Sarah J Maas Fan Fictions

Rhysand's Dream

A bit like when Rowan had his dream about Aelin, just thought this was super cute and would have totally happened. But it's also kind of depressing so...

He was under the mountain again. And though Rhysand knew this was a dream, that seemed only to make it more painful that he could do nothing. He saw Cassian underneath Amarantha, beautiful wings pinned through with iron bolts. Cassian's body arched and suddenly he saw Azriel in a similar position, face barely visible through the writhing shadows he unintentionally called. Az screamed in pain, and Rhys was frozen in agony. Amarantha turned to look at him and smiled, a vicious slash of white against her red mouth, and the dream changed again.

He saw Mor, nails hammered through her abdomen, her crimson blood stark against the unblemished snow. He saw shadowed shapes walking away, leaving his cousin -- closer to him than the blood in his veins -- alone to die.

In a flurry of images he saw Amren as she lost her humanity and wrecked the only place she'd ever felt truly at home.

His mother, his sister, his father. Wings in shreds, heads in bags.

Tamlin as a child. Tamlin innocent and undeserving of the pain his father and brothers had forced upon him. Tamlin who had been his friend, who he had trusted, who now had Rhysand's mate in his clutches...

There was a swirling of black, and it seemed as though the dream was finally over, until his vision cleared and there she was. Feyre. There was only a clearing separating them. He whispered her name, a prayer on his lips, and as if she heard him she turned. And Rhysand fell to his knees.

There was his mate, his wife, his everything. The one he had willingly agreed to return to the Spring Court, the original place of her suffering. He noted the bruises on her face first, but they fell secondary to her rounded stomach. The wind blew his way, and his nostrils flared at what he scented on her. His mate was with child. His eyes returned to her face, looking so gaunt and fragile, but she still managed to look beautiful when she smiled encouragingly as he shakily rose - only to stop as a small figure exited from the tree line behind his mate. The small child waddled over to Feyre, and then curled herself around his mates bare leg. Two more figures appeared, one holding a small bundle of blankets. They stood themselves next to Feyre, and Rhysand struggled to breathe. 

The tallest, a boy with eyes of bright violet, smiled with Feyre's mouth, standing almost as tall as Rhysand himself. It was hard to miss the large membranous wings protruding from his shoulders. It was he who held the bundle in his broadly tanned arms.

The second, a complete replica of his younger sister, the only exception being her eyes, as blue as a Day Court sky and sparkling like stars. She was significantly shorter than her brother, standing only to Feyre's shoulder, with a face that showed her innocence. She too was sporting Illyrian wings, albeit much smaller than the young male. She held herself with confidence, a true warrior.

Rhysands attention was then brought to the young female hugging his mates leg. Her hair was made up of the golden-brown strands that graced Feyre's head. Her eyes were a beautiful verdant green, harking back to a line Rhysand himself could not recall. Her young, pudgy face stretched as she smiled at him, brilliant pearly whites gleaming in the rising sun. She would be the one to look out for, he would do anything for that smile.

Rhysand had been walking slowly towards them, almost in a daze, until he reached the male. He looked into the face so similar to his own, then peered down into the bundle of blankets the male held. A tiny face peered up at him, a boy, only a few months old, with eyes of molten gold and hair as white as snow. But though their colour was vastly different, those eyes were Rhysands own, as was the small nose and pouting mouth. Delicate horns, only the size of Rhysand's thumb nail, poked out of the blankets - this tips of wings. There was no doubt this boy was his. No doubt that all these wonderfully perfect beings were his and Feyre's.

Rhysand turned towards his gorgeous mate, so caring and accepting, and he raised a hand to cradle her bruised cheek. But before he could, the air turned cold, and the stench of rotting flower was carried on the breeze.

A beast strode forward from the trees, great glittering golden claws sunk into the grass, a horrible snarl curled at its lip. Tamlin.

As if they were one, Rhysand's family turned to look at him, their eyes pleading with him, begging for his help. Rhysand attempted to take a step forward, but found his feet were shackled by invisible manacles to the ground. He could only watch with horrifying clarity as the beast attempted to shove Feyre away, and when she resisted he swiped a clawed paw across her face.

Immediately crimson blood swelled, dropping to the ground and staining the lush grass. Rhysand roared as his mate fell to the ground, unable to do anything.

The beast appeared to smile, a horrifyingly human like notion as each member of Rhysand's family disappeared into mist one after the other. His eldest son, his youngest boy, his warrior daughter, his angelic child - until only his mate was left. 

She was weeping -- and so was he, Rhysand realised, as a tear trickled down his cheek. 

Finally the beast continued to turn Feyre away, and Rhysand could only watch as his pregnant mate was forced away.

*

But when he finally woke up, for the first time ever after having one of those dreams, Rhysand felt hope.

His four perfect children, and his beautiful mate with another on the way.

So Rhysand thanked the cauldron for this gift, he would ensure it wasn't just a vision, but that it became real.