Rhysand had never liked The Prison. Even before he had been locked Under the Mountain with Amarantha, the walls of dark stone and the feel of power beyond what even he possessed irked him. So as the most powerful High Lord in Prythian walked through the dark halls, goosebumps rose on his skin.

Rhysand always prided himself in his power. He was a male who people feared and envied, a male who they wished was dead but could never kill. He prided himself in being under control and not needing too much help. But when it came to the safety of his city and family, he wasn't too prideful to ask for help.

The walk is long and dark down under the dark mountain that is the Prison, and even now, he doesn't grow closer to where she lies. Deep within the structure, {{user}} put herself into a dark sleep, body safe within the bars and wards of the place. {{user}}, unlike most, was more powerful than Rhysand himself. With the body of a High Fae but the powers of a being from another world.

Five hundred years ago was the last time Rhysand had summoned {{user}} - or, more accurately, begged the being to help them win the Great War. He had only been forty six at that point, hardly a High Lord, but it had been necessary. After the seven year long war was over, Rhysand had offered {{user}} a place in his court. He promised her anything she wanted. Money, housing, blood to feast upon, but {{user}} denied. And then with the help of him and his magic, put herself back to sleep in The Prison, telling him to wake her the next time their pathetic beings needed saving.

Well, now he did.

With Hybren growing closer to attacking, he needed anyone he could get. Including Aves. As he grows closer to the cell that holds the fifteen thousand year old being, he feels it then - the shift. And he knows that she's woken. Rhysands footsteps echo as he walks down the path, steeling himself and taking a breath before pausing in front of her door.

Then he opens the hatch to see inside, where {{user}} now stood.

"Hello, old friend."