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Rhys slumped onto the sofa next to his mate, head throbbing with exhaustion. How long had they been researching? They were certainly no closer to an answer.
Feyre looked over to him, her eyes betraying just how tired she was as she petted the sleeping dog in her lap. That was the problem though, it wasn’t a dog, or it wasn’t supposed to be. Apparently Nyx had more of Feyre’s abilities than they’d previously believed.
Two days ago they had woken to find a small cat running around their home. Come to find out, that cat was their son who had managed to shapeshift. They had tried to coax him into shifting back, and when that didn’t work, Feyre had tried to shift him back with her own powers. Problem was, she wasn’t used to shifting others, only herself. She’d manage to turn their son into a rabbit, but that was as far as she’d gotten.
Multiple attempts, lots of reading, and next to no sleep later, they had managed to shift him into the shape of a golden retriever puppy. Now their child-turned-dog was napping in his mother’s lap, with no end in sight for their ordeal.
Rhysand knew there was only one option left to them, but he’d refrained from suggesting it until they’d exhausted all other options. It wasn’t going to be pleasant but at this point they had no other choice.
Sighing, he looked over to his mate, “Darling…There’s only one thing left to do…”
Feyre seemed to be in a state between sheer desperation and absolute frustration, “I’m willing to do anything!” She leaned her head against the back of the couch, “What’s your idea?”
“Well…There’s only one other person in Prythian that I can think of who might be able to undo this…” Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose, “Problem is…he hates us both.”
“Who-” Feyre groaned, “How the fuck are we going to get Tamlin to help us?”
“We ask and pray to the Mother that he takes pity on Nyx. He might not like us, but Nyx has never done anything wrong.”
At first, Feyre looked as if she might refuse, but her desperation won out. “Fine. We can go in the morning…For now, we should probably try to get some sleep. Maybe if we’re lucky Nyx will shift back before we wake up.”
“We can hope.”
---
Rhys had no expectation of their son being a youngling again when they awoke, and he had been right not to get his hopes up. After feeding Nyx as best they could in his current state both parents got dressed, attempting not to look as tired and frantic as they felt.
Once they both looked at the very least presentable, Feyre gathered their fluffy son into her arms and the pair of them winnowed to the Spring Court.
In the few years since the Hybern War, Tamlin had managed to get the Spring Court back into functioning order. The manor was no longer dilapidated, and his subjects had regained some respect for their High Lord.
Regardless, Rhysand easily could have winnowed them into the manor itself, seeing as Tamlin never had been very good about reinforcing his wards, but they were trying to remain on his good side this time around. Instead he elected to deposit them on the front walk.
The pair of them blinked at the bright sun and vibrant colors of spring, so different from the muted colors of the Night Court, which was currently gripped by winter. Sharing a glance, they made their way up to the front doors, and knocked, hoping the host of the house would take pity on them.
---
Lucien shook his head as he looked over the papers before him. About a year ago, he’d been reinstated as Tamlin’s emissary, and while some of the people around him hadn’t agreed with his decision to return to Spring, Lucien didn’t care. Regardless of what the rest of Prythian thought of him, Tamlin had been a good friend to him for centuries. He’d been the one to give Lucien a home after he’d fled the Autumn Court. He’d also been the one to contact his friends in the Dawn Court after Amarantha had taken his eye.
Equally, if anyone could understand feeling like the rest of the world was against him, it was Lucien. He would do his best to help his friend bear that.
Still, after everything that had happened in the last few years, Tamlin had managed to burn quite a few bridges, so being his emissary to the other courts was proving to be a full time job. Currently, their closest allies were the Summer Court, whose High Lord was young, aspirational, and fairly neutral. The Dawn Court who, once again, was the most neutral of the solar courts. Lastly, and most ironically, the Night Court.
Prior to the war, Lucien never would have dreamed they would have allied with the Night Court, but as he’d realized when he went there, they weren’t as evil and bloodthirsty as they’d been portrayed. Regardless, with their High Lady having had the experiences she did within the Spring Court, it was surprising that they had been so willing to form an alliance after the war.
