Characters: Estelle, Seren, and Azriel
Book: This story does not directly tie into any of my fanfictions.
This story would take place when Estelle is four years old.
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Estelle lay awake, hugging a pillow in a deadly grip. Thunder clapped outside the walls of her bedroom. She folded her wings around herself and tugged a thick blanket over her head. It wasn't enough to hide the flashes of lightning that illuminated her room.
She wasn't sure she liked having a big room to herself, even though it was large enough to play in, and her parents' room was right next door. She didn't mind it during the day, but sometimes, it was scary at night, especially during storms. She didn't like storms. They were big, loud, and powerful. She was so small in comparison.
Estelle sat up, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder so that it hung down her back. She drew her knees to her chest and gazed out her balcony doors. They were securely fastened as always, but a part of her was afraid that they'd fly open and the wind would pull her right out of bed. It would yank her into the sky and carry her so far away that no one would ever be able to find her.
That's not true, her shadows whispered, brushing against her round cheeks. We are part Illyrian. The wind obeys us. We're the ones with wings.
"Wings that Daddy says I can't use yet," Estelle whispered. "I'm not big or strong enough."
Soon you'll be able to, and the wind knows it must bow to you anyway.
Thunder boomed, rattling her windows and shelves. Estelle yelped, throwing the blanket over her head. I'm safe, she told herself. Mama says thunder can't hurt me, and Daddy used his magic to ward the house. I'm safe.
Safe, safe, safe, the shadows murmured. They nestled in her hair and coiled around her neck. Safe with the Shadow and the Flame.
Estelle bit her lip, itching to crawl out of bed and go into her parents' room. She clutched her blanket tighter, fighting the urge. She'd been trying to sleep in her own room more ever since her little brother was born. She'd seen how tired her parents were some mornings and knew they needed to sleep uninterrupted.
Go, the shadows urged. They won't mind.
Estelle flinched as another crack of thunder resonated in her pointed ears. She lifted her head a heartbeat later, hearing a softer sound. Estelle threw her blanket off, listening intently. The cry came again. She slid out of bed and tiptoed to the door. It opened with a faint creak. Estelle peered into the hallway, but saw no one. Again, the cry reached her.
She left her bedroom and paused beside her parents' door. If her brother was crying, surely her parents would hear it. Then again, if they were as tired tonight as they were other nights, maybe they wouldn't. Estelle pushed the door open and ducked inside. There were two more doors on the wall opposite her parents' bed. One led to the bathroom and the other led to her brother's nursery.
Estelle slunk across the room and opened the nursery door. A timid coo greeted her. She smiled, padding towards the cradle. Estelle dragged her stool over to its side and stepped up, peering down at her brother. Lysander's eyes were wide as he looked at her.
"Were you crying?" Estelle whispered.
His small hand reached for her. She let her own fall and Lysander wrapped his fist around her finger. Shadows slithered down his arm and he gasped, trying to kick his legs. His own tiny wings sprawled out on either side of him, fluttering as he wiggled.
Thunder rumbled and lightning lit up the room for a brief moment. Lysander began to cry. Estelle pursed her lips. "It's okay, Lys. We're safe in here." His sobs didn't quiet. Estelle patted the tip of his nose with a finger. "Don't be scared. I'm here. Look, Lys." She stuck her tongue out and squinted.
Lysander's cries shifted to confused grunts. Estelle made another face. Slowly, a smile grew on Lysander's little mouth. The shadows danced above his face, eliciting happy coos from him. Estelle looked up as the door opened. Her mother appeared, rubbing her eyes wearily.
Confusion flickered across her face when she caught sight of Estelle. "What are you doing up?" Seren asked. She lifted Lysander out of the cradle and held him close to her chest.
"I heard Lys and thought he might be scared," Estelle replied.
Seren smiled. "So you came to check on him?" Estelle nodded. "Come." She moved over to a rocking chair and gestured for Estelle to sit down. Estelle clambered into the seat and held out her arms excitedly. "Remember how I showed you?" She nodded.
Seren set Lysander down, positioning Estelle's elbow beneath his head. Estelle beamed at her mother, then looked down at the baby. His eyes were already drooping shut. Estelle began to rock gently, just like she'd seen her mother do.
Seren knelt beside her, running her knuckles across Lysander's cheek. "Look at you," she said, her smile growing. "You're such a good big sister."
"Really?" Estelle asked. Seren nodded. "I thought he didn't like me before. He cried when you first let me hold him."
"Babies can't express themselves like we can, Sweetheart. He was crying because he was tired, not because he doesn't like you. You used to cry when you were tired too."
"I did?"
"You did." Seren grinned. "Sometimes you still do." Estelle blushed and the shadows grumbled their disagreement. She jumped the next instant, when another clap of thunder shook the house. Lysander whimpered and Estelle quickly recovered herself. Seren squeezed her hand.
"Is everything all right?" Estelle perked up at the sound of her father's drowsy voice. He was standing in the doorway, hair mussed from sleep. Estelle couldn't help but think that he resembled a clay hedgehog Nyx had tried to make a few days ago.
"Lys was crying so Estelle came to check on him," Seren explained. She took the baby and Estelle hopped off the rocking chair. "You should go back to bed, Sweetheart. You'll be tired tomorrow."
"I'm tired right now," Azriel mumbled.
"I wasn't talking to you," Seren chuckled.
"Hmph." Azriel held out a hand to Estelle. "Come on, Little Bat. Back to bed."
She slipped her hand into his and he swung her onto his hip. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his bare, tattooed shoulder. Azriel carried her out of the nursery and back into the bedroom.
"Do I have to go back to my room?" Estelle whispered. "Lys might get scared again."
She closed her eyes as her father's shadows curled against her cheeks. Her own shadows mingled with them. Another bout of thunder boomed and she tightened her arms around Azriel.
"You're right. He might need you to be close by." Azriel sat on the edge of the bed and hugged her tightly. "Maybe you should sleep in here tonight." Estelle smiled and loosened her hold on him.
She twisted off Azriel's lap and burrowed her way beneath the thick covers in the center of the bed. They smelled like her parents, night chilled mist and cedar mixed with cinnamon and honey. Azriel sprawled out beside her and soon, Seren joined them. She sat on the other side of the bed, still holding Lysander.
Estelle gripped Lysander's foot and gave it a gentle shake, before rolling over and inching closer to her father. He tucked an arm around her, his breaths already growing heavy with sleep. Estelle pulled his free hand closer and nestled her face in his scarred palm. A sense of security washed over her and she relaxed, letting her eyes drift shut.
Her father's next breath shuddered, but Estelle didn't open her eyes to look at him. "She's so much like you," Azriel whispered, and she knew he was speaking to her mother. "Always holding onto something while she sleeps." When he next spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "Always touching my hands. My scars."
"Maybe we both just like reminders that you're with us," Seren replied. "And anyway, she's more like you."
"I'm like me," Estelle mumbled to herself.
Both of her parents laughed and Azriel brushed a soft kiss across her forehead. "Go to sleep, Little Bat."
"You go to sleep."
"I will as soon as you do."
"Mama too."
"After Lys falls asleep," Seren promised.
Estelle gave a contented nod. This time, she didn't notice when lightning lit up the room, or when thunder shook the shelves. Her father's frame hid the lightning from her, and his arm held her safely against his chest. No wind could tear her away from him.