#feyre pregnancy

[yaralulu]

How angry do you think lucien was when the IC told him about feyres pregnancy and then told him she doesn’t know how bad it is and he can’t tell her.I know he was absolutely fuming and would’ve without a doubt told feyre everything if they hadn’t stationed him at spring for the duration of her pregnancy.

No but seriously they stationed him at spring bc they were worried tamlin would?? Like what was tamlin gonna do have a breakdown??break into velaris and do what exactly?? i’m telling you they knew lucien would rat them out (do the right thing 🗣️) so they sent his ass to the spring court.

[maisonaime]

Ilithyia's Blessings - Part 2

Warnings: mentions of past trauma, depiction of a panic attack, pregnancy trauma

Part 1

Part 2:

Mor was still on her knees in shocked silence when Amren finally snapped out of the daze of power Feyre had wielded against them. Bad. This was very very bad. 

“Up girl, we have to find Nesta.” she snapped. Failing to ignore Mor’s trembling shoulders she added “I’m sure she didn’t mean it Morrigan. Wounded animals bite.” 

You couldn’t keep your own from being desecrated. An iron nail, a note fluttering in the crisp Autumn wind, the crunching of boots retreating back through the fallen leaves. Agony.

Mor shook her head, tears falling freely. “I know she didn’t mean it, I could feel that her words — those words — weren’t her true feelings. I just… never thought she could…” words failed her.

Amren sighed and looked at the disarray around them, sniffing distastefully. “It seems we underestimated her. Feyre was raised in a pit of vipers, thrown to the wolves and then made an incredibly powerful Fae. She’s survived this long by the skin of her teeth, they were bound to be sharp.”

Mor wailed “She’s my sister. She’s our sister, Amren.” 

Amren ran a hand over her face exasperatedly “And we’ve betrayed her, all of us. Her words were vile and you didn’t deserve them, but they are just words Morrigan. Feyre is wielding your trauma, as I suspect she’ll try to do with all of us, as a weapon to protect her from her own. All we can do is show her that no matter what she says or does, we will still be here waiting for her.” 

Mor laughed bitterly, without a hint of humor, wiping at her face and rising to her feet. “I suppose no one knows how to hurt us quite like our own.” 

Amren was already moving towards the door. “Yes. And one of our own is going to wipe Nesta off the face of this world when he learns of what happened here, if he hasn’t already. I won’t pretend the bitch deserves our protection after that fucking stunt, but I will not let this court be plunged into civil war because our High Lord mists the sister of our High Lady in a fit of rage.”

“Nesta deserves whatever comes to her.” Mor snarled, rage awakening her features. 

Amren paused at the door, then turned to Mor with a determined glare. “Then so do we all Morrigan. I won’t pretend to have been any less a participant in creating this mess, but if we’re going to undo it we can’t hold to the pretense that any of us have acted correctly. No matter our intentions, the results have been disastrous.” 

And since Mor could hardly deny the truth in that statement, she set out after Amren into the streets of Velaris. They winnowed along the path of Nesta’s scent as quickly as possible, noting the way black clouds above tracked them, roiling and crackling with the power of the High Lord of Night.

—

The world was cleaving, air would not pass into her lungs, and she was sure that if she wasn’t dead already she would be soon. Panic, cloying and thick, choked its way out of her stomach and onto the pearlescent tiles in front of her. 

The thick bands of power pulled even closer around Feyre, blinding her surroundings and pulling oxygen from the air around her, folding the room into her. She could hear nothing above the roaring in her ears, her words played back to her at deafening speed and volume. Nothing made sense, nothing was as it should be. 

She could feel the aching spot behind her ribs where the mating bond was smothered away, could feel the last dregs of Rhys tearing desperately across that mind bridge as she slammed the gates shut. 

To be served, to be feared. She just wanted to be respected. 

The iciness that she allowed to surface for her persona of cruelty. This is not the Court of Nightmares, this is your family. Stop. Stop. STOP. 

What the hell had she said to Mor? Invoking her trauma like a dagger.

They lied, they lied to you. And now your child will die, and now YOU will die. 

Not their fault, their fault, THEIR FAULT. 

Warriors armed with tridents blasted powerful jets of seawater at the black vortex of power that had materialized in the middle of the room, holding it in place. Summer Court officials were already sounding alarm bells across the city and raising flags on the warships in Adriata’s port. Surely this was an attack of some sort.

Tarquin stood from his throne of shells and beachwood, assessing the violent haze of power that stifled the room and peeled through the layers of scent — panic, rage, confusion — until he stumbled across something familiar. With a start, he drew back into himself and sunk deep into the sea of his power. He drifted down and down until like called to like and he opened unseeing eyes to gaze at the pebble of his power, shrouded in darkness. 

As if recognizing the soul stare he had pinned her with, the blackness released its protective, suffocating grip on Feyre, dissipating across the floor in every direction like the tide back out to sea. She was hunched over, heaving her lunch onto his floor. As she rose, Tarquin’s eyes widened at the sight of her swollen belly, the scent of new life radiating off of her. 

He threw up walls of water around the two of them before the rest of the room could register that the High Lady of the Night Court had collapsed into their court, pregnant and distressed. Effectively sequestering them in a rippling fishbowl, for her safety, for the safety of his court, and if he were being perfectly honest… so that when Rhysand ripped through his mind in the moments before killing him he would see that at least Tarquin had tried to help his mate. 

Feyre sputtered and gasped, hand still braced on her knees. “I need… I seek asylum in the Summer Court.” oh so now she was going the diplomatic route. “My life is in danger, my family and Court must not know where I am.” not a lie, just shocking .”Please grant me temporary protection and anonymity in your jurisdiction.” 

The language she invoked demanded an answer, and Tarquin shuddered as the weight of her request settled between them. 

“Feyre, are you quite su–” He began.

“Tarquin… please.” she met his eyes, he had never seen such despair, and before he knew what he was saying…

“Yes, I grant you asylum in the Summer Court with all associated protections.” he breathed. 

He felt a tingling burn creep around his wrist as the promise was sealed in ink. Without another word he approached Feyre and winnowed them both to his office, releasing the walls of water with a burst of magic that would wash away the memory of the disruption before it could reach prying ears. 

— 

Cassian landed at the River House, wringing his hands as he approached Rhys’ office. He prayed Feyre would be there too so that they might rally Elain to go to Nesta. He had left the House of Wind when he sensed her in the bathroom and heard the tub running. A part of him thought twice about leaving her alone but it would be mere minutes before someone was at her side. 

He pushed open the unlocked door to Rhys’ study, finding his brother bent over correspondence, looking older than Cassian had ever seen him as he rubbed at his temple. 

“Cassian you won’t believe what these Autumn fucks want– what’s wrong?” Rhys snapped, his eyes narrowing at his brother’s evasive gaze. 

“Nesta, she – fuck Rhys I fucked it all. I wanted to know what she would name a weapon and the godsdamned woman is too fucking insightful. She saw right through me and pried everything out about the weapons and the vote we took. I think it undid every bit of progress we’ve been trying to make, and I just… FUCK.” he slammed his hands down onto the desk and then resumed his pacing, tearing at his hair.

Rhys was just about to start dousing this newest little fire with a word to his mate to send Elain to the House of Wind when he felt two sets of wards shattering in rapid succession. A deep tug from behind his navel alerted him to the old wards on the Townhouse tumbling down. The second set of wards fracturing set his skin on fire. 

Feyre. 

The careful netting of protection he had placed around her the moment he learned of their son, was unraveling. As he shot a frantic message down their mental bridge, he was met with walls of obsidian. Silence stretched and burned down their bond as he felt unholy might smother his connection to his mate. Rhysand clawed his way across the unsteady path toward Feyre’s mind, but each drag forward seemed only to push her presence further away. Moments later he choked on his horror as he realized her couldn’t feel her at all.

The clouds over the River House coalesced into black ether snapping with rabid lightning and quickly spreading out from Illyria to Velaris, blanketing the world in darkness. Seeking out the source of this mayhem for the hunt to follow.

Cassian somehow knew, as he gaped at his brother, that Nesta had most certainly not been in the bath, and was most certainly not going to be found at the House of Wind. His feet were moving before his mind could catch up with the scene around him

He was already soaring through the air towards Velaris when Rhys unleashed his power in a roar that nearly sent Cassian tumbling out of the sky. 

