( Arc: Silver Flames. - Tumblr Posts

"  rhys, you absolute bastard.  " — @feydarling

a look of feigned innocence shoots from behind canvas, where he was just hidden away & had hurled a ribbon of paint her way from. while his mate excelled at isolating herself to the studio, painting the day away, as soon as feyre had given him instructions & allowed him to his own devices, it had only taken him fifteen minutes to grow restless. he'd quickly forgotten any technique she'd shown him, allowing himself to hastily paint over any mistakes with black acrylic until ... it was just that. seeing her splattered with paint earns a twitch of his lips, shoulders raising. " what? my hand slipped. "

" sorry, i thought i saw you doing something suspicious. " — @valkyrd

the scent of dust & old books fill his scents, his posture tense as he rifles through shelves desperately. it's clear rhysand doesn't know exactly what he's looking for, couldn't even dare to ask for help — anything, that could give him answers: how to save feyre, how to save the babe. death looms over his shoulders, nearing closer & closer as her stomach swells. for once, he's rendered absolutely helpless. every healer has given him the same answers, & every time he had to try his hardest not to completely shatter in their midst.

all he has left is to search old texts — however few & far between they are. which lead him here, barely holding himself together, a swirl of shadows subconsciously looming around his figure as to spare the priestesses from seeing him like this. it's only his search hits a wall that the fog falters, hand running through his hair, so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't even noticed gwyn there. with an inhale, rhysand's gaze softens, head dipping down in greeting. he can be on edge anywhere else, but here ... here, he'll regain his composure, lips flickering into a polite smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. " ah, not to worry. feyre has me searching for a romance novel, embarrassingly enough. perhaps you have some recommendations? " he'll admit: not his best lie.

there's only seconds of him admiring his work, laughter coming to a pause as water falls upon him, with no time allowed for blocking. he cringes at the cold, but makes no move to erase it away, only easing from his canvas, stalking towards feyre. " i'm starting to question your mentor abilities. cassian doesn't allow such horseplay in the ring, let alone contributes to it. " a cat like grin appears onto features as he closes the distance between them, fingers sliding to her chin. " but if you want to play this game ... " with a mischievous glint & a shake of his head, paint filled water springs from raven strands, all over. " i do have fun seeing you all messy. "

my eyes narrow, as i scoff — a brow shooting up while i shoot him a chastising glare. wet, black paint covers me in messy streaks — fortunately, i had worn rags just for this occasion. i try to wipe the splotch that landed on my cheek, groaning as i make it worse. “ need i remind you that you asked for this lesson. really rhys, you’re worse behaved than my students and they're children. ” feigning an air of scalding disappointment with a shake of my head, i turn back towards my easel. i only look back to catch his expression, as the dirty water i use for my brushes dumps over his head in a single flash. laughing through a wide and wicked grin, “ missed a spot. ”

it doesn't take a daemati to see the grip nesta archeron has on dear cassian. the way he chased after her on winter solstice, the sour expression upon his face when he returned, wearing every thought of rejection on his face & drinking them away carelessly. there is no need to claw into his mind to see what is written so clearly in front of him. rhysand hadn't pointed it out, didn't want to rub salt in an open wound, but ... the holiday is over, & technically he has official business to tend to. if he happens to also meddle in cassian's love life — or lack thereof — it's only out of care.

rhysand watches his brother battle it out with the poor dummy for a moment, intrigued by the undeniable anger that unleashes with every hit. he's seen him like this countless of times over the years, in the battlefield & even firsthand, the same movements, like a dance he's memorized. it never seems to stop impressing him. the lord of bloodshed indeed.

he's come prepared, tossing a bottle of water towards cassian with a serpentine smile. " well, i wanted to discuss the illyrian camps with you ... " words trail off, gaze flickering between him & the dummy, beaten & nearly on it's last leg. " but it seems i've caught you in a particularly heated battle. " amusement seeps into timbre, arms crossing over chest. " the archeron sisters really know how to get under our skin, hm? "

he was looking for a distraction, anything to keep his mind off her. no one had made him as angry as nesta archeron, the image of her CRUEL REJECTION still fresh in his memory. fuck! he almost felt bad for the poor dummy he was about to take his frustration out on — at the same time, he needed to put this somewhere. “ sorry. ” he tells the dummy, who just stares back at him with its featureless head. he holds his sword in his hands, breath steady, IN THROUGH THE NOSE, OUT THROUGH THE MOUTH, and . . .

he strikes. and strikes. and strikes again. he should probably stop — but instead, he keeps going, and after enough time has passed, his arms start to burn. sweat drips down his back, but he keeps his breathing consistent. in through the nose, out through the mouth. strike, strike, strike.

