Books and Dragons

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chubby little hands made a grab for the book Nesta was shelving, stretching to push the leather bound volume into its place on the shelf. 

Nesta looked down to the baby strapped to her chest. Her daughter's grey eyes and two teeth looked up at her with a smile and a kick of her fat legs. 

“Thank you, Orianna. You’re a very good helper.” 

Orianna squealed with delight as they shelved another book together. Nesta would have to thank Emerie for the sling again. The baby could comfortably sit across her chest while she worked, the thick straps weaving around Orianna’s little wings. Putting Orianna down for even a moment while Nesta worked was proving to be a nightmare. She’d scream and cry and reach out for Nesta to take her back, and Nesta found she couldn’t say no. Though Orianna could tolerate Gwyn and Clotho for short periods at the library. 

But that was nothing compared to the nasty habit she and Cassian were trying to break. The baby refused to sleep in her cradle. Instead only sleeping on Cassian or Nesta’s chests. Her sisters warned her that she would be pulling out her hair soon enough, and that the baby needed a cradle of its own, though Nesta couldn’t say she minded most nights. It was easier to nurse her, she reasoned. And Orianna smelled like the fresh juniper that grew along the mountains at Windhaven. 

The baby’s wiggling and fussing snapped her out of her trance. She removed Orianna from the carrier, sitting down into the soft chair nestled far off into a reading nook on the fourth floor and Orianna latched as soon as Nesta freed herself. 

“We can’t possibly get much work done if you keep taking breaks,” she hummed, tickling Orianna’s chin. 

Orianna’s silver saucer eyes stared back at her. She grabbed Nesta’s finger and squeezed it tight in her small fist. Nesta kissed her dimpled fingers and held her close as the soft rustle of pages and footsteps lulled Orianna to sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nesta remembers reaching high, stretching her arms towards Mother’s skirts. She sits at the mirror, the maid combing her hair. Nesta grabs Mother’s skirts, though she brushes her hands off. 

“Get the nurse, please,” Mother huffs at the maid. 

Nesta is swept up and away while she reaches. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nesta pinned the last lock of hair into place, sweeping it around the diamond coronet deftly. She looked as lethal as the Hewn City needed her to be and in the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. 

A small little noise interrupted her thoughts. The door behind her creaked, as Orianna wobbled into the room on her stout legs, using her wings for balance. Nesta wondered why Ori wasn’t screaming out of the room, since Nesta had painted her eyes and lips so thickly.

“What doin’ Mama?” she chirped as she waddled over to the vanity, reaching her arms up to Nesta, who lifted her onto her lap without hesitation.  

Quickly, she grabbed the powder puff in front of her and tickled Ori’s nose, “Getting ready for the ball!” Ori erupted into laughter as she squirmed on Nesta’s lap, paying no mind to the elaborate beads that littered her gown. She truly had no desire to go to the Hewn City, but duty called for it. 

“I’m going to a dance with Papa and Aunt Feyre. But you get to stay here with Nyx and have fun.” She met Ori’s eyes in the mirror looking back at her curiously. 

Ori silently lifted her chubby finger to stroke the pearl dangling from her earrings. “You beautiful, Mama,” she declared with a bright smile and a giggle. 

“You’re beautiful too, Ori,” she said, holding her for just a moment longer. The Hewn City could wait. 

Nesta watches from the window as the children play outside. The girls and boys chase a metal hoop that rolls along the cobblestones. She can see the bows that fly from the girl's hair from the iron gates of the house, she sees the sun reflecting off the bronze tips of the gates, and she hears the laughter through the open window. 

Her dress itches, the chair is stiff, and she keeps poking her thumb with the needle. She looks down at her embroidery, at the jagged stitches looping through the linen. 

“Grandmother, may I go play outside?” she asks, taking a deep breath. 

“You may take a turn around the gardens,” Grandmother looks down from her spectacles at Nesta’s embroidery, “After you finish your pattern.” 

“May I go play with the children out front?” 

Grandmother rings her bell, summoning the maid into the parlor. “Do not be stupid. They are not your peers, Nesta. They are children of money lenders and blacksmiths. You may play with Elain or we can call upon Lady Vastor and her daughter.” 

The maid sweeps into the room and shuts the window, cutting off the laughter and sun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tag! Ori, you’re it!” 

