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Feyre stood on one of the balconies at the House of Wind, overlooking the usually bustling City of Starlight. She’d finished her morning training with Cassian, showered, and changed. She’d been ready to summon her wings and head back to the townhouse, when the view of the city through the glass doors drew her attention. Next thing she knew, she was leaning against the railing, the snow she had seen sticking to her still damp hair.
Even from atop the mountain that the House was built into, she could tell that there were less people out than usual. It wasn’t concerning however, considering the city was experiencing its first real snowfall of the season. Most of the people in the city were choosing to spend the day relaxing in their homes by warm fires, or in libraries or bars with friends. She couldn’t say she blamed them.
Sparkling white flecks swirled down elegantly from the clouds above in intricate dances; accompanied, from where she was standing, only by the silent music of the wind.
Already four inches of the icy fluff had blanketed every surface, save for those that had been salted in anticipation of the inclement weather, and showed no signs of slowing any time soon. In the parks, tree branches hung low as the accumulated ice began to weigh them down. The limited visibility created by the snow, washed out the usually vibrant colors that Velaris was known for.
Far below her, fae children ran through the cobbled roads, and over the bridges that crossed the Sidra. She could just make out that they were throwing snowballs at one another, not dissimilar to the Illyrians in her own family, who often acted more like younglings than actual younglings. The kids laughed each time one of their snowballs hit a target, and screeched in joyful indignation when they were struck in return.
Feyre wanted desperately to find the same sense of wonder the children had, or the tranquility the adults seemed to have. Regardless of her attempts however, an undercurrent of worry and pain kept her from enjoying the scene before her; one which would usually inspire her to pick up a paintbrush.
When a gentle hand settled on her shoulder, startling her from her thoughts, Feyre feared for a moment that she might go over the railing, but managed to steady herself in time.
Whipping around, she relaxed slightly when she recognized Cassian’s tall, broad form. A breath of relief escaped her in an involuntary puff of steam, and she silently cursed herself for letting her old memories and instincts influence her current actions.
Cassian, for as much as he usually joked around, knew when someone needed him to be serious. He must have known it was one of those times, because for once, he held his tongue as his gaze swept over her. If Feyre hadn’t known him as well as she did, she would have thought his gaze to be critical in nature. Still, she knew that whatever he was looking at, it wasn’t something he would use as a joke or insult.
He froze when his eyes caught on her still-wet hair. The only indication that anything was about to happen, was the slight crease appearing between his brows. “Cauldron, Feyre! You’re gonna freeze to death out here!” Before she could process what was happening, she was being ushered back into the house, Cassian’s wings moving to block any more of the wind and falling snow from reaching her, “And with wet hair no less!”
Feyre didn’t bother to quip back at him, lost to her own thoughts once more. She wasn’t naive enough to think Cassian hadn’t noticed, but thankfully, he made no comment on it, as he continued guiding her inside.
Once there, he sat her down on one of the sofas in front of the fireplace, bundling her up in blankets, like she was some baby animal he’d found abandoned in the forest. Come to think of it, the analogy wasn’t too far off the mark actually.
When he was satisfied with the amount of fabric she was wrapped in, he disappeared briefly, only to reappear a minute or so later, with a steaming cup of her favorite spiced jasmine tea. After that, he tended to the fire until it was roaring, and only as he turned back to her, did Feyre even realize she was shivering.
Still, she’d dealt with far worse, she didn’t need to be fussed over, “I’m fine Cass, I just got lost in my thoughts when I went out to take a look at the snow. No need to be a mother hen about it.”
Cassian placed his hands on his hips, looking down at her unconvinced. She briefly wondered if she would have felt similarly under Elain’s gaze, had she been Feyre’s brother rather than her sister. “Even if I believed that, which I don’t…” He shook his head, “No one just stands out in a snowstorm with wet hair, until it freezes, if they are mentally okay.” He rolled his eyes then, “Besides, Little Rhysie would have my head if I let you stay out in this snowstor…”
Cassian trailed off as Feyre struggled, and then finally freed one of her hands from its cloth confines, lifting it to her hair. Sure enough, she could feel that it wasn’t bending and flowing around her fingers as it should. Instead, parts of it were stiff and solid with the ice that had formed while she had been standing on the balcony. Perhaps her scalp had gone numb, and that was why she hadn’t noticed; but more likely, she had just been so lost in her memories that she’d brushed it off habitually.
