They Fall Into The Routine With Such Ease, Bantering Siblings Taking Shots At Each Other, Sharing Laughter,

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 ?   ❜

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? ”

rhysand playing the piano 😮‍💨

" feyre darling, if you wanted to have some fun with the paddle — all you had to do was ask. " wickedness manifests in a single wink, so tied up in her gaze that he's forgotten the challenge at hand. where rhysand should be disappointed that she slipped right from his grasp, he instead finds himself impressed with how fast she gained the upper hand, unsurprisingly. he has always had a blind spot for her. " clearly, whoever taught you knew what he was doing. " lips twitch in amusement as feyre threatens his creation, not even sparing a glance toward the canvas: a blank sheet of black, done carelessly, a clear giveaway that the brush filled of pink means no real threat to him. hands hold up in feigned defeat & within seconds, he's winnowing right in front of her, palms pressed to the wall above either side of her head. " what was that about terrible reflexes again? "

my arms crossed over my chest ( albeit smudging the paint in worse ), holding my ground with poised self-assurance as he approached. ever the face of impertinent stubbornness. the sheer audacity of my mate to suggest i had started it — i certainly couldn’t stand down now. a skeptical click of my tongue, “ hm. is he to blame for your terrible reflexes? ” grand and haughty amusement glimmered in my eyes, as i struggled to bite back a grin, determined not to yield. “ perhaps you deserve the paddle for your insolence. ” i had made a point to hold to hold his gaze without so much as blinking — only to surrender my territory, retreating from his grasp and quickly backing towards a protected corner, as dirty water flailed across the small room. i should’ve expected him to turn my own weapon against me. “ oh, you will be cleaning these floors, rhysand! as i mop them with you! ” i grab a thick brush dipped in bright pink paint and hold it threateningly close to his ... masterpiece. “ be careful now. ”

along with rhysand being just the embodiment of night, just generally coming off as intimidating to people- and always being somewhat conniving, ect. i do think the mask he had to wear with amarantha is a hard transition to lose. he was forced to do horrible things, and even worse, act like he enjoyed it. after years of enduring this, he really had a lot of self doubt. why was he capable of doing this? yes, it was to protect everyone he cared about, he was doing what he had to. but would a genuinely good person be able to do what he did for so long? was he allowing himself to be turned into what amarantha wanted him to be? obviously, he’ll always carry the guilt of what he’s had to do. but i do think the lines got blurred there, and it’s hard for him to realize that he doesn’t have to act like that anymore. he doesn’t always have to be scheming, or lying, or hiding things - but after wearing that mask for so long, it’s very hard for him to be able to just act like himself again. i think it’ll be a long time before he’s able to drop this act completely, no matter how much he’s aware of it, and wants to stop ( because he feels like he’s letting her win, if he doesn’t. ) a part of that act has bled into who he is, and just a couple years of freedom afterwards is not enough for him to shed that completely.

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