Characters: Estelle and Lysander
Book: This story is not directly referenced in any of my fanfictions.
This story takes place when Estelle is 16 and Lysander is 12.
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This story was suggested/requested by Holb32
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Estelle sat at her easel in her mother's art studio, happily smearing paint across the canvas. She wasn't sure what she was painting yet. She'd just selected a few colors and was moving them into whatever shapes they chose to take. Right now, she appeared to be painting feathers.
The shadows wrapped around her wrists, tugging her towards a tube of gold paint. "I'm not done with the white and gray yet," Estelle protested.
The gold will make it look better, the shadows huffed.
Estelle rolled her amber eyes and ignored the sentient wraiths, choosing to continue with her work instead. Wings flapped beyond the closed door of the studio. "Mom said no flying in the house, Lys," Estelle hollered to her younger brother.
There was a muffled thud followed by a curse. "I wasn't flying," Lysander protested. He pushed the door open and leaned against the frame, crossing his arms indignantly.
"Sure," Estelle scoffed. "You aren't supposed to curse either."
"You do it."
"I'm sixteen. That means I get to do more things than you."
"I'm twelve," Lysander retorted, standing a little straighter. "And anyway, Corbin does it too."
"And Aunt Nesta beats his ass." Which seemed a bit ironic to Estelle, considering her aunt swore more than her Uncle Cassian.
Lysander stuck his tongue out, then swiped dark brown hair out of his tanned face. "If I'm not allowed to curse, you aren't allowed to say ass."
Estelle returned the gesture. "Quit bugging me now."
"What are you painting?"
Estelle shifted her wings to accommodate Lysander's as he sat down beside her. "I haven't figured that out. It looks like feathers right now."
Gold, the shadows urged, guiding her towards it again. Gold like the sunrise. Gold like dawn.
You're still upset that we didn't get to go to the ball in the Dawn Court, Estelle realized.
She didn't blame her shadows, of course. Rhysand and Feyre's entire Inner Circle had been invited to the Dawn Court for a ball only last month. Estelle had begged to go, especially when she learned Nyx was. Her cousin had helped with her plight, but ultimately, she was left behind with Lysander and Corbin, and the promise of, "Maybe next time."
She'd been forced to settle for Nyx's less than satisfying descriptions of the ball. He hadn't been impressed about being forced to dance with several different females for hours on end. Apparently, he hadn't even been around Thesan's son, which was unusual.
Mikael was Estelle's age and held the same titles as Nyx, Prince and Heir Apparent. It would've made sense for them to spend time together, but apparently the Prince of Dawn had been grounded and not allowed to attend the event. Nyx had learned that the reason was the Prince had stolen a bottle of wine to try with several of his friends.
That misadventure had been discovered when Mikael flew into a pillar and ended up breaking one of his arms. Estelle had laughed at the story and laughed even harder when Nyx admitted he liked the idea. He'd later procured a bottle of wine for the two of them to share.
They were discovered by their Aunt Mor, who swore not to tell so long as they let her join in. Estelle was grateful they had, as Mor was the one who helped them keep their wits about themselves for the rest of the day.
"It looks like wings to me," Lysander remarked. He hopped off his seat and paced around the studio.
Estelle yielded to the shadows' demands at last and grabbed the tube of gold paint. She dabbed it onto her fingers and began to swirl it between the ivory feathers. "Are Mom and Dad home? The house seems quiet."
"Dad is with Uncle Rhys and Uncle Cassian, and Mom went to see Aunt Jorah in Windhaven," Lysander replied. "I was supposed to tell you but I forgot."
"You always forget to tell me things," Estelle grumbled.
"Nyx has a girlfriend. Did I forget to tell you that?"
"He does not. He would've told me himself."
"Okay, he doesn't have a girlfriend, but there's a girl he likes," Lysander conceded.
"I don't believe you."
"Then I won't tell you who it is."
Estelle smiled to herself, making a mental note to pester Nyx about the matter when she next saw him. She glanced up as Lysander paused beside a painting. It was facing the wall.
"Mom doesn't want us to touch those paintings," Estelle warned when Lysander reached for it.
"Haven't you ever wondered why?" Lysander asked.
"Of course, but unlike you, I'm aware that it might not be something I want to see. If Mom says to avoid something, there's usually a good reason why."
"Come on, Essie. You know you want to look."
Estelle bit her lip, then hopped off her seat. "Fine, but I can't touch the painting." She held up her paint covered hands. "If we get in trouble, I'm telling Mom that you were the one who turned it around."
Lysander grinned and twisted the painting. Instantly, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "What?" Estelle pushed him aside, then clapped a hand over her mouth, briefly forgetting about the paint. "Mother above, turn it around!"
Lysander obeyed for once. They both backed away from the painting, exchanging horrified glances. "That was Dad," Lysander whispered.
"I told you not to touch it!"
"You told me to turn it around!"
"I didn't know that's what we were going to see!" The shadows tittered in her ears and Estelle batted them away. "I'm never going to be able to look Dad in the eye again."
Lysander shuddered. "We have to or they'll know what happened."
Estelle gawked at her brother. "Do you really think you can look at him the same way after what we just saw?"
Lysander hid his face in his hands. "Stop reminding me!"
"It was your idea."
"You told me to do it!"
"After you had already decided to!"
"What are you two yelling about?" Estelle froze, hearing her father's voice in the doorway. Azriel watched them, one eyebrow raised.
"Nothing," they answered in unison.
"That's very convincing."
Estelle hurried back to her painting, ignoring her father and the burning heat in her face. Lysander joined her, holding up her paint palette. Estelle was increasingly aware of Azriel's lingering gaze, even as she dabbed away at her painting.
The minutes dragged by, until Azriel began to laugh. "You looked at your mother's painting, didn't you?"
"No!" Lysander answered instantly.
"Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't, Lys." Estelle bit her lip as Lysander met Azriel's gaze, then instantly looked away. "That's what I thought," their father chuckled. Shadows brushed across his cheeks, and Estelle couldn't help but wonder what they were saying to him.
"I suppose you've learned your lesson now," Azriel said. His boots thumped on the floor as he crossed the room. Azriel rested his hands on their shoulders and neither Estelle nor Lysander said a word.
He leaned down, a mischievous grin on his lips. "Want to know a secret?" Estelle and Lysander glanced at one another. "I told your mother to leave that one in the open where you'd see it."
"What?" Estelle gasped. "Why?"
"It was only a matter of time before you decided to go snooping for the others. I figured you'd learn your lesson if we let you appease your curiosity on your own."
"You guys are the worst!" Lysander exclaimed. He shrugged away from Azriel and ran from the studio.
"But it worked!" Azriel shouted after him. "Didn't it, Little Bat?"
"Yes," Estelle admitted.
Azriel pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Your aunts and uncles are going to love this."
"You really are the worst," Estelle groaned, letting her head fall against her chest.
Azriel laughed, ruffling her hair, before he turned and headed towards the door. "Oh, I like your painting," he added, pausing briefly. "It reminds me of Peregryn wings."
Estelle pursed her lips, eyeing the painting as her father left the room. She smiled to herself with an embarrassed laugh and resumed her work.