I had wanted to post a multiple-chapter story based after ACOMAF, but I couldn't think of anything. So I decided that in the meantime I would write a one-shot (since that seems to be my thing now) about Feyre and Rhysand dealing with the aftermath of Under the Mountain. Set during Feyre's time in the Night Court.
My Salvation
"You are my salvation, Feyre."
"Feyre! Feyre, it's just a dream." I awoke abruptly to the sound of his distressed voice. I sat up, panting and sweating as he straddled my waist, holding me by the shoulders and his forehead rested against mine as he gulped down air. "She's dead. Gone," he rasped, for my sake or his I didn't particularly care. We stayed in that position for several minutes, as he soothingly stroked my hair and I tried to relax my breathing. Though Rhysand had woken me from my nightmare, it seemed like he was recovering from one himself.
"Thank you," I whispered and without a word he clambered off of me before retreating back to his bedroom. I watched as his muscled, bare form dissolved into the shadows.
Sleep had not claimed me after that. An hour later I was still staring into the darkness; though with my heightened senses I could clearly see the crevices along the edge of the ceiling. I had felt calm with Rhysand, but now, left alone with my thoughts and the memories that haunted me, I couldn't succumb to sleep.
Calm down, darling. You're keeping me awake. I could sense him growling through that bond and I internally rolled my eyes.
I can't sleep you prick. I hissed. Without even a moment's hesitation he replied huskily:
My bed's always here and I could offer you a distraction for the night.
Pig, I snapped.
He didn't pester me after that, but the offer remained, tauntingly. A mere hour and a half later I couldn't wipe away the memory of his thighs caressing mine, or his firm hands on my slim waist, his gentle but lethal body holding mine... Finally I threw the covers off of my sticky body and padded across the floor, shaking, and lurked into his bedroom. Rhysand appeared to be asleep, by the steady fall and rise of his chest. His purple-black hair fell over his eyes and he looked peaceful, younger. I slipped underneath the quilt-covers and he smirked, clearly not asleep as I'd suspected.
Feyre?
I…I need a distraction? I admitted through the bond, too unsure to even utter the words. He emitted a feral growl before his fingertips grazed the exposed flesh on my hip, drawing my body close to his.
Hours later I woke from a dreamless and peaceful sleep to find myself encased in his strong arms, his hips hugging mine and my back was pressed against his chest. I was scared to admit what this meant for us. I knew whatever…this was, ran far deeper than a mere distraction. A strangled sound dragged me from my thoughts. The High Lord of the Night Court was whimpered and begging.
"She's nothing," he chocked, "a human." I turned to find him shaking and clenching the sheets. I rested my hand against his cheek, unintentionally being dragged into the nightmare- or rather a memory.
I watched through Rhysand's eyes as Amarantha stood in the corner of the room staring intently at him as she held him under invisible restrains.
"You care for Tamlin's pet," she snarled. Not a question; a statement.
"No. I assure you, she is nothing more than a useless human." He growled. Whom I love, he added silently. "Liar!" she hissed and his back arched off of the bed as the sound of bones cracking echoed around the room. The scene changed.
My body crumpled to the ground, the sound of my neck cracking still ringing throughout the cave.
Gone.
My mate.
My mate.
My mate.
His thoughts ricocheted around my head as I drew back sharply. I had felt his pain, his heartache.
"You knew!" I hissed.
"Feyre-" he begged, panting. "I couldn't just tell you. Firstly one has to accept it themselves. Plus what was the point in saying anything when all you want from me is this," he indicated between us.
"You don't get to decide all that for me! I love you," I spoke the words, knowledgeable to me for some time but caged.