As he was rolling through the air on the shockwave, Cassian faced up at the sky and saw the storm clouds of Rhys’ manic power surging in a path over the town. As he shot along their path, he recognized the exact part of town they were leading to. 

He knew exactly what – who he would find there.

[shallyne]

Sunshine and Promises

Chapter Two - ✨whoa, double fuck✨

I couldn't decide something so I just decided to turn up the crack a bit. Enjoy. It's still around pregnancy btw, of you don't like trope this is not for you.

Words: 1,762

TW: none

Feyre and Helion go to the first doctor's appointment together.

The last four weeks felt like an eternity and no time at all at the same time. The moment Feyre thought that she was lucky and didn't have a bunch of early pregnancy symptoms, morning sickness kicked in and since then fatigue was a part of her every day, like a thin blanket wrapped around herself. She hadn't told many people about her pregnancy yet, not because she wasn't far into her pregnancy but because she didn't know how to tell her friends. I wasn't careful at my dick appointment and now I'm pregnant was probably the most honest response but she was not ready for the questions. Although Feyre was pretty sure that her friends already suspected something because Feyre had declined every single invitation she got in the last few weeks. 

Other than that, Helion had invited Feyre randomly to lunch or dinner and one time he had shown her around his nightclub. Feyre was surprised to stand in front of the most popular club in the city. Her little group of friends had tried to get in there a few times but they were always unlucky, now her baby daddy showed her around on a Tuesday morning. Helion also told her that he met Rhysand and his family, his Inner Circle, here a few years prior. In the two weeks she had known Rhys at this point, he had told her some about his family. She knew that his Inner Circle, as he called it, consisted of his two brothers, his cousin and Amren. Then there was also his mother and his little sister. His father died about three years ago and since then Rhys was head of his company. 

Now Feyre sat beside Helion as they were on their way to Feyre's next check up. When they stopped at a red light, Helion turned to Feyre "Are you nervous?" 

"No." Feyre answered. "I already know I'm pregnant, what else can the doctor tell me?" she sighed. "Why? Are you nervous?" 

Helion turned his gaze away from her and looked at the lights. He stayed quiet for a while and avoided meeting her eyes as he admitted "Yes, a little." 

Feyre smiled "I was nervous when I first went." 

"Really? You were so calm when we talked that day." Helion said. 

"Liar." Feyre snorted. She was sure she looked and sounded like a mess after her first appointment when she found out about the baby. "It will get easier, I promise." 

Helion nodded and then changed the topic "Did you walk the last time? To the doctor's office, I mean. It's quite the distance, did you take the bus?" 

"I took the subway and then walked a block." she answered. 

"Huh." Helion said. 

Feyre sighed, preparing for whatever comes next as she asked "What?" 

Helion shrugged and then said "I Just- if you need someone to drive you, please call me. Don't take the subway." 

Feyre crossed her arms "Why? I always take the subway." 

"The subway is dirty." Helion said as he gripped the wheel harder. 

"Careful, you sound like a snob." 

Helion groaned. "You know that is not what I mean! And trust me, I've been on that damned subway often enough in my life to know how it is. I don't imagine that anything has changed in the last few years." 

Feyre huffed, though Helion was right. Of course he was but what was Feyre supposed to do." Let's say I agree and I need to be somewhere." Feyre said. "It's late, you're at the club. I call you. What are you doing then?"

Helion came to a stop and Feyre was surprised when she looked out of the car window to see they already reached the doctor's office. 

He turned to her and said "I'll send you a driver." when she frowned he added "Or a taxi. Or an Uber. Whatever you feel most comfortable with, I'll find a way." 

"I'm pregnant, I'm not an invalid!" Feyre huffed. 

"I know but I still want you to be safe, believe it or not. With or without the baby. Though it also immensely calms me down to know that you are both safe." 

"Fine." Feyre smiled. "I'll call you but you better not turn into an overprotective mother hen." she said and stepped out of the car. 

Helion was right behind her as she entered the office. He was behind her when Feyre went to the front desk and followed her to the waiting room. He was more quiet than usual so Feyre asked him after a few silent minutes "Do you want to hold my hand?" 

"What?" he asked as I pulled him out of his thoughts. 

"You look nervous and that usually helps me." Feyre shrugged. Helion looked at her outstretched hand and took it wordlessly. She smiled and then said "I'm so excited for lunch, I'm getting hungry." Feyre sighed and looked around the room. It was more crowded this time than when she was here only a few weeks ago. 

"Did you know the baby is the size of a kumquat now?" Helion whispered in her ear. 

"A kumquat?" Feyre asked. "How do you know?" 

He shrugged, his leg bouncing up and down, and said "I did a little bit of research." 

Feyre whirled her head around to Helion, who looked at a poster on the opposite wall, and she smiled. She didn't know why it made her so happy but it was like someone taking weight off her shoulders that she didn't even know she was carrying. 

Around an hour of waiting, Feyre squeezed Helion's hand when a heavily pregnant woman entered the waiting room. She hadn't thought as far as that this could be her in a few months. He squeezed her hand back reassuringly as if he could read her mind. It probably wasn't hard to know what she was thinking, especially as she jumped up when a nurse called her name and hurried to the room the nurse pointed to. 

"I'm getting kinda hungry, too." Helion said as Feyre looked around the room. 

Feyre snorted. "Will you survive a few minutes?" 

"I think I can manage that," he replied. They made plans with Rhys to go grab lunch after their appointment and honestly, Feyre was glad. It was ages since she went out just to eat. Either she had ordered in or it was just a quick snack before her friends and her went to the next club. She had loved that life but she hadn't realized that she missed simple things like a lunch date. 

A few minutes later the doctor entered the room and greeted Feyre, then Helion. She asked Feyre how she felt and they talked for a bit and everything was fine. Then it was time for the ultrasound and the doctor showed her where everything was and explained until she got eerily quiet and tilted her head. 

"What?" Feyre asked, scared, squeezing Helion's hand that he had placed on her shoulder. 

"What's going on? Is everything alright?" Helion asked, taking her hand. 

The doctor turned and smiled at them "Everything is perfectly fine!" she said. "I was looking at the monitor right here because I could make out two heartbeats. You're having twins."

Feyre stared at the doctor, then she looked at Helion who looked at the monitor, disbelieving, and then Feyre looked at the doctor. 

"What?" Feyre and Helion asked in unison. 

—----------------------

"No, you don't have to call Rhys and cancel." Feyre said when she felt that Helion was about to say something. He already offered it two times and even though Feyre kept saying that she was alright, he did not believe her. She didn't blame him, they were both in shock. They didn't expect this outcome from the appointment today. 

"Okay." he said. Feyre was clicking her nails against the table as they waited for Rhys at the restaurant. 

"How are you?" she asked, not stopping the clicking of her nails. 

"Great. Amazing." He sighed and looked at her. "I don't know," he admitted. "What about you? You look pale." 

"I got that from my mother." Feyre said. 

He snorted. "I meant paler than usual." 

Feyre shrugged. "Two is a lot. I mean, one is already a lot."

"It is a lot," he agreed. "It's one more than I had expected." 

That came so sudden and sounded so ridiculous that Feyre burst out into laughter. She had to hold her hand in front of her mouth when the people that sat on the next table threw them weird looks. "It's definitely two more than planned." 

Helion chuckled and nodded. "That it is." 

"Hey! I'm sorry I'm late, the meeting took a little longer than anticipated and the traffic was a nightmare. I hope you didn't wait too long." Rhys said as he brushed past them and sat down opposite of Feyre. He smiled at them and then asked her "Are you okay? You look pale."

Feyre rolled her eyes. "We waited half an hour." 

"I'm sorry." Rhys repeated. "How was your appointment?" 

Feyre took her ice tea and took a sip, so she wouldn't have to explain. Helion looked at her then back to Rhys and sighed. "It was pretty good. Feyre got an ultrasound and we saw the babies, that was crazy but cool." Feyre nodded in agreement. 

"Crazy but cool." she repeated as she placed her glass on the table. 

