Feyre gasps in horror and everyone else gapes. Elain flashes her teeth at Rhys, who simply blinks and rubs his face, loosing a sigh. Then his lips twitch with the makings of a grin.

"Elain, you're really coming into your gumption, aren't you? What have I done this time? Oh, wait, is it something I said to the fireling? Are we playing the protective mate now?"

Feyre storms over and Elain puts a hand up to her face. "You don't say a word. This is about you too. For you. So sit down and listen, little sister", she seethes.

She is speechless as she does as she's told, not wanting to test the tone in Elain's voice. She has never once seen her like this. Never once truly saw her angry.

Turning back to Rhys, she glares at him, a feral gleam in them. "YOU. You...have you ever told any of them what you did to my sister? Do they know, Rhys? Do they!?"

His face goes a ghastly white and suddenly he's stuttering on his words. "Wh-What? What is this—I..."

"So they don't know, then. Want me to tell them your dirty, disgusting little secrets, or shall I? Why my sister didn't tell them who you are is beyond my understanding, because if I had a mate as vile and as horrid as you, I would not still protect him, especially if it was me he had hurt, humiliated, and degraded for months on end."

"Elain! Stop this. It's not...it's long done with. I've forgiven him", Feyre interrupts, getting to her feet again.

"Oh no. It's not done, Feyre. And the fact that you don't see how fucking blind you have been astounds me. The same sister who took no shit from Tamlin, letting her mate do worse. Astounding. Mind-blowing. Groundbreaking."

"Don't you dare compare h—"

"Stop it!", Elain shouts at her, gently grabbing her forearms. "Stop it, stop it, stop it! There was no and is no excuse, Feyre! He was the only one with any power, and he chose to use it to hurt you instead of help you."

Feyre's eyes fill with tears and she chokes up. "He did help me."

"In ways that helped himself too. And never past that."

"Elain. It's done."

"Is it? What else has he done since you've been here?"

Nesta's eyebrows are up and she is gaping, a proud look of vindication on her face. "Tell us, Elain. Tell us Rhys's dirty secrets. He certainly had no qualms about airing out my personal business. I think it's time we all know that Mr. High Lord is not the perfect male our dear sis wants us to think he is. I'd like a reason to slap him too. Gods know I deserve it."

Cassian clenches his jaw and slips his fingers between Nesta's in an act of solidarity. Rhys swallows hard as he notes it.

Azriel's shadows swirl around and he looks disappointed as he wraps an arm around Gwyn, who looks nervously between all of them. "Rhys...what did you do? Does this have to do with all those outbursts when you first got back from Under the Mountain?

Feyre looks at her mate a helpless look of sadness on her face. Rhys goes over and takes her tattooed hand, kissing it.

"I made many, many terrible mistakes Under the Mountain. Feyre has forgiven me. She knew that I had to—"

Elain scoffs and shakes her head, her anger reaching the tipping point. "You asshole. You can't just admit you were a disgusting pig! 'mistakes'? 'had to'? Those are excuses because there is no reason, Rhysand. None! You had the power to choose other ways and you didn't! If you aren't going to tell them, I'll show them."

"Like Lucien showed you?", he growls, stalking towards her. Elain pushes his chest hard, and he staggers back just slightly.

"You won't touch him. That is your warning. I am very much a protective mate. But you would have no idea what real protection of a mate is if it fucking hit you right in the face. You're proving that clear as day right now. I will not be intimidated by you like the rest of your so-called family that you clearly keep in the dark and lie to constantly. I don't care if you try to secretly break me the way you did to Feyre, and to Nesta. I will not be broken like you, because I will not be forced to worship you. You would have to steal my mind to make me. And you've done that enough to Feyre."

Rhys's expression is deadly now, the room temperature frigid and darkness swirling around his body.

Nesta grins brighter than anyone had ever witnessed as she beholds her younger sister and her newfound voice and will.

Elain glows brightly with a whitish gold light, emanating with her own anger, a sharp contrast to Rhysand's magic. She glances down at her glowing aura but brushes it off, facing him again.

"I'll as you again, Rhys. Are you going to tell them all the disgusting things you did to my sister out of greed and want, or shall I show them?"

"It's not their business, and you can't show them. You can't control your powers yet."

"It is their business, since, as you put it, she is their High Lady. Especially because they had been ricked by you to keep the truth about my nephew's birth from her, I highly doubt they would want you to continue to lie to them about what truly went down Under the Mountain and before that", she spits the words at him.

