Chapter Text
It has been fifty years.
The weight of that number hangs heavily on Rhysand's neck. He remembers those first days asking how long this was going to last. He knew from the start he had to play the long game, but he never could have predicted it would take this long. He never predicted that Amarantha was clever enough to keep herself guarded and secure from harm for decades.
Rhysand immediately worked his way close to her. He's very close now. Her trusted confidant. Her lover. Her sex slave. Her sword. And all-the-while Rhysand has watched her carefully for any openings, and there have been none. Rebellions have come and go and High Lords have died trying to save Prythian. She just doesn't have a weakness to exploit.
And Cassian. Fuck. The male with the biggest heart and Rhysand has now ruined his life twice. First he broke Cassian himself, and then he exposed Cassian to be trapped and tortured by Amarantha. All because of my own damn arrogance. I was so confident that I could break her mind that I didn't consider she would lay a trap for us. I've been a curse on Cassian's life. Yet he still stands by me unwaveringly. I don't deserve him.
Rhysand rolls to his side and watches Cassian's steady breathing while he sleeps. What would I have done if he hadn't been here to support me? Who would I have become if I endured this all alone? He rolls to his back and stares at the ceiling again. So fucking selfish of me to even appreciate he's here. I'm a curse. I'm a fucking curse.
I'm a fucking curse so I need to stay away from her.
It was astonishing to see her and confirm she was real. She exists. And she's... human. His light in this darkness is a real living being. I can hold on to these visions. But I can't hold on to her. I cannot allow myself to curse her, too.
She showed me her paintings. She showed me the stars at night. His eyes start to water. She allowed me to see the stars again after decades of living under this fucking mountain. The water in his eyes overflows and falls into his ears.
A hand is gently placed on his chest. Rhysand turns his head and sees Cassian has woken up. He's just communicating that he's here. He's always here for me. My rock in this storm.
Cassian doesn't say anything. They know the drill. Almost every day they have some trauma to process, and that processing has become routine. Cassian is saying wordlessly, 'Do you want to talk about it?'
Rhysand sighs and places his hand on top of Cassian's, "It's a long story," he whispers.
"It's not even breakfast yet. We have time," Cassian whispers in return.
Rhysand scrubs his face with his hands then turns to face Cassian, "I haven't been telling you... I've been having visions."
Cassian's eyebrow is raised. He's intrigued, and he doesn't have to say a word. They know how to support each other. They've already done it close to eighteen thousand times before. Almost every single day for fifty years they have had to support each other in one way or another.
Rhysand rolls onto his back and waves a hand, "Of course I thought my mind was slipping. That I was struggling to cope so my brain created these visions of peacefulness to help me survive. I thought it was a sign I was breaking even further."
He takes a deep inhale and exhale, "They suddenly became so clear a few weeks ago. They were foggy for years, then suddenly crisp and clear. I was shown flowers and and someone painting."
He turns again to look Cassian in the eyes, "Then I saw the bonfire prep for Calanmai on the hills of the Spring Court. I suddenly realized I could be seeing through a real person's eyes."
Both of Cassian's eyebrows shoot into his hairline, "That's why you convinced Her to let you go to Tamlin's Calanmai celebration."
Rhysand nods, "She's real. I found her. She exists."
Cassian's eyes go as wide as saucers, "What does that mean?"
He shakes his head, "I don't know. I've never heard of anything like it. It can't be my daemati powers, Amarantha hasn't given me nearly enough magic to connect to someone that far away."
"Why were you crying just now?"
Rhysand lowers his eyes and picks at the sheets, "Because she showed me the stars at night," he takes a shaky inhale and exhale, "Because I have to stay away from her."
Cassian doesn't need to say anything. He knows of Rhysand's self hatred. And he knows it was earned. Cassian has never sugar coated Rhysand's failings. He hasn't even forgiven him. He just moves on and continues to help Rhysand be better. And Rhysand works to become a better person. For Cassian. Because Cassian deserves the best from Rhysand.
Rhysand turns his face back to the ceiling and lets his breathing slow. Cassian rolls onto his back as well but stays close, a steady presence at Rhysand’s side.
This is how most days begin. There is some confession, some damage that needs to be processed. There's some reminder that they’re still here.
Today, the cycle of life under the mountain continues. There are prisoners to interrogate. Lies to hold together. Masks to wear.