YOU LOOK LIKE SHIT. cassian turns to look at the source of the voice, but he already knows who it is. @rhysie stands behind him, and he stops his training to look at his high lord, his best friend. “ thanks. feel like it, too. ” his chest heaves now that he's stopped, and he searches around for water. nothing. of course he'd forget it today. “ need anything? or can i get back to . . . ” he motions back to the dummy, which, after turning to look, could probably use a break. but cassian doesn't want one. not yet.

" feyre darling, if you wanted to have some fun with the paddle — all you had to do was ask. " wickedness manifests in a single wink, so tied up in her gaze that he's forgotten the challenge at hand. where rhysand should be disappointed that she slipped right from his grasp, he instead finds himself impressed with how fast she gained the upper hand, unsurprisingly. he has always had a blind spot for her. " clearly, whoever taught you knew what he was doing. " lips twitch in amusement as feyre threatens his creation, not even sparing a glance toward the canvas: a blank sheet of black, done carelessly, a clear giveaway that the brush filled of pink means no real threat to him. hands hold up in feigned defeat & within seconds, he's winnowing right in front of her, palms pressed to the wall above either side of her head. " what was that about terrible reflexes again? "

my arms crossed over my chest ( albeit smudging the paint in worse ), holding my ground with poised self-assurance as he approached. ever the face of impertinent stubbornness. the sheer audacity of my mate to suggest i had started it — i certainly couldn’t stand down now. a skeptical click of my tongue, “ hm. is he to blame for your terrible reflexes? ” grand and haughty amusement glimmered in my eyes, as i struggled to bite back a grin, determined not to yield. “ perhaps you deserve the paddle for your insolence. ” i had made a point to hold to hold his gaze without so much as blinking — only to surrender my territory, retreating from his grasp and quickly backing towards a protected corner, as dirty water flailed across the small room. i should’ve expected him to turn my own weapon against me. “ oh, you will be cleaning these floors, rhysand! as i mop them with you! ” i grab a thick brush dipped in bright pink paint and hold it threateningly close to his ... masterpiece. “ be careful now. ”

he all but crumbles under her presence, the paint brush a welcomed distraction — allowing her to mark her claim wherever she wishes, a pleased smile accompanying his darkened gaze. he's wrapped up in her, lets his guard down to be completely consumed by feyre, taking it all in. her scent: lilac, pears & paint, their shared breaths, the fire in her eyes that clearly show this isn't over. he leans in closer, giving into all temptation, before there is just a cloud of smoke replacing her presence. " i suppose i taught you too well, hm? " he laughs, lowering her to the ground to twist them around, rhysand now the one with his back against the wall. hands find her hips, easing her closer as he peppers kisses down her jawline & neck, stopping when his lips meet her collarbone, words murmured onto flesh. " it seems you're forgetting our bargain ... " fingers trail to her left arm, running over the ink that stains her skin. he has her right where he wanted her now, his brush coated with black appears in his hand, marking a matching x upon her heart. " we go together. "

i stifle the gasp and look of surprise that threatens to spread across my features, as he appears in front of me, suddenly backing me against the wall. i may have been quick on my feet, but he could always keep me on my toes. his mere presence is overpowering, as i struggle to not become entirely consumed by his raw power and proximity. my chin turned up, “ sensitive and fiendish baby. ” my last, pitiful line of defense -- i hold the brush out in front of me as if it were an ash encrusted dagger. holding his gaze as steady as i could, i quickly paint a pink x over his heart, marking it as mine. my stance eases, if only to let him think that he's won. slowly, the brush trails down his legs, dangerously close to his inner thighs. also mine. leaning forward, i pause for just a moment, ensuring he felt the heat of my breath, before i whispered in his ear, " did you expect me to surrender? " before he can respond, i winnow behind him, snickering as i paint two more x's across his buttcheeks. my arms snake around his neck, as i hop on his back, planting a kiss on his cheek. " you're dead. "

" it seems to me that a ruler who trusts no one is as foolish as a ruler who trusts everyone. " — @whitegowned

the city lights twinkle enough to almost drown out the starlight beaming upon them, sea salt coating the air, the town still lively below. velaris had become a sanctuary of peace for many, the gates opening to whoever are in need ... what rhysand doesn't expect, however, are those who are seeking aid sounding of another war. if he were to even bring himself to trust the stranger, it'd still be foolish to engage: it's distant, & seems as though it'll have no effect on prythian. the risk outweighs the benefits.

