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This story takes place during and after the HOFAS bonus chapter featuring Randall and Ember.
This is at heart a Gwynriel fic, but through Rhys. I’ve had this idea for awhile as his character has taken a very moody turn since Silver Flames and especially during HOFAS and the bonus chapters. However, I think he is cracking under the constant need to protect everyone he shouldered while under the mountain, unable to accept he can’t control every variable that might pose a risk.
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Rhysand sat at his desk, elbows resting on the surface while he held his head in his hands. His hands fisted his short black hair, eyes staring blankly at a… rifle? He believes that’s what the man, Randall, had called it. The memories Bryce had shared in Hewn City were chilling. Now this female had once again entered his world, taken another object needed for protecting his people and family from Koschie, and he’d been powerless to stop it.
The terror of the Daglan… Asteri… returning haunted him. There were stories that only existed in carvings in the darkest corners of the Hewn city to describe the horrors suffered over 15 millenia ago. Every moment was a moment the girl could fail and the Asteri would be here… threatening his mate, child, family, people and future.
It was too much to leave to this female, barely old enough to be mated… He winced at his own thoughts. She was roughly the same age as his own mate. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a shaky breath. He was so used to being two steps ahead, controlling the situation to the advantage of him, his family, and his people.
He had no power over whatever Bryce was to accomplish… if she would fail. He could give no advice, assistance, or support to broker the outcome he desired. It was entirely beyond his control, he didn’t trust it.
He didn’t trust anyone to make decisions.
He froze… When had he become so controlling?
He used to delegate better… he used to appreciate those gut decisions made in the moment as your soul saw something no one else’s did. He used to treat those he adopted as his family as equals instead of courtiers trembling for their Lord’s favor. When they were young… so many centuries ago, he had promised his brothers something no other Lord would. He’d established his court as family. He hated the way his father treated himself and his brothers before he’d become Lord. He saw the games played in other courts for favor and power… and he wanted something better.
Now he’d ripped his brother’s mate apart. His gut twisted at the decision she’d made, the risk involved. He saw Cassian avert his gaze from him, clench his fist as Nesta held her chin high, taking the verbal wrath without flinching.
The way the woman, Ember, had interrupted his tirade forced him to see a flicker of what Nesta must have. For a moment as Bryce’s human parents looked at him, witnessing the price Nesta paid to aid their daughter, Rhys saw the glint of hope and perseverance at all cost that demands blind faith. Nesta had been right. He couldn’t admit it.
He would never forget how a powerless human woman interrupted him and stared into him with an unyielding spirit…. To protect Nesta… From him. Her human mind unknowingly showed him the horrors Bryce’s sire inflicted. She’d thought those things while witnessing how he treated Nesta. Something inside him screamed as he noted everyone of his family members’ defensive postures. Waiting for his temper to continue.
It was Azriel’s posture that hurt the most. From behind the human couple he looked practiced, he expected this. His brother expected his temper. Azriel was becoming used to it… numb to it.
Rhys reached out and laid a hand on the cold metal barrel of the rifle. He was losing them, slowly. It was his fault. He was sabotaging his own desire to protect them. How did he not see it before?
Azriel had not attended dinners with him since the winter solstice. Feyre only talked of him visiting Nyx when he was gone. He had been losing Azriel for months without notice. His gut twisted. Cassian would be next after Nesta’s treatment. This is how his court would end… not through a last stand against enemies, but from his own toxic treatment. He sat up, pushing his chair back and bumping into the cabinets behind him. A door swung open and a box fell out with a solid thud to the floor.
He paused looking at the box. He hadn’t thought about it in centuries. It had been his mother’s. He’d inherited it upon her death with a note. She instructed him not to open it, that it’d find him when he lost himself. He’d been youthful enough to think he’d never need it at the time.
He picked it up and rubbed the dust off the artistic carvings along the black box. He opened the gold latch. His brows furrowed at the contents. A single incense stick and burn plate. He picked them up, underneath the plate an inscription read, “Look ahead to correct your path.”
