Disclaimer: All the characters, lines, settings, etc of the "Throne of Glass" series are the brilliance of Sarah J. Maas. I am not the author, just a new fan. Anything you recognize in this story from the books, is Maas' not mine.

A/N: Hey whats up readers! I hope you enjoy this story, it was just a brainchild I had and needed to put down and share! It will be a multi-chapter story around 20 chapters long and it's primarily going to center around Aelin and the baby bonding and then recovering once they're back in Terrasen. These first few chapters are just introductory setting the scene chapters and not the main plot so please don't judge too soon! Hope you enjoy and Please R&R! (Also if anyone can help give me some pointers on how to better write Aelin or the other characters in cannon, I'd greatly appreciate the tips!) :D

CHAPTER 2:

To choose between her child's life and the fate of a war— the fate of Erilea. With one wrong word, Aelin could condemn the entire continent to be massacred or to captivity. With the keys, Maeve would be unstoppable, there's no telling how far she would go. Would there even be anything left of the world Aelin knew if Maeve wielded them? She had told herself when she was captured that at all costs the keys were to be kept safe; their location and bearer confidential. At ALL costs— until the baby. Her defenseless child. Could she sacrifice his freedom, his safety, for that of the keys? Aelin felt her heart shatter at the prospect.

Since finding out that the cost of forging the lock would be her life, she had been prepared to die. To give her all to keep her loved ones, her kingdom, safe would be worth it. To give them a chance at the life she had had a taste of— a life she had foolishly come to believe would come to fruition. She had been prepared to surrender any and every single part of her to save her people. But not this part. She never considered her child would ever be part of the asking price.

Seeking solace away from the smothering chains, away from the demanding stares, away from her warring thoughts, she calls brokenly down the silent bond; Rowan. How she yearns for his touch. To hear his calming voice assuring her they'll face it together. But yearning changes nothing; she remains alone.

Her eyes lock onto the wailing bundle just out of her reach. If she gives up her baby's rights to know his father, to live free in his own home, he'll live under Maeve's thumb. He will be raised never knowing who he truly is, never truly having a choice or a say in life. A prisoner unknowingly bound. But... alive. Should the alternative come to be, the Valg Queen could draw out his demise for a thousand years or erase his existence with merely half a thought... or still keep him as her own then as well. Aelin's thoughts suddenly freeze. "I'll have something I want either way." A win-win scenario. Either way Maeve will keep her son for herself. The choice of immunity for her child is nothing but another illusive trick.

Snapping her eyes back to the deceptive woman before her, Aelin snarls furiously, "Go to hell."

With a small click of the tongue, the dark-haired monarch straightens. Holding Aelin's hostile gaze, she calls, "Cairn." The shrill cries piercing the dense air seem to magnify in Aelin's ears as Maeve turns and takes the infant in her arms.

Cairn steps in at the call, giving an acknowledging bow to his queen's retreating form, and asks, "Continue from where I left off?"

Gently rocking the baby, she responds, "No, put her back in the sarcophagus now." A triumphant grin tossed over her shoulder, "I've gotten enough from her for today."

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"Wake up, princess."

The braziers' dim light infiltrates the opened iron box. Aelin tenses. It can't have been long since she was put in here.

The exhaustion from giving birth combined with having her heart basically ripped out of her chest, brought her crashing into unconsciousness the moment Maeve exited the cell. Watching Maeve take her baby away— that moment would haunt Aelin for the rest of her days. Now awake, the grief has not lessened one bit.

Having been here for nine months now she expects the rough hands. Expects being hauled upright by her chains. What she doesn't expect is the tiny whimpering bundle that is placed in her arms. A choked gasp escapes her and she wonders if she's dreaming. She tucks her baby instinctively closer to her chest as an impatient hand falls on her head and twists her head to the side by her hair.

Cairn and Fenrys stand in between her and half a dozen guards. Every one of them as taut as a bowstring. Aelin smirks at the fact that even though she's still chained, anchored into the box, and just gave birth, they are still wary of what she may do. Good. They should be.

"Don't think that the arrangements changed in the slightest. He's not yours to keep." Cairn says. "You're to feed him and then Fenrys will take him back."

Releasing his grip, he takes up a spot next to the door. Aelin turns her attention back to the bundle as a hungry wail is voiced. Her hand, now gauntlet free, shakes as she hesitantly brushes her finger down his cheek. He's perfect. Sobs of joy quietly rack her form. Her baby. She can't soak him in fast enough. He's so light, so fragile, and so soft.

A pointed growl sounds from behind her reminding her this isn't supposed to be a visit. So awkwardly, as she only knows the basic gist of what to do, she lines him up with her breast. As she strokes his silky soft hair, he slowly latches on. His cries cease instantly, body relaxing. It's a weird sensation, Aelin decides, but as his little hand comes up to rest on her chest, she falls in love with it.

Tears streak down her face. He has Rowan's features. Aelin sniffles, running her finger over the delicate point of his ear. Startled by the sudden sound, her baby's eyes spring open and lift up to her face. Her heart manages to leap and sink simultaneously. Vivid blue with a ring of gold. There's no denying his parentage, and she fears the danger that puts him in.

As she can't protect him from Maeve in her current situation, Aelin equips him with what she can. Wishing the cursed mask into oblivion so she could kiss him, Aelin shifts in her heavy chains, leans in close, and breathes, "I wasn't quite ready for you to come into my world yet. It's not safe here at the moment. But since you're here now," She smiles at how calm the baby's become at the sound of her voice, "Know that I love you. That will never change whether we're together or apart." Aelin grasps her son's small fist lightly, "Things are dark right now and we'll both need to be strong to get through it. But if it ever feels hard to be brave, you can remind yourself of this; Your name is Rhoe Whitethorn Galathynius, and you are the prince of Terrasen."

Gaze locked on Rhoe's contented form, she murmurs, "And I hope you will never have a reason to be afraid."