A Court of Stags and Night

Feyre

Poor Celaena. She had been in labor for almost twenty hours before Madja had said it was time for her to push. And before then, I thought we'd nearly lost her. She got violently sick for a few hours and even stopped breathing twice.

But, she gave birth to a girl. Silvery blonde hair covered the top of her head. She'd cried so loudly I thought our ears would explode, but those cries quieted to small whimpers as she was placed in her mother's arms.

This is what I'd missed out on. Getting to feel my child in my arms. Alive and full of vigor. I blinked back tears as I took in the scene. I was happy for her.

"She's beautiful," Lysandra smiled, looking down at the child. "What is her name?"

Celaena's tired eyes met hers. "Her name is Elena."

A thoughtful look crossed the shifter's face. "A fitting name for her."

The baby latched on almost immediately as Madja explained what to do. Mor and I had quickly turned around to give them privacy. The baby and the mother were healthy, though the latter needed plenty of rest. The healer promised to return in the morning, but felt safe enough to leave them on their own for the time being.

"She is beautiful, Celaena," I told her with a small smile. Mor echoed the sentiment.

She looked at us gratefully, despite the exhaustion that lined her eyes. I went to excuse us when a bright light appeared at the end of the bed. Mor and I shielded our eyes against it. My magic was at the ready and Mor had her sword in hand.

When it dulled to a warm glow, I dropped the magic at my fingertips. This did not feel threatening, but I was still ready to use it. Mor kept her sword ready, though I did not think it would work on these spirits, as I'd come to realize.

"Fireheart," the woman spoke.

I pushed Mor forward to get a better look at who they were. Beautiful was the first word that came to mind. The male, no, man, was human. The female, maybe female? She looked as graceful as a fae, but yet not quite fully.

But her eyes were the biggest clue I could've gotten into who exactly these two might have been.

Celaena's eyes misted as she looked upon them. Even Lysandra looked to be in awe of them.

"How?" she asked.

"That's not important, my dear," the man replied, moving over to the opposite side of the shifter. "We felt you were troubled. Why?"

"I am alone in a fight I cannot win," Celaena answered lowering her gaze.

"Fireheart, you have never been alone," the woman soothed, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from her face.

Celaena leaned into her touch and let her tears fall. The man wiped them away.

"This wasn't how it was supposed to happen," she cried. "I don't want to fight anymore."

"Aelin, look at me." She refused. "Fireheart." She looked up into her mother's eyes. "Remember, it is the strength of this that matters." Her hand shifted down to rest atop her heart. "No matter where you are, no matter how far; this will lead you home."

Her father turned to the shifter beside her. "Thank you."

Lysandra bowed to them both, which raised even more questions. These two were definitely of high rank, yet their daughter seemed to state otherwise. It seemed the truth was yet to be fully revealed.

"Remember Aelin," her mother continued. "You do not yield. Your flame cannot die out. Remember why you fight, who you fight for. We are here with you, always."