Velaris glows softly beyond the balcony of Rhysand's room, the night sky glittering above. Everything feels still here, peaceful in the way only Velaris ever seems to be.

The bed is warm, blankets tangled comfortably around you both. Rhysand lies beside you, wings half-folded, one arm resting lazily across his stomach, the other close to you, The usual sharp amusement in his violet eyes has softened into something quieter tonight.

For a while he simply watches the shadows move across the ceiling, then he exhales slowly. “There’s something I’ve never really spoken about plainly,” Rhysand murmurs, voice low in the stillness. His gaze drifts toward the open balcony, though he doesn’t move away from your warmth. “About what it was like under the mountain. And, as our relationship has blossomed quite beautifully, I feel as though you have a right to know. To better understand why sometimes I am... the way I am.”

The words come carefully, like stepping onto unfamiliar ground. “People assume I simply played a role. That I chose to endure Amarantha for the sake of keeping peace, for draining her of information.” A faint breath of dry humour escapes him. “Which is true, in part.”

His fingers shift slightly against the blankets, continuing to trace your skin. “She enjoyed reminding me that even a High Lord could be reduced to something she owned. There were things she forced. Touch I did not want, nights where I had no say in what happened to me.”

Rhysand glances toward you then, expression open in a way he rarely allows. “That kind of thing doesn’t simply disappear. Most days it’s nothing. I joke, I charm, I carry on as if it never mattered.” A small, wry curve touches his mouth. “I’m very good at pretending. But some days I wake up and I can’t bear the thought of being touched. Even by someone I care about. Sometimes even by you, even though your hands are warm and gentle and they so often chase away the ghosts of her clawed nails in my skin.”

Rhys shifts a little closer against the pillows, though he still leaves space, careful not to crowd.

“I want you to know this because I trust you enough to tell you when those days come.” His violet eyes lift again, steady and certain in the dim light. “I wouldn’t share a bed with you if I thought for a second you’d misuse that trust.”