her retort earns a shrug, wiping at his sleeve, displaying only disinterest. " perhaps. " his tone is distant, wings lowering, as if he's already over the conversation. " however, i do have an inner circle of those that have earned my trust. you just so happen to not be one of them. " the daemati offers a saccharine smile, hands sliding into pockets. " if it's shelter that you seek, i am more than happy to provide — with cautionary measures, of course. " the measures being sifting through her thoughts, insuring she can be trusted. " that is my only offer. "

he laughs as he watches cassian drop the dummy: a reminder of the of shadows & anguish he'd become upon returning back from the mountain, where he should have been relieved seeing his family again, rhysand was a mess of conflicting emotions. distracted, distraught, every thought leading back to the newly turned fae ... feyre, promised & engaged to his enemy. through it all, every rough night, cassian was there. a pillar of support, even if he didn't know the full extent.

so, rhysand will be that for him, now — no matter how much he seems to be shying away from the topic. sadly, for his brother, he wont be dropping the topic that easily. " ah, it seems they haven't taken a liking to our new rules. unsurprisingly. it may be time for another visit ... " words trail off, as if he's already grown bored of playing high lord, waving off the topic of the camps with a shrug.

" but, that's something i can easily handle myself, if need be. i was planning on checking in, anyways. besides, it seems you already have your hands full here ... " a knowing smirk, hands sliding into pockets. cassian's silent plea goes ignored, as rhysand stalks around the training grounds, getting a closer look at the nearly destroyed dummy. " tell me, how is it going with nesta, hm? that bad? "

he shouldn't be surprised that rhys knew what was bothering him — after all, he's had his own wrestle in an attempt to get his archeron sister. he remembers watching him before feyre realized their bond, each and every facial expression once she left the room, his own training when she so much as wore something revealing or wore her hair a certain way. HE FEELS LIKE THAT, BUT TENFOLD. they didn't kiss or bed each other before they shared those feelings. cassian hated sleeping alone. she never asked. did she want him to stay.

“ that is the understatement of the century, my friend. ” cassian says, letting out one final blow and watches the dummy topple over. he walks over to the nearest weapon rack, chest heaving with each and every breath. damn her and her grip on him. he wonders how much rhys is going to pry — a lot, if he knows him. cauldron, save him.

with his hands on his hips, the illyrian male makes his way back over to his high lord, ignoring the sweat - drenched hair falling in his face. “ what of the illyrian war camps? there's nothing i want to talk about more. ” he's half pleading, eyes squinting. “ is something going wrong? ”

the words sent over the bond make rhysand seize, frozen with a mixture of dread & blinding rage, his power radiating throughout the office — enough to rumble the room, the whole house. amren had filled in the blanks, let him privy to how exactly she figured out, the information venomously spat out by none other than nesta. as if this were just a game to her, using it only as a way to hurt feyre. it's enough to make his blood boil, his command to cassian to get nesta out of the city before he kills her spoken before he could even think it through properly, though it's no empty threat. after all of the pain she's inflicted on her sister throughout the years, time & time again ... the only thing stopping him from finding her in this moment, is that feyre needs him by her side right now.

when cassian leaves his office, he gives himself a second to steady his breathing, curling his fists as a means to tame himself. he regains as much of his composure as he can, before winnowing to feyre. he doesn't speak a word, waiting for her to give him anything. seeing her like this is enough to make him regret warning cassian, even if he knows he's as much to blame, too. he had planned to tell her — just needed a little bit more time. he feels his chest cave in at her question, the coldness that bites at him, his gaze lowering to the ground. " since madja said the babe had wings. " his voice is a murmur, shameful. " nesta had no right to tell you like that — feyre, i was going to. " to have this fear looming over the both of them, for the rest of her pregnancy, when they should be happy. voicing it to her ... it brings it to life, in a way that he selfishly couldn't handle, not yet. he moves to face her, reaching for her cheek, eyes burning as they rim with silver. " i just needed more time — to find a way to get us out of this. you were never supposed to find out like that. "

@rhysie said: [ argue ] sender gets into a heated argument with receiver

i know. i sent all my pain and fury down the bond, before i slammed my shields down shut. thick, impenetrable walls of steel — with every clawed caress i felt against them, they grew stronger and pushed further back. he knew where to find me; let him beg for my forgiveness in person. i hadn’t stopped trembling since the minute that my sister had revealed the truth to me — amren’s reaction confirmation enough of the validity of nesta’s claims. if she knew, then certainly so did all the others. betrayal and dread gutted me, my fists forged in hot irons, scorching the chair i gripped to steady me. i was going to die. i was going to die alongside my son and mate and they had all kept it from me. rhys had kept it from me.

