m not the only one who screwed up, here. At least Vaughn knows now. You still have to ‘fess up to Sasha.”

Fiona’s stomach dropped. She did, didn’t she? And given the way Sasha seemed to feel… Well, she’d figure something out. She always did.

Her face must have revealed her thoughts, since Rhys chuckled. “Yeah...have fun with that.”

She just sighed and focused on washing her hair. “So how’d Vaughn find out?”

“He walked in a few minutes after I got out of bed,” Rhys answered with a slight shrug. “Saw you, and since I was cornered and it’s my room, I...didn’t have too many options. But he took it well. Said he’s happy for us and that we make a good couple.”

“Why did everyone seem to think we’d end up together?” she grumbled. “Was it obvious somehow?”

Rhys smirked at her. “Oh, come on. Even we knew. We were just in denial.”

She glared up at him, about to retort, but the sound of approaching footsteps stopped her.

“Fi?” ...Sasha.

Fiona stole a glance at Rhys, who had frozen where he stood, eyebrows high, hands tense. He'd apparently retained enough of his wit to mouth, "Speak of the devil..."

She resisted the urge to smack him. "Yeah, need something, Sash?"

“No, not really. Just...wondering how your night went…”

Fiona swallowed. That sounded like a trap. “Oh...I, uh...slept pretty hard. You know, all that fighting and Vault...opening…” She dared another glance at Rhys and was pleased to see that her comment had provoked a rather furious blush.

“Yeah...I bet you and Rhys were both pretty worn out. It was...quite the day.”

“Mmhm. Yes it was. So, um, how about you? Sleep alright?”

“Uh huh. Mostly. I kept waking up though...sounded like Rhys must have been kicking the wall or something.”

“Yeah, he, uh…” Fiona could feel her ears getting warm and wondered if it was even worth it to keep up the charade. Sasha apparently knew, or at least suspected, something… “Look...um...okay, I have to be honest—”

“It’s fine, Fiona. I know what happened.”

“I….figured.” She sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what? Tell me? Really, sis, it’s okay. It’s not like you need my permission or anything. We’re all adults, here.”

“I know, but...I thought you—”

“I...he’s a great guy. And we’re friends. But that’s it. He’s always had his eye on you, we all knew it. Anything that happened between me and him is...I guess I was reading too far into it.” She let out a short laugh. “Wouldn’t matter much now, anyway. He’s obviously made his choice.”

Fiona studied her toes. “You sure you’re okay with it?”

“Of course I am. Don’t be ridiculous, Fi. You deserve this. Besides, I could never really see myself ending up with a business guy anyway. I’m sure you two will make lots of money together. Me? I’m happy as long as August keeps letting me use his guns.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re calling it…?” Fiona playfully raised an eyebrow, even though her sister couldn’t see the gesture.

Sasha snorted. “Shut up. We’re...trying to start over.” A comfortable silence settled between them for a moment before Sasha sighed. “Well, Vaughn’s called a meeting for everyone in the executive breakroom, so...come join us when you’re done. Oh, and Rhys? Don’t think that I’ll leave you alone just because I’m okay with this. You take care of my sister or you’ll have that stun baton shoved up your ass.”

Beside her, Rhys let out a scandalized yelp. "How'd you know I was in here?!"

"Really? Your clothes are right here.”

“Oh...yeah, I guess they are…”

“And after seeing what a mess your room was, I figured you’d want to clean yourself up a little. You should definitely wash those sheets, too.”

Rhys just stood there, face red, mouth open, while Sasha's footsteps faded out the way they'd come.

Before she walked out of earshot, however, she called back, "And I meant what I said about the stun baton!"

******

“Don’t think too much, you might hurt yourself,” Fiona muttered from beside him.

He stuck out his tongue, but didn’t tear his eyes away from the dark sky. “I was actually admiring Pandora’s ability to make the stars look so good.”

“Better than out there in space?”

“So much better.”

Rhys felt Fiona shift closer, leaning against his arm. Finally looking away from the sky, he reached out and draped his arm over her shoulders. She turned to face him with a small smile that he couldn’t help but return.

“You know, you aren’t so bad, Hyperion,” she joked, resting her head on his shoulder. “Or should I say…Atlas.”

“You’re not so bad, either. You know, for a Pandoran criminal. Or would you rather be called a Vault Hunter now?” She didn’t offer any reply, just allowed a small smile. That alone was enough to tie a knot in Rhys’ stomach and he gave her arm a light squeeze. “You know, you never told me how you got that scar.” He ghosted his left thumb over the little nick in her eyebrow.

She groaned and shook her head. “You really want to know?”

“Would...I be asking if I didn’t?”

“Okay, okay.” She shut her eyes and took a breath. “I got it when I was seven. I was chasing Sasha around and...I smacked a table.”

“With your face?”

“With my face. Right on the corner.”

Rhys winced. “Not as dramatic as I was hoping, but...ouch.”

“I’m pretty sure it was bleeding for hours after it happened.” She shrugged. “But hey, at least it looks pretty badass, right?”

“Oh, absolutely. And it could have been a lot worse. I mean, you could have gouged out your eye. Trust me, that shit hurts. Hurts like hell. Not that I regret it. Getting rid of Jack and all that. More than worth it.”

“I still can’t believe you did that,” Fiona quipped softly. “The Rhys I met a year ago wouldn’t have willingly torn out his own cybernetics. For anything.”

“Yeah...well, I learned a lot about myself after I came down here. More than I ever thought I could.”

“You’ve taught me a lot, too.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “Before I met you, I thought I knew everything there was to know about people. How they lived, how they thought. And then...you showed up.” She looked down at her hands. “You in your stupid suit with your stupid hair and your stupid habit of thinking you had everything under control when you clearly didn’t.” She picked at her fingernails absently. “And for some reason, you threw me for a loop. I’d learned how to talk anyone into doing anything, but when I talked to you, it all came out wrong. Nothing worked on you. You’d just...shout insults back, or fight my sarcasm with some of your own. It was annoying.”

“Well, thanks—”

“Hey, hey, I’m not done yet.” She swatted his knee. “But it was also fun. You were the biggest challenge I’d had in years. You just wouldn’t give up when any other corporate dumbass would have left Pandora in a heartbeat, with or without their money. And then...well, after the money wasn’t an issue, you still stuck around. I couldn’t figure out why. At first, I just thought it was for the Vault. But—”

He placed a finger over her lips. “I get it. You’re happy you finally have friends.”

