"Rhys?"

My soft whisper was met with silence; my mate remaining in the depths of slumber, an arm draped over my waist as we lay entangled in our plush sheets. It was still dark outside, only a couple of hours having passed since we turned in for the night and yet I awoke; overcome with an urge I had never felt so intensely before.

"Rhys?" I whispered again, touching his cheek gently and saw a flicker in the muscle of his jaw.

"Rhysand…" I pressed, my heart racing in hopes I could coax him into consciousness as tenderly as possible.

"Yes…?" He muttered, voice thick with sleep and eyes remaining closed.

"Rhys…" I hesitated, moving in a little closer to him as I murmured sheepishly. "I'm...hungry,"

His dark brows pulled together in confusion, "Hungry?" he asked.

I nodded, my head rubbing against his shoulder with the motion. "Starving, actually," I admitted as I traced circles along the dark whorls of his tattoos.

I grinned as he opened his eyes, still perplexed as he turned to me. "You didn't eat at dinner?" He asked, concerned, and I giggled.

"I did. You were there remember?"

"That's right," he closed his eyes again with a sigh of relief, the hand on my waist drifting to my rounded stomach pressed against his side. "We went to Sevenda's with the others and you had the prime rib special."

My stomach growled at the memory, and I choked back a rising sob. "Yes…"

He opened his eyes again, alarmed at the sound of unshed tears in my voice. "What's wrong, Feyre?" he asked, fully alert now as he shifted onto his side to look down at me.

I felt my eyes burn, suddenly overcome with guilt for making him worry and for waking him up, but I couldn't resist the ache in my stomach.

"I want more," I whispered.

He blinked, taken aback as he stared at me. "Of the prime rib?" He clarified.

I nodded with a hiccup. Cauldron damn these hormones. "I need it Rhys. We need it." I said, placing my hands on my stomach.

Rhys breathed a sigh of respite, laughing breathily as he dropped his forehead against my collarbone. "Oh Feyre, you scared me."

"I'm serious, Rhys, I'm so hungry and that prime rib was so good. I need more of it, or else-"

"Of course, my love, whatever you want," he hurriedly reassured me, kissing my cheeks before pulling back to meet my gaze.

I sniffed as I stared into his violet eyes, sparkling with amusement. "Really?"

My heart lifted at the feline grin on his lips, "Yes. Would you like everything that came with it too?"

I brightened and nodded, "Yes. Please."

He chuckled and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips before pulling back and climbing out of bed. "I'll be right back, then."

I beamed as I pushed myself up slowly, a month of growth on my abdomen now weighed me down and I required a little more effort when rising from any laying or sitting position. In the month that passed since the summit, since Eira's birth, we had all fallen into a sense of ease. Prior to the summit, Rhys and I did our best to compose our nerves over the rising coup, but now with the full support of our friends at our back, we finally felt a sense of solace. We were still in a period of waiting—of gathering more intelligence on Keir, Kallon, and now Beron. Thanks to Azriel's continued spy work, we were assured that no advancements were being made on either front, so we all allowed ourselves to breathe easier—for now at least.

The only wild card that remained was Eris, but after a brief meeting with him at our moonstone palace above the Court of Nightmares, things seemed...placated, for the time being. The eldest of the Vanserra sons, and heir to the Autumn Court, assured the earlier theory Rhys had—that the male wanted our support in overthrowing his father. What surprised me, however, was that it was all he wanted. He swore he played no part in his father's plans with Keir, and to prove it he provided us with detailed, secret, reports from his father's general; whom he had rallied to his side as well. The reports accurately lined up with the intel Azriel's network of spies had collected, and as of recently divulged a lack of movement as well.

