Hello there, and thanks for stopping by! Thank you to those that have followed, favorited, and reviewed - seriously made my day seeing those notifications! I'm so glad that you are all enjoying my writing, so send me requests if you want to see more. (My brain only has so many ideas left.)

Since I've last posted, ACOFAS has been released! Hooray! This series will be the emotional death of me (unless ToG/Kingdom of Ash does it first).

So, this chapter was supposed to be the request made by Fire Breathing Queen, but I must apologize. Cassian is a tricky character for me to get into his head, and right now (mentally and emotionally) I can't get him down to paper in the way I'd like to do the prompt justice. The next chapter WILL be that request, but the muse and life isn't working in my favor on this one.

But it's been months since I've posted. So, I wanted to give you all something to hold you over until then. This prompt started off quite short, and I was seriously putting off writing about this character since the beginning of this project. But then as I was reading something for uni last week, the thought struck me, and I just kept going. Hope you enjoy it!

Prompt: Kissing
Character: Rhysand

You hate the tears that fill your eyes and blur your vision as you turn on your heel. You just made a fool of yourself in front of the High Lord of the Night Court. There is no escaping it now. Except for maybe going to another court. Or hiding somewhere in the Illyrian Steppes.

Rhysand's hand grabs your wrist and whirls you around to face him. "I would strongly advise against both of those options."

You don't know if you had accidentally lowered your shields—the ones he told you that you had and just not known about it—or if he just knows you that well to figure out you were debating mentally. But you make sure that those shields are strong and fortified. He is not going to get in.

"I'll choose what I want. Let go of me."

You're shocked when his grip slackens completely and when you rip your hand from him, expecting some resistance. You stare at him, at that still partially outstretched hand… and walk away. The sense of overwhelming disappointment and reality hit you like an ash arrow. He's Rhysand, but he's a High Lord, and you're just a lowly tea seller in his territory, no one—

"Choose me."

You halt mid-step. There is no way you heard that right, but you fear turning around. You fear the expression Rhysand is wearing, for knowing his true feelings, because if what he just said… "What?" you ask in a whisper.

"Choose me," he repeats.

The fact that his voice sounds like he's in pain makes you turn to him. He rarely shows his emotions in his expression, and the fact that you can clearly see the devastation and sadness written on his face makes you speak. "I can't—"

He shakes his head, halting whatever excuse you were going to say, and assures you, "You can do anything you want."

"But I'm just…"

"Just what?"

How do you even begin to describe how you feel and why he makes you feel the way you do? That you no longer feel insignificant, but renewed? Special? You push those thoughts and feelings that threaten to tumble out of you and think rationally. He is a High Lord.

"I'm just someone who works in the Palace of Hoof and Leaf. No one—"

"You are not 'no one.' You're someone who's effectively stolen my heart."

"Rhysand, please," you plead, your voice breaking at his admission.

He closes the distance between you two in a few measured strides, and when he tentatively cups your face in his callused hands, your heart begins to break. Those violet eyes roam over your face as if trying to memorize you, as if this would be the last time he sees you, and something changes as he looks directly in your eyes. His thumbs caress your cheekbones.

"Coming back from Under the Mountain," he begins, his voice quiet and hoarse, "I couldn't stand to be in Velaris, in this beautiful and pure city I had protected. I was… I wasn't the same. I'm still not, and I won't be the male who left the city fifty years ago." You take hold of his wrists as he hesitates and looks away from you. To provide some form of comfort, reassurance, understanding—to show him that you see him, and you're not afraid. "When I went into your shop, to get away from everything and everyone, you gave me a cup of tea and closed your shop. You gave me the solace I needed it, when I was at my worst. After that, I found myself wanting something. I wanted to go out, see my people, and I felt something. I felt alive. So every week, I made sure I saw you and went into your shop. And you just saw me. You knew who I was, but treated me no more or less than a friend—as you treated everyone else. I didn't know then how much… how much I need and want to be with you."

