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Omega Needs - Chapter 5

Feylin, eventual Feysand

chapter 4 | chapter 6 | series masterlist

Story Summary: Feyre presented as an omega after being changed into a high fae Under the Mountain. Her heats have been hellish, and Tamlin has neglected certain aspects of her presentation. After the disastrous wedding ceremony, how will Feyre’s omega handle being away from her Alpha?

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, nothing else that I can think of

Words: ~6.5k

Author's Note: it's here! Very heavy on explaining magical growth, just fyi. Nothing to complicated, and I think I made it all make sense? Anyways, I'm super excited about this chapter and the next one, I'm hoping to have C6 out in a couple of days if I can manage it. Also I love making Rhys obviously care for Feyre, he's so sweet and considerate towards heeer 🥹

18+ only pls

🩵💜🩵

The book was fascinating.

Feyre had no idea how complex the magical growth process was before reading, no one had bothered to explain it to her, she had simply went on believing that there was some type of magical core that stored the power.

While there was a core holding spot, located in the body’s center of gravity according to the book, that was present from birth. In the first ten or so years of life, depending on the fae and the size of their initial core, the expansion of power is slow, but after the tenth birthday or so the first major expansion happens.

The magical core pushes outward, burning new channels into the body to carry magic, starting with the blood vessels. Pain was expected with each new expansion, the magic making a physical mark inside of the body to increase the overall capacity.

Feyre frowned, knowing that she had never felt any kind of expansion through her body. Though, with being Made, that process could very well have happened before she returned to her body from that endless void. She pressed a hand to her chest, attempting to find any kind of warmth or something that would indicate a well of power within her. But, there was nothing. She shook her head and continued reading.

Up through maturity, fae would continue to have magical growth within their body, every few years or if they consistently exhausted their magic. At around 50, when almost all fae are considered to be adults, growth usually stops, leaving the fae with their fully formed magical core. The only exception was to those with extremely large cores, such as the High Lords or their heirs, who typically had an expansion every century or so to keep the magic from eating away their body.

She wondered if Rhysand continued having them, being known as the most powerful High Lord in history.

He’s probably bragged about it to the other High Lords before, she thought, snorting at the image her mind created. Rhysand, standing in front of Beron, boasting about how “his core had tripled in size in the past few centuries, could he believe it? And what about you, Beron?” With his signature smirk.

She made it through the first two chapters before Nuala knocked on her door.

“Come in,” Feyre said, sitting up from her slumped position on the bed.

The door opened, revealing the wraith carrying a tray with a couple of dishes on top. Feyre stood, stretching her limbs and shaking the stiffness from her body.

“I brought you some lunch, Feyre. There’s soup, bread, and…” she turned around, revealing a midnight blue, large cylindrical cup with a lid. “This, I thought you might like something to keep water in that won’t spill everywhere.” Nuala offered the cup to Feyre, who took it and screwed the lid off, taking a few large gulps of water, not having realized how thirsty she was while wrapped up in the book.

“Thank you, Nuala, this is perfect. And I’d completely forgotten about lunch, I’m so glad you remembered! It smells wonderful, thank you,” Feyre said gratefully, taking a seat at the table.

“It’s no problem at all, Feyre. Rhys had asked me if you’d had lunch yet, and wanted me to bring you something soon before it would spoil your appetite for dinner,” Nuala replied, walking out of the door after she’d flashed Feyre a soft smile.

Feyre smiled to herself, genuinely touched that Rhysand seemed to care for her well-being. Nearly everything he had done since she had arrived proved that.

The soup was divine, and Feyre spied the same blend of root vegetables as were in the stew yesterday, this time with chicken instead of beef, what looked to some type of mushroom and soft spiralled noodles. It was spiced gently, a comforting flavor that she thought would be perfect if she ever caught an illness like a cold or flu. There were two delightfullly flaky rolls as well, and a nicely sized pad of butter waiting to be spread on with a knife. The meal was perfection, matching wonderfully with the slightly chilled breeze that was wafting in from the open wall in front of her. Both meals she had taken in her room were a lovely match to the autumn season, and she couldn't help but wonder why back in Spring, they only ever attempted to eat for the true season they were in at solstices.

