Nameless ( A Court of Mist and Fury and Throne of Glass Crossover)

Just a Girl

Feyre awoke when the bed shifted and she heard a muffled scream. She groaned, opening her eyes and lifting her head from the pillow. By the time they had adjusted the screaming had stopped and the bed was still. 

Celaena sat, among a pile of books, her head pressed into a pillow. Feyre rolled onto her elbows, "What's wrong." she asked her voice still hoarse. One eye closed.

Celaena pulled her face from the pillow, wide eyed and mouth open, "He's dead."

Feyre shot up in the bed, "What? Who?" she questioned looking around the room. Her heart pounding.

"Sirius." said a muffled voice, she turned back to Celaena whose face had once again found the pillow.

"Who?" Feyre hesitantly asked.

Celaena grappled beside her, finding an open book, she shoved it in Feyre's face.

"A book character?" she asked in a disbelieving tone, throwing the book back at Celaena. 

A muffled sound came from behind her as she tossed the covers back, standing from the bed. She gave an exasperated sigh and waltzed to the bathroom.

-

When she returned Celaena was sitting upright, staring distantly out the window. With the pillow now away, and the light filling the room, Feyre noticed the dark bags under her eyes, "Did you sleep?" she asked, her eyebrows scrunching together in a concerned expression. Celaena needed to rest if she was to recover. 

She glanced up, "No, I read all night" Celaena answered flatly. 

Feyre's lips pursed, "Then you should sleep now." 

"No." Celaena said softly, in a way that left no room for discussion, looking out the window again.

Still Feyre tried, "Why?"

And just like that Celaena closed off, and all the progress Feyre thought they had made vanished. And she remembered that they were strangers that had only met a few days ago. And Feyre began to doubt if telling her about Rhys had been a good idea, she had been caught up in the moment, she had felt so alone, so she had let it spill. Luckily she had still been sane enough to not mention any specific locations or happenings of the Night Court.

As Feyre looked back on the events of last night she felt so disappointed in herself, she should be able to handle those situations herself, she shouldn't have needed Celaena to come to her rescue. She was the High Lady of the Night Court for cauldron's sake, she was a master of lies and deceit. Speaking of the Night Court, Feyre should be telling Rhysand what was happening here, but she didn't want to worry him. So instead she just gave a pull on the bound that said, 'Everything is fine here, I love you.' A few moments later an answering pulse came through, 'I love you too, remember, one word and you're back here, safe.' Now days, every time they communicated, Rhys was reminding her that she could leave at any moment, but even though it was tempting, she was going to take the Spring Court down, from the inside out. For what they had done to Rhys, for what they had done to her sisters, for what they had done to the whole Court, for what they had done to her.  

"Breakfast will be in a little, come down if you wish." Feyre said with a new resolve, "And if you need anything you know where my room is."

Celaena nodded solemnly, not looking at Feyre, mumbling a 'thank you' under her breath.

She smiled grimly at the back of her head, not quite sure what to do about her, before turning and leaving the room.

- 

Aelin listened until Feyre's footsteps faded. Yes, she was tired, but she would do anything to delay what sleep would bring her. She stood from the bed stretching her scrawny limbs which she frowned at. She would need to build muscle mass. 

Aelin skipped to the bath, humming to keep her mind occupied, trying to think of ways that Sirius could still be alive. It was exhausting doing all this, just to keep her from the thoughts that every patch of skin now reminded her of. She unraveled the bandages, bathing quickly. When she had emerged no servants had come to reapply the ointment and wrap her up again. So Aelin did so herself, only bandaging what was absolutely necessary, her arms and legs, a thick bandage around her midsection.

She dressed herself in the simplest thing she could find, a black formless dress with short sleeves, it hung just above her knee, where she proudly showcased her bandages and multiple uncovered healing scars. Pared with black boots. Aelin had wanted to wear pants but it appeared the ones she had worn last night where the only ones in her wardrobe. 

Aelin sauntered down the stairs, leisurely observing the paintings that adorned the walls. When she opened the door, mimicking the grand entrance of yesterday, the others were already sitting. Tamlin, Lucien, Feyre, and the new addition of Ianthe. Tamlin gave her a dark look, no doubt remembering how she cock blocked him last night. Aelin gave him a satisfied smile, happy when he bared his teeth at her. Feyre gave her a small smile that contrasted Ianthe's wide grin, when she slid into a chair. 

Ianthe's bright voice cut through the icy tension in the room, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to join you yesterday, I had business to addend to."

She took some bread even though Aelin hadn't come down to eat. She nibbled on it, letting them chat, she was in no rush. When she had bored of their politics, she chirped in in the most good humored voice she could muster, "Is there a training room I could use?"

They all looked towards her, Tamlin's eyebrows scrunched together like she had said something wrong. Ianthe gave a deeply offended sigh. There was a moment of silence,where Feyre's and Lucien's eyes darted between Tamlin and her.

He was giving her a look, like Tamlin was waiting for her to realize something and take it back. Aelin, who was legitimately confused, asked "What?"

Tamlin opened is mouth, saying in an authoritative voice, "You're a human girl-"

"What he means," Ianthe cut in, "is that you are safe here, with us. Why would you need to.. train?"

Aelin was nearly speechless. She had never in her life been told not to train, she had always been expected to. Always the assassin who had some dirty dead to get done. "Well I'm not going to stay here forever."

Tamlin's deep voice boomed in, silencing Ianthe with a sharp glance, "When you return to your land you will marry, have children, and die. Why would you need to train? You are a girl, there is no need for you to fight."

Aelin laughed. First it was one of disbelief, who could be this ignorant? She had dealt with her fair share of sexism, but they had always knew who she was, what she could do. The laugh soon turned dark and mocking. She didn't know what to say, too much rage and disbelief rushing to her head to think of a coherent retort. 

"Just let me train," Aelin said darkly, god she wanted to burn him to ash. "I'm just a girl, right? What's the worst I could do?" Oh she could horrible things, she could burn him inside out, slowly. She could show the world what was under that skin, the flesh, muscle, bone. She could see if he even had a brain.

"No." He growled.

Fine. Asking his permission was just a courtesy. Still she clutched her steak knife, and Aelin could help herself when she stretched her arms out, knife still in hand, from flicking her wrist. Sending the knife flying, over Tamlin's head slicing a loose strand of that blond hair, before tearing into the painting's canvas behind him. Piercing the flower's bulb.

"Oops."