“God, you’re an asshole.” He laughed as she sat up and turned toward him. “Rhys, I’m serious. Will you just hear me out?”

He heaved a dramatic sigh, but humored her nonetheless. “Of course. Who am I to interrupt your monologue?”

“It’s not a monologue.”

“Feels like one.”

“I just…” she shut her eyes for a second and took a breath. “I guess I’m trying to say thank you. For...being different. For not being what I expected you to be.” She lapsed into silence once again, leaving Rhys to think about what she’d said.

He agreed with her. He’d had a set of (very negative) expectations the moment he’d set out for Pandora in Vasquez’s car, with Vaughn and ten million bucks. Any hiccups they’d faced during the deal had fit cleanly into his assumptions about Pandora and its people. But...along the way, something changed. It changed early on. It had been the thing that compelled him to hang up on Vasquez. The thing that had quietly told him to trust Fiona while Jack screamed in the back of his head. Some little switch went off in his brain that made him willing to fight and peel off faces and even tear out his own cybernetics—and all for...what?

He glanced over at Fiona. The breeze ruffled her hair, prompting her to reach up and tuck the longer strands behind her ear. Swallowing a sudden lump in his throat, he pulled her closer again. “So...hypothetically—” he could feel her turning to look up at him. “If this you-and-me-thing ends up being...long term...would you want to stay here? On Pandora?”

She hummed thoughtfully for a second before shrugging and turning her attention back to the stars.

“Cause, I know you promised Sasha that you guys would go out and explore the galaxy…”

“Yeah, I did.”

“So?”

“You know, Rhys...I think I’d be alright with wherever you wanted to be.”

He laughed. “That’s really cute of….oh, you—you’re serious? Oh. Damn. Okay… That means I have to...uh, alright.” He bit his lip. “...how about…Eden Four?”

She looked over, eyebrow raised. “Eden Four?”

“Yeah...it’s, uh...it’s where I’m from. I mean...I’ve seen Pandora...I could...show you where I was born.”

She was quiet for a second, then leaned in with a smile, pressing a very faint kiss to his jaw. “Like I said, anywhere you want is fine with me.”

[thethespacecoyote]

I just wanted to write a thing where mob Jack saves pregnant detective Rhys from a burning building, thats all this is

Jack was about ready to go home.

He hadn’t even bothered to dress up in his usual duds for this job, merely slinging one of his blazers on over a shirt. After all, a little evidence-burning wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary. Even if said “evidence” was an entire warehouse down at the harbor.

Whatever. Jack had the dockworkers union paid off anyway. No one would suspect a thing until the cops came to investigate the smoking, burnt-out ruin.

Jack watched idly as his men moved in and out of the warehouse’s entrance, laying explosives and salvaging anything of value left inside before they blew the whole thing sky-high. The damp, night air kissed his skin, making him crave a cigar to warm himself up, but he hadn’t brought any with him. This was supposed to be a quick job. Torch the warehouse and anything left inside so Jack could curl up in bed for the rest of the night.

It’d been a little harder to get proper sleep lately, and Jack had always slept decently enough for someone with countless murders on his conscience. Didn’t help that the new detectives nipping at his heels were a hell of a lot less fun than their forebear. Jack pursed his lips at the memory of the last time he’d seen his sorely-missed Detective Somerset, who’d just had to go and get himself knocked up and thus ruin Jack’s fun by taking leave of his job. Jeez. Total buzzkill. Jack was really gonna let him have it as soon as he came back.

If he came back.

Jack hissed into the night air, feeling a little antsy. He watched as one of his underlings moved the last crate of explosives in through the door, before turning to his guard. Wilhelm grunted in response and cocked his eyebrow.

“Gonna take a walk. Keep an eye on these doofuses and make sure they don’t blow themselves up, huh?” Jack opened his jacket to show off the golden handle of a pistol shoved into his coat pocket when Wilhelm looked at him skeptically.

“I don’t need a frikkin’ babysitter, I can handle myself for a couple minutes,” Jack growled as he turned on his heels away from his guard and the rest of his scrambling men, walking down one side of the warehouse. He kept a respectable distance from the walls, just in case someone screwed up and detonated the explosives a little too early. Considering Jack only really trusted himself to do anything right, it seemed a valid concern.

He stuck his hands in his pants pockets, slouching into his stride as he walked through the misty night, the streetlights above him foggy and casting less light than they might usually. He tried to keep his mind clear of any unpleasant or annoying thoughts, idling casting his gaze about the deserted docks in front of him. There wasn’t much in this particularly spot apart from the warehouses, and the only noises he could make out were the distant sound of sirens and the hum of the freeways.

Jack was about ready to turn around and walk back to properly wrap this night up, when something near the end of the warehouse glinted in the faded moonlight. Jack stopped, recognizing the gleam of a car fender, then the short length of a grey-blue hood. He slid his hand into his jacket, fingering the handle of his gun as he started to approach once more. As he grew closer, got a better look at the car it became more and more familiar, sending a prickle of apprehension into his gut.

It was definitely Detective Somerse—Rhys’ car. Jack knew the license plate well, from pictures his men had snagged of the omega’s personal life. But Rhys wasn’t inside. In fact, as Jack looked around, he couldn’t see him anywhere. What the hell? Had something happened to him?

Jack peered through the dim window, eyes landing upon a sheaf of papers clipped onto a manila envelope. Was Rhys on a job?

No. That couldn’t be. Rhys was supposed to be on maternity leave. Jack hadn’t seen him out in the field in weeks now, for good reason. He was supposed to be away, tucked in his home nice and safe and getting chubby on ice cream pickles.

Jack’s heart plummeted as he turned away from the car, a sick suspicion rising up from his stomach as he raced back down the length of the warehouse back to where his men were gathered. He waved his arms and shouted, trying to grab their attention.

“Hey, assholes, wait! Don’t set it off yet, don’t—“

Jack couldn’t get any more words out as the building besides him suddenly detonated. The sounds of shredded metal and shattering ground blasted into his ears, nearly knocking him off of his feet. He stumbled forward, his stomach twisting itself in half as he watched flames explode out through the windows, littering the ground with shards of glass. Jack’s heart leapt up from the pit of his stomach into his throat, choking him as he watched the warehouse go up in flames.

