A/N:

Nyx's faceclaim Native model: Michael Hudson ^^ :))

NYX:

"Get up," a voice demanded as I groggily opened my eyes.

I recognised that voice instantly. Astraea. Or Astra as she was more commonly known by family and her few friends. One of my two younger sisters.

I didn't open my eyes fully though, still slightly delirious from the dreams I'd had. More like a nightmare. Another one of the many I'd been having recently. A large auburn/dark brown beast with a bear like body and the head of a wolf. What struck me most was it's eyes. High Fae eyes. Dark green ones. Such beautiful emerald iridescent eyes. Well beautiful until they narrowed, it's claws and fangs appeared and it tore out my throat. Or ripped me to shreds. The details differed but one fact remained the same.

It always hunted me down and killed me.

I was no stranger to nightmares but usually my nightmares were memories. Horrible ones and usually recurring about the worst night of my life.

But this one was no memory. And I was no seer like my Aunt Elain. But I had this sense they meant something. Perhaps the Caludron was warning me or perhaps I was just being superstitious. Either way those dreams had unsettled me and I wasn't one to be fazed by much.

"Wake the fuck up," Astraea demanded again and I snapped my lilac eyes open grumpily at her. She was already dressed in midnight blue attire, with an assortment of weapons strapped to her as usual. The large sword she always carried, an old birthday gift from Uncle Cassian, was peeking from her back.

I scowled and she scowled right back, her shoulder length black hair blowing in the slight breeze coming from outside. My own black hair was longer than hers these days.

Astraea was of reasonable height, standing at five foot nine with had full reddish brown lips, lilac eyes and the classic dark olive complexion of the Illyrians while mine was a little lighter than most. The only identical trait we shared was our hair colours and that shared the same strong nose, inherited from our father.

"Uncle Cassian wants us ready in ten minutes," she said stonily, standing there for a moment but when I made no move to rise up she just rolled her eyes, storming out of my tent.

Of course that's why Astraea was up early and pestering me. Uncle Cassian and Aunt Nesta doted on her, she loved to show off to them.

Astra had wanted to be a full fledged Illyrian warrior since she could walk. And she had done it. She completed the Blood Rite a year before me despite being younger which threatened every Illyrian male in this camp's vicinity.

She was the most ambitious person I knew, she could be as nasty as a viper or as kind beyond compare, depending on her mood. Similar to my Aunt Nesta now I think about it.

Though my sister saved her kinder moods for our youngest sister Narie. Her full name was Nariel, named after our father's late sister but everyone called her Narie apart from Amren who always called everyone by their full names in that harsh tone of hers.

Astra saved her bitchier moods for me, her older brother who (in her eyes) she had been in competition with since we were younglings. I myself was one hundred and fifty years old; Astra was only two years younger while Narie was ninety. So me and Astraea grew up close, until they told me that I was more likely to inherit the position as High Lord when my parents were gone. That didn't sit well with my sister.

Nonetheless drawing myself away from my passing thoughts I slowly got up and stretched, even flaring my wings a little as they were a little sore from me tossing and turning so much in my sleep last night.

My black tent was modest in size but a palace compared to some of the tents novices were given. It was odd that I preferred to stay in my own tent than the grand bedrooms in my parents estate, the House of Wind or even the Mountain Palace on the rare occasions we went to the Court of Nightmares. It almost grounded me in some strange way.

I put on the usual black Illyrian attire but opting for a looser shirt than normal, pulling it over my toned chest. Which was hardly a novelty as nearly all Illyrians were toned muscled and fit. Well those still in military training.

I briefly combed my hair in the mirror, a scowling reflection of me stared back at me, the long ugly scar around my throat as prominent as ever. That was my usual expression, a turned down mouth. It was far too much effort to smile constantly.

My violet blue eyes blinked slowly at me as I tied my long hair back with a piece of leather, still weary from restless sleep, the colour was the perfect mix of my parents eyes. Which I used to dislike. It was yet another reason why I was considered an outsider at first. Most Illyrians had hazel eyes. Most Illyrians were not the offspring of a half Illyrian all powerful High Lord and a former mortal High Lady with the gifts of all the courts.

