[DISCONTINUED] TOG and AOCTAR Crossover

12

After getting ready, the inner circle winnowed into the outskirts of Hewn city. Like usual, Feyre was wearing her dress that was similar to the one from under the mountain. Because it revealed so much skin and was quite tight, anyone who looked too closely could tell she was pregnant.

They would still play their usual roles, though - the cruel high lord and lady.

Cassian, Azriel and Mor had walked in beforehand, assessing the danger and making sure that everyone was behaving. And when the knock sounded on the wooden doors, (their signal) Rhys let go of the dampener on his power and walked through the throne room, Feyre's hand in his own.

Maybe Feyre had underestimated how much she was showing because everyone stared at her stomach.

One wrong move, Rhys whispered down the bond, and they're dead.

They all bowed as the pair walked over the polished marble floor; all the way to their two thrones which stood tall over everything else. After a few moments of sitting down, Rhysand finally spoke.

"Rise and go play," his voice boomed off the rock. The citizens of Hewn city began eating their food and dancing, but most of them still kept curious eyes on the high lady.

"Kier," Rhys called. He stepped forward, fury evident in his gaze. Mor suspected he wouldn't be happy with the rebellions, but he seemed angrier at the fact that feyre was pregnant. Any chance he had at getting the throne was now long gone. Unless he killed them both.

But that was impossible. Not only could Rhysand mist him on the spot, but Feyre was a force to be reckoned with too. Nobody would hurt her child.

"It seems congratulations are in order," he said. No warmth or real happiness for the pair. Rhys waved a hand as if to dismiss him but the anger on Keir's face only shone brighter.

"That is not what we are here for," her mate said, "we come to discuss the rebellion."

"And what about it?" Keir replied, "you can simply kill Tamlin. That is not my problem."

Rhys let his power flow through the room. The chatter eddied in nervousness and the leader of Hewn city shuffled on his feet.

"It's not just a rebellion. It's a war. Let me ask, Keir, have you heard of the valg?"

"I have not."

"We need the dark bringer legions to fight. The valg are monsters - demons that are stronger than those that wonder our forests."

Keir gulped.

"They are lead by an otherworldly god. I have asked for aid elsewhere, but the Illyrians will be joining us."

"We've only just finished a war, I do not wish-"

Rhysand cut him off with a growl.

"It is not what you wish. You, the dark bringers and the Illyrians will fight if you know what's good for you."

Keir nodded and muttered a small agreement. And was that. How was it so easy? Feyre contemplated it; he would be true to his word, but would he be helpful, Not likely. He would probably cause inconveniences at every moment.

But at least they had their own army to fight. On top of the other high lord's forces, they may stand a chance. And if what amren had said about this Aelin Galathynius was true - and if she joined their cause - they would no doubt win.

Rhys stood from his throne and Feyre followed suit.

"That is all I wish to say to you."