They both watched Rhys, witnessing the exact moment as his eyes widened and he realized "Babies? Plural?" 

"Two to be exact." Feyre said. 

"Twins." Helion added. 

Rhysands gaze wandered from Helion to Feyre. "Did you-" he cleared his throat. "Did you know? Did you expect that?" 

Feyre shook her head and Rhys loosened a breath. "Wow. That must be quite the shock for you two." 

"It is." Feyre said at the same time Helion said "Definitely."

"And now?" Rhys asked. 

Feyre leaned back in her chair and said "Now we order, I'm starving." 

Helion chuckled, "We don't want that."  which made Rhys chuckle in return but his gaze stayed in Feyre. 

After they ordered and shortly after got their meals, Feyre was thankful to have both Helion and Rhys at her side. This was a situation she never thought she would be in but they were her friends, she realized, and she was lucky to call them such. Although when it was time to go home and both men helped her walk down two steps, she had the feeling that she now had two mother hens at her side. 

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

This is more for me. What I needed that Sarah took from me.

[lainalit]

The only feelings & fears regarding feyre's deadly pregnancy I'm interested to hear about are FEYRE'S, not cassian's, not nesta's and certainly not rhysand's

[roselensedeyes]

i feel like people don't understand that rhysand didn't stop elain and azriel from kissing because he doesn't want them together, but because he knows azriel would easily defeat lucien in the case the autumn court boy invokes the blood duel.

[justascrollingghost]

The worst take is people using Nesta telling Feyre about the pregnancy as some huge positive mark for Nesta when the reality is that she used it as ammo to hit Feyre where it would hurt the most when she was pissed off. Imagine telling somebody they're going to die because you want to hurt them? Imagine sneering it at them whilst implying their family don't care and aren't doing anything but hiding it from her? Nesta was completely in the wrong - so completely and utterly in the wrong that it still shocks me when people defend her and say she did a good thing because she literally didn't? She told her to be nasty. That's it. There was no compassion or sisterly love or actual worry for her well-being when she told her like people paint there to be

[kataraavatara]

“But how could Rhysand have known Feyre shapeshifting during the conception would mean-” Let’s take shapeshifting out of the equation then. Feyre’s base form is High Fae and Rhys is half Illyrian and half High Fae. a basic Punnett square tells us that the baby would have a 25% of having wings regardless. Now a 3/4 chance of everything turning out fine is all well and dandy…but for betting your life, your mate’s life, your child’s life and the political stability of your entire court those are actually pretty shit odds. why would you do that. you are so fucking stupid why are you in charge of a country.

[huntquinlan]

thinking about elain’s story and bodily autonomy. i think sjm was very intentional in using elain’s powers to introduce us to vassa and koschei. how vassa’s body was corrupted against her will by koschei, and how her existence is now defined by the changes he made. thinking about how koschei has a lake full of swans who were once women who’s bodies he changed against their wills as well. thinking about how elain was changed against her will by a cruel king to teach a lesson to somebody else. how she was reduced to a body and then a tool, a means to an end (to demonstrate the power of hybern against her sister but especially people she barely knew). how even the tool used to change her, the cauldron, which once belonged to the mother and symbolically can be connected to the womb, was appropriated and used forcefully by the king of hybern.

i think about how canon suggests that the cauldron loved elain, that perhaps it gifted her the powers it did because it loved her. maybe the cauldron recognized then, that this poor girl was like it, and sought to give her the power to prevent what was being done to her, and what had been done to countless other women and girls by making her a seer. let’s not forget that elain’s vision of vassa helped them turn the tide of the war against hybern and that it was elain that struck the killing blow against the king of hybern in defense of her sister, another who was denied bodily autonomy. ultimately bodily autonomy, especially given the current political climate in the US is a really heavy theme to deal with, but i sincerely hope that this thread is continued, and that we will get to see an elain who is empowered, and empowered on her own terms. an elain who reclaims her body and her future, and helps others do the same.

[thatapologisttoyourantis]

If I start off something off with “another thing” or “one thing” just know I’m about to rant on here😂😂😩😩😭😭 & on that note…buckle up because this is a long one.

It absolutely baffles me that Feyre throughout ACOSF shows ZERO initiative or indication on wanting to know as much as she can about her baby/pregnancy, she’s a FIRST TIME MOTHER-TO-BE & this girl shows not a single ounce of “first-time-mom syndrome” Feyre’s lack of care towards her & her baby’s wellbeing whilst pregnant is to me absolutely diabolical & insane.

What I mean by this is at not one point has it ever been established that Feyre showed the initiative to get 2nd & maybe even 3rd opinions from different midwives/healers or even Illyrian mothers & find out information for herself about her son & her own health during pregnancy, I don’t know what wtf SJM was thinking making Feyre completely & utterly dependent on Rhysand relaying information or even Madja for that matter, it completely blows my mind that SJM’s thought process for Feyre throughout this whole ordeal was to make her so vulnerable that she shouldn’t even be aware that her own baby would likely kill her during the delivery.

I can 100% understand that Feyre wants to enjoy the pregnancy & be “in the moment” with the pregnancy experience but what I can’t grapple with is Feyre being so content & uncaring to find out all the information she can about having an Illyrian baby/baby with wings, like she was told directly by Madja that the delivery would be difficult & from that as far as we all know she made NO attempts to get as much info as she can to help herself & her son…as a first time mom…being that nonchalant?!!?!!! Like wtf?!!!

I can’t understand how she can be told the labour will be difficult & not do a damn thing herself to find ways to potentially make it easier such as finding out from others aka Lucien if he knows anything about shifting whilst pregnant, why the hell didnt Rhysand or any of the others think to go to Spring & ask Tamlin if he knows anything about risks of shifting during pregnancy since…you know shifting is HIS thing, they have no problem trespassing in Spring for secret meetings or going their to taunt an already depressed & suicidal Tamlin but when you actually need his help yet again they all suddenly get amnésia including Feyre?!!?!

To me Feyre’s inability to find things out for herself & relied on everyone else to find the information out & hope they relay it back truthfully (which in the end they did not) is not only careless but reckless too & just shows how much she wasn’t ready to be a mother, unless we end up getting a POV or flashback POV of Feyre’s thoughts surrounding her pregnancy then naturally I’ll change my stance on this situation.

Also Madja needs to NEVER & I mean NEVER be allowed to be a practicing healer EVER AGAIN!! That female is absolutely disgusting & diabolical too, she as a female making a choice for Feyre in not telling her she & her baby may die & by extension Rhysand of course, I don’t care if she was forbade by Rhysand what she did was absolutely disgusting, can you imagine how many other females in The Night Court have potentially lost their lives because Madja made a call that wasn’t hers to make on a mother & baby’s wellbeing.

And I will stand 10 toes down behind Nesta telling Feyre the birthing dangers but I don’t agree with how/the way it came out but I also understand why she in that moment she blurted it out to Feyre, it was a lose lose predicament to be in & had Feyre taken the initiative to find out more info on her pregnancy herself maybe she would have known about this already & maybe been prepared.

I really want to believe that Feyre was more involved in her own pregnancy & was showing some semblance of that first-time-mom syndrome but based off of everything we did get with ACOSF everything so far is saying she didn’t, which is just so sad that even at her most vulnerable SJM chose to make Feyre even more vulnerable by purposely having her mate/husband & family keep such a thing from her & not have her act like a mom-to-be

[small-z24]

One-Shot: A Shadow’s Legacy

Summary:

When Azriel and Y/N are tasked with babysitting Nyx, it stirs unexpected emotions and deep conversations about their future. As new challenges and surprises unfold, they face their fears and dreams together. Discover how their journey leads to a life-changing revelation and a heartwarming new chapter in their lives.

Word Count: 2343

Warnings: None

The serene twilight of Velaris was just beginning to settle as Azriel and Y/N arrived at the River House. Feyre and Rhysand had asked them to babysit Nyx for the evening while they attended a diplomatic meeting. Y/N had been thrilled by the request, her eyes sparkling with excitement, but Azriel seemed more apprehensive.

"Thank you for this," Feyre said, handing a giggling Nyx to Y/N. "It means a lot to us."

Y/N beamed. "We're happy to help. Aren't we, Azriel?"

