Momma?" the young girl inquired, her tiny gloved hand sitting inside my own, black hair braided half up, tight ringlet's falling down her cloaked shoulders, and pink cheeks bright from the cold, "Why is Papa such an idiot?"
I almost snorted. Almost.
"Celeste why do you say your father is dumb?" I inquired, hiding the amusement in my voice as I helped her over a slippery patch of ice, her boot clad feet sliding on the thin sheet as we made our way down the ice coated cobblestone street.
"Because he's always saying things that make Amren mad," her petite face scrunched in thought, her freckled button nose wrinkling, "Not to mention he's always saying ridiculous things to Cenric and I. Surely Papa knows the ocean isn't made of pudding!"
I couldn't resist the grin that spread across my face, eternally amused by my daughter's rantings about Rhys, my mate and her father. A loud sigh of exasperation left her lips as she dramatically threw her head back, irritation written across her features.
It was most definitely a mystery whom she had gotten the flair for the dramatic from.
"Am I the only intelligent one?" She inquired to the muted grey sky, violet eyes twinkling in the street light beneath thick dark lashes. Her fingers curled tightly in my hand, a look of total annoyance on her face, "Other than you of course Momma, you're the smartest of us all. Second only to me."
Or that confidence.
Turning the corner of the brick building I began leading the small girl towards the line of shops near the Sidra. Yellow lantern light illuminated the snow-covered ground as fae strolled about enjoying the rare winter storm, their breath making clouds in the cold. Some of the patrons noticed us and sent us smiles and waves. I waved in reply, always happy for the friendliness of the people Velaris, MY people.
Stepping up onto the street we stood before a small restaurant, the smell of spices wafting through the air, the roaring laughter from its occupants echoing outside into the cold.
"Your father is very intelligent," I reminded Celeste gently, chuckling, as I adjusted her dark purple jacket and pulled down her fur lined hood from over her small head, "He's only teasing you and your brother."
She shot me a skeptical look, something far beyond her mere seven years. "I don't think so Momma." I couldn't contain the snort that time.
"Come on," I said with grin, "Let's go see the idiot," I winked and put a finger to my lips, "but don't tell him I said that." The grin she gave in response was priceless, her head nodding in conformation, her fingers zipping her lips.
Stepping inside the building I quickly caught sight of our family, overcrowding a large table in the back, the roaring laughter heard earlier coming from them. I felt a familiar burning in my core when violet eyes rose to meet me, Rhy's face breaking into a broad smile as he rose a hand motioning for us.
The effects of seeing him never changed, even a hundred years after our mating.
Removing Celeste's jacket, I watched as her small black wings unfurled from their warm cocoon
against her cream-colored sweater, stretching in the warmth. So very tiny and so precious. The fact she had inherited them a feat in itself.
Free of her jacket she made a beeline for the table, her black curls bouncing. I could only smile as I folded her small jacket over an arm and followed, offering my apologies to the patrons my daughter had shoved through on her way to the back table. Their only responses being amused laughs at the little heir to their beloved High Lord and Lady.
"Look who finally decided to join us," I heard Cassian call from his seat on the end, holding his hands out for the small girl, a grin plastered on his face, his long hair pulled up and away from his face, "took you long enough primping those curls of yours."
We were indeed late for dinner because she had adamantly refused to leave the house until her hair was properly curled.
A mystery indeed where than vanity had come from as well.
"Shut up Uncle," Celeste replied coolly, completely side-stepping Cassian and walking down towards her other uncle, holding her hands up for Azriel, "Some of us don't like looking like piggies."
A roaring laugh came barreling from Cassian echoing loudly above the chuckles and amused giggles from the other occupants at the table. Even Armen graced the comment with a sharp cackle, her slick black hair bouncing with the movement.
With an amused smirk on his face Azriel picked up his small niece, sitting her gently in his lap. The shadows at his wings nearly dissolving in the presence of the little girl who was so clearly attached to him. From her position beside him Elaine placed a small kiss on Celeste's head, straightening curls as she pulled away.
