AN: This is tooth rotting fluff. Enjoy.
I was dreaming, that much was clear.
Rhys and I were in the Prison again, hands clasped together as we walked through that oppressive, stifling darkness.
"Explain to me exactly, why, we're here?" My voice was soft with that faraway quality that dreams always seem to have. I saw him peer down at me in the darkness. His face was the picture of contentment and calm. He is always like this in my dreams, happy and smiling with beckoning eyes that promised all sorts of fun.
He smiled and said, "We've come to get him." he nodded toward where the Carver would be waiting for us, had the Cauldron not wiped him away in that war so long ago.
"But," I frowned. "He's gone, the Cauldron—" I started.
"Not the Carver, Feyre." He interrupted. "Him." I followed his gaze to the cell before before us, and seated in the corner was that beautiful little boy. He was smaller this time, little more than a baby. I could tell The Carver wasn't wearing his skin. The death god, who'd served me and this land centuries ago, was swathed in darkness and shadow in the corner, waiting for us.
It all began to feel entirely too real. This can't be a dream, I thought. At the very least, not a meaningless one.
But the little boy. Little more than a baby, sitting calmly in the dark. My heart lurched towards him. But I paused at the movement from the shadows in the corner.
"Welcome, High Lady." The Carver's voice rang through my head. My heart beat wildly in my chest as I looked from the undulating darkness back to the boy. My son. "It seems I have something of yours."
"How?" I asked. My eyes still on the little boy who now shoved a finger in his mouth still looking about in the darkness. "You died."
"I did. But death for those like me, like my brother and sister, is quite different than it is for you." he spat the words, then stopped. "I am not as I was, High Lady. Not in this Prison, or anywhere in your world. But," the shadows stirred. "You and I. we have unfinished business."
"I gave you the Ouroboros," I spat. "Not him." Everything in me screamed at me to go to him. My little boy.
"Right, High Lady. You have been very—" The Carver paused as though looking for the right word. "Good, to me. I wish to do the same." A shift in the darkness. "He is a gift for you and your mate, and for this world."
"A gift," Rhys' voice rang out behind me. His voice was sharp, no trace of the bedroom quality it usually carried in my dreams. "From who?"
The Carver hummed in approval. "Clever, High Lord." Amusement coating his words. "From those like me. Stewards or Gods—as we were to you—of life and light and death and darkness. You have done much to this small world. We wished to repay you." He explained. "Take him." The shadows moved. "Take him, and know that I have not seen his end."
I did not hesitate any longer. Could not, as a dormant instinct propelled me into the cell to where that boy sat, happy and oblivious to the creature near him. My legs felt weak, mortal, as though they may give out at any moment as I bent to pick him up. I felt such pure emotion at the feeling of his warm little body against mine. Tears slid down my face, and I was sobbing before I realized it. I turned to Rhys in the doorway.
He was there, or here in this dream with me. Watching me as I picked up our son. Smelled him. Touched him. Ugly emotional sobs escaped me as I marveled at him. Those violet eyes and dark hair that contrasted his pale skin. Though there were traces of my blood in his veins, he looked unnervingly like Rhysand.
"Rhys, look." I said to him looking down at the little one in my arms. My mate blew out a shaky breath, thought he stayed glued to the doorway, frozen at the sight of us. I didn't need to be in his mind to know what he was thinking. The disbelief probably ripping its way through him.
"Go, High Lady." The Carver said again. "We will not see one another for a long while."
I was thrown out of the dream, we both were. As though the Carver himself had pushed us out of that on a gush of wind.
We both sucked in huge breaths and frantically sat up in bed. Rhysand immediately pulled me to him, tucking me close as we took a few more shuddering, labored breaths.
"Did you see?" I asked him after a moment, though I knew the answer. He was there and as conscious as I had been.
"Yes." He breathed his hand sliding from my hip to rest on my lower abdomen. My heart flipped. "Do you think?" He looked to me eyes wide, panicked, and elated. A perfect echo of the emotions rolling through me.
I could feel it. It was like the power that rumbled along in my veins, but softer. More of a flutter. Like pure happiness inserting itself into my very core, my soul. Rhys giggled and it sounded like the lilting bells Elain had all over her gardens. I loved that sound. He leaned in to kiss my shoulder.
"You smell different." He said. "Just a bit." I smiled up at him, and he captured my lips in a kiss. Our laughter spilling into each other as he rolled me under him, peppering my face and body with playful kisses.
We stayed like that for a while, kissing, touching and whispering of our future. His hands kept finding their way to my stomach, as though he could feel him too, the little boy growing within me.
After a while, I could feel the worry creeping on him. Of who he would be, of enemies. I didn't want to think about that now. Not when this moment was perfect, in every way. "Take me away." I said to him. Leaving my shield down for him to see what I meant.