Cassian and Azriel go rigid and look at Rhys. Cassian breaks away from Nesta and crosses his arms, his red siphons gleaming with his restrained power. Azriel's are hardly better, his shadows, thicker and more active with his silent fumes.

Rhys sends a sappy look to Feyre, who bites her lip before addressing the Illyrians and their mates.

"I need you all to know that I've forgiven him. I can understand why he did what he did. I know things were dire there. I love him, and we are past it."

Cassian scoops Feyre into a hug. "I can't promise I won't break him into tiny pieces. And I hope you aren't blinded by the mate bond. I really hope that isn't the case, Fey."

Azriel goes up to her and bends on a knee, hanging his head. "We made a vow to protect you as our High Lady. That includes from Rhysand if need be."

Feyre gently pushes Cass away and pulls on Azriel's arm to stand again, her eyes shining with tears. "It...it was bad. But it's the past and we can't change it. Please remember that."

Cassian growls. "Not if he keeps doing it to others to Lord his power over us all. He's already a hypocrite for what he did to Nesta and I am already having a hard time moving past that."

"I agreed to that too."

"You expressed your concern, and we didn't listen. Because he always had the last word. He claims we are brothers, then pulls rank whenever it suits him to get what he wants, at the detriment of anyone else. Like with Nyx's birth. Elain is right."

Azriel's face drops and nods. "I am sorry for lying too, Feyre. I don't know why I was so easily convinced, other than the fact that yes, he is my brother in a way, and he convinced us that it was best for you. We all should have known better."

"It's not your fault, Az. I yelled at him for that."

Azriel inclines his head and sighs.

Rhys sits on the sofa next to Feyre, his face in his hands. "I am not proud of it. But I had to pretend, I had to play the long game."

Elain sneers. "Had to, had to. No. You didn't have to. You did not have to do any of that. That first time? You were alone, nobody watching. And the things you did Under the Mountain? That you made Nuala and Cerridwen do!? Did you ever think about how they felt either? The trauma they must carry for doing your horrifying bidding then? You held power over them just as you held power over Feyre. I saw Amarantha dismiss you both like you weren't important to pay attention to those nights. You forced Feyre to do those things for yourself, and yourself only. You got sick pleasure out of it. You did it to get to Tamlin. You used her as a pawn in your petty game of revenge. The 'mortal trash', you thought of her as. Like a plaything and nothing else. A token to get out of jail free. I wonder when you actually began to care, because you continued to torture her."

Cassian and Azriel's faces look stormy and tameless with rage, just hearing this.

"You wanted me to prove my power, Rhysand? Why? To prove I can be of use to you? I think I'll pass on being used as a weapon for you ever. But I will use my power as I see fit."

Amren comes out of her room and takes in the scene before her, an eyebrow raising. "What's going on here?"

Elain gives her a once-over. "I'm showing them what Rhys did while Under the Mountain. Care to see it? I have it under authority that he still listens to you."

Rhys curses under his breath, but murmurs to Feyre. "Thank fuck she's mortal now."

Amren grinds her teeth together, hearing the jab, and nods curtly, walking into the circle. "Sucks Mor had to go deal with things this morning."

Elain swallows. "That is another issue I have to speak with everyone about, but Lucien should be here for it."

"Okay. I'm going to try to hold my power and extend it to you all. I've never done more than one person...but...I'll try. Cassian, Azriel, hold my hands. Maybe I can siphon power from you so mine will hold if need be. We will all need to lean in and put all our heads together. Literally. Ready?"

They nod and do as she says. An explosion of white and gold light shines between all their bodies, covering their foreheads and turning the eyes white of anyone who kept their eyes open. They all watch the atrocities as Elain had, through Lucien's point of view.

When the playback is finished, half have tears streaming down their face, including a hormonal Nesta, and the other half looks like they want to strangle Rhys. Cassian is the first to react, grabbing him from his seat on the sofa. Azriel has an equally fatal look in his eye as he grabs his other arm, and they both haul him out the door.

.

.

.

Briar sighs as she puts away the last of the belongings that she brought with her, not that she has much anyway. Pulling back the pale green curtain, she smiles softly at the view of the rolling hills and gardens from her window. For just a moment, things seem so simple, so content.

She paces around slightly wondering if she should speak with the High Lord again. She knew he was going to be prickly, and rightly so, but she does wish to know him. If only to judge him for herself, though she has her qualms about labeling anyone fully bad. There has to be some good in this male, even if he does have a beast that lurks beneath the surface. She felt the pull towards him; that can't be a bad thing, can it?

Knowing about the history with Feyre, it's no wonder that he's so closed off and broken. He's trying though. He fixed his Court, he's...functioning even if he doesn't feel like he's truly living. Hopefully, that will change. Maybe she can help him as much as he had helped her.