this couldn’t be happening, not again, not like this, it was too much — too much to process and weigh at once. all i knew was that my world was ending. i wanted to scream and cry and tear the room apart, as shock and horror and hurt wracked through my body like harsh, swelling waves ready to pull me under. the vivid image of our son, beautiful and alive, was all that kept me afloat. if it weren’t for the baby inside of me, i would’ve allowed myself to be engulfed in a dark, storming swirl of ice and fire. instead i stood, frozen in place, as the world was once again torn out from under me. my body went from hot to cold and back again as my power seethed. shuttering with every jagged breath, as i struggled to contain the rage that rippled through me. everything we had, everything we had built was about to be ripped away. i didn’t turn around as i felt him behind me, my voice sharp, cold, and demanding. “ how long? ” how long have you all been lying to me?

his hand quickly falls to his side, adrenaline blocking the pain inflicted onto scorching flesh. he shakes his wrist out, knows he deserves that, & much, much more. " guts, or such hatred for you? funny that she only thought to share this information to hurt you. " he scowls, voice turning rigid at the mention of nesta. it's not something he'll let go of any time soon. how she so carelessly walks over feyre, after everything she's done for her, she's still keen on causing her pain. no matter the cost. still, he shakes his head to end the conversation of her sister, feyre's words bringing him back: now is not the time.

it's a state he's never seen her in before — & to be the cause of it turns his guts into knots, his gaze lowering to her swelling stomach. their family, falling apart at the seams before it even had a chance to begin. this, the exact reason he avoided telling her, shouldering the pain for both of them as long as he could. " i should have told you. i'm the only fool here. " he's quieter now, losing any of the rage intended for nesta, features soft as he nods, defeated. " i thought ... " his voice breaks, desperate to give her any answer to assure their safety. that this wasn't all for nothing. only, he still has just that: nothing. all of the healers he sought out, the books he's read over until his vision blurred, all gave the same answer. " i thought i would've figured out a way by now. " a hand raises to push back his hair, jaw clenching as to avoid completely breaking. " i'm sorry, feyre. i didn't want to worry you for nothing — i thought i could fix this. " but this was not his to shoulder on his own, & there seems to be no way out of this mess. he cements firmer, voice clearing as his gaze meets hers. " i should have told you. "

“ don’t touch me. ” i snapped, catching his wrist, and casting it away — with little remorse for the way i scorched his flesh, embers sparking from my grasp. my eyes bore into him, as hard and cold as the ice on my breath, as i unleashed my wrath. “ don’t make this about nesta, ” i growled, turning my fury onto him. “ are you mad that she was the only one with the guts to look me in the eye and tell me the truth? ” i laughed once, dark and bitterly — utterly devoid of any humor. my sister’s less than pure intentions were obvious, but didn’t detract from the truth. the truth that had been kept from me for weeks. weeks i could’ve spent preparing. i felt so stupid for not asking more questions and avoiding the signs. for not pressing rhys further on what was bothering him when it was clear something was. we’d always given each other the space to open up in our own time — never could i have suspected this.

“ if you had told me from the start, this wouldn’t have happened. ” i didn’t allow myself to dwell on the subtle implications in his words — he still needed more time to find a way to get us out of this. us both out — because of the last, blasted bargain we had made, never in a million years expecting it to end like this. i glanced down towards my protruding belly, my hands cooling before they rested atop it protectively. the desperation in his voice was damning, he hadn’t found any answers and time was running out — the fear i felt encroaching was not for me, but my mate and our family. i did my best to block it out, instead focusing on my fervid indignation to his betrayal. “ who else did you tell before me? ” i didn’t need a response to know the answer; if word had reached nesta, who had been restricted to the house of wind, then surely the others already knew. it was the humiliation that made my own darkness whirl. how weak and witless they must’ve thought of me, incapable of facing the truth as if i hadn’t stared death down before. only then did my voice start to break, “ you’ve made me a fool. ”

" that warms my heart. " despite the blood, he still manages to sound bored. the cold exterior nesta insists on wearing doesn't surprise rhysand in the least: at this point, it's expected. the walls she has built around herself are crafted from steel, impenetrable. he feels sorry for cassian, for having the impossible task of breaking them down. " ah, has anyone ever told you — you really know how to make someone feel special. " a sharp exhale, the pressure against his wound causing his head to tilt back. he waits until the shock subsides, the faebane used against him drastically slowing his healing, her sleeve soaked within seconds. " it seems an apology for your dress would be in order, but i think it was i who bought it. "

@rhysie : “ i must be hurt pretty bad if you’re being this nice to me. “ nesta!

