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«He’s sleeping already?» Rhys asked, his smooth voice laced with disbelief, as Feyre slumped down next to him on the sofa.
Feyre merely nodded, resting her head on her mate’s shoulder. Had it not been for the pair sitting across from them, just as cozy and wrapped up in each other, Feyre would have gone to bed the moment her son’s breathing evened out, but she was enjoying Nesta and Cassian’s company, tired as she was.
«Maybe we’ll finally get a whole night of-» Rhys started, but Feyre slapped a hand over his mouth before he could finish.
«Don’t you dare say that out loud! It will never happen now!»
Cassian chuckled, eyes lit with amusement. «Little man still giving you a hard time?» It had become a running joke in their inner circle; Feyre and Rhys’ constant lack of sleep and other…nightly activities. Feyre honestly wondered if the dark circles under her eyes had become permanent.
Stifling a yawn, Feyre said, «Bedtime is hardly ever a problem, but every night, a little past midnight, he comes padding into our room, clutching his blanket and stuffed bat, telling us how he misses mama and dada.»
«And you can’t deny him, obviously,» Nesta retorted, so at ease in their home, in their company. It was quite the contrast, compared to how things had been a few years back, and Feyre was ever so grateful for it, for her sister.
From beside her, Rhys shook his head, downing the rest of his wine. «Have you seen those sad, pleading eyes? No one can deny him.»
It was true. Nyx would never lack anything, spoiled as he was by his many aunts and uncles.
Taking a sip from her own glass, Feyre smiled softly. «I have to admit, though, it’s not so bad, even if he keeps us up half the night with his kicking and squirming.» She would probably miss it, even, in a few years.
Barely past two, Nyx still needed his mama, but he was growing up too quickly, and Feyre found herself almost tearing up a little at the thought.
«It sounds to me, though,» said Nesta, lips quirking, «that the little boy takes after his mother.»
«What?»
«You don’t remember?»
Feyre shook her head, curiosity spiking, both from herself and through the bond.
«Feyre here would sleep anywhere but her own bed when she was little,» Nesta quipped, addressing Rhys this time, who looked like he very much wanted to hear this story.
«I remember this one time in particular…»
-
The rain slammed against the roof, beating a heavy rhythm that had woken Nesta up, darkness surrounding her.
She usually thought nothing of bad weather like this, would have gone back to sleep, but if it had woken her up, it had probably also…
Yes, there it was, like clockwork.
Small, bare feet padded down the hall, nearing Nesta’s door, and she held her breath, hoping they would keep walking right past it. But the sound got louder and louder, nearer and nearer, until it stopped.
The door creaked, and Nesta groaned internally as her four year old sister whispered loudly, «Nessa? Are you awake?»
Nesta hadn’t gotten the chance to answer before the door opened even wider, and Feyre hurried over to her sister’s bed.
At least she’d brought her own blanket this time, Nesta though, as Feyre made herself comfortable next to her.
Her younger sister had a habit of sleeping anywhere but her own bed, whether that be in a random chair or inside a cupboard. One time, their poor nursemaid had looked all morning, growing more and more panicked, until Feyre had been found, sound asleep, curled up inside a leather suitcase in their father’s study.
Feyre’s favorite spot, though, to Nesta’s great despair, was her older sister’s bed, and it looked like tonight would be one of those nights were Nesta was kept up either by her sister’s incessant talking, or the way she would kick and squirm in her sleep.
«Couldn’t you have bothered Elain instead?» Nesta sighed after a moment. Their middle sister probably wouldn’t even notice, heavy sleeper as she was. Which was probably why Feyre didn’t bother with her, because what was the fun in that?
«Lainey always takes the blankets,» Feyre huffed, crossing her arms.
Nesta turned on her side. «You always take the blankets.» It was one of the many, many, reasons Nesta dreaded her sister’s nightly «adventures».
Feyre looked at her as if she’d been accused of something horrible. «No! I do not!» She huffed once more, that all-familiar frown settling on her face.
She was a serious child, their mother always calling her quiet and sullen, but Feyre also had quite the flair for dramatics.
«Couldn’t you have woken Helga, then?»
At the mention of the old nursemaid, Feyre stiffened, inching a little closer to Nesta.
Alright, Nesta had probably brought this one on herself. A few weeks ago, she’d only wanted to have some innocent fun, but it had ended with Feyre absolutely terrified and convinced that their nursemaid, a stern but otherwise harmless woman, was actually a witch from above that wall that could turn into a giant bat and was sent to eat naughty children.
Feeling a little guilty, Nesta sighed one last time, and said, «Fine, you can stay, but you have to sleep.»
Feyre nodded eagerly, pale skin framed by a mess of brown curls. No matter how much it was brushed, her hair always ended up in knots.
Nesta closed her eyes and managed to count to eight before a small voice, full of mischief, said, «Nessa?»
«What? And it’s Nes-t-a, you know that.»
«Is it true you’re marrying a prince when you’re older?» Feyre asked, stumbling a little over all the words.
«Mother says so.» She had already begun her lessons with mother, on how to act like a proper lady, Elain joining her, while Feyre spent her days outside, staining her dresses with mud and scraping her knees.
«When I’m older, I wanna be a pirate,» Feyre claimed, her voice full of confidence. «And I’m never marrying a boring prince.»
«Good for you,» Nesta muttered half-heartedly, wanting more than anything to go back to sleep.
Feyre didn’t catch onto her tone though, and went on; «You can come with me if you want, but I’m taking most of the treasure.»
«Wow, how generous of you.»
«I know,» Feyre chirped, clueless as ever.
After some more chatting and twisting and turning, Feyre finally quieted down, and Nesta allowed herself to relax. The rain had even calmed.
Only moments later though, thunder roared, and Feyre, now wide awake once more, let out a frightened gasp, her shaking form hiding under a blanket.
«Nessa?» she whispered, and Nesta knew what she wanted, could hear how her eyes were beginning to fill with tears, lower lip trembling.
Nesta’s heart ached a little for her youngest sister then, too often left to fend for herself. Their mother would never hold her and tell her it was nothing to be scared of, only a little weather, as she had Nesta and Elain. For though she might not think so herself, Feyre was still a small, and quite annoying, child.
Pulling aside her own blanket, Nesta said in a voice so gentle it shocked her a little; «Come here.»
Feyre, still clutching her blanket, was quick to settle in the crook of Nesta’s arm, small body shaking. And as Nesta tucked them both in, she whispered, «It’s only a little weather, nothing to be scared of.»
«‘Night Nessa,» Feyre whispered back, words slurred with sleep. «I love you.»
«Good night, Feyre.»
-
«I’d forgotten how I would terrorize you at night,» Feyre laughed, eyes lined with silver at the precious memory.
They had been normal sisters once, after all, as they finally were now, and Feyre’s heart ached with joy at being able to sit here and laugh with Nesta.
«I should probably apologize for making you terrified of Helga. You must have had nightmares for years.» At the mention of the old nursemaid, everyone burst into laughter once more.
When they’d quieted down, easy smiles on their faces, Cassian nodded towards Feyre and her mate, a shit-eating grin on his face. «Seems you ended up with a boring prince after all.»
Feyre looked up at her mate, and her heart sang with the amount of love and adoration on his face. The moment soon ended though, for Cassian started making gagging noises, Nesta smacking his arm.
«No pirate either?» Rhys teased.
«I’ve had enough adventure in this lifetime,» Feyre concluded, more than happy with how she’d settled. She didn’t need adventures when she had her family.
They continued their talking, long into the evening, until they suddenly heard the soft patter of bare feet across the hall, and a small voice calling «mama?»