A Court of Memories and Moments

Headaches and Flashforwards

Hey! Uh, so this is kind of my first time first time writing a fic? So thank you for giving me your time so far, and let's see how this turns out! Btw, none of the characters or general story are mine they all belong to Sarah J. Maas (dunno if I have to say that but it can't hurt to put in there). I know that some people get rude comments and stuff so maybe just chill on that plz, but Im happy to accept constructive criticism (almost as happy as I am to give it ;)! Alright, let's see where this goes.

***

    I wake to the sound of someone chopping wood. Or maybe it was from the cold. The gods dammed cottage got so cold on winter mornings. I stiffen. Why am I waking up in a cottage? I take a second to ponder this. Where else would I be waking up? I this point I open my eyes and rip to frayed sheets off of my body. The ironwood bed. And the dresser, still painted with flowers, flames, and stars. Stars. Rhys. I blink. Who's Rhys?
    I shake my head in attempt to clear my thoughts. I must still be delirious from sleep. But    who was Rhys? Probably someone from a dream. I recalled having a particularly vivid one last night. "That I can't for the life of me remember." I murmur as I step out if the bed to get dressed for a day in the village. I shouldn't be thinking about silly dreams. I should be focusing on fetching a good price for that wolf pelt.

***

    My sisters walk behind me along the muddy road to the small village near our house       chatting about boots and cloaks and the woodcutter's son. On a busy market day like today, it shouldn't be to difficult to find a buyer for the wolf and deer pelts. Rounding a corner, I crash into a young woman in long white robes.
    "May the Immortal Light shine upon thee, sisters," she spews in that superior tone that all of the Children of the Blessed seem to posses. She jingles the silver bells in her wrist. Three Children of the Blessed, smiling at us from the other side of an invisible wall. Jurian and I both know what the they will do to them if we leave them here. I blink and the strange vision is gone and the acolyte is still attempting to get my sisters to hear the word of the blessed ...fighting an uphill battle... Nesta start telling the woman about how she should be wearing iron instead of trying trying to attract faerie monsters. Usually I would agree, but the whole conversation feels odd. Like I've been here before.
    "Faerie-loving whore." Someone says. I feel a spike of anger at the word, but ignore it. This doesn't seem to stop the acolyte.
    She tilts her chin up. "I lived in such ignorance, too, until I heard to Word of the-"
    I feel the beginnings on a headache at my temple. "Go bother someone else." She opens her mouth but I just grab my sister's arms and pull them away. They don't protest. Elain looks as passive an usual, though Nesta looks ready to pick a fight. Also the usual then. "Meet me here in an hour." I feel like I've been here before. I try to clear my thoughts, my sisters have already left.
    I take only a minute looking for potential buyers before deciding on a mercenary woman. Selling to her feels like everything I've done today, repeated.

***

    Blood runs down my left arm as I prepare the deer meat for dinner. I don't clean it off, just cock my head because I think I've injured it before. Seen blood on it before. Suddenly its covered in my blood with bone poking out. In another flash, there's a beautiful, swirly tattoo encircling the entire forearm ...a bargain... then I blink and its gone. I take an old towel and wipe. My arm off. My head still hurts.
    Dinner is odd as the rest of the day has been. The headache I had felt earlier was only getting worse. And even odder so, I could feel my pulse picking up, and my body tensing, as though it were anticipating something. I set my fork down on the table and rub my head.
    "Are you alright, Feyre?" My father asks concern. I turn to look at him but see- A crack, his neck snapping. A winged man, broken and bloody, crawling to Nesta. Nesta holding a bloody dagger in one hand, and a head in the other, staring into it's dead eyes with dead ones of her own. I come to my senses with a gasp.
    "Feyre?" Now Elains concerned.
    "I- I'm fine. Just a headache, I might go lie down." I push my plate away and stand. The foxglove I painted the summer before sits there. "This is what Velaris is know for: the artists' quarter... They call it the Rainbow of Velaris."
    "The Rainbow of Velaris." I mutter.
    "What?" Which one of them said it? I was staring at the door. Something was about to happen to that door. But what... I stumble into the table clutching my head. Even Nesta looks concerned, she always cared far more than she let on. She was going to make a good aunt, and probably a good mother some day too.
    They're making so much noise, distracting me from my thoughts which are much more interesting. Perhaps I'm crazy. I wish Rhys was here. Who's Rhys?
    "Perhaps we should see a healer?"
    I snort and they actually look at me. "Even if we had the money for a healer, you probably don't want to be near the door right now."
    Nesta glares at me. "What are you tal-"
    That's when the High Lord of the Spring Court bursts through the doorway and all the fragments in my mind click together.