#evil!rhys

[theenemiestoloversclub]

sarah j maas: hey guys so rhys is my favorite character i’ve ever written. i love him so much. he and feyre are actually inspired by my husband and i. oh and did i mention how much i love rhys??? 🥰🥰

antis: anyways… so rhys is secretly evil!

[whatishowedyouinthedark]

Evil Rhys picking up Feyre and manhandling her in public but none of the fae are bothered because she’s glowing despite her protests whenever he kisses her

they know the High Lord and Lady have some really weird kink thing going on and they want NOTHING to do with it ksdbfsfghjb

[starfall-spirit]

Smoke and Mirrors

@officialfeysandweek Day 2: Mirrors

Read on Ao3 // Dark Feysand Masterlist // Feysand Week Masterlist

Fic Cover //🎨: @amnevitahdrawsstuff

Summary: Curious as to how Feyre vanishes from her locked room night after night, her father promises the choice of a bride to whoever can piece it together. The problem, with each night of dancing she falls deeper into the thrall of the Court of Nightmares—and the High King has never been one to share.

TW: Dark!Rhys, mind control, non-con, murder, and further manipulation in later chapters. The dove is dead, my friends. Read at your own discretion.

“There was once upon a time a King who had twelve daughters, each one more beautiful than the other. They all slept together in one chamber, in which their beds stood side by side, and every night when they were in them the King locked the door and bolted it. But in the morning when he unlocked the door, he saw that their shoes were worn out with dancing and no one could find out how that had come to pass.”

~The Shoes That Were Danced To Pieces, The Brothers Grimm

Chapter I

Feyre

“What is that?”

Feyre looked back at Elain. “My new mirror. Do you like it?”

“It’s… a statement piece.”

“It’s hideous,” Nesta scoffed from the doorway. “Not to mention ancient. It doesn’t even suit your room.”

“Yes, well, that’s because mother decorated my room, isn’t it?” Feyre snipped back, still slightly bitter even after enduring the bright color scheme for years now. She finished straightening the oddly shaped mirror over her dresser with a slight smirk, one finger following the curve of the border.. “I think it adds character.”

“I think it looks like something out of the Court of Nightmares.” Feyre and Elain turned to their sister in confusion. “You’ve never heard the tale?” She rolled her eyes. “It’s a ridiculous story meant to make children behave. In the Court of Nightmares there lives an evil High Lord who demands his sycophants snatch up children who are a terror to their families. The same is said for women who don’t save themselves for their husbands.”

Feyre scrunched her nose, exhausted with the obsession the men in their family’s circle seemed to share regarding marriage. Their father did enough to ensure that, locking them in their rooms the moment the sun set each night. The things she’d give to see a starry sky for once in her life. She didn’t see what use their astronomy lessons were when they’d never seen a clear night sky.  Perhaps that would change with their social debut. She wasn’t thrilled with the concept, but their mother had finally convinced their father that the three of them would soon be deemed too old to be marriageable, particularly Nesta, who would turn twenty-five that spring.

She let herself wonder for just a moment if her husband would let her have more freedom when she was caring for their home or if he would be as fond of the tight leash her father kept. Hope only stretched so far when it came to the “gentlemen” of high society. 

Before she could let her imagination unfold on the subject the door swung open without warning, their mother standing in the doorway with her seemingly permanent scowl in place. “Girls, why is it that I still see three dresses where the seamstress left them this morning rather than on your bodies. Feyre,” she snapped. “My gods, you haven’t even bathed! I should have known allowing you to go to the market this afternoon was a mistake. One I won’t be repeating. I—What is that ghastly thing?”

“A mirror, Mother.” Though she itched to make some quip about the woman’s narcissism, she managed to hold her tongue. “You said I could select something of my choosing for my birthday, did you not?”

Eyes narrowing, she huffed. “We will discuss its removal later. Go,” she ordered. “I want you bathed and dressed in half an hour. Your maid will bring your gown.” 

Muttering something incoherent, she ushered Elain and Nesta from the room. Alis was there a moment later with a wry glint in her eye and a garment bag in hand. “At least the dress will suit your coloring this time.”

“Yes,” Feyre murmured, drawing the gauzy gown from its protective bag. “At least there’s that.” 

It was lovely. Though she loathed to admit her mother had decent taste in anything, formal wear was her strong suit. It seemed Feyre’s debut was important enough to consider colors that wouldn’t leave her looking washed out. The faster she found a husband, she supposed, the faster she would be his burden rather than her parents’. An odd wife instead of an odd child. 

“A home of her own to care for and a taste of motherhood will give her a dose of reality,” she’d once overheard. “She’ll learn her purpose one way or another.”

She was content enough to follow her mother’s command, bathing quickly and donning the dusk blue dress just in time for Alis to see to her hair and cosmetics before her mother returned, a sharp nod the only thing resembling praise that she’d earned. “Good enough. Shoes, then join your sisters in the hall.”

“Yes, Mother.”

She glanced over her shoulder to the back of the room, trying to catch a glimpse of herself before going downstairs for the evening, gasping softly at what peered back at her. “What is it?”

“I—nothing,” she claimed, gathering her cashmere shawl. “I’m ready.” But even as she shook off the unease that had settled over her, she couldn’t erase what the mirror had shown her. An obsidian throne crowned by twin serpents she knew would be deadly if given life, and seated on it an otherworldly male wreathed in shadows of his own design. In that fleeting moment she couldn’t make out much of his face. Only a pair of violet eyes that seemed capable of peering into her very soul. The feeling followed her until she greeted the winter sun.

Ushered into their family carriage, Feyre barely concealed her huff when their mother began rattling off orders for the evening party. Hearing it all before, it took an impressive effort to actually pay attention. 

How the woman could manage to talk through a forty minute carriage ride was beyond her, but she and her sisters didn’t have a moment to get a word in even if they’d wished to. “And most importantly, you are never to reject an invitation to dance. Gods know each of you need every opportunity you can get.”

The door swung open, the straight-backed footman offering a hand to help each of them down, as their father was not in attendance this evening.

“Smiles, girls.”

~~~~~

Feyre had never been so thrilled to hear her door lock behind Alis as she was that evening. After playing the games of the court for hours, all she wanted was a bit of quiet, even from her dear confidant. To think, the next ball they’d been invited to was only days away, hosted by the very man who seemed so keen on getting to know her. Tamlin certainly didn’t seem like the worst suitor, but there still seemed to be something missing.

Unless she was being a foolish romantic, hoping for a love match.

“Gods,” she groaned, moving to her vanity to remove her makeup. “That’s exactly the problem.”

“Long day?”

She shrieked at the silken male voice that filled the room, frantically searching the space for someone who may have hidden in the curtains or under the bed before she was shut in for the night. Cauldron, she was in nothing more than a nightgown and a man was in her room. “Relax, darling. I won’t hurt you.”

“Wh-who are you?” Perhaps if she locked herself in the bathroom she’d be safe, if confined. 

“Now, Feyre, we’ve met already, haven’t we?” She froze, trying to place the voice without a face to show for it. She had never really believed in magic, but now… “I’ve seen your dreams, learned your wishes. I could grant them too.” 

Slowly the pieces began to fit together. The voice with no body, the throne in the mirror, the vendor’s hesitation to sell to her that morning—his superstitions she’d brushed away. “It’s cursed, girl. Every time I try to throw it out it ends up right back in my stall, I swear! Tomorrow morning you’ll think I’ve stolen it from you.”

“I was waiting for the right buyer to claim it,” the voice claimed. “I’ve been looking for you for a very long time, darling.” She could hardly breathe—felt dizzy in her rising panic. “Look at me, Feyre. Look in the mirror.”

Slowly turning, her eyes locked with his. There were no shadows this time, leaving his face and body unobscured. She realized he was likely the most beautiful man she’d ever seen—not that she had much experience with grown men beyond those present at this evening’s ball. But a more important note to make was not how he compared to human men, but to those of his own kind. Because while the contours of his face and broad build might be something one could look beyond, the pointed ears beneath his raven black hair, could not.

She stumbled back, part of her fearing whatever magic he possessed would allow him to breach the glass between them and snatch her from where she stood, virgin or not. “You are a faerie.”

“Now, so quick to cast judgment, darling. I’ve done nothing to harm you, have I? I promised I wouldn’t and if you know anything about my kind then I’m sure you know a faerie’s word is binding. I cannot lie to you, pet.”

“Is this how all fae choose to communicate with mortals, or do the rest find us too plain for their entertainment?”

He chuckled. “All that matters, darling, is that you are worth my attention.”

She swallowed. “And if I do not wish to have your attention?”

His charming grin broadened. “I have been honest with you, Feyre. It’s only fair that you return the favor. If you did not crave my attention you would have been screaming at that locked door the moment I identified myself.”

Feyre pursed her lips. Though his words rang true, she didn’t appreciate being called out. She did crave company, she realized. Even after the exhaustion of the evening, the years of lonely nights outweighed the social strain of a single evening. 

“You have announced your presence, but given no name or title.”

“Darling.” His amusement softened to something she couldn’t quite label. Not that she had much need to. His title wasn’t important at the moment, just that she listened to him. Each word he spoke was true after all. “Much better. You’re a lovely thing once those hackles fall, aren’t you.”

“I—”

“Come closer, little mate. Let me see you.”

Another step brought her to the dresser and couldn’t help but reach up to the glass, her palm flush against the faerie’s. It was the strangest sensation when the mirror’s face rippled beneath her fingers, but the soothing hold over her mind did not waver. That is until her hand met the familiar warmth of human flesh, a calloused palm cradling her soft fingers.

“And now you’re mine.”

That strange hold snapped, reminding her of her caution—the fears born of instinct and stories told, each and every one a warning to heed. “What did you do to me?”

The faerie only smiled, squeezing her hand tighter and pulling her into his dark world.

