ACOTAR One~shots [Discontinued, Will be deleted]

My Fault

While trapped in the Spring Court, Feyre has a nightmare about what could happen should she fail in her mission.

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The sound of the whip cracking through the air had me screaming before I ever saw it make contact with his flesh.

I was on my knees on the cold floor, held fast by Tamlin and Lucien, who each gripped me by the forearms. I thrashed wildly against their hold, desperate to reach my mate.

Rhysand was splayed on his stomach in the middle of the throne room, wings run through with ash daggers. Manacles made of that damned blue stone cut into his wrists—the same that encircled my own, cutting off my well of magic.

The whip slashed across Rhysand’s already bleeding back, and his whole body jerked in pain. An agonized grunt escaped his gritted teeth, and I choked on a sob, the tears streaming down my face.

“Please, please stop!” I begged, unable to bear seeing my mate in such pain. I had to get free, had to get to him, had to help him, had to make them stop.

The creature holding the whip—one of the Attor’s ilk—turned its face to me and widened its hideous mouth in a grin before drawing back its arm and bringing the whip down on Rhys once more.

This was my fault, all my fault. A moment’s slip of the control I’d kept on my powers during a meeting between the Spring Court and Hybern’s forces had been all it took for the king to see what I truly was. I had been bound in those cursed chains, beaten into unconsciousness, and then locked in a cell in a dungeon I hadn’t even known existed below the spring manor. Today was the first time I’d seen sunlight in days. They’d dragged me, weak with hunger and thirst, to the throne room, where to my absolute horror I’d seen Rhys. I didn’t know how he was here, alone, unprotected by Azriel and Cassian. He must have heard of my capture or sensed something through the bond in the moments before it had been severed by the blue stone chains and made the rash decision to come for me on his own. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Perhaps I’ll have a turn with you next, girl,” the Attor-like creature hissed, its black eyes glinting with excitement. “Yes, I think I’ll have quite a lot of fun with you. All that pretty flesh just waiting to be marred.”

Rhys let out a strangled roar. “Stay the hell away from her. Don’t fucking touch her.”

The whip came down again, and I squeezed my eyes shut, praying to the Mother that I’d wake up from this nightmare.

“Enough. I grow tired of this pathetic display,” the king drawled from the throne—Tamlin’s throne. “The Night Court has been a thorn in my side for long enough.” He rose from his seat and said to Tamlin, “Kill the girl first. Make the high lord watch.“

The king had done something to Tamlin and Lucien in the days I’d spent in the dungeon. Their eyes were dead, unseeing. Neither displayed a moment’s hesitation or a flicker of emotion at hearing the king’s order. I was lifted from my knees and brought in front of Rhys, lying bloodied and broken on the floor.

The Attor-like faerie grabbed Rhys by the hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to watch the events about to unfold. Our eyes met, and I’d never seen such agony in his features. The thought that this would be the final time I laid eyes on him was more than I could bear.

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Rhys.”

“Feyre,” he moaned, struggling against the faerie.

“Do it, Lord Tamlin,” the king said in that same bored tone.

My head was pulled back. Ash wood, sharpened to a deadly edge, was against my throat.
“I love you,” I whispered to Rhys.

“NO!” Rhys screamed. And Tamlin swiftly drew the dagger across my throat.

My eyes shot open, and my body bowed off the bed as I screamed. My hand flew to my throat, and while I felt no warm gush of blood, I swore I could still feel the hot bite of the blade slicing through my skin. And I could still hear Rhys’s terrible screams ringing in my ears.

I was going to be sick. Panting, I scrambled onto my knees, the sheets tangling around my legs, causing me to lose my balance and crash over the edge of the bed onto the floor. I kicked free of the linens and crawled on hands and knees to the adjoining bathing room. The cloying scent of flowers filled the air—the scent of spring, of him—and I remembered with perfect clarity the feeling of his fingers roughly gripping my hair…the dead, black eyes that gazed lifelessly at me as he pushed the blade against my throat. Heard my mate’s scream as the man who had already taken so much—too much—from him took yet another life from his world.

I pulled myself up to the porcelain bowl and was violently ill.

Feyre. Rhys’s worried voice spoke my name through the bond, and I sobbed at the sound. I needed him. I needed so badly to feel his arms around me, feel his lips at my ear whispering that I was all right, that everything was going to be all right. The anxiety I felt at the realization that he was not here beside me caused me to be sick once again.

I need you, I said through the bond. I didn’t care if I sounded weak in that moment; I could barely form a coherent thought around the dread that continued to twist my stomach. All I knew was fierce, desperate longing for the safety of my mate’s embrace.

Warmth began to spread through me from our bond. I’m right here, darling, Rhys said.

My sobs quieted as Rhys sent soothing pulses down the bond. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine him running his hand up and down my back in slow, calming sweeps.

Feyre… He hesitated. If…if this is too much, Feyre, if you need to come home, you can. Just say the word, and we will get you out. We’ll bring you home.

Home. My heart ached at the word, and as I closed my eyes, more tears slipped down my cheeks. It would be a relief, such a wondrous relief, to leave this place that had become my gilded prison. And yet… What of Hybern?

We’ll find another way to defeat Hybern. Rhys promised. Together. Right now, though, I honestly don’t give a damn. The only thing I can think of is how I want to winnow to that wretched court and bring you home. I can’t bear the thought of you to reliving the hell of what you went through before.

Before. Yes, it had all started so similarly back then. Nights disturbed by the violence of terrible nightmares that haunted me long into my waking hours. Being forced to carry myself through them and bury the fear and pain and rage deep within myself.

But this time…this time was different. Because now I had Rhysand, who would never abandon me to my nightmares and the accompanying waves of despair that inevitably followed. Rhysand, who loved me in spite of the horrors I’d experienced––and even inflicted on others.

And though I still ached for him with ever fiber of my being, now that I was out from underneath the shadow of my nightmare, I remembered my purpose here and why I was sacrificing my own happiness––and possibly my safety. I remembered what was at stake.

It’s not like the last time, Rhys. I’m not alone anymore. I have you. And that gives me the strength to carry on.

I felt a swell of pride through the bond, though it was tinged with sadness.

My brave, beautiful queen.

When I was sure I wasn’t going to be sick again, I rose slowly from the bathing room floor, my legs a bit shaky. I rinsed my mouth at the sink and returned to the bedroom, stopping at the armoire to exchange my sweat-soaked nightgown for a new one. I crawled back into bed, drawing the covers up to my chin and nuzzling into my pillow, pretending it was Rhys’s chest upon which I rested my cheek.

Talk to me until I fall asleep? I asked him.

Of course, darling.

And so I drifted off to sleep once more, carried away by Rhys’s silken voice that spun tales of the stars in the night sky, of the Fae who looked up to them and dreamed, and of a boy…a boy whose dreams were answered by a huntress with an artist’s soul.

I did not have another nightmare.