Perhaps it was the lack of root vegetables that grew in Spring, but surely the courts traded goods among themselves?

Feyre shook the thought from her head, it isn't truly important what type food she eats, the food back in Spring was lovely as well.

Once she finished her meal, she crawled back onto her bed, laying on her stomach with a pillow underneath her chest, feet kicking lazily in the air as she continued onto the next chapter.

This one covered the actual expressions of magic that began appearing as fae aged.

Supposedly, the first signs appeared from birth to the first year, small things, like a candle being blown out when the window is shut, or a blanket being singed lightly.

After the first year, the magic fades, only returning in greater force and frequency once the child was around five, their core having expanded a bit more.

Feyre furrowed her brow. She and Tamlin had been trying adamantly for a child over the past year. Feyre herself wanted to bring a sweet, new life into this world, someone that she could protect as much as possible from the cruelty of the world. She wanted to watch her and Tamlin's child grow older, turn into their own person. Tamlin had been interested in that as well, but a driving force for him was the need for an heir to continue his family's bloodline, something that Feyre was all too happy to do for him.

But, if they were trying for a child, why had Tamlin not at least explained some of the basics of what to expect before they started?

Though, seeing as how no facets of her possible magic had been explained to her, perhaps he had assumed she knew implicitly somehow, or that Ianthe had explained it to her. And if he had, well, he was definitely incorrect. Feyre felt so in the dark now, having learned more in one afternoon than in a year back home.

Feyre promised herself that she would talk to him about it when she returned home.

She had nearly finished the chapter, longer than the first two, when another knock came on her door, prompting her to close the book and sit up.

“Come in.”

The door opened, revealing Rhysand who stood in a fine black suit, a welcoming smile on his face.

“Dinner is ready, Feyre. If you’re ready now, we can walk down together,” he suggested gently, still giving her an out in case she would rather go alone.

Feyre smiled back at him, getting up from her bed and sliding her flats back on. “I’m ready now.” She crossed the room, shutting the door behind her, and his scent washed over her. Every time, it made her heart flutter a little bit, which confused her but she took as just another interesting development in her body since becoming an omega.

Rhysand beamed at her then, another clear sign that he truly wanted to be friends with her.

They walked together to the table they had breakfast at, and a mouthwatering smell overtook Feyre’s senses the closer that they got to it.

On the table was a pan holding a roast, beef if Feyre was correct, surrounded by perfectly tender root vegetables. There was a bowl of mashed potatoes, a carafe of gravy, and large loaf of bread on a cutting board, steam still wafting from it as they sat down.

Rhysand began to carve the roast, giving two large slices to Feyre and scooping a hearty portion of vegetables onto her plate as well, then served himself. Feyre helped herself to a large spoonful of mashed potatoes, making a dent in the middle with her spoon after passing the serving spoon into Rhysand’s hands. She poured a generous amount of gravy on, even pouring a small amount on top of the roast.

Feyre had gone to pass the carafe to Rhysand, when she looked at his face, a look of bemusement on it.

“What?”

“You made a hole for gravy in your potatoes.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow. “And?”

Rhysand shook his head. “Nothing, you just reminded me of one of my brothers,” He said quickly. “Cassian always did love to have as much gravy as he could fit on his plate,” he stated with a fondness in his eyes, taking the gravy from her hands and pouring some on his potatoes before setting it down.

“I didn’t think you had any siblings,” Feyre voiced, never having seen anyone who even resembled him Under the Mountain. Then again, Feyre had not seen Mor until this morning.