When Rhysand looks at you again with unshed tears in those bright violet eyes, your restraint vanishes. You throw yourself into him, hugging that strong body as fiercely as you can. He releases a shuddering breath next to your ear as his arms securely wrap around you. You clench the fine material of his shirt in your hands and pull him closer, to which he easily readjusts and allows you to do. This incredible male cares for you in the same ways you do for him. Since that first time he walked into your tea shop, you hoped he would come back or that you would run into him in the streets of the vibrant city. Every time since that first encounter, his skin had become more golden tan, he walked with power and easiness in his stride, and the smile he would give you upon entering grew more and more genuine. He smells of citrus and the sea, and as you breathe him in, your head falls onto his shoulder. His hand slowly and gently strokes your unbound hair. You don't know how long you stand there for, but you want to remain there, perfectly still in this moment. You want this to be the norm—this easiness, this intimacy, him.

"What are you thinking?" Rhys asks you, his breath tickling your ear.

As you slightly remove yourself, your lips can't help but quirk up at his calmed face. "I want you to know how I feel, how I truly feel."

You slowly cup one cheek in your hand, keeping eye contact with him, making sure he knows what you are doing and making sure that he is okay with it. He steps closer to you, his head tilting in your palm as he nods—the confirmation you need. You go up on tip-toe and kiss him. You feel his body shudder before he pulls you in at the waist and lifts your feet off the ground as he kisses you back. Your hands shoot up into his luscious hair, and a groan comes from the back of his throat when you weave your fingers through it. His hands grip you as he places you back on the ground, and he kisses you harder, biting your bottom lip—

"Holy Cauldron!"

An unearthly snarl rips from Rhys as he pulls his mouth away. He turns on the female voice, and you place your hands on his shoulders as he blocks your path and sight to this new Fae.

"I'll come back another time," the female voice comments, her voice calm and teasing. You sneak a glance over Rhys's shoulder to see a stunning blonde female with her red lips curved into a smirk. Holy Cauldron.

"That would be wise," he says, cocking his head and his posture relaxing. She vanishes within an instant, and Rhys turns around to face you. He sighs in embarrassment, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He gives you a quick, sheepish smile that makes your heart flutter. "I'm sorry."

"Who was that?"

"My cousin."

His cousin! "Do you have a ridiculously attractive family?"

Rhys laughs at that, his face and mood seeming to lighten. "While Mor is quite attractive, and I certainly am, we're the only ones."

"I guess so. Especially when you're embarrassed."

"Oh really?" he questions, his voice like silk. It makes your toes curl in your shoes, and Rhys gives you a cruel, sensual smile. "I can think of a few ways I find you attractive."

"Do tell," you gasp out. But you gain your bravado for one more moment, and as Rhys opens his mouth, you place a finger to his lips. "Actually, I'd rather you show me."

You swear his eyes sparkle like starlight in response as he smiles against your finger.

A week or so later, the attack on Velaris makes you realize, on an even larger scale, how much Rhysand has protected and continues to protect this city. Your city. Thanks to him and your brothers, you know some defensive tactics and how to wield certain weapons. But that day… by the end of it, you don't know how to process what happened.

When the Palace of Hoof and Leaf was overtaken by those winged monsters, when a wave of night crashed over, you knew. You knew it was him. You shuddered in relief before you heard a horrible choking scream erupt from behind you. One of those vile winged creatures lay on the ground, mangled and lifeless on cobblestone at your feet when that wave of darkness moved on.

Stay where you are. I'm coming back for you.

Tears escaped when you heard that voice in your head. As you watched the darkness move on, you knew what he had to do. So, after making sure your family was safe and cleaning up as much as you could in the street and in your shop, you told your younger sister where you were going and headed off into the town.

As you knock on the door to the townhouse, the golden-haired female—his cousin who interrupted your first kiss with Rhys—opens it, looking weary and utterly exhausted. Recognition lights up her eyes though, and she ushers you in.

"It's not safe to be wandering the city yet," she reprimands you as she shuts the door.

"I wanted to make sure he was all right," you begin to explain. "I have some weapons on me if I needed them." You don't mention that they are small and probably, in the event, would not do much damage, but it's a sufficient answer. That's when you place your bag on a nearby table and start unpacking it. "But I think we all need a strong cup of tea."

