A/N: Hello! Can you believe it's been 8 months? I'm so sorry!
College kept me extremely busy, but rest assured, I am not abandoning this fic! I'm so sorry about the long wait, but please know that I read each and every one of your reviews and they helped me stay motivated :)
Thank you so much for the comments! Shoutout to everyone who reviewed the last chapter — Lonelyreader95, Anna, WritingInk, DarylDixon'sLover, ThimbleKisses, CarolMS, & EmmaCarstairs01.
A huge thank you to thewayshedreamed (Tumblr) for beta reading this chapter.
Hope you enjoy!
Lucien inhaled sharply. "I'm not your uncle, Khoniya."
The room was still noisy, filled with patrons drinking and dancing, but their corner of the room was filled with a tense silence. Khoniya's eyes seemed to be glowing softly as she stared at Lucien.
"Yes, you are," she replied, her voice quiet but resolute.
Lucien shook his head. "I don't deserve that title."
"Yes, you do. What happened was awful and tragic, but it wasn't your fault."
His face made a pained expression. "Except, it was my fault."
"No. She knew the consequences and dangers that came with being with you, but she chose you anyway. You did your best to keep her safe and make her happy, and most importantly, you loved her. So no, it wasn't your fault."
"Khoniya, you can't deny that she wouldn't have died if it weren't for me," he replied, his voice tired.
Khoniya tilted her head. "No, but she chose to live a full life filled with love and joy despite the dangers instead of a long, safer, monotonous one. To say that you're to blame is to discount her choices. She chose love over safety. She knew what she was doing, and I think that she'd do it all again even if she knew what would happen."
"I thought…" Lucien cleared his throat. "I thought you would hate me. I thought your family would want me dead for what I d— I mean, for what happened."
She sighed. "I don't know what they think. Some of them probably blame you, but that's because they need someone to blame. It's tough to blame the High Lord when you have to keep supporting him or risk your own life.
Others probably don't want to see you, because they try to block out the memory of what happened. But I could never hate you, Uncle Lucien. Not when I understand how Aunt Jesminda felt."
At Lucien's puzzled glance, Khoniya rushed to explain, "I have a husband who is High Fae. Being with him comes with risks — I had to give up a lot and it comes with its own problems — but I wouldn't give it up for the world."
"You're married?" His voice was awed, as if he couldn't believe it.
"I am." Khoniya smiled, true joy entering her expression. "I think you'd like him. Would you like to come over some time? I'm sure my son would love to meet you, too."
Lucien's eyes widened, and Khoniya quickly backtracked. "I mean, I know you're probably only here for a short time, and you probably have duties — I'm sure you're busy so I understand if you can't come."
"I'd love to come over, if that's okay with you," Lucien said softly. Then, he grinned. "Wow, little Khoniya has a son, huh? Look at you, all grown up."
Khoniya laughed, and Lucien joined in.
Nesta blinked at the scene. She had never seen Lucien look so delighted. Granted, she hadn't spent much time around the male, but she had a feeling this could be the start of something special for both him and Khoniya.
"I'm sorry, what the hell is going on?" Rhysand interrupted. "How do you two know each other?"
Nesta wanted to punch him for interrupting the moment. She barely managed to contain the urge but settled for glaring at him.
Lucien's face fell as Rhysand's voice reminded him of where he was.
"I was… close with Khoniya's aunt, Jesminda," he said, his voice flat, so different from the lively tone he'd had moments earlier.
Rhysand raised an eyebrow and hummed in understanding, taking another sip of his drink. Nesta fisted her hands as she watched his bored expression. Nesta herself barely knew Lucien, but even she could tell this was likely a difficult topic for him. Hadn't Lucien agreed to some role working for Rhysand? Surely, Rhysand should at least pretend to give a shit about him.
Khoniya glanced around the room for a moment before making eye contact with Nesta. Her eyes asked if Nesta could handle the situation — stand up and protect Saibh, Riona, and Cian if necessary. Nesta felt the weight of responsibility fall onto her shoulders as she nodded; however, instead of feeling like a burden, Nesta felt honored to have been entrusted with it.
