A/N: I wrote this a long time ago and it was a WIP, but I felt like posting something for Valentines Day

“You Buzzard!” Aelin exclaimed. “Give me my phone!” Rowan merely rolled his eyes and proceeded to unlock Aelin’s phone. “You’re not going to find it,”

“Oh, really? Because I just found a file called ‘Baby Photos’.” Rowan boasted. Aelin let out a mumbled curse. Then, “Oh my gods! You were soooo cute! Look how chubby your cheeks were!” Rowan extends the screen to Aelin for reference, and she uses to opportunity to snatch it back.

“I hate you.” Aelin teased, blushing. Rowan grinned triumphantly.

“And I love you too.” He joked. Well, sort of joked. Rowan was very confused by his feelings for Aelin. Were they friends? Were they more than friends? Aelin nudged him playfully in the ribs.

“Hey, do you wanna go get something to eat? Lysandra started working at this café and she said we could get free food if we helped her clean up the kitchen.” Aelin suggested. Rowan shrugged.

“Sure, I guess. I can drive,” He offered. Aelin nodded. Was this a date? No, Rowan reminded himself, we hang out sometimes. That’s all it was.

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Rowan parked outside of Caravere Café. Aelin rushed in to hug her friend Lysandra. Lysandra gestured to Rowan and whispered something to Aelin that made her blush. Rowan walked within earshot of the two girls.

“Hello, Lysandra.” He greeted politely. Aelin mumbled something about how hungry she was before trudging towards the kitchen. Rowan watched intently as Aelin nudged the door open with her hip. Lysandra caught his eye and winked before telling him that their food is in the kitchen and they can eat there. She said something about the door in the kitchen, but Rowan was too eager to get some alone time with Aelin.

When Rowan got into the small kitchen, Aelin was already halfway done with her sandwich. Rowan ate half of his sandwich and they started cleaning. Lysandra came in a little later asking them to clean the back closet while she went to the grocery store.

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“Here. Put this outside, will you?” Aelin asked. They had just started cleaning. The closet was very small; barely six and a half feet tall(Rowan’s head almost hits the ceiling), close to four square feet, with some lighting. Rowan grunted as he lifted a heavy box. He stepped back inside to survey the room(If you could even call it that). Then there was a click. The door shut. Shit, Rowan thought. He jiggled the handle. Locked. They were trapped. Breathing became difficult. It was then that Aelin and Rowan noticed their proximity. Aelin was almost pressed against Rowan’s chest. They were close enough to share breath. Rowan began to sweat. Screw this, Rowan thought. He tilted his head down and caressed Aelin’s lips with his own. They collectively sighed and finally let themselves embrace what they had denied for so long.

Fic Masterlist/ Main Masterlist

Rhys had had one hell of a night. Racing down the dark avenue, he only slowed momentarily to catch a glimpse of his pursuers. Luckily, there was no one behind him, meaning he had outrun the rival gang’s members. His ex-girlfriend, Amarantha, had sold him out to the leader of the Spring gang, Tamlin. Rhys dove into an empty store on one of the side streets that ran along the avenue. Gasping for breath, he reached into his pocket to retrieve a burner phone. He dialed the only person he could call, praying that she would pick up.

“Hello?” A cautious, yet silky feminine voice drawled on the other line. Rhys sighed in relief.

“Don’t hang up, please! I need your help, Feyre.” He begged, voice cracking on her name. A wave of dizziness overcame him momentarily, and he clutched his arm to try and staunch the bleeding. He clenched his teeth against the pain, unable to stop a grunt as he pinched the wound to seal it off. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he realized Feyre’s line had gone deathly silent. Then she inhaled sharply.

“I’m coming to find you.” Determination filled her voice. Then- “Are you… are you hurt?” Rhys was beyond surprised to hear concern, no, worry in her tone.

“I’m fine. Just a little stab wound,”

“Rhys!” Feyre exclaimed, sounds of shuffling and the jingling of keys were audible. “Where are you?” He then proceeded to tell her his location, hoping against all odds that she would have mercy on him. Mercy, because Feyre Archeron had once promised to kill him, and cauldron knew that she most definitely could.

