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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year

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rowaelin // 5.3k words // ciwyw mastlist // playlist // masterlist

It had been a frustrating day to begin with. After failing to sleep for more than a collective two hours the night before, Rowan had tried to carry on with his day like he would any other Sunday. The conversation with Aelin, and more importantly her response, pounding with every slap of his shoes against the treadmill. Not even a full leg-day workout could dispel the dreadful, anxious energy brewing at the forefront of his mind.

Lorcan had showed up at the house early in the afternoon and chewed his ass out for the red card. He was fully in Team Captain mode for the full lecture, barely letting Rowan get a word in edgewise. At some point he gave up on defending himself and let Lorcan get his rant out. Once he was finished, he’d flopped onto Rowan’s couch and gestured vaguely with his hands.

“Alright. Your turn. Talk about it.”

“I already told you I was sor–” He’d started, hands bracing his knees as he debated groveling on his knees for Lorcan to let up. It had been a long enough weekend and he couldn’t handle another half hour. Sure, he deserved being called a stupid, selfish bastard, but he was tired. There wasn’t much left for him to say other than he was sorry, and he’d already done that multiple times.

“I’m not talking about the match. The girl. Something’s bothering you, so talk. The other idiots aren’t here to give you shit about it.” The man had a point. Without everyone else there to make subtle digs, it was easier for him to nod his head and dive headfirst into the clusterfuck of a situation he was in with Aelin.

To his credit, Lorcan listened to every word until it was all laying before them like a jigsaw puzzle. The pieces were hard to put together because there were about a million of them, all tiny, and several of them were missing entirely. Rowan couldn’t find the corners and didn’t know which way was up or down. Lorcan listened anyway. The migraine that had been coming on for the last few hours hit in full force when Lorcan compared it all to a fucking onion.

“Give her space. Give her time. The shit with Lyria is a lot to unpack on its own. Add into it that you’ve found yourself in a similar, however different, situation with Aelin… it would be a lot for anyone. It’s an onion, mate. Shit has fucking layers to it.” Rowan had given him a flat look that caused Lorcan to raise his hands in front of his chest. “I’m just saying. Might also be a lesson to check the expirations on those rubbers before you use them, too. Twice in one lifetime? You are one unlucky bastard.”

“You’re not helping,” Rowan glowered, eyes narrowed into little slits. Even if it was good advice, it didn’t do him a lick of good at this point. So much for not getting any shit about this.

“What brand did you use? I need to avoid those fuckers like the plague.”

“Lorcan,” Rowan sighed exasperatedly, all ten fingers raking through his hair until it was a mess of tangles.

“Just give her the space she asked for, Ro. She told you what to do. So do it.”

“It’s hard to give her space when I just want to be with her all the time,” he finally admitted, slumping back against the sofa. The position did nothing to help the throbbing in his head, but he didn’t move.

“I really need to meet this woman if she has you, of all people, wound so tight you look like you’re about to explode,” Lorcan said with the shake of his head. “Do you think she’s worth all the trouble?”

Rowan didn’t have to think about it. The answer was a huge, resounding yes. She was worth fighting for. He said as much and Lorcan nodded, eyes focused on the empty fireplace.

“For what it’s worth… I’ve never seen you as happy as you are when you talk about her. Don’t get me wrong, until she cuts you a break and gives you a real chance, she’s on my shit-list. But she makes you happy. I’ve never seen you this way about a woman and I think… I think she pulls out the best parts of you.” Lorcan’s confession made Rowan’s chest feel a little tight. “Except for when she’s the reason you’re so pissed off you get carded.”

They had both shared a quiet laugh at that, then spent the rest of the evening sipping beer and watching the major sports channels for highlights of the other games that happened over the weekend.

Hours later, Rowan truly was about to explode. Sleep was already hard to find despite scouring every drawer and pocket in his brain. When his phone pinged, hope had swelled that it was Aelin. As much as he loved to see her smiling face lighting up his phone, it was not what he had in mind.

Rowan Whitethorn liked to think of himself as a man with self control and reason. Amongst his teammates he was known for being level-headed, someone that thought things through and didn’t jump the gun. To his core, he always had been those things– until he met Aelin Galathynius, and he was unraveling quicker than a dropped spool of thread.

You know, the one that rolled under the bed and there was no hope of getting it back unless you kept pulling on the string. The spool would re-emerge from the shadows once the thread was in a mess of a knot at your feet and there was absolutely no hope of getting it wrapped back around its little home neatly. In fact, you might even scrap the whole thing and throw it in the garbage because the reward didn’t outweigh the tedious task at hand.

Rowan felt like that unraveled spool of thread as he stared at his phone screen at two in the morning, the simple plastic phone case groaning under the pressure of his white-knuckled grip. The edges of his vision were hazy because he hadn’t blinked a single time since he saw the picture that Fenrys sent him.

Mala fucking help him, he was going to murder his teammate. A brutal, bloody murder. Rowan had never been so sure that he was going to end up in fucking jail.

Aelin was radiant– something that had been missing from her the last time he saw her. The woman in the picture was exactly the woman that had ripped his heart from his chest before he even knew what was happening. The more muted version he’d had over the weekend still held his throbbing, bleeding heart. But the woman beaming in the photo was the one who stole it in the first place.

Her hair was down, the golden waves cascading over her shoulders and out of frame. With rose-kissed cheeks and plump, sensual lips spread wide in one of the smiles she used to give him, she was devastating. A little tipsy from his afternoon with Lorcan, Rowan had to physically restrain himself from tracing the shape of her mouth with his fingers. Gods, when did he become such a sap?

The first photo was just her. A tiny cocktail straw was between her teeth, eyes closed from the force of her smile. Her eyelashes seemed to graze the top of her cheeks they were so long. Because of the angle of the photo, taken from a lower, upturned angle, one of the golden lightbulbs gave her a halo. It was fitting, because she was a fucking angel.

>> She’s even more beautiful in person.

Rowan knew that. He was well aware of how fucking beautiful she was. But why did Fenrys know that? Why was he discovering the truth of it at two in the godsdamn morning?

>> What the fuck?

<< I mean, if you’re not going to, she should get it from somewhere. You haven’t had sex in her bed yet, have you?

>> Fenrys I swear to the fucking gods if you touch her I’m not responsible for what happens to your face.

The picture that followed made him want to throw his phone across the room and hope it shattered into a million pieces he couldn’t put back together. Someone across the table had taken it, probably Connall if he had to guess. Aelin’s arm was around Fenrys’s neck and they were cheek to cheek with matching smiles. Mischief was wild in Fen’s eyes while Aelin just looked… happy.

And then he noticed, just at the edge of the picture, how low on her hip his godsdamn hand was and he thought he was going to lose his mind. Yep. He was definitely going to be arrested for homicide in a few hours. The mugshot would be in every newspaper in the country, across the world, and he didn’t care.

