#omega needs

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Knocks kept coming on the door, frequently enough to wake Feyre from her sleep. She opened her eyes to see sunlight still coming through the windows, though they were lesser in intensity now.

Her eyes felt puffy and uncomfortable, and her throat was dry and scratchy. But she didn't move.

She couldn’t move. Not after all of the horrid words thrown at her in the past two days. They probably just wanted to make sure she was alive, anyway.

The door cracked open anyways, her room flooding with the scent of an alpha- Lucien.

"Feyre? Did you want to come down to dinner?" He asked softly as he entered the room, making sure to shut the door behind him.

Feyre shook her head as visibly as she could from where she was still curled into herself.

"Do you want me to have something brought up here for you?"

She didn't think she could stand to eat anything right now, not with the way her stomach was churning and her brain was hissing back Ianthe's words at her.

"No," Feyre whispered as Lucien sat on her bed. He placed a hand on her shoulder gently, his warmth so soothing. He brushed a bit of hair away from her face after, running his thumb across her cheek softly.

"Is everything okay, Feyre? Did Ianthe say something to you?"

A bitter laugh left Feyre's lips. "Yes, Lucien. She did. She has made it clear to me that I am a horrid omega, and my body..." She paused, choking on tears. "My body is awful as well. I would rather spend the evening alone, and avoid any more of her wrath for being such a failure."

Lucien's scent filled with anger, and Feyre shrunk away from his touch. "Feyre, you are not a horrible omega, and your body is your body, it is perfect the way it is. You are actually quite a wonderful omega, if you'll allow me to say that," Lucien consoled, hand returning to stroke her hair. "You have gone through so much, and have only been experiencing your secondary gender for a year. You are doing perfectly, Feyre," He said, a slight alpha commanding tone to his voice. It soothed Feyre's fears, though, the fact that he was so adamant that Feyre was not what Ianthe had claimed her to be. "Tamlin is lucky to have you," he added, and those were the words that made the dam in Feyre's eyes break once more.

Feyre cried for a few minutes, Lucien’s hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Thank you, Lucien,” Feyre sniffled, wiping at her eyes. “I still would rather not go to the dining room tonight, that’s… too much pressure.”

“Would you let me have Aine bring you a tray of food?” Lucien asked with a smile.

Feyre nodded after a moment. She could eat, if Lucien wanted her to.

“Good, I’ll make sure it’s sent up as soon as possible.” Lucien stood from the bed, but turned to Feyre before he left. “For what it’s worth, Feyre, I think Ianthe is just jealous of you,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “You are much more beautiful than her, and you’re Prythian’s beloved Cursebreaker. What does some cowardly priestess have that compares to you in any way?”

Feyre gave Lucien a watery smile. “Thank you,” she whispered, and he turned to the door and left her room, softly closing the door behind him.

A few minutes later there was a knock on Feyre's door, only opening after Feyre said it was okay. Alis entered the room, followed by Aine who was carrying a tray of food. She set the tray on Feyre's vanity, and gave a tilt of her head to Feyre before leaving the room.

"Good evening, Feyre," Alis said softly as she approached her in her bed, extending a hand for her to take. "If you eat at the vanity, I can braid your hair for you, hmm?"

The thought of Alis's gentle hands carding through her hair sounded lovely, and Feyre took her hand, exiting her nest. She sat in the chair at the vanity, leaning back against it. Feyre was exhausted.

"Try and eat, I promise it will make you feel better," Alis said as she began brushing out Feyre's hair gently.

Feyre scrunched her nose, but did as she asked, picking up her fork and stabbing a bite of salad. She was grateful it wasn't something heavier, but couldn't help but wonder if Ianthe had picked it for her specifically.

Alis's gentle hands soothed Feyre's senses, and by the time she had finished a comfortable plait to sleep in, Feyre had finished as much of her salad as she could bear at the moment.

"If you ever need to talk to someone, Feyre, I'm here to listen. And I won't tell a soul whatever you trust me with, okay?" Alis assured as she met Feyre's eyes in the mirror.

Feyre sighed. "I might take you up on that soon, but... I just want to sleep right now," Feyre said sadly.

Alis gave her a warm smile, squeezing Feyre's shoulders before she stepped away from her. "Just know that you have people here for you, Feyre. And if I'm being honest, I wouldn't tell Ianthe a peep even if she commanded me to. I'm not too fond of her," Alis said in a hushed tone, grinning as she did. "Did you need anything else before bed?" The beta asked, her eyes taking quick stock of the room.

Feyre shook her head as she stood from the vanity. "No, I think I'll be fine. Thank you, Alis."

"It's no problem, dear," Alis said as she grabbed the mostly eaten tray of food. "Sleep well."

"You as well, Alis," Feyre said as she followed her to the door, shutting it behind her. Feyre made her way back to her bed, sinking into the mattress and burying herself under the covers.

It once only when she was still and alone that insults began to float around her head again. Omega whore. Fat. Desperate.

She cried herself to sleep once again.

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Lucien woke her again, this time in the crisp Spring morning air.

He had swung into her room at around nine, and asked her, "Feyre, would you like to join me for breakfast in the gardens again?"

Feyre was silent for a moment. "No. Could we do breakfast in here instead?"

Lucien thought on it, then nodded in agreement. "I'll be right back."

He left the room, and Feyre took the time to freshen herself up slightly, brushing her teeth and splashing some water on her face. She looked... dreadful, in her opinion. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes that had only gotten worse overnight. Feyre sighed, and took the tie out of her hair and began undoing the braid Alis had so gently put in for her.

Lucien returned just as Feyre was finished brushing out her hair. He had a tray with two plates on it, both loaded with food. Feyre got back onto her bed, sitting near the end so that Lucien could pull the vanity chair over to the edge of the bed. He set the tray in front of her carefully, and Feyre was happy to see that they had nearly equal amounts of food- bacon specifically.

They ate in a comfortable silence for most of the meal, which Feyre was thankful for. She didn't feel like talking about Tamlin or Ianthe's hurtful words, or what the lack of apology from both of them meant.

Feyre ate until she was full, only leaving behind a few bites of scrambled egg that she didn't think she could finish without losing her breakfast altogether. "Thank you, Lucien. I don't feel like leaving my room today."

He nodded in agreement. "I figured as much. I’ll try to ward away Ianthe, but she’ll probably try to bother you anyways. Also I… spoke with Tamlin about training your magic,” Lucien began hesitantly.

“And?” Feyre asked, fearing she knew the answer already.

Lucien sighed. “He feels that training you at the moment would do more harm than good, but agreed to revisit the idea if you have an expressions of magic. I’m sorry, Feyre,” he added with another sigh, taking one of her hands in his.

A tear slipped down Feyre’s cheek without her realizing it was there in the first place, and she let Lucien wipe it away. “I suppose I should try to light another dress on fire then, hmm?” Feyre asked rhetorically, still garnering a smile from Lucien.

“Try it on a particularly ugly one, Fey. Mother known Ianthe has given you plenty of those.”

Feyre shook her head and sighed. “Even you think they’re ugly? Is Ianthe really giving me bad clothes?”

Lucien squeezed her hand gently and said, “Not necessarily, the clothes are in fashion, they just don’t suit you well. And Ianthe does seem to love frills quite a lot…” Lucien trailed off.

“I should mutiny and burn the whole wardrobe.”

Lucien chuckled. “Now that would be an expression of magic that neither Tamlin nor Ianthe could ignore. I say go for it, Feyre.”

“Ah, yes, and your advice is always sound,” Feyre joked, taking her hand out of his and pushing him on the shoulder. “I still remember the Suriel, Luce.”

Lucien let out an exasperated sigh. “The Suriel, Fey? When will you let that go?”

“I have, I just like bringing it up,” Feyre laughed, giggling when Lucien pushed her shoulder lightly. “And you’ve apologized on multiple occasions for it, so I’ve forgiven you.”

“That’s good to know, Feyre.” Lucien smiled at her, then stood from his chair, placing it back in front of the vanity. “I should be going now, I have a few meetings to go to with Tamlin. I’ll make sure someone brings you up lunch and dinner, if you choose to not leave you room. No matter what, I’ll see you in the morning, Feyre,” Lucien said, staring her down until she nodded her head.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then, Lucien,” Feyre said with a small smile. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“It’s no problem, Feyre.” He picked up the tray of dishes, and made his way to the door. “Have a good day, Fey.”

“You too, Luce,” Feyre replied, and he shut the door on his way out.

Feyre let out a heavy breath.

Time to practice her magic.

Feyre reached in her chest for her magic, the cold ball that she'd gotten to loosen up while in the Night Court.

She tried gently to move her magic within her, see if she could do something to change Tamlin's mind.

It was frozen solid again, unwilling to budge even the smallest amount.

Worry built in Feyre's chest as she tried and tried to get movement in her magical core, with no success. Tears pricked her eyes.

All of her progress, gone.

And she wasn't even sure if it was normal for this to happen, for a fae's magic to solidify itself again after not being used for over a week.

The tears in Feyre's eyes rolled down her cheeks after an hour of trying, with nothing to show for her time. She fell back against her bed, feeling defeated.

This is why I need help training, Feyre thought to herself. Someone to help guide me or tell me to take a break...

Feyre let out a heavy sigh. If she couldn't get her magic to cooperate with her, she could practice her shielding. And shielding had come more easily to her, it's possible that practicing it could help loosen her core again.

She hoped.

Feyre sank into her own mind, the feeling of her mental shields soothing her, especially once she felt as though she was floating on an endless expanse of ocean.

Maybe I can get Tam to take me to the coast, soon, Feyre thought softly, noticing how her shields had a pink tinge when she thought of Tamlin. I should ask Rhys if emotions can change the look of shields...

Feyre's breathing evened out as she sank further into her shields, wrapped in them like a cozy blanket. Her fingers played in the waters of her mind, loving the way she created small ripples as she did. She was on her back, floating in the water with her hair fanning around her head. A warm light was pouring over her, buttery soft when she opened her eyes mentally.

Her mind moved quickly, adding in mountains that completely encircled the body of water she was in, looking suspiciously like those she had gazed at longingly in her week away. Trees stood proudly on the mountainsides, another place that she could hide herself if she needed. There was a log cabin on the shore, with a hammock hung from two trees sitting nearby.

Feyre swam to the shore, sinking her feet into the sand that bordered the water once she was out. She approached the cabin, noticing that it looked similar to the hut she lived in back in the human lands. Her hands ran over the smooth doorknob, twisting and pushing the door in to enter the cabin.

Inside, it was a nicer version of the home she'd shared with her family. The small kitchen, fireplace, even the door leading into the one bedroom were placed the same. She made her way into the bedroom, tears in her eyes at the sight of the large bed, exactly as it was when she'd left that fateful night.

Feyre walked over to the bed, and sank down onto it. She could almost picture Nesta and Elain getting ready for bed, brushing out their hair and changing into their nightgowns. Feyre laid down, tears flowing freely now.

She had a complicated relationship with her sisters, of course, but she missed them. She missed the feeling of snuggling in for body heat, even when it wasn't too terribly cold.

She missed her sisters.

Feyre buried her face in one of the pillows, wishing she was surrounded by their familiar scents.

She must have drifted off, because the next thing she was aware of was Ianthe bursting into her room, Tonilia behind her carrying a tray with a bowl and cup on it.

"Feyre, really? A nap in the afternoon? This is what's so important that you can't bother to plan your own wedding?" Ianthe scoffed.

Feyre was silent, busy wiping the sleep from her eyes after sitting up as Tonilia set the tray down over her legs, effectively keeping her in her place.

"Not even going to answer me?" Ianthe asked as she waved Tonilia out of the room, who gave Feyre a gentle smile before shutting the door behind her.

Feyre just shook her head, not having any energy to deal with her right now.

"Fine, if you won't talk, you'll just have to stuff your face faster, Feyre. I have a lot to do, and if you're unwilling to help then I have to pick up your slack." Ianthe gestured to the tray over Feyre's legs. "Eat up."

Feyre's stomach dropped as she processed Ianthe's words, her clear disdain for Feyre. She took in the food she'd been brought, a bowl of soup and a cup of tea. The soup looked to be mainly vegetable, with a few small bits of chicken in it. Feyre's eyes flicked up to Ianthe's, then back to the food.

Ianthe already had a pinched expression on her face, as though dealing with Feyre was the last thing she wanted to be doing at the moment. She let out an exasperated sigh when Feyre didn't immediately pick up the spoon, her ire prompting Feyre to do so.

Feyre ate as quickly as she could manage, stomach churning as Ianthe watched her. She managed to eat most of the soup before Ianthe sighed again, so Feyre moved on to the tea quickly.

She wrinkled her nose before taking her first sip- Ianthe always picked the worst blends, and the tea was always too hot for Feyre's throat. Nevertheless, Feyre drank the cup as quickly as she could, setting it back on the tray once she was done.

"See, Feyre? It's not that hard to do things right when you do what I ask. And you even left a bit of the soup, that's perfect. Maybe you'll fit into your wedding dress," the alpha said condescendingly as she picked up the tray. She left the room without another word, thank the Mother. Feyre didn't think she could deal with her cruel words for another second, not without bursting into tears.

Feyre breathed deeply for a few moments, doing her best to calm her nerves before diving back into her mental shields once more. The waters hiding the core of her mind were gentle, lapping at the edges of her shields before the mountains she had previously envisioned reappeared, the cabin along with it.

Her pulse slowed as she allowed her mind to fill in more and more detail, using her painter’s eye to make it look as natural as she could. Leaves on trees, thick blades of grass, a beautiful patch of wildflowers, similar to those that grew in the woods she hunted in. By the time she’d finished focusing on those, Feyre was tired enough to let sleep take a hold of her.

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“Feyre?” Alis’s voice asked through her door, just loud enough to rouse Feyre from her nap. “Can I come in?”

Feyre nodded her head sleepily, before realizing that Alis couldn’t see her. “Yes, Alis.”

Her door opened and the beta entered, closing the door behind her. “Did you feel up to attending dinner in the dining room?"

Feyre shook her head, biting her lip apprehensively. She was expecting her wishes to be denied, but Alis surprised her with a smile. “Very well, I’ll bring a plate up to you. Would you like to wash up beforehand?”

Her body did feel rather dirty at the moment, as she’d stayed in bed all morning and declined to take her usual morning bath. “That would be nice, Alis. But… Would you eat with me? I don’t feel like eating alone…”

Alis gave her another smile, and nodded her head in agreement. “I would be delighted to dine with you, Feyre. I’ll go get some food for us, and you can go wash up.”

“Thank you, Alis,” Feyre said as the fae was opening her door.

“It’s no problem at all, Feyre. I’ll see you in a little bit,” Alis replied, shutting the door behind her.

Feyre let out a long sigh before standing from her bed, stretching out her limbs to relieve some of the ache in her muscles from laying in bed all day. She stripped off her nightgown, throwing it into her laundry bin and made her way into the bathroom.

She turned on the tap, letting water fill the enchanted tub that began to heat it immediately. Feyre waited until the tub was full and steaming to slip into the water, sighing as heat poured into her body. She hadn’t realized how cold she had been.

After washing her body and halfway through washing her hair, she heard her bedroom door open, and Alis knocked softly on the wall outside of her bathroom. “Would you like any help washing up, Feyre?”

Normally, Feyre would say no, but she was so exhausted at the moment. “Yes, please,” she admitted softly, and the beta entered her bathroom, eyes respectfully keeping to her face. Alis settled behind her on her knees, taking over for Feyre’s hands and massaging the soap into her hair, nails scratching gently along her scalp in a soothing manner.

A small contented huff left Feyre’s lips, and Alis chuckled softly. Feyre didn’t feel self conscious about it, though, she and Alis had known each other long enough that Feyre felt nothing could embarrass her in front of the other fae. Alis had been the one to help Feyre feel comfortable in her new role as an omega, after all, comforting her when Feyre was confused about building her first nest. A few contented sighs were perfectly normal.

Alis guided her head to rinse her hair, so careful to not get water in Feyre’s eyes. Once it was clean, Alis set to massaging conditioner into her hair for a few minutes, massaging her scalp before rinsing her hair once more. She wrung the water from her hair before grabbing a nearby towel, wrapping her hair in it. “Alright, dear, go ahead and dry yourself off and I’ll bring a nightgown in for you.”

Feyre did as she said, dragging her body out of the warm water reluctantly and toweling herself off. She slipped on the light blue, long sleeved nightgown Alis brought her, and followed beta into her room, where a tray of food was waiting on her bed.

She settled into her bed as Alis dragged the vanity chair over and sat at the end of the bed.

Dinner tonight was roasted chicken and potatoes, as well as sautéed green beans, both of them having a nicely sized portion.

Eating with Alis was quiet and comfortable, neither of them feeling the need to fill the silence tonight. Feyre just barely managed to finish her food, feeling so full and sleepy that she yawned after setting down her fork. “Dinner was delicious, thank you Alis.”

“Of course, Feyre. I thought you could use something nutritious and warm.”

Feyre gave her a small smile. “You were right.”

Alis’s expression mirrored her own as she stood from the chair, finished with her own meal as well. “I know I was,” Alis said cheekily, then gestured for Feyre to get up. “Come on, let me braid your hair.”

Feyre stood from the bed, unwrapping her hair from its towel as she followed Alis, dragging the chair, to the vanity. She sat in the chair, handing the towel to Alis, who dried Feyre’s hair as much as she could before brushing it out, smoothing out any tangles with a gentle hand. Feyre closed her eyes, letting herself enjoy the sensation and lull her into a sleepy state. By the time her hair was braided and tied off, Feyre thought she could fall asleep at the vanity.

Alis led her out of the chair and into her bed, even going as far as to tuck the omega in, pillows fluffed and covers pulled up to her chin.

“Have a good night, and I’ll see you sometime tomorrow, Feyre,” Alis said softly, and picked up the tray of food from where she’d moved it to the floor before leaving the room, the door snicking shut behind her.

And Feyre was alone with her thoughts once more.

Luckily, her full stomach and exhausted mind pulled her into her dreams swiftly, leaving hurtful words and actions for the waking hours.