He began to dream of the night that they first met, and of the deal that they had struck:

He had planned on going to the roof to escape the noise, but he had hesitated upon seeing a beautiful, golden-haired woman practically running from the obnoxiously loud ballroom. From an outsider’s perspective, it looked like a huge company party full of snobby rich people. In actuality, it was filled to the brim with gang bosses, members, and the occasional hacker. The ball was the only day each year that the gangs even pretended to be civil with each other. He eventually decided to follow the woman out the exterior door that she had gone through to make sure she was safe. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” Rhysand purred at the gorgeous woman standing before him as the door closed behind him with a click. She was wearing a long, forest green gown that accentuated her already devastating figure. The woman scoffed at him before running her eyes up and down his own body. Damn him if it didn’t make his heart pick up its pace in his chest. He chastised himself for his thoughts. He had a girlfriend, albeit an abusive and controlling one that always had some way to blackmail him.

“You’re a prick, you know that, right?” Her eyes blazed with fire and amusement that had feelings stirring in Rhys that he admittedly hadn’t felt in a long time. Or ever.

“The name’s Rhysand, not prick, but I’m fine with anything you call me as long as it is coming out of that delicious mouth of yours, Darling.” She rolled her eyes at his antics, before dropping her eyes to the ground.

“My name is Feyre,” She whispered before continuing, her next words ones that chilled Rhys to his very core, “Tamlin doesn’t like me talking to anyone.” Icy rage shot through Rhys’s veins like adrenaline. How could anyone be so cruel? Then he realized: wasn’t that what Amarantha had been doing to him? Isolating him from his friends. His rage dulled into sadness for the both of them. Rhys took a few tentative steps closer to Feyre and tilted her chin up.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not just anyone.” He murmured, his breath caressing her forehead. Even in such high heels, Rhys had about five inches on her. She shivered, causing him to be concerned. He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, and her shivering stopped.

“Thank you.” She murmured, rubbing her hands over her gloved arms to warm them up. One of her gloves slipped down her forearm; that was when he saw the bruises. His fury returned in full force at what Tamlin had done to her. Her eyes widened as she realized that her arms had been exposed.

“I can help you.” Rhys whispered. She shook her head.

“Please leave me alone.” She drew back from him.

“I- I can’t.” He silently pleaded with her to return to his embrace, so he could protect her. She pulled out a vicious looking knife and it clattered to the ground when she threw it away.

“I was supposed to kill you. Tamlin told me to stab you when I lured you out here, but I can’t. You’re- you’re so different than what I thought you’d be.” Her voice was thick with guilt. Rhys realized that he should have known better than to fall for such a trick. Then again, she had seemed to be in genuine pain.

“I guess I owe you then.” He regarded her in a flat tone, but when he met her gaze, he let his expression show the true offer there. Do you need me to get you out? He asked through his eyes. She nodded, only a small sliver of doubt in her eyes as she extended her hand to shake his.

“If you’re lying to me, then I’ll kill you. But we have a bargain.” He gripped her small hand in his large one.

“Then I swear to never lie to you, Feyre Darling.” Her eyes softened, and they hurried away from the party, but not carefully enough to escape the notice of a certain red-haired henchman, who finally did something to help his friend Feyre. He told Tamlin nothing.

In the three weeks since he’d helped her to get away from Tamlin, Feyre and him had finally built a tentative trust between themselves. Rhys knew that she would not be happy about him going on such a dangerous mission without telling her or anyone else in the gang first, but Rhys just had to go after Tamlin. Tamlin, who was still apparently very angry about the disappearance of his girlfriend, who was coincidentally his best person in the field. Tamlin had taken to giving Feyre low paying, low risk jobs in order to keep control over her. Rhys sighed in resignation. At least Amarantha was gone forever; she had been sleeping with Tamlin for the past year. Luckily, Tamlin still had no idea where Feyre was; she was living in Rhys’s own apartment on the other side of the city. Rhys was losing consciousness from the blood loss, and his surroundings were starting to slip away from him. The last thing he thought of before he succumbed to darkness was the look that would be on Feyre’s face when she heard what had become of her ex-lover and what Rhys had done and still planned to do to him.

Twenty minutes later, Rhys was shaken awake by a pair of small hands with slight calluses and definite strength despite their size.

“Rhys!” It was Feyre. This was the first time she had ever used his preferred name; she always called him either Rhysand or Prick. She gently slapped him, and he forced his eyes open a crack.

“Feyre,” He murmured, his voice coming out as a breathy whisper. He traced her cheekbone with his fingers, unable to keep his mask up in his weakened state. Feyre could probably see every emotion in his eyes before they drifted closed again. The darkness beckoned him into its depths. Rhys knew that he didn’t have much time left. He felt himself slipping away.

