[DISCONTINUED] TOG and AOCTAR Crossover

05

They were woken by the chirping of birds outside the window. Rhysand's wings were wrapped around Feyre, just like they had been throughout the night.

'The cocoon of warmth' her mate had called them, but she knew it was more for protection. Nothing was getting through that membrane.

"Good morning, darling," he whispered from behind her. His voice was groggy and deep, but when she turned around, she saw that he was wide awake.

"Morning," Feyre replied.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"I guess. I feel a little sick, but nothing to worry about, you mother hen,"
he flicked her nose and let out a rumbling chuckle.

"I can't believe we're going to have a baby," he smiled "you'll be the best mother."

She pecked a kiss on his lips and stood up, walking to the large mirror. She examined her stomach, noticing the small bump. Madja had said she was around four months and would continue to grow bigger from now on.

Rhysand joined her, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing his hands on her abdomen.

That's our child, he whispered down the bond in awe.

She nodded, but couldn't find the words for the feelings that flowed in her. Instead, they both continued to watch the reflection. He gripped his mate's shoulders when a wave of nausea suddenly crashed over her. Morning sickness was a bitch.

"Perhaps a walk in the fresh air would help?"

-+-

The strolled through the halls in nothing but their pyjamas and dressing gowns. Usually, Rhys slept nude but he knew the spring court wouldn't appreciate it if he flounced around the halls like that.

And so he had put on some loose pants. Just pants, though. No shirt. Much to Feyre's distaste, the looks of female servants and other fae followed them on their small exploration.

But who wouldn't look? He had such a chiselled torso; his abs and pectorals were also expertly defined with a layer of smooth tanned skin. When he went to walk out of the front door, Feyre grabbed the back of his trousers and pulled him to the kitchen.

All of the staff came to a halt when they entered, noting the High Lord and Lady who hardly wore any clothes. One girl even dropped the tray she was carrying.

Some started to curtesy and bow but when Feyre shook her head at them, they continued back to their work.

"Couldn't you have at least put a shirt on?" she asked him.

He just smirked, "I thought I'd give you a nice display. Something to entertain you as we went on our morning stroll."

She pinched his side and he let out a little hiss. One of the maids tried - and failed - to hold in her laugh.

"May I?" Feyre asked her, pointing at a tray of cooked pastries.

"Of course, ma'am."

She bit into the savoury snack and tried not to moan at the amazing taste. She practically shoved a chunk in Rhysand's mouth for him to try as well. He coughed, flakes flying onto the marble floor below.

"By the mother, this is amazing. Who made this?" she asked the whole room. Someone pointed to a female kneading a large slab of dough. When she turned around, Feyre recognised her face instantly. An idea sprung into her head.

I've got a plan for something, she said down the bond.

What are you talking about-

Meet me outside, would you dear?

Rhysand rolled his eyes but planted a kiss on her cheek and strolled out of the kitchen with all of his swagger. Feyre walked towards Mor's mate, the remainder of food still in her hand.

The woman bowed at the waist, "Lady Feyre I-"

"There's no need to bow. What's your name?" she asked her.

"Cerra."

"Did you make this? It's absolutely amazing."

"Yes, I did," she replied, "it's my mother's recipe."

"zhou have such an amazing talent, much too large to be wasted down here in these sad and lonely kitchens."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean that when my court and O leave for Velaris, I would be honoured if you would come with us. To work for us, if you wish, or to live and own a personal bakery in the city."

"Are you serious?" she breathed. Her eyes were wide and her mouth agape.

"Dead serious."

The girl let out an excited squeal, hopping from foot to foot. She seemed so full of life and joy; perfect for the confident and radiant Mor.

-+-

Feyre gripped Rhys' hand as they walked along the twisting garden paths. His other arm was wrapped around her waist, keeping her warm in the morning mist.

"So, what was that all about?" he asked the moment she had left the kitchens.

"Rhys female - the waitress from last night - I told her that if she wishes there is a place for her in Velaris. She will join us when we leave."

"Good," Rhys replied "no one should have to waste their days here. Especially someone who makes such good pastry."

She laughed but fell silent after a moment, looking at the rotting pavilion in front of them. I can't believe I almost got married here.

Good thing I was there to stop it.

She chuckled but gripped his hand tighter. They stood in a warm embrace and stared out into the verdant fields beyond that were blessed by the morning sun. It was peaceful until Helion walked by.

"Nice muscles!" he shouted from across the courtyard.

Rhysand winked at him but turned his head so that he stared into Feyre's eyes. And right there, in the garden of her former prison, the pair kissed, slowly and full of love.

Rhys didn't care who was watching, or what kind of spectacle the high lord and lady made in their nightclothes.

And Feyre found that she didn't either.