It seemed the trio of traitors were biding their time, presumably attempting to adjust their plans now that the entire continent was aware of my pregnancy. We knew better than to assume they would reel back on the coup because of this; instead deciding to strike before my child had a chance to be born. The threat still haunted us all, but until we had news of any change in plans, we had to wait. In the meantime, Rhys, our family, and I were making the best of it. True to the promise I made myself, having seen how curious and eager Cassian had been in learning about my pregnancy, I spent as much time with them as I could. To aid in our efforts, Rhys and I hired a personal assistant to help balance our workload as High Lord and High Lady; agreeing that we needed the help while we transitioned into preparing for parenthood. That assistant was Clotho, the mute priestess who served in the library of Velaris, and one of the only other fae Rhys or I could trust outside of the inner circle. The priestess humbly agreed and now split her time between our estate and the library. Despite not being able to outwardly express herself, Rhys assured me that she was ecstatic to hear of my pregnancy and wanted nothing more than to help us balance our work between ruling and parenting.

In the month that passed, not only were we able to de-stress a bit and enjoy leisure time with our family, but I had also observed a notable change in myself. While my belly, now an impressive, rounded mound that was pronounced no matter what I wore, continued to grow with the promise from Madja that our son was still as healthy as ever; I noticed a myriad of developments in my emotions. While I did find myself with more energy than I had in the early days of my pregnancy, that frequency in fatigue now seemed to trade places with erratic mood swings. One minute I would be as happy and content as ever, and in the next beset with unexpected gloom. However, everyone seemed to take it in stride—especially my mate, who simply smiled and listened to me rant or just held me when I needed to cry.

Along with my renewed energy, my appetite returned with a vengeance. The same three meals I ate everyday no longer sated me, and I found myself snacking on various things throughout the day. There had been an incident a few weeks ago where I watched in total envy as Azriel snacked on dried meat in between training with Cassian and Rhys—something the brothers had picked back up in part due to the looming threat, but also as a means for entertainment. It wasn't until Cassian noticed me on the verge of tears and snatched the meat from Azriel, casually offering it to me, that I realized I had officially started with pregnancy-related cravings. The cravings hadn't been so intense; until tonight, when I had been ripped from sleep by my growling stomach and the desire to have another helping of dinner had me waking my mate from his sleep.

"Do you think she still has those leftovers?" I asked as I watched him dress.

"I'm sure she has plenty left reserved for you, Feyre darling. She saw how much you loved it," he replied with a knowing grin.

My face warmed as I recalled how the restaurateur offered to pack up extra servings for me to bring back to the estate, but I had been too embarrassed at the extra helpings I already consumed during our stay and politely refused.

"I didn't want to look like a glutton," I admitted sheepishly.

He walked over, resting his hands on the bed as he leveled our gazes. "No one would think that. You're pregnant and feeding the heir to the Night Court. They know he needs to eat, even in the middle of the night," he said and gave me another chaste kiss before stroking a hand along my stomach affectionately.

I smiled. "That's true. It's just hard to keep up when I feel absolutely ravenous every few hours."

He smirked appreciatively as he rubbed my stomach again, "Is there anything else my son wants?"

"Strawberries," I answered quickly. "With chocolate, or whipped cream."

Rhys laughed and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Whatever you want, my love," he repeated and stood upright.

I waited for him to return as patiently as I could, pacing between our bedroom and balcony every few minutes before finally pacifying myself by sitting with a book on the cushioned bench of the balcony. In order to keep myself distracted, I read a book of plays aloud in hopes that my growing baby would be patient in his insatiable appetite. The sound of my voice must have appeased him, because as I continued to read, my hunger seemed to dull a bit. However, after a few minutes passed, I felt his kicks of protests and rubbed at the spot.

"If you have such a problem with my reading, then talk to your father. He's the one that taught mama how to read," I said, and my heart warmed at the memory of my lessons with Rhysand in my early days at the Night Court. "Maybe he'll teach you to read too."

"We both could," I heard Rhys say from behind me and I whipped my head around to see him holding a bundle of food.

I pushed myself up unceremoniously, eager to eat as the smells hit my nose. "That's so much food!" I exclaimed as he walked over and placed the bundle on the small table we kept on the balcony.

"Sevenda might've given us some more food she thought you might enjoy," he answered with a laugh before snapping his fingers and the food instantly displayed out before me.

