Close your eyes

( Feyre POV ) :

Shadows coiled around my ankles, pulling me from peace, and dragging me down, down, down under. Down into a bottomless pit from which there was no escape. I thrashed against it, refused to be taken away by the darkness.

This wasn't real.

I forced myself out of there, climbing out from the pit.

My eyes snapped open. Darkness. Our room was veiled in darkness and shadows, bitterly cold.

Although it was pitch-black, I could make out my mate sitting at the foot of the bed, his hands fisted so tightly within the folds of the sheets that his knuckles had turned white. He was shivering, despite the slick sweat covering his back, his chest rising and falling violently in heavy rhythms.

My chest cracked at the sight of him. He had had a nightmare. There was no doubt about it. And it had been bad.

I moved towards him, carefully reaching out to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. He flinched.

Cold. His skin was so cold.

That's when I realised how bad the nightmare must have been. It was very rare that he couldn't stand to be touched.

"Rhys," I spoke softly.

He slowly turned to meet my gaze, causing my hand to slip off his shoulder. His eyes were wild and haunted, full of terror.

I didn't balk from the sight that would have etched fear in most people and sent them running for the hills. He was my mate. Instead, I opened my arms in silent invitation.

If he didn't want to be touched, I wouldn't be offended. That's how it had always been between the two of us. We understood eachother down to the core and respected their boundaries. Rhys had suffered more than I could even begin to imagine, and the trauma was still lingering. And perhaps it would forever.

Unexpectedly, Rhys shifted closer and burrowed his head on my chest, right above my heart, and wrapped his arms around my middle.

My arms immediately went up and around his body, my hands rubbing down his back soothingly.

"It's okay," I whispered, holding my mate tighter as he began to shake. "It's okay."

I pressed a kiss to the top of Rhys's head to comfort him. A silent gesture, one which conveyed much deeper.

I love you, and I am here for you, I murmured down the bond. I will always be here for you. You don't ever need to hide from me. If you want to tell me, I will listen.

We stayed like that in silence for however long it may have been.

Rhys said eventually, "I can't... Tell you." His voice was hoarse and rough.

"If it helps you to sleep at night, then I want you to tell me," I said gently.

Rhys's swallow was audible as his arms went slack around me, before tightening again. "It was the usual. She... You already know what she did to me..."

She. That bitch Amarantha. Because of her, Rhys had not been able to see his two brothers, his cousin, his loyal friend, his family, his city for fifty years. He had been locked away under a mountain and had been tortured with every breath that left his body. He had been nothing more than a toy, a whore to her.

"Somehow, it's worse than it ever was, now..." Rhys trailed off. "When I'm there in that bedroom with her, forced to watch the scene play out, all I can think of is... You. Getting back to you. But, I can't. There's no escape. She has me trapped even when she's dead."

"You did get back to me," I said softly. "I'm here. You're okay."

"I'm sorry I woke you," Rhys murmured, his warm breath fanning my skin. "I thought I had it contained."

I guided my fingers to his face, lifting his chin from where it was resting against my chest.

"If you don't sleep, I don't sleep," I said firmly, carefully wiping his damp face with my thumbs.

Rhys opened his mouth to say something, but I stopped him before he could give another unnecessary apology, moving my fingers over his mouth.

I pulled my mate back against me, tucking him back into me and resting my chin atop his head. He welcomed my embrace, letting me hold him.

"Close your eyes," I said, stroking a hand through his hair.

I felt his lids close as his lashes lightly scraped against my skin.

I began to sing quietly, barely more than a whisper, but I knew that Rhys could hear.

He breathed loosely, and I felt his body relax, just slightly.

I sang to Rhys through the night until the sound of my voice was enough to chase the roiling tumble of darkness in his mind away.

One day, he would finally gain the peace that he deserved.

***

I'm not completely sure how I feel about this part...

But I really wanted to write about Rhys's nightmares because I think a lot of people forget about that. Because in the books he seems mostly fine. He's surrounded by his mate and his family and the people he loves - he's happy.

A lot of people forget that Rhys was sexually abused and tortured for fifty years. He's still tainted by trauma, of course he is. Just because he goes to bed every night with the female that he loves, that's not going to stop his nightmares. Just as Feyre still has nightmares.

Rhys hides it well with his cool, smooth persona, but the trauma that he has experienced throughout his lifetime will always be with him.

I just felt the need to address that. This isn't specifically directed at anyone, but I just think that Rhys haters should think twice before they go off at him. Everyone's entitled to their own opinions and I can't change yours, but people who call Rhys abusive???

Okay.

On a lighter note, I hope that y'all enjoyed this. I've been updating quite regularly and I'm proud of myself for that!

As always, feel free to leave any prompts or suggestions that you want me to write.

I love y'all and see you soon !!

Ayesha xoxox