Rhaemarys

Raising the Archerons is a blessing and a curse though recently it feels a hell of a lot like a burden. Not through any of their own fault of course, they're children - children should never be blamed for how adults feel beyond the education of 'no, don't say that. That could upset them' while secretly thinking 'I would have slapped you child or not for saying that' but apparently that's not socially acceptable any more considering they're not dragons who view punches as barely more than a light poke.

Which is irritating because I'm going stir crazy and adapting to modern society is harder than I expected. Especially with the powerless humans.

Not that I have much more power. No, it would seem that I am only a fraction stronger than a human for now. The shifting of my forms doing nothing more than hurting me. Which is just great when you consider the fact that shifting forces every bone in my body to break and reshape underneath my skin before the scales and spines literally rip apart my body.

Fun times.

But Feyre is already three and I've seen Rhys barely a handful of times since the last solstice. He sneaks over whenever he's on a mission, apparently using the last dregs of his power to wipe the soldiers' mind to his hours long disappearances.

It's stupid, foolhardy and far more risky than necessary but I can see the darkness drowning him, the weight dragging him down. If this is what he needs to deal with that bitch then I can't exactly deny him.

Laughter bubbles around me and I watch the girls chase each other through the fields. The summer warmth allowed them to finally wear thin dresses and no shoes on our picnic days further out of the village.

They look so free here, so happy and safe.

A bitterness tugs at my heart, bringing guilt with it. Why can't I love them? I don't know what it is, or why, but I just can't. Nesta, my powerful Nes I could. I do. But Elain and Feyre? They're-

They're so different. I can see the dragon in my Nes, the wildfire threatening to burn her enemies and the animal inside me sees that as kin.

Elain is delicate. Weak. She's a follower, she waits for Nesta's lead, or her mother's or mine. Yet I can see the beginnings of her cunning. I can see the way she manipulates others in hopes of earning her mother's or Nesta's affection.

The healers said this was normal when I went back to Day. That I endured serious trauma and they wouldn't have let me go back to my family unless I had healed, let alone put me in charge of children. Which was reassuring and now has me doubting my every move with them.

I'm so wrapped up in what happened that the darkness of night became the cells of the prison, the girl's laughter turning into my breathern's screams. It's killing me. The only reprieve I get is with Rhys. With our talks, his company and the understanding between us.

I don't know what the Suriel was thinking, but I can see it some days. I can see it when I braid back Nesta's hair or show Elain how to tend to a garden. I can hear it when feyre's cries quieten down once she's in my arms. But as I watch them now, children that are not mine, children that will die long before me, I can't help but wonder if it's worth it.

They have their own parents. A father who loves and spoils them. Arguably too much with the amount he spends but his wife keeps him in line. Her, I could live without but they have their parents and the nanny who cared for Feyre loves them dearly.

And I would cry my eyes out should I have to leave them.

Mother above, why is this so complicated?

I'm not ready to be a mother, yet that is what I have become. The only difference is that they're not biologically mine and that one single fact keeps me having one foot out the door.

They deserve better than that. They deserve more than what I can give them but I think that I'm all they have at times. Especially with the rot I can occasionally scent on their mother.

I thought it was a trick of my mind at first. A lie or an old fear I long thought dealt with but that scent still lingers. She's growing ill. It doesn't seem serious and I've dropped hint after hint, planting the seed of her sickness till a healer was summoned and nothing concluded.

Stupid fools but their medicine is not like the fae's. There's no magic to it.

"You're far away." I turn at the sound of Nesta's voice, wincing when I realise the truth to her words. "Are you okay?"

"Yes my flame." I murmur, brushing a lock of hair out her face. "Just lost in thought."

"Bad thoughts?" I hate the meekness in her voice, the tiredness that only comes out when I'm here. If her mother would just let her rest and not maintain that strong facade she would have a more balanced disposition.

"Some, but it is hard to have bad thoughts when you're here." She beams at that, a simple compliment that's barely even direct and she's looking at me like I've gifted the world. Perhaps Mrs Archeron's sickness won't kill her before I do.

She straightens up, hands clasped on her bent knees as she uncurls from my side.

"Is it about the man-male- you've been seeing?"

"And what would you know about that little miss?" I gasp, mouth open in shock as her giggles catch the attention of her sisters.

"Nothing- nothing!" She raises her hands in defence as I lunge forward, mercilessly tickling her sides until a small body clambers at my back.

"I'll save you, Nes." Feyre cries, her small hands trying to tug me off her laughing sister. Warmth blooms in my chest as I'm brought tumbling to the ground by three small humans. Each squealing with delight as I tug them down after me.

Maybe motherhood isn't so bad.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I often think back to that day in the sun. The day I decided to pull my shit together and commit to those children. Sometimes I think back with regret, times when Elain screams how she hates me when I deny her frivolous clothes and dances, or when 8 year old feyre saw the house being redecorated and decided to help paint the walls with her paint set.

Nesta has been my rock and her mother's greatest disappointment.