I gasped in admiration before Rhys pulled out a chair for me and I happily sat, digging into my meal immediately and moaned with relief as the savory juices of the prime rib hit my taste buds.

Rhys sat next to me, casually grabbing a strawberry from the bowl he had also laid out and snacked on it as he regaled me while I indulged myself. "You truly are a sight to behold, Feyre darling."

I felt my face warm and dread filled my chest as I swallowed a mouthful. "Do I look like a pig?" I asked, that dread beginning to ebb into shame.

"No, no." He quickly reassured me, moving closer until our knees were touching. "I meant the sight of my expecting mate enjoying herself, of nourishing my growing child, is one I never dreamed I'd see," he explained. His hand came to rest on my stomach again as those beautiful amethyst eyes grew tender.

I squeezed his hand gently, "You deserve it Rhys. This child is a culmination of everything that is good about you; of all the good you've done in your lifetime."

His eyes were lined with silver as they met mine, and I moved my hands to cup his face. "He will be all the best parts of you, Rhysand."

"And of you," he swore. "You brought out the best in me Feyre. Everything that I am, that I have now, including this child, is all because of you."

My heart pounded with joy as I beamed and pulled him in for a kiss. He returned it with just as much fervor and heat began pooling in my core. When he pulled away too soon for my liking, I kissed him again-slowly, and nipped at his bottom lip.

I felt the fiendish smirk of his lips on mine as he muttered, "I thought you were hungry?"

"I'm hungry for something else now." I whispered, staring at him with half-lidded eyes.

I shrieked with a laugh as he scooped me up in his arms, my legs easily hooking around his waist as the food from the table suddenly disappeared and he carried me over to the nearest wall.


The following morning, I was pleased to see Rhys still in our bed and even more delighted to still be wrapped in his arms. He had a tendency to wake before I did these days and often got a head start on his work, allowing me the opportunity to sleep in and get the rest my body needed. However, after the night we had, I wasn't too surprised to see him needing the extra sleep. I smirked mischievously as I lightly traced along the tattoos on his chest with my own tattooed fingers, relishing in his scent as I recalled the details of our night that extended into the early hours of the morning.

It was a welcome change of pace after the stress that weighed on us; one we needed now more than ever with a youngling on the way. The days of just the two of us were set to expire in a few months; soon to be filled with a new life we would have to work together to sustain—all while balancing our duties of presiding over the Night Court. I often tried not to let the weight of that responsibility stress me out; knowing we had our whole family to rely on, but now that I was nearly halfway through my pregnancy, I wanted more of this time alone together.

I felt dark talons gently caress my mental shields and I smiled as I lowered them enough for my mate, who kept his eyes closed despite now being conscious. I allowed him into my thoughts; letting him know of my yearning for the quality time we had just experienced together as a lazy hand caressed my stomach.

"Let's go to the Cabin for a few days," he said after a couple of minutes passed.

I pushed myself up on an elbow, staring down at him as his sleepy violet eyes met with mine. "Really?" I asked, already keen on the idea.

He nodded in affirmation. "Cassian and Azriel are keeping the appropriate tabs on everything, and Clotho is set to meet with Mor and Amren today to go over some paperwork from the Palace Lords in Velaris," he explained.

I nodded. "My sisters also have their own agenda," I added. "Elain plans to drag Nesta to the market, or one of the palaces, today."

"So, we can get away," Rhys said. He brushed a stray lock of hair out of my face and I nodded again.

"Let's go now." I said, eager to escape with my mate.

It had been months since we set foot in the Cabin together. There were times he or I visited alone to let off some steam, sometimes meeting each other by the end of the day, but it was the first time we would go together since Winter Solstice; the first time since I fell pregnant, and I couldn't help but feel a little nostalgic.

Rhys smiled languidly. "Right now?"

I nodded and pushed myself up carefully, staring down at him with a grin. "Right now," I confirmed.

