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hadesknockedupintheunderworld · 2 months ago

Note

You always have good things to say in your essays, so I am curious what your overall thoughts are on the Sonic Movie 3 trailer?

Ah, well, thank you! I'm glad that you like what I have to say🥺❤️

So, I originally watched the trailer quickly before I had to go to work. I think at that time my general thoughts overall were basically:

Team Sonic!!🥺💖

Every new installment they surprise me with just how sad and wet Agent Stone's eyes can get in the presence of Robotnik

Pop pop?! Gerald?? He's alive??

Ough parallels between movie sonic and movie shadow

...What if Movie Shadow made a connection with Tails and Knuckles over their individual struggles in finding home despite their pasts?

Movie!Knuckles wants Movie!Shadow so bad it makes him look stupid. I love how excited he is to fight him. Like they just took Sonic's initial onesided fixation on fighting Shadow from SA2 and gave it to Knuckles and I'm not complaining

They should make Shadow and Tails implied friends like the Tailstubes did. For me 👉👈

Wooo fat movie Robotnik!

Ajsjsjjsq I love how he just ripped Stone's shirt off and kept it for himself

The juxtaposition between Sonic and Knuckles here is hilarious to me. Knuckles insulting Sonic when he sees Shadow, right in front of Sonic. Sonic trying to tell Knuckles they should be reasoning with Shadow and Knuckles is like "Nope can't hear you I need to fight him!"

I wonder just how much they're gonna tie in the Knuckles tv show. I kinda hope Wade and the flames of disaster make an appearance at least

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I did, however, rewatch the trailer for this ask, so if you'd like to see some more in depth thoughts on the trailer, I've put them under the cut

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"Sonic, you've finally found your family."

This line is interesting to me simply because Tom says it, but it only shows Knuckles and Tails onscreen.

Now, personally, I think this series is perfectly capable of presenting a version of "family" that doesn't 100% mean the nuclear family dynamics. In other words, especially since images of Maddie and Tom weren't put onscreen during Tom's line, I like to think that harkens back to the wish Tom and Maddie expressed for Sonic back in movie 2 to find his squad (his team of best friends and wingment to grow up with). In essence, I personally do not believe this line means "oh Knuckles and Tails are your siblings now", especially since it would contradict that sentiment in movie 2 and (while I don't think Knuckles finds them family in a nuclear family way either) would be weird paired up with Knuckles calling the Whipple family "home" in the Knuckles series.

So yes. Family because they're friends, wingmen, comrades who have each other's backs and work together, not because they're siblings unified under one particular household.

Woo! I see the flames of disaster!! Nice to see tidbits of things carrying over from the Knuckles series

I am very interested in the shot of Tom uncovering the picture Sonic drew of himself and Long Claw.

I suspected back after movie 2 that we wouldn't be done talking about Long Claw. Of course this is true by default if they want to touch on the Echidna/Owl war stuff any more, which they have in every installment thus far, but I mostly mean in terms of how Sonic's past.

Personally, especially with Knuckles turning out to be the Iblis trigger after the Knuckles series, and those lines from Long Claw about Sonic potentially being hunted for his power (even though we yet have no evidence the Echidnas were hunting Sonic for any purpose), I still think there's a possibility of the movie universe touching more on Sonic and Long Claw for bigger reveals into the past (quite possibly into Sonic's origins??)

But at baseline of course we will be getting parallels from Sonic's past to Shadow's. So I'd say that how much we touch on Long Claw and Sonic's past in this movie and the importance of it will remain to be seen.

"I know it's not easy, but you didn't change who you are in here." "Yeah. In my lungs." "Or your heart."

(The following is partially a joke) Tonhon Chonlatee reference making it's way into Sonic movie 3??

Okay, so it seems to be that someone is still going to free Shadow on Prison Island? The visuals kind of suggest he just broke out, but that line from Commander Walters can also still suggest that someone breached the security (Ala SA2 Eggman) to facilitate the freeing of Shadow. In this case, I'm highly curious as to who will be doing it, and whether they will be present when Shadow exits the pod. Personally, after Movie 2 I hoped it would be Agent Stone, but we'll get our answer when the movie comes out.

WOW that shot of Shadow punching through the glass of his stasis pod is freaking EPIC. Definitely a fav scene of him in this trailer for me

TEAM SONIC MENTIONED! (Team Sonic is my favorite team, so movies 2 and 3 are wins from me in seeing team dynamics with them)

THEM CRUMBS🥺💖

I am a shameless sontails shipper and lover of Tails so this shot is everything to me

Okay, so earlier in the trailer we saw Team Sonic separately in places all over the world. Here I think at least one of these is to show them looking for someone like Shadow with intent to stop him (or to stop another threat at baseline). Also in the trailer we see a short clip of Sonic searching in a room with a flashlight.

My first thought on this is that during the course of the movie, Team Sonic's secondary objective (either self imposed or given by GUN) is to find out more about Shadow and his past. So this scene could be related to that.

My second thought is that this scene could also be Sonic taking a look for clues on the arc, though I'm not sold on this interpretation.

Third, at baseline, this is clearly a scene of searching for someone or something. No matter who it is though, I suspect the reason or room is related to either Ivo or Gerald in some form. Plus the fact that Sonic is searching most likely means he entered the scene with intent to search rather than spontaneously deciding this.

Finally, though I don't have many thoughts here. A figure can be seen in the background in the right of this clip. Since they are not also searching with a flash light, this could be a scene where we see Sonic caught in the act of what he's doing.

Commander Walters talks about how similar Sonic and Shadow's stories are during the clip of Sonic searching, Shadow in the pod while Maria stands outside of it, both pressing their palms to the glass.

While not necessarily a confirmation, this is why I believe that scene of Sonic searching is related to Shadow's past or possibly Gerald.

Also, unrelated, I really love that clip of Shadow smiling in the pod at Maria while they press their palms together over the glass. I'm completely normal about it (sarcasm)

"But where you found family and friends"

This line from Commander Walters is overlayed over shots of Tails (during "family") and Knuckles (during "friends"), a line which (like the earlier family line) I'm sure the loudest Sonic fans are making 1k note posts about.

Anyhow, I have two interpretations of the intent of this clip in the trailer, especially since it's another scene where they neglected to show Tom and Maddie in the mini montage

1. Where the scenes are cut is meant to associate Knuckles more strongly with "friends" and Tails more strongly with "family". In this case, "family" will be used in a found family/found home manner that does not denote in nuclear family with/siblings to. In any case, while Knuckles and Tails are both his friends and undoubtedly part of his squad, it remains that Knuckles and Tails do not have the same relationship to Sonic. Despite all being friends, we see at the beginning of the Knuckles series that Tails is comfortable living with Sonic and his textual adoptive parents, and that he doesn't have the same problems as Knuckles fitting in as Sonic's roommate. Likewise, based upon Movie 2's attachment to Sonic in particular and love of being considered Sonic's friend (with those moments in movie 2), combined with what we see at the beginning of the Knuckles series, it's clear to me that Tails' home is with Sonic and Sonic in specific. Tails is Sonic's friend who considers him his home, but while Knuckles is also his friend, he goes on a journey in the Knuckles series which was meant for him to find his own home (which he finds in the Whipple family). In other words, I'm saying that one interpretation of this clip is to denote the difference in strength of bond to and relationship Sonic has to members of his squad. Tails is his family, his best friend, and Sonic is part of Tails' home. Knuckles is his friend, squad member, ally, but he does not find home in Sonic.

2. The downfall of interpretation 1 is that it contradicts what I said about Sonic considering them both his family, his best friends, his squad earlier with the other family line. So interpretation 2 asserts that the whole friends and family line is meant to be applied to team Sonic. Again, especially with the absence of Tom and Maddie, I believe this is not in a nuclear family way, but as in "they are my friends, my squad, my family". As in, Sonic feels connected to these two and feels that they are family to him in the sense that they are important to him and a big part of his life. The family one chooses to stay connected to.

