Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The High Priestess kept glancing at Feyre throughout the ceremony, staring with an intensity that made her uneasy. As soon as the candles were extinguished, she tried to slip away unseen but the Priestess caught up to her before she could exit the great hall.
“My High Lady,” she purred, clasping Feyre’s hands in hers. “It was an honor to finally meet you. We owe so much to you and the High Lord; we are eternally grateful.” The Priestess leaned in to hug her.
“You have sacrificed so much for your High Lord,” she whispered in Feyre’s ear. “Do not let him take any more of your memories.”
Before Feyre could ask what she meant, the Priestess disappeared into the crowd.
* * *
Feyre paced the room, her hands clenched into fists, the High Priestess’s words echoing in her head. She had replayed their conversation over the past few days, trying to understand its meaning. Had Rhysand stolen her memories? Had he tampered with them? She refused to believe he would commit such a violation. He was her mate; she trusted him with her life. Then again...he had been known to make important decisions without consulting her.
“Feyre” Elain said softly, interrupting her thoughts. “What do you want me to do? How can I help?”
Feyre wanted to talk to Rhysand, but if he had done something to her memories without her consent, then…she shook her head at the thought.
“Elain, can you…can you see if my memories have been altered? If you look for it, can you find what was changed and when?”
Elain furrowed her brow while she examined Feyre’s face as if trying to search her mind. Feyre held her breath. After a while Elain’s expression changed, her eyes suddenly wide with fear.
“I found one,” she said softly.
Feyre’s heart caught in her throat.
“Rhysand changed it right after you became High Fae. It’s-it's from Under the Mountain when you died.”
Feyre shuddered, remembering the crack of her neck. “Did I ask him to change it?”
“No.” Elain paused. “Tell me what you remember from that day.”
Feyre sighed and recounted the day of her death to her sister. How Amarantha refused to lift the curse, how she began breaking Feyre’s bones, how Rhysand had been the only one to try and save her, how Tamlin had done nothing but beg, how he hadn’t even crawled to her.
“No,” Elain said. “That’s not what happened.”
Feyre blinked.
“Tamlin did crawl to you, don’t you remember?”
Suddenly a new memory flashed in Feyre’s mind. This time Tamlin clutched the gaping wound in his chest as he crawled toward her. His power was still gripped by Amarantha and his wound was healing too slowly. He begged for Feyre’s life as his blood spilled onto the floor.
Both memories played in her mind side by side; the real one and the one altered by Rhys. She let out a gasp. She had always thought Tamlin hadn’t tried to help her and she’d resented him for it.
“Elain,” she asked, “are there others?”
“Yes,” Elain said through tears. “He changed some of these the first time you came to the Night Court and the rest after you left the Spring Court for good.”
“How...” Feyre swallowed, her mouth suddenly so dry.
“They should start to come through soon,” she said.
Suddenly Feyre cried out as all the altered memories came pouring into her mind, like a damn that had burst.
Feyre awaking from a nightmare and running to the bathing room to vomit while Tamlin slept. No. This time Tamlin awoke with her. He tried to comfort her, tried to hold her hair out of her face while she vomited, and she…pushed him away. “I’m fine. Leave me alone.” Night after night she pushed him away until he stopped trying to comfort her.
Tamlin trying to talk to her about what happened Under the Mountain and her saying repeatedly that she didn’t want to talk about it until he finally stopped asking.
Ianthe discussing the upcoming wedding and Tamlin pulling Feyre aside, suggesting that they could push the wedding back or have a small ceremony with just them and Lucien and later have a celebration with the rest of the Court, and her shaking her head saying “No, no it’s fine. Ianthe knows best. I’m fine with this.”
Tamlin softly asking why she wasn’t painting anymore and her always changing the subject.
The worry in Tamlin and Lucien’s eyes as they each broached the subject of Feyre’s appetite and weight loss until she snapped at them to leave her alone.
Tamlin begging her to tell him what she needed, what he could do to help, and her sadly replying “Nothing.”
Feyre cried out. All these memories, all these little changes seemed insignificant apart but together painted a vastly different picture of the male she had once loved. This version of him was not a cruel and uncaring monster; he instead was someone who had loved her deeply and had tried desperately to help her heal but had made terrible mistakes in his moments of grief.
She stood up, her head spinning.
“Feyre?” Elain reached for her but Feyre was already out the door and running down the hall, her thoughts turning into swirls of darkness.
Rhysand appeared in front of her suddenly, his eyes filled with concern. “Feyre darling what’s wrong?”
Her eyes welled up with tears, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “You promised,” she choked out.
He tilted his head in confusion.
“How could you?” she whispered.
He reached for her, but she winnowed out of his grasp.
Feyre was still not powerful enough to winnow long distances. She kept landing and then winnowing away again. Winnow, land, winnow, land, as if trying to confuse anyone following her.
She finally landed on her knees in the grass, too tired to keep going. She wasn’t sure where she had stopped until she saw the ruined manor in front of her and realized she was in Spring.
Despite what Rhysand described from his last visit, nothing could have prepared her for the state of the manor and its grounds. The once beautiful gardens were overrun with weeds, the hedges growing wild, broken bits of stone fountains lay across the ground; a rose garden without roses. Many of the windows had blown out and shards of glass littered the ground, sparkling in the moonlight like stars. The great front doors were hanging off their hinges, deep gouges in them from a beast’s claws. And the silence. No birds, no insects, nothing; as if only the dead lived there.