Once, the people around Nesta — those who claimed to love her — had only ever seen her as a problem to be solved, a viper with fangs too sharp who had to be caged and put away for the safety of all. She would never have been allowed near any vulnerable person, let alone been tasked with defending them.
As Nesta rolled her shoulders, ready to fight til her last breath for her friends, she felt her heart warm. Yes, her family loved her, but they didn't like her. They loved her because they had to, because they couldn't help it, but not because they wanted to. How nice it was to be liked, to be trusted, to be wanted! How nice it was for those you love to believe in you — for them to believe you could be good! For them to think that you could be the hero of some story instead of the villain.
Khoniya shot Nesta a small smile, full of gratitude, before turning back to Lucien and asking, "Would you mind if we continued this conversation outside?"
Lucien, who was undoubtedly eager to get away from the crushing gazes of those who pretended to enjoy his company, followed her outside.
"He came over yesterday, and he met Elian and Yaran," Khoniya informed Nesta and Brielle as they sat around the table, feasting on the snacks Brielle had made. "By the Mother, it was so amazing — even better than I'd imagined. He got along great with Elian. And I think he loves kids; he was so great with Yaran."
Nesta smiled at how content Khoniya looked.
"Were you very close to him when you were younger?" Nesta asked.
Khoniya tilted her head. "Kind of. It was… Well, he was very kind to me and the rest of my family. Some of my family disapproved of his relationship with my aunt Jesminda, but they didn't say anything to his face, of course. But… He would play with me and the other kids a lot. He obviously didn't want to get caught by his dad or brothers, but I could tell that he loved my aunt so much. As I get older, I think I understand and admire their bravery in staying in their relationship more and more."
Khoniya fell silent for a moment. "I think, in another life, Uncle Lucien and Aunt Jesminda would have been the best parents. I think they would have wanted that too, if they had been in a world where it was safe for them to have a child together."
Nesta could admit that she'd never cared enough to imagine Lucien's past, let alone his dreams or failed hopes. Yet as Nesta rushed over to pick up her crying daughter, she wondered what it must be like for him to have lost not only his lover but the dreams of the life he wanted to build with her. She cradled Adira as her daughter suckled on her breast, and her heart clenched at the thought of this joy slipping through Lucien's fingers.
The thought still preoccupied her as she walked home. The streets were teeming with fae of all sorts: high fae, lower fae, males, females, night court and other fae, all intermingling as they passed each other on the streets of Velaris. Nesta was struck with the realization that, like Lucien, all these strangers had full lives with their own problems and dreams.
It wasn't that she hadn't known this before. Of course she had, but only on a logical level. In the moment, Nesta felt the feeling swelling up inside her, churning, spinning her around as she navigated the sea of fae. So many lives, each tumultuous and complex in their own way, moved around her like a powerful current.
She clutched Adira tighter to her chest. Adira was the rock she clung to as the stormy waters tossed and turned. Adira had been so unexpected, and Nesta had felt so utterly unprepared for her — even now, she constantly worried whether she was a decent mother, let alone a good one — and yet no one had ever brought her so much joy. There was no one Nesta loved in the way she loved Adira. She couldn't even begin to express how grateful she was to have Adira in her life.
"Nesta?"
Perhaps if Nesta had been paying more attention — if she hadn't been so caught up in her head — she would have detected the scent earlier and managed to switch routes or hide in time.
"Nesta!"
Short of running away, which would be very difficult while carrying a baby, there was nothing Nesta could do to avoid the encounter as a familiar face greeted her.
"I haven't met up with you in a while, and we didn't get a chance to talk when I saw you at the dance club," she laughed lightly.
Nesta stood still, frozen like a statue doomed to watch an explosion occur in slow motion.
"Anyway, how have you been? You look- Is that a baby?" Elain spluttered, her eyes rounding.
Nesta sighed internally. She'd known it was impossible that her sister wouldn't notice the child in her arms, but that hadn't stopped her from hoping for a miracle. Fortunately, Adira's wings were hidden from sight by the soft lilac jacket Cassian had decided to make her wear over her onesie. There were not many Illyrians in Velaris, and Adira's parentage would have become obvious to Elain the second she saw the tiny black wings.