The golden-haired female looks back-and-forth between the bags of loose tea and you in astonishment. She swallows and nods. "Tea would be great right now."

"Are the others in Rhys—I mean the High Lord's Inner Circle going to be coming?" Her sly, mischievous smirk at your slip up makes you look away. "That's five altogether?" You set Rhys's favorite, Earl Grey tea, aside first before looking at exactly what you quickly brought. She laughs, albeit hoarsely, but it shocks you. "I meant no disrespect—"

"You can call him what you want," she cuts you off, reining in her smirk. Not well, but even she, after all the destruction, is trying to be hospitable towards you. "On no account look at us for that. The Inner Circle I mean. We call him names far worse."

This familiarity and openness she has with you is remarkable, and it relaxes you when you recognize this. But this is his cousin. How do you approach your… well, what do you call your High Lord? What does he call you, to his friends and family? It's too late in the night to be worrying about that. Or too early in the morning, you suppose, technically.

"Do the Illyrians drink tea?" you ask, attempting to move away from the conversation at hand. "I just brought the first bags I could find."

"We will," a hoarse voice answers from behind. You wheel around to see Rhysand's two friends, the Illyrian warriors, coming through the door. Their chests are heaving, taking in as much of the air as they can. The Siphons are empty and dull in the early morning light.

The one with his hair pulled back into a half ponytail asks, "You're the tea seller?" You nod. "Do you have chamomile?" You look through your five bags, and sure enough, one is chamomile. You nod again. "That would be most appreciated." He nods at you before collapsing on the couch.

"If you have any kind of black tea, I'll take that," the golden-haired female says as she waves a hand. Five tea cups in their respective saucers appear on the small table in front of you.

You pull the bag of black tea closer to the chamomile and Earl Grey. "And what would you like?" you ask the other Illyrian who has not uttered a word. You are a bit startled to find him suddenly right next to you, his eyes looking over all of the teas. His eyes widen and the shadows that surround him flare as he takes the specialty oolong tea bag in his hands.

"It has been centuries since I had this," he breathes. His eyes meet yours, and his intense stare sends goosebumps up your arms like a chill wind. "Where did you get this?"

"My father has a connection on the continent, and when the High Lord returned from Under the Mountain, I was able to order it. This is the first shipment we've had since… she was here and killed." The three of them do not ask you who the 'she' is that you're referring to, for their eyes suddenly grow cold and distant. They know very well. To drive out those memories and thoughts, you continue, "I would be honored if you have the first cup, as a thank you for helping protect the city." The Illyrian bows his head in thanks or as confirmation, you're not sure, but you smile at him anyway before he sits down.

You set strainers in every cup and begin measuring the loose teas when a small female in shredded clothes trudges into the townhouse. She stares at you, molten silver eyes piercing through you, and you force yourself to meet her stare. This is Rhys's second, you realize, and you bow your head as respectfully and as deeply as you can, that presence radiating some other kind of magic from her. She cocks her head before giving you a small, cruel smile.

"The tea seller?" she asks.

"What gave it away?" you blurt and immediately regret saying it. You're tired though. You haven't slept in more than twenty-four hours. Bluntness, or stupidity, or both in this case could be excused.

But to your relief, she chuckles, albeit a bit breathlessly as she moves over to the couch where the silent Illyrian sits. "Thank the gods that at least you have a sense of humor." She collapses next to him, and to his alarm, almost instantly falls asleep on his shoulder.

"She won't drink tea," the golden-haired female says, shaking her head with a bemused smile.

"Right," you say before shaking your head and continuing to measure out leaves.

The golden-haired female comes in with two pots of steaming water shortly after, and you pour into each cup, leaving Rhys's for last. You're handing the cups to their respective owners when Rhys enters in a plume of darkness and wrath. He halts in the room when his eyes meet yours. Your chest tightens before releasing a breath, relief flooding you at his presence. An image flashes in your mind—one of your family looking at him with surprise in their eyes. His intensified worry and fear of not finding you with them taints the memory.

"I told you to stay where you were."

Oh, he is not happy.