Her dreams were filled with flying, soaring above mountain ranges and lakes like a bird, feeling the wind in her hair and whipping across her skin.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

The next two days of her self imposed isolation were nearly identical to the first. Lucien roused her in the morning, asking if she would like to have breakfast outside with him, and when she declined her went to grab them both plates of food. After her left, she would practice with her magic, trying and trying to regain the progress she’d made in the Night Court, and when that failed turning to fortifying her mental shields.

Ianthe would interrupt her at midday, bringing Tonilia who carried a bowl of soup and mug of tea on a tray for Feyre. Ianthe glared at her until she finished both, and storming out with Tonilia on her heels, who always gave Feyre an apologetic smile before shutting her bedroom door.

Feyre spent her afternoons recovering from the cruel alpha’s presence, comforting herself by adding even more details to her mental shields, focusing on the waters where she hid her actual presence.

By the end of the third day in her room, she had an underwater fortress protecting herself, so many doors locked by keys that only existed when she wanted them to.

She wasn’t certain that her shields would be impenetrable, but she felt confident in their strength now.

Alis would come to her room in the evenings, helping Feyre bathe if she was too tired and bringing food for the both of them to eat.

It was only on the fourth day that Feyre woke before Lucien knocked on her door, and she had enough energy and willpower to bathe and dress herself that morning. She had just put on a pair of slippers when a knock came at her door, and Feyre rushed to answer it, ready to make Lucien proud by being awake and dressed.

She was met with green eyes and blond hair.

Tamlin.

Feyre instinctively shrank back into herself, expecting more insults to be thrown her way.

Tamlin noticed, and the regret that was shining in his eyes increased tenfold. “Feyre, I… I’m so sorry, omega.” He stepped forward, pushing into her room as Feyre retreated slowly, letting him get closer to her. “I should never have called you any of those things, I should never have blamed you for this situation. You’re not to blame for coming home like that, it’s that damn bastard’s fault,” Tamlin growled, pulling Feyre into his chest. Her arms stayed limp at her sides as he hugged her, still flooded with anxiety even as she scented her alpha. “I’m sorry, Feyre. Will you forgive me?” Tamlin asked after pulling away from her slightly to look her in the eyes.

The regret and sorrow in his eyes had her caving instantly, and her arms came up to clutch at him tightly. She buried her face in his chest and nodded, and Tamlin sighed a heavy breath of relief.

“Will you come with me? I have a surprise for you,” Tamlin asked, already pulling Feyre out into the hallway.

“Where are we going?”

“I said it’s a surprise, omega,” Tamlin teased, grinning widely at Feyre. It was the first time she’d seen him look happy - that I can remember – since returning home, and her chest melted at the sight.

He guided her down the stairs and out the front doors, straight to the stables where Tamlin’s preferred horse was waiting, already saddled and ready for them, a basket hanging off of either side.

“Up you go, omega,” Tamlin said as he helped her climb onto to the horse, pulling her skirts up high to be able to ride normally. His eyes tracked her movements, and made sure she was secure before climbing up behind her, his arms wrapping around her to grab the reins.

The horse started walking at Tamlin’s signal, leading them to wherever Tamlin had planned. Once they were out of sight of the manor and in the trees of the forest, Tamlin’s lips kissed a slow path down her neck, sending shivers up her spine.

Feyre pressed back into him, leaning into his hold as he repeated the action on the other side. One of his hands let go of the reins, and slinked up Feyre’s thighs, stomach, to rest on her right breast, squeezing softly. Feyre gasped, completely melting into the alpha behind her and hands gripping his thick thighs that were caging her in.

Tamlin chuckled lowly in her ear, pressing a soft kiss just underneath it before the horse came to a stop.

Feyre hadn’t realized she had shut her eyes, but they flew open when they halted, her eyes taking in the clearing they were at.

The pool of starlight.

It was even more beautiful than Feyre remembered, most likely due to her new eyesight. The silvery waters rippled appealingly, and Feyre wondered if sipping starlight would make her feel new again.

Probably not, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

Tamlin climbed off of the horse, extending his hands to Feyre to help her down. Once she was safely on the ground, he turned his attention to the two baskets tied to the horse, taking them and the saddle off and allowing the horse to graze as it pleased. One of the baskets held a large blanket which Tamlin laid out on the grass near the pool, patting for Feyre to sit down next to him.

She did, snuggling into his side as he went through the second basket, pulling out a selection of fruits, crackers, cheeses, and thinly sliced meats, as well as a couple of bottles of sparkling fairy wine.

“You planned,” Feyre hummed as she took in the spread of food, watching as Tamlin pulled out a small knife and began to slice up an apple.

“I did, sweet omega,” Tamlin said, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“That works for me,” Feyre replied before he placed a slice of apple in her mouth. It was juicy and slightly tart, absolutely lovely. Feyre hooked her arms around his left one, pushing her body further against him. “I missed you, alpha,” she whispered.

“I missed you too, omega. No more fighting, hmm?” Tamlin asked, feeding her another slice after she nodded in agreement. “Good.”

Feyre took a chance, letting go of Tam’s arm and instead pulling it over her shoulder, snuggling into his chest and breathing in his scent. He simply kept feeding her and himself, every now and then scenting the top of her head. Feyre’s omega relaxed with every bite, every minute spent in peace with him.

Once they’d finished eating, the two of them laid back on the blanket, taking in the puffy clouds floating by slowly, the gentle rustle of leaves from the slight breeze. Feyre had nearly drifted off when Tamlin’s hand began to wander below where it had been caressing her shoulder, going lower and lower with each pass, before finally his hand squeezed her ass softly, drawing a quiet moan from Feyre. She tilted her head to smile up at him, eyes blurry with sleep. She puckered her lips slightly, the closest she could get to demanding a kiss at the moment. He obliged her, pressing his lips hungrily to hers, and his change in scent made her wake up quickly.

He claimed her lips, taking Feyre’s breath with him when his other hand came to caress her neck, brushing over her scent gland teasingly.

“Alpha,” she moaned needily, pressing her front closer to him, needing to feel him everywhere. He pushed her back so she was flat on the ground, and covered her body with his, slotting himself between her hips after pressing the skirts of her dress out of the way, and Feyre whined at the feel of him against her, even fully clothed.

“You smell delicious, omega,” Tamlin remarked as he slid his lips over Feyre’s neck, sucking dark marks along the expanse of it. “So needy, so perfect, and all mine,” he growled, pressing his hips down harder.

“Yes, alpha, all yours,” Feyre mewled, her hands scratching over Tamlin’s shirt, wishing they were already unclothed so she could feel their skin together. Tamlin seemed to have the same thought, ridding himself of his shirt quickly and working to free Feyre from her dress, tossing them to the other side of the blanket before returning to Feyre’s neck, mouth moving lower and lower, finally catching on the edge of her bra.

His eyes met hers, and her breath caught in her throat when he undid the clasp and removed it from her chest, immediately giving attention to her breasts. Her back arched when his teeth grazed over her nipple, his answering chuckle only making her pull herself closer to him. He moved to the other one, sucking a light mark on the underside of it before kissing lower, traveling down the expanse of Feyre’s stomach, straight to the hem of her panties.

She was leaking slick at this point, she knew, and Tamlin could obviously smell just how effected by him she is, judging by his smirk and playful eyes. More slick gushed out of her once Tam’s teeth latched onto the hem, pulling her panties away from her center slowly, a string of slick connecting them together.

Feyre would have been embarrassed, but Tamlin’s eyes were hungrily devouring her core so thoroughly there was no room for doubt about if he was pleased or not.

He lost his patience after a moment, using a claw to shred through the fabric so he could set in on his second meal- Feyre.

Moans spilled from Feyre’s lips as Tamlin lapped at her core, licking up every bit of slick he could find before sucking at her clit. Her hips were already shaking, only driving Tam to work his tongue faster, and one thick finger entering her was enough for her to tip over the edge, pleasure blinding her as her hands clutched at his hair, holding him to her center as she rode out her high.

As soon as her hands slackened their hold, he pulled away, shucking off his pants as quickly as he could manage before returning to his omega, slotting himself between her legs and pushing into her in one stroke, all the breath leaving her lungs as he filled her.

When he pulled out slightly Feyre whined, walls clenching down on him and causing him to groan. “So tight, omega,” he moaned, punctuated by thrusting back in, and Feyre’s answering moan was more than enough for him to set a fast pace. His lips hovered over her scent gland, grazing slightly every now and then, sending jolts of pleasure through Feyre.

“Alpha, please,” she begged, not knowing if it was more for his knot or his mark, but that either would please her. He bit lightly on her gland, just tipping her over the edge again, and he followed soon after, pushing his knot into her cunt and locking them together as he came deep inside of her.

She was floating, or that’s what it felt like, being held in Tamlin’s arms and locked to him, his hands smoothing over her hair gently as they both came down.

Half an hour later his knot had deflated enough to separate themselves, Feyre whining at the sensation of being empty.

“Do you want to swim, Fey?” Tamlin asked softly into her ear, a hand still playing with her hair as he held her against his chest. She tilted her head up to look at him, and saw excitement in his eyes.

If he wanted to swim, she would swim.

“As long as we can cuddle afterwards while we dry off.”

Tamlin smiled down at her, kissing her forehead. “Of course, Fey. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He stood up, then helped her to her feet. The two of the slipped into the starlight waters, smiling giddily at each other as they both took a sip from the other’s hand, happiness bursting across their senses as they did.

Feyre giggled and pressed herself into Tamlin, hugging him tightly and nuzzling into his chest as he pulled them into deeper waters. He swept Feyre off her feet once she could barely touch, clutching her to his chest as he spun around, laughing with her when she splashed his face with starlight.

She leaned up, licking a trail of it from his neck before kissing him hungrily, and both of them were breathing heavily once she pulled away.

He had her again, her upper half pressed on the grass as he pounded into her from behind, both of them still standing in the pool. He barely managed to keep himself from knotting her, instead pulling her back onto the blanket so they could dry off, basking in their pleasure as they laid on their sides, facing one another.

Feyre could feel their uninterrupted time coming to a close, but… she needed to talk to him.

“Tam, I know it’s… Important for the wedding to be traditionally Spring, but… would you be able to speak to Ianthe? She’s said some…” Feyre paused, and looked away from his beautiful green eyes. She didn’t want to talk about this, but she needed to. “Unkind things about my body, and I just don’t think I can handle planning the wedding if she continues to be so controlling and harsh on me.” She bit her lip nervously.

Tamlin’s hand came to caress her face, tilting her head so she would look at him. “Of course, Feyre. You are my future Lady of Spring, I want you to feel comfortable. I’ll talk to her, make sure she knows that you input matters. And I’ve already told her to ensure that there is no red at the wedding. I am sorry about that, Fey,” Tamlin said sincerely, giving her a soft smile, one that she returned at his promises.

“Thank you, Tam,” Feyre said, snuggling into him and peppering kisses on his chest and neck. Something akin to a purr rumbled through his chest, and his scent changed once more, deepening with lust.

Feyre was sure they would make love once more, but a horn cut through the air just as she started to kiss him, and he pulled away.

“I’m sorry, love, that’s our cue to return home,” he said regretfully, pulling their clothes over to his side. He dressed Feyre, hands lingering on her curves as long as he would allow, before dressing himself and packing up their things and re-saddling their horse.

“Up you go, omega,” he said as he helped her atop the horse once more, following after her and beginning their ride home.

“What was the horn for?” Feyre asked, leaning back into Tamlin’s strong hold.

“I sent a scouting party to the West after a few reports came back about the welfare of the villages, and they’ve just returned. I was hoping it would be later in the day, though,” he whispered into her ear, a hand gripping her thigh as he did. “I’m planning to take more time with you, though, omega. Don’t you worry.”

A pleasant shiver went down Feyre’s spine at the promise, wishing that it could be now. No time with her alpha was ever enough, it seemed.

They were home soon enough, dismounting at the stables where a number of guards were gathered, obviously the ones from the scouting party if the state of their weapons- bloody and used- were anything to go by.

Feyre was nearly grateful to see Ianthe, her scent an unwelcome but needed change from the metallic tang of blood coming from the guards. “Ah, Feyre, come with me, we have some planning to do,” she said, attempting to tug Feyre back into the manor.

“Ianthe, a quick word?” Tamlin demanded, pulling her aside.

Feyre couldn’t hear what he was saying to her, but assumed it was what they’d talked about. Lucien’s voice made her turn her head, and with the way he was staring at her, she was sure he’d said something to her.

“What?”

“Did you have a good morning?” Lucien asked, a sparkle in his eye. He had obviously known Tamlin’s plan, and could see the joy radiating off of Feyre.

“Mhm, we had a lovely swim,” Feyre replied, and Lucien snorted at her.

“I’m sure, Fey. I’m also sure the local wildlife is traumatized now.”

It was Feyre’s turn to laugh, swatting him on the arm just as Tam and Ianthe returned to her.

“I’ll see you at dinner, omega,” Tamlin said, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before following the guards who were now headed inside of the manor. “Let’s go, Lucien.”

The redhead smiled once more at Feyre before following after their High Lord, leaving Feyre alone with Ianthe.

“Well, Feyre, let’s get to planning. We have a lot to make up for, for these past few days. We’ll manage, though,” Ianthe said sweetly, but Feyre could tell it as fake.

Still, she let the alpha drag her back into that sitting room, taking her place on the couch and accepting that fake sweetness was better than thinly veiled insults. And, she wanted to have some input on the wedding.

And it would make Tamlin happy if she tried her best to get along with his dear friend. So she would do it, for him, even if Ianthe showing her fifteen different types of ribbons to tie the bouquets made her want to claw her eyes out.

After all, he had nearly marked her today, a sign that he wanted it as badly as her.

So she would plan their wedding, and hopefully make her dress something more her this time. Anything else, she didn’t care too much about.

As Ianthe pulled out yet another type of ribbon, Feyre merely nodded her head at Ianthe’s suggestions, picturing herself and Tamlin holding a child bearing both of their features, instead of how her bouquet would look with said ribbon.

Yes, for Tamlin, she could do this.

Series Taglist: @icey--stars @homeslices @holypizzaqueen

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Feyre was dying.

She was sure of it. She had to be dying, with the overwhelming heat coming off of her and the immense pains in her abdomen.

Granted, Feyre’s thoughts had been very muddled lately, moments in time disappearing from her memory and nothing made sense.

Feyre had realized again that she was back in Spring, separated from her perfect nest she had made before. She wasn’t sure how many days had passed, how long she had been drifting in and out of sleep.

Ianthe visited her far too often, cramming food into Feyre’s mouth and commanding her to eat and plying her with tea that sent her back to sleep.

Tamlin had come to her four times.

Feyre knew that one for sure, she could vividly remember the instant relief she felt when the alpha had knotted her, each and every time.

She only wished it had happened more often.

Right now, Feyre had her hand between her thighs, desperately trying to find some sort of reprieve from the fire ravaging her flesh. She’d been in the same position, hips rocking when she could summon the energy. She wished she had her nightgown still, the one that smelled so perfect. But it had disappeared at some point when she was asleep.

Her bedroom door swung open, and Feyre managed to look towards it, hoping to scent her alpha-

But it was the rancid scent of Ianthe, wilting roses and dirt that got stuck in her nose for hours after she was left alone.

Feyre groaned, turning away from the alpha as quickly as she could manage.

“Feyre, we’ve talked about this. You need to eat, and you need to drink something,” Ianthe scolded. “Now, turn around omega.”

She fought the command as long as she could, but she was already so weak, so tired. Feyre rolled back to the alpha, grimacing as pain lanced through her.

Ianthe attempted to pry Feyre’s mouth open and place a piece of a sandwich inside, but Feyre wouldn’t budge.

The taste of her fingers were like ash, and Feyre nearly vomited, but she held her mouth closed, unwilling to eat the food she was offering. Every time she ate, it meant that Tamlin would not appear, and she needed his knot.

Feyre kept turning her head away from Ianthe’s chilled fingers, until finally the alpha huffed and stormed out of the room.

Finally. The scent of her would linger, but the intensity was already so much lesser…

Her right hand returned to between her thighs, slowly rubbing at the bundle of nerves there.

She wished she still had her nightgown, the one with her alpha’s scent… just the thought of it, so fresh and clean and intoxicating lessened the burning of her body for a moment, before kicking up to a level higher than before.

Feyre let out a wail, in so much pain that she could hardly breathe.

The door opened once more, and the scent of lilacs, cedar and earth filled Feyre’s senses. Or nearly what she needed, but it would do.

She took a few greedy lungfuls before turning her head to the door to watch Tamlin swing it shut.

“Alpha,” she groaned, and she wanted to present for him, if only she had the strength in her limbs to do so.

“Omega. Ianthe said you refuse to eat.” His voice was tense, verging on angry and Feyre cowered into herself, terrified that she made the alpha upset. “You need to eat, Feyre.”

“Pain,” Feyre whispered.

Tamlin gave her a pitying look before approaching her in her nest and sitting down next to her. “You hurt too much to eat, omega?” He asked, and Feyre nodded her head slightly. “Do you need alpha’s knot?”

Feyre moaned at that, the thought of being filled and locked to an alpha just what she needed. She let Tamlin pull the sheets from her body, prowling over her naked form. She was already leaking slick steadily, and he was able to push in in one slow thrust, stopping for a moment to let Feyre bask in the fullness.

Finally. Finally full again.

Feyre came quickly, her body overstimulated from the days on end need that flooded her. Her second came as Tamlin’s knot started to catch, so close to what she needs.

And then they were blissfully locked together, Tamlin’s seed coating her insides. I hope I have a baby, Feyre thought as Tamlin gently laid them on their sides, and arm wrapping around Feyre’s torso. Feyre sighed, the heat finally abating for the moment.

She had nearly nodded off to the calming sound of Tamlin’s breathing and steady heartbeat when his knot started to deflate, and he moved to pull away.

All tiredness left Feyre’s body, and she was flooded with instant panic as she quickly turned to wrap her arms around the alpha.

“Don’t leave, alpha, please don’t leave me,” Feyre cried pathetically, fat tears already pouring from her eyes. “I’ll do whatever you want please just don’t leave me, stay with me.”

Tamlin let out a heavy sigh. “Feyre, you know I have things to-”

“Alpha, please,” she wailed, grasping tighter to him when he tried to move.

