Chapter Text
SEVENTEEN YEARS LATER
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Cassian’s roar of confusion and frustration echoed across Velaris as he watched his eldest daughter careening through the sky.
Nova only laughed.
She was supposed to be racing against her own personal best, strengthening her wings so that she could remain the fastest and most agile of her siblings. But she had been training for hours and, as the sun bloomed into a haze of purples and orange behind her, she decided she’d rather enjoy the flight back to the House of Wind. She laughed even louder when she got closer and saw her father standing with a babe on each hip like a brooding mother hen, and at her Uncle Az’s bemused face as he looked up at her.
“FASTER, NOVA.” Cassian ordered, bellowing so loudly Nova was surprised the baby didn’t start to cry. She supposed, living with so many older siblings, had made him immune to noise, even at such a young age. “YOU’RE DONE WITH TRAINING WHEN I SAY YOU’RE DONE WITH TRAINING, NOT WHEN YOU DECIDE YOU’VE HAD ENOUGH.”
“WHAT? CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Nova called back, not bothering to hide the amusement in her voice.
“OH YES YOU CAN, YOUNG LADY. GET DOWN HERE, NOW.”
“NO, THANKS, GENERAL.” Nova let her laugh ring out loudly. “GUESS YOU’LL HAVE TO COME UP HERE AND GET ME.”
“DON’T THINK I WON’T.” He warned.
“MEET YOU AT HOME!” Nova dissolved into giggles and nearly fell right out of the sky.
She soared over her younger siblings, all stationed in the ring her father had had custom-made to fit his and her mother’s growing brood, and aimed for the one of the windows of her house. She clattered into the glass, a bit harder than she’d meant to, and cringed as she heard screams coming from inside. She grinned apologetically when it swung open and her Aunt Gwyn’s face appeared, looking flustered.
“Your mother asked you to stop coming in through the windows, Nova.” Gwyn scolded lightly.
“I know, but if I went in through the front door, Dad would have caught-...”
“NOVA GWYNETH!” Cassian’s deep voice rumbled through the house. “COME DOWN HERE NOW!”
Nova made a face and hopped down off the window sill, pressing a kiss to Gwyn’s cheek and hurrying away.
She appeared at the top of the staircase and lolled on the bannister, smiling sweetly at her father. “Hi, General, what can I do for you?”
“Come. Here.” He beckoned her. As she descended the stairs, grudgingly taking each step at a time, the front door opened behind her father and Azriel stepped inside, a gaggle of children swarming around him and into the house. Most of them were Nova’s siblings, and they split off into several rooms, a few of them jogging past her on the stairs to go and get changed.
“You’re in trouuuuble!” Sang Maeryn. Nova didn’t even bother to roll her eyes.
When she reached the bottom stair, Nova paused and made her eyes as big as they would go. Her mother’s eyes, sweet and silver-grey, never failed to make Cassian melt, and Nova knew it. “Yes?”
From behind Cassian, Azriel hid a smile behind his hand. After nearly eighteen years, he could see right through Nova’s act, even if Cassian was blissfully unaware of the fact that she had him wrapped completely around his little finger, just like her mother.
“What the hell was that?” Cassian demanded, dropping two-year-old Jinx to the floor to let her toddle after her siblings and readjusted his grip on the baby.
“What was what?” She asked innocently.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t be cute.”
“Well, now that would be impossible, General!” She smirked. She could see Cassian starting to soften.
If pressed, Cassian would say he loved all of his children fiercely, and equally. And of course he did. But Nova was his oldest, and had, almost, been his first babe. He adored her, and everybody knew it. It didn’t help, when he was trying to be firm with her, that of all his children, Nova looked the most like their mother. She had his dark hair, but Nesta’s angles and deep grey eyes, and yes, those were his wings, but they were on Nesta’s slender body. The resemblance had only grown as she had aged and Cassian frequently had to do a double-take when he caught sight of one of them out of the corner of his eye.
“Why’d you stop training?” He pushed.
Nova shrugged. “I was looking at the sunset.”
“That’s a shit excuse.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got, General.”
“You could have beaten your personal best.”
“Woulda coulda shoulda! Gives us something to aim for tomorrow.”
“There is no training tomorrow, your mother has commandeered you.” He reminded her. Nova was coming up on her eighteenth birthday and a huge party had been organised by her mother, with the help of her sisters, and Rhysand’s bank account.
“Oh yeah… Okay, day after tomorrow.” She corrected herself cheerfully.
Cassian scowled, but Nova knew he wasn’t annoyed any more. “You stop training when I say so next time.”
“Yes, Sir!” She saluted and then slumped dramatically against the bannister. “Oh, but Dad, you should have been up there…” Her wings quivered with the memory. “The sky looked so beautiful and the wind was just the right temperature and I was just…” She sighed and smiled as she remembered the feeling. “Flying…”
Cassian grinned at her, all annoyance completely vanished. “I know the feeling, kid. Now come on, pull your weight.” He handed the baby to her and she immediately shifted her weight to make her arms as comfortable as possible. This was far from her first time. “The family’s coming over for dinner and I have to go and shower. Your mother will kill me if I show up covered in sweat and blood.”
