It was one-hundred-and-ninety years after the birth of her first child that Aithusa once again found herself with a baby in her arms. A girl, this time, with the inky-black hair of Rhys and Morcant but her own dark brown eyes. Where her husband had named their son, Aithusa named their daughter; Rhiannon.

Rhiannon grew into a preocious and bold child. Where Rhys had always had a knack for making friends, her daughter seemed to delight in the opposite. She loved to argue even if she knew she was wrong, had a sizeable mean streak and was far too blunt for her own good. Like most little girls would, she liked the pretty dresses and attention that came with being the High Lord's daughter, though was not so inclined to abide by good manners. The idea of calling her demure, let alone sweet, was absurd.

Aithusa's daughter did amuse her, she would admit. Morcant often grew frustrated with Rhiannon's antics, and her mother's negligence in disciplining her for it. Whilst Rhys had also been bold as a child, he was nowhere near as brazen as his sister, and had always had an awareness of how he was expected to act around different people. He had always been good at playing a part, whereas Rhiannon did not care enough to bother being anything but what she wanted to be.

The girl was like her mother in that, at least, though Aithusa had never been nearly that obnoxious.

"But why isn't Rhys coming too?" Rhiannon bemoaned, hearing her own voice getting lost slightly in the wind as she and her mother flew towards Windhaven.

It was a fine day, the height of spring. The sky was not completely clear, the sun occasionally disappearing behind clouds, and the forests far below them were a vivid green colour as new leaves bloomed. As the Illyrian mountains loomed in the distance, Aithusa felt the fresh coolness in the air on her face, a wonderful compromise between the heat of the summer and winter's cold bite. 

"Because he's the great and powerful heir of the Night Court and has better things to do than visit his grandmother," Her mother said with a note of dryness in her tone, soaring beside her. The female never looked so alive as when she was in the sky. "I believe he's gone off hunting with Cassian and Azriel,"

"I want to go hunting with them," 

She was a better shot than Rhys by far, probably Cassian too because he was so impatient. And Azriel cheated by using his shadows. She was also very good at exaggerating, and had been told many times she had far too high an opinion of herself.

"Tough," Her mother snorted. "You have not seen your grandma in nearly a year. And you love going to her house besides - my Ma spoils you rotten,"

That was a good point, the female did spoil her rotten, even for the daughter of the High Lord of Night, who was spoiled by everyone except her parents. Rhiannon did miss her Nana Helene, missed her cosy house in Windhaven and her warm hugs. 

Neither of her parents enjoyed hugs very much, though Rhys always spun her around in his arms whenever he saw her. Cassian did too, when their father wasn't present. As for the mostly-silent Azriel, it was her who threw herself at him. She enjoyed the bemusement (and slight panic) that went through his eyes when she did so; most children were scared of the Shadowsinger, and, as it turned out, he was a little scared of them.

But Rhiannon was never one to give up on an argument, let alone for such a small thing as realising she was wrong.

"I don't like how they look at me at Windhaven," She said. "Or at you,"

"It's because my wings aren't clipped, and they know yours won't be," Her mother was never one to spare her from the harsh truth. "High Lady or not, they want me to be just another crippled female. I - Rhi drop down!"

Startled by her sudden sharp warning, Rhiannon did as she said out of instinct, but it was too late. An enormous winged creature - hawklike, terrifying, and with a wingspan twice that of her mother - had swooped down seemingly out of nowhere and was heading right for them, plucking Rhiannon out of the sky with a massive talon. 

She shrieked as one of her wings was crushed painfully, but thrashed about, fighting, though it made no difference. She heard her mother's furious shout, saw her form diving after the creature. The creature was terrible, a monsterously large carrion bird, with a cruel beak and enormous green eyes. 

It dropped her on the forest floor, hard, though luckily the ground in the clearing was covered with thick grass, moss and a carpet of wildflowers. She would ordinarily have thought them pretty, but now was not the time to appreciate such things.

