Hunt
(T/HRONE OF GLAS$ SPOILERS AHEAD! IF YOU HAVEN'T READ PAST Q/UEEN OF SHADOW$ BE WARNED!)
My love for R/owan is boundless, and the series would be infinitely better if he was sick.
This is a multi-part fic of A/elin and R/owan training on a mountain and YEAH! HE HAS A COLD!
not much sneezing yet but it will come I promise
likes comments reblogs always loved and giggled over <3
****
Aelin stalks through the underbrush with lethal silence. Leaves covered with dew from the early morning mist streak across her face, dotting her cheeks. Her prey, a mountain hare the size of her head, nibbles on the sparse grass a few yards away.
She knocks her arrow, slipping in a breath. She can’t wait to see the look on Rowan’s face when she brings back a hare this size. Slowly, she pulls the bowstring back, kissing against her face. The hare turns, startled, breaths coming fast. Now or never–
“hh’rZzSHHh’uh!”
Aelin gasps at the sound that echoes around the mountain. It cracks like a whip, scaring even the crows nesting in trees. The hare takes off and she desperately releases the arrow after her prey. The point finds its home in the thick trunk of a tree rather than the soft neck of the hare.
There goes breakfast. Her stomach growls pitifully. Seething, she rises from the brush and goes to retrieve her arrow.
Five minutes later, Aelin stalks back to the makeshift camp she and Rowan had assembled the night before. The Fae prince had forced her to run from the castle to these distant mountains, shifting in and out of her Fae form to master control, where he then informed her they would be camping for a week out in the elements. And she was to hunt their every meal in between training.
It was a pathetic time, especially with the rain that has settled across the mountain. Damp and cold to her bones, Aelin approaches their campsite. Rowan, appearing much drier than she, sits by the fire she had sparked earlier that morning. He looks oddly run down, like he hadn’t slept much the night before.
Aelin is sure he hadn’t. The mountains were too misty to sleep outside without waking up damp, so they had packed just one tent to keep their baggage light. Lying beside Rowan, last night she had been the private audience to his tossing and turning, grumbling, and finally his snoring.
“You fucking bastard. You scared off breakfast,” she hisses as she approaches, throwing her bow and bundle of arrows down by the tent. Rowan does not look up from the dagger he cleans in his hands.
“And how – snf! – pray tell, did I scare breakfast from here?” He grumbles. Aelin catches the way he sniffles thickly, his nostrils twitching up with the force of it.
She drops her satchel, full of only a bundle of pathetic berries. “You sneezed.” She tries not to give in the warmth that pools in her lower stomach at the memory of the sound. It’s the first time she had ever heard him sneeze, and she was not disappointed. “For someone so keen on silence, I expected you’d know how to sneeze more quietly.”
Rowan doesn’t even grace her taunting with a reply, or a snarl. He just continues rubbing a cloth down the length of his dagger. Strange. He must be feeling really tired if he didn’t bother to punish her for such a remark.
She sits down across from the fire, on a log they’d rolled over so they didn’t sit on wet grass. Feigning interest in destemming the berries she’d picked, she studies him through the crackling flames.
His white hair is loose around his shoulders, creating a curtain that shields the dark tattoo running along his tan face. The tips of his Fae ears poke out just behind the white strands. After weeks of training with him, sleeping out in the elements beside him, she’s learned that he prefers to tie his hair up. It’s so rare to see him with it down.
“More hand to hand combat training today, or magic training?” She asks, breaking the silence that is only marred by the crackling flames.
Rowan sets the dagger aside. “Your job was to hunt. And since you still haven’t caught anything, your job is still to hunt.” He settles his sharp green eyes on her, brows set. If he didn’t piss her off so much, she might actually tremble under his gaze.
She raises her palms in defeat. “Fine, fine. But if you sneeze and scare off my prey again, I won’t be sharing the catch with you.” Even if she’d very much like for him to sneeze again, she’d rather eat first.
In one swoop, she picks up her bow and arrows and satchel again before setting off. With her Fae senses, she could scent a herd of deer in the southwest. Now that would show Rowan. Perhaps she’d bring back a buck, and spear him with its antlers.
As soon as she leaves the camp, nearly out of earshot, she hears the same thunderstrike from before. Perhaps Rowan had been waiting for her to leave.
“hhzjHSHHhieWw!”
A shiver runs down her spine as more startled crows caw in the trees.
****
Two hours later, Aelin returns with a small doe slung across her shoulders.
It’s mid afternoon. She had been lucky a herd was still grazing so late in the morning down by the clearing. She’d been even luckier that Rowan had either gotten his sneezing under control, or learned how to be quiet, because nothing had startled her catch this time.
“Lunch,” she declares to Rowan, dropping the deer to the grass. He hasn’t moved from his spot by the fire. “Is served.”
“It was supposed to be– snf! Breakfast,” he mutters, reaching the dagger at his side from earlier. His voice sounds dulled, like he’s congested.
Aelin rolls her eyes. “Well, it’s not like you helped. And I got us a catch to last us days.” She pats the stomach of the doe proudly. It isn’t very old – there’s still a sprinkling of fawn spots across her back. Aelin feels a twang of guilt for not singling out an older one.
Rowan pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing through his mouth. Aelin hardly has time to prepare before he jerks down towards his crotch, a light mist spraying across his trousers.
