Chapter Text
Feyre stayed at the cabin for two days, processing everything she’d learned, trying to figure out how to move forward. She was confused, angry, and hurt, and her thoughts had not quieted since she’d learned the truth. Rhys had betrayed her, lied to her, manipulated her. Altering her memories without her knowledge was such an immense violation of her privacy, yet he was still her mate, the love of her life. She loved him so much and she broke at the thought of losing him. She’d built a life with him. He’d made her part of his family. He’d given her love and support. He’d brought her out of her darkness and depression and helped her grow into the strong fae she was now. He was her everything.
But he had taken away her autonomy, her choice. He claimed there was no other option, but try as she might, she couldn’t believe that. She’d left the Spring Court before most of her memories were changed. Leaving had been her choice and if she had made that choice once already, who’s to say she would have chosen to go back? Even if she had, the bargain would have continued to bring her to the Night Court. There was still time for her to fall in love and accept the mating bond. She’d felt a pull toward Rhys from that moment on the balcony and he didn’t need to manipulate her memories for her to choose him.
Rhys’s actions had also shaped her feelings toward Tamlin, filling her with hatred and a thirst for vengeance that ultimately led to the destruction of innocent lives. That hate had fueled her on her revenge crusade to destroy the Spring Court without considering how the court’s downfall would impact its inhabitants. She'd been so blinded by hate she even used Lucien, her friend, as a pawn. Without Rhys’s interference would Feyre have hated Tamlin enough to believe without a doubt that he would make a deal with the enemy that stood for everything he was against? She was beginning to believe that if Rhys had not sown those feelings and convinced her that Tamlin was the true villain of her story, things would have ended differently. She would have realized that there was no possibility Tamlin would make a deal with Hybern unless there was an ulterior motive and that he would never have put her family in jeopardy. Her anger would have been appropriately redirected toward destroying Hybern and Ianthe, sparing the deaths of thousands of Spring Court faeries. Without Rhysand's meddling, her relationship with Tamlin might have ended with less animosity. He might have respected her decision to leave and wouldn’t have been so desperate to get her back, convinced that Rhysand had kidnapped and mind-controlled her.
Feyre let out a bitter laugh. Tamlin had been right all along. Rhys had indeed messed with her mind.
She stared into the fire lost in thought, wondering how different her life could have been.
I love you. Please come home. Rhys’s voice called to her over the bond.
* * *
Feyre stood for a few minutes on the balcony of the townhouse before taking a deep breath and walking through the doors.
“Feyre!” Mor shouted as she moved to hug her. “You’re back. Where have you been? We were worried.”
Feyre glanced at her sisters over Mor’s shoulder. Nesta's face held a look of suspicion and Elain's face was filled with concern.
“Are you ok?” Mor asked, pulling away to look at her. “What happened?”
Before she could answer Rhysand walked into the room. He immediately moved to embrace her, and she took a step back.
“What’s going on?” Mor asked.
“Do you want to tell them or should I?” Feyre asked, narrowing her eyes.
Rhys deflated. “Feyre, please. Let’s go talk.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Feyre-” he said reaching for her.
“Rhysand altered her memories,” Elain spoke up.
Everyone looked toward her. Elain just glared at Rhysand.
‘You did what?!” Nesta said.
“He altered her memories. Changed them, erased others.”
Cassian shook his head in disbelief. "No, Rhys wouldn't-"
“I saw it,” Elain insisted. “I saw the real memories and the day he decided to change them.”
Anger flashed in Rhysand’s eyes.
“Don’t look at my sister like that,” Feyre hissed. “This is your fault, not hers.”
“Is this true, Rhys?” Mor asked.
He sighed. “I did it to protect her. It was the only way to get her to leave the Spring Court. You know how badly she needed to get out of there.”
“Tell them what else you did,” Feyre said.
He gave her a pleading look.
“He also planted thoughts in my head to get me to do what he wanted.”
Rhysand scoffed. “I do that with everyone.”
“You manipulated me! You asked me to trust you and then you manipulated me.”
He shook his head in annoyance.
“How many times?” she asked. “How many times did you get in my head and push me to do or feel the way you wanted? How many times did you convince me that something was my idea when it was really yours?”
Rhysand grimaced. “It wasn’t many.”
“Did you keep doing it after we became mates? Are you still doing it?”
“Feyre, your shields are too strong now. I couldn’t get into your mind even if I tried,” he said sighing.
“That wasn’t an answer.”
Rhysand looked at her in desperation. “I love you. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I tried to convince you without getting into your mind and when it didn’t work, I acted. I promise that every time I did it, it was to help you.”
