#elide said it best

[bestworstcase]

rolls over

yeah yeah, the ruby-salem grief weapon parallel, we've all seen it

salem offers up the staff as a votive to the god of darkness after telling him of her story and what she hopes to receive in return. he deems this a fair bargain and grants her wish; salem drops the staff at his feet and rushes to ozma's side. do ut des. this is an act of prayer, of worship. salem knows what she's doing—she's pious—and does everything correctly.

(including making an offering of something she must have put some serious thought into: she gives the god of grimm her most precious possession and a token of her suffering.)

and what she asks for in return is ozma's life. the staff was precious to her only in ozma's absence, because it represented her lost love. had the god of darkness answered no, salem would still be obliged to leave the staff in his domain—just as she left light his flowers, you don't take back an offering if the god's answer is not to your liking—and to part with it and walk away empty-handed would have been devastating. but the moment she sees ozma again, the staff means nothing; she lets it fall from her grasp without a thought.

she chose to make herself vulnerable to that pain, offering darkness her own heart as a fair sacrifice for the mere possibility of ozma getting to live. and he tells her to rise and see her faith rewarded.

<- faith.

ruby is in pain. ruby is grieving and boiling in guilt because penny died again and ruby could do nothing to save her again. the sword is all she has left of one of her best friends. and then she offers it up to the toy soldiers—who have come to take them to the red castle—in exchange for, er… being taken to the prince's birthday celebration so that she can present the sword as a gift.

why?

"look, we may not know exactly what's going on, but for whatever reason, this place is putting us on a similar path as a book we all read as kids. i say we follow it—and stop pretending we know what we're doing."

the consequence of this choice of course is that any emotional or spiritual significance this offering might have had is elided by the toy soldiers' grift and the red prince is a child who throws the sword away in a fit of pique: "how could you!?" ruby whispers, before swallowing that pain and stunting around in a scramble to keep the story on the "right" path.

<- fate.

rolls over again.

salem had faith. ozpin believes in fate.

faith is—asking. trying. communion with something greater than oneself. but to believe in fate is to believe in a single narrow path which must be followed no matter the cost because…because.

this is what "look how you've diminished" is about. how you've lessened yourself—and for what? ruby tears out her own heart in a futile effort to appease a spoiled child who kicks it away out of utter indifference—and for what? because the story said so. because she's afraid. because she doesn't know what else to do. she's lost her faith.

#hm. #penny to ruby as sun to blake

[starsreminisce]

Rowan: Admires the strength Aelin displays as she wields her fire towards her enemies, letting her use his own power, and is always surprised by her quick thinking.

Rhys: Knew he was in love with Feyre when she fought against the Wyrm. Wanted to get her trained to use her gifts and helped her overcome those obstacles.

Lorcan: Knew he was in love with Elide when she picked up the axe to slay the ilken. Protested to let her go into Doranelle to scout out where Cairn was keeping Aelin but eventually relented and instead stood by the entrance waiting for her to return.

Cassian: Knew that Nesta just needed a healthier way to channel her anger, accompanied her to all her missions to search for the trove, even after he spoke out against it to the Inner Circle.

Azriel:

Azriel:

Azriel:

Azriel: Gave Elain Truth-Teller and then still turned around and said she shouldn't search for the Trove. Didn’t even acknowledge in his own POV that Elain stabbed Hybern.

I'm not sure if using previous books was the best argument to make, considering every single one of these fae males shows the admiration and attention to their training for their mates that Azriel reserves only for Gwyn.

#gwynriel #pro gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn #antie/riel #antielriel

[familyabolisher]

okay so basically:

thanks for your 100% unprompted and completely unsolicited enthusiasm everyone >:) god i am NOT doing any full essays because i am forcing myself to hold back on committing to Positions wrt tmuir's various intertexts until after alecto when i have an actually complete narrative to work with, but, to throw together my best effort at an abstract: as we probably know and as many have pointed out before (and as tmuir says in the gtn notes), the name 'dulcinea' references cervantes' dulcinea del toboso, a wholly made up woman whom don quixote projects onto a peasant girl called aldonsa as a necessary 'lady' to his own invented 'knight.' the essential premise of don quixote, put crudely, is that the title character reads an absurd amount of chivalric literature such that he imagines himself to be a knight errant and behaves as such in a period long after the social logics of chivalry make coherent sense; sharp contrasts between idealism and realism (as with the infamous tilting at windmills scene, for example) serve to drive home the absurdity of don quixote’s pretense. within this, the imagined dulcinea del toboso stands as a necessary element to the chivalric ideal that don quixote imagines himself to participate in; the knight’s ‘lady,’ as fictive as the knight himself, must be ‘sweet’ (as of course denoted by her name), of a high social class, genteel, and beautiful according to ideals of upper-class spanish beauty (blonde, pale skin, etc—of course in-text exaggerated to a comic degree). all of this, ofc, tells us something about the social allegiances of the chivalric world.

crucially, don quixote was written in the early 17th century, with the first part being published in 1605 and the second in 1615. the reconquista—the process by which christians took control of the iberian peninsula from its previously muslim rulers—was concluded in 1492, with expulsions and forcible conversions of muslim and jewish populations taking place between 1492 and 1526 and creating a new class of ‘converso’ or new christians, ie. former jews who converted to christianity but lived with a degree of suspicion cast over the legitimacy of their christian practice. (incidentally, a handful of scholars have theorised that miguel de cervantes’ family were converso jews, which i think casts a fun new light on don quixote, but the evidence is too flimsy to justify seriously committing to the reading). immediately following the reconquista was the establishment and expansion of the spanish empire, which by cervantes’ lifetime had grown to cover most of the americas and the philippines. spanish chivalry was articulated via the knightly orders carrying out such a process of christian conquest—first on the iberian peninsula, then exported to the so-called ‘new world.’ by the time cervantes was writing, chivalry had already reached its apex and was in a period of decline; as i’ve already said, the fulcrum of don quixote is this tension between the ideal and the real, this sense that don quixote’s perception of the world is no longer compatible with modernity. cervantes writes of a christian ideal at a time when aspersions were cast on conversos, where the distinction between ‘old’ and ‘new’ christians and fear of the persistence of judaism (and islam, though muslims who were forcibly converted were expelled outright) against persecution undercut this understanding of forcible conversion as a ‘success’ for christianity; far from writing about the ‘old order’ (if you will) with a straightforward elegiac nostalgia, he emphasises its illegibility in the modern period.

as i’ve talked about before, chivalry bears a relationship both to historical periods of christian conquest and subjugation of so-termed ‘infidel’ groups and to contemporary fascist aesthetics, and also holds currency in contemporary articulations of butchness/transmasculinity/queer masculinity/etc. wherein those relationships tend to be elided. one of tamsyn muir’s most prominent registers is the persistent usage of similar such touchstones: from chivalry [via cavalierhood] as a language by which lesbian articulations of desire become possible (cf., obviously, gideon/cytherea, and the ‘medieval’ aesthetics of the seventh house in general) but also as a hegemonic touchstone of an imperialist social formation to jeannemary’s having been named for jeanne d’arc to lyctors as a reference to lictors ie. roman bodyguards who carried fasces in what could plausibly be gesturing to the etymological root of ‘fascism,’ she’s v clearly working with the tensions present in these cultural building-blocks that can be used to construct an empire around the bedrock of catholicism & antiquity and to situate queerness (largely focalising lesbianism) comfortably within it. 

so, like—what’s the don quixote thing doing? like, why reference a picaresque from the 17th century, rather than an ‘actual’ chivalric romance?

there’s a fairly straightforward, surface-level reading to be done here: the crucial dimension of pretense and artifice that cervantes adds to don quixote’s ‘knighthood’ maps pretty clearly onto gideon, and dulcinea as a woman who is very much Not Real but in fact a ‘disguise’ formed around what she ‘ought’ to be maps equally well onto cytherea. & ofc, cytherea and gideon’s relationship as this process of seduction-inclulcation-tutelage by which gideon ‘learns’ cavalierhood similar to how don quixote’s artifice of knighthood depends upon the presence of dulcinea of toboso in order to make sense of itself; knight-gender (if u will) as relational. much like how the driving tension of don quixote comes in part from our asking, does don quixote realise his own pretense? does his calling himself a knight and behaving as though he were a knight make him a knight in a world where the relation he tries to invoke makes no social sense & he has to literally alter the world around him (windmills into giants, aldonsa into dulcinea) to make it coherent? at what point does gideon not ‘really’ being a cavalier stop mattering, and how much is cytherea facilitating that, and how much is their relationship doubling as an inculcation into a social relation to which she was previously only peripheral? and, obviously, what does the fact that their relationship is pretty transparently predatory tell us about the relationship muir tries to draw between socially sanctioned exploitative relationships, imperialism, sexual violence and its aestheticisation, &c. &c.?

