@valkyrshe said: ❛ i love you. i know that’s not enough, but i do. ❜
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 Rhys questioned the wisdom of the Cauldron is still all too fresh in his mind, despite of the centuries that transpired. He was still a boy of eight then, only days prior to leaving for tIllyria with his mother—Even at that tender age, he was too smart and OBSERVANT for his own good; one of the few lessons the former High Lord got to impart in him before departing to his training. ❛ You can learn more about others by staying silent and letting them talk. Fools will tell the truth all on their own and the smart ones will hide behind their stupidity. You have to be keen of eye to discern the difference, boy. Unless you want to end up a fool yourself. ❜
His CONTEMPT for his father doesn’t let him forget the male he grew up trying to be the OPPOSITE of. That decision took root in his youthful mind that night he heard his parents argue and how as a result, his mother seemed to shrink back—Her warmth and simmering fire was EXTINGUISHED the following days. She would elude his father’s gaze, violet eyes like his own, having turned dismissive and COLDER than the snowcapped illyrian mountains to his own mate. Even when living in the war-camp, there were glimpses of that effect his father had on his mother, and how he DESPISED the male for that.
And now, over five centuries later, Rhysand finds himself doing the same again—Wondering how the Cauldron or the Mother, or whatever force of FATE or nature that’s responsible for the mate bond, chooses to unite them. Feyre, who is in that very moment asleep in one of the rooms of the Mountain Palace, is the mate chosen for him by that mysterious force—But as of late, he wishes it weren’t so. Only because it would make these blooming sentiments for ANOTHER far easier to accept and succumb to. Another, who happens to be confessing the words that have remained unspoken between them, until that instant.
❝ Gwyn… ❞ It BREAKS his heart to hear the rest of the bittersweet truth and it ANGERS him to know there is no denying it. His own parents didn’t seem to be able of refusing the call of that mate bond regardless of their obvious discontent with each other. If finding a way to undo the bond fails, then how can he hope to wholly dismiss the connection with Feyre? The priestess knows this much, and how devastatingly UNFAIR it is. ❝ You are—You’re more than enough. ❞ Rhys assures because she is. Gwyn is beautiful, kind despite the TRAGEDY she’s known, stronger in ways he cannot ever be; and it’s why she deserves so much more than the half-devotion he can give her. She’s never forced him to try and decide, accepting graciously whatever part of himself the male gives her—But the more that goes on, the greater the sense of SELF-LOATHING.
❝ You’re suffering, and it’s all my fault. I know you forgive me because you understand but I can't—I can’t forgive myself for hurting you in any way. ❞ Voice is careful even though the EMOTION seeps into the tone uninvited, and it was impossible to not see it glinting in the silver edges of star-flecked violet eyes. Even if Feyre denies him and their bond, it will still be there for the rest of their very long lives… He can’t place Gwyn in a position that will make her accept that for him. Turning, he begins to walk away to the balcony overlooking the rest of Velaris, strong arms spreading as both hands perch themselves on the railing and his head hangs low. Letting out a long breath, the male speaks in a more collected voice, easier to regain a hold of that CONTROL he’s nearly mastered after several decades of practice.
❝ I offered her to work for my Court today, and I don’t know if she’ll accept it or not, but I had to do something. She was… ❞ Rhys shakes his head, not finishing that sentence but instead straightens his back, wings nowhere to be seen while half-turning towards her again. The copper in her hair was dark in the dimmer light but her skin was almost glowing like moonstone, and the urge to TOUCH her was too swiftly rising to try and hold back. What a damn mess this is, to have his mind set on stopping whatever is going on between them but his heart is BEGGING him to relent. ❝ If she stays… I don’t know what will happen. ❞ The High Lord slowly walks to the female again but is sure to leave some distance, if only to stop himself from reaching out. ❝ What I do know is that you make me feel, Gwyn, unlike anyone before. ❞ Even her, he was tempted to add, but to do so is to grant her HOPE that might end up disappointing and further hurting her in the end. ❝ But we do know that’s all I could give you, and you deserve to be loved fully and unconditionally by someone who’s free to do so. ❞
𝐆𝐖𝐘𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄. the moment she decided she was finally going to say something, she knew it would be a risk. that it would take all her courage to do so. that it might... no, that it would surely mean rejection. but the truth demanded to be spoken, and she was exhausted. exhausted having to tiptoe around what must shine in her eyes. what others must see when they look at her looking at him. how the other priestess’ must pity poor gwyneth for loving their high lord in ways no one but his mate should. still –– she had to try even if it broke her heart in the process. and it does –– her heart shatters again and again when he walks away. every step he takes away from her after the admission steals the breath from her chest. its all she can do to keep standing straight.
she breathes out hard. her eyes turn steely as she follows, standing back to give him space she thinks he needs. she lets him speak, but her own thoughts grow, and they grow loudly. oh, but rhysand is so quick to blame himself for this when it is no one’s fault but her own. stubborness runs true in the both of them –– she cannot stop herself from feeling how she does, and he cannot stop blaming himself for wrongs he did not commit. it makes her love him even more.
when rhys turns to face her, she has swallowed the words again. all gwyn can hear now are his words and the thumping of her heart, treacherous and fast. she wishes to say she doesn’t understand, but that would be a lie to them both. gwyn looks away, forces herself to tear her gaze from his handsome visage and to the starry sky of velaris. but all she can see are his eyes.
not for the first time, she longs for her sister. her guidance at a time like this. the loss of it –– what was taken from gwyn –– is a double-edged knife that remains lodged in her side. now as she questions how something as true as what she feels can pale in comparison to the white-hot flame of the bond, she longs –– no needs her sister. needs someone to clear her muddled mind. still, it remains muddled. the only clarity comes from her feelings. in knowing that they are real. and still... not enough.
❝ I understand, ❞ she responds, and when gwyn turns her face back to rhys, she wears a smile. a sad one, yes, but still a true one. ❝ I would never forgive myself for holding you back. ❞ moving past him, every part of her holds its breath, exhaling with harsh disappointment once she’s stood at the balcony, facing away from rhys. ❝ I just... I had to say something before I... before I regretted it. ❞ but what now? what now? a treacherous tear slips down her cheek, landing with a splat on the marble. ❝ I suppose... I won’t be seeing you anymore... –– will I...? ❞