Azriel nodded stiffly, his eyes on the tiny winged infant. "Of course," he said, though the edge of his voice suggested he was far from comfortable.

As Feyre and Rhysand departed, Y/N turned to Azriel with a playful grin. "Relax, Az. It's just one night."

Azriel huffed, crossing his arms. "I’m not sure I'm the best choice for this. I'm better with enemies, not infants."

Y/N laughed softly, adjusting Nyx in her arms. "You'll be fine. Besides, look at this little guy. He’s adorable."

Nyx cooed, reaching out to tug at Y/N's hair with a delighted giggle. Her heart melted instantly, and she found herself imagining what it would be like to have a child of her own. A child with Azriel’s dark hair and hazel eyes.

She shook the thought away, focusing on the present. "Let’s get him settled."

The evening went smoothly enough. Nyx was a cheerful baby, full of laughter and curiosity. Y/N was a natural, playing with him and making him laugh, while Azriel watched from a cautious distance. Every time Nyx made a sudden movement or loud noise, Azriel would tense, as if expecting an ambush.

Eventually, it was time for Nyx’s bedtime. Y/N carried him to his nursery, Azriel trailing behind. As she rocked Nyx gently, singing a soft lullaby, Azriel lingered by the door, his eyes softening as he watched the scene.

"Az," Y/N called softly, "come say goodnight."

He hesitated but finally stepped forward, his usually composed features revealing a hint of uncertainty. He reached out, brushing a gentle hand over Nyx's tiny wing. "Goodnight, little one," he murmured, his voice surprisingly tender.

Nyx gurgled happily, his eyes drooping as he succumbed to sleep. Y/N carefully placed him in his crib and turned to find Azriel watching her, a contemplative look in his eyes.

"See? You’re a natural," she whispered, smiling.

Azriel shrugged, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "You’re the natural. I’m just trying not to break anything."

Y/N moved closer, taking his hand. "You did great. And...seeing you with Nyx tonight made me think."

Azriel raised an eyebrow. "Think about what?"

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "About the future. About having a family. With you."

Azriel's eyes widened, surprise and emotion flickering across his face. "Y/N, I...I never thought about it. I never imagined...children."

Y/N squeezed his hand. "I know it’s a lot to think about. But seeing you with Nyx, it just felt right. Like this is something we could do. Together."

He was silent for a moment, his eyes searching hers. Then he pulled her into a gentle embrace, his wings cocooning them in warmth. "If it’s with you," he whispered, "then I think I could do anything."

Y/N smiled against his chest, feeling a rush of love and certainty. "We’ll take it one step at a time. But I know you’ll be an amazing father, Az."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Y/N knew that whatever the future held, they would face it together. And with Azriel by her side, she felt ready for anything.

The next day, Azriel found himself in the training grounds with Rhysand and Cassian. The morning sun cast a golden glow over the landscape, and the crisp air was filled with the sound of clashing swords and laughter as the Illyrian warriors trained.

Rhysand and Cassian noticed Azriel’s contemplative silence as they sparred. Finally, Cassian, never one to shy away from a probing question, lowered his sword and approached Azriel with a curious look.

"Alright, Az. Spill it. What’s got you so lost in thought today?" Cassian asked, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Rhysand joined them, a knowing smile on his face. "Yes, Azriel. You’ve been unusually quiet, even for you. Something on your mind?"

Azriel hesitated, glancing around to ensure they were alone. Taking a deep breath, he decided to confide in his brothers. "It’s about Y/N. And Nyx."

Rhysand's smile widened. "Ah, the babysitting adventure. How did it go?"

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It went fine. Y/N was amazing with Nyx, as expected. But it made her think about the future. About having a family. With me."

Cassian's eyes widened in surprise. "Whoa. That’s big."

Rhysand's expression softened with understanding. "And how do you feel about it, Az?"

Azriel shifted uncomfortably, his wings twitching. "I don’t know. I’ve never thought about having children. With my past, with everything I’ve done...I’m not sure I’d be a good father."

Cassian clapped a reassuring hand on Azriel’s shoulder. "You’re not alone in feeling that way, Az. We all have our doubts. But you’ve got a good heart. And Y/N clearly believes in you."

Rhysand nodded in agreement. "Azriel, you’re one of the most honorable and caring people I know. You’ve protected this family, this court, with everything you have. I have no doubt you’d be a wonderful father."

Azriel’s eyes flickered with a mixture of relief and uncertainty. "But what if I can’t protect them? What if I fail?"

Cassian’s gaze was steady, his voice firm. "You won’t. And even if you stumble, you’ve got us. We’re family, Az. We’ll be there to support you and your family, no matter what."

Rhysand added, "Trust yourself, Az. You’re stronger than you realize. And you deserve happiness, a family of your own."

Azriel looked between his two brothers, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. Their words were reassuring, a reminder that he wasn’t alone in his fears. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I needed to hear that."

Cassian grinned. "Anytime, brother. Now, let’s get back to training. Can’t have you going soft on us, future dad or not."

Azriel chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders as they returned to their sparring. The conversation with Rhysand and Cassian had given him much to think about, but for the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope about the future Y/N had envisioned for them.

As they trained, Azriel resolved to talk to Y/N again, to share his fears and hopes, and to take that next step together. Because with her by his side, he believed they could face anything— even the daunting prospect of starting a family.

That evening, Azriel found Y/N in the garden of the River House, surrounded by blooming night-blooming flowers that seemed to glow under the moonlight. She was sitting on a stone bench, gazing up at the stars. The sight of her, so peaceful and radiant, filled him with a sense of calm.

He approached quietly, his footsteps barely making a sound on the soft grass. "Y/N," he called gently, not wanting to startle her.

She turned, a smile spreading across her face when she saw him. "Azriel. Join me?"

He nodded, taking a seat beside her. For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the night sounds of Velaris creating a serene backdrop. Finally, Azriel took a deep breath, ready to open up about the thoughts that had been swirling in his mind all day.

"I talked to Rhys and Cassian today," he began, his voice steady but soft. "About what you said last night. About having a family."

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in her gaze. "And what did they say?"

Azriel smiled faintly. "They were supportive. They think I’d make a good father."

Y/N reached out, taking his hand in hers. "They’re right, you know."

He squeezed her hand, his expression serious. "But I have my doubts, Y/N. My past...the things I’ve done. I worry that I’m not capable of being the kind of father a child deserves."

She moved closer, her eyes searching his. "Az, everyone has a past. But it’s who you are now that matters. And you are one of the most caring, protective, and honorable people I know. You’ve saved so many lives, including mine. That’s what matters."

He looked down, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "I’m afraid of failing you. Of not being able to protect you and any children we might have."

Y/N cupped his cheek, making him look at her. "Azriel, you’ve never failed me. You’re always there, always strong. But it’s okay to be afraid. We’ll face those fears together. Just like we do everything else."

Her words soothed the turmoil inside him, her unwavering faith in him a balm to his doubts. He took a deep breath, feeling a sense of clarity and resolve. "I want this, Y/N. I want a family with you. But I need you to know that I’m scared."

She smiled, her eyes shining with love. "We’ll figure it out together, Az. One step at a time. And I’ll be right here with you, every step of the way."

Azriel pulled her into a gentle embrace, his wings enveloping them both in a cocoon of warmth. "Thank you," he whispered against her hair. "For believing in me. For believing in us."

Y/N hugged him tightly, her heart full. "Always, Az. Always."

As they sat there under the stars, wrapped in each other’s arms, Azriel felt a newfound sense of hope and determination. With Y/N by his side, he felt ready to face the future—whatever it might hold. And for the first time, he allowed himself to dream of a family, a life filled with love and happiness, with her.

A few months later, Y/N stood in front of the mirror in their bedroom, her heart pounding in her chest. She had suspected it for a while, but now it was confirmed. She was expecting a child.

Taking a deep breath, she placed a hand on her still-flat stomach, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling within her. She knew she needed to tell Azriel, but the weight of the news made her hesitate. How would he react?

Gathering her courage, she went to find Azriel. He was in the library, engrossed in a book, his wings folded neatly behind him. As she approached, he looked up, a smile lighting up his face.

"Hey," he greeted, setting the book aside. "Everything okay?"

