A Court of Blood and Glory

Grief and Goodbye

Rhysand

I held her, trying to decide what to do. All she did was cry out in pain and sadness. I hadn't called the Inner Circle to my side yet, hadn't said anything to her, because I knew that she would talk when she needed to, but it hurt me to do nothing. Her shields had been impenetrable since last night, and I knew that she had spent the night in Tamlin's bed, had endured the horrors that I had, but that didn't explain the blood.
The blood. The blood that covered every part of her. The blood hat belonged to so many people that I didn't know what to do, what to say. There were two scents, though, two scents that I recognised. Feyre's, which was the most abundant, and Nesta's.
Nesta Archeon, the last mortal Archeon. I assumed she was dead, and from the pain that radiated from Feyre, I didn't doubt that that was true.
I took in my mate's appearance once more and decided to take matters into my own hands. A healer arrived a few minutes later and began to run their hands over my mate. She had lost so much blood that I didn't know how she was still alive, although I assumed that she had had to heal herself enough to get here.
I remained by Feyre's side for an hour as the healer worked, grasping her hand as her body was stitched up, her Illyrian wings healed over. We had to stop doing that. Holding each other whilst wings were healed, or, in my case, the stumps healed. I couldn't bear to go through the experience one more time. Cassian and Azriel had healed, up nicely. They were still quite weak, but they were able to fly short distances. I was as strong, if not stronger, with my metal wings, but I didn't know if Feyre would be able to learn how to use her wings. I had hope, owing to her considerable power, but I wasn't sure.
She had passed out around the ten minute mark, her blood loss finally affecting her, but I didn't move from her side, couldn't leave my mate to suffer alone. I tried to reach her through the mating bond, but her shields were as impenetrable as ever, so I just waited for her to wake up. It was all I had done for the past few weeks, waiting. Waiting for the mating bond to heal. Waiting for Feyre to give us information. Waiting for my mate to come home.
Waiting for her to wake up.
And she did, after four hours she finally awoke, but her eyes only held a deep sorrow. "They are all dead." She said, tears in her eyes. "All of them. Because of me." Her voice cracked and the tear spilt onto her cheeks. I stroked her hair, comforting her in her grief.
Eventually she stopped crying, and she stood up, undoing the bandages around her ruined wings. I was going to ask her what she was doing, but she worked before I could say anything, using her healing and shape-shifting to recreate the Illyrian wings, reforming the membrane, but leaving the scars from their destruction. When she looked to me I only saw darkness in her eyes, and it scared me, but she kissed me deeply, and when I looked back at her that darkness was gone.
"I love you, so, so much, Rhys." She said. I'd missed her voice, missed her saying those words to me.
"I love you too, Feyre." I whispered, a smile ghosting her features.
"Every servant, and I'm willing to bet every sentry, is dead. All of them, and they did nothing." I waited a moment, giving her time to say more. "So is Nesta." She said, no emotion in her voice or on her face. Her mortal family, her blood relatives, were all dead.
"What do you want to do?" I asked her. Her choice. Always her choice.
"I want to fight the war, and I want to win." Was her only response, and she left, her wings vanishing, and walked upstairs and into our bedroom, where she slept. And slept. And slept.

Feyre

I felt nothing as I walked upstairs, and I dreamed of nothing as I slept. It was dark when I fell asleep, but dawn was just breaking when I awoke. The bed was undisturbed on the other side, telling me that Rhys had gone another night without sleep, and I knew that he would be waiting for me downstairs.
For the first time in weeks I dressed in Illyrian leathers, new ones that I found awaiting me on a chair when I woke, and I savoured the feel of them.
I felt the need for revenge on Tamlin, but unlike Rhys those thoughts didn't take forefront of my mind. No. That place was reserved for the King of Hybern, whom I would take great pleasure in skinning alive as he watched, before his eyeballs were carved from his head. This war couldn't come fast enough.
I walked down to breakfast, opening a small crack in my mental shields to let Rhys in, and he was immediately sending me love and understanding. He knew what I'd been through with Tamlin, because he'd done the same with Amarantha.
I love you, and I am here for you. Forever.
Don't make promises you can't keep.
He kissed me as I entered the kitchen, kissed me so passionately that I wasn't aware of our company until Cassian felt the need to comment.
"Well this isn't awkward. We appreciate that you were apart for quite some time, but you had all night, and it's not our fault that you wasted it on little things like sleep." And for the first time in weeks I actually smiled. A real, happy smile. And I felt everything that I'd felt for the past few weeks rush out. But not in power, in sorrow, in tears and screams and punches. But instead of leaving me, instead of running away, my family, my true family, only came forward to embrace me, to hug me, and to tell me that I was not alone. Because I would never be alone, not as long as they were around.
They stayed with me that way for some time, listening to my story, listening to my pain and anger, to the story of my sacrifice, and they didn't hate me for what I'd done for them, for what I'd said about them. They only invited me to put the wings I'd salvaged to rest, and to say goodbye to my sisters and father, and to all the ghosts that had walked with me for too long.
War was upon us, and I would avenge them all.

Rhysand

We winnowed to my mother's and sister's graves. It was the first time I'd visited there since Under the Mountain, but the graves looked the same as they had the last time I'd come, with the stone plates bearing their names and ages when they died. They shouldn't have died, I should have protected them, I could have protected them. The wings in my arms felt heavier than they had moments ago, and as I lay them on the floor I felt as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
Feyre touched me arm, her head resting on my shoulder, as I stood there, my family surrounding me. My father had protected my mother, stopped her wings from being clipped, but she'd died wingless anyway. Because of Tamlin, because of his father. We all had a score to settle with him, and we all had our own ways to repay him. He wouldn't stand a chance.
Feyre knelt down in the snow after a few minutes of silence and laid her hands on my mother's and sister's wings, allowing her flames to dance on her fingers and burn the thin membrane, turning them to ash. Once she was done the wind blew the ashes away, allowing them to return to the skies one last time.
Only my wings remained, lying between the two graves, and I used my power to blast them to pieces, obliterating them so thoroughly that nothing remained. I didn't want my wings to be in the skies without me.
I love you Rhys.
As I love you, Feyre darling.
No matter what happened I still had her, and I would always have her. Whether I was wingless or not.
"Goodbye mother, goodbye dear sister." And without another word I winnowed back to Velaris, Feyre on my arm, and my family close behind me.