“Futurus Thymiama…” Rhys whispered, stunned. It had been milenia since any seer talented enough to make the incense had lived. It was said to be long since gone from the world… yet here was one last stick. For a moment his mind whirled with the possibilities of discovering a way to defeat Koschie, protect his court… but that is what drove him to this moment of weakness. No… his mother left this to remind him of who he was, what truly made his life something to be envied.
Positioning the stick on the plate he lit it. The smoke began to drift, hints of rosemary and yarrow filled the room. He felt the sudden urge to sleep, he slowly lowered his head to the desk, resting it on his arm. Before his eyes closed his mind noted Nyx was with Feyre… they were laughing.
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“Daddy!” A young girl jumped on him. He found himself looking down at a raven haired blue eyed girl, perhaps 9 years old. She was dressed in a silver dress and black leggings, smiling widely up at him. “Aunt Nesta had the house make me a pegasus!” She held up the mini magical creation trying to squirm free from her. Then she jumped off him, her black wings ready to take off through the room.
“Don’t you dare fly in the house!” Feyre decreed from beside him. “You too!” Feyre pointed at a young boy, about her age who looked as if he was in mid takeoff as well. This child had sandy brown hair, his tan skin stood out nicely against his olive silk shirt. The bright hazel eyes looked at him mischievously.
“Dad said it was okay tonight.” He waived towards the windows. “It’s a special night.” Rhys noted the setting sun and the twinkle that always preceded starfall. Things began making sense… everyone was dressed nicely.
“Yeah, Uncle Cassian said it’s fine!” The girl tried to convince Feyre.
“Nesta! Can the kids fly in the house tonight?” Feyre shot, turning her head towards her sister.
“Absolutely not.” Nesta said while sipping a glass of wine, side eyeing the children.
“Ahhh….” They groaned.
“House, I need a bowl of ice.” Nesta’s request was met with a pop as the bowl appeared on the coffee table in front of them. “Feel free to dump this down his wings.”
“Me first!” The girl yelled, racing the boy to the bowl. Rhys lifted his eyebrow as she stepped on his foot, buying herself the extra second needed to procure the bowl then jumped around Nesta’s chair and ran through an archway.
“They are a handful.” The charming male voice had Rhys turning his head. Lucien stood behind him with a glass of champagne. He was dressed in day court fashion.
“Cyrus must be into everything by now.” Feyre chirped while raising her own glass of wine towards him. Lucien’s smile grew vibrant.
“He took scissors and cut all of Elain’s roses yesterday while I made him lunch.” He took a gulp of his drink while grimacing at the memory. “She used them to make the centerpiece we brought.” He gestured towards the elaborate rose arrangement on the coffee table. The sisters giggled.
Rhys’ brain began to process the marvelous moment he was in. The incense had chosen to give him a vision of what his family would become. He could only hope it was certain and not conditional. The uncertainty made his chest tighten as he gazed around the room. He eyes stopped on a young winged male leaning against the wall, arms crossed and looking out the windows. He knew immediately it was Nyx. He felt like he was looking in a mirror. His dark hair was kept longer than he would have imagined, resting on his shoulders, but this male could be no one else.
Another young winged male, perhaps a couple years younger stood with him. They were smiling, obviously friends. The other male looked eerily similar to Cassian’s young son. Nyx’s blue gray eyes met Rhys’.
“Hey Dad, do you mind if Tymon and I…” His words were cut short by Cassian howling.
“Did you mother..” He yelled as the two culprits sprinted into the room, running past Rhys and dodging behind Nyx. Nesta burst out in the heartiest laugh he’d ever heard from her.
“Bring them here!” Cassian grinned sauntering into the room with a bowl still mostly full of ice.
“I’ve got this one!” Tymon grinned while wrangling the boy into a bear hug.
“No!” He cried. “Dad is going to throw an ice cube at my wings!” The boy tried to wiggle away as Cassian launched an ice cube at him. However, Nyx caught it and lobbed it right back at Cassian’s face. Rhys couldn’t help the laughter that erupted from him, Feyre and Nesta joining him.
“Caleb and Alanna started this, I’m finishing it.” Cassian said plainly while lobbing another ice cube. This time Rhys caught the ice cube sailing over his head and lobbed it back at Cassian.