Take me to the cabin.
He smiled, the creeping demons banished. "Of course, Feyre darling." He flared his wings. "Although, if a night of my body and messy paint is what you want." A teasing smirk colored his face. "All you had to do was ask." He winnowed us away as a pinched his side, a laugh escaping in the darkness.
Since our mating escapade those centuries ago, the cabin had basically become mine and Rhysand's. Mor now had a second residence in the Winter Court, and preferred to spend her time there with Selene. The others just steered clear, claiming our scents had permeated entirely too deep.
Rhys sniffed me again once we crossed the threshold. Shamelessly burying his face into my neck and groaning. "You smell so damned good." At the sound of his voice, I turned and hoisted my legs around his waist. His hands went to my bottom, squeezing once.
"Do you like it?" I asked with a teasing nip to his jaw as he nodded, eyes glinting mischievously. "Show me then." I whispered into the skin right before his ear.
That night, I woke to little tickles on my stomach. Fingers tracing looping swirls across it.
"Thank you." Rhys whispered, as I shifted in his arms. I wasn't sure who, or what, he was thanking but I turned my face up to his.
"You deserve this," I said to him, running a thumb over that pensive brow. "We deserve this." He dropped his forehead to mine. Eyes closed, his palm now splayed where his son rested beneath my skin.
"I'm scared," he admitted. My heart shattered. "For him, for what and who he'll be."
"Me too." I whispered. "It may be the most frightening thing we've done. That we ever do." I swallowed. "Are you in?"
"Always." He hugged me closer and kissed my temple. "With you, I'm always in."
On the second night he sat beside me on the floor by the stairs, leaning against the wall as I painted the spot next to him. I had put brush and paint to every inch of this cottage over the years. Painting, clearing and repainting. This one, was the night sky, a recurring image in my art. I remembered the first time I'd painted it, all those years ago in that cottage. Who'd sent it to me.
I smiled and my hand began to glow, Helion's light warming my skin.
"I thought that an old wives' tale." Rhys
chuckled.
"Apparently not," I said smiling at him. So much joy bubbled within me. Pure unfiltered joy at this perfect moment.
"Are you going to look like this for the next 9 months?" He asked, fingers playing on my thigh. "I don't mind," he added quickly. "Though we would have to figure out how not to blind our family."
I tried to reign it in, but my skin still shone golden. I felt the delicious warmth of it beneath my skin. "Better?" I arched a brow.
"Beautiful," Rhys replied
"We have to leave soon." It was midday on our third day up at cabin. Rhys' face was buried in my chest, right in the middles of by breasts. I giggled as he licked and kissed the sensitive skin. "Kallias will be expecting us early tomorrow. And," I shifted beneath him. "Cassian will run out of innuendos for what we're doing up here if we stay too long."
He chuckled, his warm breath caressing my skin. "What a tragedy that would be."
Then he was off, kissing his way down to feast on me.
The Townhouse was dark when we returned. "Hello?" I called, truly bewildered that no one was loitering around the house waiting for us to return. I shrugged at the silence that answered me and turned to Rhys as he picked up a scrap of paper on the table near the front entrance.
"Looks like there's a dinner party party." He says, showing me the slip in Elain's fanciful writing. "They're at the House of Wind" He stepped closer to me. "Shall we?"
We winnowed just above the balcony and his wings glided us down. The house was dark too, not a sign of anyone close by. Rhys frowned beside me.
"What the hell?" I wondered striding forward, not bothering to scan the room with my mind.
"Wai—" Rhys started saying but the moment my foot crossed the threshold of those large archways, several things happened all at once.
The lights flicked on, silver confetti and glitter rained down around me. A chorus of "Congratulations" and a "Thank the mother you're finally here." And general cries of happiness, mostly from Mor filled the room.
Startled, I lost my leash on the light simmering beneath my skin and lept backwards into Rhys's hard chest with a thump.
"By the Cauldron," Amren swore, the loudest among the noises of discomfort at the sudden sunlight filling the room. "Turn that down, girl."
I quickly pushed it back in, though once I got a look at the room past everyone to the food, gifts and streamers it slid out of my grasp. Tears sprang to my eyes as Rhys rubbed my arms.
"Oh," the little sound that escaped me reminded me of Elain. Mor rushed forward first, and crushed me in a tight hug.
"You look so good," She said, her happy eyes taking me in from head to toe, catching the golden glint of my skin. Then pulled me back in. "I'm going to be an aunt!" She squealed, hopping a little.
"How did you all know?" I asked as the others moved closer. I glanced at Rhys behind me, wondering if he'd told them. But he only shrugged.
