ᴀ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇꜱ→ᴀᴄᴏᴛᴀʀ

ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ ᵗʷᵒ

┏━━━━━•❅•°•❈•°•❅•━━━━━┓
                 
                  A father?                   
       
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She gritted her teeth hard, a wonder that her teeth were still intact. Her dark locks of luscious hair tied loosely to the nape of her neck, with a few stray strands framing her sharp jawline looked raven rather than a dull dark brown under the enchanted faelights.

Her silk dress barely hanging on her with small, rope like straps that hung off her broad shoulders and back in a crisscross pattern on her bare back. Glorious collarbones on full display, her neckline daring and bold as it dipped down to her stomach just above her now very noticeable bulge. The dress was a faint shimmering metallic silver that fell down to her ankles, surprisingly since the top left almost nothing to the imagination. Her black heels with sliver lining would make skyscrapers blush in envy. Frankly, she liked the design of the dress but it was too scandalous, the Morrigan's style without the red and too ostentatious for her taste.

A shocking contrast to her personality, she preferred light, pastel colours, like the ones used for the flowers she'd seen in paintings portraying the Spring Court. When she was still a Faeling, she'd asked for a garden to tend for, her wish had been granted but soon found out she had no green fingers.

She had managed to destroy the garden in a week.

Gasps from the crowd of the Court of Nightmares surrounded her as she strutted into the hall without an ounce of hesitation. She may be uncomfortable as hell but she wasn't going to let them enjoy watching her squirming. She'd rather see them wiggling like the worms they were, should know that she was kind enough to let them behold the beauty she held even though they were unworthy to see even an inch of her smooth skin.

Behind her, Lord Keir hissed at her uncle, "Is this a joke?!"

How awfully rude of him. She certainly was no joke, she was right these worms couldn't even stomach her ethereal presence so they lashed out instead. Mana almost felt pity for these poor pathetic worms.

Almost.

The Lords and Ladies present kept whispering, trying to come up with not so far fetched theories on how her situation happened. Who the father of the 'bastard child' may be, seemed to be the question of the day. The cowards didn't even have the courage to go up to her and ask. It would at least have made it more interesting, more fun, to see them react as she replied with "Your father" and them throwing colourful curses and a temper tantrum. And then she would've taught the pampered worms a lesson.

Her lips curved up to a small careless smile and she walked towards the table decorated with trays of snacks and pastries.

She almost moaned at the smell of chocolate.

Cauldron, almost all these stereotypical pregnancy telltales were turning out to be true. Although, she'd moan at the taste of chocolate every other day.

However just before she picked up a chocolate truffle to her plate with those lightly calloused fingers, her nails bare of any paint, some worm had the audacity to stop her from having her taste of Heaven. The only taste of heaven she would have, she had a special place in Hell after all. She certainly was too pretty for Heaven.

If the readers hadn't noticed, she was a little vain.

She snapped her head to the side, enough to give a whiplash to see a familiar face.

Nikolas stood tall, clad in a dark maroon suit with intricate olive green embroidered lining; the uncommon colour of his irises and matching pants with dress shoes. His mob of messy light chestnut hair, which she guess was gelled back to tame them but it certainly hadn't worked. His face was angular with his jawline, not as sharp as hers but prominent enough to be swooned upon. Small dotted freckles decorated his button nose and sides, marking him on the prettier spectrum than the just handsome.

He was one of her more understanding suitors and someone she was grateful to call a friend in this hellhole.

"You didn't tell me?" He whispered, hurt evident in his eyes.

"I couldn't risk others finding out then, the walls have ears even in your private quarters." Mana retorted, but not unkindly.

"I...I understand. I just wish I could've helped."

Mana's glaze softened as she smiled at his response,
"It still would've raised suspicion and my aunt would have gladly handed me full of drugs to you on a silver platter."

But she took a hold of his hand. And he molded his palms with her.

She and Nikolas had both grown together in Hewn City and had been friends as long as she could remember. So, she wasn't really surprised when nearly a century ago he had stepped up to be one of her suitors despite never harbouring any love outside of the friendship they had. The fact that he was the one who genuinely cared about her without any ill intentions, still baffled her to this day. No matter how glad she was, that he stepped up to marry her one day, she had rejected him as well; saying that he deserved someone who truly loved him like a mate did. And he really did.

The two quickly launched themselves into a full conversation on how she now bore a child in her belly, no details involved much to Nikolas's relief since Mana had no memories of it. She made sure to say she didn't know who the father was, he gave her a look of disbelief but didn't inquire any further, knowing she must have a reason. One of them being that some Fae listened as they chatted.

Suddenly, she felt shivers up her spine at the power released.

The High Lord and his inner circle were here.

*.｡*✧*。˖*.✧∘˚˳°～｡☆━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾉ*.✧*｡*ﾟ+☆

For some reason, Rhys felt a tug at his power. He had been feeling it for the past two months and it irked him more that it should.

At first he pondered that perhaps, it was a small, miniscule amount and it could be just be a fraction of his power he used for a ward or glamour that he had now forgotten.

But it didn't stop there, it began growing; in very tiny amounts almost like how a child slowly inherits their parent's powers, like how he had grown to his father's powers being the heir to the High Lord. No, it wasn't that his powers were weakening but that someone else was growing into his power. He began to wonder if he'd sired a child, the very thought of being a father this young and new to his position as High Lord scared him. He was scared for the child, his child. That is, if his theory was real.

It was then he decided to take this issue to someone he had begun to think of as family. With a heavy set of gold jewelry adorned with jems the size of Truth Teller's pommel, he flew to her chambers in the House of Wind; relishing the feeling of his wings stretching. To Amren, the ancient being from another world playing pseudo Fae in a body that was not her own.

She had blinked at him, the only sign of surprise she'd shown and then they both tried tracking the source of this growth of a being in his power, his power as High Lord of the Night Court with Starfall only a few months away.

They had failed at first, much to his frustration and Amren's immortal patience and confidence that this would work, that it was only a matter of time.

And she had been right, they had succeeded on the third try and came to a bone chilling answer.

That Rhys might have a heir, that he would be a father and that his child was in Hewn City, in the place where his cousin Mor's father ran his Court of corrupted cruel old Lords forever stuck to their orthodox ways, in the Court of Nightmares.

A father.

Despite the situation, Rhys found himself smiling.

*.｡*✧*。˖*.✧∘˚˳°～｡☆━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾉ*.✧*｡*ﾟ+☆

Well Rhys is a little misguided but he's got the point.

Do comment and vote y'all!