Another sigh. “If you eat, omega, I will stay with you. But you need to eat and drink,” he commanded gently, and Feyre bobbed her head in agreement.

She still didn’t move.

“Omega, you need to sit back against the headboard to eat.” She let go of him with a pout on her face, but scooted back against the wall as he asked. Tamlin moved the tray that Ianthe had brought in onto the bed right in front of Feyre’s crossed legs. “Eat.”

Feyre sighed and picked up the sandwich, bland and ashy on her tongue. She choked it down as quickly as she could, then took the teacup that Tamlin was now offering her and drained that swiftly. Feyre placed the cup back on the tray, and turned her eyes on the alpha expectantly.

Tamlin moved the tray onto her nightstand and moved up the bed, taking Feyre in his arms. He pulled a blanket over them, a pale green and entirely too scratchy on Feyre’s sensitive skin, but it would have to do. Feyre snuggled into his hold, breathing in his scent and relaxing as she listened to his heartbeat.

Tamlin kept his word and stayed with Feyre throughout the night, knotting her a total of five times.

When she awoke for the final time, her mind felt clear once more. Her heat was nearly gone now, only a dull ache and mild fever after receiving the care and hormones she needed.

Tamlin stirred behind her, his arm tightening around her middle before pulling away entirely. Feyre rolled to follow his body, still not ready to be without her alpha.

“Tam? Where are you going?” Feyre asked softly as he stood up from the bed and began pulling his clothes on.

“I have a meeting to get to, Feyre. I’ll have Ianthe come and check on you soon,” Tamlin said stiffly, already fully clothed and walking towards the door. Anger bubbled in Feyre’s chest, overriding any sleepiness she had held onto.

“This isn’t fair!” Feyre yelled at his back. “You barely helped me during my heat, you haven’t marked me, you didn’t think to let me choose how to decorate my nest! It’s like you don’t even care about me anymore!”

Tamlin spun around faster than Feyre had seen him move in a long time, faster than at their wedding. “I’m the one who doesn’t care?!” He shouted back at her, his scent and face flooded with anger. “You couldn’t even make it down the aisle to me Feyre, how do you think that made me feel? And then you run off with him, when you were due for your heat any day!”

“You know that I had no control over-”

“You came home reeking of Rhysand! Lucien said you were clinging to him, like some desperate omega whore!” He spat at Feyre, and she shrank down into her bed.

“Get out,” Feyre whispered, pulling the blankets over her body tightly.

“Feyre, I didn’t-”

“Get out!” Feyre screamed, throwing a pillow at him as hard as she could. A moment later her door opened and slammed shut, rattling in its frame.

Tears streamed down Feyre’s face as she curled in on herself tightly, a pillow clutched to her chest.

Omega whore. That’s what she had been, hadn’t she? She had gone into Rhysand’s room, slept in his bed, ground against him…

Feyre sobbed. Everything Tamlin said was true. She was a horrible, horrible omega. She doesn’t deserve his mark, that’s probably why he hasn’t given it to her yet.

Hours passed, but Feyre stayed in the same position, tears constantly flowing down her face.

The thoughts wouldn’t leave.

Feyre stayed there until the sun had dipped below the horizon, after Ianthe had come to try and force her down to the dining room.

She finally moved to bathe. Her body felt disgusting after however many days she had spent in a heat soaked haze. The warmth of the water did little to warm her heart, which felt cold and brittle at the moment. Like she would shatter with one more vicious word from Tamlin.

Feyre stayed in there until her skin was pruney and the water had cooled, barely managing to wash herself with her limited energy. She dragged herself out, drying herself a bit before stumbling back into her bedroom.

Her nest was atrocious. She could see that now, after having built one exactly how she liked in the Night Court. It was filled with muted greens and browns, colors that she had felt safe wrapped in when she was a human- but now, now she needed vibrancy, a reminder that life is bright and joyful even when she doesn’t feel that way.

This nest, she hates.

Feyre ripped all of the blankets off, the pillows, the finally the sage green sheets, all of them tossed into the corner of her room. Feyre went through her closet and wardrobe, happening across a set of dusty pink sheets and a soft white cotton nightgown.

Better than nothing.

She pulled the nightgown over her head, then put the sheets on as fast as she could manage, feeling her exhaustion creeping back in after all of the movement. She slipped between them, relieved that these sheets seemed softer than the ones before. Feyre sighed, letting the tension leave her body with it as she curled in on herself again.

Omega whore.

Tears trailed down her face again as the insult echoed in her mind.

Finally, Feyre slipped into sleep.

Nightmares found her.

She was back under that mountain, trapped in a cell once more with her arm a broken, infected mess. This time, Tamlin came to see her.

“Does it hurt, omega?”

Feyre’s face scrunched at the title- “What?”

“Your arm,” he said, gesturing to it. Feyre looked down at it, saw the bone poking through skin. She nodded and looked back to him. “Good. Stupid omega whores like you deserve to be in pain.” Faster than she could see, his hand darted through the bars of her cell, fingers grabbing the bone protruding through her skin and pulled.

Feyre screamed, the pain worse than anything she had ever faced, but he didn’t let up. He grabbed her arms with his other hand and twisted, bones snapping further-

Feyre bolted out of bed, barely getting to the toilet in time to empty the contents of her stomach into it.

Knocks were coming from Feyre’s door, had been since she woke, and the door quickly opened after her retching started.

“Feyre, are you okay?” Lucien asked as he pulled her hair away from her face, a soothing hand on her back and she leaned on the bowl of the toilet for support.

“Nightmare,” Feyre whispered once she was certain her stomach was empty. She rinsed her mouth in the sink as thoroughly as she could. “What did you want?”

Lucien looked her up and down, taking in her pale, shaking frame. “I wanted to invite you out for breakfast in the gardens,” he suggested gently. “Tamlin…” Feyre shook harder at his name, and Lucien took her hands into his, the alpha’s scent of autumn leaves and crisp wind and calm soothing Feyre’s omega. “He told me what happened, your fight. I wanted to make sure you are okay, and offer you a way out of breakfast in the dining room if you wish.”

Feyre nodded her head. That sounded nice, better than dealing with Tamlin’s cruel words bouncing around in her head as he and Ianthe most likely ignored her. “I’d like that. Give me a moment to change?”

“Of course, Feyre. I’ll be waiting outside,” the redhead said with a soft smile. Feyre looked through her closet for something to wear-

All of the dresses were far too complex for her to put on herself. They required lacing in the back, both for the corset and the dress. She shuffled through everything, and happened across a few skirts and matching shirts- perfect. Feyre pulled out a pale pink set and quickly stripped herself of her nightgown and slid them on. The fabric was soft and flowy, and the skirt ended at her knees. The shirt had long sleeves that billowed slightly around her arm before coming in to a cuff at her wrists, and buttoned up the front.

How had she never worn this in the past year here?

Feyre knew the answer. She was rarely allowed to dress herself, let alone wake up on her own and not by the bustling of maids entering her room and prepping her for the day. She shook her head. She was allowed to today. Thank the Mother, Feyre didn’t think she could stand to be near Ianthe this early after such a horrible day and night yesterday.

Feyre made her way to the door, before she remembered to grab a pair of slippers to protect her feet. She opened the door, and found Lucien leaning against the wall opposite it. “Ready?” Feyre nodded. “Let’s go then, dear Feyre.” She took his extended arm gratefully, happy to have a calm, kind alpha near her to put her omega at ease. They walked slowly down the halls, as Feyre was still feeling exhausted from her heat and subsequent fight with her alpha.

Soon, they hit the front doors of the manor, the dining room only separated from them by the double glass doors. Feyre could hear the hum of Tamlin’s voice, Ianthe’s grating laughter. She tugged Lucien outside, not wanting to linger in case one of them decided to come to the door and drag her inside.

Lucien led her to a secluded spot in the garden, a table already set for their meal. Feyre was happy to note that there were no red roses in sight, something she was sure Lucien had planned for. Lucien pulled out a chair for Feyre, to which she shook her head but sat anyway.

“You know you don’t have to do that, I’m not lady, after all,” Feyre said as Lucien took his seat across from her.

“I know, Feyre, I just like to be nice and treat you as one,” he replied with a chuckle, and took the lids off of both of their plates. Feyre looked to hers, then at Lucien’s, and back to hers.

“Why do you get more bacon than me?”

Lucien snickered at her before he moved two more pieces of bacon to her plate from his, giving them an equal four each. “I didn’t plate the food, Feyre, otherwise I would have given you ten pieces, knowing how much you love bacon.”

Feyre’s plate was… sad, in her opinion. Two fried eggs, a slice of toast with a small amount of butter, the now four pieces of bacon, and a small bowl of fruit. She had forgotten how much smaller her portions were here, after being allowed to dish food out for herself as she liked. But at least Lucien was kind enough to sacrifice some of his bacon for her, that made a small smile on her face.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, though she could practically feel the questions rattling around in Lucien’s head. “Yes, Lucien?”

He sighed, setting his fork down. “Are you okay, Feyre?”

Feyre blinked at him. “I’m fine, Lucien. Pissed at Tamlin and exhausted, yes, but I’m fine. Why?”

Lucien’s eyes darted away from hers for a moment before meeting her blue orbs again. “You were very distressed when you came home, and I wanted to make sure that nothing…” he paused, searching for the right words. “If anything happened to you while you were away, Feyre, you can talk to me about it.”

Feyre stared at him. That’s what he was worried about? She couldn’t help but laugh at his suggestion. “Lucien, nothing bad happened to me in the Night Court, I promise you. Rhys was very proper once I went in to heat, he brought me here as soon as it started.” Lucien breathed a sigh of relief, and it was obvious to Feyre that this had been weighing heavily on him. “If he had had any ill intentions toward me, he could have kept me for the last day of the week that I owed him. But he didn’t, he brought me back here.” Feyre couldn’t help but defend Rhysand, he had been more attentive and caring to her in the five days she had been in his court than the entire last year in Spring. Lucien opened his mouth, but Feyre stopped him before he could disagree with her. “Lucien, I felt safe in his court. He and Mor were very kind to me, and never forced me to do anything while I was there.”

Lucien exhaled heavily, Feyre’s words not what he had been expecting. “I am glad that you were safe, Feyre. I do wish you weren’t bound to him, still. But it is good to hear that you are not in danger of being tortured.”

Feyre snorted. “The only torture I’ve been through is Rhys’s training, though even that was enjoyable.”

“Training?” Lucien asked warily.

“Yes…” Feyre paused, gauging his reaction. His mechanical eye was whirring, looking over Feyre’s form for any injuries. “He asked to help me train my mental shields and…”

“And?”

“And my magic,” Feyre added hesitantly.

“What magic, Feyre?” Lucien asked. “You haven’t shown any signs of magic over the past year, you know that.”

Feyre’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Yes I have, Lucien. Remember that god-awful dress Ianthe had tried to force me into? The one with red roses stitched all over the skirt of the dress?” Lucien nodded his head the memory coming back to him. “I set it on fire.”

“No, we decided that it had caught fire on the candle nearby, Feyre,” Lucien said as he shook his head.

“Lucien. It was me. The candle was several feet away from the dress. And the first signs of magic normally come in the beginning stages of life then fade, right?” He nodded his head again, confusion in his eyes. “And I was able to conjure wind in the Night Court after practicing, Lucien. Rhys thinks that I am close to my first magical expansion in my body, and that my magic is growing in at an accelerated pace after being Made.”

Lucien looked off to the side, deep in thought for a minute. “If that’s true, Feyre, then you do need training, and as much as possible. Uncontrolled magic is dangerous, especially once an expansion hits the body…” he trailed off.

“Will you talk to Tamlin about it? I would like to train when I’m home, as well. With Tamlin, if he’s willing,” Feyre asked cautiously. The last time she had asked to train in any way, Tamlin had exploded in anger, insisting that Feyre would never need to train, would never be in danger again.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, Feyre… You remember how he was when you asked to learn to use a sword.”

“But that was a year ago, Lucien! Things have changed now, Rhys told me that Hybern is planning to go to war against Prythian. I should be training, you even said so!”

Lucien sighed. “Alright, Feyre. I’ll talk to him about it. But I can’t promise anything.”

Feyre breathed out, relieved that she had convinced him to try. “Thank you, Lucien.” He gave her a soft smile, one that she returned. “So… how many days was I in heat?”

“Nine days, Feyre.”

Nine? “What? But they’ve never lasted more than a week…”

“Tamlin was… well, he wasn’t in much of a state to help you, after you returned,” Lucien said cautiously, and his words lit a fire in Feyre’s chest. “You were crying out for your alpha, even when… even when Tamlin was holding you.” Heat moved to Feyre’s ears- had she really, truly been acting like an omega whore, just like Tamlin said? “It’s not your fault, Feyre, you were covered in Rhysand’s scent, and without Tamlin’s mark, well, most omegas normally latch on to the alpha they see when they first go into heat,” he added when he saw Feyre’s face fall.

“But- I don’t understand, why wouldn’t Tam help me?” Tears formed in her eyes, another layer of shame covering her.

“Tamlin was enraged that you had been near Rhysand in that state at all, he… he destroyed his study over the first few days.”

“But did he even stop to think about how much pain I was in? He stayed away long enough that my heat extended, Lucien!”

“He came to you in the end, Feyre. He’s trying, there’s just been a lot to adjust to in the past two weeks.” Feyre tried to let her anger go, she did. She knew that her leaving during their wedding ceremony would have consequences, just not to the degree that Tamlin would ignore her during her heat…

“I can’t… I can’t forgive him for that, Lucien. None of this was my choice, I should not be punished for a bargain that saved my life.”

“I know, Feyre, I know. Please, just give him a bit of time. The two of you can cool down and talk about this when you’re ready.” Feyre nodded her head in agreement after a moment. She would be giving him a wide berth for the next few days- she didn’t think she could see him and not hear the words he spat at her yesterday. Lucien breathed a sigh of relief, happy to have gotten Feyre to agree. “So, besides the training, how was the rest of your time?” Lucien asked curiously.

“Well… I started drawing again… the view from my bedroom was so magnificent, I couldn’t help but start again,” Feyre said softly, thinking about the many sunrises and sunsets she had seen over that beautiful mountain range.

“Feyre, that’s amazing!” Lucien congratulated, taking one of her hands in his. “So you were truly comfortable there?”

Feyre nodded her head. “Yes, it was a nice experience, actually. Which did surprise me. But Mor, she brought me some catalogs to shop from if I wanted, and…” Feyre paused, not sure if she was willing to share the information, but she was excited enough that she couldn’t stop. “They let me pick out whatever I wanted for my nest, and it turned out… I had never realized that I was supposed to feel completely relaxed in my nest, fully safe. But when I made one there… it was perfect,” Feyre gushed, remembering the soft feel of fabrics between her fingers, the beautiful colors surrounding her bed. When she finally looked at Lucien’s face again, his eyes had softened significantly.

“I’m happy for you, Feyre. It’s beautiful when an omega finally creates their perfect nest for themselves. Is that why you fought with Tamlin…?” He asked cautiously, and Feyre sighed again.

“Partially. I feel like my needs as an omega have been… pushed aside, deemed less important. And I feel like, if I don’t get them met soon, that…” she stopped mid sentence, unable to finish her thought.

“That you’ll collapse in on yourself?” Lucien offered, and Feyre nodded in agreement.

“Exactly. I’m still not fully used to having all of these new urges and desires, and I’ve been relying on all of you to tell me what I need. But in the Night Court… they actually offered it to me, put my omega at ease. Do you know where I’m coming from?” Feyre asked Lucien, tears building in her eyes.

“I do, Feyre, I do. I’ll talk to Tamlin about it, try to get through to him for you. You don’t deserve to be miserable in your new designation. And I’m sorry, that we didn’t help you before,” Lucien said softly, rubbing slow, soothing circles on the back of her hand.

“Thank you, Lucien. I just want to feel safe, cared for-”

“Hello, you two,” came a cheery voice from behind Feyre, but dread filled her stomach as she turned to look at the intruder. Ianthe, dressed in her priestess robes as usual. “I came to grab Feyre from you, we have a lot of preparations to get through for the new ceremony,” Ianthe said, extending a hand for Feyre to take.

Feyre stayed seated, unwilling to follow the alpha anywhere. After all, she was the reason the first ceremony was interrupted.

“Feyre, get up right now,” the alpha commanded harshly, and Feyre’s body followed the order instantly, much to her dismay. “Good girl, now come with me.” Feyre placed her hand on Ianthe’s arm and let the alpha lead her back into the manor, away from the kind aura of Lucien. “We need to get you measured for a new gown, I’m sure those heathens in the Night Court ripped it shreds and burned it,” Ianthe spat, dragging Feyre into sitting room where she had spent the majority of her time over the past year.

Ianthe clicked her tongue and a maid entered, measuring tape and full length mirror in hand.

“Do we really need to take new measurements?” Feyre asked. “I’m sure that I am the same size as I was a week ago, Ianthe.”

Ianthe sucked in breath. “I’m not so sure about that, Feyre. How much did food did you shovel into your face?” She asked, a venomous edge to her words. She guided Feyre in front of the mirror and stripped her of her clothes. “See that?” Ianthe asked as she pinched the skin covering Feyre’s stomach. “That’s fat, you silly little omega. You had to have eaten your weight in food there, Feyre.” She gave her a sickeningly sweet smile before pinching the skin on her thighs as well. “Next time, omega, show some restrain, hmm?”

Ianthe snapped her fingers, and maid came over to Feyre and began measuring every part of her body. Ianthe would huff after one, telling Feyre how much she had grown in each area. By the end of it, Feyre was holding back her tears, and could barely look at her reflection in the mirror.

She had thought her body was finally taking shape how it should have over the past year- but she was wrong. Feyre could hardly stand to see the fat hanging off of her, every movement causing it to jiggle slightly.

When Ianthe finally handed Feyre her clothes back, she put them on as quickly as she could, wishing for once that she was hidden beneath one of the ridiculously poofy dresses Ianthe liked to clothe her in.

Ianthe led her to the couches, where a tray of tea was waiting for them, kept warm in the enchanted teacups that Ianthe favored. She encouraged her to drink, so Feyre did, if only to keep the peace. Yea with Ianthe normally ended with Feyre being dreadfully tired, normally retiring to her room for a few hours of napping until dinner.

