i may or may not have cried a little when writing this
It was when she had to excuse herself from a meeting in the early morning to throw up that Aelin finally realized what was going on. The tightness to her gowns and dresses hadn’t been surprising her—she could blame it on her newfound appetite and lack of time to truly work it off. But the appetite itself had no excuses other than stress and cravings, and she couldn’t lie to herself past that.
“Your majesty,” the healer said to her as she walked through the doors of the old acquaintance. She scrutinized her old savior, forgetting the formalities and said, “Aelin, you look unwell.”
Aelin hovered by the doorway hesitantly, dreading with every fiber in her being the response she would be given once she crossed that threshold and asked Yrene Torres the question that had been running her mad through the day.
Aelin dropped her eyes to the floor as she asked tentatively, “Is there a possibility that my contraceptive tonics could stop working, Yrene?”
She blanched, though even Aelin could see the hint of joy showing on the healer’s tan face. “There is never a guarantee that they will work consistently.”
Aelin sighed, giving herself over to the inspection Yrene was gathering instruments for.
I am in such deep, rutting shit.
Rowan arrived in their chambers long after Aelin that night, but despite the late hour, she knew she would not sleep until she told him that she was…that she was with child. Gods, how was this even possible?
She watched as he walked through their chambers by memory, peeling off layers of weapons and clothing as he went about with his immortal grace. Aelin took a deep breath and shifted on the large bed to let him know she was awake.
His head snapped in her direction. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
Her cheeks warmed. “Busy thoughts. How was the hunt?”
“Tiring.” Rowan came around the side of the bed, not bothering to put another shirt on as he sat by her side and kissed her. Immediately, warmth and reassurance spread through her, and Aelin drew away from despite the uneasiness in her gut, and tried to say, “I need to talk to you—”
But the feeling of nausea and total, consuming sickness had her stumbling to the bathroom without another word.
Even as she finished heaving she could feel the tendrils of a cool breeze aiding her to breathe. “Aelin? Are you poisoned? Are you sick?”
Aelin shut her eyes, wishing the tension would dissipate everything around her until it was back to normal. Rowan lifted her chin, forcing those green eyes to her as he asked silently, Where are you hurt, Fireheart?
She adjusted herself on the cold floors, not truly expecting to see Rowan on his knees before her as well. Then again, he had always been one to fuss. Aelin opened her mouth indecisively, then closed it once more. She could not find the words within her to say it out loud. After everything he had once lost with Lyria…how would Rowan feel about a baby? And beyond even that was the matter of her title as queen, and his as a prince.
Rowan searched her face pleadingly, looking for any clue at all to the mess within her heart. Perhaps he already knew, what with his Fae instincts and ability to smell these kinds of pregnancies, and was just waiting for her to realize it too. But… he had also been extremely busy lately.
“Can you smell my scent right now?” she asked, trying to hide the slight shake of her hands as she crawled closer to him.
Rowan drew his eyebrows together. “I can scent fear and worry on you, Aelin.”
“Could you…” she paused, making an opening for the base of her throat. “Could you try scenting me beyond that?”
He gave her a silent nod and drew her small body to his. Instantly, the smell of pine and snow enveloped her in an embrace of utter security. She felt so wholly in place with the world in his arms, and to even imagine a future otherwise was simply unacceptable. So when Rowan’s body went rigid, and he slowly pulled away from her, Aelin whispered, “I’m pregnant.”
His features, normally stoic and unyielding, softened in disbelief. Aelin had anticipated every kind of reaction from him thus far, but the one she hadn’t contemplated was Rowan crying. He held onto her forearm so strongly she was sure she would bruise, but she didn’t care. His body shook with emotion, and it was all Aelin could do to take his head and press it to her chest, as if he himself was a child.
Finally, Rowan let go of her, instead looking between Aelin’s Ashryver eyes and her stomach. There was a question in his eyes, and Aelin nodded, exposing her bare torso. Gently, carefully, so as to not cause her any pain, Rowan placed his strong hands flecked with scars over the place that would someday bring about a mighty warrior like him.
“You’re not upset?” She asked in a small voice.
Those green eyes were alive with light, with joy, with something so pure and young that it took her breath away. He held her gaze, and said softly, “I never thought… I didn’t think I deserved this future again. This gift. After Lyria… I thought the gods would never find favor with me like this again.”
Aelin ran her hand down his tattooed arm to the tips of his fingers, curling them in hers reassuringly. “But they did.”
Rowan let a small smile touch the corners of his lips as Aelin leaned her forehead down to his. “But they did,” he whispered, and Aelin could have sworn the bond between them flared in her chest in its own harmonious joy.
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