𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.
chapter one; A New Neighbor
" A name is a precious thing. I won't have it taken from me. "

NIXIE COULD HEAR a hushed conversation conspiring in the cell to her right. She heaved her heavy body onto the wall shared, grasping at any sign of life in that dark, cold place.

  The only voices she'd heard regularly were those of Amarantha's cronies-- those without spines or twisted morals that had quickly fallen into her legion. The same voices that taunted and tortured, Nixie knew their accents and dialect like the back of her soot-covered hand.

  These sounded new. Unfamiliar. She'd heard the news that Amarantha had brought Tamlin and the Spring Court under the mountain, so she safely assumed they were members of the Spring Court that had found themselves on someone's bad side.

  She saw the man depart, his fire-red hair burning through the dark as he passed by.

  He spared her a glance, an elaborate mask covering the upper half of his face, though still, Nixie could recognize Tamlin's right-hand man.

  Lucien's eyes went wide for a moment. Despite the history between Tamlin and Rhys, he couldn't help but feel his heart sink.

  Amarantha had done this. To Nixie. He hadn't even known she'd resided Under the Mountain, and the last time he'd seen the woman flashed in his mind.

  If she could reduce that woman to this sad sight, all he could do was fear what Amarantha could do to his own friends.

  Nixie wiggled her fingers in a wave, which seemed to snap Lucien out of his daze, his feet carrying him away from the girls quickly.

  She leaned against the stone wall, wishing to reach out to the girl captured as she was. Until, footsteps approached her, light and nimble, and that soft thread inside her twinged to inform her that her High Lord approached.

  "Rhys?"

  The hoarse croak alerted Feyre, she spotted Rhysand approaching-- though her brows furrowed as he stopped at the cell before her own.

  "I don't have much time, I'm sorry--"

  I'm sorry. Something she had heard millions of times over the course of fifty years. He was sorry for bringing her, sorry for how he had to act, what he had to say, sorry for where she sat, sorry for her lack of food, sorry for her clothing.

  "Seeing my brother once every few months enough to keep me going," Nixie admitted tiredly, pulling herself towards the front of the cell where Rhys crouched lowly.

  Her wings dragged behind her, the woman unable to lift them.

  Rhys had feared from the very first day that she would take them. Clip Nixie's wings, take away her freedom. But Amarantha had long ago decided to keep this as an option for another time. It was a threat when Rhys grew too confident, or when Nixie became irritable or otherwise useless.

  Though, Amarantha did find enjoyment in experimenting with the only set of Illyrian wings in her court.

  "Here, eat quickly."

  Nixie's hands greedily accepted the food Rhys had saved for her, attempting to force herself to inhale it slowly-- knowing from experience that she would throw up if she went too quickly.

  "Amarantha wants you to witness the trials that begin tomorrow."

  "Why?" Nixie croaked, her annoyance seeping through, "She hasn't brought me up there since. . ."

  Rhys nodded, closing his eyes at the memory.

  "She wishes for you to be an example," Rhys spoke quietly, casting his eyes downward, "To the Spring Court to. . . the mortal girl who has come to complete the trials."

  "A mortal?"

  Rhys was hyperaware of who sat in the cell beside Nixie. He couldn't let his true colors show more than he already had, so the man tightened his expression quickly.

  "She's with Tamlin."

  Nixie raised an unimpressed brow, nearly pulling a smile out of Rhys himself. He wished he could stay, to find comfort in the words she so clearly wished to say, to laugh at her blunt statements about it all.

  Rhys yearned to stay in those dark dungeons alongside Nixie, to not return to the gaudy chambers of the woman he hated to lay beside.

  But he had run out of time.

  He gave her a brief nod, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the darkness.

  "What's your name?"

  Nixie sighed, resting her head against the stone at the question, picking apart the roll Rhys had brought her. She was already exhausted, eyelids too heavy, body too weak to hold her own weight.

  "What's yours?" Nixie retaliated loud enough for the girl to hear, "A name is a precious thing. I won't have it taken from me."

  Feyre thought the words over, her own pain blinding her thoughts.

  "Feyre."

  "Nixie."

  They sat in silence, long silence that cloaked them both in comfort.

  Nixie couldn't see, but just her name sent chills down Feyre's spine. See, this member of Night Court had been one neither Lucien nor Tamlin seemed to mind speaking about.

  Feyre had heard of the things she had done. To mortals and faeries alike. That Nixie wasn't just another foot-soldier to Night Court; she was Rhysand's own personal solider. Like a toy to wind up, Nixie marched off and followed any order sent out by the High Lord.

  But, she hadn't heard anything about them being siblings.

  "You're Rhysand's sister?"

  Nixie smiled in the oncoming wave of nostalgia. Looks alone caused the assumption to rise, and their way of interacting only added fuel to the fire.

  Though it had been a long time since she'd had to explain herself.

  "Not by blood," She spoke quietly.

  "But. . . you're a member of the Night Court?"

  "The only one left," Nixie mumbled, forcing some of her strength to pull her beaten wings around herself. "You can't speak of our conversation."

  "I won't."

  Though Feyre didn't understand what had been said that would be worthy of sharing, still, she obliged.

  "How long have you been here?"

  "Fifty years," Nixie answered quietly.

  She knew Rhys would be disappointed. The Night Court facade they all strived to keep up had all but disappeared for Nixie. But, she'd been lonely. Cold, struck into the dark to become nothing but a shadow, she had been alone.

  But now, stood someone who hadn't been stuck Under the Mountain for years, who seemed beaten down but not broken entirely.

  And even if it was greedy, a horrible hungry part of her, Nixie couldn't ignore this.

  "Are you from the Spring Court?" Nixie questioned, her words mumbled through the bread she'd stuffed into her cheeks.

  "Sort of," Feyre admitted quietly, leaning her head against the cold stone wall. "I'm the mortal."

  And Feyre's eyes closed as Nixie howled in laughter. For a moment, Feyre believed everything she ever heard about Nixie.

  Until Nixie's laughter died down, she sighed and then spoke.

  "That's the most I've laughed since I've been here," Nixie admitted, her exhaustion overtaking her as her eyelids grew heavy, "Well, Feyre the mortal. . . I hope you overcome Her trials."

  And Feyre fell silent, assuming Nixie had done the same-- fallen into her own thoughts. Though, Nixie had slipped into a restless slumber, her small leftover of bread resting in her upturned palm.

( AUTHOR'S NOTE. )
pretty short chapter but welcome to
Storm of Starlight! As sad as this story
will be for a while I honestly adore
Nixie and Feyre's banter and friendship
and I hope you all will, too!