“Rhys, please.” There was so much distress in her voice, and resolve too, that she sounded like she maybe…cared for him. Rhys didn’t actually believe this, of course. He was darkness, she was light, but when she held his hand and started to lift him, he made himself hold on. He just needed to keep the darkness at bay for a little longer.

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A/N: This is going to be a little more angsty and action packed than most of my other fics. There will still be fluff, I promise, just not in this chapter 😏. Also, I know I heavily imply that Rhys is dead in this chapter, but he’s just dying, I swear(he’ll be fine, where would our story be without him). Yes, I sound just a tad sadistic right now, but it gets better.

Feyre collapsed into one of the massive green armchairs, and he followed suit. Much of this dorm was Tamlin’s; Rhys only brought his backpack to and from the room during the day to get clothes and to do his homework there.

“Why were you running?” Rhys inquired.

“I didn’t want Ianthe to see me going to Tamlin’s room while he’s out and start asking questions. Oh, what am I going to do, Rhys?”

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*casually stops updating fics* Thank you to those who follow my fics- if there actually are any of you out there who are that devoted to the quirky fics created by little old me. I’m planning to get back into writing(and I even want to write a novel). Just be paitient with me and please-

Fic Masterlist/ Main Masterlist

Elain

“Checkmate!” Elain squealed as she finally finally beat Az in chess. He chuckled before wincing at the sound of the guards outside the door coming to attention at Elain’s excited cheers. Both of them were quick to quiet and fearful glances were exchanged between the two. One of the soldiers burst in, and with a disapproving glare, he slammed the door shut on his way out.

Elain was so overcome with relief that she wound her arms around Azriel’s neck, and despite everything, she giggled. Azriel tensed before sliding his arms around her waist and placing her on his lap. It was so good to have a friend here, after Tamlin’s insane notion that her sister would find out about his interest in Elain and become jealous. Elain believed that Feyre would be revolted at the notion of her ex-lover and sister together, especially if the way that Tamlin had treated Feyre was anything like the way he was treating Elain.

The past three days of being dragged into the debauchery and malice of Hybern’s affairs in the main hall had finally caught up to Elain. She found her eyelids were beginning to droop and her head becoming too heavy to lift. She fell asleep on a warm, muscular chest and she found that, for the first time in weeks, she felt safe. Even though she knew she was running out of time.

Azriel

Azriel was in deep trouble. He had become far too tempted by the allure that was Elain Archeron in the past days. He was scared of how quickly she’d gotten past his walls and how quickly he’d allowed himself to trust her with every piece of his broken heart. His heart, that she’d somehow managed to both warm and heal and hold in both of her delicate hands.

Azriel resolved that he wouldn’t tell her how he felt, for she was too precious to him to risk losing her. However, it was incredibly difficult to deny the staggering beat of his heart and the longing that he felt when she was asleep like this in his arms. Smoothing her hair with a scarred palm, he allowed sleep to finally grasp his consciousness as well.

Feyre

Feyre hadn’t truly slept in a long time. When she succumbed to the temptress that was slumber, she was bombarded by nightmares, the likes of such she hadn’t had since she was with Tamlin. Tamlin had never once woken up, or at least he’d pretended to be asleep when she hurled her guts up or cried at the memory of her parents dying. He would complain, though, that she had been too loud in sleep the night before. Feyre sighed and got out of bed to make herself some herbal tea.

The second she opened her door, she heard noises coming from down the hall. Rhys’s room. She hesitated, wondering if, perhaps, he had brought someone home. They hadn’t spoken of their kiss in the days since it occured. The tension between them was starting to become unbearable for Feyre, and she longed for the sensation of Rhysand’s full lips on hers.They hadn’t made any promises to each other, nor had they discussed what existed between them. Even still, Feyre didn’t think she could stomach seeing-or hearing-him with someone else.

The noises began again, but they were not the sounds of her- of Rhys in the throes of passion. No, they were the screams of someone in agony.

Rhysand

“Kneel.” Red hair red hair red hair. Blood blood my blood. Get me out save me stop this. Rhys’s mind and heart were racing. A sinister smile flashed across the forefront of his mind. That same smile as she strangled someone else. Golden-brown hair and bloodshot blue-gray eyes. Rhys began screaming and sobbing and tearing at the sheets of his bed. His chest and forehead felt damp. Suddenly, there was a weight on his chest, and he tensed, preparing for the worst. Except nothing happened; the weight on his chest wasn’t hurting him, wasn’t making him uncomfortable. “Rhys? Rhys!” The voice was pleading with him now.

Hands grasped his shoulders and pulled him back into reality.

