La Forêt au Lever du Soleil

(The Forest at Sunrise)

NOTES:For some reason, I'm really nervous to post this. I know, it's been a year! But I'm back with an Epilogue to À Mon Seul Désir to (potentially) tease a new story idea I've been contemplating. So, for all of you out there who I know were big fans of this story when I first wrote it, let me know what you think. Maybe, come this summer, I'll have the time to sit down and write a sequel to what has been my most popular fan-fiction to date! - Nas

Áedan Glas, MacNuada Finn Fáil, MacBalor Gialchadh con Aon-Adharcach was born, as all royal elves before him, in the very early morning of the first day of spring, in an auspicious year of even count. His mother, having long sensed his immanent arrival in the days leading up to the equinox, had vanished into the forests of the Ildathach, near the fortress of Tír fo Thuinn, the night before and had been neither witnessed nor attended by any member of the household. Save for one.

In a break from more traditional protocols, High King Nuada had been present at the time of his son's birth and had been the first to hold him as he shrieked his indignities to a bright, new, world. He had then tended to his mate and to their newborn for the day and night following, until the time that the Unicorn indicated was safe for them to leave the haven of the wild places and return to their home near the cliffsides. Upon their return, days of celebration ensued. As the first child of high lineage born in more than a millennium, the enclaves and kingdoms of the Fae were in a glorious uproar. The line of succession had been secured; the Court of the Sun reigned legitimately once more.

Now, less than a week later, Nuada once again found himself in the quiet hours before dawn, cradling his infant son in swaddling clothes, while sitting in the windowsill of the bedchamber he shared with his devoted Queen, Ailith Ardrí Aon-Adharcach. Despite this, he still sometimes marveled at how blindingly fast his life had changed. From his time as a Warrior-Prince to High King, and from lover, to husband, and now to father. Thoughtfully, he turned to gaze down at the days-old boy in his arms. Ailith had fallen asleep over an hour ago and it was now becoming Nuada's habit to mind his son during this time to ensure she could rest without being constantly awoken by his cries for food or comfort. With a careful finger to the edge of the blanket, he appraised the little one for what was likely the hundredth time.

He was perfect.

Nuada had forgotten how obnoxiously adorable elven infants were; so long it had been since he'd seen one. At roughly half the size of a normal human baby, they tended to be small and wiry but Áedan had appeared somewhat more robust than usual. He was strong and a little fat, though not overly so that it might cause concern. He had wide blue eyes, very much like his mother, and a full head of white-blonde hair that stuck out in every direction but the one it was supposed to go in. 'Very much like his father at the same age,' Nuada mused. His skin was pale to white, his chin strong at the terminus of highly arched cheekbones, and his ears swept up into delicate points. Even this small and new to the world, there was really no doubt as to his parentage. It was stamped into his flesh as indelibly as the ink that documented his Name in the Royal Register. He was going to be quite handsome when he got older, that much was certain. Fleetingly, Nuada only hoped that his son has managed to inherit more of his mother's personality than his own, otherwise his adolescence was going to be…frightful.

The High King smiled despite himself. He'd truly never thought such a day would come and certainly not that he would be here, enjoying the cool air of an Irish night, listening to the distant chirp of crickets and hushed rumble of the seacoast, gently rocking an infant in his arms that he'd sired himself.

Áedan squirmed and whimpered, stretching his tiny feet out from beneath the blanket as his father readjusted the wrappings and began to gently soothe him with a hand on his back. The baby calmed almost immediately and sniffled back into sleep. Nuada sighed and chuckled. Fae children were notorious, in human stories, for being nigh impossible to quiet. Changelings, who squalled and fussed endlessly until their unwitting parents were forced into madness by the frustration and stress. But in the hands of those who knew them, faery-lings weren't really all that different from any other kinds of infants; their needs might be particular, but they were not outlandish.