When her hand dropped back to the blankets, Cassian sat down next to her, shuffling his wings until he could sit comfortably on the sofa that was not designed to accommodate an Illyrian. “Feyre…” He sighed, “I’m not trying to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but something’s clearly going through that head of yours. I’m not saying you have to talk to me about it; but, you should talk to someone.”
Feyre knew her friend was right. Even though she didn’t want to talk about what was bothering her, she knew she would get over everything faster if she did. Still, it seemed so trivial compared to the trauma she’d endured Under The Mountain, or in the war they had just survived.
Shaking her head, she tried to ignore the stinging, icy brush of her hair against her neck. Cassian must have noticed however, because he reached out, brushing her hair aside, and then pulled the blanket more securely around her.
Feyre didn’t even have the mental capacity to remember to thank him; instead, she merely responded to what he’d said. “It’s nothing serious, really…” Her voice came out duller than she’d intended, but she carried on, “The time of year just… Well, it just weighs on me sometimes, that’s all.”
Cassian worried at his lip with his teeth as he thought, “I circle back to the argument of: ‘No one just stands out in a snowstorm, with wet hair, until it freezes, if they are mentally okay.’”
Leaning back against the cushions, he turned his head to look at her, his gaze far more guarded than it had been a moment ago. Somehow, despite him looking right at her, Feyre knew it wasn’t her that he was guarding himself against. It felt as if the walls she’d just seen go up were born of instincts centuries older than her.
The frustration in his voice was the only thing covering what she thought to be desperation, as it tore her from her thoughts, “However, I can relate to this time of year messing with your mind.” He leaned his head back to look up at the ceiling, as if he were seeing into the sky beyond it. “So many people celebrate the first snow of the year with snowball fights, building snowmen, or making snow angels. But they don’t know. Not really anyway…” Cassian scoffed, taking on an almost resentful tone as he shook his head, making his long hair sway over the back of the couch. “After all, those people have never been without a place to shelter from that same snow, nor have they been without enough food to survive the months that come after.”
Feyre could do nothing but blink, stunned, at the male she’d come to call her best friend. After arriving in Velaris, she’d quickly come to learn that, despite what most of the world thought, Cassian wasn’t just some brute. He was observant. He watched and listened for things that others readily dismissed as much as he joked. Equally, he chose his moments well when it came time to speak to others about what he’d seen and heard. There was no doubt in her mind that he’d made sure no one else was around before ever even approaching her on the balcony.
That wasn’t what had her so surprised though.
What had her at a loss for words, was the fact that Cassian had just voiced her exact thoughts. Doing so with little more information than her not liking the time of year. After all, that’s what had been keeping her from enjoying the snow, or joining the rest of her subjects in their merriment. Those years spent in the woods, with her hands and feet going numb, yet she would remain completely still. Praying to the forgotten gods the entire time, that some poor animal would wander into the path of her arrows.
“Feyre?” The one in question hadn’t even realized tears had begun to stream down her face, until she turned, and Cass lifted a gentle hand, his calloused thumb wiping a few from her cheek. “Please talk to me. I promise I won’t think less of you for whatever’s bothering you.”
At that moment, Feyre found herself desperately wanting to confide in him about everything she’d dealt with in those years before she’d come to Prythian. However, her mind also chose that moment to register the emotions that went along with everything that had been plaguing her thoughts. The same ones she’d been trying to repress since the snow clouds had begun rolling in.
Before she could formulate any words, unrestrained sobs began to tear their way from deep within her from her chest.
Cassian didn’t hesitate. One second, the only thing around her were the blankets. The next, his wings encompassed her, in what she’d quickly realized in her stay in Velaris, was the Illyrian version of a hug. The compassion he was showing her, but more importantly, his own experiences of what it felt like to suffer through the winter without enough food, or adequate shelter, was like finally seeing a long lost friend.
There was finally someone who understood.
Clinging to him like the child he probably saw her as at that moment, Feyre let the years of pent up anguish, grief, hopelessness, and the Mother knew how many other repressed emotions rise to the surface. To his credit, Cassian didn’t balk. He just held her, letting her cry endlessly into his shoulder. A large hand ran gently along the length of her spine in a way that helped keep her from completely giving in to her hysteria.