His smile shifted from lazy to determined as he sat up in the bed. I reached over to pull on my silky dressing gown and robe as he climbed out of bed and dressed. I laughed as he scooped me up in his arms and I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"We'll have to bring the baby too," I said in mock disappointment.

He chuckled as he walked over to the balcony. "That's all right. We'll consider it our first trip as a family."

The next thing I knew, we were in the sky, Rhys's powerful wings easily propelling us from our balcony and into the air in a matter of seconds. I held onto him as I felt the warm breeze encircle us and whoosh through my hair as he took us to our destination. I watched his wings as they moved; strong and beautiful, and felt a kick from inside my stomach.

"Do you think he can tell we're flying?" Rhys asked.

"Maybe," I said as I felt another swift kick and rested a hand on the spot. "It's okay baby, daddy won't drop us."

"Never," Rhys affirmed.

I looked up at him, "Do you think he'll have wings?"

The corner of Rhys's lips twitched upwards. "Of course he will. Maybe not at birth, but they'll come."

"Were you born with your wings?" I asked, admiring how the sun reflected off the iridescence of them as they moved in unison.

He shook his head. "My mother was hopeful they would develop as I matured, and a day after my eighth birthday they appeared," he said.

"Just like that?" I asked with a smirk.

"Magic."

I laughed and traced a finger along the membrane of one as it moved within my reach. He stiffened at my touch and I grinned playfully.

"Illyrian baby," I teased.

"If it weren't for my son in your belly, I would demand you fly us to the Cabin and see how you fare while I stroke your wings," Rhys taunted.

I giggled and pecked his cheek, keeping one arm draped around his neck while the other rested on my stomach. I paused as realization struck.

"Is that when your mother brought you to the mountains?" I asked.

Rhys nodded, already knowing what I referred to. "I think she was going to bring me regardless, but she was eager for me to fly and learn the Illyrian traditions."

The silver in his violet eyes flecked with a hint of sadness as he recalled the memory of his mother. The current status of our relationship with the Illyrians put a strain on his heart. He grew up with them, found his brothers amongst them, and their participation in the coup was the last thing he ever wanted. I laid my head on his shoulder in order to provide him with some comfort, not wanting either of us to dwell on that heartache during our little getaway.

His fingertips brushed the side of my stomach lightly as he held me closer. "I want him to learn, to train, like I did," he said.

Although he didn't ask, I heard the question in his words and I nodded. "He's Illyrian, just like you."

He pressed a kiss to my temple and landed on the steps leading to the Cabin, setting me on my feet carefully and I smiled reassuringly at him before taking his hand as we both walked to the entrance. As soon as we walked in, the fire in the hearth ignited and the rest of the house sprang to life with a wave of Rhys's hand, immediately accommodating us. A second later, platters of food appeared in the kitchen and I beamed.

"I love it here," I said as I strolled over to the counter, picking up a piece of perfectly crisped bacon and took a bite.

Rhys smiled roguishly as he joined my side, taking a slice of bacon for himself. "It's just what we needed, especially after your ravenous cravings kept me up all night. In more ways than one," he said with a wink.

I threw my hand up in a vulgar gesture. It's not like you were complaining. I said through the bond.

Indeed not, my love.

I sat at one of the raised chairs beside the counter, looking over the paintings I had filled in the room all those years ago—when I escaped here for the first time after learning he was my mate. I ate as I reflected on the last decade; at how it had brought us here, with our son now growing inside of me.

"I want to give birth here," I said after a comfortable silence had befallen us.

Rhys paused. "Really?" he asked.

I nodded, resting a hand on the apex of my belly. "It feels right. This is where I accepted our mating bond; where we decided to start trying for a baby, and I'm pretty sure this is where he was conceived too," I said with a smile, having done the math in my head. By the time I realized I was pregnant, on Starfall, I was already a couple of months along; meaning our attempt to conceive on Winter Solstice—as we did every year, had been successful

He smirked in return at the memory; it was somewhat of a tradition he made of bringing me here on my birthday. "My mother gave birth to me, and my sister, in this cabin," he said. "With the help of some Illryian midwives and some camp-mothers."

