Rowan and Aelin Fluff.

Labor and Toil Part 4

But something felt different, something was—

"Push, Aelin." Yrene demanded, and Aelin groaned as she pushed, trying not to focus on the insanely uncomfortable feeling. She panted heavily, then hissed as Rowan slid out from behind her.

He came to stand beside her, his eyes burning into hers.

"Keep pushing, Aelin. You are doing beautifully, Princess."

Aelin gave a tortured scream as something inside her shifted.

No. No, something was wrong.

"Yrene," she gasped, her fingers clutching the sheets.

"Something's— Not right!" She screamed the last words, fisting a hand in her hair.

Oh, gods! No, her baby...

Please! Please, she begged the gods, let my baby live, let me live!

Aelin couldn't form a thought— she couldn't breathe, to many things were happening. She couldn't breathe!

Rowan made a small noise, meeting her eyes. "Aelin, you're going to be fine, don't think like that—"

But then Yrene was ushering him out of the room, growling just as loudly as Rowan when he began to argue.

"Rowan!" She shouted desperately, wanting to scream at Yrene for forcing him out of the room, but the healer was right.

Right now, the healers needed the room.

Yrene dashed back to the foot of the bed, running a cool cloth up her leg.

"Aelin, you— Breathe deeply, keep breathing. We are going to deliver this baby, so help me Silba. Sanetur, help the Queen with her breath, Mulier, I want you to help me with the baby, she is coming a bit awkwardly!"

Aelin vaguely sensed Yrene shouting something else, but she could only focus on the words swirling around in her head.

Stay, Aelin, don't leave, not after all we've done, stay Aelin. You can do this, love. Keep breathing.

It was Rowan, through the bond.

"Rowan," she whispered, fighting fiercely against the darkness that loomed.

Rowan paced as he heard shouting from the other room.

He fisted a hand in his hair, swallowing once, twice, three times. Just trying to calm himself.

Oh gods, never in his life had he felt so helpless, so utterly unable.

"Please," he whispered to the empty room. "Let her live."

Another guttural scream echoed in the room and Rowan nearly fell to his knees.

He plopped down on the couch, bowing his head.

"Please, let her and the child live," he whispered. "Please, please."

He didn't even know who he was praying to, and he didn't even care.

All Rowan Whitethorn wanted to hear was that his wife was all right.

For another ten gut wrenching minutes, Rowan sat there listening intently, hoping to glean some form information from the near silent room. But then—

A wail cut through the silence, then hoot of joy. Rowan felt his eyes fill with tears, and he scrambled off the couch, bolting towards the door. His child was on the other side of that door. Rowan began to push open the door, but was met with one of the young healers throwing it open. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of a squirming pink baby in the arms of Yrene.