Work Text:
Red exploded in my vision, and I couldn't breathe fast enough, couldn't think above the roar in my head. One heartbeat, I was staring after him- the next, I had my shoe in my hand.
I hurled it at him with all my strength.
My considerable, immortal strength.
I barely saw my silk slipper as it flew through the air, fast as a shooting star, so fast that even a High Lord couldn't detect it as it neared-
And slammed into his head.
Rhys whirled, a hand rising to the back of his head, his eyes wide.
I already had the other shoe in my hand.
Rhys's lip pulled back from his teeth. "I dare you." Temper- he had to be in some mood today to let his temper show this much.
Good. That made two of us.
I lifted my arm again, and watched Rhys's glittering, violet eyes narrow. The spot right between them made for an excellent bullseye.
But before I could release my ammunition, there was a sudden tug in my belly, right above my navel. I gasped at the sensation, shoe forgotten, and stumbled forward.
Rhys.
He must have used his magic to throw me off... I looked up at him, ready to tell him off- only to behold him in much the same postion, his face pulled into a matching expression of surprise.
"What... what was that?" I asked him.
"I... it..." Rhys was shaking his head as if to clear it. I stared at the High Lord, speechless for the first time since I'd met him.
Before he could say anything else, the tug came again. Not as hard this time; we both stayed where we stood. But instead of dissipating immediately, it just... held. Like a taught rope between us. I waved my hands in front of me, as if I might feel the invisible strands with my fingers. I felt nothing.
Rhys took an uncertain step toward me, and I wondered if the connection would slacken any. But if anything, it got stronger. A strange, faint buzzing started up in my ears, and quite without my telling them to, my feet carried me another step forward.
Enough.
I squared my shoulders, trying to snap myself out of it.
"I'd like to retire to my room now," I said, and my voice came out shakier than I'd wanted.
"Of course," Rhys murmured, still looking as lost as I felt. It was not at all comforting.
His eyes met mine then, and the world blurred around us. When it came back into focus, we were standing in what I supposed was my room. It was an absolute dream.
The large bed was a creamy, white-and-ivory concotion, with pillows and blankets and throws for days, made more inviting by the twin golden lamps beside it. An armoire and dressing table occupied a wall, framed by those glassless windows. Across the room, a chamber with a porcelain sink and toilet lay behind an arched wooden door. My bathtub was actually a pool, hanging right off the mountain itself.
Open, airy, plush, and... calm. This room was fit for an empress.
I saw none of it.
Not in that moment, when the wide space of the hall was whittled down to these four walls around us, and the buzzing in my head seemed suddenly so much louder. Where we had had strides between us, I was now standing not three feet from the High Lord. Despite the enormous open windows, the air was warm and I felt nothing of the outside.
Just him, and me, and the tug in my stomach that wouldn't quit.
Rhys took a very small step backward, and grimaced. I tried to do the same, but suddenly found that it was uncomfortable to do so. Moving away from Rhys made me feel oddly... anxious? I stepped forward again and the feeling subsided. It was incredibly unsettling.
"What's happening to us?" I asked Rhys. For now, watching his face, I was quite sure whatever I was feeling, the same thing was happening for him.
"It seems we have a... bond," Rhys said, moving a little closer. His eyes followed the neckline of my dress, over to one of its puffy cap sleeves. His had floated up toward the gauze- and then was snatched back as if he realised what he was doing. "It'll... fade soon, I'm sure. We probably both need to just get some rest." He tried for a smile, and almost made it. "You've had a big day."
But he didn't move, just rubbed the hand he had stretched out in his other, as it if was sore.
"Right," I whispered. I looked down at myself, remembering the ridiculousness of what I was wearing. Yards and yards of tulle and silk and beading stared back at me. In that moment, it was the most repulsive thing I'd ever seen.
I turned slightly, so that Rhys would not see the sudden panic on my face, and scrabbled with the topmost buttons behind my neck. Of course, the tiny things went all the way down my back and there was no way I could reach them all on my own. It was a gown designed to be taken off by someone else.
"Could you... ah..." my voice trembled, and I flushed scarlet down to my collarbones at the thought of asking Rhys to help with this. But there was also no way I could just keep walking around in this abomination, and Alis was not part of the bargain.
Rhys took a step forward, closing the gap between us. I turned my back to him, and that tug between us was now something I had to resist- I wanted to lean against him let my head fall back on his shoulder. The humming sound was so intense now I could barely think.
Rhys touched the first button, and his breath dusted across the back of my neck. If I didn't know better, I could have sworn his fingers were shaking.
