A Court of Blood and Glory

Wingless

Rhysand

Feyre was screaming. I think I was too. I didn't care who saw, didn't care what people thought of me. I felt nothing, not even pain. I was numb.
Lucien released my mate and she fell towards me, gripping my hands, shouting my name, trying to get a response from me. Nothing. I felt nothing.
Tamlin came into view, a huge grin on his face as he watched me, the wingless Illyrian. His hands were coated in blood, my blood, and my wings in his grasp. 
My wings.
My beautiful wings. 
I looked at my back, hoping that this was all a dream, but all I found were two bleeding stumps where my wings once lay. The pain came rushing in at that point. Too much pain.
I couldn't deal with it. I blacked out.
And I welcomed the darkness.

Mor

Thirty five minutes. He wasn't back.
"I'm going in." I said to no one in particular and winnowed into the manor, rushing to the servants entrance and straight down into the dungeons. I heard screams as I ran through the corridors. Feyre's screams. Rhys's screams as well. I followed the sound, trying to stop my mind from creating horrific images of what cold be happening to my family.
Someone was coming up behind me. I whirled, quickly drawing two knives, but only found Cassian following me, a wild look in his eyes. Without a word we continued through the dark dungeon, only to round a corner to find an awful scene.
I didn't know where to look. At Feyre, so pale and broken, blood soaking her dress. At Rhys, chained to the floor, blood pouring down his back. Or at Tamlin, a wing in each hand, surveying the scene like he was proud of what he saw.
We were in shock, Cassian and I unable to to move forward and help our friends, hoping that it was just a joke, a nightmare, but no matter how hard I tried to wake up I couldn't, and I realised that it was real, that Rhys was without wings, and that Tamlin was now grasping them.
We were unseen by anyone, hiding in the shadows, but Rhys soon fell to the floor, pasing out from blood loss, and it spurred us into action. Tamlin immediately left, his men following h
I went to Feyre, ensuring that she was not injured, but soon turned to Rhys, still unconsious. Any Illyrian would rather die than lose their wings, and Rhys was no different.
"We have to get him to a healer." Was all I was able to say, my voice cracking. Cassian only nodded, the fight having left his body, too shocked to go after Tamlin and his men. I took Rhys's and Feyre's hands and winnowed them back to Velaris whilst Cassian went back to the tunnel to get Azriel. They joined me in the town house, Azriel covered in the blood of the spy, and a healer with them. Azriel just stared at Rhys, lying on his back, blood still flowing but not quite as fast as before.
I left to grab the nearest healer, returning moments later with an older man who'd patched us up numerous times before. Amren followed us in, but remained silent. She was in shock too.
The healer went to Rhys, running his hands over his back, over two bloody stumps that showed where his wings once were. The healer forced us all out the room, claiming she needed space to work, so we waited in the kitchen, trying to get those dammed manacles off Feyre's wrists and ankles, but no matter how hard we tried, they wouldn't come off.
Of course Tamlin would make them so that only he could remove them, the same way that Tarquin had done with the book of breathings, one of his  precious possessions.
Possession. As if Feyre wasn't a real person! He was a fucking bastard, and I vowed that I would make him pay for his actions the next time I saw him.
I hoped that that time would be soon.

Feyre

The pain of the manacles being yanked at was near unbearable, yet I said nothing, because Rhys was going through so much worse. 
Rhys. My mate.
He'd had many titles before, but he would now carry the title of the wingless Illyrian.
I refused to believe it. Not his wings, not because of me. No.
But it did happen, and Rhys was now lying on a couch whilst a healer attempted to save him. Yet there was no saving him, not really. Not anymore.

Two hours later we were told that we could come see Rhys. He was still on the couch, but the blood had stopped flowing and bandages covered his chest and back.
"He should wake up soon. Give him a few days. You will need to help him adjust to his new... condition."
Condition. As if this were some sort of illness. But my only response was, "Thank you." before showing her to the door. We moved Rhys to his room, wanting him to be as comfortable as possible when he woke up. I sat by him for hours, holding his hand throughout the night, only moving when I decided to go to sleep as dawn broke.