A Dark Heart - Rhysand's Sister Fanfic AU

T E N

before

🌌

"Ever has it been that love 

knows not its own depth 

until the hour of separation."

—Khalil Gibran

🌌

-rhysand

He didn't need to use words to describe how he felt, he knew he looked the part enough. Besides, what words could describe the crushing heartbreak and raging anger that burned his blood? What could dutifully capture how intimately he wanted to carve Tamlin, only to flip and worship his mate with the same intimacy? What could possibly explain everything that was but was not? So, no, there was no need for him to use words.

Rhysand knew he was bad, and with his court constantly hurrying around him, always keeping an eye on him told him enough about his mental state of mind. So, in turn, he busied himself, snooping around and doing everything he could to not think about his mate, his wife, his High Lady.

"Damn it all!" He cursed. He knew he was doing it again, thinking about that woman. Rhysand saw her everywhere and simply couldn't focus a moment without her invading his mind, and although he didn't mind, it made everything harder. He felt his iron will begin to dissolve if it was ever that strong, to begin with.

He knew his brothers could see right through him. Whenever he sparred with Cassian or carried out assignments on Azriel's behalf, they both with give him that look that was halfway between worry and disappointment. He knew they didn't like the thought of Feyre on her own, in a court that could butcher her on sight, and while he certainly didn't entertain the idea either, he knew Feyre would skin him alive if he pulled the "overprotective mate bullshit". However, Rhysand also knew that his brothers disliked what the situation was doing to him as well. They needed a strong High Lord, but right now, the mere mention of Feyre could send him weak.

But he still went around like things were fine and did his best to function as normal as possible. He would check in with Feyre from time to time, and while at the moment, she made him the happiest male alive, when her voice faded out over the expanse of Prythian, he wanted nothing more than to drown in wine. The looks from Mor were the worst. She looked like he had killed her best friend, and while Rhysand knew Feyre was precious in her eyes, he wished she just understood that this was hard on him too.

The issue with Rhysand was that he knew all these things but did nothing to change them, but what really could he do? He was the most powerful High Lord in history, yet he was as powerless as a human under a Fae hand.

He wasn't in the straightest mindset when Amren declared she was going to save Feyre on her own terms. He barked and ripped at her, but only because she threatened to crumble all the walls he'd worked so hard to put up. It took a lot of energy to go around acting like he was a fully functioning unit without Feyre. More than that, it set him off that in no matter what situation, he couldn't rescue, even if Amren didn't bring in someone foreign.

Amren claimed she'd only be gone for a day, and while Mor stayed behind to tend to everything else, Rhysand isolated himself, just thinking about what was to come. Even after he got his precious Feyre back, they still had to face war together and the danger of losing each other. The thought was enough to have him lurching. He could absolutely not go back to what he had felt when he lost Feyre Under the Mountain. If anything, if the time called for it, he'd offer up his own life if only to save the Cursebreaker's.