A loud newborn cry is heard throughout the Winter Court castle. Kallias drops to his knees in exaltation and relief, tears making their way down his pale face, his ice-blue eyes unable to tear away from the mother and child in the cot before him. The small bundle is placed in Viviane's arms as she cries with joy, her eyes quickly finding his as they share a moment of connection down their bond deeper than either has felt since he returned from Under the Mountain.

"I-it's a little girl", she weeps, cradling the baby close to her chest, her thumb grazing the soft and tender flesh of the newborn's cheek.

"As beautiful and lovely as her mother", he murmurs, pulling himself back onto his feet and carefully draping his arms around the pair, staring down at his daughter. "I'm sure she will be just as fierce as well."

Viviane looks back up at him as quieter tears drip from her own sharp blue eyes. Kallias strokes them away gently and leans in to place a soft and loving kiss to her lips. "I am the luckiest male alive, my love. You make me happier than I ever believed to be possible. Your care has graced me for centuries and I will always be grateful for that. I don't know how I ever got so lucky to have been destined to my best friend, but I promise you I won't take a single moment for granted."

A smile blooms on her face and she cups his cheek with her free hand. "Neither will I. I know the sadness of being without you for so long, mate bond or no. And I would do anything for that not to ever happen again. Plus, our little girl needs her father. You were always meant to be ours, Kal. I love you. We love you."

Their foreheads come together and for a moment they drink in each other's presence, nerves settling and yet simmering all at once. "I love you too. Both of you."

Kallias grins as he turns his attention to his baby girl. "Mother...she's so beautiful. Have we settled on the name? I think it's only fitting."

She strokes the baby's snow-white tuft of hair and nods, smiling sweetly. "Yes. Our sweet little Wynter. Perfect for an heir if the Mother doesn't plan for us to have others."

"Is it tempting fate if I pray she will have the same destiny as we had? Everything was so easy and comfortable with us. We knew each other fully before the bond even came into play. I...know it's extremely premature and maybe I'm worrying for the sake of worrying but I want her to have that sort of future. One filled with easygoing love and strength and power. I want her to be a force to be reckoned with, like you, my darling. But to have her mate in her corner, as I am for you, and you are for me."

Viviane grins at him and intertwines their fingers. "You are thinking ahead, as you always do. I admire that about you, Kal. Always have. I wish she has it better than the bumps we had to face. However, if she is our only heir, there are still many stigmas within Prythian that need to be eradicated, which is very slow-moving as we well know." She allows him to slip into the very edge of the cot and hold them close as she rests her head on his shoulder, watching her now dozing daughter.

He gives her hand a squeeze and lets out a slow breath. "I know. I'm sorry. It should not have taken us having a daughter for me to realize the wrongs we all see as usual. They shouldn't be. Not now, not still. Equal in power should also mean equal in title. I know a mere title doesn't change anything about you, but it matters for pretense. Especially in front of others. I'll fix it, Viv."

She gazes up at him, slightly surprised but kisses him fervently. "You will? Really?"

"Really. I am so sorry for taking part in the wrong part of Prythian's culture. We are so used to being set in our ways that change never comes easy, but out of all of the High Lords, it should not have been Rhysand to make this happen first. It should have been me...it should have been me, Viviane. The male who knew his mate since childhood and knew her powers and her strength and knew for centuries how equal she was to him in every way. I should have been the first to make you equal in title. I will always kick myself for not thinking anything of it. For making it a point of teasing instead of taking it seriously when you asked me the first time we met Feyre. It should have been me", he whispers. "I hope you'll forgive me. I don't deserve your forgiveness about this, but I will fix it as soon as you are feeling up to a celebration. We will make it official along with the announcement of our daughter. You deserve the respect of being my equal in title as well."

"I love you with all of me, Kallias. Of course I forgive you. It was something that was never heard of, that never existed until recently. Of course, it should have started out that way thousands of years ago when Prythian was created, but we can't delve into all the logistics of why things are the way they are. The point is, now that it was created and it can be a thing, I'd love to take part in changing Prythian for the better."

"So is this your acceptance of becoming High Lady of the Winter Court?", he grins, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

She giggles softly and nods. "This is my semi-formal acceptance, yes. As formal as I can be wearing next to nothing", she blushes.