>> She’s just wearing minty lip balm. My face will be nothing but hydrated and tasty.

<< You motherfucker

>> Well… not yet 😉

And then Fenrys stopped replying.

The self-control and level-headedness he had once prided himself in was nowhere to be seen. He tried to pull on the thread of his sanity, to tell himself it didn’t matter, that all of this was fine. Yet every time he looked back at the screen, every muscle and tendon in his body was so taught it felt as though one movement would have them all in ribbons.

Rowan hadn’t ever had a relationship where he felt the need to protect as much as he did with Aelin. Maybe it was partially because of the baby, but a roaring silence filled his head at the thought of her with another man, least of all Fenrys fucking Moonbeam. If Fenrys respected any kind of friendship code, he wouldn’t even act like he was thinking about toeing that line.

It felt stupid. They were barely dating and only knew the tip of the iceberg with each other. Still, there was something so different with her. For the first time in almost a decade, he had let his guard down. There were no mile high cement walls around his heart with nowhere to grasp to climb up and over. He was just Rowan, an unopened book with unexplored pages begging to be read.

It was highly unlikely that he was the only person that found himself inexplicably drawn to her. She was sweeter and more intoxicating than any drug, than any brand of alcohol money could buy. Aelin Galathynius had the energy of someone that you just wanted to taste once, because once she was gone you wouldn’t experience anything like her ever again. Coming so close to losing her, Rowan was keenly aware of that fact, and he wasn’t sure how he would ever move on if they didn’t really give themselves the chance to explore it. They were opposite ends of two very strong magnets. It was impossible that she didn’t feel that, too.

Rowan Whitethorn didn’t open up to just anybody. He didn’t let people in. Aelin wasn’t just a fluke. He was absolutely sure of it.

The thoughts wouldn’t stop chattering through his brain. Words flashed behind his closed eyelids a thousand miles a minute, leaving nothing but explosions of stars and colors where he tried to rub them away. Every time he looked at his phone, the desire to get in his car and drive to Aelin’s grew stronger and stronger. It was becoming an itch that he couldn’t he couldn’t ignore, and once the sun finally started to peek in through his blinds, he was rolling out of bed and nearly running to shower and change clothes.

By the time eight rolled around, he had forced a small bowl of cereal down his throat and downed what was probably too many cups of coffee. By eight-fifteen, Rowan was in his car and speeding toward the highway to Varese with something that belonged to Aelin sitting in his front seat.

~*~

Rowan felt… Well, he felt insane.

Not for the first time, he was asking himself what the fuck he was doing as he knocked on the door to Aelin’s apartment. At several red lights through the city, he debated going home. Halfway up the staircase, he had paused and gone down three steps, only to turn around and march right back up and to her door. The echoing of his fist on the wood had him hesitating once again, wondering if he should just get in his car and go home. He had no clue what he was doing here, besides just needing to see her and make sure that both she and the baby were okay, regardless of her late night activities.

That’s what he was telling himself, anyway.

In the ten agonizing seconds it took for him to head footsteps from inside her apartment, he almost turned and bolted. Rowan was well aware that he was being a territorial fool. Evidently there was no reasoning with that very stupid and very irrational part of his brain, even as the clicking and sliding of locks had him wondering how quickly he could make it down a flight of stairs without being caught.

“Oh,” came her surprised voice, wide eyes and raised brows to match. It was his very favorite version of Aelin that opened the door. All of her golden hair was in a messy knot on the top of her head, a few pieces framing her face. Much to his satisfaction, he realized she was wearing the shirt he’d told her she could keep a few days prior. A pair of little black shorts peeked out from the hem, and the long expanse of her bare legs had him almost forgetting why he was there in the first place. “What are you doing here?”

Her voice brought his eyes back to her face. There was no evidence of the makeup she’d had on the night before and though he could tell by looking at her that she was exhausted, he could also see that she had at least a few hours of good sleep. The skin around her eyes was a little puffy and a few lines were tattooed on her cheeks from her pillow or the blanket.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No, no. I’ve been awake for like half an hour. Just haven't gotten to dragging myself out of bed yet since I’m not going to the office today.” Right. It was Monday. In his hazy stupor, Rowan had entirely forgotten that she should have been going to work.

“Are you too sick today?” Rowan was immediately on edge, searching her face and body for any sign of what would keep her from working. There was no point– she was downright glowing today. A healthy blush heated her cheeks and he could almost make out the small smattering of freckles across her nose from where he stood across the threshold.

“No,” she said simply. “I feel really good today, actually. You didn’t answer me. What are you doing here, Rowan?”

“You forgot your toothbrush at my house,” he said lamely, patting at his pockets. Fuck. “It was purple? I left it in my car.”

“I did leave it at your house because that’s the one you bought for me to keep there.” There was laughter in her words as she spoke, like she was bringing up an inside joke they’d made. Mirth danced in her brilliant turquoise eyes despite her face contorting with confusion as she asked again, her tone softer this time, “What are you doing here, Rowan?”

What a loaded fucking question. He sure as hell didn’t know. How many times on the way here had he asked himself the same thing?

He didn’t have to answer it directly, though, because he realized her shower was running down the hall. Before he could stop himself he blurted, “Is that Fenrys?”

“Fen– what?” There was so much disbelief in her voice, but she started laughing. “You drove all the way up here to see if Fenrys spent the night with me?”

Rowan wasn’t sure if the laughter was a good thing or a bad thing. It was impossible to tell if she was laughing at him for being so stupid he thought he had any right to know about her private life when he wasn’t around, or if she was laughing because the idea was so stupid and he had nothing to be worried about. He was inclined to think it was the former, because even though Fenrys liked to rile him up, he didn’t know if he would push Rowan quite so hard.

“Hey, bub? You hungry?” A voice, one that was distinctly not Fenrys’s shouted from the bathroom. In that one, tiny pet name, Rowan’s entire heart sank through the floor. If he looked down, he was sure he would be standing in a puddle of his own blood. The world had gone very quiet, his fingers suddenly freezing as he stuffed them into his pockets.

“Yes,” she called back, her eyes not leaving Rowan’s face.

Aelin was seeing someone else. It wasn’t a thought that had ever occurred to him until those texts from Fenrys, but now it was glaringly obvious. She had already said once that their relationship wasn’t supposed to turn into anything serious. Had she been seeing other men the whole time? It wasn’t like they’d ever talked about being exclusive in any shape or form. They had plenty of time away from each other. He never would have known. It couldn’t even be considered cheating.

“Rowan,” she said, bottom lip tucked between her teeth to swallow her smile.

“I’ll… I’m sorry. I’ll let you get back to the guy in the shower,” he half-mumbled, crossing his arms to hide his shaking hands.

And then she was well and truly laughing. It was a bright, melodious sound that under any other circumstance, he would have loved to pull out of her, to bottle up and get drunk on it whenever he pleased.. But right here, right now? Rowan was fucking gutted, and she was giggling like he’d said the funniest thing in the world.

