“Admit it, Feyre darling,” Rhys murmured in her neck, dropping another kiss on her skin. “You’re still not a fan of the idea.”
She glanced over her shoulder to glare at him, but Rhys’s eyes were already trained on her with a wicked smile. He swallowed her complaint with a kiss brushed against her lips. She hummed against him.
“You can’t kiss away everything,” she accused, almost pouting.
Rhys chuckled. His lips were so close to hers that she could almost feel the smile stretching his lips.
“Pretty sure I can.”
“Hi Baby,” she murmured. With a shaky hand, she brushed against the dark skin of the tiny tiny head. “Hi.”
Feyre didn’t even blink when she felt Rhys’s arms encircle her—encircle them both—and his head find her neck. She didn’t blink, but she leaned back against him and nestled closer.
“I believe,” he said slowly, “that I have fallen in love.” He placed a kiss on her neck. “Again. Fourth time of my life.”
She huffed, and nodded. “I know the feeling.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Mhhh, last week I got inspired for a scene wayyy in the future of wcltla/olie if I ever get there. May I interest you in some teenager Elizabeth, young adult Nyx and cutie-pie lil sister Nora for WIP Wednesday? 💗
“We’re gonna be late.”
“We won’t.”
“We will,” Elizabeth huffed loudly, already fumbling with the bag between her feet. “Can you go any faster? Please.”
Rhys let a slow smile spread on his lips, seemingly unbothered. He did increase speed, though, checking the time.
“We’ll be there on time, Lizzie,” he reassured softly. “We still have—”
“I wanted to get in the water early,” she frowned. She had gotten her swimsuit and towel out of her bag by now, and positioned them on her lap. “It’s important, and we’re gonna be fucking late.”
“Hey,” he side-eyed her. “Language.”
Rhys saw her eye roll very clearly, even from where he was sitting beside her. She huffed again, but it was dimmed by the hair tie she held between both her lips to free her hands. She started braiding her hair diligently.
“Where’s Mom anyway?” she asked around the hair tie. “I thought she was coming.”
“She is,” he confirmed, side-eyeing her again. “Nyx and Nora, too. They’re all coming.”
She hummed non-committedly, before letting out a long sigh and finally securing the end of her braid with the tie. Rhys saw her shoulders relax slightly as soon as they spotted the pool.
“I’m running inside,” she announced, leaving him no choice. “Join me after?”
“Of course,” he pulled the car to a stop in front of the entrance, and Elizabeth was already reaching for the door handle when he called, “Lizzie?”
She turned around immediately, a cocked eyebrow—though her leg was frantically tapping against the car floor in an anxious motion.
“Breathe,” he told her, softly. “You’re the best swimmer. You’ll do great.”
She searched his face for a second, taking a deep breath like he had instructed her. Rhys smiled proudly.
“Good,” he murmured. “Now go. I love you.”
Despite the time flying, and the anxiety he knew was growing in her stomach, she took the time to mimic his smile, and leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek.
“I love you, Dad.”
***
“Are we late? Did she already—”
Rhys tore his gaze away from the pool to meet Feyre’s alarmed blue-grey ones. Her hair was set in a messy bun at the top of her head and her shirt was splattered with paint—but what else was new.
“You’re fine,” he smiled at her. “Just one more minute and you would have missed her though.”
She sighed a deep sigh as she took her spot on the bleachers beside him, followed by Nyx—who was carrying an excited Nora in his arms.
Rhys leaned in to kiss Feyre’s cheek, but her attention was solely trained on the pool—her eyes scanning the edges to find their exact copy in the form of a fifteen-year-old.
“What happened?” Rhys asked, “why were you so late?”
When Feyre didn’t answer—she was still looking for Elizabeth so intently she had tuned out the rest of the world, probably—Nyx was the one to answer,
“Nora broke a glass,” he turned his head to his little sister as soon as she pulled away to frown at him. “What?” he chuckled. “It’s true.”
“No,” she replied, her frown deepening. “I didn’t.”
“You did,” Nyx countered with a raised eyebrow. “You made a mess and you know it.”
For one second, she kept her eyes trained on him—the frown on her face still locked in place—before she moved. She climbed out of his lap and walked in front of Feyre to finally join Rhys. He huffed as she climbed on his lap instead.
He was about to reply—to push, really—but the voice in the speaker got all of their attentions as it started calling the names of the swimmers who were about to compete this day.
“Elizabeth Knight.”
Beside him, Feyre straightened, and Rhys saw her face relax as soon as Elizabeth—in her midnight blue swimsuit and matching cap advanced to the edge of the pool.
“Come on, Liz,” Nyx whispered with a smile dancing on his lips. “Come on.”
As if she had heard him, she glanced up to them, her eyes finding each of theirs as she speaker started counting backwards,
“5, 4, 3—”
She turned her head back toward the pool and got into position.
“2, 1.”
