Hello! So I decided to add another chapter to this story, you know, because LIFE. Also, I had some nice reviews... :)
You know what, just enjoy the story... :)
When Feyre and Rhysand returned to the town house, Mor, Amren and Azriel plunged upon them, having expectantly waited for the past hours. In fact, the second Rhys had winnowed them inside, the before silent room launched into chaos.
"You're back!"
"How was it?"
"Where have you been?"
Rhysand put a swift and slender hand up to silence his friends. Even though Amren, who usually disliked orders even as a 3rd in command, huffed, before silencing herself and playing nice. When this happened, Mor simply gestured to the seats, and everyone sat. Feyre and Rhys on the main couch, Azriel leaning onto a cabinet, Mor and Amren draped over one armchair each. The soft leather dug into Feyre's now uncovered fingertips.
"Well," Mor began, casting a concerned look to her cousin. "What happened?"
So Rhysand explained. Everyone was still and attentive while he talked, and when he finished, several pairs of wide eyes landed on both Feyre and him. Feyre felt uncomfortable, however because one, she did not particularly enjoy all eyes on her and two, Lucien.
Lucien had looked so far in disbelief when he had seen her. But she knew better than that. It was fake. All fake. The despair, the shock, the misery... all of it was fake. Tamlin had been a tool, much more a useless one. He had kept her to rot in the manor. The place where she'd throw her guts up at night, the place where she felt like she didn't belong, the place where she'd been cooped up with Ianthe, a treacherous snake who sold her sisters out to the King of Hybern... she couldn't possibly even dream of ever wanting to go back, much less trust anyone there.
It was Amren who broke the silence this time. "So what do we do now?"
Rhysand shrugged, then turned to Azriel. "We need Illyrian warriors stationed at the wards near the Winter Court," he said, pausing to ensure that Azriel was taking note. "We should also make sure we receive the Winter Court's soldiers soon. Have a few people meet them at the borders of the Night Court. They will winnow here."
Feyre turned to Rhys in disbelief. "They can winnow?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Well," Rhysand conceded. "Most people from the Winter Court can't. But the High Lady has extraordinary powers, thus she can winnow. She can also winnow others, meaning less work for her."
Feyre drank the information in, then placed her hands neatly in her lap. "Very well."
"Very well?!" Mor almost shrieked, face still twisted with incredulity. "Members of the Spring Court attacked you and you say very well?" She turned to her cousin, eyes glittering with rage.
"Tell me you're gonna do something about it." Mor looked like she was pleading. Mor hardly ever begged for anyone. It must've clearly gotten to her.
Rhysand put a thin hand to his clean-shaven chin in thought, his violet eyes almost lidded away from sight. Then, he glanced back up, eyes filled with nothing but their violet irises, their pupils and their whites. No emotions portrayed at all. "I can't."
"What?" Mor seethed, raising an eyebrow herself now, face twisted in anger.
"I said," Rhys replied patiently, his voice barely above a murmur. "I can't do anything about it-"
"Pray tell why," Mor snapped back, crossing her arms over her chest, her voice having raised an octave.
"So far," Rhys retorted calmly. "You interrupted me. Yes, she's the High Lady of the Night Court, but if they haven't actually attacked her on our premises, I can't do anything. I leave the High Lady of the Winter Court in charge of that."
Mor huffed irritatedly, blowing a single golden strand out of her face that escaped her messy ponytail. Then, Rhys turned to Feyre, eyes softening considerably.
"However," he spoke quietly. "Should they do something like that again, they won't walk out alive."
Feyre nodded, putting a hand on Rhys'. This, she thought, felt like home.
The Winter Court
Aelienora sashayed back into the throne room, ignoring the looks passing guards gave her. She was livid that members of the Spring Court had even dared to enter the Winter Court without her consent. It made her cold rage fizzle at the thought that they might do it again.
When she burst through the ice doors, all guards stood up a bit straighter, but she refused to acknowledge that now. She was angry, she was a freezing spitfire, she wouldn't let her court be treated like this. She stalked to the dais, where her royal advisor, Oriana, stood expectantly, awaiting her. Oriana wore a rather simple dress; an elegant, grey chiffon dress with a crystallised snowflake belt. Her hair was hazel-brown, a colour Aelienora had always liked, and it was currently pinned up with simple pins of snowflakes. She stood before her, before Oriana gave a small, but respectful, curtsy.