BUT LIKE….i think you can take the reading a bit further and think about the fairly common interpretation of dulcinea of toboso as something of a stand-in for, or else a counterpart to, allegiance to the spanish empire; that a feminised ideal of empire becomes the ‘lady’ to the (arguably conquistadore) knight, and that don quixote’s allegiance to her in turn becomes an allegiance to empire & imperial conquest. & ofc, the falsity of all of this; how ‘idealism vs realism’ then becomes transformed into an ideal of empire vs its reality. what gendered formations are made possible by empire, etc. 

i also think you can draw some lines around the shifting balance of power between don quixote & dulcinea of toboso and gideon & cytherea; that don quixote ‘makes’ dulcinea out of aldonsa, but cytherea very much ‘makes’ herself into dulcinea (using a real woman whose identity she stole as a very loose proxy); that cytherea sits in an ambivalent position wherein she at once, unambiguously, holds power over gideon that she exploits (socially, sexually), but also occupies a position of subjectivity not shared by eg. mercy, augustine, gideon the first &c. via her blood cancer & the eugenicist practices of the seventh house; cytherea as a character who seeks power where she has the ability to seek it as an ineffective means of responding to the sites where she finds herself powerless—a trait she v much shares with john gaius, but not with mercy et al.! this ambivalence is best expressed through the relation that naming & renaming & remaking bear to one another in the wider text, which, as we well know, is used as a particular discursive expression of ownership tugging on thematic strings around sexual violence and empire (alecto into annabel; i am deliberately not doing nona spoilers in this post but redacted into redacted as well; you know the drill!); cytherea undergoing that process of obfuscation and recreation at her own behest & at once becoming subject and instigator, invisibilising the ‘real’ dulcinea in doing so & removing the external agent (gideon as don quixote) from the equation … it’s doing a lot of work around the ambivalences of power & agency (sexual and otherwise) happening there! and, of course, ask other questions about, like—as ‘dulcinea’ is an agent in the process of gideon occupying that don quixote-equivalent position, does she not then become a similar agent in cytherea’s occupying the ‘dulcinea’ position—does the relational configuration not go both ways—how much of cytherea, who we receive through gideon’s close third, is her fantasy/idealism/etc. and how much of it is cytherea’s own construction? like, is gideon actually removed from the equation? chicken-egg?

there’s a whole separate argument to be done here as well around palamedes & the ‘actual’ dulcinea/dulcie, and what this invoked projection of an imagined ideal onto a very real woman could do for a more compelling reading of their relationship than just … like, oh he was in love with her, it’s unrequited, sad! well i guess he’s just blown himself up in cytherea’s sickroom. i’m interested in these little undeveloped tendrils of, like … dulcie as a character completely and unequivocally removed from the narrative in gtn, only to establish her own presence in htn but even then only really be made sense of in relation to cytherea (i think All The Time about dulcie wearing predominantly white and cytherea wearing predominantly green … girl help they swapped colours), palamedes as being, iirc, pretty significantly younger than her … and then the fact that you could pretty easily make a case for palamedes’ name being a reference to the palamedes/palomides of the arthurian canon, a ‘saracen’ knight and convert to christianity, what that dimension can do to these readings of tmuir’s invocation of chivalry as a particular social dimension to conquest.

this is all very very roughly sketched out and if i were to ever actually try and pitch a take that wasn’t just a quickly glossed few paragraphs on tumblr dotcom i would absolutely be delving properly into the scholarship around don quixote such that i could produce something somewhat less hamfisted than All This, but. hopefully this gives the broad gist of it, lol!

#tlt

[moonlightazriel]

Say Yes /// Elide Lochan X Lorcan Salvaterre

Summary: The wedding scene everyone was dying to see.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,2K

Notes: SJM does have a thing against wedding scenes as we have been denied them so many times, I'm here to fix it.

Main Masterlist

Elide shivered as a cold wind touched her skin, she looked behind her to see Rowan standing there, winking at her as he exited the room and left her alone with Aelin and the others. She walked in front of the mirror, her limp almost gone as Rowan’s power helped her, she made a mental note to thank him for it. Her trembling hands caressed the white fabric of her wedding dress, making sure that no wrinkles would be there.

“You look absolutely beautiful.” Aelin said, hugging her from the side, she was wearing a soft green dress, her crown replaced by a small headpiece. Elide thanked her, looking at her surroundings. 

Yrene was finishing her hair, the curls on a bun, with some loose strands framing her perfect shiny face, the baby bump was showing in the fluffy lilac dress she chose for the occasion. She happily talked to Lysandra, who wore a deep green dress glued to her body, accentuating her curves, her hair cascading in waves behind her back. 

The three females talked, and Elide felt happy having them there with her, her friends, but her heart missed someone, she had sent the invitation but she wasn’t sure if Manon would actually show up, they talked through letters but Manon had so much to do, as did Elide. They both had their homes to recover. 

Three knocks at the door and Aedion’s head popped up in the room, letting them know that it was time. The three females wished their good luck to Elide and she thanked them, looking one last time in the mirror. 

Little makeup adorned her face,  just some shimmery in her eyes, her hair was falling in waves, clipped behind her head, leaving a clear view of her face. The hair clip was made from golden leaves, a treasure from her own mother’s wedding, that Vernon had kept in her family treasure room. Small diamonds adorned her ears and neck, and as she looked at her gown, she almost didn’t recognize herself. A floor-length white gown, a bodice holding her upper frame with small sleeves, and a thin cape tied to her neck. She looked divine. 

“Eli, we have to go, you don’t want to leave him waiting.” Aedion urged. 

“It’s fine Eli, Aedion is just afraid of Lorcan.” Ren laughed and she giggled, opening the door. 

“I’m ready.” Ren let out a low whistle. 

“You look really beautiful.” She blushed. “Can’t believe you’re getting married.”

“Let’s go before I cry.” Aedion said, grabbing her arm and Ren grabbed the other side, her two best friends walking her down the aisle, she might cry as well. 

They walked, but before they exited the door leading to the forest where the ceremony was being held, someone cleared their throat, and she turned around. In a beautiful red dress, hair parted in the middle and red lips. Manon smiled at her.

“You came.” Elide rushed to her, Rowan’s power still holding her leg straight. Manon hugged her, as the smaller woman buried herself against her. 

“You called.” She replied, taking Elide in, she looked so angelic like this, Manon smiled widely, something very rare for the witch. “You look amazing, he’s a lucky guy.” 

“I’m so glad you’re here, you have no idea.” She blurted and Manon nodded. 

“Let’s get you married then.” Manon escorted Elide Back to the males standing in front of the door. “Abraxos is waiting if you change your mind.” She winked and Elide laughed. 

“I’ll think about that, thank you, Manon.” She turned to the males. “Let’s go then.” They grabbed her by her arms, and the three of them started to walk, as a soft melody started to play. 

The guests were seated on wooden chairs adorned with small flowers, the path was covered in various shades of flowers and tiny candles. She looked up at Lorcan, wearing a black attire, his hair in a low bun and he shifted his weight from one foot to another. It was a funny sight. A flower arch was behind him and a priestess was ready to make everything official for them.

The soft music followed her until Ren and Aedion were ready to pass her to Lorcan, he gladly took her small hand, leading the way back to the arch. 

“You look breathtaking.” He whispered, eyeing her from the side, as they listened to the priestess talk. Lorcan felt his hands sweat, and he felt nervous. Settling down for her was the best decision he ever made. He would do everything for her and it would always be worth it. Even if it meant enduring years of mockery by Aelin and Fenrys as he was about to become Lord Lorcan Lochan. 

“You may now say your vows.” The soft voice of the priestess sounded and he turned to his beautiful Elide. A small tear escaped her eyes and he was quick to wipe it away. 

“I was trapped my whole life, everything I’ve ever loved was taken away from me..” Elide started, her voice a little shaken by the memories of her past. “I grew up thinking I would be forever caged, but you showed me freedom, you gave me choice, you make me feel seen and heard. It’s like I matter again. And I love you so much.” It wasn’t much, but they were the words from her heart, the truest feelings she had inside her. 

“I thought that I knew what love was like, how it felt, but no one ever loved me truly like you do. I give up everything I am and everything I will be to be by your side. You shall never know what a day alone feels like anymore. I will stand by you day and night and show my love for you every day because you deserve Elide Lochan. You deserve to be loved and it’s my honor to be the one to do it. I love you so much.” 

Elide couldn’t contain the waterfall that fell from her eyes as Lorcan spoke. The priestess finished the ceremony, telling him he might kiss the bride. His large hands cupped the sides of Elide’s face, bringing her close, his lips brushed hers and he kissed her gently, like she deserved to be treated. Her hands grabbed the collar of his attire, not wanting to be apart from him. 

The crowd roared and clapped as they kissed. They were still clapping as Lorcan grabbed Elide’s hand and guided her to where the reception was going to be. The guests followed them to another part of the forest where tables were displayed, lights hung from the trees and food was being served. The music was nice and calm. 

“Lady and Lord Lochan.” Fenrys yelled, and the crowd clapped once more as they reached the dance floor. 

Lorcan rested his hand on the small of her back while she rested both hands on his chest. They moved, eyes locked on each other like they were the only ones there. The music moved them around and their family watched as they danced, their first dance as husband and wife. 

The first step towards the rest of their lives.

