There are minor changes to the history of this story.
First Rhysand's sister and mother did not die (well technically his sister didn't die in this story) until a century after the wall was made and decades before Amarantha's reign.
Secondly, his sister had already met all of the inner circle and became very close with each member.
Thirdly, she has participated in supporting the humans in the war. Her father allowed her to command a legion after much begging. She called her legion the Star Crossed and after her training they became one of the most elite Illyrian legion ever known in history. Cassian took over command after her 'death' but even he couldn't restore the legion back to its former glory.
Lastly, she has met every High Lord and is personally(meaning that they might hate the Night Court but are friendly towards her) on friendly terms with every court. (Autumn and Spring are the exception)
Lana
I struggle to lift my arm to wipe of the reappearing layer of sweat from the back of my neck despite the cold and harsh conditions. I swore softly underneath my breath. I definitely feel another infection coming along from the gashes on my skin that never closed. And with my healing powers nullified from the enormous amount fae bane Amarantha drugged me with, I can only pray the Cauldron saves me this time too.
I watched as the ginger haired girl-Feyre I think her name is-walk through the throne room confidently. My cell gives me the best view of her trials and I always get to hear the backstage conversations. Amarantha plotting the mortal girl's demise while whipping me or someone else doing it for her. I almost felt bad for Feyre. She has no idea what the third trial is, but I won't bother telling her. I realised a long time ago that my cold and dingy cell has over a million wards that prevent anyone from acknowledging my existence. I lifted my head to get a better view of what was happening, the action causing light to splinter my vision and pain to slam into my skull.
I've been Amarantha's play toy for the entirety of her rule. She's convinced that if she can break me she could use me against Rhys and gain entire control of the Night Court. When she saw hard I was resisting she realized that I was hiding something-hiding Velaris and my family-from her. So she dragged on my torture day by day. Her only rule was no broken bones. That could leave permanent damage and that wouldn't be good if their weapon was weaker due to crooked bones.
I will never forget the day I got here. Nor will I forget the day my mother was slaughtered and Tamlin took me away from the world, announcing to the world that I was dead. He begged his father he'd said. Begged his father that I live claiming that he loved me. I never believed him and I was always this close to destroying his mind and leaving his remains to his lap dog Lucien. He tolerated me at first but soon lost his patience. He knew that eventually with my abilities I would escape. He nullified my powers from some stone Hyburn house arm locked me in his court. He locked me in my room, feeding me only when Lucien forced him too, and beat me up whenever he felt like it which was usually more than twice a day. The only healing I received was when Lucien paid his rare visits. Everyday Tamlin repeated that I deserved it. That he had done everything thing for me and I'd repayed him by being an 'ungrateful brat'.
Days turned to weeks and in desperation, my starving self decided to stop fighting and play along and pretend she loved him back. Her plan worked perfectly and he let her out but he refused to take off her stone bracelets claiming it was 'for her own safety'. So I pretended to be the perfect wife-yes was forced to marry him and make love to him and act as though I enjoyed every disgusting second of it. I pretended to be delighted when he told me that he'd slaughtered my father and pretended to be sad when he announced the deaths of his brothers and his own father. All of that just to stay away from the prospect of being locked up .
This personal hell of mine only worsened when Amarantha came. When she came into ruling Tamlin handed me over to her as if I was merely a card to be traded. She said that if Tamlin were to be cursed he couldn't have a spouse and said that she will enjoy every second of my dying process. When she saw how hard I was trying to live because of the vow I made myself, she took interest in me. She realized that someone that could survive for so long had to be strong enough to destroy the entirety of Prythian. And so began her mission of shaping me into her weapon.
