Archive of Our Own ^beta

Rhys stood in the doorway of the nursery. It was far from the first time he’d done this. In fact, over the past ten months, this room had been the subject of a massive transformation.

When the River House had first been built, Feyre purposely left the nursery undecorated and empty, white walls and all.

“I don’t want to get my hopes up,” she’d explained when he asked. “You said it could take years, and I don’t want to get this room all decorated and ready for him only for it to gather dust.”

But just because the room had been left empty didn’t mean his mate wasn’t making plans for it.

The day after Rhys smelled the pregnancy on her, Feyre pulled out the sketchbook he’d given her for her birthday. And after her drawings of him, she’d sketched her ideas for their son’s room.

Rhys had immediately loved them. Feyre had wanted him to add something, but he honestly couldn’t find a single thing to improve. Though he did give her suggestions for where in Velaris to find what they’d need. And so they got to work bringing it to life.

They’d chosen furniture that was simple in design but well-made. Carved from the wych elms surrounding Velaris, the crib, rocking chair, dresser, and changing table had all been lovingly made by a different local artisan. Each — despite the makers’ protests — had been paid for by a member of their Inner Circle, a gift for the new family member.

Elain and Nesta had given them several toys, including a stuffed bat that made Rhys wheeze with laughter. They were scattered around the room on various surfaces, patiently waiting for Nyx to be old enough to enjoy them.

Tears had sprung up in Feyre’s eyes when Rhys brought out a cedar chest full of baby clothes from the family vaults. Just as his mother had made Feyre a trousseau all those centuries ago, she’d also made clothing for her future grandchildren. There were more, of course. But there was no reason to bring out clothes Nyx wouldn’t fit into for months or even years.

The clothes had been organized in the closet and dresser, Rhys occasionally smiling at a piece he remembered watching his mother craft.

Naturally, Feyre painted the nursery herself.

The walls were a pale blue that reminded Rhys of the sky on a bright and cloudless day. His mate had purposely kept them plain, only adding white along the trim.

Because the true masterpiece was the ceiling.

Despite Rhys’s protests, Feyre had stood on a ladder with her neck bent back for hours at a time. And although he’d been anxious while watching her, Rhys had to admit that the result was magnificent, easily among his mate’s best work.

Their son would dream under a true-to-life mural of the night sky over Velaris, complete with glistening stars and fluffy white clouds.

But despite all that work, the room was empty.

The River House had been designed with their growing family in mind. The nursery was next to their bedroom and had a connecting door in addition to the one leading to the hallway. So when Rhys turned around, all he had to do was cross the room to be at his mate’s side.

Feyre was sitting in their bed, propped up by pillows. The birth went perfectly smoothly, and Madja had given both mother and son a clean bill of health. But Feyre was still exhausted, and Rhys found himself checking them both over every few minutes. His mate had been much more receptive to his fussing than normal, thankfully understanding that his instincts were setting him on edge.

Rhys lifted the covers and moved to sit next to Feyre, their legs touching. She pressed against his side, and he held her close while kissing the side of her head.

“Is he still asleep?” he whispered. Looking down at the bundle in Feyre’s arms, Rhys found the answer to his question. Wrapped in a soft blanket Aranea had made, Nyx was sleeping soundly.

The High Lord marveled at his son’s tiny face — the perfect blend of his and Feyre’s features. Thanks to the Bone Carver, they already knew what he’d look like when he was older. And Rhys was looking forward to watching it happen.

Feyre turned to meet his gaze. “I don’t want to put him down,” she said just as quietly. “It doesn't feel real. That he’s here, I mean.”

Rhys understood. He could hardly believe it either. Despite assurances from Madja, he’d spent the last ten months terrified that something would go wrong. That something — whether an external threat or their own biology — would take their son away from them before he was even born.

Yet here they were, all three of them. Rhys couldn’t help but marvel at it.

With his free hand, he brushed a piece of hair away from Feyre’s face. “If you don’t want to let go of him, then don’t,” he said simply. “It’s been a very eventful day for the two of you.”

Feyre snorted in amusement. “That’s a bit of an understatement.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “My point is that Nyx looks extremely comfortable right where he is. And I don’t see any reason to move him.”

A smile graced Feyre’s lips, and she leaned further into him. Rhys rested his head on his mate’s shoulder so he could look down at their son. Oblivious to the world around him, Nyx slept peacefully in his mother’s hold.

