warnings: blood, cursing, kidnapping
The reader is a healer & Rhysand's sister during the human versus fae war 500 years before acotar takes place
The silence on the battlefield was mind-numbing, broken only by the sounds of birds sweeping across the field of corpses.
Carefully I picked my across the ground, my boots squelching with each footstep on the damp dirt. Not unlike the vultures circling above the mounds of bodies, I too sifted through the deceased. The Fae corpses I left with markers for the gravediggers to retrieve, and for those who still clung to life I did my best to safe. With soothing magic, I eased the path of those near the end of this life.
The humans I passed over – their wide eyes pleading and fingers grasping at the heels of my boots. It was a cruel practice, and their faces would haunt me late at night, but I knew greeting death here would be far better than whatever life they might find in the Fae encampment as a prisoner, prey, or someone's disposable toy.
My gaze drifted back to the ocean of tents stretching as far I could see just as a unit of Illyrians took to the skies. Soul aching, I turned back to my work, my body carrying on automatically even as my mind drifted towards the clouds.
Azriel and Cassian searched me out once the fighting was over, relief washing over their features as our gazes met across the medical tent, the trio did this after every battle and although it warmed my heart, I did not know how to tell them the ridiculousness of it. They were the ones fighting on the frontlines, I was just a healer in a tent miles from the clash. It should be the other way around.
I peered around their shoulders waiting for Rhysand to appear from the crowd. Only once I caught a clear glimpse of their faces, my heart sunk.
The two grim-faced Illyrians made their way across the tent as quickly and unobtrusively as their large frames allowed. Scrubbing my hands clean in a nearby tub, I left my patient in the hands of an assistant and rushed to meet them halfway.
Sweeping my gaze across their mud-splattered, blood-covered armor I immediately began triaging the wounds I found just as I had done for each soldier that entered the tent. It was purely on instinct after the large number of consecutive hours spent deep in my work under the same canvas ceiling. But other than a few shallow cuts and scrapes they seemed fine, and any blood on them smelled human.
Azriel reached me first, his hand drifting towards me before he pulled it back to his side, his face turning away quickly. It stung and I wanted nothing more than to reach out and make sure he was okay, but no – now was not the time to brood over past mistakes choices or hurt feelings.
I pinned my gaze on Cassian. "Where's Rhysand?"
Our last conversation was hours ago. Cassian and Az departed with quick farewells to prepare search parties and I was alone again - left behind as usual. They ignored my pleas using the excuse that it was too dangerous and my expertise was needed here.
And I let them, because I knew what none of us were saying: if Rhysand was really dead, then I was the last of my family line.
However as soon as they left the other healers quickly pushed me from the tent once it became clear I was in no place of mind to focus in the high-stress environment. It bothered me less than being left behind because it was true. But it was impossible to focus when my heart thoughts were miles away.
Wandering in the direction I had not yet searched, I found myself in a copse of trees kneeling in the mud at the side of a deceased Illyrian. Heart in my throat, I gently rolled the body onto its side.
His dark eyes, blank and clouded, are the last thing I would remember.
The first thing I noticed was the cold. It was bone chilling, blood-freezing – the sort of cold I remembered from my childhood visits to the Illyrian mountains. The type of bitter chill Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian had grown up in.
Cassian used to laugh at me while I shivered beneath the protection of Azriel's coat and Rhys's magic. He would offer me his body warmth to warm me up with a few flirtatious winks until my brother would hit him.
I shivered as the memories faded, the iron chains around my wrists and ankles clashing in an awful grating noise as I folded my body in on itself to keep in as much body heat as possible.
A short distance from me a group of human soldiers clustered around a fire turned to look in my direction. Seeing me conscious, one of them rose to their feet and ducked inside a tent, returning quickly with a tall man. With his decorated uniform and the cleanliness of his hands I knew he was the man in charge.
He strode with purpose around the firepit, coming to a stop in front of my face. Somehow he managed to look down on me and still keep the narcissistic tilt of his chin. "You're one of those..." He paused and from the look on his face I wondered if he would be sick right there on his shiny boots. "...Fae healers, yes?"
Questioning what sort of plan he was brewing I stared at him, the miserable cold and the lingering shock making it hard to form coherent, connecting thoughts.
He frowned, forcing me to roll onto my back with a hard nudge from his boot. "You live or die at my word, animal. Remember this before you answer dishonestly."
I licked my lips, begging my voice not to break as I responded honestly – yes. My powers had always been inclined towards medicine much to the chagrin of my warrior father.
The leader tilted his head in my direction and the two soldiers hauled me to my feet by my armpits. They half dragged, half walked me across the camp to a thick group of trees where a lone figure knelt strung up between trees, head bowed, Illyrian wings tucked tightly.
My captors let go of me, dropping me unceremoniously into the dirt before my High Lord, my brother, the only blood I had left.
Every inch of exposed skin was covered in his own blood – the smell was overwhelming – and a steady stream of droplets fell to the earth and splattered on the damp leaves below. Smeared with mud and blood, the stark lines of the tattoos inked above his knees seemed to mock us both.
Wild and red-hot anger rumbled through me, heating my skin, and warm tears blurred my vision. I wanted to rip them all apart for what they had done and stain the leaves a brighter, fresh shade of red.