But now, with Feyre at her final trial, there is a chance she will finally be free. She will be able to fulfill her vow and more than that, be able to reunite with her closest family. She could practically see herself surrounded by the inner circle. She could hear Cassian's jokes and Amren's witty retorts to each one. I could smell the sweet smell of Mor and see Rhys's violet eyes twinkle with dark amusement. And Azriel-I always had a soft spot for the harsh warrior. I couldn't call what she felt for him love-it was a feeling so much stronger. I suspected we were were mates but...the way he looked at Mor...I knew that even if we were mates he wouldn't be interested in me. It kills me that he doesn't think he is worthy of her and he keeps following after her when Mor doesn't even like men. Despite everything however, if he chooses her-as much as it hurts- I'll respect his decision because I know what it feels like to be robbed of choice.
I watched through the bars of my cell as she stabbed the two fae and I instantly knew she would never forget this. Especially this trial. To know that you're responsible for the deaths of the innocent...it is the worst punishment one could give to any decent being. I could most definitely understand the guilt that haunts your dreams afterwards. I watched the lights leave my mother's eyes and heard the second her heart gave up on her. The guilt that comes after is a crushing and all-consuming thing. As their blood looked around her, I could see Rhys watching with a mask of boredom. Over the last three months I watched him take care of the human girl. At first I thought it was because she was our only hope to freedom, but I can tell he really cares about her. More than I might ever know. But it killed me to see that she treats him like a monster and he takes every insult without a retort to her. No doubt Tamlin and his conniving little bitch Ianthe have been feeding her life after lie.
Suddenly my vision blurred. The pain on my skin becoming increasingly unbearable. My breathing became hard as the holes in my skin began secreting a green foul-smelling substance, indicating a serious infection. The tiny amount of hope that bubbled inside me crumbled. I'll never be able to stay awake long enough to watch Amarantha's defeat. I won't be conscious when the bars of my cell disappear and be able to cry for my brother.
Spots began appearing in my vision as I tried to stop my head from spinning.
And the last sound I heard before drifting away was the awful snap of Feyre's neck.
Lana
I woke up in the middle of my reeking cell with a throbbing headache before the pain of my infection slammed into me like a battering ram. I frowned as I tried to use my cell hard to steady myself, until I realized they disappeared. I suddenly remembered what had happened before I passed out. The deafening silence told me that my worst fears were true.
I was too late.
I refuse to let it be the end. I refuse to give up now because of some stupid infection. I refuse to let myself give up after nearly a century of suffering. I will see my family again. Even if I'll have to go there on my own.
With my new resolve, for the first time in decades I let my wings show. In seconds, large membranous wings sprouted from my back giving me a familiar sensation of comfort. I knew with my limited energy and still nullified magic I'll have to walk most of the way to the Night Court. But I will make it.
I have to.
Three Months Later (part in bold is quoted from A Court of Mist and Fury page 54-56 )
Feyre
I paused between the last two pillars, studying the High Lord lounging at the breakfast table and the view he surveyed.
"I'm not a dog to be summoned," I said by way of greeting.
Slowly, Rhys looked over his shoulder. Those violet eyes were vibrant in the light, and I curled my fingers into fists as they swept from my head to my toes and back up again. He frowned at whatever he found lacking. "I didn't want you to get lost," he said blandly.
My head throbbed, and I eyed the silver teapot steaming in the center of the table. A cup of tea … "I thought it'd always be dark here," I said, if only to not look quite as desperate for that life-giving tea so early in the morning.
"We're one of the three Solar Courts," he said, motioning for me to sit with a graceful twist of his wrist. "Our nights are far more beautiful, and our sunsets and dawns are exquisite, but we do adhere to the laws of nature."
I slid into the upholstered chair across from him. His tunic was unbuttoned at the neck, revealing a hint of the tanned chest beneath. "And do the other courts choose not to?"
"The nature of the Seasonal Courts," he said, "is linked to their High Lords, whose magic and will keeps them in eternal spring, or winter, or fall, or summer. It has always been like that—some sort of strange stagnation. But the Solar Courts—Day, Dawn, and Night—are of a more … symbolic nature. We might be powerful, but even we cannot alter the sun's path or strength. Tea?"