“Oh, Cassian is more of a brother by choice, we met in the Illyrian camps when we were young. He, Azriel, and I have been thick as thieves since then, and considered ourselves true family regardless of our blood,” Rhysand answered as he cut the loaf of bread, passing a slice to Feyre, and she couldn’t help but smile at the softness in his face when he talked about them. So many different sides to this male, so many different facets of his personality that she had barely gotten a glimpse at.

“That sounds nice, having a family that you love because you want to, rather than being forced to,” Feyre said as she buttered her bread, thinking about her still human family. How difficult it had always been to just survive around them, every day like walking on eggshells to keep a fight from exploding and destroying them once and for all.

“I am sure that the two of them would love to call you their sister,” Rhysand offered. “If you would like to meet them at some point, I could ask them to visit while you’re here.” Feyre thought about his suggestion for a moment, then nodded.

“That would be nice, I think, to meet them at some point.”

Rhysand smiled again. “I’ll float the idea past them this month, then. And I’ll make sure to check with you before they show up, they can be a bit… much. Cassian especially, he can be similar to a very excitable puppy at times.”

Feyre snorted at that, then took her first bite of the roast, suppressing a moan at the flavor. The meat was so tender it melted in her mouth, the flavor of the vegetables and whatever spices were used pairing perfectly with it.

Rhysand was watching her again, and she quirked an eyebrow at him, causing him to take a bite of his own meal.

They ate in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, before Feyre set her fork down.

“What are the blue and brown vegetables called?” She asked.

Rhysand blinked at her, swallowing the bite he had been chewing.

“They’re both native to Illyria, the blue one is a called ilpato, and the brown one is parillya.”

Feyre nodded her head, trying to remember the names. Ilpato and parillya. “What’s Illyria?”

“Well, the Illyria is a vast expanse of lands, particularly brutal year round, with the Steppes almost always having a layer of snow on them. It’s home to the Illyrians, a race of fae known for their inherent killing power and large wings.” Those same wings suddenly appeared behind Rhysand, taking Feyre’s breath away. They were beautiful, brutal, yes, with clawed tips at the apex, but the leathery expanse of them was black until the light hit it just right, making the delicate membranes visible.

Feyre’s fingers itched to commit them to canvas, paper, anything at all.

“My mother was Illyrian, and I thank her every day for the wings she gifted me. We value the freedom of flight above all else, and there has yet to be a sensation to compare to it in my life.”

Feyre’s mind ran wild, and she could almost feel the breeze in her hair.

She longed for that feeling. Pure freedom.

“Is your mother…?”

Rhysand loosed a sigh. “No, she and my sister passed quite some time ago, though I miss both of them dearly every day.” A wistful smile graced his face, and he continued, “They both would have adored you, that I know for sure. They always did like someone who could challenge me the same way they did.”

A blush crept onto Feyre’s cheeks, and she shoved a bite of creamy, gravy covered potatoes in her mouth.

The rest of the dinner passed comfortably, the two of them finishing their plates at the same time.

Rhysand walked Feyre back to her room, those massive, breathtaking wings still out, and the two of them lingered in her doorway for a moment.

“Have a good night, Feyre.”

“You too, Rhys. Dinner was amazing. Tell Nuala and Cerridwen that they outdo themselves with every meal I’ve had since arriving.”

Rhysand smiled, and Feyre could have sworn she saw a bit of extra color in his cheeks.

“I will, darling, they’ll be happy to hear it.” And with that, he walked away. Feyre watched him for a moment, before entering her room and closing the door behind her.

The sun was setting, and Feyre wanted nothing more than to take bath and watch it slip below the horizon.

She padded over to her bathroom, kicking off her flats just outside the door. She shucked off her sweater and leggings, tossing them into the laundry basket inside of the bathroom. Grabbing a hair tie and putting it up into a bun, Feyre sank down into the tub, submerging all but her head.

The sunset was gorgeous, yellow fading to a pale orange, into a soft pink. It would make a lovely painting, she thought to herself.