The fae boy squealed as he tapped Ori on the shoulder and sprinted off. With a shriek, Ori began chasing the other children. 

The day was cloudless and cool, the park littered with people. Nesta sat on the blanket with a novel in her lap and Cassian lightly snoring next to her, splayed out on the grass. But she could not concentrate on the words in front of her. Instead, she watched Orianna chase the other children around with wild hair and red cheeks. Her hair had snarled and wild and Nesta assumed her dress was filthy, though it was a deep green and if there were grass stains she couldn’t tell. 

Ori’s brown feet were bare, having thrown off her sandals as soon as she saw her friends. But not before asking Nesta to tie her wings. “So my friends don’t think I’m cheating and flying around when we play hide and seek,” she said solemnly, as Nesta made sure to flourish the ribbons with a bow. 

Ori caught up to another little fae girl, tapping her on the shoulder with a giggle. “Tag, Idis! You’re it!” She ducked her friend’s reach, and sprinted back to the blanket, collapsing in front of Nesta as she gasped for air. 

“Did you win?” Nesta asked as she handed the canteen of water to Ori, who gulped it down faster than Nesta could process. 

“Nuh uh, you don’t win tag,” Ori explained between breaths, a few escaping as a soft whistle between her missing front teeth, “You just chase. Why is Papa sleeping?” she looked down at her snoring father as she took another gulp. 

Nesta shrugged, “He’s just taking a cat nap,” she said. 

“Papa isn’t a cat, he’s an Illyrian,” A flicker of confusion crossed her face. 

“It’s just an expression,” Nesta laughed, “cats take short naps during the day sometimes.” 

“Can I have a cat, Mama?” Ori’s eyes went wide, evidently forgetting Cassian. 

“Maybe one day, cats are a lot of responsibility,” she shrugged, “We can talk to Papa about it later.” A chorus of shouts rang through the air, beckoning Ori back, “Go on, sweet girl, your friends are waiting.” She gently tapped Ori on the bottom, “You have to win!” 

Ori flopped harshly onto Cassian’s chest, “Wake up, Papa! You are being lazy!” Cassian woke with a start, groaning at the breath being knocked out of him. But before he could sit up, Ori ran back to her friends with a feral scream, “I’M COMING!” 

“Was there a reason she jumped on me?” Cassian groaned. 

Nesta just laughed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Embarrassment burns Nesta’s face and neck, hot and sharp, like an iron poker. 

“Really Nesta, you ought to be ashamed,” Mother hisses across the table, “No good husband wants your opinion, nor do any of the ladies you mingle with.” 

Nesta can’t even remember what she said at tea that afternoon. Something about how she didn’t like some lady or duke or marriage. She had read about it in the paper, and had assumed it was the topic of discussion. The other girls laughed along with her. But somehow, word got back to her mother, who was embarrassed by ‘such language’. And Nesta wasn’t even sure what language she had used. 

She looked desperately to Elain, who shifted her eyes away in embarrassment. Feyre was off in the nursery and Father was nowhere to be found as usual. 

“Do not speak unless you are spoken to, you stupid girl.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Amren, this is becoming an issue, you cannot assume that it will go away on its own,” Nesta sighed as Amren huffed at the table in front of her a pile of ice cream and fruit piled in front of her petite form. “All that dairy is causing this. I’m telling you, you are constipated.” 

Nyx barked a laugh down the table, silenced only by Rhys flicking him on the ear. It was an otherwise lovely family dinner, until Amren mentioned she had been having some abdominal pain all week, right before she went in for dessert. 

Amren’s eyes went narrow, “I promise you, my bowel movements are fine, girl.” 

“When’s the last time you went?” Nesta leaned back in her chair as she folded her arms, waiting for an answer, “The librarians heard you grunting in pain on the toilet all the way from the parlor!” Next to her, Cassian coughed uncomfortably. 

“Is this really a topic for discussion at dessert?” Feyre said weakley. Not to be outdone, Ori leaned forward with curiosity. 

“What’s con-sa-pated?” she whispered to Nyx. 

“It means Amren can’t poop! It’s stuck!” Nyx wheezed, trying to contort his face straight, but failing miserably. 

