“You want an explanation!?” Rhys yelled out not caring if it drew attention to them in that moment. It was long over due, almost 300 years over due and he felt like supernova that was about to explode. The only question was would he shine when he did or would he turn into the black hole that threatened to claim him. It always got stronger whenever he was near his mother and he knew that was a risk that he was taking when he came back to this city. This godawful city…
When her finger came to his chest he grabbed her wrist keeping it firm and gentle before prying her off of him. “It’s too late for you to try to be a mother now so don’t even bother with the sad sob stories on how you looked for me or gave a damn that I was gone. We both know you didn’t care if I was hurt or not, you only cared because it made you look bad.” At least in Rhys’ eyes thats all his mother cared about; control and how she looked to others from the outside. As long as they bought every sad story she was off scott free. Again, at least how that’s how he saw it all his whole life. Besides if she even did care, like she was quote un quote ‘claiming’ that she did, she would have seen the signs of his depression years ago.
No, that wasn’t the issue now. Not the time.
“You want an explanation?” This time his voice was calmer as he took a few deep breaths trying to keep himself from exploding. “Leo, like myself, has a parent who is the absolute worst. Except of pretending to care about him, his father banished him and sent him away.” Rhys wasn’t sure what was worse the lies that came from Darcy’s mouth or the truth that came from Leo’s father’s. “He had no one so I ran with him because I love him. I know that is a foreign concept to you, mother.” The word was practically hissed out feeling like poison in his mouth. “Lia knew where I was. We passed letters the whole time I was gone and I even sent her small gifts of my travels….call me all you want but I would rather be a man like him than someone like you.” Perhaps it was a low blow but right now as he stood in front of his mother like this, the rage bubbling up inside him he knew it was true. Out of his two parents he would rather be like his father than give into the side that she gave him no matter how much it called out to him.
Her mother had once told her that she became obsessed with things, that her ambitions blinded her to everything else, and Darcy knew it to be true with her children. After Zale ran off with his mistress, she only had eyes for his seat, a petty act of revenge, a means to prove herself strong without her husband. She had allowed Rhysand and Cordelia to slip through her fingers, not out of want, no, but simply because she could not be a mother while giving her all to get that seat. Once it was all done, it had been too late to waltz back into their lives, and expect them to welcome her back with open arms. They resented her for the choice she made. “You believe that I do not know you,” Darcy concluded coldly. “You obviously do not know me either.” Of course, she cared about his safety. She hated that she did, knowing it was softness, a weakness, but still she did not have it within her to not care.
Not only was she angry Rhysand had left without notifying her, she was also angry on behalf of Cordelia, even if she knew her daughter would forgive her brother time and time again. “Oh, how benevolent of you,” Darcy growled. “As if trinkets and letters can make up for the fact you left her behind!” Sometimes, she had imagined Zale’s return to Myre Grove, she knew he would probably attempt a similar tactic, if he looked for forgiveness for all he had done to them, to her. “You might have inherited his talent for running away, but it is not him you take after, is it?” she asked, her tone flat and uncaring. She felt so numb now the anger had passed, knowing there was nothing she could do to mend the gap between them — while also knowing she would still die trying to protect him or Cordelia. In fact, she believed that would be how her life would end. An enemy of hers would spring forth from the woodworks, quickly figuring out the twins were her weakness, and use them against her, and she would sacrifice herself to keep them safe. No matter how Rhysand felt about her, she could feel he was more alike her than he’d ever confess. “I know you take after me, I can feel the darkness in you, dear,” Darcy observed, a part of her sad that the darkness had infected her child. She did not care about her son’s reasonings, all she cared about was that he had run away, maybe for more reasons than he realised himself. “You can run to the end of the world trying to get away from it, but trust me, it will always find you.”