Rowan had just turned to start walking away when she collected herself enough to say, “You mean my cousin?”

Time stopped. His blood was pumping in reverse to turn back the clock, to take everything he’d just said and wipe it from existence. Even his movements felt slower as he looked at her, fire licking up his neck and covering his face. The tips of his ears would be nearly purple and if he walked out into the humid air, his body would be steaming. She could probably feel the heat of his body from where she stood in the doorway.

Rowan had never been so fucking embarrassed in his entire life.

“Yeah, I– I am so sorry. I’ll talk to you later,” he grumbled, turning on his heel to make his swift exit and go die in peace. Recovery wasn’t an option. There was absolutely no coming back from this.

~*~

The plan with Fenrys had either gloriously backfired, or he put much more into the prank than expected. She made a mental note to text him about that later, but there wasn’t time for that now.

Aelin stepped through the door and caught Rowan’s hand before he was too far away. He felt feverish, like his immune system was trying to burn out the embarrassment before it could settle too much. It took a lot of tugging but he stopped trying to escape her presence. His footsteps were heavy on the old wood floors as she dragged him back toward her apartment.

“I really just want to go,” he told her, tattooed fingers sliding through his hair. It was down for once, not braided or tied out of his face.

“Look at me.” But he wouldn’t. Green eyes stayed glued to a spot well above her head, looking at anything but her. Yes, it had been funny that he thought that Aedion was a random hookup. But the devastation on his face had done nothing but wreck her in return. The laughter was partially an involuntary response to an awkward situation, but also because it was cute that he was so worried about it. Rowan had absolutely nothing to be worried about.

“Aelin–” The more she reached for him, the more he leaned away. He took one step back and she took one forward, refusing to let him leave while so upset. Aelin reached up, her cool hands resting on his warm cheeks as she gently guided his face to look at her. Before he could protest or slip further from her grasp, she rocked up onto her tiptoes and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his lips. All ten of his fingers were shaking when they came to rest on her hips and it broke her heart.

“Take a breath,” she whispered, sliding her hands down his neck and over his chest. Rowan’s eyes were still closed as he rested his warm forehead against her own, but he obeyed. “Fenrys was just fucking with you. Clearly he took it way too far and I am so sorry. We will most definitely be having words about that.”

Before he could respond, from the depths of her apartment Aedion once again shouted for her and Rowan’s hands flexed on her hips. Aelin sighed and grabbed his hands, walking backwards with him until they were inside. Her fingertips were able to reach around him to push the door shut, sealing him inside with her.

“Aedion, can you shut the fuck up and come out here and talk to me like a normal person? You’re freaking out my boyfriend and he’s been through enough for today.” Aedion’s hurried footsteps down the hall and the click of his door shutting was the only response she was given, likely to hurry and dress for their sudden company.

Rowan looked inclined to agree with her sentiments, but didn’t say anything as she walked to the kitchen to get him some water. There was something off about him, and not just because of the trauma Fenrys had inflicted on him, nor the embarrassment that still stained his cheeks. He seemed almost… dim. All of the energy he’d had mere moments ago was vanishing before her eyes. His posture was a deflated balloon hovering inches from the ground a week after the party.

“Are you hungry?” She asked, taking his hand and guiding him to the couch. Rowan shrugged as she nudged for him to sit in the corner while she curled onto the middle cushion beside him, her legs leaning against his thigh. If anything, she hoped it would ground him from the hell he’d been dragged through in the last few hours. “When was the last time you slept?”

Rowan exhaled, his cheeks puffing out with the gust of air. Dark circles haunted the skin beneath his eyes, which were bloodshot, making the green of them all the more piercing. Aelin frowned at his lack of response, tugging on his sleeve until he looked at her.

“The fact that it’s taking you so long to figure it out tells me enough.” As though they couldn’t help themselves, despite her telling him she needed space, her traitorous fingers reached out and brushed his hair out of his eyes.

“It’s been a few days,” He admitted, attempting to rub the tiredness away with his thumb and forefinger. “And my head is fucking killing me.”

“Let’s eat some breakfast and then we can nap, yeah? I’d tuck you in right now but I’m starving and I think you probably need to eat a bit, too.”

A crease appeared between his eyebrows, lips pursing into a line as he looked over at her and said, “Is that… okay? You said you wanted space. I’m not exactly giving it to you by showing up like this.”

“Considering I’ve barely been awake for an hour and could already use a nap, I’m going to go with yes. Besides, I do want you to meet Aedion while he’s here.” Thank the gods, his lips quirked into a small smile. Relief fluttered through her chest. She had never been so happy to see somebody smile at her before.

Just as he opened his mouth to respond, however, Aedion’s door opened and he appeared in the archway to the hall. Aelin looked over at her cousin with a look that threatened violence if he tried the man beside her even a little too hard. Much to her surprise, Aedion gave a short nod before walking closer to the couch.

“Aedion, meet Rowan. Rowan, this is Aedion.” Aelin was a little surprised that Rowan mustered the muscle power to stand and shake hands. “Rowan is very tired so save the groveling for later, please.”

“I think you should be telling him to save my ass-kicking for later,” Rowan amended, sitting back on the couch. Aelin grinned as he looked over at her. “I can assume you told him what I’ve done.”

“And that you’re very sorry,” she added sweetly, but her glance at Aedion was sharp as a dagger. Though his mouth had opened, likely to throw his own little quip into the sparring ring, it shut immediately.

“We’ll talk about it another time,” Aedion said simply, dropping onto the sofa beside Aelin with enough force that she bounced. She scowled at him, her hand immediately going to cover her stomach. “What are we eating?”

Half an hour later they had brunch delivered to the apartment, the three of them sitting knee to knee on the couch. The sofa in question had been chosen for the luxurious aesthetic it provided, but she made a mental note to look at sectionals. There was no way she could have any other visitors with only this and the overstuffed chair in the corner for seating.

Though he said a few things here and there, most of the conversation was Aelin and Aedion’s casual banter. While they did talk a little bit about the game he was carded in and what he expected for the rest of the season, as the conversation went on Rowan seemed to keep drawing further and further into himself. His broad shoulders were caved in and that wrinkle between his eyebrows got deeper and deeper. It looked like it was taking an astronomical amount of effort to keep his eyes open.

When they finished, Aelin and Rowan settled back against the couch while Aedion cleaned everything up. She had intended to just check a few emails before getting Rowan to bed, but he dozed comically fast. The email was half-read when she locked her phone and contemplated the best way to wake him gently.

“This is the man that got the first red-card of his career for being so fucking pissed on Friday?” Aedion asked incredulously.

“So it would seem.”

“You’ve never seen him play–” But Aelin cut him off with a shake of her head.

“I have. I watched the game until he got kicked out and then drove to Doranelle.”