And then she was gone—leaping into the water quicker than they had ever seen her. Rhys started combing his fingers through Nora’s hair mindlessly, his eyes entirely focused on the pool and on the way Elizabeth was swimming—sliding as if she belonged there.
Nyx was muttering every now and then—occasionally commenting on the race none of them could take their eyes off.
She was almost halfway through when Nora sighed a deep sigh. She had gotten off of Rhys’s lap by now, but was standing in between his legs, playing with one of his hands.
“I don’t want her to win,” she mumbled, her little head trained downwards.
Rhys huffed at that, glancing down towards her. “You don’t want her to win?” he echoed. She shook her head. “Why not?”
“Because,” she replied a little more quietly. When she didn’t elaborate, Rhys placed a hand under her chin to tilt her head towards him. She mumbled, “I don’t want her to leave us.”
At that, Feyre’s head turned towards her, too. At the same time as Nyx said—almost a warning,
“Nora.”
Rhys’s both eyebrows rose at that.
“What was that?” Feyre frowned, her head darting back and forth between Nora and Nyx—the pool utterly forgotten now. Nobody replied. “Nora?” she pushed, “What did you say?”
Instead of answering, Nora pouted, and leaned in to bury her head against Rhys’s chest. He was frowning, too, by now.
“Nyx,” Feyre continued. “What was that?”
“I—” he huffed. “Nothing, Mom. No—”
“You know something,” she challenged, and Rhys couldn’t see her, but he knew she was narrowing her eyes on him.
When Rhys glanced back at the pool, he saw that Elizabeth was still up ahead in her race, swimming fast.
“Nyx,” Feyre repeated. “Tell—”
“There’s nothing to tell,” he countered, turning his head back to the pool. “You’ll ask Liz if—”
“So there is something,” Rhys quipped in. “Tell us.”
“It’s not my secret to tell,” he sighed. “Come on. Don’t do that, don’t—”
But he must have known the fight was long lost, because as soon as he turned his head back toward Feyre and the pleading look Rhys guessed was in her yes, Nyx’s face contorted into a grimace.
“Mom,” he pleaded, “It’s not—”
“What did Nora mean?”
As soon as Nyx sighed deeply, Rhys knew Feyre had won—just like himself, there was no way Nyx was resisting her when she looked at him that way.
Nyx ran a hand through his hair as he said, “It’s just—she didn’t want to tell you before the race but uh—” he glanced at Rhys for half a second, before his eyes locked back onto Feyre’s. “If she wins this race, she’ll earn a scholarship to enter a swimming program.”
Rhys’s both eyebrows rose, slowly reaching his hairline. Still, he managed to ask, “Where?”
Nyx tore his gaze away from Feyre’s, finding his instead—and Rhys had to wonder if maybe it was because he couldn’t stand to look at her as he answered,
“Adriata.”
Silence stretched between them—even as the clasps and shouts echoed all around them.
Rhys was aware, distantly, of his daughter’s name being shouted in the speakers, and of the cheering celebrating her victory.
But he was a little too shocked to join them.
***
“Did you see? Did you see?”
Elizabeth’s excited squealing reached their ears as she broke into a run to join them near both their parked car. The parking lot was almost empty by now, and Nora was half-dancing, holding out Nyx’s hand and giggling.
“I won!” Elizabeth continued with a wide grin. “I—”
Her face fell a little as she took them in, and her expression turned a little alarmed. “What’s—”
“When did you intend to tell us?” Feyre cut her off curtly.
“I—what?”
“The swimming program in Adriata,” Feyre continued. “When were you gonna tell us about it? When—”
Elizabeth’s gaze hardened as she turned to Nyx, “You told them? You fucking—”
“I didn’t—”
“Eli,” Feyre interrupted, all anger and frustration simmering in her voice. “You were supposed to tell us. You don’t hide something like that from us. You don’t—”
She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Well, you know now. No big deal,” she huffed. “We can talk about—”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Feyre cut her off. “You’re not going.”
The hand Rhys had kept on Feyre’s lower back contracted slightly but he kept stubbornly silent.
“I—” Elizabeth blinked at her. “What?”
“You’re not going,” Feyre repeated, lifting her chin up. “You should have told us about it. We could have talked about it and see if—”
“You’re kidding, right?” the fifteen-year-old scoffed, “Tell me you’re kidding right now.”
Feyre folded both her arms across her chest.
“I very much am not,” she said slowly. “You don’t get to decide something like that on your own. And certainly don’t get to hide something like that from us, just because you know we’ll say no.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to answer, her eyes slowly filling with tears Rhys could see very clearly, before clamping it shut again. Open again, shut again. She clenched her hands into fists.
“It’s the most popular program in the country,” Elizabeth breathed, a tear slowly trailing down her cheek. “I have to go. I need to—”
“You should have thought about that before hiding it from us,” Feyre shook her head slowly. “You’re fifteen years-old, Eli, you don’t get to make these kind of choices on your own, you don’t get to—”
“I hate you.”
