ACOTAR One~shots [Discontinued, Will be deleted]

A Joyous Occasion

It was fate, Feyre decided, that Rhys happened to be away at the Illyrian Steppes when she discovered the news that would change their lives.
Rhys hadn’t wanted to leave, not when she’d spent the last several mornings—and afternoons—leaning over the side of the toilet bowl, hurling her guts up. But she’d managed to convince him to go, reminding him that it was important that he continue checking up on the Illyrian females training. Nesta had been personally training the females since the war, and there weren’t many arguments from the camp lords, not even Lord Devlon. There was a new batch of females to train every few months, and the recent group was well on their way to becoming the full warriors that they were born to be. Feyre found it delightful that Lord Devlon was absolutely terrified of Nesta—a Cauldron-made Illyrian warrior. He had nearly wet himself when Nesta showed up at the war camp with Cassian during the war, seen the way the females were treated, and completely lost it on him (she had broken his arm, although it could have been much worse). He was even more terrified of her than he was of Amren.
But still, even with Nesta in charge of training the females, Rhys did have to check up on the camps at least once a month, or the commanders would think he was slacking off in his duties as the High Lord. Feyre always hated it when he was away, but she knew it was necessary, and this time, she’d all but begged him to go. She knew what she had to do eventually—knew it was inevitable—but she wouldn’t be able to do it with Rhys there. And as horrible as it sounded, she didn’t want him to be there when she found out.
Rhys didn’t even know that she’d stopped taking her contraceptive tonic, nearly four months ago already. The first month, she’d been a little too over-eager, and when her period had been late, she’d taken the pregnancy potion only for it to come back negative—and woke up to blood staining her nightgown the next day. The Healer had told her not to worry, that it was normal, expected even, and her body would probably take some time before her cycles adjusted and returned to a regular schedule again. But it had still been a disappointment—and, at the same time, she had been relieved.
The next month, her period was on time, which was fine by her. She had told herself that she should probably tell Rhys that she was off her contraceptive tonic. In fact, they should probably actually discuss whether or not they were even ready for children yet, or if it would be better to wait. But Feyre had heard that sometimes Fae females had difficulty getting pregnant, and she was afraid that if they waited too long, they would be unable to conceive. It had been only two years since Hybern’s War, and they were still getting used to the fact that there was peace throughout Prythian, that they were safe. Maybe she was rushing into it, but she’d made the decision on instinct, without really thinking about it first.
It was because of Elain that she had been so quick to make the decision. Her sister and Lucien were the first to marry and begin a life together, just a month after the war ended. She hadn’t wanted to wait, Elain said, and she was convinced a wedding would be a good thing. And it had been a good thing—to have something to do, to plan, and take their minds off the grief and devastation that had wreaked havoc through their world. It certainly hadn’t been much of a surprise when Elain announced that she was pregnant barely three months later. Nine months later, a full year after the war, they welcomed a beautiful, auburn-haired baby boy, whom they named Aurin. He was three now, and the happiest little boy Feyre had ever known. She and Nesta adored her nephew and took turns in spoiling him—and so did Mor, and even Amren didn’t hesitate to offer to babysit, and took all opportunities to play with him. He had more aunts and uncles than he’d know what to do with when he was older, but for now, he loved the attention, and Elain and Lucien liked having an endless supply of babysitters for the nights that they wanted time to themselves.
Feyre and Rhys had taken Aurin on more than one of those nights, and it had been one of those nights when she had made the decision to stop her contraceptive tonic. Rhys doted on Aurin, practically obeying his every want and wish. Seeing her mate and husband hold, play with, and talk to her nephew with shining eyes had made her fall even more in love with him—something she hadn’t thought was possible, but she found something new to love about him almost every day. Rhys tried to hide it from her, but she saw the way he looked at Aurin, especially when he was sleeping in the crib in the spare bedroom upstairs, the longing in his eyes, and knew that he was imagining what their own child would be like, imagining their own son or daughter. So she had decided that very night that she would stop taking her contraceptive tonic. She wanted to start a family with him, and she knew that he wanted it, too, even if Rhys wouldn’t say it in so many words—he had hinted at it, on the occasion, but he hadn’t come right out and said it to her. She knew he wouldn’t, either, unless she was the one to bring it up. He’d told her right from the beginning that it would be her decision when they did start a family, if they did. It was her decision if she wanted to have children with him. She knew he was secretly afraid of making her feel like she had to do anything, as though she was somehow obligated by the fact that they were mates to do anything. But she’d never felt like that with him—never felt pressured to get engaged, to get married... not with Rhys. It was part of the reason she loved him so much.
So Feyre had decided. She was ready, and she didn’t want to wait much longer. She wanted to take that next step to their future, to forever.
Even if it terrified the Hell out of her.