I watched as Cenric, my son, seated next to his father promptly choked on the water he was drinking, dark blue eyes wide. Ever well-mannered and the pacifist in comparison to his fiery sister.
I stepped beside my son and patted him gently on the back, his blue eyes raising to meet mine as if to say, is she really saying this? I could only shake my head in reply, amusement coursing through me.
There was too much fire to contain within that little girl, best to let her get it out.
Rising from his seat Rhys wrapped an arm around my waist and pressed a firm kiss to my neck, a greeting, one that caused the breath to hitch in my throat. I saw Cenric shift his attention to a very interesting green bean on his plate.
You shouldn't do that in front of him, I shot down the bond, playfully poking Rhy's shield, my sons discomfort evident.
It's good for him, Rhys eyes seemed to say as he pulled the chair out for me, he should see how a woman is treated properly.
Stepping back, he pulled the seat out for me, allowing me to sit. The warmth from Rhys seeped into my chilled sweater and body as I sat and scooted closer to him, our hands entangling underneath the table.
"That's painful Celeste," Cassian feigned injury, his attention still directed towards the little girl now carefully perched in Azriel's lap, a hand pressed dramatically to his chest, clearly intent on heckling her until he got another rise out of her, "You shouldn't be so cruel to your uncle."
"Yes she should," A comment from the ice vixen herself, Nesta smiled faintly behind a glass of a wine, her icy eyes bemused as she glanced at her mate, "Someone has to get that ego of yours in check. Who better to do it than an honest little girl?"
"I second that," Mor added, golden curls hanging loose around her shoulders and wearing her signature red.
The tension between her and Nesta had slowly faded through the years. All that remained was an unrelenting force that was constantly checking Cassian's ego, "We might make an emissary out of her yet. With that attitude and mouth she'd be brilliant to take to the gatherings of the High Lords."
"No thanks." Celeste supplied around a mouthful of food, having snuck fruit from her uncle's plate, clearly too famished to wait for the food that had been previously ordered for her. I sent her a pointed look but Azriel only shook his head and wrapped his arms around the small girl tighter, his chin resting on top of her head.
I refrained from sighing, he was completely wrapped around that little girl's finger, almost as bad as her father, "I want to be a General, let Cenric deal with the boring adults."
"Hey!" my son shot back, sitting up in seat, "That's not fair!"
"Why isn't it?" Celeste replied, shoving another slice of fruit into her mouth, "You're better at talking to people, I just want to break things and fight." A familiar smirk graced her lips-Azriel may have been her favored uncle but her mannerism were clearly derived from Cassian.
"Because I'm the oldest! Besides," Cenric's arms crossed over his chest dramatically, his brow furrowing in annoyance, "you're my sister and need to be protected, not out on the battlefield fighting!"
Cenric's loyalty to his sister had been evident from the day he had been told about her existence. Every kick and movement she had made in the womb he had wanted to feel. He had spoken to her through the duration of the pregnancy, as she had flopped inside me, and had hardly left her side since she had entered the world.
Celeste's attachment to him was just as fierce, a constant desire to protect her older brother, a softer gentler spirit than herself. A spirit that was not built for war and had no desire to participate in it.
"No way!" Celeste shot back, her hands planting themselves flat against the dinner table, "You're too sweet to be in battle. You can rule The Night Court and I'll protect you from the bad guys." A sharp nod as she sat back, leaning heavily against her uncle's chest, a look of content on her small features.
"You know," Cassian drew, as he watched the staring match between the two children, clearly entertained by their bickering, "You've got to get big before you can do any of that. Besides none of us are going anywhere anytime soon so get in line sweetheart for being General."
"Oh don't worry uncle," Celeste cocked her head, an equally devilish smirk on her face, "I'll just beat you in battle and then you'll have to let me be General."
Rhys couldn't contain himself as I heard him let out a low chuckle beside me, his eyes twinkling with unspoken pride at the confident child that was his own. He tightened his grasp on my hand and pulled it closer to him, his calloused fingers working soft circles into my palm.