Feyre shook her head. “How can I believe you? How can I ever trust you again?”
He tried to reach for her again but when she pulled away Mor stepped in between them.
“Rhys, how could you?” she asked, tears in her eyes.
Rhysand balked, not expecting his second-in-command to challenge him.
“We would have lost the war,” he explained. “Feyre would have died if I hadn’t-”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Nesta spat. “You’re supposed to be the most powerful High Lord, and you really couldn’t have come up with a plan to help my sister that didn’t involve manipulating her?”
“I DID THIS FOR HER. FOR ALL OF YOU.”
Cassian stepped between Rhys and Nesta and suddenly everyone was shouting. Feyre’s head started spinning again. I can’t do this I have to get out of here. She vanished before anyone could stop her.
* * *
She’d barely set foot in the front gardens when he walked through the front doors, as if he’d known she’d come back, as if he was waiting for her.
Feyre opened her mouth to give some excuse as to why she was there but before she could say anything Tamlin said, “The first room on the left at the top of the staircase is clean. Stay as long as you need to,” before disappearing back into the house.
She tentatively entered the manor and was surprised to see a lot of the debris had been cleared. There were still ripped curtains and tapestries, but the glass and broken furniture were gone. The room he directed her to had also been repaired. It was not as regal as it’d once been but the sheets on the bed were clean and there were fresh towels in the bathing room. There was even a small, mismatched table and chair by the window. He’d cleaned up for her and she wasn’t sure how that made her feel.
She locked the door and surrounded her room with a hard shield of air before crawling into the soft sheets. Sobs wrecked her body as waves of grief washed over her. She wasn’t sure how long she cried but eventually, exhaustion took over and pulled her into a restless sleep.
* * *
When he’d heard the screams that night, Tamlin knew, could sense somehow that it was her. He wasn’t sure how that made him feel. He’d followed the screams and winnowed to her without stopping to wonder what she was doing in his lands. When he saw her kneeling in tears he shifted back into his fae form but before he could consider what to do next, Rhys had appeared.
Tamlin didn’t understand right away what they were talking about, but when he finally grasped the meaning of their conversation, he felt his claws shoot out as rage engulfed him. It took everything in him to not lunge at Rhysand and rip out his throat right there.
All of this time, he had been right. He’d known that Rhysand was manipulating her but never had proof. Everyone around him, Feyre included, treated him as if he were merely an aggrieved, paranoid, crazy, lovesick fool who was too delusional to admit that she didn’t love him anymore, that she had chosen someone else. His attempt to prove everyone wrong had pushed Feyre away, driven a wedge between him and Lucien, and led to his descent into madness that tore apart his court. And the entire time he had been right. If only Feyre had fucking listened to him.
What Rhysand had done was unforgivable, an outrageous form of betrayal, yet a small part of him understood. If their situations were reversed and it was his mate in danger, Tamlin would have done whatever he could to keep her safe. He did not think he would stoop so low as to manipulate her to such a degree, but who's to say what he would have done? He had loved her enough to burn the world down; he and Rhys were the same in that regard.
But he took no satisfaction in these revelations. Learning the truth had not changed the past. He had still lost the love of his life to his worst enemy. He'd lost his closest and oldest friend. He'd lost the respect and love of his people. He was still left alone and disgraced with no allies, no friends, no family, and a court barely holding together.
When Feyre told him about the death bargain, Tamlin couldn’t help but shake his head in disgust. They were both fools. Rhysand, especially.
He didn’t want her to come back but he knew she would, could sense it. It may not be immediately, but one day he would find her on his doorstep asking for refuge. She may only stay for a few days, possibly a week, until she figured out what she wanted, what she needed, and then she would leave again. And like a fool, he would provide her with whatever she required to heal.
Tamlin began cleaning up the manor the next day. He had not slept there in months, spending his days helping rebuild the village and his nights prowling the forest, hunting down the monsters that still invaded his lands, before collapsing in the forest for a couple of hours of restless sleep before sunrise. But he knew she would need somewhere to stay and he couldn’t demand her go to the village, not when most of the remaining inhabitants blamed her for the fall of the court. He’d worked very hard the past few months to regain some trust back from his people, to convince some of them it was safe to return, and he would not risk losing that trust for her.
She returned two nights later just as he'd expected. He was there to receive her but he kept his words impassive. He would not go out of his way to be welcoming. He would make sure she was safe but he would avoid her. He would not discuss what happened and he would offer her no comfort. He was not foolish enough to make those mistakes again.