A Court of Friends and Family

Part 7: Another Birthday

Some hours later . . .

In the early hours of the morning, Rhys could only watch as anguish laced his mate's features almost constantly.

Madja looked up at Rhysand, conveying what she was going to say next with her eyes. Feyre still braced herself against Rhysand's chest.

"The baby is crowning now, My Lady. Can you give me a big push?" Rhysand looked to Feyre, as she took a breath, and shook with the effort of pushing before letting the breath out. She leaned into him, and he pushed hair out of her face. He purred down the bond.

You are so incredibly gorgeous. She looked at him, her eyes revealing a little of her usual playfulness at comments like that, but mainly they looked tired, strained. He kissed her cheek.

It hurts so much, Rhys, she replied as she let out a small noise that cracked him in two.

"And I'm so tired," her voice was broken and weary.

"I know, Feyre. I know. But you've got this," he whispered aloud as she contracted again, shutting her eyes, a cry escaping her mouth. He let her lean fully into him. Her head on his shoulder, her strong shoulders against his chest as Madja told her to push again. And once more her whole body shook with the effort, her mental shields weakening enough that he understood a bit more of the pain she was in. His eyes burned to think of his beautiful, strong mate filled with so much suffering. Her weight falling more into him as she released the breath. Madja smiled.

"The head is out, My Lady. Would you like to feel it?" Feyre looked at Rhysand, her tired eyes filling with pride as she replied.

"Yes." Madja reached around to guide Feyre's hand, and as she made contact, her eyes flooded with tears. Her shields lowered, and though still filled with pain, Rhys's eyes brimmed with tears too as he felt the overwhelming joy.

"Lots of dark hair," Madja's warm voice told them before telling Feyre to prepare for one of her final pushes.

As the hours went by, quiet conversation, reading, napping and stressing all bounced around the six who dwelled in various places around the spacious, yet cozy living room. The hearth burned bright as Elain napped, resting her head on Azriel's shoulder, his eyes often drifting closed as well. But everyone knew him well enough to know that he still heard everything. Mor flipped through a magazine haphazardly, and Cassian was currently standing next to the fire, a glass partially filled with strong alcohol in his hand. He couldn't seem to stay in one spot for too long. Amren sat by the window, Nesta in a chair near her, both of them quiet and stone faced.

"How much longer do you think this will take?" Nesta's irritated voice filled the mainly silent room, the crackling fire and magazine pages the only sounds.

"Why? Do you have somewhere to be?" Cassian shot back. Nesta stared at him.

"No."

"Well if you really don't want to be in this room, there's a dining room across the hall." He sipped from his glass. But Nesta just turned away from him, remaining where she was. Mor rolled her eyes, but inquired to whoever wanted to answer.

"It has been hours. Should one of us go up and check on them?" Azriel shook his head.

"No. If they needed someone, Rhys would come downstairs," the shadowsinger replied quietly.

"Okay My Lady, last push and your baby will be here." Rhys watched as Feyre smiled through the pain, knowing the worst was almost over. "On the count of three take the biggest breath you can. One, two, three." Feyre breathed in as much as she could. And now as she sat down in front of Rhys, her hands pushing on her knees, her head back against Rhys's shoulder, and hair sticking to her face, Feyre pushed with everything she had left. Her metal shields were almost entirely worn down from exhaustion. When she let go, she felt it, felt the baby slide out the rest of the way and she gasped. Rhys's hand squeezing her arm as he looked down to where Madja has just caught the baby.