“Before that,” his hand cut through the air, dismissing her. Aelin gave him a flat look before looking back at the man snoozing beside her. “He’s a demon, Aelin. When he’s on the field every move is calculated and with purpose. His face is always harsh and his body is always locked and loaded for the next play. Yet here he is, falling asleep on your couch with his mouth open. He might start drooling.” Aedion put his hands on his knees and leaned forward to get a closer look.

Aelin grinned, eyes cutting back to Aedion. She couldn’t help it. “Be nice, he’s getting old.”

She knew it was true. Ever since uncovering the truth about his job, she had spent an embarrassing amount of time watching highlight videos of his career online. Every photo she saw that was snapped mid-match, his face was all hard lines and angles like he was in the middle of a battlefield fighting for his life. On the soccer pitch, he looked like a warrior that had been honed for battle. Here, on her couch asleep, he just looked like Rowan. The real Rowan, and she was pretty sure not many people saw this side of him.

“He looks younger like this,” he observed, eyes squinting as if he could see the soccer persona in his face if he tried hard enough. It was nowhere to be seen, though.

“Probably because he isn’t awake to frown at me.”

“Yeah, no way this is the same guy that fought his way to a red-card before halftime,” Aedion concluded. Aelin snorted, her hand flying to her mouth to muffle the sound. Rowan didn’t so much as twitch.

“I’m pretty sure he almost cried when he heard you yell at me from the bathroom. He thought…” Involuntary giggles bubbled through her chest and out of her mouth, “He thought you were a hookup from last night.”

“That’s gross.” Aedion’s lips were downturned as he straightened, arms folding across his chest. “He almost cried?”

“That’s where it gets not-so- funny. Whatever Fenrys said to him really fucked him up.” She sighed then, reaching to trace his cheekbone with her fingertip. Rowan did stir then, eyes blinking rapidly as he took in a brute of a man staring down at him curiously and the feeling of Aelin’s skin on his. “Come on. Let’s go take a nap.”

In the most adorable protest of the century, Rowan started grumbling incoherently in the old language. Aelin smiled, only catching a few words here and there that equated to him insisting he wasn’t tired and they could nap later. His eyes betrayed him. They were heavy, blinking slowly and trying to roll back in his head.

“This is one argument you sure as hell aren’t going to win.” Aelin pulled him to his feet and guided him to her room. When she plopped him onto the edge of the bed his protesting started up again.

“What’s in it for me?” Sleepy, bleary eyes looked up at her as he refused to lay down. Aelin was standing between his legs with her hands on his shoulders, an eyebrow cocked to silently tell him he was being ridiculous.

“Besides sleeping for the first time in a couple days?” Rowan nodded, his fingertips grazing up her thighs and settling on her hips. She laughed, pushing his hair behind his ears. They would definitely be talking about his sleepless nights later. “What do you want?”

“A kiss, please.” His response was so immediate it made her heart play hopscotch in her chest. Sleepy Rowan might just be her favorite thing in the entire world. Not even cotton candy could make her feel so light and sweet.

“Okay, deal,” Aelin leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead. Rowan swore in the old language but laid flat on his back and let her pull the blankets over his body.

“Should have been more specific,” he mumbled, pulling on her hand until she crawled over him to the other side of the bed and nestled into the sheets beside him. She let him pull her close until they were pressed flush together. A weight she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying fell from her shoulders, replaced by his arms around her body. Aelin didn’t pull away but snuggled into him as much as she could, her face against his chest as she deeply inhaled the scent that was so completely Rowan. The scent that was home.

“You should have,” she agreed, but Rowan was already asleep.

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goddess-aelin · 1 year

Note

Aelin finds out she's pregnant with their 5th child

Y'all, I'm loving all these baby prompts honestly. Keep 'em coming!

Thanks for sending this in :)

What's Another One?

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none!

Another morning, another trip to the bathroom for Aelin. She hadn’t been feeling well for the past week and her normal morning routine was commonly interrupted by vomiting and sickness that made her feel like all she wanted to do was stay in bed. With four kids, it wasn’t entirely uncommon that someone in her household was sick, though with their fae heritage, these sicknesses were usually few and far between.

But Aelin seemed unable to get over this particular sickness.

She heard rather than saw her oldest, Alma, walk into the bathroom and gently take her hair. Her eldest was nearing ten years old and the girl was gods-sent. She was caring, gentle, and doting on her younger siblings and it was shown in the way she was currently mothering Aelin herself; holding back her hair while vomiting, filling a cup of water to rinse her mouth out, and then gently rubbing Aelin’s back. Aelin couldn’t help but think she’d make a fine queen someday. Hopefully far, far into the future.

Once Aelin felt like she could get a few words out, she turned to her daughter, bringing her into her side for a squeeze.

“Thank you, my sweet. You’re the best.” With a kiss to her hair, Aelin brought Alma’s head to lean on her shoulder, Aelin cuddling up to her daughter as best she could on the cold tile of the bathroom. “Wait, weren’t you with your sister?”

“Yes, but Idalia is fine, Mama. She’s in your room right now playing with her dollies.”

“Thank you for taking such good care of her while I’m sick and Papa is running the kingdom.”

Her daughter snorted, all Aelin through and through. “Papa hates running the kingdom. I’ll bet you ten gold coins that he will walk through that door grumbling about how his tunic itches.”

Aelin was already feeling better since she threw up but her daughter had a way of making her feel lighter. She loved all of her kids equally, of course. But Alma had a bit of a different relationship with her, being the oldest and the child set to inherit the kingdom. She understood that Alma sometimes felt there was a weight on her shoulders, one that Aelin knew all too well herself. Though she tried to bear most of that burden for her, she knew sometimes Alma just had to work things out herself. And of course, manifesting both fire and ice powers was no easy task for Alma to master. Even if she had two of the strongest magic wielders for parents.

Accompanying the pitter patter of tiny feet, her youngest’s screech was shrill in Aelin’s ears as she entered the bathroom.

“Mama!” The one and a half year old reached her arms toward Aelin, running as quickly as she could on semi-steady feet. If Alma was gentle and kind, Idalia was all fire and brute. She did have three older siblings to keep up with, after all. Idalia’s chubby arms wrapped around Aelin’s neck, sending them both flying backwards toward the edge of the tub.

“Woah there, little bug. Be careful.”

“Mama!” Idalia did not have volume control, which was making Aelin’s head throb at the moment. “All better, Mama?”

“Mama is still feeling a little sick. How about we go sit in the bed and read a book?” Idalia started wiggling in Aelin’s arms, desperate to climb into her parents’ giant, fluffy bed.

“Pick book, Mama. Be back.” And with that, Idalia ran her little chubby legs to her adjoining room.

Alma just laughed and helped her mother to the bed. Though Aelin wasn’t feeling incredibly nauseous any longer, she was grateful for the help due to her slight headache. A wave of dizziness passed over Aelin and she almost stumbled when she got to the bed.

