Disclaimer I don't own any part of Sarah J. Maas' books. I also do not own Seven Nation Army, that wonderful song belongs to The White Stripes.
A.N. So I got a little carried away with this one. Sorry. But there is more of the book characters in it, and some nice Feysand bits. So in this I intertwine song lyrics with the story. I've been playing with this for a while, but if you guys could do your thing and tell me if you like it in the comments that would be much appreciated.
A.A.N If you want to listen to the song just look it up on Youtube.
Never Again
I look fantastic tonight. We both look fantastic. Rhys is in a black suit with a navy button down and a gray tie. I'm in a black floor length gown that hugs my everything. Well, it's technically a 2 piece, but it counts as a gown.
We're attending a police fundraising gala that Rhys' entire firm has been invited too. We have previously agreed that my entire job tonight is to make him look good with his "hot young wife" because he's up for a promotion. We've only been married for five months, but Rhys has reassured me that no one will actually care how long we've been married because I look the way I do.
We took a cab into the city, and now we, a very stylish young couple, walk toward the entrance of the Edison ballroom. A man opens the door for us and we slip inside. After walking through the lobby and into the actual ballroom, our true fun begins.
The place is packed with people. Caterers balance trays of small appetizers and glasses of champagne. I take a deep breath. I absolutely hate these kinds of events.
Rhys' arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me into his side. I close my eyes and lean into him ever so slightly. He's here. He's with me. He hates this too. I open my eyes and turn my head so I can meet his eyes. His mouth is smiling, but his eyes dart around, looking for anyone who might sneak up behind him. He pulls me along the wall until we reach the corner of the room. We look out at the sea of people.
"We're fine. We can do this." I whisper at him. He nods but leans even closer to me.
"Just don't leave me." I smile and nod. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and swallows.
When his eyes open again they look a little clearer. He nods at me and I take him by the hand as start to pull him through the crowd. I know that this is harder than the mob events we sometimes have to appear at. At least there he can put up his mask, here there is nothing to protect him. Well, besides me.
We make it to the bar with only a few introductions and one stop so Rhys could talk shop. The bartender looks at me expectantly.
"Scotch neat, and a black Russian." He nods and steps away. Rhys looks at me quizzically. "What?" I question him.
"A black Russian?" His smirk is small, but I can see the laughter in his eyes.
"Yeah. I like them. You got a problem with it?" He shakes his head but still chuckles. The bartender places the drinks next to us and Rhys reaches into his blazer for his wallet.
"No sir, open bar." Rhys' smirk flashes to a grin before he grabs his scotch and downs it.
He clangs the glass on the bar. "Oh, this is gonna be a good night." I shake my head at him, my golden curls brushing against my shoulders. I pick up my glass and begin to sip at my drink.
Rhys reaches behind my head and fingers the clip that's holding my curls up. "Why did you bother to curl your hair if you were just going to put it up?"
"Because it looks nicer." He scoffs. I smack his chest with my free hand. "And don't question me. I'm your wife now."
"Yes, you are." Something I can't read passes his face as he wraps an arm around me and yanks me into his chest. I let out a little squeak and he presses a kiss into my temple. "You're my wife, Feyre Illyria." I smile at him.
"You just like saying that, don't you?" He grins down at me.
"Yes. I do. And I will never stop saying it." I chuckle at him.
That's when I see her. Out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head slightly to make sure I'm not crazy. No, I'm not. That's her. That's Ianthe. My grip tightens on my drink and I'm pretty sure that I stop breathing. Rhys shakes me a little but I don't move. I don't stop staring at the blond woman in the blue dress with a silver circlet on her head.
"What is it Fey?" Rhys has dropped his voice, picking up on the fact that something is wrong.
"That woman is here." His eyes widen and he mouths "where?" at me. I turn us as naturally as I can to angle him so he can see her. I don't like losing my view, but I feel that Rhys needs to see her. His swallow and tightening of his grip assures me that he has. His other arm joins his first around my waist and he pulls me so tight to his chest that it restricts movement. I struggle to keep the rest of my drink from spilling on him. Puzzlement covers my face as I look up at him. He doesn't meet my eyes though. Something in the same direction as Ianthe has his complete attention, and from the seething rage behind his eyes, I can tell that it's not good.
"What?" I grab his chin with my free hand and try to pull his face towards mine. I fail, he doesn't move.
"Tamlin." He growls. Instantly I chug the rest of my drink, abandon my glass, and wrap both of my arms around his neck. Rhys finally turns his head at that.
"Feyre, did you hear-" I cut him off with a kiss. He shifts a little, and before I can think he's hoisted me up and my feet are off the ground. Someone whistles. I feel Rhys smile against my mouth. More whistles and a few catcalls later we pull away. We're both laughing now. He still holds me so that my heels are inches off the ground. I smile at him and he grins back at me. I feel something inside me warm.
This is him. This is Rhysand Illyria. This is my husband, my equal partner. My mate for life. I never want to let him go.
"Put me down." I whisper loud enough for only him to hear. He sets me back on my feet but doesn't release his hold on me. I forget everything else, standing there beaming at him.