~~~~~

Perhaps it was the strange means of travel, perhaps it was her fear. Either way, Feyre was dismayed to find herself waking curled up on a set of silken black sheets, clearly having lost consciousness long enough to be carried into someone else's home. Not carried—abducted. 

She shivered, pulling back the edge of the flat sheet just enough to ensure her clothing was still in place, immodest as it was on its own. Scanning the room to make sure she was truly alone, she scurried across the room to snatch the robe thrown over the cracked armoire. She’d just finished tying the oversized garment when she sensed another presence in the room.

“Show yourself,” she demanded, attempting to be subtle as she scanned the room for anything resembling a weapon. “Enough games!”

“As you wish, darling.”

The space behind her warmed slightly, the solid male form behind her unmistakable. “Who are you?” It was a small miracle, Feyre supposed, that her voice was steadier than her hands as she pulled the neck of the robe together until it pressed flush to her throat. “Why did you bring me here? I have not—I wouldn’t—”

Despite their truth, Feyre couldn’t summon the words that may change the course of her fate. She knew what made a noblewoman valuable on the marriage market. If she could just convince this faerie she hadn’t ruined herself…

“It’s not your virtue I’m concerned with, Feyre darling.” A mark against her childhood stories, if he could be believed. But why else would he abduct a human from her home. “Beastly as most of our customs and traditions may be,” the man continued, “the society I’ve found a home in might be considered progressive in comparison to your human beliefs.”

Feyre turned to face him. “Society.” She retreated another step, praying he hadn’t seen her eyes dart to the fireplace a moment ago—and the iron poker beside it. Which of them would be faster, she wondered, if she could keep her intentions secret long enough to wield the makeshift weapon? What color would he bleed? “You are a lord, then.”

His lips curled into a half smile, as if her assumption of his status was amusing. “Something like it. The caste system you know is a bit different from our own, I’m afraid. But we’ll get back to that.” He took a step towards her, giving her an excuse to draw closer to her goal. The cowed girl he seemed keen on controlling would become a woman with a weapon. “First—”

Feyre didn’t let herself hesitate. The moment her hand closed on the poker she turned the sharp end on her kidnapper with the intent to wound, if not kill. 

Only for her body to fail her. Her mental freedom was claimed just as swiftly, cold talons forcing their way past the brittle wall she had seemed to create through her own instinct rather than practice.

“Oh, my pet.” His thumb pressed into her wrist and her hand spasmed, the iron rod clattering against the wood at their feet. “What are we going to do with you?”

She would have been trembling, if she had control of herself. Perhaps it was a small mercy then, that he had this hold over her. “It doesn’t have to stay this way.”

“What do you mean?” she managed to grit out.

A slow smirk bloomed across his disgustingly perfect face just before he reached for her. His large hands were feather light as they followed the curves of her body, finally settling on her hips. The heat of them could have burned straight through the thin fabric of the robe maintaining her modesty. And the way he looked down at her… she wasn’t quite certain how to describe that look. The claws holding her mind began to retract and at last she could think—could breathe again. 

“So dramatic, my pet.” Her eyes snapped back to his, her demand lingering on the tip of her tongue before she thought better of shouting at him. He had used his magic against her twice now. He could certainly do it again if she caused trouble. “Smart girl.”

“You can read minds.”

“Read them, control them. It does wonders in keeping the unruly… we’ll say compliant.” She shivered again. “You’ll do well to remember, my darling Feyre, that I am always with you.” Because even now, her body once again her own, a shadow had taken root in her mind. She had a feeling it would make itself at home for a good long while. Until she discovered a way to block him out. The faerie chuckled. “Perhaps in a century or two you’ll find yourself strong enough. If all goes to plan.”

She tensed. “To plan?”