#elide tog #elide #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lady elide #lady elide lochan #throne of glass #ren allsbrook #aedion tog #aedion ashryver #lysandra ennar #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #lorcan lochan salvatorre #lorcan #lord lorcan lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elorcan wedding #elorcan #chaol westfall #dorian havilliard #manon blackbeak crochan #moonlightazriel #yrene towers

[malulls]

'tis the damn season

Manorian modern au

Inspired by 'tis the damn season, by Taylor swift

Nsfw

December 23rd

Manon slammed the trunk harder than she should have. The car shuddered beneath her, as did Elide, but her friend said nothing. She just pulled Manon's second suitcase until she was next to her, and she was grateful for that.

The click of the car being closed was the only sound besides the wheels on the sidewalk to accompany them for a few minutes. Glennis' house was only a few meters away, but it was enough to annoy her. The nearest parking spaces were occupied, and Bronwen was an asshole who insisted on filling the garage when she had her own house to do it in. She could go fuck herself too.

Elide slowed down. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, but Manon knew she wanted to talk, to point out the everyday things that they hadn't discussed for a long time, ever since the distance — her fault, as well as many other things — between them began. Her friend was looking for something normal between them, and to be honest, so was Manon. But rebuilding the walls that had once come close to falling around herself, making them double in size, had taken a lot of effort. And tearing them down would take even more.

It wasn't a price she was willing to pay for just one week. Less than that if she was lucky.

Across the street, a woman Manon had never seen in the city slammed the car door. She had brown hair that hit the middle of her and was talking very fast on her cell phone. She wore a medical jacket.

Elide looked at the woman, at Manon, and looked away. Weird.

— Who’s that?

— Did you know that Yrene now runs the hospital?

Manon looked at her, surprised. The last time she was in town, Yrene Towers was finishing medical college.

— What does that have to do with her?

Elide cleared her throat. Manon almost stopped walking. Yrene was close to a subject she didn't want to hear about. Too close.

— Her name is Sorscha. She works there. She came from Fenharrow at the beginning of the year.

— Fenharrow? — Manon frowned. What was that woman doing in the tiny town where she had grown up? There were thousands of cities all over the country much closer to the frontiers, and somehow people ended up at that end of the world. — How the hell did she end up here?

Elide shrugged.

— I haven't talked to her very much. Yrene might know.

Luckily, the woman wasn't interesting enough for Manon to ask. She wasn't going to talk to Yrene. The doctor could break her face if she wanted, she didn't care. But there was more to the story. She knew Elide well enough to know when there was something on the tip of her tongue, even if the small, black—haired girl was the best liar Manon knew.

Apart from herself.

— Spit it out.

— She's been hanging out with Dorian.

Manon stopped. At least the four steps to Glennis' door were a good excuse for the reaction she shouldn't have had. With more force than necessary, she snatched her suitcase off the floor by the handle and began to climb.

— If I wanted to know who he's hanging with, I would have asked him.

Elide pulled up the second suitcase, with a little more difficulty due to her height, and examined her face. It turned out that a lifetime of being raised by her grandmother and the time in Los Angeles had honed her ability to appear indifferent over the last 23 years.

Before her friend could reply, the front door opened abruptly.

— Don't be rude to Elide. — Glennis said.

Then she pulled Manon into a tight hug that made her feel guilty for disappearing for four years. But not enough to make her regret it.

The comfort of the embrace made a lump appear in her throat. This was the grandmother who made Manon feel like she had something close to a family. The one who had taken years to find her. Who had arrived too late. It had taken her a while to put an end to the what ifs. What if her father had taken her mother with him when they moved to Rifthold? What if her grandmother had been away when her parents' accident happened. What if Asterin's mother had a better financial condition and had gotten custody of her. What if she hadn't had to grow up with that woman. Enough.

She made the questions go away and left her alone. As soon as Glennis let her go and Manon caught a glimpse of Bronwen in the doorway, she flashed her middle finger.

Her cousin just shrugged.

— Hi to you too, asshole.

Their grandmother slapped them both.

— If you start with that bullshit so soon, you can set up a ring in the street. In my house, behave yourselves. Bronwen, be nice to your cousin, you haven't seen each other for four years. — she emphasized the time. As if Manon didn't know how much the distance had hurt her. — Manon, you've been here for a too short time to have such a low level of patience.

— That's the full—time level. — she muttered.

Glennis greeted Elide and sent Bronwen to help Manon with her suitcases. She had been in the city for less than an hour and already wanted to disappear again.

Her room was just as she had left it. Incomplete, confused and a little lost. With half the things that had been hers packed, because despite the relief of no longer having to live under the same roof as her grandmother, it wasn't enough to make another place any less strange. Bronwen put down her suitcase without much care, but before she left, she stopped at the door.

— Look, we've never got on very well, but don't think I appreciate you being away for so long. Firstly because it upset Glennis, and secondly because I don't hate you. And even though I'm annoyed, I'm glad you're here.

Without giving her time to reply, her cousin left and slammed the door. She pulled off her boots and coat and sank onto the bed. She checked her cell phone before plugging it into the charger and closed the curtains to block out the afternoon sun, that was bringing a little warmth despite the winter. It reminded her too much of California for her liking.

Manon closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. She needed to sign the inheritance papers her parents had left for her. She should have done this when she was twenty—one, but her career was starting to take off, and since then she had been stuck in a mess of documents with the person she hated most in the world.

But she had already put that off for an absurd amount of time. Besides, if she wanted to stay in L.A., she needed the money. She hadn't looked into her grandmother's rigid face for years. That was long enough to need to do it one last time in her life.

But if it had only been that, a single person to avoid, she wouldn't be swimming in stress. The problem was that she was running away from the whole city. From Glennis and Bronwen, even though they were in the same house, she would have run away from Elide if her friend hadn't seen it coming and been quicker.

And there was him.

More than anything else, she was running away from Dorian Havilliard, which included his circle of friends and, consequently, half of the city. And now the lovely girl he was seeing. Manon didn't need to know anything about this. It made no difference. Nor was it the reason she wanted to break a window. She had a list full of them, and that one wasn't on it.

She thought about picking up her cell phone again, but to hell with it. The next day was Christmas Eve. Ironically, she was happy to get away from Los Angeles for a few hours. From her agent, from the madness, from the insufferable celebrities, from the few real friends she had made, and from her obligations.

Apart from the question of documents, having no commitments, no responsibilities the next day was... freeing. It lifted a suffocating weight from her back. It was the first time in a long time that she had had time to breathe.

Manon opened her eyes. She had an infinity of unresolved issues in that place. But Los Angeles wasn't her home. And perhaps she was the one making that city a hell.

—

December 25th

The advantage of living in a small town? Gossip spreads faster than fire on dry grass. Dorian wouldn't say he was a gossiper. He just liked to keep informed about other people's lives.

The bad side? When the gossip was about him. Or something he didn't want to know about. Elide had told her boyfriend Lorcan. Who had told Rowan. Which basically meant that the whole town knew. Dorian had to give him some credit, at least he was discreet. Rifthold was too small for a journalist, which was why Aelin had agreed to move with him to the capital, after he had stayed in the country for her. But in a small city? Rowan got really excited. The conclusion was that apart from his beauty, that was the reason he was adored by half of the old ladies there.

The point was that Dorian had spent the whole of Christmas trying not to think about it. About her. Just a few streets away. When they were finishing high school, they were practically on opposite sides of town, but Dorian hadn't set foot in his father's house for a long time. Not even when he went to the city for some reason. His mother and Hollin had stopped by his house, and had even sent him a present. It was something, even if it was more because she felt obliged to than because she wanted.

Now he was sitting on the couch, alone. Thinking. Having repeated doses of existential crises, which were interrupted by Aelin knocking on the door.

— Merry Christmas. — she said, her voice muffled as the two of them hugged.

He hugged Rowan and invited them in, but Aelin refused.

— My mom's waiting. We're just here to pick up my present.

Dorian chuckled.

— You're ridiculous. — But he went to get her package in the living room. When he came back to the door, she also had a package. Both shaped like books.

— What a surprise. — Aelin mocked. — Thanks.

— Are you having your party tomorrow? — Dorian asked.

— Of course, and on New Year's Day will be at Elide's house. We're staying until the 1st this time, it's been a while since we've been able to get everyone together. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about this. Do you think she'll go? Elide must want to take her.

She didn't have to say who.

— I have no idea. We haven't spoken since the day she left.

— I just wanted to let you know that she might be there. Good night.

Aelin nodded.

He said goodbye to them. Dorian wasn't sure how the thought of meeting her made him feel. Perhaps he was still angry. After a while, he had stopped thinking about her. Not completely. Some what ifs were hard to let go.

Especially when they had come so close to being what he wanted, only for everything suddenly end like it had never existed. It had been a long time, so many things had changed and happened. And the more time passed, the more Dorian was sure he could let it go once and for all.

But it would have been good, if she had been the one.

—

December 26th

Aelin Galathynius knew how to give a party.

Dorian had to give his friend the credits. Even if, after drinking, dancing, laughing and chatting, he was standing on the balcony alone while the rest of his group of friends split up into couples. Except for Fenrys, of course. He was with some random woman in one of the mansion's many rooms. If he wasn't with more than one.

