𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚖(𝙰𝙲𝙾𝚃𝙰𝚁)

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶-𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢

     We went back to Velaris after that incident, and since I was still irritated with Rhys, I spent most of the next day in my bedroom.

     But that afternoon, I decided to make my way up to the garden on the roof of the town house. I was admiring the moonflower that had just recently bloomed.

     I had begun to use it often for a nightmare remedy. It helped me quite a bit, and even Feyre had been sleeping through the nights peacefully since I had started giving her some.

     Rhys had asked me to make some for him. I still hadn't been able to bring myself to do it. Not when I still sometimes dreamed of him, of what he made me do under that mountain.

     A hand on my shoulder startled me, pulling me out of my thoughts, and making me spin around with gasp.

"Sorry, Mare. I didn't mean to scare you," Feyre apologized.

"It's alright," I assured her with a sigh as my heart rate calmed.

     She glanced around, smiling fondly at the garden. She strolled over to the basil, picking a piece and popping it into her mouth.

"It might be bitter," I warned her.

"No, it tastes fine," she insisted. "The garden looks lovely."

"Thank you," I blushed, glancing back down at the flowers.

     She stepped over to me again, and I could feel her breath on my neck as she watched me attend to the flowers.

"I wrote to Tamlin," she told me. "I let him know that we left from our own free will."

"Oh," I replied, my voice quiet.

"I suggest you do the same," she offered gently. "You don't have to, but I think it would be wise." 

     The thought of writing to my brother left a pit in my stomach. What if he wrote back? What if he came here himself and dragged me back to that place? Or worse, what if he declared that he wanted nothing to do with me, that I was no longer his sister?

"I'll try," I decided, turning around to face her.

"Do you want my help?" she asked me, her voice so caring, so gentle, and her face pinched in concern.

"No, I should be fine," I assured her. "Really. But thank you."

✯¸.'*¨'*✿ ✿*'¨*'.¸✯

     I sat in the library that night, quill in my hand as I stared down at the blanket piece of parchment. It had been an hour, and I hadn't written a single word.

     I had nothing to say to him, yet everything at the same time. I hated him, yet loved him so much. My only remaining family.

     The door to the library creaked open, and Morrigan peeked in. She smiled when she noticed me, though I frowned.

"What are you doing in here so late?" she inquired, entering the room.

"Trying to write to my brother," I said with a deep sigh.

"You don't have to just because Feyre did," she said to me.

"I know," I nodded. "But I want to tell him that I'm safe. I want him to know that I chose this."

"I understand the feeling," she sighed. "I'm sorry I was so harsh earlier. You just have this view of the world that was forced upon you by your family. I want to help you realize there's so much than you've ever known. I want to teach you how to live your life without all of those bullshit values they tried to brainwash you with."

"It's just so hard when it's all I've ever known," I tried to explain to her.

"I know," she said quietly. "My life was exactly the same, Mary."

"It just . . . it really bothered me what you said about my mother," I confessed, tears stinging my eyes. "Everyone keeps implying that my mother and Tam didn't love me. But . . . even if they didn't have my best interest at heart, they loved me. I know they did."

"I'm sure they did," Mor insisted, pity in her brown eyes.

"They . . . " I trailed off, scared to say my thoughts out loud. "They had to love me, because if they didn't, that means nobody ever has."

     Saying the words out loud nearly reduced me to tears, and I hid my face in my hands as I tried to hide the tears that had escaped.

"Oh, Mary, that's not true," she soothed, a hand on my back. "Feyre loves you. And so does Rhys."

"Does he?" I asked, lifting my head to look at her, brows furrowed.

"Oh please, we've been wanting to meet you for centuries," she nearly laughed. "We all remember when he first met you. He never shut up about you; he was obsessed. He even told his mother about you."

"He did?" I breathed, my cheeks tinging pink. She smirked, nodding.

"Oh, his mother always teased him for it," she grinned. "Saying she couldn't wait for him to bring you home to meet her."

"I wish I could've," I admitted, feeling that guilt eating at me again.

"She would've loved you," Mor assured me. "Truly, she would've."

"It's all my fault I couldn't meet her," I said quietly, sniffling.

"No, it's not," she denied, shaking her head. "It is the fault of your father and brothers, not you."

"It was my family," I insisted.

"We are not the people that raised us," she said to me. "Believe me. If I held myself responsible for the actions of my father. . ."

"It seems everyone here had a cruel father," I observed. "It makes me wonder if there are any good fathers out there."

"Rhys's father wasn't the worst," Mor shrugged. "Cruel in his own way, but never to his children. Nor his mate."

"My father was never cruel to his mate, either," I scoffed. "Just us. Me, especially. I'm still not quite sure what I did to deserve it."

"You did nothing," Mor said to me. "Neither of us did anything to deserve what our fathers put us through."