Aelin paced like a restless Ghost Leopard in front of the fireplace in her bedroom. She was wearing down the rug that laid before it–-if she kept this up the colors weaved in it would soon fade–-but the last thing on her mind was the rutting carpet. Teeth worrying her bottom lip, Aelin tried to calm her ever spiking nerves. She knew, logically, that this was a happy thing. Something she and Rowan–-Hell, the entirety of Terrasen–-would soon be looking forward to, but right now it felt more like she was carrying a cracked urn of hellfire instead of a child.
Stopping mid step, the Queen of Terrasen placed her hands flat against her belly and sucked in a shaky breath. She remembered what happened last time Rowan thought she was pregnant, years and years ago on a ship bond towards their doom. He hadn't taken it well. Once the idea crossed his mind, the Fae male had turned a deathly pale–-paler, even, than when he was bleeding out from an arrow wound shot by the Ironteeth witch, Asterin-–and shifted into his animal form to fly around the ship for several hours. Aelin's fists tightened, the fabric of her dress getting caught within her clutch, as another memory came to the forefront of her mind. Later that day, when Rowan had regained control of himself and returned to his Fae form, he'd asked if she was pregnant. She told him no, she wasn't, but she wasn't using any contraceptives, either. Aelin remembered the sigh of relief that passed his lips when she'd told him she wasn't pregnant, and she remembered the tension that seized his body when she explained that she wasn't trying to prevent it, either.
Her face felt cold-–frozen. She understood Rowan's fear. Lyria, the woman he'd loved so completely that he's thought they were mates, had been pregnant when she'd been killed. Rowan still felt guilty about leaving her alone on their mountain, even though all the guilt belonged to Maeve. Rutting Mave, Aelin cursed. May she burn in hell for the rest of eternity. But just because Aelin knew where the blame truly lay, that didn't alleviate Rowan's guilt. Sometimes Aelin wondered if it didn't make it worse, since Rowan had served Maeve faithfully for centuries after Lyria's death. The Queen of Terrasen didn't know how deep that guilt cut, thought. Would Rowan accept their child? Or constantly be reminded of what he'd lost? Aelin couldn't bare the thought of causing her mate, her husband, any pain. But this child … this child was hers. It was something new, something pure and innocent and untouched by the cruel world she had been forged in. It wasn't even a bump in her belly yet and already she knew she would move heaven and earth to protect it. Trembling, Aelin felt trapped. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.
"Fireheart," Rowan's soft voice cut through her dark thoughts. He stood before her, hands cupping her cheeks and thumbs tenderly brushing away her fallen tears. She hadn't even realized she'd started to cry. Green eyes stared deeply into hers, concern rolling off the owner in waves. "Aelin, what is it? What's happened?" His eyes darted up and down her figure, trying to find the problem so he could solve it. He knew she wasn't injured-–their carranam bound would've alerted him if otherwise–-so he assumed she'd received some bad news.
Choking on a sob–-or maybe it was just a broken laugh–-Aelin shook her head. She needed to tell him. He deserved to know what was growing inside of her. She couldn't hide it forever. She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen, Vanquisher of Erawan, and she would not be afraid.
"I'm pregnant," her voice was barely above a whisper, but she knew he could hear her.
Jerking back as if he'd been struck, Rowan released Aelin's face and back peddled in a daze until the backs of his legs hit their bed. Falling onto his behind, Rowan blankly stared at Aelin. Pulling tighter at the fabric stretched across her stomach, making it twist and wrinkle and tear in a few places, the Heir of Fire bit down on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. She whimpered and her knees shook. Breaths coming in short and quick, Aelin worried she had ruined everything. That she had lost Rowan forever. He still sat before her, without light in his eyes and his mouth slightly ajar, but he was lost to her. Lost to his past. She knew he was reliving the worst moment he'd ever experienced in his entire life. And it was killing her to see him this way.
"Rowan," she whimpered, feeling helpless.
Rowan blinked. Just once, and just like that he was back. His green eyes began to shine with unshed tears and he let out a few long, laugh-like breaths. Lips wobbling into a smile, he slid off the bed and fell down to his knees. Shuffling closer, Rowan reached out and gently pried her fingers open. The fabric she'd been clutching was torn and ruined, but neither cared. Carefully, so carefully as if she'd somehow been turned to glass, Rowan placed his hands on her hips and rested his forehead against her belly, taking in a deep breath. He was scenting her, seeing if he could detect their child's scent within her. Soft pressure touched her stomach where he placed kiss after kiss. Soon his shoulder began to tremble and shake. Aelin placed her hands on them to ground him.
"Thank you," he croaked, his voice thick and breaking from emotion. "Thank you Aelin, my fireheart."
Carding her fingers through his white hair, Aelin stared down at him through blurry, teary eyes and smiled. She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen, Vanquisher of Erawan, and expecting mother. And with Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius by her side, she would never be afraid again.
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