He could be as a couple if he started to make an effort, but besides the fact that Sorscha hadn't finished her shift at the hospital, the thought of meeting her was bothering him. Probably because he didn't want to be an asshole or admit that he was thinking about someone who had become a ghost years ago. Dorian shook his head before he followed that line of thought and turned to get another glass of champagne. And froze.

Underneath the heavy coat she had hung up, she wore heeled boots, pants that hugged her legs so tightly it should have been a crime, and a sleeveless blouse with a neckline that could have been an attempt on his sanity. All in black. Except for the lipstick.

He had seen Elide earlier, but alone. Now... Dorian didn't know why he was so surprised. It wasn't like he hadn't known she was in town, Aelin had made sure of warning him personally that she might be there. But apparently, he hadn't prepared himself as well as he thought. She was beautiful. She always was, but somehow she'd managed to look better. Her hair was longer, past the middle of her back and in a more refined cut than the one she wore in high school. He had avoided the pictures when magazine covers and social media ads started appearing with her face, but the urge to see her sometimes was stronger.

Guess who just got fucked?

Dorian hadn't noticed that he was holding his breath until he saw her turn her back and go to another part of the house. Then he felt a bitter taste in his throat. That was why he had given up on what he was starting with Sorscha. Because, apparently, just knowing that she was in town was enough to take ten steps back.

Giving up on something good, something that might have a future, something that could turn into a real relationship, just for seeing Manon. Four years. After four years without a word between them, after she had left, Dorian was still there. Right where she left him.

—

After spending much more time washing her hands than was necessary, she decided it was enough. This was ridiculous. It was past time to get out of that place instead of hiding in a bathroom like a scared teenager. At least she had somehow managed not to bump into Dorian. Manon had only glimpsed him once and ended up on the other side of the room.

Manon had been at the party for exactly 48 minutes and already regretted it. Elide had spent the whole afternoon annoying her, until Glennis decided she couldn't take it anymore and helped her friend to push her out. Terrible idea.

She was going to sign the documents with her grandmother the next day. Then she might never set foot on the street again until she was on her way to an airport. Maybe she'd go back to Los Angeles sooner. Or end up in any other city, it didn't matter. Just one more day, she decided, closing the bathroom door. She'd survive one more fucking day…

The thought of meeting him brought up so many different feelings, none of which she wanted to feel. Remorse. Shame. Longing. So much that sometimes it still hurts. Ok, that's enough.

Manon stopped. Just as she had at the door of Glennis's house. She froze in place when she raised her head. When she recognized his features in the low, spaced lights of the hallway. His eyes were as wide as she felt her own for half of a second before she forced her face back into its usual expression.

Dorian did the same. The shock quickly turned to an emotion she didn't like and couldn't identify.

— It's been a while, witchling.

The nickname didn't seem satisfied with just entering her ears. His voice made sure to send a series of shivers through her entire body, which made her regret wearing only her bodysuit. The heavy barrier of the jacket would cook her inside the house, but it would be very welcome now.

She gave up trying to get past him. She still had a whole hallway to cross to the stairs. Fucking hell.

— I think so.

— How's life in L. A.? I imagine it's pretty good, since you haven't set a foot here for four years.

— You can see it. Has Yrene talked to you? I'm sure she wants to see you.

It irritated her deeply. At any moment he, Elide and Glennis would get together to put up an outdoor in a square counting how many seconds she had spent away.

— I've never been the biggest fan of this place.

— I haven't talked to anyone.

From the way Dorian smiled, he was enjoying the conversation and her rudeness wasn't going to send him off any time soon. Good.

— Oh, it's an usual activity then. I thought not talking to anyone was only for special occasions, like when you go to the other side of the country.

— Glennis and Bronwen knew. And they were the only ones who needed it.

He snorted.

— You really got some nerve to say that.

Manon held back from expressing any physical reaction, like slapping him in the face.

— Incredibly, I have better things to do than debate this with you. If you had something to say to me, you could have sent a message. It's a bit late now.

— No, Manon, you could have sent a message, breaking up with me, saying you were going. You could have sent a damn goodbye emoji, anything would have been better than nothing at all.

Manon felt the heat of anger and shame spreading across her face. Thankfully the hallway was dark.

— And what do you want me to say? — she asked, gritting her teeth. She was aware that they were one step away from start shouting, but she didn't care.

— The reason? Or I don't deserve an explanation either?

— What difference does it make? Why do you even care?

Dorian opened his mouth to reply, but someone came from the stairs to the corridor where they were. He went to one of the doors, opened it and entered a room, but didn't close it, waiting for her to come in. What a pitty. Now she was free to get out of there and lock herself in her room, as she should have done all night.

That's what Manon thought, until she recognized the long brown hair in one of the dim lights in the corridor. The same one she'd seen coming out of a car in the first few minutes in Rifthold. Sorscha. She must have arrived recently, Manon hadn't seen her anywhere in the house. And if she'd been at the party earlier, Dorian probably wouldn't have been there fighting with her.

So, giving in to her ridiculous jealousy, Manon entered the room with him and closed the door behind her.

The room was almost brighter than the corridor, with moonlight coming in through the window. Dorian turned on a small lamp next to a pile of books. The bedroom reminded her of his old one when they were both teenagers, and it could have been cozy, if his expression wasn't freezing the room. She regretted going in there, continuing a fight that would bring back everything she had been struggling to forget over the last few years. His gaze emitted a cold she had never seen in Dorian. One that was too similar to her own. And one that Manon knew she was only staring at because she had caused the pain that had put it there.

Sorscha's footsteps sounded outside in the hallway, and she was afraid Dorian would say something, but they remained silent until she was down the stairs again. A slight feeling of guilt troubled her, but it passed quickly. It wasn't the worst thing she had done in her life.

— Where did we stop? — He asked.

— You were about to start a monologue.

His smile was all sarcasm and the coldness she was already starting to hate.

— That was too insensitive. Even for you. — He spat out the last word with such anger that it almost made her want to run away. Hell of jealousy that didin't let her walk away and pretend nothing had happened. — You're not going to convince me that you didn't care, so why, Manon? That's all I want to know. What I've been trying to understand for four fucking years.

She bit her lip. Hearing him say her name broke up the familiarity that the fight had brought and reminded her that they had just met. The strangeness of that reality after all the scenarios and possibilities Manon had built up in her head of what it would be like to meet him again made her dizzy.

She had lost count of how many times she had replayed again and again the scene in her mind when she couldn't sleep. When having to face him was less complicated than whatever she was going through in California.

— You knew that the only thing I'd wanted my entire life was to get out of this city.

— But I didn't know that you had no reason to stay.

— Are you sure? Why would I stay? To spend another night with you? You decided you wanted more than a casual thing on your own, when we both knew from the start that it wouldn't be anything more than that.

A laugh without a glint of humor came out of her mouth, leaving behind a bitter taste that burned her throat. It sounded just exactly her grandmother's.

A sound of pure shock and indignation came out of him.

— Is that what you invented to sleep better? We were long past that when you left.

— Weeks before. We'd already made up.

— We had fought. — She tried to defend herself, knowing she couldn't.

— And what did you want me to say? — she exploded, taking a step towards him. — Would you be happy when I told you I was moving away just when things were like you wanted?

The shouting had totally started now.

— Of course not, but at least I'd know! — he replied, taking another step closer to her. — I had to find out from your cousin that you were on the other side of the fucking country because you weren't anywhere and wouldn't answer your cell phone, without any explanation. Do you have any idea how desperate I was, thinking your grandmother had done something to you?

That was like a punch in the gut. Manon had never thought of it in that way, and the worst part was that the possibility of her grandmother hurting her was real. A million unspoken things bubbled up in her throat as silence killed the argument, but when she felt an apology appearing, she decided it was time to change the subject.

— Do you really want to fight at a crowded party? — she pointed out, casually.

Dorian remained silent for a few seconds, while he calmed his breathing.

— Do you want to try again somewhere quieter? The middle of the forest is pretty empty at this hour.

— The forest? What if I decide to sacrifice you?

He pressed his lips together to contain a smile or a grimace, she didn't know. With the direction of the conversation going in something so similar to what they used to have, it could have been either of them.

— Knowing that you have another ten witches on your back? I don't think so.

When the silence returned, she took two steps towards the door. It seemed wrong to leave like that, to be anywhere in Rifthold where he wasn't with so many unresolved things hanging between them. Manon knew that meeting him again would be bad, but she hadn't imagined that the list of possible after—effects was so long.

— When are you leaving? — he asked, as soon as she reached the exit of the room.

Manon turned to him, leaning against the door.

— As soon as I get what I need from my grandmother.

— What? — He frowned. — Are you going to see her?

— It's about inheritance. — She answered quietly. That subject was bad in every way she could imagine. — My lawyer said there was no way to avoid it.

And she had tried hard.

— But then you should have done this two years ago.

Manon shrugged.

— It wasn't time enough away.

Before she could open the door, he took a few steps towards her.

— Well, remember that before you leave, we have a fight to finish.

She huffed.