'Enjoy it now.' He reminded himself. Nuala was set to arrive in his household the following day, having been waylaid on a diplomatic mission back in New York, and she would, without a doubt, be in an absolute state. His sister had been looking forward to the birth of her nephew for months and had already warned him that she would be coming bearing a great many gifts. This likely meant a bevy of clothing, toys, and all manner of childhood accoutrements he could hardly imagine or predict. It was all well and good enough, however. He hadn't said as much, but he did appreciate her enthusiasm. Having Nuala in the castle again would also mean more time for Ailith to recover and more help, from a feminine perspective, if she wanted it. He had no doubt that, either way, he likely wouldn't be seeing his son for awhile except in the doting arms of his aunt.

That was probably for the best, though. There was trouble brewing.

Unsurprisingly, not every creature in the world was particularly happy to see the restoration of the High Court nor the return of the Aos Sí. Least of all, it would seem, were the demonic realms. Centuries ago, there had been a time when Fae and Men had routinely entered into magical treaties with one another, mainly to fight and protect against the influences of Hell. Though the old pacts had long since become corrupted, Fae and Men had similar interests in this regard; defending all of life, the green and growing things of the mortal world, from the powers that lay in the deepest parts of the abyss. Now, those powers were aware that the realms of the living were growing stronger once again and that the once fading line of natural Fae magic had been reborn.

Briefly, Nuada wondered if he should inquire after Abraham Sapien, and by that token, Hellboy, the illustrious Anung-un-Rama, once Nuala arrived. If inroads were to be made between the Court of the Sun and whatever was currently going on in the Under Realms, that would be the logical place to start. Abe seemed to have a good enough mind for politics, at least, and with Nuala's assistance and companionship, they would likely be able to…direct…Hellboy in a productive manner. He was worried, though. Demonic attacks against the marginal edges of Fae society were increasing all over the world and it was only a matter of time before something catastrophic befell them. He glanced over at the bed.

Or, what was more, a heap of bedclothes. Beneath which was Ailith, though all he could see of her was one pale, white, hand draped over the edge of the mattress. The rest of her was so completely cocooned in layers of cotton and wool that he couldn't even make out her shape. It didn't really concern him, however. He could feel her near him and could easily sense that she was completely, and utterly, relaxed into sleep. This still surprised him in many ways. His own mother, the Queen of Bathmoora, had dutifully retained her own chambers and had, to his recollection, never slept with his father save for the times required to conceive his children. After she had done so, they had never spent much time together purely as bond-mates. Ailith, however, hadn't been apart from him since the night of the Geas.

She now shared his life and his bed in equal measure. Honestly, he was still getting used to it. Before the later stages of her pregnancy, she'd often liked to wake him in the early hours of the morning, when the household was at its quietest, and goad him into making love before everyone else was up and bustling around. As far as Nuada was concerned, this was now the reason he was so often awake at this insane hour. Even before his son's arrival, he would routinely wake up before dawn and be unable to sleep again until he had worked out the anxious energy.

With a barely audible whine, Áedan informed his father that he too was also now awake.

"Hush." Nuada whispered down at him, gently brushing the fringes of his wild hair back from his face. "Do mhàthair will not be up for you for a while yet."

In response, Áedan merely grumbled a series of incoherent sounds and began to mouth at his own fingers. Nuada sighed. He'd never fought so many losing battles in all his life than that which he undertook with an infant no larger than his forearm. Carefully, he stood up and returned to the bed, sinking down onto the rumpled coverlet with his back to the headboard. Ailith, for her part, seemed to have already anticipated all of this with the kind of senses only a new mother could have. As he sat back down, she raised her head with a bleary, but bemused, expression.

"Hungry?"

"I believe he is, yes."

