A/N: Trigger warnings for intense violence, child death, and torture.
The next two weeks passed by in a blur of tangled limbs and desperate whispers in the dark. Rhysand stole away from Amarantha to spend more time with me as much as he could without rousing suspicion. We hadn't slept together again, but gods we kissed every moment we could get our hands on each other. Life had nearly become bearable again, and I actually laughed and smiled a few times. Amarantha had been much more tame, rarely enacting violence or even calling meetings. She had seemed to be quite busy with other things. Who knew what she was getting up to, I was just grateful for a moment of pause.
I should have known it wouldn't last. It never does.
Nuala and Cerridwen rushed me down the hall, one sister latched on to each of my arms as they silently scurried. They hadn't spoken when they'd roused me from bed, but they made it clear there was no time to waste. Luckily, they had come at a moment that Rhysand was gone and not sprawled across my chest. I trusted the girls, but the idea of Amarantha ever knowing the true nature of my blossoming friendship with Rhys was terrifying.
Rhysand was positioned at Amarantha's side, his face a cold mask of indifference. It was like a swift punch in the gut to see him once again so cold and inhuman. I told myself it was just an act, that this was something he had to do. My heart was hammering against my rib cage. Amarantha looked furious; her scarlet mouth downturned as she looked at her constituents with dissatisfied haughtiness.
The door behind the obsidian throne screeched open, and neither Rhysand nor Amarantha flinched as from their periphery came the Attor. The beast shrieked and shook its head, licking its sharpened teeth and scanning the room. Its leathered skin stretched as it lithely perched upon the dais. No one in the entire Court moved a muscle, not even the children. They stood in terrified silence, awaiting their fate. Would this be the day their Queen used them as feed for her pet?
"Kallias, come kneel, dear," Amarantha declared, tapping her talon-shaped nails against the crystalline surface of the arm of her throne. Rhysand looked unsurprised. Had he known she was going to do something like this? It felt like betrayal somehow, like he hadn't trusted me enough to tell me what dangers lurked, but was content to kiss my lips raw? I glared at him, hoping he felt the weight of my stare, but he never once met my eyes.
Kallias's boots clinked against the cave's floor as he slowly approached her throne. A few feet out, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head before her. She arched an eyebrow and scoffed with disdain. This was not good. It was really, really not good. The energy of the room made my hands shake and I felt like my lungs couldn't keep down enough air.
"Are you aware of the sins the men of your Court have committed against me this evening?" Amarantha accused, Rhysand shifting his weight and crossing his arms beside her as he looked down his nose at his fellow High Lord.
"No, my Queen," Kallias shook his head, raking his hand through his snow-white hair and looking up at her with eyes so crystal-clear blue that at first glance, they took your breath away.
"I find that interesting," she said as she sucked her teeth, picking up her goblet and swirling around the liquid before drinking it elegantly, then she spoke again. "Eight of your men attempted to collapse my blood ward and escape just moments ago, thinking me a fool. Even sacrificed one among them in a pathetic attempt at bartering with the gods. Of course, it was fruitless, and now they have disgraced their families and committed an open act of rebellion against me. Kallias, tell me, in your Court, how do you deal with traitors?" It was a trick question, that much was obvious.
"Situations vary, my Queen," Kallias murmured, pleading on his icy pale features. He knew what she meant to do- if Amarantha had her way, she was going to murder seven more of Kallias's already quickly dwindling Court.
"Do they?" She arched a brow. "What would you do?"
"Imprisonment," Kallias offered. "The time to fit the offence."
Amarantha gave a high, amused laugh.
"In Winter Court? Please," she chuckled. "You Winter-hardened bastards give even Rhysand's Nightmares a run for their money in brutality. No, I've heard stories of what some of the men under your watch get up to. Learned quite a bit from them, actually. A natural talent for killing, certainly. I heard there were men among you who would skin other fae alive when they'd committed unforgivable crimes such as these."
"No, my Queen, I have never-"
"No matter," she cut him off, holding up a hand. "I'm not even certain why I asked. Curiosity, perhaps. I already have much more entertaining plans for the rest of our evening." Amarantha stood, slowly walking down the steps of the dais as she sauntered through the crowd, her shoulders painfully straight. Her posture was just as rigid as a corpse.
I chewed the insides of my cheeks as I watched the scene play out, anxiety causing my flesh to heat, sweat beading along my forehead and lower back. Rhysand looked bored as he straightened his cuffs and picked a stray piece of lint from his jacket.