“Later, little one. For now—” One hand slid to her front, fingering the knot keeping her stolen robe closed. “—I’d like to strike a bargain.”

~~~~~

Rhysand

“A bargain?” the girl sputtered. “You really think you’ll get away with this? My family—”

“Your family doesn’t believe in magic, darling. Who's to say their wild little rebel didn’t learn how to pick her bedroom lock and run into the night to avoid a loveless marriage? If they aren't convinced in the beginning, persuasion is my specialty as you now know.”

His little mate didn’t need to know the truth behind his curse. It wouldn’t change the fact she belonged to him—would remain here at his side in the end. Stubborn as Feyre Archeron may be, Rhys had never picked a battle he couldn’t win.

All this victory would take was persistence and a firm hand. The rest would fall in place on its own, starting with the girl and ending with her fool of a father.

“Please,” she began to beg.

He tutted, pressing a finger to her lips. That wouldn’t do. At least not yet. “The details,” he finally purred in her ear, dropping one hand to cradle the same wrist he’d gripped to force the poker from her hand, sweeping a thumb tenderly over that trigger point until she shivered against him. She may not be aware of their bond, but she responded to it all the same. “Each night when your handmaiden departs, you will let the mirror bring you here. Two wraiths will greet you in this room and prepare you for the evening’s activities.”

“Activities?” she whispered, her warm breath grazing his cheek.

“You will dance for me, darling. Some nights before my court. Others may be for my eyes alone, here in this very room. You will be painted with the symbols of my court, dressed in my colors, drunk on my wine.” Her eyes widened when the back of her knees hit the bed, apparently not having realized he was slowly guiding her across the room. “You will belong to me from dusk till dawn, starting tonight.”

Her thoughts were overridden with panic, limbs flailing the moment her back met his sheets. “If you fail to comply, you will lose your privilege to return to the human realm. If you fail to arrive I will cross the veil between us and drag you here myself.”

“You can’t do this!” she cried, still attempting to break free of his hold, even as he successfully immobilized her.

“I’m the High King, darling.” Leaning down, he licked up her neck, delighted when she once again shivered beneath him. “I can do anything I please.” ~~~~~

Feyre

High King. Feyre wasn’t quite certain how different that was from a regular king, but she did know one thing. She had finally found the sort of trouble she couldn’t slip free of. “I—” She choked on her words, startled by the fingers that grazed her clitoris. “What are you doing?”

She tried to wriggle away, only succeeding in further stimulation.

“Providing some encouragement.”

“I’d be ruined.”

“Say yes, pet, and that can be prevented.”

Those talons once again breached her mind, this time gentle, encouraging, as he suggested. “You’re cheating.”

A snap of his fingers and her clothes were gone. “Yes,” he purred into her mind, that cruel mouth leaving a hot, wet trail of kisses from the soft spot behind her ear all the way down to her shoulder. “And I have no intention of playing fair until you agree to my demands. You’ll dance for me, darling. One way or another.

“You. Are. Mine.”

Two thick fingers sank into her and she gasped, kicking and squirming until she felt him brush her hymen. “Please,” she panted, closing a hand around his wrist, not that she had the strength to stop him.

“I’ll give you ten seconds, darling. Agree to live between my land and yours and I will wait to claim you. Try to defy me…”

She would belong to him in every sense. “Ten.” She’d be trapped in this realm every hour of every day for the rest of her pathetically short life. “Nine.” The High King’s whore. “Eight.” Serving his every whim before his court. “Seven.” To agree to the bargain would bring her back into society’s marriage machinations. “Six.” Likely standing at the altar before she turned twenty. “Five.” She may end up loathing her husband rather than loving him. “Four.” But what kind of person would she be if she left her family entirely? “Three.”

“Wait.”

“Two.” His fingers pressed a little farther into her.

“I have conditions!”

He chuckled against her breast, those clever fingers dragging just so. “Of course you do, darling. Do begin.” His hot mouth closed over her nipple and she whined. She should hate this. She should really, truly hate this.

“I’m waiting, Feyre.”

She loathed him. Why could she not loathe his touch just the same?

“You can’t—y-you—”

She was already lost to the pleasure of his touch. She had no chance now of forming a coherent sentence. His teeth pinched down hard on her nipple and she cried out. Better then, to embrace that mental connection. To submit to it. It was a lovely feeling, trusting the talons tightening by a fraction, those subtle shadows from before fading to make room for their solid counterparts.

She let the thought flit across her mind, that he would not leave his realm with the intention of harming her family.

“As you wish, little mate. So long as you come to me and keep our little secret, your loved ones will be safe.” Her left arm warmed slightly, from her fingertips all the way to her elbow. “Now you bear my mark,” he crooned, his satisfaction crystal clear.

An odd feeling niggled at the back of her mind. Saying that this was wrong. Offensive. She couldn’t quite grasp why. Any smart man lays claim to what belongs to him, doesn't he? The more obvious, the better. “That’s right, darling. It will remain glamoured to human eyes. Except for yours. We can’t have you forgetting for a moment who you belong to.”

~~~~~

Taglist: @whatishowedyouinthedark // @sajirah // @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer

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[booklover41802]

Chapter 13 - When the Darkness Closes In

So, I guess this is back? Surprise?

Description: Rhys has returned to Velaris after months of being away, only to find his beloved city and mate under attack from Hybern. Fighting to protect what he loves most, Rhys must defend the city from an outside attack, desperate to return to his family.

Co-Written by: highladysith/PrettyBoyWynn

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Feyre

Adrenaline took over my fear in an instant, all my early morning training sessions with Cassian flooding my head. Each move, punch, kick came rushing back. If these monsters were about to take the city that had taken me under their wing when I was broken, then I would break them. And best of all, now Rhys was by my side. I could take down any creature that dared to enter Velaris. As I turned to rush out the door to help defend the city, Rhys grabbed onto my arm. 

“Feyre, stay here. I’ll take care of everything. It’s the King of Hybern come for retribution. This is all my fault. Please, stay here.” His face was desperate as he was confronted with the thought of losing me again. But I was stronger now. I could defend myself against the attacks. I could help. I wanted to help this city that saved me.

I tugged my arm to try and pull myself out of his grasp to no avail. “Rhys, I can help. I’ve been training with Cassian-”

“It’s not enough. They’ll kill you. You don’t know these creatures. You don’t-”

“No, Rhys,” I said firmly as I finally managed to yank my arm free. “You don’t get to order me around as if you’ve been around these past few months. You left me alone. You left me . I will decide what’s best for me and what I can do.” I turned my back on him before he could reply and hurried down to save the city.

Damn him and his protective nature. Who did he think he was? Before I could dwell on Rhys too long, a smear of black appeared on the horizon. Internally, I prayed that they were birds, but I knew that evil had come to Velaris. Wingbeats sounded behind me as Cassian appeared, his siphons glowing a deep crimson.

Cassian reached for me, but I jumped back. Ice danced at my fingertips; wind howled in my blood. I’d pick them off one by one— “Get Azriel and Amren—”

They’d reached the sea cliffs. Countless, long-limbed flying creatures, some bearing soldiers in their arms … An invading host. “Cassian.”

But an Illyrian blade had appeared in Cassian’s hand, twin to the one across his back. A fighting knife now shone in the other. He held them both out to me. “Get back to the town house—right now.”

I most certainly would not go. If they were flying, I could use my power to my advantage: freeze their wings, burn them, break them. Even if there were so many, even if—

So fast, as if they were carried on a fell wind, the force reached the outer edges of the city. And unleashed arrows upon the shrieking people rushing for cover in the streets. I grabbed his outstretched weapons, the cool metal hilts hissing beneath my forge-hot palms.

Cassian lifted his hand into the air. Red light exploded from his Siphon, blasting up and away—forming a hard wall in the sky above the city, directly in the path of that oncoming force.

He ground his teeth, grunting as the winged legion slammed into his shield. As if he felt every impact.

The translucent red shield shoved out farther, knocking them back—

We both watched in mute horror as the creatures lunged for the shield, arms out—

They were not just any manner of faerie. Any rising magic in me sputtered and went out at the sight of them.

They were all like the Attor.

All long-limbed, gray-skinned, with serpentine snouts and razor-sharp teeth. And as the legion of its ilk punched through Cassian’s shield as if it were a cobweb, I beheld on their spindly gray arms gauntlets of that bluish stone I’d seen on Rhys, glimmering in the sun.

One after one after one, they punched through his shield.

Cassian sent another wall barreling for them. Some of the creatures peeled away and launched themselves upon the outskirts of the city, vulnerable outside of his shield. The heat that had been building in my palms faded to clammy sweat.

Rhys

This was not the homecoming I’d expected, but it was the response I’d anticipated from the mortal queens. We’d been sold out to the King of Hybern and it was all my fault. My fault that my family and city were in danger. I prayed the mother would save them all from this destruction wrought by my own hand. And that they would forgive me once the battle was over.

I opened up my wings and shot through the balcony window to behold a legion of winged creatures descending upon Velaris. Looking down, I could see Cassian and Feyre, the former of whom was doing his best to stop the creatures, but there were simply too many for him to hold out. As the barrier fell, a host of them fell from the sky as twin flashes of blue and red shot through the air. Az and Cas. Two of his most trusted friends and generals. I could always count on them when I wasn’t around. In the distance, Amren was defending another portion of the city, her eyes swirling silver as her power activated.

When I looked down again, Feyre was gone, but now blood shone on the white marble bridge, sparkling like rubies in the sun.

There, on one of those towering, elegant lamp posts flanking the bridge …

Her body was bent, her back arched on the impact, as if she were in the throes of passion. Her golden hair had been shorn to the skull. Her golden eyes had been plucked out. She was twitching where she had been impaled on the post, the metal pole straight through her slim torso, gore clinging to the metal above her.

Someone on the bridge vomited, then kept running.

Fighting against the image of Feyre upon the lamppost, I turned away from the scene below me. Through our bond, I screamed FEYRE! Only to find it shut and locked. Shit. I pounded against those barriers as I took flight through the city. I hacked, slashed, and tore through wings to get to my mate. I had an idea of where she might be headed, but there were too many of my people that needed to be protected. I threw out barbed shadows to impale some of these monstrous creatures that looked all too similar to the Attor. Bodies fell, but not everyone could be saved. Red blood had already stained the streets of Velaris a nasty crimson. 