I love them, I felt him say through the bond the happiness overwhelming, they are perfect. He pulled my hand from under the table and pressed warm soft lips to the back of it, just as you are.
I smiled in reply, I'd never been happier than I was in this moment. Rhys and I stared at one another, our eyes locking. His lips pulled up at that corner and he leaned forward to kiss me—
SPLAT. A spoonful of yogurt slammed into the side of his face, his handsome features set in a state of shock.
"Oops," I heard Celeste's soft voice say, sheepishness creeping into her tone, "I'm sorry Papa, that was meant for Uncle Cassian."
I felt a laugh build in my chest and proceeded to laugh until tears were streaming openly down my face.
Yes, this was the way things were meant to be.
"Feyre," Mor's voice cut through the memory jolting me free of its presence, my attention having been lost in the past. Blinking I looked down at the dark plum jacket in my hands, it's fur lined hood soft beneath my fingertips, "It's time."
Looking up from my seated position in front of the vanity in my room I looked to Mor, her beautiful face somber and her outfit, usually colorful and vibrant, a solemn shade of grey. I nodded my head slowly and rose, my shoulders tight as I hugged the coat to my chest, the smell of her still lingering.
"Cenric and Rhys are already at the burial site," Mor supplied, chewing absentmindedly on her lip, "the others should be there shortly, we should go."
Mor offered a hand out to me, an offering of comfort. I took it gingerly, the warmth from Mor's warm hands seeping into my own. Those times had not lasted, they had faded those few short years ago when we'd lost the smallest of our own.
"Yes," I replied, my voice foreign to my own ears with its soulless tone. It was always like this when we went to visit, my mind miles away and detached, "we should be."
Mor nodded, her hand still tight in my own as we winnowed from the townhouse.
The darkness around me faded rapidly as we landed in a soft green field, the wind billowing gently through the willows that covered the lush valley. Wildflowers bloomed in every direction beneath the cloud covered sky, it's flat color casting the scene in layers of muted grey.
There was a time when I would have wanted to paint it, to recreate it exactly as I saw it, but that desire had also faded those years ago. In the distance beneath the largest willow stood two males, their physique and appearance near identical save for one possessing wings and the other not.
Sensing our arrival, the two men turned their attention towards us, their faces grave. Stepping nearly in sync they made their way towards Mor and I.
"Mom," The wingless one greeted, Cenric, his black hair shaggier than his fathers, "you look nice."
Stepping close to me he wrapped his arms around me, crushing me in a tight hug. I squeezed just as tightly in return. Releasing me he stepped back, his blue eyes rimmed in red, the smell of salt on his face. "Uncle Cass and Az said they'd be here shortly."
I nodded my head slightly, the wall of numbness still barricading my mind from feeling. Mor stepped forward and linked her arm through Cenric's, leading him back to the big willow, the place where I dreaded most to step.
"Feyre." Rhys greeted, his voice low and eyes steady as he stepped towards me, pausing briefly as he searched for the words to say, none came. I only shook my head in understanding, feeling the hollow pain resonate down the bond between us. Our hands quickly found one another's and interlocked, each of us a pillar of strength for the other.
Trailing through the tall grass we made our way to the stone circle underneath the large willow, rows and rows of lilies planted around it in full bloom. Sucking in a shuddering breath I stepped away from my mate and kneeled onto the cool ground, pressing my palm flat against the earthen surface.
"Hello, my little girl," I spoke quietly, the tears finally beginning to clog my throat, "It looks like the lilies your aunt Elaine planted have really taken off." My voice trailed off, the tears slowly beginning to spill down my face, "It's been raining a lot too, I remember how much you loved the rain."
Rhys hand came to sit on my shoulder a comforting weight. The flood gates broke as a wretched sob tore from my chest, Rhys' arms now wrapped around me steadying.
Somehow even over a decade later visiting this grave had become no easier. Even with my father's death the wound had healed with a few years' time, but this cut deeper, far deeper. The night terrors and hollowness when I passed that small room in the Riverside Estate had not worn away. It felt as though the open wound were still there beneath the scarred surface, always throbbing and aching.