Hybern

Hybern had Rhysand and the Night gang right where he wanted them. Once Feyre was with Tamlin again, the leader of the Spring gang would help him seize control of the manor that the royal family had once inhabited. Everything was falling into place. Except for Hybern’s greatest fear. No, the prince was dead. There was no possible way he could have survived the destruction that had been wrought upon the city when Tamlin and his father had killed the High Lord and the High Lady of Velaris. Even if tamlin himself had told Hybern that the young prince had not been executed that night.

He called for Azriel to bring his latest reports. Hiring the boy had been a godsend, not that Hybern believed in any god. No, to him, the true god was power, and since he had the most of it, he believed himself to be the most holy.

Azriel dutifully told him news of the movements of the Day gang and the Winter gangs’ spies. None of them, it seemed, were too keen on attempting to penetrate Hybern’s security.

Hybern thanked Azriel and asked him to send a maid to deliver Amarantha’s nighttime ‘tonic’.

“Oh, one last thing,” Hybern beckoned his guard back to his throne in the top floor suite of his hotel.

“Yes, sir?” The young man raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“In two days time, you will be required to either escort Elain Archeron to the lobby or… you will be required to shoot her in the head. Understood?” He searched the man’s face for signs of hesitancy or betrayal. He found neither on his solemn face, but in his eyes… fear.

“Understood, sir. Will that be all?” Azriel’s voice was stiff, almost too stiff but not quite. The silent man didn’t have the demeanour of someone how was disloyal, but Hybern sensed that he was missing something important.

“That’s all.” Hybern pursed his lips at the man’s retreating figure. Once the door was shut, he allowed himself to smirk.

Hybern found that poisoning Amarantha to motivate her was invigorating. And no one suspected anything.

Feyre

Grasping her warm mug in her hands, Feyre listened as Rhys explained what he had told Az to do and what the spy had reported about Elain’s state.

“She’s okay, Feyre.” Feyre nearly collapsed against the counter she was leaning on in relief. A few moments passed in comfortable silence as Rhys poured himself a cup of tea and sat beside her on the counter.

“Are you okay, Rhys?” No answer. “When I heard you earlier, I thought- I thought that maybe there was someone with you,” Rhys’s head whipped around to look at her, eyebrows raising up to his hairline. Feyre continued, “Then I heard you scream. Rhys, I’ve never been that scared in my entire life.” She released a breath.

Rhys shook his head. “I’m not completely okay, Darling. I don’t know if I’ll ever be, but I feel better every day. You have no idea how much you make me want to feel okay. You make me feel alive, more alive than I’ve felt since her. Thank you.”

“You make me feel alive too.” Feyre whispered, warmth spreading through her at the tender look in his eyes. He smiled at her, a real, full smile that made her feel like she was floating.

Feyre reached up to trace his smile and Rhys’s eyes fluttered closed. When they opened, they were half lidded with desire. “Feyre.” He purred, and she surged forward to press her lips against his like she’d longed to since their last kiss, even sooner if she were being honest with herself.

When she slid her tongue along his lower lip, he pulled away, leaving Feyre confused and cold without the warmth of him. “We can’t, Feyre. Not until this is all over. All of this Hybern business. I would like to properly court you, and I can’t do that while Hybern is still ruining this city.” He looked just as disappointed as she did, but Feyre understood. She nodded. He ghosted a lingering kiss over her forehead, causing her to shiver and him to smirk.

Feyre watched Rhys’s retreating figure walk all the way down the hallway until he turned around at his room to murmur, just loud enough for Feyre to hear, “Don’t let the hard days win.”

Despite the horror surrounding her, Feyre fell asleep smiling.

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A/N: I did it! Thank you so much for your paitience, I’ve been struggling with mental health lately, and I finally felt good enough to write. Hopefully everyone liked this chapter, it’s a little less angsty than the last one(whew). 💜

P.S. If anyone gets my bizarre reference to ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ they can be my best friend. :)

Tag list:

Chapter 1- Darkness

Chapter 2- Only in Dreams

Chapter 3- A Precipice

Chapter 4- Pawns

Fic Masterlist/ Main Masterlist/Ao3 version(Tumblr version is better)

Feyre

“This is not good. This is not good.” Mor muttered as she paced the apartment. Feyre couldn’t have agreed more; the demands Hybern had made of Rhys were almost driving Feyre to tears of frustration.

Feyre couldn’t keep her mind off of the threat that was clearly aimed at her.

