A Heart Of Ashes - RHYSAND STORY

◘Lempë◘

It had been a total of three days since Y/N had spared Rhysand, and he was already making a fair amount of progress. At one point he had grown angry at her again and had strained the wound on his wing, so she had to reapply more sealant. Other than that, his wounds were healing nicely. She would spend the mornings tending to her animals, and around noon she would go on a hunt. Admittedly, she felt a pang of guilt every time she released an arrow on the innocent creatures. Hunting for survival was one thing, but she couldn't help but feel torn with the fact she was hunting for a fire-breathing dragon. Every time she would make a kill, she would kneel beside the creature and place her hand affectionately on its body right above its heart, and she would recite a prayer in the Elven tongue.

Rhysand was a tough one to please, and his temper was shorter than a viper strike. The smallest of things could set him off, but she had been quickly learning how to calm him down for the most part. It was a relief he was still unable to breathe fire, which removed a huge pressure. All it came down to was a battle of wits. For the most part he cooperated with her, eating the food she gave him and allowing her to do whatever she had to do concerning his wounds. However, whenever she made a move to touch him otherwise, he would reject her every time.

"Good afternoon," she greeted him lightly, when she entered the cave that day.

"Afternoon," he replied coolly.

She walked over to his chest, like she always did when she arrived, and checked his wound. "Does it hurt at all when I apply pressure?" she asked him, as she pressed gently against the healing skin.

He turned his head to look back at her.
"No. The sealant works well."

She stepped back and looked at him. "Can you extend your wing, please?"

He blew a small puff of air from his nostrils and shifted a bit before doing as she instructed. Lifting his arm, he stretched out the huge wing as far as the cave's walls would allow.

"Does that hurt?" she asked.

"No."

"Is there any discomfort at all?"

"Nothing close to the original pain," he answered shortly.

"Excellent. I don't think you should try flying yet, but you should be able to walk. Care to give it a go? You should start moving around every day."

He appeared surprised she was suggesting him to get up. It was just three days ago he could barely catch his breath. It was pleasing to him that he was healing so quickly. Even he had to admit that the She-Elf was an excellent healer, even if she had a habit of working at his last nerve with her cheeky responses. Her eyes were always calm and kind, never paying much mind to his insults. This he found curious. Elves were a proud race—a race who often looked down on those who defied or offended them in any way. She lacked the arrogance, and her nose wasn't constantly stuck in the air like she was better than him.

With her instruction, he slowly got to his feet, and she watched as his muscles flexed when they held up his immense bulk. Y/N watched him closely while he moved, walking around to his front as she looked him over with utter amazement. If she had thought he was huge before, now that he was standing he appeared even larger.

What a magnificent beast, she thought. And he could very possibly be the last. In spite of his tyrannical personality, she was saddened at the thought.

"Do you feel anything unusual? Any discomfort? Shortness of breath?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his haughty tone and nodded. "Good. Follow me."