It had come in nothing more than a whisper. Nothing more than a breath, even, and had been followed by a few more tears slowly trailing down Elizabeth’s cheeks. She turned her head to Rhys—pleading him with her eyes.
“Tell me you won’t let her do this,” Elizabeth breathed. “Tell me you don’t agree with this, that—”
Rhys swallowed with difficulty. Nyx had taken a few steps away from them with Nora now, and he knew it was solely to keep her out of earshot from them.
“Let’s go home,” Rhys offered quietly instead. “Let’s all just go home, alright?”
The betrayal he saw in Elizabeth’s eyes was like a blade through his soul. She turned on her heels, starting walking to his car, and he took it from what it was ; she wouldn’t be riding with Feyre today.
Feyre’s soft whimper brought his attention back to her and when he turned to look at her, a tear was trailing down her cheek, too.
“Hey,” he murmured, moving to stand in front of her. “Love.”
He cupped her cheek with one hand as he pulled her close. “Come on,” he murmured.
Feyre leaned in until she could bury her face against his shoulder, and Rhys held her tight. “Come on,” he repeated. “Let’s go home.”
She nodded against him, and after a few minutes of silence, she breathed,
“She can’t leave. She can’t—”
“I know,” he agreed. “I know.” Slowly, he pulled away to be able to look at her and brushed his thumb over her cheeks. “Let’s go home so we can talk about it, alright?” He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “You good to drive?” he asked softly. “Or are you—”
“I will,” Nyx offered from behind them. “I’ll drive.”
Rhys nodded, offering his son a half-smile. He kissed Feyre’s forehead one more time before pulling away.
“Dad?” Rhys stopped in his tracks when Nyx called him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he offered quietly—his eyes darting back and forth between Feyre and him. “She made me promise. She—”
“It wasn’t yours to tell, Nyx,” Rhys assured him. “Don’t worry, Buddy.”
***
The ride back home was quiet. Too quiet. Way too quiet.
Elizabeth was curled up in the passenger seat, her cheek leaning against the headrest and facing away from him—in an attempt to hide her tears, he knew.
Rhys only mustered the courage to speak when he parked the car in front of their house. Feyre’s car was already parked in front of them, and he knew Nyx must have taken a shorter itinerary than him—he had felt the need to make the trip last a little longer in an attempt to clear his mind. Elizabeth hadn’t complained, either.
Rhys still had to take several deep breaths before he was finally able to say,
“We were just very surprised, Lizzie.” She kept silent. “We didn’t expect it. Adriata is a long trip from here and—”
“It’s not,” she cut him off quietly, although she still didn’t turn to look at him. “It’s just a little over one hour trip by plane. It’s nothing.”
“It’s far away enough that we won’t see you everyday,” he replied, his voice equally quiet.
That got her attention. Slowly, she turned her head toward him, her blue-grey eyes still shining with tears. She observed him for a few moments.
“You think you can change her mind?”
“What I think,” he replied slowly, “is that I’m not ready to let you go, Lizzie. Not near ready. And mom isn’t, either.” He took a deep breath. “You should have told us. You should have told us the minute you knew what was at stake so we could have talked about it. Together.”
“I didn’t tell you because—”
“It doesn’t matter what you had in mind,” Rhys interrupted her with a sigh. “It’s done.”
When silence enveloped them, this time, they kept their eyes locked together.
Rhys wondered if she understood, now. If he knew how much it would cost them—all of them—if she was to leave.
If perhaps that was the reason she hadn’t told them before.
“Come on, Lizzie,” he said eventually. “Let’s get inside.”
They were slow exiting the car, and as soon as Rhys rounded it to join her, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close.
“We didn’t even tell you how proud of you we are,” he said as he leaned in to place a kiss on her temple. “We really are.”
She shot him a half-smile that didn’t reach the eye—and he reciprocated it as well as he could.
Feyre smiled. Nodded slowly. She knew what he was referring to.
“I’m marrying an Illyrian, am I not?”
Slowly, Rhys shook his head. His eyes, too, were bright with tears and happiness and tenderness.
“You’re marrying a fool in love,” he murmured.
He leaned in, swallowing her small chuckling breath by brushing his lips against hers in a small, tender, featherlight kiss. They heard someone clearing their throats behind them and a few laughs, but they didn’t care.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
“I love your Mommy very much,” he whispered. “You know that?” He paused, giving the top of her head another few quick kisses. The door to the room was opening as he continued, “Your dad’s—meh,” he shrugged. “But your Mommy’s the absolute best.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
“And your eyes, of course,” she murmured. “I won’t take anything other than your eyes.”
Rhys huffed a small laugh into her hair.
“What,” he said, “you’d disown them if they had yours?”
She giggled a little, bringing his arms tighter around her waist to be completely enveloped. “You gave Nyx your eyes,” she said instead. “You’ll have to give them to any other potential baby, too.”
“I love your eyes,” he countered, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “I want to see a mini you.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
