Rhys After Feyre Paints Anything That Isnt Him: Beautiful But Where Am I? Its Lacking A Certain High

rhys after feyre paints anything that isn’t him: beautiful but where am i? its lacking a certain high lord… are u gonna add me to this? i could add a lot

they fall into the routine with such ease, bantering siblings taking shots at each other, sharing laughter, a sense of normalcy falling over them — for once. when the illyrian soldiers had found her, untrusting & warning rhysand to use caution, it only took him seeing her with his own eyes. he had zero doubts of his sister, only peaking into her brain as an extra precaution, to see what she had seen during all of this time. what he saw ... he did not expect things to come so easy to them, so soon. he doesn't take this lightly, grateful for every jest, any smile he can put onto her face.

" just checking in. i would hate for you to empty your dinner all over me. though, something tells me you'd enjoy it. " wings fold around them, taking her retort as a challenge, hands finding her sides to hold onto tightly. & without warning, they are whipping up into the sky, gliding against the sea breeze. he remembers how desperate he was to get back into the sky again, the thrill of gliding amongst the stars at such a speed was intoxicating ... like he'd become whole again. even if she was without her wings now, he hoped this at least came close to that feeling.

" hold on tight. " a little too late of a warning, as he swoops down past the city, the faelights slowly fading away behind them. they are engulfed in the stars, burning so bright it seems as if you could reach out & touch them. he takes a glance down at asteria, studying her expression to the best of his ability, voice kept light — lacking the playfulness of before. " is it everything you expected? "

years upon years apart. her , wondering if she would ever catch sight of him again , sitting in the hidden confines of hybern whilst he mourned her death. time had past , aging both of them far beyond what they were during their final embrace. and yet , in this moment as they stood eloped by the night stars , when asteria peered upon him taking in his laugh in regards to her snide comment , for a moment she saw the rhysand that made her eyes roll. the one that seemed to find joy in riling her up whilst putting her on his shoulders as to see the world from above. in this moment , the decades before did not exist. did not happen. not even with the reminders plaguing both of their bodies and souls. would this feeling last ? asteria remained unsure. but by the gods above would she revel in it as it lingered ; fighting like hells to keep it for as long as she could.

❛   cold feet ?   ❜ a playful gasp expels at his comment. he questioned of she , the sibling who begged her brother to teach her to fight even after their father forbade it , the sister who was sooner ready to jump off the roof and hope her wings would catch her had he not agreed to flying lessons . . . the sister who survived hybern . . . had cold feet ? ❛   well that's just next to insulting , big brother.   ❜ linking her arm with his , excitement radiating through each vein and pore on her body , her grin never faltered. if anything it grew. exponentially so when he referenced her flying lessons.

❛   well of course it was – it would be hard for anyone to learn to fly when you don't let them leap from anything higher than a three story window.   ❜ peering once again out to the sky before her , the glimmers of velaris mimicking the sky as the shops and homes lit up to fight the night , memories once thought lost slowly began to return. ❛   so , are you going to take me flying again , or are you the one to have cold feet ?   ❜

an independent rp blog for FEYRE ARCHERON. as written by mads. 21+ only.

i don't think that you're a monster. rhysand pretends like the confession doesn't make his throat feel like it's closing in on him, a shared acknowledgment that she doesn't hold everything under the mountain — what he had to do — against him. " thank you. " he'd never cared what anyone thought of him, had come to accept that he'd never be accepted for his actions, was at peace knowing everything he'd done, was to protect the one city of peace left ... until she arrived. HIS MATE. suddenly, every bad thing he's ever done, his reputation, haunted him, cementing the fact that she'd never accept the bond. but now there is a moment of overwhelming relief & comfort washing over him, swallowing down the urge to confess everything right here & now. maybe she wouldn't be disgusted by figuring out he's her mate, there would be a clearer understanding between them, she would be happy.

but as feyre continues to speak, her words wash away any of those urges, just missing the one piece of the puzzle that would get him to throw caution to the wind & just do it: i need you. rhysand doesn't allow his face to fall, reminds himself that it's for the best — after everything she had been through with tamlin, the bond was for her to figure out & decide. he won't take that away from her. " alright. i like that idea. " he manages a small smile, eyes flickering to their hands once more, before holding her gaze, seemingly gaining his confidence back. " and have you decided what starting over looks like for you yet, feyre darling? "

what else was there? it was an impossible question i had asked myself hundreds of times, as i stared into the precipice of oblivion. i had known death before i ever had the chance to live. a second chance and i had still done so little with it. a truth so cruel and tragic, and yet iit was only recently i had it in me to care. it was only here in velaris — a city of dreams and desire, art and aspirations, that i had finally felt truly alive. there is good in the world, he had said and so much of it was here. “ i don’t think that you’re a monster, ” i admitted aloud for the first time. he and his friends were the defenders of a sacred promise -- the embodiment of that love. that vision. and for once, i finally understood the resolute need to protect its existence. to have something so rare and untouched that no one could take from you. something worth dying for.