"Then it's perfect," I said softly.

He reached down to stroke my stomach gently. "I want to be there," he said. "In the room, while you give birth. Through all of it actually. I know it isn't traditionally done, my own father waited outside the room both times, but I want to be there and hold your hand when my son comes into the world. Just the thought of you going through labor, of enduring all that pain alone," he shook his head as if to erase it from his mind. I squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"I wouldn't want you anywhere else, Rhysand." I said, not at all surprised at his declaration.

A week after Eira's birth, Viviane and Kallias had both sent us letters-informing us of their daughter's arrival, fawning over her beauty and detailing how infatuated they already were, but also informing us of their own accounts of what the birthing process had been like. At the summit, Viviane expressed that she knew what to expect, but in her letter, she elaborated just how excruciating it really was. Luckily, Kallias had also been there with her, providing her with whatever support she needed and relieving as much of the pain as he could through back massages, also letting her clutch onto him for dear life as she suffered through pain after pain. I wasn't sure what Kallias had told Rhys in his letter, but shortly after my mate had summoned Madja and asked the healer to guide us through exactly what to anticipate.

"Are you nervous?" He asked.

I chewed on my lip in thought, recounting the gruesome details that both Viviane and the healer had laid out for me. The pain alone would come in constant, violent waves, and could last as long as a day.

"A little," I admitted. "But I know I'll be much more comfortable here; with you there."

"I'll be there every step of the way and do whatever I can to ease the pain." He promised, taking my hand and pressing a lingering kiss to it.

I smiled. "It'll be just the two of us, Madja, and the midwife."

The healer had told us that she worked with her sister, who served as a midwife for just as long as she had been a healer, when delivering younglings. Rhys and I readily agreed to have her along and made a plan to meet with her once I came closer to the end stages of my pregnancy.

I squeezed the hand that held mine, staring at the new tattoo that had formed from his renewed vow he made at the beginning of my pregnancy—when he promised not to let his male-bonded instincts shelter me unnecessarily. I ran my thumb over the crescent moon design.

"Do you think," I hesitated, mulling over my words. "Do you think...I'll be good at it?"

He paused. "At what? Giving birth?"

I laughed humorlessly, "No, not that. At...being a mother?"

I avoided his gaze, feeling the weight of those smoldering violet eyes as I continued to stare at the blue-black ink of his tattoo. After a few seconds of silence, his other hand came to grip my chin gently, tilting my head up so that I could meet those beautiful eyes.

My heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in them. "You will be an amazing mother, Feyre," he swore, his voice earnest.

My eyes burned as I thought of my own mother; of how imperious and cold she had been towards her daughters. I often wondered how she had felt when she was pregnant with us, because once we were born, she hardly bothered caring for us at all. Did she ever love us? She worshipped my father, her "one true love," but how could she not dote on the fruition of that love? Perhaps she had loved my father for what his wealth provided her instead, and the lavish lifestyle she lived-before she died.

"You are not your mother, Feyre." Rhys said, his hand moving from my chin to my cheek. "I already see the love you have for our son in your eyes, in your actions, every day."

I sniffed as I looked down at my stomach, heart swelling as I thought of my son—of how eager I was to hold and cherish him, and I couldn't fathom pushing him away. I nodded lightly as I wiped at the few tears that managed to escape.

"I just worry sometimes," I admitted.

Rhys nodded in understanding. "I worry about myself too," he said, and frowned. "I worry about being like my father; that I might be too hard on my son, and that I might age as cold and calculating as he did."

I shook my head, taking hold of the hand still on my cheek. "You could never Rhys," I said with the same smile I had given him last night—the same emotions in my eyes as I reminded him what this child meant for us.

I felt the tension leave as he sighed in content, resting his brow against mine as we both stared at my stomach; our thumbs caressing either side of it, holding our baby. I felt him move, sending kicks at both our hands, and we laughed; my chest swelled with hope that perhaps he could feel the love between us—at the love we shared for him.