Y/N took his hand, her fingers trembling slightly. "Az, I have something to tell you."

Concern flickered in his eyes as he stood, his hands gently cupping her face. "What is it, love?"

She took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his. "I'm pregnant."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Azriel’s eyes widened, his expression a mix of shock and wonder. "Y/N...are you serious?"

She nodded, tears of joy welling in her eyes. "Yes, Az. We’re going to have a baby."

A slow, radiant smile spread across his face, and he pulled her into a tight embrace, his wings wrapping around them both. "We’re going to have a baby," he repeated, awe in his voice. "I can’t believe it."

Y/N laughed through her tears, holding him close. "Believe it, Az. We’re going to be parents."

They stood there for a long moment, reveling in the joy of the news. Finally, Azriel pulled back slightly, his eyes shining with love. "We need to tell the others. They’ll be thrilled."

A few hours later, the Night Court gathered in the main hall of the River House. Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, Mor, and Amren were all present, curiosity evident on their faces.

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "You called us all here for a reason, Azriel. What’s going on?"

Azriel exchanged a glance with Y/N, his hand squeezing hers for reassurance. Together, they stepped forward.

"We have some news," Y/N began, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "We’re expecting a baby."

The room erupted in cheers and congratulations. Feyre rushed forward, enveloping Y/N in a warm hug. "That’s wonderful news!" she exclaimed. "I’m so happy for you both."

Cassian clapped Azriel on the back, a proud grin on his face. "Looks like you’re going to be a dad, brother. Congratulations."

Mor hugged them both, tears in her eyes. "I’m so happy for you two."

Even Amren, usually stoic, offered a rare smile. "Congratulations. The child will be lucky to have you both as parents."

As the celebrations continued, Azriel and Y/N shared a quiet moment together, their hands intertwined. "We did it," Y/N whispered, her eyes shining with happiness.

Azriel kissed her forehead, his heart full. "Yes, we did."

Months later, Y/N was in the birthing room, Azriel by her side. The labor was intense, but she drew strength from his steady presence. Finally, with one last push, the cries of their newborn filled the room.

The healer gently placed their baby girl in Y/N’s arms. She had tiny wings, just like her father, and dark hair that framed her cherubic face.

Azriel looked down at their daughter, tears in his eyes. "She’s beautiful," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

Y/N smiled, exhausted but elated. "She looks just like you, Az."

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to their daughter’s forehead. "Welcome to the world, little one," he murmured. "We love you so much."

As they cradled their newborn daughter, surrounded by the love and support of their family, Azriel felt a profound sense of peace and fulfillment. This was their new beginning, a future filled with love, joy, and the promise of a lifetime of happiness together.

[yaralulu]

Silver flames really is the weirdest of the bunch because you get so moments like these that just leave you feeling so icky.

Is this seriously implying that whenever feyre’s mad at rhys he just fucks her to make her forgive him?? Am i reading that correctly?? Is this really being brought up as something completely normal between them when it’s just gross and manipulative.The way he’s so smug about it too and the line delivery?? Ew😍.

I really wonder what was going through sjm’s head when writing acosf rhys because every time he opened his big mouth I genuinely considered jumping off the nearest cliff.I don’t think he was acting completely out of character but he was so unlikable in a way he never was before —and don’t even try to blame nesta he wasn’t any better from cassian’s pov.It’s just crazy how there isn’t a single person who could justify rhys’s behavior in this book not even the die hard rhys stans and I just need to know if sjm intended for that or if she genuinely thought we’d be stupid enough to be ok with everything he did.

[maisonaime]

Ilithyia's Blessings - Part 4

I literally do not expect anyone to read this a mere hour after Miss Maas herself dropped the H-bomb on us, but I wanted to get this out into the ether before I lose myself in the next 900+ pages of her world. I promise after this chapter I will actually start fixing things rather than simply destroying them, but enjoy the demolition for now! ~2.2k words.

Warnings: depiction of a panic attack, fears about pregnancy/birth/motherhood, violence, choking, heights, family conflict, angsty, some would say a little dark

Part 1;  Part 2; Part 3;

Part 4:

There was nothing above the din in her mind and the shattering of her heart amidst the blackness. She could not stop this path of destruction, couldn’t quell the fire spitting out of her, taking aim at every person she loved. There was deep exhaustion settling into her mortal body that her power just ignored, dragging her down from her chest to her knees as she curled in on herself and sank to the floor. She didn’t care if it stopped. She wanted to burn and burn until she blew away on the wind, at last settling into the dust her bones were wrought from. 

Tarquin stood frozen in place as the black hole of power in the antechamber to his study churned and churned until finally, he decided he had to do something. Feyre appeared to be smothering herself with night once again, and that kernel of their shared power he had latched onto previously had spiraled completely out of his grasp. As his brain caught up with the events of the past 15 minutes – running at about a four-minute lag time – he was still trying to decipher if he had actually seen the unmistakable blue glint of siphons amongst the darkness. 

Enough was enough. He had yielded to this display of power, yielded to his base instinct to help those who had nowhere to go, yielded to her highly unusual interruption of his Court, yielded to her request for asylum and anonymity. 

All things that would probably see him split down to a molecular level by her deceptively gorgeous husband. Until he had learned of their pairing he had lusted after them both, and after? Well, what was unfolding had certainly not crossed his mind any of the many times he pondered what the Lovers of Night did with (and to) each other. 

Enough was enough. She was entitled to her protection here, but if she wanted to rip open the bridge between space and time in his Court… she would at least need to step outside. 

The High Lord of Summer steeled himself against the blackness and sent ribbons of water imbued with fractals of precious light from his palms. It wrapped itself in the same pattern as the chains of blackness had curled themselves around Feyre. Tarquin sent bursts of his power from his fingertips to propel the shards of light into the fraying enclosure.  As the blackness began to dissipate like ink, he flinched to see Feyre thrashing on the floor. Panic washed into his chest as he worried she had seriously hurt herself, motivating him to push the last of the thick night away. 

He quickly shifted the intention of his powers, allowing those ribbons to quietly reach Feyre and lift her off her feet, running soothing currents across her pulse points, gently uncurling her limbs and immobilizing her from further endangering herself. 

Feyre was certain she had died. One moment she was keening against the ground, unable to breathe, the burning behind her eyelids and between her brow like iron ore being dripped into her brain. The next, she was weightless along the cool planes of Tarquin's power. 

Only her mouth and nose were left exposed for air, forcing Feyre to refocus all efforts on breathing deeply as she was distracted from her mania. The silence that wrapped itself around her like a soft embrace nearly had her adding to the saltwater surrounding her. She hadn’t the energy to form a single thought, wisps of words and images stuck on repeat in her mind without taking coherent form. The confusion ebbed away into nothingness as she finally gave herself to the burnout. 

She hadn’t told anyone, had felt useless to state such an obvious fear, but she was so scared to give birth. She was afraid she couldn’t do it, that the pain would be insurmountable, that her body would not obey her and she would lose control at the cost of her and the babe. She had been quietly doing her own research and found a healer who specialized in attending to laboring women for their emotional support, but she had told no one, not even Rhys. 

It somehow felt silly to say that she was afraid to be in pain, though she knew that it went against every rational thought process. Of course, she was going to be afraid to be in pain, that pain would last for hours and would only escalate until her son was out. She was creating a new life and a task so important was bound to be hard and long and painful. And maybe that was part of it too, the part she really hadn’t found the words for. That she was afraid, not just for the pains of childbirth, but for the pains of being a mother. 

That she would lay her heart bare every day of her child's life, allowing it to break over and over again without complaint. Being forced to watch the realities of the world claw at his dreams, reminding him of his essence while letting him change, one day watching him set off on his own without knowing what world he would face. 

In the depths of the night when Rhysand would be so heavily asleep next to her that she could shield the bond without him noticing, she worried she might not be as ready as she thought she was, that she rushed into having a child with centuries still ahead of her. How could she hope to impart the same wisdom at twenty-one that she might’ve at one hundred and twenty-one? Had she ever stopped to consider living a life that was truly for herself? 

She thought she could overcome it, the birth and the rest of it. With time. With her family. With Rhys. With a team of good healers. 

And now she had nothing but herself. And the shattered promise of a son she may never get to meet.