Ianthe waited for Feyre to finish her entire teacup, and then poured her another from the pot before speaking.

“Now that the… disappointment is over, Feyre, we can begin to work on the theming for the wedding. Again,” Ianthe added, anger lacing her tone. “The ceremony will be in four months. I believe that a lovely, tradition Spring Court wedding is still the way to go, what about you, Feyre?”

Feyre knew it was a trap, knew that anything beyond what Ianthe suggested would simply not do. But she couldn’t help it.

“Could we theme it to the season we’re in? We would be in Winter, by the time four months pass.” A winter wedding would be lovely, Feyre thought. She could almost see it, trees covered in glistening white snow, snow falling over a beautiful wooden archway as she walked down the aisle to Tamlin, using the season that almost killed her to bring to life the beautiful promise of forever that they would make to each other.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Feyre. Tamlin is the High Lord of Spring, he cannot have a Winter wedding.” Ianthe shook her head at Feyre, eyes narrowing heatedly at her. “Spring it is. Any requests for flowers? Roses, of course, will be included, it would be a waste to not include the former Lady’s lovely rose gardens after all.”

“Anything but red-”

“Feyre. It is foolish to ban a color such as red from a Spring wedding that includes roses!” Ianthe hissed at her, her scenting flooding with anger.

But Feyre was angrier. “I do not care, Ianthe, I will not have another panic attack at my own wedding!” Feyre screeched at her, nearly ready to rip her claws into Ianthe’s stupidly pretty face. “This is my wedding as well as Tamlin’s, you would be best to remember that.” Feyre had a growl building in her throat, until she locked eyes with the now fuming alpha.

“And you, Feyre, would be best to remember that you are lucky that Tamlin still wishes to marry you, after the stunt you pulled two weeks ago. And running away with another alpha, at that! Omega whore is right,” Ianthe spat at Feyre before standing from her chair and sweeping out of the room dramatically.

As soon as Feyre could no longer hear her footsteps, she made her way to her room as quickly as she could, choking back tears the entire way.

She reached her door, opening quickly and shutting it softly behind her before sliding down it, tears flowing from her eyes.

Too much, all of this is too much.

Feyre crawled to the bed, hoisting herself onto the mattress after a few tries. She curled up underneath the sheet, holding her legs to her chest as she slowly cried herself to sleep, sunshine still pouring through the windows of her bedroom.

---

Feyre was upset. But she didn’t know why.

She had gone into heat for the first time nine months ago. In the days leading up to it, she hadn’t felt safe sleeping in such an open space, so she had created fluffy mound of pillows and blankets to surround all sides of her bed. That had helped soothe her anxieties a bit. But not enough.

She had even snuck a few of Tamlin’s shirts from his clothes bin, not feeling the slightest bit embarrassed about it when the added presence of his scent calmed her down and allowed her to sleep with only a few nightmares.

But then the cramping started. And the heat licking up her spine had been unbearable. Even a cold bath had only helped abate the fire for a few short minutes and she gave up and dragged herself back into her bed.

Tamlin had shown up a few hours later, tossing the pillows and fabrics at the end of the bed onto the ground as he eyed Feyre with a predatory glint in his eyes.

“Pretty omega,” he crooned, slowly getting on the bed, covering her naked body with his. “Did you need some help from your alpha?”

Feyre had whined, tugging at his shirt weakly, needing to feel his skin on hers, knowing it would help with the fire in her blood. “Please alpha, touch me,” she said, her voice breathless as she sucked in his scent.

Tamlin chuckled, pulling his shirt off over his head and throwing it to the side, Feyre’s eyes tracking where it landed, marking it for later. “I only have a couple of hours I can spare today, omega. I wish you’d told me you were nesting, I would have cleared my schedule in advance.” He paused, loosing a long breath into her neck, her answering breath in sharp and needy. He chuckled, pressing hard kisses to the side of her throat before sucking gently on her scent gland.

“Since you didn’t tell me, I won’t be able to help you much these first few days, omega.” More placating to her neck as she whined again. “I’ll have Lucien push anything after tomorrow, but maybe two days without your alpha’s knot will keep you from making that mistake again, hmm?” He finally, finally, placed a kiss on her mouth. And then her breasts. Then stomach.

She sighed a hum of agreement, just happy to finally have her alpha giving her the attention she needed, and threaded her hands into his hair, trying to push him lower with her remaining strength. He chuckled against her skin, before lapping up some of the slick that had been steadily leaking from her since this afternoon.

“Alpha,” Feyre whimpered, shifting her hips up into her face. “Need more. Please.” Tamlin smirked at her from between her thighs, his mouth gleaming with her slick.

“Need my knot, sweet omega?” A vigorous head shake later and Tamlin had shucked off his pants and lined up his cock with her cunt. “Good. I’m going to fill up this cunt, breed you full of pups. Would you like that omega?” Another head nod, tears forming at the edges of her eyes from the sheer need for him in that moment. He flashed another smirk at her, thrusting into her in one motion, pushing the air out of her lungs.

The stretch of him normally burned even when he went slow, but today? He fit perfectly in her, slick easing his way into her. As he pulled back, she sucked another breath in, preparing for the brutal pace she hoped he would set.

She wasn’t disappointed, the fast movements of his hips sending ice cold pleasure up her spine, and within minutes his knot had begun to catch in her, sending her into a blissful state, only thrown further in once his knot had locked him inside entirely, and he was spilling his seed deep inside her.

Finally, the heat had left her body.

Tamlin had rolled them to their sides, arms wrapped loosely around her. They sat in the quiet for a while, before his knot loosened and he pulled out of her, leaving her empty, and heat almost immediately started building in her abdomen again. A small whimper left her, and she tried to sit up to watch what Tamlin was doing, but collapsed back into her bed, only managing to angle her head in his direction.

He had already pulled his pants back on, and had moved to grab his shirt off the floor before looking at the fabrics lining the eyes of her bed. He pulled one of his shirts out from it, wrinkling his nose at it before dropping it. “Really Feyre? Stealing my clothes? Don’t do that anymore.”

Feyre frowned, not sure what was so wrong with it. “But your scent-”

“I don’t care omega, don’t steal my clothes anymore,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument as he put his shirt back on. “Anyways, I have a meeting I have to go to, I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t leave your room, I’ll have Alis or Ianthe come up in a bit to check on you.”

Tears filled Feyre’s eyes at the thought of being alone, or worse yet with Ianthe, in this state. “Alpha, please don’t leave,” she begged, managing to push herself onto her knees in the middle of her bed as something inside of her panicked.

Tamlin looked back at her, already with his hand on the doorknob. “Oh, omega,” he sighed, “I already told you this would happen. Just think of it lie a punishment for not telling me you were nesting when you started,” he said coldly, opening the door and shutting it behind him, the sound of it latching breaking the dam on her tears as she fell back into her bed- no, nest.

The rest of her heat had passed in a cramp filled haze, Tamlin stopping in when he had the time, but never for longer than it took for his knot to deflate. She remembered him saying something about his schedule, but couldn’t think of exactly what.

But that was over. The next two heats, three months apart each, had gone fine, though she woke up alone during most days which hurt the part of her that she’d figured out was her omega. She wanted to wake up in his arms, knowing he was there to help if the heat got too unbearable. But that had only happened two days total in her first three heats, in the year since she had been high fae. Not that he wouldn’t burst through her door in the middle of the night if he had a nightmare about her death again. Why he didn’t just sleep in her room, she didn’t know.

But today, that doesn’t matter. Today is her wedding day.

Today is her wedding day, yet Feyre is angry.

She is angry about her dress. The obnoxiously poofy, overly resembling-a-cupcake dress was horribly itchy on her skin, and is just ridiculous and not her at all. Her hair has been teased into a fluffy, curly mess with so many pins she just knows her head will be aching all day.

And her omega? Well, she is pissed about the fact her alpha still hadn’t but her scent gland, marking her as his forever, and he refused to answer why. And, well, her nest hadn’t had any of Tamlin’s scent in it besides what he left behind during her heats, as he wouldn’t let her take his clothes since her first one. She had been more on edge after every heat, and nearing them as well because of the lack of him.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Feyre’s bath was heavenly. The view was perfect, the temperature of the water was just right, and Nuala had brought in a tray holding a lovely teapot filled with a lovely jasmine tea, which she was tempted to ask for a container of to take home to Spring, as well as a few different kinds of cookies.

She stayed in the bath until the tea was gone and the sweets were eaten. Her skin was pruney, but she didn’t mind. She dried herself off and tied her hair up in a towel, walked over to the wardrobe and swung the doors open. The inside held an assortment of clothing, matching sets of tops and bottoms, all of which were cut in a comfortable but attractive looking fashion. There were also a few silk dresses, nightgowns, dressing gowns, thick leggings, and buttery soft looking knit sweaters. There were a few different pairs of satin slippers on the floor of the wardrobe, all varying in color that matched the sets of clothing. Feyre pulled out one of the nightgowns, a midnight blue with silver stars embroidered at the hems, and slipped it over her head, amazed at how well it fit her body.

Although, maybe she shouldn’t be seeing as Rhys had chosen clothing… well, scraps of cloth, for her before, and her body truly hadn’t changed much in the past year.

Shaking her head, she grabbed a matching, sheer dressing gown, then padded over to the bed and bent down slightly, touching the indigo comforter, and instantly sinking down onto the bed. The blanket was possibly one of the softest fabrics she had ever touched. Tossing the dressing gown on the end of the bed, she pulled back the covers and slipped underneath, deciding that she was worn out enough from the day events to take a nap before dinner.

The pillows were just the right marriage between firm and fluffy, Feyre couldn’t help but loose a sigh as she pulled the blanket up over her chin. The pillowcases were violet in color, and she wondered if Rhysand had a hand in decorating her room. With the shade of his eyes all over the room, she thought it was highly likely. If he did have a part in it, well, he did a good job. Especially with the bed, not forgetting the fabrics waiting to billow down and create a beautiful canopy.

After a few minutes of laying in a haven of comfort, Feyre slipped into a deep sleep as her body gave in to the emotional exhaustion from the day.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

It was a few hours later that she was awoken by a soft knock and the door swinging open, Cerridwen holding a tray with a few dishes stacked on top.

Feyre sat up in the bed, wiping the sleep out of her eyes when the smell hit her- something was absolutely mouthwatering, and her stomach rumbled. It was then that she realized she hadn’t eaten all day aside from the cookies earlier, having been too nervous to eat before the ceremony, and, well…

“That smells wonderful,” she remarked as Cerridwen crossed the room and placed the tray on the table. “What is it?”

“There’s a bowl of beef stew, a few slices of bread, and a slice of cake. Oh, and a couple of different drinks that I thought you might like.” Feyre grabbed the dressing gown and slipped it on, walking over to the table and smiled at the shadow wraith.

“Thank you for the food, Cerridwen.”

“It’s no problem, Feyre. Thank you for everything that you have done. It means a lot to all of us to be back home,” she said with gratitude in her eyes, and Feyre blushed lightly. “Especially… especially for the High Lord.” Cerridwen shook her head, clearing her thoughts, then made for the door. “Enjoy your dinner, Feyre.”

Feyre watched the door close, then turned back to the tray of food. The stew looked as delicious as it smelled, thick with chunks of beef, onion, carrots, potatoes, and two other root vegetables. Feyre was guessing they were native to the Night Court, as she’d never seen anything similar to them back in Spring. One of them was blue inside, with varying rings of varying color spreading outward and the skin removed; the other was a solid dark brown with a black skin.

She sat down and immediately picked up the spoon, taking a bite of the stew. Flavor exploded in her mouth as the spicy, earthy flavor overtook her tastebuds. Quickly, she spooned another bite into her mouth, and sighed after swallowing. It was absolute perfection, so rich and comforting.

Feyre picked up a slice of bread going to tear a piece off and butter it separately, as she had been drilled into doing over the past year back home. But…

Ianthe isn’t here right now.

No one is here to see her butter the whole slice of bread and dip it into the stew, taking the biggest bite that she possibly could.

No one is here to see that she finishes stew and bread within 15 minutes, an entirely unladylike act back home for the size of the bowl.

The cake was a nutty flavor- pistachio, if she was correct- with a vanilla buttercream, and absolutely delightful. Feyre was only able to finish half of the slice, her stomach feeling on the edge of bursting.

Stuffed as she was, she looked towards the three cups on the tray. One of them was water, which she took a small sip of. The next was a bubbly apple juice, light and sweet on her tongue, similar to the sparkling fairy wine they had at holidays. The last was a warm and creamy chocolate drink, staying warm in its enchanted mug, adding to the contentment building in her chest.

Even if the day had been bad, nowhere near the outcome she was hoping for, she had just eaten a delicious dinner with a gorgeous view.

She climbed back into her bed a few minutes later, watching the sun set over the mountains as she lay facing the open wall, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

🩵💜🩵

A knock sounded on her door, waking Feyre from her peaceful slumber. “Darling, breakfast will be ready in a half an hour,” Rhysand drawled through the door before she heard his footsteps receding down the hall.

She sighed and threw the covers off of herself, stretching her body taut before getting up and heading over to the bathroom.

She slipped her nightgown off over her head, tossing it on the large counter on the far end of the bathroom, and her hair up in a bun with a tie she found in drawer in the counter, then sank into the warm water of the bathtub. She reveled in the beauty of the morning light shining on the land before her for a few minutes. She washed herself quickly, not wanting to linger too long and risk Rhysand or someone else possibly stumbling in on her in the bath to hurry her along to breakfast.

Feyre toweled her body off and went to the vanity, rummaging through the drawers until she found a brush and smoothed out her hair, wild from sleep. Then she moved over to the wardrobe and picked out a pair of black leggings, and a dark blue knit sweater so soft she wanted a blanket made out of it. She picked out a pair of black flats, slipping them on and walking to the door, steeling herself for whatever is to come during this meal.

She exited her room and headed down the hallway she believed to lead to the table she’d seen in the room they’d first arrived in yesterday.

Hopefully, today would be the same as yesterday, with Rhysand being a tolerable level of flirtatious and pushy. She wasn’t sure she would survive the week if he turned back into the major ass he had been Under the Mountain.

The smell of eggs, bacon and fruit grew as she drew closer, and then she was back in the grand hallway, staring at the gorgeous blonde woman in a sleek black dress seated next to Rhysand. They both turned to look at her, and the blonde squealed, got up, and ran over to Feyre. The moment her scent, citrus and cinnamon and entirely alpha, hit Feyre’s nose, anxiety began to build in her gut. The only other female alpha she knew was Ianthe, and she had nothing but veiled disdain for Feyre in the year that she’d known her.

She stopped right before her, and held out her hands. “It is so lovely to finally meet you, Feyre. My cousin has talked quite a lot about you in the past year, and I’m glad this day has finally come!” The woman grabbed Feyre’s hands, encompassing them with her own. “My name is Mor, I’ll be joining you for breakfast if you’re alright with that!”

Feyre’s first impression of Mor is that of sunshine in a bottle, always ready to be opened and spread joy on those around her, and the building dread within her dissipated. A nice female alpha. She looked a sigh of relief, and squeezed her hands lightly. “That sounds lovely, Mor. It’s nice to meet you too.” The blonde smiled widely at her, and dragged her over to the table where Rhysand was still seated, and a nice selection of food was waiting to be eaten.

“Good morning, Feyre,” he said with a smile, and Feyre almost sighed again. It seemed like today was going to be a nice day, if the attitude these two were giving off was genuine. Then his scent washed over her, the blissful combination of citrus and sea, so perfectly alpha.

It may be more trying than she thought, through no true fault of his own.

“Good morning, Rhysand,” she replied, the corners of her mouth tilted up. Feyre started dishing out food for herself starting with the eggs, and motioned to put some on Mor’s plate as well.

“Yes, please, Feyre,” she said, pushing her plate closer to the dish. Feyre scooped eggs onto her plate, then moved to Rhysand’s. “Thank you, Feyre.”

“I’ll dish my own up, darling, but thank you,” he said with a slight smirk, grabbing the spatula from her and putting eggs on his plate.

Feyre fought a frown, unsure why he wouldn’t let her serve him, but mentally shook it off. Probably something to do with being magically bound to a psychopath through a drink served to him, so none of Feyre’s business.

She grabbed a pair of tongs and grabbed a few slices of bacon for herself and Mor, then passing them off to Rhysand again. The same cycle continued for the large bowl of fruit that Feyre was most excited to have, made of chunks of apple, melon, and a few varieties of berries, some of which she hadn’t seen in Spring.

Mor busied herself with pouring glasses of water for the three of them, and once they had their food, the three of them tucked in.

After a couple of minutes, Mor broke the silence. “So, Feyre, what’s your favorite color?”

Feyre choked on her food slightly, not expecting the question at all and threw a questioning look at Mor.

“What?” Mor asked, laughing breezily. “If you’re to be here every month, I’d like to know some things about you! Sooo, your favorite color?” She repeated enthusiastically.

Feyre thought for a moment, not having ever truly thought of what her favorite might be. She had loved all colors equally her entire life. Well, up until a year ago that is. But after a second, thinking back on the painting on her drawer of the dresser… “Probably a dark, midnight blue. What about you?”

“Definitely red, it’s the color of love and passion, so I’ve always been drawn to it. And I happen to look amazing in it.”

Feyre was just happy she hadn’t worn any red today, not wanting to deal with the color any more than she had to. “Now that, I’m sure of, Mor. Though I’m sure you could pull off any color if you tried.” Feyre turned her head to Rhys, asking “Which is your favorite, Rhysand?"

He lifted a hand to his heart, a pained expression on his face. “Feyre, still calling me Rhysand? You know only my enemies call me that, darling. We may not be friends, but I wouldn’t consider us enemies at this point in time.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Fine, what’s your favorite color, Rhys?”

A smile spread across his face, and he answered “Midnight blue as well, funny coincidence darling.” He winked at her, then continued “The color of the night sky is something I’ll never stop loving. There’s just something so entrancing about it.”

It was Mor’s turn to roll her eyes, “Of course that’s your favorite, you’re the High Lord of the Night Court, cousin.”