Feyre let out a sigh, and turned her attention to the soaps and scented oils lined up on the edge of the tub connected to the wall. She sniffed a few bottles of oils, settling on sweet blend of lavender and orange blossom, a scent that instantly made her relaxed and a little sleepy. Pouring a small amount directly into the bath then placing it back in its spot, Feyre reclined back against the edge of the tub, soaking in the view and oil’s scent.

Taking her time, she leisurely washed herself, getting out once the sky had turned to purples and blues and drying off with a fluffy towel.

Feyre returned to her bedroom, flinging open the wardrobe to pick out pajamas for the night.

She flicked through the nightgowns, stopping on one that was made of a soft, sheer fabric in a pale pink. The long sleeves puffed out into wide sleeves that would still feel comfortable and free while sleeping, and the bottom of the dress would probably reach her ankles. Feyre pulled it off of the hanger, slipping it over her shoulders. The dress was loose but comfortable, skirt of it wide enough that Feyre was tempted to twirl in it to see the way the fabric moved.

Feyre felt so girly in it, so soft and sweet. She wished Tamlin could see her in it, hear the words he’d whisper in her ear while he hugged her from behind. She wrapped her arms around herself, smiling like a lovesick idiot at the thought.

It felt different than the girly dresses she was given at home, perhaps it was that she had chosen to wear it, or maybe it was how comfortable it was in comparison. The ones in Spring were made of fabric that was the tiniest bit scratchy, or clung to her body just a little too much. And, the patterns Ianthe picked out for her… well, they weren’t Feyre’s taste at all.

She fisted the material of the dress, shaking it back and forth. The fabric moved like water, just as Feyre was hoping. It was beautiful.

Feyre walked back over to her bed, picking up the book Rhysand had given her and cracking it open once again, just to finish the chapter she had started before dinner.

It took her a half an hour, by the end of which she was yawning every couple of minutes. She placed the book on her bedside table, then peeled the covers back, climbing underneath them and placing her head on a pillow.

Feyre looked out at the stars, loving the way they glimmered in the dark night sky, and they were the last thing she saw before she drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep.

🩵💜🩵

The next morning, Feyre woke on her own to the sun already over the horizon. She let out a yawn, her arms stretching fully at the same time. She reached for her water cup, screwing off the lid and taking a few swigs before replacing it and setting it back where she’d grabbed it from.

Feyre stood up and made her way into the bathroom, nightgown swishing gently around her ankles. She brushed her teeth and hair, straightening out her appearance.

She felt more energized than she had in a while, almost like a weight was lifted off her heart. She couldn’t fathom why, though.

Back in her room, she picked out a matching lilac top and pants. The pants came up to her bellybutton and were loose until her ankles, where they came in to cuff her ankles, and the top was long sleeved and similarly designed to the pant legs, coming down to just above her bellybutton, leaving a small strip of skin visible between the two pieces of clothing. The lilac looked lovely with her skin tone, still fairly pale but less so than a year ago, and the clothing itself was comfortable and easy to move in. She picked up a pair of matching slippers, sliding them onto her feet and walking to her door.

After leaving her room, Feyre made her way into the library, wanting to find some kind of adventure or romance story to read for the day in addition to the book on magical development. She wandered through the stacks, and finally found herself in what seemed to be the fiction section. Perfect.

Feyre picked out a few books that seemed promising; a romance about an affair between a princess and her personal guard, one about a band of thieves recruited by their court to infiltrate their enemies, and another that was just a simple slice of life of an omega and her alpha starting a family. She was excited to read all of them, though it was likely she would only get through one during this week.

Feyre made her way back to her room, already reading the one about a princess as she did.

And then she crashed into something solid.

“Good morning, Feyre darling,” Rhysand said amusedly, and when Feyre looked up at him he had a grin on his face, his violet eyes staring down at her and scent filling her nose. His wings were hidden again, how he managed that trick, Feyre wanted to know.

“Oh, Rhys, I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, closing the book that had crushed against his chest and stepping back, her cheeks turning a bright red. “I suppose I shouldn’t be reading while walking, hmm?” Feyre shook her head, then asked “Is breakfast ready yet?”