Either way, Lucien wasn’t about to complain. The Night Court was the largest and most powerful in Prythian, and he would much rather have them as an ally than an enemy.
His head shot up from his work as he heard a knock on the door of his study. “Come in.”
Turning away from his desk, he watched as one of the servants, a kind nymph, stepped inside. “My apologies for interrupting, but there are… guests at the front door.”
Lucien blinked at her as he got to his feet, trying not to focus on how she’d said the word ‘guests.’ He wasn’t certain who was here. They weren’t scheduled to have any visitors. Perhaps another human had wandered into the Spring Court. Without the wall, it wasn’t completely unheard of, although most were turned back at the border by the Spring and Summer sentinels that patrolled it.
Making sure he had his sword sheathed at his side, Lucien nodded to the female, “Thank you. I’ll take care of it.” Dipping her head to him, she left the room to return to her work as he headed for the front door.
When he reached it, he stopped short at what he saw. Rhysand and Feyre stood before him, their nice clothes doing little to hide the signs of exhaustion written on their faces. What drew his attention however was what appeared to be a lively golden retriever puppy wiggling around in Feyre’s arms.
Lucien cleared his throat so as not to startle them as he walked over, “Feyre? Rhys? What brings you to the Spring Court?”
It was a relatively formal greeting, but the unprompted visit of a High Lord and Lady was rarely anything else, regardless of friendships.
Feyre smiled as she caught sight of him, “Lucien! It’s good to see you!” He got the distinct impression that if it weren’t for the puppy she was holding, she would have wrapped him in a crushing embrace. “Are you settling back in well?”
He nodded, it meant a lot that despite her grievances with Tamlin, she had been the first to support his decision to reclaim his position as emissary. “I am actually.” He chuckled slightly as his friend almost lost her grip on the squirming animal in her arms, “Do I want to know why you have a dog with you?”
Rhys rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushed. In fact, the normally elegant High Lord looked almost… embarrassed? “Well, about that…”
“This isn’t a dog.”
Lucien blinked at Feyre, had her exhaustion made her hallucinate? “It certainly looks like-”
“This is Nyx.”
The claim drew him up short. He glanced over the puppy in her grasp, and in doing so finally saw his eyes. Stormy-blue, a reflection of Feyre’s own.
It was then that the pieces began to click into place. Why they were here, why they had a dog with them, and why they seemed so tired. Lucien couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him, “So I’m guessing the princeling of the Night Court didn’t just inherit his father’s powers then?”
Feyre looked like she was ready to start pleading, “This is the third court’s powers he’s started to show.” She glanced down at her puppy-son, “I can shift myself, but I’ve never needed to shift someone else before.” She met his gaze once more, “It’s been three days.”
Lucien bit his lip, trying his hardest not to laugh with very little success. Their son had turned to a dog, but they knew their standing with Tamlin was so tenuous that they had tried every other avenue first. Moreover, they had waited three days before finally folding and coming to the Spring Court for help.
Clearing his throat, Lucien dipped his head to them. “Wait here. I’ll go get Tam.” Heading towards his friend’s study, he said the next line more to himself than the pair behind him, “He’s going to get a kick out of this.”
When Lucien knocked on the door, a low voice swiftly followed. “Come in.” Walking into the study, he gave his friend a shit-eating grin. Tamlin leaned back in his chair, giving his full attention, “What has you so happy this morning?” Lucien finally let himself laugh as he’d wanted to as soon as he’d realized the heir to the Night Court was a dog. Tamlin merely rolled his eyes, “Well, at least I know whatever is happening isn’t a threat.”
After a moment, Lucien took a deep breath to steady himself. “No, certainly not a threat. It’s funny though.” He shook his head, wiping the tears from his eyes, “We have some guests with an interesting predicament that they need your help with.” When Tamlin furrowed his brow as a request for further information, Lucien shook his head, “No. This is something you need to see for yourself.”
---
Rhysand could vaguely hear Lucien laughing from the room at the other end of the corridor that he knew well to be Tamlin’s study. If he were not so exhausted, Rhys more than likely would have found the situation humorous as well. Still, three days with minimal sleep made it hard for him to see anything other than the negatives.
