#rowaelin daughter

[fanwarriorfictions]

azriel’s going to be hitting his head against a wall when he realises not only has his mate’s father walked on him snogging his mate but also the fact she’s casually a princess so people are probably normally all over because she’s a hot girlie princess.

azriel meeting the in laws is going to be the most awks but hilarious thing ever, like him both being silent but trying to find common ground

Just got cock blocked by the bird dad himself and now he’s gotta deal with the insane that is her extended family

#Azriel is going to shit himself let’s be real #poor guy #azriel #rowaelin daughter #not again

[imma-too-many-fandoms]

Okay but here's an Idea rowaelin daughter who has Rowan's powers x Eris

💥She has the best of both Aelin and Rowan

💥loves to dance

💥inhales chocolate cakes(much to the headache of her dad)

💥knows how to rule because she has been sitting in the meetings ever since she was a baby (by her own choice)

💥also these are the same kind of things Eris loves and so does Aelin therefore mom and son in law get along great and while they are brewing a diabolical plan Rowan and his little bird are drinking their 10 cup of coffee in the last hour

💥PS even tho she has wind powers she has some how managed to burn down the kitchen atleast a few times

#eris vanserra #rowan atkinson #rowaelin daughter #rowan x aelin #aelin of the wildfire #tog #acotar #eris acotar #tog x acotar #eris vanserra x reader #eris needs alot of love #Eris is redheaded and less ballsy version of Aelin #loves to dress impeccably #loves to dance #saving their kingdoms #AND FIRE?? #also the biggest personality trait of making elaborate plans and not letting anyone else know about it?? #yup pretty much

[punkassbookjockey26]

Show and Tell, Part 2

This has kind of taken a life of its own. Here's part 2. It's rough and relatively unedited, so please be kind.

Rating: Probably T or M - there's a spicy bit.

------------------------------------------------

It was the end of the school day, and Rowan slowly put his things away in his messenger bag. He always went a bit slower than usual these days, even though the students had long left campus. If he were completely honest with himself, he might have acknowledged he had been waiting for a fiery blonde woman with an equally feisty daughter who just happened to be in his class. But it had been a month since that enlightening day, and while Everly remained a constant source of enthusiasm, he had seen neither hide nor hair of her elusive mother.

And he had looked. Every day for the past month, he stood outside the school helping children find their rides. If the principal thought it was unusual for him to take so many after-school duty shifts, she didn’t say anything. But each day, it was a person that was not Aelin that arrived for Everly. It seemed to fluctuate between a woman with dark brown hair and a man he had, somewhat embarrassingly, mistaken for Aelin initially. Once, it had been an older woman with striking features with those same turquoise eyes ringed in gold. But for the last several weeks, he had not seen her.

She had been a force to be reckoned with that day. Fiercely protective with a smart mouth that almost immediately set him on edge. As upset as he was at her blatant suggestion that he would allow bullying in his classroom, he was equally intrigued about the fire that so clearly burned underneath her skin. He had hated to be the one to dim that fire that day, but he was glad to see she recovered almost immediately, brushing off the embarrassment with sarcasm and bright laughter that he could still hear echoing in his ears.

He knew it was ridiculous, being this interested in a woman with whom he had spoken for all of five minutes, no matter how stunning she was or how she was so deftly able to put him in his place. It hadn’t helped either that he now knew what manner of help she preferred in her alone time. The utter mortification he felt that day had been burned away by visions of a woman on fire, deep in the throes of ecstasy as she repeatedly brought herself to the edge with a pink, glittery vibrator.

Great. He was now standing in his classroom sporting the evidence of his depravity. Rowan sighed and ran a hand down his face. He really needed to get ahold of himself. If she hadn’t returned in a month, she obviously didn’t feel whatever spark he thought he felt between them. Not that there could be a spark. Everly was still his student, and he was a consummate professional.

Even if his dick didn’t agree with that assessment.

His shame spiral was interrupted by a loud chirping on his phone. A brief flash of anticipation was quickly tempered when he reminded himself that Aelin couldn’t possibly know his cell number. He looked down at the screen and frowned at the message.

Fen: hey man, can you do me a solid?

Rowan quickly typed a response: what do you want this time, boyo?

Fen: can you get me some condoms? i’ve got a lady friend coming over later, and ya boy needs something.

Rowan: So get them yourself.

 Fen: No can do, chief. No time.

Rowan: Whose fault is that?

Fen: Looking this good takes time, Whitethorn. You’d know that if you spent more than five fucking minutes getting ready in the morning.

Rowan: Sorry, I’m busy.

Fen: I’ll do the dishes for a week.

Rowan pondered this. While he didn’t particularly enjoy doing the dishes, he kept it to a rigorous schedule. There was no way that Fen would be able to adhere to it when the man barely remembered to put his laundry away half the time. But that got him thinking…

Rowan: You have to deep clean the bathroom to my satisfaction. I want it sparkling, Moonbeam.

Fen: …

Fen: Fine. Now get me the damn condoms

Rowan: You’re lucky I needed to go to the store, anyways.

----------

Thirty minutes later, Rowan was staring at an aisle full of condoms. It had been a while for him, but he was sure there hadn’t been this many types the last time he picked some up. The last time had been with Remelle about two years ago, not that she let him forget it. He had been taken in by her cool confidence and found out quickly that she was a petulant narcissist. He had immediately ended the relationship, much to her ire, and she had been relentless ever since. She was not a mistake that he would make ever again.

However, that still didn’t solve his present dilemma: procuring condoms for his flatmate.

Rowan knew he should just grab a box and finish it. If Fenrys had an issue with the condoms that he purchased on his behalf, he could get over it. Or better yet, get his own. But some part of him, some annoying big brother type, wanted to ensure that even though Fen had a different partner every night, he was safe with them. So he focused on his task.

Just as he picked out a box, a bright voice carried over the din of the store. “Teacher, Teacher!”

Rowan turned his head down the aisle and paled at the sight of two blonde pigtails trailing behind a small child with a grin that took up half her face.

“Hi, Mr. Teacher! Whatcha doin’?”

Rowan gulped nervously. “Um…Hi Everly. I’m just, uh, doing some shopping.”

“Cool! Me too!” Everly beamed happily at him.

Just like that day in class, Rowan couldn’t help but marvel at the absolute innocence that Everly displayed when faced with something not quite so. She was standing in an aisle full of all manner of adult items, including all manner of vibrators, and didn’t even bat an eye. When did stores even start selling these things? He couldn’t remember ever being able to pick up a vibrator at a grocery store, yet just a brief glance told him that, yup, it was there.

“Whatcha got?” Within seconds, the tiny child in front of him looked at a box of condoms in his hand, and Rowan wished he could die. Everly reached out her hand to grab the box he held. While usually, he would reprimand her for trying to take something that didn’t belong to her, he was still stunned by her presence to do anything.

“Oh yay! Balloons! Are they for school?” Everly was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, joy radiating from her. Her hand grabbed onto the box tightly.

Rowan cleared his throat, trying to wrench the condoms away from her. “Sorry, no. These aren’t for school, Everly.”

Everly paused momentarily and seemed to ponder his response, but the bright smile returned to her face a moment later. “That’s okay!”

And she grabbed the box in his hand and ran down the aisle, leaving Rowan staring open-mouthed behind her.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath and went down the aisle after her. However, no sooner than he turned the corner did he run into the woman that had been living in his mind since the last time he saw her.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Aelin smirked at him. Rowan froze as he watched Everly turn and face her mother, still holding the box of condoms in her hand.

“Look, mama! Balloons!” Everly lifted the box to mother, and Rowan could feel dread sink into his stomach like a stone. Aelin took one look at the box in her daughter’s hands and laughed out loud.

“They’re not mine!” Rowan sputtered. He felt heat creeping up his neck as he glared at the offending box in Everly’s hands.

“Oh?” Aelin quirked one amused eyebrow at him. “And pray tell, how did my child get her hands on these?”

Rowan ran his hand over the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I was buying them for my flatmate, and Everly took them out of my hands.”

“Did she now?” Aelin seemed to stifle a laugh as she turned down to her daughter. “Everly, sweetheart, why don’t you hand those back to Mr. Whitethorn and go pick out a treat from the toy aisle.” Her daughter politely handed him back the condoms without much to do and walked the next few aisles over.

Once she was out of earshot, Rowan sighed with relief, his shoulders sagging. He could feel the heat lingering on his face as he turned to look at the woman who had haunted him for the past month. The last time he saw her, she had been in an impeccable business suit, without a hair out of place. She had been beautiful then, almost intimidatingly so. But this time, she was dressed in a pair of skin-tight jeans and a bright red shirt that bared her shoulders. Her golden hair flowed down her back with a gentle curl at the end, and her stunning turquoise eyes focused on him and filled with delight.

“I swear to god, I did not give her those. I would never.” Rowan pleaded with the woman standing in front of him. She only laughed again and smiled at him. His breath hitched in his throat as he took her in and realized that he had missed that smile, even though he had only seen it once before.

“Mr. Whitethorn, both you and I are well aware of how my daughter can sometimes be.” Rowan watched as a bit of red flushed her cheeks as she spoke, and his mind returned to their last meeting. Rowan chuckled a bit, even if he was dying on the inside. This now made two embarrassing interactions with this woman; he really wasn’t putting his best foot forward.

“Yes, I am only too aware at this point.” He said in a self-deprecating tone. “But they truly aren’t mine.”

Aelin laughed again. “Mr. Whitethorn, after our last meeting, it wouldn’t matter if they were yours or not. My five-year-old daughter seems intent on driving us together in the most awkward situations possible.”

Rowan loosed a breath and smiled at her. “Glad to see that you were able to take things in stride. And please call me Rowan.”

“Of course,” she replied. “Growing up with a cousin hell-bent on embarrassing me every chance he got meant that I developed some thick skin.”

“Cousin?” Rowan froze. It couldn’t possibly be the same one. “Does he happen to look like you?”

Aelin raised an eyebrow. “He might as well be my twin. My parents used to get us confused all the time growing up.”

“Ahhh…I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” Rowan scratched the back of his neck again. “I, uh, may have confused him for you one day when he was picking up Everly from school.”

Aelin laughed again, clutching her stomach. “Oh my god, you were the teacher that hit on him!”

Shit. That flush he felt earlier grew into a fire on his face. “I also hoped he would have kept that one to himself.”

“Oh, no, not a chance.” She smirked at him. “Aedion and I share everything. Seems I left a lasting impression last time I saw you?” She didn’t seem perturbed, though, that he tried to woo her cousin. Quite the opposite, in fact. Rowan breathed a sigh of relief.

“You could say that.” His voice deepened, and he saw her features soften toward him. Perhaps she did feel that same strange tug he felt, and maybe he could bend the rules just this once –

“Mama! I found a toy!”

Everly’s voice broke the moment as she waved a doll towards Aelin. Rowan watched as Aelin bent over to pick up her daughter, clutching her close to her chest as she turned to him. “Well, Rowan, it’s been nice to see you again. Perhaps next time, we can do it on purpose.”

She winked at him and pushed her cart away, Everly waving cheerfully at him over her shoulder.

------

Rowan slumped on the couch, leaning his head against the frame. He was an absolute mess. He set rules for a reason and dating his student’s mother was one of those rules. It muddied the waters, making it hard for him to remain impartial regarding the students in his class. But even after two embarrassing meetings, he still felt utterly enamored with Aelin Galathynius.

The door to the flat opened, and Fenrys strode in a girl hanging off his arm. Rowan lifted a terse eyebrow at him, and Fenrys saluted as he made his way down the hall. Rowan had thrown the offending box of condoms on his bed, and even though they got him another chance to speak with Aelin, the embarrassment was enough to keep him from handling his flatmate directly.

His phone chirped next to him. Not wanting to deal with Fenrys’ passive aggressiveness, he reached over to turn off the ringer when he saw a message from an unknown number.

Unknown: Mr. Whitethorn, this is Aelin Galathynius. I found your cell phone number on the teacher information handout you sent home. I was wondering if we could set up a time to meet one on one regarding Everly’s behavior in your class.

Rowan had never saved a phone number faster in his life.

---------------------

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#rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowan and aelin #aelin galythinius #your daughter brought a sex toy to school #teacher!rowan #lawyer!aelin #pabj26writing

[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part four 

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again, and deal with the fall-out of your secret

Warnings: drinking, mentions of death and injuries

Word Count: ~6.4k 

A/N: sorry this took longer than expected! I appreciate all of your support so much <3

series masterlist

There had been a few … discussions over who would greet them. Eventually, they decided Rowan and Aelin would meet them first - and the rest of the court the next day at breakfast. Evangeline made the most logical argument - that they would completely overwhelm them. Lorcan added they were stuck with Fenrys’s company for weeks and might already be approaching their limit. 

Rowan had a feeling you and Fenrys got along just fine, you certainly seemed to be back in Antica. An uncomfortable but familiar emotion surged in him. Jealousy? Jealousy that Fenrys got to spend that much time with his daughter, not that he spent that time with you, he convinced himself. 

The carriage rolled up, the doors swung open. Fenrys first, followed by Reya, you, Ani, and finally Ceri. Who hid behind you again, just like the first time they’d met. Rowan tried not to frown, he knew it would take time for her to warm up. 

“You can say hello, if you’d like,” you murmured quietly, hair falling so it shielded half of your face. Were you shy all of the sudden? Ceri took another step forward, stopping a few feet in front of you. She looked back at you, you sent an encouraging nod her way. She paused, shifted her body to the side, and grabbed Ani’s hand - dragging her friend with her. 

Rowan’s mouth curved in amusement as they both paused in front of them. Then, he realized he had no fucking idea what to do. 

Aelin crouched down, arms opened, and the two looked at each other - some kind of silent communication passing through, before they both launched themselves at his Queen. Her laughter echoed through the courtyard, arms wrapping around the two of them. 

Rowan watched them for a moment, Aelin asking them about their trip - the two of them chattering about this and that, about a new card game, something about ‘self-defense’ lessons, etc. 

But, you were quiet, and Fenrys … Fenrys looked like he was about to deliver bad news. You’d turned slightly away from him, hair shielding half of your face and your focus on Aelin and the girls was pointed. Avoiding looking at him. 

“You’re early,” Rowan finally said as Aelin rose. 

“It’s because of the bad man,” Ani said - before Ceri could shush her. 

Bad man. Bad man. Bad man. 

Rowan saw red, crouching to look over Ceri - no injuries, scars, bruises, anything to show something’s amiss. His daughter leaned towards him, cupping her hands around her mouth. “It’s mum that was hurt,” she whispered pointed towards you, in what she probably thought was a discreet way, “not me, but he’s dead now and it healed.” 

“Thank you,” Rowan forced a smile onto his face, clamped down harshly on his anger. 

“I think we have things to talk about,” Aelin said, voice calm and steady. 

“We do.” Fenrys said, you nodding in agreement. 

“I know the perfect guide for you,” Aelin smiled warmly at the two girls, and Reya. It was obvious this conversation needed to be between the four of them, and Reya seemed relieved to be excluded. Aelin led them back, stopping just before the entrance hall before disappearing. 

Minutes later, she returned - Evangeline in tow. Aelin murmured a few instructions to her, referencing the specific wing and rooms for your group, and they took off. 

“Are you going to tell me what the hell happened?” Rowan directed at Fenrys. 

You cut in, “it didn’t involve him.” Your cheeks flushed as you found yourself the center of attention - but you kept going. “We went to the park, on our way back I noticed something off - shoved the three of them behind the wards, and kept the attacker away long enough for an archer to shoot him. A mortal magic wielder.” 

Kept them at bay. Against a mortal, you should’ve been able to kill them within the first minute. “You were trying to get answers from him.” Rowan observed, not asked, but you confirmed that with a nod. Fenrys laid a comforting hand on your shoulder, and from the corner of his vision, he saw Aelin’s eyes narrow. 

“The archer killed him before I could.” 

As a nervous habit, one hand brushed your hair away, tucking it behind your ear - you froze, palm over your cheek, white rings around your eyes. 

“They’ll see it eventually,” Fenrys said quietly, squeezing your shoulder. 

Aelin was bristling next to him, and he wasn’t much better. See what? 

Slowly, so gods-damned slowly, your hand lowered down to your side. A nasty looking scar sliced across your cheek. It looked painful, and for it to scar like that … 

“The cut wasn’t bad, but the blade was iron and enchanted. Not a curse, just to leave a mark,” you tugged your bottom teeth between your lips, debating your next words. “I think it’s obvious, the knife wasn’t meant for me. We left the next night.” 

“If there’s any updates, they’ll send word.” Fenrys added. 

“How did it happen?” Somehow, he managed to keep his voice and words steady. Someone tried to kill his daughter. Aelin’s warm hand against his shoulder kept him anchored, kept him steady. Tried to kill you, his … the mother of his child didn’t feel right. A friend, he settled on for now. Tried to kill his friend, and succeeded in injuring her. 

As you explained the story, his temper flared. He wanted to ask how you could be so stupid, how you could put the two … four of you at danger like that, but Fenrys was glaring at him and he held his tongue. 

“You’ll need to see a healer and get that checked,” was all he could manage. 

“We,” Aelin emphasized, squeezing his shoulder, “are glad you both are safe.” 

“Thank you,” the words were soft before your eyes narrowed, a subtle bite edging into your tone, “I don’t need a healer, it’s fine.” 

“It wasn’t a suggestion.” 

“For fucks sake,” Fenrys muttered, “I’ll take you to the healers, let them poke a bit, and it’ll shut him up.” Rowan’s eyes promised vengeance, and Fenrys ignored him. You were biting back a laugh, which he supposed was a good thing, considering the news you’d just dropped. 

“We’ll go tomorrow,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into your side. The way you looked at him - completely friendly and platonic, but an ugly feeling surged in his stomach. They should be the friends that were there for you. “Unless your majesty and highness have an objection,” the male challenged him. 

“No objections,” Aelin glanced down at her nails - a tactic she uses to divert frustration, “but we’ll be meeting the rest of our court for a late breakfast,” she looked up at you, a wicked amusement gleaming in those eyes, “I imagine it will be interesting.” 

“Should I be nervous?” your tongue darted out to lick your bottom lip, Aelin’s watched the movement, but she caught herself and met your eyes instead. Rowan noted that little moment, something to think on later. 

“I think you’ll be nervous no matter what I say.”

A huff, but you agreed, and Fenrys carted you off towards your rooms. He knew exactly what you’d be seeing -  a suite, complete with a bathing room, bedroom, sitting area, and breakfast table, connected to a small hall - two bedrooms with private baths on either side, perfect for Ceri and Ani, and straight across the hall was Reya’s suite, identical to yours. 

Aelin took the time to hunt through the castle for the perfect set of rooms for the three of you, and decided on these. 

The two girls couldn’t leave without having to go through one of your rooms, and they’d made sure the hinges on the doors all squeaked loudly. Rowan was proud of how much thought they’d put into it, and part of him hoped you would be too. 

He shouldn’t care that much about your opinion or approval. You shouldn’t be taking up this much of his mind, shouldn’t be echoing in his thoughts like this. 

-

Rowan and Aelin had thought of everything, down to the extra loud doors, the twin desks stocked with paper and various colored pencils and paints, the snacks in the small cabinets, the layout of the rooms … you’d walked in to Reya and Evangeline, a teenage woman maybe seven or eight years older than your daughter,  you guessed. But … she was already sitting next to them, another piece of paper out to draw, making encouraging comments to each of them. 

“They’re getting along well,” Reya leaned back on the loveseat, a glass of wine already in hand. “I was kicked out of the drawing circle.” 

“You don’t look too upset over it,” you took your cloak off, carefully slinging it over the back of a chair. 

The trunks were stacked against an opposite wall, backpacks balanced on top of them. 

“I told them not to put anything away,” Reya followed your gaze, “I figured you’d want to do it yourself. I know I do.” 

“Thank you,” you collapsed into the couch next to her. Putting things away felt a bit … permanent. Would you? They’d promised you could explore different parts of Terrasen, but had never given you a timeline.

Couch cushions rustled, glass clanked, and a hefty serving of wine was pushed into your hand. For the first time since you’d seen Rowan again, you let yourself relax.

-

Aelin watched as Rowan paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, wearing down the carpet. She liked that carpet. His fists clenched, on and off. It had been ten minutes of letting him stew in silence, and she was done with it. 

“They’re safe,” she emphasized, “and here, with us.” Evangeline had reported back that they all seemed in good spirits, and the two girls were heading to bed as she left. 

“She has a scar,” he ran one hand through his hair, his eyes meeting hers; and it’s my fault. 

“We all have scars,” Aelin tried to keep her voice gentle, “and it takes two to make a baby.” 

He pinned her with a look that said; that’s not the point. Aelin scented Fenrys, and seconds later she heard a knock on the door. Holding her hand up to Rowan, him freezing in place, she opened it herself, mouthing over her shoulder; be nice.

He shut the door behind him, and leaned back against it, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Go on, ask your questions.” 

“What did you see?” Aelin spilled the words out before Rowan could.

“Not much,” he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest. “She was trying to subdue him - as you know, the archer across the street killed him instead. There was an enchanted blade - iron, with some marks carved into the handle. She destroyed it.” 

“Was he one of the men watching?” One of the lurkers that hung around her house for several days. 

