An Independent Rp Blog For FEYRE ARCHERON. As Written By Mads. 21+ Only.

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

with every court held, rhysand forced to observe, ( take in information, learn the ropes, nothing more ) he's reminded just how dull these political meetings can be. only finding amusement when words get heated, emotions rising ... if he's lucky, a fight breaks out & captures his attention once more, though that seems to be few & far between, lately. things have been quiet, a good sign. a mark of peace, finally, in prythian. though his father has shown his doubts on how long that will last.

strengthening their allyships, he supposes, is the reason for inviting the other courts to their celebration of starfall. while he should be cementing friendships with the elder brothers of the spring court — their behavior reminds him of those at the illyrian camps when he was younger, having to defend & prove he was more than just a half - breed. tyrants targeting those they thought beneath them.

perhaps that's why he always seeks out the youngest of the brothers at these gatherings — he sees his friends in him ... has unspoken sympathy for him, what his family puts him through. whether his presence is appreciated, or not. rhysand doesn't care, only wishing to offer him support. their friendship that blossomed with it was an added, unexpected bonus.

this day is no different, rhysand finding tamlin after exchanging pleasantries with everyone he was supposed to. he appears from the shadows, watching the other lost in his own world. wordlessly, he takes a seat, a smile dancing upon his features — imagining the melody he'd be strumming if he could.

gaze flickers toward the sky, spirits twinkling & shooting across the horizon, a sight he'd never lack appreciation for. contemplating the question with a hum, he'd never give it much thought. the thought of ever finding a mate, at this point, is shut out from his mind. why would he ever put another through this life? perhaps this is why he enjoyed tamlin's presence. his guard lowers: any of the politics, the scheming, the formalities are forgotten. they are allowed to just be.

" my mother seems to think so. " a small shrug, watching another star brightly whirl around, followed by another. to have that love ... he knows he doesn't deserve. his head lowers, to look at tamlin, taking in the softness in his features, reading each thought as if they'd appeared on his face. his tone switches, to something more teasing, an attempt to lighten the other's mood. " why, dear tamlin? don't tell me you're feeling lonely. do we have to take you to the nearest brothel? "

it is not easy to make friends, marked as they were, set apart and labelled for a future they didn't ask for. the accident of birth unfair to say the least. to endure such scrutiny of being first born, tamlin does not like to dwell. though older brothers are a particular type of gruesome punishment, he cannot help but be glad for the insulation provided between his and their exacting father. he will never be high lord, but he will always be the high lord’s son.

in some ways, tamlin understands the younger of the night court siblings. the sister with too canny eyes and too clever a mouth. but it is rhysand he finds himself thrown together with, after meetings, at events, the courtiers to machinate them together. to see if conflict or friendship blooms.

such courtly event is where tamlin finds himself, absent from the spring court on the longest day of the year — he watches the sky alight with splotches of irridescent glowing orbs cascading to — somewhere. he’s never been one for philosophy or history, he has no investment in the religions that different courts hold. his god is music and he has been its humble servant.

that is why, fingers play a silent melody on invisibly strings. he knows the sounds this would make, knows the roaring in his ears as he loses track of his surroundings would be cause for reproach, but it is not until he notices his vision dimming that he’s drawn from his reverie. the heir approaches.

a quiet nod of acknowledgement, fingers withdrawn from the bannister he’d been imagining as an instrument, fists now at his side.

‘ rhysand — ‘

what else is there to say? he’s been sent as diplomat and instead of doing anything regarding diplomacy, or what he suspects his father really desired, intelligence gathering, he has composed a symphony that his fingers itch to transcribe to music.

eyes glance back out to the cascading souls, two merging and half entwined as they fall. he catches rhysand following the same with his gaze. and tamlin ventures at last — something beyond merely a name.

‘ do you think, that if you’re mates — you will follow each other, even into death and beyond? to — wherever these souls go? ‘

he does not like the quietness that has filled his voice, he does not think he will have a mate. he is not powerful like his siblings, his time spent either in the villages and outlying areas playing music, or traipsing in his beastly form. but sometimes, when he watches two immortal souls fall from the great above to the great below. he wonders what it would be like to be loved like that. to be allowed to be so selfish that you would choose that person above all. to damn anyone but them. to damn yourself, for them.

tamlin && rhysand starter // @rhysie

the nightmare paints itself out across their bond, the panic & looming death loud enough to keep him awake. it's almost routine at this point, when his own dreams aren't engulfing him in terror — the clear crack of feyre's neck, the light fleeting from her eyes, the hopeless grief that consumed him — it's hers, leaving him tossing in his bed, wide awake until the birds start singing outside his window. only, this time, he can actually do something about it. he doesn't even bother to think it through, throwing on only pants, before he's crossing the threshold of feyre's bedroom.

star filled darkness surrounds them, his voice light, all attempts at bringing comfort to her. he holds her hair back as she empties out her stomach, waits it out until she seems to have steadied herself, before offering to leave. rhysand knows his face is the last she'd wish to see in this moment, doesn't allow him to fool himself otherwise — but before he can even finish it, the thought is quickly shut down. he hides the surprise in his face, offering a small nod, cementing that he won't be going anywhere.

