Feydarling - Tumblr Posts

anyone else would have left by now: with the heavy silence that swept across the room soon as he entered nothing but hushed whispers & stolen glances. ( you would think they saw the devil himself, waltzing in from the depths of hell. ) the way they collectively hold their breath with a single movement, even while they pretend their attention is no longer on him. instead, he finds amusement in the quiet chaos. he no longer frequented these events, hasn't since his parents passed — but morrigan can be persistent. she should have known just exactly how this would go. he would indulge in more beverages than polite, socialize with few, then quietly slip away to be unseen again, for who knows how long.

& the night would have gone as such ... if he hadn't decided that taunting tamlin seemed like much more fun. as rhysand steals away the lord's dance partner, all eyes are unabashedly them. even with her clumsiness, he holds his gaze onto hers, each movement fluid & smooth, the steps engraved into his brain even after so long. all muscle memory. laughter dark as midnight slips between his smirk, a brow arching as he leads her into a spin. " of course i am. why wouldn't i? " a purr, as they collide once more. " even with your two left feet, you are the most delectable one here. "

@rhysie : ❝ the music’s still playing. might i have this dance? ❞

courtesy and protocol demanded that i humored the man who had cut in — the tall, dark stranger my sisters had warned me about. i took his hand with a tentative step forward, not failing to notice the silent, but icy exchange passed between him and tamlin. and the cold shoulder tamlin gave as he turned his back on us — as if eager to avoid looking anywhere else. he had to know i had no choice in this. i tried to pretend i couldn’t feel everyone staring, their sharp glares piercing me like a knife to the back. but i couldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of watching me shrink away, not with everything we had at cost.

i was less familiar with this dance than the last one, which i had only really known from watching my sisters prance around our bedroom. i never had the privilege of benefiting from their formal lessons. with each misstep, i found myself moving forward, when it was clear i was meant to take a step back, and vice versa, awkwardly colliding with my newest partner more often than i’d like to admit. mortifying my sisters no doubt. rhysand, as i had heard others call him through hushed whispers and harsh snickers, never seemed to lose the feline smirk that was perpetually painted across his features. annoyingly so. my brows furrowed, looking up at him, wondering why in the hell he had ever bothered asking me and why it had bothered tamlin so much. “ you’re enjoying this? ”

what attracted me to your blog is knowing you’re so committed to this character that u were willing to murder and bribe your way into getting this url

but actually i have not stopped screaming from the top of my lungs over each of our threads and aus. plotting with u and developing these characters continues to be so fucking fun and u write and understand rhys better than anyone including sjm lbfr all of your takes are spot on and u capture his nuances so intricately it’s kinda amazing. so glad you’re writing rhys and so glad we can shout about this togethetjfjdjgjd

what about my portrayal attracted you to my blog?

honestly we should’ve known it was all over when i contemplated offering money for a url. MADS ILYSM. i did not think i could ever have so much fun in the rpc again after our petermj era but somehow we have topped it!! writing with u and screaming about these fae freaks is my favorite thing ever. also i could write a whole novel about your portrayal and how much you understand feyre. you’ve fleshed her out in such a wonderful way and the way you get her thought process is so much fun to read ILY

@feydarling : " you do not trick the ones you love. "

metal soaks tongue, blood smeared across palms. her words sting more than the bullet wound, leaving him longing for the peace that his heavy eyelids promise. she was never meant to find out this way. not now, not after last night. he was naive to think they'd have longer than just a morning of bliss, should have known: happiness is a fleeting thing in this life.

" feyre — " her name comes out in a shaky breath, mustering what's left of his energy to sit up. an action he quickly regrets. any reasoning is halted with a sharp inhale, head tilting back against the wall. he breathes through the pain, before his neck rolls to look at her. gaze filled with such panic, widened & all too alert. " how did you find out? "

" you saw the suriel. " the only one still alive who knows. any desire to scold her, for being so reckless — for seeking out someone so dangerous, quickly dies in his throat. the irony of doing so isn't lost on him. after all, is he any better? to keep her in the dark for so long, at this point, had been out of pure selfishness. ( because he didn't want her to look at him like that again. because she finally started to come back to life. because he couldn't stand the idea of losing her. )

" it was one of the first outings amarantha took me on. i was there, yes — but i didn't hurt him. " voice filled with only shame, he can hardly stand to look her in the eye. he still remembers her face, how she managed to somehow remain a steady rock for her father to lean on. the price he paid later on for refusing to harm a man in front of his own daughter. how he longed to pay them a visit that same day to give them enough money to disappear, but knew the cost of her finding out was much too great.

" i thought i recognized you when we first met. it's why i was trying to get you away from tamlin, away from all of this. but then you gave me a fake name, and i started to second guess myself. " jaw clenches, teeth grinding through the pain as he shifts, straightening his back. " by the time she asked me for your name, i had figured it out. i decided i couldn't do nothing again, so i gave her the fake name. to protect you. "

his eyes finally flicker to meet hers, chest tightening at the sight. the same girl he saw all those years ago. " i should have told you as soon as you decided to stay with us. perhaps before then. but i didn't want to risk you going back to him. i didn't want to risk losing you for good. " he moves his palm through his hair, slicking back stray strands from his face. gaze averts, falling onto motel carpet. " but i cannot ask you to stay. if you were to leave, i wouldn't blame you. i was foolish to think for a second that i might have deserved you. "

“ you do not get to ask questions, ” i quickly crossed the distance of the tiny motel room i had stashed him in, throwing the bag of first aid equipment at his feet. i ripped the soaked, makeshift bandage i had made him earlier out of a worn t-shirt off of him, anger and agony rippling off my shaky hands. my eyes wandered over his wound only briefly, satisfied to know he at least wasn’t about to bleed to death in front of me. while i seriously considered leaving him there to fend for himself, my fickle hands redressed him in swarms of gauze.

“ you knew? you were there? you were a part of it? ” the pain in my voice cracked, battling for dominance against the fury that registered through me. he hadn’t even tried to deny it. betrayal and shock pierced me deep in my core, as blood pounded in my ears. i stood over him, staring him down. he’d never appeared so weak or frightened before. i struggled to fight off the stifling urge to feel any more sympathy for him. “ when exactly were you planning on telling me? ”

i still remembered so much of it clearly — my sheer helplessness, the sound of my sisters crying in the other room, the crunch of bone as they broke my father’s leg, and his deafening scream, drowning out his tormentor’s sadistic laughter. to know that rhys was there and hadn’t told me. that he had known my father was a criminal, just as rhys was. just as i had become. after everything we had shared, after everything that could be, something in me cracked — hurting, like it hadn’t hurt in ages. “ give me one good reason why i shouldn’t leave you here for them to find right now. ”

everything is put on pause. the clashing of metal drowned out, the smell of ash & blood fading, the adrenaline of battle coming to a calm — all as he takes her in. her scent, the feeling of her body pressed against his. it was everything he needed to confirm that she was alive, she's okay. yet he can't hold her close enough, can't let go, can't yet forget the dread of the unthinkable that overcame him just moments ago.