Elain was silent for a few seconds, likely too stunned to speak. Her eyes drifted over Adira's clothing to her light brown skin, her chubby cheeks, her dark hair that peeked out of her hood, and her long, dark lashes. Nesta could feel her sleeping daughter's slow breathing against her shoulder and was thankful for the grounding rhythm as she tried to steady her nerves. Nesta wanted to believe that she didn't care what Elain would say, that it didn't matter what Elain thought of her having a child and being a mother. The truth, though, was that it did matter to her — far too much.
"Why are you holding a baby?" Elain's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you doing walking around with a baby? How- Whose baby is it?"
Nesta blinked. She hadn't considered that Elain would think that the baby was anyone's but her own. Perhaps Nesta could simply avoid answering the questions and let Elain assume that Nesta was babysitting.
Although, what if Elain grew concerned for the baby's safety and wanted to escort the baby home? Perhaps she could pretend like the baby was Khoniya's — surely Khoniya wouldn't object to playing along for a few moments. Nesta would just need to find a way to communicate the situation to her. Perhaps Nesta could make a comment implying the situation to her subtly, without Elain realizing.
A small sound diverted Nesta's thoughts. Adira made another squeaking cry and squirmed. Nesta quickly moved to caress her, gently soothing her while slightly rocking her in the way Adira always seemed to enjoy. Adira let out a tiny, content noise and settled down once more in Nesta's grip. She yawned, her tiny mouth somehow expanding more and more as the rest of her face scrunched up. Nesta rubbed circles into her back, careful to avoid her folded wings.
She turned her focus back to her sister, who had started talking again. "How long have you been taking care of her — is it a her? Or a him? Is the b-" Elain cut herself off with a gasp.
Nesta followed Elain's shocked gaze, to find Adira blinking her big blue-grey eyes. Eyes that were almost identical to Nesta's.
Elain's hand flew to her mouth. She stared. Her unblinking gaze remained on Adira's face for several beats while Nesta grew more and more nervous.
Nesta had never been one to hate silence. When she'd had to share a bed with her sisters, she had relished any moment of silence and personal time she could get. Those moments had been like gasps of fresh air that she'd needed as she struggled not to get overwhelmed by the constant noise and company. Now, though, the silence shredded Nesta's nerves just as the noise once had. She felt like a rope pulled so tight she'd snap unless Elain broke the silence and released her.
Finally, Elain looked at Nesta again. "You have a baby," she said, her tone unreadable.
Nesta gave a small nod, unsure how she was supposed to reply. Did Elain think Nesta was unfit to be a mother? Was she mad that Nesta hadn't told her about her pregnancy? Was she ashamed that Nesta had a child without getting married — or mated — first?
Elain's face, which was usually bright and adorned with an ever-present kind smile, was blank. Nesta had always been able to easily read Elain's emotions, and she felt a twinge of annoyance that she couldn't do so now.
"Is it a girl?" Elain's voice was strange, too. It wasn't coated with that usual softness, but it was also different from the vacant voice she'd used when they'd first arrived in Velaris.
Nesta nodded again.
Elain tilted her head slightly to the left. Her cheeks were just as round as they'd always been, giving her face a much softer silhouette than Feyre's or Nesta's. Elain, who'd been a later bloomer than her sisters in all physical aspects, had often wondered if her cheeks were merely remnants of her baby fat that would disappear in her mid-twenties.
Nesta realized, eerily, that they would never find out. They were all trapped in time now, and their unaging bodies would become relics of a long-gone young adulthood even as their age increased. They would never develop the wrinkles their mother had worried about so much or the gray hairs their grandmother had despised. They would be the same — forever.
And yet, they would change. Nesta had already changed so much since she'd first gotten this body. She'd been depressed, an alcoholic, had sex, made friends, started working, become a mother, and so much more. She was no longer the same person she had been when she'd come out of the Cauldron.
As Elain's unreadable eyes stared at her, she wondered if the same could be said of Elain. Perhaps Elain, too, had changed while Nesta hadn't been watching; perhaps the person standing before her was someone new that Nesta did not understand fully in the ways she had understood her little sister.
Elain's lips opened slightly, closed, and then opened once more. "What's her name?"
Nesta answered, "Adira." The corners of her lips curled up, as they always did when she uttered her daughter's name. She could read all the books in the world and learn every language, but her daughter's name would always be her most treasured word.