Feyre huffed at the sound, but kept any further reaction to herself as the door opened once more. Lucien looked almost red in the face as he did his best to keep from laughing again, followed by a rather confused looking Tamlin. That confusion only seemed to grow when he caught sight of them.
When they approached, Tamlin glanced over them before speaking, “Feyre. Rhys. What brings you to the Spring Court…with a dog ?”
The repeat of the earlier question made Rhysand realize that Lucien had not told Tamlin why they were here. No, he wanted them to have to relive this shame again. Rhys couldn’t blame him though. If the situation were inverted, he more than likely would have done the same.
Knowing Feyre didn’t want to explain again, Rhys ran a hand through his hair, “Good morning Tamlin. Sorry for just showing up at your door, but we have found ourselves in a bit of a… situation , and would appreciate your help.”
Being so polite and cordial with his long time enemy felt strange, but insulting him wouldn’t get them anywhere. Tamlin seemed to realize this as he smirked, “You must really need my help if you’re not throwing your weight around Rhys.”
It was all he could do to bite back a snarl, this was one of the reasons the pair of them had never been able to truly reconcile. They were both too willing to get under each other’s skin.
Feyre must have recognized his efforts, because her voice quickly replaced his, “We do actually. We’ve been trying to solve this issue ourselves for three days now with little success.”
Tamlin nodded, glancing between Feyre and the puppy she was holding, “I’m assuming the issue has something to do with the dog?”
Despite knowing Tamlin had no clue who it actually was, Rhys didn’t appreciate his son being referred to in such a manner. “Yes. Because the dog is Nyx.”
“Is Nyx-” Tamlin cut himself off as he looked between the three of them as Lucien once again began snickering. The High Lord of Spring pressed his lips into a line, clearly trying not to laugh as well. “So just to clarify…you two have shown up at my door because your son is a dog, and presumably you want my help in turning him back to a youngling?”
“You’ve grasped the basics of the situation, yes.” Rhys bit out.
Tamlin chuckled, “Do I even want to know how he got turned into a dog?” His gaze slid to Feyre, “I thought you’d mastered your powers.”
Feyre huffed, “There are still things I need to learn. If you must know however, this started because Nyx shifted himself.”
“And I suppose you’ve already tried to turn him back yourself, or you wouldn’t be here.”
This conversation was getting tiring, “I’m certainly glad you find this humorous Tamlin. As much as I would love to stand here all day and exchange barbs with you, we do have a court to get back to. Will you help us or not?”
With a wave of his hand, one of the nearby tables cleared itself of its decorations and appeared in front of him, “Place him here.”
Feyre stepped forward, putting little puppy-Nyx on the table, “Try and sit still, okay?”
With a final kiss to the top of his furry head, she stepped back, clearly nervous. Rhys would be lying if he said he liked the idea of Nyx under Tamlin’s magic. However, despite their long histories, he knew that no matter what issues Tamlin had with them, he wouldn’t harm a defenseless youngling.
A golden light began to wrap around Nyx, and Tamlin blinked a few times, “How many times did you try to change him back?”
Feyre scuffed her foot on the marble floor, “I lost count…”
Tamlin didn’t look at her, keeping his focus on Nyx, “I can tell. There are spells wrapped around him like a tangled ball of yarn.”
“Will you be able to turn him back?”
Rhys gently caressed his mate’s mental walls in an attempt to soothe her. A moment later Tamlin responded, “Yes, it will just take a while. I’ll have to undo the spells one by one…” He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Once I’ve finished, I’ll teach you how to shift him back yourself so you don’t have to make the trip here every time Nyx becomes fascinated with a new animal.”
Feyre let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you, Tamlin.” He merely dipped his head.
---
After a few minutes, Lucien had led them to the dining room to give Tamlin the quiet he needed to focus. Every now and again he would call out with a question for Feyre about what exactly she had tried or what shifts Nyx had made. Her responses must have provided the answers he needed because he would swiftly return to breaking the spells.
It was about thirty minutes later when they finally heard the babbling of an excited youngling from the other room. Rhys and Feyre were instantly on their feet. He had never been more excited to see his son’s chubby, smiling face.