fingers trace shapes onto her back as she speaks, tucking the crown of her head under his chin, knowing exactly where her mind had gone during that hour of silence. just the same as his. & yet she fought through it, a battlefield that would send experienced fighters running the other way, just to get back to him. ( he wonders what he must have done for the cauldron to bring her to someone like him, how it must have been some mistake that he wouldn't dare argue against. ) " i almost feel bad for anyone who tried to get in your way. my savior. " a kiss is pressed to her hair, voice steadying into a quiet purr, a desperate attempt to bringing her some comfort.

but whatever moment of peace, of calm, disappears with the idea of them returning back to the fight. when he had nothing to lose, he welcomed death with open arms. fought until there were only bodies laying at his feet, until there was no one left. but this was not that battle — no, this was just a distraction for hybern, an attempt to scatter their men & sparse their numbers. he's made his peace with the outcome of this war, already willing to sacrifice everything in the end when it comes to. but this was just the beginning.

he leans back to take her face in his hands, head shaking. " feyre. if we went back out there like this, we would be of no use. we would just be distractions. " he omits the part where he can't lose her, not when he just got her back. " cassian and azriel have this under control, they've faced much worse. " the red & blue syphons blasting across the field give him all the assurance that he needs. " our best course of action right now is finding the healer. "

he was covered in blood, splattered across his face and chest — where his ended and others’ began, i couldn’t be sure. his torn illyrian leathers revealed a deep gash in his side, that he barely seemed to notice. anyone else would have been curled over from the wound, but my mate was strong. strong and alive. the panic in his eyes told me i didn’t look much better — hair matted with blood and mud, under eyes dark and heavy, fingers scabbed over from the rapid fire use of my bowstring, and shoulder gaping with the tip of a faebane laced ash arrow still lodged inside. my palms rested first on his neck, then gripped his shoulders, as his mere presence steadied me. reassured me that we were both still okay.

“ they knew we were coming — what we were looking for. it was a trap, ” shaking my head frantically, heart still pounding, my words came out in panted fragments. “ i could only hold my shields up for so long — and then one of their arrows broke through once i slipped. faebane. ” i bit back a wince as i suddenly became aware of the pain, recalling the sheer number of hybern soldiers coming our way. “ and then your wave of darkness across the field just disappeared. i thought something terrible had happened. ” my face paled as i remembered the utter dread that plagued me. “ so i ran. i knew you needed me. ” just as i needed him.

i thought i had lost him — i could finally admit it now that i knew i hadn’t. he was alive. still standing, as the heart i called mine continued beating. the short hour where i thought he had been taken from me was the worst of my life and felt like an eternity, as i stood on the precipice of oblivion, forced to consider the rest of my immortal life without him — if it ever came to that, i didn’t want it. i knew for certain there was nothing i wouldn’t give up for him. as i pressed my forehead against his, there was nothing i wanted more than to stay in his arms forever.

but we couldn’t — not until all of this was over and hybern’s invasion was fully thwarted. neither of us could sleep until we knew the people we loved were safe. that shared responsibility weighed us both down, our shoulders curled in towards each other with quiet, resigned desperation. there was only one option while our people continued to fall on the battlefield. “ we have to go back. ”

time hasn't been on their side, a cruel reality rhysand has been trying to come to terms with. they will be separating from the others in the morning, it's been decided. the uncertainty of when they will all reunite again, or if they ever will, has loomed over him the entire evening. to finally have them back, just to be torn apart again ... he's done his best to conceal his concerns, to avoid them bleeding into the moment & ruin it for everyone else. but watching feyre, any of those worries get pushed into the back of his mind. bright, even amongst the streaks of celestial light. smiling, in a way that makes his heart sputter. he doesn't even pay any mind to the show in the sky, his unbroken gaze solely fixated onto her.

thank you: rhys wants to tell her the same, to thank her for breathing him back to life. for giving him something he has never had before, hope. but his words get stuck in his throat & all he can focus on is that smile. " ah. that's right, you did promise me a dance, didn't you? " a hand hesitantly reaches for her cheek, his touch gentle — timid. " but first ... smile again. "

@rhysie : ❝  you have to hold on to the little joys when you find them.  ❞

i could hardly rip my eyes away from his telescope, watching thousands of meteors shoot through the night sky. even without the assistance of his premium spyglass, the shower was dazzling — perhaps the most mesmerizing thing i’d ever seen, a perfect mosaic of crystalline jewels, sailing through an eternal sea of the deep unknown. the promise of infinite possibilities — something bigger than both of us, an incomprehensible string of fate. i knew i had to paint is as soon as i could. anything to capture this feeling of sparkling wonder and joy. to commemorate it with something that would outlast us both and the test of time. the smile that spread across my features was wide and bright and unfading — it was immediate and unhindered. free, just like i felt whenever rhys was near me. i tore my eyes away from the telescope, just to meet rhys’s gaze — those eyes, that somehow still rivaled the swirling depths of space and shined as bright as the shooting stars illuminating the world around us. “ thank you. ” my hand found his, but i never looked away — not even to admire the meteors again. “ what about that dance? ”

any lingering pain is long forgotten the moment he lays eyes on her, a flicker of hope igniting by the sheer fact she isn't already telling him to fuck off. he wants to continue, a desperate desire to beg, plead for feyre to love him as he loves her — all consuming, a fire set ablaze the moment they met. pride be damned. instead stilled with a beating heart, his chest raising & falling with each panicked breath, each second of silence weighing heavy between them as he awaits the inevitable.

relief hits him like a stack of bricks, knocking the wind right out of him, dizzying as she speaks. i don't want you to leave. for so long, he'd convinced himself that she would never feel the same, that he didn't deserve her even if she did. to hear those words, to see her look at him like this: like he's not something to run from ... he's grateful for the chair, sitting in it before his knees decide to buckle underneath him. " then what do you want, feyre? " he hesitates asking this time, a flicker of desperation burning into his gaze that can't quite meet hers. hopeful, for an answer that doesn't sting this time, for all of the confusion to finally end. he swallows, a brow quirking as he finally looks at her. " you would cook for me? do you even know how? "

@rhysie : “Say you do not care for me. Tell me you feel nothing and I will walk away.”

his eyes held mine, looking right through me with desperate determination. the same eyes that had haunted me from the moment we met — the same eyes i was too scared to paint, afraid once i started i wouldn’t be able to stop, lost in deep swirls of mysterious violet. i wasn’t the one who had been shot, but i didn’t know how i was still standing, how i could even breathe without falling to my knees. any anger or hurt — any desire to hate him had dissipated the second i opened the door and saw him there, gritting his teeth through the pain. i thought i didn’t want him to chase after me, but i knew that was only an excuse so i wouldn’t have to face the truth.

he’d saved me, in more ways than one — long before i even knew. he’d been there through it all — the night we lost everything, he was a victim of hybern and amarantha just as much as i was, perhaps even more so. he understood what i had endured more than anyone and he knew i was drowning before anyone else had, pulling me from the fire, ensuring i wouldn’t succumb to the darkness i had been so eager to bury myself beneath. he’d never walked away even when i had given him plenty of reason to. and i couldn’t let him now. not after everything. not when i couldn’t imagine another second of this life without him. “ i can’t. ” something in me settled, a deep resigned relief as i finally admitted what i must have always known. “ i can’t tell you that, because it would be a terrible lie and you would read right through it. i don’t want you to leave. ” i pulled out a chair. “ you should sit. you must be starving. ”

it's always the same pattern: humor, teasing, anything to mask the truth. it doesn't come so easily this time. any smart retort back is frozen with anxious anticipation, rhysand's focus zeroed in onto one thing. waiting, waiting, waiting. how many times has he asked her this? he's already expecting avoidance, some attempt to dance around the question yet again. and in truth, he could not blame her. for once, after fleeing from trap after trap, she has freedom. to think she may already know what she wants to do with it would only be setting him up for disappointment.

he carefully watches feyre as she moves around the kitchen. it must have been filled with dust when she arrived, now spotless besides the cans of paint that rest on the counter. it had been years since anyone stepped foot into this place, neglected when years were lost from him. he can remember the last time they were all here, the last time they spent a holiday together as a family. ( cassian drunkenly singing christmas carols as morrigan dances, amren complaining, azriel sneaking through the gifts. ) how something felt missing, even then. like he's been waiting for her all this time.