Rhiannon scrambled to her feet, immediately attempting to fly away, only for two pairs of hands to grab her roughly, pressing a cold blade to her throat. The awful bird creature was no longer there; it had turned into a male, she realised. A large male with golden hair, radiating power like her father did, and she knew what he was almost instantly despite never having seen his face before. 

High Lord. 

The two holding her smelt like him, as did the other two standing in the clearing; they must be his sons. Spring has four sons, she recalled from somewhere. They all looked alike; varying shades of blonde hair and green eyes.

Her mother landed a short distance away from them, face twisted in a snarl, though she did not dare attack considering they held Rhiannon at knife-point. She realised she had to get herself free, then they could both escape.

"Unhand me," She tried to imitate the imperious tone her father used - Rhys too, sometimes - struggling against their grip. "I'm daughter of the High Lord of Night. You're trespassing on our lands. He'll mist you all into bloody smears if you don't let me go,"

All that earned her were several cruel chuckles.

"Fachan," Her mother spoke from across the clearing to the High Lord, voice low and rough, infinitely more dangerous than Rhiannon's. "Unhand my daughter before I cut your stinking throat,"

"Illyrians," One of the others snorted. "Even their females are brutes,"

"Well you've heard the saying, Finnian," Another smirked. "Only good for fighting and fucking,"

"You'd know, Bethir - you always liked rolling around in the dirt,"

The High Lord ignored his sons.

"Does Morcant tolerate such a tone from you?" He asked her mother with disdain. "I despise the man, but I had not taken him for one too cowardly to beat some manners into his wife,"

"Fuck off with your small talk and get that knife away from Rhiannon's throat," Aithusa had not raised her voice but the males recoiled slightly at the venom there.

Clearly angry at his reaction, the High Lord turned to her, face twisting in anger.

"I will cut the little mongrel's wings off if you don't get down on your knees this instant with your weapons on the floor,"

Rhiannon's mother spat at his feet. 

Before she had time to think what that meant, Rhiannon felt an awful pain in the membrane of her wing, as one of the sons slashed a blade right through the membrane. The hole could only have been a few inches long but she screamed nonetheless. She had never been hurt so badly, so deliberately, before and was just fighting to blink back tears as she watched her own blood drip from her wing onto a cluster of wildflowers. It was painful, no matter how many times she told herself Rhys and Cassian and Azriel had no doubt had far worse wounds from fighting.

When she looked up, her mother was on her knees looking fit to kill, her knife thrown to the ground. The remaining two sons moved to restrain her, one giving her a rough kick to the back, sending her sprawling into the spring grass. The male cruelly ground her face into the earth with his boot, seeming to enjoy her rage.

"Does Rhysand know you're here, Tamlin?" Aithusa's tone was cold as she addressed one of the ones holding Rhiannon; not Bethir, who had slashed her wing, but the other one. "Aren't you supposed to be his friend?" It sounded like the male was grinding his teeth. 

"Does he know you're here?" Finnian gave her mother another vicious kick. She barely winced, though it had to have pained her.

"Yeah Tam, you said Rhysand would be with them," The one whose name she didn't know sounded irritated.

"He was meant to be, Murdock," Tamlin said, his voice low and agitated.

"Well he isn't,"

"Why do you want Rhys?" Rhiannon asked, her voice more scared than she would've liked. Her wing still hurt terribly.

"The half-breed is as strong as poor Father even now," Bethir snorted. "Let alone when he becomes lord. Best pick him off while we still can,"

"Not to mention Father still holds a grudge against Morcant from the War," Murdock grunted.

"Enough," The High Lord snapped, irritated they had revealed his motives - even she could tell that was quite stupid - and they fell silent.

"The question is, what do we do with these two now Rhysand isn't coming?" Finnian's smile was cruel as he nodded at Aithusa, her face still trapped under his boot. "The High Lord of Night's Illyrian whore and their mongrel brat,"

"I would think that's obvious," Fachan's voice was cold.