Screams not dissimilar from those Under the Mountain rang throughout the city. It took everything in me to not be consumed by the memories of everything I had done. 

I simply could not afford any distractions right now. Not while Feyre was in danger.

I had to get to her before it was too late.

Feyre

People were shrieking, fleeing. And I knew his shields would not hold—

“GO!” Cassian roared. I lurched into motion, knowing he likely lingered because I stayed, that he needed Azriel and Amren and—

High above us, three of them slammed into the dome of the red shield. Clawing at it, ripping through layer after layer with those stone gauntlets.

That’s what had delayed the king these months: gathering his arsenal. Weapons to fight magic, to fight High Fae who would rely on it—

A hole ripped open, and Cassian threw me to the ground, shoving me against the marble railing, his wings spreading wide over me, his legs as solid as the bands of carved rock at my back—

“Run home. Now.”

That was the final order—and his good-bye as he shot into the sky after the creatures who had dared invade Velaris, who had already disappeared into the screaming streets.

Around me, hole after hole was punched through that red shield, those winged creatures pouring in, dumping the Hybern soldiers they had carried across the sea.

Soldiers of every shape and size—lesser faeries.

The screams, the beating wings, the whoosh and thud of arrows erupted in the sudden silence.

I ran. I ran for my side of the Sidra, for the town house. I didn’t trust myself to winnow—could barely think around the panic barking through my head. I had minutes, perhaps, before they hit my street. Minutes to get there and bring as many inside with me as I could. The house was warded. No one would get in, not even these things.

Faeries were rushing past, racing for shelter, for friends and family. I hit the end of the bridge, the steep hills rising up—

Hybern soldiers were already atop the hill, at the two Palaces, laughing at the screams, the pleading as they broke into buildings, dragging people out. Blood dribbled down the cobblestones in little rivers.

A thunderous boom rocked the other side of the city, and I went down at the impact, blades flying, hands ripping open on the cobblestones. I whirled toward the river, scrambling up, lunging for my weapons.

Cassian and Azriel were both in the skies now. And where they flew, those winged creatures died. Arrows of red and blue light shot from them, and those shields—

Twin shields of red and blue merged, sizzling, and slammed into the rest of the aerial forces. Flesh and wings tore, bone melted—

Until hands encased in stone tumbled from the sky. Only hands. Clattering on rooftops, splashing into the river. All that was left of them—what two Illyrian warriors had worked their way around.

But there were countless more who had already landed. Too many. Roofs were wrenched apart, doors shattered, screaming rising and then silenced—

This was not an attack to sack the city. It was an extermination.

And rising up before me, merely a few blocks down, the Rainbow of Velaris was bathed in blood.

Fire was rippling, black smoke staining the sky—

Across the river, thunder boomed again.

And it was not Cassian, or Azriel, who held the other side of the river. But Amren.

Her slim hands had only to point, and soldiers would fall—fall as if their own wings failed them. They slammed into the streets, thrashing, choking, clawing, shrieking, just as the people of Velaris had shrieked.

I whipped my head to the Rainbow a few blocks away—left unprotected. Defenseless.

The street before me was clear, the lone safe passage through hell.

A female screamed inside the artists’ quarter. And I knew my path.

I flipped my Illyrian blade in my hand and winnowed into the burning and bloody Rainbow.

This was my home. These were my people.

If I died defending them, defending that small place in the world where art thrived …

Then so be it.

And I became darkness, and shadow, and wind.

I winnowed into the edge of the Rainbow as the first of the Hybern soldiers rounded its farthest corner, spilling onto the river avenue, shredding the cafés where I had lounged and laughed. They did not see me until I was upon them.

Until my Illyrian blade cleaved through their heads, one after another.

Six went down in my wake, and as I halted at the foot of the Rainbow, staring up into the fire and blood and death … Too many. Too many soldiers.

I’d never make it, never kill them all—

But there was a young female, green-skinned and lithe, an ancient, rusted bit of pipe raised above her shoulder. Standing her ground in front of her storefront—a gallery. People crouched inside the shop were sobbing.

Before them, laughing at the faerie, at her raised scrap of metal, circled five winged soldiers. Playing with her, taunting her.

Still, she held the line. Still her face did not crumple. Paintings and pottery were shattered around her. And more soldiers were landing, spilling down, butchering—

Across the river, thunder boomed—Amren or Cassian or Azriel, I didn’t know.

The river.

Three soldiers spotted me from up the hill. Raced for me.

But I ran faster, back for the river at the foot of the hill, for the singing Sidra.

I hit the edge of the quay; the water already stained with blood and slammed my foot down in a mighty stomp.

And as if in answer, the Sidra rose.

I yielded to that thrumming power inside my bones and blood and breath. I became the Sidra, ancient and deep. And I bent it to my will.

I lifted my blades, willing the river higher, shaping it, forging it.

Those Hybern soldiers stopped dead in their tracks as I turned toward them.

And wolves of water broke from behind me.

The soldiers whirled, fleeing.

But my wolves were faster. I was faster as I ran with them, in the heart of the pack.

Wolf after wolf roared out of the Sidra, as colossal as the one I had once killed, pouring into the streets, racing upward.

I made it five steps before the pack was upon the soldiers taunting the shop owner.

I made it seven steps before the wolves brought them down, water shoving down their throats, drowning them—

I reached the soldiers, and my blade sang as I severed their choking heads from their bodies.

The shopkeeper was sobbing as she recognized me, her rusted bar still raised. But she nodded—only once.

I ran again, losing myself amongst my water-wolves. Some of the soldiers were taking to the sky, flapping upward, backtracking.

So, my wolves grew wings, and talons, and became falcons and hawks and eagles.

They slammed into their bodies, their armor, drenching them. The airborne soldiers, realizing they hadn’t been drowned, halted their flight and laughed, sneering.

I lifted a hand skyward and clenched my fingers into a fist.

The water soaking them, their wings, their armor, their faces … It turned to ice.

Ice that was so cold it had existed before light, before the sun had warmed the earth. Ice of a land cloaked in winter, ice from the parts of me that felt no mercy, no sympathy for what these creatures had done and were doing to my people.

Frozen solid, dozens of the winged soldiers fell to the earth as one. And shattered upon the cobblestones.

My wolves raged around me, tearing and drowning and hunting. And those that fled them, those that took to the skies—they froze and shattered; froze and shattered. Until the streets were laden with ice and gore and broken bits of wing and stone.

Until the screaming of my people stopped, and the screams of the soldiers became a song in my blood.

Rhys

Although the tide of battle was turning in our favor, the number of enemies seemed endless. Human soldiers of Hybern used their spears against everything that was alive and breathing. Enraged, I flew towards them, sending out a tide of inky blackness to consume them in their own worst nightmares. The soldiers dropped their weapons and fell to the ground, shrieking at invisible forces. Blood ran from their noses as their body fought against itself before falling dead. I only wished they had suffered more and that I had the time to be the one to do it.

They had done this. Those queens had … had given this city of art and music and food over to these … monsters. The king must have used the Cauldron to break its wards.

WHERE ARE YOU? I again pounded at the bond, desperate for any sign from Feyre.

Finally, the smallest sliver of light peeked through as she answered, I’m right where I need to be, before the bond was once again slammed shut.

FEYRE, I yelled into the void.

Soaring through the city, I sent out another tidal wave of darkness to consume both Hybern soldiers and Attor-like creatures while I searched for Feyre. Those who were within the cloud did not emerge again.

Just ahead of me, the Rainbow came into sight, followed by a mass of creatures that had suffered varying degrees of pain. At the end of the bodies, there she was, breathing heavily, covered in an array of cuts and bruises. She had never looked more beautiful.

I landed on the ground and sprinted over to her. Taking a moment to assess her injuries, I wiped away a smear of blood on her face. She looked up at her with those devastating blue-gray eyes that had seen fire and bloodshed. I gently pressed a kiss against her mouth to remind us both who we were, what we were. Slowly the ice thawed from her eyes. “Feyre Cursebreaker,” I murmured. “Defender of the Rainbow.”

