They’d been traveling for days. Eager to arrive at their destination – wherever it, he was. Only stoping when absolutely necessary. They were both tired. Rhysand carried both of their packs on his strong back, those deadly wings tucked in tight. Feyre insisted that she could carry her own, but her mate just smiled and placed a kiss on her forehead. Feyre’s eyes took in this new world. Different from their own yet – the same. The woods felt familiar, but the smell was unfamiliar. The creatures unknown to them. They were both tense – alert as they traveled through the thick woods.
Feyre had just finished washing in the nearby river, Rhys dousing the fire, their bags pack and ready for another day of travel – when Feyre sensed, no felt – another person nearby. She felt their magic, their energy pulsing through the trees. She braided her hair, a single plait falling down her spine, and followed that pull. It was like an invisible string —- tugging at her. She heard Rhys calling for her, but she ignored him. She scanned the trees, searching for the source of this power that called to her own. As if it was made from her own. A small part of her knew – knew who it belonged to and she held her breath and she approached.
A twig snapped beneath her boot and she started, not paying attention to where she placed her feet on the forrest ground. But then, then she saw him. And all those memories came rushing back. He was the spitting image of Rhysand, of his father. With his black hair and blue hued eyes. She gasped as he turned in her direction, the magnitude of their connection now ten fold as he looked at her. She stepped from behind the tree, willing herself to stand tall, to hide the anxiety and the fear from her features. When she came around to face him fully, her brows furrowed and she asked –
He tensed as the woman called his name. Were they not in the middle or a war and a bounty on his head, he would have not minded someone coming up to him. But times were different and with Erawan on the loose and Dorian had no idea who or what he had reign over. Who or what was out there searching for him spying on him and his friends and bringing word of their every move to Morath.
But as he studied the women in front of him, he sensed no darkness from her, no trace of the valg or looming threat. Regardless he was frightened. He was frightened of the way her strange magic had called to his, intertwining with his magic as if it knew him. It was an otherworldly force that brought him fear and calmed him at the same time.
He hesitates before whispering, “Yes.” He cringes at himself almost forgetting who and what he was and what he had promised himself. He was not weak, he was not cowering and he would never be afraid. He cleared his throat and stood straight, “Yes, who are you?”
jacobvanloon
amandla
origamiaround
areudirty
pixelskylines
dailybridgerton
gracieabrams