“Damn it…damn it!” Jack snarled, deaf to the shouts of his men as they raced towards him. He wasn’t about to give up now, not when Rhys could still be inside that frikkin’ place. If Jack didn’t go and check if he was still alive, he would never forgive himself.

Jack stripped his blazer off his body as he raced into the warehouse’s side entrance, the heat emanating from the burning walls already too much to bear with the additional layer. He wrenched open the door and stumbled his way inside, coughing at the smoke that billowed out.

“Rhys!” He called, his voice scratching against his throat. The interior smelled awful, of burning raw materials and blast residue. He prayed that he was crazy, that maybe Rhys had never entered the warehouse at all—or that if he had, he’d been far enough away from the blast as to not render Jack’s rescue futile from the start.

The alpha dodged some broken glass and rounded a pile of wooden crates knocked askew in the explosion, only to find a pallet stacked high with reinforced concrete slabs standing in his way. Some pieces had already fell and cracked onto the floor, covering it in scattered rubble. Flames licked around on the other side, quickly eating at the structure holding them in place—yet even the smoke pouring in from all around couldn’t mask the figure lying limp and prone on the floor besides the stack.

“Shit, Rhys,” Jack scrambled forward, voice muffled by the hand clamped over his mouth. His leather shoes squeaked as he skidded to his knees besides the body, knocking away the bits of debris laying over the detective’s legs. For a moment Jack’s eyes swam too much to see whether he was breathing, but a press of fingers beneath Rhys’ jaw thankfully confirmed a fluttering pulse. Moments later the detective’s eyelids twitched, revealing bleary eyes that looked up at Jack without full understanding.

“Wh…what happened…” Rhys moaned before a rough cough cut across his words. His stomach, noticeably rounded beneath his uniform, shook with each gasp. Jack’s heart clenched with worry—smoke and blunt-force wounds weren’t exactly good for unborn pups—as he stripped off his shirt and pressed the balled material loosely over Rhys’ mouth and nose.

“Easy…easy cupcake, just breathe, I’m getting you out of here, ‘kay?” Jack assured as he slid his hands underneath Rhys’ legs and back, supporting him the best he could while remaining mindful of his belly and any potential injuries. Jack’s muscles strained as he heaved, swaying to his feet with Rhys cradled in his arms. The omega moaned into the shirt as he tried his best to hold it to his face. Jack turned his head and coughed, his lungs starting to hurt now from the heat and oily smoke as he rushed back towards the entrance, desperate to get back out into the cool night air.

“Boss!” Wilhelm grunted as Jack shouldered his way back out of the warehouse, his hands grabbing onto Jack’s shoulders and pulling him away just as a second, earth-shattering explosion burst behind him. Rhys cried out and flinched in the alpha’s arms as the building’s door nearly blew off its hinges, sending debris and busted glass scattering out over the ground.

“H-holy shit,” Jack gasped, casting a look behind him at the burning warehouse, before returning his attention to the omega in his arms. Rhys curled into Jack’s chest, cheek pressed up against one tattooed pec as he took deep breaths of the damp air. He held Jack’s shirt balled up in his hand like a teddy bear, something for his trembling fingers to cling onto.

“Rhys? Rhysie, you okay?” Jack crouched, laying the omega carefully down on the ground while keeping his back supported. Without thinking, Jack rested his hand atop the omega’s stomach, cupping the ample swell beneath his clothes.

“I…I think so…” Rhys gasped, his hand too coming to touch his belly, not bothering to push away Jack’s palm. “The…the baby…”

Jack ground his teeth together, his neck prickling with instinct. God. Rhys and his pup could’ve died in there. If Jack hadn’t been in just the right place at just the right time, the kid would’ve been frikkin’ toast. The thought made him want to cling on to Rhys and never let go, even if he was supposed to be on leave. Even if they sat clear on two opposite sides of the law.  

But he decided instead to do the next best thing. He looked up at Wilhelm who hovered above them, awaiting a command.

“Bring the car. We’re going back to my place. With him.” Jack slid his arm back underneath Rhys’ legs, managing to pull him up into his arms again even with the adrenaline starting to drain from his body. He could hear sirens off in the distance, steadily growing louder as the flames consuming the warehouse licked higher.

Jack moved in the direction of the car as Wilhelm raced on ahead to start it. He really wanted nothing less than to tangle with the cops tonight—especially as the only one he really cared about needed his help.

Whether Rhys wanted it or not.

[kitashiwrites]

The Tangled Webs We Weave - A Rhys Fic

Series: A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas Characters: Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, Amren, The Weaver of the Wood POV: Rhys Ship: Feyre/Rhysand Rating: T Word Count: 5719 Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9446600

Summary: Chapter 20-21 of A Court of Mist and Fury from Rhys’s POV.

The Bone Carver has confirmed Rhys’s suspicions that Feyre could possibly locate the Book of Breathings. And what better way to test this theory than with an object that he hasn’t seen in centuries... held by one of the most dangerous beings in all of Prythian.

Comments: This idea was requested by Emily in my comments on Ao3 awhile ago, and I've had it on my list of ideas to write eventually. I think I did more than was originally requested, but I kinda got carried away ^^; In any case, I hope you like it!

A big thanks (as always), to the best tumblr bestie in the whole wide world, @illyriantremors, who I honestly can't thank enough for all she puts up with in regards to me lol

----

I strode down the hall to Feyre’s room at false dawn, knowing thanks to our bond that her nightmares had kept her—and subsequently me—awake and restless all night. Haunted by the memory of those two faeries she’d had to kill to save us all and the ash knife she'd used. Of the bone I’d given the Bone Carver, her face carved onto it in despair and agony. Knowing now what she had admitted to him in the Prison, that she'd been waiting for an opportunity to turn that knife on herself once she'd freed us… it worried me that she maybe still thought it was a viable option to rid herself of her suffering.

I knocked on the door, and as soon as I heard her permission to come in, I stalked in and chucked the belt of knives I’d brought with me to the foot of her bed. “Hurry,” I said flinging open the doors of her armoire and yanking out her fighting leathers, tossing them on her bed too. “I want to be gone before the sun is fully up.”

“Why?” she asked, pushing back the covers. She looked exhausted, but we didn't have time for her to sleep in more.

