Rhysand

I noticed the change in my mate almost immediately after her period of nesting had lasted a full week. The change was subtle at first; beginning after a long afternoon of Feyre rearranging clothes and ordering my brothers and I to move around the furniture in the nursery no less than ten times that day alone, then choosing to spend the rest of the evening walking the gardens with Elain. It was there, watching from the library window, that I felt the call in my blood—the call that urged me to find a sanctuary for my mate. Months ago, after the birth of his daughter, Kallias had warned me that this instinct would come. As mated fae males, the compulsions we felt in regard to our mates always traced back to the beasts our ancestors were and became especially prominent when they were with child. I had noted as much the minute I scented my offspring present in Feyre's womb, and though I had not been fully aware of her pregnancy until she was, I had instinctually known and formed a new attachment to her—to our son. Like the mating bond, the ties I formed with my unborn child were just as strong and prominent; however silent. I could sense those occasional glimmers that Feyre felt; had even felt that warning tug when they had been in trouble during the attack on Velaris. However, this tug, this preternatural warning, was different—stronger than before.

He was ready. Sebastian was ready to enter the world.

Feyre

"It's time, my love," Rhys purred in my ear as I stared out into the gardens, sitting on the cushioned loveseat on our balcony.

Once I had returned from my earlier walk with Elain, warm and content despite the late autumn chill—thanks to my mates magic warming the grounds, I chose to skip dinner. Somehow finding it more appealing to retreat to the privacy of my bedroom when I realized I had no appetite at all. While that should've alarmed me, my feelings of content remained as I changed into the comfiest clothes I could find; the softest pair of leggings I owned and a long-sleeved oversized tunic that was large enough to fit over my large belly comfortably. It wasn't long after I had found my seat on the balcony that Rhys was at my ear with a warm mug of tea in hand. I took it from him gratefully and relished in the warmth enveloping my face as I smiled at him in return.

"Time for what?" I asked softly, resting a hand on the apex of my belly.

He kneeled in front of me, hands holding either side of my belly as those star-flecked violet eyes looked into mine meaningfully. "For us to retreat to the Cabin," came his equally soft response.

My heart stuttered for a second as I realized what this meant, but instead of feeling the panic I thought I ought to have, I nodded slowly—an all too familiar glimmer pulsing between my mate and I, between that bond that existed between the three of us and loosed a calm exhale.

"Should we tell the others?" I quietly asked.

Rhys shook his head as he again stood, summoning those dark and beautiful Illyrian wings from the shadows. "I already told them, while you were up here getting comfortable," he said with a warm smile. "They expected as much, and they know how...sensitive this is, so they aren't expecting any heartfelt goodbyes."

I nodded, again surprised from the lack of emotion I felt at that sentiment; that I had no real urge to even say goodbye and be showered with well wishes from our family. Suddenly, I registered what was happening; my diffident state had finally arrived. It was such a strange and foreign feeling as the full weight of what was occurring naturally in my body overcame me. While part of me wanted to feel nervous and be comforted by our loved ones, all I could do was look at my mate and felt all the reassurance I needed.

Finishing my tea, I set the mug aside and allowed Rhys to help me to my feet; a small laugh escaping my lips at the effort it took to ease me upright and returned my stare into those violet eyes.

"Let's go," I whispered.

It was all he needed to hear before he lifted me into his arms with heartbreaking ease and took to the skies. I closed my eyes as the wind whipped through my hair, relishing in the cool breeze as I rested my head against Rhys's shoulder; one hand looped around his shoulders and the other caressing my belly. In spite of the awareness of what was to come looming in the back of my mind—the pain I would soon endure, my trepidation was nearly nonexistent.

The healer and our midwife had warned that my withdrawn state could last anywhere from a few hours to a few days before I officially went into labor, but some innate part of me felt that this notion wouldn't drag on for long at all. Sebastian had dropped into his head down position weeks ago and had calmed considerably since my period of nesting began. While his lack of movement had alarmed Rhys and I at first, Madja and the midwife assured that this was also normal. Our youngling, our son, was preparing himself for arrival. His loving glimmer still remained and pulsed through our bond, letting his father and I know that he was there, and that he was just as ready as we were to meet him.