Rhys couldn’t help but reach softly toward his son’s mind. The newborn was much too young to have coherent thoughts or even discernible emotions. But Rhys sent a gentle wave toward him, and Nyx sighed softly.

Feyre looked at him curiously, and Rhys pressed a kiss to her hair.

“He’s too little for his mind to be much more than a handful of emotions. Mostly things associated with survival, like hunger or tiredness. But I sent him a small bit of calm and contentment. It should help him stay asleep until he needs feeding again.”

He blinked away the wetness that pooled in his eyes. “I used to do that for my sister when she was first born. She was a very fussy baby, and neither she nor my mother were getting any sleep because of it. So one time, when she was finally sleeping, I did it to see if it would keep her that way. And it worked. I continued doing it for a month before her body took to the schedule on its own.”

It had taken a long time for memories of his mother and sister to stop sending waves of grief through him. Talking about them was still tinged with sadness, and Rhys doubted that it would ever truly go away.

But he thought of how his mother would’ve joined him in fusing over his mate and son and all the gifts his sister would’ve bought for Nyx. Even his father, as cold as the male had been, would’ve had a kind word or a rare soft smile.

Feyre smiled sadly, and Rhys realized his mind had drifted.

“Just thinking of them,” he said quietly. “How they’d react to meeting him.”

His mate rested her head against his chest. “I’m not sure how my parents would react. Even disregarding” — she nodded toward his pointed ears — “you know. I honestly don’t think my mother would care beyond the fact that he’s the heir to a court. After all, her only goal was to marry us off as high up as she could get us.

“As for my father… I’m not sure. When I was younger, before we lost our fortune, I remember him as being a good father. But I don’t know how much of that is just my brain trying to remember him fondly.”

“I never met your father, and frankly I don’t think it would’ve been good for his health if I had.”

Based on the glare Feyre gave him, Rhys would’ve gotten an elbow to the ribs if not for the babe in her arms.

“But,” he continued, “if not for him, there’s a good chance we wouldn’t have survived that final battle with Hybern. That doesn’t discount the years he did nothing for you, but it does speak about his character.”

“I’m just happy Nyx will have lots of aunts and uncles to love and care for him.”

Rhys chuckled. “Oh for sure. And if the past few months were any indication, he’ll also be spoiled rotten. But we’ll do our best to keep it from going to his head.”

“Right. Because that worked so well for you.”

“Excuse me,” he gasped in mock outrage, “I’m the prime example of humility!”

Feyre outright laughed at that, and Rhys couldn’t help but join in. When the sound died down, Feyre yawned into his shoulder.

“You should get some sleep, darling. He’ll need feeding in a few hours.” He smirked. “I’d help if I could but…”

His mate snorted before looking down at Nyx. “I still don’t want to put him down.”

Rhys pulled a few inches away from her and patted the mattress between them. “Then we can lay him between us. Just for tonight. He can sleep in his room tomorrow. It’ll be easier for you to feed him, anyway.”

Feyre looked uncertain. “Will… will it be ok? I remember one of the women in my village did that. She rolled on her baby in the night and he died.”

With a flick of his hand, Rhys rearranged their bedding. There were two feet between their pillows now, and the large blanket had been replaced by two smaller ones, one for each of them.

Rhys gently took Nyx from Feyre’s arms and placed him in the space between them. Another flick of his hand, and the air shimmered with magic as he erected a proximity ward.

“There,” he said easily. “That will wake both of us if we move off our pillows. Though neither of us move much while sleeping, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

The crease in Feyre’s brow smoothed out, though she still looked a little nervous.

“We don’t have to do this,” Rhys told her. “I can just as easily move his crib next to the bed. And we can get a bassinet for our room tomorrow. But you said you didn’t want to put him down, so I figured you’d like to keep him close.”

He watched as Feyre thought it over. She looked down at where Nyx lay between them before lifting her head to meet his gaze.

“Do… Do other fae parents use this?”

Rhys tilted his head in consideration. “I wouldn’t say it’s common,” he conceded, “but mostly because the average fae doesn’t have enough power to make the proximity ward. At least not one this precise without training.

“But Helion mentioned using one this way when I talked to him about the shield I kept around you. He said a lot of his courtiers have used it, and as far as he knows there’s never been any instances of it failing.”

To demonstrate, he held a hand over Nyx. Since they were both awake, the alert was nothing more than a faint tingling over their skin. But had they been asleep, it would’ve been much sharper, triggering their senses until they woke.

