The Dark Heir - Nyx

1. Theia.

He never came. After two centuries, it still pained Theia. She thought of him every time she moronically decided to walk past the empty house on the hill. She had expected him to come for her months after she left Velaris, but he never came. Equally as painful, Feyre and the others never stopped by the house or tavern.

It felt like another life; one of an immature girl who loved the first person to show her something more than negligence. Theia had decided a century ago that she wasn't meant to love Nyx, she only did because someone was taking care of her and he forced himself into her life. He had carefully crafted her emotions so that she would depend on him enough to call it love. She hated him for that. She hated him for never coming back.

Theia let out a breath, watching the cloud from her mouth rise into the air. It was a bitterly cold spring night. One thing about her months in Velaris: Theia wished she could have experienced a hot day before returning to the mountain village. She never thought she would hate the cold, but it formed along with every other part of her bitter heart.

Theia found herself scoffing as she turned to continue down the street. She thought perhaps after a few decades, Nyx would've come in search for her. It was her choice to leave, yet it destroyed her. It took Theia years before she could fathom leaving her house. It was a worse depression than when Maia died. The only reason she kept herself alive was in hopes he would return, otherwise she found no reason.

After she was able to leave her home and beg for her job back, she craved that attention Nyx had gifted her. She would go home with random males, never knowing who they were. It was a dangerous choice, but it lasted years. She was known in the tavern as the easy selection, going home with anyone that gave her a bright smile and smooth words.

It stayed that way. Theia worked in the tavern, only as a way to keep herself sane. Rhysand had given her enough coin to last five centuries, so she didn't need the job other than something to do. He had kept his promise with the village, as well. The crime rate against females dropped significantly. Seasoned warriors patrolled the streets at night and kept an eye on the camp lords. More and more females joined the ranks. Even Elena finally joined them. Theia had once hated the way the camps were run, but with the new generation rising to the ranks, it was far better.

She still didn't trust easily, though her hard exterior slowly came down throughout the years. After Nyx, Theia was always angry or sad. She hadn't smiled for years. After the turn of the second century, it was easier to breathe. She had accepted that their love was nothing but a ruse and she would never see him again.

Theia turned down the road to her house. The dilapidated ones alongside hers had been renovated and were now full. It warmed her heart to see. Her lips lifted as she hurried down to the final house on the block, firelight in the windows and smoke rising from the chimney.

She pushed open the door, immediately met by the mouthwatering smell of dinner. Theia audibly groaned as she unbuttoned her coat and tugged it from her body. She hadn't eaten all evening, and now that night took over, she was famished.

"Dinner is ready!" A gruff voice called from the kitchen. Theia bit down on her lip, immediately warmed by his tone. Silas was a camp lord; a large male built by centuries of training. He had been one of her nightly conquests over a year before, and they had chosen to sleep together often. The one night he had come to her house, she had a breakdown begging for him not to leave. Silas stayed, and he had been staying for half a year now.

She sauntered into the kitchen, grinning as her gaze was met by the nearly bare male. He only had his tight undershorts on, everything on display. Her attraction to him was simply lust. She hadn't been able to accept anything more than that. He agreed that they weren't going to fall in love, but Theia believed that was long past.