𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚃𝚘 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛(𝙰𝙲𝙾𝚃𝙰𝚁)

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫

Feyre had come to visit me one more time, but I still hadn't left my room. Mor was bringing me food three times a day, and I ate it gratefully as she tried to coax a conversation out of me.

No one else had come by to see me. I thought maybe Nesta would come check on me, considering she was the one who sent me into this spiral. But she didn't even seem to care.

That afternoon, a soft knock on my door sounded.

"Come in," I called weakly, not bothering to sit up.

Mor stepped inside, wrinkling her nose when she saw me. I must've looked a mess, especially compared to her. She always looked perfect, even when she wasn't planning on leaving the house.

"Feyre is coming for dinner tonight," she announced. "And you're joining us."

"No, thanks," I declined.

Mor huffed, crossing the room and opening the curtains. I groaned, holding a hand out to shield my eyes from the light.

She then gripped the top of my blanket, yanking it off of me. I yelped, trying to get it back from her. But she snapped her fingers, and the blanket had disappeared.

"We need to get you cleaned up," she decided. "They'll be here in a few hours."

"I'm not going."

"When was the last time you left this room?" she demanded. I didn't answer, knowing full well that it had been over a week. "When was the last time you bathed? Or even got out of your bed?"

I just glared at her.

"You'll take a bath, and I'll find a nice dress for you," she said. "Then, I'll do your hair. You're going to look so pretty."

I doubted that. I'd never really been pretty. Even as a Fae, I didn't compare to my sisters.

"You might be attractive when you grow up," Mother had once told me, my chin in her grip as she studied my features. "But different, not like your sisters."

       I had been young, but I still knew 'different' didn't mean pretty.

Mor stepped over to the bathroom and began running the water. Climbing out of the bed, I grumbled curses. My legs nearly collapsed under me the second I put my weight on them. But Mor was by my side the second she heard my cry, helped me stand. My legs were so stiff from not being used.

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Mor and I were the only ones dressed formally, save for the red headed male that had declared himself to be Elain's mate.

Mor had forced me into a golden gown, slim and flowing. It was strapless, and she'd given me a bra that pushed my breasts up. My hair flowed down my shoulders, shining, not frizzy like it usually was. She'd smeared cosmetics onto my face and spritzed me with perfume.

"Oh, Sammy, you look so pretty," Feyre said to me, her voice lilting as if I was a child. I wondered if she'd ever stop treating me like a child.

"I dressed her," Mor grinned.

"Of course you did," Cassian drawled, shaking his head. "Poor girl just got here, and you already got your claws on her."

"She's like a little doll," Mor teased.

I rolled my eyes as Feyre smiled at us. I crossed the room and sat beside my sister, leaning my head on her shoulder.

"I'm so glad you're adjusting well," Feyre murmured to me. "And I'm glad you've made a friend." I perked up at that.

"Does she really consider me a friend?" I asked, lifting my head to look at her. Feyre laughed.