Chapter Text
“Orrin, slow down!” I yelled from over the banister.
It wasn’t even breakfast time, and already he had popped out of bed in a frenzy this morning and was trying to chase his Uncle Azriel around the foyer, delighting in making the larger Illyrian try to duck and dodge his grubby hands while Az tried ever-so-cautiously not to knock anything over with his wings.
I caught the gaze of the Shadowsinger, giving him my best apologetic smile. At six years old, Orrin was a powerhouse, a never-ending fountain of energy which we were hoping would one day be well-directed into ruling the Night Court with honor. He was only a few years away from his first visit to Windhaven, where Rhys and I would move for his adolescent years to give him the same training my mate had been succumbed to in his adolescence.
A sudden wailing noise came from over my shoulder. That would be my niece, Ava. I motioned to Az that I’d take care of her, relishing the relative peace and quiet she’d afford me once she was freed from her crib. At least compared to what was now occurring downstairs.
Her mother was already out tending the garden, but I was still greeted by a giggle and the most adorable grin as I walked into the nursery and Ava realized who had come to get her out of bed this morning.
As I approached her, she pulled up on the bars and got into a standing position, miniscule wings flapping aggressively. They’d just begun to start unfurling last month, and, with any luck, they’d be fully formed by the time she reached one year old.
They still wouldn’t be strong enough to carry her weight for a few years yet, but I missed the days before Orrin was raring to go, demanding that anybody with a set of wings begin teaching him the ropes of flying. Now it was all I could do to keep him grounded when we weren’t able to watch his every move.
Rhys and I had been trying for another child since not long after our son was born with no luck. Hopefully this time it would be a daughter for Rhys to no doubt spoil rotten.
I cherished any time I got to sneak away and care for Ava, grateful that Elain and Az had come to live with us on a more full-time basis not long after she was born.
After changing her and summoning a bottle from the kitchen, I walked down to the drawing room where the piano sat. It had been gathering dust for months, neither of us able to find much of a spare minute to play with all the chaos going on in our little household once we’d managed to finish our official duties.
I missed it. The late nights where Rhys and I would just sit for hours, hammering out familiar melodies, trying to recreate symphonies we’d heard performed in the Rainbow. He had been patient with me from the beginning, not minding the nights where it was a significant struggle as I tried to learn how to decipher the clefs and key signatures on the page.
Rhys always caressed me down the bond, soothing my nerves whenever I’d get so incredibly frustrated that I still stumbled after months of playing, reminding me that he’d spent years learning to become decent, and centuries trying to master it.
Now, whenever we were awoken by nightmares, we usually also had another bedmate who had heard us and wormed his way into our bed. We’d stay silently still, sometimes just glancing between ourselves and our precious boy, praying he never had to experience the trauma we’d been subjected to — and reminding ourselves that we’d made it out. And we were so incredibly blessed with how our lives turned out.
As I sat on the bench, seating a babbling Ava in my lap, I found myself reminiscing of that night all those years ago when my musical journey began. Unable to contain myself, I began to leisurely play the melody Rhys had helped me tap out on the keys all those year ago — our song. I closed my eyes, content to let the music take me away. As I grew more familiar with playing again and began to regain my muscle memory, I increased my tempo, catching up to the intended speed, the notes soaring out for beneath my fingers.
Just as I was reaching the end of the first movement, I was pulled from my reverie by a small beating of wings and some plodding footsteps.
“Wow, mommy! That was amazing!” Orrin exclaimed, shuffling up to me and tugging on my tunic. An out-of-breath Az was close on his tail, looking for all the world as if he’d tried to give me a few more moments of peace. “How’d you make it do that?”
“Well,” I explained, “I just press down on the keys, and each one makes a different sound. See?” I demonstrated by pressing and holding the middle C key. “When you press many of them at the same time and string them together, you can make a song. Just like this.” I performed a quick practice etude.
The look in his small violet eyes was nothing short of awestruck. “Please. Pleeeease will you teach me how to do that?” he pleaded, giving me a look he knew made me melt most of the time.
