I sincerely apologize for how long this took, but here it finally is! I have a masterlist if you would like some more ACOTAR or even ToG related fics, so check them out if you want!
For the first time ever Feyre was going to be introduced to the Court of Nightmares as the High lady of the Night Court.
Usually she would be scantily clad in the same outfit she had worn countless times Under the Mountain and the one time when they had gone to retrieve the Orb. Today was different, however. Today was different because she wasn’t doing any kind of distracting – whether it was distracting Keir while her Inner Circle swindled them or distracting herself from the horrors surrounding her. Today High Lady Feyre Archeron was here to assert her dominance and authority on a group of monsters and honestly she thought this may be the biggest challenge she’s faced as he High Lady so far.
Which is silly to say, Feyre thought. She has faced demons of unknown aberration, terror unlike anything she could’ve dreamed possible, and war facing her loved ones on all horizons… and yet this terrified Feyre the most.
She was no longer afraid of her own shadow or the ones that lived in tight places such as underground, and she knew that she could achieve anything with her mate Rhysand at her side, but somehow facing men like Keir was what she knew would test her most.
She wasn’t afraid of them, oh no, she was afraid of herself and what she might do to them. Feyre liked to think that she never took pleasure in killing, that she only did it for necessity, but oh the things she would give to rip Keir and the men like him limb from limb until they were nothing but blood-rain.
She stood at the entrance to the Court, wearing a long dress made of black velvet. It was accented at the hems with gold lace, and had an elegant train covered in the same lace, except this was fashioned in the same pattern as her tattoos. Rhys stood at her side wearing the matching suit, the crown made of stars atop his head.
“Are you ready to put yours on?” he asked her. He was holding her twin crown in his hands, taking his time with her. It didn’t matter how late they were or what time they arrived. All that mattered was that his wife was comfortable and ready.
She nodded and he gingerly placed the ornate crown on her golden-brown waves. He then moved his hands from the crown and down her cheeks so that he was cradling her face. He leaned down and placed a sweet, assuring kiss on her lips, while also sending love down their bond.
She hummed against his mouth and lifted her hands to rest on his chest.
“I love you,” She whispered.
“And I love you,” He responded.
Her love for him had grown stronger and stronger over the past year being together. Never had there been a moment where it plateaued or faded, even when she was in the Spring Court and separated from him, even when there was a moment when they thought that their eternity would be cut short from the war, Feyre had loved him. He was her heart, her soul, her crown, and she would be nothing but dust in the wind before she stopped loving him.
“Are you ready, my love?”
She knew that if she told him no then he would wait. He would never rush her on such a momentous occasion.
“We shouldn’t let Mor and Cassian wait any longer. Mother knows what sort of havoc they are wrecking in our absence.”
Rhys let out a low laugh and without further ado linked his hands with hers and made their first steps into the Court of Nightmares.
It was just how she remembered it. The dark hallways, the sinister atmosphere… it was identical right down to the dais – with the exception that it now had two thrones rather than one.
As they entered the crowded room everyone turned to Rhys and Feyre in shock and in the following seconds got to their knees in obedience to Rhys. They had heard utterings of Feyre being the High Lady, and you would’ve thought the construction of another throne would’ve been the nail in the coffin, but alas this Court was still shocked to see High Lord Rhysand’s whore now their leader.
Of course she was never his whore, but they didn’t know that - especially with Keir’s slander and dark musings about her.
To this day it confounded Feyre as to how someone as bright and lovely as Morrigan could’ve been born and raised in such a dark, ghastly place.
They both sat on their respective thrones, releasing their hold on one another. The ornate seats are far enough away from each other to show that Feyre and Rhys are separate entities of power but close enough so that they could touch if they wished. As it was, Rhys held out his hands for Feyre to take again – Feyre linking their fingers without a moment’s thought.
Rhys had no leash on his power, his darkness consuming the room and his power stifling. Feyre herself had let go of the checks she kept on herself. Since the war she had unlocked nearly all the magical weapons in her arsenal – spanning from all courts of Prythian and beyond. Combining that and her all-consuming love for her mate… well, Feyre had to make a conscious effort to keep from glowing endlessly – as she was now.
Rhys sent a shot of delight at the light that surrounded her down the bond, and the smile on his face was nothing short of awestruck.
Bringing their linked hands to his mouth for a quick kiss, Rhys then commanded, “Rise and let me introduce your High Lady, Feyre Cursebreaker, Defender of Prythian, Lady of Dreamers, and Light Exultant. Rise and greet your Queen.”
The fae around them stood, no one daring to make a sound.
Feyre scanned the faces of the Fae around her, pausing her gaze when she saw a grinning Cassian and a beaming Mor standing in the furthermost corner. Cassian was wearing his battle leathers and had adorned all his siphons, whereas Mor was wearing the usual scandalous attire. Feyre could tell from the trembling of the fae in the vicinity of her two dear friends that they had indeed been causing trouble before she arrived.
“Step forward, Keir.” Rhys continued.
Keir, who was at the front of the crowd, approached with an unexpected overconfidence.
He was purposefully ignoring her. He had a sneer the size of Cassian’s ego across his face and was looking pointedly at the top button of Rhysand’s overcoat.