Surprisingly, Fenrys shook his head. 

“We don’t know anything else,” his onyx eyes shifted from her, over to Rowan, “dead men can’t talk,” he deadpanned. 

Gods, the last thing she needs is the two of them getting into it tonight. Fenrys made a quick exit, promising he’d bring you by the healers before breakfast. Then, he and Evangeline would bring you down to meet everyone. 

Rowan, however, was still tearing a hole in the fucking carpet, and she tried a different tactic. “What would y/n say, if she saw you like this?” 

He paused, slowly turning his head to meet her; like he was looking for some kind of trick or trap. There was none, she was just trying to get his head out of his ass. Not seeing one, he finally answered, “I don’t know anymore.” 

-

The healers weren’t concerned, didn’t sense any kind of malignant magic or poison, and only confirmed what she already knew; a blade designed to leave a scar, and that’s it. She was still seething at Rowan’s ‘not a suggestion.’ Overprotective Fae bullshit. He had no claim to her, no need to protect her. The little nasty voice in the back of her mind told her it’s only because she’s the mother of his child, just as he was the father of hers. Co-parents, that would be the extent of their ‘relationship,’ anything else might complicate things - and she doesn’t want to give anyone a reason to think she might end up as a homewrecker. 

Reya linked one arm through hers, your daughters ahead of you - each holding on to one of Evangeline’s hands, periodically looking over their shoulders to make sure the two of you were still present. Not that you could go anywhere, trapped between Fenrys and Reya.

Steadying your breathing, you followed through the oak doors into an informal, thank the gods, dining room. Large windows showed a beautiful view of the city, the table already stacked with food, and what must be the rest of her court.

Ceri had retreated, half hiding behind you now, Ani doing the same to your right. 

“It’s alright,” you kept your voice low, “they’re the new friends Fenrys told you about.” 

“All horrible things, I’m sure,” the female with an ever changing scent. A shifter. Lady Lysandra. 

Fenrys made an exaggerated ‘shh’ noise, drawing a giggle from Ceri, who stepped out from behind you. Evangeline swooped in to take over introductions for the girls, everything happened almost in a blur around you as you shook hands - told preemptively not to bow or curtsey, and ended up seated at the table. 

You watched as your daughter shedded her shy skin, quickly chattering about anything and everything, answering every question shot her away, returning with one of her own. 

Aedion was studying you carefully, and you felt almost like you were put on display. Some kind of relic from the past, dragged up to Terrasen, and you couldn’t tell if your presence was entirely welcome or not. Last night, Evangeline said they’d only found out about you that morning, meaning less than half a day to come to terms with your existence - and Ceri’s. 

“So you’re from Wendlyn,” he finally said. 

“I am,” you sipped your tea. 

“Why did you go to the Southern Continent?” 

Glancing towards your daughter - currently caught up in conversation with Rowan, you noticed Fenrys pinning Aedion with a nasty look. It seemed to say; you know why. You were grateful he was there, without him your nerves might’ve already gotten the best of you. 

“It was not safe to be there. My mother was from Antica, and for honesty’s sake, there’s few places where our kind are well received. You traced a finger over the curves of your pointed ears, “I couldn’t hide my heritage, neither could she.” 

“Were you ever going to tell him?” 

Lysandra, quite obviously, jabbed her elbow into his side. There was something else here … more personal. 

Fenrys had said; “Aedion’s father is … was Gavriel. Like you, his mother kept it a secret for his sake.” 

“I won’t lie to you, I wasn’t sure. I told her that her father’s a Fae warrior and Royal, when she asked, but she never pressed for his name. If she did, I would’ve told her.” Silver hair flashed in your peripherals, and you were aware she was listening in now. “I believe our paths would’ve crossed at some point.” 

Aedion seemed satisfied by your answer, and stopped that line of questioning. The pointed stare from Aelin might have helped as well, because he shot a sheepish look your way, before asking more pleasant questions. It didn’t bother you, you were a stranger, and it’s natural they'd want to assess if you were a threat to their country or Queen. With your daughter, you’d undoubtedly do the same thing. Still, the idea that you would have to prove yourself turned your stomach. 

Everyone kept glancing between your daughter and Rowan, and seeing the two side by side - again, re-iterated just how alike they looked. At first, every look at the silver tufts of hair, the deep green eyes, had been a reminder of him, but over the years the two separated. Sure, you still thought of their resemblance, once in a while, but he’d slipped to the back of your mind, your entire world existing outside of him, two circles far away from each other. Until a few weeks ago. 

Everything will be different. Your fingers tapped against your thighs. A better world.

As long as Ceri was happy, you could find happiness too. 

-

Rowan quickly learned what his daughter was like. Wild was the best way to describe her. Either the best or the worst combination of him and his mother. 

The first time he spotted her at the top of a tree, he panicked. 

“Ceri, come down,” he pleaded. 

“It’s nice up here,” she countered, and sat her ass down, obviously intending to stay a while. 

“She’ll come down when she’s ready,” a soft voice murmured, the scent of roses flooding the area. Roses … without your voice - he might not have recognized it, you’d always chosen Lilacs for perfume, soap, anything. He’d been distracted enough by his daughter balancing on a precarious branch, he didn’t hear your approach. 

“Is this … common?” 

“You get used to it,” you walked up to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, a good twelve inches of space between you. “Evangeline is waiting, she brought you and Ani chocolates.” 

Leaves shuffled, a few branches creaked - Rowan winced and tensed - but Ceri was down from the tree in less than a minute, sprinting back towards where Evangeline waited, looking thoroughly amused. 

Everyone seemed to be amused at how his daughter shot his heart rate to dangerous levels. 

-

Three weeks passed, and you grew more and more on edge. Eager to leave Orynth, to see somewhere else in Terrasen. Everyone seemed to watch you. Eyes on you at all times, everyone who passed you in the hall. Their eyes lit up as they saw Ceri, only to narrow slightly as they crossed over to you holding her hand. 

A stranger, who looked nothing like the small girl a carbon copy of the King. 

-

A year and a half passed, and you were still in Terrasen. Everyone else was thriving, and although you didn’t quite feel at home yet, you were getting there. 

The entire court, and the country really, had been more than welcoming - but, you made sure to put a certain distance between you and the King and Queen, keeping it exactly as you’d intended - co-parenting. You and your daughter’s every move was watched, although she didn’t seem to mind or notice, it kept you hyper-aware and a bit paranoid. 

The mother of King Rowan’s daughter. 

That’s what you’d been reduced to. Being her mother was an honor, of course, but you lost a sense of your identity. Reya, sliding more under the radar, helped you sell your goods - that way you knew they weren’t buying just because of who your daughter was. Because of who managed to stick a babe in you. 

-

Your entire group decided to stay in Terrasen, but Rowan barely saw you throughout the last two years. 

For fucks sake, Fenrys saw more of you than he did, and it shouldn’t have bothered him this much. You’d been friends of sorts eight years ago - not long considering an immortal lifespan, but now it felt like you were barely a step up from strangers, like you both didn’t share one of the most important people in your lives. 

“Why is she so distant?” Aelin asked Lysandra, and Rowan started paying attention to their conversation. The two were inhaling impressive amounts of chocolates and wine, lounging in their sitting room. They’d chosen to live in Caraverre, and the shifter definitely boasted, lightheartedly, about it once in a while. If he had his way, which rarely happens anymore, he’d have both of you here in Orynth. 

“You haven’t put that together yet?” Lysandra purred, tipping her glass back as Aelin scowled. 

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t be asking you.” 

Lysandra faked exasperation, letting out a long exhale. “Even in Caraverre, there’s always eyes on her. She’s very careful of how it can be perceived, if she gets too close to either of you.” 

“She’s staying away to keep her reputation clean?” Rowan cut in. 

“And yours,” she ran her finger around the rim of the glass, “but maybe that’ll change some, now that she has someone to herself.” 

His teeth clenched and Lysandra’s head tilted - but Aelin had tensed next to her. “Who is it, Lys?” 

“None of my business,” she smirked, enjoying that she had some kind of knowledge Aelin, and he, wanted. 

“You make everything your business.” Rowan cut in. 

“Why don’t you ask her yourself? She’ll be here next week, won’t she?” 

“If someone’s going to be around my daughter, I should know of it.” Rowan knew, even if he wouldn’t admit it, that it wasn’t really about that. He trusted your judgment, trusted that you wouldn’t let anyone dangerous around her. Still, he wanted to be a part of your life. Wanted to know these kinds of things about you, and wanted to spend more than twenty minutes with you twice a month. 

“I doubt it’s permanent,” Lysandra laughed and dodged the pillow Aelin tossed her way. 

“Maybe I should visit more often.” Aelin mused, “If I go to her, alone, it might not be as … reputation damaging.” 

Aelin spit the last two words out like she didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of her reputation, of her being friends with you. 

Rowan wanted to know why you cared. 

He didn’t get a chance to. You avoided being alone with him as much as possible, rarely giving him an opening to ask any sort of questions like that. When he managed to lead the conversation in that direction, you deflected with such ease that by the time he realized it was off topic, you were gone. Aelin visited you on her own, but apparently you either deflected or shut down when she brought it up, and his wife gave up on that - not wanting to push you away further.

-

Something was wrong, and Aelin knew because Ceri was quiet, and she certainly hadn’t inherited her father’s distaste for words. 

Rowan caved first, putting his spoon down. “What is it?” 

She huffed and copied his movement. “My mum’s sad. She thinks she’s good at hiding it, but I can tell.” 

“Why is she sad?” Aelin asked gently. 

Her lips pursed together, debating telling them something. “Aunt Reya and Ani are probably leaving soon.” Aelin met Rowan’s gaze, that was news to him as well. Probably, meaning they were probably waiting to tell anyone until it’s official. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but I thought you should know.” 

“We can keep the secret,” Rowan assured her, “how do you feel … about that?” 

The way she stabbed the piece of fruit told Aelin enough about how she felt. “I’m mad, and mum says it’s fine to be angry, but to try and be happy for them too. Ani’s grandmother wants them to come home, and she always complains about the snow.” 

Ceri switched to a recounting of her latest ghost-leopard sighting. She was obsessed with them. “And her partner is going to take her -” 

“Partner?” Rowan cut in before he could stop himself. 

Ceri rolled her eyes, “yes, mum’s partner, is taking her -” 

Rowan stiffened next to her, fist clenching around his glass, and Aelin stomped on his foot, dragging him back to the present. 

“What’s his name?” 

“I don’t know,” her green eyes narrowed. 

“Have you met them?” She tried to ask as casually as possible. 

“No,” her nose scrunched up.

“Your mum told you?” 

Mischief shone in her eyes, “I heard her conversation with Aunt Reya.” 

More likely she feigned sleep and snuck out of bed. Rowan had taught her how to redirect her scent, and she’s putting it to good use. Aelin stomped on Rowan’s foot again - at the smug look on his face. 

He caught her gaze, he’s not good enough for her.

We don’t know who he is.

Maybe Fenrys does.

We shouldn’t interfere … but Aelin wants to, and it makes no damn sense to her. 

-

“Who’s y/n’s partner?” Rowan asked Fenrys - bluntly. 

The male smirked, leaning back in his chair and interlacing his hands behind his head. “Who says it’s not me?” 

Rowan snarled, and Fenrys barked out a laugh. “I’m not, relax. We’re just friends” 

“But you know who he is?” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. Fenrys looked far too amused at this. 

“I know who she is.” 

He’d forgotten that particular detail. “And what’s her name?” 

“I’m not the one you should be asking. Besides, I doubt it’ll last. None of the others have.” 

“Others?”

“If you asked her these things, she’d tell you.” 

“I didn’t ask for your advice,” he growled, tempted to kick him out. 

“Too bad, you got it anyway. Tell your daughter to stop eavesdropping if you don’t want to know.” That’s the problem, he does want to know. Fenrys know’s that too, but he’s just being a bastard for his own amusement. “And Rowan?” He stood, heading towards the door. 

“What?” 

“Neither you or Aelin have a claim to her.” Rowan opened his mouth, as if to protest but … he doesn’t have a claim to her, not now. “Until you do, let her live her life.” 

The door shut behind him. You or Aelin. Until you do. The bedroom door swung open, revealing Aelin, a towel wrapped across her chest. 

“You heard everything?” 

“I did.” 

-

“If you like mum, why aren’t you with her?” Ceri questioned. Fenrys’s fork dropped, clattering onto his plate as he shot an incredulous look at Rowan. 

“We like her as a friend,” Rowan clarified. 

“Aren’t friends supposed to stay with each other?” 

Fenrys and Aedion were barely holding back laughter, and Rowan looked to Aelin, she could handle this question. 

Coward, she said. 

“Lysandra and I are friends, and we live just as far apart as your mother does.” 

“But Evangeline says only special friends make babies,” she pointed her fork at Rowan, “that’s different.” 

The other males gave up holding back their laughter, getting a scowl from the little hellion. Aelin watched Rowan’s cheeks flush as he tried to figure out how to answer this. Your turn, she said. 

He was saved as Ceri launched two grapes towards Aedion and Fenrys, using a bit of wind to make sure they hit their targets; “We’ve talked about this. No throwing food at the table.” Still, he admired the two small splatters on each of their foreheads, “but your aim is getting better.” 

“You never answered my question.” 

Rowan was not prepared for this. Centuries couldn’t have prepared him for this, but he prayed his answer would be enough. “We are not … special friends anymore.” 

She looked ready to ask why, but returned to her food instead. He finally felt like he could breathe again. Someone needs to make a book on how to deal with this. 

-

Aelin was excited, both you and Ceri would be arriving soon, and she was hoping to convince you to stay at least overnight. They had about a fifty percent success rate with convincing you to stay in Orynth at least a bit longer. Since your friend left, it became more frequent. Plus, considering the massive snowstorm looming, Aelin would raise her odds. 

“If I leave now, I should miss most of it,” she knew you were looking at the clock behind her, your teeth were worrying your bottom lip. Even you were doubting it. 

“Or you’ll be stranded in the snow,” Rowan countered, arms crossing over his chest, head tilting to the side. 

“I can handle myself.” 

“Not if you freeze to death.” 

“Just stay,” Ceri groaned, tugging on your sleeve. “She’s not there anyway.” 

Who is she? 

“And why is that?” You raised a brow, and your daughter shrugged her shoulders, but didn’t quite look apologetic. 

“Because they-I didn't like her.” 

“You never met her.”

“I didn’t have to,” Ceri’s wicked grin sent a shiver down her spine. Aelin recognized the look on her face, she’d seen it all too frequently in her husband. You sighed, but abandoned the argument, instead watching as she ran off, spotting some of her friends down the hall. A long time ago, they gave up trying to get her to stop running in the castle. 

“What did she do?” Aelin forced amusement on her face. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “One day she showed up at my door - while Ceri was at school, told me it wasn’t going to work, and Ceri came home looking very pleased with herself.” 

“How long were you together?” Aelin linked an arm through yours. 

“A few months,” you hummed, admitting, “It wouldn’t have worked long term.” 

-

You’d been here for three days, trapped by the storm. The longest amount of time since you’d arrived in Terrasen, and the most at peace you’d felt. It should be the opposite, really, considering how much effort you’ve put into avoiding Rowan specifically, but their company was enjoyable and put you at ease. Aelin made herself difficult to avoid. She developed a habit of randomly showing up on your doorstep, for book exchanges or to ‘get a break from him.’

Aelin let you borrow some clothes, considering you hadn’t planned to spend the night, and convinced you to let her braid your hair. 

“You’re not horrible at it,” Ceri informed Aelin and you winced. 

“Not horrible?” Aelin smiled at her, taking the ‘compliment’ with ease. “Last time you said I was doing great.” 

“I said you were doing better.” 

“Then who’s the best at it?” You teased, already knowing the answer. 

“Evangeline.” 

Now, it was just the four of you in a small hearth room - a fire roaring in the corner, an oak table filled with warm and heavy food, three pints of ale and one hot chocolate. 

“I want to move here,” Ceri announced at the table.

Gods, maybe she could’ve mentioned you to this before - not in front of them as well, backing you right into a corner. Eyes shuttering closed, you let out of a slow breath, giving yourself a few seconds before opening them again. 

“We can talk about it,” you promised her, sending an apologetic look to Rowan and Aelin. But they … they seemed excited about it. It makes sense they’d want Ceri closer. A few years ago, you told yourself you’d go where she wanted. If she wants to be here … there’s not much holding you to Caraverre really. Not much holding you anywhere, besides your daughter. That haunting sense of loneliness crept back into you. 

“What’s there to talk about?” 

“It’s a big change,” Rowan swept in, “something we can talk about later.” 

“I want my whole family together.” 

Family. 

It was impossible to miss the excitement in Rowan’s  eyes, the same one echoed in Aelin and Ceri’s. In everyone but yours. Yours were filled with trepidation and concern. 

“Quit worrying so much,” Reya told you, in the days before her departure. “You’ll make yourself miserable.”

-

“Are you moving to Orynth?” Aelin asked later that night, convincing you to share a bottle of wine with her. Rowan was in the corner, reading some kind of report, but his eyes stopped moving, head tilted slightly to listen in to the conversation. 

“Ceri wants to,” one finger absentmindedly ran over your scar, “wants both of us to.” For a bit, you thought she may have worded it wrong - that she just wanted to reverse the roles and live primarily with Rowan. But, she’d insisted both of you come here. 

“There’s not a chance she’d move without you,” Aelin plucked your empty glass out of your hands, filling both of yours halfway. 

“Thank you,” your fingers brushed as she handed it to you, and you could’ve sworn she lingered for a second. It’s the wine. Blinking heavily to bring yourself into focus, you admitted, “I’m glad,” and hoped they’d interpret your flush on the cheeks as alcohol-induced. 

“We’ll be glad to have you here,” she countered. 

“We’ll have to start looking at homes.” 

“Live in the castle,” Rowan said from his corner, papers now resting on his thighs. 

There it was, the demanding tone. If he thought he could bark an order and bring her to heel, he didn’t know her as well as you thought he did. Then again … he’d changed, and so had you. 

You shook your head, “It’s not a good idea.” 

“Why?” Aelin was facing you now, legs curled up under her. To give yourself time to think, you took another drink.

“We all know how it’ll -” 

“I don’t care how it looks,” Rowan cut you off, “you’re the only one who does,” he added - a tad gentler. 

“I like to keep a low profile.” 

“You like to hide,” he countered, “we haven’t kept Ceri a secret.” 

“There’s a difference between just our daughter, and both of us living here.” 

“What will it take for you to stop being a damn coward? To stop hiding?” 

“Rowan,” Aelin warned, her voice sharp. 

Tense silence filled the room, but Rowan didn’t seem to regret his words - not one bit, and that incensed you further. 

“I’m not a coward,” you snarled, chest tightening, cheeks turning red. Oh, he knew the right words to light a fire under your ass. To push you into enough anger to get a reaction. Calm was your default. Always calm, always composed, always steady. The current of anger and resentment, the feelings you buried so deep inside, threatened to sweep you under.

“Rowan,” Aelin snarled, louder, as his mouth opened. His jaw slammed back shut, giving you a chance to get the rest of your words out.  In. Count to four. Out. Count to four. 

“There’s a good reason for my fear,” your voice shook, despite your best efforts, hand trailing over the scar again. “Hiding has saved me more often than not.” 

Aelin’s brow furrowed, but Rowan’s eyes flashed in recognition.

The top of a hill, crouched in a tree, the magic your mother bent - the wards last minute designed to keep you out, to keep you away from them. Away from the slaughter. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get past them, but couldn’t convince yourself to run away either. Instead, you watched as the soldiers fell, watched and hid. 

A warm hand squeezed your shoulder, and you jerked, lower back hitting the arm of the couch, “sorry,” you murmured, still half in a daze, trying to shake the memory away. Turquoise and gold eyes peered at you with concern, her hand slowly retreating, body posture pointedly relaxed and unthreatening. 

“Aelin doesn’t know,” Rowan cleared his throat. You’d spilled that story to him one night, both of you plied with a good amount of liquor. It surprised you he hadn’t shared that with her. “It’s not my story to tell,” he added, reading the look on your face. 

“It is safer for the two of you to live here.” Aelin said quietly. Maybe it was unintentional, but she played the right card. Swallowing a bit of discomfort for safety is a sacrifice you could make. Maybe free yourself too, to stop worrying so much. If they didn’t care about public perception, you had no reason to. 

“If you still care about how it looks,” Aelin continued, ignoring the look Rowan tried to pin her with, “think of it this way; people will be happier to see a family together, considering how many were torn apart.” 

You could see exactly how she made a great queen. A few phrases from her changed your mindset enough you were on the verge of agreeing, but you made them wait in a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. But … you weren’t ready to let go of it, not just yet. 

“Do you really think it’s that unsafe? For us to live outside of the castle?” Unintentionally, you were drawn to the three kingsflame preserved on the mantle. Beautiful small red and orange flowers, encased in crystal. Selfish, a nasty voice in your head crooned at you, they’re trying to help. 

-

Rowan didn’t detect any kind of accusation in your question. The short answer would be no. He didn’t believe Orynth was unsafe in general, but he didn’t … trust anyone with you or Ceri’s safety. Any chance, even infinitesimal, was too much of a risk to him. 

When the silence dragged on, you stiffened, “or is it me, that you don’t trust to keep us safe?” 