She threw her arms around my waist, sobbing. “Rhys. I didn’t think you’d come for me.”

I held her tight against me, breathing in her scene of pear and lilac, trembling against her. Out of the corner of my eye, one of the soldiers, not quite dead yet, lifted his fallen spear and threw it directly toward my unprotected back. It was coming too quickly to dodge, but there was a part of me that felt relief at my upcoming death. I deserved it for all the wicked and horrible things I had done. The tip sank into the small of my back, piercing through flesh and bone. A dull ache spread across my chest, blood spurting out of the wound.

Feyre let out a gasp as I slid to the ground. With what little strength I still had, I snapped my fingers and the human who had thrown the spear disintegrated. I closed my hands, smiling, content to know I had protected Feyre with my last breath.

I heard Feyre scream my name before I closed my eyes and darkness enveloped me. But I was happy. Happy that Feyre was alive and that was enough.

Tags: @mademoisellenimbob, @webcraft4eveh, @akb12348, @ishouldreallybeasleepbynow, @sapphic-beauty

[youve-cath-to-be-kitten-me]

[1/2] “It’s quite ingenious, really.” The villain guided the hero to their lap, enjoying the look of complete and utter helplessness on the lover’s face. “I could do whatever I wanted, and they’ll still beg me for more. They’d do anything for me.” They stroked the hero’s smitten face, stole a long kiss before glancing at the lover once more.

Asksjjs this is my first time ever receiving a prompt! Honestly I’m so excited, and not to mention, I do love Evil Rhys. Thank you for the prompt, lovely!

“It’s quite ingenious, really.”

Rhysand guided Feyre to his lap, enjoying the look of complete and utter helplessness on Tamlin’s face.

“I could do whatever I wanted, and they’ll still beg me for more. She’d do anything for me.”

He stroked Feyre’s smitten face, stole a long kiss before glancing at the helpless masked Fae once more.

“What do you reckon I should have her do to you? I do believe she might still be in there somewhere, screaming.”

A nasty smile crossed Rhys’ face. “I hope so, anyway. More fun that way.”

“You. Can’t. Do. This.” Tamlin choked through the gag, his iron shackles scraping against the floor.

“I believe you’ve said that four times already,” drawled Rhys, unimpressed, “But please, give me more reasons to have her tear you apart.”

Turning to Feyre, keeping his lips pressed to the skin just below her ear, he purrs, “Now, Feyre, darling, tell me again just how much you love me.”

“Well, my dearest,” she began, a playful finger tracing over his tattoos, “you are the most handsome High Lord. You are the most delightful High Lord. You are the most cunning High Lord. You are a spectacular person. You are the center of my world. You are the best lover a female can ever dream of. You-“

“That’s enough, love,” Rhysand cut her off, “Save some of it for later.”

With the last word, his hand slid further up her leg, and to Tamlin’s horror, only pure adoration shone in her eyes.

He began to thrash with a renewed vigor, fingers scrambling for the knife he knew is just inside his boot. Rhysand didn’t seem to suspect anything, being too busy running the tips of his fingers over every edge of the barely-there cloth Feyre had draped over her.

At last, his hand closed around the knife handle and he throws it as hard as he can in Rhysand’s direction. Unfortunately, the handcuffs impeded his aim, and the knife sank into the loose fabric of Rhysand’s tunic, barely drawing blood from a shallow cut on his ribs.

Feyre’s reaction was immediate: She tore a long strip of fabric off of her garments and wrapped it underneath the shirt, preventing any of the blood from staining the deep indigo fabric of the throne. All the while, she murmured comforting words and despaired over her lord’s injuries.

“Thank you, Feyre, darling,” Rhysand said in a sickly-sweet voice, placing soothing hand on the small of her back.

Tamlin was shaking, whether from anger or terror, it was hard to tell.

“Now,” Rhysand continued, moving his attention away from Feyre, who pouted like a child, “what shall we do with you? What do we do with traitors, love?”

“Whatever you decide?”

“You’re absolutely right, darling.”

He rewarded her with a kiss, and her face immediately brightened, as if the stars she saw in Rhysand reflected back on her.

“I think,” Rhys paused, a finger pressed to his lips as if thinking, when in reality, he’d been waiting for this moment ever since he’d lured Feyre and Tamlin into his castle, “maybe you should get to do something. How would you like that? A present, from me.”

From her perch in his lap, Feyre clapped her hands and pressed kisses all over his face in thanks. Such generosity, though welcomed, had become increasingly less frequent as Tamlin had turned more and more wild over the course of his captivity.

“Now, Feyre darling, I want you to carve something into his face. Something beautiful, to offset his hideous features, though that may never be fixed,” he muttered aside to her as if telling an inside joke, well aware that Tamlin could hear every word.

For a moment, rage fully blacked out his vision, but when his mind cleared, Feyre was standing over him with a beautiful obsidian dagger in her hands, studying his face like a painter would her subject. As the thin point of the knife neared his face, Tamlin turned away, more afraid of the pain and scarring the point would inflict than the humiliation of cowering.

Suddenly, his entire body froze, and his eyes flicked over to the throne to see Rhysand, with a bored expression on his face, his left hand closed in a fist.

“That’s better,” he called, “it’s better to have a still canvas.” And with that, Feyre began.

She traced first around the edge of the mask, as if to cut it off of him, before tracing whorls and stars into his skin, allowing the flow of blood to act as paint. At last, she carved an eye into his left cheekbone and stepped back as if to admire her work. A shadow of doubt and regret flickered through her eyes, but was gone so quickly that Tamlin could only assume it had been another figment of his imagination.

He was still powerless to move, but judging by Rhysand’s smug expression, his internal screams were heard.

“Beautiful” was his only remark on Feyre’s work, but she responded as if he had read her thousands of love letters in commentary.

“You’re too kind to me, love. Thank you thank you thank you.”

“Anything for my mate.”

At this, all of Tamlin’s thoughts ceased and his mind went eerily silent. No words, only a cold rage that threatened to encase him in ice.

Rhysand didn’t spare him another glance as he escorted Feyre out of the room, but before long, he stepped back into the throne room to bend down to Tamlin’s eye level. Rhysand snapped and whatever spell he’d been using to hold the power back fell away.

“Not going to thrash around like the wild animal you are?” If he didn’t know better, Tamlin would guess Rhysand was surprised by his composure.

“Out of all the lies you’ve told her, that was by far the worst.”

“Which one?” Rhys grinned, which served not to lift the mood, but to display the sharp canines that could tear open Tamlin’s throat at any moment.

“You told her you were mates.”

“Oh, that?” Rhys teases, turning his back to call over his shoulder.

“That wasn’t a lie.”

[starfall-spirit]

The Silver-Tongued Bride

High Lord, Cold & Cruel~Dub-con

Would You Like Me On My Knees?

Precious Collateral~Rape/Non-Con, Underage

PC Masterlist

Scarred So Pretty~Rape/Non-Con

SSP Masterlist

Smoke & Mirrors~Rape/Non-Con, Mind Control

[booklover41802]

Chapter 12 - When The Darkness Closes In

Happy Wednesday! Here’s the next chapter!

Description: Months after Under the Mountain, Feyre still longs for Rhys’s company despite the silence drawing out between them. Then, a note appears that signals Rhys’s arrival in Velaris. Rhys is facing his past and everything that accompanies it

Co-Written by @highladysith

Masterlist

Chapter 12

Feyre

Every morning for the last three weeks, Rhys had written me a note of words to transcribe onto a sheet of paper. And each day, I struggled with the formation of each and every letter. But I gave it my all because I wanted to prove to myself and Rhys that I was capable. Mostly, though, I wanted to send letters back to him.

I lowered and hoisted my mental shield as I picked up the piece of paper that had popped into existence in front of me. It was another task Rhys had ordered me to do while I practiced my letters. Looking at the sheet in my hands, I was able to recognize the basic phonemes of the words, but the overall word was incomprehensible. “You l..oo..k.” My brow furrowed as I tried to make out the next section. “Ab...sol..utely d-delicious today, Feyre.” I stared at the page, the compliment teasing me through the paper. Through the bond, I could have sworn faint laughter echoed across the strands. 

