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potatoplace · 4 months ago

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Omega Needs - Chapter 4

Feylin, eventual Feysand

chapter 3 chapter 5 series masterlist

Story Summary: Feyre presented as an omega after being changed into a high fae Under the Mountain. Her heats have been hellish, and Tamlin has neglected certain aspects of her presentation. After the disastrous wedding ceremony, how will Feyre’s omega handle being away from her Alpha?

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, talk of UTM stuff, that's all I think

Words: ~4.1k

Author's Note: well, it's not as far into the week as I wanted to get, but I'm happy with how this chapter turned out! Not proofreading, as usual lol. More to come in the next few days :) I wanted to say thank you to everyone who's read my story so far, it means so much to me to see every like and comment. Enjoy! Also I hope Rhys and Feyre aren't feeling too OOC, both of them are more influenced by their biological urges, the main change so far is in Feyre being more submissive, when she's normally such a firecracker. She'll still have her moments, no worries, just wanted to give a bit of an explanation.

18+ only pls

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Feyre’s bath was heavenly. The view was perfect, the temperature of the water was just right, and Nuala had brought in a tray holding a lovely teapot filled with a lovely jasmine tea, which she was tempted to ask for a container of to take home to Spring, as well as a few different kinds of cookies.

She stayed in the bath until the tea was gone and the sweets were eaten. Her skin was pruney, but she didn’t mind. She dried herself off and tied her hair up in a towel, walked over to the wardrobe and swung the doors open. The inside held an assortment of clothing, matching sets of tops and bottoms, all of which were cut in a comfortable but attractive looking fashion. There were also a few silk dresses, nightgowns, dressing gowns, thick leggings, and buttery soft looking knit sweaters. There were a few different pairs of satin slippers on the floor of the wardrobe, all varying in color that matched the sets of clothing. Feyre pulled out one of the nightgowns, a midnight blue with silver stars embroidered at the hems, and slipped it over her head, amazed at how well it fit her body.

Although, maybe she shouldn’t be seeing as Rhys had chosen clothing… well, scraps of cloth, for her before, and her body truly hadn’t changed much in the past year.

Shaking her head, she grabbed a matching, sheer dressing gown, then padded over to the bed and bent down slightly, touching the indigo comforter, and instantly sinking down onto the bed. The blanket was possibly one of the softest fabrics she had ever touched. Tossing the dressing gown on the end of the bed, she pulled back the covers and slipped underneath, deciding that she was worn out enough from the day events to take a nap before dinner.

The pillows were just the right marriage between firm and fluffy, Feyre couldn’t help but loose a sigh as she pulled the blanket up over her chin. The pillowcases were violet in color, and she wondered if Rhysand had a hand in decorating her room. With the shade of his eyes all over the room, she thought it was highly likely. If he did have a part in it, well, he did a good job. Especially with the bed, not forgetting the fabrics waiting to billow down and create a beautiful canopy.

After a few minutes of laying in a haven of comfort, Feyre slipped into a deep sleep as her body gave in to the emotional exhaustion from the day.

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It was a few hours later that she was awoken by a soft knock and the door swinging open, Cerridwen holding a tray with a few dishes stacked on top.

Feyre sat up in the bed, wiping the sleep out of her eyes when the smell hit her- something was absolutely mouthwatering, and her stomach rumbled. It was then that she realized she hadn’t eaten all day aside from the cookies earlier, having been too nervous to eat before the ceremony, and, well…

“That smells wonderful,” she remarked as Cerridwen crossed the room and placed the tray on the table. “What is it?”

“There’s a bowl of beef stew, a few slices of bread, and a slice of cake. Oh, and a couple of different drinks that I thought you might like.” Feyre grabbed the dressing gown and slipped it on, walking over to the table and smiled at the shadow wraith.

“Thank you for the food, Cerridwen.”

“It’s no problem, Feyre. Thank you for everything that you have done. It means a lot to all of us to be back home,” she said with gratitude in her eyes, and Feyre blushed lightly. “Especially… especially for the High Lord.” Cerridwen shook her head, clearing her thoughts, then made for the door. “Enjoy your dinner, Feyre.”