“We trust you,” Aelin rushed, thankfully without hesitation, sensing the anger creeping back in, and Rowan nodded his agreement. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen you truly angry, and a small part of him liked poking these reactions out of you. To do something most others couldn’t, to break the careful calm you’ve built over the years. It was there when he knew you, but now it was nearly unflappable. Still, he didn’t want to do that if it would hurt you. 

He thought about if he’d answered “no” to your question. He does believe in you, but if he’d said that … you might have lost the confidence you’d built in your work, and trust in yourself. Real wards and protective enchantments were difficult to come by, and rumors of your work reached Orynth - under a false name, but he knew exactly who it was. 

You glanced down at your lap, tapping your fingers against your leg. Either deep in thought, or nervous.

“I don’t know if it would be good for her, spending all of her time here. She doesn’t want to be a princess.” 

Rowan had heard that before, from his daughter, what felt like hundreds of times by now. 

“I’m aware,” he deadpanned, watching the corners of your mouth turn up. 

“I’ll speak to Ceri, before we make any decisions.” Aelin couldn’t hide the relief on her face, neither could he. Now, just to get his daughter on their side. At the hint of challenge in your eyes, he had a suspicion that might be more difficult than he expected. 

#rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin x reader #throne of glass fic #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galathynius x reader #aelin galathynius x y/n #rowan whitethorn x y/n #rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin #throne of glass x reader

[leiawritesstories]

queen's crown

rowaelin + kiddos // written for April microfics @throneofglassmicrofics using the prompt "Crown"

word count: 725

warnings: none :)

enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Staghorn Crown of Terrasen sat atop its emerald-green velvet pillow, the gold spires that resembled antlers jutting proudly up into the still, silent air of the throne room. At its center, the kingsflame bloom encased in crystal seemed almost to glow, the scarlet and crimson and orange of its petals radiating warmth and light.

The princess rose onto her tiptoes and fixed her wide-eyed gaze upon the crown, the pedestal just barely taller than her head. At the sound of footsteps entering the throne room, she startled, and her elbow knocked into the pedestal as she wobbled, trying to keep her balance.

She stared, her wonder turning to horror, as the crown tipped off of its cushion and tumbled towards the floor.

But a swift, wintry wind brushed through the throne room, caught the crown, and deposited it neatly back on its cushion, its tendrils wrapping carefully around the princess as she wobbled on the steps.

"Are you alright, little love?" Her father's voice, her father's wind.

Six-year-old Alanna Whitethorn Galathynius felt her lower lip shiver as the tears slowly spilled out of her eyes, the same bright pine as her father's. In an instant, her father was there, scooping her up into his arms, soothing her.

"I--I almost broke Mama's crown," Lana half-sobbed, burying her face in her dada's warm shoulder.

"Shh, little love, it's alright." Rowan carried Lana back to her rooms, where her mother was waiting, concern on her face. He kissed the top of his daughter's blonde head. "You know Mama and I would never let anything happen to you, Lana."

She sniffled. "I sorry, Mama."

Aelin took her daughter from her mate's arms, giving him a brief, tender look. "Lana, lovey, you mean so much more to me than that silly old crown." She cupped the little girl's face, meeting Lana's teary gaze with her own steady one. "Were you trying to see Mama's crown?"

Lana nodded. "Auntie El said you used to try and see it all the time when you were my age."

A distant, yearning smile slipped across Aelin's face. "That was...a very long time ago. I'm surprised she remembers." When she was a child, Aelin had often slipped into the throne room to stare at the crown from a distance, a memory she'd almost forgotten until her daughter brought it up.

Calming, Lana touched the bracelet that curled around Aelin's wrist, a smaller version of the crown with golden prongs like antlers. An everyday crown. "It matches."

"Yes, it does." Aelin kissed Lana's forehead. "Do you want to go see the crown, lovey?"

Lana's big green eyes lit up. "Yes!"

"Alright, then." Aelin stood up and took Lana's hand, and with Rowan at her back, ever the hovering buzzard, she led her daughter down to the throne room. Together, they walked across the quiet, shadowed expanse of the room, its soft darkness broken by the sunlight that streamed in through the arched windows along the walls.

At the front of the throne room, she lifted the crown's cushion off the pedestal, slowly knelt down in front of her daughter with a flicker of a grimace of discomfort, and set the cushion on the ground. Lana's expression widened with wonder as she clung to her mother's hand and stared at the crown.

Rowan knelt next to Aelin, concern creasing his face. "Are you sure you should be--"

"I'm fine, you overbearing buzzard," she sighed, one hand drifting to her very rounded stomach.

A tiny mirror of her father, Lana pressed both of her small hands to Aelin's bump. "Mama, baby?"

"Baby is just fine, lovey," Aelin promised. Gently, reverently, she lifted the crown from its cushion and raised it into the shaft of sunlight, causing light to radiate off of the kingsflame bloom. As her daughter and her mate watched, she carefully lowered it onto her head, feeling its familiar weight settle over her.

Lana stared raptly. "Mama so pretty," she murmured.

Aelin smiled as she lifted the crown off her head. "One day, my daughter, this will be yours." Lana held very still as Aelin placed the crown atop her small head, holding it in place so it didn't slip down the princess's face.

And the Queen of Terrasen looked at the future queen, her heart full to bursting at the sight of her family.

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@aelinschild

@renxzs

#my writing #answered prompt #prompt fill #throne of glass microfics #throne of glass #queen of shadows #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin #awlin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #canon au #post canon au #rowaelin and kiddos #rowaelin babies

[danikamariewrites]

Throne of Glass

Manon

After Flight

Ride (SMUT)

Stitches

More Pink

Feeling Blue

Drop It (SMUT)

Iron Nails and Pale Skin

Just the Sniffles

Back With You (SMUT)

First Flight

Morning Coffee

Fenrys

Reunited

Learning (SMUT)

Book Delivery

Dorian

Right Where You Left Me

Dorian vs Echo

Once Upon a Time

Literally Obsessed hc

Rowan

Cold Shoulder

Learning (SMUT)

Keep You Cold

Ddlg headcanon

Fluffy relationship hc

Lorcan

Bite Me (SMUT)

Gavriel

Secrets

Light in the Dark

Cadre series

Cadre (SMUT)

Not on Speaking Terms

Rowaelin

Dating headcanon

Pregnant reader headcanon

Eras Tour headcanon

Modern headcanon

Stay Still (SMUT)

Manorian

Lay With Me?

Elorcan Daughter x Rowaelin reader

Cardigan

Anything For Her

#throne of glass #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass fanfiction #manon blackbeak #manon blackbeak x reader #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys moonbeam x reader #dorian havilliard x reader #dorian havilliard #rowan whitethorn x reader #rowan whitethorn #lorcan salvaterre #lorcan x reader #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowaelin #rowaelin x reader

[goddess-aelin]

Little Falcon

For day 22 of Rowaelin Month: Magic/Shifting lessons with the kids

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none!

Aelin was going to kill him, she truly was. She usually was a forgiving soul, one of the kindest people he knew despite her penchant for violence and general mischief. But for this, she would kill him.

Because he committed probably the worst act he could have ever committed. Worse than killing a man. Worse than forgetting Aelin’s birthday. Worse than eating his wife’s chocolate hazelnut cake. No, Rowan lost their daughter. Alma was almost four years old, her blonde, shining hair always a beacon and her quiet, yet temperamental disposition a mirror of her mother’s. It seemed that she had also inherited her mother’s ability to sneak around. Because she wasn’t here. She wasn’t anywhere.

He’d been searching the castle for almost an hour, hoping to find the little trickster before Aelin was done with her meeting. He began in Alma’s room, hoping that her golden hair would be sticking out from her covers or her tiny toes from under her bed. No such luck was found. He made his way around the royal family’s wing of the castle with the same circumstances. He quietly asked the staff members if they had seen her, all to a resounding “no” and a look of disapproval that he lost Alma.

He was about to shift into hawk form to do a fly-by of the castle grounds but before he could, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs to their wing. Alma. Relieved, he rounded the corner, shouting her name and about to give the little girl a stern talking to when he stopped in his tracks. Aelin was standing in front of him, one brow raised and a knowing look on her face.

“Why were you calling Alma’s name?”

Rowan let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, you see…” He knew Aelin could probably see the sweat beading on his forehead. “Alma and I, we were….we were playing hide and seek! Yeah. And she’s just so good at hiding that I can’t find her.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, Buzzard. Just tell me you lost our daughter so we can go find her.”

He deflated at that. “Fine. I lost our daughter. Happy now?”

“Not particularly, no.” Aelin sighed. “I was gone for less than two hours, Rowan. How did this happen?”

“Errin needed to be changed so I stepped out of her room for a minute. A single minute, Aelin. And the next thing I knew, she was gone.” Panic laced his voice and he knew that he was about five seconds from completely losing his shit. It was a miracle he had kept it together this long, to be quite honest.

“I put Errin in his crib for a nap–don’t worry, one of the nursemaids is in there with him–and I came back and she was just gone. I didn’t even hear her little feet scamper by or anything. I don’t understand it.” Tears were finally forming in his eyes as the realization that he lost their daughter set in.

Slender arms wrapped around his middle, embracing him tightly. “It’s okay, Buzzard. We’ll find her, okay? We’ll look together and we’ll find her.” Even if Aelin was putting on a brave front, he knew she was probably panicking as much as he was. “Besides, she has the bravery of both of her parents so I’m sure she’s totally fine.” Aelin gave him a small smile and pulled him by the hand toward her room.

Gradually, they overturned every cushion, ripped every blanket from her bed, and opened everyy door and drawer but still no Alma. Rowan tugged on his hair, hoping to relieve some of the tension that was building in the pit of his stomach again. Aelin was slowly putting everything back to where it was so he figured he’d go and make another round of their bedroom.

Aelin’s voice halted him about halfway down the hall. “Uh, hey, Buzzard?”

He doesn’t think he ever ran so fast in his life. With panicked eyes, he burst into the room like a tornado. Aelin was standing calmly in the center of the room, looking up at the small curtain rod that hung over Alma’s bed.

“Look there,” she pointed toward the ceiling where a small bird was perched on the curtain rod. A suspiciously golden-looking falcon stared back at him and chirped. The tiny falcon flapped its wings, getting enough air to rise up from its perch and glide down to land on Rowan’s shoulder.

Aelin’s voice was breathless when she spoke, “Is that–”

Rowan nodded. “I think it is.” Rowan brought a single finger up to gently pet the bird’s head, it’s color too close to Alma’s blonde waves for it to be a coincidence.

As his finger stopped its motion, a bright light flashed and then there was a familiar weight in his arms. He was shocked into silence as he beheld Alma sitting in his arms, smiling.

“I was hidin’ Daddy!”

Slowly, so as not to startle her, Rowan brought her into the tightest embrace he could manage without crushing her little bones. “I can see that,” he choked out. When he looked up at Aelin, she had a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She gave him a look that seemed to say, Well, shit.

“Alma, how long have you been able to do that? Turn into a bird?”

“I not just any bird, Daddy! I’s a falcon! Uncle Fen said so!”

“Uncle Fen knew about this?” Alma nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah! He said I should sup’rise you.”

Rowan smiled tightly at his daughter. “Consider me surprised, little falcon.”

His daughter put her tiny hands over her mouth and giggled. The sight made his cold heart melt. But quickly, the severity of the situation overtook him.

“You have to let me know when you’re going to shift, okay? I want to teach you how to fly safely so you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Daddy, you’re bein’ a Buzzard. Jus’ like Mommy always says.”

Rowan’s mouth hung open. Aelin’s cackle could be heard throughout the castle as she doubled over in hysterics.

Eventually, Aelin’s laughter died down and she met his eyes through her tears. I’ll get you back for that, Fireheart.

Mmhm, sure. Not before you murder Fenrys though, right?

Rowan gave a curt nod and pulled his giggling little falcon back into his arms. She placed a tiny hand over the tattoo on his face.

“Daddy, I can’t wait to fly with you! It’s gonna be so much fun.” And with that, she snuggled into his arms once more.

Maybe murdering Fenrys could wait a few more minutes.

A/N: I absolutely loved writing this one and I was squealing from cuteness while doing so 🥹

Tagging:

@cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @backtobl4ck @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127 @tothestarsandwhateverend @highqueenofelfhame

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelinmonth2023 #rowaelin month #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #my fics #my fic

[motherfeyre-archeron]

Everyone: Nyx and Rowaelin daughter are endgame.

Sjm: Bet!

Sjm: *gives us Ruhn and Lidia*

#ruhnlidia #ruhn danaan #lidia cervos #lidia x ruhn #also #what's their ship name #??? #rudia? #cervaan??

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Twenty-One: Scars @rowaelinscourt

Find my Rowaelin Month Masterlist here

warnings: none except a joke of editing, ~1k words

Scars

Aelin sighed as she knelt on the stone floor of the washroom before her daughter.

It was mid afternoon and a gentle splash of sunlight cut through the window just behind them, illuminating the small room just enough.  Wynne, youngest of her small brood and current biggest problem of the castle, sat on an old oak stool with her legs kicking idly out in front of her. The wood clicked and groaned as Wynne wiggled about, unable to stay still.  She was barely five years old but already had enough attitude and energy for Aelin to wonder if it was possible for her daughter to be an exact replica of her. Maybe this was the gods' retribution taking place for all the chaos Aelin had caused in her youth.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Aelin asked. She dipped a rag in a bowl of water and tonic on the ground beside her before slowly raising it to Wynne’s knee.  She’d dismissed the servants not long ago, telling them she'd see to her youngest daughter.  It wasn’t well received.  Especially considering Aelin had cancelled a delegation meeting with an advisor from Doranelle, but she’d just send Ren along with an apology and an old weapon from the stores and all would be forgiven.  Hopefully.

Wynne wiggled again and Aelin reached out to put a steadying hand on her daughter’s shoulder.  It was a firm touch, steady and significant.  She met her Wynne’s eyes—emerald green.

“I was playing,” Wynne said slowly. She held up the edge of her dress and stared at the cut on her knee. Already it was welling with blood.

Aelin began to clean what she could, dabbing at blood and dirt.  She tried to remain gentle, but Wynne flinched all the same.  Her pale hair was falling out of the coronet of braids a maid had put it in just that morning.  Fine wisps fell around the little girl's face in a halo.

“Right, you were playing in the stables which I’ve told you not to do,” Aelin said.

Wynne fisted her dress in her hands and looked down. “Meiri and Fin and Coilin were already playing in there too!”

“And papa is talking to them about that too,” Aelin assured her.  Really the stables were no place for any of the children but Meiri.  At fifteen, the eldest of Aelin’s brood, had begun riding lessons in earnest.  But even if she were learning horse care and how to ride well, she shouldn’t have taken any of her siblings out to the stables.   

Aelin wiped up the blood, being careful when Wynne winced again.

Wynne had yet to display what her magic would be so Aelin didn’t rely on any special healing magic for her daughter.  It wasn’t strange for a fae child to not show any magic, Rowan had assured her.  But even when she was still in the womb, Wynne had been different from all her siblings.  

Aelin worked quickly and efficiently until she wrapped a clean bit of cloth over and around the knee.  Then she leaned over and pressed a kiss to the bandage.

“Now,” Aelin said as she readjusted Wynne’s dress. “What have we said about going to places you're not allowed to go?”

“I wanted to see the baby pony,” Wynne murmured, she clasped her hands before her and looked through her eyelashes at Aelin.

Indeed a new foal had been born just two days ago.  It was wonderful and excited and children just loved when new babies came around.

Aelin sighed. “Why didn't you ask papa or me to take you?”

“You've been busy.”  

The soft admission cut at Aelin and it was her turn to look away.  She remained kneeling at Wynne’s side, running her hand gently over the bandage.  It was true she and Rowan had been busy.  Tensions were running high with the witches even if Manon was an ally.  And then the flooding in Doranelle which was why she was supposed to meet with Ren.  Oh, and a large portion of farmland had been eaten away by locusts that summer.  It was a strange phenomenon that didn’t happen often, but when it did it made things a bit more miserable than usual.

And Aelin had needed to deal with it.  Rowan had been offering services to the training the army and even going on a few expeditions as of late.  He’d long loved the journey and exertion in those sorts of adventures that Aelin couldn’t begrudge him that.

But here was little Wynne who just wanted to see the new foal.

“Oh, darling,” Aelin sighed.  She stood and cupped Wynne’s face in her hands. “Papa and I will always be here for you.  We always want to help you.  But we have these rules for a reason.”

Wynne’s lower lip trembled and Aelin swept her daughter up, holding her closer to her chest.  They stood like that in the small washroom for several minutes.  Long enough for Wynne’s tears to subside and Aelin to hold herself together just a little longer.

She swung Wynne onto one hip, brushing stray hairs from her eyes. 

“Papa and I love you with all our hearts, you know that right?”

Wynne nodded slowly and brought one hand up to Aelin’s cheek.  The touch was gentle and sudden all at once that Aelin could only look into her daughter’s eyes and wait.

“Momma?” Wynne poked at one spot in particular on Aelin’s cheek where she knew was a scar from the war. “Am I gonna have a scar like you?”

Aelin swallowed.  Oh Mala, she hoped not. “I don’t know, love.  Maybe.”

“I just wanna be brave,” Wynne said.  She snuggled herself into the crook of Aelin’s neck and sighed. “Just like you, Momma.”

Tears pricked Aelin’s eyes and she held her daughter tight against her.  This beautiful little soul was already so strong.  She was her own being in a world of voices already so loud and chaotic.  But Aelin knew in her mother’s heart that Wynne would one day do great things.

“You are brave, love,” Aelin said, “brave and wonderful.”

And she meant it.  With all her heart.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

not tagging to try and keep my sanity in tact lol what sanity

#rowaelin #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelinmonth2023 #throne of glass #tog #fanfic

[fanwarriorfictions]

Not Again - Masterlist

Azriel x Rowaelin daughter reader

Summary-

Azriel has a bad habit of finding random females falling onto the River House lawn. This time, the female in question catches him off guard, and she seems to be even stranger than the last.

Warnings-

WIP, canon typical violence, mentions of blood and injuries, angst, eventual spice/smut

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part four

Part five

Part six

Part seven

Part eight

Part nine

Part ten

Part eleven

Part twelve

Tag List-

@inloveallthetime , @microwaveallthedemons , @nayaniasworld , @thecraziestcrayon , @fightmedraco , @blackgirlmagicforever , @nikt-wazny-y , @fangirlloza010 , @thisiskaylin , @wolfgirl624 , @khaleesihavilliard , @fluffy-bnny , @mariahoedt , @durgenyx , @glitterypirateduck , @byyalady , @ghostwritermia , @amberlynn98 , @catecita , @ferrarisbitch , @a-cup-of-nightshade , @breella

#figure it was a good idea to put everything in one place #no idea how many parts this is going to end up being #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin #not again

[shyvioletcat]

ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY EIGHT

~ Single Parent ~ Ah yes, this is always one of my favourite days. This is part two to my Fish are Friends fic, so please enjoy. @rowaelinscourt

~~~~~

“This guy is loaded.”

Aelin snorted at her friend's awed exclamation as she eased off on the accelerator coming up the long, paved driveway. The house wasn’t obnoxiously large, but it was well beyond decent with a pretty facade and well kept gardens. And if the price he had offered initially for her services today was anything to go by, yes Rowan did have money to burn. 

She had waited until she got home to text him back and to say yes to the offer of Ivy’s birthday party, claiming that now she had turned back into a mermaid she could talk mermaid business. With how the girl was so enamoured by the whole mermaid performance Aelin couldn’t even think of saying no. Rowan had immediately come back with a price just under what her gig at the aquarium paid in a fortnight and she stared at it wide eyed for a full minute. She knocked it back, then there was a mildly heated discussion over what the price should be. Rowan was overly generous, and Aelin helped equate the cost by saying she needed to bring a friend along to help her with her costume and they would split it. That had been fine, of course, and why Lysandra was sitting in the passenger seat. 

The car stopped and Lysandra was still peering out the windows trying to get a better look. “His wife, slash girlfriend, slash whatever must be living the life.”

“He’s divorced,” Aelin said, pushing the gear stick into park. 

“That’s an awfully weird thing to find out in a conversation that went for two minutes,” Lysandra added.

Aelin shrugged, seatbelt clicking as it undid. “Well his daughter did demand he kiss me.”

Lysandra paused from where she was checking over her make-up in the sun visor mirror, head turning sharply. “She what?”

“I had to keep the magic alive and I may have told her that I needed a kiss from my true love to stay a mermaid. There was something about a sea witch curse in there too.”

The mirror closed with a snap. “That’s real dedication.”

“Yes it is and that’s why I need you to go knock on the door and suss out where I need to go so Ivy doesn’t know I’m here until I’m dressed. I’m only human between three and six to her knowledge,” Aelin explained, gesturing to the dark wood door.

“I feel like there was an easier way to do this,” Lysandra said.

Aelin shooed her with a gesture of her hand. “I was under pressure, now go.”

Lysandra didn’t answer, just did what she was asked, hopping out of the car and making a show of knocking on the front door. Aelin sunk in her chair a little, ready to hide completely if anyone little appeared at the door. She managed to see an older woman with greying auburn hair look her way as Lysandra pointed to the car. There was some more conversing and then some nodding, and then Lysandra was coming back over to the car. 

She opened the car door and lent in. “So, that lady was Iris and she’s the grandmother. She said all the littlies are inside making bracelets or something so you are all clear to sneak in using the side gate and use the pool house to get ready.” 

“Fantastic,” Aelin replied and didn’t waste any time. Children were unpredictable, who knows when they might choose to stampede outside. “Let’s go.”

The two of them unloaded the gear, managing to get it all gathered together in one load. Tail and accessories in hand, the side gate was easy enough to spot. Aelin led the way, listening out for an excitable little girl who’s birthday she did not want to ruin. Sounds of laughter and music came from inside the house, but Aelin ignored it all and headed straight to the pool house. Luckily, the blinds were down on the floor to ceiling windows saving them the trouble. It was a tidy space, besides the child’s toys stacked in a corner. There were a few lounges, a small kitchenette and a door Aelin assumed led to a bathroom. 

The gear was dumped on one of the lounges and Aelin started to strip off. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

~~~~~

Rowan tried to keep his hand steady even as the little girl in front of him was determined not to stay still. Ivy had begged him to do face painting at her party, and of course he was going to say yes. He had spent the last month practising on paper, his daughter and even his friends when they let him. Rowan had been good to start with, and now he was considering making it a weekend job. Not really, being a deputy principal during the week and being a full time dad was more than enough work for him. But at least it was therapeutic. 

