Year One: Aelin's First Cycle as Fae

Aelin jerked awake, curling around her burning abdomen. Instantly sweating, she reached down the bond to her husband, her mate.

Rowan.

What's wrong, Fireheart? She knew he was in hawk form, his magic using the winds to carry him as fast as possible back to her. He shifted as he flew through the window and knelt by her bedside.

"Hurts," Aelin croaked, floating a hand around her lower abdomen. Rowan took in her glazed eyes, ashen skin, and inhaled deeply before taking the covers off his wife to confirm his suspicions. Blood did indeed stain the sheets of their bed.

"This is your cycle, Aelin," Rowan informed her. Aelin turned wide eyes to her mate.

"What?" she rasped, clearly surprised.

"You gave up your human half to forge the Lock. You are completely fae, which means you'll have about two cycles a year, and they will feel like this," Rowan chilled his hand and rested it on Aelin's forehead, and she sighed.

"How long?" Aelin whispered.

"About a week, but you should be off bedrest in three to four days. I'll tell Fenrys to send your regards to the visiting lords. He will get Aedion to get them sorted," Rowan assured her as he went to their door and spoke to Fenrys, who was always posted outside their hallway. Rowan came back to his wife and bundled her into his arms, taking her to the bathing area. He set her down in the basin and turned the water on. Aelin hissed as the cold water hit her feet and legs.

"Buzzard," Aelin muttered, sending Rowan a baleful glare.

"You'll be thanking me later. The more we can regulate your temperature, the better, " Rowan said absentmindedly as he went back into their bedroom. Aelin heard the rustle of sheets; Rowan was cleaning their bed. Aelin gave herself a cursory wash and started to shiver. Rowan came back into their bathing room armed with towels. He helped Aelin to stand and dried her off, ignoring her glares and grumbles. He carried her off to their bed, where there were towels laid in the middle.

"This is embarrassing. I can take care of myself," Aelin narrowed her eyes at Rowan and he kissed her forehead.

"I know you can. But you don't always have to. Sleep now while you can. This gets worse before it gets better. I will be back later," Rowan advised as he left their room.

I love you. Rowan smiled as Aelin's words travelled the bond, heavy with exhaustion.

And I you. Sleep, Fireheart.

The next few days for Aelin were a blur of sleeping and waking. Her dreams were vivid, filled with Ilken and Valg and Kingsflame. Her waking hours were spent bathing, eating soft bread, and drinking ginger and honey tea. On the fourth day, she woke and could actually think.

"Rowan?" Aelin called, sitting up and searching for her mate. He was seated at their work table, penning a letter of some kind. He looked up and smiled at her.

"There she is. How do you feel?"

"Like a fog has been lifted. I'm still sore, but it is manageable now," Aelin swung her legs onto the floor and stood, swaying. Rowan was instantly there to keep her up.

"Easy, let's sit back down. You've been mostly asleep for the last few days," Rowan chuckled as he sat beside his wife. Aelin took in his scent of pine and snow, which always settled her. Rowan stood and walked over to the desk. He returned with a piece of piece of vellum, colourful paints staining the thick piece as he handed it carefully to her. She froze upon looking at what had been painted with such delicate care.

"When I was trying to find you, I would have this dream. We were standing on either side of an abyss, and this was how you looked, with our children. I painted it as soon as we gained access to the necessary supplies. I don't know if this was a prophecy of some kind, or just a dream - this is probably a horrible gift-"

"It's beautiful, Rowan," Aelin murmured, eyes glued to the painting, drinking down every detail. Her hand blindly reached for his, and she squeezed tightly. When she had looked her fill, she glanced up at her mate, eyes limned with silver.

"What is it?" Rowan asked, concern making his eyes rake over her body. Aelin gently set the painting aside and took Rowan's face into her hands.

"I want this, with you. Never doubt that. From the first time, I've never had medicine to stop what may happen. And while heirs are… essential, now that we rule Terrassen, that doesn't make me want them any less. I don't see it as a duty. To have a child, a child we made, running around, causing mischief? It's more than I could ever ask for, considering I was never supposed to live this long in the first place," Aelin said softly, but not weakly, as she pressed her lips to his. Rowan moaned as her tongue slid along his mouth, asking for entrance that he willingly granted. When they had to break apart for air, Rowan was smiling when he looked at her.

"When you want to, you can say just the right things," Rowan laughed outright when Aelin smacked his shoulder.

"Buzzard," Aelin muttered, rolling her eyes. Rowan caught the offending hand and kissed each of her fingers.

"Aelin, you are my reason for living. Life is just beginning for you. For us. Whether that painting is prophecy or just a dream, I will thank the stars for any child we have together," Rowan murmured, pressing his mouth to her knuckles.

"Even when I'm puking my guts up at all hours of the day and night?" Aelin asked with an arched eyebrow. Rowan chuckled.

"Even then, Fireheart. Even then," Aelin rested her head on his shoulder and he slung a companionable arm around her shoulders, drawing her in. They sat like that in the silence while Orynth bustled in the streets below