“Yes, I was just coming to get you, Feyre. Mor is eagerly awaiting you, she nearly chased me down here herself but coffee seemed to be more important,” He chuckled, turning to walk with Feyre back to the door of her room.

“I’ll just go set these in my room, okay?” Feyre opened the door, rushing inside and chucking the books in her bed, coming back into the hallway and resuming their walk towards the dining table.

“I’m glad you’re exploring on your own a bit, I know it must still be a bit unsettling being in a new environment,” Rhysand said as they walked.

“Ah, well, I wanted something else to read along with the book you loaned me,” Feyre admitted. “The book is very interesting, but sometimes it’s nice to have something a bit mindless to do, for me at least.”

Rhysand nodded his head in agreement. “I understand that. Sometimes it’s nice to have a different world fill your head instead of the one that contains all of your problems.”

“You get it,” Feyre said as they approached the table, Mor waiting impatiently with a stack of catalogues on the table in front of where she was seated.

“Feyre! Good morning, lovely! Now, I know you didn’t say yes to my offer for shopping booklets, but I decided that I would bring them to you anyways, just in case the mood to spend Rhys’s money does come to you,” the alpha said, placing them to the side of Feyre’s plate after she sat down. “There are some for furniture, bedding, nesting fabrics, books, clothing of course. I think I also managed to snag a cosmetics one in case you wanted some. Oh and a couple little pamphlets from restaurants that I love!”

Feyre swiped through them quickly, the one boasting about nesting fabrics catching her eye. She’ll look at that one the first moment she’s alone.

For now, Feyre looked away from the large stack, turning her attention toward the plates of food.

Fluffy pancakes were stacked on a large plate, perfectly golden on each side and sweet smell wafting from them, sausages piled on a plate next to them and another large bowl of fruit like yesterday morning.

Feyre stabbed a two sausages, putting them on her plate before doing the same for Mor. Rhysand grabbed his own, spooning a good amount of fruit onto his plate as well, then doing the same for Feyre and Mor.

“My, my, you two are so helpful,” Mor said, watching them serve the food. She picked up three pancakes and dropped them on her plate, pouring some sweet, rich maple syrup on top of them and immediately carving into them.

A blush rose to Feyre’s cheeks. She had never been one to willingly serve people before becoming an omega, but now it was a simple way for her to show her care and respect. And truly, she loved it. A small act of service could bring a smile to a loved one’s face, and that was much more important to her now that she had come back to life, everything seeming more precious to her than before.

“I just like being nice when I can,” Feyre explained, grabbing three pancakes for herself. She buttered the top of each one, placing them in a stack on her plate, and then poured a generous amount of the syrup onto them. She carefully cut out a slice, stabbing the pieces and taking a bite. “Oh Mother, these are good!” She said once she finished swallowing.

“Yes, well, we do have the best cook staying here with us,” Mor explained. “They love to make delicious food to keep our guests happy and well fed.”

“Compliments to them,” Feyre replied, taking another bite of the heavenly pancakes.

“I’ll make sure to pass it along,” Rhysand says, sipping his coffee and watching the two females in front of him.

There was silence for a few minutes as they ate, lasting until they were nearly finished eating.

“So, Feyre, if you could travel anywhere in Prythian, or even the continent, where would you go?” Mor asked.

“More questions again today?” Feyre asked before thinking on it for a moment. “I suppose the Dawn Court sounds nice, I have always loved watching the sun rise.”

Mor nodded her head. “The Dawn Court is an amazing place, they have so many beautiful fields of flowers in the Spring and Summer! Maybe we could take a trip there during blooming season?”

It was enticing, the idea of exploring the world beyond the lands of Spring she had seen so far. “That sounds lovely, Mor. We could even make it a little girls’ trip, just the two of us.”

