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'm trying to be better than my father;
I have to be..."
Rhysand's eyes ran across the handwriting again and again, looking for any other explanation, any other sign of Maliah's presence, but there was none, and he was stuck with a little girl who looked too much like him, her starry violet eyes taking him up and down as she babbled childish nonsense.
Maliah had been a dear friend for centuries, the same way Cassian and Azriel were, and yet mistakes happen all the time, and it only took him a raw night of grief over his mother and sister and a few galleons of faerie wine to act upon desires he had left buried for five hundred years.
He had thought that Maliah left out of shame, that she left because she didn't want to be associated with him, that she considered that night a mistake -a sin- to be forgotten and burnt down to ashes, never had he considered, not in his wildest dreams or worst nightmares that she buried such a secret.
A very much alive, very well clueless secret...
Elayla. That was her name...
Elayla. Like the lush Illyrian nights...
A beautifully dark name for such a tiny fragile child, a frail miracle made from the darkness of the night court and the harshness of the Illyrian camps. But some children were simply born with tragedy in their blood, and if there is one thing the Gods love, it's tragedy, with wings that burn and creatures who fall.
Rhysand had his fair share of tragedy, of wars and destruction,of loss and grief and pain, and then there she was, another heir for the court of nightmare to chew up and spit out.
Another face to masquerade under the villain's well sewn mask.
Another bearer of the weight to protect the court of dreams as well.
The High Lord of the night court had no idea how to react, or what to think, as he peered at the child with undescriptible feelings, a sense of belonging and panic washing over him, and a deep raw protectiveness clawing up his chest.
My child...
My daughter...
My blood...
Mine...
His instincts screamed in his head again and again, like a frenzied prayer to the Gods above that this would end up to be just another dream, a dusty illusion.
Deep inside he wished it wasn't...
"Rhysand !" Morrigan's voice snapped him out of his trance. He blinked away his thoughts, realizing that he wasn't the only one trying to digest the situation, that maybe, just maybe, he isn't alone against this storm wrecking into his life. "Pull your shit together." She scolded.