“Mama! Are you ok?” Alma steadied her with a hand on her shoulder.

Aelin just placed a hand on her forehead, trying to regain her balance. “Mmhm. I’m ok, sweetie. Can you maybe just run and get Papa real quick? I know he should be done with his meeting soon.” Aelin knew Idalia would come running in any minute and quickly amended her statement. “And take Idalia with you!” Aelin winced. “And maybe Errin and Leven, too.”

Her daughter gave her a strange look before bounding out of the room.

Aelin loved her boys, Errin currently seven and Leven currently four. But she knew that they both had a penchant for getting into trouble when they were together without an adult watching them. Leven was all Rowan and even looked like her mate. He had a gentle, quiet disposition and water and ice powers that greatly outpaced Aelin’s own. But if Leven was his father, Errin was his mother, manifesting fire power at the age of three and being a terror around his siblings. While he may have chased them around, Aelin could see he loved them dearly and would never hurt them.

She decided to nap while she waited for her mate to come back, though she could tell that she was getting hungry if the grumbling in her stomach was any indication. Hmmm, she thought. She could always go for some chocolate hazelnut cake, her usual. But today she was also feeling something salty…or maybe something bitter. Maybe pickled eggs or roasted fish with a heaping of peppers on top. If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t know where either of those thoughts came from. She usually was not a fan of seafood and pickled things typically turned her stomach. Interesting.

The last time she was hungry for either of those things was when….

Shit.

Was when she was pregnant with Idalia.

Aelin hung her head in her hands, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in disbelief.

And that was exactly how her mate found her a few minutes later.

“Fireheart? What’s wrong?” Not only could she see the crease in Rowan’s brow but could feel his anxiety and panic down the mating bond. “Are you alright?”

She looked past Rowan to make sure none of her kids had lingered.

“Fuck.”

Rowan’s hands came up to cup her cheeks. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You tell me.” She waited for him to catch on or scent it on her but he just continued to be concerned. “Whoever said it was hard for fae to conceive was dead fucking wrong.” She could see the moment it clicked in Rowan’s eyes. His green eyes dropped down to her stomach and quickly darted back up to her face. Though the furrow in his brow was still there, it was now tinged with disbelief.

“You’re pregnant?” Rowan’s voice was breathy, unbelieving.

Aelin nodded. “I think so.” She gestured to her stomach, “If you would be so kind as to confirm.”

He pulled her into him gently yet with enough force that she was crushed to his chest. She felt his nose brush between her shoulder and neck, breathing in her scent. He let out a harsh breath that almost sounded like a sob and just started nodding.

They both stayed like that for a while, holding each other while they processed the happy news. Did Aelin ever expect to have five kids, much less five kids within ten years? Absolutely not. Was she still overjoyed at how much love she felt? Yes. She and Rowan already had a messy, chaotic family so what was one more added to that group? Truly, it was everything she ever could have hoped for. To be here with her mate, alive and healthy, and to have this life with him, one in which they could safely raise as many kids as they wanted.

Finally, Rowan pulled back, his eyes puffy from his tears. Yet Aelin thought he never looked so handsome.

“So, my all-knowing mate, what is it going to be this time?”

“I…I actually don’t know. In that dream I had, you were still pregnant with this one. So I’m as much in the dark as you are.” Years ago, talking about that dream would’ve made Rowan sweat with anxiety. Yet now, in the safety of Orynth, and with relative peace throughout Erilea, Rowan felt as though that dream was just that: a dream. Even if he correctly guessed the genders of his children, he knew Maeve was gone. Her dark power could never lash out and hurt his family ever again.

A devious grin crossed Aelin’s face. “So you’re saying there’s a chance that I might be right and you might be wrong this time?”

Rowan chuckled. “Yes, my love. If that’s what makes you happy.” They both embraced the other again, squeezing and holding on for dear life.

A small voice spoke up from the hallway. “Mama? Papa? Are you okay?” Alma’s arms were wrapped around a dozing Idalia, who was entirely comfortable in her sister’s arms. Errin was standing next to his sister with his arms crossed, a warrior guarding his precious family. And Leven stood to Alma’s other side, holding onto her pants and looking at Aelin and Rowan with concern.

Aelin stretched her arm out to her children. “Come here, my loves.”

Rowan gently took Idalia from Alma, the girl letting out a small huff of breath before settling into her father’s arms. The other three gathered in front of Aelin, all of them looking at her with bated breath.

“How do you guys feel about having another sibling?”

It was Alma that squealed first. “I knew it! I knew you were having another baby!”

“You knew?”

Alma shrugged. “You smelled different today.”

Aelin chuckled and smiled up at Rowan. Then she looked to her boys. Leven stayed quiet but looked thoughtful. However, Aelin didn’t expect Errin’s reaction, the boy usually not emotional nor sentimental. His little hand reached out to her still flat stomach and gave it a pat.

“I hope it’s another brother.” Aelin laughed and pulled her son into her arms, still small enough that he was easy to pick up. The other two piled in and soon the hug became a family embrace, Rowan with his arms full of Idalia joining the fray.

Aelin couldn’t help but think that this was one of the best moments of her life, here with their perfect little family. And she couldn’t help but think that the new baby was going to have so many people that loved them. They would never know what it’s like to be alone, she would make sure of that.

A/N: I hope you enjoy all this fluffiness! I adore writing baby fics and I know this fandom loves reading them so enjoy :)

LMK if you want to be tagged/untagged

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

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin fluff #baby fic #my fic #my fics #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #prompts

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highladyofterrasen7 · 6 months

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DORIAN MY BABY I LOVE YOUUUUUU

Credits to the artist

#sarah j maas #throne of glass #dorian havilliard #kingdom of ash #manon blackbeak #manorian #aelin ashryver whitethorn galathynius #aelin galythinius #my baby

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catastrophesandcures · 10 months

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|| A Heavy Name || Throne of Glass One-Shot ||

(Where: the new Heir of Terrasen struggles with cursive G’s, the eyes of people long gone, and holding up her mother’s name)

Adele, Age 8

Adele Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius wishes for a shorter name. Her hand cramps, fingers occasionally spasming, as she signs her name over and over and over, over, over…

She works to perfect her handwriting, to get accustomed to the long loops and scrolls. She’s sometimes taken to signing with a simple AAWG, but Uncle Darrow, the old badger, says princesses of Terrasen wield their powerful names.

What the sword won’t do, the name can.

Adele glares over her shoulder to the portrait of Uncle Darrow that hangs beside old king Orlon. Adele shakes her practice sheet at Uncle Darrow’s stern, always watching picture as if to say, See? I’m not cutting corners!