As soon as we touched down to the front steps leading up to the Cabin, I let down my mental shields to Rhys, letting him read my thoughts as he carried me inside. His gentle kiss to my forehead was his only response until we were within the safe walls of the Cabin, the fireplace immediately springing to life as we entered the small living area and he set me on the couch. He came to kneel in front of me as he had earlier, the starlight in his eyes shimmering as they met mine again.

"However long this does last, at least we know we won't be leaving this Cabin until our son is born," Rhys said, a hand coming to stroke my belly gently.

I loosed a long breath as I nodded, my hand joining his. "The next time we go back to the estate...we'll have a baby," I mused as I watched our hands continue to caress the expanse of my stomach.

Our son, our baby Sebastian was just underneath layers of skin and muscle, lying in wait and ready to be born in what could be hours or days. The process would be grueling and long...but that intuitive and serene sense told me that I was prepared, that I could do this.

"You can," Rhysand interjected quietly; my mental shields still left down for him, "and I will be at your side through every second of it."

I gave him a slow smile in return, bringing my hand to touch his face gently. "I have no doubt about that, Rhysand," I said softly.

He kissed my palm before moving from his kneeled position to a seated one beside me, his hand lingering on my belly.

Will you tell me what happens in the Night Court when an heir is born now? I asked through the bond.

Rhys's chuckle sent a warm shudder down the bond as he pressed another kiss to my brow. "You'll find out soon enough, my love," he answered aloud.

Prick.

Rhysand

The labor pains began the next morning.

Only an hour after our arrival at the Cabin the night before, my mate had fallen into a deep slumber while we lingered together in the sitting area. I carried her to bed not long after, keeping a watchful eye on her during the night and sending as many updates as possible to our awaiting family in Velaris. After Mor's persistent "check-in's" every hour, at Cassian's insistence she claimed, I decided to communicate mind-to-mind with Az; who's ever-present composed demeanor was always a comfort no matter the situation, even as I could sense his underlying worry for his High Lady. However, in between the few hours of sleep I allowed myself through the night, I updated and reassured him of Feyre's condition. But, when my mate awoke with a furrowed brow and a pained expression, I sent a direct order for him to send for the midwife and healer.

Feyre

The labor pains came in waves.

When I first awoke from the most tranquil state of sleep I had ever found for the duration of my pregnancy, the muscle contractions in my lower abdomen had felt like the twinges of pain I experienced during my previous cycles—uncomfortable and excruciating, but in the last decade I had learned different techniques in order to cope, such as curling up in a certain position on my side or alternating between heating and cooling blankets laid across my abdomen and back. Like the cramps associated with my cycles, these contractions pulsed and throbbed through my lower body, ripping across my back, stomach, and thighs, but were thankfully manageable with Rhysand's help. The minute a groan escaped my lips, Rhys sprang into action, sitting on his knees beside me and helping me sit upright. He let me squeeze his hand and led me through the controlled breathing exercises the midwife had shown us in preparation for this moment, and for the first few hours they were completely doable.

The tightening would build and build, washing over my body in a flood; my deep and cleansing breaths pushing them back down into nothing...until it all happened again minutes later. From the time the first wave consumed me and dissipated, a minute had barely gone by, and Rhys was still at my ear whispering terms of endearment and encouragement until Madja and our midwife arrived. The duo immediately began setting up our space with the supplies needed for the duration of my labor, and I watched them in a trance. Thanks to the healer and midwife's many lectures leading up to this event, I knew that part of me would be so focused on making it through this arduous process that the rest of the world would melt away. However, there was still a small part of me—perhaps the part tethered to the bond I shared with my mate, that was acutely aware of everything that was happening.

