throne of glass & acotar crossover

02

it was the next day and aelin was utterly exhausted. she sat on the soft armchair with a blanket wrapped around her frail body, but she didn't feel the comfort.

her eyes stared vacantly into the fire.

"where am i?" she mumbled at last, still not tearing her gaze away from the flickering embers.

rhysand saw the tiny gleam of emotion in her eyes as she watched it - it was like her and the fire were familiar with each other. like they were friends.

but the warmth disappeared as she finally stared into his cool, glazed eyes. she was hollow. whatever she had even through had utterly disturbed her.

the high lord thought back to this morning when him and feyre had healed her.

"we'll have to take her shirt off" feyre mumbled, hands outstretched and glowing as they hovered over the girls neck. rhysand had previously healed the broken arm and the two cracked ribs.

he nodded in confirmation.

feyre pulled the top down from her shoulders, struggling, and then down her waist, leaving it lying around her lower stomach and legs.

even though she was naked from the waist up, they paid it no heed. that was not their biggest concern at the moment.

they just stared in horror at the cuts and scars all over her chest and stomach.

some scars were old, rhysand realised - the colour whitened with age. and some were relatively knew. the pink undertone still lined the marks as they healed but at least they wouldn't have to focus on those particular ones.

what they did focus on were the open wounds, deep and thick. blood fell from them swiftly and dropped onto the wooden floor boards. if they didn't heal them soon, then she may bleed out and die.

so feyre got to work, running her hands over her skin and stitching the cuts together with her magic.

the high lady's eyes crinkled with fatigue and she gritted her teeth together at the focus needed. but even though her energy was draining, she would not leave the girl to die.

so once her and rhsyand had finished on the front, they gently turned the girl over so that her back now faced towards the ceiling.

"shit" cassian mumbled, sorrow flickered in his eyes. mor simply put a hand over her mouth in horror and turned her head away from the sight.

shadows clouded over azriel'a face to hide his display of emotion.

and as rhys finally looked at what the others were so distraught at, his heart clenched in pain too.

'the poor girl' feyre whispered through the bond.

three of the biggest scars he had seen marred her skin. starting from the top of her shoulder (just under her neck) and flowing down to her lower back were thick, white lines that had tightened with time.

"whip marks" feyre said softly to no one in particular.

-