Hello, friends! I'll make this quick. Sorry for the short chapter; they will get longer again soon. (I do know that every chapter is very short. Blame homework, not me). Sidenote here - this story was started at the end of 2018, and I haven't written any new material for this story since March 2019, so in the upcoming newer chapters the writing style will most likely be different.

Disclaimer: I'm not Sarah J Maas and I do not own any of the characters mentioned.

Without further ado, back to Rhys...

Rhysand collapsed into bed. Freye was downstairs, still in the kitchen, processing everything he had told her. It had been physically hard to force the words out of his mouth, but Rhys had told Freye - in stuttering stops and starts, true, but he had told her - everything about his childhood and the brother who had saved him in more ways than one. His darling mate had been nothing but comforting and patient, but he knew that inside, she was likely to be freaking out - he could sense her confusion and sorrow through the bond. Not anger, though. That was one thing that surprised Rhys; not once ounce of anger travelled though the bond, and he had seen none on her face when he had kissed her before leaving the room.

Rhys was glad he had told her, and yet it still felt as though it was a secret he would never get out. Well, you tell one you might as well tell them all. Sighing at the fact that, even though he knew what he should do, what he had to do, he didn't want to do it, Rhys went downstairs and gathered up Mor, Cassian and Azriel. He found Mor in her room. The dreamer had been looking especially gaunt recently, and as Rhys knocked on her door he made a mental note to check up with her - after he put things right and told her everything. Apparently, Rhys had not realised how late it was; Mor slept soundly, and Rhys was glad that she was not plagued by haunting nightmares as he so often was. Knowing that she kept a knife hidden under her pillow and would not hesitate to use it should she suspect she was under attack, Rhys chose to wake her by sending a wisp of dark wind to whisper against her neck. Mor stirred, emitting a girlish squeal.

"Mor."

"Mor, I need to tell you something. Wake up."

"Morrigan."

Sighing, Rhys turned back towards the stairs; although he had decided to finally tell his court about this part of his past, it was so ingrained into him to hide it that he felt relief settle in his chest. No secrets need be told, if Mor would not wake. At least, Rhys reminded himself, for now.

That's all I've got for Rhys. I'll post again on the 3rd (or something like that. I know that like 5 people read this and I'm not very constant when it comes to updating, so sorry about that.

Ta Ta For Now! (I'm sorry I just really love saying that.)