"Hello, madam," her blooming voice softly spoke. One thing that was different between her and Oriana was that Oriana was already a grown Fae; she wasn't. "I take business with the Night Court went as planned?"
Aelienora composed herself, before fixing her scowl into a neutral expression. "It did and it did not," she simply stated.
"Oh? What happened, my Lady?" Oriana asked, gently guiding Aelionora to the large, well-structured throne.
"Business went well," she replied. "However there were unwanted visitors."
"Nymph scouts?" Oriana asked, the worry clear in her voice.
"No," she said, giving her advisor an assuring look. "Members of the Spring Court." She settled her hands into her lap, coldly glancing ahead.
"What?" Oriana's voice was incredulous. She also sounded rather disgusted. "What are those filths doing in the Winter Court?"
Aelienora discussed with herself whether she should tell. Oriana was her royal advisor, yes, but should she really go around telling people about the incident? If word goes out, the citizens will begin worrying and being anxious, and when an alliance was to be with the Night Court, she did not want to stress about calming others around her while she sorts through the treaties and papers. She better hope that Oriana wouldn't tell, then.
"They wanted the girl," she replied absentmindedly, stroking the silk-and-leather skirt. "Feyre." She emphasised the syllables in the girl's name, Fay-ruh.
Oriana stepped back to check the young Fae's expression. When she realised her High Lady was not joking, her eyes widened, putting her large, green irises on display. However, the woman composed herself, taking a small breath.
"A feud with the Spring Court would not be fitting," she commented, hands now laced behind her curvy back. "Did you kill them?"
"I have no need to start a war with the Spring Court," Aelienora replied coolly, staring at the intricate pattern on the high doors leading out. "So I did not kill them."
She heard her advisor breathe a small sigh of relief.
"However," she countered, sparing a small glance towards her direction. "I did promise them pain should they dare return upon our lands."
Oriana nodded patiently. "Very well, my Lady."
So they stayed silent for a while, Oriana taking her position near the throne, Aelienora rigidly sitting on said throne, awaiting any news from the Night Court for arrangements. Everyone knew the Night Court worked quickly, so they expected it to be true. Suddenly, Aelienora began to wonder the outcomes of this alliance. Strong fighters. A good peace treaty and defending hand during war. A possible alliance with one of the most powerful High Lords in history-
Her thoughts were interrupted when the doors flung open, one of her messengers shuffling in. He stopped just at the edge of the dais, giving a deep bow, before he stood. He seemed to be out of breath, like he'd been running, and his thick hood was slightly ruffled. The messenger puffed a few times, before glancing up at the High Lady sitting in front of him.
"Tell me, messenger," Aelienora drawled, thick lashes flattering as she blinked. "What news do you bring to me?"
The messenger seemed to wince, then stood ramrod straight. "The High Lord of the Spring Court requests a meeting with you. Soon. In an hour, actually."
Aelienora's eyes narrowed by a fraction, however her piercing eyes still strongly visible. Irritation laced her voice. "Why was I not informed of this sooner?"
"I have just returned from the borders of the Autumn Court, my Lady," the messenger wheezed, holding a grubby hand to his chest. "A messenger from the Spring Court had intercepted me along the way."
The High Lady closed her eyes, trying not to pierce the messenger's heart here and now. She did not need any blood on the floors now, nor did she want an elder to pass. He was to train the young ones. She gave a deep, tired sigh, before opening her eyes again.
"Very well," she said, her voice emotionless. "He shall have his meeting. Did he specify where it would be held?"
The messenger lowered his hand, along with his furry hood. "He requests of you to enter the premises of the Spring Court within an hour. He also said," he added cautiously. "That he feels you know what this meeting may be about."
Aelienora stood abruptly from her seat, making the chubby messenger flinch violently. "Yes," she said. "That I do."
She glanced down at the whimpering messenger in front of her lean, but toned physique.
"Let him know that he better be prepared."
Ok, so that's chapter 2! Sorry it's a bit shorter, I was low on time!
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