Nesta Vs The Buffer - Tumblr Posts

Chapter 12 - Don't be scared, it is mostly fluff

Winter’s grip had slipped enough to allow a bright day in Velaris. It was cold enough still that they needed to bundle up in coats and scarves – which Azriel took great care in tucking around Nesta’s neck and into the front of her coat, peppering kisses on her skin as he did.

The atmosphere had changed. From those first rays of sun that signalled the demise of winter, everybody seemed to have a spring in their step. Each market trader they passed whistled or called out a chipper hello. Children were out with their parents, tugging their hands along.

‘This is lovely.’

Although the late February sun was thawing the world, giving way to the beginnings of spring, Nesta still felt a little uneasy. There were a few looks as they passed. Some looked away then back as if piecing together bits of a story. The Cauldron born sister who’d been ready to die with the general… but was now walking along arm in arm with the wrong Illyrian. Sensing her tension, Azriel squeezed her arm.

‘Our love is ours. It belongs to nobody else.’

If Nesta had said she wanted to return to the apartment, she knew that Azriel would not question it. He’d even winnow them rather than prolong it by walking. It was nice to be out. Not to hide. The apartment had begun to feel like a jail with the four walls compressing in on them. Nesta could not run back to it at the first sign of discomfort. It could become their sanctuary again, a home filled with love. Nesta squeezed the arm she held a little tighter.

‘Where would you like to go?’

‘I have never really been anywhere here,’ Nesta admitted save for the few taverns when she’d been too lazy to cook and they offered hot food at a handful of coins.

Azriel led her along the winding streets, quietly mentioning places they could visit or shops she might like. Nesta was happy to listen. Happy for him to steer them along.

‘George has asked whether I can begin working alongside him at his office,’ Nesta said. Her elderly neighbour had stopped her in the stairwell, asking whether she’d consider the employment alongside his son for a real wage rather than a pouch filled with coins stuffed through her letterbox.

‘That’s great news. Still managing the accounts?’

‘Yes.’

Azriel leaned in to kiss her temple. ‘I’m proud of you. Well done.’

‘I haven’t started yet. I might be awful at it.’

‘I can still be proud of you. And you won’t be awful. Don’t say such lies.’

They walked to the opposite end of the city. It was the most Nesta had walked, ever. They reached a set of gates that were propped open with a wide path running through the middle. Despite the season, all of the flora around them bloomed with colour.

‘What is this place?’

‘A botanical garden kept thriving by magic.’

It was beautiful. There were even bumblebees gathered on the row of lavender growing, butterflies swooping in front of them as they passed from one flower to the next.

‘One of Rhys’ ancestors supposedly planted the first tree here for his love.’

Nesta pulled Azriel in for a kiss. ‘And why haven’t you planted me any trees?’

His lips brushed against her ear as he murmured, ‘If you’re a good girl today, I’ll bend you over the counter tonight instead, how’s that?’

Their sexual appetite had been suppressed at Rosehall. Nesta was almost too scared to even kiss him knowing his mother was in the same house. She was still mortified that Rovena had seen them both in bed together even if they’d been drowsy and not long opened their eyes rather in the middle of a scandal. They had certainly made up for it in the couple of days since they’d returned to Velaris.

‘I suppose that’s satisfactory.’

Azriel let out a noise like he’d been struck. ‘Satisfactory? That’s how you grade me?’

‘Would you like a full report afterwards, Spymaster? I shall judge your stamina, the effort, originality, and of course, how many times I receive my pleasure.’

They walked through an orchard where trees dripped with ripe, swollen fruit. Azriel pulled Nesta in with an arm around her shoulders. A slow, creeping smile made its way onto his face. ‘When I’m done with you tonight, you won’t be able to think about anything but me for a week.’

‘Don’t make such rash promises.’

Azriel blew out a breath. ‘You’re in a teasing mood today. That’s alright. Whatever you give me now, I’ll give to you worse tonight. When you’re on your knees begging me to let you come, know that you started this.’

Despite being in public, despite everything else, Nesta nuzzled her face into Azriel’s neck and let out a satisfied little groan. She ensured that her breasts pressed against him as they walked, with him guiding her steps. ‘You wouldn’t be so cruel to me. And your shadows definitely wouldn’t.’