“Hold still for just one more second,” Rowan told the brown haired girl sitting in front of him. She huffed, but listened, the lure of a unicorn horn and ears overriding the need to see what was going on. Adding a few last details on the horn to really give it some sparkle and then he was done. “There.”

Rowan didn’t need to say more than that and the girl was off. He wiped his hands on an old tea towel and was about to refill some of the snack bowls when his mother approached him looking like she was holding in a secret. 

She sidled up close, beckoning him a little closer so Rowan had to lean in as she whispered. “Your mermaid is here.”

“Oh,” Rowan said, taking a look around. “Where?”

“I sent her and her friend to the pool house,” Iris said. “After Ivy’s rave reviews I’m excited to see her myself.”

Because Aelin was all Ivy could talk about and she already fawned over her to anyone who would listen in her select circle of people she chose to talk to. Rowan had kept the mermaid appearance under wraps and he was glad to see his surprise hadn’t been ruined. His daughter was going to lose her mind. 

“Pool time!” Rowan announced to the room, excited squeals drowning out his chance to say anything else. 

Ivy was by his side in a second, pulling at her dress so she could get to the swimsuit she had insisted on wearing underneath. Rowan helped her before he could do some damage, revealing the mermaid scale patterned one piece with a frilly little tutu skirt around her waist.  

“Come on, Dad!” Ivy said, pulling on his hand  and trying to drag him towards the pool.

Rowan smiled at her eagerness. “Hold up, we gotta wait for everyone else to be ready.”

That didn’t take long at all and it was only about 10 minutes later that everyone was crowded around the new location for gathering. To help ease the minds of the parents he’d paid a couple of his friends to be honorary lifeguards. In the end he had chosen Connall and Vaughan, and it had taken some heavy consideration. Lorcan was out because his lack of care and observation might just end in disaster. Fenrys’ sole purpose would be showing off shirtless in front of the mums and anyone else who found themselves interested, and Rowan needed the children in the water to be the priority. And even though Vaughan had similar motives, he would at least include the supervision of the children in his displays. Connall was the easy decision because, besides Rowan himself, he was the most level headed and had more than an ounce of common sense. 

“Excuse me.”

Rowan turned at the unfamiliar voice behind him. A stunning brunette who he did not recognise stood there. She didn’t have the look of one of the parents and she wasn’t a caterer—she was dressed too casually for that. It had him wondering who she was.

“Hi, I’m sorry but…”

“Oh, Lysandra,” she said, a hand on her chest. “Friend of Aelin.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Rowan extended his hand for a handshake which was returned. 

“Likewise,” Lysandra said. “Aelin is ready but we’ve hit a bit of a snag.”

“How so?” Trying not to sound too panicked at the potential flow in his party plans.

“Um, she can’t exactly walk out of there.”

Rowan felt the confusion on his face as he tried to figure it out. 

Lysandra smiled. “She doesn’t have legs.”

“Oh, right,” Rowan said, laughing a little. “What do you need me to do?”

“It’s a good thing you at least look strong,” Lysandra said, beckoning Rowan to follow. 

“Mam, can you watch Ivy and the pool,” Rowan threw over his shoulder—her affirmative answer sounding as he headed towards the pool house. 

The blinds were closed and Rowan did one last check of the pool before he ducked into the building right behind Lysandra. Aelin sat on one of the lounges in her full get-up, tail and seashells and the make-up that had her face sparkling. Once again, he was struck by how beautiful this woman was, it was an impossible thing not to notice.

“Nice to see you again,” she said with a little wave. 

“You too,” Rowan said, then hastily added. “And thank you. For doing this.”

“Anything for the kids, right?” Aelin said. 

“Speaking of, should we get to it?” Rowan asked.

Aelin gave a flourish of her hands down the length of her body. “By all means.”

Rowan tried not to be awkward as he bent down and scooped Aelin up bridal style, she even draped her arms around his neck. The tail made her stiffer than other women he’d carried like this, but he managed. 

“If you could get the door?” Rowan asked Lysandra. 

“Of course.”

Rowan was concentrating so hard as he stepped through the doorway, trying his best not to knock Aelin’s head or tail. She must have been concerned as well because her grip tightened and she hugged herself closer to him. He managed it all without incident and brought them safely into the sun. 

“Look who I found in the bathtub!” Rowan announced, drawing the attention of the party. Ivy’s exclamation of Aelin rang out over all of it. He lowered his voice so only Aelin could hear. “Where do you want me to set you down?”

“Shallow end, by the steps,” Aelin replied quietly before turning her attention to the party. “I heard it was someone’s birthday.”

Rowan set Aelin down and Ivy was there a heartbeat later. 

“It’s me, Aelin. It’s my birthday,” Ivy said nearly climbing onto the mermaid. 

Aelin graciously took it all in her stride, wrapping her arm around the girl. “I couldn’t miss that.”

Within moments Aelin had control of the party, all the kids flocking to her and her magnetic energy. Rowan left her to it, heading outside the pool fence to grab himself a drink. He grabbed a beer from the cooler in the kitchen before returning to the back patio to watch the show. There was no doubt in his mind that Aelin would be putting on a performance if her work at the aquarium was anything to go by. 

“Dude, you got a mermaid?” That overly question came from Fenrys, who had appeared next to Rowan, face still decorated with a large rainbow and a collection of stars. Ivy had insisted her uncle get his face painted and like everyone else in her life, he hadn’t refused. “She looks legit. Where’d you find her?”

“The aquarium,” Rowan answered before taking a sip from the beer bottle in his hand. 

“I don’t know if you’re kidding or not,” Fenrys said. 

That made Rowan laugh. “I’m being serious. She works at the aquarium, and Ivy fell in love with her the other day. I asked her if she did private functions and she said yes.”

“Private functions? That sounds shifty as hell,” Fenrys added. 

Rowan thought for a moment, recalling how Aelin had stalled and the awkwardness had skyrocketed. It was nearly enough to make him flush with embarrassment again. 

“Yeah, I realised my error in wording pretty quickly,” Rowan admitted. 

“How much did she cost?”

That voice was female and accusatory, it made Fenrys grimace sympathetically before he left Rowan to deal with answering. He turned around, finding his ex-wife just behind him, glaring in the direction of the pool before her eyes darted back to him. Waiting. 

Strained was an apt description to describe the relationship between him and Lyria. They had been high school sweethearts that decided to get married before they knew anything of the world. They’d stuck it out years longer than they should have, divorce had been up for discussion when they’d found out Lyria was pregnant. It hadn’t helped the already precarious relationship and by the time Ivy was two Rowan found himself a first year teacher and a single father with majority custody. He had been ready to fight for Ivy but it was an obvious choice considering the stability and flexibility of his job. Rowan was guaranteed a job with manageable hours, he’d have school breaks off, and with the money he made plus what he had from his family to back him, allocating him as primary carer was an easy choice. It just left him open to continual criticism over the choices he made about raising his daughter, especially when it came to money. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Rowan said. “She’s made Ivy’s day, what’s more important than that?”

Lyria hummed her objection, her gaze darting over to their daughter again at a bright burst of laughter. “You need to stop throwing money at things just to make her happy. She’ll grow up with a skewed view of the world, not knowing what the real world is like.”

Rowan resisted rolling his eyes. They’d had this discussion before, and they’d have it again. She always accused him of spoiling their daughter in the worst way. And maybe he did, to an extent, but Rowan was also sensible to a fault as his friend’s like to point out. 

“We figured it out, and so will she,” Rowan said. “Hopefully sooner than we did, hmm?”

He left Lyria to muse over that, not wanting to have this fight and potentially ruin the party. Rowan decided his time was better spent refilling the snack bowls and checking the cake hadn’t been damaged in the fridge. Once those menial tasks were done and his beer finished, Rowan wandered to the poolside again. 

Aelin was in the water now, showing the kids how she swam from one end to the other with her tail. It wasn’t just the kids watching either, like at the aquarium she had the whole crowd entranced. Rowan took up a spot on the transparent fence waiting to see what Aelin might be up to next. She’d stopped swimming and sat on one of the pool steps, from her hips down in the water. Bubble bottles had been conjured from somewhere and all the kids sat in a row having a competition to see who could blow the biggest one. Aelin pursed her lips, bubble wand poised in her hands. He was again struck by how beautiful she was, and just as he had been that day at the aquarium Rowan found it hard to look away. 

The makeup she wore still remained intact depite he time in the water, the gold shimmer around her eyes highlighting their unusual colour. What had him damn near entranced was her smile, it seemed to brighten her entire being. Rowan felt like he was getting dangerously close to leering—respectfully—when he was interrupted.

“Not, bad Ro. Not bad at all,” Fenrys said, his only reply was an eye roll. “You don’t have to dent it, mermaids are hot.”

“I didn’t know you had that much experience,” Rowan quipped back. 

“I’ve been chatting to her friend. Did you know she’s a mermaid too?” Fenrys asked.

“I did not,” Rowan replied flatly. 

“Well, she is. And just like your friend here, she’s smoking. You did me a solid favour,” Fenrys went on to say. 

Rowan sent his friend a questioning look. “What does that mean?”

Fenrys backed away, shrugging his shoulders and giving Rowan a conspiratorial wink to an unknown conspiracy.    

Ivy saved him from being made to suffer through more idiocy, her damp hand patting his forearm where it rested on the top of the fence. “Daddy, I need to ask you something.”

Rowan stepped back so that he could lean down a little closer. “What is it, love?”

“Um, can I… wait. No, can you—“

Ivy’s rambling had him confused but half a second later it was all made clear. A wave of water hit him, drenching his head and arms, the rest of him saved by the protection of the fence. Ivy was caught in it too, but she just cheered and laughed, trying to clap but the floaties on her arms stopped her hands from meeting fully. Rowan wiped the water from his face and saw Aelin swimming away, smiling and sending him a wink. Rowan let out a chuckle at the antics, grinning broadly at the uncontrollable giggles bubbling out of Ivy. 

“We got him!” Ivy squealed and then launched herself back in the pool. 

He saw on Aelin’s face the mirror of his own lurching gut as Ivy hit the water. She knew how to swim of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to throw her a pool party if she didn’t, but most confidently with assistance. The concern for her safety was hard to shake, and luckily Aelin was right there, arms out to keep the girl’s head well and truly above water. 

Rowan had no idea how Aelin was able to do everything she did without sinking to the bottom of the pool. If he had his legs bound together he would not be doing so well. His shirt was clinging to him uncomfortably and decided to change. So he left his daughter to the mermaid, knowing that she was in safe hands. Or maybe that was fins.

~~~~~

Aelin hadn’t expected to have this much fun at a kids birthday party. It might have been because Ivy was just so stinking cute and enthralled by the whole mermaid thing that it was hard not to be infected by it as well. Or it might have been because the pay was just that good it was an immediate mood booster. Aelin had expected it to be the latter, when in fact it was the former. 

She had been in the pool for a good two hours, playing around and telling stories. When the kids started to shiver the parents had dutifully begun to dry them off. With the afternoon sun fading behind the clouds it was hard to keep warm, and that included Aelin. Her tail offered no insulation and just made the situation worse. Even though the kids begged for more entertainment while drying off or returning to the poolside, Aelin could feel the goosebumps on her skin even when she tried to ignore them. Soon she would start shivering and she was sure her lips would start turning blue. There was a lull in the activity around her and Aelin looked around for Lysandra or at least Rowan, hoping to flag either one of them down to get some help getting out of the pool. 

Neither was within Aelin’s sight, and a shudder went from head to hip, everything lower down completely immobile. She needed to get out of her tail, and fast. Looking around again Aelin spied Ivy talking to a woman sitting on one of the pool chairs. Her brown hair was wavy and her gentle face seemed to hang on every work Ivy said. If Aelin were to hazard a guess, she would say that woman was the girl’s mother. 

“Ivy,” Aelin called, her voice catching because she was just that cold. “Hey, Ivy.”

That time Ivy heard her, quickly walking over because she had announced more than once that her father said there was no running around the pool. “Hi, Aelin.”

“Sweetie, I wonder if you could find your dad for me,” Aelin said. 

“Yeah, I can.” The little girl was excited and easy to please. 

But on the way past the woman stopped Ivy, catching her by the hand. “We should get you dried off for cake.”

Aelin nearly groaned, because that was enough to divert Ivy attention completely. Watching Ivy being led away Aelin started cursing her friend who had somehow entirely disappeared without a trace. She kept looking over the various adults milling around and moving into the semi alfresco dining area readying for cake. Never spotting Lysandra, Aelin eyed the cement around the pool and contemplated the damage to her skin and tail if she had to crawl her way back to the pool house. The children might just die from shock if she stripped off her tail here. 

The chorus of ‘happy birthday’ sang out from the house and Aelin peered through the crowd to see Ivy beaming at her expertly mermaid themed decorated cake. This was now ridiculous. Lysandra knew the kid even less than Aelin did, if she was in there singing along and hoping for a slice of cake while she was freezing her tits off out here.

“Where is she?” Aelin muttered as she wrapped her arm around herself. 

This silicone tail might be the death of her. All she could do was be resigned to her fate. Aelin zoned out, keeping her body distracted and warm as she could by flicking her tail through the water. The sound of the pool gate creaking had her looking over and found Rowan approaching, a plate in hand. 

“I brought you some cake,” he said.

“Thanks,” Aelin replied, voice unsteady. 

That was enough to stop Rowan in his tracks, and Aelin watched his eyes dart over her. “You’re blue.”

“It’s turquoise, actually,” Aelin said, pushing a lock of damp hair out of the way. 

Rowan put the cake on one of the pool chairs. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. What didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried to send Ivy to you but she got distracted,” she nodded over at the cake. “By cake.”

Rowan just shook his head, motioning for her to get ready to be picked up. Aelin bent her knees the best she could now that her legs were stiff and cold, and let herself be scooped up. He carried her back to the pool house, Aelin holding on tight while there was some awkward manoeuvring around the door handle. 

“Where’s best?” Her saviour asked. 

Aelin couldn’t stop the whole body shiver. “Uhh, here. I just need to get this tail off.”

Rowan obliged, easing her down onto the couch. It was difficult and awkward but Aelin rolled to the side and started battling with her zipper. Her cold and numb fingers were completely useless, all they did was slip and fumble. When she swore viciously she heard Rowan halt in his exit. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

Aelin gave up and flopped onto her stomach, she had never felt more like a fish in her whole career as a mermaid. “I can’t get out of my godsdamned tail.”

“Oh. Should I go see if I can find your friend?”

“No.” Aelin blurted out, quite loudly and on the wrong side of desperation. She was ready to start begging. “I need it off, now. Can you help me?”

~~~~~

Rowan just stood there, blinking down at the mermaid sprawled out on his couch. He could see goosebumps raised on her exposed skin, she was obviously freezing. The smartest option was to go and find her friend because he had never once in his life removed anything close to this tail. He didn’t know how, didn’t know where to begin. 

“I feel like this isn’t a job for me,” Rowan said. 

“I feel like a literal popsicle, and I’m not beyond begging right now,” Aelin said, and he swore that her teeth were chattering. 

“If you insist,” Rowan said, leaning down and finding the top of the zipper. 

It might have been the most impressive zipper he had ever seen, sturdy and strong, it had to be to hold the silicone together. Awkwardly unfortunate for him, it sat tight over her ass and it was hard not to touch it in the process. At least the materials were thick and Rowan told himself that was the firmness he was feeling. He tugged the tail down, but everything came to a rushing stop when he caught sight of what Aelin wore underneath. Peeking through the gap between the zipper sides near the top of her hips was a dark blue thong.

“Is it stuck?” Aelin asked with a glance over her shoulder.

Rowan felt his face flush, only deepening his embarrassment. “Ah, no.”

She laughed, maybe at him, maybe it was the situation. “I’m not shy.”

And by the gods did he believe that. Rowan ignored the flaming in his cheeks and the hint of a broad grin on Aelin’s face as she turned back around. “I’ll, uh… close my eyes then.”

Like he said he would, Rowan kept his eyes closed and let the zipper run its natural course. And then he didn’t know where else he was supposed to try and extract it. 

“You have to pull at the hips and then work your way down, then do it all again until it comes all the way off,” she explained. 

“Right,” Rowan said. That would be mighty hard to do with his eyes closed. 

But Rowan gave it his best effort, fumbling between closed eyes and squinting. When there was a tug that gave way more than he was expecting on instinct his eyes opened, a hand flying out to stop himself from falling right on top of Aelin. His hand was lucky, his eyes not so much. He copped an eyeful. 

Just as quickly he shut them, but the damage was done. He wouldn’t be forgetting that sight any time soon. Rowan went back to his task and in the end when she was free enough Aelin ended up kicking the tail off herself. Respectfully he kept his eyes down, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“There’s a shower you can use, it’ll get you warmed up,” he offered. “There’s clean towels and everything in there.”

“Thank you,” Aelin said. 

Rowan left her to it, and even though she’d undoubtedly take a shower he was still concerned. Back inside the party had died down, mainly just family remaining, so he went to the kitchen and turned the kettle on. While that boiled he went upstairs and retrieved a hoodie. The day had started out fairly warm but without the sun the atmosphere had begun to chill. If she didn’t bring anything with her she’d just catch te cold again. 

By the time he got back down to the kitchen the kettle was done and he filled a mug with water, along with grabbing a few selections of teas. No one noticed him leave and head back to the pool house. Most thankfully Ivy remained oblivious. She was better off not knowing Aelin was out there un-mermaidified and the magic be ruined at the end of such a perfect day. 

Rowan knocked and heard a faint Come in. Aelin was sitting on the couch, dressed in leggings and a loose shirt. She was drying her hair with a towel, looking much better than she had a few minutes before. 

“I brought you some tea,” Rowan said, gesturing to the mug. “And a jumper if you needed it.”

“Thank you.” Aelin took both and slipped the hoodie right over her head. The hood caught on her head and the rest of the fabric drowned her. But she at least looked warm and content. 

Rowan offered the teabags and Aelin took a few moments to decide. She picked and dropped the bag into the awaiting water. 

“You did a great job today,” Rowan offered. “Although you didn’t have to go as one as you did.” 

Aelin picked up the string and bobbed the tea bag up and down. “How could I not? Ivy was having such a good time.”

“Still, it wasn’t something to risk your health over.”

“Not the worst situation I’ve been in,’ Aelin said, taking a sip of her tea and sighed. 

The door opened suddenly and for one sickening moment Rwan thought Ivy might have tracked him down. But instead it was Lysandra, turning up from who knew where to finally help out her friend. 

“Where have you been?” Aelin demanded, putting down her tea. 

Lysandra gave a noncommittal twist of her shoulders. “Here and there.”

“I nearly died,” Aelin said drastically. 

Lysandra actually shot Rowan before looking back at Aelin. “I am sure that’s not what happened.”

“You know what?” Rowan said, cutting through the building tension. “Why don’t I keep an eye out and you guys can head off?”

“Great idea,” Aelin said, putting her mug on the low table and pointing a damning finger at her friend. “If you think you’re getting a cut of the money you’re severely mistaken. You did nothing for me today.”

Lysandra actually laughed at her friend’s theatrics and Rowan decided this would be the best time to leave. He went and stood by the corner of the pool fence where he had a good view of anyone who might be coming outside. It wasn’t long before Aelin and Lysandra left the pool house, a hissed conversation passing between them as they headed for the side gate. Just before disappearing around the side of the house aelin stopped, giving him a broad smile and a wave. Waving back, he had to admit that he was sorry they hadn;t had more time to chat. 