"You see, clearly my last demonstration wasn't convincing enough. I'd thought it would suffice to keep the lot of you in line, but I was mistaken. So, I've been pondering what would fix our little problem here. Seven traitorous Winter court men," she sucked in a breath with a wince, "now that's fun torture. But, these men, like I'd said, are hardened. They're all quite accustomed to pain, and that just won't do. No, I want the desperation of shredded vocal cords. So, how would I achieve something so intriguing?" I nearly jumped from my skin when I noticed Amarantha had circled and come up right behind me. She dragged a claw up my arm, snagging a brunette curl in her hand and twisting it around her finger. I remained still, barely even breathing until she'd moved on.
Rhysand's eyes briefly flicked to mine, but they were gone before I could even make out his expression. Amarantha perched back on her throne with a sigh, tossing her auburn hair back over her shoulders, exposing her deathly pale neck.
"Children," Amarantha smiled, flashing her uncomfortably white teeth.
No one breathed. Not even Rhysand.
The Attor chittered, the noise eerily like a human laugh. Amarantha watched the reactions on the faces of those she loved to torment most. I stood, cheeks flushed in panic as I fought every part of my body begging to flee, to get away from this room. The small shield of safety I'd convinced myself was there was gone in the blink of an eye. No, I was frightened, and nothing I could do would hide that fact.
"My Queen?" Kallias croaked, and her attentions focused back on his, her smile wide and goading. She was eating this up, feeding on their fear like it was a cocktail. And there, Rhysand stood beside her, making no effort to contain her.
"Children," she repeated as though it were a silly question. "Among the eight of them, they have twelve children." Kallias looked ill. I was right alongside him. She couldn't be serious, could she? Cruelty had to know some bounds, have some uncrossable line, hadn't it? Surely no one was that evil, not even Amarantha.
"I don't understand," Kallias swallowed, shaking his head worriedly.
"Oh, don't be coy, Kallias," Amarantha rolled her eyes. "Rhysand, dear, do hold Kallias's mind. I would hate to see him make an unwise choice in a moment of fear." Rhysand turned towards the white-haired High Lord, and I saw the moment Rhysand seized his mind, keeping him from movement. This could not be happening, and yet it was.
"Guards, please complete your tasks," Amarantha ordered dismissively, opening the decanter of dark red wine and pouring more into her gem-crested goblet. She sucked a spilled drop from her fingers and replaced the decanter.
The guards stepped forward, ushering the crowd back toward the wall at the far side of the room. My throat felt thick as I stumbled back, the guards marching menacingly toward me. Oh, gods. They remained in a line, prepared to stop anyone attempting to move forward.
A guard creaked open a door and twelve children came out in a single-file line. Their tiny wrists were bound, the skin around their holds an angry, irritated red. They'd struggled to get free, but their delicate bodies hadn't been able. Bile roiled in my stomach, and I felt like I was about to lose my footing. Rhysand caught my eye, giving me a stern look as I likely looked ready to spill my guts across the floor.
Another line of guards walked out from Amarantha's wing, each holding a handcuffed Winter Court member, a blade poised at their throats to keep them compliant. They each had crusted blood on their faces and clothes and their skin was spattered with purple and yellow bruises. The men were then lined up at the base of the dais, facing their children, who were in the aisle between the crowd and Amarantha.
The men knelt, a couple of the blades being held with such pressure that they'd already nicked the skin, blood dripping down their necks as they silently wept for their offspring and themselves. The Attor cawed, crawling down the steps and into the aisle where it was poised to strike the children, licking its teeth as it salivated.
I couldn't let this happen. I would never be able to live with myself if I let this happen. The faces of these scared children would be reflected back at me every time I was finally brave enough to shut my eyes again. A little boy who was likely only four whimpered, his bottom lip wobbling as the viscous creature eyed him with hunger. An older girl shouldered the little boy behind her, covering his body with her own. She was a mere child herself. Rhysand wouldn't allow this, would he?
"This is such a beautiful show of love, is it not?" Amarantha smiled at the crow. "Do you see how afraid they are? The way their precious little bodies tremble? Look at their faces, remember their eyes, and know that this all could have been avoided had you kept your rotten mouths shut and stayed in line. Your babies never needed to feel the pain of being shredded apart with claws and teeth had you not thought yourselves masterminds and rebels." My chest tightened. I lost my view of Rhysand, and I frantically searched for him. Amarantha narrowed her eyes at me, and I froze.
Her stare felt as though it pinned me in place, a butterfly with its wings stapled to the ground. She liked to watch me squirm, knowing that festering, wormy fear in my gut was nearly eating me alive. She'd known this would scare me on many other levels, knowing I was human and emotional. It was more than that, though. She looked... suspicious.