I briefly wondered why Uncle Cassian was here. He didn't usually visit Windhaven without sending word first. Especially lately as my Aunt Nesta was currently pregnant, in the earlier stages according to my Aunt Elain who apparently announced it one night at my parents estate to Cassian' joy and Nesta's displeasure who was a little resentful that Elain had figured it out before Nesta did and surprised her in front of everyone.

Cauldron help anyone who got on the wrong side of Nesta Archeron, especially in her current condition. My Aunt had always been a terrifying force to be reckoned with and my Uncle didn't usually leave her side these days which irritated her in turn as she insisted she didn't need any extra care or protection. Fiercely stubborn and independent. As most of my family tended to be.

I splashed a little water on my face to freshen me up and then I was ready to go. The quickness in which I got ready was credit to how many times that I'd had to get ready on short notice at this damned camp. Tardiness along with any other offence was punished by the war lords of this camp. With lashings usually. But not so much after an Illyrian passed the Blood Rite.

And soon I was outside, striding towards the centre of the camp, where Cassian usually went to when he arrived.

The air was cold, sharp yet fresh, tainted with the faint scent of smoke and meat of Illyrians cooking breakfast over the fires. The cold/freshness however was classic mountain air and there was certainly a lot of mountains in the Night Court.

The sky was its usual icy blue, particularly pale and bleak today though it strangely always had this aura of vitality about it as the few splashes of white clouds drifted above me.

The array of imposing dark green trees and vegetation surrounded the war camp as always; looking down on both the trees and the camp were the Illyrian Mountains in the distance. Colossal and ancient. Dark grey, ragged with a terrain that could be as razor edged as a sword and blankets of scattered white sheets of snow that sat comfortably on top of their stony summits. The amount of snow varied depending on the season but it was never comfortably warm this far north. No. We left warmth for the southern/seasonal courts, Spring and Summer in particular.

The mountains always reminded me of the feeling I got when I was taking part in the Blood Rite. Left bound and with nothing in the wilderness of ravines and conifer forests as I had to fight and kill to get to the top of the Ramiel mountain.

Of course the mountains around the Windhaven camp was nothing compared to Ramiel. But Ramiel was sacred for a reason.

The camp itself had never changed much in the decades I'd been training here. Thick layers of mud swamped the ground constantly and various training pits/sparing arenas were scattered throughout the camp. There were various wooden fences, armouries and tents upon tents everywhere. It was far from luxurious or beautiful. But to me it was home. It felt more real than my childhood home of Velaris.

The city of starlight was beautiful and enchanting beyond measure but it was a little too perfect, like my parents. Any of the city's faults or secrets were never obvious as it hid behind the illusions of pure prosperity. It was like an eternal over polished gem. I loved it but I didn't feel connected to it. Not anymore. Not since my spirits had permanently dampened.

This place was better. Harsh, challenging. Real. You always knew what to expect here. Knew your place and what your fellow warriors thought of you. Illyrian warriors had little time for glamour or deceit of any kind. The warriors here were no strangers to death or mourning. Like me I supposed.

As my boots dutifully dredged through the brown mud, wet from last night's rainfall I passed several other Illyrians going through their morning training exercises. Gruelling, intense, horrible. A typical day in our lives. Dedicating everything to becoming elite warriors.

I directed a quick nod to Damaris, a friend of mine and of my sisters. Her long dark brown hair was tamed back into a slick ponytail. She was similar to my own father. Half Illyrian. Half Fae, although her father was a lesser Fae.  Lord Devlon was the only Illyrian war lord who let half breeds actually have a chance at becoming warriors.

Damaris had these very intense black eyes with no hint of colour to be seen in the irises. Some of the camp lords used to try and claim she was a witch because of her eyes, just because of their unique shade but they shut up after Astra and I had a word with them. Sometimes the Illyrians here forget who Astraea and I are, the power that we hold and the might of our family.

We may be Illyrians but different beasts all together prowl beneath the surface layers of our skin. We had that in common. Astra and I. That stony rage that was always lurking, sometimes dormant, sometimes buried, sometimes waiting. And we each had our reasons.

At my gesture Damaris shot me back a grin, briefly displaying her two pearly fangs among her rows of flatter teeth. The only obvious trait she inherited from her lesser Fae father and she always used it to her advantage. Some of the males here were scared shitless of her when she once threatened to tear their throats out if they didn't stop bothering her in training. Some males couldn't accept that the Illyrians culture was changing. Slowly. And some hated how females were allowed to forsake any chores if they intended to join the military and they especially hated that the females could train and join armies now.