We are a blessing to each other in that way. You can't have favourites with children, not if you truly love them but you can have that one child that brings you a moment of peace. It breaks my heart every time I compare the calm peace of Nesta to the boisterous laughter of her sisters, the sheer joy they bring to the house against the steel of Nesta's will.

Her mother has done her damage and Nesta no longer wishes to share her pain with me. I long for the days when she would curl up in bed beside me, confessing her problems and fears as I brushed out her hair.

She's grown up far too fast.

Elain, my precious flower, has finally grown thorns. I was worried for a moment. It's not in my people's nature to raise delicate creatures. Dragons were born of fire and war, not healing and care. Good, you'll finally learn something. Rhys had commented when I confessed my worries for raising Elain. I had hisses at him, snarling my displeasure but he had been right in the end.

Feyre is mine. She called me Mama during her youth and at 10 years old its safe to say shes a product of my teachings. That is, that she is a little hellion dragon. I imagine she's what Nesta would have been like in another life. That same fierce loyalty and drive to protect coming out in passion and open acts.

It's adorable watching Feyre loudly proclaim her love to a stone-faced Nesta. The disappointment when she is dismissed by the older girl only lasts as long as it takes for her to find the carefully wrapped chocolate filled gifts Nesta leaves out for her.

"You're far away again." Nesta murmurs from her window seat. I hum in acknowledgement, absently reading through the latest round of communication from my old friends. "You're normal all excitedly around the solstices, not quite."

"Perhaps I have finally grown weary in my old age." Nesta snorts.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain dark haired fellow I saw-"

"Nesta." I hiss and she smirks in satisfaction. "You followed-"

"I merely looked out my window at the carriage dropping you off." Despite her playful tone there's a wariness in her eyes that has me setting down the letters. "I don't like you being so casual with the fae."

"He won't hurt you-"

"It's is you I worry for." She snaps before taking a calming breath. "Do you think I have forgotten the stories you told be as a child? Of the fae who decimated your peaceful race?"

"We were hardly peaceful, Nes." I counter, not wanting to have our family ties fool her judgement.

"You were wardens of the land; They were conquerors. I see a distinct difference." I silently curse her intelligence but wait for her to go on. "With the tension growing above the wall, mama's sickness and the increasing threat of skirmishes do you really think it is wise to be flaunting-"

"flaunting!"

"Yes flaunting - around with a powerful fae male when you yourself are a potential asset in any war."

I pause, a soft silence filling my soul.

"I don't have that power anymore, my flame." I clear my throat to get rid of the rough way my voice sounds but Nesta's eyes have already softened a fraction.

"That's what scares me." She whispers. Rising from her perch by the window she's sat in the chair opposite me before I could blink. "Mama being sick I can handle but you're slowing down, the servants are noticing you don't eat and you're in pain more often and-"

"Nes- nes. Sweetheart, no." I clasp her hands in mine, eyes watering as I take in my daughter's fear. "I'm not going anywhere."

"But he could take you away."

And there's the real problem.

"I have enough power left to keep myself and my girls safe." I whisper, keeping my voice low even though I hear no heartbeats nearby. Nesta's eyes flickering away from me, no longer meeting my gaze as she looks to the fire and swallows heavily. "And no male will ever take me away from you."

"But he makes you happy." She whispers and my heart breaks. "I see the way you are lighter, as if just talking to him eases your soul and I know you spend nights with him and-"

"Woah- Nes." I force a light smile. "I didn't know we were ready for this talk."

She rolls her eyes. "The romance novels you gave me were sufficient enough explanation"

"Sex means what you want it to mean Nesta." I state, voice firm. "You don't need it to fall in love or have a relationship. Sometimes it can be a tool or a weapon. Others it's a way to relax, to become closer to someone or to just have a distraction."

I'm living the life she craves I realise. I'm able to be whoever I want, with no pressure to marry or be with a male I have not chosen.

"You will never marry a man who could hurt you, I promised you that when you were little and I intend to keep it. I'm not naive about human ways anymore and I know you have to marry but at the very least we can find you a companion, a friend who living with would be comfortable, and sex wouldn't be so... scary or uncomfortable. But if that is what you fear then I can ensure that he would never pressure-"

"You know I need to have children though." She whispers and the weight of the world seems to be on her shoulders.

"You are young Nes, you needn't think of this now." My voice is firm, the end of the conversation.

She is a young woman now, 16, the age where she will be formally presented to society for marriage rather than just for speculation and advertising. It's hard to remember what my own youth was like, the questions I had about relationships, life, sex, marriage and expectations.

But for Nesta, with her mother's influence and society's expectations of her. I shake my head at the thought, she should be asking these questions out of curiosity not fear.

"So the man I saw..." She trails off, a soft blush glowing on her cheeks.

"A friend in that way yes but not a contender for my heart." There, a nice diplomatic response while I avoid whatever truly connects myself and the highlord.

"I'll still kill him if he hurts you though."

I close my eyes with a sigh, there's my Nes.