Work Text:
FEYRE:
"Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord"
"Rhysand is the most cunning High Lord"
With every copy of the inane sentences, I felt myself get more and more annoyed. Self-aggrandising prick.
"Rhysand is the best lovver a female could ask for"
Spelling mistake in that one. Start again.
I was sure my tirade of swear words could probably be heard in Spring. I briefly fantasised about stuffing the parchment into Rhys' smarmy mouth.
I saw that. Wouldn't it be grand if there was some way you could stop forcing your petty little thoughts into the minds of others? Say, a shield? Oh wait, there is. But where's yours?
I snapped the shield back up. This was exhausting.
A moment later a piece of parchment appeared in front of me. I could easily recognise Rhys's lazy yet elegant scrawl by now:
"Keep practising"
I fumbled for my parchment and touched the pen to the paper, but stopped short. Two can play at his game. I kept the sentences simple, using words I'd picked up from before, and took my time.
"Feyre is the most beautiful female"
"Feyre is the cleverest female"
"Feyre doesn't need Rhysand's help"
The parchment vanished as I finished the last sentence and I smirked at my handiwork as I waited for the response.
A short while later a piece of parchment appeared. His handwriting was more considered and careful, as if he'd taken his time. Not the smarmy rebuke I had been expecting. Although my reading was still poor, I could see that my first two sentences had been copied out as I had been doing for him. I read along as he spoke them to me in my mind.
"Feyre is the most beautiful female"
"Feyre is the cleverest female"
But the last sentence was different. Some of the words were the same, but he'd changed it:
"Feyre needs help from no-one"
Tears welled in my eyes a little at the last line - as I read it, and heard him speak it to me. I often felt like a child in this world, and I suppose in many ways I am to them - hundreds of years old, and I was barely twenty, made fae only months ago. But I was used to independence, surviving on my own, and the adjustment was... Difficult. In some ways, I needed to hear that.
You don't need anyone's help, but there's no shame in accepting help if offered.
Thank you, Rhys.
Don't thank me just yet. You haven't seen tomorrow's sentences.
I laughed, and could've sworn I felt a smile in response.
-
RHYS:
I checked in on her, as I did most nights. It calmed me to see her sleeping. On her nightstand, I was pleasantly surprised to see she'd brought a book to bed - whether reading for pleasure or study, it was encouraging. I almost didn't notice the scrap of parchment she was using as a bookmark - except I could see the cursive letters of my handwriting tucking above the top of the pages. My heart warmed and I sent the words gently down the bond as she slept:
Feyre needs help from no-one
I softly closed the door and left her to her dreams.