Adele peaks at Orlon, then. For some reason, she’s always afraid to fully look the painting in the eye. Beside him, Grandfather Rhoe. Then, Grandmother Evalin. She looks like Mama, but younger. She has the same eyes as Mama, maybe softer, less…wild. Adele looks away from Grandmother Evalin too, not able to think about Mama not having a mama. She stops looking at what she calls the Big Pictures–faces of the dead–and moves her gaze to the smaller frames along the hearth’s shelf, to the pocket sized portrait of her younger brother, Arryn. He’d just cut his own hair, and the golden strands spiked in different directions. Adele giggles. He looks awful, and the squiggle of a mustache she’d drawn over his lip has yet to be noticed.

Uncle Darrow seems to frown down at her, then. She can hear him telling her to get back to work. Adele rolls her green eyes, but practices and practices until her handwriting is perfect. She must be perfect. Not just a princess of Terrasen, but Heir of Aelin Firebringer. Heir of so many people. There are so many eyes, waiting and watching.

Adele messes up her G, again. She always messes up the G of Galathynius. She starts a new line, from her first name, and goes and goes, her little hand straining to hold the quill, straining to make it to the end.

She loops the G in the wrong direction.

“Rutting G!”

Adele likes to curse when she’s alone, and she spits the word Uncle Aedion taught her again and again. Her chest heaves and she pants, tearing the paper in half, shredding it to pieces, and splits them until she holds confetti.

Until she holds burning paper in too small hands. Ashes fall between her fingers, her palms unable to keep all that she holds, all that she burns.

She doesn’t often cry. Adele is a princess, Heir of Fire–she is strong.

But, she weeps. The blooming flame in her hands rutting scares her. She can’t put it out. She shakes her hands. She blows, but her breath is shallow and shaking.

Adele screams. Screams at her hands, at the fire, at the G’s she turned to ash and stomped beneath her feet. Her handheld fire blooms and grows. “Rutting stop!” Adele screams at her open, unburnt palms.

And then cool, soft but calloused hands, close over hers. Water meets her fire until there’s no more smoke, but steam. They are the most familiar hands in the world. Scarred and calloused; nimble, long fingers prone to playing a haughty tune on the pianoforte. Cool to the touch. Patient. They keep holding Adele’s, hers sweaty and clammy.

Adele doesn’t look up. Her chin dips to her chest as tears roll down her face, her nose.

Fingers catch her tears–cool, calloused, familiar. “Why do you cry, Fireheart?”

Adele sobs at the name. Exhausted, head splitting, she relinquishes to her mother’s embrace and nestles into the space between chin and breast. The safest place in the world, as if Mama’s body had been carved to fit Adele’s.

“Because,” Adele hiccups, “I’m not perfect.” Another hitch of uneven breath, then, “And it makes me feel lost.”

Mama grips Adele, tight and warm. She smells like the embers of a home’s hearth, like jasmine and wind. Adele presses her nose to her mother’s skin, clinging to the comfort.

When Mama pulls away just slightly, just enough so that their eyes meet, Adele looks away. Mama has none of it. Her palm cups Adele’s cheek, bringing them face to face. Turquoise and gold meet pine green. Soft meets sorrow. Mother sees daughter.

“Perfect,” Mama’s warm, fiery tone says, “can go to rutting hell.”

A knowing gleam shines in Mama’s eyes, perking the corner of mouth. Adele laughs nervously, but Mama laughs with her, hands still holding Adele’s flaming face from the crying. And the magic.

Mama’s finger tilts Adele’s chin up again, and this time Adele really looks at her. She wonders if she looks like her, or if Adele takes more after her father. Her cousins tease her that she’s too serious. A courtier from Mellisande had once pinched her cheeks and told her to smile more. Has anyone ever dared pinch the cheeks of Aelin Ashryver Galathynius? Adele holds the ends of her mother’s long, gold hair in a fist and wonders if she’ll wear that queenly, beautiful face one day. If she’ll carry grace and mischief as well as Aelin of the Wildfire. Adele knows the stories–well, just some. Just the ones from the shelves she could reach. Which, Adele knows, are the least interesting shelves in the Library of Orynth. She’ll have to start climbing to the higher, dustier shelves where the real stories are waiting for her. There’s a book up high that has Mama’s name on the spine. It ripples with red and gold and blue, as if a living flame wraps the pages. Another book beside it, The Walking Dead, doesn’t sound nearly as interesting as the one about her own mother.

Mama raises her brows slightly and looks down her lashes at Adele–a look she knows means to listen, and listen good. She’s the prettiest lady in the whole wide world.

“If I cared about being perfect,” Mama says softly, and a moment passes where her eyes cloud, as if she’d gone very far away. Adele doesn’t know what to call that look, that distance in her mother’s eyes, but she feels it. “I wouldn’t be me. And I,” her mother quirks a conspirator’s brow at Adele, the light in her eyes shining once more, “am rutting wonderful.”

Adele laughs again.

Her mother leans down to wiggle their noses together. “You are wonderful, my girl. No matter what you do, to whatever end, I will be the voice that never lets you forget it. I want nothing from you, Fireheart, other than to be completely yourself.”

“What if I’m not like you?”

Mama props Adele onto her feet so that she stands. Mama kneels before her, and Adele wonders if anyone in the world has ever seen Aelin on her knees. Adele knows she’s just a child, that there are things she doesn’t know, but she cannot imagine it–her mother, the strongest, most powerful person to ever exist, who Adele worships like a god–on her knees. But, Mama does kneel. Now, before Adele. Though she only meets the top of her mother’s head, Adele wonders if she’ll ever stand as tall as her.

“Then I’ll be glad for it.” Mama’s eyes flash and she almost looks like an animal from Oakwald with the intensity seeping through her, like fire taken skin. “Be yourself. Let yourself discover who that is. You do not belong in my shadow, Fireheart. You are the torch I carry.”

Mama catches a rogue tear, and something ripples across the surface of her face. Adele has only ever seen her mother cry at the birth of her brothers and baby sister, but she almost does now. Her eyes, the same as Grandmother Evalin and Arryn’s, mist.

“I was your age when…” Mama trails off, distant again, lost in thought as her gaze roams every inch of Adele, as if memorizing her, as if remembering something.

A breeze passes through the study though no windows are open. It smells like winter and Yulemas, and Adele instantly perks. She feels joy in her chest, a spark of belonging and home. Mama’s eyes flutter in that same joy Adele must be feeling.

Mama continues, having found the strength she needs, and says, “I was your age when a lot of people made me feel like I was wretched and horrible. The world hated me for a long, long time.” Mama smirks. “Someone always will.”

Adele balks at the idea of anyone even remotely disliking her mother, but Mama nods as if to say it’s the truth. “Let no one ever, ever make you feel that way. Not even me. No, you’re not perfect. You are my daughter.” Mama combs her fingers through Adele’s hair. “Which means, you’re bound to be misunderstood, to make mistakes. You are my daughter, which means, you’re bound to always get up again.”

They lean their brows together, and Mama whispers, just for Adele, “You are the greatest thing that ever happened to me.” Then, louder, “And you can tell your nosy, nursemaid father I said that.”

