I’ve decided to name my fics from now on, however simple, because everything in my mind consists of “Moar Elorcan fic” and nothing else
Elide watched fondly as Lorcan held their daughter close to his chest, his eyes searching and scanning for anything that could be a threat to them. The harsh set of his mouth however, softened into a smile as little Marion reached her tiny, wet fist upwards to her father. He immediately turned his face down towards her and thus, made it easier for her to grab onto the thick, silky strands of his night black hair.
“She’s going to pull it out one day you know.” Elide says while grinning. Indeed, even for just five months, their daughter was showing that she had inherited a number of characteristics from her father. The most notorious being her death tight grip on things that she wanted to hold on to no matter what.
“She can have it all if it makes her happy.” Lorcan replied as he gazed lovingly into his daughter’s eyes, Marion in turn, cooed and giggled happily. She had decided to be merciful for now and let go of his hair, resorting to grab small fistfuls of his tunic instead. Elide scooted closer to them from her chair and leaned into Lorcan’s shoulder to better plant a kiss on her forehead, and then followed up with one on his cheek as well.
“We’re at a birthday party Lory, Nehemia’s birthday party for that matter. Nothing will happen to us.” She murmured soothingly and was rewarded when her mate’s shoulders relaxed a bit of the tension that had been coiled in them all night. A glance around the room confirmed what she said as among the merriment and laughter, even the wine-pourers and servers were keeping an eye out for any possible danger to the giggling princess in the middle of the room, surrounded by mountain high piles of presents.
Most of them, Elide noted, were from Eyllwe.
Elide shifted her gaze to the white-haired King of Terrasen, who grinned happily at his daughter’s excitement and the Queen’s joyous laughter as Nehemia found more joy in tearing the paper off of packages, rather than what was in them.
She watched the quiet joy in him, as his eyes shifted from Aelin to her swollen stomach, however her observations were interrupted by a sharp cry from her right. She was greeted by a very put out Marion, adamant that her mother’s attention should be on her at all times. Lorcan chuckled at her antics and handed her to Elide to be placated, and then laughed louder how, once in her mother’s arms, Marion nuzzled into her chest a bit too enthusiastically.
“Dinner time for you is it?” Elide said drily, Marion’s only response was to open and close her mouth in anticipation like a bird, “You get that from your father you know?” She said “An insatiable appetite coupled with impatience at everyone not being impressed with you.” The twinkle in Lorcan’s eyes increased at that as he wrapped an arm around his wife and child. He leaned down to press a kiss to her hair and murmured “If that’s the case then I believe we should be heading upstairs now.” Elide hummed her assent as she bounced her little cooing bundle gently, making her forget her hunger until they reached their rooms lest she start wailing her displeasure to the entire ballroom.
Lorcan got up from his seat and moved towards Rowan, taking his leave for the night. As he approached the family Nehemia spied him and immediately stood up, albeit wobbling a little, and rushed towards Elide. She had learnt from experience that Uncle Lorcan wasn’t the most social of people, and when he stood up to talk to her papa it usually meant he and Aunt Elide were going back upstairs.
Lorcan watched, amused, as Nehemia asked Elide with big eyes “You’re weaving?” (She still couldn’t pronounce her L’s and R’s quite right) At Elide’s nod she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a loud kiss on Marion’s cheek. Marion however, was quite finished with being distracted from her rumbling belly and fumbled her little limbs around in annoyance. He chuckled as Elide reassured the little girl that the baby was not upset with her, and in fact just hungry.
He heard Rowan come up beside him, and felt a clap on his shoulder a second later.
“Dinner time?” He observed as Marion pouted adorably up at her mother, further proof, Lorcan thought, of how she might start wailing any moment. His little girl rarely got into such moods for no reason and was always a happy bubbling thing.
“Yes.” Lorcan paused before he said “She’ll be a good big sister.”
Rowan looked at his friend. How far they all had come since the past for him to call him anything other than ally or commander. “Yours would have been too.” He replied quietly.
Lorcan stiffened at that, at the mention of the tiny 11-week-old fetus that Elide’s body had miscarried, at their first official try for a baby, at the memory of sitting beside a pale Elide on her bed in the healer’s wing of the palace. At the presence of Death in the room so prominent and thick that his own power almost suffocated him, and finally at the shadow of jealousy that had crossed Elide’s face for just a moment when they went to visit Aelin in the birthing suite, and Nehemia had been born happy and healthy.
He pushed those memories to the back of his mind. Today was the day to celebrate new life, and although he had no means to save the first one, he would lay down his life, and then some, to protect the baby in Elide’s arms right now…
…A baby that was quickly working her way towards a very loud tantrum he noted. And so he quickly bid Rowan and Aelin goodnight, bent down to take his child from her mother’s arms while placing a quick kiss on Nehemia’s forehead in the process, and made the journey to their rooms. The rocking sensation of movement and the feel of her father’s strong arms somewhat quelling Marion’s discomfort for the time-being.
Tell me if you want a Part 2 or maybe a fic relating to some topics mentioned in this one ;))))