Remember when I asked if you all wanted a ficlet of Feyre finding Rhys’ mother’s and sister’s wings in Spring Court? And all you Maasochists said yes?
Well, here you go...
~
I climbed the stairs to that part of the manor that I’d never visited before. Tamlin had never outright ordered me not to venture here, but it was always an unspoken understanding we had. Before everything that happened, before Rhys, Tamlin always came to my room when we spent the night together, I was never invited to his. Maybe that’s what drove me to explore while he was far from the manor. Not that I was afraid of him, I hadn’t been afraid of him for a long while now, but it would be so much easier to look around without him hovering over me.
The hallway at the top of the stairs was longer than I’d imagined it would be, the manor seemed so much larger on the interior. It was lined with doors and as I moved down the length of it I found that they all opened to elaborate but barren suites. I spent a few brief moments at each doorway, scanning for anything out of the ordinary, but a thick layer of dust that coated everything including the floor told me they hadn’t been disturbed for quite some time. I moved swiftly away from the last abandoned room and toward the most extravagantly decorated one at the end of the hall that could only belong to Tamlin.
As I moved toward the massive double doors something whispered through the hallway; a warning, carried on a subtle breeze. I could sense the urgency in the warning, feel the ebb and flow of the resistance pressing me to halt but I paid it no heed. As I drew closer I could feel it building and realized it wasn’t a warning of danger, but rather a desperate plea for me to spare myself from whatever horror lay beyond the door. Apprehension bubbled up at the thought of what would cause such a warning and the hairs at the back of my neck rose in trepidation. I reached for the carefully forged door handle that held a vague resemblance to the head of Tamlin’s beast form. The door swung freely. He truly believed I was on his side.
The subtle breeze picked up and whistled around me into the room, pushing me to continue on while the warning begged me to stop. It sounded as if there were hushed whispers carried on the breeze and I had the strangest sensation of being watched by eyes that weren’t there. I stepping into the room and traced over the most refined decorations I’d ever seen. Everything was somewhat muted in the darkness of the room but I could still make out intricate candlesticks, delicately carved furniture, small statues, and an enormous four poster bed littered with plush pillows. Most everything was framed, forged, or trimmed in gold.
I moved through the room to one of the windows, which were draped with expertly woven fabric that shimmered in the sunlight. I pulled back the fabric and tested the window; it swung open. Tamlin hadn’t once locked me in the manor since my return, truly believing the deception I’d woven for him. Not that it mattered, there wasn’t a lock Tamlin could forge that I couldn’t break if I needed to. The wind picked up and rose to a howl, whipping through the room and out the window, it screamed a shrill warning. That otherworldly prick at the back of my neck intensified. I pulled the window back and it snapped shut as if the room itself wished to remain sealed. I turned to survey the room once more, certain now that it wasn’t a warning of danger. No, this was a different kind of warning, like the wail of a heart breaking.
The residual breeze and whispering died down to a low hum of anticipation. That’s when I looked up. My stomach dropped, my chest tightened, and my whole body shuddered as if I’d been struck by a physical blow. There, mounted on the wall above his bed like trophies, were two sets of Illyrian wings. I knew instantly who they belonged to. Tears welled up and stung my eyes as I traced over each pair. One set was smaller than the other; Rhys’ sister’s. They were so small, a sob escaped my lips, too small; she’d only been a child. The whole manor shuddered as darkness rippled away from me in an echoing wail of agony.
In a second he was there, reaching down the bond we still shared, a soft but urgent caress against my mind.
Feyre?
My name was music in his voice. But I couldn’t show him this, not now, not when I was worlds away, too far to hold him in his grief. So I sent back the only thing I knew would satisfy him for now.
Nothing I can’t handle.
That’s my girl.
I felt him receding from my mind and world tilted. The thought flashed through my mind faster than I could stop it, of more sets of wings mounted on that wall beside them. Unbidden the images burned into my mind. Azriel’s, Cassian’s, Nesta’s, or Rhys’...
Rhys!
Yes?
Stay with me? Just for a bit.
Of course.
I made certain to keep my mental shields firmly in place around the images still burned into my mind but he was there too. He held me steady with his comforting presence in a world that had been utterly shaken.
I wasn’t sure how long I stood there just staring at the abomination on the wall with Rhys’ presence in my mind to sooth me. We didn’t speak, we were just there together in each other’s minds. Closer than I’d ever been to Tamlin, despite the physical distance still separating us. In some other part of the manor, someone called my name. My mind struggled to recognize it immediately, it sounded distorted as it filtered through that cocoon of darkness I’d created for myself.
I drew myself out of the darkness as my name echoed through the manor once more; it was Lucien. Back from whatever errand Tamlin had tasked him with.
I have to go now, thank you, I said by way of farewell to Rhys.
Give them hell, Feyre darling, he drifted away, leaving the faint impression of his grinning features in his wake.
It hurt, his leaving her alone, a piece of her went with him every time. But she knew he was right there down the bond if she ever needed him.
“Feyre, what are you doing here?” Lucien said from behind her, “I don’t think Tamlin would like you being here.”