Rhiannon felt her stomach clench, her blood running cold. She wasn't too stupid to miss what that meant. She glanced at her mother for any kind of comfort - Mother fixed everything - only to see a cold, closed-off look in her eyes where she lay in the grass. Either she was plotting, or she had given up and was just planning to die with dignity.

"I rather like these wings," Bethir ran a finger slowly along her wing, and Rhiannon cringed in disgust. "Can we take those first," 

She once again had to fight back tears, as her mother surged against her captors, murder in her eyes as she managed to fight to her knees, forcing Finnian and Murdock to restrain her by the shoulder, a blade at her throat.

"Get your filthy hands off her,"

"You can't touch an Illyrian's wings," Tamlin sounded uncomfortable. "It's not... not proper," No doubt Rhys had told him that. As his friend, who he had now betrayed.

"Do I look Illyrian?" Bethir shot back, doing it again, worse, slower, longer, just to wind up his brother, or something worse. 

Her mother looked like she was going to be sick. Exactly how Rhiannon felt.

"Touch up a child all you like, brother," Finnian drawled, moving his knife from Aithusa's throat to where her wings joined her back. "I'd rather like these for my bedroom wall - they're much larger,"

"No, you can't," Rhiannon found her voice. "Mother loves her wings," Tamlin's hands tightened where he held her. Guilt? Perhaps. She took the chance, turning her face up to implore him. "Please don't let him take her wings, please,"

He clenched his jaw - he was feeling guilty - but did nothing.

"Too late, little mongrel," Bethir smirked, delighting in her horror. "We'll cut off your wings too, then send your heads to your father and brother in a box,"

"Please," She couldn't hold back her tears at that, nor the loud sob that accompanied it. "Please don't. Father will get you anything, he'll give you gold, or jewels, and he'll say sorry for whatever he did,"

"Don't beg, sweet girl," Her mother said. "They won't listen. Hold your head high and look them in the eye so they will never again know an easy sleep,"

For perhaps the first time in her life, Rhiannon held her tongue, though tears rolled freely down her cheeks.

"Father," Tamlin said in a low, monotone voice. "This was just meant to be about eliminating Rhysand. The lady hasn't wronged you, and the girl can't be older than ten,"

"Be quiet little brother, or it will be your head in a box," Murdock growled, and his father did not disagree. 

Tamlin obeyed and did not speak again.

Rhiannon felt Bethir's knife come to rest on her wing joint, and could not halt her terrified tears, though did as her mother told her and held her chin up, being sure to twist around to look them both in the eye, him and Tamlin.

She screamed nonetheless when he started to saw. The pain was worse than anything she'd felt before, and he hadn't even gone that deep yet.

Her vision was starting to black out. Or perhaps it wasn't. Rhiannon only realised a few moments later that the same darkness and magic that spilled from her father, from Rhys, was building up in her, a deafening crescendo the like of which she had never felt before. She had already shown traces of Night Court magic, of course, but nothing like this.

Power suddenly exploded around her, from her. Her two captors were both blasted back. Bethir hit a tree and she heard a piercing crack; he likely wasn't getting up again, she thought with a vengeful, vicious satisfaction. That would teach him to put his hands all over her wings.

Aithusa took the opportunity to shove out of the grip of a stunned Murdock and Finnian, snatching up her knife before either had time to blink and burying the blade in Murdock's throat and racing to Rhiannon.

"Fly, Rhi, my sweet girl," She grabbed her hand, and then they were both in the air.

Flying was agony. The wind whistled through the slash in her left membrane, worsening it, whilst the bleeding wound where Bethir had started to saw off her wing was truly awful.

To make it worse, Fachan was after them again, back in his horrifying carrion bird form and gaining fast.

"Rhys will have felt that," Aithusa was muttering. "The explosion, and your mind crying out," Her mind? She hadn't shown any sign of her brother's daemati gifts before, not even weakly, for that did not run in families. "He can't be far. Just grit your teeth and fly, my love,"

The High Lord of Spring was catching up with them, injured as they were. Rhiannon had no room for thoughts in her head other than to get away; even her pain had dulled in the wake of that instinct, to flee.