Reining in the wave of emotions I hid them deep in my heart – somewhere the mortals would never find. They were fond of saying we were heartless creatures.
Control yourself. Think. Find a way out. At the least, give Azriel and Cassian time to find you. For Rhysand.
The leader's footfalls felt like eternity as he approached Rhysand.
Would he see any resemblance between us? Or did he already know?
Rhysand's eyes fluttered open, and a sigh of relief slipped from my mouth before I could stop it. He was alive.
He blinked as our eyes met, alarm flaring through the familiar violet. Snarling at the man in front of him, the chains rattled as his arms strained against their iron fetters.
"Keep this Fae alive," The man commanded me, gripping Rhysand's chin tightly to stop his movement, "and he will keep you alive in turn by answering our questions." Releasing his grip, another soldier took his place in front of my brother.
Rhys had always been the protective older brother – even forcing Azriel and Cassian to promise never to court me. His exact words were, "Unless you're mates, I never want to see either of your dirty paws touching Y/N."
My stomach rolled as the torturer began sorting through his tools.
Rhys, it is my turn to protect you.
I'll find us a way out of here and then we'll find our family.
We will end this ridiculous war and go home.
I wanted us all to be together again one last time. I dreamed about our home and Velaris every night and daydreamed so often it was bleeding my days and real memories together.
I wanted to hear Cassian's laughter. With the war it had been too long since I saw real light fill his eyes.
I wanted to watch Rhysand change the Night Court and then the world.
I wanted to be by Morrigan's side as she grew and healed in the real Night Court - the Court of Dreams.
I just wanted Azriel to take my hand.
The only time I had with Rhysand was usually after a particularly vicious session. As awful as it was I looked forward to tending to his wounds, because then at least I knew he was not bleeding out alone in the frozen forest.
That was the only time I had with him. Unless I needed to relieve myself, I was left in a tent, forced to listen to everything they inflicted on him. Alone with my thoughts I thought up a hundred plans, scenarios, strategies, but the chains never came off, there was never an attack by our forces, and the guards would beat me unconscious if I spoke a single word.
The two of us flirted with a dangerous line, death hovering around every sun rise. Rhysand literally, his life force waning with each new day under the cruel hands of the soldiers. For me, I could see the decision to rid the camp of its two fae prisoners lingering in the leader's eyes each time Rhys's answers became less and less satisfying. We were running out of time.
I wanted to see Azriel one more time.
I wish he had taken my hand just once.
Forget the bond, we should have run away and saw the world like we talked about a hundred times.
I thought I was still dreaming as my eyes watched the back of the tent open and Azriel slipped soundlessly inside. Struck mute, silent tears streamed down my face. His small smile was so tender, so soft, I thought I would break as his hand gently cupped my face. There were so many things I wanted to say.
He raised my hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the palm that left my heart barely beating. I do not think my voice would work if I tried to speak.
"Rhysand." He murmured, his shadows swirling to protect us from eavesdropping ears.
Wordlessly, I pointed towards the spot they kept Rhysand bound. He nodded, slowly releasing my hand. Before he could pull away, I gripped his hand with both of mine. Please don't go.
"I'm coming back to you," He promised, leaving a soul-rending kiss on my forehead. His thumb stroked my cheekbone, smudging the salty tears and grime on my skin. "And then not even you will be able to keep me from your side."
He pulled his hand from my grip and I watched him and his shadows fade into the darkness. He glanced back once, and in his hazel irises I saw reflected the same empty pain I felt.
I laid down, alone once more, overanalyzing every sound I heard until suddenly the camp roared to life with sounds of battle and soon Azriel was standing in the entrance, a pair of keys jingling in one hand.
He started with the manacles on my wrists, his touch careful against the raw skin as he moved on to the chains around my feet. I stood, taking his offered hand and following him from the tent into the night air.
Around us the humans were quickly failing under the night of the Far and Azriel’s grip on me was secure, but my thoughts raced as we passed tent after tent, and eventually I stopped moving altogether.
"Azriel," I called his name quietly, our joined hands tugging him to a stop. He turned to face me, his brow furrowed in question. I knew we were in the middle of a rescue mission, a war, and I was filthy, and this was quite possibly the worst time to talk about anything, but I could not let us go back to whatever we were before.
Whatever limbo from hell that was.
I stepped closer, giving him time to pull away before placing my mouth on his. I wound my fingers in his hair; his hands settling on my waist before drifting to my back as he pulled me even closer.
The mating bond snapped into place quietly, like it was pretending to have been there all along. It was unlike anything I could imagine and yet somehow everything I ever dreamed of. The soul I felt connected to mine I already knew as well as my own. It was vast and shadowed and warm and familiar – home. It was Azriel.
I heard someone groan and disentangled myself from Azriel long enough to see Rhysand standing. Leaning on Cassian's shoulder, his tired violet eyes flickering in the light of the rising sun, but standing.
He was okay. We were okay. They had come for us.
I smiled at Cassian, his smile infectious.
The moment was broken by Azriel’s low growl of warning when Cassian took a step in my direction, my mate shifting in front of me protectively.
Cassian's mouth twisted into a smirk and Rhysand groaned, his nose wrinkling, "I cannot wait for this phase to be over and I'm not sure whether to be extremely happy or completely disgusted by that."