“Because time is of the essence.” I dug into her drawers and grabbed a pair of socks and her boots. “Once the King of Hybern realizes that someone is searching for the Book of Breathings to nullify the powers of the Cauldron, then his agents will begin hunting for it, too.”

“You suspected this for a while, though. The Cauldron, the king, the Book… You wanted it confirmed, but you were waiting for me.” Matter of fact, no question in her tone.

“Had you agreed to work with me two months ago, I would have taken you right to the Bone Carver to see if he confirmed my suspicions about your talents. But things didn't go as planned.” That was an understatement, really. Things going as I planned wouldn't have had Tamlin as a factor at all, let alone letting him neglect her until I had to intervene. It wouldn't involve her hating me, her neck being snapped before my eyes, or keeping this mate bond of ours a secret from her either.

“The reading,” she mused almost to herself, sliding her feet into her fleece lined slippers. “That's why you insisted on the lessons. So if your suspicions were true and I could harness the Book… I could actually read it—or any translation of whatever is inside.” She was sharp, but that was no surprise to me.

“Again,” I said moving over to her dresser, “had you started to work with me, I would have told you why. I couldn't risk discovery otherwise.” I paused with my hand on the knob, trying to choose my words carefully. “You should have learned to read no matter what. But yes, when I told you it served my own purposes—it was because of this. Do you blame me for it?”

“No.” She sounded sincere. “But I’d prefer to be notified of any future schemes.”

“Duly noted.” I yanked open the drawer, and to my surprise, I was greeted by a drawer full of fabric scraps and lace—the things that were likely brought back when Mor got involved in shopping for her ‘new best friend’. I picked up a silky midnight colored number off the top and chuckled as I dangled them from my fingers, eyeing her suggestively. “I’m surprised you didn't demand Nuala and Cerridwen buy you something else.” Though I couldn't say I was disappointed.

She stalked over to me and snatched it from my hands. “You're drooling on the carpet,” she snapped and stalked into her bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I wiped my mouth, just to make sure I actually wasn't, and took a deep breath, laying out the belt of knives I’d brought for her. I eyed the harness with some apprehension. This whole mission was dangerous. Everything was dangerous for her where I was concerned. Just being around me was painting a target on her back. Being my mate only made it larger, especially if anyone besides Mor or Amren found out. But sending her into the Weaver’s cottage… I knew it served two purposes and I had chosen it for this reason. But I had no idea what she would find in there and I worried for her safety. Knowing the stories of the Weaver of the Wood, the Illyrian sword strapped my spine gave me very little comfort.

When she emerged from her bathroom, it was all I could do to keep my face from giving me away. Her leathers clung to her body attractively, which had finally begun to look a little healthier now that she'd been eating properly and actually keeping it down. I was suddenly grateful that my own leathers hid just how turned on I was. It didn't help that I knew underneath were the delicate scraps of lace and silk she’d snatched from me. Before I could start fantasizing about seducing her back onto her bed and seeing if they made her look even more delicious than I already thought she was, I grabbed the belt of knives. I needed to focus on something, anything, else. She deserved better than that. “No swords, no bow, no arrows,” I said. I was proud my voice came out as steady as it did.

She looked at me skeptically. “But knives are fine?” I knelt in front of her and spread the web of leather and Illyrian steel, motioning for her to stick her leg though the first loop and bracing her as she stepped through the second loop.

“She will not notice a knife, as she has has knives in her cottage for eating and her work,” I said as  as I buckled and tightened the belts until they fit her body snugly. “But things that are out of place—objects that may have not been there… A sword, a bow and arrow… She might sense those things.” There wasn't even a guarantee this would work, but it was our best shot.

“What about me?” she asked. I tightened the strap around her leg. It was becoming harder for me—in more ways than one—being this close to her and keeping myself in check as my hands brushed against her while I checked my work.

“Do not make a sound, do not touch anything but the object she took from me.” I looked up at her and braced my hands on her thighs. I thought of the tattoos on my knees, my vow to myself, and not for the first time, knew that I’d be happy and willing to bow before her and worship her if she would let me. “If we are right about your powers, if the Bone Carver wasn't lying to us, then you and the object will have the same…” I searched for the right word. “...imprint, thanks to the preserving spells I placed on it long ago.” A partial truth, but necessary. There were spells on it, and I had placed some of them when I wore it in the Illyrian camps. “You are one and the same. She will not notice your presence so long as you touch only it. You will be invisible to her.” At least, that was how it was supposed to work. I’d never tried this, and no other High Lord's thieves had made it out to tell us if we were right.

“She's blind?” Feyre asked. I nodded.

“But her other senses are lethal. So be quick, and quiet. Find the object and run out, Feyre.” I let my hands wander to the back of her legs, unwilling to let go just yet.

“And if she notices me?”

A fair question. My grip tightened involuntarily. “Then we’ll learn precisely how skilled you are.” She glared at me, and I shrugged. “Would you rather I locked you in the House of Wind and stuffed you with food and made you wear fine clothes and plan my parties?”

“Go to hell,” she snapped. She looked at me curiously. “Why not get this object yourself, if it is so important?”

Because my mother wanted my future wife or mate to be the one to retrieve it, I wanted to tell her. Such a loaded question that had an equally loaded answer. But she already barely tolerated me—most of the time hated me—and I knew that answer would not be met with a reaction I’d like. “Because the Weaver knows me—and if I am caught, there would be a steep price. High Lords are not to interfere with her, no matter the direness of the situation. There are many treasures in her hoard, some she has kept for millennia. Most will never be retrieved—because the High Lords do not dare be caught, thanks to the laws that protect her, thanks to her wrath. Any thieves on their behalf… Either they do not return, or they are never sent, for fear of it leading back to their High Lord. But you… She does not know you. You belong to every court.”

“So I’m your huntress and thief?” she asked sardonically. My hands slid to the backs of her knees and I gave her a roguish grin. “You are my salvation, Feyre.” And so much more.

~~

I winnowed us into the neutral wood. The natural, tightly woven canopy of the trees made it nearly as dark as my court on a night of the new moon, but without a single guiding star to provide comfort.

“Where are we?” Feyre breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

“In the heart of Prythian,” I replied, keeping my hands in casual reach of my weapons to fend off any potentially nasty surprises, “there is a large, empty territory that divides the North and South. At the center of it is our sacred mountain.” The place I never wanted to be this close to again if I could help it. The darkness of this forest was far too reminiscent of those caves and catacombs. “This forest is on the eastern edge of that neutral territory. Here, there is no High Lord. Here, the law is made by who is strongest, meanest, most cunning. And the Weaver of the Wood is at the top of their food chain.” Though there was no wind to shift them, the trees groaned, as though in agreement.