Elain turned her eyes towards the baby and repeated, "Adira."
Her lips finally turned into a smile, and Nesta felt relieved she could read her sister's expression once more. Yet, as Elain looked up, Nesta realized that Elain's smile was not simply one of joy — it was tinged with something else, something she couldn't entirely untangle. Was that — longing? Regret? Love? Respect?
She gave Nesta a warm but firm nod, a gesture that was so un-Elain-like that it was all Nesta could do to school her own expression.
"Well," Elain said, tucking a loose face-framing strand of hair behind her ear, "I hope I can see you both again sometime soon."
She smiled, her light brown eyes almost appearing to glow in the light. Then, she stepped back into the bustling crowd on the street.
It took several moments for Nesta's shock to subside; long enough to realize she'd yet to ask Elain not to reveal her daughter's existence to anyone else. She opened her mouth to speak, but Elain had already disappeared into the crowd — just as she always had.
"Hey, Nesta! I'm home! I brought back some sweets with me, since the bakery was having a special— " Cassian paused, the door swinging shut behind him. "What's wrong?"
The shift in his tone, from joyful and bubbly to dark and worried, was so dramatic that at any other time Nesta surely would have raised an eyebrow or made some type of quip about his range.
Now, however, she could only stare at him, willing her tongue to form words that her mind couldn't generate.
"Are you hurt? Is Adira— where's Adira?" he asked, his voice getting louder and more concerned with every word.
Nesta had enough clarity to glance towards their room. Cassian rushed in, his body so tense that it seemed like it could break. Nesta didn't know if he returned in seconds, minutes, or hours, as understanding time seemed to have moved beyond her capacities. When he did return, presumably having checked on Adira, he seemed calmer and quieter.
He sat down beside her on the sofa. Nesta noted the heat he seemed to radiate, even as he left a hand-sized space between their knees.
"Did something happen?" Cassian asked, his voice so soft — so kind and supportive — that Nesta wanted to cry.
She opened her mouth, but the words would not come. How could she explain how badly she'd fucked everything up? How she'd frozen in front of her little sister and how their encounter had been so strange that she could barely process it?
"Nesta?" he prompted, reaching out a hand to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.
She looked up at him, and their eyes met. His hazel eyes were full of concern and affection for her. It cracked the dam inside her, and her words spilled out, jumbled and raw.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't know that— I didn't think she would—" Her eyes were round, her expression pleading him to understand that she hadn't meant it. She hadn't wanted to reveal their secret to Elain. She hadn't planned to ruin everything.
"It's okay," Cassian said.
Only, it wasn't. He had no idea what she'd done. How she had made him swear not to tell his family, despite knowing how hard it would be for him, only to mess it all up. He'd surely hate her and rightfully so.
"Nesta, I need you to take a deep breath, okay?"
She felt the weight of Cassian's hand on her shoulder, grounding her. Following his lead, she took a deep breath in, then out. And another. And another.
The room felt larger, as if the walls that had previously been closing in around her had decided to let go.
"Now," Cassian said, his voice quiet but serious, "can you tell me what happened?"
"I'm sorry," Nesta whispered. "I didn't mean to—"
She blinked a few times and cleared her throat before summarizing the encounter with Elain.
"She left before I could tell her not to tell the others," she finished.
Cassian listened intently, his face impassive throughout her tale. She had no idea what he was thinking, and if her mother and grandmother hadn't drilled her manners into her since she learned to walk, she would have been picking at her sleeves anxiously.
"Everyone's going to know now," she continued, voicing her worries. "And you didn't even get to tell them. I mean, they might not know that it's- that we have a child together but, still. I know they're your family and I didn't let you tell them before, even though you wanted to. And now I messed it all up, and ruined everything and they're going to hate me even more and I took this away from you, too, even though it's so important to you." Her breathing quickened and her speech became increasingly fragmented as her thoughts raced ahead of her. "It was supposed to be— They were supposed to know when we were both ready and you could— You would have— I mean, they would have loved Adira even though I'm her— I just. I'm so sorry. I honestly didn't mean to ruin this for you or for her, and—"
"Nes, listen to me. You didn't ruin anything. Okay?" His tone was firm, and his eyes had turned into pools of resolute emotion.