Nesta doesn't respond at first but her reaction says it all ; she may have been a little annoyed and rolled her eyes at him but Nesta wouldn't leave the high lord bleeding like that either. The inner circle already has enough reasons to think she is a bad person. They have a lot of problems, they both have a lot to resolve and talk about — and Nesta knows that if something happens to Rhysand, Feyre will suffer in the process. Nesta didn't think twice about tearing the sleeve of her dress and stopping his bleeding ( waiting for his powers to take effect to start healing ). “ I’m not doing this for you. I don’t want to have to deal with a crying, angry baby if you die. ” She's talking about Cassian, he would also be devastated, destroyed, if something happened to Rhysand.

trust & honesty. it's a reminder of what brought them together in the first place, what drove her out of the spring court to begin with, never looking back. he offered her solace in knowing that would never be the case — he would be a sanctuary of truth, their union was a promise. she would be in control of her own fate, & they would be equals. that promise had been shattered, all in attempt to preserve that vision she'd shared with him: the glimpse of their future. it was more than he could ever imagine, even on the darkest of nights when all he could do is dream. at least feyre could still keep it alive — even after searching any piece of writing on illyrian births, when he'd realized their fate had been cemented, he could return home to her & his hope would be returned, however fleeting. now their harsh reality hits him right in his face, with no escape.

he flinches at her tears, feeling her pain searing through their shared bond. he wishes for words to assure her that they'll be okay, that they'll figure this out, but it's all empty promises now. the only thing he can assure her of is himself. the moves with swift grace right to his knees, right on those tattoos, bowing to his crown. " i will do what ever i can to fix this. we will. " his words are assured, firm, as he looks up to her — just as she'd been her anchor through these past few weeks, he will be hers now. " and when we make it through this, i will see to it that you never feel like this again. " the fierce truth behind his words ripple through the bond, the shadows surrounding him slowly dissipating until it is just him. " you will never be left in the dark again. you are my equal, and i will treat you as such, as i should have this entire time. that is what i want our son to see. his parents, who love & trust each other more than anything. not this. "

“ worry me? ” i shook my head vigorously — refusing to accept any of it. not his apology, nor our expiring death warrants. none of it was fair — we each had given our lives fighting for a better world. did we not deserve our chance at happiness? were we fools to think it would last? had we simply run out the clock on borrowed time? i was not afraid of dying, but i’d never before had so much to lose. his remorse was deeply sincere. i had never seen him look so helpless or afraid — not since the night amarantha snapped my neck and he crawled towards my shattered body. if you were going to die, i was going to die with you. that colossal fear tried to seep its way into my veins like a fast acting poison, but i could not allow myself to succumb to terror. not when i still had so much left to fight for — a son who had done nothing to deserve this and that breathtaking vision of our future all within arm’s reach. it was all too much to bare, so instead i honed in on a lesser pain i could endure. one i could possibly even forgive.

“ i tell you everything. ” good and bad. he was the first thought i had in the morning, and the last one before i fell asleep. everything began and ended with rhysand and my boundless love for him. my undying need to fight for him, as he fought for me. it would outlast us both it seemed. “ all i’ve ever asked for was trust and honesty. what you promised me. ” i could barely feel the tears that had started streaming down my face, or hear the way my voice cracked. “ we are meant to be in this together. ” to fight till the end, side by side. a glacial wind rippled through me and around the room, as the bond ached deep within me. he had hidden the truth to protect me — to spare me the pain, but something had ruptured in the process. “ nesta didn’t hurt me, you did. ”

rhysand allows feyre to explore every inch of his mind, every vulnerable piece of him given to her willingly: the nightmares that haunted him whenever he was lucky enough to find sleep, the way he'd turn into a force of pure wrath when feyre wasn't around, how any moment of bliss they shared was quickly followed by an unshakable dread. it's a pain unlike anything he's ever known — even under the mountain when she laid lifelessly in tamlin's arms, he still held control in that moment, infiltrating the other high lord's minds to save her ... now, he is to stand by & watch as his future crumbles right before his eyes, with nothing to do about it.

he leans into her touch, the only true comfort he's had during this time, yet it comes with false hope. the words that leave her lips next are completely unexpected, taking the air right out from his lungs. while he would normally oblige, time isn't a luxury that they have now, she knows it just as well as he does. " feyre — " his face has completely dropped, chest raising & falling with each panicked breath. " don't ask me to do this. please. " he rises, reaching for her hand despite the threat of another fiery grip. his instincts to keep her safe, thanks to the mating bond, were already overwhelming enough during her pregnancy. to be so far from her, from their baby, when they should be savoring every second they have left together ... it makes his heart sink.