“Amarantha didn't wipe them out?” Feyre questioned.

“Amarantha was no fool,” I said darkly. “She did not touch these creatures or disturb the wood. For years, I tried to find ways to manipulate her to make that foolish mistake, but she never bought it.” If she had, so much of this could have been avoided. I thought back to one such instance, where I had suggested Amarantha try to ally with the Weaver, to use her to torture her enemies. After she reminded me that was something I did so well though, it barely even received a response.

“And now we're disturbing her—for a mere test.” The disbelief in Feyre's voice rang clear.

I chuckled. “Cassian tried to convince me last night not to take you. I thought he might punch me.” Indeed, he thought this test was dangerous—which it was—and could easily be proved in another way. Which it could.

“Why?”

“Who knows? With Cassian, he’s probably more interested in fucking you than protecting you.” Truthfully, it was more the compassionate commander in him, the one who didn't risk his men’s lives on hunches and fool’s errands. And I also felt he saw a kindred spirit in Feyre, related to her hardships growing up.

“You're a pig,” she snapped. She was nervous, focusing on what was ahead and letting it eat her from the inside out. And while what lay in wait in that cottage was without a doubt a cause for concern, she needed a distraction.

I knew just what to do.

“You could, you know,” I said carefully, holding up the branch of a beech tree for her to slide under. “If you needed to move on in a physical sense, I’m sure Cassian would be more than happy to oblige.” I said it, though I didn't actually believe it. He’d ribbed me too hard after finding out that it was her wedding I’d abandoned drinking with him to go crash. And besides, he’d learned his lesson after The Incident and how it had affected his relationship with Azriel for a time. None of us ever wanted to feel that division in our brotherhood again.

“Then tell him to come to my room tonight,” she crooned.

I knew she was bluffing. “If you survive this test.”

She paused, standing atop a lichen-crusted rock, and looked at me. Like this, she was almost eye level with me. “You seem pleased by the idea that I won't.”

“Quite the opposite, Feyre.” I prowled over to her, noting that she seemed almost unnerved by the charged air between us. I was close. “I’ll let Cassian know you are open to his… advances,” I lied. The hell I would.

“Good,” she said hollowly. I eyed her stiff posture and sent a bit of my power—the darkness that soothes, the darkness of lovers—to calm her. It had the opposite effect, recognizing the spark of itself in her; like called to like, stirring in answer to the presence of itself in her blood and bones. Before she could move away, jump off of the stone and break this moment, I gripped her chin, looking deep into her beautiful blue grey eyes.

“Did you enjoy the sight of me kneeling before you?” I asked silkily. It would be easy, so simple really, to kiss her right now. I could hear her heart thundering in her chest, nervous, her pupils dilating. She wouldn't turn me away. However, she quickly recovered and gave me a hateful little smirk, yanking her chin out of my grip and leaping off of the stone. I moved out of the way just in time to avoid her landing on my feet, which I couldn't shake the feeling was on purpose.

“Isn't that all you males are good for, anyway?” Her tone, breathless and tight, didn't match her smile at all. Her shield was down enough that I could feel that potent anger she'd shown me the day she'd thrown not one, but two shoes at my head.

I gave her a dark, flirtatious smile. I’d won.

She seemed to realize it too. “Nice try,” she said hoarsely. I shrugged and walked towards the trees ahead of us, her irritation and sexual frustration shooting uninhibited past her shields and down our bond. I couldn't help but feel pleased with myself.

I held up my hand as we stopped before the clearing, ruining her chance to retaliate. The white washed, inviting looking cottage of the most violent and nasty creature in these woods sat in front of us in the center, innocent and unassuming. I turned to Feyre, who eyed it with some apprehension, and inclined my head, bowing gracefully.

Good luck, I mouthed at her. She gave me a vulgar gesture, but didn't hesitate as she slowly and silently made her way to the front door. I winnowed into the tree branches above the house and watched as she looked back to see if I was still there. The thought crossed our bond that she wondered if she should have asked if I would come for her if she were in mortal peril.

As if I would willingly let her die.

It was fascinating to watch her as she fell into what I imagined must be muscle memory for her—the mortal huntress that had kept her family alive through harsh winters and taken down Tamlin's sentinel. The woman who had taken down the Middengard Wyrm merely using ingenuity and what she had around her. She made her way soundlessly to the threshold, and after a moment of listening, opened the door and slipped inside.

I let out a breath I didn't know I’d been holding in. The first part was done. I listened hard, but the only sound I could hear was the very faint humming that I imagined was meant to draw in prey for the Weaver. Feyre was so focused that even her shields were perfect; not so much as a crack I could slip into.

Settling in for what could potentially be a long wait, I sat on the branch, keeping an eye on the front door for any sign of Feyre. Once she had it and was out of the house, I would winnow her back to Velaris. There was no reason to make it more difficult than it needed to be.

The minutes crept by as I heard nothing but the unintelligible song coming from the cottage. The only thing that kept me in place was that I knew I couldn't interfere—both because the Weaver would know me and because I knew Feyre could do this.

I was beginning to get anxious though. Feyre hadn't appeared yet, and she'd been inside the cottage longer than I expected. It was quiet. Too quiet. I couldn't put my finger on—

The song. It has stopped.

I heard the door to cottage shut audibly. There was no Feyre. I was on my feet and searched our bond frantically. Her shield was still tight, but it had a small crack—not enough to get through, but enough to hear.

“Who’s in my house?” A woman's voice said softly. I froze. She'd somehow attracted the Weaver’s attention. This was not good.

Suddenly, her shield disappeared, and I was met with a blast of fear and the image of a woman that, if you looked only at her body, would be enticing and attractive. Her face though, hidden behind silky black hair, was grey—wrinkled and sagging and dry. And where her eyes should have been were rotting, empty black pits. Her lips had withered to nothing but deep, dark lines around a hole of full of jagged stumps of teeth, and her nose had caved in.

“What are you?” she said in a beautiful voice that did not match her at all. She took a step towards Feyre. “What is like all,” she mused, “but unlike all?” She had noticed. She wouldn't link Feyre back to the Night Court. But that wasn't as comforting as it would be if it were anyone else in that house. Suddenly, Feyre lunged for the table in front of her and grabbed a burning candle, hurtling it against a wall of fabric—the Weaver’s work.