his hand finds the one on his wrist, lifting it to his cheek, grounding her. " i'm here. " he ignores how his chest tightens, how his breathing changes, voicing the words into her palm. " you're safe ... " he doesn't know if he's saying that to remind her, or himself. " you're safe. i won't let anything like that happen to you again. "

@rhysie said: if you want me to go ,  i will .  do you want me to leave ? (x)

i don't look up, my eyes glazed over as if i were still somewhere else. the cool, night breeze drifting through the open window was the only real confirmation i had that i was no longer encaged under the mountain. this time, the walls of my tiny cell were quickly closing in, adorned with the same sharp, spinning blades that had almost killed me during my second trial. i still couldn't read and i still couldn't pick the right lever, and my death was approaching faster than ever. it was easier to just give up, accept what i deserved. a part of my soul was resigned to my fate -- looked forward to it even, as the metal of the blades reflected the hideous monster i had become. agonizing reprieve was finally here, just inches away, when strong hands had jolted me awake. rhys's calm voice was all that steadied me as i panted and i retched.

once i was back sitting on the bed, my body curled into itself -- my arms wrapped around my legs, as if i were in danger of fully falling apart. afraid of what could happen if i were suddenly alone. before i knew what i was doing, my shaky hand reached out to grasp his wrist with surprising firmness. i shook my head, my voice low and hoarse, barely a whisper -- almost worried amarantha was just around the corner and could hear. " i don't want to be alone. " i don't let go, as i shut my eyes, remembering the nightmare, my features twisted with torment. " it felt so real. " in many ways, it had been.

" is every word you say a lie? " — @musikensangel

pointed ears perk at the question, a serpentine smile taking over his lips as he ponders it, accompanied by a soft hum. there's amusement that comes from a human asking such things, considering the popular fable that fae are incapable of lying — a rumor that spread rampantly around for years, each mortal echoing it blissfully unaware that it probably originated from a faerie's mouth to begin with.

rhysand could use that lie to his advantage now, cement his warning that this side of the wall is not safe for someone like her. if it comes to that, perhaps he will. if that still doesn't make her see that he's serious about the dangers that lurk in prythian, clawing into her mind & forcing her to turn around will be a last resort ...

" ah, i'm not sure you want to take the chance in figuring that out. " he purrs, stalking around the human as if she were prey. he doesn't make it known that she's ran into one of the only fae that would offer her safety, ink black tendrils of smoke misting around them make him appear as just the opposite. if someone — or something — were to scare her back to the other side of the wall, he'd prefer it to be himself. " seeing as though you clearly have no business being here, i would kill that curiosity of yours quickly. unless, of course, you have a death wish. "

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. ”

he takes her in — letting whatever tension, teasing or otherwise, to completely drop, showing her as much vulnerability in this moment as she's revealing to him. an attempt to make up for all of the times he'd felt her go through just this at the spring court, awaken by the terrors that linger from under the mountain, not alone & yet, completely neglected. every inch of him screamed at him to help her, ignore the space he'd sworn himself to give her, do something.

he allows himself to give into those urges tonight, pitying those that never even thought to show her an ounce of tenderness — an indication they'd never deserved her at all. he slides her hand to his lips, a chaste kiss pressed to her palm, before interlacing their fingers. he wonders if she can feel it in moments like this, the other unspoken bond, like he can ... if she can feel the intensity of his love for her, shown in every glance, every touch. enough to drive him mad.

rhysand takes the spot she's made for him, hesitating before sliding an around her. he swallows any fear of rejection, damning boundaries for just this moment. her confession is evidence enough that she still doesn't realize, she helped him more than he could ever her. & he'll spend the rest of his life showing her, if he has to. " i would have died under there, if it weren't for you. all of us would have. " feyre, the cursebreaker. he speaks with a solemn smile, tucking her crown under his chin. " we make quite the team, hm? "

his mere presence soothed me, with his cool hands and gentle touch. the scornful disdain and shallow pretenses we had once hid behind faded away into the darkness, until all that was left was our shared agony. i knew then that he had seen what i had seen — felt my fear as if it was his own. we were haunted by the same ghosts, in a cycle of endless torment. i saw it in his eyes — he understood, like no one else ever could. he too had suffered in a way no one could possibly imagine.

the tension in my body began to dissolve, my fingers tingling as they cupped his cheek — suddenly aware of his bare torso. his large hand was steady and brought me back down to earth — his grasp both tender and assured. he's here. i'm safe. the words churned over and over, until i absorbed them entirely. i swallowed the last lump in my throat and nodded. if my throat wasn't dry, i would have choked out a sob. no one had ever looked after me as he had tonight — stroking my back softly and holding my hair out of the way while grief and terror wracked through my body. helping me back to bed once i had finally stopped shaking.

i shifted slightly in the bed, scooting over and inviting him to sit. for once i believed him as he promised to not let anything happen to me again. as i felt the conviction deep within him, i pitied anyone who dared to come between me and his armored resolve. he had been the one to see me through the worst of my trials, just as he did now — holding my hand and guiding me through the darkness. “ i couldn’t have made it out without you. ”