Morrigan - ACOTAR Fanfic

Chapter Nine - The Bloody Matchmaker

"She started bleeding a few hours ago," Mor said as she led them through the house.

"But she's months away from giving birth," Nesta protested, following close on her heels.

I startled, jerking awake in my spot on the couch. Nyx stirred awake and began crying. I looked to him, then to Feyre. She made no move to take him back, so I offered the little babe soothing shushing noises, beckoning sleep to him.

But I knew the dreaded words that filled my mind again—they weren't mine. And they weren't the human girl's. The Cauldron knew who spoke the words, but I knew what they meant, what they represented, where they came from...

The scent of blood filled the room they entered. So much blood, all over the bed, smeared over Feyre's spread thighs. No babe—and Feyre's face ...It was white as death. Her eyes were closed, her breathing too shallow.

"What do we do?" Mor asked as Cassian and Azriel went to stand behind Rhys, hands on his shoulders.

I remembered asking that fearful question. I remembered trembling on the inside, near to falling apart as I had asked it.

"There is nothing we can do," Madja said. "Cutting the babe out of her will kill her."

My eyes grew wide as a vision flashed through my mind. It was the human girl, lying on her soft bed, listening to the talking-brick. The same book I'd spoke about with Feyre only hours before.

"Do it," Feyre said, and her voice was that of the High Lady. No fear. Only determination for the life of the babe within her.

She'd been the bravest of us all. She'd gone through hell with us, and both her and Nesta had dragged us all out when the rest of us had fallen to our knees.

Feyre looked up at Rhys. "We have to."

The High Lord nodded slowly, eyes lined with silver.

Feyre was dying. The babe was dying.

And Rhys would die with them.

My breathing hitched and with some small remaining trendil of strength, I gently placed Nyx into Feyre's arms. I stood on unsteady legs, taking a deep breath in and-

Cassian's mind went wholly silent and blank as Madja pulled up Feyre's shift, her knives flashing.

There was no sound when the tiny, winged babe emerged. When Mor stood there, blankets in hand, and took the unmoving boy from Madja's bloody hands.

But Rhys was crying, and tears began pouring down Mor's face as she gazed at the silent babe in her arms.

I slumped to the floor, curling over my knees. I was shaking rigorously, my mind a swirling storm of reliving nightmares. Feyre began screaming my name, but it was a distant calling and I ignored it entirely as that damned brick continued talking.

The world slowed. Went cold.

There was the silent, too-small babe in Mor's arms.

There was Feyre, sliced open and bleeding out on the bed.

There was Rhysand screaming, as if his soul were being shredded, but Cassian and Azriel were there, hauling him away from the bed as Madja tried to save Feyre—

I slammed both hands over my ears and let out a silent sob, my eyes clenched tight.

Golden light flickered on the other side of the room, and Amren gasped. Cassian's heart curdled in horror.