“Traitor.” Cassian mumbled as the ice hit true. Feyre grabbed his knee, distracting him as Cassian dumped the rest of the ice over him. “At least Feyre has my back.” Cassian grinned. Rhys stood up to shake the Ice off. His eyes twinkled with stars, how long had it been since they were all together laughing and enjoying life?
His gut dropped at the thought. It wasn’t all of them. They were surrounded by children… his and Cassian’s. Lucien still stood nearby, near the archway with Elain. A flame haired toddler clung to her hip. Through the archway he could see Mor and Emorie on a sofa, Mor’s legs draped intimately over Emorie’s lap. Adjacent to them Amren and Varian curled up together, enjoying conversation.
Something heavy settled in his chest… Azriel wasn’t with them. His heart twisted, explanations flooded his mind. Was he simply late? Night hadn’t quite fallen yet. Could he be on a mission? He’d always kept Azriel home over holidays. Had he refused to attend? Their relationship was already deteriorating without his notice.
The previous winter solstice from his present returned to his mind. Azriel had taken him off guard with his theory that the Mother had mistaken Elain and Lucien for mates. Instead of considering the context of Azriel’s desires for the loneliness and emptiness it was, he’d tore into him. It was no secret Azriel wanted the secure love of a mate… within the span of a couple years found himself the odd ball out while Rhys and Cassain settled down.
Was it too painful for him to see everyone settled and happy? Looking at Lucien and Elain he knew he’d been right to steer Azriel away, but he’d also believed with all his heart that the mother had a mate waiting for Azriel. It was unconscionable to think she’d give him and Cassian such a gift and ignore the male who bled for a mate the most.
Rhys looked at his grown son. How many years in the future was this vision? At least a few decades. There would have been a battle with Koschie along with whatever dangers the decades held. Could Azriel have succumbed to one of those dangers? Was he gone?
Rhys banished the dread as soon as it formed. The atmosphere was too wonderful at this moment to believe such an important piece of his family was missing.
Feyre took his arm, jumping up from the couch. A smile brightened her face, excitement danced in her eyes.
Lets sneak out, Nesta has been hogging them. Feyre schemed in his head. “We’re going to say hi to Helion.” Feyre nodded to Nesta. Rhys arched his eyebrow, but he felt the other Lord's power nearby. He’d been too caught up in the wonder of the moment to notice.
We’re not, are we? Rhys replied. He got the feeling he should know what she was talking about. He wanted to ask who ‘them’ were, but feared it’d out him as an imposter and the vision would break.
Later… I’m dying to see them. Nesta and Cassian have had a monopoly the last three weeks. Feyre was nearly squealing in delight as she led him from the room and away from the party. Rhys kept the confusion from his face as he nodded a greeting towards Mor while passing them. She just told me it’s a good time, she could use an extra pair of arms or two. Rhys was even more confused and intrigued.
“I know where you’re off too.” Emorie teased.
“Shhh… Gwyn asked for us.” Feyre whispered. “We haven’t visited them yet, all of you have had your chance. Don’t tell Nesta on us.” Mor arched a brow.
“Nesta’s been such a mother hen.” Mor added with exasperation and a wink. Feyre tugged his arm a bit harder while leading him out and down a corridor. Rhys followed her obediently, his mind working to put pieces together. All he knew was Gwyn needed help, Nesta was being some kind of busy body over it, and they were ascending a level into the house where private areas were. Gwyn must reside at the house now he thought as he noted the excitement pouring off Feyre.
“I might be jealous.” Feyre whispered, looking back with mirth. “Don’t give me that look, you never complained when we made ours.” Rhys wished he’d drank some wine, then he could perhaps feign being inebriated while asking the burning questions he knew would appear daft. Instead Rhys tried to take hints from the direction Feyre was rushing towards. He knew there were only bedrooms down the hall they had just turned to. Feyre stopped at a door and knocked. The door opened… shadows dancing out to greet them. Feyre let go of his arm and entered.
Rhys couldn’t stop the relieved smile from taking over his face. Gwyn sat on the edge of a large disheveled bed, her hair a hot mess, bags under her eyes, a wrinkled blue robe tied tightly at her waist. In her arms she rocked a newborn. The light pink infant gown betrayed the gender. The baby had a full head of dark brown hair that held a hint of red undertones.