“I can have the house make you of the prune juice I gave to Ori when she was a baby,” Nesta offered with raised brows. 

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, girl.” Amren snapped, “I’ll not have you tell me what I need to be doing.” Nesta just rolled her eyes and smirked. 

But Orianna shot up in her chair, wobbling her little legs on the cushion. 

“You say sorry to my Mama, right now!” She screamed as she pointed her finger at Amren, “You don’t be mean to my Mama!” Her rounded cheeks were red with fury and her dark hair seemed to be standing on end. 

Feyre clamped her hands on her mouth in shock.  Rhys’s eyes were rounded with surprise and mischief while Nyx was doubled over in hysterical laughter. Cassian’s chest puffed with pride, and the corners of his mouth lifted. 

“Orianna, sit down, it’s alright,” Nesta said calmly, trying to lower Ori into her seat. 

“Say sorry!” Ori screeched. Her wings were flared out, almost like a threat. 

Amren blinked in surprise before bursting into laughter, “My apologies, little Valkyrie.” 

Orianna’s silver eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled as she retracted her wings and huffed with satisfaction. 

Later, as they were curled up in bed for storytime, Ori let out a deep sigh, the kind that meant she had something very important on her mind. “Amren is mean,” she said finally. 

“Amren isn’t mean, just cranky,’ Nesta replied, smoothing Ori’s flyaways from her forehead. “Her tummy hurts and she’s upset. That’s all. 

“So? She was still mean to you,” Ori grumbled, “That’s why I got mad at her.” 

Nesta couldn’t bear to tell Ori that she wasn’t offended, and that Amren and others had said far worse things over the years. Instead, she grabbed Ori closer, kissing her chubby cheeks. “Thank you for defending me from Armren. You are my little Valkyrie.” Ori grinned, dimples carving in her cheeks. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The little kittens sat in the shop window, playing and tumbling together. Glossy bows were tied around their necks, like candy wrappers. Nesta could hear their mewling and squeaking through the glass. She reached out, touching the paw of the little white ball of fluff through the window, tracing its little pink paws. 

A yank of hands on her shoulder pulls her away from the window, back towards Grandmother, who looks at the window in disgust. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the House of the Wind, a box sat on the long table. Wrapped in deep red paper, and tied off with a silver bow, it seemed to move, slightly. Nesta and Orianna had come upon it when they came back from a day at the library. A card sat in front of it, Orianna, was scrawled across the envelope. 

But Orianna’s birthday wasn’t for another few weeks and she knew the gifts she and Cassian started to collect were safely stored away at Azriel and Gwyn’s quarters. 

“What is it, Mama?” Ori whispered, clutching Nesta’s hand tightly. 

“It’s for you,” Nesta showed Ori the envelope, who mouthed her name as she read it. Ori opened the envelope, but handed the card to Nesta, wordlessly. Nesta immediately recognized Clotho’s magic pen across the page as she read the note aloud. 

“Orianna, may you accept this birthday gift from the House of the Wind. It asked us especially  for help. Love, the Priestesses.” 

Ori echoed Nesta’s surprise, “House got me a present?” 

“It did, an early birthday present. Go on, open it,” Nesta knew the House of the Wind was alive, but it no longer answered just to her. The House seemed to adore the little girl that was born within its walls, providing her with the most lavish rooms and toys, giving the child whatever sweet treat she wanted, and whispering to the librarians ideas for gifts apparently. 

“Meow!” 

Orianna gasped, opening the box quickly, her little wings flapping with excitement. “A kitten! Mama, a kitten!” 

The little kitten’s face was pushed in slightly, large green eyes looked back at Ori through a thick coat of deep brown fur. Ori clasped the little creature tightly to her chest. “Thank you House! Thank you so much! Mama, I got a kitten!” Overcome with emotion, Ori flopped to the ground, sobbing. Nesta went to the floor, embracing Ori and the cat, who looked confused. 

Thunderous footsteps sounded down the hall, kicking the door open. Short of breath, Cassian looked down at the scene below. 

“What’s this?” he asked, searching his girls’ faces for an answer. Nesta opened her mouth to reply–

“My kitten!” Ori squealed, “House got me a kitten!”

The little kitten blinked back at Cassian with large green eyes before it opened its jaws with a mighty squeak. 