— 

No force on earth could stop the powers converging in the scummiest alleyways of an otherwise beautiful city. Save for a god unleashing itself upon Velaris there would be little to stop the cataclysmic implosion of the most important family in the Night Court.

Nesta was set in a dead sprint down the streets; hurtling through corridors and refusing to look back as she felt that cold midnight power bearing down on her, creeping alongside her as Rhys hunted her in earnest. Her rage had already dissipated, but the well of power churning inside of her sang with glee at the challenge. She had no illusions about being able to avoid the oncoming confrontation, but she prayed that some pitying god might allow her a last drink before her sure death. 

Cassian was surveilling the city in a frenzy, staying close to the rooftops to avoid provoking his brothers' ravaging power as he trailed the plume of raw power hurtling toward Nesta. The notion of having to put himself between his brother and his mate, the sting of betrayal at the both of them for their actions, for their disregard. His chest felt like it was caving in with the dissonance, the knowing of what he might have to do. 

Azriel was contemplating continuing his freefall straight into the Sidra and letting the current wash him away. Unfortunately, it seemed his new master did not prefer that course of action. He could taste her potent blood on his tongue. As if she were seeing through his eyes, thinking his thoughts, she spoke into his mind. Now Azriel, we can’t have that. He had the distinct sense his wings would continue flying with or without his will. 

The new bond was more than chafing, it was blood-curdling. Where he had always hoped to hear his shadows sing, they now shrieked like the violent scraping of all the strings on a violin, like talons against steel, like a boy staring at his own hands on fire. Remember, you’re not to breathe a word of our secret, I expect not a blink or a breath out of place. He flew on. 

Amren and Morrigan stood on either end of the alley that led to the entrance of Nesta’s favored pleasure hall from before her intervention. Varian was hurriedly canvassing the neighboring streets hoping to spot Nesta and give the two females warning, if only a few seconds. They had reasonably gambled that given that these few city blocks were the only ones Nesta had ever really bothered to learn, her feet would probably carry her there by habit. 

And naturally, they were correct. 

Nesta made her way around the corner, chest heaving as she slowed to a brisk walk and shrieked as Mor made to grab at her and winnow her away to safety. She lunged out of the way, only to back herself directly into Rhys. He landed and swept her into the air in a blur of wings and smoke so fast, that Mor could do nothing but stare at the space where Nesta had stood for fractions of a second. Cassian bleated like a wounded animal as he launched himself into the sky after them.

There was nothing but the wind in her ears, the burgeoning pressure of altitude and her power crooning for more, more, more. 

They were hundreds of feet above the city when Rhys paused in the air and held her out in front of him by her throat like she were little more than a ragdoll. Nesta clawed at his arms and struggled not against his grip, but for more of it as her panic threatened to take over. 

He sneered cruelly, bringing her close to his face. Gone was the male she had seen look at Feyre with such softness; like their souls were intertwined and carried on twilight clouds. Finally, a monster to rival the one raging inside her. 

“If I have anything to say about it, you will never see your sister or our child ever again.” Rhys snarled.

That caused Nesta to pause, cold steel sweeping through her veins and into her irises. The silvery goddess in her spoke softly and with such venom that his grip softened just slightly in shock, preventing him from stopping what happened next.

“Neither will you” she leveled. Then she spit in his face and pushed herself out of his grip and into the awaiting sky. She was freefalling for mere seconds until she was in Cassian's arms as he hauled ass out of the city, towards the safety and coverage of the Illyrian wilderness.

—

Azriel landed at the River House moments after Rhys, having caught the brief skirmish between Nesta and Rhys in the sky. His heart had stopped as Nesta fell through the air, even as he saw Cassian moments from intercepting her.

He saw Rhys disappear from the sky and cringed as his power and voice flooded his mind. The house. Everyone. Now. There was no room for insubmission, it was a power Rhys rarely wielded over his Court. Azriel cringed at the realization that he was now bound to two oaths, even while betraying the one. None of Rhys’s authority over him had waned, independent of Feyre’s usurping thread to him. 

There was no avoiding it, and he couldn’t give anything away by his behavior, so he landed on the lawn and stalked after his brother into the River House. 

They had all reconvened in the study. Elain was wide-eyed and adding generous droppers of mirthroot tincture to each glass of brandy she had poured for the group. Mor leaned against the wall next to her, murmuring an explanation.

Amren was draped on the couch looking thoroughly fucking annoyed by the whole lot of them. Varian was perched behind her looking like he knew he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. 

Rhys had his head in his hands, his elbows perched on his knees as he sat in the middle of the floor. Everyone looking and not looking at him through their peripherals. 

Mor downed her drink and grabbed a glass, bringing it to Azriel with narrowed eyes. 

“And just where the fuck were you while we were dealing with all of this?”

Azriel took the glass and murmured a thanks. He brought the glass to his lips but Mor’s hand shot out and pushed his arm back, her eyes narrowed as she sniffed the air. 

It happened too quickly for anyone to see, but the tumbler was shattered on the floor and Rhys had Azriel by the collars of his leathers, pressed against the wall so hard it had splintered to the vaulted ceiling. 

“Azriel” Rhys said, his murmured growl barely audibly over the din rumbling from the depths of whatever cavernous power he possessed. 

“Why do you have my mate’s blood in your mouth?”

Azriel shucked his siphons, letting raw power flood and fortify his shadows as they formed a shield around him. Fodder in the face of his second beast of the day, he wondered at whose rage would prove more destructive. At whose hands he’d be reduced to carrion. Or if perhaps, the two bonds would simply ribbon him.

He hardly had time to weigh his fates as Rhys hauled him by into the skies high above Velaris, into the cover of the clouds where no one could bear witness to the slaughter, save for the few curious gods.

And Rhys exploded.

[babybemydownfall]

The Storm and the Sunrise

Summary: Feyre and Rhys take a holiday, Rhys makes a storm and then they make a baby. Set post-ACOWAR, wandering happily off into AU. NSFW.

Chapter 1/3 (so far). (Ch 2 - Ch 3)

Notes: A few prerequisites for this story: - Set somewhere after book 3, when everyone is happy and at peace. Hurrah. - No silly thing about wings and pelvises - they will both be fine. - More to follow, including Feminist!Feyre and Rhys - because let's face it, she's not going to lie down for ten months and he's the original feminist of Prythian.

Please enjoy! Would love to hear your thoughts and any scenes you'd like to see in future.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

II

It was still dark outside in Velaris when Feyre woke up one morning and she knew.

It was her breasts - they felt so tight, like they'd grown four sizes overnight. In surprise, she reached up to hold them and yelped at how tender they were. Rhys stirred next to her but didn't wake. She slipped out of bed and then out of their bedroom, pulling on her dressing gown before silently closing the door behind her. The tall clock which stood proudly at the end of the landing told her it was only four thirty in the morning. The house was still; not even the servants had arrived for work yet. And outside the tall windows the city slumbered too, as breathtaking as ever beneath a thin layer of late winter snow. But Feyre was wide awake. 

And pregnant. 

Bathed in moonlight and starlight as she stood alone, hands pressed into her lower abdomen, she breathed deeply and felt tears sting her eyes.  

At last. 

It had taken almost two years; three of those gods-awful cycles which left her in agonising pain for days at a time. The last one was just over two months ago, and she and Rhys knew from all their reading about Fae biology that she was most fertile in the two weeks afterwards. And so they got to work.

Not that it was work. Quite the opposite. 

In fact, they’d taken formal leave from their Court and disappeared, putting Amren in charge and only to be contacted in dire emergency. But now that peace had fallen upon Prythian, there were no emergencies. No distractions from each other, nor the job at hand. And it was blissful. Fourteen days of Rhys all to herself - the happiest either of them had ever been.  

And the sorest.

It was impossible to count how many times they made love. Firstly when they stayed in the cabin and then, in the second week, in the most beautiful rooms in the Summer, Sun and Dawn Courts. (Shielded, of course. Double shielded, by them both, because they were loud and they knew it.) 

They were guests of Tarquin, Helion and Thesan, but not there on official business. So there were no formal banquets or tedious meetings with dignitaries; just private lunches with their friends, a suite in their palaces and freedom to roam across their lands, exploring as visitors. There was so much of Prythian that Feyre had never seen; so much in fact that Rhys had missed out on too, when his Court had been an enemy of most of the land for most of his life.