Excellent work, Feyre darling. You are progressing quickly in your studies. Rhys caressed the mental shield I had worked to create.

All of the hard work it had taken these past few weeks had been worth it for Rhys’s pride at my accomplishments. It would be better if you were here in Velaris to teach me. I practically shouted down the bond. It was a long shot, but perhaps I could convince him to come back. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed him until he was gone. His presence soothed the ache in my soul. When I was near him, I felt at peace, happy. I only wished we could be more than friends. What I wanted was impossible considering Rhys could hardly stand to be in my vicinity.

In response to my words, there was silence. I sighed, rolling my ink pen in between my fingers. My current residence seemed to contain myself to the library and my room while I poured endlessly over the books at the townhouse. The desk I was seated at now overlooked the city, giving a glimpse into the colorful lives of the residents of Velaris.

How much I wished I could be outside with them, laughing and having a good time, instead of scrawling word after word until my hand cramped too much to continue writing. 

Fortunately or unfortunately, Cassian chose this moment to come barging through the door. I turned in my seat to face the male before me. Powerful wings were pulled close together as he squeezed through the frame, practically stumbling in. “Are you going to clutch your paper all day, or are you ready to begin training?” Cassian nodded to the sheet of letters I had clenched tightly in my hands, as if I could will Rhys to Velaris if I just squeezed hard enough.

My cheeks flushed a deep crimson and I hastily set it down, smoothing out the rough edges. There. Now I didn’t look like an idiot for holding onto parchment with Rhys’s handwriting on it. With one hand I pushed myself up out of my chair and forced a grin to light up my eyes. “I just need to grab my leathers before we go.” My current outfit of a thick woolen sweater and leggings wasn’t suitable for sparring. 

Cassian’s lips pursed as he looked me up and down, searching for a hint that I was hiding something. He knew I was faking my cheerful mood but, thankfully, didn’t pursue it further. “Meet me in the foyer in five minutes, or else I’m leaving your ass here.” The hint of humor in his voice didn’t quite reach his eyes. I stood frozen in place with a smile fixed upon my face until he noiselessly shut the door behind him, the rustle of wings signaling his departure.

The second the lock had clicked into place, I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. The facade I kept up night and day that I was moving on over Rhys was a lie. Each morning I woke up, I prayed Mor would tell me the news that he was back for good and never leaving again. It was pathetic that I still held out hope, but the letters had rejuvenated me into a newfound belief he would arrive any day. 

For a moment I searched around the room for the leathers I had stuffed somewhere, before noticing the bunch of clothes at the bottom of my armoire. With a few quick steps, I stood before the looming wardrobe that threatened to swallow me whole. I shoved aside my thoughts and reached inside to grab the clothing. I shrugged off my garments and slipped into my leathers. When I looked in the mirror-dark circles aside-it was almost believable I was healing from my past.

Almost.

I took a breath and swept out the door to find Cassian.

*****

Rhys

I seated myself before the mortal queens, scanning their faces for any sign of treachery. The mortal queens were once again present in Hewn City, but this time, there was an air of hesitancy that hovered over the table. Did they see through the bargain I had laid out for them? Or had the King of Hybern got to them?

The crone spoke first, as per usual. With her pursed lips, it was obvious there was discontent she intended to speak in her throaty voice. “High Lord, I believe we have come to a decision regarding your generous… offer.” As one, they all glanced at each other with nervous expressions adorning their faces like fine jewelry. I brought my fingertips together, attempting to decipher the plot that was forming before my eyes. “We decline your promises. We have no reason to trust you other than your word and your reputation precedes you. While we may be mortal, it does not bode well for you to throw up a veil around our heads. Unless you have something else you’d like to offer us.” Her crooked smirk was embedded with smug satisfaction, knowing that she held me in the palm of her hand. 

I had prepared for this moment, knowing it would come to this. Earlier in the day, I had borrowed the Veritas from Keir when he was distracted by his duties with his legion of Darkbringers. Though I hated to come to this point, I would show them Velaris, where the shreds of my heart remained. The truth would be undeniable. I needed their half of the book of breathings before anyone else retrieved it. The cauldron could not fall into the hands of Hybern.

Dropping my lips into a sinuous grin, I motioned to the cloaked figure against the wall. The cloak of the fae dropped, revealing golden hair, and cold brown eyes. “Not to worry, your fears are understandable. I have brought the Veritas to this meeting to show you my true intentions. What has the King of Hybern offered you to show his promises are genuine?” The Queens shifted uncomfortably in their chairs as I rubbed my clammy hands against the fabric of my pants. My heart was pounding wildly in my chest as I contemplated what I was doing. Was this the right thing to do? Would the potential fallout be worth the effects of revealing Velaris? Would Feyre be protected if the queens turned on me? 

I shrugged my thoughts out of the way as Mor approached with the Veritas. The orb was a well known talisman of the world, only to be wielded by Mor’s family. Mor approached with a frigid expression on her face as she surveyed the queens. The crone eyed Mor with distaste while the others murmured in awe at the ancient artifact in their midst.

“You know what this is and the words I speak will be true. This is the embodiment of truth.” Her voice rang out in a commanding tone, ordering the Queens to pay attention to her, not the other way around. A queen without a throne. She set the Veritas down, harnessing the magic within. “Truth is not something easily given, it is something that has to be earned by those who deserve it. While I do not think any of you are worthy of truth, my High Lord believes in you and I bow to him. Tell me, are you worthy, or will you build your empire on the blood of others?”

The crone’s teeth clacked together as she narrowed her eyes, clenching the armrests of the chair in a white-knuckled grip. “Who are you to judge us and determine our fates? The girl who soiled herself with a lowly Illyrian has no right to order us around.” The youngest queen with the lioness soul betrayed no emotion, yet the one with the black eyes appeared wary at the power gathering like storm clouds within Mor’s eyes.

While the crone gave a slow, wide grin, Mor cocked her head in quiet contemplation. If Azriel or Cassian had been here, the Queens would have been dead by now. Mor, however, had more self restraint and reeled her power back in, leaving her a blank slate. “What you think of me doesn’t determine my worth. I know my value and I respect myself enough to not care what you think. I have lived far longer than you ever will and yet I value the lives of innocents, unlike you. I only asked to protect what I love. Will you betray us, or can you be trusted with what lies within the Veritas?”

The black eyed Queen with the cunning edge eagerly blurted out, “We trusted you to come here, can’t you trust us with your secret? It’s only fair that you offer us the same level of respect.”

Mor scoffed under her breath and I was inclined to agree with her. These mortals had no idea what the word respect meant, not as the weight of their crowns had warped their perspectives. But I had to get the book no matter how many times they insulted me or my family. I curtly inclined my head. “Show them the Veritas, Mor.” I despised myself for even revealing Velaris, but this was out of control. There was nothing else I could use to convince them of my intentions.

With a side glance at me, I could sense the rage trembling inside of Mor. This whole mountain would come crashing down if Mor unleashed herself upon the fools seated before us. I sent out a wisp of power to soothe her raging mind. Later on, I would take her to the cabin to allow herself to find her peace. “As you wish, High Lord.” Mor shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

The orb began to glow misty white, swirling clouds within whirling and churning. “Truth is my life, truth cannot be hidden. It is the one constant in this world. Because no matter how deceit creeps in,” her eyes landed on each Queen. “The truth will come out eventually and liars face their punishment.”

The Veritas began to clear and Velaris slowly came into view. My chest tightened as I realized how much I missed the city more than anything. I swallowed the lump in my throat and outloud I said, “This is the city of my heart. Velaris. The place where everyone finds their home and no one is shut out. The place of dreamers and artists and musicians. For hundreds of years, my forefathers protected the secret with their life, but I offer it to you as a gift and show of goodwill.” The gleaming jewel rooftops were shadowed by a figure with wings. Az. He was the one who allowed this to happen. Many creatures in the street cheerily waved up to him, not at all fazed by who he was, only that he was a figure they saw on a daily basis. He changed direction and the Rainbow of Velaris appeared. The Queens leaned forward in awe at what they saw.