Nesta had tried her best to reverse her teasing but the male was more stubborn than her. Azriel kissed her simply on the head. ‘You’ll find out tonight, won’t you?’

There was a small vendor in the botanical gardens amongst the waxy plants from hot lands. She sold cones of spiralling pastry rolled in cinnamon sugar and almonds then filled with cream and melted chocolate. Nesta's eyes had gone as large as saucers when she’d saw them. Azriel indulged her whim, choosing to watch her devour it rather than have one for himself.

‘Apparently, they come from Illyria. That’s how they flog them here. But I’ve never seen them there,’ he said as Nesta got stuck in gobbling the edges.

‘It’s so good.’

‘Nesta, stop moaning like this in public,’ he urged, subtly adjusting his trousers. Shadows wreathed the bench they sat on.

The sugar rush was worth it as Nesta ploughed her way through half of it in record time. It dripped onto her fingers. The cream ran down her hands quicker than she could lick it off.

‘Help me,’ she begged before sucking a finger.

Azriel sat with wide eyes. ‘We’ll get called exhibitionists if I help.’

Nesta had never allowed herself to be so undignified in public before. Chocolate was smeared around her lips, sugar had dropped all in her lap, and she had eaten it with absolutely no manners whatsoever. But Azriel remained opposite her on the bench, eyes sparkling with amusement at the state she had gotten herself into. He’d take all of her; even the parts smothered in sugar.

‘I didn’t know it would be quite so messy.’

Azriel gave her one of his rare, true smiles. It lit up his whole face. He was so beautiful, like a hero from a story given flesh. His arm went around her again on the bench to draw Nesta close. With a sigh, he said, ‘My Nesta.’

His body warmed them enough to remain on the bench watching the world go by. And it was nice to let the world move past them, unhurried and undisturbed. Today was a declaration to the world that they were together – and always would be. It would garner wings, no doubt, that the Night Court’s shadow singer had entwined himself with the Kingslayer and spread maybe even further than the court’s borders. But Nesta never cared for gossip. The only one whose opinion had any value was sat beside her with his head tilted against hers.

‘I didn’t know this place existed,’ Nesta admitted on their final amble through the bark-covered paths of the gardens. ‘I should have brought Elain here when she was struggling. It might have helped.’

‘It might have helped,’ Azriel agreed. ‘But what you did was enough. More than enough, Nesta.’

It didn’t feel like enough. Enough would have been stowing Elain safely into Graysen’s arms the second Feyre and the Night Court left their home in the mortal lands. They should have anticipated an attack from Hybern. Enough would have been wrenching herself free from the sentry’s arms and somehow saving Elain before she was pushed into the Cauldron.

‘Hey,’ Azriel said, stroking her cheek. ‘Regrets will eat you up from the inside out. Don’t feed them.’

***

Although both of them preferred the quiet solitude that came with their home, neither was willing to return to it that day. Now that they could be out together without needing to hide or fabricate a tale, it was bliss. After hours spent in every shop Velaris had to offer – including the lingerie one which Azriel was more than happy to spend a fortune in – they finally strolled back towards their apartment. This female had him entirely under her control. He’d follow her off the end of the world. And she was currently mentioning how much she had loved his mother’s cats, and how nice it would be to have one. Azriel gave himself two days before he was bringing one home for her.

‘Oh!’ Nesta stopped in her tracks, turning her face upwards. ‘I know this song.’

She caught his hand and led him down a narrow street to a grimy tavern where music seeped from the open doors.

It was bigger inside than it appeared from first glance, but each table was full of revellers including plenty of lesser fae. The band itself was made up of them; the music was traditional folk music full of fiddles and brass. None of it put Nesta off. Her face had loosened at the first few notes of music she’d heard and her expression had given way to one of relaxation.

They stood with their drinks against a wall. Azriel kept an arm around Nesta’s front as she leant back against him, sipping her ale without scrunching up her nose. Never would he imagine that Nesta Archeron would choose ale, let alone drink it without a fuss. It was cold and crisp. Nesta had slurped the foam top the moment it was in her hands.