She quickly brushes her hair and takes the long staircase back down to the parlor, but it's eerily quiet. Shrugging, she walks around, looking at all the pretty decorations and furniture.

New. New. Everything is so, so new she nearly doesn't want to sit on the chairs. A noise startles her from behind and she whirls around, the High Lord leaning against the doorframe nonchalantly, picking his nails.

"This place is more like a museum than a home. It's certainly not the home I'm used to. It was rebuilt after my—after it was destroyed."

"In the...um..."

"Insurrection? No. I was angry and well, my beast takes to anger like a moth to a flame. The result was me ravaging the home my father built and the one which held all the bad memories from my life. Unfortunately, I am not privy to change either, though."

Briar nods and wrings her hands shyly. "I'm sorry. It must feel very...empty."

Lonely. That's what she was going to say. Nothing like burning an open wound.

"Yes, well...", he seems like he struggles for the right words, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times.

She spares him the struggle and hopefully finishes his thought. "I know half of your Court was sadly depleted and the other half fled, only handfuls stayed. It must be hard to find new staff, I'd assume. This place must have been bustling with more people beforehand?"

"Yes", he replies drily, his throat bobbing.

"I heard from Lucien that he used to live here. I bet it's hard...missing him too. Sadly I never had any siblings, but I had a best friend. Her name was Lilly. And she—she didn't make it out of the Cauldron, none of my friends did. And I know that's not the same, but I know he's probably like a brother to you with how he talks about you and what you've been through together. I also heard from Lucien about all the friends you both lost during the whole curse, too. Loss and the change that comes after it...it sucks. Survivor's guilt sucks", she says softly, looking down at her hands.

Tamlin nods slowly, standing and shifting on his feet awkwardly. "Yes", he replies again, simply. Briar looks up and sees the raging guilt in his green eyes. It makes her heart pang with sadness.

"I need to clear up something."

Tamlin sighs and meets her eyes, his hands flexing by his sides like it's a stress tick.

"What I said...at the ball."

He looks away and growls a bit, turning to walk out but she reaches forward and grabs his forearm carefully, a blush coming to her cheeks when she realizes his shirtsleeves are rolled to his elbows and there is pure, corded muscle under her fingers.

Holy shit he's muscular.

Turning back to her he sends her a warning glare that sends a shudder down her spine, yet she holds firm.

"You need to hear this. I did not mean it the way that you heard it. When I said 'oh no', I was in shock. I didn't know what a mate bond felt like, it was only just described to me. I didn't feel like I deserved one, certainly not so soon. It had nothing to do with you, High—Tamlin. I promise. I'm not a liar. I was just stunned. I still carry so much guilt inside of me for my friends, and being changed fae and everything I went through with Hybern still affects me, even a year and a half later. But this...this thread between us. I know that it's unbreakable and it's not going away. But regardless of the bond, that isn't why I want to get to know you. I was quite interested in garnering my own opinion of you long before I saw you again at the coronation ball."

Tamlin looks her over silently and relents, letting out a soft huff. "You probably think I'm a too-sensitive prick, then."

"I think...that you've been through so much hurt that your immediate reaction is to lash out at any sign of pain or rejection. I think you don't like being really seen. I think it scares you to let anyone that close. I know that because I was the same way, am the same way again sometimes."

His throat bobs again and he wrenches his arm away from her touch. "Lunch will be served shortly. There is a library upstairs if you are interested, and you are free to roam the grounds. Just don't go near the border. Residual monsters you don't want to come across. I need to go make sure they're secure."

Without looking back he strides out the door, his long blonde hair flowing after him from the gust of air that enters when he opens it.

"Right. Okay", she replies to herself. "This will take work. That's okay. Maybe he will be more open when the festival happens. Plenty of time. Two weeks is plenty."

.

.

.

Mor paces the hallway, sniffling and wiping her face, never feeling more hollow in her life. As many times as she had prayed there was some way to slice the mating bond, and how many times she had wished Eris would die, she hadn't realized how bitter she was, or some of the truths that he had kept hidden from her. How influenced she had gotten in the last five-hundred years y her family, believing the first lie they cooked up and kept to.

"Lucien!? Lucien!?", she shouts, looking for him down a few hallways, before heading back.

"Dammit, where are you..."

Knocking on the door to the male's restroom she heard a slow shuffle before Lucien comes staggering out a bit, looking sickly and pale still.

"There you are."

"What do you want, Morrigan?", he snaps.