Kallias laughs joyfully and kisses her cheek before nuzzling it. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You've given me gifts that a value cannot be put upon. Unending love, and family. Family...", he murmurs as if in a daze. "We have a family, Vivi. A baby", he beams, tearing up again. "I-I never thought I'd make it here. I never thought we'd get to...to be together, never mind solidifying our bond and having our own family. I believed I was going to die there like so many...that you'd never know h-how much I—", he says softly, choking up.

"Oh darling", she murmurs, squeezing his hand and nuzzling his neck, tears springing to her eyes. She sniffles and breathes him in. "You made it home. You were meant to make it back to me. Our bond was meant to be upheld. That moment that you came back to me—that I saw you again I—I thought I was dreaming and when it was real...", her voice wavers. "I'll never let go again. You're here to stay. Our story was meant to have a happy ending, my sweet. I knew then and I know now how much you love me and how much you wanted to be here. I always knew", she says quietly, their eyes meeting. "I'll never take this for granted either."

Kallias places a kiss on her lips, melting into it for a moment before directing his attention to the baby again. "May I hold her?"

Vivian beams and nods. "Of course you can." She passes her over carefully and tears up happily as he holds her close, cradling her like the most fragile thing in the world.

He places a small kiss upon the baby's forehead and sniffles, letting her tiny hand wrap around his finger. "I love you my precious Wynnie", he whispers. "You are everything we ever wanted and more. You are perfect." His eyes shine with unshed tears as he dotes on her, assuring Viviane that he will protect her as she dozes.

She nods and smiles tiredly as she lets herself relax into her pillow, her eyes fluttering closed as her body succumbs to the fatigue of birth.

.

.

.

Back at the Night Court's River House, Azriel pace back and forth on the balcony. After the realization that Gwyn was his mate he had apologized to her and fled, unable to handle everything he was feeling at the moment, especially in front of Nesta and Emerie. There was so much he wanted to do and say, none of which were appropriate. Hell, it's Gwyn. The girl who teases him as he trains, and he secretly loves it. The girl who somehow pulls his guards down. The girl who told him that she was his ribbon, and who his shadows dance and sing with. But aside from all that, aside from how far she's come, one thing still remains in his mind, haunting him. Especially now. Especially because she's somehow his.

The memory of her in Sangravah Temple. The moment he was forced to step over broken and murdered priestesses, tortured females, and Hybern soldiers raping others left alive for their sadist pleasure. The moments he was searching for any who had taken shelter or hidden. And then...her. The moment he saw them, surrounding her. Gwyn...his...his precious Gwyn, held down by them. He remembers the innate rage that ran his blood ice cold, his siphons working overtime as they just barely contained the power he had wanted and needed to unleash on those monsters. But he saw her face and immediately recoiled as much as he could, not wanting to cause her any more terror than she had already endured. So he had taken care of the monsters and held back in ways he was able to before walking back over to her trembling form, tears rushing down her skin. And despite her own need for safety, she still put those children first.

Azriel breathes in shaky breaths, a panic attack simmering under his resolve, something that hasn't happened since that horrid day. He remembers assuring her that the kids would be taken to safety, despite feeling numb. He remembers scooping her into his arms and how she somehow seemed calmer and less scared, which was confusing to him, as he was still a male. As trauma goes, she had every right to be scared of him too. Thinking back he can't help but break every small moment down, wondering if, in hindsight, it had been their mate bond that calmed her when she was in his arms.

Knowing what he knows about bonds, trauma, and self-deprecation, and PTSD can block it to a high degree. With their mutual pasts, it's no wonder it took so long to surface, only in that one rare moment both of their guards were down. And now that it was out? They can't re-cork the bottle. The truth is out.

He leans over the balcony rail and breathes in large gulps of air, completely torn. After what had happened with Elain on Solstice, and all his fighting with Rhys about her...he doesn't know what he was thinking. But he despises admitting when he's wrong. But he was wrong. Rhys was right. Elain wasn't his—and he wasn't hers. Now...Cauldron, if anyone ever dared to touch Gwyn now that he knows and his body responds to that body, he'd rip their throat out. Which gives him a new perspective on what Rhys was saying about Lucien.