It was all so...primal. As the hours passed, my body continued to endure the waves of contractions and pain that continued to surge, mount, and flood my entire being. I knew what was happening, and despite the pain affecting my innermost being, that innate female shouldered on. Meanwhile, a tiny part of my consciousness watched from a distance at the bridge that connected me to my mate. It was that part of my psyche, the only part unaffected by the unadulterated anguish brought on contraction after contraction, that could hear Rhysand's words; that could register them and find the encouragement I needed in order to push past pain after insurmountable pain.

Rhysand

Feyre's cries and shouts of agony were truly the worst form of torment I had ever withstood in the centuries I had been alive. For every pulse of pain that washed over her body, I wished with every fiber of my being that I could take it away. Despite knowing that I could was easily the hardest part in watching her suffer, but my mate had made me vow months in advance not to.

"Promise me you won't use your daemati abilities to ease my pain," Feyre had said softly.

It had still been fairly early in her pregnancy when she uttered those words; when we had taken a few days to ourselves in this very Cabin and whispered words of comfort and reassured each other that we would be different from our own parents. I had just promised my mate of the outstanding mother she would become for our son, and she assured me the same—dissuading any insecurities either of us had for our ability to be good parents. My forehead was still pressed against hers, eyes imploring as she stared at me meaningfully.

I raised my head, my gaze leveling with those stunning blue-grey eyes as I asked, "Are you sure, Feyre? The pain will be...considerable."

Kallias warned me as much in his letters following Eira's birth. While the experience had passed in a blur, those hours leading up to his daughter's birth had tortured a once vivacious and bright female. If the pains of labor could bring down even Viviane, I knew the same would be true for my mate.

Feyre simply nodded. "If Viviane could do it, if your mother could do it, then so can I," she insisted.

My gaze had softened as I cupped her face gently. "I have no doubt that you can do it Feyre, darling, but if I could make it easier for you-"

"No," she repeated. "Females have been doing it for centuries without any kind of pain relief, and as High Lady of the Night Court, I've more than proven I can handle this as well."

I brushed my thumb along her cheek gently as I nodded in agreement. While every feral instinct in me protested the allowance of my mates suffering, I shoved those intolerant compulsions away. This was Feyre's choice, she was the one carrying my child and would ultimately bring him into the world, so it was her decision on how she wanted to accomplish that task. My job now, as Kallias had outlined to me from his own account, was to support my mate through the ordeal.

"As my High Lady wishes," I purred before pressing another reassuring kiss to her brow.

Her returning smile was bright, those blue-grey eyes shimmering with adoration before either of us noticed the new tattoo forming in the shape of three small stars on both of our right pinky fingers. A small laugh rumbled in my chest as we both watched the stars take shape and solidify on our skin—evidence of our new promise.

"I must say, Feyre darling, if the centuries we have together are filled with more and more oaths between us, I may run out of skin," I teased.

My beautiful, perfect, mate only laughed, the sound resounding through our bond; its melody causing Sebastian's glimmer of delight to thrum between us a moment later.

Feyre

Rhys's was the only voice I could hear over my misery, and during those couple precious moments of respite in between surges of hurt. I was vaguely aware of my own howls of agony as my mate continued to coach me through each breathing exercise; guiding me back to calmer and more controlled breaths whenever they turned into angry or pain-filled sobs. I could hardly keep track of how much time had passed, or anything at all for that matter; my mind too focused on getting me to the end of each earth-shattering contraction. That innate part of me left on the bridge of my bond couldn't tell if the ground beneath me was actually trembling or not, and I was too exhausted to actually ask whenever the conscious part of my being was alert to my present surroundings.

There were slivers of minutes when I was able to hear Madja and the midwife, mostly talking to Rhys and offering advice; one suggestion being to actually get me out of bed and walking around the space of the Cabin. From what I could actually discern of the conversation the older females were having with my mate, they explained that any movement might help things along—staying idle and writhing in pain while lying in bed would apparently only prolong my suffering. So, while I was still aware, Rhys helped me out of bed; one arm wrapped around my back to keep me supported, and his free hand gripping mine. I kept my other on my hip, eyes closed as I shuffled out of the small bedroom with his help.