She could’ve laughed. Did he not remember the last time he insulted her in front of her mate? Maybe she’ll remind him.
“Hello, Keir.” She did her best imitation of Rhys’s signature purr.
“Lady Feyre,” He scorned.
“High Lady Feyre,” She corrected him.
Mor had warned her that something like this would probably happen. Keir was a shtick for tradition and to have a woman leading the most powerful Court in Prythian must make him ache inside.
Feyre felt no pity for this blister in existence. She may not have been alive when he did those things to Mor, and she may not have dealt with the aftermath like her friends had, but Mor was like a sister to her – a sister in a way her biological ones hadn’t been for a very, very long time. She would never forgive this ulcer of a man for what he had done to her beautiful friend.
He hummed in return. A dismissal of sorts.
She could feel Rhys’s rage at his actions though the bond and in return she sent soothing feelings. She would take care of this.
“Your arm seems to have healed wondrously since the last time we met. Do tell, Keir, did you have any healers help you?” She had a mask of innocence plastered on her face but everyone in the room knew that it was just a front. Everyone knew what she was capable of doing to her enemies - she made no secret of it. After what the King of Hybern had tried to do… Feyre would never shy away from a fight again, and she would never let anyone question her supremacy.
“It is the healing magic in my blood that helped the healing process, High Lady.”
How dare he have the audacity, how dare he look at her like that, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him
Feyre tightened her grip on Rhys’s hand as his thoughts unintentionally bled into her.
“I must say I find that rather strange. I was under the impression that you would have a permanent,” She paused for emphasis, “let’s call it a disfigurement.”
“I am lucky to have an abundance of power. More than the usual fae, High Lady.”
Feyre could see that he was starting to sweat at her questioning. It was obvious to everyone that he had used a healer even when Rhys had specifically told him not to. After a year Keir may have thought that Rhys would forget his promise, but that wasn’t the case at all. They simply had bigger problems to deal with than this weasel.
“Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you think my mate is an idiot?” Rhys snickered. “We are no fools, Keir, and you know damn well that we both know when we are being lied to. I may have offered you mercy if you had told the truth, but it seems you are incapable of even the most simple of tasks. Get on your knees,” he ordered, “and beg for your High Lady’s forgiveness. Maybe when she decides your punishment she’ll be merciful, but I doubt it.”
Keir then did the stupidest thing Feyre may ever have seen. He spat on the dais.
“We follow you without complaint, we let ourselves be crushed under you, but I draw the line at bowing to this filth as my High Lady. What has she done to deserve our respect besides throw a few tantrums filled with a slew of magic. Magic that isn’t even hers! Punish me for my insolence, High Lord Rhysand, but I cannot stand by and approve this depravity.”
The whole room gasped in horror at his words. What he was saying was treasonous, and even the monsters standing around them knew it.
Feyre searched for Cassian and Mor in the crowd. When she found them they had moved closer to the dais and both had gone red in the face from anger. Anger and pure, unaltered disgust.
Feyre stared Keir down, and did the second most unexpected thing of the night – she laughed. A whole-hearted, warm laugh. A laugh that someone might have from the joke of a lover, or the antics of a best friend.
Feyre knew that her response would merit this whole damned courts feelings towards her. Feelings that must be fear. It was the only thing they responded to.
With barely a blink Feyre took Keir’s mind and forced him to his knees.
She looked to Mor again, and gently mentally tapped her friend to give her a message.
Mor opened her mind to Feyre in response.
He needs to die, Feyre breathed into her mind, not just for this but for everything. The war is over and it’s time to start afresh. But it is your decision, Mor, and I won’t take it away from you.
Mor’s throat bobbed as she swallowed in nervousness – she was deep in thought - considering Feyre’s unspoken words. Cassian looked at her with curiosity, wondering what Feyre had said.
I want him dead, and if it’s now then it’s now. But if I may ask, Feyre, let Azriel and Cassian do it. And let them take their time. Mor replied. I despise my father and I more than anybody want him gone and to pay for everything he’s done, but I can’t do it. I know that makes me weak-
That does not make you weak, Mor. Feyre slammed into her mind. There is nothing about you that is weak. Well, besides your tolerance to alcohol. She joked.
Then do your worst, Feyre. Mor conceded.
The whole court was aware of their silent conversation – it was obvious that the two women were conversing.
“Keir,” He was still on his knees, spine ramrod and breathing heavy, “you are one very lucky man.”
Feyre released his mind and he sagged in relief.
“So lucky, because my first ruling as High Lady of this Court involves you. It’s rather historic - you’ll be remembered as the first ever fae I presided over.”
The tension in his body picked up at her words.
“General,” Rhys summoned Cassian for Feyre. He knew what she was going to do and he approved.
“Keir, I sentence you to death at the hands of my general and spymaster. Your title will be forfeit to your heir, who if he follows in the footsteps of his failure of a father will lose his title and I will come back and instate whomever I deem fit to take it. Your punishment will start at the arrival of the shadowsinger. Dismissed.”
The fae around her looked on in terror and awe and one by one bowed to the High Lady and High Lord.
Yes, the tactic of fear was always a solid one where this court was concerned, and Feyre had just earned their total and utter loyalty.