I kept watching her for a moment more as I slowed my pace, she was also doing her morning exercises and practising her balance as she spun the silver staff in her hands with quick neat precision and ferocity. It was a unique weapon that not many used but Damaris always had and snarled at any males who tried to practise with it in these morning exercises.

She did a few more routines before wiping the sweat from her brow, setting down her staff and jogging over to me, engulfing me in a quick hug.

"Morning stranger," she said with a smile, "where are you off to on this bleak shitty morning? I know you're the son of a High Lady and Lord but that's no excuse for missing morning training."

I raised an eyebrow, "you know damn well Devlon doesn't give a shit about heritage, if he did you wouldn't be here."

Sarcasm and mockery was the backbone of our friendship. Though I could admit at times I had a nasty streak to a few chosen few.

"Ouch," she said with an almost genuine hurt look in expression before it morphed into a more amused one, "usually I'm the one to land the first verbal blow."

"Looks like the student has become the master," I replied.

"Now now Nyx let's not get ahead of ourselves, you're not quite on my level of perfection yet but you're getting there, slowly but surely," she said, patting me on the shoulder before her expression turned back to curiosity as she raised an eyebrow, "you didn't answer my first question."

"Astra and I are meeting my uncle," I replied.

"And neither of you invited me?" She exclaimed shaking her head in disappointment though I couldn't tell if it was genuine or fake.

I shrugged at that and she continued.

"Cassian or Azriel?" She asked then her expression turned wicked, "whatever the answer is I'd be happy to tag along to your little reunion."

My own face turned to disgust, "they're both mated," I said and she interrupted me.

"A little innocent window shopping never hurt anybody," she said sweetly and I rolled my eyes,

"and they're hundreds of years older than you," I said.

She laughed, "don't talk to me about age gaps when you're closer to your mother's age then your father is."

I had to laugh at that and inclined my head. She had a point. My father was five hundred and thirty seven when I was born while my mother was twenty two. If I had a mate who was unlucky enough to be bound to me I wondered if it would take five centuries to meet her or him.

"Touché," I said as I started walking away and she started walking with me, "I'm being serious Damaris, with love and respect, kindly fuck off."

She shot me a vulgar gesture in response but nonetheless she stopped walking with me, no doubt off to train more. Astra and her often trained a lot longer than the Illyrian males. When we were all children they were often belittled by some of the more misogynistic males and in response they trained even harder. Until they knocked those males on their asses.

Astraea and Damaris were were a deadly duo and probably the strongest female Illyrian warriors in the Illyrian mountains. And everyone knew it. Others were threatened by both of them but didn't dare oppose them openly. If I was being honest Astra was likely the best Illyrian warrior of our generation though some of the males would never admit it and Damaris was also very skilled.

Damaris and I hated each other at first but grew closer as she was always tagging along to everything with my sister. But Astraea and her had always been best friends, family at this point.

I was approaching Lord Devlon's tent now.  The one he kept for meetings and guests of importance. He had meetings with my parents multiple times in that damned tent when they wanted to check up on Astraea and I, usually Narie tagged along to those visits as well.

My youngest sister was the only one who didn't have wings, hence why she didn't train with us in the Illyrian Mountains but she was the only one who was a daemati like our parents. But Narie was more suited for Velaris than war camps anyway. Her nature wasn't one of a cold blooded warrior.

And everyone was lucky that Narie didn't have a temperamental nature with her gifts. She had inherited nearly all of my parents powers apart from those of fire and my mother's transformation abilities.

Devlon hated the rare occasions that my aunts visited with the rest of my family. Elain and Nesta. Witches he used to them. Until Uncle Cassian lost his temper at Devlon much to my Aunt's amusement.

I entered the tent, hearing voices speaking furiously before I could even identify who they belonged to.

Blinking I looked around and saw the familiar faces of Astraea who I gave a questioning look to, to see if she had any idea what was going on to which she simply replied with a shrug and bored look of indifference; my parents and my uncle, Cassian.