I clenched my fists against the tide of goosebumps that rolled up my arms as the top three buttons were unfastened. Squeezed my eyes shut too for good measure- and when I opened them again, Rhys was holding a loose fist over my shoulder. I put my hand out, and he dropped a satin-covered miniature button into it.
"Sorry," he muttered. "Pulled a bit too hard on this one."
I turned to look at him. "It's okay," I whispered. "Truth be told, I hate this dress."
"So do I," Rhys growled, and put his hand lightly on my shoulder, gossamer between his fingertips. "A bride should be comfortable on her wedding day."
There was a light tearing sound, and next thing I knew, Rhys was holding a strip of fabric and staring at it like he didn't know where it had come from. My shoulder was bare.
"The other one too," I murmured, barely knowing what I was saying. "The sleeves are the worst part."
Rhys's gaze hardened, and he pulled the other sleeve off with very little effort.
"And how many layers does this skirt have?" he asked, sounding closer to his usual self. "Are you housing a small village under there?"
He grabbed a hold of the white satin and pulled. A wild little laugh bubbled up from my lips.
"I barely fit through the door," I said, and handed him another length of fabric. It came away so easily.
"Well it's all this tulle that's making it so massive," Rhys grinned, and this time when he pulled at it, it came off in reams instead of one piece. He yanked handful after handful and I was spun around as the stitching popped, shrieking as I teetered on the spot.
I had no idea where I was spinning to until the fabric ran out and suddenly I was falling against Rhys's chest, his arms catching around my waist and my hands grasping at his shoulders. Soft, white skirts drifted to the floor around us. My laugh cut off abruptly.
"I... sorry," I stammered, acutely aware of my now bare legs, and Rhys's arms around me. He swallowed.
"Do... do you want me to go?" he asked softly. I shook my head slowly, and stared up at him in wonder.
What was this strange connection between us? Rhys had called it a... a bond... like how we had been communicating after the bargain Under the Mountain. But how did we go from frantically trying to survive to being pulled together like... like...
But this was wrong.
I was still in my wedding dress, for Cauldron's sake, supposed to be marrying another, and here I was half naked in different High Lord's arms.
Rhys seemed to read the change of mood in my eyes, and took a step back.
But my feet, my traitorous feet followed and didn't let him put any distance between us. My mutinous hands tightened on his jacket lapels, and Rhys's arms came back up around me with a groan.
"Feyre," he murmured. "Feyre you'll be the death of me."
His fingers began to slide up my back and when they came back down, his nails scratched at the column of buttons following my spine.
"Do you want me to stay?" he whispered.
"Yes," I breathed, not knowing why. "Yes, I want you to stay." And gods help me but I did. I could easily picture Tamlin pacing the floor of the Spring Court Hall, could see Alis bustling around the room disapprovingly as she collected the torn fabric in her arms.
But I couldn't muster the energy to care, not when the buzzing quietened as I drowned in the violet of Rhys's eyes, not when the bond between us was pulling me hard against the muscle of his chest, not when the faint plink of buttons scattering on the marble floor let me know that Rhys wasn't yet done tearing up this ludicrous gown.
"Tell me to stop," Rhys said to me. Begged me. "I shouldn't be doing this. Tell me to stop."
Instead, I wondered at how my neck seemed to ache with holding my face away from his, and how it was such a small movement that let me lean my forehead against the bridge of his nose. He exhaled and I could taste his citrus-and-sea scent on my lips.
"Feyre," he moaned again, and my name had never sounded so good.
One large hand cupped the back of my head, and the other slid in between us to tug at my bodice. First it lost its lace. Then, when my own fingers stroked Rhys's jaw, it lost its beading. I tilted my face so that Rhys could follow my cheekbone with the tip of his nose, and then with a snarl the rest of the bodice was torn away and there I stood in my stupid, frothy, honeymoon underthings.
Rhys took one, long look at me, and I swear my skin burned under his gaze. He took my face in his hand again and placed a slow, sucking kiss under my jaw. And then stepped away.
The High Lord stood at arms length and shook his head back and forth.
"We shouldn't," he whispered hoarsely. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a second, then smiled at me with tight eyes. "Don't worry, Feyre darling," he said to me. "I'll have you home in a week."
I clutched a bed post, and tried to catch my breath. It was only just occuring to me now what had almost happened- and me still engaged to Tamlin.
"Right," I said. "Thank you for... helping me with my gown."
Rhys sketched a bow. "My pleasure." His eyes twinkled at me, and then he left the room with a "good night, Feyre" trailing behind him.
I dove beneath the luxurious covers and sank into the enormous bed. Suddenly, the room felt freezing to me.