— You should give up and run while you still have the chance.

— I never ran from you, witchling.

— It would’ve been easier if you had.

The sentence hung in the air, waiting for the direction of the conversation to be decided. Dorian silently agreed to put the seriousness and the bad part of the past aside for a moment, as he opened a half-smile.

— True, but then it wouldn't be fun. And imagine how sad your life would be if you'd never slept with me?

A siren started to play in her head. Manon frowned.

— Do you really want to get into this topic?

— I'm not getting into anything. — She rolled her eyes. — I was just saying.

The problem was that when it came to them, nothing was just anything. She looked at him. The slightly longer curls, the hint of a beard that hadn't existed when he was a teenager. The memories of why she had slept with him more than once, something she never did, came flooding back. And now he was no longer on the other side of the room, let alone in the country.

— Really?

He shrugged.

Indeed. Manon tilted her head back, eyes on his face again. Her heart immediately raced. After all, what did she intend entering in a dark room with Dorian?

— It's not like this could get any worse.

If she was already in hell, hugging the devil would be nothing.

— If it's ok with you, it's ok with me, princeling.

Saying it out loud was worse. It made the terrible idea slap reality in her face. Dorian approached slowly, put his hand on her side and locked the door. He looked down at Manon, analyzing her face as she had done to him seconds ago. Her heart seemed about to burst out of her mouth. She gave him a look of "just do it". Dorian got the message.

When they kissed, her body tensed like a rope about to snap. The touch was featherlight, a taste of what she had wanted back for so long. He deepened the kiss and her breathing faltered. The sensation of kissing someone she already knew, the familiarity and yet the difference that had arisen in the years apart, turned her mind upside down. His kisses always managed to make her forget that the rest of the world existed, and it was no different this time.

They gained back the ability to move at the same time. Dorian pressed Manon's body between his and the door, and her hand went to the back of his head to pull him close. In the seconds it took them to catch their breath, they stared at each other with the same haunted expression. At least he was as stunned as she was.

This time, when they kissed agaian, he wrapped his arms around her waist, taking the opportunity to touch every inch of bare skin. Dorian ran his hands down the fabric covering her torso, looking for a zipper or button, and mumbled into her mouth when he didn't find one. Manon only murmured "body" and tilted her head back, exposing her neck. Dorian caressed her nipples over the fabric, leaving a mark in the space between her shoulder and neck. Why the hell hadn't she chosen something easier to take off?

She bit her lower lip to hold back a moan as he caressed her, her breasts heavy with lust. When his lips were on hers again, Manon rested her thigh on his hip and Dorian supported her legs so that she could pass them around his waist. Before she could think better of it, he was already carrying her to the bed. He laid Manon down and took off his jacket and shirt.

— Are we really doing this? — she asked, although she was devouring him with her eyes. She didn't mind shamelessly analyzing each muscle he had gained with time.

Dorian lay on top of her.

— When did we ever make a good decision?

Touché

— Just confirming it.

The more they kissed, the less it seemed to be enough. The sexual tension that had always existed between them was on the verge of making her lose her mind. Manon started to open the buttons and zipper of his pants while he pulled down hers. Dorian stood at the edge of the bed while he took off her boots and socks, and finally reached the opening of her bodysuit.

— Did you have to choose the most complicated clothes in the world?

She crossed her arms even though she was mentally cursing herself for the same reason thirty seconds ago.

— I'm sorry to make your life difficult, but I didn't dress with that in mind.

She raised her arms for him to pull off the last piece of clothing, taking her panties with it. But, to her surprise, he turned her around. It was better that way, actually, if they didn't have to look at each other's faces. Dorian ran his fingers up the inside of her thigh, while pushing her hair away from her neck. Manon let her head fall back onto the pillow, clutching the sheet when she remembered that there was still a party going on outside. Still, it was hard to remain silent when he slipped two fingers inside her, still leaving kisses on the back of her neck. Any rational thought left in her head vanished as he moved his fingers slowly.

It was more of a tease than anything, because he pulled away. Manon almost cursed Dorian when the waves of pleasure pushing her close to relief stopped, but he opened the drawer in the bedside table next to him and took out a packet of condoms. She frowned.

— Does Aelin have a stock of these in every room in the house?

If Dorian had a room in Aelin's house, he probably had an altar in Chaol's.

— This room is mine.

She raised her arm to support her head and turned to him.

— So you, very unpretentiously, brought me to argue in your room?

— In my defense, you could've left.

He made her grimace disappear with more kisses and this time, beyond just desire, she felt her heart ache for all the things they could have been and she had ruined. He lay on top of her and, before she could continue thinking, Dorian spread her legs and entered her in a single movement. Manon let her face fall back on the pillow below, as he brought her wrists together and held them above her head. She would have completely forgotten that they couldn't make a sound if it hadn't been for the loud music. Mainly after he wrapped his hand around one of her thighs and pulled it up, opening her wider, the change in angle made him hit the right spot.

His hard strokes became faster, and with all the filthy things he was whispering in her ear, it didn't take long for Manon to bury her face in the pillow to muffle a scream. He bit her shoulder and came seconds later, still thrusting, prolonging the feeling for them both. Slowly, Dorian pulled out of her and lay down on the other side of the bed. Even after she lifted her face, facing him, neither of them said anything, small shivers still running through their bodies.

Manon could have slept there if she'd stayed like that for a few more minutes. So she got up. She sat on the edge of the bed, trying to find her clothes. But before she could get up, he wrapped an arm around her waist.

— Leaving already, witchling?

She opened her mouth to reply, but ended up holding back a moan when he licked her neck, caressing the curve of her breast with his thumb. Not reaching where she needed, just making her want more. It was working.

She turned her face to him and he raised his head. They could have stared at each other for hours, a silent conversation that made it clear that this would happen again. But not tonight

— I want to sleep.

He chuckled quietly, and didn't insist when Manon got up. She started to get dressed, more than aware that he was on the bed without a single item of clothing, staring at her.

She stopped at the door, still with the feeling she'd had earlier that she shouldn't leave the strange bubble that the room had become, sheltered from reality and anyone besides them.

Manon closed the door without giving him a chance to reply and, this time, ran for the exit, without giving herself a single second to think about the last hours. She had stayed much longer than she should have at that party.

— Good night, princeling.

—

December 27th

Dorian was looking for the leftover of the sweets that Nesryn's father had sent in the kitchen cupboards, when someone knocked the door. He went to the living room to open the door, and the last thing he expected in the world was to see Manon on the other side. Especially after the night before.

He had spent the rest of the night and the whole day thinking about it, replaying the conversation, the fight, and everything that happened afterward on a loop in his mind. And from the way Manon was struggling to keep her face blank, she was thinking exactly the same thing.

— I'm very surprised.

— Asterin called me and asked me to pick up a box with you. Something from the truck that she needs.

When Asterin Blackbeak had sent him a message, Dorian hadn't thought that this was what she had intended. He was going to send her some stickers cursing and saying thank you later.

— I know what it is. It's in the garage.

He led the way and Manon entered, looking around to analyze the house. Dorian wondered if she liked it. She used to say that the mansion he'd grown up in was so exaggerated that it lost its beauty. He agreed, but he never knew if she really thought that, or if her dislike of the place was because of what Dorian had been through with his father.

When they arrived at the garage, he showed her the box on one of the shelves, and of course Manon tried to pick it up herself. She was far from being short, but it was enough for him to love the things that the height difference between them provided.

He leaned behind Manon to pick up the box, touching every inch of her back in the process and remembering the sensation of being inside her in that same position a few hours ago. She turned around with her arms crossed, between him and the shelf.

— You're still that shameless?

He left the box on the bench next to him and immediately forgot it existed.

— You could've let me get it.

— I didn't ask your help.

— It was as clear as the sun that you weren't going to reach that shelf.

He saw the exact moment when Manon ran out of arguments by the way her mouth tightened.

— You could've let me get out of the way then.

— Nice try, but you didn't even try to move.

— So what? You let me in.

— You came in because you wanted to. You could've waited at the door.

— You —

He ended the argument with a kiss.

She'd gone there with an objective, just as Dorian had when he'd taken her to his room at the party. Was he an idiot for still wanting Manon so badly after everything she'd done? What a pity. She wouldn't be in town for long, so it would be over as quickly as it had started.

Somehow they ended up upstairs, their clothes disappearing on the way. He pushed her against the door as soon as it was closed and knelt down, pulling her pants down with him, doing what he hadn't had time to do the night of the party.

Dorian put one of Manon's legs on his shoulder and brought his mouth to her center, closing his eyes when he tasted her after so long. The sound that came from her mouth made his cock ache, and pulled his gaze upwards. She had one hand in his hair, her head leaning back against the door, her breath panting and a blush on her cheeks. Still the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

He moved his tongue all over her again, tasting every inch of her slowly, until her body started to tremble and Manon pulled his hair to make him stand. He had a condom in his hands in seconds while she caught her breath, watching him. Dorian had felt rather than seen her gazes in the darkness of the hallway and the bedroom. Now at least he could identify what she was thinking.

