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When we are together
There isn't anywhere that I would rather be
Three birds of a feather
I just hope you enjoy our company
Think About Things- Daði Freyr
“Mama?”
It was that soft whisper that woke Feyre from the deepest sleep she’d had in weeks. The sounds of rustling sheets reached her ears before her heavy lids would open. The small soft hands of her son touched her face before she heard the whisper again.
“Mama, up?”
“Yes, I’m up.”
Her eyes finally opened, meeting Nyx’s sweet face. A bright smile spread across it as she reached for him. He nuzzled into her chest and Feyre breathed in his sweet scent and Nyx’s small, chubby fingers began to twirl her hair. Rain steadily thumped on the roof, effectively rendering their first day of escape from the world,indoors. Feyre worried how Nyx would take that notion, once he realized he could not go play in the dirt today. Craning her neck, Feyre could see Rhys was still out cold. They winnowed to the cabin late last night, far too late to fly, after doing their last minute duties, packing their bags, and saying their goodbyes. Nyx was fighting sleep, so the tired parents just put their baby into bed with them. They would deal with it in the morning, they grumbled to each other, as they succumbed to exhaustion.
It was Rhys’s idea to go to the cabin for a few days. The past month had been the most monotonous and stressful Feyre could remember. On top of their duties as High Lord and Lady, Rhys and Feyre found themselves dealing with a teething and fussy toddler. With his first birthday approaching, Nyx had taken to crawling and standing with support from hands and sofas with ease. He was a social, happy baby that passed from aunt to uncle and picked up speech early. Feyre floated on clouds as she watched Nyx grasp language and play. She won her bet with Rhys as Nyx uttered his first word, Mama, while Rhys got the first laugh and the first “no!” . So, it came as a surprise to Feyre when her happy boy suddenly woke up cranky and irritable. Lowering his lip, Feyre saw the red and sore gums. Of course, she had thought. Nyx’s teeth were coming, but she could have never guessed what was coming along with them.
Those first four teeth broke through Nyx’s swollen gums at a snail's pace, and they were accompanied by a constant fever and Nyx clinging onto Feyre for dear life. He screamed anytime she put him down, clung to her, sticky and snotty with tears, and insisted on nursing even though she had just started to wean him. Nyx tolerated Rhys, though his many aunts and uncles couldn’t get him to calm down for longer than an hour. Feyre had canceled her classes for the past two weeks, while Rhys tried to take over night duty to give Feyre some reprieve.
Now, in the early light of dawn, Nyx seemed more like himself. His low fever was gone, and he seemed to be in a better mood than he had been in weeks. Stretching his arms across her, Nyx stuck a small finger up Rhy’s nose, stirring him from his deep slumber as Nyx giggled. “Papa, up!” he squealed as he tried to stick his finger up Rhys’s nose again. Now awake, Rhys pretended to gobble up a squealing Nyx’s hand as he grabbed both of them for a hug.
“Good morning, darling.” Rhys attempted to say to Feyre, as Nyx flopped into his chest.
“Papa, up! Up!” Nyx cried, his wings flapping with delight.
“No, I’m so tired…so sleepy.” Rhys feigned a loud snore as Nyx tried to pry his father’s eyelids open. Feyre laughed as she watched her boys tease each other. They had the same cowlick at the crown of their heads, black hair standing up with sleep in identical directions, though Nyx’s hair still had that fine, straight texture. She wondered when he’d get those waves in his hair. Nyx was a physical mix of them both. He took on his mother’s mouth and chin, with his father’s nose and coloring. But it was his eyes that Feyre could never get enough of. The shape of Rhys’s eyes stared back with the same blue she had. Nyx’s personality outshined both his parents, she thought. Feyre doubted that she was as sociable and happy as a baby, though she could imagine she and Rhys were just as mischievous. It was that same mysterious baby that froze as Rhys darted his hand under the sheets. Nyx gasped as he met Feyre’s eyes. “What is it?” she asked him, her eyes wide. She knew what was coming. Rhys’s game would never get old.
Rhys crept his hand slowly under the sheet, seeking out his prey. Nyx looked at him over his shoulder, little giggles puffing from his chest.
“Get the gopher!” Feyre cried as Rhys grabbed at his son's chubby legs.