“If you aren’t out of Rhys’s cabal by the end of the week, we’re going to have some issues, aren’t we Elain?” Hybern was such a devil. Feyre’s sister had been put on the line after Feyre had demanded to hear it from her lips so she knew that what Hybern had said was true. “Feyre? Feyre, is that you? Please, he’s got me locked up, I” She was cut off as Hybern drawled again from his side of the line. “That’s enough from you, little doe. You have five days.” With that, the line had cut off.

Now, about six hours later, Feyre was shaking slightly, and she couldn’t seem to get rid of the sickening chill that had crawled its was up her spine. Her hope was starting to fade, and that left her feeling like she was about to pass out.

Luckily, Rhys noticed the shift and ushered Mor into the dining room, murmuring something into her ear that Feyre was barely to make out other than when Rhys said “Call Az.” Mor nodded and vanished from the apartment, presumably to find a burner phone.

Rhys returned a few moments later with a mug of hot tea. He walked her over to the couch and she leaned against him for support. He tensed slightly before sliding an arm around her shoulders.

“Let’s go find her.” Feyre stated with determination. Rhys agreed readily, and despite some hesitation from Mor, set off to go find Elain.

That’s how they ended up in the darkest, dirtiest part of the slums of Velaris. Feyre sighed as she remembered when she was a child how beautiful the city had been when it was led by a royal family, their names forgotten by time and erased from the minds of most people who lived in Velaris. Her own mother had died just before the uprising, so she never had to see her beloved city or husband fall into despair. The Spring gang had killed the ruling lord, his wife, and their two children; some said that Tamlin himself had killed them.

Tamlin was thirty six to her twenty four. She had been fifteen, less than a year younger than the lord’s eldest son had been, when the gangs took over after slowly gaining power for several decades. Would Elain be slaughtered too, just like the lord and lady’s children had been? Feyre shook the thought out of her mind.

As if reading her thoughts, Rhys slowed his efficient walking pace to a stroll, and turned to her.

Rhys

“I miss it too. The music, the lights,” He murmured, a remorseful look crossing over his face, “I lost everyone I loved that night.” The gangs had been ruthless, unforgiving in their path to controlling the city. Feyre remained silent until she tentatively reached out and took his hand. He sighed, glad that she hadn’t asked more about his confession, knowing how risky it would be to reveal his secrets in such a place.

Suddenly, there was a distinct crunching sound, the sound of one carelessly loud footstep. Rhys dropped Feyre’s hand and continued walking for a few moments. He pretended to ignore the Hybernian guard stalking them, Feyre following suit. He knew what he needed to do; he took Feyre by the waist and presses her up against a nearby wall and kissed her.

Feyre

Rhys was kissing her. Rhys was kissing her, and she was kissing him back. The footsteps stopped. Feyre wove her fingers into his hair, just as she had dreamed of doing ever since he had woken up from the injury. Rhys ran his tongue over her lower lip, and she opened her mouth. Feyre groaned into his mouth and his hands tightened around her waist. There was the unmistakable sound of someone turning around and practically running in the other direction. Rhys pulled away too quickly, something sad and something like shame flashed in his eyes as he averted them. Feyre quickly realized what she had done, and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. After what he had been through, he probably never wanted to be touched again, let alone be kissed. Rhys had told her in a loose explanation of what Amarantha had done to him. Then again, he had initiated the kiss, even though he probably didn’t want anything like that from her. Feyre felt like she had jumped from a precipice, and she could only hope that something would stop her from her guilt and loneliness before it was too late. Because kissing Rhys had made her feel something that made her want to hold on.

They walked in silence the rest of the way to Hybern’s lair.

Azriel

In spite of their disguises, Azriel knew the minute Feyre and Rhysand walked into the darkness of the converted hotel that Hybern had turned into his own sick version of a palace. To be fair, Mor had called him ahead of time, but he would have recognized one of his closest friends and “the Huntress”, or as he knew her, Feyre Archeron.

Az had been in deep cover for the past few weeks, scouting out Hybern’s defense system and helping captives escape. Hybern had no reason to suspect his new security ‘lackey’ was Rhysand’s highest level spy. He reported everything he learned directly to Mor.

Azriel had been incredibly surprised to find that the beautiful young woman that Tamlin had dragged into the main cavern was, in fact, Feyre’s sister Elain. Morrigan had filled him in on the situation.

Most surprising of anything was the way that Rhys was looking at Feyre. Somehow, in the past month that he’d been in this gilded hellhole, Rhysand had fallen for the most elusive assassin in the city.