When the emotions began to feel less like a rushing river going over a waterfall, and more like the steady stream they normally were, Feyre lifted her head to find Cassian already holding a handkerchief out to her. She accepted it with a shaky, but gracious dip of her head, using the soft cloth to dab away the tears.
She’d only just lowered it from her face when Cassian spoke in a kind whisper, “Feel better?”
Feyre did have to admit that the memories felt a little less heavy after her breakdown. Perhaps a good cry was actually part of what she needed to move forward from them, who knew? Still sniffling slightly, she nodded, “A-A little bit…”
A warm smile was sent her way, “Well, crying it out is only the first step to healing, and one that can be repeated as many times as needed, but…” He placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly, “The second, is to talk to someone about the situation.” He waited for her to accept or decline the unspoken offer to talk to him. When she was silent for a beat too long, he made a tender suggestion, “Do you want me to go find Rhys?”
Feyre shook her head, still just as lost in thought as she had been all day. “No, it’s not that.” She paused, “I’m just trying to figure out how to say it all…”
Cassian gave a halfhearted laugh, “I felt that in my soul, Feyre.”
She responded with a humorless snort, “Yeah, no kidding…”
There was another long silence, only broken by the crackling of the fire, and Cassian handing her the now cooled cup of tea. Only once she’d put the mug back on the table did he speak again, the empathy having returned to his voice. “I’ve found that sometimes, just saying the first thing that comes to mind about it, is the best place to start. Usually, once I do that, the rest comes out on its own.”
Letting out a loaded sigh, Feyre decided to take his advice, “Well…you kinda hit the nail on the head with the whole ‘first snowfall’ thing.” Cassian didn’t seem to have caught on yet, so she continued, “When I was a little kid, the first snow was as exciting to me as anyone else, but after we lost everything…?” His eyes grew wide with understanding, and she didn’t care that tears began spilling over onto her cheeks once more. “Suddenly, that first snow lost all its beauty. Suddenly, that snow meant scarcity and desperation. Suddenly, those seemingly harmless white flakes became harbingers of gaunt faces that never stopped asking for more than I could ever bring back.”
Cassian had been right, once she’d started, she couldn’t stop the memories from pouring out of her.
“It meant hours of sitting out in the cold, risking illness and injury. Hours of weighing the simple question of if it was worth it to put my bow down and risk missing a shot, so I could put my hands in my pockets for just a few minutes just to warm them up. Then inevitably not doing so until my fingers lost feeling to the point that I couldn’t even hold an arrow!” Feyre didn’t even notice her voice rising in volume and intensity until she was screaming the words with all the anger and pain that she’d pushed down for so long. “Even then! Even after all of that! M-Most nights?! I still dragged myself back to that damned cottage with n-nothing to show for it! O-Only to- to be met w-with–”
Her words devolved into sobs that shook her down to her shattered, broken soul. Once again, Cassian didn’t hesitate to draw her into an embrace that she was crying too hard to thank him for. Some part of her mind could tell that he was speaking, but there was no chance of her making out a word of what he was saying. Instead, she relied on his steady, reassuring presence, and the familiar tone of his voice to remind herself that she’d been freed from that life.
That they all had.
Feyre had no idea how long they stayed like that, or how many years of misplaced responsibilities and unfair promises she cried out onto his shoulder. The only point of reference she had when the tears stopped flowing, was the size of the wet spot on his tunic. When she opened her mouth to apologize however, a mix of Cassian placing a finger over her lips, and a soft hiccup cut her off.
“Feyre Archeron. Don’t you dare say anything to the extent of, ‘I’m sorry for falling apart on you.’” Despite his joking, he didn’t let her move back far from the hug, “Because I know exactly what you’re talking about, and it’s just as serious as anything else you’ve experienced.”
It took all her strength not to start bawling again. Quickly wiping away her tears with the handkerchief she’d been given, Feyre felt her shoulders sag. Both from exhaustion and relief.
She was so tired from carrying those memories and resentments alone for all those years. Equally, it felt like a balm to her uneasy soul to have finally had the chance to say them aloud. Not just to someone who wouldn’t think less of her for them either, but to someone who had gone through it, and understood them as well as she did.