“Blood?”
“Hale punched Araxie instead of the target.” Azriel told her. “We think it was an accident.” He shrugged and moved to follow Cassian up the stairs, presumably to shower in a different bathroom.
Nova snorted. “I wouldn’t count on it.” Being half-Illyrian, all of her siblings, herself included, had a tendency to let their blood get a bit too hot when it came to training.
Nova walked the baby up to her own bedroom and set him down on the bed, padding the space around him with pillows so he wouldn’t roll off and started to freshen up. Somewhat reluctantly, she pulled on a dress, dark green and embroidered with tiny flowers. Her mother had never insisted Nova start wearing gowns as she got older, but Nova knew it pleased her to see her eldest daughter look pretty and presentable. Nevertheless, Nova was never going to feel completely comfortable in anything but Illyrian fighting leather, and of course not - her father had been dressing her in them since she was eighteen months old.
When she was ready, she picked the baby back up and moved along the corridor, calling for her siblings to meet her downstairs in the Family Room. For the most part, they did as she commanded. When she reached the front hallway, she found her Aunt Feyre and Uncle Rhysand already making their way to the Family Room, and just behind them was her Aunt Mor, who beamed at her.
Mor squeezed Nova tight in greeting and shoved a small velvet box into her hands as she pressed a kiss to the top of the baby’s head. “Don’t tell your father.” She winked as she sauntered past.
Nova grinned and opened the box, balancing the baby in the crook of her elbow, to reveal, yet another, extortionately expensive piece of jewellery for Nova to wear. She pocketed it smugly and moved to follow Mor into the Family Room.
Mor had always spoiled Nova, even more than she did Nyx. Nova suspected it was because she knew what it was to be a cousin to a future High Lord and sympathised for the girl often relegated to the sidelines for the sake of her cousin’s power. Nova didn’t mind. Nobody had ever thought to ask her if, maybe, she liked life on the sidelines better than the one that might have waited for her in the limelight.
Nyx was the only one who knew that, rather than follow her mother’s path of becoming an Honourable Lady, Nova secretly coveted her father’s life as the High Lord’s General. Nyx had promised that, when his mother and father stepped aside, as he hoped they would never die, to let him take the throne when he was old and wise enough, that he would make his cousin the general of his armies.
Nyx was four years her senior and had been her best friend for as long as she could remember. They were more like brother and sister than cousins, and Nova was far closer to him than she was to any of her siblings, even though she got on tolerably well with all of them.
Nova had never wanted for everything. Aside from her parents’ overly-generous salaries, courtesy of their High Lord, Nova’s aunt and uncle doted upon her, potentially even a tiny bit more than they did their other nieces and nephews. Of which there were many.
Unusually, considering the rarity of fae births, Nesta and Cassian had single-handedly, and swiftly, filled the House of Wind with baby after baby. It had taken three years for Nova to appear, but once she did, she was dutifully followed every two years by siblings whom her parents adored in equal measure. They had yet to decide if there were to be any more to follow Nova’s youngest brother, Alexios, who was only four months old. Between them, lay eight siblings, alternating boys and girls as if they had planned it. Nova’s closest brother, Sandor, was sixteen. After him, was fourteen-year-old Araxie, twelve-year-old Hale, ten-year-old Maeryn, eight-year-old Oxa, six-year-old Silverie, four-year-old Rhaegal and two-year-old Jinx.
Most people thought of Nesta and Cassian brood as an even ten, but every year on Nova’s birthday she and her parents quietly lit a candle and prayed to the stars for the twin brother she had lost at birth. She still ached for him, had always known half of her was missing, but Nyx did his best to make up for Rigel’s absence in his role as honorary big brother.
Feyre and Rhys had followed Nyx with twin girls, born nearly ten years after himself. All of them were thrilled with the arrivals. Rhys had always hoped his son would have a younger sister, since he had been so fond of his own, and Feyre was glad her girls had sisters to grow up with, despite her troubled past with her own. Sol and Evera were the same age as Nova’s brother Oxa, and everyone in the family enjoyed watching their rivalry bloom.
Elain had only one babe, a fire-headed girl she had named Lucille Linnette. Elain had discovered she was pregnant two months after Lucien was slain in battle. Elain had mourned her mate with wild abandon and, although she loved her daughter, even now she struggled to look into her amber eyes, so much like his. She was a good mother, a dutiful mother, but she had spent much of Luci’s childhood swathed in black, grieving her mate. Nevertheless, there had always been capable hands there to take over in the rearing of Luci. Azriel, in particular, was the father Luci would not otherwise have known, and he considered her a daughter in every practical sense. He and Elain were good friends, and the others had always hoped they might one day be more, but they also knew that Azriel would never risk his relationship with Luci for the sake of pursuing her mother.
Mor and Emerie were as committed a couple as anyone had ever seen but had not yet decided to pursue motherhood. They had considered adoption a few times but ultimately found they had more than enough going on with all of the many kids running in and out of the houses of the Inner Circle as it was.