"There's something you need to know. Eris was probably going to tell you himself but...he clearly didn't get the chance."

"Oh, I don't know. He isn't in the habit of telling me anything I need to know, ever", he growls angrily.

Mor rubs her neck as if it pains her slightly. "Look, there's no way to soften the blow of this, and I know it's just, a fucking lot. But you have a niece. Eris has a daughter. It's someone you know of."

Lucien goes rigid and he looks at her, stunned. "What?"

"He had a daughter. Twenty-eight years ago. Well...twins, but one is dead. Um...it's Gwyn. Nesta's friend. She found out on the night of the coronation ball. I don't think you've seen Eris since. I know you and Elain went to your apartment that night."

"You're not joking."

"No. But she should know. She's blood too. She wanted to know him. It may crush her, she's lost the entire rest of her family too."

"Not the entirety", he mutters, looking at his hands. "If Eris is her father...that makes me blood too. Her uncle. Fuck, I'm old enough to be an uncle. Cauldron fucking boil me", he groans, rubbing his face.

Mor can't help but crack a smile at that before it fades. "You stay...Nuan is trying to find a way to see if they can save him. She's the alchemist...but if not...you should stay with your brother. He's mostly cleaned up."

Lucien swallows hard and shakes his head. "I-I don't know why all of this happens to me."

Mor squeezes his shoulder. "Things can't be bad forever. At least you have Elain, right?"

He lets out a breath. "Yes. Yes, I do. Thank gods."

"I'll get Gwyn." Mor winnows out and Lucien swallows hard, heading back to the room, trying to keep his sick. reflex down.

Pushing through the doors he can't help but still be stunned as his eldest brother lies on the slab. He is unmistakenly gone. The white of his is skin paler than anything Lucien has ever seen, his eyes finally closed, lashes all over his body, but he is no longer soaked in blood.

He can't help but walk over to the corpse, hands shaking as he hesitantly grips a hand. The same hand that taught him how to fish, the same hand that pulled him out of quicksand as a child, the same hand that shielded him from Beron many times, the same hand that enjoys petting the dogs, the same hand that sent Tamlin word to save him from certain death by the other cretins.

Eris's long hair lays above him, the majority of it caked in dried blood. Nuan walks over with tears in her eyes. "I may have a solution...but it takes a lot of magic and—and it would be messing with the natural order of things, it could have repercussions. It's called a soul keeper. It's a magic box that traps a soul until a body is reanimated. But it's only found in...in the Court of Nightmares. The Night Court. It's said to be the fourth object of the Dead Trove. How we would ever find it, I don't know. But if we can, we could trap Eris's soul in it, pulling it back from the Mother, then perform suspended animation on his body. Resurrect the body with magic and drugs that will force his heart to beat."

"The Dead Trove? Nobody wields that and lives, aside from...Nesta Archeron. And I doubt she will want to resurrect Eris. Maybe if I plead...he is the only fucking chance the Autumn Court had, Nuan", Lucien snaps, then sighs, rubbing his face with his free hand. "I—I have to talk to him. I have to-to tell him...to discuss things with him...I—"

Nuan hugs him tightly and Lucien sniffles, hugging her back. "I'm sorry, I'm never like this."

"He's your brother. He cared about you, even if he had to pretend he didn't to keep you safe."

"Even you knew about that!?"

"Just recently, when we started um...meeting up sometimes."

"Right", he mumbles.

Nuan bites her lip and grabs some shears.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"I have to cut the blood out of his hair."

"What? No, you can't. If there is anything Eris prized about himself it was that."

"Luc..."

Lucien looks down. "I know, he's gone and it doesn't matter anymore. But he'd hate to be seen like this. He would despise this. After all these centuries of pretending, of trying to be tough...to have an end this humiliating and this degrading. Battered, weak. I know we hardly got along and there were times I wished that—I wished many bad things on my brother because I never knew the truth. And it sucks that I never got to fight him for it. But he-he wouldn't want to be seen like this. And especially not with his hair chopped. He may have been a good person at heart, but he was still a bit vain in that regard", Lucien scoffs through a choked sob.

"I know he wouldn't", he whispers and squeezes his arm gently. "But I have to. If anyone, it should be me. I might be the reason that he—"

"Don't. Nu, don't do that. There are a million and one reasons Beron would kill for. You cannot know or think that it was because of you. It'll eat you alive. You can't."

She sniffles and tears fall down her face. "Maybe not. But I should be the one to do this. I was falling for him. Hard. I did fall for him. Maybe too quickly. I hadn't helped clean his lashes, so I must do this."