Then up ahead, a ball of darkness exploded out of nothing, tendrils spreading across the sky, unfurling like a pair of mighty wings. It would have scared anyone else half to death, but Rhiannon wept in sheer relief at the sight. For in the middle of it, eyes narrowed in fury, his own wings beating...

Rhys.

Two other winged figures had winnowed alongside him, red and blue siphons blazing, one large, one leaner, with shadows swirling around. Cassian and Azriel.

And in an instant, Fachan was no longer chasing them, no longer trying to kill them. He had winnowed away at the idea of facing Rhys and his two infamous friends without backup from his sons. Coward, she thought with a flash of anger, though she was feeling too many other things to be angry for very long.

"Catch her," Her mother called out sharply, realising before Rhiannon did that her strength was flagging. Now that the immediate danger was gone, the pain was beginning to creep back and sharpen, becoming too much.

It was Azriel's shadows that surged forward to take hold of her, and suddenly she was weightless, her aching body no longer having to be relied upon. As great a relief as when her brother had arrived.

"Land, now," Rhys called, his tone dark, and the five of them descended to the ground.

Rhiannon didn't even have it in her to stand once the shadows carefully set her down. She simply collapsed on the forest floor, sticks and stones digging into her skin, green grass tickling her face, staring ahead of her whilst her body was wracked with sobs.

"Rhi, are you alright?" Rhys dropped to his knees next to her. "Mother, what's wrong with her? She's bleeding - what happened to her wings? - and that's strong magic coming from her still," She had never heard her brother sound so scared, idly noticing that the darkness still eminating from her had caused the grass and flowers surrounding them to die and blacken. Good. They just reminded her of that awful clearing.

"Spring," Aithusa snarled, furious and shaking, pacing up and down, seeming unable to stop. "Fachan snatched her out of the sky and two of his sons held a knife to her throat and slashed her wing so I got down on my knees. They wanted you - Tamlin told them you'd be with us - they see you as too much of a threat, and Fachan still hates your father. When they realised you weren't coming, that filthy cunt Bethir ran his hands all over her wings then tried to cut them off, mine too,"

All three of the males hissed in disgust and outrage.

"They'd said they were going to kill us too. The pain and sheer terror must have brought out Rhi's magic," Aithusa had finally stopped pacing, though her fists were still clenched. "She killed Bethir, I killed Murdock. Then we flew,"

Forget scared; she had never seen Rhys look this angry as he helped her to sit up.

"Azriel," His voice was carefully controlled. "While I try and contact Father, can you have a look at her wound? I'm sure it will heal fine on its own, but just in case - " He broke off, but the Shadowsinger had already moved towards them without questioning him.

"Do you mind if I touch your wings, Rhi?" Azriel's voice was quiet, face unreadable as ever. "Not my hands, just the shadows. I need to see how deep the cut is,"

She nodded tearfully, knowing the only reason why Rhys asked his friend to check was because the male knew wounds better than any of them; it was his job to inflict them, usually, upon Father's orders. Despite this, she held no fear for Azriel, not like that Spring lord and his vile sons. He wasn't actually touching her, anyway, just his shadows, who had always seemed to like her.

"Maybe you should sit down too, Aithusa," Meanwhile Cassian was appealing to her mother.

"Don't tell me to sit down, boy," She rounded on him angrily. "I just had my face ground into the dirt while my ten year old daughter was threatened, cut with knives and groped in front of me - I'll stand if I want to stand,"

"Your wings are cut too," He insisted, firm but patient. "If it were me bleeding all over the grass, you'd have forced me to sit by now and called me an oaf for trying to resist. I'm not quite the expert on knife wounds that Az is, but I've seen my share of battlefield healing,"

She let out a humourless snort at that, some of her fury relenting slightly.