" no more secrets. " feyre's confessions unravel his own, as much as he wishes to linger on her words for longer. his truth is not so simple, an admittance of guilt, that could very well lead to her taking it all back. " we'll start where we left off, i suppose. that day, with your father ... i had just started working for amarantha. she was giving me tasks, to prove myself. how compliant i would actually be. everything up until then, i did. i put on a show for her, killed without even so much as flinching. and then she sent me to your house. that was the first time she trusted me on my own — with two other men, just in case. "

" however, it seemed simple enough. an older man, in debt for years, with no clear plan on paying it back. i was ordered to kill him, and then take everything he owned of value, if anything. i was surprised, compared to everything else ... it was straightforward. until — until i saw you. i quickly realized she knew he had daughters. she knew, and wanted them to watch. i couldn't do it. i refused. but, i had convinced the other two that he wasn't worth the time. he didn't have anything, anyways. i told them to just scare him, that a man like that wouldn't try anything again. so they did ... all i could remember was the look on your face. how terrified you were. "

" afterwards, i killed them to cover up my tracks. i told her that your father shot them, and that i finished the job. i knew she didn't believe me. she didn't say anything, but she made it clear later on. " a breath, he grimaces, arms crossing over his chest. " flashforward a couple years, i heard tamlin was throwing a party. i was bored, and admittedly drunk, so i thought i would have some fun myself and pay him a visit — but then i saw that same girl from years ago, with his arm wrapped around her. i thought my mind was playing tricks on me, that maybe i had finally gone mad from all of amarantha's torment. i waited until he left you alone to get a closer look, to ease my mind. but when we started talking, it didn't take long for me to confirm it. and even worse, that you had no idea just who tamlin really was. i wanted to ruin everything right then and there. i thought that i had to get you out of there as soon as possible, before you ended up in the same spot your father did. "

" but i was foolish. i hadn't realized amarantha was at the party, watching you with tamlin ... and then with me. she was jealous, and she wanted something to hold over tamlin's head. she asked me for information, and i knew the name you gave me wasn't yours. i never knew your full name, but i remembered it had to be archeron, so i told her what you gave me. clare beddor. i thought sending her on a wild goose chase would give me enough time to convince you to drop tamlin, leave the city and never come back again. " he flinches as he remembers. the screams induced from that one mistake, the smell of burnt flesh, the guilt he carries around to this day. " i had no idea she was a real person. i wouldn't have ... i would have never given her that name if i had known. she had her brought in, and when she saw it wasn't actually you, she was furious. she had her tortured, for days i could hear her screaming. and then — she finally got her hands on you. "

" i had no idea she was bringing you in. she did it all secretly, as if she knew i would try to stop it. and she was right. the second i saw you, i knew i would do anything to get you out alive. so i played my cards right, kept on her good side just so i could sneak you that gun. i was terrified. i knew you had never used one before, so when everything was happening ... i knew i would have to step in. when i picked up that knife, i didn't care what happened to me, as long as you made it. i thought i did it. i thought i saved you. but i was too slow, and she got to you so fast. by the time i could finally get back up, she shot you. i couldn't move. i didn't want to move, because i realized i didn't want to live in a world that you aren't in. if tamlin didn't step in, i would have let her end me there. but instead, i watched as he killed her, and then held you in his arms. tamlin, who did nothing the whole time, who sat by and watched as you were kept as a pet for days on end — " his voice breaks, tears freely streaking his cheeks.

" when they took you away, i thought you were dead. i was finally able to go see mor again, my family ... but i couldn't. i followed them to the hospital, and i sat there. i sat there for days. i paid off any staff members who tried to tell me to leave, and then i waited for any sign that you were okay. but to my surprise, tamlin told me. for the first time in days, i felt alive again. like i finally had a reason. he said i wasn't allowed to visit you, but i was planning on bursting through your room the moment he walked away. i didn't even know what i was going to say, i didn't even know if you wanted to see me — but a selfish part of me needed to see you. it didn't matter though. shortly after, i heard him propose. i heard you say yes. and i told myself that was all the closure i needed. i convinced myself that it was for the best. that if i let myself love you, that you would just be taken from me anyways. so i kept my distance. but i couldn't stop ... i couldn't stop being around you, and loving you, and wanting you. i still can't stay away. "

i bit back the flicker of a subtle smile, a natural reflex to the surprise and doubt in his tone — a reminder of how easy it was to slip back into frivolous and fluid banter with him. it was always an obvious defense mechanism for us both, allowing us to avoid delving deeper and acknowledging what remained unspoken. as if we knew each other inside and out, each trigger and quirk, and yet we still had so much to learn about one another. still so much to share and discover. i held up the microwave dinner i had pulled from the fridge just minutes before his arrival. “ i know how to use a microwave. ”

it would have been so easy to ignore his original question, just as i had plenty times before. but even as i turned my back to reheat the frozen dish, his words hung in the air between us. what do you want, feyre? months spent unknowing, running from the frayed inevitability, it had finally caught up with me. i could feel my entire body sigh with relieved surrender. “ i want to know everything. all of it. no more secrets, no more lies, no more games. ” i pulled his dinner from the microwave, placing it in front of him as i spoke, before sitting in the chair adjacent to him. the truth had to start with me. softly, i met his gaze — those eyes once again enough to upend me. “ i want to tell you how much i missed you. how you’re all i’ve thought about this week. how glad i am that you’re alright. how i can’t sleep without you. ”

@feydarling : i want all of you. every piece of you.

a day to devoted just to each other, a moment to live in ignorant bliss. there are no thoughts of what still lies ahead of them, their impending doom, how they may be torn apart before they’ve even begun. he only has time to think of her, how lucky he is for every minute he has with her — how if this is how he were to spend his final days, he would be grateful. every second of longing, of wishing, has lead him to this night. ( it has all been worth it. )

it ends in a starlit room, limbs tangled in ebony sheets, with a half empty bottle of wine. rhysand’s fingertips counting each beat of feyre’s heart, his chin tucked upon the crown of her head. to be wanted, to be loved … after showing her each side of him, even the worst ones. the ones that are casted in the shadows, that would send anyone else running. she sees it all, and does not falter. he hardly notices the lump in his throat, as he sits up to hover over her, lips pressed to her cheek. “ i'm all yours. ” a string of kisses trail down feyre’s throat, stopping at her collarbone. “ my heart, my soul … they are yours to keep. ”

time has never been on their side. every last second they have together feels fleeting, like at any moment they will be torn apart from each other once again. it's a trap. as soon as azriel found where hybern was keeping feyre's sisters, rhysand knew exactly what they'd be facing. he spent the night running through every possible outcome in his head, trying to think up any sort of plan, any advantages they might have. only to realize just how doomed their chances are.