“That may be, but the color is magnificent either way, Mor.”

Feyre couldn’t help but smile, watching the two interact as she took a few more bites of her food. It was nice to see Rhysand’s friendly side come out, playful but not flirtatious or masking danger.

“Feyre, do you have any hobbies?” Mor asked, drawing her back into the room.

“Oh, umm…” Feyre paused, unsure of how to answer. “I liked to paint, but I haven’t in a while. Recently I’ve taken to reading. Beyond that, I haven’t found much that interests me.”

Mor frowned for a moment, then slid a smile back on her face. “Well, we can change that if you’d like! If you need anything, you can ask either of us or the twins for it, and- oh, do you like shopping?”

Shrugging her shoulders, Feyre said “I don’t really know, I didn’t have the money to shop for anything nice before… as a human, and since then all of my things have been provided for me without me asking.”

“Well, then, if you’d like I could bring you some catalogs from my favorite stores! That way I’d have an excuse to go get something for myself when you wanted something,” Mor added with a wink.

“As though you need an excuse to go shopping Mor,” Rhysand said playfully.

“Oh, like you don’t enjoy shopping for home décor,” She countered in a teasing tone, and Rhys narrowed his eyes at her slightly. Mor wiped her mouth with a napkin, then stood up. “Well, it was wonderful to meet you Feyre. I have a meeting to run off to, but I hope I’ll see you again this week!”

“The same to you, Mor. And I’m sure that we’ll see each other again soon,” Feyre said, meaning her words. And with that, Mor walked off into the the hallway, leaving Feyre alone with Rhysand.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” She asked, and Rhysand quirked a brow at her, questioning. “Seeing as I know how to read, you can’t follow through with your plan to torture me with it.”

Rhysand loosed a sigh, his shoulders hunching slightly. “I do not intend to torture you during your time here, Feyre, physically or otherwise. In fact, if you’ll allow me to, I would like to apologize to you.”

Feyre frowned. “I suppose you can, it does not mean I will forgive you, however.”

“I am not looking for forgiveness, Feyre, I am simply hoping to apologize for my actions, now and whenever else you will allow me. What I did to you and how I acted Under the Mountain…” He paused, looking for the right words. “It was and is unforgivable, no matter the circumstances. I regretted my actions even as I was doing them, and now as well, having you here under the coercion of a bargain that I twisted your infected, broken arm to force you into making. Worst of all was the way I used you during the revels, no matter the reason why, I cannot ever undo the trauma and pain I inflicted upon you. Feyre, I am truly, deeply sorry for how I have hurt you. If you wish, I will release you from the bargain today and return you to Spring right now.”

Feyre’s eyes were wide by the time he had finished, the sincerity of his words shocking her. Most of all, she was shocked at his willingness to revoke the bargain.

“I…” She started, but could not find the words. The omega inside of her was begging her to forgive him, please the alpha in front of her, but the emotional part of her, the part that was damaged and forever changed? It could not simply forgive his actions.

“There is no need to answer me anytime soon, Feyre.”

“No, it’s not… I’m just surprised, is all. I… I will not forgive you now, but I can see that there is a difference in you from a year before now. As for the bargain…” Feyre paused, and Rhys waited, hardly breathing. “The bargain did save my life, no matter how you convinced me to take it, I would have died without it. As of right now, I am fine with continuing to honor it, as long as you offer me another bargain that you will break it if I ask you at any point in time.”

Rhys smiled at Feyre, a broad, toothy one that made him so handsome it nearly took Feyre’s breath away. “It’s a bargain, darling. And thank you.” Inside the unmarked space on her left wrist, a small ribbon of black tied in a bow appeared, a matching one on Rhysand.

“Would you…” Rhysand hesitated. “Would you be willing to try and be friends? At least, friendly during your time here?”

Feyre considered it for a moment. “As long as you do not make any more bullheaded comments about my alpha, then I suppose that would be doable,” She agreed.

Rhys chuckled and nodded his head. “I will do my very best to be polite about him, Feyre, I promise.” He stood up from the table and extended his arm closest to Feyre, and his scent washed over her again. “Now, would you be up for a tour? I would like for you to be able to do more than bathe and sleep, if you so choose.”

Feyre stood up as well, and grabbed his arm lightly, not entirely having planned to do that. She could, after all, walk on her own and follow him. “That sounds nice, I’d like to have more places to hide from you if you do end up being an ass.”

Rhys chuckled at that, and began leading her down the opposite hallway from where her room was.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

The tour took about an hour, granted a lot of that was Feyre exploring the library, a massive, gorgeous room that had a large mural covering the entire far wall.

Rhysand had explained that the mural told the story of the creation of the Night Court, up through the midway point of his father’s rule.

Feyre was entranced by it, similar to the mural back in the Spring library, so much so that Rhysand had to practically drag her away from it, back to the rest of the moonstone palace.

After that, she was most interested in the kitchen and large bathing pools, the latter of which she may have been tempted to use if she didn’t have such an amazing bath in her room already.

“This is our final stop,” Rhys said, swinging the door in front of them open to reveal a relatively bare room, only furnished with two wooden chairs with padding.

Feyre’s face contorted, her mind going to the worst, before Rhys caught sight of her expression and quickly said “It’s a small training room, suitable for beginners magic training, as well as mental shielding. I was hoping that you would be willing to train your magic, if you haven’t begun already in Spring.”

Feyre’s cheeks heated quickly, and she turned away from him and the doorway. “I don’t have any kind of magic,” she stated in a small voice.

“They may not have manifested yet for some reason, Feyre, but you were given a kernel of power from each High Lord.” He walked around her so she faced him, and he lifted her chin with two gentle fingers. “Not much is known about Made fae, but I would reckon that you will have a well of power to rival any one of us, just waiting to be coaxed to life.”

His gentle tone and scent was like a balm on the sting of embarrassment at having no magic to show for what she was gifted, and she nodded her head, his fingers dropping from her chin.

“Would you be willing to try? If you’re uncomfortable attempting to use your magic with me, we could at the very least go over magical theory and how to begin accessing it. Or even just the shielding,” he suggested.

Feyre nodded her head again. Both of those sounded like reasonable, kind enough options for him to offer. “That sounds fine, but… Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why offer to train me? Why offer to help me protect my mind from you?”

Rhysand sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I want you to be able to protect yourself Feyre, even if it is from me. I was not lying when I said I came to call in the bargain because I was worried for you,” he said sincerely.

“As long as you’re not an ass to me during the shielding, both will be fine. I would… I would like to know if I have any magic,” Feyre said hesitantly, a spark of hope igniting in her chest. Something that she hadn’t felt in quite a while, besides the hope for Tamlin’s mark, though that was hardly ignited anymore, especially with the disastrous ceremony now standing between them… Mother, they have so much to discuss when she gets home.

“Of course, Feyre, I’ll be as gentle as I can. As for the theory…” he trailed off, and had suddenly pulled a book from nowhere, and handed it to Feyre. “You can begin reading this today, and we can go over however much you’ve read tomorrow after breakfast.” Feyre turned the book over in her hands, admiring the leather cover that was stitched with silver thread. “It’s a book on the formation of magic as fae age, as well as the beginnings to understanding how to access the magic within you. Read as much or as little as you like."

“Thank you,” Feyre said, clutching the book to her chest.

“Or course, darling. Now, I’ll show you back to your room from here, but after that I’ll be in meetings until dinner this evening, so lunch is yours to take wherever you wish. Just call for Nuala or Cerridwen, or talk to me,” He tapped his temple, “And it will be set up for you. And of course, feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you’d like.”

They made their way back to her room, both of them stopping outside of the doorway.

Her curiosity got the better of her, and she blurted out the question, “Did you help decorate my room?”

Color rose high in Rhysand’s cheeks, the first time that Feyre had ever seen him look bashful, and he coughed awkwardly. “As a matter of fact I did. Are you finding it to your liking? I was attempting to make it as open and inviting as possible.”

Feyre smiled and nodded her head. “Yes, it’s lovely. The view from this side is spectacular.”

Rhysand’s expression mirrored her own. “It certainly is. Have a good rest of your day, Feyre,” he said in parting, and began to walk away.

Feyre turned the doorknob and began to open her door, but before entering her room, turned back to his retreating form. “You too, Rhys. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Rhysand turned around, flashing that toothy smile again, and winked before winnowing away.

She shook her head and entered her room, settling down into her bed, the book Rhysand had given her clutched tightly in her hands. She ran her hands over the cover, the feeling of the stitching comforting against them.

Without waiting another moment, Feyre opened the cover and began reading the guide greedily, wanting what Rhysand had talked about, wanting to be able to defend herself and access the magic he believed her to have been blessed with.

She wanted to be strong again.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

The sun was shining brightly when a noise pulled Feyre from her dreams.

“Feyre?” It was Mor. “Feyre, wake up, we brought breakfast.” There were footsteps and the sound of someone rustling through her wardrobe, then something soft hit Feyre in the face.

Feyre bolted upright, eyes wide as she stared at the Alpha- her citrus and cinnamon scent was overwhelming and delicious, so much so that Feyre was tempted to drag her straight into her nest.

“We?”

“Yes,” Mor smiled. “Rhys is waiting outside, he wanted me to check and ensure that you’re decent and comfortable with him coming in here. So, are you?”

Feyre put on the dressing gown that Mor had thrown on her, coincidentally it matched her nightgown and long socks, then loudly stated “Yes, you can come in Rhys.”

Rhysand entered the room with a smile, a tray overloaded with food in his arms. He set it down on the table, then began scooting it over to the edge of Feyre’s nest and moved the two chairs as well.

His scent flooded Feyre’s nose, the salt water and citrus scent was so refreshing, and Feyre nearly dragged him into her nest, the urge even stronger than when she had scented Mor. Feyre had already scooted towards the edge of the bed closest to the alpha without even realizing it, and stopped once it registered in her brain.

Feyre. Get a hold of yourself, she mentally scolded, and tried her best to breathe in the smell of the food rather than the two wonderfully scented alphas seated in front of her.

Mor took a seat and began dishing out food for herself while Rhysand plated everything for himself and Feyre. There were scrambled eggs with diced potatoes, onions, peppers and small slices of sausage, pieces of toast accompanied by pots of jam, and bowl filled with chunks melons and orange slices.

Rhysand stood at the outside edge of Feyre’s nest, plate in hand, but didn’t move to pass it to her, instead asking “Is it alright if I hand it to you, Feyre?”

Again with the level of politeness and care towards her nest that she had never been given back home. “Yes, that’s fine Rhys.” He handed her the plate, then a napkin and fork before sitting down. “Thank you, Rhys.”

“You’re welcome, Feyre darling,” He said with his soft smile, the one that Feyre though made his face most beautiful. Though she would never tell him that, it would inflate his ego far too much.

“We can skip training today, if you’d like.” The offer came are a few comfortable minutes of silence while they ate.

“Why would I skip training?” Feyre asked. She feels fine, though she would protest if she had to leave her nest at all.

“I just thought I would offer, is all. And practicing in here is no issue, either.”

Feyre bobbed her head, happy to have that confirmed again.

“So Feyre, was there anything you thought of during the night that was missing?” Mor asked, her eyes tracking Feyre’s movements, every lift of her fork to her mouth and its descent back to her plate. Feyre looked around at her nest, she hadn’t even thought to wonder if she was missing something, it had felt so instantly perfect.

“No, I think… I think it’s perfect the way it is,” she said softly, a hand gripping the fine silks beneath her. “This is the first time I’ve gotten to choose everything to build my nest,” Feyre admitted, turning her eyes back to the alphas, who were staring at her with shock in their eyes and mouth agape. “What?” Her voice held panic, worried that her nest had offended them, that it wasn’t perfect in their eyes.

“No, it’s nothing Feyre, that you’ve done. It’s just…” Mor started.

“Most omegas, especially the Lady of a court, are given and abundance of fabrics to choose from for their nests. Omegas are rare, and their nesting process is sacred,” Rhysand explained. “If an omega does not feel fully comfortable in her nest, it is unlikely their heat will be fully satisfied even after it ends, and it makes the probability of conceiving even lower than it already is. It’s just… it was odd, to hear that you have not been given this opportunity before.” His voice was gentle, full of his alpha tone to keep Feyre calm as she heard and processed the information.

“I… I didn’t know,” Feyre whispered, tears filling her eyes. She pushed her half eaten plate of food off of her lap and onto the bed, then grabbed a pillow, soft and fluffy, and buried her face in it.

“Hey, Feyre, it’s alright,” Mor soothed. She whispered something in a harsh tone before she spoke to Feyre once more. “I’m sure it’s just because the Spring Court was decimated over the past fifty years, there might be a shortage of the fabrics right now, sweetie.”

Feyre was still leaking tears onto the pillow, her breathing uneven.

“Feyre, it’s okay. You have a perfect nest right here, right now. We can even send you home with all of the fabrics if you’d like, that way you can have your perfect nest at home,” Rhysand offered, his voice so soothing and alpha and the thought of having her nest like this all the time was perfect.

Feyre leapt out of her bed and into his lap, tears staining his shirt as she curled up in his arms and sobbed. She breathed in his scent, unconsciously tilting her nose towards the scent gland in his neck. One of his hands started running through her hair and down her back, the gesture so comforting that Feyre sobbed harder.

Why wasn’t Tamlin like this with her? Why couldn’t he comfort her and teach her what she needed to know about her new biological needs?

Rhysand gave her a few minutes to calm down, his scent and touch quieting the outrage of the omega in her chest. She sniffled a few times before finally turning her face away from his chest, peering up at the alpha holding her.

“Sweet omega.” Her heart skipped a beat at his low voice, and her hand tightened its grip on his shirt. “You need to finish your breakfast, darling. Then we can do some magic training f you still feel up to it.”

Feyre bit her lip. She was embarrassed, yes, that she had crawled into Rhysand’s lap and cried like a child, but she hadn’t felt so safe and taken care of as she did now in such a long time. She didn’t move, hand still clutching Rhysand’s black silk shirt, right above his heart. She couldn’t move, if she was being honest. Her omega instincts had her rooted her, kept in the warm embrace of the alpha who had shown so much care to her over the past four days.

A very, very quiet purr left Feyre’s chest.

That had her bolting out of his arms and back to her spot on the bed, eagerly finishing off the rest of her breakfast as Mor and Rhysand shared a look that she missed.

“Well, Feyre, if there is anything that you think of that you would like for your nest here, or even duplicates of everything for you to take back to Spring, just let me know,” Mor proposed as she stood from the table. “And would it be alright for me to pick out things that I think you would like, if I happen across them while doing my own shopping?” Mor asked, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

Feyre nodded her head- having someone pick out things that they think would fit Feyre’s taste would be nice. “I would love that, Mor. Just don’t go too overboard,” Feyre warned with humor in her voice.

“Oh, I won’t Feyre. They will be things that scream your name rather than just remind me of you. And it helps that I know what you like, since we went shopping together already.” Mor was over by her bedroom door now, hand on the doorknob.

Feyre gave her a warm smile. “That is true, you know what colors I like and the fabrics I can’t stand.”

“Yes I do, Feyre. I’ll see the both of you later for dinner.”

And then Feyre was alone with Rhysand.

She finished off the rest of her food, and Rhysand made the dishes disappear once she was.

“Do you feel up for training still, Feyre?”

“Yes, I should be able to manage,” Feyre confirmed, already building up the shields in her mind.

“Alright, we will only be doing magic training today, I would like to save shielding for our next week, though I expect you to still practice on your own, is that clear?” Feyre nodded. “Good. Next month we will begin working on having your shielding stamina raised, so that you can eventually have them active at all times. That means that I will be attempting to break into your mind, as gently as I can, at random points throughout the day to make sure you’re keeping them active.”

“Okay, so over the next month I should attempt to keep them active at all times?”

“Yes, that would be perfect, Feyre.” He flashed her a smile, and Feyre couldn’t help but give him one in return.

Something was definitely off with her, today. Though it was her first time nesting in a place other than Spring, and she had learned some… uncomfortable truths about the world that had not yet been shared with her by her actual family. Feyre would just chalk it up to the nesting.

“For today, we will continue with your magical training, and the stretching of your core. When you’re ready, Feyre.”

Feyre closed her eyes and concentrated on that cold mass of power in her chest. It was already more active than it was the day before, it seemed to Feyre that the training was waking it up gradually.

She stretched it as far as it would allow, through the joints of her shoulders this time. When it snapped back, she attempted to hold it, and managed to keep it slightly expanded with some effort.

Her breathing was hard when she opened her eyes, locking them with Rhysand’s. Her lips broke into a grin, even as she was struggling to keep the power in place. “I’ve got it expanded slightly!” She exclaimed, proud of her efforts.

“That’s wonderful, Feyre, try to let it go slowly, rather than snapping back to its original form. Adding that into your training regime will help you gain more control over your magic and make it more reliable in tough situations.”

Feyre did as he said, letting her power relax slowly back into its original shape and took a moment to catch her breath.

She was sweating already, her sleep clothes dampened with it, but she didn’t care.

Feyre was learning.

They spent the next three hours working on expanding Feyre’s core out to her fingertips and releasing it slowly, when Feyre hit a new milestone.

Her power was stretched so, so taut as it neared her fingertips. Feyre was hardly breathing as she concentrated so intensely on pushing it further, managing to coat her fingers in the viscous magic.

And then it happened.

A slight breeze swept through the room, rustling Feyre and Rhysand’s hair as it did so, and Feyre magic snapped back into her chest so quickly Feyre recoiled back into the bed, falling onto her back.

“Feyre, are you alright?!” Rhysand asked fretfully, standing at the edge of her nest and peering at her.

Feyre merely giggled and launched herself back up and into Rhysand’s arms. “Rhys! I did it! I used magic!” She exclaimed, hugging him tightly in her arms. His arms wrapped around her and squeezed her for a brief moment, before pulling away to look at her beaming face.

“You did, Feyre. You have done so perfectly, so wonderfully and I am so proud of you,” Rhysand gushed, and Feyre could feel it in her bones how sincere he was being.

“Thank you, Rhys.” It was then that Feyre remembered how unclothed she was, wrapped only in a dressing gown over her socks and nightgown, and she stepped away from him and back onto the fabric of her nest.

