ACOTAR One~shots [Discontinued, Will be deleted]

A Joyous Occasion

~*~

The night passed without too much excitement. They had dinner together, played a few games, ate several different kinds of snacks (most of which included chocolate), and stayed up into the wee hours talking about every possible thing. Finally, the three girls fell asleep in the centre of the living room (having pushed away the coffee table and chair to make room for the countless blankets, pillows, and the mattress from the spare bedroom—which was given to Mor, who complained about sleeping on the floor since she was pregnant), curled up as close to each other as they could, their hands entwined.
They woke up around lunchtime the next day, and had brunch (or Nesta and Mor did; Feyre had woken up sick again, but had managed not to wake the two of them, so they only thought she was just nauseous) while Nuala and Cerridwen cleaned up the living room and put everything back in order. Nesta was the first to leave after they ate, giving Feyre a huge hug before she did, and whispering in her ear to feel better and let her know if she needed anything. Mor stayed for another hour or so, chatting, reluctant to go back to an empty house. When she did finally leave in the late afternoon, Feyre had only a few hours to get ready before Rhys returned home that evening.
She had Nuala gather the supplies that she needed in town, and then, after changing into more comfortable attire, went straight upstairs to the room that Rhys had added onto the top floor of their town house—her designated painting studio.
She might have had her own studio, but that didn’t mean everything was put on display for anyone to see when they walked in. And there were still some paintings that she preferred to do in the privacy of their bedroom—especially when she was painting Rhys. One of her favourite paintings was the one she had done of him on their wedding night. He had been sprawled out on the bed, his wings out behind him. He was completely naked, with not even a blanket covering him, the tattoos in their full glory. The moonlight shone on him perfectly, and Feyre had kept the image in her mind the entire night. In the morning, while he was asleep, she had woken and done a sketch so she wouldn’t forget it—which was lucky, since they didn’t do very much during that first week of their marriage. It was a whole week before she was finally able to start painting, and after she started, it took her three days of almost-straight painting to finish it. She had never shown it to anyone except Rhys, and it was tucked in somewhere special, but it was her favourite painting, and the one she was the most proud of. Most of her favourite paintings were of Rhys, in fact. She loved nothing more than to paint him, and he enjoyed the various... positions that she had him pose in (he also enjoyed trying to distract her from the painting, but she had more self-control than he did; at least, she liked to think so).
The painting that she was working on now, on the other hand... She had put a lot of thought into it, and she had only a few hours to complete it.
Feyre dipped her brush into the paint, took a deep breath, and began.