I could hear Rhys's voice again in my ear, full of nothing but love and support, as I felt the beginnings of the stabbing pain return. "You're doing so well, my love," he said softly.

I yearned for the peace the timbre of his voice once offered me, clung to the shreds of it as the next contraction sent me from my feet onto all fours on the ground beneath me. I could only feel Rhysand's hands on my back, rubbing soothing circles as I howled in pain, my groans staying loud as I followed the patterned breathing as best as I could. Somehow, this position—being on my hands and knees, made the contractions easier to cope with. Remembering the midwife's explanation that labor was such an exacting primal act in itself, that instinctual female in me realized that in order to carry on for the duration of this process I would need to follow whatever natural tendency wanted to take control.

Once the pain finally began to ebb away and my breathing regulated, I felt Rhys's hands try to lift me up. I shook my head immediately.

"No," I rasped. "This feels good," I said as I turned my head to meet his starlit gaze.

He nodded in return, hands resuming the comforting circles he made on my back whilst the magic of the Cabin supplied a plush blanket underneath me—to keep my bare hands and knees from being pressed to the hardwood floors. I realized then that my loose nighttime shift was the only piece of clothing I donned. Sometime between waking and now, Rhys must've used his magic to change me into simpler clothing.

"You won't be needing much else for this process," came the midwife's voice from behind my place on the floor in the middle of the sitting room; probably guessing my thoughts as I looked over my attire.

I raised my weary gaze to her, both her and Madja offering a kind smile in return as they sat on the settee across from me. "We've been performing hourly pelvic exams in order to check your progression in between contractions," the healer explained.

I nodded, vaguely remembering their voices explaining what they were doing and when during the few moments of alertness I had been granted thus far. Another part of me recalling the crucial details the midwife had previously explained to my mate and me. In order to reach the final stage of labor, the pushing stage, the opening of my womb had to reach a certain level of thinning out and my bag of waters hosting the baby would have to burst in order for him to pass through and officially enter the world.

"You're about halfway there," Rhys said, answering my unasked question.

"Of course, when the time comes, you'll feel that preternatural urge to begin pushing, which is a tall-tale sign for the final stage of delivery to occur," the midwife explained.

"How long has it been?" I asked, my voice hoarse from my earlier groans.

"Hours," Madja answered, waving a nonchalant hand. "The timing doesn't matter, so long as you and your youngling continue to tolerate the process well, there isn't anything to worry about."

"Which you are," the midwife added. "Doing well, I mean."

"You're doing brilliantly, Feyre darling," Rhys repeated, pressing a kiss to the side of my temple as he continued working those reposeful circles on my back.

I could only offer a brief smile in return before another gut-wrenching wave overwhelmed me once again.

Rhysand

There seemed to be no end to Feyre's suffering as pain continued to seize her body, the intervals of contractions growing shorter and shorter as the hours continued to pass. Still, in spite of my heart shattering every time the Cabin was filled with her agonizing wails, part of me watched my mate in admiration as she fought her way through the excruciating convulsions and followed whatever insights her body called her to do in order to manage each one. We switched from her position on the floor, to walking around the small space of the Cabin, leaning against walls and different pieces of furniture for support as the contractions persisted; the midwife and healer checking her progression with pelvic exams at every mark of the hour. The day was now transitioning into early evening, and the contractions were starting to last longer—to the point where Feyre could hardly speak, or barely register anything at all as she endured them. During those pain-free intervals, she was able to nod in acknowledgement at whatever few words were spoken to her, engage in brief conversation, or give a simple shake of her head when she wanted to continue moving around the room or into a new relieving position.