Lucien's throat knots up with emotion as he steps back, placing Eris's hand back on the surface of the table.

Nuan sniffs and more tears fall as she goes to work, using the shears to cut the blood from his hair, chunk after chunk. Lucien doesn't know why this particular thing affects him so much, but he can't help the sparks of pain that hit his heart as he watches. Eris would never have ever chopped his hair unless it was to save his own life; if Beron had somehow tied it to something so tight he couldn't escape. Something similar to what Beron had done to him as a young adolescent, around thirteen. A punishment for being 'too wild' because he was practicing magic; the youngest wasn't supposed to be very strong. Yet, it had been Eris who found him in the stables, hair knotted into one of the trough posts. Beron had told him that if he wanted to be a wild animal, he could live like one. Instead of chopping his hair off, Eris had spent nearly five hours with him, kneeling in the dirtied hay, getting the knees of his pristine breeches muddied as he slowly detangled the strands from the rough rope.

Something Lucien hasn't thought about since. Though he remembers the should of his brother that night when Beron had punished him for the tarnished clothing, yelling about how a High Lord's heir doesn't get dirty with the animals.

Lucien shakes his head and feels the trickle of tears running down his face. How has he been so blind? So stupid? So naïve? To think that Eris had ever truly turned into Beron's minion. He was just trying to survive. To live.

"You got out, Lucien."

"I got out", he murmurs to himself, looking down, wrought with guilt.

Suddenly he hears loud crying from down the hallway and a moment later the doors burst open to a young priestess; red hair, freckles, a slightly pointed chin, a smaller nose, and full lips. So many similarities that Lucien wondered how he hadn't seen it before. Granted, he has only ever seen Gwyneth in passing, and never had a full conversation with her.

Gwyn rushes over sobbing and grabs his hair. "No...please no", she grips Eris's hand in between hers and puts her forehead on it, crying hard. "Please, you're all I had left, please...", her lip trembles and she strokes her father's shortened hair, ears rushing down her cheeks. "You said we'd get to know each other. You said we could try", she chokes out.

Lucien steels himself and steps forward, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She startles slightly and looks over her shoulder, her brows pinching together in confusion.

"I'm Lucien. You probably know of me, I've seen you in passing."

"Gwyn sniffles and wipes her face with the sleeve of her robe. "The emissary."

"Yes...Lucien Vanserra. I-I'm Eris's brother. I—I suppose that makes me your uncle, Gwyneth."

Her eyes widen a bit and the rich teal sparkles slightly. "We're...related. You're my uncle?"

"It would appear so."

Her eyes well up with tears again and she nods. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. This isn't your fault. It's my father's only."

"He promised we could get to know each other. I saw that he wanted to. I should've..."

"Nothing. There is nothing you could have done. Believe me."

Nuan nods. "He's right. It seems the only person who could help doesn't exactly have anything to gain from it."

"Who?"

"Nesta Archeron. We had a long-shot plan that included the Dead Trove, but..."

Gwyn straightens. "I can get it."

"What?"

"I can get it. Nesta is my best friend. We are as close as sisters. I know she would do it for me. I'll beg her."

Lucien rubs the back of his neck. "Nesta lost most of her power though, who is to say it won't kill her? She's pregnant now."

"She didn't lose all of her power. The Dead Trove only answers to her, it won't kill her. I've done enough research in the library for a lifetime. Once it chooses a master, it never chooses another until they are dead. It won't kill their master. Tell me what we need."

"Well to be safe, I'd say all the pieces, however the fourth object..."

"The soul box", she gasps. "The one that was made as a twin to Koschei's, but it's made of bone instead of onyx stone. It's rumored to have been UnMade because it tampered with life and death; the very fabric of existence. But that means we need it all the more, even if it's simply a last resort." She nods and holds her chin high. "I'll get them. I'll talk to Nesta. Hopefully, we won't need to use the box as a last resort, as the Cauldron can bring people back from the dead with the original three. Nesta told me about Feyre and Nyx of course. But you need to give it something in return. A bargain, a trade."

Lucien's eyes darken. "Gwyn, what on Earth do you plan on bargaining to the Cauldron? If it's dangerous..."

"I'll figure it out. Please, trust me. He...he's my dad. I have to do this. It's just another test to push me out of my comfort zone. To see how far I'd go for people I love. I won't fail."

She presses a kiss to Eris's cheek and stands up. "Mor, take me back to the River House. Nesta is there. Please."

"Yes, ma'am", Mor smiles slightly grabbing Gwyn's hand and winnowing out again as Lucien stands there stunned, silently praying that whatever is about to happen will work.