The sunlight danced along the curve of the silver teapot. I kept my eager nod to a restrained dip of my chin. "But you will find," Rhysand went on, pouring a cup for me, "that our nights are more spectacular—so spectacular that some in my territory even awaken at sunset and go to bed at dawn, just to live under the starlight."
I splashed some milk in the tea, watching the light and dark eddy together. "Why is it so warm in here, when winter is in full blast out there?"
"Magic."
"Obviously." I set down my teaspoon and sipped, nearly sighing at the rush of heat and smoky, rich flavor. "But why?"
Rhys scanned the wind tearing through the peaks. "You heat a house in the winter—why shouldn't I heat this place as well? I'll admit I don't know why my predecessors built a palace fit for the Summer Court in the middle of a mountain range that's mildly warm at best, but who am I to question?"
I took a few more sips, that headache already lessening, and dared to scoop some fruit onto my plate from a glass bowl nearby.
He watched every movement. Then he said quietly, "You've lost weight."
"You're prone to digging through my head whenever you please," I said, stabbing a piece of melon with my fork. "I don't see why you're surprised by it."
His gaze didn't lighten, though that smile again played about his sensuous mouth, no doubt his favorite mask. "Only occasionally will I do that. And I can't help it if you send things down the bond."
I contemplated refusing to ask as I had done last night, but … "How does it work—this bond that allows you to see into my head?"
He sipped from his own tea. "Think of the bargain's bond as a bridge between us—and at either end is a door to our respective minds. A shield. My innate talents allow me to slip through the mental shields of anyone I wish, with or without that bridge—unless they're very, very strong, or have trained extensively to keep those shields tight. As a human, the gates to your mind were flung open for me to stroll through. As Fae … " A little shrug. "Sometimes, you unwittingly have a shield up—sometimes, when emotion seems to be running strong, that shield vanishes. And sometimes, when those shields are open, you might as well be standing at the gates to your mind, shouting your thoughts across the bridge to me. Sometimes I hear them; sometimes I don't."
I scowled, clenching my fork harder. "And how often do you just rifle through my mind when my shields are down?"
All amusement faded from his face. "When I can't tell if your nightmares are real threats or imagined. When you're about to be married and you silently beg anyone to help you. Only when you drop your mental shields and unknowingly blast those things down the bridge. And to answer your question before you ask, yes. Even with your shields up, I could get through them if I wished. You could train, though—learn how to shield against someone like me, even with the bond bridging our minds and my own abilities."
I ignored the offer. Agreeing to do anything with him felt too permanent, too accepting of the bargain between us. "What do you want with me? You said you'd tell me here. So tell me."
Suddenly, darkness filled in a small corner of there room. Rhys stilled as he whirled around to the possible threat. I began to see a silhouette of a female as the darkness began to dissipate.
When the darkness disappeared I saw the female collapse on the floor before going into a crawling position. I took a moment to study her. Her jet black her was a limp knotted heap draping on the floor. Her skin was filled with filth and blood that was beginning to look around her. Even with my fae hearing I couldn't hear her pulse and I started panicking. This fae, she was going to die. I have to do something we can't just stand and watch her die-
Arms trembling, she looked up at Rhys with eerily familiar violet eyes. When their eyes met her eyes widened.
"Rhys," she rasped, her voice barely a hoarse whisper, and I knew then she wasn't going to stay conscious for long.
I glance at Rhys and to find him white as a sheet. His face emanating more emotion than I thought possible. And for the first time ever, the High Lord of the Night Court fall to his knees. I watched completely stunned as a year slips out from his eye as he whispered back to her.
"Lana,"
The girl took a deep breath. Possibly her final breath before saying-
"I must wanted you know, he let me love and he didn't let me see you-or anyone and it killed me. And that when she took me to that cell-I'd scream for you for hours-and I wanted to tell you I'm sorry,"
And she passed out.
Then chaos ensued.