He pushed her back against the wall and Manon wrapped her legs around his waist. Since they couldn't do it the day before, they kissed the moment he buried himself in her. She let her head fall on the door, looking at him with her mouth half open and her golden eyes lighten up with desire.

— I love our ability to pretend nothing happened. — he said.

Manon let out a half-smile and thrust her hips, making him move. Dorian was shared between her mouth, neck and breasts, knowing that she would curse him for the hickeys afterwards, but at the moment neither of them cared. He'd be lucky if the door didn't break after being slammed in the lock.

When they finished, they threw themselves on the bed. This time, whether it was because the position required more effort, because of the two orgasms or because she was giving up her stubbornness, Manon didn't leave immediately. She even let him play with the ends of her hair. After a long time, she turned to him. Dorian had already thought of what to say in the meantime. Suddenly, they were both in their second year of high school, in the first few months when he still had to convince her not to leave before she decided she had stayed too long.

— Are you in a hurry, witchling?

—

Manon parked outside Glennis's house, Asterin's box in the trunk. She looked at the dashboard. She had left for Dorian's house in the afternoon. It was past ten pm. She tried not to be silent when she entered the house, like a teenager sneaking back after bedtime.

The last thing she needed was Glennis or Bronwen asking where she was. Manon just wanted to get in the shower and sleep until noon, and she was happy to do that, especially after the afternoon she'd had. Somehow it was even better than at the party. This wouldn't do any good for either of them, but, stupid as it was, as long as Dorian wanted it too, she had no intention of stopping.

Maybe a few days in Rifthold wouldn't be such a nightmare after all.

—

December 28th

Manon regretted the thought less than twenty—four hours later. She hadn't been thinking when she'd driven to Dorian's house, she'd just ended up there. He opened the door and looked at her, the half—smile disappearing from his face and being replaced by concern as soon as he saw her face.

— What had she done?

At least she hadn't had to explain.

— Are you busy?

— No. — He made room for her to enter and closed the door. They stared at each other, Dorian waiting for her to say something until Manon sighed and gave in.

— She took the opportunity to throw in my face everything she hadn't been able to over the last few years. — She laughed without humor, letting her body fall against the wall. — You guess how many things she had to say to me.

— I'm sorry.

She took the courage to look at Dorian. He seemed to want to hug her, but there was no space left between them for this.

— I shouldn't have come here. — She shook her head and headed for the door, but he held her arm.

— You don't have to go if you don't want to.

Being honest with herself, Manon was afraid of what that would turn into if she didn't leave.

— Are you going to distract me, princeling?

He tugged her arm slightly, a step closer.

— Only if you don't run off after.

She lifted a shoulder. Dorian had said at the party that it couldn't get any worse. Apparently they both took it as a challenge.

Later, Manon would be lying if she said she regretted it. It was a little easier to forget problems eating pastries from Nesryn Faliq's family bakery in his huge, soft bed. Her hair was still damp from the shower Dorian had convinced her to take with him in the middle of the night. It was something they had rarely been able to do before, even though his parents didn't give a damn what he did or where he was.

— She's with Sartaq.

Manon swallowed the rest of the lemon tart.

— Really?

— Yes, but they think no one knows.

She crossed her legs, looking for a brigadeiro in the box.

— Are you going to update the gossip I missed?

He laughed.

— Yes, but I thought Elide did that.

Manon frowned as she remembered what her friend had told her.

— Elide only told me things I'm not interested in knowing.

Dorian raised his eyebrows, but she didn't elaborate. He picked up his cell phone.

— I'll open the talk with Aelin and Rowan.

She came a little closer, but he made room so that she was practically on his lap. She ignored the urge to lean her head on his shoulder, but knew that if she had been distracted, she would have done so. It was like they had continued exactly where they had stopped. Which meant things were about to go bad.

—

December 29th

Manon was wearing Dorian's shirt. He held her while they slept. Everything was so similar to how they used to be that she could have gone back in time. The peace and tranquility of a good relationship, which she had never imagined she would feel one day, was the same. Dorian woke up before her, which never happened, and he wasn't in bed. He was making breakfast when she appeared, her hair messy and wearing his clothes. That was always when she looked most beautiful.

— Good afternoon.

— I have to enjoy it while I can. — She defended herself, sitting down on one of the high stools at the kitchen island. — I can't waste half my day sleeping in Los Angeles.

He pushed a plate towards her.

— What's it like? In L.A.?

Manon stopped her toast halfway to her mouth.

— You really want to know?

He shrugged and sat down on the stool next to her. It was weird telling anyone about all of that, especially Dorian, but the conversation eventually became easy. He told her about the bookshop he'd opened with Aelin, about the new house he'd built himself, while Manon spewed venom about the celebrities she'd had the displeasure of meeting.

— But do you hate them all? Like, zero famous friends?

She nodded.

— Just my agent, Morrigan. And Lidia Cervos.

Dorian's eyes widened.

— Lidia Cervos?

— Yes. — She spoke again before he asked for a photo with Lidia or something. — It's funny, because we only met because I was going out with her current boyfriend.

His grimace was priceless.

— The one from the rock band?

She nodded.

— Yes, why?

She held back her smile when he looked away to find an excuse for his sudden mood.

— He doesn't seem to be your type.

— And what would that be?

— Black hair...

— His hair is black.

— Not shaved. Not long. No piercings, no tattoos...

— You look like a conservative lady.

He threw a grape at her.

— Blue eyes...

— His eyes are —

— Blue, Manon. Not violet or whatever that weird color is, blue. Like this. — he said, pointing to his own face.

— As convenient as your self—description is...

He interrupted her with another kiss. After stopping long enough to put the plates in the sink, Dorian put his hands on her thighs under his sweatshirt and placed Manon on the bench, his tongue caressing hers and his fingers between her legs. She smiled as he sucked another mark on her neck, making a mental note to make him jealous more often.

—

It was dark again, and Manon hadn't left his house since the day before. They were lying on the couch, Dorian on the end and she between him and the backrest, his fingers finally stroking her hair, in the way she liked it so much. The familiar touches and affection were good. Really good. But they hurted too. She lifted her eyelids and found him staring at her, a hint of sadness mixed with the blue of his eyes. When he leaned in to kiss her, she didn't pull away.

The beginning of the kiss was enough for her to see that this one was going to be different. Her heart immediately raced. It felt like it was going to explode in her chest when he ran his tongue over her lower lip, before sliding it in her mouth. No rush, no trying to hide anything, just longing and everything they hadn't said to each other.

When it was over, neither of them moved. They continued with their foreheads touching, still not wanting to know what would happen when the moment passed. But the fear soon hit her, as if someone had opened the windows and let icy wind in. It pulled Manon out and made her sit on the couch, her back to Dorian. He took a deep breath, exhaling tiredness without having to say a word.

— You can't help running away, can you?

— And you need to complicate everything. — she replied, but not even her own voice sounded convinced.

— Oh right, because everything was so simple until now.

She turned to him.

— It could be, if you could ignore this for one damn weekend.

— You trying so hard to pretend you don't feel anything isn't going to make it true.

Manon got up from the couch.

— And why should I do anything different if it's going to end in days?

He got up too.

— You tell me! Things don't have to stay like this.

— And what's going to change when I go back to L.A.? — She felt an alarm screaming in her head, but ignored it. — Give me a single reason not to leave things as they are. I don't see any.

She regretted it the moment the words left her mouth. She had already said the same thing, the same lies, years ago.

It had already been clear that there were feelings between them, but it was the first time they had talked and admitted it. Of course, she had tried to push him away, but Dorian didn't let her. That fight they managed to resolve, was one of the few times in her life that Manon had gone back on her word. At some point, she regretted it. If they had been fighting when she went to Los Angeles, a small part of things would have been easier. Now... he just shook his head.

— I'm not doing this again.

Dorian walked past her to get his sweatshirt from the kitchen. To leave, Manon realized. Immediately, despair set in. He would walk out of that door and he could go anywhere. If he didn't want to see her ever again and disappear until she was gone, he could. She remained static, watching the fragile shield they had managed to maintain crumble. Until he passed her and her body moved of its own accord.

She grabbed his arm and Dorian stopped, looking at her with pure anger and hurt on his face. Her hands were shaking. Was this how he had felt when he watched her leave, not being able to do anything?

Thorns pierced her throat. It would be hard to pull them out, but Manon wasn't going to lose him out for being a coward again.

— I couldn't say goodbye because if I had to, I wouldn't have left. — she said. And once she'd started, she couldn't stop, the words came out in a torrent. — When Asterin called to say that she had made a friend who had agreed to be my agent, I didn't give myself time to think. I just went, because if I thought about it, if I told you, I wouldn't leave, and I had to. I couldn't stay here, Dorian. But Glennis had found me, I'd met Elide, and I had you. I had accepted that I had you. How could I go so far away, leaving everything that was important behind?

Manon took a deep breath. Her chest was hurting so much it was suffocating, but she had to keep going.

— But I'd never have a chance of something like that happening again. I practically informed Glennis that I was leaving because I lived in her house. And that's the only reason I was able to go. It doesn't mean I don't regret it every fucking day.