his chest tightens, yearning for the will to stop the clock: to stay in this moment for just a little longer, to soak up a time where it is just them. a hand curls at the nape of her neck, his other arm snaking around feyre's waist to close the space. rhysand tilts his forehead down to connect with hers, eyelids fluttering shut. an inhale, savoring every note of her scent, the warmth of her presence, just to be brought down to earth with the cold reality of her words : no matter what happens. he cannot hide how he flinches, the way his lips curl downward as they press to the top of her head. a small nod. " whatever it takes. you have my word. "

@rhysie : ❛  no matter what it takes, i won't let anything happen to you.  ❜

i knew he meant it with every cell in his body and that he would uphold his promise if it was the last thing he ever did. he had already proved that time and time again, from the first moment he put a gun in my hands, risking everything he had to ensure i escaped amarantha’s clutches. he would do it again without hesitating. i didn’t bother voicing the silent question out loud. was i really worth it? how much more could either of us really stand to lose? i refused to let myself imagine for even a second what this life would be like without him. “ i know, ” my voice cracked as i nodded, my eyes boring into his as i clutched that perfect, beautiful face.

“ we go in together. ” it was terrible and reckless — i tried to be brave, to remain steady. the fury and guilt running through my blood was almost enough to trample out the fear. we were running head first into an obvious trap, but there was no other choice. no time to waste. i couldn’t wait another second knowing hybern had my sisters, my mind running wild trying not to think about the torment they were very likely being subjected to. i couldn’t save clare, but i would do everything i could to ensure my sisters wouldn’t endure the same fate. i wasn’t walking out of there without them and i knew rhys had to know that — the same way he couldn’t if it were any of his family in their place. not when they were there all because of me. “ we get them out. promise me. no matter what happens, we get them out. ”

he's a sea of darkness, parting the waves of unknowing dancers. a wolf among sheep, donned in an obsidian raven mask. any tattoos that would show through his suit have been completely concealed, after what felt like hours of morrigan tediously applying makeup. not without complaint, however — she spent the whole time letting him know what a terrible idea this was. perhaps she was right. to show up here was a death wish: surrounded by everyone that would kill him on the spot without second thought, had they known.

but as soon as he finds feyre, all of those concerns are a distant memory. the rest of the room disappears, the orchestra goes quiet, and there is only her. it takes all of his restraint to not take her in his arms, to indulge in this moment and treasure every inch of her flesh with his lips: each kiss a symbol of just how much she has entangled herself in his soul, and how desperately it aches in her absence. a night sky without any stars. yet there are eyes everywhere, and while he had a plan in motion to cause a distraction, he knew it wouldn't be enough to deter all of tamlin's men. “ what, you don't wish to see me? ” a hand raises to clutch his chest in mock hurt, lips curling into an innocent smile. “ oh, dear. i suppose he didn't have time to tell you ... tamlin left in quite the hurry. he may not return for a while. ” words are spoken with such casual ease, but his expression says the opposite. bright eyed and lovestruck, he takes in every freckle, the way her cheeks flush. he can feel his chest ache, his jaw tightening as his voice lowers. “ leave with me. ”

@rhysie : "Do you think me handsome?"

just harmless enough if anyone else were to overhear, the words were a whispered breath against my ear — a gentle purr, that still sent a chill down my spine. a perfect melody i’d been longing to hear for weeks. my chin tilting up and eyes widening, just slightly beneath the mask, were the only indication that i had been startled — i didn’t dare turn around too quickly and risk alerting anyone of his presence. there were too many eyes on us at any given time. it took everything in me not to fall to my knees just at the sound of his voice, to throw my arms around him and to sob — to beg him to carry me out of this lion’s den and take me home. but i couldn’t. not yet, not now, not here.

the orchestra raged on as dancers swerved around us, a beautiful swirl of vibrant colors and extravagant masks that did well to conceal the infectious hideousness that lurked beneath. any relief and longing that swept through me was quickly overwhelmed by terror. the debilitating fear of knowing what they would do if they found him here. mixed with the knee buckling realization that he still thought i was worth the risk… “ i think you’re very bold. ” my voice softened, a hushed murmur behind a folded fan, “ you can’t be here. ”

@feydarling — “  why did you get in the way?!  ”

a short laugh bubbled up and escaped nesta's throat. the sound of it surprised her almost as much as the searing pain in her thigh when one of their assailant's arrows had found it's way into her flesh just moments before. her sister was able to winnow them away; not quite to velaris, but hopefully far enough away that the sound of her amusement couldn't travel along the wind and betray their wherabouts. still, the eldest sister pulled her lips into a tight line, forbidding another outburst, and she turned her attention from feyre's prying eyes to study the arrow now proudly protuding from her leather clad leg.

the truth was that she had no choice but to leap before her sister. her body had reacted to the threat the moment her mind became aware of the shift in their surroundings. the full truth was that there were a myriad of reasons for her to get in the way. she did it because it's what she should have done the night a beast burst into their cottage and stole the youngest archeron away. she did it out of guilt, for all the times she'd used her tongue as a weapon to hurt her sister. she did it because she could - because it felt good to know that she was strong enough to withstand an injury.

" because you have a child. " nesta told her simply, lifting her eyes to meet the pair that mirrored her own. " and because contrary to popular belief i'm not interested in giving your mate an excuse to rip my head from my shoulders. now, on the subject of ripping... " her gaze darted back to the arrow and she curled her fingers around the shaft, steadying her breath with the intention of steadying her grasp for long enough to remove the offensive weapon.

@feydarling — i trust you with my life.

it's the first time they've been alone in a long time. the first time they've ever been alone without a cross word spoken. nesta has never known such peace with her youngest sister, and if she didn't know any better she'd suspect that her slumbering nephew possessed the power to bring out the very best in those in his orbit. for his sake, she wished it were the case. it's in that moment she realises her heart is full of wishes for the little boy - the little male - in his crib. she realises that her heart is full entirely. she lifts her eyes from her book to set her sights upon feyre, and for all the violence in the pages before her, there's currently none to be found in her being.

"i've always trusted you with mine."

nesta had learned a great deal in the past year; had grown more capable and resillient than she ever could have imagined being. the woman she saw in the mirror each morning couldn't have been further from the woman her mother had attempted to carve from her younger self. further still from the wretch she'd become when the archeron's had lost their riches. and she barely existed in the same realm as the fae who had frequented taverns each night in order to feel something. now she could do just about anything she turned her mind to, but in moments like these she was reminded of just how much she lacked common sense. it never would have occurred to her to remove the end of the arrow first before pulling it from her flesh - she was too focused on freeing herself from it to realise the harm rushing could cause. nesta liked to think she wouldn't be so reckless with another, but she hadn't quite figured out how to be appropriately careful with herself just yet.

she watched her sister from beneath furrowed brows, fascinated by the care she took cutting the end of the arrow away from the shaft - cautious, yet confident. nesta winced, but there was very little pain inflicted. only the thought of the things feyre must have done to keep herself from harms' way when she hunted alone; of what she must have done to survive beyond the wall. discomfort knotted in her throat at the thought... at the guilt that lingered with her despite her attempts to make amends.

she clung to the mention of her magic, allowed the words to tug her from her thoughts, and she shook her head. "i can't feel anything like that - it's different now." there were moments when she questioned if any magic remained. only occassionaly would it stir - rumbling in her bones. but she hadn't attempted to master it yet. had been too CONTENT to want to try.

