ACOTAR One Shots

Screams

Feyre

For once, I was grateful for the brutal training Cassian had been giving me over the last few years. Pushing me past my limits was something he found particular delight in--much to my own dismay at most of our training sessions. Most afternoons I found myself coming home with muscles so sore I could barely walk up the steps to the room Rhys and I shared. And as much as I did enjoy the training sessions--though I would never admit that to him--Cassian always found new ways of making my body ache in ways I didn't know possible.

However, as another sword clanged against my own, I was suddenly very grateful that he had pushed me so hard in training.

We had thought that we had gained peace after Hybern. In fact, we were hopeful that at the very least we had created a sort of peace that could've lasted a millenium, maybe two before there were any more problems. The wall was down, relations between the Prythian courts were being mended, as were the relations between fae and human. Everything appeared to be better than before. But we were wrong--so very wrong.

The Illyrians, fed up with being the grunt soldiers at the beck and call of a High Lord that was never seemingly around, had been brewing trouble since the war ended. While Cassian--and surprisingly Nesta--had done their best to quell the stirring rebellion, there was only so much that could be done. Animosity and hatred had dug its claws in deep, and quite frankly, the Illyrians were at their breaking point.

Add to the fact that the mortal queens had reached out to a few camp leaders who were particularly rebellious, and now we were knee deep in yet another war, but this one in our very own court. Caused by Rhys and I both neglecting the people of our court that were tucked away in the mountains far from our quiet sanctuary of Velaris.

Rhys felt particularly guilty about this current civil war between us and the Illryians. After all, he was the one who ordered them to give up their lives in the war with Hybern while simultaneously challenging all their preconceived notions about their livelihoods. Granted, the way the female Illryians were treated was beyond abhorrent, but it was simply too much too soon. Too many Illryians had lost their lives fighting Hybern and we had pushed too hard, too fast in expecting change; even with some of the more milder camp leaders.

Rhys would be haunted by this war for the rest of his life. Slaughtering his own people was something he never thought he would have to do. Something none of us thought we'd ever have to do.

But as yet another Illyrian swung his blade at me, I tossed the lingering guilt and feelings I held out the window. I couldn't afford to be distracted. I had less training and experience than everyone on this field, and after hours of fighting my powers were down to their dregs and I couldn't risk bringing anymore to the surface to fight. Doing so would only put me at risk for collapsing, so I had to rely on the steel in my hands to keep me alive.

Rhys had tried to convince me to stay back for this battle, I had already worn myself down the previous two days fighting side-by-side with him. Not only had the fighting drained me, but the weather in the forests surrounding the Illyrian Steppes worked to tear a person apart. The brutal winds and harsh temperatures battled against us as much as the Illyrians did. But I had sworn that I could manage and would be fine. Rhys, despite not being particularly thrilled with my decision, would never take that choice away from me. So, I had gotten up with the rest of them, strapped on my armour and donned my Illyrian blades gifted to me by Cass.

Now, as exhaustion slammed into my body as I parried yet another sword away, I wished I would've listened. My arms felt like lead and my legs moved sluggishly, not wanting to respond nearly as fast as I needed them to. Yet one wrong move would mean the end of my life and that was something I couldn't allow.