The men bellowed against the blades, each cry forcing the metal further into their dermis. They hissed in pain, cheeks shiny with tears as they whispered their children's names like prayers. The children screamed and cried, calling out for their mothers being held back by the guards and begged their fathers who were paralyzed by their own leaking mortality.
"Please," the man on the end howled, his plea cut off by a drowned gargling as the guard pressed harder against his throat, causing him to suffocate on his own pooling blood. He coughed and spit, the red splatter blending in with the blood-red marble of the floor. I felt like I couldn't breathe, couldn't move.
The little boy teetered on his feet, accidentally falling onto his bottom and crying louder, and I instinctually made to shove my way through the guards, when all of my muscles stopped short, and I lost control of my limbs entirely.
Don't you dare step in, Rhysand snarled into my mind.
I looked at him wide-eyed as tears poured from my eyes and down my frozen cheeks. He looked angry, and he held my eyes like he was teaching me a lesson, and I wasn't sure I'd ever hated him more than I did in that moment, not even being able to wipe away my own tears.
Just keep looking at me, he said soothingly, and I felt a coolness brush across the back of my neck like he'd applied an ice pack there. His violet eyes looked molten as he kept my attention. The Attor finally lunged, latching its maw around the brave young girl's leg. She gargled in pain as she heard the crunching of her own bone and the shredding of her own muscle and flesh.
At me, Feyre, Rhys murmured, and I redirected my gaze, panting through my nose with flared nostrils as I tried to not fall apart. I wanted to rush to the little boy and protect him, keep him from anything and everything that would ever hurt him, but I had to just stand still and listen to the sickening ripping of skin as the Attor devoured them, picking each of their tiny bones clean.
If I were in Rhysand's place, I knew my eyes must have been terrifying. I was on the verge of spiraling into a darkness I was positive I'd never muster the courage to climb back out of. I knew I would let myself rot in that desolation, just as I deserved to for standing here and not intervening.
The screams of their fathers had all nearly died out now, their hearts giving out from exertion and from the jagged indentions on their jugular veins. They lay in a lake of blood, their lifeforces mixing and creeping out across the floor. Amarantha sat on her throne, looking quite pleased with herself. I wanted more than anything to cut out and feed her own entrails to her.
I squeezed my eyes shut, sobs wracking my body as Rhysand's talon-gripped hold on my mind held me upright and kept me from crawling into the fetal position on the floor with my hands over my ears, losing my voice from my gasped attempts to make it all stop.
She will pay for this, Rhysand said into my mind, but I couldn't open my eyes. Not as I still heard a young, sweet voice whimpering accompanied with the rattling growl of the Attor. I will kill her, Feyre. You have my word that I will make her pay for this.
I cried harder, my chest feeling ready to cave in on itself. Once it was finally, finally over, Rhysand released me and I scrambled off down the hallway and into his room, slamming the door behind me as I crashed to the floor and clutched my chest, everything in me feeling as though it were ripped to tatters at the seams of my very being. Twelve. Twelve Winter Court children and eight men were now dead as a consequence of their attempt to save their families. And Rhysand had held them captive as he forced us all to watch her violence and cruelty for ourselves.
Are you okay? I will be there as soon as I can, Rhysand ensured in my mind. I envisioned slamming a wall down between us, cutting of his access to me and my mind. I wasn't foolish enough to imagine he couldn't break his way through, but I prayed to the cauldron he had enough mercy left in his icy, wretched heart to leave me be.
I desperately gasped, choking for air as I sobbed harder than I ever had. I felt as though I were exercising year old demons from my body as I mourned for all I'd had and lost and all I would never get to have at all. They were bitter, angry tears. I pressed my forehead against the cold stone floor as I screamed, cursing Amarantha and Tamlin and Rhysand and everyone who had brought me to this point, this breaking.
I would see the little boy's face in my mind for the rest of my days- however numbered they may now be. I would never know his name. I would never know what kind of games he liked to play or what his favorite foods were. But I'd always know what he sounded like when he was being ripped apart by a barbaric winged demon.
Eventually, I sat back up, still sitting on the floor with my back against the frame of Rhysand's bed. I sniffled and wiped my cheeks on the backs of my hands as I allowed numbness to take it all away. Tomorrow, I would be required to go on as if I didn't just witness twenty people being eaten alive.
The door pushed open, and I spun, ready to snarl at Rhysand that he was the last person I wanted to see right now but I stopped short. My heart stuttered and frankly, nearly stopped all together. Because I wasn't looking at Rhysand. No, instead, Amarantha lingered in the doorway, a smug, knowing smirk on her face as she looked down at where I slumped on the floor.