A Feyre x Rhysand Fan Fiction

Part 5

Feyre flicked her gaze back to her daughter though her mind was screaming at her to look at Rhys, still standing by the now-closed door to her room. She wasn't sure what else to say, wasn't even sure she wanted to speak with him in the first place.

Of course, she couldn't exactly blame him for the mess this had caused. She had been the one to...but she didn't want to think about that night. The product of her decision was enough of a reminder. And would continue to be a reminder for the rest of her life. Feyre sighed while looking down at Dahlia. Her daughter didn't deserve all of her pent-up rage, not when she had done nothing to deserve it. Feyre should have been mad at herself, and only herself. 

"How is she?" Rhysand's voice sounded aloud, rather than in her head, which surprised her for half of a second. Was it really that strange that he wanted to know how their daughter was? No. And Feyre should not have been surprised that he wanted to know, or wanted to see her. Dahlia was his daughter, too.

"Healthy." Feyre replied curtly. Part of her mind was yelling at her to apologize for the mess she had gotten them into, while another part of her whispered for her to take the situation with a deep breath and let the chips fall where they may. She could not control her future anymore than she could change her past. It did not matter anymore what had happened between them. All that mattered now was the present and how they would handle this surprise - the surprise that was still sleeping soundly in Feyre's arms. 

From the corner of her eye, Feyre saw Rhysand move away from the door, and move closer to her with each second. She could taste his magic on her tongue, could feel it like a caress across her cheek as his shadows whisped past her, tucking a stray strand of honey-colored hair behind her ear. It made her uncomfortable for a moment before she settled into herself and just let her nerves fall away, let them fade into the background. There was really no need to be nervous around Rhysand, not when they had spent so many weeks together in the Night Court. Not when they had a daughter together now. Feyre found herself thinking of Tamlin despite herself though, and she tried to keep him out of her mind. She wasn't sure if that was a good idea, or if it was that other woman within her telling her to forget about Tamlin. Surely it had to be someone else's influence on her. Even her magic reached toward her dark High Lord. 

"May I?" Rhys asked delicately, his violet eyes smoldering, yet also soft as they peered down through his midnight locks, settling on Dahlia where she slept in Feyre's arms. She didn't have time to say anything, just nod as an answer, before his whole body came forward and his skin was touching hers. It wasn't anything new, but her skin still sparked where he touched her. It was odd, how she had such different reactions to both Tamlin and Rhysand. When Tamlin touched her, it was like a soft ache, a crawling, warm glow all throughout her body. But when Rhysand touched her...it was like her whole soul jolted forward to meet him, like she was being brought back from the dead.

Feyre watched Rhysand carefully, but it didn't appear as if he needed any instruction on how to hold Dahlia. He didn't ask questions, didn't ask when she had been fed last, or what her name was. Feyre suspected he knew the answers to those questions already, but still. It frightened her a little bit when he glanced back up at her with a smile spreading across his dark features, lighting his violet eyes strangely. She hadn't seen him smile like that, ever. At least, not that she could recall. Despite that though, her mind snapped, as if remembering a time when he had smiled quite like that. And then there were images bouncing around behind her eyelids. Her mind focused on the depictions of that very same smile, only this time, they were lit by the stars and moon somewhere above her. Feyre could only guess where that memory had taken place, but she wasn't sure whose memory it was. It certainly wasn't hers.

"Does she have your eyes?" Rhysand asked her moments later, after the strange memory had faded and Feyre returned back to herself. The shadow of his smile was still there and it left her feeling something that she could not quite name. 

She nodded, "Yes." Feyre chewed on her bottom lip, "But she looks like you, too." 

They could both see that, in not only the color of her hair - which was already thick atop her head despite her age - and how tall she already was. Feyre could never hope to be as tall as Tamlin, Lucien or Rhysand were, but just by looking down at her daughter, she knew that Dahlia would likely surpass her height when she was old enough. Feyre sighed, but still smiled down at her daughter. She was so precious while she slept. Though that didn't last for long.

Almost as soon as she had thought it, Dahlia awoke and her eyes flickered with a peculiar awareness, so painful aware of each of her surroundings, especially considering she was less than a week old. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she was completely Fae, or maybe it was because she was Rhysand's child. It didn't matter, because the moment Dahlia's eyes focused on Feyre, she started crying. She must have realized that her mother was not the one holding her. So much for peace.

Without a word, Feyre scooped her daughter into her arms, all the while coming into contact with Rhysand's skin again. Another spark rolled through her at the connection, but she ignored it this time, focusing solely on calming her daughter. 

Strangely enough, as soon as Dahlia was in Feyre's arms, she stopped crying. It must have had something to do with the fact that Feyre was her mother, and that she had been inside Feyre for nearly ten months before her birth. There was something of a bond between them that no one else could match. She found it unusual that she had never had quite the same connection with her own mother. Feyre wasn't sure if it had to do with what kind of person her mother had been, or if it was something else entirely. It mattered little anyway, considering that woman was gone now. 

Rhysand's gaze caught her attention while she rocked Dahlia back and forth, but she didn't understand the expression in his eyes while he stared at her. It was something between shock and admiration, she guessed, but she didn't understand it in the least. His lips perked up at the edges in a slight smile and she wondered what he was thinking. She hadn't let herself use the magic he had taught her in quite a while, but she used it now as she pushed her energy towards him, a slight rap at the door of his mind, asking him to let her inside so she knew why he was looking at her like that. But despite her efforts, he pushed her energy away and answered her aloud, not bothering with the energy it would take to speak with her mentally. Rhysand had to know the type of energy it took her to have those types of conversations. Feyre found herself smiling at the thought.

"You're a natural at this." Rhys said, cocking his head to the side as he continued to glance at her. His eyes deepened when they stared at her, like giant pools of crystal clear water. Feyre felt like she was swimming in them, so completely content to just stare at them and forget about everything else. But that was impossible and she forced herself to look away from his blue-violet eyes. She knew that he would catch onto her reluctance, but she let him.

After several minutes of silence, the only sounds between them their breathing and the soft coos that Feyre whispered to their daughter, Rhysand stood from where he was seated on her bed. She looked up at him briefly, a question in her eyes. He seemed to know what she was asking, without having to say it aloud and he grinned hesitantly as he walked to the door, only looking back at her and Dahlia for a fraction of a second. 

As soon as the door closed behind him, his words snuck into her mind and Feyre was sighing at what he whispered.

I don't regret this.