"I suppose you're right," Aithusa was nothing if not practical. She grudgingly sat on a fallen log. "Have a look then. Do it before Morcant gets here - he'll be in a territorial mood,"

Cassian blanched slightly at that - they all feared her father, even Azriel who worked for him - though hastened to examine the wound.

"It's not too deep and there's no poison - you'll heal fine if a healer looks at it," Azriel said to Rhiannon, recalling his shadows, though one stayed, swirling playfully around her fingers and making her smile weakly. "Though that bastard knew exactly where to make it hurt the most. The wound is not exactly clean cut, either. He sawed,"

His face twisted slightly in distaste; either at the display of sadism or at the inelegant technique, she was not sure. Probably both. Rhiannon liked that he never talked down to her; not like many others did because she was so young, and viewed as a pampered little princess.

"Aithusa's wound is quite deep, Az," Cassian called out, grimacing. "It won't close properly without help," He glanced at the female. "I wouldn't try flying any further. How come it looks such a mess?"

"I was fighting," Her mother replied dispassionately. "They seemed to struggle holding anyone larger than a terrified child,"

"Don't call me that," That snapped Rhiannon out of her tears. "I saved us both,"

Her mother grinned at that, unperturbed by (and likely proud of) her anger.

"That you did, sweet girl. We never knew your magic could be so strong. You'll be formidable when you're older," Her smile faded slightly, as she glanced over to where Rhys was evidently taking to their father through his mind; though Father was not a Daemati himself, Rhys' gifts were strong enough to reach him even all the way out here. "Perhaps keep that to yourself for the time being," 

Father was wary of Rhys' power too, she knew, even though he was his son. Rhiannon would have replied, had the trees around them not suddenly become shrouded in a burst of violent darkness, sheer power and fury eminating from the male who had just winnowed in beside them. Just like Rhys had earlier, but infinitely stronger and more deadly.

"Aithusa," Morcant, High Lord of the Night Court, whirled around to find his mate, as Cassian hastily slid away from her.

Rhiannon was not used to her parents showing much affection towards each other. Their mating bond was not one of romantic love, but of mutual (if grudging) respect, occasional obsession and bursts of either manic possessiveness or explosive rage. Two unlikely souls - both in background and in character - tied together for eternity whilst barely even being able to stand each other.

It did not surprise her when instead of pulling his mate into an embrace, her father simply held out his hand for his Lady. Aithusa took it, rising to her feet smoothly, only for him to grab both of her wrists in his.

"Which one of them laid their filthy hands on you?" He hissed, leaning down so his face was barely inches from hers. Evidently Rhys had told him everything.

"Finnian ground my face into the floor with his boot. Murdock sliced partway through my wings," Rhiannon's mother replied, the glint in her eye showing she was glad to know that her words would be a death sentence to every male she named. "He wanted them for his bedchamber wall. Fachan snatched Rhiannon out of the sky. Tamlin held a knife to her throat and gave away our plans in the first place. And Bethir slashed her wings, ran his hands all over them and tried to cut them off,"

Somehow, the raging darkness grew stronger. Rhiannon did not fear darkness - how could she? - but she often feared her father.

"I'll bring you their heads," Morcant vowed.

"I will hang them on the walls of the palace," Her mother smiled faintly. "As they were going to do to my wings,"

It was moments like this that she wondered if perhaps they weren't so poorly matched after all. Her father liked to be in control of everything in his life, yet granted a great deal of freedom to his untameable mate who longed for the open skies. And Aithusa in return allowed herself to be bound at least partly to him, his children, his court.

Morcant did not say goodbye to Rhiannon before winnowing away, only shot a pointed look at Rhys for him to follow. Her father had barely glanced at her since arriving, except in outrage upon hearing what had been done to her.

*

What do you think of Rhiannon? I didn't want her to be a female version of Rhys, and I also wanted her to be a force to be reckoned with, although like Aithusa she doesn't take things too seriously. I also hope I made the spring court males detestable enough haha. Tamlin deserves the shit he gets for standing by and letting that happen in canon.

Thanks for reading, please comment what you think!