But for now, there’s this. Just this.
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Rhysand leans on the wall outside the prison cell door. He has one leg up resting the foot against the wall, and his head tilted back with his eyes closed. He looks like he's bored waiting for Malric to arrive to join him for the interrogation.
He is actually sifting through the prisoners' memories and altering them. He found these three fae last night dragging someone into the woods during Calanmai. That someone being the female of his dreams.
He was only even there to see if she existed. He just had to know if she was real. He was itching, dying for the opportunity to see if she was real. He charmed Amarantha into giving him permission to check out Tamlin's Calanmai celebration and see what he could find within a large cluster of supposedly free people.
He was angry with these fae for assaulting the female of his dreams. He was furious when he skimmed their minds and discovered they were going to fuck her whether she agreed to or not. He grabbed them without thinking it through. I'm so fucking selfish.
His excuse for bringing them in couldn't be attempted rape. Amarantha takes joy in such depravity. These fae are exactly her kind of people. They are the type she would praise and hold as an example to others. They probably take pride in someone like her being their Queen. I can actually verify that... Yup. They're ardent Amarantha supporters. It figures.
And now Rhysand is accusing them of stirring rebellion against Amarantha. All because he got angry at them. Do they deserve to be tortured and killed just because I got angry at them? No.
I'm not so fucking different from them. He bangs his head against the wall once. He raped Cassian almost every day for two years. What right do I have to get angry at these fae? The only punishment I suffered was to give up Cassian for a year. That can't even be considered a punishment. He bangs his head against the wall again.
I don't deserve Cassian. But I'm fucking selfish and let him move back in with me. And now he's been trapped under this godsdamn mountain for 50 years because of me. He pushes off the wall and punches the roughly hewn brick wall across from him.
"Fuck," he growls to himself quietly.
He smooths out his clothing then settles himself back into that bored position leaning against the wall. How can a High Lord even be punished? The only reason we've ever executed a High Lord is when they've been a danger to the whole of Prythian. Being a bad ruler isn't enough to even reprimand a High Lord.
Should I be dethroned? Well, if I should, then my father and ancestors should have been. They've all upheld the terror of the Court of Nightmares. Is it good enough that I've stopped being ignorant and have vowed to change?
I can't be dethroned. We have no idea who my heir would be. What if it is Keir? He is worse than I ever was. I can't die. I must hold on to the High Lord's magic. Velaris could fall if the Night Court magic is passed to someone who doesn't understand the city.
But I'm still here to torture and likely sentence to death three people who can't hold a candle to the evil I've committed. What right do I have to judge them. What they did isn't even considered a crime under Amarantha's reign.
He pushes off the wall and paces in a circle pulling his hands through his hair. What even makes an act punishable. He rolls his neck and shoulders and finds his bored position again. For millennia now, High Lords have just implemented their personal opinions of justice. I followed my ancestors' version of justice. I followed their concept of ruling the Hewn City with villainy right next to ruling Velaris with generosity. And I changed my mind.
I decided ruling with villainy is wrong. I only considered it wrong because I irrevocably hurt someone with a big heart. It's like he can see Cassian's never ending well of kindness. I didn't know. I thought he was just the Lord of Bloodshed. I had no idea he could be both a terrifying warrior and so generous with his heart at the same time.
What right do I have to implement my concept of crime and punishment that is the antithesis of the ruling government. I'm sending these fae to slaughter because they offend me for actions this government would praise them for.
But it feels like the right thing to do.
He peeks into the cell's window and sees the fae dangling from cuffs on the wall. But it also feels like the wrong thing to do. But what would I do now, admit I lied? I'd risk everything. Isn't Velaris more important than these three fae?
He hears footsteps approaching and carefully places himself back into his bored position. I was impulsive and got three fae killed for it. I can't do anything about it now. He lets out a slow exhale. I just have to learn from this and vow to be less impulsive and self centered.
Malric rounds the corner. He smirks at the sight of Rhysand, "Time to get our hands dirty?" his keys start rattling in his hands.
Rhysand pushes off the wall and fixes his cuffs, "My hands have been dirty for centuries."
Malric unlocks the door and slowly opens it. The hinges groan loudly and the shackles inside start to shake.
"I didn't do anything wrong, please believe me!" the condemned fae exclaims.
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