suffocated : feysand

Chapter One: When the Night Falls

This chapter includes mentions of rape! If this triggers you, please proceed with caution.

Feyre was cold. This kind of cold reminded her of her time in poverty, her time in that dreadful cottage that her family took refuge in from the world's wickedness. It wasn't possible. She was in the Night Court in bed next to her mate, Rhys, not in that terrible "home." Rhys must've pulled the blankets from her by accident. Feyre reached to grab the blanket, but she didn't come into contact with the soft fabric, she came into contact with the hard cold floor. So that's why it felt freezing. With a jolt, Feyre woke up in a pant, her eyes adjusting to the sudden light of the room.

Her eyes glanced around the room in a frenzy. No, she wasn't cold because she was in that cottage or because Rhys pulled the blankets from her. She was cold because she was lying on the floor that housed the Court of Nightmares. She was starting to convince herself that the shiver she felt wasn't from the floor, it was from the people staring at her. They were the same people who were smiling at her heinously, the subjects of the man who sat on the throne, Rhys. No, this wasn't Rhys. This was Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, and the ruler of what Feyre tended to ignore, the Court of Nightmares. What was going on?

"Took you long enough to wake up. I was ready to start making someone scream as an alarm clock for you." Rhys spoke gruffly.

"What's going on here, Rhys?" Feyre asked.

"It's High Lord to you. I brought you down here so we can have a little fun." Rhys taunted her.

"If that was the truth, I wouldn't be here shivering on the floor like I was in the Winter Court. I'd be right next to you. And this usually isn't your idea of fun, this is usually where you go when you're pissed off." Feyre mentioned.

"Already thinking of the next court you're going to taint, little whore? But I guess you have some reason to do so anyways, you always have to leave your mark on everything." Rhys purred.

Feyre stood up tall against Rhys. She didn't understand why she was here, in the middle of the night for Mother's sake. This wasn't the first time Rhys has been acting strange either. Ever since the war ended, the Rhys that Feyre knew and loved was fading away bit by bit. At this point, Feyre was thinking that Rhys was close to gone, but she could try to lead him back, just like he did to her not long ago.

"What's your problem?" Feyre demanded from Rhys.

"You. You said I come down here when I'm pissed, and I am. I'm pissed at you. I've had quite some time to think about how you've screwed up my life ever since you came into it. I've endured being raped for almost 50 years for my court to be safe from some monster, and you almost ruined that in one instant. Do you know how hard it is to keep your mind on the woman torturing you when she can read it?" Rhys seethed.

"How is that in any way, shape, or form my fault? Did I ask for the Cauldron to make us mates? No. Did I ask for my family to be in a bad situation which caused me to make decisions that led up to this point? No. So don't try to pinpoint your self-victim blaming on me, I had no control over that. I didn't even know about any of that until I crossed the wall!" Feyre remarked becoming angrier with every sentence,

"Let me finish. When you came Under the Mountain, you were screwing with my enemy that betrayed me and killed my family. After Amarantha was killed, the mating bond snapped into place, and at that point I was basically a blind fool walking around seeking the love I thought I would never have. Once I did have that, all it took was for you to be hurt somehow to drive me crazy. At the end of the recent war, I died because of you. I died because you weren't strong enough to fix the Cauldron despite having powers from all the courts. I realized how weak I've been for the past 500 years and you made me weaker than ever. That's why I'm pissed. All you've done is make men fall in love with you while whispering sweet promises of opening your legs to them and you got what you wanted. You're worse than Ianthe." Rhys yelled at Feyre.