“Nyx!” Feyre darted over, drawing her son into an embrace.
Rhys let out a sigh of relief, turning to face Tamlin, “Thank you. We really do appreciate this.”
Tamlin waved it off, “What else was I supposed to do? Let the youngling remain a dog?” After a few moments, he turned to Feyre, “That was one mess of magic, so when you’re ready, I’ll teach you the reversal spell so this doesn’t happen again.”
Feyre kissed her son’s cheeks a few times before handing him off to Rhys. “I would appreciate that.”
Another half hour went by of Rhysand talking with Lucien, the pair of them keeping an eye on Nyx as Tamlin trained Feyre. It was a surprisingly comfortable conversation, and the pair even decided on a new trade partnership between a few businesses within both Night and Spring.
They had just reached an agreement when Nyx toddled up to Lucien, tugging gently at the leg of his dress pants. The one in question knelt down to the child’s level with a soft smile, “Can I help you little one?”
Nyx observed him closely, not at all concerned with Lucien’s mix-matched eyes. Instead he seemed more fascinated by his fiery hair, to the point that Rhys was about to make a comment about staring being rude. He stopped himself however when a gleam entered his son’s eyes that Rhys had seen in Feyre a hundred times. He knew it meant trouble. A moment later, rather than a youngling, a red fox cub stood before them.
Lucien chuckled as he stood up once more, hands on his hips, “I like this kid!”
Rhysand merely groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Not again…”
It was about that time that Tamlin and Feyre returned, but it was the prior who spoke as the little fox bounded over to them, tail wagging. “Well, I suppose this is as good a time as any for you to try out that spell.”
Feyre glanced over to her son, “Why a fox-” She caught Lucien’s eye, “Oh, that’s why.” She knelt down before Nyx, whose eyes were beaming as he looked up at his mother, “Yes, Lucien likes foxes too.” While the cub was distracted, Feyre placed her hand on his back, and with a flash of golden power, he was once again a youngling.
Rhys chuckled, “That’s going to save us a lot of trouble.”
“Indeed.” Tamlin glanced over to Nyx, “However, when it’s appropriate, let him shift. He’s learning the structures of the animals, their shapes, coat colors, and so on. It will make his powers more accurate as he gets older.” Rhys blinked at his former friend. “You keep doing that. Looking at me like you’re surprised I’m helping.” Tamlin shook his head with a sigh, “Look, I know we don’t get along, and we will probably never be close friends again. However, I don’t blame younglings for the relationship I have with their parents. Nyx hasn’t done a thing wrong. He’s too young to even know what Courts are, let alone which ones get along. Why would I let the past grievances I have with you two affect him?”
In that moment Rhysand’s respect for Tamlin skyrocketed. He dipped his head to his former friend. “Thank you, Tamlin.”
The one in question merely smiled, “Of course.” He chuckled, “And should the Little Lord find himself in a similar situation again, please don’t wait another three days to bring him here. It will save us all time and grief.”
Feyre nuzzled her son from where she had scooped him up in her arms, though his attention was on Tamlin. After a moment, she was holding a small, black wolf cub. Sighing, she placed him on the ground, initially she reached out her hand to change him back, but redacted it. “Oh, run around as a wolf for a bit.” She booped Nyx on the nose, “Just no more shifting before I turn you back to a youngling.”
The babe must have understood his mother on some level because he took off across the foyer, clearly entranced by his newfound speed and agility.
“He seems to have a particular fascination with quadrupeds.”
Rhys nodded at Tamlin’s words, “We noticed that too. The only animal he changed into that wasn’t a quadruped was a tropical Summer bird.” He shook his head, “We think he learned of it from a painting we have hanging in our foyer.”
Tamlin watched the youngling dart around his home with a grin, “That would make sense…I assume he wasn’t able to fly in that form?”
Feyre blinked over at him, “How did you know?”
“Well if he was using only the one image of the bird to build his three-dimensional body off of, I doubt he would have built his wings correctly.”