Feyre pulled back the edge of the swaddle to look at Nyx’s face. Rhys could see the conflict in her eyes, but he didn’t say anything. He wanted this decision to be hers.

Rhys knew that Feyre was worried about her capabilities as a mother. So he wanted to help her build confidence as much as possible. They wouldn’t be perfect, he wasn’t naive. But for these first few days, he wanted to banish any doubt from Feyre’s mind about the decisions she was making.

“There’s no right or wrong answer here, darling,” he said softly. “Both options are perfectly safe. And we don’t have to keep using whatever we pick. We can do one tonight and try another tomorrow.”

His reassurances had the intended effect of clearing the last bit of uncertainty from Feyre’s face. She nodded, looking down at Nyx again.

“Let’s keep him here. Right between us. We’ll have to move him to his own room eventually, but for now I want to keep him close. And you’ve already set it up.”

Rhys nodded, shifting on the bed so he was lying down. His mate did the same on the other side. Between them, their son lay peacefully, still fast asleep.

The two of them lay there, facing each other over Nyx. After a moment, Feyre snorted.

“I have decided that I don’t like not being able to touch you right now.”

A huff of laughter escaped Rhys. “Me neither. Maybe we can figure something out tomorrow. Or we can see what the artisans down in the Palace of Hearth and Home have. I’m sure we aren’t the only ones who’ve thought of this.”

His mate smiled as she nodded. “I know one of the women in my village had her husband take one side of the bassinet off and pushed it right against their bed. Maybe someone could make something like that for us.”

“Look at you, already coming up with creative solutions.”

A faint blush spread across Feyre’s cheeks at the praise. “I don’t know if it’ll work, though.”

Rhys shrugged the shoulder not resting on the mattress. “It’s ok if it doesn’t, Feyre. We’ll figure it out as we go along. And maybe something that doesn’t work for us could work for someone else.”

The blush deepened. “I keep forgetting that you’re new to this parenting thing too. You just seem so calm about all of it. Well,” she added with a smirk, “most of the time.”

Rhys’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Then my acting skills must be better than I thought. Because I can assure you, Feyre darling, I’m scared just as shitless as you about messing this up.”

Feyre didn’t say anything, but the relief in her eyes told him everything he needed to hear.

Rhys waved a hand, and the fae lights in the room went out. He pulled the blanket around himself and settled closer into his pillow.

Feeling blindly, he reached a hand out to his mate. Feyre, alerted to his movement by the ward, met him halfway. Their clasped hands hovered over Nyx.

“I don’t know if I’ve said this yet, but I’m so glad that you’re my mate.”

He couldn’t see her face, but Feyre sent a wave of amusement down their bond. “No, I don’t think you have. You just shower me with praises all the time, give me everything I could ever want, and say you love me about a hundred times a day.”

Rhys pinched her hand lightly. “What I mean, smartass, is that I’m so happy to be building this family with you. I know we haven’t discussed any children beyond Nyx, and I’m certainly not asking you to make that decision now. But you’re already proving to be such an amazing mother. And I feel so incredibly honored that I’m the male who gets to share that experience with you.”

Feyre didn’t say anything for several moments, and when she did, her voice sounded choked up.

“I’m the one who’s honored, Rhys. You’ve been a good father to Nyx since before we even conceived him. And I know you’ll continue to do so for the rest of our lives.

“I’d never really thought much about children while I was human. But that morning after I accepted our bond, I realized that if it was with you, I wanted them.”

Rhys had no words to describe how he felt. So instead, he opened his mind to her.

Feyre slipped through his shields like water, and he showed her everything. The gratitude for the life they had and the anticipation for what was to come. The way she inspired him every day, and how he aspired to be the male she saw him as.

And the love. The love he had for her and the love he had for their son. It consumed him, taking over his entire being.

Not that he’d have it any other way.

Feyre gasped, and Rhys could feel the emotions pulsing from her side of the bond. Amazement at what her life had become. Lingering feelings of inadequacy he wished he could shatter.

But most of all, she was content. And she felt safe and secure in a way she’d never imagined was possible while living under the Wall.

Rhys squeezed Feyre’s hand before letting go as she withdrew from his mind. Neither of them said anything, but words weren’t needed. They understood each other on a fundamental level that had nothing to do with their mating bond.

And so, lying with their son between them, the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court took their rest.