𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝐼𝓉 𝒜𝓁𝓁 𝐵𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃 | Prequel

Chapter 1

She nodded contently. With a grunt, he swiped her up under his arm so he wouldn't have to wait for her to crawl after him. Back in his room, he put her down in the cot before falling to his knees and resting his arms along the wooden railing. Perching his chin on his forearms, he said, "You don't tell Ma about this or else I get in trouble." Arwen made no response but he couldn't be bothered to figure out if she didn't understand or if the cheeky look was brighter than usual. Placing his palm against the back of her head, he pushed her down to the thin mattress. "Sleep." As soon as he removed the pressure of his hand, she pushed onto her elbows. "Sleep," he repeated, pushing her head back down, touching her mind with his own to urge that desire for rest to strengthen.

Arwen tried to laugh, but weariness had taken its hold. Satisfied that he wouldn't be unduly awoken, Rhysand crawled back to his own bed.

~

Rhysand fiddled with the strap of one of his leathers that weren't quite fitting right. His list of duties for the day was longer than the day before and he didn't look forward to not coming back home until dark.

A female that looked no older than thirty sat at the small table. Black hair hung in a dead straightness down her back, the ends dancing around her waist. The skin of her extended arm holding a scratched silver spoon was far more tanned than the other two occupants. "I don't understand why you're so fussy this morning," she muttered, dropping the spoon back into the bowl of porridge. Rhysand's mother glanced worryingly at him as he bit into a strawberry. "Was she sleeping alright last night? She doesn't want to eat anything."

He paused and looked at his sister who was entirely disinterested in her breakfast, beginning to climb down the chair whilst their mother was occupied. "Fine," he blurted out. "Didn't wake once."

Their mother sighed and picked Arwen back up as soon as her small feet touched the ground. "I don't have time to stop and feed you until lunch," she said sternly. "You eat now or not for hours."

Rhysand hid his smile. "Just leave some strawberries out, Ma. I'll cut some up before I leave. She'll munch on them if she gets hungry." Which he set to straight away knowing he'd forget otherwise. The sun hadn't yet fully peaked over Windhaven but he'd be expected to be on duty as soon as it was.

"She didn't eat a lot of dinner last night either. I'm worried she's ill."

"Does she look ill?" Rhysand pointed out. "She's fine."

His mother's chair scraped against the ground as she stood and placed the untouched bowl of porridge on the bench. "You weren't much better," his mother said. "Only it was clothes. Wouldn't let me put you in anything you didn't want to wear. Some days I just left you naked."

He spluttered a bit. "I don't need to hear it."

His mother only smiled. She had a kind face that had turned stern in the years spent in the camps. "I have to keep you humble. Cauldron knows you'll be the most arrogant High Lord Prythian has ever seen otherwise."

Rhysand played a small smirk. "I think arrogance suits me." He earned a light scuff up the back of his head. "I have to go. I'll try and be home before dark but I can't make the promise." It was his intention every day to arrive home early when he could. Taking care of this home while attending to her other duties around the camp with Arwen at her age wore his mother down.

"It is not your duty to care for her," his mother said, reading his thoughts and laying an affection hand on his cheek in stark contrast to the smack he just received. "I am her mother. You are the son of a High Lord with duties beyond us."

He tilted his hand into her palm. "And I am your son and Arwen's brother. I do not forget those duties."

Her smile was visibly weak, but he could read the unfiltered appreciation in it. "That is how I know you are my son and I have raised you right." His mother never spoke aloud of her fear—that he would turn out like their father, cold and distanced from everything but his duties as High Lord of the Night Court, but Rhysand couldn't help but hear it in her mind sometimes. Dropping her hand, she set her chin higher. "Off you go."

Rhysand pushed the cut strawberries to one side of the chopping board so his mother could do with them what she pleased. Kissing her on the cheek, he crossed the room to where Arwen was adventurously wandering near the hall. Squatting, he placed her feet on either of his knees, holding her hands to keep her upright. "You behave for Ma," he said. "And keep our little secret."

Hair that had been recently brushed bounced around her face as she nodded, though Arwen seemed more entertained by attempting to balance than what he had to say. He brought her to his chest, kissing her cheek before letting her back down to the floor. Arwen's head turned back to the hall and she waddled away without another glance back. So much for missing me, he thought.

~

It was dark by the time Rhysand was dragging himself back to the small cabin. He scraped the mud and dirt off his boots on the coarse rug at the door before entering. The scent of legumes hit his nose, a sure sign that he was later than he thought if Mother was already cooking. Guilt struck him, even more so at seeing the dishevelled frizz of her hair and the wrinkles in her clothes.

"I'm home," he announced. "Need me to help with dinner?"

His mother shook her head, not turning away from her small space in the kitchen. "Just entertain your sister for me. She's in a... mood," Mother decided on. "Run amuck. I'm not looking forward to bathing her tonight."

Rhysand ventured further into the house, looking for his sister. "She can always miss a night. Or I can do it." It was only a second later that he came to take back those words. Arwen tumbled out of their mother's bedroom. Dirt, food and... something else was smeared across her skin and the dress she wore. Her hair, which had been tamed and flat when he left, resembled more of a mothball.

She ran towards him, glee dancing bright across her face. 

And fell halfway, face first. 

Rhysand dropped to a knee at the beginning of the hall as she pushed back to her hands. Violet, watery eyes looked up at him, her lips in a pout. "Come here," is all he said. Arwen smiled again and went back to a run.

He couldn't help but grin at her mess of a form, roughly brushing her hair away from her face and wiping her mouth and cheeks with his sleeve. "Does anything hurt?"

She looked down at herself and brushed off her knees which had small indents from the wood before looking back up at him.

"Then you're okay."

Her expression changed back to a pout. Arwen held her arm. "Ouch."

Rhysand laughed and shook his head. As much as he could hear his father's words in his ear, berating him for even asking if she was okay, he took her small arm and pressed a kiss to where she held it. "Better?"

Arwen pointed to her other arm. He laughed again but didn't oblige this time. "Let's get you washed up before dinner. Ma doesn't like grubby hands poking around her food."

She looked down at herself as he picked her up. Wide-eyed, she decidedly stated, "Grubby."

He hummed conformationally. "Very grubby."

Hiya!
This is a prequel work to A Court of Resistance and Scars [Completed] which can be found on my profile. This story is very loose in plot and is more stylistic as a series of chronological one-shots that are going to span over nearly two centuries of Arwen's life before the 'incident.' Most chapters will not directly follow on though some will. It is written as an extension of the main story, giving background as well as some angst and fluff scenes. 

Enjoy Xx