When she had finally calmed enough to trust her voice to form a somewhat coherent sentence. She decided that, if he wouldn’t let her apologize for breaking down on him, then perhaps there was something else she could say. “I-I’m sorry you u-understand what that’s l-like…”
Cassian’s hazel gaze softened then, even as his embrace grew a fraction tighter, “What matters now, is that neither of us has to worry about that again. Ever.” He pressed a firm kiss to the top of her head in a way that made his words feel more like a promise than a reminder. “We’ve got a great big family that isn’t going to let us fall that far ever again.”
Sniffling, Feyre nodded against his shoulder. Logically, she knew he was right, but she hadn’t yet been through enough financially stable winters to fully believe it.
As if he were the daemati, Cassian’s next words mirrored her thoughts. “I know that’s hard to wrap your head around in the beginning, it was for me as well…” He pulled back slightly, his eyes earnest as he gave her a reassuring smile, “But Rhys’s mother made sure I was reminded every time I started to doubt it…” His gaze grew distant for a moment at the memory of the woman who had raised him, before he focused back on her, “Now, I can pass on the torch.”
Cassian took a moment to use the corner of one of the blankets to dry the tips of her hair, which had thawed, and were beginning to drip more than her tears. The silence wasn’t the same as when Rhys would do something similar. There was no heat behind Cass’s actions. Nothing romantic, just the gentle comfort that came with the understanding from shared pain. It helped to soothe some of the ragged wounds that talking about her memories had opened.
When Cass was satisfied with the state of her hair, he placed the damp blanket to dry over the back of the sofa. Turning back, she didn’t think she’d ever seen such honesty in Cassian’s eyes, and he wasn’t one to lie to begin with. “That life is behind you now, Feyre.” He chuckled with a shake of his head before looking back to her, “Hell, you’re Prythian’s first High Lady. There’s no going back to the impoverished life for you anymore. Even if you weren’t mated to Rhys– Who, by the way, is practically the richest fae in Prythian, none of us would ever let that happen to you again. Even if that fortune somehow disappeared tomorrow, and you were forced to go back to a life like that, you wouldn’t be alone.” He wiped away a few tears that had slipped free, “I would be right there by your side helping you hunt and build fires or shelters. So would Rhys, Az, Mor, and Amren.” He paused, his skin growing a half-shade lighter, “I don’t know that Amren would hunt in the same sense that the rest of us would, but she would help us catch game nonetheless…”
They both shuddered, silently agreeing not to discuss further what Amren’s hunting methods might consist of.
Cass shook his head, likely in an attempt to clear away the images, “My point is, it wouldn’t be all on you anymore. We would help, and that alone makes all the difference.” He sighed, a fond expression lacing his features, “Rhys and Az helped teach me that…”
Suddenly, Feyre could imagine Cassian as a boy, in tattered clothes he’d won in fights, which were still far too thin to keep out the biting cold of the Illyrian Steppes. His cheeks and eyes hollow with weeks of hunger, but shining with a determination to not let the world break him. She could imagine Rhys finding him, the fight they got into, and the budding friendship that would follow. She could imagine how hard it would be for Cassian to trust the male he would one day consider a brother, but how that same fledgling trust would grow into a bond that would keep them connected for centuries. She could imagine him learning to find reassurance in the promises that he would never go cold or hungry again. That he would never be alone.
“Now we can teach it to you.”
Feyre smiled for the first time since stepping out of the training ring that morning, “Th-Thank you, Cass… I-I didn’t know I needed to hear that…”
He patted her on the shoulder, his own lips quirking into a grin, “Like I said, talking about what’s on your mind usually helps.”
Snorting, she punched his arm playfully, or at least as best she could from the cocoon he’d rolled her into. “Okay, I will admit that you were right about that.” Feyre pretended the words pained her as her friend punched the air in victory. She began struggling against some of the blankets, and Cass helped to free her before she continued, “Seriously though… I didn’t realize that someone understanding– And I don’t mean sympathising, but rather actually understanding because they’ve also been through it… I didn’t realize how much that would help.”
