A Different Type of Ending

The Happy Ending You All Wanted (Chapter 19)

A/N 

Two years later, and here we are! I cannot thank you guys enough for the support I have been given over all this time. To be completely honest, I forgot I had this ending stored here, but I guess now is as good a time as any to give it to you guys! 

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Feyre

There were no words left in my head, none that I could understand. It was a storm of swirling black clouds lit only by the burning bright blue of a siphon. I clung to the stone so tightly that its sharp edge began to cut into my palms. I let the blood drip from them onto the blackened grass under my knees. Tendrils of ash rose from the ground as the wind blew through the valley. The crackled as they touched one another, and then sighed as they fell back to the ground and landed amongst the blades of grass that still remained. 

I had no tears left in my body, only those that stained my face still remained. I heard cautious footsteps approaching me from behind, I felt my powers simmer up in defence. They felt weak and inconsequential compared to the monster that had once raged inside me. I raised my eyes to the ground in front of me, placing the blue crystal on my knees and leaning forward slightly. I scooped a handful of ashes from the ground and held them in close to my chest. They didn't burn me, instead they were ice cold. Slowly I placed them into a pocket on my knife belt, silently praying that they would not slip away in the wind. I turned my head so that I could see the man approaching out of the corner of my eye.

"Feyre Archeron, you -"

"Don't say it." I rasped, my throat covered in ash and filled with choked back tears, somehow managing to interrupt the High Lord of Autumn. "I know my crimes, I know what I have done." I turned my head back to look at the siphon in my lap. "I know the punishment." I once again grasped the stone in my hand, tightly, desperately trying to stop the shaking. I could stand, couldn't turn around, couldn't face them all after what I had done. I couldn't face the truth. I heard more footsteps approaching to stand beside Beron, all side by side, all waiting. The seven High Lords of Prythian, prepared for judgement. 

When my legs finally felt strong enough to hold my weight, I stood and turned slowly. Not one person spoke, and not one pair of eyes left my face. But I saw none of them except those purple amethysts, my gaze not resting long enough to see what lay behind them, to see the hatred that must have been there. My eyes fell to the floor, nothing more than a scolded child in front of their parents. But my eyes traced the line where green met black on the ground, the point where I had stopped my demons from going any further. Stopped them from reaching my family. All except one. 

"Feyre Archeron." Beron's voice boomed, snapping me out of my trance. "You have saved Prythian." There was a smile in his voice, and my eyes darted up to meet his. There was no anger, no resentment. I couldn't understand. 

"N- no. I didn't. I killed him." Tears blurred my vision, I looked at every person there. All of them except my mate, whose gaze I couldn't quite face. I had killed his brother. 

"You have been pardoned Feyre. For saving the continent. You are free once more." It was the youngest of them that spoke this time, Tarquin I seem to remember his name being. I shook my head desperately from side to side, the siphon now only held loosely in my right hand. My knees collapsed under me and then hit the ground hard. My ears were ringing. A noise that sounded vaguely like a dying animal escaped my mouth. Why?

"Feyre?" My mate rushed over to kneel beside me, a hand on my back to stop me from collapsing completely. And then they were all there. My Court. My family. The siphon fell from my hands, and all of their eyes followed it. 

"He's dead." The words came out shaky and weak. "Really dead. And it's all my fault. I killed him. It should have been me. I should have stopped it." In that instant their faces dropped as they realised what the siphon meant. Cassian fell back to the floor, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. Mor looked hollow. Rhysand, my mate, didn't look away from me. Instead, he seemed to look deeper. 
"This time it's real?" He asked carefully. I nodded slowly, staring into space again. I couldn't believe myself, couldn't possibly imagine this to be true. But it was. I had done this. It was all my fault. I deserved this, they didn't. It should have been me.
"It should have been me." I said, speaking as I used to: confident and sure. Maybe it was because I finally believe what I said, I finally knew it was true. 
"No." Cassian's voice was shaky, but he looked at me with a fire that let me know he too was sure of his words. "He knew what he was doing. Az always did." His voice nearly broke at the end, and the remains of my heart nearly fractured along with it. 

"Let's go home." Mor said, looking to the High Lords for approval, but they were all gone. They had left us long before, and now we sat alone in a field of ashes. 

I didn't have a home to go back to anymore. 

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((This would be the next chapter, but one again I'm just going to put it here))

10 Years Later

3rd Person

Rhysand held the hand of a small child, and Feyre held the other. Slowly but surely, as the child's feet found steady ground, they led him to the two gravestones that sat in a clearing in the middle of a forest. Beneath the older lay someone none of them had ever got the pleasure of knowing, and beneath the other lay a handful of ashes that had been collected on a battlefield far to the North. 

When they were close enough to read the words engraved on the stones the family slowed to a stop, and Feyre and Rhys knelt down beside their child. Their eyes met, and they smiled at each other. Feyre smiled for life she never thought she would get to live, Rhys smiled for the life he had given back to his mate, and they both smiled for the child that they loved. 

The child looked at the newer stone with wide eyes and reacher out a finger to trace the letters that were engraved into its surface. 
"A friend. A brother. A saviour." The child read out slowly, and their parents nodded along to the words. 
"He was your uncle, Emrys." Rhysand said, a quiet sadness in his voice. 
"His name was Azriel, and he was the one who saved Prythian from the war that was coming ten years ago." Feyre spoke softly. Emrys looked at their parents with eyes full of stars as they listened intently. 
"We thought it was about time you heard his story."