Females were very rare in the night court's ruling family as it was, all either die young or end up forgotten in the abyss of history.
Rhysand ever thought he'd have to father one of these, in fact, he did't believe he even deserve to be a father, u...
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"I am your sword, your shield, your love-sick protector..."
She had grown older, The small child with the curious eyes, who had learned to talk, to walk, to fly and to live. Rhysand had watched closely, intently, dreading the tiniest mistake from him for everything to fall down like a house of cards, dreading her being taken away from him as brutally as she was thrown into his life.
It was terrifying, witnessing himself loving someone that fiercely, without even being aware of it. Rhysand could lay his life down for his inner circle, but for Elayla ?
For Elayla he'd burn the whole world down to ashes, and all it would take was a tear of a snap of fingers.
Maybe it was the way she had turned out to be a smaller version of him, a much more real version of him, with her wits and laughter and her childish charm that had melted hearts over the past five years she spent in his care.
His heart, mainly...
He did not learn how to tell her 'no', not when her bottom lip would quiver ever so slightly and her eyes -so blue they appear violet- would turn a bit glassy, a curse it was, or so he thought, for himself not being able to bear his daughter's disappointment at him. So he had to step back from his decisions, more often than not, just from fear that he will at some point turn into what his father used to be.
heartless, inconsiderate, emotionless...
He had also to check on his emotions, keep them contained far away from her empathy power, who were not only a gift, but a twisted curse for her to feel everything all at once. A curse that kept her up many nights when emotions inside the house were too heavy to shut down.
So at six years old, not had Elayla just elected her father as her greatest hero, but was also fascinated with the night court, it was disgustingly predictable, she was well aware, since she the daughter of the night court's High Lord, but something about all the sparkling celestial gems and the dark endless nights made her dream wildly.
She still had trouble falling asleep, something that apparently ran into the family's blood. It wasn't that she did it on purpose, not when the voices inside her head never seemed to want to shut up. She could hear people's thoughts creeping inside her head like Azriel's swift shadows and her father's magical mist. It exhausted her until she turned up to become as sleep-deprived as a thousand years old cranky old fae, turning endlessly in her bed, talking with herself about constellations, Illyrian legends and all of the things her father taught me.
Covered with my favorite royal blue velvety blanket, she stared at the starry night sky through the large terrace, hugging tightly her favorite stuffed toy, a black bat she named Rhysie many years ago.
Perhaps she should've called someone to keep her company, had the voices not been building up like waves, crashing over her dreams-filled grave. With Rhysie still tucked in her arms, she leaned against the white wall, her head pounding heavily.