With a somewhat unceremonious flop, Ailith rolled out of the blankets to prop herself back up on the mound of pillows near her head and retrieve her now fussing son from his father's arms. With another round of shuffling and struggling, Nuada watched her, with some amusement, as she was finally able to undo the top of her nightshirt, rearrange the uncooperative baby against her chest, and begin to nurse him. Strangely, despite the fact that she did this several times day and night, Nuada always felt oddly honored to be a part of these moments. It was a profoundly intimate thing to observe his mate feeding his child and he always felt intensely protective of them both at these times. And he knew that there was nothing he would not do for either of them.

"What's wrong?"

Nuada startled from his reverie and looked up. "I'm sorry?"

"You only ever get that look on your face when something is bothering you." Ailith tilted her head in response, still balancing her suckling infant on her breast as she regarded him coolly.

"Hm." He nodded, sliding over so that she could lean against him for additional support. "You heard about the incident at Krasnoyarsk, did you not?"

Ailith huffed pensively. "Yes. A Nihil was spotted breaking through the Siberian permafrost out on the outskirts of the town. A direct portal into the upper layers of Labyrinthine Hell. The Vanguard reported heavy losses to demonic attacks from Human and Fae alike. It's still not closed, they say."

"Indeed." Nuada replied. "I've been attempting to contact Aurelian for the past week. The vampire, if you recall. So related to the younger one called Gabriel who…"

"I remember him." Ailith finished the thought. "Has he not answered?"

"No. But I do not believe it is because he is discourteous. The last the elder was seen was near the Altai and that region is known to be home to him. I suspect trouble."

Ailith thought in silence for several moments. "We should contact the Mage Houses in America again. Nicolas Cooper is known to us and he is aligned with the vampire Gabriel."

"If by 'aligned' you mean that they are lovers."

Ailith elbowed her mate good-naturedly but hard enough to cause a sharp huff of air to escape him. "And by that token," She continued. "We might be able to establish some sense of where the other mystic traditions are in this regard. We will need allies if Hell is truly upon us."

"I understand that." Nuada said, bringing his arm up and over Ailith's shoulders so that he could idly sift a lock of her hair through his hand. "I will speak with Nuala when she arrives later today. No doubt this is as much of a concern to the BPRD as it is to us and there's always…"

"Hellboy."

"Yes."

"Do you think he will be friend or foe in this?"

"Hard to say, but as my Queen and my sister like to continue reminding me, I rule by the will of a peaceful people and it is therefore my duty to explore as many diplomatic options for alliance as I am able. Much as I might prefer to take up arms and deal with it myself."

Ailith smiled. She could feel the tension in his body on the last sentence and knew for a fact that he would much rather be wielding Claidheamh Soluis, the Silver Hand, at the head of a fae-guard force than negotiating with nobles and leaders as to how best to respond to growing threats. But he was the High King now and the Geas had other demands of him than that of a brash, impulsive, and angry young Prince. He wore the mantle well, however, and Ailith had no small measure of pride for the degree to which he had accepted the profound changes in his life. She was even a little surprised as to how good of a father he was already turning out to be. He was patient and gentle in ways he'd not demonstrated before and, not to mention, that he was also a delightfully solicitous mate. Who knew that he'd be just as kind and attentive, if not still more than a little aggressive and demanding, as a lover.

"I know you are strong enough to protect our son should the worst come to pass but this concerns me, Ailith." Nuada sighed. "If the ranks of Hell decide to truly wage an Apocalypse on this world, we are little equipped to face them head on. The communities of Men are weak, the Mages uneducated in these matters, and the Undead are small in number. Our own homelands are also sparse, and it is only just now that the Fae Kingdoms have had any growth or stability in centuries of conflict. I dare say, the Demon Generals have chosen their time well."

"Perhaps." Ailith smiled up at him. "But all is not yet lost, my love. We knew this day would come eventually and all the signs have been there for a long time. Famine, the shifting weather, outbreaks of plague, war, over-consumption, and hatred. But our place in this world has always been to be its healers and its defenders. The Mages are its memory, the Undead its balance. Unite them all and Hell will have no choice but to retreat."