Azriel didn’t have to question why Feyre could mean enough to Rhys for him to risk everything for her sister, no, he questioned why Lucien cringed every time Tamlin’s hand reached out to graze Elain’s shoulder. He didn’t have to wait long to find out. Because it was then that Tamlin leaned down to kiss Elain, and she kissed him back.

Rhys

Feyre hadn’t even tried to be subtle when she fled from the lobby, and Rhys hadn’t hesitated for a second when he followed her. Even though two onyx eyes that haunted his nightmares had followed his every movement, her red lips twisting into a sadistic smirk as she saw how his face paled when she dragged her nails dug groves into the wood of her chair.

Amarantha

Rhysand had no idea of the deliciously dreadful things Amarantha planned to do to him and his Feyre. She stifled her cough until she got out of the throne room and into her private suite. The napkin that she used to cover her mouth came up bloody. She grinned at her reflection in the mirror, well, it was less of a grin and more of a scowl. With the blood dripping down the corner of her mouth and the hard look in her onyx eyes, she looked and felt ready to take down the Night gang and it’s lordling, even if it was the last thing she would ever do. Another coughing fit overcame her, and she collapsed onto her bed.

Elain

Elain squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples when Tamlin finally let her return to her room. The tiny hotel room on the top floor of the hotel felt less like a room than a cage.

The events of the past week flew through her mind as she struggled to recall anything other than the pure terror she had felt when Tamlin told her that she would be killed if she didn’t accompany him to Hybern’s… residence.

Only at night did she let the tears fall. Only at night did she let herself mourn her parents and the life she once had. Before all of this, before Hybern took everything away.

There was a knock on the door, and Elain brushed her tears away quickly. No one here knocked. Ever. The man pushed the door open, and she saw someone she didn’t expect. The handsome man who had been watching her in the hotel lobby closed the door behind him with a resounding click. His hazel eyes softened as he took in her disheveled appearance.

“Miss Elain? I’m Azriel. I’m here to help you.”

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Masterlist

Elain Archeron was sobbing into a pillow on her lavish four poster bed when her younger sister, Feyre, walked into her suites.

“Laney, what is it?” The younger princess asked, sounding concerned. Elain refused to meet her gaze.

“Nothing.” It was most certainly nothing and they both knew it. Ever since Azriel has shown up, Elain had been entranced by him. He was an apprentice in the ballet company that was located in the southern wing of the palace. They had spent time together in the gardens at night, and they had stolen forbidden kisses and secrets from each other. Elain had thought herself in love with him until two evenings ago when she was betrothed to Prince Lucien of the Autumn Kingdom. As Lucien was the seventh in line for the kingdom of Autumn, and she was first in line for the throne of the Western Realms, she would get to stay in her home. Near Azriel, her traitorous mind thought. Azriel likely wanted nothing to do with her, nor she with him, she tried to convince herself.

Feyre sighed and got up to leave the room. She was most likely going to find their eldest sister, Queen Nesta, and ask her about the ball. The ball had been arranged to celebrate Feyre’s engagement to His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince Rhysand of the Night Court. Elain cringed at the title; why did she have to marry someone because of a title anyways? Feyre was lucky enough to have fallen in love with and chosen Rhysand for herself.

She heard graceful footsteps approach her door and stop long enough to slide a piece of paper under, then stalk away. She wiped at her tear stained cheeks and went to retrieve it. She resolved to get dressed for the ball, even if she was dreading seeing Lucien there. The piece of paper was a crisp note. Elain’s breath hitched at he familiar handwriting. The note read:

My Dearest Elain,

Please forgive me if my absence from the gardens has been giving you grief these past few nights. I wouldn’t have missed our time together if I didn’t have a good reason. I do believe my motivations were honorable, as I was meeting with an old friend with some connections.

I’m completely and totally yours. You’re my everything. Elain, you’re the reason I get out of bed in the morning. If only we were allowed to wake up in each other’s arms. Every time I see you, another piece of my battered heart belongs to you. I simply cannot lose you, El. Which is why I need you to come to the ball tonight. I can’t explain now, but my friend has brought some things to light. I finally have hope, Love, and you should too.

Yours always, Azriel

Elain did have hope. She just didn’t know what she was hoping for. A future with Az? Did he mean for them to steal away? She would go anywhere with him, he was her home. She would have to renounce her duty to her country, and she would if he asked her to. Elain was beyond confused. And the things he’d said. They hadn’t talked often of their feelings because they knew that, someday, someone would tell them that they couldn’t be together. That word, Love, rang though her mind as she slipped into her dark purple gown.