For the record, I'm also biased towards this interpretation of the family lines (not just because I don't personally like the alternative), but because every main character thus far has avoided ever labeling his relationship to Tails or Knuckles as inherently sibling like. Sonic movie 2 even had Maddie and Tom at the very end saying Sonic had found his squad and best friends for growing up, and the beginning of the Knuckles series has Sonic call the two his roommates, while Maddie treats the two more like other kids that live in the house than necessarily *her* kids. Then there's also the Knuckles series ending, where Knuckles calls the Whipple family his home, but the series purposely chooses not to make it clear what his role would be in a nuclear family dynamic, only that he's a part of it. All of that juxtaposed with the fact that Tom and Maddie were explicitly confirmed as Sonic's parents in movie 2 (and combined with the fact that it's not taboo in Eng Sonic media to consider Sonic and Tails as bros or media in general to confirm characters of the same sex as basically adoptive siblings to each other) tells me that those involved in these movies purposely choose to consider these characters family to each other in a way that doesn't conform to nuclear family dynamics and friends to each other as well. In other words, they have had every available opportunity (especially if Sega wanted it or approved it) to confirm this sort of relationship outright (and might I mention that Sonic being given explicit adoptive parents is more big in terms of the past mandates than someone like Tails being a bro (which has been let into eng media on occasion in the past)), and have not done so. They have not given any indication they will do so. And I feel that at this point after showing us good examples of canonically platonic relationships that are important without necessarily being sibling/nuclear family dynamics, it would be a waste to just go "yeah they're siblings" and call it a day, ripping the complexity out of it.

But that's just me.

Right after the clip I just mentioned, we see Team Sonic race each other, with Tom and Maddie starting the race.

Now I've already seen postings about how this shot is confirmation about how Tails and Knuckles are so siblings to Sonic.

Since I have my own post here, I just want to say that at very baseline I think that reasoning is incorrect. This is because the Knuckles series, again, explicitly confirmed Knuckles' home to be with the Whipple family, in contrast to how the beginning hammers in how he doesn't fit in with the Wachowski family or feel quite at home with them. They literally cannot be canonically siblings to each other if they haven't referred to each other this way and if one of the characters involved in the scene doesn't even consider this family in question his home. At best to me the association of this clip and the words about friends and family beforehand implies that Sonic considers these 4 all parts of his family in different ways (again, not necessarily with all 4 fitting into nuclear family dynamics). I don't endeavor to say Sonic sees Knuckles and Tails as siblings to him (in a situation where the feelings aren't exactly the same both ways) because, again, Sonic outright avoids considering them this way, and considers them his friends and roommates explicitly in the first episode of the Knuckles series.

Anyways anyways. I digress. The point of this clip.

At this time I'm thinking either this is a friendly race they've asked Tom and Maddie to intervene for (possible), or this is the start of the journey earlier when we see the trio at different places all over the world. In other words, it's possible they started their separate journeys around the world with a race, intending to beat each other to doing something with a friendly contest.

"Shadow found only pain, and loss"

I know how people have been talking about this set of clips, but at this time I do not believe the fire (aftermath of possible explosion) we see is the original event on the Arc resulting in Maria's death. Yeah, sure, the movie universe isn't 1 to 1 with canon, but I really do not feel like that scene is depicting the arc. This instead reads as a scene to me where Gerald and Shadow are going through a painful moment of loss in the present and being cornered by GUN for capture. It seems more like a scene that occurs partway through the movie as an event that happens rather than a flashback.

Take that with a grain of salt though. That's just my interpretation, and there's not a lot of proof to find to back up any particular one.

We've also heard rumors of time travel being involved, so it's also possible there's a plot bit involving saving Maria and reversing the hurt that way and it tragically failing? Don't know.

Also love the shot of Shadow looking at the cracked glass👌

S sorry just them again looking at each other and Sonic turning to Tails for guidance 🥺🥺💖

This entire mini clip means quite possibly a bit too much to me for a mere trailer but I love their dynamic

I have talked about it before but damn. Knuckles "He is much more impressive than the hedgehog I fought previously"

We literally see a shot of Shadow revealing himself, and then Knuckles starts talking about how impressive he is.

I know there were a lot of jokes made in the last couple years that Sonic would see Shadow and instantly be enamored, but oh how the turntables! In the end, in this trailer at least, it's actually Knuckles who becomes instantly enamored. One look and he's calling him impressive. One look, and he's already ignoring any direction on Sonic's part to perhaps de-escalate the situation by talking to Shadow, because Knuckles wants to fight Shadow so badly it makes him look stupid.

The way the interaction is done reads to me that Knuckles wants to get a go at tussling with Shadow either more than the stakes of the plan at hand, or would want to despite reality. In other words, even if Shadow "switches sides" so to speak successfully here, Knuckles would still want to fight him for personal reasons.

Of course right after this we get the subject of a billion jokes about how Shadow hates Tails so much in specific that he goes out of his way to beat him up.

Where is that meme image of the guy looking out the window holding his cigarette, just tired? (Rhetorical question)

I did not think it would be need to said but here.

If you watch the scene, Shadow kicking Tails is not presented as more important or targeted than anything else. First of all, it is within a sequence where we see him take down the members of Team Sonic one by one in a single blow. Second of all, Tails' is actually the least focused on in the trailer. Knuckles punching Shadow only for Shadow to (presumably) break his wrist is shown as a big thing (especially as a call back to the first big clash between Sonic and Knuckles that was advertised a lot for movie 2). Shadow going for Tails is something he literally cuts behind Sonic to do, which quickly segues into him grabbing Sonic and using his air shoes to boost them high into the air so he can slam Sonic down into the ground. Tails being kicked here is presented like something he had to do to get to Sonic, not him going out of his way to beat up Tails. Seriously. How can that even be true when Knuckles and Sonic get flashier and longer beat downs?

Anyways, all that aside, this scene is very neat. It's very clearly to set up the disparity in power between Team Sonic and Shadow the same way it did between Sonic and Knuckles in movie 2, with the framing this time presenting Shadow as a powerhouse unlike anything anyone has ever faced. In other words, combatting Shadow will be more of an ordeal than combatting Knuckles was.

The scene where Tails says "this is a bad idea" and Sonic goes "when has that ever stopped me".

It would be completely fine and dandy if this does turn out to be about the crew looking for Robotnik and deciding to join with him. Personally, I think this is one of those cases where a line from a movie is cut in the trailer to show that it's about something when it really has to do with something else.

Besides the fact that we just don't know when or how everyone will learn Robotnik is alive (since it's pretty well considered by the main characters that he died at the end of movie 2), I think with Tails outright opposing this and Sonic looking angry, this scene is referring to something potentially more risky and dangerous than joining forces with Ivo Robotnik. Depending on how epic the scene is, this could predate a major moment

But I'm excited to see the context regardless of what it turns out to be!

Sorry I know I said it earlier but WHOO fat Robotnik. Hollywood fatphobia aside, I'm honestly glad that Jim Carrey has been winning his battle of moving his character closer visually to Robotnik's canon design.

It's pretty clear by the "we" have visitors that Stone has been with Robotnik taking care of him at some point since the ending of Movie 2. I remember a lot of us assumed the battle in movie 2 did kill Robotnik but that Movie 3 would involve Stone bringing him back somehow. Either way, though I know this was technically dependent on whether Jim Carrey would return to this movie, I do feel vindicated for saying "Robotnik isn't gone for good since we didn't see a body and GUN didn't find one at the end of movie 2".

Agent Stone and his sad wet eyes

So to go into a lot of detail would require a proper essay post, so I'm going to try to make this section as short as possible.

Now, as far as I've gathered since movie 2, Stone's sad wet eyes appear in 1 of 3 instances.

1. When he misses Robonik so so dearly (as seen in the beginning of Movie 2)

2. When he is jealous and fears being replaced by someone else Robotnik chooses to hang out with and go on his missions for the evil plan with (as seen during the scenes where Robotnik has Knuckles with him in the Mean Bean in movie 2)

3. When Robotnik continues to change from the exact kind of slick, collected, confident, and fashionable guy we see in movie 1 in ways which Agent Stone would percieve as him "getting worse" (As seen in movie 2 where Stone sees Robotnik again for the first time, remarking that he looks different, and in the annoyance he gets in movie 2 when Robotnik leaves him out of his plans and continues to include Knuckles rather than consult or use him (Stone))

Now, clearly it is not option 1, given that he is fully aware of Robotnik's location and has clearly been watching over him.

I also do not believe it is number 2, for two reasons.

1. The context clues imply Robotnik has likely only been around Stone all this time. There's no one already living in this space for Stone to be jealous of.