“So, it’s an illusion then,” Cassian grumbled and Nesta sighed.

“He’s not an illusion, he’s my real kitten,” Fat tears began to drip from Ori’s eyes again, “He’s mine and he’s going to stay forever!” Ori held the little cat tighter as she leaned into Nesta’s chest.

“It’s a real kitten, indeed,” Nesta assured them both, stroking the cat’s head. A little white ribbon was tied around its neck. A Valkyrie ribbon. 

“And before you ask, no I had nothing to do with this. The cat is real and it’s here to stay.” She shot Cassian a look. “Though he’ll need a name,” she said, turning to Ori down in her lap.

Orianna bit her lip thoughtfully, “Pudding,” she said with finality, “because he looks like chocolate pudding.”

Hours later, Orianna’s hand touched the kitten's paw in her sleep, as if the cat would be gone when she woke. Though the cat seemed perfectly content with his new little master, immediately snuggling up and nesting in the blankets next to her. Nesta watched at the doorway as Orianna and her new best friend slept soundly.

Soft, heavy steps interrupted her thoughts as Cassian sighed, “She’s very hard to say no to. Even a magical, sentient house can’t do it.”

“I wanted a cat,” Nesta said, to her own surprise, “when I was Ori’s age, I wanted a cat. A fluffy white one, and I wanted to name her Pearl. I had forgotten about that.”

“Did you get one?” Cassian snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

“No, Grandmother said they were filthy vermin, Mother agreed, and we never spoke of it again,” she leaned back into Cassian’s chest. “I only remembered when she started asking about it a few weeks ago.”

“Well then, I suppose I’m going to have to call a truce with Pudding,” Cassian sighed.

“Oh, you’ll need to call more than just a truce,” she snorted, “You’re going to have to surrender your rank to Pudding.” 

Cassian just shook his head “And so, the Lord of Bloodshed fell to a kitten.” 

“All hail, Lord Pudding,” Nesta mumbled. She could swear she saw the kitten’s eye open with mischief. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nesta lay on her bed, still in her starched gown. She could feel the welts forming across her cheek and lip. She refused to blink, but tears fell hotly down her nose anyway. She had not meant to invite the Duke to court her, only to embarrass the other girls, the ones who had mocked Elain. 

But the Duke came at dawn, and father turned him away. “She’s a child, your Grace. You understand.” Mother had spat and hissed, but since she dared not to strike her husband, she struck Nesta instead. 

“Bitch,” Nesta had hissed after Mother had struck her the first time. Then Mother struck her again and again. Now, anger hardened in her chest as she lay in bed. I hate Mother, she thought. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Guilt racked through Nesta as she walked down the hall to Orianna’s room. It had been less than an hour, but that’s all she could take. 

It was a terrible morning. Nesta had tried getting Ori ready to go to Illyria to see Emerie, but Ori was having none of it. She snapped at Nesta that she hated Illyria, that she wasn’t going, and then had tried to sprint off to hide in the library. Nesta was able to catch her, practically dragging Ori back, who kicked and hissed and thrashed like a wild cat. Nesta lost her temper and yelled and Ori yelled back. A back and forth shouting match with a five year old was not something that Nesta felt proud of. But as she was at her wits end, Ori screamed; “I HATE ILLYRIA AND I HATE YOU,” as she ran back to her room and slammed the door behind her. 

Nesta barely had time to register her shock when the shame grabbed her by the throat. Surely, Orianna didn’t hate her. She told her daughter every day, every hour, how much she loved her. And Ori would tell her the same, sometimes unprompted. 

But that evil whisper crept back into her mind; am I as bad as my mother? A sob caught in her throat. She had always swore to herself that she would never force her daughter into anything, and here she was, dragging her away from the library like some kind of animal. Ori’s dislike of Illyria was getting worse the older she got. Nesta paced her room, holding back sobs and screams. Every tick of the clock felt like an agonizing year when finally, she wiped her eyes and headed down the hall. 

The House had provided it’s heir with the most elaborate bedroom that any little girl, fae or human could dream of. A fluffy pink canopy bed sat like a throne over a massive golden carpet littered with toys. Books lined one wall and a massive dollhouse rested near a large walk-in closet, stuffed to the brim with clothes provided by librarians and aunties. 