Dorian blinked quickly and swallowed. She wasn't crying, but she knew there was pain in every line of her face.

— But what about after that? — he asked. — When you were already there, or when things started to work out? You had weeks, months, years to say something. Anything, Manon.

She shook her head, still not sure if she was breathing.

— Weeks, months, years later, I was still dying inside. I still am. The first year was... — she had to stop again as the memories came. — Impossible. I wanted to run back, but I couldn't, not with my grandmother here. I couldn't give up, I didn't want to run back and have her telling me I was the fragile little girl who deserved every slap. If I'd talked to you, if I'd had the slightest impression that you didn't hate me and would rather never see me again, I would have come back.

— That's my reason. — she said, hating her voice for failing.

The words died between them and were replaced by silence. Dorian wasn't looking at her, but he hadn't moved either. Manon kept her hand firmly around his arm.

Dorian nodded.

— Was it worth it? — he asked.

She didn't know how to answer. She asked herself that question every day. Was it worth being away from her grandmother? Yes. But to be away from everyone she loved? Never. Everything she had built up in her career? Yes. But in exchange for the hell that life in L.A. had been? Having to live every day with people who reminded her of her grandmother, always around just to find out if Manon could make it?

— I don't know. — she admitted.

Things weren't absolute, they didn't have only good and bad sides. But she would be lying if she said she didn't look back at the road not taken

Dorian finally looked at her. Manon felt her own eyes burning. The fear was visible on her face, as was the request for him not to leave. He no longer looked angry, but deeply sad, like the seventeen—year—old boy who barely looked in his father's direction. Manon hated knowing that this time, it was she who had left him like this. Wasn't that why she had resisted so much before agreeing to be with him? Apart from her selfishness, cowardice and fear when she saw that she really liked him, but because she knew she would hurt him.

— I'm sorry. — Manon finally said. He said nothing.

Dorian dropped his arm when she let it go. She was thinking that she would have to go upstairs and get her things, but he put his arms around her waist and hugged her. Manon went still. A knot tightened in her throat, and without realizing it she had hugged him back, as firmly as she could.

— I'm sorry. — she murmured.— I'm so sorry.

— I know. — His voice was low enough that she almost didn't hear it. — We'll be all right.

Two tears escaped before she could stop them, but Dorian didn't notice. They could have spent an eternity there, as long as he didn't let her go, Manon wouldn't either. Finally, when the two of them parted, they didn't say anything more, he just held out his hand. She took it.

—

— Will you ever be less stubborn? — Dorian complained, even though he was laughing against her neck.

December 30th

— The day you become less annoying.

Manon turned to him, smiling, his arm still around her waist. She had only left his house early in the morning to pick up some clothes. Glennis and Bronwen were awake and tried to tease her, but she just left the house as quickly as she came in. Manon would be back, though. She owed them a real talk, too.

They hadn't slept much after spending the whole night talking, truthfully, that time. She had told him everything, from her first months in L.A. to what had happened with her grandmother that week. Dorian rested his arm next to her head, his nose almost touching hers.

— I'm sorry, but it's my favorite activity.

— I don't think so.

She pulled Dorian into a kiss. Manon spread her legs and he laid between them. She was tired, but apparently not enough, because wetness pooled between her legs.

Her phone rang, ruining her mood immediately, and he kissed the tip of her nose before moving away to let her answer. When she saw the name on the screen, Manon froze, all the comfort of seconds ago disappearing.

— It's my agent.

She went out into the corridor.

— Mor?

— Did you do what you needed to do, sweetheart?

She sighed and leaned against the wall. Here we go.

— Yes.

— That's good. So, when are you coming back?

— When do I need to come back?

A second of silence on the other end of the line, then she let out a little scream.

— So you're your hot ex—boyfriend...

— Morrigan.

— All right, love, I get it. I can get you to stay until the 2nd, but you'll need to post something. Something about the small town, family, all that shit we know you love. Something like: "hey Instagram, I haven't forgotten about you! I just missed my family, and that's what the holidays are for, isn't it?" I think that's enough.

— Right. — Manon interrupted, before she started babbling. — Is that all you wanted to know?

— Of course, sweetie. We'll update your schedule when you get here. — She paused, and her voice lost its playful tone. — I've been with you for three years, Manon, and you've never taken a single break. You can stay there for a few more days, I'll make sure it won't do too much damage.

— Thank you. — she said sincerely.

— I love you too. Bye!

Before Manon could protest, Mor turned off. Dorian was sitting up in bed.

— Do you have to go?

— Not now. We still have a few days.

— And when you need to? How are we going to do that?

She sat on his lap and buried her face in his neck. She would miss his smell. His smiles. Perhaps even more than when she had gone for the first time.

— I don't know. My schedule is always a nightmare. I can't get back here that soon.

He wrapped his arms around her.

— How about once a year?

Manon pulled away to see his face. She had been waiting apprehensively for that moment even before they were ok.

— Is that enough?

Dorian brushed strands of hair away from her face.

— I can go to L.A. before that. If you want me there.

— I won't complain.

He leaned back against the pillows and Manon sat against him. She looked around the room, at the snow—covered forest through the window, and sank into the warmth of his embrace. She could already feel her heart breaking to leave that bed, the most comforting place she had ever known. Dorian entwined his fingers in hers.

— What if I asked you to stay?

Her heart raced. Manon hadn't considered the possibility. But could she? Would she throw it all away, would she have to throw it all away to stay there? She saw the other road again, the one that looked so much better every time she looked at it. She wasn't sure if life in L.A. was worth it. But her grandmother was still in that city.

She needed time. She needed to think. Manon turned to him.

— Then I would ask you to wait.

Dorian nodded, a serious expression on his face. But he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

— Then I'll put a plane ticket on your account, witchling.

—

New Year's Day

The Anielle Lake was crowded at that time of year. With not many other entertainment options in Rifthold, the whole town went there to watch the fireworks on New Year's Eve. Everyone was at Elide's house, which was near the lake, occupying the huge veranda while they waited for the show. They were armed with bottles of champagne and Fenrys to generate entertainment.

Aelin came out of nowhere and slung an arm around Manon's shoulders.

— I'm glad you're not too famous to talk to us. Humility is the thing I value most.

— Is it to make up for the amount you lack? — she replied.

Aelin showed her two middle fingers and turned away. She was certainly already drunk. Lysandra looked at the clock on her cell phone.

— Shut up, the countdown is going to start.

As they could hear people counting from the lake, they followed the crowd. Dorian raised his eyebrows at her when they reached "five". Manon rolled her eyes.

— How old are you?

But at midnight, she kissed him anyway.

Yrene climbed onto a chair, cell phone in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other.

— Nobody moves. We haven't had a picture together for an eternity.

Manon thought about complaining, but remembered that she needed the happy small—town picture for Instagram. Lorcan took the selfie to the protest of anyone apart from Elide, Yrene and Chaol — who only didn't protest because they were polite — because his two meters of height had to be good for something. In the end, she didn't regret taking the picture. And Mor was going to love it.

Manon wanted to drag Dorian back home and spend the last day with him, but after the panic of meeting that group passed, she realized how much she had missed them. Although she obviously wasn't ever going to admit it.

Elide suddenly hugged her.

— I'm so glad you're here.

She hugged her back.

— I'm sorry for everything. And thank you for not giving up on me.

She smiled at Manon and put her arm around hers.

— That's what friends are for. But I'll let you make it up to me when I need a favor.

She didn't have a chance to reply because, at that very moment, Fenrys, Lysandra and Aelin joined hands and jumped off the balcony ledge into the nearest mount of snow.

—

January 1st

Manon slammed the trunk hard, just for old time sake. That was enough change for a single week. She had Dorian again. She was talking properly to Elide. She'd seen Yrene (who hadn't broken her face) and all the others, and had a true conversation with Glennis and Bronwen for the first time in years. And more than anything, she was free of a weight. She would never have to see her grandmother again. And she wouldn't.

— I don't think there's anything missing.

Dorian raised his hand.

— There's me.

She rolled her eyes. He pulled her over to the car and kissed Manon. She laughed, because she suddenly felt like she was in high school again, kissing Dorian in a parking lot.

— We're too old for that, princeling.

He smiled and ran his eyes over her face. The smile diminished.

— I think you need to go, then.

Without thinking, Manon leaned in again, pressing her lips to his lightly, before pulling away. She wasn't the kind of person who could say goodbye, not decently. So she wouldn't say anything. But she didn't need to, because Dorian understood. He tightened his grip on her hand and walked away, heading for the front door. Glennis and Bronwen had said goodbye to her earlier with Elide, so the three of them let her go to his house so he could say goodbye last.

Manon got into the car, this time with the promise of something other than an empty city when she arrived at the airport. She started the car, even though she could already feel part of her heart leaving. Four years ago she hadn't looked back. This time, Manon did.

And she literally saw that road, the one she didn't take. Now she was sure of what she would find if she followed it. It leaded to Dorian, in her hometown.

————————————

Did you guys get all the folklore and evermore references?

