#vela and her uncles so cute

[ignite-stars]

burning star, acotar

summary, the daughter of night and her two stubborn uncles in one snowball fight. what could go wrong?

word count, 700

author’s note, this is not a reader insert. my oc is feysand’s daughter, velaris archeron. all platonic pairings.

Rhysand wished he could capture the sight before him. Perhaps he’d memorize the sight, and have his High Lady paint it on a canvas— hang it broad in the House of Wind. Let the memory live on forever and ever. Hold it so tightly, so dearly, and never ever let go.

Burning starlight had dusted Velaris’s cheekbones— along with the bridge of her nose— flecking her tanned face shades of cosmic silver and gold, and defining the striking violet of her eyes.

But she hadn’t seemed to notice, holding her aching stomach as she bolted across the landing next to the Sidra. She was laughing, a melody to the dancing stars raining from the horizon.

A sudden hue of red peeked from the tree line not too far from the riverside; a figure frantically emerging from the woods with a triumphant chuckle. Cassian, melting snow dripping from his hair, a wild look in his eyes, and a abnormally large snowball in his hand.

Velaris quickened her speed, heading for what she thought was safety: crouched behind her Aunt Nesta, who was enjoying the night of quiet Starfall with the other Valkyries, glass of sparkling wine in hand.

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Cassian roared, pointing an accusing finger, “you’re too old for time-outs!” Velaris struggled to contain her fit of bemusement at the warrior’s tantrum, while Nesta quirked a brow at her mate.

It was Gwyn who replied, sipping steadily on her wine, “technically, she’s only taking cover— using your weaknesses against you,” the redhead snapped her fingers, “a signature move of yours, if I remember correctly, General Cassian.”

Velaris threw him a cheeky grin over Nesta’s shoulder, to which Cassian stuck his tongue out. Childish he may be, but no way was he letting her beat him for the second year in a row.

The year before, she used him as a human shield against Azriel. Two snowballs pelted right at him, bruising his abdominals, his ego, and his heart.

Speaking of the Shadowsinger, Velaris had been conversing mind-to-mind with him for the past half hour. The devious look on her face should’ve told Cassian everything he needed to know— but the blinding faith he put in both his niece and his best friend, distracted him.

But Rhysand, knowing his daughter as well as his own heart, could see the devious furrow in her eyebrows, one that mirrored his own, all too well. While Nyx had gained more attributes of his mother— blue eyes, sharp nose, and loving demeanor— Velaris was Rhys’s carbon copy. Even down to his roguish smile and horrible sense of humor.

He reached out for his daughter’s mind, claws gently caressing her mental shields. Should I be concerned for Cassian’s well-being, darling?

A moment of silence before she shrugged. Maybe a little. The words sounded distant— almost underwater. Rhysand could tell she was trying her hardest to ward him out of her thoughts; to keep him from her plans with Azriel.

Sounds delightful. He purred out. Instead of warning his brother, he opted to lean against the trunk of a bare tree. Whatever his spymaster and daughter had coming, he hoped it was entertaining. Just remember that you’re up against your personal trainer, I wouldn’t maim his pride too much.

Velaris seemed to wince at the thought. I heard Starfall brings horrible fevers. Guess I’ll have to sit training out tomorrow.

Rhys smiled a feline smile. It’s a shame Illyrians know how to hold grudges, otherwise I might find your lies excusable.

I’ll deal with the repercussions when the time comes, dad. Velaris ducked lower behind Nesta. It’s far too late to change my mind now.

Before he could ask what she meant, Cassian let out an oomph! His head jerked forward, causing him to stumble a few steps. The perfectly rounded snowball in his hand fell flat on the ground, right in front of his feet. Utter confusion took over his features before he spun on his heel. “Fucking traitor!” He whined.

Azriel stood a couple feet away, having gone unnoticed while he stealthily approached. Though he remained silent, a shit-eating grin spread across his plump lips.

Velaris finally stood from behind Nesta, pride pillowing in her flared, leathery wings. She gave Azriel a thumbs-up that warmed his cold heart, “Illyrian baby.”