"Her wings are made of starlight."
In which a mortal girl and an immortal Illyrian
are gifted neighboring cells Under The Mountain
and change each other's lives forever.
𝑨𝑪𝑶𝑻𝑨𝑹 -
...
𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. chapter seven; The Second Star " Only the best for my Court of Dreams. "
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THE BATHROOM WAS the same one from Nixie's childhood. White-tiled walls, small cracks invading the surface reminded Nixie of how long she'd lived there. How long her childhood truly lasted.
It was crowded, with plush towels and handmade soaps, artisanal candles her father had bought for Nixie and her mother decorated almost every surface, save for that daunting tub. Larger than life, it made way for Illyrian wings to steep in steaming water.
Admittedly, when she shed her clothes and sunk into the warm bath her mother had drawn for her, she felt a deep twinge of fear. One she wanted Rhys to snuff out-- this was the routine for fifty years, after all.
Despite being wrapped in nostalgia, this was all too vulnerable for Nixie. Everything exposed, not so much as a scrap of cloth to keep anything covered.
And when the door creaked open, Nixie jolted, hurriedly grabbing the soap dish as a weapon.
Her mother stood shocked in the doorway, a clean set of soft clothing over her arm. Her daughter, her darling, shining star, looked like a caged animal, her wet dark hair covering half of her face, the water had already turned red from the crusted blood on her limp wings.
"Do you want to be alone?"
"No."
The question had hardly made its way out of Marilla's mouth before Nixie's answer came. So the woman nodded, gently setting the clothing on a crowded cupboard, before kneeling beside the large porcelain bathtub. Nixie turned so her wings faced her mother, and Marilla grabbed a washcloth, gently removing the grime from the thin skin.
"Is Rhys still here?"
"Yes, Darling," Marilla spoke softly, the kind of comfort only a mother could give, attempting to scrub through the layer of dirt without harming her daughter, "He's downstairs with you father, he can be closer if you need it."
"I'm alright," Nixie whispered, eyes focusing on the crooked tiles of the bath.
"There's a second star, you know?"
Nixie's eyes widened briefly, gently rubbing at the tattoo on the nape of her neck, the only one she had been born with.
"There is?" Nixie asked, turning to face her mother, "That means. . . But it can't be?"
"It appears so," Marilla confirmed, "At some point, in these last fifty years, Rhysand met his Mate."
They soaked in silence for a while, the only sound that of Marilla dipping the cloth into the water, scrubbing, and repeating. Nixie's mind was swirling on the matter of a second star appearing, on the idea that Rhysand had felt the bond snap with someone but hadn't told her when or who it was.