2. We see Stone and his bike blocking the path between Team Sonic and Robotnik, and it's Stone who brings Team Sonic inside to appeal to him. Since it's implied Stone chose to let them in and doesn't seem annoyed when he announces their presence, he does not have the sad wet eyes because he's jealous of their connection to Robotnik in any way.

So this leaves us with option 3: Robotnik is changing further in ways that are messing with Stone, and Stone sees it as Robotnik beginning to "fall from greatness" so to speak.

And I think this interpretation is actually pretty clear. We don't see evidence of a struggle on Stone, so it's unlikely he seriously fought Team Sonic. Rather, it seems to me that they told him they wanted to appeal to Robotnik to get him to help with protecting the world, and they convinced Stone to let them see Robotnik because Stone hopes their involvement (or such a mission) will get Robotnik out of whatever his current rut is (with the state of his hair and stache and the mess in the place he's staying in, it's pretty clear he's in a depressive rut). Stone is sad to see Robotnik this way and hopes Team Sonic can fix it.

We are not actually done with Stone's sad wet eyes though, as he still has them during the scene Robotnik retreats to the bathroom for an outfit change (yes, the scene where he rips off Stone's shirt). It's also worth noting here that Stone still sounds sad during this scene.

So, this is where I take the time to talk MORE about Agent Stone in relation to Ivo Robotnik (but again without going too in detail and doing too much outright essaying). This bit is connected to the previous part, but I wanted to give it its own section since this has to do with my prediction for the future.

My theory? Stone may be set up for an eventual Dr. Starline parallel.

Let me explain a bit.

So, if you don't know who Doctor Starline is, he origates in the IDW Sonic comic adaptation. He is a very intelligent (and fashionable) scientist who holds great admiration for Robotnik, and is obsessed with him. From the beginning he'd put Robotnik on a pedestal and had wanted not only to be like him, but to be vital to him. Starline wanted to be a great help Robotnik to take over the world, and essentially superimposed himself into the position of Robotnik's number 2 (a position comparable to Stone's in the Sonic Movies, Snively in SATAM and the Archie comics, and Grimer's in the Fleetway comics). Over the course of Starline's time together with Robotnik as his self imposed number two, the two start out fairly strong only to clash more and more often as Robotnik expects a lackey who only does what he says, and Starline expects a partner who will listen to his advice. Tensions grow, Starline becomes more disillusioned in the genius and superiority of his hero, and finally, Starline takes it upon himself to be insubordinate. Believing that Eggman's plans are short sighted and destined to fail, he takes it upon himself to "fix things" by going behind Robotnik's back and bringing in the Zeti as (assumed) pawns. It is after this act where Starline decides he needs to save his hero from himself that Eggman tosses him to the side and fires him.

Now, it's worth mentioning that Eggman so easily tosses him aside because there is one thing Starline does not have in common with the other examples of Eggman's number two in other media. This is that they have the advantage of time spent with Eggman, allowing him to become attached to them enough that even smaller acts of insubordination aren't enough for him to fire them completely.

But in any case, Robotnik didn't completely reject Starline after this. He was of the mind that he'd be willing to take Starline back if Starline begged at his feet and apologized. However, since Starline had too much pride, he did not do this. Rather, he begins to believe that Robotnik still is a grand genius, just that he's short sighted and can never take over the world with how he handles the threat of Sonic. So, Starline takes it upon himself to take over the world for Eggman (since he believes he himself is smart enough to do so without falling into Eggman's folly), and then dreams of doing such a good job that it's Eggman who begs to he at his side, since Starline is hung up on Eggman's rejection and wants him to choose him.

So, what does this have to do with Stone?

Well, I have no doubt that Stone was a smart man from the start given his position related to the US gov and that he's been able to perfectly Robotnik's assistant. But you can also take Eggman's word for it as well, courtesy of the prequill comic (which takes place between movies 1 and 2)

It is also by this very comic that we know that Stone was the only man Robotnik trusted to enact his plans in his absense, and perhaps the only man he had ever shared the secrets of his manifesto.

And it's how we know that Stone undoubtedly undergoes major changes by movie 2 compared to movie 1. Not only does he have it in his mind that he is Robotnik's number 2, a man personally responsible for doing what Robotnik cannot with the mission of personally rebuilding Robotnik's glory, but this entire experience contains the purpose of molding Stone to be more like Robotnik himself.

Stone by movie 2 is more cunning and calculating in the way Robotnik is. He was given a personal mission to rebuild his master's former glory, and he throws his entire self into it. It is not a stretch to assume that Stone is saddened upon meeting Robotnik again in movie 2 because it did not match his expectations.

All in all, especially since he'd given Robotnik the tools for a makeover, I think from Stone's end he was expecting for Robotnik to return to him a man who has gone through an ordeal but maintains his style and greatness (essentially, looking like he did before), as a man of who would congratulate Stone on his work in his absense (praise him even), and take him at his side as they work together to enact Robotnik's world takeover plan.

But Stone's expectations are dashed as Robotnik arrives in a new fit, with a new stache, seemingly more mentally unstable than before (keep in mind, Robotnik's thing in movie 1 was that he was more intelligent and thought differently than everyone else, not that he was unstable. He was the kind of "genius who is written off as unstable but sees what no one else does", but since his involvement with Sonic HAS been seemingly less cool and collected and more unstable), and with a space echidna at his side. In the span of one meeting, Stone had the means to feel replaced and to feel as if Robotnik was falling short of his glory/falling from greatness as he's changed.

And then over the course of movie 2, though there are people who do Movie Ivo character study who'd agree that Robotnik does genuinely care about Stone, just is bad at showing it or doesn’t show it conventionally, it's pretty clear that Stone himself doesn't really see it. He doesn't feel valued. He doesn't even get to be used by Robotnik as he was in movie 1, actively on the road trip with him. Nope. Robotnik leaves him at the Mean Bean most of the movie.

And this is why Stone doesn't seem happy most of the movie. This is why it excites him so that Robotnik accepts him at the end of the movie and makes room for him as a vital helper.

What I assert, in essence, is that after the prequill comic, Stone can no longer just be okay in his role as he was before with little praise/acknowledgement, nor can he even he even take solace in the fact that Robotnik will always keep him around because he needs him.

So here's where the Starline parallel comes in. Now that Stone sees himself as a much more important figure in Robotnik's life, with a mission given to him by a version of Ivo who Stone could possibly see as "at his most sane" to make sure he succeeds and attains his former glory, I think he sees his number two role as less of a guaranteed thing and something he must fight to keep (this means stuff like putting himself out there at the end of movie 2 and begging to go with Robotnik, or taking it upon himself to find Robotnik after the battle and support him). And so, I suspect (especially with those shots we got in the trailer, Stone being sad at presenting Robotnik's current state, his potentially angrier faces as he's finally allowed to groom Robotnik and shave his hair, his continued sadness even as Robotnik has moved out of his rut) that we're going to see Robotnik to continue to take Stone's presence as his "sycophant" for granted, while Stone continues to become disillusioned with his idol and master.

But in the end, this is just my theory. I do not yet know how much of this will actually come to pass, but I hope it's food for thought for you all.

I predict Stone will continue to become so disillusioned with Robotnik due to seeing him as a man falling from greatness and due to lack of acknowledgement and appreciation, that Stone will eventually turn on Robotnik. But not to stop him or to become better than him. No. I predict, Starline style, Stone will take it upon himself to restore Eggman to his former glory, to eventually go behind Eggman's back and enact his own plans, to attempt to take over the world for Robotnik, and to accomplish it all in such an amazing display that Robotnik has to express that he wants him around and to acknowledge him as a partner and to praise him.

At least, that could be the plan/setup. It would remain to be seen how these two characters resolve this event (essentially, in which ways this diverges from the parallel and the two inevitably come back together again). After all, no matter what ends up happening between Stone and Robotnik, I think something will need to give and change eventually, and the two will need to make their feelings/wishes...more clear to each other

By the way, I too love the Stobotnik scenes in this trailer. We are eating good👌👌👌 However, it really is hard not to see that scene where Ivo rips Stone's shirt off as another moment where Stone doesn't feel appreciated. Ivo over here ripping off a man's shirt (gay. Sorry. The people are right when they asked if it was gay for him to just rip it off and then choose to wear it during the movie), and it's entirely possible the man in question thinks that this is proof that Robotnik doesn't think much of him in this state (even if Stone is clearly not going to keep him from doing what he wants here)

"When we're done, there won't be anything left"

Cool, so Shadow is actively planning on destroying the world here. Potentially to satisfy revenge.