"i think it's just a normal arrow." she wondered how she would know the difference; decides it would feel WORSE somehow. how could it feel worse? she forbade herself from thinking about it another moment, from thinking about the times her loved ones had come into contact with such arrows. with a practised hand she released a dagger from it's holster and used it to cut through the bottom half of her leather sleeve, baring her forearm, and held the scrap of material to her sister; showing her the layer of lambs wool. it was long enough for her to wrap around her palm twice to avoid harm - whether from poison or scratches.

"it won't look good if we're both bloodied when we return home." she smiled, hoping that the expression would be reassuring on her features.

she had laughed — my sister had laughed, while i was still left panting and reeling from shock, stunned by the willingness of my eldest sister to take an arrow for me. her training, which i had heard so much about, but still had yet to see in action, paying off fully as she darted through the air with strength and agility that was almost hard to believe. but it was not nearly as shocking as the realization that nesta had saved me, with her fierce determination and drive. pushing me out of the way and flinging herself forward — i only had moments to react, a roaring scream ripping out of my throat as i watched the arrow pierce her, before immediately whipping balls of fire and ice at our attackers and winnowing us as far away as possible. my magic draining, we’d have to wait or dare hobbling through the woods to safety.

she had done it to protect me — to protect my mate and our son, who would be left parentless if rhys or i ever went down. both burdened by a senseless bargain we had made out of the crippling fear of having to imagine enduring a second of this life without each other. but i wondered if nesta knew i couldn’t bare the thought of ever losing her either — especially not with the knowledge that she had so easily sacrificed herself for me. the promise i had made to our mother to protect both her and elain still rang loudly in my ears — the first duty i had ever held onto, long before i knew the massive responsibilities the cauldron and fate would bring me to. “ i would’ve been fine. ”

my face softened as i studied her leg, relieved that it hadn’t hit her anywhere worse and she somehow managed to maintain a sense of humor about it. i shook my head as she leaned forward to grip the arrow, my own hand gently reaching for hers. “ don’t — you have to be careful. if you pull it out wrong, you could make it much worse. let me. ” i pulled out a knife and cut off the end of the arrow with the swiftness of a starving girl who had taught herself to become a hunter. “ your magic — can you feel it? is the tip made of ash? ”

Feyre and Nesta

Not me, because Nesta had always known and hated that she and I were two sides of the same coin, and that I could fight my own battles. ~ acotar ch.4

I couldn’t bring myself to look at my slightly uptilted eyes. I knew I’d see Nesta or my mother looking back at me. I’d sometimes wondered if that was why my sister had insulted me about my looks. I was a far cry from ugly, but … I bore too much of the people we’d hated and loved for Nesta to stand it. For me to stand it, too. ~ acotar ch.7

Nesta merely stared at me for a long while before asking me to teach her how to paint. ~ acotar ch.30

“I couldn’t take care of us, not the way you did. I hated you for that. But I hated him more. I still do.” ~ acotar ch.30

“We don’t need you here, Feyre. Do not look back.”

“Father once told you to never come back,” Nesta said, “and I’m telling you now. We can take care of ourselves.”

Once I might have thought it was an insult, but now I understood—understood what a gift she was offering me. ~ acotar ch.31

“There is a better world, Nesta. There is a better world out there, waiting for you to find it. And if I ever get the chance, if things are ever better, safer … I will find you again.” ~ acotar ch.31

✩₊˚.⋆♡⋆⁺₊✧

“Nesta,” I said, starting on the other wing, “I painted flames for her. She was always angry, always burning. I think she would like Velaris, despite herself.” ~ acomaf ch.49

“Nesta is different from most people,” I explained. “She comes across as rigid and vicious, but I think it’s a wall. A shield—like the ones Rhys has in his mind.”

“Against what?”

“Feeling. I think Nesta feels everything—sees too much; sees and feels it all. And she burns with it. Keeping that wall up helps from being overwhelmed, from caring too greatly.” ~ acomaf ch.58

“She will never love freely and gift it to everyone who crosses her path. But the few she does care for … I think Nesta would shred the world apart for them. Shred herself apart for them.” ~ acomaf ch.58

✩₊˚.⋆♡⋆⁺₊✧

“I assumed you could read as easily as us.”

“Well, I couldn’t.”

“Why didn’t you ask us to teach you?”

I trailed a finger over the neat row of spines. “Because I doubted you would agree to help.” Nesta stiffened like I’d hit her, coldness blooming in those eyes. ~ acowar ch.30

“Why do you push everyone away but Elain?” Why have you always pushed me away?

Some emotion guttered in her eyes. Her throat bobbed. Nesta shut her eyes for a moment, breathing in sharply. “Because—” ~ acowar ch.30

I gripped Nesta’s fingers in my free hand. She glanced at me.

I need you to trust me, I tried to convey to her.

Nesta read the emotion in my eyes—and gave the barest dip of her chin. ~ acowar ch.31

“Run toward the light,” I breathed to Nesta. “I’ll hold them off.”

“No.”

“Run,” I breathed. “Please.”

She hesitated.

“Please,” I begged her, my voice breaking.

Nesta squeezed my hand once. ~ acowar ch.31

But Nesta looked to me—and I could have sworn fear shone there, and guilt and … some other feeling. “You told me to run.”

“You’re my sister,” was all I said. She’d once tried to cross the wall to save me. ~ acowar ch.32

And nearly made my heart stop dead with shock as she said, “You look beautiful.” ~ acowar ch.41

“It was some distant thing,” she said. “War. Battle. It … it’s not anymore. I will help, if I can. If it means … telling them what happened.”

“You’ve given enough,” I said, my dress rustling as I braved a solitary step toward her. ~ acowar ch.42

“But beneath the wall, I witnessed children—entire families—starve to death.” She jerked her chin at me. “Were it not for my sister … I would be among them.”

My eyes burned, but I blinked it away. ~ acowar ch.46

“Sometimes … I have problems with small spaces.”

Nesta studied me for a long moment. And then she said with equal quiet, though we could all hear, “I can’t get into a bathtub anymore. I have to use buckets.”

I hadn’t known—hadn’t even thought that bathing, submerging in water …

I knew better than to touch her hand. But I said, “When we get home, we’ll install something else for you.”

I could have sworn there was gratitude in her eyes—that she might have said something else. ~ acowar ch.52

“Nesta is many things, but she’s certainly loyal.” ~ acowar ch.61

Nesta broke into another sprint. I reached for Rhysand, his face taut as he stalked for us—

But Nesta got there first.

I swallowed my shout of pain as Nesta’s arms went around my neck and she embraced me so hard it snatched my breath away.

Her body shook—shook as she sobbed and said over and over and over, “Thank you.” ~ acowar ch.65

A moment later, another warm body nestled on my left. Nesta’s scent drifted over me, fire and steel and unbending will. ~ acowar ch.65

I offered my hand to my sister. “I want you here for this. With me.”

