Chapter Text
NYX
It had been a brutal day of training. Each time Nyx had been thrown to the ground by bulky trainees bigger than him, his body had landed on the frozen mud that felt harder than the ice floors in the palace Fannar lived in.
Worse yet, his poor performance in training had failed to win him the favor of any of the females watching from windows where they worked inside. Most thought him too young still, but some stared at him hungrily when they thought no one was looking.
Having just turned fifteen, Nyx spent every moment not training thinking about the many females in Windhaven with beautiful wings that matched his own. His favorite sort were the ones that defied the norms by training when allowed to do so.
They were delightfully vicious and most were more cunning than seasoned warriors that had already successfully completed the Blood Rite. What he wouldn’t give to successfully woo one of the tan females that were worthy of siphons, though Devlon wasn’t yet progressive enough to offer any of the powerful stones out to any who didn’t possess a cock. Nyx guessed he'd one day relent if a truly talented female came along and passed his many qualifications.
“If you spend all your time thinking of falling into bed with beautiful ladies, you’ll never do anything worthy of impressing them,” his Uncle Cassian mocked, coming up beside Nyx as he trudged back to the small house he stayed in.
Cassian oversaw some of his training, but he didn't play favorites and treated Nyx exactly as every other young male. Worse even since he proceeded to critique whatever mistakes were made over dinner and well into the night. Nyx didn't take it too personally though, realizing he was blessed to be learning from the most famous Illyrian warrior in history. Nyx even grew his hair long and shaggy as Cassian wore his, hoping the extra length might provide some sort of advantage during a spar.
“I suspect I look dashing whether I’m on my back in the mud or atop someone with my fist crashing into their face,” Nyx retorted with a confident smirk.
“Your father was never as boastful at your age,” Cassian laughed as walked up the few steps to the door.
It swung open before Nyx could reach out for the nob, revealing his father. “I didn’t boast in such a manner, for my mother would have set me straight for all to see if I had.” His tone was light and reminiscent, likely a shared joke between Cassian and Nyx’s father.
The High Lord stepped aside to let them through the door as Nyx skeptically asked, “What are you doing here?”
When Nyx had been younger and first come to the Windhaven, his mother had stayed with him each night, though it was hardly a secret that his father couldn’t bear to be away from his mate and winnowed to the High Lady’s bed each night. It would have been seen as a weakness if the young heir’s father hovered about every day, so he rarely lingered and kept his frequent visits a secret.
As Nyx got older, Cassian and Nesta relieved his mother of the duty of staying each night with him so she could spend more time in the city she loved so dearly. When Cassian and Nesta were away, either the ever-cheerful Emerie stayed with him or Azriel and Gwyn would watch over him, despite him being capable of thwarting any foolish assassins that might dare come in the night.
When he accused his parents of being overprotective, they reminded him that he was born of the two most powerful High Fae rulers and would be a target his entire life. Though he knew himself to be charming, unsurprisingly, neither of his parents ever relaxed on his security and safety when he pushed back on their rules.
Upon seeing his father unexpectedly, Nyx’s first reaction was that something was wrong. He hadn’t seen much of his mother over the past month or two and he suddenly thought that she might be unwell. His parents were the type to keep information from him if they deemed it unnecessary.
“Can I not visit my son whenever I wish?” His father said with a cocky grin. “Being High Lord must count for something.”
“Father…” Nyx said with a sigh.
“Relax.” A large hand clapped Nyx on the shoulder. “Everything is fine. Let’s go for a fly, just you and me. Unless you’d rather go back out in the cold and get your ass handed to you?”
Nyx was years away, maybe even decades away, from having a slim chance at besting his father in a spar so he accepted the first offer gladly. He’d never miss a chance to stretch his wings and soar above the mountaintops.
Once in the frigid air, he followed his father, letting him set the path through the wind currents. They flew until frost started to form on the talons tipping their wings. Winter was in full swing in Illyria, freezing everything, including any faeries foolish until to fly too high.
As the air warmed ever so slightly, the lights of Velaris showed in the distance. It wasn’t yet entirely dark, but the sunset was early this time of year so it would be only a matter of time before the sky was pitch black and stars began twinkling above.
Nyx should have known that his father would lead them here, but in truth, he hadn’t been paying much attention to the land, rather just enjoying the air and freedom it gave him. The illusion of freedom at least, for a young heir wasn’t offered the luxury of true freedom to do whatever he wished. There was a court of people counting on him to one day lead them so he couldn’t put himself in unnecessary danger or take time off training to go gallivanting through the other courts to explore everything Prythian had to offer.