“How could you? It’s not like you’ve met many people who’ve had to go through what you have.” Cassian let out a sigh that was fond, but there was a touch of frustration to it, “Even Rhys. He’s been through hell in a hundred different ways, and he’s lost a lot…but there’s something that can only be learned from what you and I have been through. Thoughts you only have while sitting alone in a frozen forest for months on end, contemplating if it would be better to just lay down in the snow and let the Mother do to you what she saw fit. It creates a certain kind of solidarity.”
Feyre wondered if truer words had ever been spoken. She loved Rhys, there was no doubting that. Still, even with his centuries of life experience, there were still things he couldn’t fully comprehend. Even when being compared to her measly two decades of living. It wasn’t his fault, that was the case for everyone, ignorant in one way or another. It’s why she loved their little family so much.
Even if one person couldn’t relate to everything, they had all been through so much, that there was usually someone who had been through something similar. Meaning there was someone they trusted that they could confide in. It was the reason she’d stopped Cass from going to get Rhys when he’d suggested it earlier.
Cassian was the one who knew the most about what her hunting years looked like. She’d figured that out about him the first time they met. All the way back during the trial dinner Rhys had brought her to the House of Wind, to decide if she really wanted to work with them. It had also been one of the first pieces of information that she’d been given, which had led her to begin trusting them.
Feyre took a deep breath, “In my case– So I wouldn’t have to shoulder the guilt of abandoning my father and sisters, it was half-hoping a predator would come by and take me out.” She shook her head with a humorous huff, “Or at that time, a faerie would come over the wall and do whatever they would to me…” Feyre blinked before snorting, “Come to think of it, that’s kinda what ended up happening.”
Cass guffawed at that, “Granted, the fae that kidnapped you didn’t help with those stereotypes.”
It was Feyre’s turn to laugh then, “Fair, but Lucien at least helped me realize that not all of you were trying to kill or torture me.”
“Ahh ha! The Fox strikes again!” He chuckled, “He’s the only reason Spring functioned as long as it did.”
Feyre had to agree there, “I’m aware. I have no idea how much Tamlin was paying him, but I know it wasn’t enough.”
The comment sent Cassian roaring, so much so that she began laughing along with him. They were so consumed by their hilarity, that neither of them noticed a third person walking into the room.
“Pray tell, what exactly did you say to get Cassian laughing that hard, Feyre Darling?”
They both turned to see Rhys standing by the door to the same balcony that they had come in from earlier. His hair was windblown and speckled with melting flakes of snow, which stood out starkly against the raven strands. His wings were out, small droplets of water clinging to the membrane, and a small bit of frost along the talons, proving how his hair had ended up in such a state.
Cassian was still cackling, so Feyre decided to answer, “We were talking about Lucien being the one who was really running the Spring Court. Then I said that ‘I didn’t know what Tamlin was paying Lucien, but it wasn’t enough.’” She glanced over to the Illyrian who was wiping tears from his eyes, “And apparently that was enough to set him off, and then his laughing set me off.”
Rhys looked for a moment as if he may smile, but instead his brow furrowed as he got a proper look at her tear-stained, blotchy face. There was no hiding that she’d been sobbing only a few minutes before.
Already she could see Rhys trying to piece together what had happened, and she knew what image he would conjure. Somehow, between training and the current moment, Cassian had managed to hurt or offend her in some way.
The last thing she wanted at the moment was the pair of them getting into a fight over her, especially when nothing had been done wrong.
Just as she could see him beginning to reach that conclusion, Feyre dispelled it, “Cass found me standing out on the balcony…with wet hair.”
Rhys blinked at her with a mix of confusion and concern, so she continued, allowing a little of her earlier pain to bleed through. She’d already fallen to pieces in front of Cassian, and there was nothing for her to hide from her mate, so she lost no pride in letting her emotions show.
“The first snow… It reminded me of my winters back in the Human Lands.” She pushed the significantly reduced amount of pain aside for the time being as she recalled the rest of the story. “Cass was just helping me sort through my thoughts.”
The effect was instant. Rather than moving to tackle his brother, or some other violent action spurred on by his Illyrian instincts, the mating bond, or both, Rhys relaxed. Taking a breath to seal his composure in place, he walked across the room until he could sit down in one of the plush armchairs nearby. “I’m sure Cass has already said something to this degree, but I feel the need to do the same. You know we’re never going to let you go through that again, right?”