I heard the Weaver’s shriek through our bond and with my own ears, splitting the silence of the forest like a cleaver. Feyre made a dash for the hearth, taking advantage of the Weaver’s distraction, and worked her way up the chimney. A smart move.

Until she got stuck. I contemplated winnowing in there and getting her out, consequences be damned. She'd gotten this far. Her dying for this was not worth it.

“What little mouse is climbing about in my chimney?” The Weaver’s voice echoed again, and upon seeing her face, Feyre’s head emptied out of everything but blind panic. She was suddenly Under the Mountain again, the Middengard Wyrm barreling for her, and she couldn't breathe. She was frozen.

“Did you think you could steal and flee, thief?”

That was it. I couldn't watch this. Couldn’t—

Stop.

The word crossed our bond, like she had heard me.

Stop, she ordered herself. Breathe. Think.

Stop. Stop, stop, stop.

Think.

She suddenly started pounding on the bricks in front of her. I watched her curiously through the bond as I felt her inner strength return to that of the huntress. Of the woman I’d fallen in love with.

I heard the Weaver roar in anger as I was suddenly thrown from her head and blinked as I suddenly was met by normal light. I looked to the cottage and saw Feyre climbing out over the lip of the chimney and tumbling onto the roof. The front door banged open.

“WHERE ARE YOU?” The Weaver screamed. But Feyre had already taken to the tree branches scrambling through the treetops. She had moved past me and was clearly trying to put as much distance between her and that butcher’s cottage as she could.

I winnowed closer to her location and lounged against the tree trunk, draping an arm over the branch. She skidded to a stop in front of me, covered in something shiny and greasy, and also something that looked like hair. “What the hell did you do?” I couldn't keep the smirk of pride off my face, nor the feeling of relief from spreading through me. She’d made it out. She was alive.

“You,” she hissed, her eyes flashing. I put a finger to my lips and winnowed over to her, grabbing her waist with one hand and cupping the back of her neck with the other.

We appeared just above the House of Wind and began to free fall. I waited for a scream that never came and released my wings, spreading them wide and curving us into a glide through the window of the war room. Cassian and Amren froze, mid argument it seemed, and stared at us as we landed.

“You smell like barbecue,” Amren said to Feyre, cringing. Cassian relaxed his stance, taking his hand off of the knife at his thigh. Feyre was panting hard.

“You kill her?” Cassian asked, eyeing Feyre curiously.

“No,” I answered, sensing she was in no state to be talking. “But given how much the Weaver was screaming, I’m dying to know what Feyre darling did.”

Feyre vomited all over the floor. Cassian swore and Amren waved a hand, cleaning up the mess on the floor and on Feyre.

“She… detected me somehow,” she managed to say, slumping against the large black table and wiping her mouth against the shoulder of her leathers. “And locked the doors and windows. So I had to climb out through the chimney. I got stuck, and when she tried to climb up, I threw a brick at her face.”

Amren turned to me. “And where were you?” There was clear accusation in her voice.

“Waiting, far enough away that she couldn't detect me.”

“I could have used some help,” Feyre snarled at me.

“You survived,” I said simply. I looked at her hard. “And found a way to help yourself.”

Realization crossed her face. “That's what this was also about,” she spat. “Not just this stupid ring,” She reached into her pocket and slammed it down on the table, “or my abilities, but if I can master my panic.”

Cassian swore again as he stared at my mother's star sapphire ring sitting in the middle of the table. He and Azriel had been there the day my mother had taken it back from me. He knew what it meant—what I was declaring by having sent her in for it. Even if he didn't know all of it.

Feyre, of course, knew nothing.

Amren shook her head, her dark hair swaying. “Brutal, but effective.”

“Now you know,” I said. “That you can use your abilities to hunt our objects, and thus track the Book at the Summer Court, and master yourself.”

“You're a prick, Rhysand,” Cassian said quietly.

I tucked my wings in with a snap. “You’d do the same.” He shrugged, as if to agree begrudgingly, but we both knew he would have.

Feyre looked at her nails, cracked and bloody from her encounter. The scrapes and scratches on her face hadn't healed yet either. She looked up at Cassian. “I want you to teach me—how to fight. To get strong. If the offer to train still stands.”

Cassian’s brows rose. “You’ll be calling me a prick pretty damn fast if we train,” he said, not looking at me. “And I don't know anything about training humans—how breakable your bodies are. Were, I mean.” He winced. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I don't want my only option to be running,” she said.

“Running,” Amren cut in, “kept you alive today.”

Feyre ignored her. “I want to know how to fight my way out. I don't want to have to wait on anyone to rescue me.” She faced me, crossing her arms defiantly. “Well? Have I proved myself?”

I picked up the ring off of the table. I hadn't seen it in centuries. It had some shelf wear, but with a little care, the twisted strands of gold, silver and pearl would be shined up in no time. I nodded my thanks to her. “It was my mother's ring.”

“How did you lose it?” she demanded.

“I didn't. My mother gave it to me as a keepsake, then took it back when I reached maturity—and gave it to the Weaver for safekeeping.”

“Why?”

“So I wouldn't waste it.” So I wouldn't give it to anyone I wasn't sure I wanted to spend the rest of my immortal life with. Feyre looked like she wanted to say something, but her knees buckled suddenly. She needed quiet and a bath, she'd accidentally shouted down our bond, and without thinking or saying a word, I grabbed her hand and flared my wings out, and took off into the air. I snapped my wings shut and let us freefall for a few heartbeats before winnowing us into her bedroom. I could hear the water running in her bathroom—Nuala or Cerridwen had clearly either heard us or just knew her well enough that she would appreciate the gesture.

As she staggered towards the tub, a thought crossed my mind. “And what about training your other… gifts?” If she'd had those, it would be another weapon in her arsenal—so she could keep herself safe. And I couldn't lie that I was rather interested in watching her train with Cassian for a few reasons.

“I think you and I would shred each other to bits.” Through the rising steam, I could see she just wanted to take her bath, but this was necessary.

“Oh, we most definitely will,” I said leaning against the bathing room threshold. “But it wouldn't be fun otherwise. Consider our training now officially part of your work requirements with me.” I jerked my chin at her. “Go ahead—try to get past my shields.”