How utterly unfair and cruel it had been that we'd had to bury our tiny daughter's wings, the only thing remaining from the gruesome death she had faced.
For a time we'd been convinced she was alive, searching constantly, through every town and home, combing through every blade of grass but nothing had appeared. It wasn't until Helion sent us the news that his men had fished her small boots and cloak out of the ocean, clearly torn through and gnawed on by fish, that we had accepted the fact that she'd met her end in a watery grave.
It hadn't taken long to discover who'd taken her, a group of Illyrian rebels exiled for trying to overthrow Rhysand had sought revenge and struck when we were least expecting it. They'd felt that kidnapping and murdering the precious flower of the Night Court and demolishing her wings would strike at the heart of the High Lord they so thoroughly despised; and it had been Keir, Mor's father, who had gotten them into Velaris.
I'd never seen felt such seething rage when Azriel had winnowed in with the news, the shadows darker and denser than I'd ever seen with him.
It had been a blood bath.
We'd torn the Illyrians limb from limb, slowly, deliberately and without an ounce of mercy.
The Court of Dreams became the Court of Death that night when we'd slaughtered them like livestock.
There had been no remorse in their eyes as we destroyed them either, only cool satisfaction that they had struct the most vital piece of the Court of Dreams. The bile rose at the back of my throat as I thought of the gruesome tale they told us, the truth of their words that had echoed throughout their minds when I'd held them.
How they had torn her to bits all the while screaming out for her father, for Azriel, Cassian, Nesta, ME, anyone to stop the agony.
Rhys lost it.
Nothing could have contained the power that tore the banished lords apart after they'd told the tale, and none of us had stepped in to stop it. We'd bled the remaining Illyrians for every ounce of agony they'd inflicted on her.
Blood had pooled that night, only a small piece of retribution for what had been stolen.
After we'd winnowed directly to the Court of Nightmares where Keir had finally faced the end of he wretched existence. The mountain had shuddered beneath us when we'd landed, and Rhys had misted him, misted them all into nothingness, without a word.
Those that had survived the attack had ran, fearful of their lives, the blood of their brethren falling like rain around them. The High Lord had finally demonstrated the true extent of his power, had finally eradicated them for the insects they were.
Their lives had been worth so much less than hers. They could never replace hers, could never fill the void that had permanently formed in my heart and soul.
Finally, it had been mourning, mourning and mourning, that seemed to have no end or beginning. Which it what is was now, as I kneeled on the ground before her grave, a pain and injustice that should have never happened.
I barely heard the soft crunch of earth as Amren, Azriel, Cassian and my sisters joined us. Their faces stoic as they circled around the small grave, the wind billowing their hair. Glancing towards the side I saw Azriel's gloved hands clasped in front of him, leather gloves on his hands he refused to remove, his eyes soft as he looked at the sodden patch of earth.
Celeste had reversed the scars on his hands, had completely eradicated the memory of his terrors, when her powers had finally manifested. That gift she had given Azriel had turned into a curse, a reminder of the little girl that he hadn't been able to protect or save. So, he wore the gloves, a way to hide his shame and regret for something he had loved so dearly and fiercely.
Her powers were what we had feared would get her killed, we could have never imagined that it would be internal workings and rebellions that would have taken her from us.
Tears blurred my vision as I realized again that we'd fought the last time I'd spoken to her, an argument about flying, about her having to stay safe and protected, that we couldn't risk taking her outside of Velaris, not until things had settled, until things were secured.
I felt the bile rise in my throat again but forced it down, I would not deface her grave, this peaceful place that held something that was so near and dear. I heard Cassian shift to my right, a small bouquet of flowers in his arms, as he stepped forward and laid them against the grey headstone. He always brought flowers when we came to visit, the flowers that Celeste always demanded of him when she had been small. Bring me back highland roses, she'd tell him when he'd leave for the Steppes, bring me back a bunch Uncle.
