Wow. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you for the over 1000 notes on You’re Free I have written a little drabble, warning it may make your heart bleed a little.
The war was over. The fighting was over. They had won.
The Night Court was not celebrating, not yet, because half of her heart was missing. Not gone, but missing, unreachable. Just like before. Not even Azriel’s shadows could reach him.
It had happened so quickly, the battle before the final fight had shifted in their favor and the King knew it. Before he admitted defeat he had one more card to play, the King had lunged to grab her, to take her, but instead of her, he stole away Rhys. He had sacrificed himself to save her. Feyre had screamed and in her wrath the battle was over.
The King in his arrogance had made a mistake, one that turned the tide. He had unknowingly unleashed her powers, and such powers she possessed. She would tear the world apart to find him.
The final battle was barely a battle, in her rage, within her desperate need to find him, she unleashed her entire being against those that stood between them. The enemy did not stand a chance, she had misted an entire army. She chuckled as she remembered a time when Rhys thought freezing an army could change a war, she wished he could be here to see her triumph.
Alas, the inner circle, his family had no idea where to find him. It felt like they had searched the entirety of Prythian. They searched every court, Hybern, the continent. Through the bond, she knew they were on borrowed time. She needed to find her mate.
When they had finally found him, her heart broke. She ran to her fallen prince, her death incarnate, her warrior, her friend, her lover, her salvation, her mate.
His beautiful wings had been pierced once again with ash bolts that anchored him to the granite floor. He was only recognizable by the tattoos and hair, his face head been beaten, swollen beyond recognition. Blood slowly dripped from him. His arms had both been broken to the pinky.
With Mor’s help they freed him from the chains and bolts. She held him, the bond coming back to life. She loosened her breath, whispering in his unconscious ear, “You’re free.” A chant that had once calmed her, a chant that brought her back from despair.
She looked at Mor. It had once been her decision to decide the fate of the Hewn City. And Mor understood that time had passed. For what they did to him, she would cleanse this mountain, cleanse their court of the traitors. It was a quicker death then they deserved.
She held him repeating, “It’s over, you’re free,” while healing his broken body.
Her heart sang when she heard him whisper, “No, Feyre darling, we’re free.”