As Rowan watched her disappear from sight he was disappointed that he didn’t have another excuse to see Aelin again. Maybe he would have to take another trip to the aquarium just to see what might happen next if he by pure chance she was there too. 

~~~~~

I’m currently in a quirky hotel room and posting from my iPad so I’m not even going to attempt the disaster that is tagging at the moment.

#To the very excited anon #Work was way busier than I expected today #But here it is!

[mariaofdoranelle]

Fake It Till You Make It

Rowaelin Month masterlist

@rowaelinscourt

I got my driver’s license this year, so I wrote this a few weeks ago for today because I’m kinda invested in DMV horror stories loll

Warnings: language

Words: 1,2k

For Rowan, becoming an employee at the Department of Motor Vehicles—also known as DMV—was a fairly easy process. He was unemployed, they had spots open, all the pieces fell right into place.

The hard part was staying in this damn job.

He grabbed the information of the next applicant he was going to examine. A 62-year-old woman who failed her driver’s license exam five times. Rowan tensed. As long as she didn’t kill anyone with that car, it’d be alright.

He crossed the threshold between the restricted area for employees and the waiting room, stepping inside that crowded space that reeked of cheap room deodorizers.

“Evalin Ashryver?” he called over the low chatter.

The woman who approached him was… not what he expected. Apart from the gray roots in her hair and conservative clothing, this woman didn’t look 62 years old at all.

"Ma'am, can I see your ID?"

The charming smile she gave him hit Rowan right between the legs. He looked away, waiting while she searched her purse. Holy rutting Mala, he needed to get a grip. The woman was old enough to be his mother.

She handed him the ID, and Rowan held it right by the woman's side to examine it.

She looked like the same person in the ID, but not quite. In the picture, the nose was a bit different, and it showed more signs of her age. Sagging skin, a few more wrinkles. But is there anything doctors couldn't do these days? It was the exact same shade of blonde hair, the exact same blue eyes with golden hues.

He cleared his throat and handed back the document.

“Ma’am don’t get me wrong, but…” Rowan trailed, carefully selecting his next words. “You should consider replacing your ID.”

Evalin tilted her head, exposing her neck that looked way too smooth and lickable for someone twice his age. “Is something wrong with it?”

“Your fillers.” Rowan gestured to his own face with a swift twirl of his finger. “It could confuse a security agent.”

Her grin was bright, assuring him that she wasn’t embarrassed. "I have a very good doctor, thanks."

Evalin's slow smile built, her eyes studying his biceps and shoulders.

Was this unbelievably hot old lady flirting with him? Rowan took a step back and gestured for her to walk ahead of him. He didn't mind her age, but he also noticed the wedding ring on her finger.

Rowan cleared his throat and led her to the garage. He braced himself when she started the car, his stomach as hard as his muscles felt tight, but the deadly driving he expected never came. It was actually smooth, and the car didn’t stall once.

Weird. That was the kind of conduct he expected from an experienced driver, not someone who failed this test five times.

He narrowed his eyes at Evalin, studying her relaxed posture. "I see you’re not nervous.” Rowan was sure of it, but his tone made it sound like a question. It was strange, seeing a repeater so at ease when most of them reeked of terror and anxiety.

"I had lots of practice with my daughter." Evalin wiggled her eyebrows. "She's single, you know?"

Rowan froze. Something dawned on him, an odd gut feeling, but it made him inspect that woman further.

"Is she?"

"Yep. Her name's Aelin. I can't show you a picture now, but she looks a lot like me." Evalin—was that really her name?—winked. "But with cuter clothes."

Rowan gestured for her to take a turn to the left—not the regular path the DMV used for this exam. Evalin didn't seem to notice this change, which was unusual for someone who was doing this for the sixth time.

"And I'm assuming your daughter was very invested in your exam?"

"Aelin's the most wonderful person who ever existed." She let out an affectionate sigh. "She's clever, fascinating, very, very talented. Not to mention that she's a rare, staggering beauty."

“I’m sure she is,” Rowan sneered with his arms crossed. That woman couldn’t be serious.

He told her to make another atypical turn. Another one she didn't question. Another one she did with too much ease for someone who historically struggled to drive.

She didn’t even pretend to have a hard time. That woman—who wasn’t Evalin, and he suspected it was her daughter—was so confident about this she didn’t even notice Rowan gave her the directions to the nearest police station.

"Can you parallel park in front of this building, please?"

She did it in a matter of seconds, on her first try.

"How did I do?" she asked with a big, smug smile. Aelin had no clue about the route she was supposed to do for this exam, but at least she knew that parallel parking was the last part.

Instead of answering, Rowan swept a finger against her hair.

It came out with gray paint.

He gave her a bored look. "Fake gray roots? Seriously?"

She crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. "It's blonde spray to cover gray roots. You're colorblind."

"And you're under arrest for identity theft."

Her mouth fell open, and it took a second before she yelled, "You're from the DMV, you can't arrest me!"

"That's why we came to the police station." He left the passenger side, rounded the car and opened the driver's door. "Come on, Aelin."

"It's Evalin."

"Aelin."

"E-va-lin," she repeated as if he were mentally disabled.

“Well, E-va-lin, can you please explain your identity issue to a police officer?”

Aelin leaned back on the driver’s seat and crossed her arms. Her head was cocked to the side, her lips pursed as her probing gaze focused on him for a moment.

"If you don't snitch on me, I'll let you take me on a date."

He raised his brows, surprised by this offer. "What makes you think I'll accept that?"

"Because not every man gets to take me out, and you'd rather do that than spend your evening filling all the paperwork it takes to explain why you took an examinee to the police station."

To be honest, she had a point.

Rowan hated this job. He didn't give a fuck about it, especially since most people forgot every driving rule the second they got their license. Aelin committed a crime, but who didn't? As far as he knew, she wasn't a serious threat to society.

"Get off the car."

She sighed, shoulders slumped in resignation, but complied. However, he stopped her as soon as she closed the car door.

"Are you vegan?"

"What?" She blinked. "No, I'm not," Aelin said in an uncertain tone.

"Good. Meet me at Emrys' Steak House at seven." He gripped the door handle to get back to the DMV, but before he left, Rowan looked her up and down and said, "I'm not expecting sex, but please don't wear your mother's clothes."

“Oh.” Aelin perked up, her eyes sparkling this time. “Okay. Did mom pass?"

That bold question made him snort. “I didn't even meet her, so no.”

She smirked. "You wanna meet my parents already? That was fast."

Rowan shook his head in disbelief and got in the car, but not without watching Aelin walk away from him, her hips swaying since she knew he was watching.

There was no way someone could look this good in her mother’s granny clothes. Rowan drove away with a smirk on his face.

If that woman could flip his boring morning routine on the DMV like this, he couldn’t wait to see what she’d pull tonight.

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#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #rowaelin month

[highqueenofelfhame]

rowaelin // 5.8k words // masterlist // ciwyw masterlist let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing :) i hope you enjoy <3 i can't wait to see all your comments. y'all are kILLING me with them on this one.

As much as he knew he shouldn’t be, Rowan was drunk. Again. 

Tomorrow they had a match against Adarlan on Doranelle’s home field. While Rowan laid on his back,  staring at the ceiling fan above him with a full half-empty bottle of whiskey resting on his stomach, he knew they were going to lose. Not because Adarlan was better or because they wanted it more, but because Rowan was a selfish piece of shit and couldn’t put the bottle down. There was no way he would be in any condition to play tomorrow— at least not well. 

Burying his sorrows at the bottom of the bottle seemed like the better alternative until he could figure out how to repair what he had catastrophically obliterated. It had been a full week with no word from Aelin. Not a single one of those days had passed without him sending an apology text into the void. There had even been a few voicemails Wednesday night that went unanswered. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was erasing them without bothering to listen. He deserved that much. 

Rowan Whitethorn had never had social media. Ever. Not even in high school when it was just becoming a cool thing to do. Nobody needed to know that much about his life. At this point in his career, his agent and PR team begged him to do it because it would garner him more popularity. Even Lorcan posted on instagram from time to time and kept everyone happy. 

The thing that finally drove Rowan to making an instagram account was stalking Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. It was easier for his thumbs to scroll through her feed while nursing sips of whiskey, trying not to double tap on any pictures. He was pathetic enough— Aelin didn’t need to be aware of his sulking and pining. 

This all came after he googled her name paired with various words like ‘spouse,’ ‘husband,’ ‘wife,’ and ‘wedding.’ Nothing came back with a result, but it had been lurking in his mind when she didn’t answer his question earlier. Besides, Rhoe Galathynius very well could have been her father-in-law. As it were, she wasn’t married, and Evalin and Rhoe only had one child: their daughter. At least if she was married, there was no record of it. No photos of her in an elegant white gown standing next to the love of her life. 

Good. He could deal with that. 

What he couldn’t deal with was the photos of her in bikinis, arms wrapped around the waists of other men. She was nestled between the pair on the deck of a yacht all three of them with wide smiles and sunglasses covering their eyes. Her bathing suit looked more like lingerie and Rowan had never wished so hard for summer to come back around than he was right then. 

There were pictures of her with a stunning brunette woman, both of them dressed in finery or night-out attire depending on where they were headed. Aelin with a full face of makeup, with sultry dark eyes and a full pouty lip was enough to drive him into madness. 

He found photographs from holidays with her family, Aelin perched on a couch in comfy clothes and thick socks with Aedion Ashryver standing behind her. Further down her page he found the ones from years ago of her on Aedion’s shoulders after he won some match or another. It was captions Always my hero. 

Lower and lower he went until he finally hit her first post: a simple kingsflame flower from nine years ago with the caption Fireheart. He supposed that was where she garnered the name for her foundation. Gods above, she was incredible. A super-hero amongst ordinary women. 

Rowan scrolled back towards the top of her instagram, all the way back to the most recent one. It was from their day downtown, when they had bought a piece of chocolate hazelnut cake and sat outside the bakery. Aelin was laughing around her thumb that she held between her teeth. At that moment, he had been teasing her about getting the frosting everywhere. Behind the camera he was smiling just as brilliantly as she was. The light in her eyes, her smile, the utter joy that radiated off of her… It was enough to make him breathless all over again. 

“Fuck,” he murmured to himself, heart squeezing and soul dying at how absurdly beautiful she was. It didn’t seem fair. Everything about her was perfect. Not just outside, but inside, too.  Aelin Galathynius was the most selfless and loving person he had ever met. Inside and out, she shone with the light of a thousand suns. It made it impossible to look away and broke his heart that he had driven her away so sharply.

“M’such a bloody dobber,” he mumbled, zooming in on her face as close as it would get, until she was little more than a monochromatic cluster of pixels, none of her features distinguishable. 

The phone fumbled where he held it over his face, falling directly onto it. Rowan swore, the taste of metal blooming over his tongue where his tooth had cut through his lip. Worse than that, though, was when he noticed the giant heart that appeared in the center of the picture he’d been staring at. 

Rowan had accidentally liked it. Just as quickly, he unliked it and tossed his phone to the other end of the couch. Jail. He needed to be in phone jail. 

It had over ten thousand likes and three hundred comments. There was a chance she would never notice the notification appearing and disappearing. She might never notice. It didn’t stop the ice creeping into his veins, though. The idea that she would realize how utterly pathetic he was, as if all the texts weren’t indication enough. 

Rowan swore violently under his breath and grabbed his phone again. With bleary, bloodshot eyes he opened their text thread to send off another message. Just as his fingers started their drunken dance over the letters once again, his phone began to ring loudly. The vibration shook him to his core as he beheld the name flashing on his screen, a photo of the two of them laying on her couch flashing in front of him. The sight of it knocked the wind out of him. 

Aelin. 

Fuck. Shit. Mala fucking fry him. 

“Hello?” he said, breathless like he’d been running a marathon. 

“Hi.” Aelin’s voice was quiet. Rowan could imagine her sitting in the middle of her couch, a tv show paused. 

“I am so sorry, baby,” he began, letters and syllables stringing together with no space between. “I need to explain, to—”

“Did you just like that picture on my instagram?”

“I…” it was long and drawn out as he squinted at the ceiling, trying to find a way out of it. There wasn’t one. Heat crept up his neck and bloomed over his cheeks like rose petals. “Ye-yeah. That was me.”

“Are you drunk?” was her follow up question. On the other end of the phone it sounded like she was rolling over in bed. Gods, he would love to be wrapped up in bed with her. The expanse of her golden skin under his hands wasn’t beat out by anything, not even football. 

“No,” was his quick response. 

“You sound drunk.” It was impossible to tell what, exactly, her emotions were. Rowan swallowed thickly, setting the bottle on the coffee table and nudging it out of reach. 

“I sound like a pathetic bastard that ruined something perfect.” 

“You’re definitely drunk.” If Rowan wasn’t positive that she hated him, he might mistake her tone as amusement. 

“I miss you. And I’m sorry,” he paused to hiccup, “And I want you to tell me what to do to fix what I’ve broken.” A heavy, resigned sigh came through the phone and Rowan froze.

“Start with sobering up–” Fuck. She was going to hang up, and he had blown his only chance at making things right. Shit.

“Don’t hang up,” Rowan pleaded, lip tucking between his bottom teeth while he waited for her to respond. 

“Get some sleep and win your game tomorrow. After that… maybe we can talk.” If that was what it took, then yes. A thousand times yes he would do both of those things. Anything to get her to talk to him, anything so he could hold her, feel her lips on his skin, taste her and feel her beneath him.

“Do you promise?” A schoolyard thing to say, but he couldn’t help it. The gift of hearing her voice again after an entire week of deafening silence was the most beautiful thing he could ever imagine hearing. If he could, he’d bottle it up and get drunk off it. It was better than any alcohol, any drug. 

“I promise,” she replied, and Rowan swore he heard a hint of laughter weaving between each letter of those two, simple words. That couldn’t be right, though. Aelin was mad at him. They wouldn’t be laughing together anytime soon.

“Okay.” It felt stupid to say, but it was the only word he could find. 

“Okay.” Aelin’s voice was still soft and told him nothing of the status of his forgiveness, or if he needed to beg on his knees and worship her as penance. He would never, ever stop if that was what she required. “Goodnight, Rowan.” 

The line went dead before he could say anything else and a new zap of determination electrified his blood. If she wanted a win, she would get it. But he had to get sober first. 

With a pained groan, he pulled himself upright. A few deep breaths later the room wasn’t spinning quite so quickly and he was able to stumble to the kitchen. The smell of coffee made his nose wrinkle when he opened the bag. It quickly filled the space of the kitchen as he dumped the beans into the grinder, wincing at the shriek it made. Coffee and bread would help sober him up, and then he would focus on fluid intake to not be a useless sack of meat on the field tomorrow. 

He leaned against his counter, ignoring incoming messages from his teammates checking on him, and shoved half a piece of bread into his mouth. A cold shower would wake him up, and tons of water and painkillers before bed would help the hangover tomorrow. 

Anything Aelin wanted, he would give her. Starting tomorrow night by defeating the Adarlan Wyverns and handing it to her on a silver platter. 

When he finally drifted off to sleep, his phone screen was still illuminated in his palm: that final photo he’d taken of her at the bakery wearing a smile just for him. 

~*~

As soon as she took one step into the Neon Moon, she found Connall looking over at her with a healthy dose of surprise in his eyes. Aelin moved through the crowd that had gathered to watch the game, managing to snag a single barstool in front of the beer tap. 

“Water, please,” she half-shouted over the loud voices filling the room. As soon as it was in her hands she took a long drink before placing it down on a napkin in front of her. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” A crooked grin spread across his face and he leaned forward on his forearms. “Watching the game?” 

“Against my better judgment,” she sighed, ruffling her fingers through her hair. Now that she knew that he played for Doranelle, she just couldn’t miss it. Had she known from the get-go, there wouldn’t have been a single game that she missed. Even if it meant she’d be catching up on work during the short commercial breaks. “How much do you know?”

“Oh just… everything.” 

Aelin groaned and looked up at the ceiling. She wasn’t upset that he’d told his friends, his support system. Rowan needed that, just like she did. Though she had yet to tell her family, she was going to do it soon. Maybe tomorrow or the day after. Some of the dust had to settle with Rowan first. 

Though she was content to let him stew for a few more days, the single like she’d gotten from an account called actuallywhitethorn made her pick up the phone. A result of her doom-scrolling before bed, the notification had dropped from the top of her screen. By the time she clicked her notification icon, that particular like from that specific account was gone. It was like fate, she decided, for her to have seen it in its brevity. If he was miserable and pining enough to accidentally like an instagram picture, it wouldn’t hurt to call him. So she did.

At first, she didn’t know what to say, but as he talked it became more and more clear that he was very drunk. All his words had melded into one long syllable, and the fact that he was likely drinking away his feelings and problems had tugged at her heart. He really was adorable when he was drunk, calling her baby and trying his hardest to apologize, begging her not to hang up the phone. As much as she really did want to talk to him, it wasn’t a conversation to have while he was only half-aware. The apology she deserved needed to come from his sober lips, not drunk, loose ones.

After they hung up, Aelin had decided she would go to the bar to watch the game. It didn’t seem like a feat she could conquer at home alone on her couch. Even with Lysandra a phone call away, it felt too big to do on her own. The bar made sense.

“Congratulations?” Connall offered, and it was the first time she’d really picked up on any shyness or hesitancy from the man. 

“Thank you.” It was still so new, so foreign. The racing of her thoughts hadn’t died down about it yet, her emotions didn’t have a full grasp on the situation. “How is he?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.” Kind of. If his texts were any inclination to his mental state, he was having a rough go of things at the moment. “Feels like a piece of shite.”

“Yeah, well.” That was a little deserved after what he’d said to her. Connall didn’t seem to disagree, merely shrugging as he followed her eyes to the television.

The game had been on for fifteen minutes, and Doranelle had scored one point. Adarlan had nothing. It was a bit of a feat to score so early on in the game, showing just how skilled Rowan and his teammates were. A camera zoomed in on the players, a towering, dark-haired man with a glove tucked under his arm, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face. Aelin’s eyes widened and her head whipped toward Connall when the spitting image of him appeared on the screen. The only difference was the color of the curls: Connall’s were black, his brother’s golden. 

“You have a twin?” By way of answer, Connall merely winked and nodded back at the TV where Rowan had come into view. His uniform for home games was navy blue with white letters. Hands braced on his hips, he joined his teammates where they talked. It was only when he turned around that she saw how horrible he looked. 

Though his skin was golden brown as ever, his face was ashen. Dark circles clung beneath his eyes and his bottom lip was swollen and scabbed over. The sweat gathering at his temples didn’t do anything at all to make him look well, if anything he just looked sicker. 

“Whitethorn looks a bit… peaky,” Connall said cautiously, the corners of his lips tugging downward into a scowl.

“As drunk as he was when I called him last night, that makes perfect sense.” She was frowning, too. The most put together part of him was his hair, the single french braid down the center until it all met in a mess of a bun on the top of his head. 

As soon as the whistle blew, he inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. That was when the cameras zoomed back out to take in the entire field, all the players getting into position. Aelin watched closely, one eye on the ball and the other always aware of where Rowan was in the frame.

For a while, it was a lot of passing back and forth, working up and down the field, the ball getting stolen one way or the other. Once, Adarlan got close to scoring but the goalie for Doranelle was quick to block it and pass it back down the field. Another of Rowan’s teammates was quick to get it back toward the Adarlan goal. It was passed back and forth between a few as they worked further and further down the pitch until a pass from Connall’s twin had the ball being juggled between Rowan’s feet.

Watching Rowan play brought back the old feelings she felt watching Aedion. Her competitive temper rose in her chest as he sprinted downfield with the ball between his feet. Somehow, he never tripped or stumbled. When he passed it off to a dark-haired man, Vaughan, Connall told her, it was with tricky footwork that he made look easy. Seconds later and a single pass back toward him, Rowan lunged from behind a crimson jersey. By some grace of the gods he managed to land the perfect kick that arched beautifully through the air. Adarlan’s goalie missed it by a fingertip.

The bar became deafening– some of them rooting for Doranelle, others wanting them to lose for the sake of Varese’s team. On the TV, Rowan’s teammates pulled him off the ground and jostled him amongst them, Connall’s golden-haired brother smacking a kiss to Rowan’s sweaty forehead. 

If Aelin didn’t know any better, she would say his teammates were being a little more gentle with him than they might be otherwise. Rowan’s jaw remained clenched tightly, that muscle feathering as he nodded to the only person on the team that was taller than him where he stood down the field.

“Who is their goalie?”

“Lorcan Salvaterre. Team captain and one of Rowan’s closest friends. My twin’s name is Fenrys.” Aelin nodded and rested her chin on her hands as the next play started, polished blue nails digging into her palms. She knew of most of these names from Aedion’s soccer days and the afternoons at her parents house where her father prattled on about different team rosters.

The minutes ticked by, Rowan fiercely focused on the game. That look of sheer determination never left his eyes, even in the brief moments of reprieve he had to gather his wits. Whenever he could, Connall hovered near her for the moral support she’d come in search of. It meant more to her than she could ever put into words. Being in a new city, far away from her support system, with no one else to lean on? It was really nice to know he was there. Even if they barely knew each other. 