A deep chuckle sounds from the far ends of the study. Another winter wind that reminds Adele of all her favorite memories drifts to them. It combs through her hair, and Adele can feel Papa’s phantom hands, bigger than her head, bigger than any problem or tear.

Mama squeaks, jolting as if something had pinched her, and laughs as she throws a glare towards where Papa still lingers in the dark somewhere.

Before they get up to join him, her mother pulls her into one more tight embrace. Her arms are solid and muscled, and they hold Adele like precious jewels.

Mama whispers, “We carry a heavy name. Bear it however the rutt you want.” She leans back, eyes shining. “Now, let’s discuss your copious use of curse words.”

Adele shrieks, running away.

#lil one shot I had stuck in my head #mom!aelin #sneaky taylor Swift lyrics if you squint #throne of glass #throne of glass fic #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowaelin #rowaelin babies #heirs of terrasen #tog #tog fic #next gen tog #next gen throne of glass

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writtenonreceipts · 2 years

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Ok but what if one day the Rowaelin kids decide to sneak out of the castle to go on a secret camp out in the woods and they think they're being so smart tricking their parents. They have snacks and chocolate for at least 1 day or three hours. Depending on if they try and ration, which they don't. They've got too much Aelin in them.

Anyways, they don't notice the hawk in the trees watching over them all night and day until they come back to the castle. And it becomes tradition until them and all the cousins and friends join in and they grow up together on these little camp outs together.

#idk #its cute #ive got tog on the mind #throne of glass #tog #rowaelin #roawaelin babies #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #i feel like someone already did this?#if so i love you

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osamusbigtits · 5 months

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when a character realizes they've never let themself want or choose anything when they finally have to make a choice for themself

#aedion... baby...#he wanted ONE THING AND AELIN DIDNT EVEN LET HIM HAVE IT I HOPE SHE ROTS #I HOPE SHE SUFFERS FOR HER FUCKING HASTY ASS CHOICE #I HOPE YOUR ELF BOY TOY IS FUCKUNG WORTH IT #bex thoughts

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petals2fish · 3 months

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Aelin being so sure no one is coming for her absolutely KILLS ME

Aelin is Queen of Denial…she just forgets to add it when she’s saying, “My name is Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, formerly and also known as Celaena Sardothien, the Lost Princess, the Queen of Terrasen, and the last surviving member of the Galathynius bloodline.”

#thats my baby #petals talks #aelin ashryver galathynius

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leiawritesstories · 9 months

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Ahaha, I have another because I’m greedy 🙈 But this prompt for Rowaelin, please??:

I put you down as my emergency contact because I don’t know anyone else in the city, and we literally only met in passing, please forgive me but I am stuck at the ER and they won’t let me leave without you.

Thank you!

hehehehe okay so both you and @tomtenadia asked for this one and I really really hope this delivers 😈😁🥰

500 followers celebration prompt fills

Word count: 2.2k oops

Warnings: some angst and hurt BUT ONLY A LITTLE BIT I PROMISE and it's followed by so much comfort

Enjoy!!

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

Aelin blinked back into reality and found herself in a hospital bed, her body covered in a cotton gown, aches and dulled pains creeping back into her consciousness as her head cleared. She shifted and found her left arm in a sling, immobilized. She shook her head gently, trying to bring up the memories of just how the hell she'd ended up in the emergency room instead of back at her hotel.

"Good to see you awake," a woman's voice said from her right. Aelin turned her head to find a nurse, about her own age, clad in the same blue scrubs as the other staff. "You've been asleep for a solid few hours, probably thanks to the medication."

"Wh-what happened?" Aelin croaked.

The nurse pressed her lips together. "Do you remember a car accident?"

Oh.

Just like that, the memories flooded back. Aelin had been sitting in the back of a taxi, heading from a coffee shop where she'd been at a casual post-session meeting back to her hotel in downtown Doranelle. As the taxi had driven through an intersection, a driver had run the red light in the opposite direction and hit the rear side of the taxi. Her memories got a little fuzzy after that, mostly just snippets of shock, confusion, flashing lights and sirens, and a vague recollection of being loaded into an ambulance.

"You remember?" the nurse asked. Aelin nodded. "Good. That's a good sign that you likely don't have a concussion." She scratched a few notes onto her clipboard. "Now that you're awake, we can finish discharging you. You're stable, so we won't need you to stay here."

"So I can go home?" Aelin signed the papers the nurse handed her.

"No."

"What do you mean, I can't go home?" Still a little out of it from the medication they'd given her, Aelin blinked at the ER nurse. "You just told me I don't need to stay."

"Let me clarify, then," the nurse replied. "You've been cleared to go home, but you have not been cleared to go home alone. You'll need someone to take you--and no, a taxi or an Uber doesn't count." A hint of a smile curled the corner of her lips at Aelin's disgruntled frown. "It's for your safety, Miss Galathynius. We don't want to see our ER patients back here within a few hours because they tried to do something they shouldn't have done."

Aelin sighed. "All right. You can call my emergency contact." She leaned back into the hospital bed. "I'd ask you to call my parents, but they live over a thousand miles away, so that isn't possible."

"As long as you have an emergency contact on file, that will be fine." The nurse placed Aelin's normal clothes in a small pile on the chair next to the bed. "I'll be back in a few minutes to let you know who's coming for you."

"Thanks." Aelin managed a half smile before tilting her head back and groaning. Gods. Of all the days and times to wind up in the ER, it had to be now, during her work trip to Doranelle. At least their healthcare system was well-funded and well-run; the staff who she vaguely remembered tending to her when she came in were polite, professional, and expertly trained. Muffling a grunt, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, gripped the handrail, and stood up slowly, careful not to put too much weight on her legs at once. Shakily, she managed to stand up and reach for her clothes.

There, she got stuck. She couldn't get out of her hospital gown alone because the damn thing was tied in the back and her damn arm was in a sling to immobilize her injured shoulder.

She'd just screamed a string of foul curses into the pillow when there was a knock on the door and the nurse reappeared. "Good news, Miss Galathynius! A Mr. Rowan Whitethorn is on his way to pick you up."

Ah, shit. The thought of Rowan Whitethorn seeing her like this was almost enough to make her wish she'd been kept at the hospital.

"All right," was what she told the nurse. "I hope he's bringing food, because I am bloody hungry."

The nurse laughed. "I'm sure he'll be able to get you all the food you want once you're out of here." She handed Aelin a small paper bag. "There is a small quantity of pain medicine in here. I'd recommend taking it once or twice a day, depending on how severe your pain is, for the next four to seven days. You can take over-the-counter pain medications as well. After seven days, stop taking the prescription medication. If there's any left, you can bring it to any pharmacy here and they'll discard it."

Aelin nodded along. "Okay. Thank you." She flashed a soft smile at the nurse, who'd been nothing but kind to her.

"Of course." The nurse offered her a small smile in return and left the room.

