The Dark Heir - Nyx

48. Theia

Why she was so terrified to show Feyre her work, Theia didn't know. Her hands shook around the canvas as she and Nyx walked out of the studio. Would she be angry they had gone in there? Was Feyre saving this canvas for something special? Theia's mind spun with worry. Nyx led her down the corridor towards the entryway of the estate. Theia brought one hand to Nyx's arm and held herself against him, instantly feeling the calmness he drew from her.

Of course, Feyre was walking from the sitting room to the dining room, crossing in front of the corridor they walked down. Nyx called out to his mother, making her slow and blink down at them. Theia couldn't believe how she dressed so unlike a High Lady. Feyre was in a pair of cut pants, in shorts, the fabric gapping around her thighs. It looked like she wore one of Rhysand's lounging shirts and her long hair was braided over one shoulder. A wide smile danced over Feyre's lips as she turned to them.

"There you two are. I thought you'd never come inside," she laughed, glancing between them. Her eyes dropped to the canvas in Theia's hand and suddenly, a distant memory that had been wedged so far in Theia's mind came to the forefront. Theia had been a child, Penelope was still alive but their father was not. Maia had already been a shell of a female then, but not as bad as she had become when Penelope died.

She remembered that she had taken a scrap of fabric and made a dress for the wooden doll Penelope had given her. It was messy, unevenly cut, and far too big for the doll, but Theia had been so proud. It was her first creation without the help of her sister. Theia had ran to her mother, who was standing in the drab kitchen with a glass of whiskey to her lips. She remembered Penelope telling her that Mama had bought it with their last coin for the month.

Theia had shouted to her mother, who had flinched at the loud noise and glared down at her.  She didn't speak often at this stage, but more often then she had later on. Theia had held out her dress, a bright smile on her face, just for Maia to pluck it from her hand. She grimaced, looking over the dress as she took a drink of the whiskey. Then she had scoffed, pulled out the small scissors, and snipped it in half.

That memory hadn't come to Theia's mind in centuries. Perhaps she had hid it away when it had happened, but it terrified her now. She thought Feyre might hate the sketch, she might rip the canvas or laugh in Theia's face. Her hand shook as she held it out, nearly forgetting to speak.

"I was hoping you'd paint this for me. I am not quite skilled with paints like you," Theia murmured as Feyre took the canvas. She held it up, lips parted as her eyes scanned the canvas, and then Nyx. Theia's heart pounded.

"Of course I will. This is incredible, Theia. I've never seen Nyx depicted like this. He never smiles for me when I do portraits," Feyre laughed. Theia forced a smile but the fear of an ungrateful mother was still at the forefront.

"Thank you," she whispered. Feyre lowered the canvas and offered Theia a bright smile.

"I'll go put it in the studio and lay out the paints. Tomorrow we can sit together and you can tell me any specific things you'd like done to it," Feyre explained, glancing to Nyx before she slid past them and down the hall. Theia let out a heavy breath, leaning into Nyx more. He tucked his arm against his stomach to bring her in, leaning down to kiss her hair.

"Are you alright?"

Theia nodded. "It made me remember a time that my mother destroyed something I had made. I felt afraid, but it's ridiculous. Feyre would never do that, I'm just being foolish," she responded softly.

"Memories can haunt us at any time. It's not foolish, it's just your mind trying to protect you," Nyx answered. Her eyes lifted to him, her cheek pressed against his arm. He shot her a quick smile before nudging her forward and leading her into the dining room. Theia almost felt disappointed to leave his arm as they walked to the table, which Rhysand already was sat at. He, too, wore lounging clothes.