The Dark Heir - Nyx

51. Theia

"I think this should be shaded more," Theia murmured, pointing gently at a spot of Nyx's forehead on the portrait she and Feyre were creating. The High Lady hummed in agreement, dipping her thin brush into the darker skin tone paint.

Theia was on a stool beside Feyre, watching in a trance as she brought her drawing to life. It reminded her of centuries ago when Feyre kept Theia busy by teaching her art skills. It made everything seem right. Spending quality time with a mother figure was almost tear-jerking. Feyre had painted a watered down midnight blue over the entire canvas, leaving the graphite marks still visible. Now she was painting in Nyx's skin tone. She had started with his eyes, claiming that she wanted to help capture the joy that Theia had drawn.

They both were donning smocks, though Theia's was truly just in participation, not for any true reason. Joy sparked in her chest at each addition of pigment to the canvas. Nyx was beautiful and Theia couldn't fathom how well Feyre was capturing him. She bit her bottom lip, holding back a smile as she looked over the honey eyes. When Nyx laughed, excitement glimmering in his eyes, they were so light. They were golden. When he was angry or upset, they were nearly void of any light. She liked this side of him.

"I don't want to speak in a place that isn't mine, but I want to know something, Theia," Feyre murmured, her eyes still trained on the shadow she painted on Nyx's forehead. Theia glanced over to the High Lady, her eyes scanning the side of her face.

"Yes?" She urged, nerves starting to rise. Feyre glanced at her through the side of her eye before returning to the painting.

"Do you love my son? I mean truly love him."

There was no hesitation as a smile spread across Theia's lips and she nodded, feeling that fluttery sensation in her chest.

"I do."

Feyre glanced at Theia again, a smile on her own lips. "I always thought back then that you were quite foolish. I love Nyx, but he was such a hard child when it came time to mature. He loved the way our family was never serious with him. Nobody treated him as the heir, he was simply a happy boy that was spoiled by everyone. I knew he would hurt you, though I had never seen him act like that towards someone else."

Theia's smile fell as her brows inched together. "What do you mean?"

"He was immature, even when he reached the age of maturity. He was coddled and spoiled his entire childhood because he was a miracle for us. I didn't want him to feel like he had to grow into his responsibilities too fast, but I never expected it to affect other people. He was careless with other people. I won't lie, his immaturity brought the same out in Azriel and Cassian, and even his father. When he came to me and told me there was a sickly girl who argued her way into getting our help, I was shocked that he wanted to put any effort in another person.

"And the way he wanted to protect you back then, I thought he may have found his mate so early in his life. The Cauldron doesn't always find an equal in pairs, but I was sure it was you. I know that time was hard for you both, but I think it made you both grow up a lot more. Nyx definitely. He became who he was always meant to be, and then you found each other again. I see his love for you like he took these brushes and painted it clearly, Theia."

Theia stared at Feyre, who now changed pigments and began painting a blush over the flesh tone of Nyx's cheeks. She had never seen their past like that; a way for them to grow and become who they were now. Theia had always seen it as yet another heartbreak that turned her heartless. She used people relentlessly during those centuries alone. She thought she had turned out far worse than she was before.

"Feyre, why did you never visit me?"

The brush stilled on the canvas, a small drip of peachy color running down the canvas. With a sharp breath, Feyre grabbed a cloth and dabbed the streak of paint.