Nesta considered that outstretched hand. For a moment, I thought she’d walk away.

But she slid her hand into mine, and together we walked into that room. ~ acowar ch.79

✩₊˚.⋆♡⋆⁺₊✧

“She wanted you there.” I wanted you there. ~ acofas ch.13

She settled back in her seat, crossing her arms. “Why do I have to be a part of your merry little band?”

“You’re my sister.” ~ acofas ch.13

“I know you still blame yourself for your sisters being Made.” Mor nudged my knee with her own. “And because of that, you want to fix everything for them now that they’re here.”

“I always wanted to do that,” I said glumly.

Mor smiled crookedly. “That’s why we love you. Why they love you.”

Nesta, I wasn’t so sure about. ~ acofas ch.18

But Nesta’s attention had gone to the birthday cake still sitting on the table, its various tiers delved into many times over.

Her eyes lifted to mine in the silence. “Happy birthday.” ~ acofas ch.20

✩₊˚.⋆♡⋆⁺₊✧

Every piece of art had been picked by Feyre herself, or painted by her, many of them portraits and depictions of them—her friends, her … new family.

There were none of Nesta, naturally. ~ acosf ch.1

“I’ll take the blame,” Feyre went on, “for allowing things to get this far, and this bad. After the war with Hybern, with everything else that was going on, it … You … I should have been there to help you, but I wasn’t, and I am ready to admit that this is partially my fault.” ~ acosf ch.1

“Keep your self-righteous do-gooder nonsense out of my life.”

“You don’t have a life,” Feyre retorted. “And I’m not going to sit by for another moment and watch you destroy yourself.” She put a tattooed hand on her heart, like it meant something. “I decided after the war to give you time, but it seems that was wrong. I was wrong.” ~ acosf ch.1

“I built a room in this house for you. I asked you to help me decorate it. You told me to piss off.”

“Why would I ever want to stay in this house?” ~ acosf ch.2

Feyre’s eyes blazed. “But I’m done paying for you to destroy yourself.” ~ acosf ch.2

There was nothing to bind them together anymore. ~ acosf ch.2

“Because she hates me.”

Feyre snorted. “Cassian, Nesta does not hate you. Believe me.”

“She sure as shit acts like it.”

Feyre shook her head. “No, she doesn’t.” Her words were pained enough that he frowned…

…Feyre sighed. “That’s my long way of saying that if Nesta hated you … I know what it looks like, and she doesn’t hate you.” ~ acosf ch.11

Hunting to keep them fed had taught Feyre that skill set. Hunting, while Nesta had stayed home, safe and warm, and let Feyre venture into that forest alone. Those skills Feyre had honed had allowed her to survive against the High Fae and all their terrors, but … Feyre only had them because of what she’d been forced to do. Because Nesta hadn’t been the one to do it. To step up. ~ acosf ch.12

“Feyre taught me how to use a bow.” Only a few lessons, and long ago, but Nesta remembered. It was one of the few times she and Feyre had been allies. ~ acosf ch.12

“Not Feyre.” Nesta hated the words. The way his back stiffened. She couldn’t look at him as she said, “I just …” How could she explain the tangle between her and her sister? The self-loathing that threatened to consume her every time she looked at her sister’s face? ~ acosf ch.16

“I hadn’t realized you were keeping score.”

Feyre gave her an exasperated look. “I’m not, Nesta. I just … Do I need an excuse to share things with you? You’re my sister. I wanted to tell you before anyone else. That’s it.” ~ acosf ch.21

Only Feyre had kept them fed and clothed, earning scant amounts for the pelts and meat she hunted. She’d kept them alive. The last time she’d hunted for them, the food had run out the day before. If Feyre hadn’t returned home with meat that night, they either would have had to starve to death or beg in the village. ~ acosf ch.25

Nesta didn’t care if he’d come to help during the final battle with Hybern.

Tamlin had hurt Feyre. Unforgivably. ~ acosf ch.25

She’d failed at everything. But she could do this.

She’d failed her father, failed Feyre for years before that. ~ acosf ch.29

“...Because you thought Feyre was your property.”

Nesta pointed at Tamlin. The ground shook. ~ acosf ch.43

“I can’t believe Feyre ever loved Tamlin.”

“Tamlin never deserved her.” Cassian rested a hand on her back.

“No.” Nesta again peered into the darkness below. “He didn’t.” ~ acosf ch.43

“Nesta is a wolf who has been locked in a cage her whole life.” ~ acosf ch.44

I knew she was an artist then. The same way Feyre is. But what Feyre does with paint, that’s what Nesta did with music and dance. ~ acosf ch.44

“Feyre doesn’t love me.” She didn’t deserve Feyre’s love. ~ acosf ch.46

And Nesta knew then that she had not once in her life been loved by her mother as much as Feyre already loved the boy growing within her.

It broke something in Nesta—broke that rage, that roaring—seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumpling Feyre’s paint-smeared face.

She had gone too far. She … Oh, gods. ~ acosf ch.46

She had the courage to tell me the truth.

She told you the truth to hurt you.

Perhaps. But she was the only one who said anything. ~ acosf ch.47

and I would have let us all starve to prove what a wretch he was. It consumed me so much that … that I let Feyre go into that forest and told myself I didn’t care, that she was half-wild, and it didn’t matter, and yet …” She let out a wrenching cry. “I close my eyes and I see her that day she went out to hunt the first time... And now I will see Feyre’s face when I told her that the baby would kill her.” ~ acosf ch.50

“You’ve probably guessed that my residency in the House, my training, my work in the library is my sister’s attempt to help me.” Her sister whom she had still not apologized to, whom she still didn’t have the courage to face. “And I … I think I might be glad Feyre did this for me. The drinking, the males—I don’t miss any of it.” ~ acosf ch.51

and Nesta had heard Feyre’s harrowing tales of visiting the Prison on several occasions. Little frightened her sister... ~ acosf ch.53

Her sister’s eyes slid to her. Nesta swallowed, holding Feyre’s gaze. She prayed that her sister could read the silent words on her face. I am sorry for what I said to you in Amren’s apartment. I am truly sorry.

Feyre’s eyes softened. And then, to Nesta’s shock, Feyre answered into her mind, Don’t worry about it.

I spoke in anger, and I’m sorry.

Feyre’s pause was considerable. Then she said, the words like the first rays of dawn, I forgive you. ~ acosf ch.55

Nesta’s stare drifted to the paint flaking off the walls. The intricate little designs. Cassian followed her stare. “Did Feyre paint that?”

Nesta swallowed, and managed to get out, “She painted every chance she got. Any extra coin she managed to save went toward paints.” ~ acosf ch.55

But she nodded at Cassian and sat, saying to Feyre, “Happy birthday.”

Feyre smiled again. “Thank you.”

And that was that. ~ acosf ch.58

... precisely the sort of room she’d have designed for herself if she’d been given the chance.

She had been given the chance, she realized. Feyre had asked, and she’d refused. Apparently, Feyre had done it herself, somehow knowing what she’d like. ~ acosf ch.58

“Despite her faults—and mine—we loved each other dearly. We were all each other had while growing up. She was the only one I could truly rely on. I miss her every day.”