Elain was announced as she carefully descended the steps onto the dance floor.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Elain of the Western Realms,” Elain sucked in a breath to prepare for the second title that would be hers in less than a year, Future Princess of the Autumn Court. Her title wouldn’t be official until(or unless) she she accepted Lucien’s proposal, as was custom. Nevertheless, it would still be announced. The announcer cleared his throat, making Elain’s anxiousness even worse before continuing, “Future Duchess of the Night Court.”

Elain continued to walk down the steps and then froze at the bottom when she realized what she’d heard. Future Duchess of the Night Court. The Night Court?! Feyre’s fiancé’s territory? Elain must’ve heard incorrectly. She made to go find Feyre when she heard the announcer clear his throat again.

“His Royal Highness, The Duke of The Night Court.” A murmur went through the crowd. Elain turned and couldn’t believe her eyes. Standing at the top of the steps in all his formal regalia, was Azriel. He had a very fancy navy jacket on with silver lapels, silver buttons, and navy pants. He looked for all the world like a royal, albeit a slightly nervous one. He scanned the crowns as he descended the sweeping staircase. His gaze locked with hers. She was still standing at the bottom of the steps.

His smile was wonderfully bright as he approached her side, extended an arm for her to take, and leaned over to kiss her cheek. As he did, he whispered, “I’ll explain.” His breath was delightfully warm on her ear and she shivered.

Azriel escorted her over to Rhysand and Feyre who were both grinning. She took that as a good sign. Azriel then told her his story: he was Rhys’s older half brother, but his father had wanted Rhys to be king because the love the king had for Rhys’s mother was greater than his love for Azriel’s or even their eldest brother, Cassian’s. Azriel had left to pursue a different dream, he had become a ballet dancer. A very talented and well-known one at that, Rhys had added. That was how Rhys had reconnected with Az. He had gone to see one of his shows without realizing who the principal male dancer was, and he had recognized his brother immediately. They had spent time together and written each other after that. It had been easy enough for them to see each other as Rhys had wanted to stay near the Princess that he had fallen in love with. So, it seemed, had Azriel, Feyre added with a smirk. Elain blushed. She and Azriel hadn’t said that to each other yet, but as she met his intent hazel gaze, she knew that they would soon be sharing such intimacies. It made Elain’s heart melt and her core heat as she thought of the other intimacies they would also be allowed to partake in. Azriel continued to explain how he and Rhys had written to their father, asking for Az’s title and lands to be restored to him. Azriel had also asked for the hand of his love, Princess Elain, in marriage. His father had been more than happy to welcome him to the family, apologizing for the way that he had treated Az and his mother. Elain was beyond words. She merely stared at Azriel, Duke Azriel, slack jawed and waited for him to tell her that the sky was not, in fact, blue.

“Would you care to accompany me to the gardens, Elain?”

She couldn’t say anything, so she nodded. He took her to their favorite spot in the gardens, a fountain full of lily pads with a weeping willow to the side of it and a lovely little bench surrounded by violets. He took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair(a nervous habit that Elain found quite endearing).

“There is one thing I must ask you now, El.”

“Oh?”

He dropped to one knee. Her hands flew to her mouth to stop her lips from quivering. He produced a golden ring that was surrounded by a ring of small pink diamonds on top of the band.

“My sweet Elain, you are the love of my life, the light in my darkness. Just the thought of you brings a smile to my face. I never want to be apart from you for the rest of our lives, so,” He paused to take her hand, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” She beamed at the love in his eyes. Her own eyes were filled with tears of pure euphoria.

“Yes!” She exclaimed giddily before kissing her fiancé, the man that she would love until the end of time and beyond.

Fic Masterlist/ Main Masterlist

The darkness had always been merciful, thought Rhys as it finally freed him from its grasp. Light swam behind his closed eyelids, so he risked cracking them open to get a glimpse of his surroundings. He was in his bedroom, but something was different. The curtains were open, for one, but that wasn’t what knocked the breath out of Rhys’s lungs. He turned his head to the side to see Feyre, completely passed out on top of the covers on the other side of the bed. She had curled up near him in her sleep, her waking tendency to dislike him was forgotten. He sighed as her head rested completely against his shoulder. She smiled at something she was dreaming about, and Rhys couldn’t help but wonder what had succeeded in making her happy when he’d seldom been able to after she arrived here. His answer came to him as a single word, whispered in a release of breath from Feyre’s mouth:

“Rhys,”

Feyre

Keeping up the façade of disliking Rhys had become difficult for Feyre. He was completely adorable, and for someone who was paid to sneak into places and “make people disappear”, he was incredibly dorky. The first morning when she woke up, he was already awake, and could be found in the kitchen making delicious Mickey Mouse pancakes, and humming cheesy 80’s pop hits. Once, she had even caught him singing ABBA’s ‘Waterloo’ into a spatula. When she asked him about the pancakes, he shrugged and said, “You have been through a lot lately, and breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Need I continue, Darling?”