“You’ve earned it, Feyre. Now, I think we should call it a day, if you’d like I can go get us some lunch while you wash up?” He offered.

“I’d like that, thank you Rhys.” Rhysand left the room, leaving Feyre behind to bathe.

She reluctantly left the area of her nest, stripping off her clothes and tossing them into the laundry bin in her bathroom. She submerged herself into the bathing pool and looked out at the mountains in front of her. It was snowing today, a layer of white covering even the valley below, and Feyre couldn’t help but gaze at it in awe.

She hadn’t realized how much she had missed snowfall over the past year. While it had signified death to her as a human, now it was just a beautiful feature of the weather, something that quieted the land around her. Everything seemed more peaceful with the snow falling.

Feyre sighed, longing to capture the landscape on a canvas. Instead, she washed her hair and body quickly, not wanting Rhysand to return while she was still naked in the bath. She got out and wrapped her hair in one towel and her body in another and went to her wardrobe. Feyre dressed in a pair of black leggings and a knit sweater again, this time the sweater in a dark purple that was nearly black. She had slipped on a pair of socks right as a knock came on her door, and Feyre padded over to it.

She opened the door, revealing Rhysand carrying a tray holding two grilled sandwiches and two small bowls of salad. “Come in,” Feyre said, opening the door for him.

He placed the tray on the table once more, and handed one of the plates and bowls to Feyre after she had settled down in her nest. The sandwich had chicken, tomato slices, cheese, and some type of green sauce, which initially threw Feyre off until she smelled the sandwich, the basil and garlic scent was divine.

They ate in silence, Feyre too tired to make conversation and Rhysand lost in thought.

“What are you thinking about?” Feyre questioned after a few minutes of Rhysand’s face being slightly scrunched up.

His eyes met hers, intense violet crashing against stormy blue. “I am wondering why you have been kept in the dark on omega and alpha customs. Nothing against you, of course, I’m just… curious as to why.”

Feyre sighed. “I am… wondering that as well. It seems as though every day here I learn something new that I feel I should have known a year ago.”

“No matter the reason or timing, I am glad that you are able to learn now, Feyre. It is… a very important change in your life, and you deserve to have all of the information you can.”

“Thank you, Rhys.” Feyre gave him a soft smile.

“Well, now that we’re done eating, I’ve got to be off,” Rhysand said as he stood up, vanishing the dishes. “I have a few meetings to attend, but I should be back in time for dinner, Feyre. Are you still wanting to take your meals in here?”

“Yes,” Feyre confirmed. “I don’t think I could be comfortable out of my room, tonight…”

“That is no problem, Feyre. I will see you in a few hours.”

He walked to the door, opening it before Feyre voice made him pause.

“Thank you, Rhys. For everything.”

He looked back at her and flashed her a brilliant grin. “You’re welcome, Feyre darling.” He shut the door behind him, leaving Feyre alone in her bedroom.

Already, she was missing the comforting scent of an alpha filling her senses. Feyre grabbed the romance novel she has been reading from the nightstand and curled in her body pillow. She tugged the blankets up around her body, getting as comfortable as she could before she began to read.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Feyre had nearly finished the book by the time Mor and Rhysand arrived at her bedroom door again, and it swung open to reveal the two gorgeous alphas on the other side, scents flooding Feyre’s vicinity along with whatever delicious food they had brought with them.

The food was placed on the table, a bowl of… something placed in Feyre’s hands by Rhysand after he got permission to hand it to her. He also give her a small bowl of crackers.

The food in the bowl was made of minced beef, beans, and onions and was very thick, thicker than a stew. Rhysand and Mor were already crushing crackers over their bowls, and Feyre followed suit.

When she took the first bite, she was blown away by the flavor and how comforting the dish was, the extra taste of the crackers only adding to it.

Rhysand and Mor were talking to each other, but Feyre could hardly pay attention to the words they were saying. Between their overwhelming scents and the delicious food, her thoughts were muddled and it was all she could do to keep quietly eating her dinner.

When Feyre finally came to the present again, Mor was already gone, and Rhysand was vanishing their dishes away, Feyre’s included as she had finished her food minutes ago without realizing.

“Are you doing alright, Feyre?” He asked sweetly, and Feyre looked up at him. She nodded without thinking, not having heard anything but her name. “Alright, if you’re sure. I’m going to head to bed, I suggest you do the same, Feyre. You worked hard today.”

Feyre’s cheeks heated at the praise and she bit her lip while staring at him, mind blank. He moved to the door, and Feyre tracked his path.

“Go to sleep, omega,” he commanded in his alpha tone as he shut the door behind him, taking his scent with him.

A whine built in Feyre’s throat, but she suppressed it before it could escape her. The command hung heavy in her mind, and she quickly went to the wardrobe to change into sleepwear. A nightgown similar to the pink one she had worn a few nights ago caught her eye, this time in a rich amethyst. Feyre plucked it off its hanger and slid it onto her body, loving the way the fabric slipped down her like water. The flowing skirt of the nightgown called to Feyre, and she did a few small spins to see the way it moved around her, fascinated by it.

But the command pressed into her bones, her omega calling her to her nest. She slunk over to it, crawling between the many blankets and swaths of fabric covering bed. Feyre pulled the violet body pillow into her body, pinning it between her legs and clutching it in her arms. Her hips rocked gently against the pillow before she finally settled, letting out a deep breath and allowing sleep to claim her.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

The heat was unbearable, so much so that Feyre woke in the middle of the night, legs still clenched around the pillow and hips rocking against it, searching for friction. Without thinking, a hand slipped down to her clothed cunt, pressing against it in an attempt to ease the ache that was building.

A whine left her lips, desperate and wanting.

Her nest was missing something.

Feyre dragged herself out of her nest, into the hallway. A smell caught in her nose, musky and perfect and alpha.

Alpha. That’s what I need.

Feyre began following the scent, pausing her journey only when cramps overtook her ability to walk. She let out another whine, she needs her alpha now.

The scent grew thicker with each step she took, until she reached a door. Her alpha must be in there.

Feyre turned the doorknob, stumbling into the room and falling to her knees as the delicious scent of her alpha overtook her. She sucked in a few deep breaths before standing again.

Bed. Need to get to the bed.

Feyre clumsily made her way to the large bed covered in black sheets and an alpha between them, shaking like a newborn fawn as another cramp rips through her abdomen. She makes it, lifting the sheet and slipping underneath.

His scent is so strong here, and she pressed herself against his chest as close as she could be. The cramps slowly come to a stop as she breathes in greedy lungfuls of his citrus and salt scent straight from his scent gland, her nose brushing against it.

Her alpha stirs when she scrapes her teeth against his neck, taking in a sharp breath.

“Feyre?” Her name rumbled through his chest so perfectly that Feyre started to purr, only nuzzling further into his neck. “Omega, what are you doing in here?”

Feyre moans at her title coming from his lips, the sweetest it had ever sounded in her ears. “Alpha,” she whined into his skin.

Her alpha attempted to pull away from her, so Feyre latched onto him, a leg swinging over his own and arms wrapping as far as she could around his chest. He loosed a sigh, and Feyre stopped purring.

Have I upset alpha?

“No, omega, you’ve done nothing wrong. Just… you should not be in here…”

Tears pricked at her eyes, and a whine dragged itself out of her lungs, prompting her alpha’s arms to wrap around her and pull her in, which instantly quieted her and put a smile on her face. “Alpha,” Feyre sighed, relaxing into his strong arms holding her.

“Alright, omega, you can stay in here until morning. But after that I need to take you back home, alright?” Feyre whined again, stopping once her alpha’s hand stroked along her scalp and down her spine. “Shh, pretty omega. Be a good little omega and go to sleep, okay?” Her alpha commanded gently, and Feyre was helpless against his words, immediately sinking back into the honeyed dreamscape she had awoken from.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

The sun had barely risen when Feyre woke again, the cramping in her abdomen and heat blazing through her to painful to sleep through. Her alpha was behind her, her back pressed tightly to his chest and his arms caging her in, making it impossible to move anything but her lower half.

She lowered her nose to his hands, breathing in deeply to scent him as best as she could in this position. Instantly, slick gushed out of her, wetting her nightgown even further than it had in the night.

Feyre wiggled her hips, searching for any kind of friction when she felt it- pressed against her rear was her alpha’s cock, hard and already slightly swollen at the base, a promising feeling to Feyre as her cunt clenched, wanting nothing more than to have it inside of her, filling her up with his seed and locking them together with his knot.

She pressed harder against him, angling her hips so that her pussy lips were aligned with his length, moaning loudly when she got the perfect amount of friction to lessen the heat flooding her veins.

Her alpha’s breathing quickened and arms tightened around her for a moment.

“Feyre?” His sleepy voice asked. “What are you-?” He paused, taking a deep breath in to scent her even as Feyre’s hips kept moving against his, she was nearly there-

“Fuck, Feyre, I need to get you home.” Her alpha disentangled himself from her, and she cried out at the lack of contact, heat instantly building inside of her again as she moved her hand down to the apex of her thighs.

Tears were streaming down her face as her pleasure sputtered out, even with her hand moving as quickly as she could manage. “Alpha please,” she cried.

Her alpha returned, pulling her into his arms and she sighed, burying her face in his neck.

“What happened?” Came a female alpha’s voice.

“She went into heat and snuck into my room, I thought she would be fine for a few hours so I could take her back at a reasonable hour, but-”

“But you were wrong, Rhys. There’s a reason her heat came on faster than normal, you know that, so why did you take the chance?!” The other alpha asked angrily. “What would you have done if you lost control, if you had claimed her right now?”

A growl ripped through her Alpha’s chest, and Feyre groaned against his throat. “I didn’t, Mor. Now are you coming with me or not?”

“Fine.”

Feyre kissed and licked at her alpha’s neck as they slipped through the fabric of the world, Feyre hardly noticing the sensation as her mind wrapped around the taste of her alpha. “Perfect,” she breathed against his skin.

“Fuck, what did you do to her?” Came a third alpha’s voice, uneven as he ran up to them.

“Nothing, Lucien. Feyre went in to heat in the middle of the night,” her alpha explained. He tried to loosen his grip on Feyre’s body, but she clung harder to him, lips latching onto his throat as she sucked on it, wanting to leave a mark-

Mark.

Feyre bared her throat to her Alpha, whining to get his attention while he argued with the new alpha.

“Fuck, give her to me.” Her alpha’s arms loosened, and someone’s hands pried hers apart.

“No!” Feyre yelled, attempting to lace her arms around his neck again, even as her body was being passed into the third alpha’s arms. “Alpha please,” Feyre wailed, tears falling freely as she lost her grip on him.

“Feyre, it’s going to be fine, Tam will be here in a moment,” the alpha who grabbed her said, attempting to soothe her, but it only made her more incoherent.

“Alpha,” she cried again, eyes opening to search for him- but he and the female alpha were gone. She sobbed harder, writhing in the alpha’s arms.

“What the fuck happened, Lucien?!” A booming voice yelled, and Feyre cowered into the male’s arms, hiding her face in his neck.

“I don’t know, they said she went into heat during the night, but that’s all I know.”

Feyre was passed to another set of arms, and she curled into them. But it wasn’t right- they didn’t feel solid enough, the scent was all wrong- earthy lilac and cedar, not the perfect soothing blend of salt and citrus that she needed. Feyre bawled harder, turning her face away from the alpha’s chest.

“Why is she crying so much?” The voice was too loud, too angry against Feyre’s ears and she pushed against the chest of the person holding her.

“I…I’m not sure, she’s been crying ever since she was handed over to me.”

“Mother above, she fucking reeks.” A female alpha, different than the one before. This one’s voice grated against her ears, sending more tears cascading down her face. “We need to question her, while the memories are fresh.”

“Are you serious, Ianthe? She is in the middle of her heat, she is in no state to-”

“While the memories are fresh.” The alpha carrying her took off quickly, and in a minute Feyre was being dumped into a hard wooden chair. “Feyre.” She turned her head into her hair, sobbing harder with the loss of contact as her heat built further, becoming even more unbearable than it had been in the wrong alpha’s arms.

“Omega.” The commanding tone had her peeking up, meeting green eyes with her watery blue. “Tell us the layout of where you were staying, and any information that you learned. Now,” he commanded.

Feyre merely cried more, fat arms rolling down her cheeks and onto her neck, wetting the amethyst of her nightgown further.

“She is obviously not going to be able to tell us anything useful in this state, Tamlin.”

“Shut up, Lucien,” he snarled. “If you tell me, as soon as you’re finished I’ll take you upstairs and give you my knot, alright omega?”

The promise of a knot had Feyre wracking her brain for answers, anything to get the relief that she needs, even if it isn’t from the right alpha.

“I… what?”

He repeated the question, slowly, as if she were a child.

She did her best to give him the layout, her mind hazy with arousal and pain as she struggled to summon anything of use.

“That’s really all you have to give us?” The female asked in a condescending tone. “You spent a week there and all you can give us is a vague layout? Fucking useless,” she scoffed, walking away and slamming her door behind her.

The green eyes alpha made to follow her before Feyre cried out a soft “Alpha.” He looked back at, then snarled.

“You smell horrid, omega. Take a bath, I might give you my knot then.” He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him so roughly that one of the hinges broke.

Feyre sobbed, collapsing into the table in front of her.

“Sweet omega.” The one alpha left in the room approached her slowly. “Can I pick you up?” Feyre cried harder but nodded, allowing the alpha to secure her in his arms and take her away from the room.

A few minutes later he set her down on something squishy, and she collapsed back into it.

“Omega, you should take a bath and change, I’ll send your alpha in in a little bit, okay?” The alpha suggested gently, wiping hair out of Feyre’s face. “I’ll make sure you have some time to make your nest, okay?” Feyre nodded her head, not quite sure she had understood him, but she got she got the main gist of it.

Bathe. Change. Nest. Alpha.

The alpha left the room, and Feyre was alone. She dragged her tired body off of her bed and into her bathing room, turning on the tap to fill the bath with cold water. She took off her nightgown, scenting it before she tossed it into the laundry bin.

Alpha. Feyre moaned. Her alpha’s scent was still all over it, and Feyre pressed the dress to her nose, quickly working her clit as slick spilled from her center. She came with a loud moan, the scent of her alpha ingrained in her mind.

Feyre hid the dress in one of the counter drawers, wanting to keep the scent of her alpha around as long as possible.

She slipped into the tub, her orgasm and the cold water soothing the heat bubbling within her down to a low simmer. Feyre lasted only a few minutes in the water before she was pulling herself out, the water heated too much for her to bear any longer.

She dragged herself into her bedroom and grabbed the thinnest nightgown she could find before dragging herself into her bed. Feyre tried arranging the nest to her liking, she truly did, but nothing compared to the perfect nest she had already made.

This one was… horrible. Absolutely horrible. None of the lovely pinks and blue and purples, but dull greens and cream colored linens.

Feyre burst into tears just as her bedroom door opened.

“Oh, now, now, omega. I brought you tea just like you like, Tamlin is busy with some things that are more important than you, I’m afraid,” the fable alpha said as she made her way into Feyre’s bedroom, sitting down in her nest and placing the tray of tea on it as well.

Something in Feyre protested, a growl building in her throat.

“None of that, you foolish omega. Drink your tea, Tamlin will be up to see you whenever he is able to manage.” The alpha shoved a teacup into Feyre’s hands. “Drink,” she commanded.

Feyre had no choice but to obey, drinking down the scalding liquid that burned her insides as it went down.

“I’ll check up on you in a few hours, but don’t even think of leaving your room. You won’t get far in this pitiful state anyway,” the alpha tacked on, a vicious grin on her face as she glared down at Feyre. She took the tray and breezed out of Feyre’s room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Bone deep exhaustion hit Feyre, and in a few moments she was deep in sleep.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

“It’s… not what I expected?” Feyre admitted, surprise lacing her tone. “It’s a lot less… ominous then I thought it would look.”

Rhysand laughed, a lighter one than he used back in Spring. “You are probably picturing the other half of my court, but no need to worry my darling Feyre-”

“I’m not your anything!” Feyre interjected, moving a few paces away from him. “Do not act like me being here for a week every month gives you any kind of ownership over me!”

Rhysand held up his hands in surrender, attempting to placate Feyre’s still wired emotions. “I meant no claim in my statement, Feyre. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to where you’ll be staying when you’re here,” he told her, walking in the direction they were facing.

Feyre stared at him for a moment, wondering why he seemed so much more relaxed now that it was just the two of them. She tried to take a step forward to follow him, then remembered that she was still wearing those cauldron-damned heels that were far high and far too thin for her to feel safe in.

Carefully, she lowered herself to her hands then sat on the floor, attempting to reach past the skirts of her dress to untie the shoes.

“Feyre, what are you-?” Rhysand started, turning to face her again. “Oh, Feyre darling, would you like some help taking off your shoes?” He asked in a playful tone, already returning to her side, his citrus and sea scent washing over her in a wave of calm.

Seeing as she still hadn’t managed to get her hands on one of the shoes yet and her hands didn’t seem to want to help now that she’d scented him, Feyre sighed “Yes, please.”

“Good manners too, better than most of the times I’ve seen you.” His voice was full of mirth, but the compliment made her feel more at ease. Her omega was settling down, happy to be acknowledged for something, anything positive. He gently lifted the skirts of her dress, and quickly untied the heels from her feet, his hands lingering for a moment before grabbing the heels and standing up.

He extended his free hand, which Feyre ignored. She managed to get on her knees again, but the weight of the dress and her exhaustion combined was too much for her to get her feet beneath her again. She sighed again, grabbing his hand and letting him help her the rest of the way up, brushing against his chest on accident, getting an even deeper breath of him this time.

Lovely. Refreshing. Safe.

“They really didn’t want you to run away, did they?” Rhysand asked after they started walking.

“Excuse you?” Feyre asked, stunned by the question and her thoughts.

“I just mean that they have you in a dress you can barely walk in from the weight and shape, and shoes that seem a bit dangerous to wear. Especially on grass,” he points out, shaking the heels still in his hand.

Feyre leaned over and snatched them from him. “Impractical is the fashion, it does not mean they want me to be shackled to Spring.”