Nyx squealed with delight as he rolled over to catch the “gopher”. His small wings flapped as he chased Rhys’s scrambling hand underneath the blankets.
“Papa! Goo-Fuh!” Nyx screamed as Rhys tickled his belly.
When the laughter died down, Rhys looked out the window, as the rain picked up speed against the glass. With a sigh, he sat up, rubbing the remainder of sleep from his face.
“So, I take it there will be no outings today?”
“Not if you want to chase around a muddy baby.” Feyre replied as she rose from the bed, attempting to strip Nyx of his pajamas.
“He’s a happy baby today, I’ve noticed.” Rhys said with a touch of relief. “I think this was the first time he’s slept through the night in weeks.” Stretching his long limbs like a cat, Rhys rose to help wrangle the squirming baby into a fresh diaper while Feyre scrambled for a warm romper. The cabin had warmed up considerably, but Feyre still didn’t like the look of the spring storm outside. With as much synchronization as they could manage, they had changed Nyx and themselves in record time.
“If this cabin is truly magic, then we will have enough to occupy Nyx until the rain lets up.” Feyre said as they crossed into the living space. There, a small table littered with crafts and toys waited for them. Nyx gasped as he began to reach for his new treasures. Rhys chuckled as Nyx grabbed at a puffy ball of yarn.
“Oh, darling. I think we’re going to be just fine today.”
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The yarn, feathers, and paper the cabin had provided had kept them occupied most of the morning. Rhys and Feyre found themselves on edge when Nyx had puckered his lips at a fallen feather, but was quickly distracted by something else. No tantrum came, nor had any tears fallen the entire morning. Watching his mate, Rhys’s heart clenched at the sight of the dark circles under her eyes. All the books, all the people he had spoken to warned that a teething child would be uncomfortable, but to experience it? That helplessness he felt as Nyx gnawed at every toy in frustration, at every single time he could not comfort his son. His healing magic could take some of the pain and discomfort away, but the small teeth that broke through were not exactly a wound, and Rhys felt at a loss. Feyre had taken the brunt of it, as Nyx refused to leave her arms. He had tried to take over nights, rocking Nyx while Feyre caught some sleep. He could get his son down for an hour or two, before he awoke in a panic and began to cry for his mother.
“Bird!”
The sound of Nyx waving paper snapped him out of his thoughts. “Bird!” Nyx said again as Rhys looked at the feather blob that had been glued to the paper. “Bird!” Rhys replied as he began to whistle a little bird call. Nyx furrowed his brow before he puckered his lips and blew. Spit flew from Nyx’s lips as he tried to whistle. Feyre was suddenly at his side, watching as Nyx kept trying to puff his little cheeks, flapping his wings, and trying to whistle with all his might. “You can do it!” she said as Nyx blew the biggest raspberry Rhys had ever heard. He cheered for his boy, before he scooped him up, planting a kiss on his cheek. Feyre’s arm wrapped around his waist as her head dropped on his shoulder. Rhys met her eyes as he leaned down to kiss her, but a small pair of wings began to flap in his arms.
“Mama sad?” Nyx’s little voice chirped. He studied his mother, with worried eyes.
“No, Mama is hungry!” Feyre said as she ran for the kitchen. Grabbing the orange block that had appeared on the counter, she hoisted it over her head, with a loud and victorious cry. “Cheese!”
“Cheese!” Nyx echoed back as his wings flapped excitedly. Rhys set him down as another new set of toys appeared. Striding over to the kitchen, Rhys grabbed a pan and a loaf of bread.
“Let me take care of that.” he said as he took the massive hunk of cheese from her hand. “I would hate to burn the place down.”
“I have gotten much better at cooking, thank you very much!” she said as she smacked his ass with a dish towel.
“Yes, you can heat soup like a real chef now.” Rhys laughed, “Speaking of soup, see what cans we have.” He buttered the thick slices of bread before assembling the grilled cheese sandwiches he had decided to make.
“Ooh, tomato!” Feyre gasped. She went to work on heating the can while Rhys began throwing sandwiches into the sizzling pan. Looking over his shoulder, Nyx seemed occupied with his new toys on the thick rug. He was clanging his blocks and toys together, mumbling to himself. Rhys wondered what he was playing. Nyx was smart-not that he or Feyre had any frame of reference-but Nyx knew what he wanted, but couldn’t get the right words out just yet. Taking a quick peek into his mind, Rhys saw that the blocks were animals; a horse, a cat, and some sort of dog. They leapt through the sky and mountains while Nyx babbled to himself.