“Perfect! Oh, I’ll start planning today! How does seven months from now sound? That would be right around the peak blooming season, I believe.” Feyre nodded her head in agreement. “Rhys, you’ll talk to Thesan for us, please?”

“Of course, cousin, anything for the two of you,” He said easily, a smile gracing his face. “But for today, Feyre, I’d like to pull you away for training. We can go over whatever you’ve read, then practice shielding and calling on your magic if you feel up to it.”

Feyre’s head bobbed up and down as she finished her last bite of sausage, pushing her plate away. “That sounds like a good plan, Rhys.”

“Ugh, training. Count me out,” Mor said as she stood up from the table, taking her coffee mug with her.

“That’s fine cousin, you weren’t invited,” Rhys replied, a smirk on his lips.

“Oh, fuck off Rhys, you know I’ll help out with her at some point if Feyre would like.”

“Yeah, Rhys, Mor might be a better teacher than you are,” Feyre jested, and Rhys looked to her on mock offense.

“How rude are the two of you? Come on, Feyre, let’s go before she rubs off on you more,” He said, holding a hand out to Feyre after standing.

Feyre took it, getting up from her chair. Mor had already wandered off after sticking her tongue out at Rhys.

He led her back to the training room, ushering her inside and to the cushioned chair on the right. Sitting across from her, he clasped his hands together. “So, how far into the book have you gotten so far?”

“I got three chapters in, up through some of the beginning expressions of magic.”

“Good, that’s a fantastic start Feyre.” Feyre felt her cheeks heat slightly at the praise. “Did you have any questions about any of the information?”

“Not directly, more about… how you believe it relates to me,” Feyre stated, slightly worried about what his answer might be.

“Personally, I believe that when you were brought back you were Made with an adult sized magical core, and it is simply taking its time to expand into your bloodstream. Now, are you absolutely sure that you’ve had no instances of magic expressions?” Rhys asked, staring into Feyre’s eyes.

Feyre thought hard on it, and realized that soon after coming back to Spring a year ago, a dress had caught fire in her room. Ianthe had been insisting that Feyre wear it, but the pattern was horrid and the fabric and cut was far too uncomfortable for Feyre to willingly wear.

It had burst into flames when Ianthe went to take it off the hanger, and they had all simply assumed that it had caught fire from the lit candle nearby.

Now, though…

“I might have accidentally set a dress on fire a year ago.”

“Well, then, you might have a compressed growth period, with only one expression before your core began to slowly expand. If that is the case, Feyre, you are most likely near your first expansion.”

“So… what would that mean, exactly?” Feyre couldn’t quite wrap her head around it yet.

“I expect that within the next three months or so your core will push into your bloodstream and carve new channels for your power to expand into. Think of it as though you are going through the first ten years of your life in a little over a year, magical growth wise. You magic is attempting to make up for being largely undeveloped in an adult body by accelerating the process, most likely expanding as quickly as your body is able to handle.”

Feyre slowly nodded her head, thinking she understood the likely situation now.

“I do have one more question- about the expansions? How much do they hurt?” She asked quietly.

“The first expansion was definitely the most painful for me, at least, my core had nearly doubled in size by the end of it. But as you grow older, they become less intense, for the most part.”

“Ah… something to look forward to, I suppose,” Feyre joked sarcastically. “How long do they usually take?”

“It can take anywhere from a few hours to a day or two.”

“Constant pain?”

“Near the end it tapers off into a dull ache or itch that you can’t satisfy, but before that, yes.”

Feyre sighed. “And you think mine will be worse?”

Rhysand nodded. “You most likely have a large magical core already, and as your first expansion it will be creating the largest amount of new pathways throughout your body, it will most likely last a day or more, you may even need to be kept sedated for your safety. I am sorry, Feyre.”

“How wonderful,” Feyre replied drily before shaking her head, attempting to clear her anxieties about her possibly expanding magic.

“Well, enough of this downer talk, Feyre darling, let us begin to build your mental shields, if you’re still willing?”