Azriel could almost see all of those defences she built slipping away for him. He was privileged enough to see the Nesta who didn’t need to be prim and proper. If she belched in front of him that night, he’d probably laugh himself hoarse after her mess with the pastry. This was a Nesta who was allowed to try new things without judgement, to be the person she wanted to be. And he loved all of her.

When she finished her drink, Nesta didn’t burp. But she did do something else that surprised Azriel entirely.

She began to sing along with the band.

It was a popular enough song that hearing it for five hundred years had ingrained the lyrics to his own memory, but he didn’t even know how Nesta had come across it. She tapped on his hands that were around her waist. She swayed within his arms. Her body tipped back against his as the words spilled out from her lips.

Azriel was mesmerised by her.   

He crossed his arms over her body, keeping his scarred hands on her shoulders as Nesta tipped back her head to look up at him. She continued singing, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth as she did. Her voice was beautiful. Even when she forgot a line and snorted before starting again, Azriel could have listened to Nesta sing all night.

When seats had become free, they joined a table despite the recognition in the group’s eyes as they settled. Late into the night, Nesta had joined their conversations in between lulls of the songs then eventually Azriel did too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been out in Velaris and spoke to its people in a non-official capacity. They stayed in that tavern for the entire night until the wearied landlord tossed them all out into the cold streets.

Full of ale and cheer, Azriel carried Nesta home in his arms. She refused flight, swearing her drinks would slosh too much in her stomach – and she was not in a hurry to get back to the apartment with winnowing.

‘I didn’t know you could sing.’

She squirmed a little. ‘Everybody can.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘It was lovely.’

‘If I’m to be a bard, it shall only be in taverns.’

‘I will sing to shadows and you can sing to wearied travellers over a tankard.’

‘A career I’m considering.’ Nesta looped her arms round his neck as Azriel continued carrying her.

With a smell of alcohol on her breath and a flush on her cheeks from the cold, Azriel had never seen Nesta so natural and carefree. She kissed his face in a pattern then he realised it was to the tune of the last song they’d heard, kissing on the beat.

‘I wish I could take you to the Spring Court. Historically, they’ve always been the best at music. Most of the songs we have in Prythian came from there.’

Nesta sang to him under her breath as she closed her eyes against his chest.

‘Or maybe we can get you an instrument.’

‘I play piano. Or I did. And the harp.’

The moment Azriel stopped walking, Nesta forced open her eyes. They were at their front doors of the apartment building – so was Rhys.

‘Why are you here?’

Gently, Azriel settled Nesta onto the ground and put his body in front of hers. He had been too distracted, hadn’t thought to check for any threats in his city. A hand stayed pressed to Nesta even behind his back as Azriel swept the vicinity for signs of Cassian.

Rhys held up his hand. ‘I just want to talk.’

‘We met yesterday.’

‘For work,’ Rhys said. ‘I don’t mean any trouble, Az, you know that.’

‘Then why are you here at this time?’

Rhys picked off lint from his jacket. ‘Because I’m trying not to go in your head and find you that way to give you space. But I’ve been here three times today and you’ve not been home. I just want to talk. To both of you.

‘We’ve been out,’ he said flatly. ‘I don’t appreciate you keep coming here, Rhys.’

It was Nesta who said, ‘It’s alright. We can talk inside.’

Her fingers linked with his and she brought Azriel’s hand to her lips to kiss it. Rhys remained watching their tender gesture then indicated for them to lead the way. Azriel kept his body behind Nesta’s. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Rhys per se, but he wouldn’t risk Nesta in any way.

Azriel waited for Rhys’ lip to curl. For him to make a comment about the apartment – about its damp stairwell or cracked ceiling – but none came. He and Nesta had tried to make this one more liveable. Soon, they’d buy somewhere bigger where they had more space, maybe a library for her, a cushioned reading nook in the sun. Whatever Nesta wanted, Azriel would build for her.

They moved in synchronicity. Nesta always liked her cup of tea before bed, so she boiled the water while he prepared a tray for three. Their wild plans for the bedroom were already on pause after the night spent in the tavern. Nesta’s yawns filled the silence too. Azriel knew the moment her head hit the pillow, she’d be gone.