And they thoroughly enjoyed their adventuring, seduced by the beauty around them and, inevitably, by each other. They got naked together on the vast, white beaches of the Summer Court’s east coast, running into the ocean afterwards to wash off the sand. They picnicked in the tranquil forests of Dawn, which glowed with pink and golden light as if perpetually illuminated by the warmth of the morning sun - and feeding one another soon became a feast of a different kind. And in the mountain glades of their own Court, surrounded by winter snows, their noses were cold on each other’s cheeks as they shared body heat and breathless kisses, wrapped up tight beneath their thick, fur-lined coats. 

It was the luxury of time: the time they never got to share after she accepted the mating bond. The time they’d lost before they even found one another. The time to finally relax, after the war, after the fight for peace that continued long beyond the battlefield. 

It had taken Rhys a few days to really switch off, to leave behind his title and just be himself; her mate. It was the first time since he was a child that he’d let go of every responsibility, every ounce of weight and expectation which had sat upon his broad shoulders for the past five hundred years. But once he did - by the Gods he was glorious. Unglamored, his mind unshielded from her, he just smiled and laughed and played and… radiated happiness. 

And Feyre found it devastatingly attractive. 

“Let’s never go back,” he murmured at one point, his breathing still heavy after their latest round of lovemaking. They were sat on the rug in the cabin’s living area, leaning back against the couch, their skin heated by each other and their exertion and the roaring fire in the hearth. Outside snow fell heavily against the windows, wind howling, cocooning them in against the cold. Against the entire world outside. Safe and secure, just the two of them - so frequently intertwined they were almost one. 

Feyre smiled and pulled a blanket over them. “As much as I’d love that… you would miss it.” 

“Would I? I’m not sure. Not when I can have this instead.” 

He pulled her onto his lap, his violet gaze capturing hers for a long moment before he kissed her mouth, then a lazy path along her jaw. The things she saw in his eyes when he looked at her like that: the haze of pleasure still thrumming in his veins. The love he had for her, as deep and ancient and unending as his power. The fiery passion, the unquenchable lust for her - for more. Always more.  

She could feel herself melting into him all over again, even though the last aftershocks had barely faded from her body, her mind. “You are insatiable,” she sighed, already wet for him.

“I know.” His face was buried in her hair, his lips moving over the sensitive curve of her ear as his fingertips traced patterns on her ribs. “I still want you as much as the very first time.” Feyre moaned, her hips grinding against his renewed erection. “I still want to be inside you every fucking minute of every damn day.” He bit her earlobe and she whimpered his name. “It’s… madness. Isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

He looked at her again, his eyes black, his edges lost to darkness and night. When he dipped his head and swirled his tongue over her nipple, she rose up on her knees, positioning his rock-hard cock and sinking straight down onto him.

“Feyre,” he hissed. Rough hands held her face and his mouth claimed hers, needy and wild, as instinct made them move together in the rhythm that was theirs and theirs alone.

“Fuck me hard,” she commanded between ravenous kisses. This wasn’t enough - not yet. She needed to be owned. Split open. Destroyed. “Harder than… ever… before.”

He growled as he lifted her, as he stood and carried her to the wall beside the fireplace. But Feyre was barely aware of their surroundings as she cast her mind out towards his, grabbing him with impatient hands, pulling him in close - so close he enveloped her, smothered her, became her. Together they were the night sky, and the moon and the stars and the sun; together they were two fae bodies and two halves of the same soul and they were power incarnate.

She felt him hold her against the wall with a sliver of magic; felt his hands push her knees to her chest and then he was pounding into her and she was splintering, full to the brim with him, his cock hitting all her deepest spots. It was pleasure and stretching and exquisite, breath-taking pain, and just when she thought he might actually break her in two, she came.

And came.

And roared.

It went on forever. Her muscles clenched around him over and over as she gushed with wetness and pure ecstasy radiated outwards from her core, spreading all the way to her curled toes and her fingertips and further - bright light soaring into the world. It was so familiar and yet unlike anything she’d ever known before.

It was madness - just like he’d said.

Rhys slowed as she finally settled, just enough to reassure them both that she was alright. She managed to open her eyes and look at him; wanted to say something but there were no words. She might never be able to speak again, after that. But she knew he could feel it -everything she was. A fearsome warrior. A beautiful goddess.

A molten mess of hot, throbbing bliss.

“I love you,” he rasped, and winnowed them to the bed.

He lay over her and kissed her as he began to move again, his wings splaying out behind him. Feyre let him take her, let him lose himself inside her, powerless to do much other than enjoy. Her limbs still felt boneless, her body unable and unwilling to recover itself just yet. She knew it wouldn’t be long until he found his release. His momentary reprieve was already forgotten: he was thrusting hard and fast, and his mind was as untamed and dangerous as an ocean storm. It whipped and swirled around hers, crashing over them again and again, threatening to drown them both.

And always, underneath the chaos: Feyre. Love. Mine.

I love you, she whispered back, kissing him, holding him. I’m yours, and you’re mine. Until the end of time.

And then she took everything she’d felt just minutes ago - the indescribable rapture, the euphoria of the fall - and poured it into the bond between them. This, she said hoarsely, the memories and the feel of him right now bringing tears to her eyes. Become this, Rhys darling. Join me. Let go.

The ocean erupted.

Thunder and lightning and darkness filled the room, the cabin, the sky beyond. His uncontainable pleasure swallowed her, consumed her; the final thrusts of his hips shocked her into another orgasm, short but unbelievably sweet.

That surge of power between them was unlike anything they’d ever known before, and it took so long to recover that Feyre’s skin was entirely cold by the time she realised who and where she was again.

Rhys was lying half on top of her, his head on her chest. The light from the lamps was visible again, although outside she could still hear the rumble of his storm fading into the distance.

“What was that?” she managed to say, her voice barely audible.

He took her hand, threading his fingers through hers, and paused for a long moment before he spoke. “I don’t know. You told me to fuck you hard and then you grabbed onto my mind like that and I- I lost control of everything. Lost who I am. That’s never happened before.”

He leaned up on one elbow so he could see her. Then, realising that she was shivering, he reached over for the far edge of the duvet and wrapped it around them both. His gorgeous face, his dark blue eyes, were filled with a mixture of confusion and awe. “You never fail to surprise me, Feyre darling. You are… so dangerous.”

She couldn’t help but smile, even though she knew he was serious. “We are dangerous. Together we remade the Cauldron; remade the world. And I know it shouldn’t, but that power - it really turns me on.”

His laughter seemed to catch him by surprise, and the atmosphere changed in an instant. Feyre laughed too and reached up to kiss his cheek, his nose, the perfect arch of his eyebrow.

“I loved the storm,” she confessed, fingers sliding into his hair. “Very sexy.”

“I’ve never made lightning before,” he replied thoughtfully.

“That’s nothing compared to the way you made me feel.” Feyre pressed her mouth to his, overcome with affection. “I love all of you, Rhys,” she murmured, gazing deep into his eyes. “I love your mind and body all over mine. There is no piece of you that scares me. I want it all, always.”

He smiled at her, a truly beautiful smile, straight from his heart. And then he moved downwards, kissing her collarbone, between her breasts, her abdomen. “Do you think,” he mused, nuzzling his face into her lower belly, “With all that power… Maybe tonight we made something else?”

Feyre felt her chest constrict. “I hope so,” she said softly.

“Even if not tonight,” Rhys went on, crawling back up over her, drawing her with him towards the pillows so they could both settle into bed properly, “We will someday. I’m sure of it.”

She snuggled into his chest, taking his certainty and wrapping it tightly around herself like another layer of warmth. Now that the afterglow from the most intense orgasm of her life had finally faded, she realised she was utterly exhausted.

You were right, she told him drowsily. We should stay here forever.

He kissed her hair and squeezed her against him. I’m always right, darling. I thought you’d learned that by now.

Ssh. I’m sleeping. Goodnight.

“Goodnight my love.”

Feyre slept for a solid eight hours, and dreamed of nothing but their baby.