Feyre bobbed her head, mentally preparing herself for what’s to come. While he had promised to be gentle, she was sure there was only so gentle someone could be while in someone’s mind.

“Start by picturing something very solid surrounding your mind.”

“Seriously?” Feyre asked.

“Yes, Feyre, I am serious. You will need something sturdy that can encompass all of who you are, without any cracks or places weak enough that someone with ill intent can slip inside. The fundamentals to shielding your mind are, quite literally, creating a shield around your mind,” Rhysand explained. “It may sound silly to do at first, but it is incredibly important to have a solid foundation.”

Feyre narrowed her eyes slightly at him before closing them, accepting that she would have to do this, no matter how silly it felt to picture a large stone wall around her mind, similar to those surrounding the manors she had seen in the human lands.

It was thick, sturdy, made of large chunks of stone cemented together, rising over ten feet high.

“Alright Feyre, I’m going to test your defenses now, if you’re ready.” Feyre nodded, her eyes still shut as she focused on keeping that wall built in her mind.

Slowly, inky tendrils of night caressed the wall, searching for any weaknesses.

It took maybe four seconds for it to begin spilling through a crack in the wall where the stones met, and as it did a haze slipped over Feyre’s thoughts, the wall crumbling to dust.

The night pulled back as soon as it did, and Feyre came back into the room, Rhysand still seated across from her. A slight sheen of sweat had formed on her skin, even from such a small attempt to protect herself.

“That was an amazing first shield, Feyre,” he said warmly, causing Feyre’s cheeks to heat yet again. “What did you notice?”

Feyre’s brow furrowed as she thought about it. “The mist- you- slipped through a small crack in the wall, one that I didn’t even know was there.”

“Precisely. A Daemati will know where the common weak points generally appear, it’s normally in the areas that we don’t think twice about being secure, especially when using fae or human made structures.” Rhysand paused, looking Feyre over. “As we go through this, Feyre, remember that this is a learning process, one with a very sharp curve for learning how to control magic and shielding concurrently.”

“Rhys, I will be fine,” Feyre insisted. “I taught myself to shoot a bow and arrow as a child. I can handle having a few stumbles with learning this, I promise you.”

“Very well, Feyre. If you’re ready, we can try again.”

“Yes, please,” Feyre said, beginning to form a smooth, solid wall made of one continuous piece of stone. None of it appeared to have any cracks or crevices in it, but she supposed only time would tell.

“Nod when you’re ready for me, alright?”

Feyre nodded a moment later, and the dark wisps of power began creeping along the wall of her mind once more. It searched for something to grip onto, rip into but found nothing, only pushing further and further up the wall.

It was then that Feyre realized her mistake.

She quickly began attempting to create a roof over the wall, something to keep Rhysand’s power out, but it moved to quickly and slinked over, that same hazy feeling coming over her mind before retreating just as fast as it came.

“Wonderful Feyre, you figured out my next lesson before I’d even gotten into your mind. The wall must encase all of your mind, otherwise I can simply pass over the wall and easily access your mind.”

“Hmm…” Feyre hummed. “Does it need to be a wall, or can it be something else surrounding it?”

Rhysand smiled at her proudly. “It can be whatever you want it to be, Feyre. No two mental barriers are exactly alike, they reflect the person they protect.”

Feyre knew what her wall would take shape as, then. Something that could cover her entirely, but she would not be lost in.

“I’m ready for you to try again, please.”

Rhysand sunk into the space around her mind, suddenly floating on a body of water that had no end in sight, tumultuous waves crashing against his power. “Clever, Feyre darling. Very clever,” he purred into her mind, and the waves stilled for a moment before picking up in intensity once more. “Where are you hiding?” The mist floated along the surface of the water, taking a moment before diving down. It sank deeper and deeper before finally landing in front of its prize.

“There you are, darling.”

The mist stroked along the dome along the sea floor, sensing Feyre’s presence underneath. It’s touch was gentle, reminiscent of a lover’s caress. A moment later, he pulled away, retreating entirely from her mind.

