Andras (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} spring_courtier) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} spinningcompass,@ 2018-05-05 11:46:00 |
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When: Daytime
Where: Velaris
What: Going Home
Rating: Low
Closed
Andras stood at the doorway on the ship for a solid ten minutes the day it arrived. He just stared at it without going through. Several times since then he had gone back to the door, at least once a day, where he got far enough as touching the door and turning the knob. And yet each time he backed away and bailed out on following through. He didn't know what to expect and was hardly prepared to take it all in. It was needless to say...but Andras has never seen Velaris. He had never known the place existed. In all of his years he had only known of the Night Court; the hellish realm where the most vile of fae chose to live. It was the court where the most wicked and cruel of the High Lords resided and ruled with an iron fist over the deprave. Rhysand was a monster in legend. Whenever they had met in battle or even at a summit he was so flippant, so nonchalant, and yet he easily put anyone down with a look. Everyone knew that look. The look of death. The look that would dare melt your mind into nothing but syrup. As one could imagine...meeting with Rhysand was rare.
Then during the fifty years Amarantha reigned he would flaunt all of his power and villainous air. Andras was sick just remembering it all. He was sick remembering watching one by one his brothers and sisters in arms running wild as wolves into the human lands and never returning.
Yet in meeting Rhysand here on the ship, hearing his tales, understanding he did everything in his power to keep people safe...Andras was shaken. He did not know what to think. Feyre could not assure him enough that Rhysand was the good guy he appeared to be. This Velaris would prove it. This Velaris would tell him everything he had ever known was a lie. Something about that made him angry. Perhaps because that meant Rhysand had saved people--but he had not saved more. He had been selfish and saved only a few. Velaris was a haven but for Andras it could be a hell. It could have been a place his people could run to. They wouldn't have had to sacrifice themselves.
He wouldn't have had to--
Andras reminded himself as his blood boiled at the thought that Rhysand did not have the time or luxury to round up all fae and keep them safe. Even the most powerful of magic users had limits. It was some or none. Some were better than none, Andras agreed, but a jealous, angry part of him wanted to know why not him? He died knowing he would save his court and his people. That was true. Feyre had broken the curse. Everything had turned out well in the end. He had no regrets for his efforts and sacrifice.
Still, he was angry. More than angry he realized he was afraid. The truth lay beyond that door and a part of him did not want to know it. What did it all mean? What would he see? What would he hear? It wasn't as if he were vain enough to think anyone would recognize him or cheer his name. Would he see Tamlin? He would like to...but that would probably not be allowed. More than that he respected Feyre's history with Tamlin and cared deeply for her; he would not betray that. Tamlin had become some other man, one he never had known. He did not really want to meet that face. He would rather hear Feyre's stories as they walked through the streets. In fact, he had arrived early to stand for his ten minute contemplation before she was expected to arrive.
When she did arrive he would smile for her. He wore a mask but he would not let that mask consume him. This place was temporary. It was a place in the past. Feyre was the present and long-standing. He could be happy with her. He did not need Prythian.