At the Mercy of the Stars

New Beginnings

AN: Merry Christmas! I hope everyone is enjoying the holidays. Here is chapter 2 of my secret santa fic for eat0crow. 

Feyre

Feyre had always considered herself clever enough. Not the most brilliant around, but smart enough to piece together when she was facing royalty. She was going to blame the chaos of her capture for her slow processing. Rhys was Rhysand, heir-apparent to the Night Court throne. Someone she was meant to stay far far away from if the stories she'd heard over the years were anything to go by. Yet if she ignored them all for a moment, it was easy enough to dismiss them as nothing more than rumors to frighten children.

From the very second they returned to his modest home in Velaris, a shining and busy city she'd somehow never heard of, he had been nothing but gentle with her. Overbearing one might even say, fussing over the smallest injuries inflicted when she had been caught by Nostrus' second-in-command. But then, males were known to act very differently with their mates, weren't they? How long would it take for the power of the fresh bond to fade?

She startled when he lifted her chin. "I hate that look." She furrowed her brows. "I don't need to read your mind to know you're questioning your safety here. If I will harm you, despite our bond. There is a mask we wear, Feyre, to protect our people." Uncurling his fingers, he slid his hand across her jaw, reaching to cup the back of her neck. "If there is one thing you always keep faith in, let it be that this bond is sacred to me. I'd sooner slit my own throat than lay a hand on you in anger or malice. Understand?"

She nodded and he let go, his fingers trailing her jaw as he released her. The spell was broken by a soft rapping on the bedroom door. He rolled his eyes, begrudgingly calling for whoever was on the other side to come in. Seconds later a female of great resemblance to Rhys stormed through the door. The eyes and coloring they shared easily marked her as his mother, though Feyre was thrown by the wings the female possessed. She was another Illyrian, yet Rhys' lack of wings and clearly pointed ears put them apart.

She was distracted from the puzzling relation when the new arrival began lecturing her mate. "Rhysand, what were you thinking? Your father sent you in his place because he thought you'd keep your head and—"

"Mother, may I request you wait to berate me until my mate isn't present to hear it?"

"Your... what?"

His lips curled into a soft smile at the pure glee in her voice, stepping away just far enough to reveal Feyre's position on the edge of the bed. "My mate, Feyre. Feyre, this is my mother, Victorie."

The female gasped, her violet eyes bright as she took in Feyre. "I, uh, haven't cleaned up yet," Feyre said with a blush. If this female was anything like her own mother, her current state, smelling and soaked to the skin, was unacceptable.

"Oh, who cares about that? You are gorgeous. We'll be talking over breakfast in the morning. I want to know everything about my future daughter-in-law."

Feyre was too stunned to respond. Never once had her own mother seemed so eager to discuss anything with her, let alone her hobbies and interests. "I'd like that," she finally managed, almost whispering.

"Nostrus requested the meeting because she escaped," Rhys cut in, either recognizing her discomfort or just wanting to get rid of his mother for the evening a little faster. "Rather than still voicing his concern about the water serpent when he heard she was caught... There's something to be said for his pride, I suppose. Luckily for him, the creature is dead." His attention snapped back to Feyre. "The wraiths that helped us, they were indebted to you. Why?"

"I met my fiance a few months ago. The visit overlapped with the Tithe. He had given me a necklace and earrings. When the wraith speaking for her sisters couldn't offer anything, I gave her my jewelry."