“hiHh–... yHhZzSHhhyuu!” A familiar, rushing heat spreads through Aelin’s gut. She swallows, watching as he rubs his nose on his wrist and glares up at her. Is he going to get mad at her for his sneezing?
Rowan chooses not to comment on it, something Aelin is secretly grateful for. “You were– snf! instructed to catch something small. We’re moving camp this afternoon.” He angles the pommel of the dagger towards her.
“What?!”
“Rain is coming tonight and will flood this area. I told you this morning. And now you’ve wasted a young doe’s life.”
A flame of rage flickers to life inside her chest. This is all his fault. “Well, I wouldn’t have wasted jack-shit if you hadn’t ruined my catch earl–”
“Aelin,” he growls, a no-nonsense sound. The tips of his canines poke past his lips. Aelin shuts up immediately.
He stands, crossing the camp in two strides, and shoves the pommel of the knife against her stomach. She glares beneath his gaze. “You missed the catch because you did not act fast enough. Now you can either carry the doe across the mountain, or… hhH—!” His breath snags, eyes looking off into the distance for a split second. Aelin’s heart hammers in her chest.
He quickly recovers and sniffs again, much to her disappointment, and focuses his gaze on her. “Or you can leave it and realise you wasted a young animal’s life for your pride.”
Before she can retort, he turns on his heel and she offers a middle finger to his large, muscular back.
As if sensing her, he says over his shoulder, “And– sNf!– pack up the tent.”
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Damians baby book
Notes about his existence from nurses and scientists
Talias own notes about why she named him what she named him and about his father.
His first newborn pic after he was “born”, an hour after to be exact, it’s a photo of his face close up with his tiny black raven hair sticking up.
He was born at only 6 pounds but was very chubby at the same time.
Talia made everyone take so many photos and told Ras it was for keeping track of his growth but it was really to have memories of her tiny baby.
The book has many details of how much he eats and sleeps and poops and his schedule for feedings.
Talia only was allowed to be with Damian until he was 2 months old, ras was nice enough for that. So she had to leave him with her trusty nurse maids and servants. She made sure they took lots of photos.
Damian was probably one of the cutest baby’s to exist and I can see If Helena is ever born, that she might look alot like him, even tho Dami doesn’t have her mom.
Damians baby book has details of his growth and growing up and notes just for Talia. Like how he does in the bath how he eats how he is gaining weight/
There is also many photos or Damian smiling, and giggling.
There are photos of him in the bath with soap making his hair stand straight up and some with him eating for the first time.
There are many videos too, One of Damian sleeping when he was first born to his first smile and giggle and to his first sit up and stuff like that.
Talia can visit Damian every 6 months, “Oh my baby, you’ve gotten so big UwU”, “Already 8 months old😞”.
And Talia spends the time just holding and cuddling her baby. And she probably takes so many photos together just for her.
“So how is he eating”, “has he eaten recently?”, “does he have a certain bath time and bedtime?, he need one”, “Has my father visited yet?”, “how did he react to eating for the first time?”.
Talia also had to teach him how to stand because she knew she wouldn’t be able to teach him to walk just yet.
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jealous! bullet proof! tan! oh my!
bullet proof masterlist
tw: blood, jealousy, unwanted touching, guns, kissing
he’s one of those “i don’t like people touching what’s mine” guys, which you weren’t a fan of at first, let’s be honest.
but it grew on you when you started dating, and it just got worse from there. the mix of your mutual fear of loosing each other (both before and after the split) made it to where he couldn’t stand to see anyone that isn’t him touching you
so before you’re married, when he’s just starting to date you (before lovely little jovie comes around), you take a mission where you’re acting as a honeypot, trying to seduce information out of a dealer who made the wrong enemies. needless to say, you’re good at your job. really good at your job. dedicated, too.
you’ve got an earpiece in your ear, tan’s voice telling you positions of guards and other helpful information, and you’re tuning it out, focusing on getting the necessary names/locations.
tan doesn’t like being ignored, and he really doesn’t like being ignored for another guy. but it’s just for a mission, so he deals with it by rechecking the bullets in his gun.
buttt it all becomes a little bit too much when he leans a tad bit too close to you, his lips next to your ear, whispering something tan can’t hear. the guys hand is on your thigh, the other one cupping your face, and you have to fight to keep yourself still. you know it’s part of the job, you know you signed up for it, but you’re feeling less inclined to let the dude touch you now that he’s doing it.
lemon may be the expert at reading people, but tan’s the expert about you, and he can fucking tell the moment that you’re no longer okay with it.
you blink for a moment and there he is; tan, looking like some sort of revenge-seeking angel in an all white suit that he nicked from the serving staff, gun in his hand aimed at the guys head
he’s behind the guy, so tan goes unnoticed until the gun is pointed into the guy’s temple, tan’s arm around his chest. instinctively, you pull the gun from the holster on your thigh and aim it at the guy as well.
tan’s words are whispered harshly to the man, “you’re lucky i haven’t got the time to treat you how you fuckin’ deserve” “no one fucking treats my girl like that” and finally “love, you care to do the honors?”
once you’re out of there, body neatly disposed of, blood staining tan’s white shirt, he’ll lead you into an alleyway somewhere safe, checking in on you and telling you that everything’s going to be okay
of course, you’ll end up pinned to the brick wall, tan’s mouth leaving searing kisses and marks all along your neck and collarbone to make sure everyone sees that you’re his
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