Rhys had made himself useful and lit the fire in the living room. He’d settled himself in the chair though he looked about as comfortable as if he were having a meeting in the Autumn Court.

‘These are good. Where did you find them?’ He said taking a second jam tart from the little plate on the tray.

‘Nesta made them,’ said Azriel as he settled beside her on the couch.

‘They’re not poisoned,’ she said with a flick of her brows.

‘You know how to bake?’

Nesta shook her head dismissively. ‘They’re very easy.’

‘She does know,’ Azriel said. ‘She can cook very well. There’s about six recipe books in the kitchen. And she has been learning with my mother.’

Rhys didn’t seem to know how to process that information. He had two females in his mind; Nesta, the sister of his mate, and Nesta the partner of his brother. He was trying to marry the two together. His violet eyes took in their proximity to each other nestled on the couch, how Nesta’s hand had snagged in his scarred one, how her thumb massaged one of the thicker scars following it like a valley on a map without revulsion.

‘Did you enjoy your time in Illyria?’

Nesta nodded in response but offered no more information.

The silence was painful. Rhys was trying at least, but there were long-running issues there between them that a couple of questions wouldn’t heal.

‘She wants a cat now.’

‘Your shadows want one, they told me.’

Rhys sat up in surprise. ‘They speak to you?’

Both Azriel and Nesta laughed. ‘No, she says they do to get what she wants.’

At that moment, one had decided to snake itself around Nesta’s shoulders then another in solidarity. It had never been this way with anybody. The shadows always unnerved people. They moved of their own accord and thrived in the darkness. Nesta loved it when they wrapped her up and Azriel heard her talking to them enough as if they were playful children.

Rhys gave a wan smile as he watched. ‘Have you told Nesta?’

‘Yes.’

The fingers in his hand grew cold as they reached the reason for Rhys’ unexpected visit.

‘What is your decision, Nesta, on the mating bond?’

For an unknown reason, Azriel’s heart beat faster. There was a fear that Nesta might suddenly change her mind. Decide he wasn’t worth this. As if she was afraid to tell him the truth for fear of his reaction.

‘I do not want it. My heart is Azriel’s.’

He braced himself for the fall out. For Rhys to try and persuade her otherwise. For Nesta to drive her heels into the ground with her stubbornness and refuse to hear another perspective.

Rhys only nodded. ‘I will speak with Helion. He is best-equipped to sever it. Sorry for disturbing you so late. Thank you for the tea – and the jam tarts.’

‘You can take the rest, if you want,’ Nesta said hesitantly.

‘They are poisoned, aren’t they?’ There was lightness in Rhys’ tone and he kept his expression soft enough for Nesta to see the joke.

‘Next time - now I know what you like.’

 Azriel saw him out, if only to ensure it wasn’t a strange trick and Cassian was waiting in the corridor to ambush them and spirit Nesta away. He shut the door behind him, sensing Rhys would also want to speak privately.

‘This is a mess, Az. It will destroy Cass.’

‘And what would it do to Nesta to be in a bond that would make her miserable?’

Rhys nodded. ‘And you. She was singing, wasn’t she, when you carried her?’

It was almost criminal to admit to Rhys that he had seen Nesta singing as Azriel brought her home like a princess.

‘We’re happy.’

‘I know. I can feel it from both of you.' On instinct, his eyes flicked to Azriel's ruined hands. Yes, he'd seen how Nesta hadn't pulled away from them either. 'It’s unexpected – but I’m so happy for you, Az. Really. I know how much this means to you.’

‘You’re not going to persuade us to give into the bond?’

His high lord shook his head. ‘Nesta and Cassian aren’t even friends at this point. Why would I sacrifice the happiness of you two for the chance that the bond might work out when all signs point to it not working? I love Cass, I do, and I wish things could be different for him.’  

‘But you support us?’

In the dim hallway, Rhys clasped a hand on his shoulder. ‘I had doubts, I won’t lie. I saw you in the gardens today. Then the singing. I haven’t been good to Nesta, I’ll admit that I’m blinded by my love for Feyre. But you are good for each other. I’m glad you’ve chosen each other. To make amends, I’ll handle Cassian.’

@chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @theleafpile @loysydark @rarephloxes @wannawriteyouabook @mis-lil-red

Okay, but I love happy endings, so I died.