Though he never ever believed he'd say—or rather think—it, but he had a newfound admiration for the fire-headed male, knowing Elain was his mate and controlling himself to stay away for so long. For over a year, nearly two now. He must slowly be going insane. However, Lucien has a reputation for being one of the most level-headed males in Prythian, what with everything he had gone through in his own past, not to mention the intense amounts of control he had to exhibit around Tamlin. It must be utter torture for him now, and he can't help but feel some guilt knowing he contributed to it. But as they say, hindsight is 20/20.

Lucien isn't his issue, though. Gwyneth Berdara, however...

He groans in frustration and his wings stretch to full length before shuddering and curling back into his body again. "Fuck!", he shouts into the air.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Panting in frustration, he rubs his hands down his face. How could he have been so stupid as to just flee? How much of a damn coward is he? More cowardly than Gwyn, that's for sure.

A moment later he hears footsteps behind him. Clacking footsteps, which could only belong to one person going by their pace. Which only makes him lean over the rail more, wanting to disappear into his shadows. But he knows it's too late now, she's already seen him.

Mor leans over the railing next to him quietly for a moment, a glass of wine in hand, per usual.

"I heard you swearing. Not that it's rare, but the screaming bit...", she trails off. "Last time I heard you scream to yourself it was after the slaughter at Sangravah", she says softly. "When you're stressed, angry, confused, and sad all at once. So...what's got you so upset, Az?"

Azriel runs a hand through his hair. "I didn't know you were back from Vallahan today."

"I am", she replies simply. "I quite missed you crazy bats and babies."

"Babies plural?"

"Yeah, Nyx and Cass, duh", she chuckles.

Az cracks a small smile and she nudges him. "So...?"

He sighs deeply and looks over at her, taking in her beauty, and his mind can't help comparing it to Gwyn's realizing that they are completely different in the best ways.

"I found my mate."

Mor gasps and goes to clap, before remembering her wine, a bit sloshing to the city below. "Oh, Az! That's amazing! But...why are you upset?", her expression goes from thrilled to confused.

"It's not Elain."

"Oh", she says, a surprised expression on her face. "Az, you knew she—"

"Yes, I know she was already mated, Mor. I was just so sure that she'd reject him. That we could be chosen mates. I was so sure of it just because of Rhys and Cassian and—I never let myself think otherwise, despite that I think I internally knew it wasn't going to end up that way."

Mor nods. "If anyone knows what it's like to be stuck in a complicated situation, it's me." She tosses him a slightly guilt-ridden look then swirls the wine in her glass absently.

"I used to think it was you", he whispers. "For so long I thought it was you, I wanted it to be you. I thought our trauma was blocking it. But, you knew that. And you did everything to stay away from me. I wasn't ignorant to that, Morrigan."

"I didn't want to give you false hope, Azriel. I didn't want to do that to you."

"Just answer me one question, now that I know it was never true for sure."

"Okay", she replies, an undertone of terror lacing her words.

"Was...was the idea of being even possibly mated to me so horrific that you had to pretend you wanted Cassian? Am I so horrible, so detestable, that you'd do anything to get away from that fate?"

Tears fill Mor's eyes as she looks to him. "What? No...n—no. Azriel, that wasn't it. Of course not. That's what you thought?"

"How could I not?"

"Az...I am sorry. I never knew you thought that way. Listen...there are things about me that even the Inner Circle doesn't know. That even you don't know. It was never about how amazing you are. It was about myself, and I am not saying that to be cliché, I truthfully mean it."

"Then tell me the truth", he growls angrily. "After all this fucking time, tell me the truth! It's your fucking power, isn't it!?"

Mor jumps slightly and takes a breath. "Az..."