Feyre watched the door close, then turned back to the tray of food. The stew looked as delicious as it smelled, thick with chunks of beef, onion, carrots, potatoes, and two other root vegetables. Feyre was guessing they were native to the Night Court, as she’d never seen anything similar to them back in Spring. One of them was blue inside, with varying rings of varying color spreading outward and the skin removed; the other was a solid dark brown with a black skin.

She sat down and immediately picked up the spoon, taking a bite of the stew. Flavor exploded in her mouth as the spicy, earthy flavor overtook her tastebuds. Quickly, she spooned another bite into her mouth, and sighed after swallowing. It was absolute perfection, so rich and comforting.

Feyre picked up a slice of bread going to tear a piece off and butter it separately, as she had been drilled into doing over the past year back home. But…

Ianthe isn’t here right now.

No one is here to see her butter the whole slice of bread and dip it into the stew, taking the biggest bite that she possibly could.

No one is here to see that she finishes stew and bread within 15 minutes, an entirely unladylike act back home for the size of the bowl.

The cake was a nutty flavor- pistachio, if she was correct- with a vanilla buttercream, and absolutely delightful. Feyre was only able to finish half of the slice, her stomach feeling on the edge of bursting.

Stuffed as she was, she looked towards the three cups on the tray. One of them was water, which she took a small sip of. The next was a bubbly apple juice, light and sweet on her tongue, similar to the sparkling fairy wine they had at holidays. The last was a warm and creamy chocolate drink, staying warm in its enchanted mug, adding to the contentment building in her chest.

Even if the day had been bad, nowhere near the outcome she was hoping for, she had just eaten a delicious dinner with a gorgeous view.

She climbed back into her bed a few minutes later, watching the sun set over the mountains as she lay facing the open wall, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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A knock sounded on her door, waking Feyre from her peaceful slumber. “Darling, breakfast will be ready in a half an hour,” Rhysand drawled through the door before she heard his footsteps receding down the hall.

She sighed and threw the covers off of herself, stretching her body taut before getting up and heading over to the bathroom.

She slipped her nightgown off over her head, tossing it on the large counter on the far end of the bathroom, and her hair up in a bun with a tie she found in drawer in the counter, then sank into the warm water of the bathtub. She reveled in the beauty of the morning light shining on the land before her for a few minutes. She washed herself quickly, not wanting to linger too long and risk Rhysand or someone else possibly stumbling in on her in the bath to hurry her along to breakfast.

Feyre toweled her body off and went to the vanity, rummaging through the drawers until she found a brush and smoothed out her hair, wild from sleep. Then she moved over to the wardrobe and picked out a pair of black leggings, and a dark blue knit sweater so soft she wanted a blanket made out of it. She picked out a pair of black flats, slipping them on and walking to the door, steeling herself for whatever is to come during this meal.

She exited her room and headed down the hallway she believed to lead to the table she’d seen in the room they’d first arrived in yesterday.

Hopefully, today would be the same as yesterday, with Rhysand being a tolerable level of flirtatious and pushy. She wasn’t sure she would survive the week if he turned back into the major ass he had been Under the Mountain.

The smell of eggs, bacon and fruit grew as she drew closer, and then she was back in the grand hallway, staring at the gorgeous blonde woman in a sleek black dress seated next to Rhysand. They both turned to look at her, and the blonde squealed, got up, and ran over to Feyre. The moment her scent, citrus and cinnamon and entirely alpha, hit Feyre’s nose, anxiety began to build in her gut. The only other female alpha she knew was Ianthe, and she had nothing but veiled disdain for Feyre in the year that she’d known her.

She stopped right before her, and held out her hands. “It is so lovely to finally meet you, Feyre. My cousin has talked quite a lot about you in the past year, and I’m glad this day has finally come!” The woman grabbed Feyre’s hands, encompassing them with her own. “My name is Mor, I’ll be joining you for breakfast if you’re alright with that!”