A whisper of darkness curled around me at his words, I didn’t give a damn what Tamlin would like, not anymore.
“Feyre?” his voice held more trepidation than before and I heard his footsteps slow as he approached.
My gaze hadn’t left the wings, I blinked back tears but more welled up to replace them and the streaks of those already fallen remained on my cheeks.
He must have followed my gaze because the next thing he said was, “Oh, Cauldron, no.”
“Do you know who these belong to?” I asked, the rawness in my voice surprising my own ears.
“Feyre, we should go,” he grabbed my arm to steer me out but I didn’t move.
I was rooted on the spot, an army of ten thousand wouldn’t have been able to move me an inch.
“Do you know?” I asked again.
“No,” he said firmly. “I’ve never seen them before.”
“Don’t lie to me, Lucien,” I warned.
“I- I’m not,” his voice was as hollow as I felt and I knew.
I knew he had no idea who these wings belonged to or how they’d come to be here. But when he glanced between me and the placard mounted above the bedframe, I could tell that he recognized them. He’d seen the same kind of wings sitting between my shoulders that day in Night Court’s territory. He knew the wrongness of what hung before him even if he did not understand the true extent of it.
“I’m sure there’s an explanation,” Lucien said, but even he knew he was grasping.
I swallowed the heavy lump that had formed in my throat and it hit my hollow stomach with the force of a fist. I fought to keep my breathing steady, to keep myself from wretching up my breakfast.
“Wings are the most sensitive part of an illyrian, did you know that?” I asked. “If these were removed when they were still alive..” my breath shuddered, “it would have been a thousand times more painful than the worst thing you have ever suffered. Illyrians would sooner die than lose their wings.”
A fresh tear fell at the memory of seeing Cassian’s wings in ribbons after Hybern attacked him, “The only thing that would cause them more pain would be to lose their mate.”
The color drained from Lucien’s face, he knew some fraction of what that felt like. His eyes snapped to mine and I knew he was thinking of Elain and the bond they shared. He’d been left wondering for months about whether she would accept it or not and I’d seen the way it ate at him; the wondering, the hoping, the grieving. It was breaking him even more than he was already, slowly but surely, and the sight of it was all too familiar to me. Elain likely didn’t understand, and even if she did she couldn’t reach him the way Rhys had reached me. But I could. I’d been laying the groundwork all this time.
“Who do they belong to?” he asked.
“Did Tamlin ever tell you what happened the night he became the high lord?”
“Rhysand’s father assaulted the manor, he slaughtered Tamlin’s father and brothers, but he underestimated Tamlin and he died because of it.”
“He didn’t tell you Rhys was there that night, did he?” I glanced sideways and his expression told me I was right. “He didn’t tell you because he didn’t want to explain why, that he and Rhys were once friends, or how he betrayed that friendship for the sake of petty court politics. Tamlin knew that Rhys was set to meet his mother and sister, he knew when and where, and he led his father and brothers there to kill Rhys. As luck would have it, Rhys didn’t make it to the rendezvous point, but that didn’t stop Tamlin’s family from shedding the blood they had come after that night. They killed his mother and sister, that’s why he and his father came after Tamlin’s family that night. It wasn’t a bloodthirsty assault against another court it was a heartbroken act of revenge. And while that doesn’t entirely justify their retaliation, it certainly puts it in a different light, doesn’t it? All that bloodshed and everything since then… It’s all just politics. Is that really the world you want to live in? Is that really the kind of high lord you want to serve?”
“And who would I serve instead? Your high lord? In the court of darkness and nightmares?”
“Night Court is full of dreamers who hope for a better future, a world where no one’s loved ones are mounted in another court as a trophy. Night Court is a family, Lucien, a family not born to one another but one that chooses to be. And you can be a part of that, I want you to be a part of it with me.”
“What if-” he took a steadying breath, “what if they don’t want me?”
The hopelessness in his voice shredded a piece of me, I knew he wasn’t just asking about Night Court.
“They will, I know they will.”
“What if you’ve underestimated him? Look at what he’s capable of…” he gestured to the mounted wings.
The ghost of my own wings pulsed behind me and for a brief moment I felt the weight of them between my shoulder blades. A whisper of flesh-shredding talons ghosted around my fingers. Darkness settled around me like a cloak. “He ripped Rhysand’s family apart when he led his own there that day. Just as he ripped mine and yours apart the moment he aligned himself with Hybern. I know exactly what he’s capable of, what he was willing to do to get me back even though I am not his mate. I want you to realize that what he’s done, isn’t even a fraction of what I will do to return to my family, to my mate.”
He blinked and some realization dawned on him, “That’s what you meant, when you said we would get them back,” he echoed my words from Hybern’s castle.
“Tamlin can’t keep me here, and unless you choose to stay I won’t let him keep you either. It’s your choice, Lucien, just as it was always mine.”
He was silent for a moment but then his eyes locked with mine and I could see that small bit of determination shining through his pain. “When it’s time, take me with you.”
Lucien looked shaken by his own words so I reached out and drew him into the comforting veil of darkness that was still surrounding me. A smile of relief spread across my features, probably the first genuine smile that my lips had formed since returning to Spring Court.
