I woke the next morning from a deep sleep, to the sound of birds chirping. I smiled to myself, listening to their song wind it's way through the panes of my window.
The hours of undisturbed rest made me feel rejuvenated, as if the past weeks of lying in bed had never happened. Contentedly I went to stretch, when an all consuming pain forced me to immediately stop. My eyes widened as I carefully tried to flex the muscles in my body, and quickly I reached a conclusion.
Perhaps my mind was doing better, but my body was definitely not feeling the love.
I winced as I pushed myself into a sitting position, back popping and shoulders cracking. Crawling to the edge of the bed, I tried to stand up, but my protesting muscles told me that that wasn't happening any time soon.
By the gods, I thought irritably, This is ridiculous. A bit of running never made me feel this miserable before.
Gently levering myself onto the floor, which was actually more like a painful thump onto my butt, I crab-walked my way towards the wardrobe.
When I finally reached the boudoir, I realized dressing myself would be even more of a struggle. Hobbling to my feet, I gripped the dark wood boudoir with white knuckles and worked my way up to a stand. I grabbed the first tunic and pair of pants I could see, ignoring the yellow stain on the front, and painstakingly struggled to keep myself upright while at the same time fitting my feet through the leg holes.
About thirty minutes later of huffing and cursing, I was finally dressed.
My whole body and I sighed in relief. My muscles felt as if they didn't know they were flesh; they were doing a quite remarkable job of impersonating wood. The walk back was more of a crippled stumble, and once I reached my bed, I gratefully spread-eagled backwards onto the mattress.
On cue, my stomach rumbled. Right, breakfast. Now that I wasn't as focussed on my battered body, I realized I was ravenous.
"Helena!"
I waited for her signature appearance from the shadows, but nothing happened.
I frowned.
"Helena?"
Again, no response.
"Helena!" What was going on?
"I here, Mees Feyre," came a dry voice from the other side of the room. I struggled to sit up, propping myself up on my elbows. Indeed, Helena was standing on the other side of room.
"Why did it take you so long to come, Helena?" I asked, concerned. "Are you okay? Are you feeling well?"
"I here since you first call. You not see me. You lay on bed."
I recalled that that was true, there was no way I could have seen her. And she normally just appears from the shadows, silent.
"Oh." My cheeks were slightly pink, but Helena didn't appear offended. If anything, she seemed amused.
"You want food, no?" My stomach gave a rumble in response, and I nodded.
"Good. I grab breakfast."
Five minutes later I was eating a breakfast of steamed eggs and some sort of delicious creamy sauce, with pork and toasted bread lathered with butter. I ate everything I could stick inside my belly, and sat back after a record ten minutes, contemplating the likely indigestion that would follow.
Perhaps if I lay down now, I'll be fine, I thought. Deciding this was the plan, I made to slowly get up from my chair. I had barely flexed a finger when Rhysand's thoughts shot across my mind.
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Feyre/Rhys/Tam Fanficfion ACoTaR
FanfictionAfter Amarantha's death, Prythian is a hustle of courts restored and alliances engaged. Tamlin has finally found his place as a high lord; respected and generally adored by all. Feyre, still haunted by the shadows she had to endure Under the Mountai...