Interesting. So the scene with the Chao mascots also looks like an ambush is happening, with Team Sonic specifically being targeted with missiles

"What did you do?" "What I had to."

Movie Sonic has his classic extremely angry face here too, so Shadow must have done something major. It's either world ending, or it put the lives of his family and friends in HUGE jeopardy (or both).

AND FINALLY. Gerald reveal

I cannot express the surprise I felt here. This scene shows us that Gerald is here in the present, not just a man who died 50 years ago by execution. So, possible time travel shenanigans or not, the fact that he's involved in the present conflict (perhaps with Shadow personally) is highly interesting and I'm excited to see where this goes.

Also, based on the layout of the room here, it's potentially possible that either this is the same room Sonic is searching earlier in the trailer, or that Gerald had multiple lab like living spaces he was jumping between over the years to stay under the radar, and that Team Sonic and Team Robotnik ended up finding Gerald while looking into clues on Shadow

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And...done. Whew. Wow. I had a lot of thoughts so uh. I hope my ask satisfied your curiosity, flashonetwo. I also hope for anyone that read this far that you enjoyed it at least a little bit, and that your mind is running with thoughts of your own.

I'm beyond excited for this movie, and I genuinely can't wait to see what happens next. So here's to seeing how much we get right in the future, and here's to enjoying what we get!😊❤️

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic movie 3 #sonic movie #sonic movie 3 trailer #sonic movie 3 trailer spoilers #flashoneonetwo interview #i just be ramblin #Thank you for the ask!!#Again it makes me feel happy to know that you like to hear what I have to say💖💖💖#And with that being said‚ if there are any other questions you have feel free to shoot me an ask! Love me an excuse to talk about the Sonic #franchise and my festering thoughts #Also I do apologize for how long it took me to answer this one #I wrote the part above the cut the day I watched the trailer but I found myself exceedingly busy and too exhausted to take a chance to #rewatch the trailer and type out all my thoughts #until today #So...yeah! I promise I didn't forget this ask!😊#now I will also proceed to tag a few things talked about in detail under the cut #agent stone #stobotnik #mentions of sontails #knuckles series spoilers #knuckles 2024 spoilers #dr ivo robotnik #dr ivo eggman robotnik #knuckles the echidna #dr robotnik #dr eggman #talk about dr starline #knuckles whipple #sonic wachowski

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the-lonelybarricade · 2 months ago

Text

We Bleed the Same - (5/?)

Summary: The forest was a labyrinth of snow and ice... The beginning to a story we know, unfolded a little bit differently.

A gift for my darling @belabellissima💝

Read on AO3 ・Series Masterlist ・Previous Chapter

The emerald eyed beast watched Feyre from the shadows of the ash wood grove.

She was frozen, shaping words of warning but unable to give any of them voice.

Elain’s back was turned, blissfully unaware of the looming threat as she tended to the garden on Lord Nolan’s estate. Her head was tilted mid-laugh, joy shining on her face, until the pleasant sound pitched into a scream when she spied the beast launching from its hiding spot. There was no time to evade its massive body as it tackled her to the ground, its brutal teeth tearing into her flesh.

Feyre couldn’t move. She wanted to lunge towards one of the ash wood trees and pry off a branch to use as a spear. She wanted to cry. She wanted to beg the beast to take her life instead. But all she could do was watch as the beast swiped a claw over Elain’s throat, cutting through her skin like butter.

Elain’s lips parted, fighting for breath in a series of wet, desperate gasps of air. Each of them were futile, catching and dissolving at the slit in her throat. Blood gushed from the wound—so bright against her pale skin—and trickled down to wet the earth. Feyre couldn’t look away as Elain’s head lolled into the growing dark puddle, her struggle tapering.

It was a slow, miserable death. And Elain held Feyre’s eyes until it claimed her.

Then a noise rose from behind, drawing the beast’s attention away from Elain’s corpse. It raised its bloodied maw to the mansion’s front entrance—and only once she recognized the voice did Feyre pry her eyes to where Nesta now stood, wailing at the sight before her.

Run, Feyre tried to beg, but Nesta didn’t. She collapsed to her knees, her face slackened with grief, and she made no move to defend herself as the beast darted past Feyre to strike down the eldest Archeron sister.

Nesta turned her head away from the beast, those fierce, burning eyes meeting Feyre’s.

“You did this,” she said, the words bathed in contempt. “You brought them here. You damned us.”

Feyre thrashed awake, hissing when the motion jerked at her stitches. She was covered in sweat and gasping for air as her eyes flitted through the dark bedroom, searching for any details that could ground her. Remind her that the nightmare wasn’t real.

It was just a dream, she told herself, rubbing away her tears. Elain and Nesta are fine. They’re asleep in their beds. Rhys is going to find the High Lord and…

And what? Kill him? Was that even possible?

Feyre groaned as she threw her sweat-damp blankets aside and reached for the small vial Rhysand left on her bedside table. The pain in her shoulder had steadily returned since he’d left the estate, and was now slicing through her with a vengeance.

She tipped the tonic into her mouth, swallowing past its acrid taste in the delusional hope it could clear away her restless mind just as effectively as it would ease the throbbing. The liquid burned as it slid down her throat and warmed her chest. She sat still, counting her heavy breaths as she waited for it to do something, anything.

It denied her any instant relief.

Fingers shaking, Feyre lifted the blankets to rise from the bed. Silver light poured through a slit in the heavy velvet drapes hanging from the windows. She knew if she pulled them aside, she’d find the estate cast in darkness, the morning still hours off.

But Feyre wasn’t brave enough to pull aside the drapes. Not at the risk of peeking out and seeing those emerald eyes flash at her through the shadows. She couldn’t shake the horror of her nightmare, the sight of all that gore.

If it were an ordinary day, back in the cottage, she would be waking by this time. Preparing for a day of hunting before the sun rose so that she wouldn’t miss a moment of precious sunlight. Her sisters would be grumbling their displeasure at being woken so early while Feyre untangled herself from their limbs.

An odd ache bloomed like a bolt in her chest. She never thought she’d miss sharing a bed with them, feeling the warmth of their bodies and hearing their steady breathing, knowing they were okay. Alive.

She pushed out her bedroom, telling herself she would feel better once she checked on her sisters and saw them each sleeping peacefully in their beds.

Of course, that required knowing where they were staying. Feyre glanced hopelessly down the branching passageways, each lined with dozens of doors, and for the first time she was struck by the sheer size of Lord Nolan’s fortress. She hadn’t bothered to ask Rhys where her sisters were being kept, and he hadn’t bothered to show her.

It was dim in the hallway. Feyre didn’t dare light a candle at the risk that Lord Nolan or his son might see the light passing under their door and decide to investigate. She didn’t want them to think she was snooping—and she promised herself that wasn’t what she was doing. But her eyes did wander, marking the weapons and trophies mounted to the walls, mentally keeping track of each of the turns she took through the dark halls so she could find her way back.

She paused when she came across a portrait hanging on one end of the corridor. It was too dim to admire the art in any detail, but the sight of it pulled at a longing she’d once believed would lay permanently dormant.

Perhaps… perhaps if they were truly to remain here, fed and unharmed, then Feyre would have the luxury of picking up a paintbrush again. Now that she could hang her bow without worrying where her family’s next meal was coming from.

Once, that was all she’d ever dreamed about.

Somehow, it still felt too far out of reach. Like it was all placed so neatly for her atop a frozen lake, but if she stepped towards it, the cracks would set in and she would watch everything collapse in front of her.

“Creepy, isn’t it?”

Feyre jumped at the sound of Nesta’s voice.

She spun around, finding her sister standing in the middle of the hallway, her arms crossed tightly over her dressing gown to keep it from exposing the nightgown she wore underneath. Silver light flooded from one of the windows at her back, haloing Nesta in an unearthly glow that, for a moment, caused Feyre’s heart to stutter. As if she were staring at an apparition.

Her sister was scowling at the portrait over Feyre’s shoulder. “That’s Lord Nolan’s late wife. The Housekeeper says she haunts this place.”

Feyre fought a shiver. “And you believe her?”

Besides the iron bracelet clasped around her wrist, Nesta had never acted overly superstitious. If not from a lack of belief, then from a lack of caring. What did ghosts and faeries matter when the most likely thing to kill them would be starvation? At least, until recently.