All dressed in typical black or blue Nigh Court attire, despite their ranks they didn't dress too fancily though I couldn't say the same for my Aunt Mor - she loved an excuse to wear her grandest dresses. Always so warm in her appearance and nature. Though she loved us all Narie was the apple of her eye.

As I looked a little more I even saw my Aunt Elain, the only one in a dress, a green one which complimented her complexion. That confused me - she hated these camps. Upon seeing me Uncle Cassian cracked his usual smile though there was a distinct weariness in his eyes as he came over to give me a bear hug, thumping me on the back for good measure.

"Ah there's my favourite nephew," he said, grinning, holding my shoulders as he looked at me, his hair loose as he usually had it.

"I'm your only nephew," I reminded him with a smile.

"Cauldron you're becoming nearly as much of a smartass as Rhys," he said while my father shot him a glare before he turned back to me and both him and my mother stepped forward, engulfing me in their arms, in perfect sync with each other as they had been my entire life.

When they let me go there definitely worry in my mother's blue eyes while my father's lilac ones betrayed nothing as he smiled faintly.

"How are you?" My mother asked, immediately eager to check up on my well-being. I was over a hundred yet the maternal instincts had never faded with her.

Perhaps it was because we all nearly died at my birth. I'd heard the stories thousands of times. How my parents bound their lives together and my Aunt gave up her power to save theirs and mine. But when they told me why I was born with wings in the first place was a moment too awkward for me to ever want to discuss again.

"Fine," I replied looking at them both wearily. So many family members hear to see me was odd. And they all had such peculiar expressions.

"Devlon's not working you too hard is he?" My father asked with his usual smirk.

I shook my head, "you know Devlon, everyone at camp has to work hard under his watch, quite a few novices have gotten lashings this week for slacking and picking fights, the usual."

My father smiled, "comforting to know that the ancient prune hasn't changed a bit since Cass, Az and I were younglings."

I sometimes forgot that my father and his friends were young once. Centuries ago. Which wasn't much with my immortal lifespan.

I nodded, cracking a smile while still looking at them all with suspicion as they continued to look at me with such bizarre expressions.

"So what's the occasion for the visit?" I said trying to keep my tone neutral. Even though they were my family I felt like I'd been cornered. I didn't like this feeling of not knowing. Unpredictability made me feel uneasy.

My words struck a nerve as the mood in the tent instantly shifted from them at least trying to be light hearted to them becoming sombre. My Aunt Elain the most as her face crumpled a little.

"Well," my mother started but my Aunt stepped forward not breaking the contact as she did so.

"I've had a vision about you," she said, her tone almost emotionless now.

A vision? I blanched at that. I knew my Aunt was a seer but she hadn't had a prominent vision for ages. They usually appeared at certain times. And most of those times were negative. Warnings on something bad to happen. What was going to happen to me?

"What kind of vision?" I asked sharply and she just kept staring, sadness drifting carelessly about in those pale brown irises of hers.

"Something is coming for you Nyx, something is hunting you," she explained, "I can't place what it is exactly, only bits and pieces have come to my mind, fragments of these browny green eyes and vague images of spring, all I know is you're in danger."

I blinked. Green eyes? Spring?

"Spring?" I said, not knowing what to make of her words, "as in Tamlin?"

That name certainly struck another nerve as my mother tensed a little and my father's lilac eyes narrowed with the same rage that always glimmered every time someone mentioned the High Lord of Spring. I knew why. What he'd done to both of my parents. Did Tamlin now plan to take me out as an odd revenge plot? It was ridiculous.

"We're not sure," my mother said as her eyes glinted and turned from sadness to anger, "But if it is about him we will end him, no one hurts my children."

"We?" My father said, chuckling lightly as he turned to my mother, "Feyre darling you know I adore you and I'm not doubting your slaying abilities for a second but if he so much as takes a foot over our borders I will kill him," he pauses, a wild look dancing in his eyes, "free of assistance, I owe him that much for everything he and his family have done."

To us but to my father most of all. The cursed High Lord of Spring whose family was responsible for the death of my grandmother, my late aunt Nariel and my mother's deterioration. Centuries ago but wounds like that never faded.

Such hatred seeped into every venomous tenor of my father's words whenever he spoke about the High Lord of Spring. Which was rare. And him overstepping my mother. Again. Rare. He always listened to her and accepted her choices. Him wanting to kill Tamlin alone was a testament to the deep rooted loathing that existed between my family and his.