" i know i have made an unforgivable mistake. if you were to despise me over this, i could not blame you. it would be deserved. " tears line his eyes & threaten to spill over, jaw clenching tightly as he attempts to hold himself together. " if you need space, i will give you that. but i have tried to handle this alone, and it has gotten me nowhere. " his gaze lowers with shame, " we're running out of time, feyre. please — please don't ask this of me. let us deal with this together, as we should have this entire time. "

i knew he meant every word — resolute conviction burned fervently in his eyes, as he dropped to his knees. his darkness dissolved, leaving an exposed and devastated male, baring his soul in a way i knew he’d never done for anyone else. the vulnerable desperation that he’d reserved solely for me. bowing before no one but me, his mate. his equal in every way. he’d have let me eviscerate him if i saw fit — even thanking me for it. my anger began to slowly extinguish itself, leaving quiet anguish in its wake. studying his features, i softly brushed my hand through his hair, before it rested on his cheek. what hell he must have endured these last few weeks, so determined to carry it all on his own. my talons gently pushed back against his shields, before i peered into his mind — finding the single, hidden crack he left open just for me. i felt it all — his wretched torment and crippling fear of losing everything he’d ever wanted. the distress that had kept him up at night, flipping through thousands of pages, desperate to find a single shred of hope, only to come up short every time. the pure, ecstatic joy every time he looked at me — and buried dread, knowing it was about to be ripped away. the utter shame and sincere repentance that he couldn't tell me, and worse, couldn't save me.

i understood why he had not been able to tell me and knew that with time, i could even bring myself to forgive him. but time was not our friend and so much had already been wasted — taken for granted in my naive respite. it was that realization that enraged me the most — i had been robbed of precious time i could’ve spent helping to find a way to save our family. when he knew how fierce my need to protect those i loved was — how much honesty meant to me. to tell the others and demand they keep it from me, when he knew i could not stand to be coddled. after everything, even if a part of me understood, it could still not be so easily forgotten. nodding softly, my hand pulled back to my side. “ i need some time, ” i admitted, my heart breaking, knowing there was now no guarantee to how long we had — if it would be enough. “ and space. ” to clear my head and find my bearings without distraction. however much it pained me to do so. “ i’d like you to stay at the townhouse for now. while i stay here. ”

" ah. so nesta is the reason you're going to drink me out of wine. " his tongue clicks, tone showing no hint of surprise. cassian doesn't need to speak her name for rhysand to know who exactly he's talking about — the look on his face when he'd returned from escorting her home on winter solstice said enough. truthfully, he's at a loss for any advice on how to deal with nesta, her recent behavior had led him to deem her as a lost cause. but not too long ago their roles were reversed: feyre barely able to even look at him, set to marry another ... & cassian was there for him every step of the way, a comfort through every night lost to a drunken stupor. he deserves the same curtesy. a cup appears onto the table as he takes a spot next to his brother, pouring the remnants of the bottle into his glass. another one quickly appears. " she is ... difficult, to say the least. " an understatement. he takes a drink, daring to ask what he already knows. " if it's any consolation, it seems she treats everyone this way, as of late. is there a reason this bothers you so much? "

@rhysie asked: indulge + for cassian! — meme

he takes a generous swig of the wine in his glass, only half aware of what he's saying to his brother. ❝ she won't even look at me anymore. it's like — it's like i'm invisible, like i mean nothing. ❞ he knows why it hurts so much, deep down, even if he isn't ready to voice it aloud.

he's never seen cassian so tied up about anyone like this, let alone a female — he uses care when approaching the subject, keeping his taunts to himself, for the sake of his brother's open vulnerability. it's only when he realizes the hurt in his brother's eyes, that rhysand scowls, fingers drumming against the arm of his chair. " she has been going down a dark path. feyre has expressed her own concern, as well. " his tone is kept neutral, biting down the resentment that lingers. her treatment of his mate had been excruciating to watch, to know that it'd been effecting cassian too ... rhysand finishes off his glass, resting his cheek against his fist. " perhaps, we can all discuss further steps together. she can't keep going on like this. " if it's what he suspects, if there is a bond between them, a warning won't keep cassian away — but there is a chance that this will end in only heartache for him. " just ... don't allow yourself to get too close, if she'll even allow it. for your own sake. "