He'd never once forgotten her roses, not even now.
I felt Rhys' strong arms pulled me upright, a gentle reminder that we couldn't lose ourselves to the misery and that for her sake we'd have to keep living. Shaking my head and wiping the tears away I allowed my mate to pull me into a standing position, my knees weak.
I noticed Amren to my left, her face flat and seemingly unfazed unlike the rest of the occupants, her fingers toying with a hideously jeweled pin on her shirt. A gift from a little girl who had adored her to no end. Her face may have been passive, but I knew a storm dwelled deep underneath.
A long unaltered silence enveloped us as we stood there lost to our own internal devices.
"I see the lilies are doing well," It was Elaine who broke the silence, her golden hair braided about her head and brown eyes misty, "I'm glad they turned out so nicely. She would have loved them."
"Yes she would have," Rhys replied, his deep voice vibrating through his chest, ever grateful that Elaine took the time and effort to tend to the flowers that surrounded our daughters resting place, "and somewhere I'm sure she's delighted to know that they're here to keep her company when we cannot."
"She always did love gardening with you," Nesta supplied from her position next to Cassian, their arms intertwined, "she was always so pleased when you'd let her dig holes in the garden."
"For something that was so focused on being presentable," Cassian added, his eyes clearly lost in the memory, "she had no issues getting messy or doing dirty work."
"Of course not, she feared nothing," Cenric added, he hands stuffed in his pockets and shoulder's hunched, "she would have made an incredible High Lady."
"Or General," Azriel added, Elaine tucked in close to his side, "she would have made us all very proud."
"She did," Rhy's near whispered, his arms tightening around my waist, "she did make all of us very proud."
A silence fell between all of us as thunder began roaring above our heads.
"It looks like she'll get her thunderstorm," Mor cooed, her lips turning up at the corners, "maybe you should take the advice she use to give you Cassian and go fly into one and see what happens." A low round of chuckles followed.
"She was always going nose to nose with you," Mor continued, brushing her golden locks out of her face, "I wonder if she really would have ended up besting you in battle for the title of General."
"I would have liked to have seen her try," Cassian said, something like weakness in his voice, "I would have trained her to be the best she could have possibly been." It was obvious to that it killed Cassian to never have even gotten the chance.
"I think she would have made a much better spy," Elaine interjected, her hands wrapped about Azriel's arm, "she actually listened to Azriel."
"Unlike you Cassian," Nesta drew, her hand interlocked with Cassian's own, "all you could ever get out of her was attitude."
"Stubborn thing she was," Amren snorted, her fingers having dropped from the pendant, silver eyes slid over to me, clearly reading between the lines, "we'd best be on our way before the storm flushes us out."
"I'm going to stay longer," I replied, the warmth of Rhys the only thing staving off the shivering that threatened to wrack my body, "but the rest of you should go." A quiet dismissal, a rare order from their High Lady. I needed this time to mourn with my mate and I needed it to be alone.
Everyone muttered their farewells and began making their way away from the grave, Mor looping her arm through her nephews, another yearly visit finished. Only Azriel lingered, his hazel eyes locked on the headstone, before he finally bowed his head and made to leave, Elaine waiting for him up the valley.
As everyone vacated I leaned further back into Rhys, the smell of citrus surrounding me as heavy raindrops began falling on our heads.
"A thought for a thought?" I inquired, wrapping my arms around my mates, cocooning myself in him as I felt his head nod on top of mine, "I wish I could kill them all again, make them pay for what they took."
"I know my love," Rhys whispered into my hair, his hot breath tickling my neck, I felt warm droplets slide down my neck, "I'd give anything to have her home again, I'd give my very life to get her back."
"So would I."
With that the rain came down in a heavy torrent as we stood there waiting and watching, wondering how one could ever be the same after something so important had been ripped away. We stayed there through the storm and late into the evening, until the sun had set and the growls of the beasts in the woods began to call.
Only then did we leave, but even so our hearts reminded at that small solemn grave, protected by lilies and the love of those who had cherished her most.