Feyre’s first impression of Mor is that of sunshine in a bottle, always ready to be opened and spread joy on those around her, and the building dread within her dissipated. A nice female alpha. She looked a sigh of relief, and squeezed her hands lightly. “That sounds lovely, Mor. It’s nice to meet you too.” The blonde smiled widely at her, and dragged her over to the table where Rhysand was still seated, and a nice selection of food was waiting to be eaten.

“Good morning, Feyre,” he said with a smile, and Feyre almost sighed again. It seemed like today was going to be a nice day, if the attitude these two were giving off was genuine. Then his scent washed over her, the blissful combination of citrus and sea, so perfectly alpha.

It may be more trying than she thought, through no true fault of his own.

“Good morning, Rhysand,” she replied, the corners of her mouth tilted up. Feyre started dishing out food for herself starting with the eggs, and motioned to put some on Mor’s plate as well.

“Yes, please, Feyre,” she said, pushing her plate closer to the dish. Feyre scooped eggs onto her plate, then moved to Rhysand’s. “Thank you, Feyre.”

“I’ll dish my own up, darling, but thank you,” he said with a slight smirk, grabbing the spatula from her and putting eggs on his plate.

Feyre fought a frown, unsure why he wouldn’t let her serve him, but mentally shook it off. Probably something to do with being magically bound to a psychopath through a drink served to him, so none of Feyre’s business.

She grabbed a pair of tongs and grabbed a few slices of bacon for herself and Mor, then passing them off to Rhysand again. The same cycle continued for the large bowl of fruit that Feyre was most excited to have, made of chunks of apple, melon, and a few varieties of berries, some of which she hadn’t seen in Spring.

Mor busied herself with pouring glasses of water for the three of them, and once they had their food, the three of them tucked in.

After a couple of minutes, Mor broke the silence. “So, Feyre, what’s your favorite color?”

Feyre choked on her food slightly, not expecting the question at all and threw a questioning look at Mor.

“What?” Mor asked, laughing breezily. “If you’re to be here every month, I’d like to know some things about you! Sooo, your favorite color?” She repeated enthusiastically.

Feyre thought for a moment, not having ever truly thought of what her favorite might be. She had loved all colors equally her entire life. Well, up until a year ago that is. But after a second, thinking back on the painting on her drawer of the dresser… “Probably a dark, midnight blue. What about you?”

“Definitely red, it’s the color of love and passion, so I’ve always been drawn to it. And I happen to look amazing in it.”

Feyre was just happy she hadn’t worn any red today, not wanting to deal with the color any more than she had to. “Now that, I’m sure of, Mor. Though I’m sure you could pull off any color if you tried.” Feyre turned her head to Rhys, asking “Which is your favorite, Rhysand?"

He lifted a hand to his heart, a pained expression on his face. “Feyre, still calling me Rhysand? You know only my enemies call me that, darling. We may not be friends, but I wouldn’t consider us enemies at this point in time.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Fine, what’s your favorite color, Rhys?”

A smile spread across his face, and he answered “Midnight blue as well, funny coincidence darling.” He winked at her, then continued “The color of the night sky is something I’ll never stop loving. There’s just something so entrancing about it.”

It was Mor’s turn to roll her eyes, “Of course that’s your favorite, you’re the High Lord of the Night Court, cousin.”

“That may be, but the color is magnificent either way, Mor.”

Feyre couldn’t help but smile, watching the two interact as she took a few more bites of her food. It was nice to see Rhysand’s friendly side come out, playful but not flirtatious or masking danger.

“Feyre, do you have any hobbies?” Mor asked, drawing her back into the room.

“Oh, umm…” Feyre paused, unsure of how to answer. “I liked to paint, but I haven’t in a while. Recently I’ve taken to reading. Beyond that, I haven’t found much that interests me.”

Mor frowned for a moment, then slid a smile back on her face. “Well, we can change that if you’d like! If you need anything, you can ask either of us or the twins for it, and- oh, do you like shopping?”

Shrugging her shoulders, Feyre said “I don’t really know, I didn’t have the money to shop for anything nice before… as a human, and since then all of my things have been provided for me without me asking.”