Behind her solved the mystery of Azriel’s absence. He laid on his back, wings spread out, hair disheveled, eyes sunken and bagged, wrinkled black sweatpants, and a newborn laying across his bare chest. The baby wore a light blue infant gown, the same dark brown hair with hints of red covered his crown. Azriel’s large hand rested over the baby’s back, nearly covering the small body.
“Give me!” Feyre demanded lightheartedly while holding her arms out and approaching Gwyn. “Alanna is so excited she’s not the only girl anymore.” Feyre commented as Gwyn gently passed the baby, taking caution with the delicate head and neck.
“Please we haven’t slept in days.” Azriel moaned while sitting up, gently supporting his son while moving. Rhys reached out for the male infant in Azriel’s arms.
“We can’t get them on the same sleeping and eating routine for the life of us.” Gwyn muttered with exhaustion. Rhys gently accepted the infant from Azriel, rocking the baby against his own chest.
Looking down he noted the soft tan skin, somewhere between Gwyn’s porcelain complexion and Azriel’s light brown. These children had no wings, belated relief washed over him. Had either twin had wings… even full blooded Illyrian women had horrific deliveries, the twin’s talons ripping each other apart during birth. The Mother had to have been watching over… half blooded Illyrains had wings more often than not, especially males.
“I thought a spymaster would be used to not sleeping.” Rhys couldn’t help teasing, melting into the moment the incense blessed him with. Azriel was too tired to even smile back. Rhys inhaled through his nose, curiously noting his brother’s scent. His scent now had an undertone of Gwyn’s, confirming his brother was blessed with a mate.
“Haven’t Nesta or Cassian given you help?” Feyre asked, a little confused.
“His shadows are busy bodies, they won’t settle.” Gwyn elaborated. Azriel groaned.
“They alert us to every little movement… every fussy tell…” Azriel’s hazel eyes were half lidded. “Even when Nes or Cas are caring for them.”
“I used to think being able to hear his shadows was marvelous after the bond snapped… now it’s the bane of my existence.” Gwyn added, her tired gaze still sharpening as she focused on the infants cradled in her friends’ arms. Azriel’s shadows were indeed hovering all around the infants. Rhys had never observed them being so forward.
“I thought maybe they’d quiet down for the High Lord and Lady.” Azriel added, turning their titles into a playful jest.
“Only one way to find out.” Rhys murmured while offering the baby in his arms his pinky finger to grasp. The boy’s eyes had opened revealing the familiar dark gray blue that colored all infant’s eyes before they slowly turned over the first year of life.
“Do you mind us taking them to mingle with everyone?” Feyre looked for permission before taking the infants out.
“Please.” Both parents groaned in unison. Gwyn crawled up next to Azriel, he curled his arm around her before flopping bonelessly into the bed.
“Get some rest.” Rhys winked. Feyre ushered them out, gently closing the door. Rhys noted the shadows continuing to cling around the babies. “Leave, go rest.” Rhys poured all of his authority into the demand. He could have sworn the shadows seemed to hiss at him before slinking away, but clinging to the edges of his senses. “They are perfectly safe, if you keep their parents from sleeping any longer…” Rhys began to threaten, but noted their retreat from the peripheries of his perception.
“You even lord over shadows.” Feyre giggled while rocking the female against her breast. The infant was staring intently up at Feyre, her fist finding her mouth where she began sucking on it. As they approached the party. “Your mommy and daddy will invite us over more often if they listen to your Uncle Rhys.” She cooed.
Rhys smiled, “I wouldn’t mind.” He really wouldn’t mind staying… he found himself dreading the inevitable end of this vision. He couldn’t remember the last time everything felt perfectly in place… had it ever? There was always something missing, something to fight against, or a loss to tremble over. Here, in this moment, he was surrounded by the family he’d spent his centuries longing for.
His heart ached, this was who he wanted to be. He found greater value in the titles of Daddy, Uncle, Brother and Friend than High Lord. Somewhere the latter had taken over his mind, keeping him from seeing with his heart.
He owed Nesta an apology… even if he turned out to be right. He owed Azriel an apology… even if he was right. They deserved to be treated as the family they were, not subjects who answered to him.