"Morrigan", he says through his clenched jaw. "Five hundred years I've thought the worst of myself, thinking I didn't deserve you, thinking you were so turned away by the thought of me, that I kept that hatred of myself within me. And then with Elain, I felt it happening again when the Cauldron refused to mate me to her, refused to let me be happy again. Refused me from being wanted. Over and over again nobody wanted me. My father didn't want me. My mother was ashamed of me. My brothers didn't want me. My surrogate mother gets murdered and then you...you rejected me in the worst way, without even a word. No word about why for five hundred years. Then Elain comes along, and I see both my brothers mated and blissfully happy with her sisters and I think that finally, I get to be happy, that all this time I was waiting for this perfect twist of fate, and then that tiny fucking piece of hope was ripped from me the second Lucien declared her his. I wanted to fucking die. But then I remembered that mates can be rejected and chosen and so I tried so hard to get her to want me. And Rhys shut me down repeatedly, reminding me of Lucien as if I didn't know it was wrong of me to try and sway her so hard. Why the hell was it so bad for me to be wanted?", he breathes out, his voice shaking.

Mor wipes her tears carefully, as not to smudge her makeup. "I didn't realize...I—I didn't think of what you were thinking of, Az. I'm sorry. You have every right to feel wanted, same as anyone else. Believe me.

"Then why didn't anyone? Why am I such a horrible prospect? Tell me."

"You weren't. You aren't."

"You could've fooled me, Morrigan."

"As I said, there is a lot you don't know. Of my own fault, but I keep my private life as private as I can, even from family. I can see now that it was wrong. I didn't know how much my...my withholding of truth affected you."

"And what would that be then?"

Her hands tighten around the stem of her glass, and she swallows hard. "It's been so long..."

"So now you don't trust me either?"

"That's not the point, Az."

He rubs his face again. "Okay. Sorry, I—I'm having a bit of a crisis if you couldn't tell. Just everything is turned upside down right now. I'll be fine. I always am."

"I prefer women", she murmurs, taking a gulp of her wine.

Azriel freezes, his body going rigid, and it hits him like a ton of bricks. He should have noticed. The illustrious spymaster, and he couldn't see the obvious, right in front of his face for over five centuries.

"Cauldron boil me", he mutters, leaning his forehead down on the railing. "Fuck...oh fuck. Mor..."

"So there you have it", she drawls, gulping down the rest of her wine. "It was never about not loving you. It—it was about not loving you in the way you wanted. I knew if I had chosen you instead of Cassian, your feelings would only get deeper. In choosing Cass to 'taint' myself, I believed I was sparing your heart, Azriel. Because I do care about you, and I always have. But there was a reason I never slept with Cass again either. It's too complicated. I won't say that I don't enjoy males in a sexual sense, because you've noticed that I do. But emotionally...emotionally I connect more fully with women. As has been my experience. I loved a woman once. We were going to be mates. And then she died. And I had to bury her and bury my grief for her all at once because that was sacred to me. The knowledge of my love for her was sacred to me, and I didn't want the pity from all of you. I had experienced it all before after Keir humiliated me and I couldn't handle those looks again after I had finally rid myself of them after centuries. I am sorry that you took the space I gave you as a way to self-destruct. I never intended that. I do care about you."

Azriel looks into her eyes and sees her fully for the first time since they were adolescents. Without thinking he hugs her tightly, his wings wrapping around them. Mor sniffles and drops the wine glass, wrapping her arms around his neck and allowing tears to finally shed for both herself and her lost lover.

"I wish I knew. I should have known. It's my job to know things and I was so blind. You didn't owe me anything and I was stupid to think I was entitled to—"

"Shhh, you big bat", she chuckles through a sob. "We both had shit, and we both had states of mind that just happened to get mixed up." She hugs him tightly.

"I hope you know that I accept you fully, and I wish you all the happiness in the world, Morrigan. Regardless of who you find it with. I understand so much now. Also, I won't tell anyone because it's not for me to tell."

"Feyre knows."

"Feyre?"

"Yes. We got in a fight a little over a year and a half ago...among the war. I told her. She said the same thing. But it's only you two who know now. I suppose for everyone else, the truth will come out when the time is right."

"That's fair. You do see the irony though, right?"

They finally pull away from their hug and she smiles teasingly. "What? That the truth-speaker kept it for five centuries? Yes...I've seen it for as long as I've kept it close."

He nods quietly. "I suppose it's my turn to divulge."

Mor leans sideways in the railing, waiting quietly for him to continue, inclining her head.

"My mate is Gwyneth Berdara."