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Rhysand was shackled to the wall.
His body shook with exhaustion and it seemed his wings were hidden away this time. He breathed a sigh of relief sending bolts of blinding pain across his body.
A sob rose to his throat which turned into a yelp as he looked at the floor that was filled with blood, only to find that his wings were spread out and nailed to the ground like meat.
His wings-the one part of him that he hid away from most- were gone.
Everything he ever loved was taken from him, now his wings were gone too.
The only thing that reminded him of his mother and the life he lived in Velaris became a distant memory. He felt a burning in his eyes and he blinked his tears away.
He coughed only to have the pain nearly bring him to his knees and his power started to slip away as he caught a glimpse of a head of shining red hair coming towards him.
Fear gripped him as he realised that he was stuck in a palace underground.
He knew that shouting for help would be futile.
After all, he knew he deserved this endless torture.
He had his mother and sister killed because he was too trusting, he couldn’t shield his entire court, just one place and he knew that his choices would weigh him down for the rest of his life.
He laughed helplessly, trying to get a grip on his power but it seemed to slide away from his fingertips, blood dripped down his arms and chest with every movement and he couldn’t help but scorn at the irony of it all.
The most powerful high lord in the history of Prythian was shackled to a wall trying to crawl away from fear like a pathetic worm.
All these years trapped under the mountain made him see things that were beyond unspeakable but nothing shook him to his core as realised that no one hated him more than he hated himself. No amount of pain could ever lessen his self-loathing and for a minute he was at peace, thinking that it was finally his time to end his eternal suffering when he saw her.
He dropped his head in defeat as he felt more than saw the woman float up to him.
“Well, well, well. Look at the almighty Lord of the Night bowing his head for even a smidgen of my mercy.” Amarantha traced his face with a sharp nail and smirked. He snarled in disgust, recoiling away from her, he looked up mustering all his dissipating strength- he spat in her face.
She laughed at him.
“Poor selfish, pathetic high lord or shall I saw my whore. Still, trying to show defiance huh?”
Her lips split into a cruel grin before continuing to scrape her talon-like nails down Rhys’s face, leaving blood in their wake. “It seems that you have a little bit of strength left in you, very well. Keir, bring her.” She commanded and Rhys felt his heart drop as he realised his pregnant mate was on the floor, her bones twisted in different directions, her body was marred with scars that resembled fresh lashings.
Rhys struggled to get to his mate, he pulled at his shackles but they refused to give, Rhys started to yell but Feyre called out to him, “Rhys, love, I’m sorry I put you through this hell. I love you Rhys so-” her voice cracked but she continued, “So much, and I would go through it all again if it means that I get to be with you and-” her hands shook as she placed them on her stomach, affection and pain glinting in them, “ Our son.”
“Oh that’s so sweet, too bad it’s all just a fruitless dream” Amarantha interrupted, mocking Feyre’s words, “ Time to say goodbye slut” Amarantha spat out before she plunged a knife through Feyre and his son before snapping Feyre’s neck.
“NO! Feyre! Please no!”
Rhys screamed in agony as he felt his heart, break into a million pieces, he tried to rid himself of the chains that held him but they only tightened with each attempt. He struggled against them but they pierced into his skin and he cried out. He continued to scream till his voice was hoarse and he could no longer move a muscle.
He couldn’t go on with his life.
His mate, his son, his mother and sister, everyone-everyone he loved was dead.
He was exhausted.
He wanted to end his measly existence.
Rhys felt tears slide down his cheek and he didn’t care, not as his life was stripped of all meaning.
His head dropped as his sobs got louder but a hand lifted his chin and made him look at their face.
He shut his eyes tightly and refused to open them but a voice said to him, “Rhys, look at me.” the voice was different- softer. Against his better judgement, he opened his eyes to find a pair of eyes looking into his, but those eyes didn’t belong to Amarantha, they belonged to Feyre.
“Rhys, it wasn’t real. I’m here love, our son is here. He’s happy and healthy and alive. We made it out. We’re free. You’re free.” With those words, Rhys woke up to find that he was sitting at his desk.
His vision became tunnelled and his breaths turned shallow, he could feel himself start to shake with fear but a hand gently lifted his chin. He looked up reluctantly to find his mate looking at him, with tears in her eyes but she smiled at him all the same.
Feyre handed Rhys their son while his world reformed around him.
His mate looked at him with understanding and sat on the arm of the chair, wrapping her arms around him while Rhys breathed her in.
Feyre took her mate’s face and gazed into his tortured eyes and smiled without restraint showing with every inch of her face that she loved all of him before saying,
“I’m here love.”