She looked at me wearily. “I’m tired. The bath will go cold.”

“I promise it will be just as hot in a few moments. Or, if you mastered your gifts, you might be able to take care of that yourself.” I knew she just wanted to relax, but the momentum we’d built up was too good to let go to waste—I could still feel the sparks of adrenaline from her escape in her blood, and I didn't want to squander it. She frowned at me, but took a step toward me, then another, making me take a step, then two, into the bedroom. She held my stare and I could feel that emotion bubbling up in her veins again—the power she could wield so effortlessly if we trained her even just a little bit. I couldn't help but think again of what a fool Tamlin had been in trying to ignore it, when as a High Lord he knew what letting magic build up, especially ours, could do to her.

“You feel it, don't you,” I said in a low voice, probably not suited to what we were doing. “Your power, stalking under your skin, purring in your ear.”

“So what if I do?” She played right along.

I shrugged. “I’m surprised Ianthe didn't carve you up on an altar to see what that power looks like inside you.”

“What, precisely, is your issue with her?” That she still didn't see it, after how the priestess had practically set up her wedding to fail, even if I hadn't come in to rescue her when she placed those red rose petals, was maddening.

“I find the High Priestesses to be a perversion of what they once were—once promised to be. Ianthe among the worst of them,” I said evasively.

“Why do you say that?”

“Get past my shields and I’ll show you,” I taunted. She held my stare, and then I felt her in our bond, that braided bit of light, feeling at my shields for an easy way in. But I wouldn't make this that simple. I knew she could do this if she tried.

“I’ve had enough tests for the day,” she said tiredly. I crossed the two feet between us. She couldn't give up just yet.

“The High Priestesses have burrowed into a few of the courts—Dawn, Day, and Winter, mostly. They've entrenched themselves so thoroughly that their spies are everywhere, their followers near-fanatic with devotion. And yet, during those fifty years, they escaped. They remained hidden. I would not be surprised if Ianthe sought to establish a foothold in the Spring Court.”

“You mean to tell me they're all black-hearted villains?”

“No. Some, yes. Some are compassionate, selfless, and wise.” I thought of the one temple on the outskirts of Velaris, where one who came from the Summer Court had established a place of worship, but did not use her rank to interfere with my rule or try to oust me like I’d seen some try. “But there are some who are merely self-righteous… Though those are the ones that always seem the most dangerous to me.”

“And Ianthe?” Feyre asked. I gave her a knowing look, and I could feel she was furious at herself for falling for my trap. She was too curious to let it go now.

I felt her slam into my shields with a lash of power that made them reverberate as surely as she'd hit them with her body. I chuckled at the fire in her eyes, the strength of will that had always been something I’d loved about her, as she panted from the effort that had taken out of her. “Admirable—sloppy, but an admirable effort.”

I took her hand, loving how perfectly it fit into mine. “Just for trying…” Our bond went taut, and I could feel her once again at my shields. This time, she merely brushed a mental hand against the dark adamant wall. The spark of power I’d given her reacted again to our closeness, and I had to bite my lip to keep from letting out a groan at the feeling of her there. It just wasn't damn fair.

I opened my mental shields, just a section, so she could see why. She strolled in, trusting. Her first mistake. And as she saw Ianthe lounging naked in the middle of my bed in the Hewn City, she reeled back at the memory in front of her. She quickly tried to escape, and realized I’d closed her in when she wasn't paying attention. But it was important for her to see this; to understand.

It was harder to relive this moment than I thought it would be. I’d not viewed it like this since Feyre had freed me from Amarantha, and now, having lived basically what Ianthe had wanted from me, I knew I had made the right choice in throwing her out on her ass. I was nearly as angry as the day I had done it. But at least with Amarantha, I’d gained something from it—the lives and safety of my family and my court.

As the memory ended and I released Feyre from my mind, she stumbled physically before me, blinking and getting used to reality again as I had when I’d watched her in the Weaver’s cottage. “Rule one,” I said, willing myself to calm down, “don't go into someone's mind unless you hold the way open. A daemati might leave their minds spread wide for you—and then shut you inside, turn you into their willing slave. Rule two—”

“When was that,” she blurted out. “When did that happen between you?”

The rage I’d almost gotten under control came back, a blast of icy anger. “A hundred years ago. At the Court of Nightmares. I allowed her to visit after she'd begged for years, insisting she wanted to build ties between the Night Court and the priestesses. I’d heard rumors about her nature, but she was young and untried, and I hoped that perhaps a new High Priestess might indeed be the change her order needed. It turned out she was already well trained by some of her less-benevolent sisters.”

Feyre swallowed hard, clearly shaken by the memory. “She—she didn't act that way at…” she froze, as if she'd realized something. I wondered if Ianthe had been up to her old tricks in the Spring Court as well, and if so, who had been her unlucky victim.

“Rule two,” I continued, “be prepared to see things you might not like.”

Before she could ask me anymore questions, I winnowed away, to the roof of the House of Wind. It had only been an hour or two since I had walked into her room, and yet it felt so much longer. In such a short span of time, I’d felt everything from fear, anger, anxiety, lust… love. I knew I should be tired, but all I felt now was restless.

I fingered the ring in my pocket carefully, and for a brief moment, wondered if I’d ever have the chance to give it to her—where she'd possibly accept it, and me.

I shook my head, as if it would clear away the idealistic, hopeful thought. I threw myself off the roof and let myself free fall until I knew I had to pull up, I snapped open my wings and let myself zone out as I circled my city lazily, trying to think of anything and anyone else.

But that small hand that had fit so perfectly in mine wouldn't leave my thoughts, now with the star sapphire ring I hoped would one day adorn it.

I was well and officially screwed.

[thethespacecoyote]

if youre still doing the prompts 2. for rhack if you feel like it? 💛💙💛💙

kind of envisioning a modern/sugar daddy AU type of thing here

for the prompt: “I’m at the hospital.”

Rhys almost always answered his texts.

The kid was hooked to his phone like it was an IV constantly feeding him as many photos and messages as he tapped out himself.  Even on the fanciest of dates to the most expensive restaurants in the city, with Jack in those nice clothes Rhys always badgered him to wear, Rhys couldn’t go five minutes without pulling out his phone and snapping pictures of the next course the waiter had brought to their table.