Feyre slowly approached the front doors and crossed the threshold as if approaching a sleeping beast, her heart pounding. She wasn’t sure why she had come here of all places, but something in her chest tugged her forward. The inside of the manor was no better. The floor was covered in glass and broken pieces of furniture, ripped tapestries and paintings hung from the walls.
“Tamlin?” she called out, her voice wavering. There was no sound of movement and she took another tentative step forward.
“Tamlin?” she called out again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
She carefully began searching the manor, the pounding in her chest growing louder, her voice becoming more frantic as room after room uncovered nothing, no signs of life. Fear began to creep in. Had he finally succumbed to his grief and guilt and-
Feyre froze as sharp talons scraped down her mental shield. Rhys, trying to find her. With a growl, she pushed him away and continued her search. The panic rose in her chest and suddenly she was running, out the front doors and across the fields into the woods. She ran wildly through the thicket, branches grabbing at her face and clothes, trying to outrun the panic she felt consuming her.
She ran until finally collapsing in the clearing with the pool of starlight, winnowing there without realizing it. Breathing heavily, she stared at that beautiful pool, that pool she had swam in one blissful day, the same pool she had once contemplated walking into, her pockets weighed down with stones.
She dug her hands into the soft wet earth and let out a deep guttural scream, so loud she was sure it could be heard across the continent. The scream came from somewhere deep within, somewhere feral, filled with the sorrow of what she had lost and the rage at this betrayal, at what had been taken from her. She screamed until they became wails and wailed until they became shuddering sobs that shook her body and the earth beneath her. She pressed her face into the cool grass to steady her breathing when she heard a sound.
Feyre swung around, sending a blast of fire behind her that Rhysand easily blocked. She scrambled to her feet, sending a blast of light this time.
“Feyre!” he shouted, blocking her magic. “Feyre it’s me, stop!”
She did stop, panting, but kept her hands up, ready to attack.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Why do you think I’m here?”
He cocked his head in confusion.
“You promised.”
Realization slowly crossed his face. “Feyre...” he said cautiously.
“You fucking promised!” she screamed.
“Feyre, please, let me explain.”
“You altered my memories!” she shouted, sending a blast of darkness that he evaded.
“I had to Feyre; I had no other choice. It was the only way.”
“You convinced me that he was a monster.”
“He is! He let you wither away. You were a ghost; a shell of yourself.”
She shook her head. “You told me he didn’t care about me, but that’s not true. He did care. He was trying. I’m the one who gave up, I’m the one who pushed him away.”
“And then he locked you up like a prisoner. He made a deal with Hybern that ended up with your sisters-”
“He wouldn’t have made that deal if I hadn’t left. If I’d come back,” she choked.
“I couldn’t let you go back there.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did you force me to stay?”
“No,” he shook his head. “I never forced you to do anything, I merely…pushed you in the right direction.”
“So you planted thoughts in my head.” She felt the panic rising in her chest again. “Were any of my decisions mine or were they all yours?”
He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with such regret it made her heart hurt.
“Did I write that letter or was that your idea?”
He grimaced but didn’t say anything.
“Did you push me to fall in love with you?” her voice was cold.
His eyes went wide. “No, no! Feyre, that was all you. I never-”
“I don’t believe you,” she said bitterly.
“Please, Feyre you have to believe me. I love you. I couldn’t- I couldn’t lose you,” his voice was pleading, desperate. “You don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand!”
“I went to a seer. I was trying to decide if I should let you stay or intervene. Getting you out was the only way to save you. If I’d let you stay, you would have eventually drowned yourself in that pool of starlight.”
She felt a shiver go down her spine.
“And if by some miracle, someone stopped you it wouldn’t have mattered. Hybern would have invaded Spring, killing Tamlin, and after the war you would have walked into that pool of starlight, preferring death over living without your…” he trailed off.
“That wasn’t your choice to make.”
“Would you prefer that you both be dead?” he shouted.
She shook her head. “That was my choice to make! Mine and his. Not yours.”
“I did this for you, Feyre. To protect you because I love you.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Tamlin once said that too and you called him a monster, but what you did was so much worse. You promised I would always have a choice and you took that from me.”
“You still made your own choices.”
“Based on information that was a lie!”
“Feyre, I’m so sorry,” he stepped toward her.
She instinctively took a step back. “Stay away from me. I don’t want to be anywhere near you.”
“Feyre, please.”
“If you don’t leave me alone I’m going to fucking kill you,” she hissed through her teeth.
His face paled. “You can’t.”
“I don’t care. If you come any closer I’m going to kill you. Leave. Now.” She clenched her fists to keep them from shaking.
He took a step back, hanging his head, a pained expression on his face as he winnowed away.
The forest was quiet after he left. Feyre closed her eyes, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. How could he? How could he betray me? How could he alter my memories? What else had he done?
She stood there, trying to steady her breathing and stop her tears when suddenly a warm breeze caressed her face. It smelled of lilac and new grass, a breeze of-spring.
Feyre opened her eyes and turned. There, at the edge of the clearing, partially concealed in the shadows, stood Tamlin.
She took a sharp intake of breath, her chest clenching. His expression was unreadable in the dark but she could see that his claws were out.
Feyre swallowed hard, trying not to let her voice shake. “How much of that did you hear?”
“All of it. I heard you screaming. I got here just as he showed up.”
She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”
They stared at each other in the dark for a few moments.
“I should go,” she finally said. He just nodded and turned to go back into the forest.
“We made a death bargain,” she blurted. “If you kill him, it will kill me too.” She vanished before he could respond.