Nesta couldn’t stop herself from thinking of Feyre. ~ acosf ch.59

“I know who you are. I’m not stupid enough to go after you.”

“It’s the Blood Rite. You’d be forgiven.”

“Feyre Cursebreaker would not forgive me for killing her sister.” ~ acosf ch.66

“We didn’t learn archery,” Emerie breathed...

But Nesta nocked the arrow in place. Took aim. Right at Gwyn, who eyed the rope tied to the arrow, the other end around the tree and Emerie, and understood.

“My sister taught me.” Nesta’s arms trembled as she drew back the string. “A long time ago.” ~ acosf ch.68

Feyre.

Feyre, who had gone into the woods for them. Who had saved them so many times.

Feyre. Her sister. ~ acosf ch.76

Stroking Feyre’s cold hand, Nesta spoke into the timeless, frozen room, “You loved me when no one else would. You never stopped. Even when I didn’t deserve it, you loved me, and fought for me, and …” Nesta looked at Feyre’s face, Death a breath away from claiming it. She didn’t stop the tears that ran down her cheeks as she squeezed Feyre’s slender hand tighter. “I love you, Feyre.”

She had never said the words aloud. To anyone.

“I love you,” Nesta whispered again. “I love you.” ~ acosf ch.77

She blinked at Rhys, and then turned to Nesta.“I love you, too,” Feyre whispered to her sister, and smiled.

Nesta didn’t stop her sob as she launched herself onto Feyre and embraced her. ~ acosf ch.77

She’d joined them at the river house one night to find a mating present from Feyre waiting for her. Hanging on the wall in the grand entry.

A portrait of Nesta, holding the line at the Pass of Enalius…

Nesta had stared and stared at her portrait, hung between one of Feyre and one of Elain, and hadn’t realized she was crying until Feyre had held her tightly. ~ acosf ch.80

She found Feyre and Elain waiting halfway down the hill, Nyx now dozing peacefully in Elain’s arms. Her sisters beamed, beckoning her to join.

And Nesta smiled back, her steps light as she hurried down the hill to meet them. ~ acosf ch.80

Feyre and ? | pt.1 | pt.2 ...

“do you ever think about the person you would have become if our mother hadn’t died – if we hadn’t lost our fortune?” it may seem as though nesta is (once again) ignoring the youngest archeron’s words; her pain. she isn’t. despite being all too aware of the hard truths, having them affirmed for her scratches an itch. in the past few months she has been doing much better, but she has also come to the conclusion that she doesn’t want to forget the person she once was. she fears she could just as easily slip back into that role; whether tomorrow or two hundred years down the line. “i've thought about it a lot over the years. you always had more freedom than we did. i would have married a powerful man and become his puppeteer. elain would have married a handsome man, and given him countless, beautiful heirs... but you could have been anything, feyre. you could have honed your craft with renowned artists, travelled the globe with our father, eaten as many delicious foods as you desired. in the end you would have found yourself here, i know that now, but until then you would have been just as special. would have taken interesting lovers, too.” more interesting than the hale boy who had always been so beneath her. 

“it was never you i hated, feyre.” in the depths of her being nesta knows that part of the reason she had resented her youngest sister so is that she had kept her ALIVE when she had lost all interest in being. ultimately, she hadn’t wanted to starve to death - not really. she could have done just that and allowed her sister’s to have satisfying portions each night that they'd had food. but she had seen the reality of families who had wasted away into the winter, and had just enough self-preservation to keep herself from joining them. but it didn’t stop her from being weak in every other sense. knowing that her sister, who had looked so much like her, was far stronger than she could ever hope to be at such a young age had made her CRUEL BEYOND BELIEF. she knew it, but she couldn’t stop herself from succumbing to the fury when it etched it’s way into her being. she’d simply taken it out on the wrong person.

“i hated our mother for leaving us before we could find security… our father for giving up. i hated that you had to become that version of yourself. but most of all i hated myself for not being able to do what you could.” she’s thankful that she has been mirroring her sister’s body language all this time, lithe fingers wrap more tightly around the railing as she absorbs the peaceful view. she’s grateful to avoid her sisters' sparkling gaze; can’t bare to see what emotions may be evident on her features. feyre had rarely been able to hide her feelings when they were younger. time in prythian had improved her skills, but they still slipped through in moments when her guard was down. no doubt some form of disgust coloured her features now. 

"unless one of our enemies gets their way, we're going to live for a very long time. i can't let you spend another minute of it believing that i ever hated you..." an unexpected smile graces her lips, and she continues. "except for when you banished me to the house of wind, i did hate you then."

@moondevoured : "we had nothing except each other."

“ that’s not how i remember it. ” i stared ahead, clutching the railing, and struggling to bite back the resentment that ached to pour out of me. i was so tired of fighting. of holding onto any of the bitterness that had festered in my new, immortal heart. all i had ever wanted was my sisters — my family, to see me, to fight for me, as i had always been willing to do for them. that promise i had made to our mother still hung over me even now. to stay together and look after them. but i could still remember the sneers each time i trekked back home through the woods, my knuckles blistered from the cold and scarred by bowstrings, clothes splattered with blood, and hair a matted mess. a wild animal, nesta had declared, barely housebroken. even while that scared and lonely girl still cowered in the corners of my soul.

“ you and elain had each other. i had myself. ” and my paint brushes and glimpses of a starry night to keep me company and give me comfort. even before our mother had died and we had lost everything, my earliest memories still involved me having to fend for myself. left out of the dance lessons and dress shopping nesta and elain seemed to revel in. i had been too strange and restless for our mother to waste her time investing in. i was a bother. an inconvenience that taught herself how to become scarce. “ you never wanted me to tag along anyway. ”

@feydarling — “ if you die for me i’m gonna be really fucking mad keep your eyes open. ”

"many people strive to die as they lived." nesta's lips spread into a horrific smile, revealing the blood that has bubbled up in her throat and settled between her teeth. she's only vaguely aware of the wet sensation as it dribbles from the corner of her mouth. "...there are worse things to die for."

but she takes a SHUDDERING BREATH - a promise that she has no intention of dying - and fights the heaviness of her eyelids to survey the sky above. it's difficult for her to tell if the illyrians are moving impossibly fast amongst the clouds, or if her vision is simply blurring. "dying for merrill, now that would really piss me off."

“ well, he’s very smart to trust me. he may just be my favourite archeron of all. ” she examines her youngest sister, more mature than her years, with a flicker of amusement in her normally tense gaze. but as she looks over at the small child, she realises the truth in her words. not only is he entirely innocent, with nothing but potential to be the very best parts of everyone who would touch his life... he was also proof that she could do some good with hers. nyx may not be her child. she could only imagine the dauntingly large children she would one day have with her own mate. but he is a piece of her heart - a piece that is safe and sound, snoozing right before her eyes, without a care in the world. nesta finds herself wanting to reach out and touch his soft cheek, but she reaches out for her sister instead, and rests a hand over the back of feyre’s. 