She couldn’t help rolling her eyes. She turned around before he could see that he had made her smile. She then retreated to her room, wordlessly marveling that he had managed to make her actually smile when she hadn’t been able to in months.

His dorkiness was the least of her problems, though. He was undeniably attractive, that much was obvious. His attractiveness hadn’t been an issue. Until she’d accidentally walked in on him in the shower. She hadn’t meant to, of course. She’d had earbuds in, and he’d forgotten to lock the door. She hadn’t seen… everything, but she’d seen too much of his strong shoulders, toned abdomen, and powerful legs to get him out of her head. He had kept her up at night thinking about him, water dripping over his pectorals, and trailing further down.

She shuddered at the thought. For some reason, everything felt foggy. Feyre didn’t realize that she’d been dreaming until hands gently shook her awake.

“Feyre, wake up.” It was Rhys. Feyre’s shoulders shot up straight in the bed. She groaned as her head spun from the sudden movement and from waking up from a much needed nap. He was lying next to her on the bed, leaning slightly over her. There was a grim expression on his face, and if Feyre didn’t know better… she’d have thought she saw longing flash in his eyes tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

“Morning, Rhys,” Feyre murmured as he leaned back into his pillow. They were in his room, she realized as she took in the gray walls and lightly colored wood furniture.

“How long was I out?” He sounded a bit breathless.

“Five days,” His eyes went wide as she continued, “You lost a lot of blood, and I- I was afraid you weren’t going to make it.”

“You were afraid for me?” He placed a hand on his chest in mock bewilderment.

“Ha ha. You should have told me where you were going.”

“Would you have let me go alone if I’d told you? Feyre paused and gave him a look that said, Of course I would have come with you if I’d known. He sighed and ran a hand down his face before continuing, “I know it was wrong of me to go after them. God, Feyre, I know. I should have waited for Mor and the others to get here, but I can’t stand that you wake up most nights from nightmares about him. I can’t stand that she still haunts me day and night.” He looked so guilty, even though he was just trying to help them both.

She tentatively wrapped her arms around him, careful of his still wounded arm. He hugged her back with his uninjured arm, and he buried his head into the crook of her neck, murmuring “I’m so sorry,” over and over. She traced soothing circles onto his back.

She accidentally brushed the skin on his lower back where his shirt had ridden up. Feyre immediately pulled away, mumbling an apology and said something about getting them both something to eat.

“Feyre?” Rhys asked her as she reached the doorway.

“Yes.”

“I thought you hated me.” He whispered, voice full of both dread and hope.

“I did. I do still sometimes, but only when you’re being a prick,” He laughed at that.

“Fair enough. Does this mean we’re friends now?” She gave him a wicked grin.

“You bet it does, Bat Boy,”

“That’s Batman to you,” He teased.

She flipped him an obscene gesture behind her back before murmuring, “Prick,” under her breath and went off in search of food from the cabinet.

Rhys

The phone beside the bed rang and Rhys yelled, “I’ll get it, it’s probably Mor!” He picked up the old fashioned 80’s phone and twisted the cord around his finger.

“Hello,” He greeted the person on the other line. He felt the blood drain from his face when he heard the other person speak.

“Ah, Rhysand, always a pleasure. It seems Feyre Archeron is living with you now, how nice for you. Now, here is what I want,” Alarm bells started blaring in Rhys’s head at the familiarity of the voice on the other line. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Rhys, who is it?” Feyre had a tray with what looked to be two bowls of Spaghetti O’s placed on top of it. Rhys covered the speaker of the phone by placing it against his chest. Rhys knew how pale he must’ve looked.

“It’s Hybern.”

=================================

A/N: I finally finished this! Okay, so I had a bad start to the week and was super busy, but I finally got time for this. Yes, it’s really fluffy and probably not great, but shit’s about to get real. Anyways, hopefully nobody was too disappointed in this chapter(I think Rhys is cute AF though). Let me know if you wanna be tagged or would like a masterlist for this fic :)

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