The Archive

Weeping Wisteria & Spider Lilies

A/N: Guess who's reading ACOTAR and already has an OC and romance story planned out :3
(Also I'm twisting his little sister's death a tiny bit)

Warnings!: Mentions of death/murder, funeral, alcoholism, & characters debate sewer slide.
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Chapter 1

     Rhysand's younger sister had been murdered centuries ago. Brutalized by Tamlin's father. He still had nightmares and vivid flashbacks of holding her cold, lifeless body in his arms with Cassian and Azriel next to him. He had sobbed and screamed into her bloodied chest and slit throat until his own throat was raw, cursing the Cauldron and the Mother while begging his little sister to blink. Terror had been frozen into her golden skinned face but her violet eyes, while wide in fear, were dull. Lifeless. Dead. Her wings, once large and swirling with all the colors of the universe were tattered and mangled, her second pair only hanging on by a few tendons. Only her main pair of wings were able to be healed by the three Illyrian's magic. The unrelated brothers were never quite the same after taking it upon themselves to bury her and clean her gold flecked blood from their hands.

     Rhysand and Cassian buried her under the glowing wisteria tree in the Townhouse gardens with the silent help of Azriel. The space under the tree had been the source of many happy memories between the brother sister duo as well as with Azriel, Cassian, Tamlin, and even Eris and Lucien. All of those memories seemed to be haunting reminders at that moment. When Rhys finished patting down the dirt of the freshly dug grave, the three bat boys watched as the tree sagged like a weeping willow and Spider Lillies sprouted around the grave. Cassian watched as the new High Lord sunk to his knees and just stared before the shock and numbness finally clicked in Cass' mind. His childhood crush was gone. Gone before he could even say anything. Gone before he could hope that a mating bond would click into place. That thought alone brought the bastard born Cassian to his knees with a wail loud enough to shake the heavens. Azriel had only known Rhys' little sister for a little while, but the pain managed to cut deep enough for him to kneel down and join the other two males in their mourning. The three of them wrapped their wings around each other as much as possible, trying to find comfort in each other over this shared loss but to very little avail.

     The sky had clouded over all of Pyrthian before the skies opened up and down poured for weeks, as if it too, was mourning the loss of the Half-Illyrian female. She was dead. The headstone surrounded by Spider Lillies were proof enough and more times than he could count, did Azriel stumble across Rhysand leaving a bouquet of flowers at the base of the ornately carved stone or Cassian dozing off with his head resting on the top of it. The carnage Rhysand brought upon the Spring Court was unlike any other. He didn't attack directly but he left "gifts" and sent "messages", each more disturbing than the last. It only died down after the war when there was less of a reason to murder innocent faeries.

     There was a giant funeral in the heart of the Night Court a few days later and the entirety of the Autumn Court had made an appearance, bringing the scent of cinnamon and apple cider with them. They turned the dark leaves of every tree brilliant shades of reds and oranges that caught the moonlight in an enchanting way. The High Lord and Lady led the way with their sons with the youngest held in the Lady's arms. He was only a child at the time but his russet eyes still shimmered with unshed tears. Eris and Rhys had nearly tore Tamlin to shreds on sight when they saw him approach the casket and place a bouquet of pink, blue, purple, orange, and white Crocuses on the dark wood. Cassian had been the only one able to calm the Half-Illyrian down past murderous intent but even then, Rhysand found himself striding over to the High Lord of the Spring Court with a glare lethal enough to kill even the strongest creature, his violent, violet eyes piercing into sad forest green and gold ones.
"Look what you could've prevented, Tamlin," Rhys spat before turning on his heel and following the casket back to under the Weeping Wisteria tree. They had to dig her back up as Rhysand couldn't bear the thought of letting worms and insects eat her immediately. Eris, Cassian, and the rest of the Vanserra boys followed suit, wanting to say their final goodbyes before anyone else. Eris had briefly debated plunging the ornately decorated dagger she had gifted him years ago into his chest but ultimately decided if he did, she'd tear him a new one for not living his life to the fullest.

Rhysand's mother's headless, wingless body had fallen to a pile of stardust before he could even think of bringing her back to the Night Court with him. Where her head was, he had no idea. She and his father were commemorated as well but most of the focus was on the little sister who hadn't even come of age yet. Her and her mother's deaths were unnecessary and cruel.

There were multiple times during the months after her death that Rhysand nearly drank himself to death after his day of playing the High Lord ended, only stopping when someone would wrench the bottle and glass from his shaking hands. Sometimes Cassian joined him but it always ended in Azriel dragging someone to their bedchamber. Cassian spent most of his time back in the Illyrian training camp, forcing himself to get stronger and better so he would be able to protect those he loved.
He wouldn't lose anyone else if he had any say in it.

     After a few years, Azriel had finally managed to get Rhysand to stop drowning himself in whatever expensive liquor he could find and nudged him down the acceptance path. The Night Court needed a mentally stable High Lord as soon as possible if Rhys wanted his court to be as powerful as him.
"It's what Raohschna would want though, Rhys." That's all it took for Rhysand to make up his mind because Az was right. His lovely little sister wouldn't want him to wallow in his sadness over her. She'd want to be remembered in a happier light. Celebrated even...