“Well, then, if you’d like I could bring you some catalogs from my favorite stores! That way I’d have an excuse to go get something for myself when you wanted something,” Mor added with a wink.

“As though you need an excuse to go shopping Mor,” Rhysand said playfully.

“Oh, like you don’t enjoy shopping for home décor,” She countered in a teasing tone, and Rhys narrowed his eyes at her slightly. Mor wiped her mouth with a napkin, then stood up. “Well, it was wonderful to meet you Feyre. I have a meeting to run off to, but I hope I’ll see you again this week!”

“The same to you, Mor. And I’m sure that we’ll see each other again soon,” Feyre said, meaning her words. And with that, Mor walked off into the the hallway, leaving Feyre alone with Rhysand.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” She asked, and Rhysand quirked a brow at her, questioning. “Seeing as I know how to read, you can’t follow through with your plan to torture me with it.”

Rhysand loosed a sigh, his shoulders hunching slightly. “I do not intend to torture you during your time here, Feyre, physically or otherwise. In fact, if you’ll allow me to, I would like to apologize to you.”

Feyre frowned. “I suppose you can, it does not mean I will forgive you, however.”

“I am not looking for forgiveness, Feyre, I am simply hoping to apologize for my actions, now and whenever else you will allow me. What I did to you and how I acted Under the Mountain…” He paused, looking for the right words. “It was and is unforgivable, no matter the circumstances. I regretted my actions even as I was doing them, and now as well, having you here under the coercion of a bargain that I twisted your infected, broken arm to force you into making. Worst of all was the way I used you during the revels, no matter the reason why, I cannot ever undo the trauma and pain I inflicted upon you. Feyre, I am truly, deeply sorry for how I have hurt you. If you wish, I will release you from the bargain today and return you to Spring right now.”

Feyre’s eyes were wide by the time he had finished, the sincerity of his words shocking her. Most of all, she was shocked at his willingness to revoke the bargain.

“I…” She started, but could not find the words. The omega inside of her was begging her to forgive him, please the alpha in front of her, but the emotional part of her, the part that was damaged and forever changed? It could not simply forgive his actions.

“There is no need to answer me anytime soon, Feyre.”

“No, it’s not… I’m just surprised, is all. I… I will not forgive you now, but I can see that there is a difference in you from a year before now. As for the bargain…” Feyre paused, and Rhys waited, hardly breathing. “The bargain did save my life, no matter how you convinced me to take it, I would have died without it. As of right now, I am fine with continuing to honor it, as long as you offer me another bargain that you will break it if I ask you at any point in time.”

Rhys smiled at Feyre, a broad, toothy one that made him so handsome it nearly took Feyre’s breath away. “It’s a bargain, darling. And thank you.” Inside the unmarked space on her left wrist, a small ribbon of black tied in a bow appeared, a matching one on Rhysand.

“Would you…” Rhysand hesitated. “Would you be willing to try and be friends? At least, friendly during your time here?”

Feyre considered it for a moment. “As long as you do not make any more bullheaded comments about my alpha, then I suppose that would be doable,” She agreed.

Rhys chuckled and nodded his head. “I will do my very best to be polite about him, Feyre, I promise.” He stood up from the table and extended his arm closest to Feyre, and his scent washed over her again. “Now, would you be up for a tour? I would like for you to be able to do more than bathe and sleep, if you so choose.”

Feyre stood up as well, and grabbed his arm lightly, not entirely having planned to do that. She could, after all, walk on her own and follow him. “That sounds nice, I’d like to have more places to hide from you if you do end up being an ass.”

Rhys chuckled at that, and began leading her down the opposite hallway from where her room was.

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The tour took about an hour, granted a lot of that was Feyre exploring the library, a massive, gorgeous room that had a large mural covering the entire far wall.

Rhysand had explained that the mural told the story of the creation of the Night Court, up through the midway point of his father’s rule.

Feyre was entranced by it, similar to the mural back in the Spring library, so much so that Rhysand had to practically drag her away from it, back to the rest of the moonstone palace.

