Let’s Go Home- Feysand Fanfiction
Feyre is in the Spring Court and Calanmai is coming up. Rhys is not risking leaving his mate alone with Tamlin the Tool.
He didn’t know which was harder; living without Feyre,being unable to help her, feel her- or the brief jolts of emotion Rhys get from her- love,anguish, fear, and one day, pleasure.
It stopped him right in his tracks, the feeling shuddering its way down his spine. Pleasure mixed with fear. He knew Feyre did not want this, whatever Tamlin was doing to her, and it took everything out of him to not winnow right to her. The feeling was short-lived, but even after it passed, it left him quivering on the spot. He’d never been angrier, not when he was protecting Mor against her father, not in his time Under The Mountain, not even when Rhysand felt Feyre’s shock as Tamlin blew apart the study. He stormed away, disregarding everything he had planned, to find Mor.
The second time the wave hit him, it was more parts pain than pleasure. It lasted longer than the first time like she was calling out to him. It made Rhys so angry, so full of remorse and bitterness for the decision Feyre made. When the bond was still intact, before Feyre ever came to the Night Court, he felt the waves of pleasure from her, content and loving as they were. It had kept him up at night, rolling in the sheets, refusing to accept that his mate was giving herself to another man. But he didn’t bother getting her, convinced himself the waves of pleasure from her were better than pain, even if it wasn’t him bringing them. No matter what he felt, if she was happy, he would let her be. She was not happy, now.
Later that night, a thrill of love ran down his spine as if Feyre knew what he as feeling and what he needed. He decided to risk writing a note- they did this very rarely and only in emergencies- to make sure she was okay.
Feyre, I felt it. What he was doing.
I’m okay, Rhys. He knew that she wasn’t, and tears welled in his eyes. It hurt him that she acted strong for him, that she would not tell him when she was in pain. But there is nothing he could do, nothing that would make him no better than the bastard keeping her away from him.
If you want me to come and get you, I will. We can find another way to stop the King.
No, Rhysand, this is the best way. It's only sometimes..when he is stressed or angry or lonely. I can handle it. When I can’t, I’ll stop him. He knew she could, and he would gladly let her deal with him, but hearing that he used her like a toy, like a convenience instead of something to love, killed him.
I miss you. I wish I could hold you. Love you. Rhys heard himself whimper as he wrote that, pain and passion stabbing him constantly. The paper disappeared. It did not reappear.
Almost an entire year passed, filled with more waves of emotion and sleepless nights for Rhys, all the while Calanmai crept closer. Rhys had plotted for weeks a way to get her out, sure that if his mate stayed in the company of Tamlin, he would go mad. At first, Mor and the others had tried to put him off the idea, warning him of the dangers. But when he explained the wave of emotions he felt and the situation Feyre was in, they wholeheartedly agreed it was a good time to get her away, even for a short time. Interestingly, it was Az who agreed most readily. The day came, and Rhys did not know how long he could waste before Tamlin gripped Feyre and dragged her away to be.. savaged. He wanted to leave straight away before the sun even rose, but he knew that was a bad idea. So he waited, and the whole day stretched by, Rhys constantly making sure he was prepared for the night to come.
The sun slipped beneath the horizon as Rhys, Cassian and Azriel prepared to winnow to the Spring Court. Mor had fought to come along, but Rhy argued it will be better with fewer people, and he needed Cassian and Azriel in case something went wrong. She eventually backed down, promising him that she’d stay put (by which she means go and get pissed with Amren).
Everything prepared, they aimed to winnow to where they last knew to be Feyre’s room. Rhys had no idea where Feyre was, as they hadn’t spoken forever. Rhys would have believed she was dead if he didn’t get waves of feelings from her. A day after their last note, he felt an overpowering wave of rage and fear and then…nothing. He had gone mad until he felt a weak wave of love course through his veins, followed in the next few months with occasional feelings of fear and passion. He couldn’t handle it anymore. He believed utterly in Feyre’s abilities to protect herself, but he also understood her selflessness and her disregard for herself. Just this once, she needed him to save her. And he would.
The light split apart and revealed the three Illyrians, immediately standing to attention in case of danger. There was none. Music was drifting in from the window outside, a large bonfire illuminating the young lands surrounding the large building. Rhys sucked in a breath as he noticed the slim figure standing on a small balcony. Azriel and Cassian separated and positioned themselves by the entrance, in case Tamlin decides to invite himself in at any time. Rhys’ knees nearly buckled as he came closer to the figure at the window, to his mate. She still hadn’t turned to him as he slid up behind her. He looked out the window, the stars faint against the light of the fire. Rhys wondered if she was thinking of the stars in the Court of Dreams, or of Starfall. His eyes slid from the sky to look at Feyre, thinner and more strained than he remembered her. Despite the tension in her shoulders, she looked beautiful.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything better,” he said softly. The woman in front of him jumped and turned around. Disbelief crossed her face before tears appeared in her eyes and she flung her arms around Rhys’ neck, kissing him deeply.
“You’re here! You’re really here!” Tears were clearly streaming down her face, unable to let go on him, touching him. She ran her hand along his face, down his chest, up his arm, gripping his shoulders. Rhys was exactly the same, touching Feyre all the way down her side, along her face, twirling her hair around his fingers.
“Always. I’ll always come to you. I love you, I love you Feyre.”
“I’m so sorry! Tamlin had his eyes on me constantly. Always someone watching. I could not talk to you, I’m so sorry-”
“It’s okay, it's okay.” Rhys interrupted. If he was being honest, he had momentarily believed Feyre had forgotten him, no longer cared for him. Hearing her say it was not in her control, both eased his assumptions and made him hate Tamlin more. She had not forgotten me, Rhysand repeated to herself.
No. Never,” Feyre said, as if reading his mind, “I love you, Rhysand. You’re mine. My mate.” That title sent a shiver down his spine, and he kissed her deeply, pressing his body against her. His body woke at the touch he craved for months, and will crave for the rest of eternity. He wished he could stand there forever, kissing her, taking her in. But a howl came from below, and Rhys knew they had limited time.
“Let’s go home,” Rhys said, softly. Feyre nodded, and they winnowed away.