When Adarlan scored, Aelin had over half the pub groaned. The Doranelle players looked beyond pissed. Rowan and Lorcan shared matching expressions, both of their jaws grinding as they shook their heads before getting back into position. 

It led them into more volleying back and forth, the ball little more than a blur between feet. And then it was back in Rowan’s possession. It was like the wind sang for him, pushing him faster as he bolted down the field. Almost as soon as he made his goal, the one that would get them a point ahead though, a whistle blew and a yellow-checkered flag was waving. 

“Shit,” she murmured, closely eyeing the playback. It was a fair call, he had been offside. When the camera showed Rowan again though, he was pointed at the goal, mouth wrapping around words that looked a lot like fucking bullshit. The words weren’t more than a whisper as she said, “Rowan, you stupid idiot.”

Connall chuckled, despite the dire situation at hand. She knew he was only laughing at her, not his friend’s situation. Still, she wadded up a napkin and threw it at his head. It nailed him in the temple.

“It’s not funny,” she hissed, nibbling on the end of her straw, a sick feeling roiling in her gut.

The referee pulled a yellow card brandishing it in front of his face. A spark of anger flickered behind his eyes, mouth opening to spew something else when Fenrys grabbed him by the shoulders and made him turn away. Aelin exhaled a tight breath as Rowan shook his head on screen. Fenrys said something in Rowan’s ear and he nodded, lips thin in a stiff line.. It was enough to make him nod and hustle to his spot on the field, shaking his arms out when he came to a stop.  

Beneath the bar, Aelin’s legs were bouncing. Butterflies flitted their way through her insides enough that she braced her hands against her stomach as though it would calm them. It was impossible to look away as Adarlan took their free kick from the offside, launching the ball halfway down the field and into another frustrating back and forth between the two teams. 

This was always the part of the sport that Aelin hated. No, perhaps hated was too strong of a word. The build up always made her feel nauseous, waiting for one team to make one quick move to kick everyone into high gear to avoid a goal or make one. Being pregnant, it was worse. It felt as though her stomach was in the back of her throat.

Just before the end of the second half, disaster struck. Aelin saw it coming. She was pretty sure everyone watching at home or in the stands did, too. Connall swore filthily as Rowan ran for the ball and dove feet first to knock it away from Adarlan. Except in the process, his cleats clashed into the other player’s feet and they both went down in a heap on the field. 

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Connall asked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the screen as a ref jogged across the pitch. 

“I told him to win and maybe we would talk! I didn’t tell him to–” A yellow card appeared in the ref’s hand, followed by a red one and Aelin lost all of her words. Both were for Rowan. 

“I think he took that a little too do or die.” And so it seemed he had.

Distantly, she heard the announcer saying it was the first time he’d ever been red carded in his entire career. The patron’s of the bar murmured amongst themselves, many of them asking what the hell was wrong with Whitethorn tonight. 

The cameras zoomed in to where he walked off the field, sweat trickling down his face. Their coach followed him to the end of the field, the words he muttered only for Rowan to hear. Though he looked ready to hit anyone that was close enough, Rowan simply nodded. Fenrys caught his arm just before he walked off, mouth moving too quickly for Aelin to decipher. 

The last clear shot of him was walking into the tunnel and off the pitch, body rigid and muscles rippling while he pulled his jersey off his body. 

“I… I need to go,” Aelin said to Connall, who only nodded in response. She threw a few bills on the counter as a thank you and pushed her way out of the pub, walking as fast as her feet would carry her to her rental car down the street. 

~*~

Even though his team had another win under their belt by the time the game was over, it had been a fucking disaster. Rowan watched the second half on his phone from the comfort of his car after getting kicked out. 

It was the first time in his eleven year career he’d ever received two yellow cards, and consequently a red card, and been ejected from a game. All that anger and frustration from the week, from his hangover, had boiled to a head and exploded on the field. Next week he would have to sit out, too. 

Failing his teammates didn’t sit right with him. Lorcan was probably fuming and Rowan anticipated a less than friendly visit from him tomorrow. Coach Malakai was mad, too. The last thing he told Rowan was to get his shit together before practice on Monday. Only Fenrys, who never missed a chance to be a jokester about anything, had murmured words of encouragement before he left the field. 

By the time he pulled into his driveway, he was exhausted. His entire body ached from that last dive. There would definitely be bruises on his hips and thighs tomorrow from the way Ress Taylor landed on top of him. All he wanted to do was let his muscles thaw under a shower so hot it burned. A glass of whiskey would be great, too. Not that he deserved it after his performance on the pitch.

The game was… rough.The entire day was rough. From the time he’d woken up his mood had been in the pits of hell. Drunk Rowan hadn’t been able to piece together what Aelin said just before they hung up, but sober Rowan did as soon as his alarm sounded. 

Win your game tomorrow. 

Not win the game, like she used to say when she thought he was the coach. She didn’t ask him to wish the boys good luck like she had in the weeks prior. The words had changed. Win your game. The game he would be playing in, that belonged to him. She had given him a personal goal and though he helped his team achieve it, he still felt like he failed. Especially since he would have to sit out next week, too, because of the red card.

It had been stupid of him to think she wouldn’t find out the truth before he had the chance to tell her. Everything had just gone to such absolute shit before he had the chance. Rowan Whitethorn would be groveling at the feet of Aelin Galathynius for the duration of his life, and then some more after he crossed into whatever afterworld awaited him. 

The news of his career was just another lie he had to make right. All day it sat with him, festering like an open wound. It wasn’t that he suddenly felt bitter about his job. He didn’t. Rowan loved what he did, he loved the sport. It was his greatest passion and love in life. But Aelin deserved to hear about it from him. Not knowing how she found out only made it worse, until everything he felt was bleeding out into the astroturf beneath his feet and getting him thrown out of a game.

Upon pulling into his driveway, something white in front of his house caught his eye. His heart came to a stop as soon as his car did. Rowan didn’t even bother to pull into his garage, just parked beside the white SUV and stared at his porch. It felt like a fever dream, getting home from a hard game and seeing Aelin on his porch swing. The wind slowly moved her back and forth, but when she saw him step out of the car she stood, hands sliding into her back pockets. 

“I told you to win, not get a red card before the second half was up.” The lilting tone of her voice made his knees buckle. It forced him to gather himself before approaching, slowly walking up the stairs until he stood one below her.

“My mouth keeps getting me in trouble this week, it seems,” he said back, mouth completely dry. It was an effort to make his tongue form the words with his lips. “But it got you to my house, so I suppose there are worse things that could have happened.”

“Few things are worse than a red card.”

“Not talking to you might beat out all of them,” he said smoothly, fingers sliding along each of his keys until he found the one for his front door. He held it up between two fingers and Aelin nodded, stepping to the side and gesturing toward the door. 

She wore simple leggings and an oversized t-shirt, a pair of socks and slides on her feet. Though she wore no makeup and her hair was twisted half-hazardly onto the top of her head, she had never looked so beautiful. Lorcan would laugh himself hoarse if he heard the thoughts Rowan had about this woman, yet he didn’t care. Even in her most dressed down and casual state, she was breathtaking. 

He led her inside, locking the door behind them. It was late enough he assumed she would be staying for a while. Few people made a nearly two hour drive to turn around and leave upon arrival. Then again, he hadn’t seen last weekend going that way, either, and it’s exactly how that night ended.

“You played…”

“Shittily,” he offered, hanging his keys on a small hook by the front door.

“Brutally,” Aelin amended, slipping off her shoes and heading to the kitchen. Rowan watched as she grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and handed one off to him before heading for the couch. “Have you eaten?” 

“No. Have you?”

“Not since lunch.” Phone in hand, she curled up in the corner and pulled a blanket over her lap. “I doubt we have any notable options, but Taco Bell is open and is shockingly one of the few things not making me sick at the moment.”

Rowan watched her from where he stood in the center of the room. It didn’t feel real. None of today did, really. It could be the hangover talking, but the day felt like a horrible dream. He was scared to move, scared that if he sat on the couch with her that she would vanish into nothing and he would wake up alone in his bed. 

“Are you going to just stand there all night?” Her eyes didn’t leave her phone while presumably selecting everything she wanted to eat, eyes narrowing at the screen briefly in thought. A moment later she held it out for him. Rowan stared at her, heart thundering away in his chest. “Rowan.”

“Right. Thank you,” he murmured, taking the phone and trying not to acknowledge the rush he felt when his fingertips grazed her palm. Not big on fast food most of the time, it took him a little longer to pick his dinner. “What do I owe you?”

Aelin just snorted as she submitted the order, eyes rolling slightly before placing her phone face down on the couch next to her, head tilting as she said, “Come to think of it, maybe you do. I think your twenty dollar fast food order might do me in completely. I’ll have to take out a loan.” 

“I can Venmo it,” Rowan said dumbly, reaching for the phone in his back pocket.

“I don’t need your money any more than you need mine.” Once there might have been a teasing edge to her voice. Her delivery was much drier than he was used to from her. But there it was. That stupid thing he’d said before he could stop himself, the words that brought everything they were building crashing down.

“Sit,” she told him, patting the cushion next to her. Rowan was careful to leave plenty of space between them. There were definitely lines and boundaries now. The risk of getting ensnared in one was too great and he had a lot of apologies to make. With his arms elbows braced on his knees and hands clasped loosely between them, he stared at the floor. 

“You’re actually getting a pretty sweet deal.” Aelin sighed, shifting so she was facing him full on. His green eyes didn’t leave the rug. “According to google my net worth is two-and-a-half times what yours is. Isn’t that crazy?”

“I didn’t know,” he finally said. As much as he wanted to look at her, he couldn’t. He was a fucking coward. Guilt was a disgusting, oily thing crawling beneath his skin. It threatened to consume him whole even worse now that he was talking to her than it had the rest of the week. 

Aelin sighed again, finally pulling his attention to her face. She laid her head back against the sofa and a few tendrils of hair fell down to frame her face.  Rowan’s fingers curled into fists to fight the urge to sweep them behind her ear. She must have sensed it because she did it herself. The blue of her fingernails was the same blue as his jersey. Part of him wondered if it had been on purpose. 

“I think tonight we can call a truce.” Aelin seemed to notice his gaze on her fingers because she folded her arms over her chest, curling her hands so her blue nails were hidden. “We’ll eat, sleep, and then tomorrow… Tomorrow we’ll talk.”

“Okay,” he agreed. The word was falling off his tongue as soon as she finished speaking. Her cheeks seemed to twitch with amusement, and if he had reacted differently last week she would probably be smiling. 

“I am curious, though. Did you make an instagram for the sole purpose of stalking me?” 

Rowan cringed. His eyes squeezed shut, lips rolling between his teeth as he looked away. Beside him it sounded like Aelin laughing, though it was little more than puffs of air coming out of her nose. It would have been easy to go on the defensive, to add one more lie to their crumpled house of cards. Instead, he went with the truth.

“I missed you. I just wanted to see your face.” He looked back over at her then, but it was she who looked away now. Her eyes were glassy, the dim lighting making the unshed tears in her eyes sparkle. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s these fucking hormones.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand when he started to reach for her. It stung more than he would ever let on, but he retreated and dropped his hand into his lap while she used the collar of her shirt to dry her eyes. 

It was silent after that, the two of them alternating from staring at nothing to sneaking glances at the other. Rowan only knew because he caught her staring at him more than once when he thought he could take a second to drink her in. It was only when the doorbell finally rang and he stood that she said his name, stopping him when he was halfway to the front door. Turning to look at her, eyebrows raised in question, he watched her lick her lips. 

“I missed you, too.” It was barely a whisper, spoken so softly he might have dreamed it if he was any more tired. 

Still, it was enough to get him through the rest of their silent night. Enough that it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would when he insisted she sleep in his bed without him. Enough to chase him with sweet dreams when he finally slipped into the guest room down the hall and tumbled into a deep sleep. 

@elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp  @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn  @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme  @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294  @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @backtobl4ck @shyvioletcat @mariamuses

#tog #throne of glass #ciwyw #ciwyw5 #call it what you want #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fic #throne of glass fanfiction #tog fanfic #tog fanfiction #tog fic #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #connall moonbeam #fenrys moonbeam #lorcan salvaterre #aedion ashryver #lysandra ennar #sad boy rowan #soccer!rowan #baby fic

[justreadertings]

Thinking about how we collectively agreed that in NO UNIVERSE would Rowaelin have a boy first. Sorry. Not Happening. We KNOW Aelin is gonna have a daughter that's just like her and it's gonna break Rowans little heart. OBVIOUSLY.

#roweaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #throneofglass #sarah j maas

[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part five

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again, and deal with the fall-out of your secret

Warnings: drinking, mentions of death, incest jokes

Word Count: ~5.8k 

A/N: all of your support with this little series means the world to me and is incredibly motivating! thank you so much. if anyone wants to be tagged in the next part, please let me know!

series masterlist

“Only princesses live in castles all the time.” 

Rowan leaned against the wall, right next to the door, admittedly eavesdropping on your conversation. He’d intended to come talk to you, to see Ceri before bed, but now his heart is sinking. You’d only had this conversation with them yesterday, and insisted you speak to her first. Better sooner rather than later, he supposed. More time to figure out a plan. 

“Some of the guards live here as well,” you countered, “and healers.” 

A small pause. Then a sniffle. Gods, was she crying? 

“Do we have to?” 

Rustling and movement. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. 

“So I don’t have to study maths anymore?”

A huff of a laugh, and then a giggle from Ceri. “Maths are important.” 

“You hate them.” He pressed his lips together to muffle his own laugh. Footsteps, and the door swung open. 

You looked exasperated, at him, but he knew you’d already scented him - Rowan wasn’t doing anything to hide his scent. 

“They’re still important,” you stepped aside to let him in, sending a pointed glance his way, “right?” 

His mouth tilted up at one side, “right.” 

A groan came from Ceri, then she was flying across the room, he braced himself as she flew into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle. Absent-mindedly, he ran his hand over her back. 

“A story?” She tilted her head up at him, eyes pleading. Rowan nodded, and let her lead the way back to her room. They’d offered several other rooms, but Ceri always insisted on staying in the same one. At least it was semi-close to theirs.  

“What kind of story do you want?” He asked, leaving the door slightly ajar. He already dreaded the day she’d stop asking for them. 

“Wyverns,” Rowan blinked. Usually it was Dragons, and he’d tell her about a sea dragon. Lysandra was thrilled the first time she heard about it. “The ones the witches ride,” she added, as if exasperated he didn’t know. That’s what they had in history books now, or taught in lessons. He shouldn’t be as surprised as he is. 

Rowan threw together a story, from what he could remember, of Abraxos and Manon, carefully avoiding

what happened to the rest of her coven. 

As he reached the end, he was grateful her eyes started to droop, he was struggling to throw things together.  

“I want to ride a Wyvern. I want to be a witch.” 

Rowan was less grateful, his heart caught in his throat. She fell asleep before he could explain someone was born a witch, or that there’s no way in hell she’ll be getting within a hundred feet of a Wyvern. Most of them were not like Abraxos.

The door clicked shut gently behind him, and he found you, book propped up in one hand, cup of tea in the other. He settled in the armchair across from you, closing his eyes and kicking his legs out in front of him. 

A wyvern. He needs to be more careful about the stories he tells. 

Peeking his eyes open, he saw you close the book, gently tossing it to the side. No bookmark, he winced. 

“Do you remember the page?” 

“It wasn’t that interesting,” you muttered, hissing as you took a sip of your tea. Too hot. He didn’t think before he cooled the drink, just enough to be drinkable. Your eyes shot up in surprise, glancing between it and him. “Thank you,” you sounded a bit confused, but kept drinking the tea anyway. Confused he’d done something like that? He used to, all the time. Maybe you didn’t expect those sorts of things from him anymore, but he could easily change that. 

“Our daughter wants to ride a Wyvern,” not mentioning the part about wanting to be a witch as well. 

Jolting, the tea sloshed over the sides of your mug, landing on your pants, but you didn’t look away from him as the cup clanked on the side table. 

“Wyverns?” you choked. 

“She asked for a story,” he defended himself. 

A laugh, an honest and deep laugh left your chest, “If she manages to bond with one of them, she would’ve earned the right.” 

“You’re supposed to say it’s a bad idea,” he tried to scowl, but your laughter was infectious, and his mouth curved at the corners. 

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.” 

“Exactly. Silence is agreement” 

“Depends on the situation,” biting the inside of your cheek, you curled your legs up under you, snatching your mug again, wiping the small droplets of liquid off with the inside of your sleeve, expression straightening back out. He missed the smile. 

“I’m assuming you heard our conversation.” 

“I did,” a cautious answer, waiting to see if you’d snip at him for eavesdropping. 

“If I didn’t want you to hear, I would’ve stopped speaking,” you read through his lack of words. 

“I still want both of you to move in here,” he didn’t know what else to say, but made sure a small shield of wind would hide this conversation from small ears. 

“I’m not the one you need to convince,” hands clenched around the mug as you took another sip, tongue darting out to catch the drop gathering on your lip. He swallowed, for a reason he should not be. Not that Aelin hadn’t shown  … Rowan shoved that thought deep, deep down. Not the time. Would it ever be a good time? “I’m not sure what else I can tell her,” you continued, thankfully ignorant to his inner thoughts. 

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” he forced the words out. Your hand covered a yawn, giving him a good reason to excuse himself, making it down the hall before he braced a hand against the stone, letting the rough material center him. 

-

It had been somewhat of a disaster, Rowan bringing up Ceri and you moving to the castle. She’d outright refused at first, and still refused by the end of the conversation, but a little less vehemently. Not enough to bring her hope, but she knew Rowan was still thinking through ideas. Sure enough, Ceri had quickly changed the subject, and Aelin found herself on the receiving end of one of her difficult questions. 

“Why do they call you Gods-Killer?” Ceri asked casually, and Fenrys choked. 

“Because I killed some of the gods,” Aelin answered. It wasn’t the whole story, but that’s all she needed to know for now. If Ceri asked some day, when she was much older, maybe she’d tell her more. But a ten year old doesn’t need to know that. 

“Why?” 

“They killed someone I cared about very much,” Elena was already dead - but Deanna had taken away her chance of an afterlife, “and broke promises.” 

“Good,” Gods, she really is so much like her father. And maybe more like her mother than either of them know. “So,” Ceri sat down her fork, and Aelin already didn’t like where this was going, “if someone breaks a promise, I can kill them.” 

“No,” you said quickly, eyes wide, “those were very different circumstances.” 

“Fenrys said we could have dessert first.” 

“I did not,” the male immediately countered. 

“You did,” Ceri shot back. 

“I said the day you can beat me, we’ll have dessert for breakfast.” 

“You didn’t say what I had to beat you in.” 

A groan from the male. “In. A. Fight,” he clarified, avoiding yours and Rowan’s gaze. 

Aelin watched as you leaned back, head tilted up towards the ceiling. Maybe praying for mercy, maybe cursing Fenrys - especially as a challenge gleamed in Ceri’s eyes. 

“There are laws against murder,” Rowan steered the conversation back. 

“When is murder allowed?” 

Aelin remembered there were few laws against murder with the Fae, but - laws applied equally in Terrasen, regardless of whether someone was Fae, human, or Witch. Rowan, bless him, carefully and thoroughly explained the laws. 

“Murder,” you murmured, just loud enough for her to hear, “I don’t know if he’s realized he’s telling her when she can kill.” 

Aelin looked at Rowan, recognized the look in his eyes, “he knows.” 

You turned your head, still resting on the back of the chair, to face her. A long-suffering look on your face. “She takes after her father.” 

“And her mother,” Aelin added without putting much thought into it. You didn’t look convinced, so she kept speaking. “People … are drawn to her, the same way they do you.”

That’s the best way she could describe it, and a faint blush rose on your cheeks as you murmured a thanks. 

-

“It's too big.” 

“You’ve been coming here for months,” you’re not sure why you bothered to point it out, especially when she gave a contemplative pause. 

“But you don’t like it here.”

Too perceptive, she was too damned perceptive. “The castle is fine,” you forced the words, ignoring the conflicted emotions swirling in your chest. It’s not that you didn’t like it, just that you'd prefer to live somewhere else. 

“Fine doesn’t mean good.” 

“Then we go looking for houses,” you ran one hand over her hair. “Don’t forget you can change your mind.” 

Ceri nodded, “I know.” 

“Would you like me to tell your father?” 

A scowl. “I’m old enough to do that myself.” 

Thank the gods, you really didn’t want to tell him. “I know,” you repeated her earlier words, hiding your relief. 

“I’m going to wait,”

“It’s your decision,” you murmured, running your hand over her hair again, and she grinned up at you before darting off. 

“What’s the verdict?” Fenrys approached a minute later. 

“Can you keep a secret?” 

He gave you a look that said; blood sworn, like you were an idiot for forgetting that. 

An over-dramatic roll of your eyes. “She hasn’t completely made her decision, but she thinks the castle is too big.” 

“She’s been staying here for over a year.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“What do you want?” He asked instead. For some reason, that surprised you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, even though the heavy coat kept away any chill. 