Nesta shrugged. “It’s clear she haunts Lord Nolan—or something does. I’ve heard rumors that he’d been descending into madness since she died. Now I can see what they meant. It’s like he’s become a ghost, too.”

There was a harshness to the words, a certain scorn that Feyre understood wasn’t entirely directed towards Lord Nolan. They’d seen the same happen in their own father. His steady decline after their mother’s death. While he lacked the unsettling, vacant stare she’d seen in Lord Nolan, there were still plenty of moments where it felt as though he wasn’t there at all. Moments where they’d needed him to be.

Knowing that words of sympathy would only stir Nesta’s temper, Feyre opted to change the subject.

“Why are you up so early?”

Nesta’s scowl swiveled from the portrait to Feyre. “I never went to sleep.”

There was something vulnerable there, hidden beneath the thorns and thistles.

Feyre’s expression softened. “You’re safe here, Nesta.”

“Why?” She hissed. “Because your mercenary says so?”

“Because there are dozens of guards patrolling the massive iron walls surrounding this place,” Feyre said, keeping her voice steady. “This is the safest place we could possibly be.”

The assurance rang hollow, even to her own ears. And Nesta’s eyes narrowed, zeroing in on that doubt.

“And we’re supposed to just trust that we’re welcome here indefinitely? Out of the goodness of Lord Nolan’s heart?”

It was all of the questions that Feyre kept asking herself. And she faltered, having no answer except, “Rhys says—”

“Yes, let’s talk about Rhys.” Nesta sneered his name. “Your husband shows up out of nowhere and the next day a faerie breaks down our door. You don’t think that timing’s a little strange?”

That gave Feyre pause. “What are you accusing him of?”

“I don’t know,” Nesta said. “Not yet. But there’s something about him. Something off. And your supposed marriage?” Her laugh was vicious enough to cut through steel. “I wish I could say it’s surprising you’d be so easily manipulated.”

Feyre bristled. “I thought you would have been happy,” she snapped. “Thanks to him, you finally get to enjoy the comforts of wealth without lifting a finger. Isn’t that everything you ever wanted?”

“None of it is real, Feyre! I hope you’ll realize that before you doom all of us.”

Nesta turned on her heel and stormed away before Feyre could have the last word. She knew better than to follow after her sister. They fought more often than they didn’t and when Nesta retreated like this, it meant she needed time to seethe.

And though she’d gotten defensive, a part of Feyre was reluctant to admit that Nesta was right.

They were putting so much of their trust in a stranger when, for all she knew, Rhysand was halfway to the nearest port with no intention of returning. And meanwhile they would sit in this estate, deluding themselves into thinking a man-made wall would be sufficient in warding off a High Lord’s wrath.

It was possible they were being kept here as nice, pretty bait to distract the High Lord. Lure him here while Rhysand made a clean getaway. Is that not exactly what she would have considered doing?

But then… it made no sense why Rhys would bother interfering at all. He could have wiped his hands of this from the moment they met in the marketplace.

None of it made any gods-damned sense.

Feyre slid a hand down her face and spared one final glance towards the portrait of Lord Nolan’s late wife.

The shafts of moonlight in the hall didn’t quite reach the portrait, as if intentionally keeping her image shrouded in the dark. Even then, Feyre could tell she was beautiful. She stepped closer, squinting to take in any details. She had sad eyes—brown, like Graysen’s, and slightly hooded.

As Feyre stared, taking in the melancholy of her image, she thought it wasn’t so inconceivable that Lord Nolan would feel moved by Rhysand’s lies. It made sense that he would feel pity for a man afraid of losing his wife.

The only thing she had yet to fathom was why Rhys lied in the first place.

Things were quiet at breakfast. Lord Nolan was notably absent, and without Rhysand to carry the conversation with his little quips, Graysen was left stranded amid the icy tundra burning through the silence of the Archeron sisters.

Rather than go back to bed, Feyre had stayed up all morning thinking about what Nesta said, and what she was supposed to do about it. She didn’t know what Rhysand’s motivations were. What she did know was that he’d kept her alive, and somehow managed to convince Lord Nolan to let her family stay, however temporarily.

And that was good enough.

It had to be, because she didn’t know what the alternative was.

Yet, that didn’t soothe the part of her mind that searched for one. Nesta’s words stirred a restlessness that insisted on having a backup plan, that refused to let Feyre put her full trust in anyone or anything. Maybe she’d permanently lost that ability. Maybe it was for a good reason.

“I’d like to go back to our cottage today,” she said, finally breaking the silence.

Everyone’s head jerked her direction, meeting her with varying degrees of disbelief.

“Just to collect some of our things,” she added, thinking of the coin Rhys had given her for the pelts. They would need it if they decided to leave Lord Nolan’s sanctuary—or if their warm welcome were to expire with little warning.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Graysen said, his face pinched in discomfort.

His reluctance surprised her, considering he’d offered his men to escort them outside the estate only yesterday.

“I’ll be quick,” she assured him. “And I can go with one of your guards, if necessary.”

He pressed his lips together, clearly still uncomfortable with the idea, and Feyre sensed that he was withholding something from her. From all of them.

“Did Rhysand say something to you about letting me leave the estate?”

She couldn’t help the dark edge that slipped into her voice. If he thought he could control her by putting a fake ring around her finger, then he was going to be very disappointed.

“What?” Graysen blinked, his lips curling into a frown. “No. But I’m worried it’s not safe. There was an attack in the village last night.”

The surge in her temper dropped, plummeting into a dark pit in her stomach, where it cooled into stone. Her body felt impossibly heavy as she asked, “Did someone get hurt?”

“A woman was killed,” he said grimly. “A prisoner. She was found dead in her cell this morning. Her…” He cast a worried glance towards Elain, who had gone pale. He lowered his voice, as if it could lessen the blow of the news as he said, “Her heart was missing from her chest.”

Feyre’s pulse leaped into her throat, though she tried to swallow it back down. “And the authorities think it was a faerie?”

He shrugged. “They don’t know how the culprit was able to get into her cell, fae or otherwise. It was still locked when they found her. The bars are made of iron.”

Iron wouldn’t stop the fae. For some reason, she held her tongue from sharing that with Graysen.

“But you think it was a faerie,” Nesta said, reading his expression.

“What else would take her heart from her chest?” Graysen asked. “She was in line for the gallows. I can’t think of a human motive for doing this before her execution. And to happen the day after the attack on your cottage—”

He cut himself off when Elain made a small, distressed noise in the back of her throat.

Nesta filled in the rest, looking at Feyre as she said, “The timing is too strange for the attack not to be related.”

“Exactly,” Graysen said, moving to place his hand on top of Elain’s. “But you’ll be safe in here,” he soothed, speaking directly to her. “Our guards will make sure of it.”

Elain nodded, holding his gaze and looking utterly besotted by his promise. But Feyre and Nesta shared a glance across the table, neither of them feeling assured by his words. All it would take was one faerie to slip through the gates. One mistake, and they’d all be dead.

The threat of the fae was no longer some distant thing lurking behind the Wall. They were here, stalking the woods and hunting in the village. She wondered if Rhys was safe. Never mind her concern that he’d flee without them—it suddenly seemed just as likely that he’d be killed on patrol. He might be skilled with a sword but he was still just a human.

And despite what he promised, she knew that humans were easily killed.

The afternoon sun made the carnage of the beast’s arrival all the more stark. Pieces of wood were scattered in the snow—splinters that had been sent flying from the moment he broke down their door.

Feyre tracked her eyes through the barren trees surrounding the cottage, trying to listen beyond the whistling wind and the footsteps following at her back. Graysen had eventually relented in allowing her to visit the cottage, but only at the insistence that she bring along three guards.

It came as no surprise when Nesta and Elain had no interest in coming with. Nesta had always loathed their cottage and Elain was too spooked by the news of the attack to brave venturing outside the estate.

“Stay here,” she told the guards, once she was satisfied there was nothing waiting beyond the treeline.

They looked prepared to protest, but Feyre stepped up to the gaping front entrance before they could. It was mortifying enough for them to see the outside of the cottage, with its filthy windows and balded thatched roof that perpetually dripped in the winter.

She ran her fingers over the damaged doorway, along the notches where the hinges had been torn off. Only a few feet inside, she could see the remnants of their front door, gouged by large claw marks but still mostly intact.