Fae of all different species laughing, dancing, and creating. Freedom without the chains of a crown. As Az neared the edges of the city, a figure turned, revealing large blue-gray eyes. Her mouth opened up into a wide smile as she saw Az. Feyre. Feyre was in the Veritas. Before I had a chance to get a good look at her, the orb was once again silent.

The crone looked up at us with her mouth hanging open. “So it seems you are not the stone-cold male everyone says you are. Thank you for entrusting us with the secret.”

Despite the truth of their words, I sensed something underneath it all. Greed. They would sell this information to the highest bidder for what they wanted. In their case, the information would go to the King of Hybern. “Do we have a deal then? The book of breathings in exchange for my honesty?” 

The queen with the black dress and downturned lips focused her attention on me. “Perhaps. Our answer will arrive shortly.”

With that, they turned sharply to leave, motioning their guards forward so they could winnow back to the Mortal Lands. Unexpectedly, Mor moved forward and tightly grasped onto the queen with the golden hair, her eyes beseeching them to relinquish their treasure. “Please. If you do not give us the book, it will fall into the hands of Hybern. And if Hybern has the book, the world will be destroyed.”

She shook Mor off with a haughty smile. “Maybe the world needs to be remade with a proper vision in mind.” She nodded to the crone, signaling she was done with the conversation.

My gaze landed on the crone, and her blank face. The secret she was guarding was hidden within the depths of her mind. If only I could search it without threatening to destroy the precarious alliance we had created. 

As a last ditch effort, Mor also pleaded her case with the eldest. “You really think the king will let you keep your crowns if he’s in power?” Laughter escaped her lips, cold and calculating. “This is your chance to ensure your people survive.”

It was clear the crone’s patience had run out, as she snarled, “No. You will never have it.” Then, the Queens promptly winnowed away without so much as a goodbye.

“NO!” Mor shrieked, lunging across the table for the eldest. They vanished just as her fingers brushed her silken gown.

I put my head in my hands as I slumped back against my chair. What were we going to do now? The entirety of Velaris was now in danger because of my actions. Feyre was bound to be hunted for, now that the Queens knew of her existence. For the first time in a long time, I felt the stinging prick of tears sprout up.

“Wait, Rhys!” I lifted my heavy head up to look at her shocked face. Standing near the chair where the golden-haired queen was seated, Mor reached down and grabbed half of the book of breathings. 

Hope was not yet lost.

*****

Feyre

“Again!” Cassian commanded as he held up the gloves for me to hit. The soft padding protected his hands from the force of my fists. I did as he ordered, channeling all of my anger and rage into striking the pads. Again and again and again I pounded against them, the leathers I wore seamlessly shifting my movements. “Good, your form is excellent.”

“I didn’t ask,” I broke out in between my heaving breaths. Sweat beaded against my brow with the exertion of the exercise. 

He chuckled as he continued to bear the weight of my emotions. The training grounds just outside of Velaris were far enough away from the city, just in case my power flared up. I had yet to learn how to control it. It felt like a whirlpool, the further I went in, the more I got sucked in. It was an uncontrollable beast with no one to call its master. Training with Cassian took the edge off it, distracting me from the pressure that was steadily building up. Amren taught me some control, but most days she was busy holed up in her apartment doing cauldron knows what. 

From the sidelines, sunning his wings in the grass, was Azriel. He watched us with a calm expression, occasionally shouting out encouragement. For a moment I glanced at him, taking my eyes off Cassian. He took his chance and swept my legs out from under me. The world spun as I landed on my ass. Hard. “You’re distracted today,” Cassian said, as he offered a hand to help me up. “Do you want to take a break?”

I ignored his offer and shakily crawled to a standing position. Dirt coated my arms where I had fallen on the ground. I gently brushed it off, pretending not to notice how my arms were inflamed from training. But I needed the distraction of training to take my thoughts off Rhys. “No. Let’s go again, I can handle it.” I planted my feet against the ground and drew back my fists, thinking of all the places within myself that I could draw anger from. 

Hesitantly, Cassian raised his hands, allowing me to continue punching against him. “If you need to stop, let me kno-”

“I don’t need to talk about my feelings, Cassian. I’m okay.” Yet even as I said that, I felt the lump in my throat rise up. If I didn’t continue, I would break. I slammed my fist against his right hand, checking and rechecking my form to make sure it was perfect. This was the only distraction I had. I couldn’t paint without thinking of Under the Mountain. I couldn’t talk with Rhys, the only person in Velaris who understood what I had gone through. My emotions were like a dam, building up until, one day, it would burst. 

Rhys. I missed him desperately. Just once I’d like to see him, talk with him, laugh with him. But I couldn’t because he chose to detach himself from me. Had I done something wrong? Was there something with me? Was I too broken to love? I didn’t blame him, I wouldn’t want to be around me, either. After all, who could ever love someone with thorns. 

Flames escaped out of my fists as I pounded against Cassian’s hands until I had burned away the padding protecting him, and I was hitting his bare skin. Tears fell from my eyes, blurring my vision until Cassian and Azriel were only hazy figures. Still, I continued to push forward with my limbs knowing that if I stopped the dam would burst. Too lost in my haze of emotions, I hadn’t even realized what I had done until Azriel broke through the stream of rage and sadness by sending his shadows to halt my hands from further burning Cassian. Only then did I see the red welts that Cassian had taken upon himself without uttering a single cry of pain. 

I stumbled forward, inspecting the damage of his hands. Livid reddish marks inflamed the entirety of his palms. Faint peeling of blisters showed the raw skin underneath. Cassian had likely had worse injuries before, but the sheer amount of guilt I felt for inflicting this upon my friend was overwhelming.  “I’m so sorry, Cassian. I’m so sorry.” Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I carefully unlocked a single stream of water to flow from myself to Cassian. The wobbly line of liquid encased the bright red marks, soothing the hurt. He winced, once, as I warped the water to heal my mistakes. 

“It’s alright, Feyre. It’s nothing I can’t handle. You should have seen me during the war after a battle. I was a bloody mess.” The left side of his mouth curved into a smirk as he tried for a light-hearted joke. 

Azriel scoffed from the side at Cassian’s words. “If you hadn’t been such a hot-heated prick, you wouldn’t have suffered so many injuries.”

I had to forcibly hold Cassian’s hands still as he tried to turn towards Az before he broke my concentration. Forced to be one place, Cassian wacked Azriel with his wing. The loud thwack drew a chuckle from the elegant male. “I managed just fine, it’s all in the past now anyways.”

“You say that, but every time you get drunk you brag about your accomplishments and how you single-handedly won the battles for your legion.”

Cassian squawked in outrage. I shut my eyes, tuning them out and drawing forth the image of the Sidra’s waves crashing against the shore. The smooth ebb and flow of the water, twisting and turning in perfect unison. The frothy foam bubbling forth against the overwhelming mass of waves. The water in my hands widened ever so slightly as I poured all of my focus into healing his hands. When I opened my eyes again, smooth skin and Cassian’s dumbstruck face greeted me. 

“How did you know how to do that? I thought you hadn’t trained with your powers yet.”

I dropped his hands and crossed my arms across my chest, feigning offense. His guess wasn’t totally wrong, but I had the basics down. It was enough to perform the most practical actions. And I practiced making water animals in the privacy of my bathtub, not that either one needed to know that. “I suppose there’s more to me than what’s on the surface.”

Cassian’s hand reached out and ruffled my hair, tousling the careful braid I had done this morning in the dark. I quickly stepped back out of his range, narrowing my eyes in reproach. “Do you know how long it took me to get this to look halfway decent?”

In a mock apology, Cassian lifted his hands to heart, his brows scrunched together. “I’m so terribly sorry for ruining your hair, precocious faerie.” 

