Come Home (Feysand Angst)
A hurtful comment said in the heat of the moment leaves Feyre miserable and alone. Rhys, wounded and angry, departs for a diplomatic mission before Feyre can tell him something important. As the months wear on and Feyre hears nothing but silence from the other end of the bond, her condition deteriorates. Will Rhys return home in time? Or will he be too late?
Word Count: 2664
“Rhys, please, don’t go,” I plead.
“Feyre darling, it’s only for a couple of months. I just need to sort a few things out with the different courts now that the war is finally over.”
“Then at least take me with you! I’m your High Lady, I–”
“Exactly. You’re my High Lady,” he says, interrupting my pleas. He takes my hands gently in his and looks into my eyes with love. “You’re needed here, to sort out matters in our own Court.”
“You’re just coming up with excuses to keep me here,” I say, ripping my hands out of his. Rage is coursing through my veins like fire. “If you trap me here without you, you’re just like him.” That’s when I know I’ve stepped too far. Rhys takes a step back, in both anger and shock. I can feel the walls between our minds start to build.
“I am nothing like him, and you know it,” he snarls, his wings folding behind his back as if he can protect them from my words. “I told you a long time ago to stop making that comparison. Even if part of the reason I want you to stay here is for your own protection, I am not locking you up. I am not keeping you in this house. You are free to come and go as you wish. Visit the House of Wind. Visit Mor. Visit Amren.” He runs his hands through his hair and begins to pace in front of me. “The other High Lords are still wary of your powers, I don’t want anything happening to you–”
“I can take care of myself! I thought the war would’ve proved at least that,” I protest. My hands are beginning to tremble with nerves, and I clasp them behind my back to hide my distress from Rhys. This argument is bringing back unpleasant memories from my times at the Spring Court…my times with Tamlin. Rationally, I know that Rhys is not Tamlin. He would never be Tamlin. But today is not a rational day. Panic swells in my chest and my heart begins to race.
“I know darling, of course I know you can take care of yourself. But this is the first diplomatic trip since the end of the war, and I just want to feel things out first, there will be plenty of over trips for you to go on.”
“Rhys, please. I don’t care what the other High Lords think of my powers, they must know if they try to hurt me–”
“NO, Feyre.” Rhys stops pacing and growls at me with frustration. I flinch back. My blood is racing through my veins. I can hear my panicked heartbeat in my ears.