The memories were too fresh. She couldn’t look towards the fireplace without seeing Nesta and Elain cowering in fear or hearing her father barter her life for gold. It would always sting, but she wasn’t expecting her throat to clog as was reminded, again, of how close she’d come to dying.

And how little they’d seemed to care.

Enough to cry. Enough to mourn. But not enough to do something.

She knew it was her responsibility. She’d killed the wolf and it was only right that she faced the consequences for it. But she also knew that if the situation had been reversed, she would have fought for her sisters. And that’s what made her chest feel too tight.

As Feyre wandered into the bedroom to snatch the coin purse from the dresser, she briefly wondered if she would always be cursed to be the one who loved more. To give and give and give but never feel like she could take.

How long until there was nothing left of herself to give?

For all she knew, it was already too late. It would explain why she felt empty as she pocketed the coin and strode out of the cottage. The guards looked relieved to see her and she offered them a tight smile.

“See? I promised I’d be quick.”

They were efficient in ushering her back towards the carriage, but not before a prickling awareness tingled down her spine. She turned, casting her eyes towards the skeletal forest. It was a familiar sensation, one she’d felt after killing that wolf in the woods.

Miles and miles of barren trees and fresh snow. No matter where she looked, that was all she could see. The wind had stopped, but if she held her breath, she couldn’t hear a sound from the forest. It was eerily quiet. And it set her on edge.

“Is everything okay?” One of the guards asked, noticing her pause.

“Yeah,” Feyre said, swinging herself into the carriage with renewed urgency. “Everything’s fine.”

It was two nights later, while Feyre was crouched in front of the fireplace with a poker, trying desperately to get the sparks to take, that her bedroom window creaked.

Feyre whirled, her heart in her throat, raising the poker that she already knew would be useless against the intruder. What else would climb through her bedroom window, besides a faerie?

The sunset snuck up on her—it always did, in these winter months. She hadn’t lit any candles, too focused on trying to light the fireplace to fend off the steadily dropping temperature.

She’d thought nothing of the darkness pressing into the corners of the room until that soft creak drew her attention towards the far window, revealing a male figure disguised amongst those shadows. He stood propped against the windowsill, the night sky a mantle rising over his shoulders.

“Do I want to know why you were digging through our fireplace, Feyre darling?“

She gasped, almost dropping the poker. “Rhys?”

He stepped closer, face still hung in shadow. “Beginning to miss me?”

Her heart was thundering. It didn’t seem to ease, though she knew he was no longer a threat.

“Of course not,” she said. She meant to lower the poker, but found her fingers tightening.

Rhys chuckled. The sound was dark, scraping. She felt it drag across the ridges of her spine, slightly less pronounced in the time he’d been away. It was remarkable how even just a few days of steady eating could make a difference.

“Such a warm welcome from my wife,” he said. She could picture his feline smile as he glided through the dark with unfathomable ease, as if he were its maker. “Are you going to put that poker down, or are you still debating on stabbing me with it?”

Feyre glanced over her shoulder, toward the large oak door on the opposite side of the room. Puzzled, she asked, “Did you come in through the window?”

“I came in behind you,” he said with another laugh, crossing the room in four long strides. “But you were too focused on that fireplace to welcome your poor husband home.”

“Except you’re not my husband,” she said flatly, returning to her work now that he was coming closer. She wasn’t certain she could handle seeing his face, which she admittedly had been thinking about. Often. “And as we’ve established, I didn’t miss you.”

“Didn’t you?” he crooned, crouching behind her. “I’m glad you clarified, or that cloak might have given me the wrong impression.”

Feyre went quiet. She’d been wearing his cloak because it was warm and of much better quality than her own. It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d eventually return to find her still in it.

He asked, his voice like molten silk, “Did you ever take it off?”

Technically, yes. To sleep and bathe. But she knew that wasn’t what he was asking, and for some reason she decided to be honest. “No.”

A low, throaty sound rumbled through his chest.

“Good,” he said. “Then everyone here knows precisely who you belong to.”

“I’m not your wife,” she said again.

When he reached around her and coiled his fingers over the iron poker, she let him take it, making no comment about the way his body enveloped hers, how he leaned forward until she was more or less sitting in his lap. Heat spread through her, and suddenly igniting the fire was a redundant task.

Rhys placed his other hand on her hip while he worked, a claiming gesture that she should have shaken away. But she didn’t.

“Why not ask the servants for help?”

“I don’t need servants,” she said.

“Too proud?” There was an odd note in his voice, one that made her feel as though she’d swallowed an entire glass of brandy. “Or too stubborn?”

“Neither.” She couldn’t deny that she sounded petulant, even to her own ears. Making an effort to sweeten her voice, she purred, “I’m letting you do it, aren’t I?”

She expected more flirtatious comments about how husbands should provide for their wives, but he sounded surprisingly thoughtful as he said, “It’s another thing, then.” He paused in deliberation and then asked, gently, “Are you worried about being a burden?”

It struck too close to home. She knew he could tell, because there was no subtlety in the way she stiffened.

With equal, grating gentleness, he said, “You’re not a burden, Feyre. To anyone.”

An odd sound rose in the back of her throat. She didn’t want to be seen. Not like this. Not by him.

“Of course I’m not to you.” She flung the words at him, hoping he’d rise to the barb and they could go back to bickering. That was comfortable territory. “You’ll light the fire and I’ll probably have to give you the name of my firstborn child in exchange.”

His hand raised to her stomach. “You mean our child, wife?”

The words were teasing, but they warmed her belly as readily as if she’d swallowed a pile of glowing embers. They sparked and fluttered beneath the heat of his hand, particularly as his fingers flexed, caressing her stomach as if a child were already growing there.

Mortified, she pushed his hand away, sparing no effort with being gentle. Rhys merely laughed, allowing his hand to fall back to her hip. The heat inside her traveled with his touch, cascading down. She tried very hard not to focus on where it was pooling.

“Well, you’ll be relieved to hear I require no firstborn children.” He smirked, as if to add an unspoken yet to his promise. “But you’re right, I prefer equal exchanges. How about: I’ll light the fire if you stay in my arms like this. Warmth for warmth, hmm?”

Rhys was already tightening his arms around her as if she’d agreed, and she was reluctant to admit that it felt good being held. His chest blanketed her back, fighting off the worst of the winter chill. She was certain he hadn’t bathed while he’d been away, but he smelled like he had—a clean, heady scent that was becoming increasingly familiar to her. Citrus and the sea.

She closed her eyes and felt herself relaxing into him, even as she groused, “For how long?”

He considered it. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”

Lightly, though she thought better to tell him that. Whenever Lord Nolan joined them at dinner, she found she didn’t have as much of an appetite. It made her stomach churn just thinking about how he sat unmoving and unseeing, like he was little more than an empty husk.

“I haven’t,” Rhys told her, drawing her thoughts away from the aging Lord.

Feyre opened her eyes to study him carefully. He was immaculate for a man who had spent days trekking through the wilderness, with no sign of the sweat and dirt she always seemed to collect during her morning hunts. He wore his usual irreverence, but she did sense a heaviness that hadn’t been present before, a tension in the clench of his jaw, the draw of his shoulders.

It dawned on her that he must be exhausted from the journey. And she wondered, the thought unbidden and gnawing, if he’d eaten at all in his time away.

Continuing, Rhys said, “I’ve asked a servant to bring us a meal. So sit with me here while I eat. Talk to me. And then I’ll consider the debt paid.”

Without waiting for her to accept those terms, he shifted forward to light the fire in earnest. To her dismay, he made quick work of a job she’d been attempting for the last half hour. Granted he had both arms to work with.

Flames began licking up the tinder, casting an amber glow over the little space they’d claimed by the hearth, atop a large fur rug.

She watched the light dance over his long fingers as she asked, “Will it always be like this between us? Always a debt to be paid?”

“I hope so,” he murmured. “An unpaid debt is like a promise. So long as one exists between us, it means we’ll be seeing each other again.”

Feyre turned, drinking in his regal side profile. A part of her had been convinced he wouldn’t come back, and she was concerned by the larger part of her that was relieved he had.

“I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again,” she admitted.

His eyes flickered to hers, only briefly, before he fixed his stare on the fire. “Why not?”