After that, she was most interested in the kitchen and large bathing pools, the latter of which she may have been tempted to use if she didn’t have such an amazing bath in her room already.

“This is our final stop,” Rhys said, swinging the door in front of them open to reveal a relatively bare room, only furnished with two wooden chairs with padding.

Feyre’s face contorted, her mind going to the worst, before Rhys caught sight of her expression and quickly said “It’s a small training room, suitable for beginners magic training, as well as mental shielding. I was hoping that you would be willing to train your magic, if you haven’t begun already in Spring.”

Feyre’s cheeks heated quickly, and she turned away from him and the doorway. “I don’t have any kind of magic,” she stated in a small voice.

“They may not have manifested yet for some reason, Feyre, but you were given a kernel of power from each High Lord.” He walked around her so she faced him, and he lifted her chin with two gentle fingers. “Not much is known about Made fae, but I would reckon that you will have a well of power to rival any one of us, just waiting to be coaxed to life.”

His gentle tone and scent was like a balm on the sting of embarrassment at having no magic to show for what she was gifted, and she nodded her head, his fingers dropping from her chin.

“Would you be willing to try? If you’re uncomfortable attempting to use your magic with me, we could at the very least go over magical theory and how to begin accessing it. Or even just the shielding,” he suggested.

Feyre nodded her head again. Both of those sounded like reasonable, kind enough options for him to offer. “That sounds fine, but… Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why offer to train me? Why offer to help me protect my mind from you?”

Rhysand sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I want you to be able to protect yourself Feyre, even if it is from me. I was not lying when I said I came to call in the bargain because I was worried for you,” he said sincerely.

“As long as you’re not an ass to me during the shielding, both will be fine. I would… I would like to know if I have any magic,” Feyre said hesitantly, a spark of hope igniting in her chest. Something that she hadn’t felt in quite a while, besides the hope for Tamlin’s mark, though that was hardly ignited anymore, especially with the disastrous ceremony now standing between them… Mother, they have so much to discuss when she gets home.

“Of course, Feyre, I’ll be as gentle as I can. As for the theory…” he trailed off, and had suddenly pulled a book from nowhere, and handed it to Feyre. “You can begin reading this today, and we can go over however much you’ve read tomorrow after breakfast.” Feyre turned the book over in her hands, admiring the leather cover that was stitched with silver thread. “It’s a book on the formation of magic as fae age, as well as the beginnings to understanding how to access the magic within you. Read as much or as little as you like."

“Thank you,” Feyre said, clutching the book to her chest.

“Or course, darling. Now, I’ll show you back to your room from here, but after that I’ll be in meetings until dinner this evening, so lunch is yours to take wherever you wish. Just call for Nuala or Cerridwen, or talk to me,” He tapped his temple, “And it will be set up for you. And of course, feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you’d like.”

They made their way back to her room, both of them stopping outside of the doorway.

Her curiosity got the better of her, and she blurted out the question, “Did you help decorate my room?”

Color rose high in Rhysand’s cheeks, the first time that Feyre had ever seen him look bashful, and he coughed awkwardly. “As a matter of fact I did. Are you finding it to your liking? I was attempting to make it as open and inviting as possible.”

Feyre smiled and nodded her head. “Yes, it’s lovely. The view from this side is spectacular.”

Rhysand’s expression mirrored her own. “It certainly is. Have a good rest of your day, Feyre,” he said in parting, and began to walk away.

Feyre turned the doorknob and began to open her door, but before entering her room, turned back to his retreating form. “You too, Rhys. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Rhysand turned around, flashing that toothy smile again, and winked before winnowing away.

She shook her head and entered her room, settling down into her bed, the book Rhysand had given her clutched tightly in her hands. She ran her hands over the cover, the feeling of the stitching comforting against them.

Without waiting another moment, Feyre opened the cover and began reading the guide greedily, wanting what Rhysand had talked about, wanting to be able to defend herself and access the magic he believed her to have been blessed with.

She wanted to be strong again.

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Series taglist: @icey--stars

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