“Whatever she wants.” 

He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms this time. “What if it was your decision?” 

“It’s not,” you said, with a bit more bite than you meant, and shot an apologetic glance at him. He didn’t seem phased. 

“But if it was?” 

You fixed your eyes on the cobblestone directly ahead of you. This was a dangerous question, a topic you’d avoided thinking of or ruminating on. 

“I was never born to live in a castle.” And that’s all you would say on that. Fenrys seemed to sense it, to sense the wall going up. 

“They mean well, but you know Rowan can be a bit stubborn about getting what he wants. So can Aelin.” 

He didn’t fight for you, the nasty voice said. I never wanted him to, you countered. It was a relief he hadn’t. 

“I’m not the one they need to convince,” you watched her climb up one of the trees, trying to get one of her friends to do the same. Another thing you’d noticed about your daughter while staying here, the amount of friends she has. Of course, she has plenty in Caraverre, but other children flock towards her. It’s always been that way. 

“I’m taking you on a night out.” Talk about a subject change. “You look like you need one.” 

“I’m vaguely insulted.”

“No monarchs invited,” he added. The storm had abated, the ‘monarchs’ in question insisted you stay an extra three days, just in case, and you were due to leave in two. The bitter part of you said it was only so they’d have more time to convince your daughter to stay in the castle, but realistically they did have a point, even if that was an underlying intention. Not everything has to be nefarious, you reminded yourself. Sometimes people do things out of genuine care. There’s not always a greater agenda, but in this case … you got the inclination there may be one, but you couldn’t figure out what, and that was going to drive you to the brink of insanity. 

“Tonight,” he added, drawing you from your thoughts. Tonight, meaning in just a few hours. You scowled at him, he’d left you little to no time to find an excuse to get out of it. 

“People go out in this weather?” The bright sun wasn’t enough to melt the snow banks gathered against the walls. 

“They serve alcohol for a reason.” 

He has a good point… and it would be nice to have a night out, a time you could pretend it didn’t feel like your entire world was bending and folding back over again. 

-

Aelin wasn’t jealous, she had no reason to be. Maybe a bit offended that Fenrys had immediately declared ‘no monarchs allowed,’ for your night out. Just the two of you. Rowan didn’t look entirely happy about it either. But, she supposed he was your closest friend in Terrasen. Fenrys liked to boast about it, ever since he learned it pricked at her husband's temper. 

When it came to pissing off Rowan, she was only second to him. Fenrys made it an art form. Still, as she watched you walk out arm in arm with him, she couldn’t help thinking he’d done it to piss off her as well. 

“A night out will be good for her,” Rowan said. 

“And if she decides to spend the night with someone?” She asked, a test. 

Rowan’s face tightened, “then that’s her decision.” 

Aelin frowned, he didn’t pass. 

-

You couldn’t remember the last time you had this much fun, or when you’d drank this much. Before you became a mother, that’s for certain. Still, you weren’t quite sloppy drunk, but a good bit past tipsy. 

“Your tolerance is shit,” Fenrys commented. 

Poking him in the shoulder, “you’re just as bad.” 

He shrugged, but grinned. At least you were equally as drunk. But, you were a bit peeved. One male had eyed you appreciatively, and even if you wouldn’t do anything about it - the attention was nice. Fenrys glowered at him, and he paled and turned away. 

“Why did you do that?” you huffed under your breath, 

“Do what?” He asked, voice honeyed with false innocence. He yelped as you dug your elbow into his ribs.

“At least my tolerance hasn’t changed.” 

“I haven’t changed,” it was an obvious lie, and you both knew it. You’d realized a few seconds too late he wasn’t talking about you as a person, just your limits with alcohol - but you’d already opened the floodgates. “Maybe a bit,” you amended. “We both have.” 

He hummed his agreement, “you don’t seem quite as … happy,” he hesitated on the word. 

“I am happy,” there wasn’t a reason to be sad. 

“I didn’t mean that. I meant you’re not as carefree.” 

“Child,” you pointed out. 

“More than that,” he ran a hand over his hair, perhaps a bit too drunk to put his words together. 

The bartender shouted last call, her voice carrying over the crowd, and saving Fenrys from trying to explain himself.

“Another would be a bad idea,” you murmured, but Fenrys was already moving, getting ahead of the crowd, and missing your comment. You followed him, a bit unsteady on your feet. By the time you caught up, he’d already put in the order. For something, but you didn’t particularly care what - as long as it was strong enough to make you forget the last five minutes. 

Fumbling with your pocket, you tried to slide a coin on the corner, but his hand stopped you. 

“Put any coin on that bar and i’ll shove it-” 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you cut him off, but slid your hand back. 

“We’ll finish the conversation when we’re sober.” 

“We will not.” Fenrys already had that look in his eyes, the one that told you the conversation absolutely would happen. More time for you to prepare, then. “If we remember,” you added. 

“I’ll write myself a note.” 

“Your handwriting is barely legible on a good day.” 

The drinks came by, saving Fenrys again, this time from trying to come up with a witty remark. 

Despite the rather … thought provoking statement he’d made, it didn’t put a damper or shadow over the rest of the night. You took full advantage of the remaining hour, finishing your drink, laughing, singing along to some kind of bawdy song you only knew half of the words too, and all too soon you were saying goodbye to at least seven new friends you made. Could they be considered friends if you’d already forgotten their names? Well, hopefully there would be some friendly faces once you moved here. 

If a night out in Orynth was this much fun, living here couldn’t be that bad. 

-

It’s possible a white-tailed hawk soared above the city around the time the taverns closed, and may have shot back to the castle once he spotted two familiar drunk and laughing Fae stumbling back through the streets. 

Rowan flew through the window, finding Aelin standing, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Really?” She tried to sound disappointed, but looked more amused than anything. 

A flash of white light, and he shifted back. “I needed to check.” 

Aelin raised a brow, “you didn’t need to, they’re both adults.” 

“I wanted to,” he corrected. “Is that a problem?” 

Aelin’s brows lowered, studying him for a few moments, but he held firm. “If I could have, I probably would  do the same thing,” her shoulders rolled back, “shall we greet them?” 

“I want to see just how drunk they are,” her eyes said. He held out his arm in answer. 

-

“Mother and father are here,” Fenrys announced as you entered the wing where your rooms were, just down the hall and around the corner from the Royal suite. Meaning, you usually had to pass by there in order to get to your room. 

“He’s the father of my child,” you frowned. “That’s weird. Incest is weird.” 

Each word began to slur into the other, and you heard a choking noise - but you were focused on Fenrys’s reply. “I suppose we aren’t in Adarlan,” you found some satisfaction that his words were slurred as well. 

“Oh gods,” that was Aelin. 

“Adarlanians,” you sounded out each syllable, “marry their relatives?” 

Fenrys shrugged, like it was a rumor he could neither confirm nor deny. Aelin groaned, and started ushering the two of you back towards your rooms. 

“My rooms are so far,” Fenrys whined - honest to gods whined, but his rooms were all the way down the hall, and around a few corners. For a drunk person, it might as well have been a mile. 

“Crash in mine,” you offered, “there’s a spare room, and a perfectly good couch.” 

“Thank you,” he went to link his arm through yours again, but Aelin beat him to it, turning over your shoulder, you caught Rowan glowering at Fenrys. Why would he glower? It’s not like you were sharing a bed. Why would it matter if you were? There’s nothing between the two of you, besides friendship. Friends shared beds all of the time. 

“I’m a great cuddler,” you said, just to see if they would react. 

“You kick,” Rowan countered. 

“I do not,” you insisted. 

“How would you know?” Aelin decided to cut in, “you’re sleeping.” 

“I’ll find out tonight,” Fenrys added cheerily. 

You could’ve sworn you heard a low growl or two, but you’d already reached the door, fumbling with the handle. You’d put too much of your weight on the door, because as soon as it opened - you went careening towards the floor. Fenrys tried to catch you, only to fall as well, alcohol throwing off his center of balance. 

At least the carpet was soft, you rolled over onto your back, running your hands over it. It was comfortable. 

“I might sleep here,” you sighed, eyes half lidded. Rowan and Aelin stood in the doorway, amused at the two of you, and you shot a bright grin their way.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.” Rowan, the bastard, needs to stop trying to give you orders. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you muttered, turning over on your side and tucking one arm beneath your head. Fenrys mirrored your movements, the two of you facing each other. 

A long suffering sigh, from Rowan you thought, and gentle hands were pulling you up to your feet. You swayed back and forth, Aelin holding you steady with a faint smile on her face. 

From the corner of your eye, Rowan was tugging Fenrys up, not quite as gently. 

-

“Be nice to my friend,” you slurred. Aelin was biting her lip to hold back a laugh, and she was grateful Ceri decided to have a sleepover in another wing of the castle. Otherwise, she’d be wide awake right now and witnessing this mess. 

“Hear that Rowan, the lady says be nice to me.” 

Rowan released Fenrys, and the male stumbled back a few steps. She kept her grip on you as you tried to lunge for him. The last thing they need is to drag both of you off the floor again. Without realizing, her arms had wrapped around your shoulders, holding you back in place. When Fenrys caught himself, one hand on the arm of the couch, you sighed in relief, and melted back into her. 

“Time for bed,” Aelin shifted so her arm wrapped around your shoulders instead, leading you off towards the room. Grabbing some night clothes, she offered them to you, trying to shuffle you off towards the bathroom. 

“I think I’ll sleep naked,” you announced. 

“As much as I’d enjoy the view, it’s still a bit cold out,” you wouldn’t remember this in the morning, but she’d remember how your cheeks flushed. 

Rowan and Aelin left, only as you fell asleep, alone in your bed - Fenrys already snoring on the couch. 

-

The end of the visit came all too quickly, and for the first time you found yourself looking forward to your return to Orynth. Looking forward to searching for a house on the outskirts of the city. Yes, you didn’t particularly look forward to staying in the castle in the meantime, but you couldn’t deny the city had it’s charm. Rowan and Aelin’s reassurances unlocked something in you. Not a desire to step into the public eye, but to stop avoiding it. If anything happened, you weren’t alone this time. Accepting help wasn’t a weakness. 

Ceri waved as you set off, just around sunrise. In around two or so weeks, you’d be heading back to Orynth. 

Your daughter, however, was currently pouting because you couldn’t ride horseback in this weather, and she didn’t like the carriages. She was mollified by the few books Aelin let her borrow from the Library of Orynth. You had a feeling she just hadn’t informed the librarians they’d be leaving the city.

Tilting your head, you caught part of the title; dragons. “What are you reading?” 

Thankfully, she didn’t look annoyed at your question. Instead, her eyes lit up as she lifted her head. “About last dragons, besides Wyverns,” she flipped the book around to point at a page. A sketch of mountains, you squint your eyes, made of glass with a few dragons circling overhead, one breathing fire into them. You looked further at the book, it was old, by the color of the pages, but well preserved. Maybe with magic. Was this one of the few books that survived the initial siege of Orynth?

“They lived in the Kyzultum Desert. But they were all killed in a war eight centuries ago.” Kyzultum, a desert on the southern continent, far south from Antica. You’d never visited, but always wanted to, to see the glass mountains. “They made mountains out of glass. The book says it’s just speculation, but soldiers from Doranelle hunted the dragons to extinction.” 

A small pain in your heart, for creatures hunted just for their power or because someone viewed them as a threat. Soldiers from Doranelle. You would bet gold marks on who exactly sent that order. 

“Why did they kill them? The book doesn’t say.” 

“Probably from fear.” 

She hummed. “Do you think dragon eggs could survive this long?” 

“I don’t know,” but Gods, if Ceri set her mind to it - she’d find out. And if they could … you started thinking of ways to discourage your daughter from hunting for Dragons. Maybe you’d have to lean on her father for that one. “Giving up on Wyverns already?” 

She scowled at you, drawing a small laugh before she returned to her book. 

-

Rowan was in a pissy mood, and Aelin knew exactly why. Ceri waited until the last night to announce her ‘decision,’ leaving all of them on edge. Then said she wanted to live on the outskirts of Orynth, with a small cottage, a garden, chickens, and a wyvern. Considering how you scowled at Rowan, she knew who you blamed for that idea. Still, they weren’t quite out of time. The two of you would return in around a month, permitting you could sell your house in that amount of time, and still stay in the castle while looking for another home. 

“Y/n didn’t try to sway her decision,” she commented - although Rowan already knew that. You’d decided to stay perfectly neutral. It’s smart, not wanting to get into an argument like that. After all, she’d chosen the same path. “Besides, Ceri might change her mind later.” 

“Right,” he cleared his throat. 

“So,” Aelin leaned back in her chair, “Wyverns?” 

“She asked for a story about them,” he groused. 

“What did you tell her?” 

“What I know of Abraxos.” As far as Wyvern’s go, Manon’s mount is the exception, and Rowan might’ve given the wrong impression when it comes to the beasts. 

Aelin laughed, “I can’t wait to tell Manon. Already a bedtime story.” She didn’t know if the Witch Queen would be offended or amused. Ceri hadn’t met any of their friends from other Kingdoms, not yet. It would come one day, especially with the move. Would you want to meet them as well? SHe hoped so. 

The little hellion’s presence made Aelin realize she wasn’t quite ready to have more children around. It would come one day, but faced with immortality there was plenty of time. Besides, maybe it was a bit selfish or strange, but she wanted to spend time with Ceri as she grew up, and wanted Rowan to as well. He’d missed out on seven years. 

Aelin always knew he’d be a good father, but seeing it with her own eyes only cemented that. Plus, the rest of the court and castle got to witness a softer side of him. 

“Had y/n already settled when you met her?” 

“No.” 

Gods, going through all of that with a small child. She had hers a few years ago, and it … sucked to say the least. The only plus being some of her magic returned, not quite to what it was before, but still much more significant. 

Rowan had turned back to his book. Another question had lingered in the back of her mind, “What is her magic?” He marked his page, setting it to the side. 

“She has an affinity for raw materials, imbuing them with magic. As far as I know, it’s unique to her bloodline.” 

“What else could it do? Besides what she sells.” Protective wards, enchantments, all impressive. 

“I never asked.” The dagger. Enchanted to leave a mark. Fenrys said she’d paled when she saw it. If it’s unique to her bloodline … maybe the attack wasn’t only meant for Ceri. “What are you thinking?” Rowan interrupted her train of thought.

“You said it’s unique to her bloodline,” Rowan nodded. “The dagger,” he stiffened but she kept going, “she recognized exactly what it was. Why use a dagger specifically meant to leave a mark? Why make a dagger like that?” 

“It’s possible her ancestors made it,” he started, “daggers and knives like that could be intended for different rituals. Using it could’ve been ignorance - or a coincidence.”

Aelin’s mouth tightened. That was a bit too strange to believe. “You know that’s bullshit.” 

“Sartaq hasn’t sent word of anything, there’s not much we can do from over here.” But, Rowan did look unsettled.

“Could anyone else have made it?” 

“She’s better suited to answer that question.” A month from now. Aelin wasn’t particularly patient on a good day, but she’d remember this. “Don’t be surprised if she wants to leave it in the past.” 

“What happened to her parents?” 

Rowan didn’t look like he wanted to answer, but she felt like she needed to know. Like it was relevant. He told her the entire story, not sparing any of the more gruesome details. She read the words in his eyes; I didn’t tell you. If you ever decided to tell her, she’d act surprised. A stone settled in her stomach. You hadn’t just been hiding from Maeve. 

“Then Lorcan hunted the rest of them down.”  

“Who was it, the ones who attacked them?” 

“The last armies of a Kingdom who particularly hated Fae, destroyed on Maeve’s orders.” And her father participated, that much she could put together. “It’s in the past, Aelin,” there was a hint of warning in his tone. To drop it. 

She nodded absentmindedly. If she could find a way to be subtle about it, she’d keep looking into it. 

-

“Leaving already?” One of your neighbors questioned, after you finished showing the house to a young couple - the woman currently at least a few months pregnant, and glowing. You nodded, watching them disappear. “Where to?” 

“To Orynth,” you turned to look at her. A friendly older woman, living a few doors down, who’d greeted you the day after you moved in with a basket of cookies. This neighbor happened to be the mother of the son, currently linking arms with his wife, trudging through the snow. It was a given you’d sell the house to them, if they ended up wanting it. 

“We’ll miss you here, and your little one.” 

“We’ll miss you too,” you murmured, rubbing your arms to stave off the chill. “Want to come in?” It felt right to offer. 

“I’d love to,” her face lit up. Ceri was due back from school in a few hours, and now big enough to walk on her own, although always with a group of other kids. It was a close little community, on the outskirts of the city,  and you really did like it here even if it was a bit … boring. Maybe that’s part of the reason Ceri wanted to move to Orynth. 

The two of you settled in front of the fire, hands warmed by mugs of tea, and you listened to her talk. Her husband - killed by Adarlanian soldiers, her three children - who went to fight in General Ashryver’s legion, the bane, only two returning at the end of the war. 

“Something happier now,” she waved her hand. “What about your family?” 

“It’s just me and Ceri now,” you forced a smile. She gave you a sympathetic look, and although you knew she meant no harm - you wanted to wipe it right off her face. 

“Her father?” There’s the catch. She knew damn well who her father is, the entire town does, and you shot her a look to tell her that. She had the grace to look a bit sheepish, giving a small shrug of her shoulders. “Can’t help the curiosity,” 

‘Yes you can,’ you wanted to say, but reminded yourself she’d been nothing but kind - and still is, but probably wanted to get in all of the questions she’d been dying to ask before you left. You were aware anything you said now would make its way through everyone else living here. 

“We’re on good terms,” you said firmly. 

“How did you meet?” 

“We knew a few of the same people.” Actually, you’d met at a bar - but she had no business knowing that. An ache started to form between your brows. A few hours passed, conversation thankfully diverting from Ceri’s heritage and into more neutral topics. You found yourself enjoying the company. 

“It takes a strong woman - or female, to raise a child on her own,” a brief haunted look passed through her eyes, and you offered her a tight smile. Her situation had been different, Terrasen being under occupation by Adarlan and all. She blinked a few times, letting out a long breath. “I’m making some meat pies this afternoon, I’ll bring one by.” 

“Thank you,” she stood, and you led the way out the door, walking her down towards her gate. 

Ceri was currently coming down the street, accompanied by a few friends, holding … something in her arms, bundled tightly. When she saw you, she sped up her pace, now almost-running down the street. 

“Look, look,” she said, shifting her arms just enough for you to see what she was holding. A little head peaked up, yellow eyes, then a meow. “She was all alone, I couldn’t find her mother,” Ceri looked up at you with pleading eyes. You ran a gloved hand over the kitten’s back, getting a small purr in reply. Orange. It was rare to find an orange female cat. 

“Let’s get her out of the cold,” a squeal of excitement, and she raced off towards the door.

The two of you bathed her in warm water, and the weird little thing liked it. 

“Are you sure you want to keep her?” You asked, but even if she said no you’d probably insist. One hour, and you were already in love. Sure enough, you were hissed at. Twice. 

“You can be friends with her,” Ceri said, sitting as close to the fire as she could get, the kitten wrapped up in a towel, sound asleep. She was talking about your animal form. A Baast Cat, not a housecat. 

“I’m sure we’ll get along,” you smiled, taking up a seat next to her. That little head poked up again, meowing, before crawling out of the towel. Ceri let her go, choosing to take her mug of hot chocolate from you instead. Carefully, the kitten crawled over onto your lap, small claws digging in. “What should we name her?” 

“Wyvern.” A hiss. Not Wyvern, apparently. Ceri rolled her eyes. She tried out a few different names, but none of them were approved. You’d already noted she was very intelligent, even for a cat, and looked up at you like you were supposed to know the answer. 

“Halle?” you offered, as a half-assed guess. Surprisingly, a small purr came from her, and you ran your fingers through her fluffy fur, watching as she promptly fell back asleep. Like she was waiting for the conversation to be over. 

“Halle’s coming to Orynth with us.” 

“Of course.” You couldn’t leave the newest member of your family behind.

-

taglist: @fussel9913 @moonlightttfae

#throne of glass fic #rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin x reader #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galathynius x reader #rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x y/n #rowan whitethorn x y/n #aelin galathynius x y/n #throne of glass x reader

[leiawritesstories]

To Honor And Cherish

Rowaelin Month, Day 25: Arranged Marriage

A/N: Hi everyone! If you remember As I Am, it was a Regency AU crossover fic that I started when i was still very much a baby writer. Lol I'm still a developing writer, who are we kidding? Anyway, that fic has a very special place in my heart, but it was...just too much, too complex to properly handle. So.......I did a little mini rewrite with just Rowaelin! because I loved their story and it was an excuse to rewatch Bridgerton S1 😂

All that to say, here's a little mini Rowaelin rewrite of AIA, and i hope you enjoy :))

Word count: 4,670 (oops)

Warnings: none ;)

@rowaelinscourt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Numb, Aelin stared out the carriage window, firmly refusing to look across the small but opulent vehicle and meet the gazes of her parents--her mother, teary-eyed with wistful pleasure; her father, proud of his accomplishment in achieving the best marriage match of the Season. The lace trim along the neckline of her simple, pale blue morning gown itched at her collarbone, and she focused on the slight discomfort, using it to control her roiling emotions. Before she was fully calm, though, the carriage rattled to a stop, and she realized with a small jolt that they had arrived.

"Aelin, darling." Baroness Evalin Ashryver reached across the carriage and touched her daughter's gloved hand. "Shall we?"

"Haste to the wedding, as it were," Aelin returned, dryly.

Evalin frowned. "It is as if I taught you nothing of decorum." She took her husband's arm and stepped elegantly out of the carriage. "We have but three hours, darling."

"I am highly aware of that fact, m'lady," Aelin muttered under her breath, accepting the footman's assistance as she exited the carriage. As she followed her parents into the west entrance of St. Paul's Cathedral, she spared one final glance at her family's carriage, knowing that it may well be the last time she rode in it.

Baron Rhoe Galathynius allowed his wife to lead the way towards the bridal rooms and fell into step beside his daughter. "The Duke is a good man, Fireheart," he murmured. "I promise, I have never been careless with your future."