“ he is your greatest piece of art so far, and there isn’t a soul in velaris who wouldn’t lay their life down for his. ” nesta doesn’t know the people well; not even those she knows carnally, but she has witnessed the adoration on their faces when she has walked with her sister. has felt the RESPECT of those who recognised her relation. she had never deserved that reverence before. but she finds herself desiring it. silver eyes return to her sister’s face. it’s easier to look at her than it has been in the past. she no longer sees the judgemental eyes of their mother; nor her own cruel gaze staring back at her. all she sees now is her sister. her high lady. and most importantly, the mother to her nephew. “ i can stay for the night so you can all get some sleep — if you need. ”

neither of us had ever been good at this — honesty. feelings. letting our guards down. but i knew better now than to waste any more energy on false pretenses and rebuilding fragile defenses. not with my sisters, not with our family. not after we had come so close to losing everything again — a hairs breath away from death, i had walked that thin line and managed to come back again. with my mate. with our son. thanks to my sister and the sacrifice she had not hesitated to make. i did not care to discover how many more lives the cauldron would be kind enough to grant me, how much luck i could take for granted — i knew i had to make the most of this one.

faelights lit the walls of our home, comfortable silence filling the rooms as dusk creeped near. a robe, another gift from rhys and made of some rare material somehow smoother and finer than silk, hung loosely around me. my calloused and worn hands slowly rocked nyx’s crib, the tension in my forehead easing as i observed the innocence and well-being shining across his perfect, dozing face. i could barely stand to be away from him for more than a second, an overwhelming feeling of terror and panic possessing me each second he was more than an arms length away from me, as if someone was waiting around the corner to try and snatch him away from us once more. my body was healing, but my mind remained restless. i could only rest, if even just slightly, if i knew he was being carefully watched by one of my sisters or mor. i finally glanced back to nesta, my features weathered but open, “ he feels safe with you too. ”

nesta struggles to place the surprise in feyre’s voice, uncertain of why her words had surprised her so. as much as she wants to know, she isn’t ready to ask. but then feyre speaks again – words that confirm that they did in fact share similarities beyond the obvious ones gifted to them by lineage. the eldest sister had often felt alone too. alone despite the smothering attention of their mother, alone despite her closeness with the sister she could never compare to, alone despite the males she took home each night while she pushed the rest of the world away. she too had endured the loneliness but had refused to let another soul note how she loathed it. 

the movement of feyre’s hair catches her eye and she risks glancing at her again. it's as if she’s on a ship, floating across oceans, tendrils of her locks dancing on a sea breeze to liberty beside her. “— did you?” she asks softly, slotting a new piece of the puzzle into place and giving a new dimension to the sister who had saved her life... the sister who she barely knows. not in the ways that matter. and she’s not sure that she ever had dreams like that. her own aspirations had only ever been material; luxurious dresses to covet, a rich man to buy her treasures. finding them for herself had never once entered her mind.

stormy eyes stray back to the glittering landscape at the mention of rhys’ beliefs about their childhoods and their fates. “maybe so,” she murmurs, not entirely certain she agrees, but unsure if it comes from a desire to be contrary where the high lord is concerned. it's tough for her to swallow that the notion that the harsh reality they endured could be thought of as necessary, especially when she could still remember her youngest sister's face on the morning she went hunting for the first time as vividly as she did. it's as if it that version of her younger self stands before her now, eyes full of determination and fear. nesta can't help but remember the way she'd GLOWERED at her while elain wished her well.

“it was out of love.” 

the words lift nesta from dangerous territory. it was so like them. nesta focusing on hatred, letting it gnaw at her bones. feyre choosing love, asking it to guide her like starlight. she remains silent, emotion thick in her throat, and bites the inside of her cheek as she searches for something to say. anything to avoid the generosity offered to her younger self. "if we could go back in time," she begins, pulse pounding in her ears. "i'd like to think i'd be a better sister to you. learned to hunt with you, helped you wash the blood out of your clothes, taught you how to read... and i should have made you feel safe enough to ask for help with those things."

" freedom? " i finally looked over at my sister, my brow furrowed with something bordering on astonishment. was it truly possible that my sister, who radiated with such severe beauty and intensity, had envied me for the disdain and abandonment i had been fostered with? no one had ever seemed to care to notice me -- a neglected child left alone in the corner playing with shadows, so easily forgotten. " i taught myself how to endure being alone, but i never enjoyed it. " i would have traded my so called freedom for nesta's gilded cage and our mother's rigorous expectations back then, if it meant receiving even a sliver of her acknowledgment. and yet, i had also always yearned to escape -- something in my gut pulling me towards the horizon, to explore the deep unknown. ( a gentle tug leading me towards my real home. ) my happiest moments as a child were spent in alone our father's office, studying the maps as if i had any formal education in cartography, yearning to feel the sea breeze whipping through my hair. my voice softened, " i used to think i'd take over his business you know. sail away and travel across the continent. "

that all changed as soon as we lost everything. i rarely allowed myself to dream after that, to consider what might have been if our father hadn't been so weak and so careless. fantasies could only trap you in a maze of delusion, the means of our survival dependent upon my righteous will and cynical practicality. painting was the only form of escapism i truly afforded myself, visions of the night sky keeping me warm at night and holding me together before i even knew i needed it. " rhys thinks everything had to happen exactly as it did for us to be here now. " it had taken some time for me to agree with that, to accept that our suffering was inevitable -- and yet it had all been worth it, to quiet the storm in our minds, restless waves with nothing to break against. for once in my life, i finally felt whole. i had everything i could ever want and resentment had never truly served me.

a soft smile threatened to crack through as i studied my sister's features, silver eyes that were so eerily reminiscent of my own -- intense enough that even i could hardly stand to wither beneath her stare. " it was out of love. " it always had been, even when i never would've admitted it before -- all of the choices i had made were motivated by the unconditional love i had carried for my sisters, for our family. nothing had ever broken that, not even our mother's games. " you were an easy person to blame, but you didn't deserve it either. we were children -- even if our youth was robbed from us. "

@feydarling — i'm not perfect. none of us are.

"you say that, but it doesn’t stop you from acting like you’re better than everyone else. like you make better choices, and you’re morally superior. i don’t even think you realise you’re doing it anymore. it comes to you like air... don't get me started on the others."

as a child, feyre had often acted like she was above her older sisters. had looked at them like they were shallow and frivolous for wanting to enjoy new dresses and shoes — like all the other girls... like the girls they had been before they lost everything. nesta could only assume it made her feel better about her own choices; to believe the two of them were too vapid to be able to survive without her. perhaps they had been. nesta knew she wouldn’t be capable of killing an animal, of skinning and gutting it, and serving it for dinner. she didn't have the stomach for it. but there had been other ways for her to survive. she was fourteen when they had lost their fortune, but she had seen the way men looked at her long before that. she could have seduced one of them easily; become a mistress to a wealthy man. could have kept her entire family fed and clothed that way. if she’d wanted to. even when they found themselves in a desperate state, she could have found somebody to covet her emaciated figure. but she didn’t want to. 

in the past she had been able to ignore the way feyre had rolled her eyes at them. more recently she welcomed the derision; knew that she herself had been guilty of a lot worse and felt she deserved the repercussions. but neither of the archeron's are the same girl they each left in that cottage. they've grown in different directions, but they're both capable of making informed choices. she's tired of her decisions always being a point of contention, of being held to the standard of the girl she hasn't been in years, and she's exhausted by the way her blood boils when she's expected to defend herself to the inner circle when they're not even interested in her side of the story.