ACOTAR One-Shots

A Blessing (feysand)

Rhys ran a hand over my firm belly and I felt him smile against my neck. Leaning farther back into him I felt him hum with pleasure.

"A son," he said, barely even a whisper. "Feyre, darling, we'll have a son."

My thoughts drifted to the first time I'd seen the Bone Carver. A young fae boy, less than ten years old, with dark hair and violet eyes. The Bone Carver had shown me a young Rhysand. Or I had thought so.

"Have you thought of any names yet?"

"I want to see him first."

I knew what he was really thinking. Fae children were rare, almost as rare as finding your mate. But it wasn't just that they were hard to conceive, the pregnancies were often hard on the mother and more often then not a mother or child would die before the delivery. To Rhys, every moment he spent with me, with us, could be his last.

"He's going to be magnificent, Rhys. He's going to make us so proud," I reassured him and coveted his roaming hands with my own.

Minutes passed in comfortable silence as his thumbs drew small, incoherent designs on my huge belly.

"Feyre," Rhys said quietly and I could feel the anticipation through the bond. "Do you think - "

My hands tightened around his and I turned my head to the side to look at him.

"You will be the best father a youngling could ask for."

I felt his sigh against my neck and I kissed his cheek.

"You are not your father, Rhys. You never have been."

/Thank you/, he said without a word. /Thank you/.

He hummed again and I felt it reverberate through my entire body. I felt our son move inside of me and Rhys's hands froze. He could feel him too. I smiled and felt him kick, a little harder this time. Rhys had almost quit breathing entirely as his hands moved to feel the baby kick again. There was a short but demanding pain as he kicked again. I felt my face contort and I shifted a little between Rhys's legs.

"The little male is pressed right against my bladder," I said.

Rhys snorted but helped me up from our spot by the window. I felt like I'd swallowed the moon these past few months. With hurried short steps, I started to the bathroom. I felt the baby kick again and another sharp pain followed. Before I really understood what was happening, a stream of warm liquid was running down my legs and pooling around my feet.

"Rhys," I started to say when a much more demanding pain ripped through me.

I only barely managed to catch myself on a table chair before I fell to the floor. Almost immediately, Rhys was there, helping to the bed a few feet away.

"Feyre? Is everything okay? Should I get Madja? Feyre?"

I sighed as Rhys lowered me on to the bed. I did feel bad about the mess on the floor I'd made, and now the one on the bed I was making. Another sharp pain tore through my abdomen and I could help but cry out a little. One hand was gripped tightly into Rhys's shirt and the other was around my swollen belly.

"Feyre? Feyre, darling?"

"Perhaps you should call Madja," I said, trying to keep my breathing as even as possible.

The worry and concern didn't leave his eyes but for a breath second, his eyes grew distant and I knew he was talking with Mor. The baby moved again, but this time the pain was less demanding.

Rhys was pulling back the sheets and blankets on the bed for me when Mor arrived with Madja in tow.  With a look from me to Rhys to the puddle on the floor, Madja was striding towards the bed. She said something quietly to Mor. She nodded and winnowed away. Rhys hadn't seemed to notice Madja because when we moved reach for me, a let out a feral growl and bared his teeth at her.