he gives only a huff in answer to rhys's statement, throwing back the rest of the liquid in his glass then before more appears in its wake. he's rather grateful to the house for filling it for him, but nothing will take his thoughts fully from the archeron sister a few rooms away. he listens to his brother, somehow managing to focus enough on his words to form some of his own. ❝ i don't... i don't know. ❞ a lie. he knows damn well why it bothers him so much, but aside from being too afraid to say it out loud, he's worried his brother will laugh at him. not for any particular reason, but the worry is still there. shifting as rhys settles beside him, the two of them now drinking together as they have more times than he can even begin to count, cassian goes on. ❝ i'm trying so hard, rhys. seeing her destroy herself... i can barely take it anymore. ❞ he'd never try to control or dictate the female's actions, but he's afraid of what might happen if he can't step in and help her in the right way. he looks to his high lord, a sad look about him. ❝ she's different around me. sometimes. and just when i think she's opening up, she snaps at me. ❞

he feels relief wash over him, his sheer panic melting into some thing of hope. for the first time in weeks, with feyre by his side — rhysand can start to see the light at the end of this tunnel. it leaves him wondering why he deprived himself of this to begin with. the curse breaker, the defender of the rainbow ... his friend, his mate. any impossible hurdle in their way, feyre has jumped over time & time again, making it look easy. in her short life, she has already stared death in the eyes too many times to count. she has always figured out a way to survive, despite any obstacle. feyre was a survivor. & she's saved him, far more times than he ever could her.

rhysand hadn't realized just how much he needed that: her strength, her willingness to stay such a pillar of unrelenting power. unbreakable, never giving up. even when everything else around her is crumbling. her confidence, stern & commanding, is exactly what he has been missing. the only thing keeping him from breaking. feyre's done more in these few seconds to assure him of their survival, more than he could provide in the weeks that he's had to prepare for this. it's another painful reminder that he doesn't deserve her, yet she still stands by him. even through this. for that — he will always be grateful.

lips part to object nesta's return, though the fire in her gaze reminds him he's in no position to negotiate. the high lord only nods, moving to carefully tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. his hand trails to reach feyre's stomach, the movement of their baby all it takes for his tears to finally break free. a reminder of what this is all for. " you have my word. " rhysand's words are clear, packed with such fierce conviction. he glances down at his hand, clearing the lump in his throat. a poor attempt at humor. " am i sworn to the couch, or may i use one of the many guest rooms? "

“ i don’t despise you, ” i rasped, staring down at our hands, the crippling realization of what it would mean to let go or pull away again suddenly incomprehensible — knowing that no amount of hurt or anger could ever truly outweigh my need for him. especially in a moment like this, the looming threat of time and distance hanging in the air. the urgency and desperation in his voice tore me apart, as it echoed throughout my soul. i could barely stand the thought of furthering his torment. i glanced towards the newest mark on my arm, that represented our final bargain. a pact to leave this world together when the time came — a promise to never leave the other's side. a rash deterrent made out of fear and love, with little mind paid to the consequences. an oath to ensure we both continued to live out long and fulfilling lives ; we never in a million years thought it would come to this. a sudden and brutal end, with so much at stake and so many at risk of being left behind.

we're running out of time. now i was the one who wanted to fall to my knees — it took every ounce of mastery and self-control that i had to remain upright. all of my strength came from our son, as i reminded myself that he could feel everything i did through a bond more eternal and profound than even the one i shared with rhys. he needed me, they both did, just as i needed them. i did not want our child to know dread and fury as we did — to be consumed by the same terrors and resentments i had been. he would never want for anything — not a second would pass where he didn't know how safe and loved he was. how his parents fought for him through the bitter end, just as they had fought for each other.

it was for nyx’s sake, that i considered his father’s plea. i was not ready to forgive rhysand, but i could not do this without him. i would not give up, but if it was true and our fate was inevitable, and i wasted the time we had left . . . i swallowed, before my voice turned more even and stern — that of a high lady who knew which battles were worth fighting, “ you may sleep downstairs until i say otherwise. ” my free hand grasped his chin, ensuring he looked at me, as i fiercely held his gaze. “ we will get through this together, and you will follow my lead. first, we will bring my sister back and then you will keep your promise and spend the rest of our lives making it up to me. ”

the fire in her words is expected, rhysand unflinching with the fervor packed outburst. they've gone through the same song & dance countless of times now, ever since feyre issued her ultimatum. he knew nesta wouldn't be eager to go along with it, but she was wasting away, pushing away everyone who cared about her. someone had to step in. " i hate to be the bearer of bad news, but for as long as you live our court, burning through our gold marks, like it or not, you do. feyre has given you enough patience. " if he didn't witness firsthand how this was effecting his mate, rhysand thinks he might be able to extend that same amount of patience. he knows what she's going through, being forced to live a life you didn't want, the self hatred that seems to burn you alive ... maybe, if they didn't have such similarities, they wouldn't always be at odds like this.