I thought about it for a moment before coming to a decision. “Go ask your father, Bud, okay?”
He face sunk. “But he’s not even home right now. It could be houuuurs before he’s here to teach meeeee!” He drew out some of his syllables like molasses as he began to tear up, and I could sense a tantrum about to erupt out of him.
“Yes, but he’s a much better piano player than I am,” I said conspiratorially. “He taught me. You wouldn’t want to miss out on this opportunity because you couldn’t wait a few hours, would you?”
Az shot me a grin and added, “You’re so lucky. I’ve been trying to get him to teach me for years, but your mommy has been keeping him all to herself.”
Orrin’s eyes lit up as he quickly agreed and began to drag his uncle with him to the kitchen, stating that he needed to eat up now because he had to be full and ready to go whenever Rhys came home.
I laughed to myself, struggling to keep from relaying this precious conversation to Rhys but knowing that the surprise would be worth it when he got home from the Court of Nightmares.
“Daddy!” The shrill yell could be heard throughout the estate, as Rhys no doubt winnowed into the foyer early that afternoon.
I left my seat at the kitchen table to go greet my mate with a kiss, and saw that Orrin was already tugging at his pant legs in anticipation.
“Hello, Feyre darling,” Rhys purred at me as I came into view, the familiar greeting paired with the longing on his face making my toes curl with desire, even after all these years.
“You’re home early,” I replied. I gave him a swift peck on the cheek, but did little more to encourage him, knowing that the two of us wouldn’t be able to satisfy our own urges until much later tonight, when the little one was finally in bed.
“Mor’s been doing her job incredibly well lately. Remind me to buy her a present for having already finalized most of the weapons deal with Keir before I even arrived this morning.”
By this point, we could both tell Orrin was about to burst from excitement as Rhys knelt down next to him and asked, “And how has your morning been, kiddo?”
Orrin cringed slightly at the nickname, but barreled on, intent on relaying his wish to Rhys.
“Daddy, will you teach me how to play the piano? It’s the coolest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard, and Mommy and Uncle Az told me you were the best piano player ever.”
Rhys’ eyes never left Orrin’s face, but I felt a brush against my mental shields. I opened up the familiar sliver just for him.
The best ever, Feyre darling?
The one and only. He may be embellishing a bit, but who could blame him? You’re his hero.
That’s a whole lot to live up to.
I’m sure the most powerful High Lord in history will have no problem training the next great virtuoso.
Do you think he’s actually serious about wanting to learn?
A slight tinge of worry was sent along with that question. I knew it wasn’t for our son, but for Rhys. For the fact that he might get his hopes up only to have Orrin grow frustrated or bored of it quickly and never show interest again.
You were younger than him when you had your first lesson, and look at you now. It’s all he’s talked about for hours now. I might have told him you could start as soon as you were done working.
Cruel, wicked thing.
At that, I shut him out, not willing to let him turn this conversation into a flirtation when there were more important things to do right now.
“I’d love to,” Rhys responded out loud, ruffling Orrin’s hair. “Why don’t you give me a few minutes to change and grab a snack, and I’ll meet you in the drawing room.”
Half an hour later, I crept into the doorway, and watched as Rhys, with Orrin on his lap, guided his small hands ever so slowly over the keys, demonstrating how to make his fingers curl properly, and letting him know not to get too discouraged by the fact that the size of his hands made it slightly more difficult to spread his fingers out correctly.
Orrin was raptly paying attention for the first time in years, soaking it all in, desperate to begin truly playing a song. It was the most focused I’d seen him in awhile, and it made me smile, remembering the moments he couldn’t, where as a toddler, his father would seat him on his lap, and serenade him.
As Rhys sensed me hovering in his periphery, the bond was filled with a sense of joyous melancholy. I knew the words he didn’t even need to say — the memories that were now coursing through him of his mother teaching him to play and the peace he was finding at finally being able to pass this piece of her onto our child. To give him a sense of the grandmother Rhys so wished was still here to see this day.
I sent a loving caress down the bond, pouring my heart out to him in the way that was best done mind-to-mind, as a tear slid down his cheek.
Thank you.