"A glass of Merlot and a vodka rocks please." Her high and tight voice hasn't changed. I watch Rhys' smile drip away and hatred fill his eyes.
"Oh! Well hello there my old friends!" Ianthe squeaks from behind me. I release Rhys' neck and turn around to face her. Rhys keeps both of his arms around me and pulls my back so tight to him that I can feel his abdominal muscles contracting beneath his shirt.
"Hello Ianthe. Long time no see." I reach out my right hand to shake hers. She takes one look at the tattoos that stretch from my fingers to my elbow and recoils from me. A grimace flashing across her face. I love those tattoos though, they match Rhys'. Yes, the actual purpose is to identify me as a mob wife, but I like that they signify our commitment to each other.
"Yes it has been a while." She looks me up and down, a judgmental look on her face. "I see that much has changed about you since then." I remain proud of myself that my smile has yet to falter.
"Oh, not to terribly much. But I'm sure that you don't recognize me without your preconceived and outdated ideas of femininity stuck to me like tar and feathers on a black man." My pleasant grin does not fade, and I say the words as sweetly as I can manage. Behind me Rhys lets out a slight chuckle, the bartender comments "Burn!", and Ianthe sucks in a breath like I punched her. She releases her breath and purses her lips.
"Well at least I have some class, unlike you." With that she picks up her drinks and walks away from us. Rhys lets me go and I step over to the bar. I flag down the bartender and he nods at me.
"Why is she here?" Rhys hisses the words. Another drink appears in front of both of us, and he downs it again.
"I don't know. I wish I did." I put my elbow on the counter and lean into my hand. Rhys puts his hand on my shoulder blades, not propriatal like the hold earlier, but as more of a way to let me know that he's there.
"Hey, let's not let her ruin our night." I nod, down my drink and let him pull me through the crowd.
As we weave our way through people I say hello to everyone I know. There are some of the fellow Mafia women, and a handful of gallery owners. I take a glass of champagne that is offered to me, but don't touch it. I know not to mix my alcohols. Anyway I'm a little buzzed off of my second drink, but not quiet tipsy to the point where everything blurs.
Rhys eventually pulls me onto the dancefloor. And I give him a confused look. No real music is playing, and no one else is on the floor.
He grabs my right hand with his left and places his right on the small of my back before I can protest. He pulls me close and tilts his head down to me ever so slightly. His eyes gleam. That's when the music starts.
I'm gonna fight 'em off
A seven nation army couldn't hold me back
They're gonna rip it off
Taking their time right behind my back
And I'm talkin' to myself at night
Because I can't forget
Back and forth through my mind
Behind a cigarette
I burst into laughter as Rhys tries his best to get me to dance with him. I'm laughing so hard that I can't breathe and little tears are leaking from my eyes. Rhys lets out the softest chuckle and starts pulling me around.
And the message comin' from my eyes says, "Leave it alone."
"Why are you laughing so hard?"
"It's just, I was kind of expecting something super cheesy."
"This is super cheesy." I've now stopped laughing and shoot him a look. "What? It is."
"It's Seven Nation Army babe, there is nothing cheesy about it."
"It's our song though."
"Yes. And it is our song because it is impossible for it to be cheesy."
Don't wanna hear about it
Every single one's got a story to tell
Everyone knows about it
From the Queen of England to the hounds of hell
And if I catch it comin' back my way
I'm gonna serve it to you
And that ain't what you want to hear
But that's what I'll do
Someone bumps into me and I turn slightly to avoid doing it again. Rhys and I are still grinning at each other and I don't want to ruin this moment with other people.
And the feeling coming from my bones says, "Find a home."
The dude bumps into me again. I feel my smile fade, and I motion at Rhys to move so this bozo won't bother us anymore. He pulls me back a few paces and I feel like we've lost the person. I'm still pissed though, what kind of idiot can't avoid one of the only other couples on the dance floor?
That's when Rhys shifts so his hands are on my waist. A small smile plays at my lips as I move my hands to his shoulders. That's when he hoists me up so my waist is even with his shoulders. I squeal with delight.
I'm going to Wichita
Far from this opera for evermore
I'm gonna work the straw
Make the sweat drip out of every pore
And I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding
Right before the lord
All the words are gonna bleed from me
And I will think no more
He puts me down and I'm grinning again. I start to lean in to kiss him but the person bumps me again. Only this doesn't feel like a bump, it's too forceful, to intentional. It feels like a shove, and it makes me knock my forehead against Rhys' chin. I pull away from Rhys to look at him. He's rubbing his jaw in pain but then he freezes. His lock on something behind my head and I see his jaw clench. I swallow, suddenly nervous. I know that look. That's his protective look. That's the look he gets whenever someone tries to hurt me. I try to turn around but Rhys' arms lock me in.
And the stains comin' from my blood tell me, "Go back home."
"Tamlin." The voice that comes from Rhys is so dark it sends shivers down my spine. But it's not Rhys that sends me into a full panic. Into hyperventilating and having to sit down right there on the floor, it's the smooth voice behind me.
"Rhysand."
A.N. Just here to say thanks for reading, and to remind you to drop a comment about what you think of my use of Seven Nation Army in the piece.