"I do not fear the Spring Court's High Lord, and this vision might not even be about him," I said, "anyway I have fought enemies before, I have faced assassins before," I said, not being able to keep the coldness and hints of pain from edging into my tone.

I had fought in battles before being part of the Illyrian armies, eager to prove my worth as the son of the two most powerful High Fae in Prythian. My mother hated it but my father understood. It was our way as Illyrians. An enteral symphony of death, war and glory.

And everyone certainly knew my past history of assassins. Of the person who sacrificed themselves to save my life. A friend who I had failed. I carried guilt with me every moment because of that night.

"We know," My mother said reaching forward to brush my arm but I stepped back.

I was more than old enough to deal with my emotions alone and I hated anyone trying to comfort me when I was thinking about him. A man who I had loved, something I had fought beside and who had laid down their life to save my own.

But Cauldron I tried to block him and the events of that night from my memory and focus on the room and everyone in it. I couldn't sink back into the hole of despair. Not right now.

"It intends to kill you Nyx," My Aunt said, looking at me gravely before looking back to my parents, "I don't sense Tamlin's involvement per say but there's something, but the full details remain unclear."

We were all silent for a moment.

"Well that was helpful," Astra remarked drily with a snort which made my mother shoot her a look and she shrugged, "what? I'm only saying what we're all thinking."

Aunt Elain barely acknowledged the snide comment but I doubt she was surprised. Astra was always blunt. And at times a little cruel. And Elain was her least favourite aunt for a reason.

At Astra's words Cassian tried and failed to keep the amusement from his face and my father resisted the urge to crack a smile while my mother just kept scowling.

"Do what you will with my warnings Nyx, I'll pray for you and let you know if anything becomes clearer," my Aunt Elain said and with a final nod to us all and a faint smile towards me she winnowed. Disappearing into nothingness.

And my mother's ire instantly targeted Astra as soon as Aunt Elain left the vicinity.

"Astraea," she said, "your brother is in danger and your unwanted commentary isn't helping the situation."

My mother wasn't usually this serious. Which was proof to how rattled she was at this supposed 'threat'. But Astra and her hadn't always seen eye to eye. I think my mother struggled to understand her. Besides Astra got along best with Amren, Nesta, Cassian and my father.

"Boohoo," she said mockingly, waving her hand casually, spinning one of her smallest knives in her hand and catching it rhythmically. And repeat. And repeat. She paused a second before looking at me, "my brother my be a pain in the ass sometimes but Nyx is hardly a defenceless youngling novice, he can take care of himself."

I had to agree. And I knew in her own strange way that my sister had my back here.

"How is he supposed to defend himself against a threat when he doesn't even know what the threat is," my mother said, her annoyance rising. Her temper was certainly on a short leash today.

"Well if dear auntie Elain was more specific you wouldn't have to wonder," Astra replied with a small smile which set my mother seething.

My mother furiously looked back to both my father and Cassian,

"Rhys, Cass back me up here," she said, crossing her arms.

Cassian looked uneasy and perhaps that was wise. Getting between an argument between Astra and my mother was ill advised. But today this little spat amused me a little. I wasn't even that involved in a discussion based on my safety.

"Astra has a point," My father admitted which made my sister beam. She loved it when our father sided with her, "our son knows how to protect himself."

"So you're not going to take this danger seriously?" She replied with a look of disbelief in her blue eyes.

"I will take it seriously when an actual threat presents itself until then all Nyx can do is be on his guard," he said and I nodded .

"He could come home," my mother said, hope coming alive in her eyes as she looked from my father back to me, "we barely see you these days, Narie would love to see you," she quickly glanced at Astra, "both of you."

"No mother," I said, shaking my head, "I'm not going to rush back to Velaris like a coward, I won't live my life scared of the possibilities of the future, visions can be up for interpretation and fates aren't set in stone."

I paused, smiling a little, "in fact I welcome this new threat, I can show that all my training hasn't been a complete waste."

That made my sister smirk as we exchanged a look of camaraderie. We were similar in terms of our warrior natures.

"And whatever this danger is should be afraid, afraid of what I will do to it when it finally comes for me," I said, a wicked glint prowling in my eyes,

"Because I will kill it before it has a chance to kill me."