The stronger the contractions grew, so did Feyre's reaction to them. She still whimpered in pain, her groans nearly coming out as growls as she battled to keep pace with the breathing exercises I coached her through. But with my focus kept solely on my mate, I hadn't realized I was no longer updating Azriel until I felt a gentle plea from Mor. Feyre had just undergone another contraction when I heard Mor's timid entreatment. Apparently, my mate's roars of pain had been so profound, that they had shook the expanse of mountains across our court. I had been too engrossed with guiding Feyre's breathing to notice, but our family back in Velaris had. They knew it was a sign of things advancing; that the next heir of the Night Court would soon make his entrance. So, I updated them as quickly as possible, promising that my next update would come when Sebastian did, and turned my attention back onto Feyre.

Feyre

Somehow my journey around the Cabin had come full circle, and I ended up on all fours on the cushioned bed in the bedroom. In the time my last contraction ebbed away, and I found Rhysand's violet eyes to offer a bleary-eyed appreciative smile, I felt my body shift. Still panting and recovering the breath I had used during the last contraction, I gripped Rhys's hand, silently asking him to help me upright. He obeyed, and I leaned back against his chest for support as I rested on my knees with a sigh of relief...my eyes widening a second later when I felt a gush of water burst between my legs.

My head snapped in the direction of the mess now spreading on the once clean sheets of the bed before Rhys helped me off and back onto my feet, the magic of the house changing the sheets without a second thought. I stared wide-eyed at my mate, but he only smiled warmly in return before pressing a kiss to my brow.

"M-My...bag of waters broke," I said, still astonished.

He nodded. "Just like the midwife told us it would," he added, rubbing my back in reassuring strokes.

My hands held my stomach, suddenly feeling lighter at the loss of fluid that had built up over the last several months. "T-This is really happening, Rhys," I whispered, knowing this moment of clarity would soon pass as the next contraction started to edge back in.

"You're doing it, Feyre," he said with another kiss to my brow. "It's almost over."

I didn't have enough time to respond before the full weight of the contraction hit in an entirely different way than I had previously felt. Rhys helped me back onto the edge of the bed, and I gripped his hand hard as the pain began to mount and surge through me—a newfound pressure building at the base of my pelvis alongside with it, and my breaths came in fuller and deeper rasps. Madja and the healer, who had remained in another room of the Cabin to allow Rhys and me some privacy, must've heard the change in my breathing because they entered the room seconds later.

The words exchanged between the older females and my mate seemed far away, barely discernible to me as I closed my eyes in concentration. The painful pressure I felt continued to build, and I realized that preternatural urge to push was here. The groan that slipped through my lips must've been indication enough, because I soon found myself in the center of the bed with Rhys holding me upright and the midwife at my feet as she performed her final pelvic exam.

"It's time, my Lady," the midwife said, as I forced my attention on her. "It's time to start pushing."

My heart shuttered at the words, and I turned wide eyes to my mate, who kept an arm wrapped around my back, allowing me to partially rest against him while I squeezed his free hand.

You can do this, Feyre, darling

His warm voice echoed through the bond, reaching my innermost self left on the bridge between us, and I nodded as I felt the surge of pain return. I groaned as the intense pressure grew stronger, the urge to push becoming forceful by the second, and heard the combined voices of Madja and the midwife quickly instructing me on how to position myself on the bed. With my upper body being supported by Rhys, and my legs drawn up and open, I quickly sucked in a deep breath as the females instructed and bore down in my first push.

Rhysand

Feyre pushed and pushed for what felt like hours, but in reality, I knew it had only been one—judging by the path of vanishing sunlight outside the window that finally gave way to night as it always did; dark orange blending into a mix of magenta and indigo before the all-consuming dark sea of stars swallowed them up and lit up the sky. I was all too familiar with that pattern, had watched it countless times in my lifetime, but had never felt it drag on as long as it had tonight. Perhaps Feyre's continued screams of anguish as she pushed were the reason why it felt so prolonged now, but I forced myself not to linger on watching it as I honed in on my mate.

