A Different Type of Ending

Chapter 5 - Rhysand/Feyre

Rhysand

We were all back at the townhouse, sitting in the living room in silence. It was just a waiting game now, we knew what we had to do, and all we had left was to execute it. Truth be told, I was completely and utterly terrified. For myself, for my court, for my mate who refused to accept help. Azriel had delivered the news an hour ago, and since then I had been attempting to find a way to get Feyre out, despite her own wishes. I wondered if I would get a chance in the chaos that was to come, or whether everything would fall apart before it happened. As if reading my mind, Mor spoke.
"Feyre is probably safer with them, that way if we lose then she still doesn't look like a traitor." She seemed doubtful of her own comment, which made me even more worried, if we made one wrong decision we put Feyre's life at risk. 
"Yes but if we leave her, the other High Lords may very well kill her." Az commented, and Cassian seemed to clench his teeth. He still hadn't told Az what had happened at the Meeting after he left. 
"I think Cassian already made it very clear that she shouldn't die." Mor said, unable to hide the slight smirk from her face. Az seemed to be struggling to hide his own as well. 
"Ok, well at least I basically premeditated a solution to this problem." He snapped back, he had a fair point, but that didn't stop Mor's smirk from plastering itself on her face. It was good to see them somewhat enjoying themselves again. It didn't stop the nagging at the back of my mind though, because those shadows of Feyre's were steadily growing. I knew that darkness too well, and I didn't want her to get to know it too. 

Feyre

I hadn't eaten, not really, not when the bastards at the table refused to quit sniping at each other across the table. It was far too entertaining, and I swear Tamlin's claws had carved deeper into the table than I had ever seen them go before. Jurian was the latest contributor having directly disobeyed Hybern's orders and told Tamlin,
"You deserve to be a dead man." He was defending me, and I didn't quite know what to do. I nearly felt guilty, he trusted me so deeply. However, his defence was shut extremely short and very abruptly. 
"Jurian." The King snapped, and with his voice his somewhat good nature did too. "You're all idiots, the lot of you, none of you seem to care. I could kill you all here and now, but I need you, so unless you want to be dead sooner than expected I suggest you shut up promptly." But I couldn't, could I? Not after he said that.
"I'd like to see you try." His dark gaze fell on me, but I didn't back down, I let my shadows gather in my eyes and could almost feel them begging to push further, push out. Not yet, I purred, something I had never thought I would do. 
"You're going to the Pits tomorrow, I'd like to see how you cope there." The confusion must have been evident on my face, because Lucien quickly stepped in to explain.
"Where the soldiers are. Nasty place really, that's why we call it the Pits." I simply nodded, not quite sure how to respond. A good opportunity, but I didn't know whether it was worth it. I wondered silently if it would be like the Illyrian camp, cold, harsh and unforgiving, or whether it would be a dream in comparison.
"Why didn't you give up?" Tamlin asked me, and the King didn't interject, also too inquisitive for his own good then. The shadows remained in my eyes, no matter how hard I tried to push them back, and I was gripping onto the table now to restrain myself. 
"Do you wish I had?" I dodged the question, hoping that his response wouldn't make me explode.
"Would you blame me?" He parried away again with his reply, and I didn't blame him, I could see his fear in his eyes as they looked into my own. The answer was yes then, and maybe for once I should listen to him, especially if everyone else felt the same way. My hands were searing into the wood of the table now, leaving charred handprints on the perfect surface. 
"I didn't give up because I saw a way out." Maybe I could find one again, maybe on the other side of the shadows there was a light. Or maybe there wasn't, maybe I only got one chance at escape and I blew it. "And I think I just found the way back in again." I stood from the table, for the second time that day, and stormed out the door, leaving charred and smoking handprints on the table. 

I stood in my bathroom, staring at my eyes in the mirror. The shadows hadn't retreated, instead becoming more prominent. They were metallic in colour, almost like Amren's, only darker and moving like smoke and shadows. They were so different to the eyes I usually stared into, but similar all the same. I knew the face around them, and they were the secret to discovering the darkness that it disguised. My face was becoming gaunt again as it once had been, hollowed out and empty. The lights overhead intensified the shadows under my eyes, making them almost black, leaving nothing to the imagination. I didn't sleep, not enough anyway, not nearly enough. 

Darkness had fallen outside, leaving nothing but the harsh, unnatural lights of the manor to see by. There was nothing beautiful about the stars here, nothing alive. I stood so often by the window that even standing looking into the mirror I could picture the sky. But when I pictured it in my head I saw a winged shadow soar across the horizon. I knew exactly who it was, but I also knew exactly where they were, and it wasn't on the horizon.