[DISCONTINUED] TOG and AOCTAR Crossover

11

By the mother, they were really going to write a letter, send it to another world and ask a queen they did not know for aid.

Amren had sprawled the words on the piece of paper, talking about how Deanna had come to their world and started to build a valg army. Rhysand had informed the other high lords of the news and explained who Aelin Galathynius was.

With his eyes closed and focus sharp, Rhys pictured the queen (Amren had described her) and sent the letter to Terrasen. At the end, it simply read:

I know you do not know us, and that you have recently finished a war of your own. But I know my sister, as do you. She will not just stop at Prythian; she will continue to plague other worlds. We ask for your help in defeating the valg. leave Deanna to me.

- Amren.

The fifteen thousand-year-old had also drawn a symbol on the bottom of the page. She explained that it was a 'Wyrdmark' and that it would allow Aelin and her court to open a portal to them.

"What do we do now?" Feyre asked as the envelope vanished.

"We wait."

-+-

Rhysand sat with Feyre on the edge of the bed. He had more bad news.

"Nacala just returned from the spring court with Cerridwen," he stated, "she's in rough shape. They got caught but if it wasn't for Madja's healing skills, then she would be long gone."

Feyre let out a sigh and planted her hands on Rhysand's waist, pulling him closer.

"Cass said that Amren is looking into the situation, but not to wait up for word. He also informed me that most of the refugees are in temporary homes and apartments at the edge of the city."

"Do we know what is happening in the spring court?" she asked.

"Anyone that goes down there is in danger, so Az is having trouble finding spies. He almost went there himself but your Mor stopped him. A guard also caught a few of Tamlin's minions trying to sneak in. Azriel is speaking with them now."

Feyre didn't really know what to say. This was... madness. After a few moments of silence, Rhys stood and grabbed his mate's hand, urging her to follow, "I need to show you something."

She was a little wary, but she walked after him nonetheless. He led her to a shelf in the living room where he grabbed, what looked like, a scrapbook.

"What is it?" she asked him.

"It was my mother's," he opened it to reveal beautiful handwriting that sprawled across the pages, "she wrote in this every day whilst she was pregnant with me and again with my sister. She recorded everything; milestones, symptoms, changes and life in general."

His eyes were glazed over as he stared at the book.

"I flipped through it today. Her life was so peaceful, Feyre. There was no war - no fighting. Yeah, my father was a dick but she was safe. I can't give you that."

She sighed and brushed the tears from his cheeks.

"Rhys," he looked up, "we are living in a different world than when your mother was born. They hadn't even gone to war with Hybern for the first time yet. And your mother wasn't a high lady."

"That little pick of a husband didn't even have the guts to let her."

"And you aren't your father," she said, "you wouldn't hide me in the house of wind to keep me safe, whilst you went and fought all the big boy battles. Safety is boring and overrated, something I never put in my life plan."