Epilogue Just a lil fluffy epilogue... if you don't like babies then this is not the epilogue for you!

Devlon adored his garden. The cat tanked through overgrown grass, bolting after a butterfly while Nesta followed Elain’s instruction on removing the weeds. Azriel let out a little chuckle from the kitchen at Nesta’s disgruntled expression when a particularly thick bramble refused to budge. She was not a gardening person, but wanted to help somehow whenever she wasn’t working with George. Hacking away at something seemed to be the safest place for Nesta.

Remarkably, Cassian offered up his services to help restore the house. It didn’t matter to Azriel if it was simply to repent because Cassian was handy and he did need his help but would have been too proud to ask otherwise. Azriel kept Nesta shielded, keeping her pregnancy under wraps for the time being though Cassian already knew, but it didn’t seem worth it to risk any lingering effects of the mating bond if it could be helped. As it happened, Cassian was fine. He never got too close to Nesta or tried to touch her in anyway – and only ever visited when he knew Azriel was home. They had unspoken rules regarding Nesta. Azriel might not have been her mate, but now that she was carrying his child, he was even more protective of her. As for Cassian, there were no signs of madness or him becoming a tortured male without the bond. Helion believed the close proximity to Nesta prevented those effects. He still had access to her in a way that suited all of them.  

Azriel was grateful for the help, but more thankful still to have his brother back. Their conversation returned almost as easy as it used to be as they repaired the house together. They’d repainted most of the rooms after sanding and patching up cracks so they had begun living in a few of the rooms. Each day, they worked from dawn ‘til dusk with Rhys coming occasionally to offer unhelpful advice and get in the way.

It became a habit now that whenever Rhys showed up, Nesta would have to distract him so he didn’t make a mess of painting or hammer a nail in the wrong place. None would tell the high lord that he needed a babysitter, but Nesta reluctantly took on the role, expertly guiding him elsewhere or distracting his attention.  

Azriel had overheard them talking once, that hesitant bridge forming between them as they enjoyed an early summer day in the garden with a cool drink while he and Cassian continued fixing the loose tiles of the roof.

‘Thank you for being on our side. It can’t have been easy for you to go against Cassian and my sister.’

Rhys gave her a gentle smile. ‘It was the right thing to do.’

‘The right thing isn’t always the easy one. Will you let Amren return?’

‘Maybe once she’s had enough torture by sunburn and sand. Not for a long time though.’

‘Good.’

‘I’m in need of second.’

‘Not for me,’ she said, screwing up her nose.

‘Well, can I at least have you on standby to chase my enemies with your glorious, silver flames?’

The corner of her mouth tipped up. ‘I’ll consider it.’  

The house had taken shape through hours of care. The nursery – which had been kept under wraps so Mor spread a rumour it was some sort of sordid palace of pleasure – was painted a sunny yellow, their kitchen was well used as they explored new recipes together, and they’d changed one of the downstairs rooms into a cross between a small library and a study for Nesta’s collection of books which would only increase to fill the shelves. Most of it had been built by Cassian but they rewarded him with food.

Despite the awful beginning, he was proving to be a steadfast companion again, lending an ear when Azriel worried about being a father or happily rearranging the furniture when Nesta decided she didn’t like the layout that she had chosen for the third time.

On a quiet day, when most of the house was finished, Azriel and Nesta eloped.

Neither of them wanted the fuss or the attention, so they winnowed to the Summer Court and had a priestess marry them on the beach without pomp or fanfare. Even in her simple, white gown, Nesta was a dream. Of course, they’d had to stay a little longer to scour the beach for more shells to add to the nursery. She was barefooted with only a hint of a bump beneath her gown and Azriel’s breath caught in his lungs to look at her – his wife – as she tiptoed along the sand.

Although the pregnancy had been a massive surprise, which his mother had sobbed at, Azriel found himself obsessed. He couldn’t go into the city without buying something for the baby, whether it was more clothes or toys that they wouldn’t be able to play with for months, he always had to buy something. His child would be so spoilt. Azriel doubted he would ever be able to refuse anything either.