He kept his tone deceptively casual. Feyre studied his expression, watching the flame dance in his eyes. Against the warm lighting, they looked even more striking—closer to purple than blue.

It was inexplicable, but she found herself wanting to be honest with him. So with a deep breath, she admitted, “I couldn’t think of any reason why you’d stay.”

“I had a wife to return to,” he said, flashing another of those infuriating smirks.

“But why would you, really?” Feyre pressed, not falling for his deflection. “Why does any of this matter to you?”

“Is it really so hard to believe that someone would want to stay for you, Feyre?”

“Yes,” she said. Her throat felt tight. “Because we’re strangers. And because you’ve already admitted that you had an ulterior motive for saving me. So tell me why. Who is the High Lord to you?”

He still studied the fire, tracking each soft pop and the resulting spray of sparks with riveted interest. Though his expression remained neutral, she felt his arms tighten around her. And his words rumbled in the back of his throat before he released them, all in one breath.

“He killed my father.”

The admission hung in silence for a moment. Feyre sucked in air between her teeth, not expecting the truth to be so abrupt. So brutal. Even the fire seemed to dampen, as if it, too, were shocked by his words and wished to pay them the proper gravity.

Feyre suspected she had to tread lightly. She kept her voice soft as she ventured, “So you want revenge.”

He laughed, though it was hollow, wrung of any humor. “I’ll admit that a part of me will always want revenge for what he did. But it’s not about that. Not anymore.”

Rhys looked at her, then, sweeping his violet eyes over her face. She seized the opportunity to admire how the firelight slanted across his features, selecting the focal points it felt worth admiring: the arch of his cheekbones, the strong curve of his jaw, the plush of his bottom lip.

It had been so long since she’d felt the urge to paint, but that old desire flared to life as she looked at him. Longing twitched at the tips of her fingers, wishing for some method of capturing what she saw, if only to use it as proof when she inevitably doubted herself later.

Doubted that there was truly softness in his expression when he said, “I told you I came back for my wife, and it’s the truth. I came back for you, Feyre. And I will never let him take away something I care about ever again.”

“But you don’t even know me.”

That excuse was starting to feel flimsy. Especially when he was looking at her like he did know her. Like he could see through her cloak and gown, through her skin and bones, and straight to the haggard soul beneath, where she hid every bitter, twisted thought that was too dark to let the world see.

Her throat felt dry from the way he was looking at her. But he didn’t try to deny that they were strangers.

Instead, he rasped, “Is it so bad that I want to?”

In the back of her mind, she heard every insult Nesta had ever hurled towards her. Illiterate, ignorant, unremarkable, proud, cold, half-wild beast. A wound was opening in her chest, splitting further apart by each of those sharp, silent words.

She pinched her lips together. And though she knew it sounded pathetic, she told him, “I don’t think you’d like what you’d find.”

But it was the truth. No one ever did. And she wouldn’t delude herself into thinking Rhys would be any different.

Rhys opened his mouth like he might argue, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. He offered her an intent look, one that promised their conversation wasn’t over, and untangled himself to go answer.

The moment he was gone… it was like an ache. She hadn’t realized how relaxed she’d become in his arms, how warm and content, until it was ripped away. The cold that pressed in was startling, rubbing raw against the places he’d been touching. She edged closer to the fire, all too aware that its touch felt like a poor imitation of Rhysand’s.

What was happening to her?

Rhys returned moments later with a massive tray of food, which he placed on the floor in front of her before resuming his position. He drew her back against his chest and bracketed his long legs on either side of hers. Once he deemed she was situated, he pulled the tray into her lap.

She’d already told him that she’d eaten, but the sight and smell of the steaming food caused the back of her mouth to water. Her stomach growled, betraying her, and Rhys let out a low laugh.

“I propose another exchange, little huntress.”

Feyre noticed he refrained from using wife when he wanted something. Clever man.

Still, she was wary. “What kind of exchange?”

“For every piece of food you let me feed you, I’ll answer any question. And for every two questions I answer, I get to ask one from you.”

Her eyes dipped to the tray of food in her lap. Just like the deal they made about lighting the fire, she thought she was getting the better offer. Not that she would ever admit it.

“Deal.”

With an appreciative hum, Rhys reached for a piece of bread from the tray and dipped it into the sauce. Feyre felt a little shy when he held up to her. She’d never been hand fed before, and she was aware of his rapt attention as she parted her lips to accept his offering.

He brought the remaining piece to his own mouth as he waited for her to finish chewing. It was strangely intimate to watch him bite into the place her lips had just been, undeterred by the thought of sharing her saliva. She supposed, as a mercenary, he’d eaten food in far worse condition.

After swallowing, she asked him, “Where did you learn to use your sword?”

“In Illyria.” She remembered that was the place he said he was from—the mountainous region on the continent. “I come from a warrior tribe. We’re taught to wield swords no sooner than we learn how to walk.”

He prompted her for another mouthful. Once she was finished with it, she asked, “Do you miss Illyria?”

“Parts of it. The Illyrian Mountains are harsh, the camp where I trained even more so. But they’re my mother’s people, and I’ll always wear their marks proudly for that alone.”

“Their marks?”

“Ah,” Rhys chided. “That was two questions, Feyre. Now it’s my turn.”

She assumed by the way he drifted closer, the way the hand at her hip began smoothing slow circles over her clothes, that he would ask her something personal. Something, perhaps, that would force her to admit to the tension they both felt rising between them.

But all he asked was, “How does your arm feel?”

The pain had simply become a dull presence she’d accepted. It was tolerable so long as she didn’t strain the stitches, and she’d gotten used to relying on her dominant hand. But as she focused her awareness on the wound, she found that ever-present pain had subsided considerably.

“Better,” she said in surprise. “A lot better, actually.”

“Good. I picked up some healing salve from the infirmary on the way here. You should let me put it on the wound before you go to bed.”

Feyre nodded. And after another bite of food, she asked, “What happened while you were on patrol?”

Behind her, Rhys blew out a breath. “We tracked the beast all the way to the Wall, but lost the trail there.”

She jerked. “You went all the way to the Wall?”

“It’s why the patrol took so long.”

The furthest North Feyre had ever dared to venture was the clearing where she’d felled the wolf. It would have taken another day and half’s journey from there to make it to the Wall, or so she’d been told.

“Are you out of your mind? What if the High Lord had been waiting there with more faeries? They would have killed you!”

“We were fine—”

“You were reckless!”

Rhys fell silent in the face of her anger. Before he said, drawing out his words, “If I didn’t know better, Feyre, I would think you were concerned about me.”

Whatever concern she’d felt was short lived. At that moment, all she wanted to do was throttle him.

He grinned like he knew it. “It’s my turn for a question. So tell me, honestly. Did you miss me? Were you worried about me?”

“Those are two different questions.”

Rhys looked insufferably pleased with himself as he purred, “Yes, but I think they have the same answer.”

He was incorrigible. She hated him for asking, almost as much as she hated the honest answer was, “Yes.”

Feyre didn’t understand it.

Or maybe she did. Maybe it was as simple as the fact that no one had ever bothered to ask if she was warm or fed or in pain. Maybe Nesta was right, and it was pitiful how easily she could be manipulated by the slightest hint of kindness.

It was kindness nonetheless, and she’d known so little of it. She had no concept of how starved she’d been, how desperate she was to talk to someone who would at least pretend like they cared.

“I missed you, too,” Rhys murmured, raising his palm to her cheek. He turned her face towards his own, his gaze so searing that she felt every doubt and lingering insecurity cower beneath it, afraid of being seen. “You claim we’re strangers, but you feel it, don’t you? This connection between us. I think knowing you could be as easy as knowing myself.”

That was a terrifying prospect, though he didn’t seem to think so.

Terrifying and absurd. There was nothing connecting them besides misfortune and, perhaps, a mutual attraction that was beginning to feel dangerous to act on.

She challenged, “Besides the faerie, besides hunting, name one thing we have in common.”

He answered without hesitation. “We would both trade anything to protect the people we love. Even ourselves.”

The knowing in his eyes was becoming unbearable. Feyre tore her face from his grasp, angling it away from him and away from the fire in the hopes that she might banish the heat of his touch.

It was still tingling along her cheek as she said, “You told me that the life of a mercenary is lonely. That you would never find someone to share it with. What do you know about love?”