They glided down to the townhouse that was unoccupied now, though the Inner Circle still sometimes hung around its wood-paneled halls on special occasions. Nyx had been promised on several occasions that it would someday be his once he was responsible enough to not burn it to the ground if he got the rare urge to cook or destroy its interior by throwing a massive party, which he’d done on one occasion already while his parents had been on a trip to another court. He'd been pulled from training for more than a week to sit at the desk in his father's office while books on housekeeping, cleaning, and decor was placed in front of him.
Nyx landed softly on the rooftop moments before his father, having raced him the rest of the distance. Being smaller and lither for the time being had its benefits.
“You get faster each time we fly together,” his father commented with amusement.
“An eloquent way of admitting defeat,” Nyx smugly responded, letting his wings flare widely behind him.
His father grinned and did the same, his wings being far larger than Nyx’s since Nyx had several years yet to grow.
“Is mother here?” Nyx asked as they slipped inside the door to escape the cold night.
Hello, sweetie. His mother’s voice sounded into his mind, reminding him that if he wished for sure privacy, he needed to remember to keep his mental shields up. Downstairs.
The High Lady was curled up in a chair beside the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket and stretching her toes out toward the bright flames. It wasn’t nearly cold enough inside for her to be that cold. She must be sick, Nyx thought as he began to panic. It was rare for High Fae to catch an illness, but when they did, it was often serious.
Nyx whipped back around to where his father stood at the bottom of the stairs, the accusation of lying already on his tongue, but he was silenced by his mother’s soft voice. “Nyx, your father and I have some news.”
She sounded cautious as if she were expecting a bad reaction. This was a setup. They’d taken him away from Windhaven where he couldn’t make a scene. Cassian either hadn’t warned him or hadn’t known that his father was leading him to devastation. He couldn’t survive if something happened to his sweet and fierce mother.
The first High Lady. Feyre Cursebreaker. Defender of the Rainbow. The female that sat him on her lap while she painted and always let him grab her brush and do whatever he wanted with her paintings, encouraging his creativity and then allowing him to leave her favorite city to train with brutes in a cold mountain town for the remainder of his youth.
“Nyx.”
“He’s panicking. Can you hear his heart rate?”
Nyx. His mother spoke into his mind but was suddenly in front of him, gripping his shoulders while he rapidly thought through every ailment that could be affecting her.
As he chocked down breath, her scent hit him. Different. More potent.
Pregnant.
The corners of her lips tilted up as his eyes widened and shot down to her belly which was covered by a cable-knit sweater. She wasn’t showing, but there was no mistaking she was with child.
His father’s low laugh drifted to ears that were heated with embarrassment over his near overreaction.
“I’m going to be a big brother,” Nyx blurted as the realization set it.
“Are you up to the task, son?” his father asked as he sauntered closer and pulled his mate close.
Nyx grinned. His parents had mentioned once or twice over the years that they hoped to be blessed with another child, though Fae pregnancies were rare and there were often many years between children. Fifteen years as it would be with him and a younger brother or sister was barely anything.
“Absolutely,” Nyx answered, allowing his mother to pull him into a hug. He didn’t even start his normal grumbling about how a male his age no longer needed to be squashed in an embrace by his mother every time she saw him.
---
A sister. Nyx had a sister. She was a small thing and it looked as if her tiny limbs were being swallowed by the purple blanket she was wrapped in.
The High Lady looked elated as she held the small babe close to her chest. The stress of the pregnancy and the obnoxious lengths her mate went to in order to protect her were forgotten while they looked on as their daughter opened her eyes.
Nyx had been glad to spend most of the pregnancy in Illyria, for his mother had spent months throwing up everything she ate and cried at the most unnecessary times. She’d been cold long past the winter months and spent her days doing her duties as High Lady within range of the many fireplaces that remained permanently lit throughout the duration of her pregnancy.
His father rarely left her side and snarled at anyone outside their family that dared look at his mate too long. On several occasions, Nyx saw that even a mere glance in the direction of his mother's bulging stomach could earn the ire of the High Lord. On a visit to the Court of Nightmares, two foolish males were misted in front of everyone for sniffing in an offensive way. Their blood droplets splattered on the obsidian floors and Keir was forced to get on his knees and wipe it up like a servant. That at least was delightful to witness.
Aunt Nesta, unable to stand his father’s behavior, moved into the small house in Windhaven, towing Cassian behind her as they watched over Nyx and supervised training in the camps during the day. Nyx quickly discovered that it wasn’t Cassian that would work him to exhaustion, but Nesta and she was far crueler with punishments for mouthing off.
Honestly, Nyx had never been so relieved to see Azriel step out of the shadows and inform him that his mother had gone into labor.
“She has your eyes,” Nyx’s mother mused softly, her voice cracking from screaming through painful labor. The sound had terrified Nyx as nothing had before. He'd spent hours in the living room being assured by Cassian and Azriel that pain was natural with childbirth.