The obsession wasn’t just with the baby either. When Nesta’s stomach began to round, he was more attracted to her changing body than ever before. Azriel was more than happy to rub moisturiser all over her every morning and evening while Nesta lay on the bed, content to be pampered. The knowledge that Nesta was carrying his child made him insatiable so the massages quickly turned into sex where he plastered her body with kisses and reverent touches. She complained that her hips were too wide, her breasts were too big, and the stretchmarks that appeared on her thighs and stomach were horrible. Azriel saw none of that. He saw his wife who he loved more than anything in the world, growing his child. He couldn’t have been any more attracted to her if he tried. If it was up to him, they wouldn’t leave the bedroom for ten months.

***

‘I’m so pregnant,’ Nesta whined by the door. Her feet were so swollen that she hadn’t been able to lace up her shoes for weeks – and now she could no longer even bend down to reach her shoes.

‘Have you only just noticed?’ Azriel tenderly stroked a hand against her stomach. ‘You glow more every day. You are carrying our child. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.’

‘I have two more months and he’s been kicking me in the rib since month five. It’s not beautiful. It’s rude.’

‘She is just very active and can’t wait to meet her mother because she knows hers is the best in the world.’

Using Azriel for balance, Nesta raised a leg then the other so he could slip on her shoes for her. They had decided not to find out what they were having. Nesta was certain he was a boy. Azriel and Rovena were both insistent she was a girl. Cassian wouldn’t give an answer either way, the coward.

They walked as far as she could manage through Velaris as a brisk autumn wind swept through, then they winnowed the last part of the journey to the River House. Nesta had only begun showing near the end of her fourth month and her visits to the inner circle were so infrequent that none knew she was carrying except for Cassian – who had miraculously managed to keep the secret. Azriel let the shield around her slip away though Nesta grimaced at the thought of males sniffing her baby in her womb. That was one aspect of being fae that still disturbed her.

Their unannounced visit was met with casual surprise – then they noticed Nesta’s massive bump and it quickly turned to celebration though she couldn’t drink with them and no position was particularly comfortable anymore.

The group had hesitantly turned to Cassian, expecting him to be warped by trauma at the sight of his ex-mate carrying another male’s child, but Cassian let out a laugh. ‘Finally! It’s been so hard to keep this secret.’

‘You knew?’

Cassian scoffed. ‘I knew before Az. You see, Mor, I can keep a secret.’

Mor’s mouth dropped open. ‘That’s the first secret you have kept in five hundred years.’

The remainder of the pregnancy went well. Nesta did not know what she had done to deserve Azriel. He was so gentle and caring with her, massaging her swollen feet and hands, running baths then helping her in and out of the water, not minding when her hormones bubbled up and she cried hysterically at the dead sparrow that Devlon had dragged in. He was so attentive to her every need. Him – and the shadows. If Azriel had to depart then at least one shadow would remind behind, trailing Nesta throughout the house when she had stopped working in the city. And if it wasn’t the shadows, then the cat would curl up as close as he could to her bump on the couch leaving fuzzy, grey hair on every single surface.

The labour was fine because she had Azriel supporting her thought it. It was not commonplace for mortal males to be anywhere near their wife when she delivered a child, so Nesta has assumed Azriel would wait outside. He’d been utterly horrified at the idea of leaving her with just a healer. Throughout he was calm and comforting, holding a cold press to her forehead and being exactly what she needed.

When he arrived, Nesta couldn’t help but gloat that she had been correct. They had chosen a mortal name for their little boy although he’d been born with his father’s wings and a thick crop of black hair a few days after Feyre’s birthday. The Illyrian genes proved stronger than hers. His big brown eyes and dainty wings were the most beautiful things she had ever set eyes on. It brought Nesta so much joy to see Azriel cradling Joseph to his chest. She’d sit and watch with Devlon purring on her lap, marking all the similarities between her tiny son and her husband. Sometimes the pair of them would marvel over Joseph’s delicate fingernails in disbelief that they had created something so perfect.

Rovena stayed with them for the first week, helping them figure out how to manage a baby. Her help was invaluable in those initial sleep-deprived days. For Nesta, the struggle was managing a baby with wings because she was scared that she might somehow damage them. If Rovena wasn’t helping with Joseph, she was cleaning or doing their laundry. She’d even cooked enough meals to last them a few days after she had returned to Illyria.