"You say that as if it is the easiest thing in the world." Nuada chuffed. "As though we haven't all been at each other's throats since the founding of the first tilled fields."

With a wry quirk of her lips, Ailith directed both of their gazes back down to Áedan, who was still happily nursing with tiny hands curled up on either side of his scrunched-up face, making the occasional smacking and gurgling noise as he took his fill. "And yet," Ailith replied, gently stroking her son's face. "A broken and exiled Prince of a dying and desperate people has risen again as the High King in an Age where such things were considered unthinkable. Having restored a Unicorn back to herself and healed a rift that even the Geas, in all its ancient wisdom, had not attempted to close. Having returned the first light of real magic to forests and lives taking root once more, digging deep into the earth and drinking of primordial waters filled with forgotten secrets. And if that wasn't enough, he has rebuilt the bastion of Tír fo Thuinn, fathered a son of his own line, and given hope to the long lost and the desperate. If you ask me, I'd say the impossible is just about what we've done already."

With gentle fingertips, Nuada traced the top of Áedan's head, down onto his cheek, and ending at the tip of his nose. "I suppose I cannot disagree." He said. "A great many impossible things have happened and likely will moreover, not the least of which is the fact that I will have to again face the Demon who murdered me the last time we crossed paths and hope that he doesn't attempt to do so again."

Ailith laughed. "Well, to be fair, that was…a very different…circumstance. And really, it was Nuala…"

Nuada shot her a withering look. "And it all would have worked if he hadn't stopped me."

With a tentative lean, Ailith tipped her head back and brought her lips up to Nuada's in an unvoiced request for a kiss. When he obliged by bringing his head down, she held him in place for several moments with her free hand at his neck, deepening the kiss when he parted his lips to her explorations. When he pulled back again, she grinned at him.

"I wouldn't worry. I don't think Anung-un-Rama is especially keen on seeing his closest friend lose his love to the petrification of death for a second time. After all, Abraham and Nuala have become rather involved from what I hear, so I think you can take this as a relative truce between our factions for the time being."

The sound Nuada made in response was somewhere between a low groan and growl. It wasn't that he disapproved of Nuala's choice of…companions. Though he admittedly had some questions in that regard. It was more that he didn't exactly appreciate the degree to which it potentially gave the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense a direct line into his own affairs and, by that logic, the affairs of the entire ruling household of the renewed Fae kingdoms. Abe Sapien was a talented psychometric telepath and it was no secret now that Nuada and Nuala shared a great deal of their thoughts, feelings, and intentions through their twin-link, even when geographically separated by considerable distances. There was no telling what the Fish-Man already knew about him and that made him uneasy. Ailith, however, remained characteristically unperturbed.

"Nuada." She spoke up, mainly to get his attention. He'd drifted back off into thought again and was staring tersely at the wall on the other side of the room.

"Hm?"

"Nuada."

He turned back to look at her, his eyes shifting from a deep bronze color to the lighter golden hue of affection she'd long learned to recognize in his expressions. Nuada did not often speak his emotions out loud, but Ailith was quickly learning how to read him physically where he could not offer his thoughts verbally: the care in his tone, the concern in his posture, and the passion in his actions.

She smiled. "Is breá liom tú, Nuada." (I love you, Nuada).

She felt him relax behind her, his chest softening and his arms coming up around her shoulders to hold her closer. Still careful not to disturb his son, who seemed content to suckle his way back into slumber pressed against his mother's heartbeat, Nuada shifted so that Ailith could lay back fully against him with her head tucked beneath his chin.

"Is leatsa tú." (I am yours) He replied softly, his mouth just barely touching the top of her head. "Níl aon rud ar an saol seo atá in ann é sin a athrú. Is tú mo chroí." (There is nothing in this world that can change that. You are my heart.)

But she was already asleep, and the rest of the world was beginning to wake.