“Two things can be right at the same time, Feyre,” he said, stopping in front of a door to their right, turning the handle and pushing it open, allowing Feyre to walk in first.

The open wall at the back had silk curtains of different hues of blue covering it and swaying in the slight breeze. The bed was situated against the left wall, also covered in deep blues and purples, and a canopy of fabric above it, with drapes tied up and ready to be let down- perfect for feeling safe in a heat, her omega whispered inside of her, a thought she crushed down deep inside of her.

The bed was lovely though, it looked soft and comfortable and ready for her to take a nap in.

Looking over the rest of the room, Feyre saw a large open archway at back of the right wall, presumably leading towards a bathroom, as well as a vanity with a mirror, a large armoire, and a plush looking chair in the corner. Near the back of the room was a small round table with two chairs, and she knew she wanted to have breakfast or tea there one of her days here and look out at the mountains… she might even daydream about painting them.

Feyre walked further in, wanting to see the bathing room. And she wasn’t disappointed- her mouth fell slightly open, staring at the large tub, nearly the size of a small pond, with an open wall facing towards those very mountains she wanted to admire.

Maybe this was where she would take her tea.

Today, if possible.

She moved back into the main room, back towards where Rhysand was standing in the doorway.

“What do you think?”

“It’s… beautiful,” Feyre admitted reluctantly. She had been prepared to hate her time here. Hate everything here. But so far, everything… even Rhysand has been tolerable. Lovely, even, in the case of her room.

“Thank you, Feyre. I’m glad you like it.”

Feyre chewed her lip, trying to force out the question sitting in her throat.

Violet eyes tracked the movement, his brow cocking a moment later. “Yes, Feyre?”

“Were you…” she paused, embarrassment at the question building. “Were you serious about returning me to Spring if I… gointoheat?” is forced out of her, needing to know the answer.

“Of course, sweet omega. I would never deny you going back to your chosen alpha when in need,” he said reassuringly. Her cheeks flushed at pet name, unable to make herself as mad about it as she should be, since he had taken her away from said alpha and her wedding ceremony itself-

Oh, the anger was coming back. She had been taken from her alpha.

“But you’ll take me from him on my wedding day.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes. “You were panicking over your wedding day Feyre, shooting all of those emotions right down the bond at me,” he said, waving his left hand at her. “I saved you from having to run away in front of all those guests, from the alpha who still hasn’t claimed you after a year.” His voice quieted at the end, rage pouring into it.

Feyre inhaled sharply, her fear suddenly a gaping wound, she knew it wasn’t right that Tamlin hasn’t marked her yet-

“And while I would love for you to be my sweet, claimed omega, I know that you are very much in love with Tamlin.” Feyre bared her teeth slightly at his words, anger bubbling to the surface over her hurt. “It’s just too bad that there were all those petals everywhere, too bad that your betrothed couldn’t bother to make the ceremony feel safe for you.”

“How dare you!” Feyre yelled, hurling one of the shoes in her hand at his head, striking him on the forehead. She raised the remaining shoe as he opened his mouth again, ready to hit him again if he continued insulting her alpha.

“I have merely stated the truth Feyre.”

The second shoe went flying, disappointingly caught in his hand instead of by his stupid, perfect face. “I did not ask for your warped version of the truth, Rhysand. I also did not ask for you to save me from my wedding.”

He considered her words for a moment, and then the shoe was dissolving into nothing but dust. “And yet I did anyways,” he said with a smirk, turning to leave her room. “Do remember, I gave you a whole year before calling in the bargain. I was simply worried about you, Feyre darling, and decided to pay you a visit.” He picked lint off of his finely tailored suit, before looking Feyre in the eyes again. “I will see you for breakfast in the morning, Feyre. Taking your meals with me will be my one requirement of your time here. Dinner tonight will be on your own, however. Nuala and Cerridwen will be available to help you if you need it-” he paused at her look of confusion. “The shadow wraiths who helped you Under the Mountain,” he explained, and Feyre nodded her head tightly at the reminder.

Rhysand moved towards the door, taking a moment to look back at Feyre, still in her wedding gown. “Would you like me to have them come in now to help you take off that monstrosity of a wedding dress? Or perhaps I could-”

“Rhysand!” Feyre yelled in answer, storming over to the door as fast as she could to slam the door in his face.

Feyre turned the lock on the door, nearly sliding down it before she remembered that she was unable to get up on her own. She trudged over to the vanity, observing herself in the mirror. Her makeup was still alright, but her hair looked worse than before, now a frizzy mess on her head. She began pulling the various pins from her, each one followed by a small sigh of relief. Once she had finished, she shoved the pins into one of the drawers of the vanity, not caring about being clean at the moment.

All she could think about was getting out of this cauldron damned dress and into that amazing tub just a few feet away.

She tried to remember how Alis had put her into this thing, but her memory was of no help to her. She knew it had gone over her head, but she thought Alis had secured it somehow, buttons maybe?

But she couldn’t reach them. No matter how hard she fiddled around, she was stuck in the dress.

If Tamlin were here, this would be so much easier. He would probably rip straight through it and tear it off me, Feyre thought, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine. But Tamlin wasn’t here. So she continued trying to free herself.

After a quarter hour struggling with the damn thing, she gave in and reached out through her bond with Rhys.

Could you send Nuala and Cerridwen in to me?

Of course, darling, was his answering, insufferable reply.

A minute later, the two wraiths were at her door, before Feyre remembered she had locked her door, and would take a while to get up alone. “I locked the door and can’t get up, could you come in anyways?” She asked, her voice small.

They passed through the door, becoming corporeal on the other side.

One of them helped her to stand, and the other immediately set about finding the buttons holding her inside of the dress.

They worked incredibly quickly, one twin working on the buttons as the other lifted the layers upon layers off of her body, and within five minutes she was left in just her slip dress and lingerie.

“Thank you,” she smiled at the two.

“Of course, Lady Feyre,” said one of them. “Is there anything else we can do for you before dinner?”

Feyre chewed her lip, then asked “would you get me a pot of tea please? On a tray I can have next to the tub, if that’s possible. Oh, and please call me Feyre.”

“That should be no problem at all, Feyre. We’ll be back in a few minutes, feel free to get comfortable in the bath if you’d like.”

And with that, the quiet and gentle twins left the room, taking the pile of tulle with them.

Feyre looked over to the archway, and like a moth to a flame drifted into the bathroom, landing on the edge of the tub, dragging her fingers through the water. Already the perfect temperature.

Her slip went over her head as she walked back into her room and was thrown onto the large chair near the armoire. She sighed as she slipped off the bra and panties she had been so excited to show her husband fiancé, and tossed those on the chair as well.

Returning to the bath, she tested the water again with one foot, and then stepped in fully, sinking down and submerging herself up to her neck, tilting her head back to wet her hair.

She floated over to the edge of the bath, resting her head along it and looking out into the beautiful, snow capped mountains.

Aside from how annoying Rhysand can be, and how he knows just how to get on her nerves, the Night Court doesn’t seem to be as horrible as Tamlin and Ianthe claimed it would be.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Feyre was awoken a while later by Cerridwen knocking on the doorframe of the bathroom.

“Feyre? Lunch is ready,” She said gently, her eyes considerately avoiding her naked form, still in the bath.

“Oh, thank you, Cerridwen. I’ll be out in a few minutes, you can leave it there, for me,” Feyre replied, a sleepy smile on her face. The shadow wraith nodded her head, then turned and walked away.

Feyre got up once she heard the snick of the door, wrapping her body in a fluffy towel. Her skin was pruney, but she felt more refreshed than she had before getting in the bath. She returned to the main room and got into her wardrobe, looking for something to wear until it was time to sleep.

She rummaged through the drawers at the bottom that she had yet to look at, and pulled out a soft set of matching shorts and a tank top in a pale, minty green. The color reminded her of Spring, and she quickly dried her body off and slipped the items on, along with a pair of socks that went up to her mid calf.

Feyre then moved to the table, where Cerridwen had left a tray holding a soup, tomato, she would guess, and a grilled sandwich filled with cheese cut into two triangles. Feyre tucked in, loving the basil and slight creaminess the soup had, and the sandwich went perfectly with the soup.

She had just sat down in the plush armchair with one of the novels she had picked out earlier when Cerridwen returned for the tray.

Before Feyre could second guess the request, Feyre blurted “Would you be able to get me a sketch pad and some charcoals, Cerridwen?”

The wraith turned around, tray already in her arms. “Of course, Feyre. I’ll be back in just a moment with it.”

“Thank you,” Feyre said, grateful that the other fae hadn’t questioned her on her request.

Cerridwen returned a few minutes later, three differently sized sketch pads and an assortment of charcoals, blending stumps and erasers in hand.

Feyre stood up and excitedly took the items from the other fae. "Thank you so much, Cerridwen, these look perfect!"

"I'm glad you like them, Feyre," she said with a warm smile, one of the few Feyre had seen from her.

Feyre set the supplies down on the table as Cerridwen left the room, closing the door behind her. The only thing missing was...

Quickly, Feyre dragged the armchair she had just been sitting in next to the table, close enough that she could reach the extra charcoals and supplies. She moved one of the smaller chairs in front of the armchair so that if she was here long enough, she could put her legs up without needing to move anything or risk getting charcoal on the fine furniture.

Feyre sat down and grabbed the smallest sized sketch pad and a piece of charcoal. Then, she began to draw the glorious view that had been calling to her the past three days.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Feyre had completed three renditions of the mountains in front of her, one on each of the differently sized pads of paper. With each one, she became more and more confident.

She had thought any ability to create, to make something new in this world instead of just taking away from it had been taken away from her when her neck snapped.

But that wasn't the case. With her fingers covered in black dust, she had made something beautiful again- Feyre had just needed some inspiration, something out of the usual dullness of her life in Spring.

She was happy with Tamlin, that was true, but the constant season and Ianthe's hounding of every move she made had made her rather tired. But seeing another court, the other beauty that this world had to offer had rekindled the spark in her, the part of her that she had thought so useless as a starving human.

Feyre might even paint when she gets home- she did have a lovely set of paints from Tamlin that he had given her last Winter Solstice for her birthday.

She was brought out of her thoughts by a few gentle knocks on her door, and Mor's voice came from the other side. "Feyre? Can I come in?"

"Yes, come in Mor," Feyre replied, standing from her place on the chair and turning to face the door.

More breezed in, her striking golden hair in soft ringlets and dressed in a flowy white dress. "Dinner is ready, I thought I would walk you down there!"

"That would be nice, Mor. Let me just change," Feyre said, looking down at her attire. She was definitely not going to eat dinner with Rhys and Mor in pajamas.

She pulled another matching set in the same cut as the one she'd worn this morning from her wardrobe, this one in a shade of pale blue. Feyre went into her bathroom and quickly changed, folding the pajamas and setting them on the counter for tonight.

Once she was done, the two of them made their way down to the table they had been eating at while Feyre was here. Rhysand was nowhere to be seen, and they took their seats.

On the table was a bowl of salad, a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a small plate holding butter, as well as their place settings. There was an empty space in the middle of the table, and Feyre assumed that there was another dish that had yet to be put out.

Mor took to pouring them each a glass of wine, which Feyre gladly take a sip of. It was sweet, the flavor bursting across her tongue, far better than the usual wines they had with dinner in Spring, all chosen for their scents rather than taste. Why, Feyre could not fathom.

"Rhys brought out the good stuff, thank the Mother!" Mor exclaimed as she took her own sip. "I like the taste of wine and all, I just enjoy it even more when it tastes like there's no alcohol in it."

"I'll agree with you there," Feyre laughed. "Speaking of Rhys, where is he?"

"He's just bringing out the main dish," Mor replied, and as she did Rhysand came out of the darkness of the hallway leading to the kitchen. "Good thing you're here, Rhys, I'm starving."

Without saying a word, Rhysand set the bowl on the table and took a seat, dishing out food for all three of them.

"Thank you, Rhys," Feyre said gently after he had given her a piece of bread, her plate now loaded with salad and the creamy pasta dish he had brought. The pasta had mushrooms, onions, chicken, and pieces of crumbled bacon in it, and was absolutely delicious.

Rhysand said nothing, merely nodding his head in acknowledgment as he poured his own very full glass of wine, downing half of it in one gulp.

"So, Feyre, I saw you had some sketch pads...?" Mor prodded gently after a few minutes of tense silence.

"Oh." Feyre blushed, she wasn't quite prepared to talk about art yet, but she supposed now was as good a time as ever to start again. "I asked Cerridwen if she could, I hope that was okay."

"Of course, Feyre! Again, you can ask for pretty much anything you want and we will get it for you, it's no trouble to us at all," Mor interrupted with a sweet smile, and that combined with her scent, still calm, soothed Feyre's small bit of panic.

"Well, thank you. I just... the view out of my bedroom is so spectacular, I needed to commit it to memory."

Mor nodded, that smile still on her face. "I can understand that, our court is so beautiful. I wish I was any good with the arts, but I am rather dreadful at everything I’ve tried," Mor chuckled.

“Oh, I’m sure you aren’t that bad Mor. Maybe you could try again? It does take practice after all.”

“No, I don’t think so. I’ll leave it to you and the other creatives,” Mor said lightly. She looked over to Rhysand, who was still silently eating his dinner and on his second glass of wine. “Is there anywhere else you’d like to sketch, Feyre?”

Feyre thought about it for a moment before answering. “There’s nowhere specific that I can think of. Right now, at least. But I haven’t been able to explore much of the Spring Court, I’ve been constantly busy this past year. But maybe you’ll be able to show me a few of your own favorites here?” She asked, hopeful for the idea of more glorious view to put on paper.

“I’d love to do that Feyre! Between that and our Dawn Court trip, I am going to have so much fun planning!” Mor clapped her hands together in excitement.

The blonde was definitely living up to Feyre’s first impression of her. Very bright and friendly, just like her personality.

Rhysand stoop up abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone beneath them loudly. He grabbed his glass of wine and stalked off.

Feyre stared after him, confused. “What was that all about?”

Mor sighed, and it was the first time had heard her sound tired. “One of our temples was attacked a couple of hours ago, we lost some of our citizens. He’s taking it rather hard, after all of the losses from… well, you know.”

Feyre grimaced. “That’s awful… Have you caught who did it yet?”

Mor pursed her lips, eyeing the hallway Rhysand had disappeared down. “Promise you won’t tell anyone about this?” Feyre nodded, she wasn’t sure what use the information would be to her or anyone she knows anyways. “We caught the actual people who went through with the act, but we believe it to be the work of Hybern.”

“Hybern?” Feyre had never heard of such a place, only Prythian and the Continent.

“It’s a large island kingdom to our west… Amarantha was one of their generals, and we believe they might be planning something. What, we aren’t sure of, but Rhys’s goal is to unite Prythian to stop whatever conflict is brewing. But… Today hit him hard. None of us were expecting a seemingly random loss of innocent life.”

Feyre frowned, looking to where he had exited the room from. “I am sorry. I can’t imagine what it must feel like, losing people again, so soon after everything.”

Mor loosed another sigh, slumping back in her chair. “It is difficult, for sure. But seeing you- seeing someone be able to create good in this world reminds me that it’s worth it. No matter what comes, we will need people like you, more than ever.”

“People like… Me?” Feyre asked, unsure of what she meant.

“Dreamers, Feyre. People who can look at the world and see the good in it, no matter what they’ve been through. It might take them a week, a month, a year…” Mor paused and smiled at Feyre knowingly. “But people like you always come back to what’s beautiful and worthwhile in the world.”

The words brought a smile to Feyre’s face. “Dreamers, hmm? I like the sound of that…”

Mor jumped up from her chair, startling Feyre. “Dreamers deserve cake, don’t you think Feyre?”

“Oh, they do Mor!” Feyre hopped out of her chair was well, loving the idea Mor had suggested.

Mor dragged her down the hallway to the kitchen, the two of them giggling all the way like children sneaking food in the middle of the night. They slid to a stop in front of the massive fridge, and Mor swung the doors of it open wide.

“Cake, cake, cake,” Mor sang, pulling out a beautifully decorated cake. It was wrapped in a lovely blue-grey frosting, which nearly matched her eyes, Feyre noted, and topped with blackberries, raspberries, and blueberries.

“It’s beautiful,” Feyre breathed, surprised by how lovely a cake could be. None of the wedding cakes she had tasted in Spring had drawn her attention like this one did.

“It tastes as amazing as it looks, Feyre, I promise,” Mor said as she grabbed a large knife, two forks, and two plates out of a cabinet. She cut two generous slices for the both of them and led Feyre over to the breakfast bar on the other side of the island counter.

They both let out a groan at their first bites, the simple but perfect vanilla cake and sweet berry filling was absolute perfection.

“So, Feyre… I didn’t want to ask when Rhys was around in case it made you uncomfortable, and you are in no way obligated to answer me… But how’s this past year been for you? How’s uhm… How are things with Tamlin?” Mor asked hesitantly.

Feyre smiled awkwardly, swallowing her bite of cake. “It’s been… it’s been tough, for sure. There’s been a lot for me to get used to, not even just with preparing to be Lady of Spring, but… I have a new body too.”

Mor grimaced. “I can’t imagine what it must be like, Rhys said you had grown a couple of inches, right?” Feyre nodded her head. “That must have been so disorienting to get used to.”

“It was, it took me a month to stop stumbling around everywhere, and two months for me to stop mangling the silverware at dinner,” Feyre laughed, Mor joining her. “And as for Tamlin… well, it would have been nice if the ceremony had gone as planned but I… I had a panic attack, and well… Rhys stepped in at just the right time to not ruin our relationship entirely. I am looking forward to going home, though, and seeing him again. I… I miss my alpha,” Feyre admitted in a small voice.

“Oh, Feyre. You’ll be back to him in just a few days, there’s no need to worry. I’m sure he’s looking forward to seeing you too,” Mor comforted her, rubbing a soothing hand on her back.

“I know, I just wish we had been able to talk before I left for a moment… But there’s no point to worrying now, I can’t do anything from here.”

“Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable? Rhys mentioned… He mentioned that you might go into heat, or the beginnings of it during this week.” Mor was looking at her with soft eyes.

“I’m not sure,” Feyre said, biting her lip. “You mentioned there’s a catalog with nesting materials?”