" i'm well aware it won't work. " his voice is bald, shoulders shrugging. " you would have to actually want to change — to get better, and clearly you are more than fine wasting your days away in this miserable existence. " he had his own moments of shutting everyone out when he returned from under the mountain, uncertain of where the mask he had to wear for so long ended & he really began. but his family pushed him to get through it, helped him see the world in color again. even if he sometimes finds him lost in that facade, slipping into those same habits, constantly questioning his own morals. every day slowly gets easier. she deserves at least a chance for the same. " i implore you to at least try, if not for yourself, then for the people that care about you. "

@rhysie: do you mean to spend your whole life running away?

prompt vault. * always accepting !

“ what do you care? ” she snaps, words cold and hard as ice. nesta is sick of this meddling, this intervention they're trying to stage for her. he's not doing it because he cares ( she's not a fool to expect that from him ). he's doing it for feyre, and for the inconvenience of her existence in this blasted court. it's not like she asked to be here. “ what i do or don't do with my life is none of your business. i don't answer to you. ” nesta knows that's not entirely true. she lives in velaris. just a few months ago she'd agreed to work with him, to be an emissary of the night court to the human lands. but that was before elain was taken away due to her lackluster attempt at scrying. before the war with hybern, before cassian's broken body on the grass, before her father's broken neck. things have changed since then. she might be under his jurisdiction but it doesn't mean she has to be happy or willing. “ it won't work, you know, ” nesta adds, every syllable dripping with malice. “ whatever the point is of you asking me to train with cassian. it won't work. ” she almost feels sorry for feyre, almost wants to beg for elain's forgiveness. but there are things she just can't allow herself to feel anymore ( and things she simply can't feel, no matter if she allows it. ) “ this is who i am, ” nesta tells rhysand in a flat, colorless voice. “ not even your damned cauldron managed to change that. ”

" i've no clue what you're referring to. " he ignores the twinge of pain shooting across his knee, thanks to the sudden shift of temperature, opting to lean against his desk for relief. he has little time to react, before frost is coating his hair, sending a shiver down his spine. he can hardly be mad, the sound of their son's sweet laughter filling the air with such warmth. ( a happiness rhys never knew was possible. not for him. it feels as if it were a dream, too good to be true. he finds himself having to pinch himself, sometimes. ) " so cruel. " like a wild animal, he shakes the cold off, flecks of ice flying. " you say that as if cassian hasn't been itching to play with it for decades. and — " he moves to scoop nyx into his arms, unable to control the saccharine smile that forms as he looks down at him. making no attempt to steal away the orb. " it's not a toy. though, i do admire his early interest in astronomy. "

@rhysie said: “How can you tease me so? Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?”

“ poor baby. is that old knee of yours finally giving out? ” a wide grin enveloped my features, as i propped myself up on my elbows, sprawled out on the carpet, while nyx crawled around me, trying to catch the giant snowflakes falling throughout the study with his tongue. with a flick of my hand, a small gust of wind sent another clump of ice to sprinkle in rhys’s hair. nyx’s resounding laughter made my smile run deeper. in his hand was one of the planetary orbs from rhysand’s working model, that he refused to let go of and i had admittedly given up on trying to retrieve. still grinning up at my mate, “ you should be happy someone finally wants to play with your toys. ”

@feydarling : '  i’m so furious at you for making me feel this way.  '

this was not their happy ending they deserved. with everything up in the air, so much uncertainty ... their family that has just begun, dangling on a thread. feyre's fury, her unrelenting pain, the only thing he ever feels through their bond anymore. it vibrates through his entire being, haunting him every second. his desire to take it all away, shoulder it for the both of them — it's what got them here to begin with. he knows her anger is not only at him, but their cruel fate. a shared death looming over them, their impending doom.

but with the sincerity in her voice, her bedside confession lacking fire but instead sounding so defeated, he knows that's not what she's talking about. after spending so long trying to build her up, to help her regain her voice ... he took it away. it's not lost on him. their last few days have been strenuous bouts of silence, as she gathers her thoughts. he practically jumps at the abruptness of her words, the only thing he's heard besides small talk. he won't let her pain be swept under the rug, pretending like everything is okay. leaving her to her own devices & figure it out on her own. if she needs to spend the rest of their days yelling at him, she can.

he shifts, sitting up to press his back against the backboard. swallows the growing lump in his throat, as he searches for any words he hasn't said before, anything to remedy this. " i was a fool. feyre, it is killing me that you feel this way. that i am the cause of it. that i could ever make you feel as you don't have a voice. "