Rhysand, more versed with building wings from nothing than anyone else in the room nodded, “I may not know as much about feathered wings, but I remember making that same mistake the first few times when I summoned my own wings.” His eyes grew distant as he recalled the memory, “I’d forgotten how difficult it was to get right…” Trailing off, Rhysand realized this was potentially a way to rekindle at least an amiable acquaintanceship with Tamlin. Turning back to his former friend, he let his voice rise into the air once more, “When he gets a bit older, would you be open to training him to hone his shapeshifting magic?”
Now it was Tamlin’s turn to be surprised as he blinked at Rhys, “I-I…I can. Though I’m a little surprised you would trust me to do so…”
Rhysand took a deep breath as his wolf-son bounded up to his mother, who happily turned him back into a youngling for all of three seconds before he shifted into a cat and darted off again. “Well, as much as you and I may not like each other, you have more knowledge in shapeshifting than any other living fae. Equally, I do have to admit; I can’t see you ever harming a youngling.”
“No I wouldn’t.” Tamlin smirked as Feyre stopped Nyx from trying to climb up one of the tapestries with his new claws. “And I would be happy to train him.”
Rhys watched his son fondly, “Any advice for the time being?”
“Like I said, let him shift when it’s appropriate. Otherwise, Feyre now knows the reversal spell.” When Nyx bounded over, Tamlin scratched him on the head before the kitten ran over to his father, “Other than that, it’s just a matter of keeping him on the right track until he’s old enough to master his magic. You seem to have that well in hand.”
Shaking his head, Rhysand let his son rush back over to his mother to shift back into a youngling before once again taking on the form of a fox. “Says the one who just had to get us out of this mess.”
“If it had been Night powers that my… cub was dealing with, I’m not sure I would have been willing to approach you before now.” Tamlin shrugged, “But I’m also not a parent, so who knows what I would do.”
Rhys couldn’t help but laugh, “No…I don’t suppose that under any other circumstances I would have been willing to ask for your assistance. I guess being a father does change a person.”
Tamlin chuckled as Nyx whisked past them again, doing a loop around Lucien before racing back across the foyer. “Is he always this energetic?”
Feyre groaned, “Yes.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, “It’s cute most of the time, but getting him to go down for naps is a nightmare.”
Watching after Nyx for a moment, Tamlin turned his attention back to Feyre, “I can imagine.” He shook his head, “I swear if we ever found a way to harness the energy and magic of younglings it would be enough to give humans immortality.”
Rhys matched his good humor, “Nyx would have enough for a whole family.”
“Clearly.” Nyx once again ran over to his mother, who shifted him back, only for him to take on the form of a chickling. They all blinked at him in confusion until Tamlin smiled, leaning down to scratch the feathers on the boy’s head, “Seems like you also have a fondness for your mother’s paintings.”
“My paintings?”
At Feyre’s question, Tamlin gestured behind them. Turning, Rhys saw an immaculate painting of a flock of baby chicks wandering about in the grass. “You loved painting the baby animals. I don’t know if it was the painting itself or just being around them, but you painted them quite frequently as I recall.”
“It was a bit of both.” Feyre looked up at the painting, “I remember that day. They had just hatched and had managed to get away from the coop. I was working on a different painting when I saw them starting towards the woods, and by the time I got out there I had to chase off a cat that was trying to hunt them.” She giggled softly, “Trying to get eight lively, chirping chicks back to their coop was a feat in itself.”
“I remember that!” Lucien laughed, “I was walking out the front door to go on patrol when I saw you walking across the grounds carrying a bunch of chicklings. I didn’t know what the hell you were doing.”
Rhysand chuckled, “Only you would drop everything you were doing to go rescue a bunch of baby birds.”
“They were cute!” Feyre huffed as the males in the room shook their heads at her, “And they were babies! I knew all too well at that point some of the things that were lurking in those woods. If the cat I had to run off was any indication, they wouldn’t have lasted another few minutes!”
Rhys gave his mate a smile, speaking more to himself than anyone else, “Human heart.”
Feyre leveled his gaze, a playful twinkle in her eyes, “And proud of it.”
Dipping his head, Rhys couldn’t help but also be proud of his mate, “As you should be.”