Feyre’s body felt heavy, tired from the exertion of keeping up a mental shield.

“You have done astoundingly well, Feyre, for only your first day shielding!” Rhysand said, looking genuinely impressed with her progress.

“Thank you, Rhys,” Feyre said bashfully. “But why didn’t you try to break in?”

“Well, I’d prefer to take your training slowly to build up your strength before we attempt any true attacks, that way we avoid any unnecessary pain.”

“Oh. When do you think I’ll be ready for that?”

Rhysand smiled at Feyre, before explaining “It will be entirely up to you, Feyre. Except for this week, of course. But for now, I’d like to move on to your magic itself. Have you tried reaching for it yet?”

Feyre bobbed her head. “I have, but I haven’t been able to feel anything. My chest just feels… cold. What is it supposed to feel like?”

“For me, it feels like a warm, comforting spark inside of my chest, right between my lungs. Just try focusing on that space as much as you can, tune everything else out.”

“Including your voice?”

Rhysand chuckled, responding, “Yes, Feyre. Even my voice.”

Feyre did as he said, narrowing her focus to the space between her lungs. After a minute, she could swear she felt a gently pulse, cold feeling in her chest. No warmth, but at least it was there, wiggling slowly with each breath.

“Wow,” she breathed. “That’s… that’s amazing. It’s like there’s something living in my chest.”

A soft chuckle escaped Rhysand’s lips, staring at Feyre intensely. “It can feel that way, especially when beginning training. As you progress, it should start to feel more like an extension of you, a piece of you so intertwined with your body that you won’t be able to imagine life without it anymore.”

“That sounds wonderful.” She placed her hand on her chest above where her core resides. “When will I be able to access it? My magic, that is?”

“If you feel up to it… You could try right now,” Rhys said, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched her. “Try summoning one of the High Lord’s powers- wind, fire, water, ice, light, and darkness, any of them would be suitable. Pick the one that calls most to you, in this moment,” he instructed.

Feyre nodded, picking through the options he listed. Fire, she had called on before. Maybe it would be the easiest?

She imagined a spark coming to life above her fingers, holding her palm out flat.

Nothing happened, and Feyre furrowed her brow.

She concentrated harder, trying to create any extra warmth in her fingers- but nothing.

“Feyre, try another element.” Feyre narrowed her eyes at him, continuing to try and bring fire to her skin.

Nothing.

Feyre sighed in frustration, feeling more tired than before, and she’d only been attempting for a few minutes. “Nothing is happening.”

“I told you, it won’t be easy, Feyre. It takes time, just be patient with it.”

Feyre settled back in her chair with a pout on her face. She tried summoning a bit of light, this time.

Still. Nothing.

She cycled through the powers, attempting each of them for at least five minutes before moving on. She was getting tired, her body slumping further and further in the chair.

“Alright, Feyre. I’m calling practice for today. Come on,” He said, extending a hand after standing in front of her. She took it, grateful to have help getting to her feet.

They exited the room, walking at a leisurely pace towards her room in silence.

“Feyre, you did amazingly well today, better than most would with learning to shield, and on top of that, learning to access you magic is incredibly difficult,” Rhysand praised once they arrived at her doorway, color once again gracing high on her cheeks. “It also takes a large amount of energy, which is why you’re feeling so tired right now. I’ll have Cerridwen bring you lunch in a half an hour, alright?”

Feyre could only nod her head at him, so exhausted and ready for a bath that she just slipped into her room, beelining her way to the bathroom.

She pulled off the matching set of clothing, damp with sweat, tossing it into the laundry bin. Feyre tied her hair up into a bun again, sinking into the water quickly, a contented sigh leaving her lips.

Feyre’s eyes closed. They were so heavy now, it was hardly worth it to keep them open.

She pictured herself floating on that dark, tumultuous water. Pictured it calming, her body resting at peace on top of the water.

She floated off into the distance, sleep claiming her body.

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