Feyre nodded with a smile, “Yes, I do know that, and yes, Cassian already reminded me.”
The pair of brothers shared a fond glance with one another before Rhys chimed in again, “I figured as much, but there’s no harm in confirming.”
Cass chuckled as he crossed an ankle over his knee, “There was no way I was letting her think she was ever going to have to go back to that,” He shook his head, “Not my High Lady.”
The final addition prompted an almost giddy smile from Rhys. He still hadn’t gotten over the fact that she’d accepted his proposal to take up the mantle. Honestly, she found it endearing that he was so excited for her to be his equal. It was more than she’d ever expected from any relationship she thought she may find herself in one day.
“Indeed.” The last of the tension in Rhys’s shoulders faded away as he realized that whatever had been said, had in fact helped Feyre. “Even if something happened to this family, I can’t see the people of Velaris letting any harm befall their High Lady either.”
While that was true… “Let’s try to keep the entire family safe either way.”
“Well, that was a given!” Cassian glanced at her before turning to Rhys, “Right brother?”
“Absolutely.” Rhys turned his attention to her then, “You know better than anyone just how important it is to me that this family stays together.”
Feyre felt her own lips curving into a smile then. It was true, and not just for Rhys. All of them loved the eclectic little family they had in one another, although a few struggled more to admit it than others. Regardless, each of them had proven in the war just what lengths they were willing to go to, in order to keep the others safe.
Azriel had threatened to rip a tree out of the ground and fly with it on his back if they tried to keep him from fighting in the final battle because of his injured wings. Cassian had dragged his injured and failing body across the ground in an attempt to get to and protect Nesta. Mor had held a sword to Beron’s throat to force him to help bring Rhys back. Amren had thrown herself into the Cauldron sacrificing her power and life to win the war for them. Rhys had given his own life to mend the Cauldron to stop it from consuming all of reality. Then Feyre herself had threatened all of the other High Lords with torture and death, should they refuse to aid her in bringing her mate back.
She glanced between the two males, both of which had come to mean so much to her, in such a short time. Albeit, they were close to her in very different ways, but she couldn’t imagine her life without either of them. Cassian had become the older sibling she wished she’d had back in the Human Lands, and Rhys…
Rhys had come to mean everything to her, something she would have balked at during her first year or so in Prythian. She never would have guessed that the arrogant, swaggering male she’d met on Fire Night, the same one who had seemingly taken a keen interest, and to some extent pleasure, in her torment Under The Mountain, would come to mean so much to her. Of course, she had been made aware since then that his actions had been a defense mechanism for them both. A way of keeping them safe in a hell where they could trust nothing and no one. He’d turned that inability to trust into a weapon for good, using her anger, and her hatred of him to keep her fighting. To keep her alive.
Then, once she’d moved to the Night Court, she’d begun to fall for the slivers of his real self that began to show from behind the faithful masks he wore. Still, it hadn’t been until that night in the cabin, when he bared his heart and soul to her that she’d fallen past the point of no return. The tears, the cracks of his voice, the lack of starlight in his eyes, there was no faking any of it.
Feyre hadn’t needed Morrigan’s gifts to know that everything Rhys had told her that night was absolute truth. He’d finally explained the reasoning behind every one of his actions and decisions. He’d explained how hard he’d fought against the mating bond in an attempt to let her be happy after all she’d sacrificed. All while ignoring everything he had sacrificed for decades in that same hell before she’d even been born. He hadn’t even allowed himself the right to confess his feelings to the female the Mother had seen fit to make his equal.
It was then that she had realized that the well of compassion and love Rhys carried with him was even more extensive than the one which held his magic. Since that moment, she’d been unable to turn away from him, enraptured by this male, who had been through so much, but refused to allow the world to make him cruel. How could she not love him?
Feyre finally felt the last of her worries disintegrating and falling away like the flakes still coming down outside. She finally had people in her life who cared for her just as much as she cared for them. While the way she’d been treated by her sisters still stung, they had a chance to make things right with them in Velaris. No doubt it would be an uphill battle, but she would have support along the way.
Cass and Rhys were right.
There was no way she was ever going to end up in that life again.
Feyre couldn’t be more grateful.
*****