Work Text:
Feyre's eyes darted to her sister, who sat beside her at the dining table. Feeling Feyre's stare on her, Nesta looked at her for a brief moment. Long enough for Feyre to see a devilish glint in her sister's eyes, not the usual “I'm going to stab someone” glint, but pure mischief which gave her something…child-like, something Feyre never had seen in her sister. Nesta had never been a child, she always had been expected to be a young lady and she had played that part very well.
The mischievous glint wasn't gone, Feyre knew that, but as Nesta straightened and cleared her throat she hid it better under a mask, you had to look closely if you wanted to find it.
“So, Rhysand,” she said in an unusually nice tone. “I heard you are interested in art?” He only mustered a short nod before Nesta continued to say, “My sister happens to be a fine artist herself.”
Feyre froze, clasping the fork so tightly in her hand that she could feel the metal bending in her palm. She tried to look at Elain, who sat on Nesta's right, signaling her for help but she pressed her lips together as if trying to hold in a laugh. What the hell were they doing?
“Go on, Feyre.” Nesta said, ignoring their mother at the head of the table, fuming. This dinner was a ruse, something to match Nesta with the King of the North, Rhysand who sat just across from them. “You just chewed my ear off this morning about your new painting.”
Feyre looked at Rhysand, muttering, “It's a concept I told you about, I haven't painted anything yet.” as heat warmed her cheeks.
“But you plan to?” the King asked, seeming genuinely interested. And her sisters seemed genuinely interested in her response.
“Yes-” she said and Nesta began, “You should take a look at her paintings, they are exquisite.”
Rhysand threw Feyre a smile, which made her cheeks burn even more. “I'd love that!”
Nesta already stood up from her chair and Feyre genuinely didn't know if her sister misunderstood the first meeting between Rhysand and her as flirting, if she saw any chemistry between them. Which wasn't true, Feyre thought that man was a huge prick, and he did not do his job right if he had time for dinners in search of a bride. Or maybe Nesta wanted to just piss off their mother, which Feyre was actually a bit proud of. Although, this would have consequences. Knowing their mother, the consequences would be even worse if it was the former, trying to play matchmaker between Rhysand and Feyre, than the latter, trying to piss her off.
“Nesta!” their mother said, “We are still eating, this is incredibly rude!” Then she turned to Rhysand, who already stood, too. “I'm so sorry, your majesty-”
The two men that sat beside Rhysand both looked amused at the scene that played out before them. If Feyre remembered correctly, those were his brothers and the beautiful blonde to his left was his cousin, and third in command.
Rhysand said something to their mother but Feyre didn't hear as Nesta pulled her up, and the King's entourage stood as well, everyone following them.
Her heart started pounding, “What are you doing?“ she whispered to her sisters.
“Please, Feyre.” Nesta said, exasperated, as if Feyre said something stupid. “That man can't take his eyes off of you, and neither can you. You're literally eye-fucking at the table!”
Feyre was surprised about her sister's choice of words and so was Elain as she gasped, “Nesta!”
“This is not one of your smutty romances!” Feyre quipped back.
“Keep that attitude up and I'll make sure to mention all the paintings of the north you hide behind your bed!” Nesta replied, looking smug when Feyre huffed in frustration.
“Mother will kill us,“ Feyre said, still in a whisper as they ascended the stairs, their guests behind them. As Nesta and Feyre talked, Elain told their guests about the house and pointed out specific decorations to keep the attention from the other two.
“Mother will kill me,” Nesta corrected, “But you won't even know because you'll be on your way to the north!”
“I'd kill you if we didn't have any witnesses.” Feyre whispered quickly before they reached the door to Feyre's room, Nesta only snorted unimpressed.
Her sisters entered the room and Feyre stood behind, realizing what they were doing. Who they invited, who was looking at their paintings. Who they didn't pay any attention as they squabbled their way upstairs.
Rhysand paused beside Feyre, neither looking at the other. “Second guessing?” he asked.
“I haven't even first guessed,” she replied grumpily, hoping he didn't notice the slight tremble in her hand. To her surprise, Rhysand radiated warmth and he smelled so good. Fuck. It was unfair, he was handsome and smart and smelled like the ocean and he was respectful to her and her sisters. He was cocky and arrogant, yes, but was that always bad? He has shown genuine interest in them, meaning herself and her sisters, and he didn't seem to be a big fan of their parents, which, honestly, made him even more likeable.
When she didn't get an answer she looked up, yes up because he was a full head taller than her, and found him staring into her room. Following his line of sight, she found the painting she had finished just yesterday. It still sat against her dresser, which she had also painted.
It portrayed a beast looking at themself in the mirror. But if you looked closely, it wasn't just a beast. It was multifaceted, like the night. There was softness portrayed, just as it portrayed hardness. It portrayed herself but she wasn't about to say that, it was ridiculous.
Rhysand entered the bedroom, his eyes fixed on the painting. Of all the paintings, he had to choose this one. Feyre still followed him because the alternative would be dealing with her parents, which she already could hear their angry whispering from the stairs.
“It's even more beautiful than I had expected,” he said, turning around and looking Feyre in the eyes. “Which means a lot because your sister put it on thick downstairs.”
“I don't know what got into her, “ Feyre said truthfully, tucking her hair behind her ears. She couldn't stop herself from blushing at his compliment.
“I'm glad,” Rhysand said, still not breaking eye contact. “Because I have a proposal for you.” Time felt like it stopped, right as her parents reached her door. She felt everyone's attention on them, every pair of eyes in this room on Rhysand and Feyre. She swallowed, Rhysand watching that movement carefully. “I want you to paint a portrait of my family, I've been looking for a qualified painter, you seem perfect for the job. Of course you'll be paid graciously for your work.”
“I thought you wanted to travel back to the north tonight.” Feyre brought out. She remembered him mentioning setting sail shortly after this dinner. “That's hardly enough time for a portrait.”
“That's, Feyre darling, is why I want you to accompany me to my home. I can assure you will be taken care of during your stay.”
A gasp behind her. Was it a surprised gasp from Elain? Or was it their mother seething in anger? She didn't know.
This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and still, the first thing she said, “I can't, not without my sisters.”
“Feyre!” Elain said shocked, being met with Nesta's equally shocked “Are you insane?”
But all Feyre could think of was, “Mother will kill me but you won't even know because you'll be on your way to the north!” and she knew Nesta spoke true, they would be met by their mothers wrath once Feyre was gone and she couldn't for the life of her let that happen. It was either all of them or none of them, but she sure hoped it would be all of them. Feyre was ready to beg but Rhysand only took a look at her sisters and said, “Okay, if you want to pack some things, we will wait downstairs. But as I said already, all of you will be properly taken care off, so don't stress yourself out too much.” he looked back at Feyre and smiled, and she had a feeling this was a real smile, “I'm looking forward to working with you.”