that’s when i catch it — his deepest and most horrifying confession. he had no intention of surviving this war. an obstinate martyr who had accepted his fate long ago. for a moment, it threatened to bring me to my knees — i tell myself it’s only because of the tentative alliance we had forged that had just begun to verge on friendship. i wouldn’t be the one to save him, i had no right to mourn him before he was even gone as if he he was mine. he belonged to his people and to his friends, and they had already endured the loss of him once. but how could i explain to him that he had entwined himself into my whole world? that my new vision of the future was the one he had painted for me? full of stars and hope and wishes and promise. a dream predicated on his ambition and faith. i stared down at our hands, practically transfixed, before i swallowed the lump that had developed in my throat. “ you have so much. your life. this city — your family. they need you. ” i need you. perhaps that’s all any of us could hope for — to be needed, to be wanted, to be seen. “ maybe we both have to accept that things will never be the same, so we can finally start over. ”

it's a view rhysand could never imagine, even in his wildest dreams: his sister, drowning in starlight, so close within his reach ... alive, safe — that, he would make sure of, forever — even if it's been days since her return, he's not sure it'll ever be a sight that he isn't grateful for, taking in every second, engraving every breath into his brain. it's his only salvation, when he wakes up at night in a cold sweat, his mind convincing him that none of this is real, that it was all just some cruel dream.

he allows himself to silently appreciate this moment before alerting asteria of his presence, his chest tightening with such a flood of different emotions. guilt, that he couldn't have made her return happen much sooner, the sullen sadness that creeps onto her face when she thinks he isn't looking. & joy, that this was even happening at all. flying again: an idea that sprung after he quietly sought out the opinions of every healer, desperate to find any way to return the gift of flight, only to come up short time & time again. rhysand knew it was a hopeless search, but after having his wings clipped for years, under the mountain ... the ache for the wind whipping against him, tearing at him every night, he had to at least try.

at the very least, he'll be her wings. he approaches from the darkness, stars & shadows following in his path, asking if she's ready, to get a response that earns laughter in return. " just wanted to make sure you weren't getting cold feet. " a smirk, he offers asteria his arm. " teaching you to fly was quite the task, if i'm remembering correctly. "

every emotion under the starlight sky absorbed into asteria in this moment. never did she expect to stand here after all those years she sat imprisoned below the earth. held captive by the king of hybern not knowing if the views of those cobblestone walls of her cell would be her final view of this earth. it was the view of the stars on this clear night that seemed to shine brighter than she could ever recall , the glistening shimmer they painted as they arched over the mountains. while there was an overwhelming joy that flooded her bloodstream in this moment , there was also sadness. the phantom pang radiating from the two deep scars on her back where once sat a pair of beautiful illyrian wings. what a crazed mix of feelings it was.

that was 'til sounds of her brother's voice rang against her ear , in that moment , all unease and depression momentarily lifted. the grin etched on his aged features accentuating just how much time had passed since that night at the cabin. but there was no time to linger in the past. tonight , this night , was the night he had promised her days ago. the very eve she had counted down to since he brought up the idea. and with him now beside her , there was nothing to hide the overwhelming smile ever so growing on her features.

rhysand ( @rhysie ) spoke to asteria : ❛   so ... you think you're ready ?   ❜

did he really have to ask ? asteria formed the look. the one that seemed to be passed down in their family. a dumbfounded glare when asked a question that the other party already knew the answer to. ❛   i have been ready for decades.   ❜

her mind paints an amusing vision: feyre slamming his head against the desk in front of him, the signal he needed to show that she hasn't been broken completely, regardless of what her thoughts seem to tell her. she is still alive, with that same spark, challenging him at every moment. it earns laughter, trickling into her mind until she forces him out with such promising power. " not bad. " his voice, his claws & shadows instantly retreat, not daring to push at the fence that shields her now. she deserves a break for that.

he doesn't show the impact her accusation has on him, that same bored smirk resting onto features, controlling the guilt until his brain pushes out the thoughts of the minds he's been forced to invade: helpless, unsuspecting fae, giving all their deepest thoughts until there was nothing left but a wiped mind. he always put on a good show for her, even if he never let any of them suffer. it still wasn't enough.

paperwork gets tosses to the side, sliding across his desk, before his hands fold onto the surface. a brow quirks, head tilting, rhysand humming before retorting, " well, would you rather i show you flower arrangements instead? " he offers her a saccharine smile, his shoulders raising. " we can go over dresses, or proper table etiquette ... since it seems you are much more content with being a pet. "

through the crippling disorientation, i managed to still make out enough of the words on his note to deepen my scowl even further. his voice echoing inside my mind made my skin crawl — as did the humbling realization of my decrepit helplessness. how easily he had been able to slip in past my lousy defenses — one quick move, and what remained of myself could be crushed entirely. had my mind always been so feeble? or had the last few months truly broken me so far beyond the realm of my own comprehension? it was that overwhelming sense of self loathing and resentment towards my own uselessness that kept me from shriveling up entirely. fully aware he was observing my every thought — for just a moment, i loudly imagined how satisfying it would have been to ram his head against the desk. that spite continued to hold me up, giving me something tangible to hold onto as the walls of my mind kept breaking down. the darkness in my head swarmed, as i struggled to scramble through it. with a deep inhale, my eyes shut and trembling hands gripping the arms of my chair, i gathered the last bit of energy i had left in my dwindling reserves. and with an exasperated gasp, i finally forced him out — armoring my mind with sharp, mountainous walls. “ absolute prick, ” i panted, practically out of breath. “ you enjoy this, don’t you? toying with people’s minds? ”