#anyway this is literally canon like if elain can't talk about periods as a 20something

[ladynestaarcheron]

“Fae fertility cycles had never been something I’d considered, and explaining them to Nesta and Elain had been uncomfortable, to say the least.

Nesta had only stared at me in that unblinking, cold way. Elain had blushed, muttering about the impropriety of such things.” A Court of Frost and Starlight, page 45.

So…Elain doesn’t want to talk about periods. Where ever did Feyre, a girl who lost her mother when she was eight, learn about hers? I wonder...and thus this was born.

---

Nesta's loved stories all her life, but she doesn't think she'll ever be able to write one, because whenever she tries to in her head, this is what she comes up with: Once upon a time there were three beautiful princesses who lived in a beautiful castle. Then their mother died and their father lost all their money and they had to move into a rundown little cottage on the edge of town. The end.

Sometimes, when the night is quiet and she has time to think, she puts a bit more effort into it. Swaps the beautiful for different adjectives that fit each of the three of them in turn (clever, kind, creative, when she is feeling generous, cold, silly, and hopeless when she is less so), and describes the castle in more detail. Carved from the earth itself is a phrase she rather likes, although she's not sure it would make for a pretty home and it definitely isn't true, anyway.

Tonight is particularly quiet, because Elain has been asleep for hours and Feyre still has not come to bed, so Nesta takes her time in her mind to write something that might be worthy of putting to paper one day. Perhaps it's time she comes up with a different beginning than once upon a time...

Nesta's internal narration, however, is sharply cut off with a crash and a stumble. Elain stirs slightly next to her, but does not wake.

"For goodness' sake," she hisses, sitting upright. "What on earth are you making all that racket--"

Her castigating falters when she catches sight of her youngest sister's face. The moonlight spilling in the room catches on the silver in Feyre's eyes, the tears streaming down her face. She's shaking.

Nesta pushes the blanket off of her and crawls out of bed to meet her. "What is it?" she asks, tightening the tie of Feyre's nightgown. She's not quite sure what to do. If Feyre cries about their mother or their, well, life, she does it to Elain or Father, and only when Nesta cannot see. And Elain always goes to Father, so it's been quite some time since Nesta's had to comfort anyone but herself.

"I think I'm dying," Feyre whispers, voice cracking, and Nesta's heart lurches. Typhus? Like their mother? Oh, and they do not have nearly the same amount they had when Mother was sick; what medicines will they be able to afford? Because so much of it was spent on Father's leg--not that he's ever attempted to earn any of it back, of course, and now it's twelve-year-old Feyre who'll have to suffer for it.

Still. Best not to scare the child any further.

"What do you mean?" Nesta says, making her voice calm.

"I have a terrible headache," Feyre says, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, "and the worst stomach pains of my life and my back, too--"

Nesta's breath stops in her lungs. All the symptoms of typhus Mother had, except for the rash. All the forgotten gods. What are they going to do? Should she wake Elain and Father for this? She should, shouldn't she? But what good will that do? Are they all to sit by Feyre's side and wait for her to die?

"--and I'm bleeding."

Nesta blinks at that. Mother had had a cough, sometimes, but very dry; no blood at all. "You're bleeding?"

Feyre can't answer vocally. She only nods.

Nesta gives her a once over. She doesn't see any blood. "Did you fall?" she asks, puzzled. "Where is the blood?"

The room is too dark to tell, but Nesta thinks Feyre's cheeks flush. "I didn't fall...it's--I'm--it's under my nightgown."

"Well, sit down and lift it up, so I may have a look."

"No," Feyre says, clutching herself tighter still. "It's...you won't know what to do. You cannot...it's between my legs," she blurts out, and clenches her hands into fists as she tries to control her sobs.

Relief crashes over Nesta, as violently as the grief of her mother's death. Along with a bit of guilt--she had not realized she should warn Feyre about cycles. Elain had merely come to her one day, red-faced and squeaking about where Nesta kept the linens, and she had shown her. But she had known about it all--well, Nesta is not quite sure Elain is very well aware of sex, but at any rate...

"You're not going to die, Feyre," she says, awkwardly patting her sister on the shoulder. "Come here. I'll draw you a bath."

"You..." Feyre says, sniffling slightly, "you know what to do?"

"I do," she says, and turns so her sister can undress and slip into the tub. They're not going to be able to afford hot water soon, are they? What'll they do then? Boil it in the fireplace? "All right, stay here and calm down. I'm going to get you something to help you settle."

Nesta makes her way to the kitchen, heating up some tea for Feyre and putting a small bit of brandy in as well. Just a little bit, to help her fall asleep. She supposes they'll need to have more poppy and willow bark on hand for pain now, if Feyre'll be having back aches as well as cramps.

Feyre is submerged underneath the water by the time Nesta returns. She hands her the tea and sits on the floor by the bath. "All right," she says, half wishing this had fallen to Elain, half grateful on Feyre's behalf that it is not their silly sister explaining this. "Well. I suppose you have not heard about cycles."

Feyre thinks. "I...suppose not."

Nesta's lips quirk. She should just say it. "You know how pregnancies start."

It is again too dark to be certain, but Feyre reddens, she thinks. "I--I have not--"

"No, no, I know you haven't," Nesta says, vaguely wondering where Feyre has learned about sex. She decides she does not want to know. "At any rate. Before...that, a girl's body needs to be ready. For pregnancy. So every month, the body goes through a cycle. And at the end of the cycle--" or is it the beginning? Nesta can never remember. "--you bleed. And you can feel cramps or back aches or headaches or any of the life...for a few days."

"How many days?" Feyre asks, fingers tightly holding onto the cup.

"Depends. Elain's is three. Mine is five. Sometimes it can be different...especially in the beginning."

"The beginning?"

"Now. For you. Your first few cycles, I mean."

"How many will there be?" she asks.

Nesta shrugs. "I don't know...once every month until you can't bear children any longer. So around..." Feyre is twelve, this should last till she's around fifty... "four hundred fifty, give or take."

Feyre's eyes widen. "Four hundred and fifty?"

"Well, don't think about it that way," Nesta says hastily, realizing how morbid that sounds. "Just...track your months as they come. You'll barely think of it in a year from now."

Feyre sips her tea. "I never knew you and Elain..."

"Well, it's not something you can really tell. It's not like your skin changes color or anything." She adopts a more timid tone. "It's...all right. Really. I'll bring you some stuff for pain tomorrow. And it should get better. Each day is easier than the last, and by the time your grown, it'll probably hurt less, too." Nesta's only fifteen herself, so she's not entirely sure that's true, but it's what Mother told her. "Anyway. Baths help. And they're good to rid the blood...oh. I'll show you how to put on linens..."

After Nesta has wrapped Feyre's under things and crawled back into bed, her mind wanders once again to her story. What if the ending were different this time? Somehow. The mother not dying, perhaps. How would that go? If they were all in the rundown little cottage together?

Before the words have faded from Nesta's mind and sleep claims her, the bathroom door opens once again. Feyre shuffles out and into bed, taking her place on Elain's other side.

"Thank you, Nesta," she whispers, voice soft and still watery from her scare.

"It's okay," she says back, softly. It's not quite a proper reply, is it? But perhaps it's what she needs to hear, anyway.

She'll wake early and rouse Elain, she decides. Tell her to extend some extra kindness to Feyre...and that should be all right. Not a perfect ending. But maybe a little better then what might've been, too.