A small corner of Aelin's heart softened. "I trust you, Father." She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "I simply feel...well, to be perfectly honest, I feel disregarded by this whole process. I know the conventions of our society, but I thought we were going to be more of a partnership when it came to my marriage." She couldn't help the hint of reproach that crept into her words.

"That was my intention, too," Rhoe admitted. "However, your mother is...a very determined woman, and when she came to me with her shortlist of suitors, it was not in my best interest to reject it outright."

"I see."

"I did my best to investigate each of the men on that list," Rhoe continued. "As I said, I have never been careless with your future, my Fireheart."

Aelin sighed delicately and flicked a grateful look up at her father. "I know." Her posture stiffened, just a fraction, as they approached the door to the bride's preparation rooms. "I quite liked Dorian, you know."

Rhoe's lips twitched with amusement. "I doubt he would have made much as a husband, though."

That brought a hint of a chuckle from Aelin's throat. "I never said I was considering him as a husband, though he certainly did make a clever suggestion: a nominal marriage, in which we were perfectly happy together with our own, ah, partners."

"Ah, Havilliard," Rhoe chuckled. "Dare I say he may not have made the most ideal husband? He'll certainly be a fine honorary uncle, though, I'm sure."

"He will." Aelin squeezed her father's hand. "Oh gods, the door approaches."

"It will be alright," her father assured her. "And if it is not, write to me and I will take care of it." The steel in his eyes drove home his promise.

"I love you, Father," Aelin whispered, rising onto her toes to peck a soft kiss onto his cheek.

Rhoe smiled. "I love you too, my Fireheart." He held the bride's door open. "I'll see you in a few hours."

Aelin took a controlled breath and walked through the door. The instant the thick oak door clicked shut behind her, Evalin was leading her off down the short hallway into a lovely, sunlit room, where a flurry of attendants swarmed around the women already gathered there, busy curling and arranging hair, applying cosmetics, steaming and fluffing dresses, and assuring every lady present that it was going to be a perfectly lovely wedding day.

"I feel as though I may vomit," Aelin murmured.

Evalin waved at one of the maids. "Please bring a basin; the bride has nerves." She patted Aelin's shoulder with a brief, perfunctory attempt at comfort. "It is perfectly normal to feel anxious before your wedding, darling. I could hardly stop trembling on the morning that I married your father."

Aelin cracked a faint smile. "Why, Mother, I thought you were always the very picture of composure."

"Hardly." For a moment, Evalin's rarely-seen softer side made an appearance. "I believe I'd only met Rhoe three or four times before we were married, and we were little more then formal acquaintances when our parents signed the betrothal agreement."

"That's three or four times more than I've met the Duke," Aelin mused.

"I trust your father's judgment." Evalin's tone was noticeably cooler. "You will make a fine Duchess, darling."

Aelin didn't reply, choosing to focus on the sudden flurry of attendants encircling her, helping her out of her dress and into simple undergarments and a white satin dressing gown. She let them lead her to a chair, sat down, and watched in the mirror as her lady's maid twisted her hair into an elegant knot.

"No, no!" Evalin snapped at the maid. "She is a bride! She must wear her hair up higher for the veil!"

"Leave it, Philippa." Aelin held up her hand. Evalin frowned in disapproval, opening her mouth to overrule Aelin's wishes, but Aelin calmly folded her hands in her lap and fixed her gaze onto her mother's in the mirror. "I am the bride, Mother, not you." Steel and flame underlaid her words, a subtle but strong note of command.

Disapproval and shock bloomed over Evalin's feature, but she said nothing.

"Very well, milady," Philippa said quietly. The young, dark-haired lady's maid--only a few years older than Aelin was--tucked the last two pins into Aelin's hair and flicked her mistress a tiny but immensely proud smile. "What do you think?"

"It is perfect." Aelin gave her lady's maid and longtime companion a grateful smile. "Mother, would you please oversee my cosmetics? You know how little experience I have with all of that."

Placated, Evalin directed Philippa to apply simple makeup to Aelin's face, enhancing her clear skin and soft lips and concealing the faint shadows beneath her eyes. Though she was only twenty-one, Aelin had long since struggled with poor sleep, and it manifested in the circles smudged under her eyes.

"There," Evalin announced. "Lovely." She touched Aelin's shoulder. "Has your stomach settled, darling? It is time for the dress."

"My stomach will survive," Aelin returned. She stood and followed her mother into the next room, where she removed her dressing gown and allowed Philippa and two other attendants to busy themselves with arranging her undergarments.

"Deep breath, milady," Philippa prompted. Obediently, Aelin inhaled deeply and held the breath, keeping her face carefully blank as Philippa tugged with practiced ease on the laces of Aelin's corset. "Very good, milady, just another few seconds." With a final sharp tug, she tied the laces into a neat bow. "Exhale, milady."

Aelin released her breath with careful control. The corset was as restricting and uncomfortable as always, cinched tightly around her waist and stomach, drawing her already-ladylike figure into a conventional image of a lady with an impossibly small waistline. "Well, I would prefer to breathe properly, but thank you, Philippa."

Philippa dipped her head. "All things for the beauty of the bride." She helped Aelin step up onto the small, round, raised platform in the middle of the dressing room. "Up you go, milady." She and two other attendants helped Aelin step into her wedding gown--a beautifully tailored spill of white silk that molded closely against her bodice and fell into a cascading, lace-paneled skirt with a cathedral train. Soft cap sleeves laid over her shoulders, paired with matching white silk gloves.

"Oh, my daughter," Evalin whispered, tears misting up her eyes. "You are the perfect portrait of a bride."

"Stunning, milady," Philippa murmured into Aelin's ear as she adjusted Aelin's skirts.

Aelin simply stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, wondering where she had gone and when this porcelain-faced doll had replaced her. She felt oddly separated from her emotions, as if she had somehow stepped out of her own body and was watching it go through the motions of being a bride.

With light-handed gracefulness, Philippa tucked the two silver combs of the lace veil into Aelin's hair and gently tossed the airy spill of hand-wrought lace, allowing the two layers of material to drift naturally down Aelin's back. "Look at you," she whispered.

Aelin looked. "You truly work wonders," she said softly, the corners of her lips curling up.

Philippa smiled. "Hardly. Let's get you to the wedding, milady."

~

In a rushed blur, Aelin was helped into her shoes, handed a huge, almost cloyingly sweet bouquet of roses and lilies, and led down a series of winding hallways until she stood before the great wooden doors to the cathedral nave where her father was waiting.

"A vision," he murmured, pride and joy shining on his face.

Aelin managed a faint smile. "A nervous vision."

Rhoe chuckled quietly. "Not to increase your nerves, Fireheart, but everyone is ready. They are all waiting for you." He tucked her hand snugly into the crook of his elbow. "Shall we?"

A strange sense of calm descended over Aelin, and she felt her resolve return, turning her spine into composed steel. "We shall." She nodded to Philippa, who stepped forward and draped the upper layer of her veil over her face, arranging the lace so Aelin could still see. "I am ready."

With a great groaning creak and a thunderous swelling of organ music, the cathedral doors were swung open, revealing Aelin and Rhoe to an eager audience of hundreds of society's finest. Rhoe walked Aelin slowly down the aisle, his steady presence at her side keeping her sane, keeping her on her feet.

Halfway down the aisle, Aelin could finally clearly see the man standing at the altar, waiting for her. The Duke of Doranelle. Her soon-to-be husband. He was tall--taller than her father--and broad-shouldered, his perfectly tailored black suit clinging to the kind of well-muscled physique that made her think he'd served in the army. His hair was tied back in a short tail and powdered white, as was traditional, his face had the kind of elegantly structured planes and angles that would make a sculptor cry with joy, and his eyes--pine-green and piercing--were honed in on her.

He looked about as tenderhearted as a block of ice.

Refusing to be the timid, demure bride this duke no doubt expected her to be, Aelin locked her gaze onto the duke's and kept it there for the remainder of her procession down the aisle.

Rhoe stopped at the base of the four steps leading up to the altar, just in front of the waiting duke and the bishop. The bishop, in full clerical finery, opened the book in his hands and offered a polite smile.

"Dearly beloved," he began, "we are gathered here today to witness the divine institution of holy matrimony." He spoke on for another minute, then turned to Rhoe and Aelin. "Who gives this woman to be married to this man?

"I do." Rhoe spoke with conviction. He took Aelin's hand from his arm and, at the nod of the bishop, laid her gloved hand in the duke's outstretched, gloved one.

The duke's large hand closed around Aelin's, and she felt the oddest sensation flicker at the base of her spine. She cast a cool, appraising look at the duke through the lace of her veil, a spark of satisfaction flaring within her at his tiny, well-concealed inhale, and returned her attention to the bishop.

The wedding ceremony droned on and on, and Aelin let the words spill over her, not paying too much attention to anything except the way her corset dug into her ribs and the too-strong scent of the massive bouquet of flowers in her free hand. She snapped back into focus when the bishop directed her and the duke to turn towards each other for the exchange of vows.

Facing her, his deep pine gaze locked onto her turquoise one, the duke spoke first, repeating the bishop's prompted words. "I, Rowan Whitethorn, take thee, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, in sickness and health. I vow to thee to honor and cherish till death do us part. In the presence of God and man I make these vows."

The bishop nodded slightly at Aelin and murmured the words. She spoke, her voice clear and unwavering. "I, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, take thee, Rowan Whitethorn, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, in sickness and in health. I vow to thee to honor and cherish till death do us part. In the presence of God and man I make these vows."

She could almost sense the finality of the words.

The bishop motioned at one of the groomsmen, who stepped forward with a small white pillow upon which laid two gold bands. One was thicker and wider, a man's ring. The other was more delicate, crowned with a square-cut emerald. The bishop spoke words over the rings and then directed the duke--Rowan--to place the ring on Aelin's finger.

With surprising gentleness, Rowan lifted Aelin's left hand and slipped the silk glove off of her arm. Cradling her smaller hand in his large one, he looked into her eyes as if trying to read her soul and slid the ring onto her finger, the coolness of the gold quickly warming to her skin.

At the bishop's prompting, Aelin unbuttoned Rowan's glove and slipped the white cotton material off of his hand. With her still-gloved hand beneath his now-bare one, she returned his searching, probing look and slid the ring onto his callused, tan finger.

The bishop flipped a page in his book. "I hereby pronounce thee man and wife," he proclaimed. Applause rippled through the cathedral in waves, the assembled congregation clapping politely for the newly married Duke and Duchess of Doranelle. The bishop waited for the applause to quiet down, and then spoke the last few words of the ceremony. "You may kiss the bride," he concluded.

Rowan reached down and lifted the veil off Aelin's face. With the lace no longer between them, his keen gaze roved rapidly over her face as he tilted his head down and touched his lips to hers. It was barely a whisper of a kiss, more ceremonial than anything, but in those few seconds of contact, Aelin had the oddest sense that she wanted to know what a real kiss from that man felt like.

~

As the organ burst into joyous swells of music, Aelin laid her newly ringed hand upon Rowan's offered arm and walked beside him down the aisle and out of the cathedral. Sunlight beamed down upon the newlywed couple, and she blinked at the brightness of its glare.

There was a gentle tug on her hand. "Here," Rowan prompted, leading her down the cathedral stairs towards a waiting carriage. It was simple on the exterior, its boxy frame glossy, the doors engraved with the crest of Doranelle. A footman opened the door and placed a stepstool on the ground, and Rowan steadied Aelin as she gathered her trailing skirts over one arm and stepped up into the carriage. Inside, it was paneled in deep green silk, the seats well-cushioned and comfortable.

She sank into one seat with a suppressed groan of relief. Rowan settled into the seat opposite hers, his brows quirking with something that might resemble amusement if he possessed human emotions.

"What?" she inquired, deceptively polite. "Have you never thought that perhaps a woman grows exhausted after spending hours standing in uncomfortable shoes that pinch her toes and shift all her weight to paper-thin soles and tiny little sticks of heels?"

Rowan opened and closed his mouth several times, struggling for words. "I confess I had never thought about that, no."

"Typical." Aelin adjusted her skirts, lifted her veil over her shoulder so as not to sit on it, and fixed her attention on the city slipping past outside the window.

Across from her, Rowan shifted in his seat. Clearly, he had not anticipated that she would ignore him--typical male arrogance. It was only a few minutes before he spoke. "Aelin."

Though the sound of her name on his tongue did funny things to her heartbeat, she ignored him.

"Aelin," he tried again. She still paid him no heed.

So he turned his head towards the opposite window and set his jaw in a hard line. They passed the remainder of the carriage ride in tense silence, only exchanging looks and a perfunctory touch when they arrived at the Galathynius home in the city for the reception and Rowan escorted her out of the carriage and into the house.

~

The whole thing flew past in a blur of greetings, pleasantries, gifts, a delicious dinner that Aelin barely tasted because her corset made it nearly impossible to properly eat, toasts, dancing, and finally, being swept off to change into travelling clothes. She blew out a short breath of relief as Philippa helped her out of her wedding dress.

Her lady's maid laughed. "Better?"

"So much better," Aelin groaned. "Do you know how awful it is to walk around with ten yards of silk following you like a stray cat?"

"Sounds horrendous," Philippa agreed. She buttoned up the back of Aelin's simple satin travel dress and laid her lightweight cloak around her shoulders. "Enjoy your journey, milady. I will see you once you reach Doranelle."

"You are the best." Aelin squeezed Philippa's hands affectionately. "I left a little something for you in my dressing-table." Tucked into the drawer was an envelope containing a small sum of money for her ever-faithful lady's maid. "I look forward to seeing you at our new home." She smiled and went down the stairs.

Rowan waited at the base of the staircase, the lines of his face etched in granite. He had changed from his formal black wedding suit into brown trousers, vest, and jacket and a white linen shirt and washed the powder from his hair. She was mildly surprised to see that beneath the powder, his hair was light brown and slightly curled at the ends.

Evalin enveloped Aelin in her embrace. "You will make a wonderful Duchess," she murmured. "I look forward to visiting you once you've settled in." Aelin smiled and turned to her father.

Rhoe wrapped his daughter in his arms. "I'm so very proud of you, my Fireheart," he whispered. "Write me if you need anything. I'll keep your mother from invading, as much as I can."

Aelin chuckled. "Thank you, Father."

Rhoe grinned at her and turned his attention to his new son-in-law. "I will not hesitate to do anything my daughter asks of me," he said, his words edged with paternal warning. "Take care of my Fireheart, Your Grace."

"I will, sir." Rowan linked Aelin's arm with his. "Are you ready?"

"I am." With a final wave to her family, she and the duke left her family home, climbed into his carriage, and began the silent drive towards his estate in the country.

~

As evening deepened into night, Rowan glanced at his watch. "We should be stopping for the night in half an hour or so."

Aelin raised her brows. "At an inn?"

"No. At Mistward House." He offered no further explanation.

"Forgive me for not memorizing the details of each of your holdings before the wedding, Your Grace," she deadpanned.

His controlled expression did not even budge. "Mistward House was my mother's dowry property. Doranelle itself is another half day's journey from here."

"I see."

Shortly later, their carriage pulled to a stop in front of a brownstone manor house with ivy trailing up parts of the walls and warm golden lamplight shining from a few of the windows. It would have been wonderfully welcoming under any other circumstances, but all Aelin could think of was the very real possibility of what might happen inside that house in not very much time.

Rowan climbed out of the carriage and held out his hand, and she accepted it as she stepped down from the carriage. He escorted her inside and made a brief greeting to the few staff who were there.

"Everything is ready just as you requested, Your Grace," the middle-aged lady who must have been the housekeeper said. "It it so good to see you here again, even if only for the night."

"Thank you, Mrs. Ellys," Rowan returned, a hint of warmth in his tone. "We shall see if we visit Mistward later in the summer." He turned back to Aelin. "This way."

She followed him down the hallways, memorizing the simple path back to the front entrance as they walked. He stopped in front of a dark wooden door, paused for a few seconds, then pushed the door open and led her into a warm, softly-lit bedroom with wood-paneled walls, a large, soft-looking bed, and a small fire crackling behind the fireplace grate. In any other context, it would have looked positively homelike and comforting.

Rowan closed the door with a muted click, and Aelin suddenly realized that despite what she'd wondered, there would be no separate bedrooms, not that night.

"There is a washroom through that door," he said, pointing towards a door near the back of the room.

She nodded, took her small bag of nightclothes, and headed straight into the washroom. The door had a lock, so she locked herself in the small but sparkling clean room, braced her hands on the edge of the sink, and breathed as deeply as she could while still confined by that godsdamn corset. With almost robotic movements, she took off her cloak, dress, shoes, stockings, and undergarments, untied the laces of her corset, and carefully, painstakingly loosened the damned contraption until her lungs were free and she could throw it to the ground.

As always, the corset's boned structure had left red imprints along her sides. She frowned, chose to ignore the marks, and pulled her soft cotton nightgown over her head, letting the comfortable material settle against her skin.

After washing her face, Aelin pulled the pins from her hair and left them beside the sink. If the stone-faced duke took issue with her leaving her hairpins in the washroom, he could stuff the pins up his ass. She ran a comb through her hair, tied it back in a loose braid, and left the washroom, resolved to continue ignoring her husband for as long as possible.

Her husband, in return, barely spared her a second glance as he went into the washroom, dressed in his own nightclothes. He was in there for a short time, the splashing of water indicating that he was washing up like she had. She took the opportunity to drape her dress and cloak over the dressing screen in the corner of the room and take a slow walk around the bedroom, half expecting there to be some kind of secret entrance.

She had already climbed into the (very comfortable) bed when Rowan emerged from the washroom and methodically blew out each of the lamps in the room before climbing into the other side of the bed, his back turned to her.

Perfect. The less contact she had with the man, the better.

~

Aelin awoke in the middle of the night with Rowan's arm draped over her waist, his hand skimming her hipbones through the fine material of her nightgown.

Blindly, half-panicked, she jerked sharply away from him and his touch, pulled the sheet over herself, shut her eyes tight and mentally screamed at herself to breathe, gods damn it! She managed a short breath, and then another, and a deep breath, and another, and another.

As her head cleared, she opened her eyes, finding her husband awake, sitting upright a full arm's length away, his unfaltering eyes latched onto her. Concern and fear were written written all over his face.

"Aelin?" he whispered.

"I'm here," she croaked.

Worry and rage clashed in the depths of his gaze. "Who hurt you?" he breathed, primal violence simmering just beneath the controlled softness of his voice.

"Why do you care?" she whispered, defensive.

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, and when he met her gaze again, muted pain joined the storm of emotions roiling in the depths of his stare. "Because my bastard of a father hurt my mother, and I swore an oath to never be anything like him."

It was the most human she'd ever seen the duke be in their few hours of knowing each other.

A tiny corner of her heart softened at the rawness of his words. "It was...an associate of my father."

Rowan pushed the sleeves of his nightshirt up, exposing his forearms. "Will you tell me who, Aelin?" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I do not mean to pry, but I...if the man is still alive, I will end him."

"He is long since dead, and he was Lord Hamel," she said, simply.

"Arobynn Hamel?"

"Yes."

He exhaled slowly. "Hamel was one hell of a bastard," he whispered, roughly.

She just nodded. "I've always wondered if it makes me a horrible person for being happy that he's dead."

"It doesn't." The swiftness of Rowan's reply shocked both of them. He sighed. "It does not make you anything but justified, Aelin."

There was that infernal flutter in her guarded heart. "I might just have to admit that you're human after all."

A half grin curved his lips. "How might I prove my full humanity to you, Your Grace?" Gods burn her, the man had a sense of humor.

She shrugged indifferently, tamping down the part of herself that wanted to squeal like a little girl. "You could start with letting me get a full night's sleep." Maybe it was the late hour, maybe it was the fact that she was overwhelmed from the events of the last day, or maybe it was sheer insanity, but then she let a smirk curve her own lips. "Or, if you intend not to sleep, you could give your wife a kiss."

Rowan inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring with surprise. "Say that again."

"I was under the impression that you weren't the command-giving type." The snarky retort tumbled unbidden from her lips.

In a single, smooth move, he was inches away from her face, his arms braced on either side of her--enough space that she didn't feel trapped, but close enough to feel the heat of him. "And I was under the impression that you wanted a kiss, Your Grace."

A lazy grin unfurled across Aelin's face. "Kindly give your wife a kiss, Your Grace."

"Never stop calling yourself my wife," he murmured, and he kissed her. At first, it was a soft brush of his lips, then he sank one hand into her hair and deepened the kiss, slow and leisurely and unhurried.

After a long, blissful moment, she broke the kiss, leaning slightly back to catch her breath, and a huge yawn split the air between them. She laughed, softly. "Good night, Rowan."

"Good night, Aelin," he murmured. She settled back down into bed, and he tucked the covers up over her. His arm lingered around her shoulders, hesitant, hopeful. "Is this alright?"

The warmth of him was still strange, but comforting. "Yes."

She fell asleep with her duke's arm around her and the warmth of his body behind her, solid and steady and protective, nothing at all like the ice-faced man who had sworn vows to her just that morning.

~~

will there be more? who knows... ;)

~~~

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#my writing #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin month 2023 #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #regency au #rowaelin regency au #to honor and cherish #100000% bridgerton and p&p inspired #gotta cite my sources lmao