Hello, friends! Sorry for not updating recently.
The usual disclaimer: I am not Sarah J Maas and I do not own any of the series or characters mentioned here.
Without further ado...
Rhys's plea for her to go was very unconvincing. Freye didn't move. Well, she certainly isn't going anywhere, so I might as well tell her.
"Freye darling… you have to understand. When I… you know about how I met Cassian and Azriel, right?" A nod. "Well, you have to - I mean - I - I had a brother. Not by blood but by soul. Almost as I am with Cass and Azriel, but more so. We met when we were barely a month old. Our mothers must have known each other. Anyway, he tried to strangle me upon our first meeting. As I recall, we were fighting over a cookie." Freye smiled at that. I did too, at the memory, but quickly sobered. This was hard. Silver hell, this was hard. Rhys hadn't spoken of these things for centuries. Only Mor knew. He couldn't go back now though. If he ended the story before the story ended, Freye would hound him until he gave. Rhysand hung his head in his hands once again and continued talking, trying to remember to breathe around the tightening now in his chest.
"I don't know how, or why, but we grew up together. He was always the fighter, and I was the thinker. He charmed the ladies, and I sent them fleeing. Yes, Freye. I once was a gangly awkward immortal. Well, I'm still immortal, but…" He was rambling. Hell, Rhys, get yourself together. "Sorry. Anyway, we were the same age, but my brother was in every way, older. He stood up for me, fought for me, charmed girls - not for me - and protected me. Then, one day in early August, he left to go to a distant land. I had lost my brother. After a few hundred years, I thought him dead.
"That is, until this morning, when I received a letter from him, asking me to come to his - and his new Queens' - aid. But- Freye, I'm not going to go, with the the last war still coming to a close, and with the child, and you, and Velaris, and -" Rhys put his head in his hands. This was all too much, too soon. He took a deep breath. "I'm not going. I can't. Freye darling, I'm sorry I haven't told you about him sooner. I know it has been a long time, but I - I still miss him, Freye. And nobody - well, until now - nobody knew about him. You must think me weak." Rhys trailed off, uncertainly worming its way through him. He didn't know why he was acting like this around Freye. Freye, his mate.
His mate.
His wonderful mate, who did nothing but sit there with him, a compassionate hand rubbing gentle circles on his back. His wonderful mate, who did not judge his weakness for his brother. Did not ask to see the letter that was burned to a crisp anyway. His darling Freye, who only asked one question: "Rhys… your brother. What was - what is - his name?" Rhysand didn't fail to catch the slip.
"Fenrys. His name is Fenrys Moonbeam."
And off we go... Fenrys POV, coming up!