So when Rhys hadn’t answer Jack’s lunch-time text by the time the older man got off work, alarm bells had started to ring in his ears.

At first, he’d thought maybe the kid’s phone had just run out of battery, or maybe for some reason or another he’d put the damn thing on vibrate instead of the annoyingly catchy techno text-tone that usually jingled out of his phone and interrupted whatever romantic moment Jack had painstakingly set up this time. It was only when he called Rhys did he realize that at least the former was unlikely, as he kept getting Rhys’ voicemail. So the kid’s phone was on, he just wasn’t picking up for whatever reason.

And the fact that Jack didn’t know the reason had him almost immediately on edge.

Thirty missed calls and an uncountable number of all-caps texts later, and just as Jack planned to contact the cops the dial tone cut off with a muffled click, followed by a meek little:

“Jack?”

“Holy hell, kiddo.” Jack couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice, snapping perhaps a little too harshly at Rhys. He cradled his face in his hands, trying to breath evenly as relief dropped like a rock through his body.

“I—I know, I should’ve—“

“Kiddo, you tell me where you are and what’s going on right now.” Jack didn’t want to hear anything besides his boyfriend’s location and current situation. Rhys could tell him the details after he’d chewed him out in person.

He heard Rhys huffing anxiously over the line, starting and stopping a few times before managing to get a coherent sentence out.  

“Sorry, I…well…okay, it’s kind of funny, actually, so don’t be mad—“

“Rhys,” Jack growled through his teeth. “Spit. It. Out.”

A deep, shaky sigh buzzed over the phone.

“So I. I guess I’m at the hospital?”

Jack hadn’t bothered to hear Rhys out over the phone, repeating over and over that he was heading over now whether Rhys liked it or not, until the young man gave in with a terse “fine” and hung up on him. The kid didn’t sound particularly hurt or shaken, not that it did much to soothe Jack’s nerves. He nearly ran a red light on his way to the hospital, palms sweaty and nervous against the steering wheel the whole time before he finally pulled into the parking building.

After an antsy couple of minutes tapping his knuckles against the front desk as the attendant clicked away at her computer until she came up with Rhys’ status and current room. He didn’t bother waiting around for any more information, taking off down the hallway.

Jack didn’t bother knocking when he got to the door with the appropriate number, wrenching it open with sweating fingers.

His eyes immediately zeroed in on Rhys, taking full stock of the boy’s state as he swept over. Rhys’ mouth opened in surprise a Jack’s sudden entrance as he started to prop himself up, but Jack’s eyes had already left Rhys’ face to focus on his right leg. It poked out from underneath the thin hospital sheets, sheathed in a bright blue from the ball of his foot all the way up to his calf.

“J-Jack, hold on—“ Rhys held up his hands defensively as Jack came to a halt at his bedside, but the older man’s furious concern had been jammed into overdrive at the sight of his boyfriend’s injury.

“What the hell?” Jack cried, far too loud for a quiet hospital setting as he pointed to where Rhys’ toes wiggled helplessly from inside the cast. “Did you get hit by a car or something?”

“Uh…not exactly…” Rhys shifted awkwardly in the bed, knees rubbing together. He kept his eyes on the blankets covering his lap, fingers fidgeting with the thin fabric.

Jack placed his hands on his hips, expectant. He watched Rhys bite the inside of his cheek, fingers tucking loose hair behind his ear as if the little gestures could help him work up the courage to explain.

“So…you remember those heels I bought the other day?”

“Yeah?”

Jack knew the exact pair Rhys was talking about, thanks to an argument they’d had about the purchase when Rhys had brought them home in the first place. You see, Jack liked when his boyfriend wore heels—they helped firm up his butt and show off those long, slender legs that had captured Jack’s attention in the first place—but this pair had been seriously high. More like weapons of torture than fashionable footwear, in Jack’s opinion. And Rhys had been planning to wear them out and about, not just to fancy dinners, prompting Jack to put his foot down on the matter. Something Rhys hadn’t exactly taken well.

But they’d made up after only a few hours of stewing mad at each other—Jack had ordered in Rhys’ favorite takeout, and Rhys had even blown him on the couch later when evening television had grown boring. He’d even promised not to wear the shoes out as he’d planned, instead saving them for a special occasion. They’ resolved the problem. So why was Rhys…?

Jack’s eyes narrowed at the cast, then at Rhys’ downturned, sheepish expression.

“Oh.” Tight, angry heat clenched in Jack’s chest. “You little idiot. You didn’t.”

The boy finally lifted his eyes to look at him, sensing the building frustration.

“L-Look, you just don’t get fashion, okay? Sacrifices have to be made!”

“Kiddo, I hate to break it to you, but you kind of need your ankles, okay?”

“It’s just a little break, the doctor said it’ll heal up in only a few weeks!” Rhys huffed, crossing his arms tightly around his chest as he turned to stare out the window like he were angry at it instead of Jack. “You don’t have to make such a big deal out of it, you know.”

“Big deal? Big deal?” Jack’s voice raised, uncaring of the fact that it would probably echo all the way down the corridor. “I spent the last couple hours in a frikkin’ panic wondering about what happened to you, kiddo, only to find out you broke your god-damn ankle doing something I told you not to? I think that’s a bit of a big deal!”

Rhys said nothing, eyes falling back to his folded hands. Jack caught the glimmer of something wet in his eyes, confirmed by a sad little sniffle. The older man sighed, anger whistling out through his teeth as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, trying to calm down.

“Look…” He managed after a moment’s steady breathing. “I just worry when you get hurt. Okay?”

“…Okay.” Rhys whispered after his own steadying pause, his shoulder sagging in a sigh.

“For what it’s worth…” Rhys tipped his head up, trying to smile. “I…I looked pretty good in those heels until I tripped down the stairs.”

Jack couldn’t help but laugh, breaking his tension slightly as he pulled his hand away from his face.

“Yeah…bet you did, Rhysie. Bet you did.”

Jack pulled up a chair to the bedside, sitting next to his boyfriend and sliding their hands together. Rhys squeezed his fingers softly, delicate touch calming Jack down considerably from the height of his earlier worry.

“So…You wanna be the first one to sign my cast?” Rhys asked, pointing down towards his leg. Jack snorted at the innocent request, leaning in to carefully kiss his boyfriend’s cheek, before producing a work pen from inside his blazer pocket.

“I got you covered, baby.”