Ori’s dark tangle of hair poked out from the pink duvet, and a soft purring sounded from deep within the covers. Pudding’s squashed face blinked back at her, wary but he graciously moved away.  Nesta crept to the other side of the bed, softly brushing the hair away from Ori’s face. Ori looked back with her silver orbs full of tears. She threw her arms around Nesta and burrowed into her chest. 

“I’m sorry Mama. I don’t hate you,” sobs wracked her little body, “I don’t like Illyrian, don’t make me go.” 

Nesta held her tightly, rocking her slowly, paying no mind to the hot tears that rolled down her neck and chest. “Hush, I know baby. I lost my temper, and I’m sorry. I need to work on that.” Nesta said softly, wiping down Ori’s nose and face with a handkerchief the House now provided. “We won’t go up to the shop today, alright?” 

Ori hiccuped and nodded, “I’ll go to the shop to see Aunt Em’rie but I can’t go to the camps,” She crawled back into Nesta’s lap, "They're so mean.” 

“Who’s mean, Ori?” 

“The old females, They call me half-breed. And ugly. The boys don’t do it anymore, ‘cause Nyx beat them up, but the girls all say it.” Her lip began to quiver and more tears spilled out from her eyes, “They said they can’t be friends with me. They tell me I have big ugly hands and feet, and that I’m nothing more than fae scum and that I shouldn’t fly anymore” Tears streaked down Orianna’s face. “I thought tying my wings down would help, and that they’d leave me alone but they won’t. They look at me like they hate me. I don't know why.” 

Nesta grabbed her daughter’s fingers, long and elegant fingers that pointed out stars and animals, fingers that flew across the page when a pen was placed in them. Long fingers that played tinkling notes on the piano. Nesta gripped them then, turning Orianna’s hand to her lips and kissing them, the same ritual she had done since her daughter was born.

Orianna was beautiful with her dark hair and bronze skin and the silver blue eyes that shone behind thick lashes. Her wings were large and regal, curved like half moons along her back. Nesta thought there was nothing more beautiful than watching Ori fly, red cheeked and laughing. She had Nesta’s mouth but none of the haughtiness, instead she smiled as brightly as her father. She was tall for her age, and Nesta could only wonder how graceful and strong she’d be as she grew. Orianna was simply perfect. 

“Those girls are jealous,” Nesta began as she stroked Orianna’s thick, dark hair. “They’re jealous they aren’t nearly as kind and as smart as you are. But they live hard lives, much harder than we think. We have to give them some grace and try to ignore what they say. You know they call me a witch?”

Ori sniffled and smiled, “But witches are good. Merrill has a book about old witches who rode dragons.” 

“Oh? I’m not a wicked witch?” 

“No Mama, you’re a good witch. But I wish you had a dragon.” 

“Me too,” Nesta laughed, “But remember, Papa is an Illyrian. And Uncle Az and Uncle Rhys and Nyx. Aunt Emerie. And you’re Illyrian too. I don’t want you to hate that part of yourself or any part of yourself. There’s a lot to be proud of.” she smacked another kiss to Ori’s nose, “We’ll go to the shop another day. And we won’t go to the camps, we’ll just help Aunt Emerie in her garden and fly around, alright.” Ori hesitated, biting her lip. 

“I feel bad flying at the shop sometimes,” Ori sheas she snuggled deeper into the sheets. 

“Why? You shouldn’t feel bad at all,” Nesta smoothed back Ori’s hair, looking into those silver eyes. 

“I feel bad because Aunt Emerie can’t fly,” she mumbled as she bit her lip. 

“You shouldn’t feel bad, because Aunt Emerie wants you to fly more than anything else in the world. That’s why she’s a Valkyrie,” Nesta said as she pulled Orianna into her arms, “She’s a Valkyrie so you and all the other Illyrian girls can fly. She’d be sad if you didn’t.” 

Ori nodded, “Can we go tomorrow?” 

“We can go whenever you're ready.” Nesta promised. 

“Okay,” determination crossed Ori’s face as she took another breath, “I’ll be brave tomorrow and go.” 

“You’re brave every day,” Nesta reminded her, “You were brave today and you’ll be brave tomorrow. I love you, Orianna.” 

“I love you too, Mama.” 

But Nesta already knew that.