As I opened my mouth to respond, a dark wave of power suddenly flooded the city. Soothing tendrils of darkness snaked across the streets, raveling all the way out to our little outcrop on the outskirts of Velaris. The two males next to me immediately went slack-jawed, an iciness creeping over their features. They smoothly moved to block me from view, as if whatever was approaching was somehow dangerous. A boom of wings against the quiet of the city sent a cold clutch of fear to encircle my heart. 

“Stay behind us, Feyre. We’ll deal with this,” Azriel bit out in between clenched teeth.

What was here? The answer to my question became visible seconds later as a sheet of paper with Rhys’s elegant handwriting appeared on the ground in front of me. 

Meet me in the House of Wind in five minutes. 

Rhys. Rhys was here and he wanted to see me. Against my better judgement, I felt a smile creeping up over my face. Cassian snatched the paper out of my hands, scowling. “That bastard,” he growled, brows furrowed in indignation. “He thinks he can summon you like a dog anytime he wants.” 

I put a hand on Cassian’s arm to try and stamp out the fiery rage building in his hazel eyes. “It’s alright, Cass. I’ll meet with him to see what he wants.”

“Be careful,” Az said in a soft voice.

I nodded, turning to make my way towards the House of Wind to find Rhys.

*********

Rhys

The book of breathings was a smooth band of leather against my hands. The pages were warped from time, as if the magic of it only extended to the ink. A small, whispering voice rose above the silence of the room, begging and pleading us into madness. I was transfixed from the power that emanated off of the leather binding. With a revenant hand, I carefully moved a finger down its spine in awe. 

Mor plucked the book out of my hands, snapping me out of my reverie. “I’ll take this back to Velaris and you can return the Veritas to its original place.” Heels clicking against the floor, Mor spun around and made to exit the door. Just as she was about to cross the threshold of the frame, I stopped her in her tracks with a gentle hand. 

“I’ll take it back to Velaris. I’m going back. It’s too dangerous to leave unguarded now that the queens know of its existence.” 

Mor’s red mouth puckered in distaste. “You’ll return now, after months of your brothers begging you to return, will you? Or will you run from your past the moment the city is in sight?”

She was right, I had been a coward hiding from what I had done and I hadn’t wanted to face the future. But I was done hiding. I was the most powerful High Lord in Prythian, there was nothing that would stop me from going to the woman I loved. I gave Mor a smirk, dropping my hand from her golden skin. “I’m not running from the past, the past should run from me.”

I took the book back from her hands and winnowed back to Velaris. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The moment I popped back into Velaris, I felt a wave of comfort stitch the hole in my heart back together. The sea salt air and familiar furnishings of the townhouse were a welcome sight. Now, where was Feyre? I sent out tendrils of power to scour the city for the one whom I loved more than anything. Within moments I found her outside the city with Cass and Az. 

I opened up the end table near the overstuffed couch and drew out a piece of paper along with a pen. I scribbled out a note for Feyre and sent it off for her to find. I prayed to the mother that she would answer my call and she didn’t despise my very existence for being silent for months. Now, to wait. Carefully, I set down the book of breathings down on the coffee table, trying to ignore its maddening words. I took up a position near the ornate fireplace, leaning against the frame, trying to appear causal and calm. 

The seconds seemed to tick by as I stared into the cold ashes of a fire long since extinguished. I didn’t bother trying to light a new one, too distracted by the thought I would get to see Feyre again. I didn’t know if she hated me, if she loved me, or if she merely tolerated my existence. What if I ruined this relationship just like I destroyed everything I touched? Everything I loved had the tendency to be taken from me in a brutal manner. But this time, if this failed, it would be my own fault. 

When the scent of pear and lilac tickled my nose, my head snapped up, a dog eager for the return of its master. Feyre. Feyre was here and she wanted to see me. Perhaps she didn’t hate me after all. 

When she hesitantly stepped into the room, eyeing me as if I would disappear within a moment. “Rhys,” she breathed, wide blue-gray eyes filled with shock. Did she expect me to vanish after I called her here?

“Hello, Feyre darling,” I purred, pushing myself off the fireplace and making my way over to where she stood. Her breathing stilled as I neared. When I came close enough to see each individual freckle on her face, I raised a gentle hand and tucked a strand of long, golden-brown hair behind her ear. My hand continued down, moving through her silken hair until I rested my palm on her soft shoulder. She swallowed, never taking her eyes off my face. 

“You’re here, I can’t believe you’re finally here.” 

Reluctantly, I moved my hand off her arm. “I am the High Lord, I couldn’t stay away from my city for too long. I had to protect my investment,” I said, ever the businessman. It was a stupid thing to say. Feyre made me lose all my sense until I was a blubbering fool. I had spent too long Under the Mountain to know how to treat a lady. 

She quirked a brow at my words, lips sagging in disappointment. “Was that the only reason you came back?”

My heart pounded wildly in my chest. This was it, this was my chance to make up for the last few months. I took a half step forward, our chests touching. “No,” I breathed. “It wasn’t the only reason.” 

Her face wiped clean from emotion, but a faint flicker of surprise darted across her lovely eyes. “What was the other reason,” she whispered back in equal quiet. Her hand twitched imperceptibly at her side as if she desperately wanted to reach out for me, to touch me as I wanted to do to her. 

I had less self control and took her face in both my hands, my thumb brushing down her pale skin. “You. I came back for you. I stayed away for months because I was afraid you hated me for what I had done. And then, it was embarrassment at my actions. But I’m done hiding from my mistakes. I want you and I cannot deny my feelings for you any longer.” 

Her hands moved from their place at her side and she put her arms around my waist. “Then you’re an even bigger prick than that I thought, because I have missed you more than anything.” Her eyes darted to my lips while she bit her own. After a moment’s hesitation, she surged forward and pressed a light kiss against my mouth. 

Mother save me, this woman was going to destroy me. I pulled her even closer until there wasn’t an inch of air between us. We were both breathing heavy from what she had done. Should I tell her about my suspicions that we were mates? “Feyre, I have something to tell you,” I began. But before I could continue, screams erupted from the city beyond. From the bond that connected me to my brothers, I heard them confirm that Hybern was flying towards us with a legion. No, not now of all times. 

Feyre took a step back out of my grasp, confused. “What’s happening?” I grimly looked towards the black mass that was slowly moving towards my city, the city where my love resided. “We’re under attack.” 

Tags: @mademoisellenimbob, @webcraft4eveh, @akb12348, @ishouldreallybeasleepbynow, @sapphic-beauty

If you’re still here on this two year journey, I would like to say thank you for supporting my work. It’s you who keeps me going for this fic. I appreciate each and every single one of you :)

[youve-cath-to-be-kitten-me]

Masterlist :)

Last Updated: December 26, 2019

Originals

3:37 AM (Story Dump #1 - Lena) 

Of Eden and Angels (Story Dump #2 - Eden) 

A Court of Thorns and Roses

Evil!Rhys

Hero, Lover, Villain for @highladyofthesith​ 

You’re Getting Blood on the Carpet for @highladyofthesith​

You Can Run, But I’ll Catch You Every Time for @highladyofthesith​

Feysand (Feyre Acheron x Rhysand)

All Of It - Domestic Feysand and baby Deanna for Anonymous

Throne of Glass

Nesryn x Sartaq

A Girl After My Own Heart for @penguin-wannabe​

Six of Crows

Kanej (Kaz Brekker x Inej Ghafa)

Take Me Out (Like Murder or on a Date?) - Serial Killer x Writer AU for @andromeda3116​

The Shadowhunter Chronicles 

Green, Blue, Gold, and Brown - Baby Carstairs and the TLH Ghosts for @daisyherxndale​ Part 2 Part 3 

Skam France

Angel - Elu drabble inspired by @cottonskfr

Andi Mack

Tyrus (TJ Kippen x Cyrus Goodman)

Shadyside Muse - Musician!AU for Tyrus Week Part 1 Part 2 Part 3