Aelin considered whether or not it would be worth attempting to get into her normal clothes before Rowan got there and decided that it wasn't. If he had to walk her out of the hospital still wearing the godsdamned gown, then he would. Damn shoulder.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Rowan Whitethorn pushed open the door and burst into the hospital room. His crisply pressed suit was disheveled, his tie loose around his neck, his collar undone, and his eyes were wild, almost panicky, as he crossed the room in two long strides and cupped Aelin's face in his hands.

"What the hell?!" She pulled away from him, hissing at the sharp twinge of pain caused by the sudden movement.

He stepped back, hands up. "You what the hell? Give me a fucking heart attack, why don't you, Galathynius?"

She rolled her eyes. "You barely even know me, Whitethorn. Shut it with the heart attack nonsense."

"No." He folded his arms across his chest and scowled. "Why the hell am I your emergency contact?"

"Because I'm a thousand miles from home, I don't live here, and you're the only person at this fucking seminar that's bothered to learn my name." The small rant spilled out of Aelin before she could stop it. "I needed to have someone on file, and your stupid face is the first name I thought of. You're lucky I had your business card, or I'd be stuck here until I convinced the nurse that I could Uber back to my hotel without dying."

Rowan's cranky expression morphed into mild shock, then concern. "So you weren't going to explain why in all hell your arm is in a sling and there's bruises all over you?"

"They're not all over me," she huffed. "There's some minor bruising on my clavicles, arms, and left cheek. And anyone who asks why I'm wearing a sling deserves to be told to shut the fuck up."

"Fair enough," he admitted. "Fine. I'll drive you back to your hotel." He offered one hand.

She held up her good hand. "Not so fast, Mr. Business. I need to change into my own clothes." She frowned. "But with this bloody sling, I can't get the gown untied."

To her immense shock, a blush spread up his angled cheekbones. "Um...should I call the nurse?"

"This is an ER, Whitethorn, not the regular hospital ward," she deadpanned. "I've been discharged, so as far as they're concerned, I'm no longer their patient. You can help me."

His blush deepened. "I..." He cleared his throat, schooling his face back into its usual impassive mask. "Fine. Tell me what you need help with."

She turned, presenting her back. "Untie the gown, please."

He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "she's trying to kill me" and carefully untied the gown, keeping his hands as far from her skin as possible. Which wasn't very far, since he was literally undressing her.

Aelin was still wearing her bra and underwear beneath the gown, and because she wanted to have a little fun, she let the gown drop to the floor instead of holding it up to herself. Rowan emitted a strangled cough and wheezed behind her. She smirked. "Is something wrong, Whitethorn?"

"Nothing," he grunted through clenched teeth. "Where are your clothes?"

"On the chair. Hand me my pants, please." He did, and she pulled on her slacks. "Blouse." The blouse was a little more trouble. Aelin got it halfway on and stopped, unable to wrangle her sling arm into the unbuttoned blouse. "Shit."

"Here." Unexpectedly, Rowan had picked up her sweater and draped it over her injured arm, careful to keep his touch light. He let her slip her good arm into the other sleeve, then buttoned the three big buttons on the front of the loose sweater. "Does that help?"

"Yes." She flashed him a small, hesitant grin. "Thanks."

He clutched his chest. "Polite words from Aelin Galathynius? What world is this?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be a jackass, Whitethorn, just let me grab my purse and we can get the hell out of here."

"Not so fast." He snatched her purse before she could reach it. "Are you supposed to be carrying this?"

"I still have one good arm," she sighed. "Give it to me." He raised one pale brow in disbelief. "Yes, Whitethorn, I can carry my purse. It's not too heavy for the limit they gave me."

Satisfied with that answer, he handed her her purse and held the door open as she walked out. "I'm parked kind of far away," he admitted as they left the ER building. "Couldn't find a closer spot."

"It's okay," she reassured him. "It's my arm that's injured, not my legs."

Her traitorous legs chose that very moment to wobble, betraying her strong façade.

"Mhmm," Rowan drawled, a smirk curving his lips.

She scowled. "Shut it."

He mumbled something indecipherable and, without warning, lifted her off her feet. "We'll actually get somewhere if I don't have to put up with your toddling," he teased.

Aelin's mouth dropped open. "Toddling?!"

His smirk grew. "Tell me you weren't as unsteady as a toddler and I'll call you a liar, Ae." The nickname fell from his lips as easily as his dry sarcasm.

"You're horrid," she grumbled, folding her arms.

"And look at that, we're already at my car!" he announced, triumphant. She sighed and let him help her into the passenger seat.

As they headed down the streets towards downtown Doranelle, Rowan flicked a glance over at her. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

"Remember the accident that blocked up half of downtown earlier this afternoon?" she asked. He nodded. "I was in the taxi that got hit."

If he hadn't been driving, he would have stopped in his tracks. "You--what?"

"Rowan." Instinctively, she reached over and placed her good hand on his forearm. "I'm okay. It wasn't a huge crash."

"It wasn't--Aelin, do you know what happened at that intersection?"

"I remember my taxi getting hit."

His throat bobbed. "The driver that hit your taxi skidded on black ice and T-boned another vehicle. It was...it was bad."

She gasped. "I had no idea."

"Of course not," he murmured. "You were injured, Ae." He shifted one hand off the steering wheel so he could wrap it around her good hand. "There were some serious injuries, but everyone made it to the hospital in time and it seems like they're all stable. Police arrested the driver for DUII and reckless driving." His thumb rubbed across the back of her hand. "It's been all over the news and social media."

"I had no idea," she repeated, softly. "I...I'm glad everyone seems to be okay." She leaned back into the seat and was quiet for the rest of the drive back to her hotel.

At the hotel, Rowan surprised her again by parking, helping her out of the car, and grabbing a small duffle bag from the backseat of his car before accompanying her inside.

"What are you doing?" she hissed under her breath as he walked beside her to the elevator, his steadying hand on her lower back.

"I've been given orders to see you safely home," he drawled, mirth lighting his eyes.

She frowned. "I'm at my hotel, in case you haven't noticed."

He nodded. "You are. And I'm going to make sure you get to your room safe and sound."

"You going to pat me on the head and tuck me into bed, too?" she griped.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind putting you to bed, Aelin," he whispered into her ear. The heat concealed in his lazy words barreled down her spine, awakening a part of her that had absolutely no business being so active when she was supposed to be resting and recovering.

She stepped out of the elevator before Rowan and led him down the hall to her room, where she stopped, took a deep breath, and pressed her key card to the lock. The small screen flashed green, the door unlocked, and with her hand on the half-open door, Aelin turned to face Rowan, her calm voice belying her thundering heart.

"Stay with me, Ro?"

More emotions than she could count flashed across his face. He followed her into the hotel room, closed the door, and leaned himself against the door frame, resting the weight of his gaze on her.

"I'd love to."

~~~

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