His vision became hazy. He knew his time was up, he would always keep this moment close, he’d make sure his behaviors led to this brilliant life.
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“Rhys!” Feyre was shaking him.
“Hmmm..” He murmured lifting his head.
“Can’t you feel it?” She was wide eyed. He shook his head. “A portal opened up in the house of wind again.”
Rhys’ eyes snapped open as he reached out with his senses. A smile tugged his lips, “Bryce came back.”
“That would mean…” Feyre was cautious.
“Our worlds are a bit safer now.” Rhys confirmed as he felt her presence along with her human parents disappear with the portal. “Lets go.” He whispered and winnowed to the edge of the wards, gently gliding down on his wings with Feyre. Walking inside the house Nesta snapped her eyes to him wide, yet kept her chin high. An icy chill washed over him, she was steadying herself against him.
“She brought it all back.” Cassian whispered, gesturing to the table with not only the mask and dagger, but a sword as well.
“That’s Gwydion…” Rhys murmured, he could feel the pulse of the made weapon… the way it ‘chatted’ next to truth teller. “Nesta…” He began.
“It all worked out.” Cassian butted in, attempting to drag Rhys’ attention from his mate. But Rhys held Nesta’s stare, her eyes icing against him. He could only hope he’d be able to undo that reaction, see the playfully rebellious side of her again.
“I was wrong to doubt you.” Rhys murmured without losing her stare. Her throat bobbed. “I would have made the wrong choice.”
“Thank…” She began, but Rhys cut her short.
Shaking his head, “Thank you for standing up to me.” Surprise shook over her posture. “You perceived something the rest of us failed to. You acted on what you knew was right in your heart, withstood my abuse over it…” His voice saddened briefly. “You have my thanks.”
Nesta’s mouth slowly curved into a smile, he believed it was the first one she’d ever given him. “So what now?”
“I think we have a very broody bat missing his favorite dagger.” Cassian interjected.
Rhys smiled, “And where is he?” Cassian smiled while Nesta tried to cover her expression with her hand.
“I know that expression Nesta…” Feyre cut in, “You know something we don’t.”
“I won’t tell.” Nesta stiffened into her unyielding self, but her eyes twinkled.
“Cassian will.” Rhys countered. Something inside Rhys felt lighter, this banter already felt… genuine.
“We need someone to begin a search for Bryaxis soon.” Feyre supplied, crossing her arms. Rhys looked back to her and winked.
“You wouldn’t.” Cassian folded his arms and narrowed his eyes.
“I would.” Rhys answered.
“Gwyn convinced him to show her around Velaris.” Cassian shrugged. Rhys raised his eyebrow, the feel of cradling the infant against his chest in his vision still fresh.
“A date?” He queried with a smile. Nesta huffed.
“He’s been so moody since Bryce ran off with truth teller, Gwyn was the only one who could manage to calm him.” Nesta reasoned.
“Like a date.” Feyre reiterated.
Cassian rolled his shoulders, “Neither of them will admit it, but it’s pretty much a date.” Cassian watched Rhys’ reaction in a way that told him his brother knew exactly what he’d said to Azriel at winter solstice.
“It seems like we should add an extra chair to our dinner table.” Rhys thought aloud, with a smirk. The answering smile from Cassian reassured him he’d passed some kind of test, proving he understood his brothers’ hearts.
“That’s one way to get him to grace us with his charming personality again.” Cassian grinned.
“You think it’d work to get him to join family dinners again?” Feyre asked hopeful.
“Is Cassian scared shitless of Bryaxis?” Nesta quipped.
“It’s a done deal.” Rhys draped his arm over Feyre. “This coming Friday, have Gwyn ready.”
“What about these?” Nesta waved towards the weapons, sending the mask back to the warded enclosure Rhys had made.
“I’ll take Gwydion for now, but we’ll need to research how it interacts with truth teller.” He rubbed his chin.
“Bryce didn’t tell us how…” Nesta’s brows furrowed.
“Let Az have his favorite dagger back until we decide who will wield them.” Rhys said with seriousness. “Bryce left us a powerful weapon against Koschie, I can only hope I get to thank her someday.”
“Someday.” Nesta smiled. “My heart believes it.”