“And your hair,” his father said while running a finger along the small puff of golden-brown fuzz atop her head.
“No wings?” Nyx asked. Madja had confirmed that the child didn’t have wings while growing in the womb, but Nyx had still half expected to see small, membranous wings like his own sprouting from her back.
“No, but it’s hard to tell how her magic will manifest,” his father answered. “She might have inherited a bit of Tamlin’s power and be able to make them as your mother can.”
“At least her birth was less dramatic,” Nesta mused from where she watched on from a corner of the room as Cassian whispered into her ear about wanting one of his own.
As if the tiny babe sensed Nesta’s words on how undramatic her entrance into the world was, she opened her mouth and began wailing for attention.
Nyx winced at the sound, unaccustomed to being around new younglings. Surely she could only maintain the high-pitched sound for so long before wearing herself down into sleep once more.
“Have you decided on a name?” Amren asked with a frown while she studied the screaming babe as if she were a puzzle to be solved.
Cauldron save them all if Amren ever felt the need to reproduce with Varian.
His mother halted her soft coos and smiled up at Nyx’s father. “Astra,” she announced. “Named for the stars that watch over our city.”
---
A week after his mother had given birth, Nyx had yet to return to Windhaven. He was taken with his younger sister. Though she mostly slept and cried, he found her fascinating and didn’t want to leave her and go back to his training. His Illyria friends would scald him alive if they ever learned he enjoyed rocking her to sleep like a nursemaid.
To him, she was more than just a baby sister – she was hope. Perhaps she was the true heir, leaving him free to stay tucked away in Illyria and train with steel and fists for as many years as he wished. Someday Nesta would relent and give Cassian younglings, leaving a vacancy for the position as General. Nyx couldn’t think of a better role to have. He’d have to earn it, but gods he wanted it.
Astra finally slept in his arms after fussing for hours so Nyx remained lounging in an armchair in the River House’s living room while his parents slept tangled together on the couch. They looked exhausted and needed the rest more than he, so Nyx rocked little Astra in his arms and talked to the infant that couldn’t understand his words about anything and everything.
At some point when he’d been relaying a story about a pretty female winking at him a few months prior, his father rustled and popped his eyes open. “She’s too young for that nonsense,” he said with a yank and a soft laugh. “As are you.”
Nyx rolled his eyes as his father carefully slipped from the couch cushions, careful not to disturb his sleeping mate. They both knew he was merely jesting because Cassian had told Nyx about all the mischief his father and gotten into during his formative years.
“Come,” his father said with a nod to the doorway leading out of the room.
Nyx held his breath and stood gracefully without hardly moving his upper body. If Astra woke and started fussing, there was no hope his mother would remain resting.
It was still moderately warm outside, so they sat together on a loveseat under the stars near Aunt Elain’s well-tended garden. To keep Astra from being chilled, his father warmed the air around her with a blip of magic.
Assuming his father wanted to hold Astra based on the adoring way he was looking down at her, Nyx started to shift to hand her off, but his father shook his head. “You hold on to her.”
Nyx was happy to oblige and extend what seemed to be a rare, peaceful moment with her.
“My sister was fussy like her at that age.” Nyx stiffened at the mention of the aunt he would never meet and was only talked of on rare occasions. It was a wound that had never fully healed for those who had known her.
“I was much older than you are now when she was born, but I was equally taken with her as you are with Astra. For a long time, I thought I would be an only child forever, but my father eventually came to the conclusion that having an heir and a spare was necessary. When she turned out to be a girl, he initially scowled and thought it a disappointment, but even she wiggled her way through his cruel demeanor with her soft giggles and big eyes. I swear she consciously made her first spoken word sound like father just to get him wrapped around her finger for the remainder of their days.”
Nyx had never heard his father speak with any fondness about his father, but at least there was this one happiness between their strained relationship that culminated in tragedy.
“I failed to protect her and my mother,” his father said, voice lowering in sadness. Dark tendrils of magic swirled over his shoulders and snaked down to wrap around one of Astra’s pudgy hands. “I was still relatively young enough to be foolish and overtrusting. As she grows, I suspect she will prefer you over her dear parents as siblings tend to do.”
Nyx suddenly guessed where this conversation was heading. “I will always look out for her,” he confidently said. “I promise I won’t fail.”
His father smiled sadly. “If she turns out anything like me or like my sister, she will be difficult, but between all of our family, she will be well cared for.”
Nyx resisted the temptation to hold her closer, fearing he might squish her. Instead, he tore his eyes away from her small face and looked up at the stars with his father for an hour more while they shifted to happier topics.