She dropped her gaze to the floor. She couldn't lie to him and just nod along. She had ruined it: this precious peace, this happiness, this life they'd started building together was going to get wrecked because of her carelessness.
The gentle caress of rough fingertips against her jawline pulled her out of her spiraling thoughts and made her glance up.
"You didn't ruin anything, Nesta," he repeated. His words were calm and confident, as though he truly believed them and needed her to believe too. "I know that this isn't what we'd planned. I wish this decision hadn't been taken from us and that we'd been able to talk about it and make a choice that would work best for us, but it's not your fault. Okay? I know you didn't want any of this. Sometimes, things just happen. Honestly, it's only through luck that we've been able to avoid this happening so far."
"I suppose," she mumbled in reply, her thoughts and emotions still turbulent.
"I need you to understand that you didn't take anything away from me, and you didn't make me do anything."
She frowned. "But I—"
"No," he interrupted. "You asked, yes, but I chose this. I chose this because that was what was best for Adira and for us — for our family. I suppose we have to decide now how to deal with them knowing at least part of the situation, but no matter what we decide, how they react is up to them." His jaw tightened slightly. "I really do hope they love Adira, but I need you to know that I'm not going to let them act like her being your daughter is a drawback. I mean, they aren't going to love her 'even though' you're her mother. They're going to love that part of her along with everything else. The Inner Circle may have been my family in a lot of ways, but I'm not going to let them treat either of you with any less respect than you deserve."
His thumb moved infinitesimally, grasping her face slightly more firmly. "And you deserve the world," Cassian said. "I'm not going to let them insult you, and I'm definitely not going to let them try to teach our daughter to dislike you. If they can't love every part of Adira, if they can't respect you, if they can't love our family and treat us the way they should, then they aren't going to get to be a part of our lives."
"But Cass, what if they don't like— because, I mean, they might think that I—"
He tilted his face down, pressing his forehead to hers.
"I don't care," he whispered. "It doesn't matter why. You come first. We come first."
She couldn't look away from the intensity in his expression.
"You should tell them," she answered, her voice mirroring his in volume and tone. "If they bring her up, or if they seem to know about her, you can tell them that she's yours."
"Are you sure?" The twin sparks of genuine concern and joy in his eyes made her heart clench.
"If you want to, you can," she answered. She savored the smile that spread across his face through the upturn of his lips, the crinkled corners of his eyes, and the movement of his cheeks.
"Okay." His free hand came up to brush her hair back. "I was thinking that we could invite them to talk about everything, if you're okay with that? We don't need to talk to everyone at the same time. Maybe we could just start with your sisters?"
Nesta swallowed, trying her best not to get lost in his eyes. "Yes," she replied, her voice a touch too breathless. "We can talk to them about it sometime. Let's just tell all of them and get it over with."
"Yeah?" Cassian seemed to search her face to ensure that she was truly comfortable with it.
She felt herself melt even more at the raw, caring expression he wore. He wore his emotions openly for her to see — a feat that wasn't as easy for him as others might believe. He had been trained as a warrior: rough, fearless, angry, and always battle-ready. He'd trained himself to be a bright light: always happy, carefree, funny and smiling. While the masks Nesta wore were very different, she knew just how difficult it was for him to shed them.
Showing his emotions — not his humor or joy, not his anger or strength, but his true hopes and fears and depths of his affection — left him vulnerable, and he had thus adapted to conceal them to ensure his survival. He was letting his guard down for her, purposefully breaking down centuries-old walls to let her in. This male — this complicated, intense, caring, beautiful male — made her heart overflow with a feeling she couldn't quite name.
"Yeah," she replied.
Then, they were kissing. She didn't know which of them had moved or how the tiny distance between them had disappeared. All she cared about was how perfectly they fit together. It felt so right to be cradled in his arms and pressed against his lips — like a homecoming, except she hadn't ever known that home could be this caring, this unconditional, this sweet. As she tasted him again and again, lost in the pleasure of how his lips felt against hers, her thoughts disappeared, save for one realization. The word she had been searching for earlier came to mind, enveloping her with a force she hadn't anticipated.
Oh.
It was love.
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