Mor’s eyes lit up. “Yes, there is Feyre. Would you like me to show you which one it is?”

“Yes, please.”

The two of them ran with their half eaten plates of cake into Feyre’s room, Mor giving her plate to Feyre and rummaging through the catalogs before pulling out the one they were looking for.

“Can I help you look?” Mor asked with puppy dog eyes, and Feyre couldn’t resist.

“You can help me make sure I get colors that mostly go together.”

“Yes!” Mor jumped onto Feyre’s bed, patting the spot next to her.

They spent the next hour going through the entire booklet, Feyre picking out a plethora of different blankets, pillowcases, and cuts of materials that she knew would look and feel perfect in her nest from the illustrations and descriptions. She insisted on only getting items in varying shades of purple, blue, and pink, making sure to get pastels and darker versions.

Feyre could almost see her nest now, the top of it colored like the sunset and the bottom resembling the sunrise. She fell back into her pillows, letting out a happy sigh as she did so.

“You good, Feyre?” Mor giggled at her.

“Mhm, I’m just excited to have all of it…”

“Well, you won’t have to wait long. I’ll go right after breakfast tomorrow. Did you want to look at any of the other catalogs?” Mor suggested, already getting up to grab said catalogs.

“I don’t see why not,” Feyre said as she caught one- seemingly for clothing- from midair.

Feyre found a few dresses that she wanted- all in the same color scheme as her nesting materials. One of them was absolutely gorgeous, it was colored like a soft pink sunset, lighter at the top and fading into a lovely violet at the hem. It was something Feyre normally wouldn’t wear on an average day, but she figures that her time here hasn’t exactly been average, so she might as well go all out when she feels like it. She also picked two skirts and their matching long sleeved tops, both in deep jewels tones. The description promised them to be silk, one of Feyre’s favorite materials for clothing, and the beautiful sapphire and amethyst colors were too tempting to resist.

By the time they had gone through three more clothing booklets, the sun had long since set and the two of them were laughing, slightly delirious from tiredness.

“Feyre, dear, I think I’m going to head to bed,” Mor said, finally pulling her body off of Feyre’s bed. “I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast, alright?”

Feyre smiled, a bright and genuine thing, and nodded her head. “I’ll see you then, Mor. And thank you, for this. It was fun.”

“It’s no problem at all, Feyre, I had fun too. Sleep well."

And with that, the Alpha left her room, shutting the door behind her softly. Feyre got up from her bed, stretching her limbs before walking to the bathroom. She changed into her green sleep set from earlier, then tucked herself into bed, staring out at the stars over the mountains.

A few minutes later, the excitement and sugar wearing off, Feyre fell into a deep sleep.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Feyre woke when a knock sounded on her door. She didn’t move.

“Feyre, darling? Breakfast is ready.” It was Rhysand.

Feyre merely rolled over in her bed, pulling the covers over her head. She heard the door open, and soft footsteps crossing the room.

“Feyre.”

She stayed still, trying to breathe as little as possible.

“Feyre.” Rhysand’s hand wiggled one of her feet, and she reflexively pulled away from his grasp. “Fey-ruh,” he said in a sing-songy voice, grabbing her other foot.

“I don’t want to get out of bed,” She finally whispered when she pulled her feet in towards her body.

“You only need to get up for breakfast, darling, we can do your training in here if you still want to be in bed afterwards,” Rhysand offered. Feyre groaned, but moved the blankets off of her face to look at him.

“You promise?”

Rhysand beamed at her. “Of course, Feyre. I promise. Now, will you change and meet me outside?”

“Fine,” Feyre huffed, waiting until he had left the room to throw the covers off of her body. She got up and went to her wardrobe, picking out a soft pair of leggings and a dark green sweater, then pulled on a pair of matching green knee high socks.

She felt nice and cozy, a decent enough substitution for her bed. Feyre joined Rhys in the hallway, and they made their way down to the dinner table.

Mor was already seated, pouring orange juice and some kind of sparkling wine into glasses for all of them, and on the table there were omelettes already on their plates, as well as a bowl of diced melons.

Breakfast was delicious, as Feyre was coming to expect from her meals here, and the bubbly mimosas Mor had poured made all of them relaxed and the time fly by.

Soon enough, Mor was leaving, heading off to go do Feyre’s shopping.

“Don’t worry, Feyre, I’ll be buying things for myself as well,” Mor reassured her when Feyre had voiced a concern about Mor spending her day shopping for her.

“Mor is fantastic at finding new things she needs, especially if you two looked over any clothing booklets last night,” Rhysand chuckled, and Mor flipped him off before she vanished. “So, Feyre, did you want to get back in bed or go to the training room?”

“Uhm… the training room should be fine, I was just so comfortable…” she trailed off.

“If you change your mind, just let me know, Feyre.” She dipped her head in agreement, and the two of them made their way to the training room, sitting in the same chairs they had yesterday.

“Let’s start with shielding again. Your shield from yesterday was wonderful, you might try adding in some defenses to ward away intruders before they try exploring the waters of your mind,” Rhysand suggested.

Hearing that she had done well again, Feyre beamed at Rhysand. “I’ll do my best.”

She thought of what might be able to protect her in the water. Feyre had never seen the sea, though her father had told tales of great beasts that would take bites out of a ships hull. She couldn’t picture what that might look like. Though… she did have one idea for a defensive mechanism.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Rhysand entered her mind, finding some resistance in the initial push inwards. He attempted to dive below the water, but it was solid this time, as though an inch thick layer of ice had covered it- so he smashed his way through, plunging beneath the surface. He made it a few yards down before her defenses found him.

He was face to- well, maw- with the Middengard Wyrm- the beast Feyre had nearly died slaughtering. They weren’t able to swim in the physical world, but the one in Feyre’s shielding was a vicious swimmer, propelling itself towards Rhysand’s power at a rapid pace, and just before it swallowed him whole, he backed out of her mind, breathless.

“Feyre- that was brilliant! I’m so proud of you, it takes most fae months to get to the level you’ve already achieved.”

“Rhys, stop it, you’re just saying that,” Feyre countered.

“I am being serious, Feyre. Most fae have trouble coming up with anything but a literal wall for their mental barrier, but you’ve already created an ocean and have a terrifyingly realistic Wyrm to serve as both protection and a warning to daemati that do manage to breach the initial barrier of your mind. It is amazing how well you are progressing already.”

Feyre looked at him, really looked at him. His eyes were eager and truthful, and his expression was softened by them.

“Are you… okay?” Feyre finally asked the question that had been at the back of her mind since he had woken her for breakfast. “Mor, she told me some of what happened yesterday.”

Rhysand sighed, holding his chin in his hand. “I am not okay, Feyre, but I hope to be soon. It will take a while for the loss of my people to leave my heart. Thank you, for asking Feyre.”

Feyre merely nodded, then asked, “Again?”

They practiced a few more times, each time Rhysand pushed Feyre to make the initial barrier of her mind stronger, thicker. Harder for his power to seep or crack through. By the end of the second hour, Feyre was sweating and tired, her mind feeling a bit fuzzy at the edges.

“We’ll stop here for now with the shielding, Feyre. Here, drink this,” Rhysand said, procuring a glass of water with a straw from nowhere, and handed it to Feyre. She gulped it down, feeling more present and alert after finishing the glass.

“Thank you, Rhys. Are we going to work on my magic now?” Rhysand bobbed his head in confirmation.

“I’d like you to locate your magic again, and then attempt to draw it out, a good place to start with that is through the hands, they give more of a physical point to lead the magic to.”

Feyre did as he asked, closing her eyes and finding that slowly writhing mass of cold energy within her chest. It seemed more active today, wiggling in time to her heartbeat instead of every other beat. She tried to stretch it out, move it towards her arms, but it wouldn’t budge. She let out a frustrated groan and opened her eyes.

“It’s stuck.”

“Keep trying, Feyre. You’ll get it,” Rhysand encouraged her, and she shut her eyes and tried again.

She tried to move it more gently this time, in time with its natural pulsing. It expanded slightly in the direction of her arm before snapping back into place. Feyre brought a hand to her heart, soothing the ache the sensation had left behind.

“I got it to move, but barely,” Feyre grumbled, feeling discouraged.

“That’s great though, Feyre, just a few minutes ago you couldn’t get it to expand at all. Keep trying, practice will make it looser and able to expand more quickly and with less intense after effects.”

Feyre sat trying for the next hour, and managed to get the magic to expand through most of her chest and able to hold it there for around three seconds. She was exhausted, though, and drenched in sweat.

She went to try again, grasping at the power contained within her once again, before Rhysand placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Feyre, you should rest for the day.”

“No, I can keep trying Rhys, I’ll be fine-” Feyre protested before Rhysand cut her off.

“I know that you can keep trying, Feyre, but there is no need to exhaust your body any further today, it will most likely do more harm than good. Your progress in both areas today has been fantastic, you should be proud of yourself! I know that I am proud of you, Feyre,” Rhysand said in a caring tone, and the words of praise made Feyre’s omega so happy she was on the verge of purring aloud.

“Thank you, Rhys,” Feyre responded with a blush high on her cheeks. She stood from her chair and stretched her sore, aching muscles. Rhysand followed suit, and walked Feyre back to her bedroom just as he had yesterday.

“Mor will be back in around a half hour with lunch for you and multitudes of shopping bags I’m sure she is going to bring home,” Rhysand informed her with a chuckle once they were by her door. “Make sure you’re eating well when you practice, Feyre, magic eats through out energy stores very quickly, especially at the start of learning to wield it.”

“I’ll pay attention to that, Thank you Rhys,” Feyre said. Rhysand smiled and turned around, heading back in the direction they had come from, and Feyre slipped into her room.

Like yesterday, she made her way to the bathroom and stripped herself of her clothing, tossing it in the laundry basket before sinking down into the water. She relaxed for a few minutes, letting the hot water soothe her aching muscles before she began to wash her hair, then moved on to her body.

In about twenty minutes, Feyre had just dried off and slipped on a soft black sweater dress when a knock came on her door. “Come in!”

The door busted open, revealing Mor carrying at least ten different bags, all stuffed to the brim with various colors and types of fabrics. “Today was so much fun! I got everything you asked for plus a few things that I thought might be nice that weren’t in the catalogs.” She dumped the bags on the floor, before going back out to the hall and grabbing a few more bags, one of which was giving off a deliciously spicy smell. “I also brought lunch, it’s from my favorite restaurant, I think it’s some type of curry but no matter what it will be amazing!”

Feyre moved to the bags on the floor first, instantly spotting an amethyst fabric that she snatched away, bringing it to her face and nuzzling into it. Mor dropped the bags that didn’t hold food on the ground with the rest and moved to the table, unpacking the food as Feyre continued rummaging in the bags.

“Oh!” Feyre exclaimed as she pulled out a pair of violet thigh high kitted socks, thick and soft and everything Feyre needed right now. She slipped them on quickly, and returned to her post of sorting through the massive amount of materials in front of her.

Before she could do much sorting- into piles of blankets, pillow cases, hemmed pieces of fabrics, pillows, and clothes- Feyre was interrupted by Mor.

“Feyre, you need to eat lunch.”

Feyre ignored her, continuing to pull item after item out of the bags, rubbing each one against her face before placing them in the correct pile.

“Omega.” That got Feyre to stop and turn towards the alpha who was already seated at the table, dishing food out for the both of them. “You need to eat, Rhys said you did a lot of training today. Be good and follow his instructions, okay?” Feyre bit her lip, gaze moving back to the still unsorted bags. “Omega, everything will be there when you finish eating, I promise. You can even sit and stare at them while you eat, if you’d like, but you need to eat, Feyre.”

Feyre finally got up from the floor, a pout on her lips as she took her seat. It was quickly erased when she smelled the food again, that wonderful spiced aroma filling Feyre’s senses. She sat so that she could see the bags out of the corner of her eye, but was still able to look out at the mountains if she wished.

“How’s the training going?” Mor asked a few minutes after Feyre had begun eating the creamy yellow chicken curry and rice.

“Rhys says it’s going well, but I have my doubts…” Feyre confessed. “I haven’t been able to summon anything, let alone move my magic into my limbs.”

“That’s true, you are in the beginning stages of learning to use your magic. It is the hardest part, I promise you, but from the few details Rhys has told me that you are progressing quickly, especially in the mental shielding aspect.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Feyre. And if I’m being honest, being able to keep Rhys out for any amount of time is impressive, even for someone who has practiced for years. The fact that you’ve been able to shows just how capable you are for magic. I think you’ll get the hang of it faster than you think,” Mor said sweetly, and every word from the alpha’s lips soothed the tension that had built inside of her body since this morning.

Hearing it from Rhys was one thing, he seemed to prefer training with a gentle hand for the moment, but hearing assurances from someone else was helpful. Calming, even. Feyre shook her head.

“I can’t believe I was so worried about that, it’s such a silly problem.”

“Feyre, it’s not silly. You’ve been given magic after being a human all your life, I think it would be more strange to not worry about it.”

“I suppose you’re right, Mor.”

Mor flashed her a smile. “I know I am, Feyre.”

The two of them finished their lunch, staring out at the passing clouds. As soon as Feyre was done, she washed her hands in the bathroom and returned to the bags to continue sorting them.

“Do you want me to help, Feyre, or are you fine on your own?” Mor asked from where she was still sitting at the table.

“I can do it on my own, but you can stay if you’d like. Or are you busy?” Feyre looked up at the other fae then, worried that she had taken up to much of the blonde’s time.

“No, no, I have nothing else to do today. I can stay for a while,” Mor said soothingly, and Feyre relaxed. “I’ll try reading one of those romance books you have over there, if that’s alright?”

“Oh, of course,” Feyre said, already focused on sorting everything again.

In a few minutes, all of the bags were emptied and everything sorted, and Feyre sighed. That part was done. Now, to arrange it all on her bed and around the room.

Feyre began to assemble her nest, carefully choosing which spot each item rested in to make it as perfect as possible. Her sunset to sunrise pattern was stunning, if she had to describe it in any way but perfect.

Her nest is perfect.

Tears fill Feyre’s eyes as joy bubbles in her chest.

It’s the first time her nest has felt right to her; every time in Spring something had felt off, like she didn’t have the right materials or patterns to satisfy her omega.

But now? Staring at the beautiful nest, with fabrics piled around the bed on the floor continuing the pattern she had created, her nest felt so welcoming and lovely.

Feyre slid onto the bed, rolling around on it and relishing in the soft slip of fabrics against her skin.

The door clicked shut, and Feyre’s head swung towards it, then back to the table where Mor had last been.

She was gone, as were the containers from lunch and the shopping bags.

Oh mother, did she see me rolling around in my nest? Feyre thought, color creeping up her neck.

But in a few moments, Feyre was back to basking in the happiness of her newly completed nest, her omega feeling the most at peace she had since Feyre had been turned into one.

Feyre pulled a violet body pillow into her body, wrapping her arms around it and stuffing it between her thighs. A series of deep breaths left her as her body relaxed into the nest, and she fell asleep just a few minute after curling up.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

“Feyre, darling, wake up,” came Rhysand’s voice, soft and comforting and oh so alpha.

She opened her eyes, met with the sight of Rhys standing in front of her nest before the fabric starts on the floor, holding a tray.

“It’s time for dinner, and Mor said you might not feel like leaving your room again today, so I brought dinner to you,” he explained with a smile. “Is it alright if I set the tray down in your nest, Feyre?”

Feyre nodded, and he placed the tray down in front of her as she disentangled herself from the body pillow and sat up.

He then dragged a chair over to the side of her bed, being mindful to not interfere with the boundary of Feyre’s nest, for which she was grateful.

In Spring, most of the maids had been mindful of her space, but Ianthe had never shown any care to keeping Feyre’s nest intact. This was a welcome change. Maybe she should stand up to Ianthe when she gets home…?

“How are you feeling, Feyre? Not too tired, I hope.”

Feyre blinked at him, the violet of his eyes catching her gaze. “Oh, uhm, I’m fine, thank you Rhys. A short nap helped, and the food Mor brought me for lunch was so good.” She turned her attention to the tray Rhysand had set in her nest and pulled it towards her. “This looks amazing too,” Feyre said, and started eating the thick slice of lasagna and roasted vegetables. “It is amazing.”

Rhysand chuckled. “It’s one of my favorites, lasagna was always a special meal for my brothers and I growing up. It meant we had done a good job that day, good enough for my mother to spend a few hours preparing the dish, all to put a smile on our faces,” he reminisced, a wistful look on his face.

“That was very kind of her, she must have cared about the three of you a lot,” Feyre said, thinking back on her own mother, who had hardly lifted a finger for Feyre’s well-being before she passed.

“She did. She did.”

The rest of their meal was spent in a comfortable silence, with Feyre still brushing her fingers against her different nesting fabrics every few seconds.

“When did you want to return home, Feyre?” Rhysand asked after they had both finished, a serious look on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re obviously nesting, I want to make sure that you still feel comfortable being away from Tamlin.”

“Oh. Normally I… don’t actually go in to heat for at least three days, I should be able to make it to the end of the week.”

Rhysand considers it before adding, “Let me know if you do feel it starting, either Mor or I can take you back to Spring immediately. And there no need to worry, I won’t add any extra time to your future stays, Feyre.”

“Thank you, Rhys,” Feyre replied with a smile.

“Now, I think I’ll leave you to sleep, I’m going to head off to bed myself,” Rhysand said as he stood, gathering all of their dishes together and heading out of the door. “Goodnight, Feyre.”

“Goodnight, Rhys.”

The door snicked shut, and Feyre stood from her spot in her nest.

Pajamas. Then she can go to bed. She rifled through the wardrobe before pulling out a pretty purple nightgown that matched the soft she was wearing, made of a smooth satin that Feyre was dying to have on her skin all night. She removed her dress and slipped her nightgown over her shoulders. The fabric felt just as lovely as she thought it would.

Feyre stumbled back to her nest, falling into the middle of it. She pulled the body pillow back to its previous position and wrapped a soft, pink blanket around herself.

Between the food warming her stomach and the soft fabrics surrounding her, Feyre fell asleep in just a few minutes, floating on a sea of clouds in her dreams.