𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.
chapter five; The Answer Is Love
" She's not a monster. "

  SHE WAS READY. Nixie didn't know when or why she decided, and why for a mortal girl she hardly knew, but she was ready.

  Nixie blamed it on her belief in destiny. That this was the exact reason their lives were tied together with a golden ribbon of fate; because this was the way, the only way.

  The only way to save all those trapped souls, to begin the mending of Prythian— it was the only way to save Rhysand.

  She heard Amarantha's rambles, but her own heartbeat overtook this. Nixie couldn't focus, she couldn't listen, because even if she was ready, she was scared.

  Nixie breathed deeply as she was shoved into the light, nervously shifting her eyes over the three hooded faeries lined up in front of Feyre.

  She calmed her heart as she was forced onto her knees, a pair of chains keeping her on the ground.

  "Or," Amarantha's voice crept out, a smirk forming on her face, "You can take this creature's wings."

  "You said if I complete your trials, she'll live, not that—!"

  "It will not kill her," Amarantha cut off Feyre with a laugh, "If you don't wish to do so, kill the other three, truly, be my guest. But you'll be taking three innocent lives, or stealing the wings of a revolting creature. You must choose."

  Feyre couldn't. She wouldn't. She refused to choose the lesser of two evils.

  Until she met Nixie's calm eyes.

  "You have to put yourself first, Feyre," Nixie whispered, "You have to take my wings."

  Now, if the roles were reversed, Nixie admittedly wouldn't hesitate to take three lives to save thousands. But, after a brief conversation with Rhys and Nixie's personal experiences with Feyre, however short they might've been, it was clear that Feyre's heart could not handle this.

  And Nixie wasn't so cruel that she wished for Feyre to be a simple tool, discarded after she saved them.

  "I won't."

  "Feyre," Nixie gritted, "I don't even know if I'll ever fly again, just take them!"

  But Feyre could see the emotion flash behind that attempted stony expression— she knew, somehow, taking Nixie's wings was nearly the same thing as taking her life.

  She couldn't do that. 

  Something about Nixie kept her slightly sane throughout her imprisonment. The Illyrian fueled her curiosity, gave her something to think about, something to want-- and above all, Nixie had given her comfort. Without a price, without sneaking around, without any rules.

  Nixie had become her friend.

  So, Feyre collected the first dagger.

  And Amarantha instructed the guard holding one of the innocent faeries pulled down the hood, showcasing his features.

  Nixie watched as Feyre's hands trembled.

  "Forsaking yourself to save a monster," Amarantha all but laughed.

  "She's not a monster," Feyre whispered to herself, tightening her hand around the dagger, "She's not a monster."

  But Feyre felt like one as she took the life of the first faerie.

  Nixie felt her shoulders slump forward. She couldn't understand, couldn't grasp why Feyre was taking lives instead of taking her wings, why Feyre was trying to save her, as well as Tamlin. 

  She wished for it, yes, she hoped and prayed for destiny to save her, to send her someone or something-- anything.

  But now that it was here, now that Nixie saw what a chance at a savior meant to the savior, she felt nothing but guilt.

  "Now the next," Amarantha crooned from her false throne, "Oh, don't look so miserable, Feyre, aren't you having fun?"

  The second faerie's face was revealed as Feyre retrieved the second dagger.

  "After all, you're choosing this fate," Amarantha spoke, "If you take Nixie's wings, this will all be over."

  Feyre swallowed harshly, casting a glance to Nixie.

  Destiny, she had said. That was what brought them together, perhaps that was the reason Feyre felt it so impossible to do anything to harm her. Destiny felt like a cruel excuse in the moment, but perhaps there had been some truth, Feyre thought, as silent tears drew lines in the dirt on Nixie's face.

  She wasn't crying for the innocent, she was crying for Feyre.

  And Feyre took another life, whispering an apology as she did.

  Though, when the third face was revealed, it felt like time itself froze. 

  "Something wrong?" Amarantha asked.

  "Not. . . not fair."

  "Fair? I wasn't aware you humans knew of the concept. You kill Tamlin, and he's free. And then you can have him all to yourself."

  It all felt like background noise to Nixie. 

  She had never cared for Tamlin. The cruelest parts of her reveled in the idea of his life being taken in front of her eyes, bringing balance to a feud as old as she was.

  And yet. . . Nixie's heart wept for Feyre.

  Damning herself or the one she loved. 

  "Just take my wings, Feyre, you stupid mortal!" Nixie's scream ripped through the thick silence, "You have another choice!"

  But Feyre gripped the dagger, and with a softly spoken sentence, stabbed Tamlin.

  And he did not die.

  He clutched his chest once Feyre removed the dagger, but he was still breathing, still alive.

  "She won," Mumbled the crowd, "Free them."

  "I'll free them whenever I see fit. Feyre didn't specify when I had to free them-- just that I had to. At some point. Perhaps when you're dead," Amarantha smiled bitterly. "You assumed that when I said instantaneous freedom regarding the riddle, it applied to the trials too, didn't you? You foolish, stupid human."

  And then, in horror, Amarantha's rage was released. Feyre was a ragdoll, Nixie felt her stomach lurch with every sickening crack of those mortal bones-- she didn't know what to do. 

  Until Rhys was lunging at Amarantha with a dagger, before he, too, was blasted back to a wall, but he was up again, too quick.

  "You traitors piece of fifth," Amarantha spat at him, "You're just as bad as these human beasts, you were planning this all along."

  He was hurled back again, a crack sounding as he met the stone, blood splattering in a crown around his head.

  Nixie didn't realize she was moving until those chains rattled, keeping her from going to him.

  And Amarantha's rage had a new target.

  "I'll kill your pet after my fun with Feye."

  "Stop, please," Feyre choked through blood bubbling.

  She had no plan of stopping, as she continued battering Feyre, verbally and physically, and Nixie fought against those chains, rubbing her wrists raw-- it was too much blood, so much her own bones were on fire.

  Rhys's and Feyre's, painting the room red, all Nixie could see was red.

  "Love," Feyre breathed, "The answer to the riddle. . . is. . . love."

  Nixie felt it as quickly as anyone else in the room. The release, the power that filled the room from every High Lord in attendance.

  But she couldn't take her eyes off of Feyre's mangled corpse.

  Rhysand snapped the chains keeping Nixie down in an instant, hoisting Nixie's body up, his arm wrapping around her waist to keep the weight up.

  She turned for only a moment, and right in front of her very eyes, Tamlin killed Amarantha.

  A lifelong enemy, killing her tormenter.

  And Nixie couldn't figure out why this pulled tears out of her, so she only turned back to her friend's body, her savior, unmoving.

  Nixie watched with wide eyes as the High Lord of Autumn Court approached Feyre's body, a small seed of light falling from his palm. Rhys began walking slowly, waiting for her feet to catch up to his.

  The two approached her body slowly, a silent Tamlin meeting their eyes, free of a mask for the first time in fifty years.

  "For what she gave," Rhysand said, "we'll bestow what our predecessors have granted few before. This makes us even."

( AUTHOR'S NOTE. )
 trust me, nixie willing to give
up her wings isn't getting brushed
over and we'll get into it soon!