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8-year-old Elain Archeron was in the bedroom she shared with her younger sister, 6-year-old Feyre.
Feyre was at the little table in the corner painting, and Elain was looking out the window, contemplating going outside.
Her eyes widened as she saw her older sister, 9-year-old Nesta, flying the kite their father had recently brought back from a work-related trip.
Nesta didn’t even like to fly kites, and Elain had wanted to use it.
Despite Elain’s squeal of annoyance, Feyre didn’t look up - nor did she look up as Elain walked past her and out the door.
Mother didn’t look up from her book as Elain walked past her to get to the front door and put her shoes on.
Elain slipped out the door and strode over to Nesta.
“What are you doing?” Elain demanded.
“Flying a kite,” Nesta replied.
“I wanted to use it!” Elain cried.
“Well, I got it first, and Father got it for all of us,” Nesta said.
“Will you be done soon?” Elain whined.
“Probably not,” Nesta said. “And you sound like a baby… you sound like Feyre.”
“Feyre’s not a baby and neither am I!” Elain stomped away.
“Babies stomp,” Nesta crooned. “Why don’t you go take a nap, Baby Elain? I bet you’ll feel better then.”
“Oh, Nesta Archeron, you make me so mad!” Elain stomped back into the house.
“Who is that? Elain Marie - enough of that stomping!” Mother scolded, still not looking up.
Elain kept scowling, but quieted her footsteps as she made her way upstairs.
Years later, Elain wasn’t sure why she did what she did that day. It seemed more like something Nesta would do to Feyre - or Feyre would do to Nesta, honestly.
Elain went into Nesta’s bedroom and went over to the basket where she kept her doll’s dresses. The doll was named Sylvie and was Nesta’s prized possession. Sometimes, Sylvie would have tea parties with Elain’s doll, Flora, or even Feyre’s doll, Estelle.
Elain would never do anything to Sylvie directly.
But…as Elain rummaged through the doll’s dresses, she found what she was looking for.
Sylvie’s pale blue dress - it was Nesta’s favorite.
Elain took the dress downstairs with her and slipped her shoes back on.
Nesta was still flying the kite.
“Oh, Nesta!” Elain called sweetly.
Nesta looked up.
“What do you want now…Elain Archeron you’d better not!” Nesta’s annoyance quickly turned to fear.
Elain dangled Sylvie’s dress above a nearby mud puddle.
“Elain…don’t,” Nesta sounded genuinely worried.
And then Elain let go of the dress. As she watched her older sister’s face fall along with the dress, Elain instantly regretted what she had done.
But it was too late.
Elain stared down at Sylvie’s soiled dress as Nesta’s sobs grew louder.
“MOTHER!” Nesta wailed, running into the house.
Elain could have picked up the kite and started using it, but she no longer felt victorious.
One, because of how upset she’d made Nesta, and two, because…
“Elain Marie Archeron!” Mother threw open the door and made her way towards Elain.
The inhumanity her eldest daughter had been subjected to was enough to get Mrs. Archeron off the sofa, apparently.
“You can soak that in a basin of water, Nesta,” Mother said. She tried to sound soothing, but even with Nesta, who Elain and Feyre had soon realized was the only daughter she cared about, it just sounded unnatural when she attempted to be affectionate.
She never hugged any of them. In fact, the only time she really touched them was to adjust posture, swat a hand, or give a spanking.
Mother dragged Elain inside and went over to the drawer where she kept her cooking utensils.
“Mother!” Elain whined, trying to wriggle free of her mother’s tight grip.
Mother’s grasp didn’t waver as she removed her wooden spoon from the drawer. She then pulled out a chair from the table, sat down and turned her daughter over her knee.
Mother held Elain firmly in place by resting her left hand on the girl’s lower back.
“How unbelievably selfish you have been,” Mother brought the wooden spoon down on Elain’s backside and the girl howled.
Mother brought the spoon down again.
Elain cried out and looked up. Nesta was standing at the window, and initially, when her sister had been dragged inside for her punishment, Nesta had been smirking.
But the minute Mother had started spanking Elain, and Nesta saw how much Elain was hurting, she frowned. Nesta quickly turned and went to the pump to fill the basin to soak Sylvie’s dress. Even she had been on the receiving end of Mother’s wooden spoon - or hairbrush. The harsh punishment was never followed by so much as a comforting word - let alone a hug or kiss.
The sisters had learned to comfort each other after such things.
Mother kept spanking - she always did ten swats, now that the girls were bigger.
Elain, who was getting quite big for her mother’s lap, remained sobbing as she stared at the wooden floor. She just wanted to go up to her bed - Feyre would no doubt have some comforting words for her.
Finally, Mother stopped spanking.
“Alright, off with you, then. I expect an apology to your sister - and I will ask her later if you gave it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Elain sniffled, as she slowly got up and headed for the staircase.
She wanted Father - but he was out. Like his wife, he wasn’t terribly affectionate, but he did try more. At least with the younger two girls - Nesta had rejected his hugs, so he’d stopped trying.
When Elain entered the bedroom, Feyre did look up, as she could hear her sister sobbing.
“What happened Elain?” Feyre got up from her table.
Elain just wrapped her arms around her sister and then went over to the bed, where she sprawled out on her stomach and sobbed into her pillow. Feyre went over and put a hand on Elain’s back.
Before she could say anything, there was a knock at the door.
“Elain?” Nesta asked softly.
“Come in, Nesta,” Feyre finally said after Elain didn’t respond.
Slowly, Nesta entered.
“Oh, Elain,” Nesta whispered, going to her sister’s other side.
“What happened to Elain?” Feyre asked.
She was half expecting her eldest sister to brush her off, but Nesta sighed.
“Mother punished her.”
“Oh,” Feyre said. That explained all the tears. Mother was quite harsh.
“I’m sorry, Nesta,” Elain mumbled into her pillow.
“I forgive you,” Nesta said. “And I’m sorry, too.”
At this, Elain looked up.
“Why are you sorry?”
“Well, I could have just given you the kite. You’re right - I don’t really like it that much. I didn’t initially fly it to spite you, I just wanted to see if I’d enjoy it more. Then when you wanted it, I felt like being mean for some reason. And I really didn’t need to tell Mother about Sylvie’s dress. That hurt me, of course, but I could have just cleaned it myself. I knew she’d punish you and I was happy about that until she actually did,” Nesta reached out a hand and stroked her sister’s hair. Feyre continued to rub Elain’s back.
“Is Sylvie’s dress ruined forever?” Elain sniffled.
“No,” Nesta shook her head. “I soaked it like Mother said and Norma said she’d scrub it in a bit.”
“Good,” Elain’s breathing was getting back to normal.
She slowly sat up.
“I love you Nesta,” she said.
Nesta wrapped her arms around her sister.
“I love you too.”
“I love you Elain,” Feyre hugged Elain from behind.
“I love you too, Feyre.”
Feyre decided to take a chance.
“I love you Nesta.”
Nesta smiled slightly.
“I love you too, Feyre.”