A Song of Ice & Shadow

Warnings: angst, suicidal tendencies, substance abuse/addiction, grief, unresolved trauma, self-destructive behavior.

Y/n finally opened her eyes, long after the war had ended. They had won, but at what cost?

"You're awake! I'll inform the others," Elain said quickly, rushing outside. Y/n remained still, taking in her surroundings, trying to piece together what had happened. They may have won the war, but she had lost.

Moments later, her sisters and Rhys appeared in her room. "You're finally awake. We were so afraid we'd lose you- we nearly did," Feyre said softly, a flicker of relief in her gaze. "Azriel brought you to Madja and Thesan the moment you collapsed. They managed to save you just in time. If he'd been a minute later..." She trailed off, her voice heavy. "We would have lost you."

"Did it ever occur to you that I didn't want to be saved?" Y/n's voice was low and cold, stripped of any emotion.

A startled silence filled the room. "It took great effort to save you. Not many received that chance," Rhys said quietly.

"Then you shouldn't have wasted it on me. You should've just let me die." Her tone was flat, unyielding.

"Y/n, how could you say that? We love you." Elain's voice wavered with hurt.

"I think we should let her rest," Feyre said gently. "If you need anything, we'll be right outside."

As the other left, Nesta lingered, her eyes searching Y/n's face for a moment before she, too, left. At the door, they ran into Azriel, who had just arrived and asked if he could see her. Feyre hesitated, warning him of her fragile state, but he was insistent.

He entered and took a seat in the armchair beside her bed, leaning forward slightly. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Nothing. I feel... nothing." Her gaze was fixed on the wall, her expression blank.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Why?" She turned to look at him slowly, her face emotionless.

"I... because I wasn't there to protect you." he murmured, searching her eyes for a reaction.

"You wouldn't have, even if you were there," she replied, her voice chillingly even. "He would've snapped you like a twig. Or maybe he would have ripped your wings from your body, watched you writhe in agony before slitting your throat. And there would've been nothing you or I or anyone could do about it but watch." The detached way she said the words unsettled him, sacred him. The Y/n he knew would have shown fear, pain, or some flicker of emotion, but this...this was something- someone else.

She turned away from him, pulling the blanket up slightly. "I'd like to rest now."

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Finally, he nodded to himself and left the room quietly.

Over the next few days, they brought her food, but she refused to eat or speak to any of them.

Until one day when Feyre visited again. "We buried your father next to ours. Would you like to visit them?"

"No." Y/n's answer was flat, her gaze distant.

Feyre hesitated, then reached into her pocket. "Azriel found this when...when he carried you," she said, offering her a letter.

Y/n looked at it but didn't move to take it. "I don't want it."

"It was from your f-"

"Throw it out, bury it, I don't care." Y/n interrupted, her tone sharp and final.