“I think,” he said slowly, like she was a feral creature he didn’t want to startle, “that’s another thing we have in common. We’ve given so much of ourselves away that we’ve become isolated in the process.”

Her eyes were beginning to sting. It would be humiliating to cry in front of him a second time. She swallowed a deep breath, blinking back the moisture gathering on her lashes.

Finally, when she trusted her voice to remain steady, she asked, “You chose this life to protect someone?”

“You owe me a question,” he said lightly. “And two mouthfuls.”

Feyre snatched a leg of chicken off the plate. A laugh rasped out of him when she tore the meat off the bone with a ferocity that would have scandalized her sisters.

But then he straightened, sobering. “I see the way that you care for your family. How fiercely you love them. It reminds me—” he paused, a strangled sound rising in his throat. He cleared it away and continued, “It reminds me of how I used to feel when I was around my brothers.”

Brothers. Feyre didn’t need to ask where they were now. One quick glance at Rhys, at the thinly veiled anguish creasing his expression, was enough to tell her what happened to them. Gone. Somewhere even a mercenary couldn’t follow.

“Was it…” she could barely shape words in the torrent of her horror. “The High Lord—”

Rhys shook his head. “It’s a tragedy for another day.”

She placed the remains of the chicken leg back on the plate, her appetite vanished. Rhys must have felt the same, because he moved the tray off her lap and set it on the low wooden table nearby.

Guilt reared inside her. He had to be starving from his journey and she ruined his dinner because she couldn’t stop herself from prying. She could add tactless to her list of shortcomings.

“I still owe you a question,” she reminded him, hoping to lighten his mood.

“I’ll save it. A promise that this won’t be the last we speak.”

Feyre bit her lip. “Why don’t you sleep in the bed tonight?”

It was the best she could offer. If he’d slept at all on his journey, it would have been on the ground. If not a full meal, then at least he could indulge in the comfort of a soft, plush mattress.

His mouth barely, barely tugged at the corners. But the offer had its intended effect when he crooned, “Is that an invitation, wife?”

“Alone,” she hedged.

“No deal.”

“What?” Feyre glared at him. “Are you truly that stubborn?”

Rhysand’s eyes sparkled with a familiar mischief. “I am truly that stubborn.”

Two could play that game.

Feyre crossed her arms. “And if I refuse to sleep on the bed?”

“Then I’ll keep you warm on the floor.”

The dark, sensual promise wended around her, warring with her irritation. He was insufferable, and his self-satisfied grin should have been enough to convince her to drop it, to let him sleep on the floor if he was so insistent.

But she hesitated, pinned by his near-predatory focus. Gone was his quiet sadness. And maybe it was the triumph of knowing she’d succeeded in cheering him up, or maybe it was because she glanced towards the large bed and felt the shadow of her nightmare pressing in.

Maybe they both wanted it as badly as the other.

“Fine,” she said. And just to wipe the smug look off his face, she promptly added, “But no touching.”

“I’ll try to keep my hands to myself,” he swore, though his fiendish grin was less than reassuring.

“If you want to keep them, you better.”

Rhys chuckled, holding up his hands in feigned innocence. “I won’t lay a finger on you until you ask me, Feyre.”

Until. As if it were inevitable.

“But,” Rhys continued, “I hope you’ll at least let me dress your wound.”

“I managed just fine without you.”

“I know you did. I know you could manage anything by yourself, you’ve proven that well enough already. But you don’t have to anymore.” He met her eyes steadily. “Let me help you. Let me make it easier for you.”

Feyre thought, once again, that it sounded as if he were talking to a feral animal. Trying to soothe her so that she didn’t bite at his approach. And she wondered if that’s exactly what she’d become. A half-wild beast, just like Nesta accused.

“Okay,” she relented, feeling a weight ease out of her.

Rhys nodded. She appreciated that he didn’t gloat, though he had plenty of reason to. Instead, he lightly grabbed her elbow and helped Feyre to her feet. He jerked his chin towards the bed, silently directing her while he went to fetch the salve from his pack.

The floorboards creaked under her weight as she stepped toward the bed, feeling oddly nervous. They wouldn’t be touching and she had every intention of turning her back to him the second they snuffed out the candles. But it was still intimate in a way that was different than sharing a bed with her sisters, or fucking Isaac Hale in a barn.

With a swallow of air for courage, Feyre paused before the four-poster bed and unlatched the straps of Rhysand’s cloak. It fell to the floor in a puddle of fur, revealing the nightgown she wore beneath it. The one she’d selected believing she’d be sleeping alone tonight.

Rhysand, to his credit, hardly blinked at the sight of the thin silk and the bare skin it left on display. If anything, he frowned as he ushered her to sit at the edge of the bed so he could begin the careful task of unraveling her bandages.

For all of his flirting, she wondered if he would even be interested in her that way. He was a beautiful man and she was just… some poor, scrawny village girl that no one had ever looked twice at. Except Isaac, she supposed, but their arrangement had always felt more like one of desperation and convenience than any true desire.

Underneath his breath, she thought she might have heard Rhys laugh. She snapped her eyes to his face, narrowing them.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said. Then amended, “I don’t think I’ve seen you so deep in thought before.”

She must have been pulling an amusing expression, if the humor in his eyes was any indication.

Scowling, she asked, “Do you not think I’m capable of it?”

“A clever huntress like you?” He didn’t give her any warning as he scooped his fingers into the salve and began spreading it over her raw flesh with surprising gentleness. “Of course you are.”

Clever was another thing she’d never been called before Rhys. She coached herself not to let the flattery get to her head. He was saying it intentionally, afterall. To soften her.

The salve began to sting as it seeped into the wound, like slivers of flame licking up her skin. She hissed through her teeth, but was privately grateful that it broke her away from the lure of his bedroom eyes and honeyed words.

“Will you tell me what you were thinking about?” He asked. “One thought in exchange for another?”

“More games?”

He smiled. “You know I love games.”

Feyre didn’t want to reveal her pathetic thoughts, so she told him, “You said something earlier… about wearing the marks of your mother’s people. I was wondering what you meant.”

To her relief, Rhys didn’t detect the lie for what it was.

“Ah,” he said. “That’s a longer story.”

“A bedtime story, perhaps?”

“Perhaps.”

He closed the lid of the salve, setting it aside as he reached for a roll of fresh bandages. And then his fingers returned to steady her arm, his touch an inferno against her cool skin. Every movement was quick and efficient, marked by an expertise that told her he’d done this many, many times. Was that by nature of his job, or because of the warrior tribe he hailed from?

“You at least owe me a thought,” she said, if only to break his quiet focus, the intensity of which was beginning to make her squirm.

Rhys flicked his eyes up to her face, the heat of them just as intense as his touch. She realized it was a mistake to draw his attention away from his task, because whatever reprieve she expected was worsened tenfold as he held her gaze.

“I’m thinking that you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he said, his voice warming her blood. “And that I don’t know how I’m going to manage sleeping beside you without losing my gods damned mind.”

“Oh,” Feyre whispered, because she had nothing else to say.

It was stupid, she chided herself, to let his compliments mean anything at all. What did it matter if she was beautiful to him or not? And yet… it felt like every piece of her body was malfunctioning. Her eyes burned and her heart sped into a staggering rhythm. She had no idea what to do with her hands, her legs, her face, though she became painfully aware of each of them.

Mercifully, Rhys finished securing the bandage and stepped away. “It’s healing nicely,” he said. “The healer should be able to take the stitches out in a few days.”

Her mind spun at how he could move on from the conversation so quickly, as if it was of no consequence to him at all. If she was wise, she would dismiss his words as more attempts at flattery and nothing more.

Feyre managed to scrape together enough of her composure to say, “That’s good.” Then, “We should go to sleep.”

“You go ahead,” Rhy said softly. “I’ll bathe first, and then I’ll come join you.”

And maybe he was doing it all deliberately, tending to her needs before his own despite his long journey. He could be manipulating her like Nesta said, pulling her in so easily with his gentle touches and sweetened tongue.

She watched him disappear into the bathing room, feeling ill at ease with the knowledge that, regardless of his intentions, it was working. How could she not soften for him, when he paid her more consideration than anyone else in her life, even as a stranger?

You feel it, don’t you? This connection between us.

Feyre pressed her hand to her chest, swearing that she felt a phantom tug behind her rib cage. Was that her heart finally thawing? It was pumping readily for what felt like the first time in years.

And it terrified her.

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