Disclaimer: "Throne of Glass" series belongs to Sarah J. Maas. Story and characters. I'm just a fan having an ongoing imagination :)
CHAPTER 1:
Four months later...
"Just breathe, Aelin. In and out. That's it. Keep going. You're doing great," The healer's soothing tone caresses Aelin like a gentle breeze through the burning haze. A haze that began fourteen hours ago. A shift of her raised arms and the metallic clanking of the shackles still restraining her to the altar, reminds her that three of those hours went completely unnoticed.
In the agony of another of Cairn's meticulous sessions, she hadn't recognized the pangs for what they were. Only thing when a small burst of unusual liquid splashed onto the bloodied surface was it discovered; The baby was coming. Her baby. Rowan's baby— and he wasn't here to see him or her come into the world. She was doing this alone.
Aelin has no energy or will left to contain the cry that rushes past her lips as the next natural cue to push comes again all too soon.
The next heir to the throne of Terrasen, her heir, her child, born in a torture chamber. If the fact didn't enrage her as much as it did, it might have invoked a joyless laugh. All of the people she's ever dared to love always suffered. Any rays of light she was allotted in her life had a cost. Aelin just didn't understand why the cost had to take its payment from both sides.
The heavy iron door opens with a groan cutting off her musings as her captor strides into the cell. "How much longer, healer?" Maeve demands as she approaches the two women.
Another wave and shriek rolls through Aelin, her body tensing, as the healer answers, "We're almost there, Your Majesty. The child is crowning now." Then directing at her patient, "Keep breathing, you're doing amazing. Can you give me another one?"
Aelin grinds out through her tears, panting, "I have a better idea. How about we switch now; you push and I'll ask the pointless questions?"
The healer lets the agitated words roll off of her with experienced nonchalance, "You're almost there, just a couple more. We just have to get past the shoulders and then you can rest."
After the next wave comes and goes, Aelin rolls her head tiredly toward where Maeve is now beside her— sitting on the lip of the blood-stained altar. Tossing her a confused glare through the slits of the solid mask, Aelin asks breathlessly, "Don't you have somewhere more important to be?"
Maeve folds her moon-white hands delicately atop her lap somehow managing to look regal in this dark and humid pit. "This is a very important matter, Aelin. I've been waiting for this day for months now." With unmistakable glee in her dark eyes, she whispers, "I would not miss it for all the world."
Minutes more pass and soon, through a heavy fog, Aelin Galathynius' world is stopped and started anew as the healer's soft exclamation of "It's a boy!" rings out.
Sagging against the chains, the new mother smiles in pure joy. Relief mixes with the joy at the sound of her son's sweet cries echoing throughout the room. Blinking against the tears and spots in her vision, Aelin looks over at the tiny squirming figure in the healer's arms as she bathes him gently. Her son. The wonder of it— of him— stuns her speechless.
With the baby now cleaned and wrapped in a delicate yellow cloth, the healer walks toward the two queens cradling him close. From where she lay, Aelin can just make out a tuft of bright silver hair atop her baby's head. Fresh tears burn her eyes. She needs to see him up close. Pulling against the unyielding grasp of her bonds, Aelin swallows tightly and rasps out, "Can I hold him?"
The healer starts forward with the intention to lay the child atop his mother's chest but all time seems to freeze as Maeve's hand shoots up in denial.
The queen stands, gazing at the newborn, "I'm going to offer you a say in your son's future, Fire-briger, for I am a gracious ruler," Turning toward her prisoner, expression and tone as hard as stone she continues, "Here are the options: The child will remain with me and be raised as my heir, however I see fit," She pauses as Aelin's piercing gaze widens in horror then finishes, "OR I will allow the child to be brought to his father and remain Terrasen's heir."
Aelin's stare morphs into biting skepticism as her gauntlet clad hands clench into fists,"Care to tell me the catch?"
"I shall ensure the child is safely with his father... IF you tell me the location of the wyrdstone keys. If not, he shall stay with me," A shrug, "I'll have something I want either way." Bracing her hands on the altar she leans down and exhales onto the mask icily, "Choose carefully, dear niece. This is the only time I will allow you to have a say in the child's life."