"It was me," Elain said sheepish and threw her arms about my neck. "It knocked me off my feet, literally, when I saw the three of you. So soon. I was only explaining to Azriel but—" She pulled back glanced at the giddy M, who rolled her eyes.
"We couldn't get a leash on her, once she heard." Am said.
"You helped." M spat back. Amren ignored her and turned to me.
"Well," She said her short hair shifting as she moved forward. "It was only a matter of time." That was as good as it would get from Amren.
"Thank you." I said to her, voice still shaky from emotion.
Nesta wasn't here, she'd gone off the Summer Court to represent Rhys and I in a meeting with the human governors. Cassian, slightly subdued by the absence of his mate, stood by a smiling Azriel. Cassian raised his glass. "A toast," he said, and Mor handed me a crystal glass. I raised a brow at her.
"It's not wine," She exclaimed, mildly offended that I thought she'd forget that detail.
"To our High Lord and Lady," Cassian said, sounding uncharacteristically civilized. "And the fruit of their endless lovemaking. May we thank the Mother for blessing your womb, Feyre, and our High Lord's c—"
"Don't be vulgar." Elain cut in before he could finish. I rolled my eyes, a smile on my face.
"Pig," Mor spat at him and Az glared in disapproval. Cassian just smiled wide and gulped down his drink.
"Thank you," Rhys said, laughter still in his voice. "For that colorful, albeit true, toast."
The night lapsed into our usual fare. Cassian and Amren got into it—this time about future baby Varians—at the mention of which Amren gagged and casually flung her wine at him. Mor ate just about everything in sight and chatted endlessly about babies and Selene and all the fabulous dresses the little princes would be wearing. Rhys winked at me, we'd be keepng that bit to ourselves for now.
Elain and Azriel were there to reign in the conversation. My personal measure of a good night was one where Az didn't have to pull Elain into his shadows with him to avoid heated discussions. They weren't together, as far as I knew, yet they were so comfortable with one another. Elain sat close him, and they shifted around each other. Az moved to fill her cup just before she reached for it, she rubbed his arm when it seemed like his shadows pulled his attention away. I'd thought they'd make a lovely couple since Elain was human and I would love for her to have someone like him. Especially since things hadn't worked out with Lucien and their mating bond. But, I was taking Rhys' preferred approach on this one and staying out of it.
We lingered, talking and laughing, long after the last dish had been vanished down to the kitchen. I was leaning against Rhys, his arms draped around me when an image filtered down the bond to me.
It was from our point of view and everything was the same. Except on the bearskin rug at the center, was our son. He was as he'd appeared in the dream, small with round cheeks and little hands. He sat, happily playing with wooden toys as we sat around him. I looked up at him. Tears filling my eyes yet again, evidently this particular symptom was the same for both Fae and human pregnancies. He placed a kiss on my forehead, a smile on his face.
"Cool it," Cassian called at us. "That there can only be one child in there at a ti—" Mor whacked him on the arm, just as I lifted my hand to flip him off.
Rhys and I went back to the Townhouse after that.
I slept extremely well that night. My dreams calm and quiet and centered on a beautiful little boy and his handsome father. We were the last to make our way down the stairs the next day. Today was the first day of the Winter Festival in Kallias' court. They began this week long celebration after the war to remember the children that they'd lost to Amarantha's cruelty, and celebrate their court, and Prythian's, enduring peace in the aftermath.
Mor oohed and aahed appreciatively as she spotted my dress. I had actually chosen this one. It was dark blue with subtle designs resembling the swirls of Illyrian tattoos. I was initially against the high neckline, but the back plunged down to the base of my spine, showing off the tattoos adorning my back. At the front, a slit ran up the center of the skirt, forcing the fabric to flow behind me like a train.
Mor was grumbling about secret High Lady dressmakers when I heard Nesta's voice.
"I see motherhood isn't going to encourage you to be more tasteful." The words cut into me. What was she doing here? N was supposed to meet us at the Winter Court on her way back from Summer.
Everyone stilled as I turned to face her, ready to tear into her and start another fight. Wed gotten so much better over the years as she opened up more, thanks in part to Cassian's push. But there were days like this when her biting comments made me want to grow claws and swipe my way through her closet. Then I saw her face. She was smiling, a full toothed smile that lit up her face as she strode toward me. She threw her arms around my neck before I had a chance to say anything.
"Any child would be lucky to have you as a mother, Feyre." She whispered. "You look beautiful."
It took me half an hour to compose myself.
That's it!
The idea came to me at work as I was finishing up the audiobook for Acowar. I thought about how they would find out Feyre was pregnant and my first thought was the both of them being jolted awake by a change in her scent. That morphed into this. Let me know what you think :)