I could watch Nyx’s imagination forever, he heard Feyre say in his own head with a sigh.
Enjoy it, darling. He’s growing fast.
“Don’t remind me.” She said aloud, playfully shoving him.
Rhys flipped the last sandwich in the pan while Feyre finished arranging Nyx’s plate of lunch. As she turned to pick him up, Nyx looked up, his blue eyes sparkling.
“Mama, mo’!”
“More? More what Nyx?” Feyre said, scanning the floor and walls, wondering what he wanted more of. He hadn’t been fussing. Did he want to play more?
“Mama! Mo’! Mo’!” Nyx squealed again, but this time he extended his finger to the ceiling above the door. There, the painted golden lashes and deep brown eyes of Mor looked down on them with a mischievous glint.
“Mor! Yes, that’s Aunt Mor!” Feyre gasped with delight, as she hoisted Nyx up to get a closer look at the eyes she painted so many years ago.
“Mo’! Mo’! Hi!” Nyx shrieked as he waved at the eyes.
Rhys was over in an instant, looking up at Mor’s eyes. She’s going to be preening like a peacock when we show her this. Rhys said down the bond, but Feyre had moved on as she spun Nyx about the room, pointing at another set of eyes. Nyx recognized the steely gray eyes of “Am-en”, the laughing eyes of Cassian, and shrieked in delight when he recognized his own mama and papa. His aunts, Elain and Nesta flashed across his mind as he looked around the walls with worry. Feyre made a plan to paint their eyes on the walls while Nyx napped.
Rhys hoisted Nyx onto his shoulders, pointing at the sharp hazel eyes of Azriel painted high on the wall. “Who’s that Nyx?”
“Ass!”
Feyre froze, slapping her hand to her mouth. Rhys slowly turned to face her, his face beet red as he tried to hold on his laughter.
Don’t draw attention to it! she scolded him through the bond. “Yes, darling. That’s Az!” She said, smiling at Nyx.
Nyx’s blue eyes sparkled and his four little teeth stood out from his wide grin as he bounced on Rhys’s shoulders.
“Ass! Ass! Ass! Dat Ass!” Nyx squealed.
Feyre felt her control slip as a giggle slipped past her lips. As she met Rhys' eyes, they lost all composure as they began to howl with laughter. Rhys wiped at his own tears, while Feyre crossed her legs and huffed a weak, “I’m going to pee myself!” as she snorted again. I am going to show every single person this memory. And If Az ever gets a mate, I will show her this too, he swore to himself through his laughter. A loud clap of thunder shook the house, before Nyx could be scared, Rhys sent up a soundproofing ward with a flick of his hand.
“How about that cheese then?”
“CHEESE!” Nyx screamed. “YAY, CHEESE!”
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Nyx had gobbled down his entire sandwich and stole half of Feyre’s before he finally began to droop into his soup. The cabin provided a small bath while Feyre wiped Nyx down with such quickness, Rhys had barely cleared the table. “Nap time.” Feyre announced, as Nyx reached for Rhys.
“Fy, papa? Fy?”, big blue eyes stared up at him with a pleading look. This is how he gets spoiled . Feyre teased as Rhys “flew” Nyx back to the bed, then slowly began to swing him over the mountain of pillows.
“One, two, three, I’ll throw you like a sack of potatoes!” he yelped as he gently plopped Nyx down onto the plush bedding. “No mama, no seepin’.” Nyx warned as Feyre stretched beside him like a cat. The boy’s eyes began to fall as Feyre rubbed his back and right on cue, Nyx fell into the curve of his mothers touch.
Rhys closed his eyes as he savored the feel of his mate and son in his arms as he stretched across the bed. Even now, he could not believe his own luck. After everything he had done, every choice he made, he was here, with them. The mate he would fight another war for, and the son he would die for.
I can’t believe it either, sometimes. Feyre said to him down the bond. We did alright.
“We really did.” Rhys said as he stole a kiss from his mate and watched the technicolor dreams of his son.