II

Back in snowy Velaris, in the quiet before dawn, she leaned back against the sink in the guest bathroom and waited. She had peed into a vial of clear liquid, which would change colour over the next few minutes as the compounds reacted with her pregnancy hormones. She had done several of these tests before, in secret in this room - always in hope rather than expectation, and always to be disappointed. Rhys never said anything, although she was sure he knew. He just held her when she was sad, and whispered that it wasn’t her fault, and that it would happen one day.

She rubbed her hands over her face and glanced at the vial.

This day.

A beautiful dark purple was blossoming there - just like the little life growing inside her body.

It wasn’t a surprise and yet Feyre still gasped; still put her hand to her mouth, trying and failing to hide her ridiculous smile. Her first thought was to run back to their bedroom; to leap on Rhys and wake him up and tell him the news between a thousand joyful kisses.

But something held her back. The stillness of the house, the calm of these solitary hours before the sun rose - she wanted to stay here just a little bit longer. To breathe deeply. To let her feelings wash over her, consume her: relief, excitement. Fear. Overwhelm.

Happiness.

The deep, soul-stirring happiness that only love could conjure. The kind that made her tremble and wrap her arms around her body, holding herself together even as she threatened to burst wide open. The kind that made her laugh, gathered tears beneath her eyelashes and shone through her skin like starlight. The kind that she felt with Rhys, with her friends and her sisters and now, with the tiny seed growing inside her - the newest member of their family.

She had wanted this for so long and now that it was real, it somehow didn’t feel real at all.

A baby.

Her and Rhys’s baby.

She wandered silently across the upstairs landing, feeling for her mate down the bond, checking he was still asleep. She sent him some reassuring thoughts: Feyre is fine; she woke up early and went to make a cup of tea. Sleep, rest. She’ll see you when the sun rises.

This lovely old house, which had been his but was now theirs. Over the past couple of years she’d added paintings, trinkets, books; an antique loveseat beneath the window which overlooked the back garden. And out there, the biggest change of all - her painting studio.

She passed one of the guest rooms on her way to the stairs; paused at the door and wondered if this would be the baby’s nursery. She would paint the walls - blue. The Bone Carver had shown her it would be a boy, and she believed him. Deep blue, like his father’s eyes, like the velvety night before the sunrise.

Her body trembled with disbelief, with hope.  

A baby.

She did make tea, in the kitchen, alone. Still no servants, thankfully. Then she slipped on her shoes and opened the back door. The air was crisp and clear; the only sound her footsteps on the snowy path. She used her power to wrap herself in warmth, and then again to heat and illuminate the inside of her studio. She wondered briefly if she should be careful using it, now that she was pregnant. But then again, she was made - literally Made - from magic. It pulsed through her with every beat of her heart. And Rhys was… well. He was Rhys. The most powerful High Lord there ever was. Their child was destined to be a magical being, probably even more so than his parents. And Feyre knew in that moment that her power could never hurt him. It had created him; it already swam through his blood.

She breathed in the familiar scent of her art space, which she and Rhys had built after the war ended. It was her sanctuary: two walls and the high ceiling made entirely of glass to let in the light during the day; the remaining surfaces all white but flecked with colour and scattered with canvases and paper, with ideas and sketches and endless possibility.

Her fingers twitched. She wanted to paint. When she was full of feelings like this, it was the best way she knew to start to make sense of them. And so she took a large, blank canvas and placed it on her easel; gathered brushes and colours - just black, white and one other; a mixing palette, a stool and a small table for her tea.

And she painted.

II

The sun had risen when Rhys found her.

A soft knock on the glass door startled her. She had no idea how long she’d been there.

Her mate entered, a fresh mug of tea in his hands. He was already dressed in his usual black, and she realised she was still in her long nightgown and robe.

“Good morning sweetheart,” he said, replacing her cup without looking at the canvas. He always waited to be invited to see her art; she didn’t like to reveal it until it was ready. Was this ready? She didn’t know. It would take days, weeks - maybe even months - to process all her emotions. She couldn’t sit here forever.

No, this wasn’t finished but it was… a start. Just like the dawn was the start of the day; just like today was the beginning of the rest of their lives.

She stood and walked into his waiting arms. “Hi.”

“I missed you,” he murmured into her hair. “I hate waking up alone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I understand. I’m just being petulant.”

Feyre laughed and glanced up, and he kissed her. Then his arms tightened around her back and she winced. Her breasts. Ouch.

Of course he noticed. “What, darling? Are you alright?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry.” He met her gaze again, concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem… different.”

She felt him reach for her down the bond, and asked him to wait outside. He would know the second he was inside her mind. ‘I’m pregnant!’ were pretty much the only words in there, throwing themselves around with nervous energy.

His eyes widened but he did as she asked.

Feyre took a deep breath. Then she pulled on his hand, leading him to stand in front of the easel.

“Look,” she said softly.

Up close, the picture was all blue - shades and shades of blue, from the palest icy breath to the darkest, inky sky. She stepped back several paces, drawing him with her. And just as she’d planned, everything became clearer from further away.

The mountains of their home. The storm - lightning and thunder. Not literal, but the feel of it. The two figures, swirling around one another, light and dark - like how their minds melded, how they belonged. And in the centre, cradled between them - a flicker of white. A spark of hope.

A new life.

She looked up at Rhys. He was still staring at the painting but his breathing was heavier, his fingers gripping hers so tightly it hurt.

“Do you see?” she whispered.

He turned his head towards her and his eyes were shimmering. “Feyre.”

It was almost a question, and she beamed as she answered it anyway:

“Yes.”

“You’re…”

She nodded, feeling tears rise and spill straight over onto her cheeks. “I am. I’m pregnant.”

“We’re having a baby?”

“We are.”

The most incredible smile took over his face. “Feyre!” He crushed her in a hug, immediately making her whimper as he squashed her chest against his.

“Shit,” he said hastily, drawing back. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I woke up this morning and my breasts hurt. And I just knew.”

He gazed at her, his expression a mixture of absolute joy and utter disbelief. Gods, she loved him so much. And then she was crying, and he was brushing his fingertips and his lips over her face, and then they were kissing and she wanted to hold onto this moment forever, to never, ever forget how this felt.

He trailed his mouth down her body, pressing kisses to every inch he passed. Then he knelt before her, knelt on his mountains and stars and rested his forehead against her belly. Feyre stroked his hair, her tears still falling.

Our baby, he said silently, reverently.

Feyre let down her shield, let him see the pregnancy test and the dreams she’d had that night in the cabin; let him feel her excitement, her elation, her relief.

Our baby, she echoed.

She sank down to the floor and into his arms, and they held onto each other for the longest time.

“You know,” Rhys said eventually, his tone light - but she could feel the waves of emotion crashing down the bond, every so often making him gasp for breath. “I was right. That night I made the storm - I told you we’d make a baby too.”

“Oh, so this is all about you?” she teased.

He kissed her again, smiling against her lips. “On the contrary, Feyre darling. This is all about you now. I just like to get credit where credit’s due.”

She laughed quietly and held his face in her palms. “You are insufferable, and ridiculous, and the most handsome and loving and wonderful thing in the whole world. And you are going to be the best father to our boy.”

He blinked. “You believe the Bone Carver?”

“Don’t you?”

He nodded slightly. “I do.”

And he seemed speechless again, so she stood up and pulled him to his feet. When he looked at her questioningly, she grinned and tugged him towards the door beyond which the new day’s sun was shining down, already melting the snow.

“Come on,” she said brightly. “I’m cancelling all our plans and sending the servants home. I want to spend the whole day just lying with you, and daydreaming about our baby, and maybe even recreating the night he was conceived. If that’s okay with you?”

She started to lead him back down the garden path, but didn’t get far.

Her delighted screams filled the winter air as he scooped her up and carried her straight to their bed.

II

TBC

[washmchineheart]

you know…I wouldn’t mind the feyre getting pregnant plot that much if we didn’t have her explicit telling us she wanted to wait a few years. it’s not even open to interpretation or anything - she says in a conversation with her mate, if im not mistaken. and then it’s just ignored for that shitty plotline.

[shadowqueenjude]

So is Feyre just going to be completely chill after nearly dying giving birth to a baby and be ready to become a baby-making machine again or what?