She slumped against my chest, exhausted and spent after offering another hard push, and I dabbed at her brow and neck with a cool, damp cloth. I lost track of how many she had done but kept a brave face as I encouraged her further. She was indeed the strongest female I had ever seen in my centuries of life, and I held onto that reverence in order to battle the guilt that raged within me. It was my offspring she had grown in her belly; mine she now choked back tears for as she drew in another deep breath and pushed again, brows sweaty and furrowed in pure concentration, face red with splotches as she growled in pain with her effort.

It was both the most beautiful I had ever seen her, and the most harrowing.

While my chest ached with remorse for seeing my mate in such a state, it was also filled with so much more love and devotion I had ever felt towards her. I pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze as she pushed, silently letting her know how much I loved her in this moment.

Feyre

"I can see the head my lady," Madja cheered as I pushed.

A snarl of agony ripped from my throat; my eyes still clenched in concentration. "Get it out!" I growled without breaking my effort.

"You're nearly there," came the midwife's response.

I groaned, panting heavily as I slumped against Rhys again. He whispered loving words of support as he dabbed at my face and neck to cool me down, and I knew the all-consuming heat I felt had nothing to do with my powers and everything to do with this struggle. Not even the messy bun I had thrown my hair into seemed to cool me down in between my endeavors, so I was grateful when Rhys had begun using a damp washcloth to provide relief—the only kind afforded to me during this ordeal. It was all starting to become too overwhelming to endure for much longer, and I felt my resolve slipping. My eyes met with Rhys's for a brief moment, and instead of offering him a tired half-smile I had done so far, I broke into sobs.

"I can't do this anymore, Rhys," I cried.

His hand squeezed mine, the starlight in his eyes flickering as the hand on my back tightened gently. "You can," he promised. "Sebastian is almost here, Feyre, just imagine our little Bash here at last,"

I sobbed at the thought, the images of my baby I had been dreaming of for months flashing through my mind before I felt the devastating pain returned. I cried again, loudly claiming I couldn't do it, and was met with a chorus of voices encouraging me—claiming I could, and would. Deciding not to keep fighting it, I rallied my strength together with another gulp of air and bore down with the hardest push I could offer.

My attempt heralded in another round of voices animatedly telling me to continue, and though I couldn't differentiate the female's voices, I heard one of them tell Rhys to watch as our son's head began to emerge. My eyes were squeezed shut with my effort, so I couldn't see the look on his face, but a yelp of pain emerged from my throat a second later as I felt the strain of my baby's head coming through with the force of my pushing. The midwife quickly told me to take several deep breaths instead, and I did as I was told, gasping aloud when I felt a painful burst.

"The head is out, my lady," the midwife said with a meaningful look as I finally opened my eyes.

I gasped for even breaths, nodding before I looked to Rhys; whose violet eyes were silver lined as they met mine. He had shifted to my side for a better view of our son coming forth, his and Madja's hands holding either side of me, balancing me upright.

"He's so beautiful, Feyre," Rhys said tearfully as he lowered his head to rest his forehead against mine, a tear trailing down the side of his cheek.

I sobbed again, bringing a hand to brush that tear away briefly before grasping his free one as my body yielded to another throbbing contraction. "Just one more big push, my lady, and your babe will be in your arms." Madja promised.

"One more, and you're done," Rhys vowed, repeating the healer's words.

Instead of voicing my agreement, I continued my hold on to Rhys's hand while I gripped my knee with the other and sucked in a quick gasp of air before offering what now had to be the strongest and hardest push my body could muster. My eyes squeezed shut as I fixed all of my attention into this push, near-feral growls emerging from my throat at the unbearable pain that tore through me, my cries drowning out the myriad of voices cheering me on.

Soon, however, all the pain vanished the second I heard the tiniest, most magnificent wail I would ever hear in my entire life.

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your patience during ACONAS's hiatus! I hope you all enjoyed this update! Chapter 26 will be coming on Monday, April 24th to keep in line with my regular posting schedule!

Sending all you beautiful readers love and healing!