Once Rovena had left, they allowed the others to visit and Joseph was spoilt with gifts and love from all of the inner circle. He was so adored by all, but especially by his father’s shadows. Often, they swirled around whoever was holding the baby protectively, or if he was sleeping in a basket, a few would peer in and watch. Elain had queried whether they didn’t scare Nesta to be so close to him, but the shadows had only ever been curious little beings to her. Maybe one day, Joseph would inherit his father’s ability too.  

Azriel was incredible. It made Nesta love him more. Though nervous initially with fatherhood, he was taking it all in his stride – so much so that sometimes Nesta barely got a look in. At his first cry in the night, Azriel, who slept even lighter now, would hop from the bed and rush to him. Before Nesta could even blink and get out of bed, Azriel would bring Joseph to her for his feed then gaze at them both with adoration. He insisted on changing him so she could rest, and the moment he came home from working, he also insisted upon cooking dinner for them so Nesta could rest then too. Or he’d run her a bath so she could relax. Or if Joseph needed feeding whilst they were eating, Azriel would feed Nesta while she fed their son. She was turning into a fat house cat with the way that he spoilt her.

‘I loved you before. And then I loved you more when you were pregnant. Now? I don’t have words.’

Nesta shifted Joseph higher so he could latch onto her breast to feed. The dawn seeped in through the curtain and instead of trying to sleep a little longer, Azriel had chosen to lay beside them, stroking his son’s dark head.

‘I’d have fifty babies with you,’ he continued.

Nesta’s eyes widened in horror. ‘I’m not being pregnant fifty times.’

Azriel rolled onto his back, his wings taking up most of the space, and he made a grunt. ‘I wish.’

Even when she was full term and she’d felt sad about her body, Azriel had only ever looked at her with absolute desire – and ensured she knew it. They were still having sex at ten months pregnant though they had to be more creative and gentler with her massive bump. He’d barely been able to take his hands from her stomach, so pleased and proud he was that he had caused it. She was heavier now than before she was pregnant, but there was no pressure from Azriel in the slightest – especially not when he brought her something drizzled with chocolate and pumped with cream each time that he left the house.

They were lucky to have a very happy baby boy who was rarely fussy and only ever woke for a feed once in the night so they could still make time for each other. As he grew, Joseph’s favourite thing was for Nesta to blow raspberries on his tummy. He’d squeal and kick his legs or flap his wings. Or, for his father to take him on a very gentle flight around the garden which Nesta watched with her fingers covering her face.

Sometimes, Joseph would frown if Feyre held him as if he knew it wasn’t his mother but couldn’t work out why she looked so much like his mother. Thankfully, he was happy to go to anybody and the inner circle all wanted frequent cuddles with him. Rhys had taken up knitting and showed up at least once a week with a lumpy hat or pair of socks that he’d made with Feyre promising to try and distract him more. They tossed the items to Devlon who had a basket full of items that he tossed and clawed at.

Joseph had helped to heal the rift between them all. Cassian was a frequent visitor at the house still. He was the fun uncle who ran around the house and up the stairs with Joseph squealing and laughing as they jumped around like elephants. Joseph loved him. His face lit up whenever Cassian came by – and it gave Nesta and Azriel some respite to have a moment’s peace. Mor came only when accompanied by one of the others, as if she felt too ashamed to be in their presence after the chaos she’d caused. Nesta wouldn’t ever be her friend, but they could be civil to one another.

In order to be a better father and role model, Azriel had taken a step back from some of his duties. No longer did he spend hours in the dungeons of the Hewn City and emerge covered in blood for his high lord. He was better for it. His rage had been altered to a passion to be a good father for his son – although he already was. Nesta had never wanted this life. Had never wanted to be fae. She had only seen it as wars and magic, far beyond her comfort zone. Now, she had found her own little piece of happiness. Happiness was a home with people she loved – even if they both had wings and she was outnumbered by boys. There was nothing more special to Nesta than walking down Velaris’ busy, cobbled streets with her husband and son. They were able to walk in the sun without being shamed for loving each other despite their beginning. They were happy and everything was beautiful.

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