"After all that happened today, after I saw what you were doing, you're surprised that I didn't just stay put?" you say before thinking. You put the cup of tea into his cousin's hands and take a step towards him, unintentionally placing your hands on your hips. Mercifully, it doesn't look like he has a scratch on him, but you still had worried. Had come here to make sure that he returned in one piece. "Why couldn't I come to you if I wanted to? I wanted to make sure you were safe, not trying to be the sole hero again."

He crosses the room in great strides as you talk, and when you finish, he is pulling you into an embrace. Wrapping your arms around him, you hold the High Lord as tightly as you can, especially when you feel that slight tremor from his body. The mix of sweat, metallic iron tang of blood, and citrus roll off of him, and he inhales deeply. You wonder what you smell like to him. Probably nothing appealing, considering just now, you realize you haven't showered.

Are you hurt?

You shake your head, and this makes Rhys relax even more. He turns and kisses the top of your head as he continues to embrace you. He moves out of the embrace after long moments, keeping one hand on your lower back, and stares at the cups of tea and his friends and family before meeting your gaze.

"I thought you would need it after tonight, and I wanted to show my thanks," you explain, quietly.

The others' eyes are flitting between you and Rhys—you can sense it anyway—but the High Lord's eyes unexpectedly shine with tears. He stares and stares at you with what you would call awe, and his voice is hoarse as he rubs your back. "Thank you."

It feels like long hours that the High Lord and his court discuss and debate what to do next, what precautions to take, how to spread the news of the event… it boggles your mind, and you do feel bad when you catch yourself slightly dozing off. Rhys sends a trickle of warmth through your bond when you meet his eyes. He knows you are tired, but his eyes and those thoughts he sends to you assure you. He is thankful you are there. When Rhys's Inner Circle finally disperses, you stand and start to clear the empty tea cups. However, before you can reach one, they are gone in a flash. You turn to Rhys who is staring at you intensely.

"Will you stay here?" he asks, quietly.

You give a half-shrug. "If you need… or want me to."

"Of course I want you to stay, but it's your choice." He holds out his hand. Without hesitation, you walk over and lace your fingers through his. He says, "I had Nuala send a note to your house a while ago, to let your family know you were safe with me."

"Thank you."

He guides you up the simple staircase and down the hallway to a tastefully decorated room. The moonlight is filtering in through the transparent curtains of the balcony. You halt inside the door itself, making Rhys turn around from what you presume is his door.

"Is something—?"

"No," you say, quickly. You swallow, rubbing your sweaty palms together. Why are you nervous now, with him? "Nothing's wrong."

"But?" His voice is gentle, and your heart breaks.

"I don't want to sleep by myself, not after today." His eyes shutter, and his expression drops in understanding. You quickly walk over to him. "I want to be near you, be with you. I don't want to pressure you though, and I don't want to do anything in bed. It's just—"

"I didn't want to pressure you," he says, cutting you off. He rubs your arms consolingly. "By sleeping in the same bed I mean. After today, I want you to be with me and know you're safe." Rhys tries to give you a smirk, but it appears strained. "We can do the fun activities of the bed another night."

"Whenever you're ready," you say so quietly you're not even sure you said it out loud. But Rhys's face changes, and his hands stop moving in the up-and-down motions. He takes your hands, leads you into the room, and gives you a pair of pajamas to change into before he begins to undress in the ensuite bathroom. When the two of you climb into the bed, his arms wrap around your front and pull you close. His lips trail soft kisses along your neck and shoulder, and you hold his hands, stroking your thumb across the back of his palms.

"You smell of cinnamon and clove, by the way. And I know it's not just from the tea."

You think about it for a moment and chuckle. That new shipment of chai tea you received yesterday now needs to be hidden from customers. "That matches well with your citrus scent."

When you sneak a glance behind you, he is gazing down at you, wonder and starlight sparkling in his eyes. When he kisses you, warmth and love trickles down the bond that he created with you. He holds onto you tightly the rest of the night as you fade into sleep.

Favorites, follows, and reviews are much appreciated! I already have planned several prompts, but if there is a prompt you want me to do with a character in mind or just an idea, let me know in a review!

Lots of love ~ mysterious victoria

Next prompt: Cassian breaking down, worrying if Rhys had died