~*~

“Sorry to disturb you, Lady Feyre,” Nuala said, several hours later. Feyre had finished the painting with plenty of time to spare, but she was finishing the final touches. “But I wanted to inform you that we have finished setting up the dining area as you requested. Would you like to come and see it? Just in case we missed something?”
“Oh, of course,” Feyre said. She left the studio, and winnowed downstairs. The lights were dimmed, only the candlelight remaining, and the soft golden glow filled the living and dining rooms.
Feyre exhaled when she entered the dining room. It was more than she had requested. The tablecloth was the deepest purple and gold, and made the silver napkins stand out like stars against the twilight sky. There were more candles running through the centre of the table, encircled by silver, crystal flower wreaths. Cerridwen was hanging the painting—as she had requested—on the wall she was facing, so it would be the first thing that Rhys saw when he came in. There was a pot of thick, creamy soup (much better than the one she had made that one time in the cabin, she had no doubt), sitting on the table, too, and their bowls were next to each other (they didn’t like to sit far apart).
“It looks beautiful,” she said. “Thank you.”
Nuala nodded. “You are most welcome, Lady Feyre,” she said. “If it is not too forward of me, I would like to wish you congratulations, as well. Lord Rhysand will be delighted.”
Feyre didn’t bother asking how she knew, but she smiled anyway. “Well. I hope he’s not too upset that I didn’t tell him I stopped my contraceptive tonic, at least,” she said.
Cerridwen finished the painting and joined her sister. “Of course he won’t be,” Cerridwen said. “You’re his mate, his queen, and you are carrying his child. Nothing else will matter to him. May I just say that the Night Court has indeed been blessed by the Cauldron to have you, Lady Feyre. We are very lucky to have such wonderful rulers.”
Feyre blushed, feeling tears threatening to spill. She blinked them back. “Thank you. It makes me glad to hear that,” she said. “And we are lucky to have the both of you.”
Cerridwen smiled. “It's almost time,” Nuala said, before her twin could respond. “We will take our leave now. Unless you need anything else?”
“No, that will be all,” Feyre said. “Thank you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And then they were gone.
Feyre winnowed back upstairs to change and fix her hair. When she was done, she tidied up the room, making sure all of their books were in order and that the bed was made, double-checked her reflection, and went downstairs.
She used the stairs this time, wanting to greet Rhys properly at the door. At the bottom of the steps, she straightened out her dress, and then practically ran through the living room and into the entrance hall.
She had timed everything perfectly, not a minute too late, and she reached the front door at the same time he landed in front of it. She yanked it open before he could, and then she threw her arms around his neck. He let out a little ‘oomph’ of surprise, but his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close and he inhaled her scent.
“Hello, darling,” he murmured into her ear. “Someone missed me.”
In response, she kissed him. He laughed against her mouth, but she could tell he had missed her just as much from the way he kissed her back. “Don’t leave again,” she said, breathlessly, when they finally pulled away and went into the house.
“Believe me, I wouldn’t leave if I had a choice,” he said. “But I have my responsibilities as High Lord.”
“I know,” she said, sighing. “But I don’t have to like them. Next time, I’m going with you. I’m High Lady. We go together from now on.”
“Alright,” he agreed, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was taking in her appearance. From her hair, loose the way he liked it, to the lightly applied makeup she was wearing, and then to her dress. She heard his breath catch as he took in the dress, and she couldn’t help feel satisfied at the sound.
The dress she had worn was less glamorous than most of her others, but it wasn’t any more modest. It was a floor length, sleeveless, V-neck gown, and the top was covered in dazzling silver gems. The skirt was black, with a slit that went just above her knee. Perhaps a bit fancy for a dinner with just her mate, but the dress was the opening act. The best part was underneath, though she had had a difficult time putting that part on, since the dress was so tight it didn’t leave much to the imagination, and wearing any undergarments was difficult.
“Perhaps I should go away more often, if my returns warrants such an outfit,” he said.
Feyre smiled sweetly. “Who said I was wearing this for you?” She said playfully, and he growled a little before grabbing her hand and pulling her towards him.
“I missed you,” he said, pressing his lips against her cheek. “I would’ve left early if Cass had let me go. I hate leaving, especially when you were sick... I couldn’t stop worrying about you the whole time.”
She sighed happily. “I’m fine now,” she said. “I think I might have eaten something that didn’t agree with me.”
“That’s what Cass said, too,” he said. “Speaking of food... Is that soup I smell?”
She had been careful to make sure the smell of paint was masked, so he wouldn’t know she had been painting until she saw the final result.
“Yep,” she said. “I stopped throwing up yesterday, but my appetite is taking a while to go back to normal.”
“Did you see a Healer?” He asked. She shook her head. “You should see a Healer, if it takes you too much longer to get better.”
She just nodded, and peeled herself away from him at last. “Let’s go eat,” she said, and she followed him into the dining room, her eyes never leaving his face.
He entered the dining room, managed to get about three steps in, and then stopped completely, freezing in place.
“That’s new,” he said finally, though it sounded like he had something in his throat. “The painting, I mean.”
“I finished it just before you arrived,” she said truthfully. She sat down, on the opposite side of the table so that they could still look at the painting.
Rhys walked over to it so he could look at it better. She heard his breath catch as he started to realize, and her heart squeezed as his finger traced over the baby in the painting. The baby that was in his arms, with his eyes, and her hair.
He whirled around, staring at her. His eyes were wide, questioning. “Th—it’s not possible,” he choked out. “You’re... You’ve been taking a contraceptive.”
She stood, and walked over to him, taking his hands in hers. “I stopped taking it almost four months ago,” she said softly. “I meant to tell you. I just... I was afraid that if I did, you would be disappointed whenever my cycle came. And I couldn’t... I couldn’t give you false hope. I didn’t meant to keep it from you.”
“Oh,” he breathed. “Are... are you sure?”
She knew what he was asking, and she nodded. “I... I took the test yesterday, to make sure,” she said. She was barely able to force the words out of her mouth. “Are... are you upset?”
He stared at her incredulously, as if she’d asked him something completely ridiculous. “Upset? No, Feyre. Never,” he said. “But... are you sure? We haven’t discussed... we never talked about... children, I mean. You really want that?”
“You say it as if you can’t understand why I would,” she said. “But I do, Rhys. I never imagined myself having children, never thought that I would ever want them. But this... it’s different. I want to have everything, to experience everything this immortal life can offer me, with you. My mate.”
He took a deep breath, still studying her face. “To be perfectly honest, I would’ve enjoyed having a few decades with you all to myself, but... I suppose I can make do,” he said, a lightness in his voice now.
She laughed. “We have nine months yet. I’m sure we can come up with plenty to do during them,” she teased. “And there’s always the cabin...”
He grinned, and suddenly he was kissing her, and she was laughing and there were tears on her cheeks—both his and hers—and it was one of the happiest moments of her life.
“You still haven’t actually said it,” he said breathlessly, when he pulled away from her. “I want to hear you say the words.”
She smiled, and somehow his hand had slid down to rest on her stomach—still flat, but not for much longer. There was a new, precious life growing inside of her. The thought didn’t terrify her now, not like it had those few seconds after she had found out.
“I’m pregnant, Rhys,” she said. And saying those words filled her with an incredible joy, a complete happiness. She could feel herself beginning to glow, but she honestly didn’t care.
He was weeping, too. She rarely saw him cry, but there were tears—tears of happiness, she knew—sliding down his cheeks. She brushed them away gently. “You’re going to be a father. You’re... We’re going to have a baby.”
He didn’t say anything in response, just kissed her again, and she felt everything he meant to say in his kiss. It was fire and warmth and joy and love and so full of happiness—just pure happiness, unlike anything she’d known him to feel. She wrapped her arms around him, and he scooped her up, lifting her off the floor and spinning her around.
When set her down and finally pulled away, he knelt before her, and she was about to ask what he was doing when he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her belly. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it or not, but she couldn’t sworn she felt a jolt inside of her.
“Hello, little one,” he whispered. “This is your Daddy. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you can. Your Mommy is very precious to me, so I hope you don’t cause her too much trouble, alright? We need her, you and I. I love you very much already, and we can’t wait to meet you soon.”
Feyre was crying when he finished, and then stood up. “I think,” she whispered, “that we are the two luckiest people in the world right now.”
“Indeed,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he pulled her into his arms. The meal had been forgotten, but she didn’t care. “It does seem that there is someone up there looking out for us. Someone allowed us to find each other, and I will be forever grateful that they did.”
She smiled. “I love you, Rhys,” she said.
“And I love you, Feyre,” he murmured, and they stood there like that for a long while, in each other’s arms, perfectly content to stay there forever.