Amren and Varian were still passionately in love but had decided they also did not want children. However, unlike Mor and Emerie, they also weren’t particularly interested in the ones already in their lives. Of course, they bought them all extortionately expensive presents, but Amren in particular preferred the children when they got to the age of sixteen and not much before. So far, she had only found the patience for Nova, Sandor and Luci.
Nova and Luci were the closest in age and, although they adored one another as much as their mothers did each other, they could not have been more different. Surprisingly, considering her father’s fiery blood and Azriel’s hand in her upbringing, Luci had little interest in battle or training. If you were looking for her, there was always a good chance you’d find her in the family garden, tending her many flowers alongside her mother’s, or hiding in the library with the priestesses. She was a proficient fighter and picked things up easily, but she was quiet and gentle and preferred the dance lessons she took with Nova’s mother, although she was far too shy to dance in public, except when Azriel held her hands in his and swept her around like she was a little girl again.
When Nova entered the Family Room, Luci was standing by the fireplace with her nose buried in a book. Somehow she had got out of training that day. Not far from her, chowing down on a red apple, was Nyx.
He grinned the second he saw Nova, though he didn’t bother standing up to greet her, even in her own home. They had shared everything their whole lives. He might have been the heir to the kingdom, but to her, and to the rest of their family, he was just Nyx. Nobody stood on ceremony in Velaris.
Nova handed Alexios to her Aunt Elain, who cooed and clucked appropriately as she kissed the babe’s fat cheeks, and wandered over to Nyx. She kicked his feet out of the way to make room for herself on the couch he was sprawled on and made a face at him. “You know we’re having dinner in like twenty minutes, right?”
“What’s your point?” He asked through a mouthful of pulped-up apple, spraying her with sweet spit. She screamed and shoved him. He shoved her back even harder, dropping his half-eaten apple in the process.
Nova was about to throw him onto the ground and pummel him - gown and all - when the door to the Family Room opened again and her parents swept inside. One look from her beautiful mother, who needed only to lift a perfectly arched eyebrow to silence one of her many children, had Nova sitting back on her hands and contenting herself only to scowl at her cousin.
“Saved by the bell.” Nyx snickered and it took all of Nova’s self-control not to smack him.
“Aunt Nesta, what’s for dinner?” Sol asked, running over to her aunt.
“We are starving!” Evera chimed in.
“See,” Nyx said, taking another bite of his apple and shrugging at Nova. “It’s a family trait.”
“You’re eating off the floor, Future High Lord.”
“Waste not want not.”
“Dinner will be ready any second,” Nesta assured the twins. “I don’t know what we’re having but I know it’s going to be delicious.”
“It always is.” Elain smiled at her sister.
“Is everybody ready for tomorrow?” Rhys asked, smirking as he received a chorus of groans in return. He always got the same reaction when there were plans to visit the Court of Nightmares.
“Do we really have to go?” Luci asked Rhys shyly. His expression softened as he looked at her. He’s always held a particular fondness for Luci. Nova suspected it came, not only because of Feyre’s adoration for Elain, and the fact that Luci was so sweet and easy to love, but also because of the way her father had died - in service to his court. Even if he hadn’t married in her mother’s family, Rhys would have made sure Luci was taken care of for her entire life for that reason alone.
“As always, dear Luci, I would love the pleasure of your company but of course I will not force you to come if you do not wish it.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts, Luce,” Nyx smirked at Luci, throwing his apple core into the fire and narrowly missing hitting her with it in the process. “When I’m High Lord, I’m going to permanently station you in the Hewn City.”
Luci paled, although she knew he was kidding. “Don’t Nyx.” She frowned at him.
“Don’t tease, Nyx.” Feyre scolded her son.
“Can we go tomorrow, Dad?” Sol pleaded with her father.
Rhys stiffened, a movement so subtle that the younger children did not notice it. “Not this time, Starling.”
“But we never get to go.” Whined Evera.
“I know it feels that way, Moonbeam-...”
“We’re twelve years old. Nova’s been going to the Court of Nightmares since he was eight!”
“Nova’s a monster,” Nyx told his sisters. “We only take her because she scares them into submission!”
“Honestly, it’s a horrible place, girls,” Luci promised the twins. “Be grateful you don’t have to go.”
“But-...”
“Dinner is served!” Nesta called out and instantly the argument was forgotten. Rhys shot a relieved look at his sister-in-law as Feyre put her arms around her daughters and squeezed gently.
Nobody liked going to the Court of Nightmares, and every time one of the children reached ten - the age Rhys had made the rule for attending court there, after Sandor, at the age of seven, had burst into tears at the sight of Keir and remained inconsolable for three days - the hearts of the adults all weighed heavy. But it was different with the twins. Two years after the threshold and they had still never been to the Hewn City. If he had had his way, none of the children would have gone to the Court of Nightmares, his own least of all. Nyx, as heir, had to go, but the girls belonged to Rhys and Feyre alone. They were rarely mentioned in the Hewn City and everyone knew Rhys preferred to keep it that way. Losing his younger sister had scarred him irreparably and every time he looked at his girls, he saw her smiling back at him. He would not risk them. The problem was, they had their mother’s determination and, any day now, he knew they would wear him down and make their way into the Court of Nightmares. He only hoped they would not like what they found there.