I wish I had posted this sooner, but I had never written anything so big and 10k words is a lot to review and translate 🥲

Anyway, I hope you like it, Im 100% obsessed with this song 🤌🏻

#manorian #manon blackbeak #throne of glass #dorian havilliard #sarah j maas #dorian x manon #fanfic #christmas one shots #taylor swift #evermore #folklore

[lorcandidlucienwill]

Look, I have no problem whatsoever with Nesta learning how to fight. I think she has a warrior-like spirit, and I love the Valkyries as well, they're her real chosen family not the IC. It's not that aspect of it exactly that irks me. It's the intention behind her learning to fight. For one, it was forced on her as a "therapy" tactic by people who hate her yet act like they know what's best for her. For two, the whole idea of it was to water down Nesta and change her into someone who is correct for Cassian, which is so forced and icky (also what was with them calling her "Illyrian at heart?" You mean sexist with fragile af egos??? God no.) And it completely ignores the fact that Nesta's greatest tool is her words. Keep in mind Nesta was initially meant to be Lucien's mate. Lucien is very good with courtly stuff. I genuinely think Lucien and Eris are the only males in this series who could handle Nesta, because they grew up in the Autumn Court (which Nesta was practically made for, are you kidding me?) and are both incredibly witty. I've seen countless people compare Elain to Elide, but I honestly felt like Nesta was an upgraded form of Elide (Elain is more like Yrene). Both women are compared to witches several times in their respective series (hmmm I wonder why), are very cunning, are masters of intimidation, got men on their knees, have a casual grace about them, and have a ruthless streak. Don't believe Elide does? Ok, read how she spoke to Lorcan in EoS and KoA. Read the scene where she kills those ilken, and is proud of herself for it (Elain deflected her kill of the king of Hybern to Nesta). She let Vernon suffer, and Vernon had also said "Ruthless. The witch-blood ran true after all." And she, too, was angry at herself for feeling helpless many times, just like Nesta. Once she got so angry she observed Lorcan catching fish and eventually copied him and caught one herself. But Elide didn't become a warrior. She didn't do anything she didn't want to do. She wasn't watered down to fit anybody. She's the Lady of Perranth, as she should be. She was born to rule. As was Nesta. Nesta is 100% High Lady material. She should NOT be deferring to that idiot Cassian, or that ass Rhysand.

#the valkyries #pro nesta archeron #nesta archeron #pro nesta #nesta stan #nesta x lucien #neris #pro eris vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #anti cassian #anti rhysand #anti inner circle #elide lochan #yrene towers #lorcan salvaterre #lady of perranth #high lady nesta #autumn court males have fire in their veins and f*ck like it too

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Older but Never Wiser

CW: a bit of language

AN: Happy (almost belated) birthday @leiawritesstories my love!! This took way longer than it should have but depending on your time zone this might not be late yet lol, I’m dusting off the cobwebs to give you a little present :)

Based on this prompt: “you’re at the high school reunion and everyone’s talking about how you and [insert jerk here] were prom queen and king, unaware you dumped them years ago, and you’re moping… until you run into your nemesis from high school and you’re thoroughly distracted” (I can’t remember where this came from, it was just in my prompts folder, maybe I came up with it? Maybe not? Idk)

1458 words

Aelin could feel her shoulders begin to hunch as she drew in on herself. She’d known Chaol would be here, of course, but she hadn’t known the subject of prom queen and king would come up so soon, nor their joint senior superlative of “most likely to get married.”

She also hadn’t known Chaol would show up with a gorgeous woman taller than her, hotter than her, certainly classier than her, and wearing a giant diamond on her finger.

“I really thought you two were going to last,” Essar said, voice dripping with pity and sorrow as if she’d truly been invested in the relationship of two high school classmates she’d hardly ever interacted with ten years ago, let alone following graduation.

Aelin smiled tightly. “Well, it was for the best. I’m much happier now with my new boyfriend.” A lie, and an obvious one at that, if Essar bothered to notice. As it was, she was clearly more interested in the piece of gossip than its verity, even a decade after high school.

Some things really didn’t change.

The subject of Chaol was a bitter one—they had lasted several years following high school, and while Aelin had had plenty of time to move on, and multiple relationships following Chaol, seeing him now brought up old insecurities. Being interrogated about the end of their relationship by some random classmate at a high school reunion wasn’t making matters better.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Aelin cut in, “I should make some more rounds. It was nice to catch up with you.” There wasn’t an ounce of sincerity in Aelin’s tone and she couldn’t quite bring herself to care.

She and Essar exchanged goodbyes and Aelin fled, hurrying over to her friend Elide. Elide had been the class valedictorian and was now head of some tech company in Rifthold.

After catching up with her and a few others, Aelin headed for the refreshment table. She wasn’t one for social events, and after the tedious process of listening to the reunion’s organizers give speeches, followed by a solid half hour of unstructured mingling, Aelin was drained.

She poured herself a cup of punch. Staring into the reddish liquid at a distorted reflection of herself, Aelin sighed.

“I can’t believe Aelin Galathynius, socialite, gossip, prom queen extraordinaire, is moping at the snack table at a social event. Hell really has frozen over.”

Aelin started at the voice, looking up to see a man with stark white hair towering over her. He had certainly changed over the past decade, but the sharp pine green eyes clued her in on his identity instantly.

“Rowan Whitethorn,” Aelin drawled, grinning. “You…” She looked him over, taking in the size of his crossed arms, the deep tan, and the hard features. A tattoo snaked up his neck from somewhere underneath his shirt. Aelin whistled. “Time has served you well.”

Rowan chuckled, the sound all too familiar. “You think so?” He paused, and gave her a once-over of his own. “I could say the same.”

Aelin leaned against the table, smiling. “Do tell me what it is you do for a living. Wait—let me guess. Sly business man. Lawyer? Oh, tax collector!”

Another, louder laugh left Rowan’s lips. “I’m a child psychologist.”

Aelin’s jaw dropped. “Damn, okay.”

He grinned. “You’re what, a fashion designer? A housewife?”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “I work at a pharmacy.”

Rowan shook his head in disbelief, smiling widely. Silence settled over the pair, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable pause—merely a moment to take in each other after so long. Aelin remembered arguing with the boy this man had once been over schoolwork, over sports, over absolutely nothing.

“Gods, tell me you’re not with that asshole anymore,” Rowan said, breaking the quiet.

Aelin blinked, then felt her lips unconsciously stretch into a another smile. “No, I’m not.”

Rowan hmmed noncommittalaly. “You two were never a good match.”

He was the first person who hadn’t offered her condolences like it was some kind of recent tragedy, and for that Aelin felt her smile turn soft. “Remind me why we hated each other again?”

A breathy laugh. “I believe that was thanks to the time you scraped up the side of my car trying to park on the very first day of junior year.”

“We were sixteen! No one could drive well at that age.” Aelin was grinning.

Rowan crossed his arms. “Or perhaps the time you literally tased me? With a fucking taser?”

Aelin let out a startled laugh. She’d completely forgotten about that. One of the football boys had hosted a party while his parents were out of town, and his mom was a cop so he brought out her taser for a game of whoever can hold onto this $20 while being tased in the hand gets to keep it. Gods, high school had been quite the experience.

“That was part of the game! You took the risk, and you lost; I can’t be blamed for that. Besides, I happen to remember you making out with my boyfriend on one occasion.”

Rowan groaned in faux embarrassment, a hand running though his short locks. “Lorcan dared us to. Besides, you’d already broken up with Dorian at that point, so it didn’t really count.”

Aelin’s face started to ache as she realized just how widely her smile was stretched. “That definitely still counts, but fine, let me think of some other instance you were an asshole to me. I’m sure there were plenty.”

Rowan shook his head, eyes dancing with mirth, and opened his mouth to make a retort—but someone else beat him to it.

“Aelin! I was so happy to spot you here. How have you been?”

Of course, it was Chaol, leering over at her in a suit far too sophisticated for the occasion.

Aelin felt a wave of calm wash over her as she realized that as much as she didn’t want to have a civil conversation with Chaol, she wanted him to have the upper hand even less.

“Chaol, my gods! I’ve been great; I take it you have been as well judging by the beautiful woman on your arm?”

The woman in question blushed, and Aelin wondered what exactly she knew about her.

Chaol grinned and held up the woman’s hand—and the ring perched on her fourth finger—like some kind of prize. “This is Yrene, my fiancée. Yrene, meet Aelin and… Ronan?”

“Rowan,” Rowan correctly coolly, then glanced at Yrene. “It’s a pleasure.”

Chaol nodded dismissively and turned back to Aelin. “Is that a new haircut?”

It had been a solid six years since she’d dated the man, and at least three since they’d crossed paths. “Yes, it is.”

“And how are you getting on with that Fenrys fellow? Still happy?”

The last time Aelin had seen Chaol had been at the grocery story—fucking small towns—with her boyfriend at the time. He hadn’t lasted more than a month.

“No.”

A flicker of glee crossed Chaol’s features, and Aelin writhed internally.

“Much to my benefit, that is,” Rowan interjected. Aelin had nearly forgotten he was still standing with them. “For now I have her all to myself.”

What?

Chaol blinked, dumbfounded. “You two are together?”

Rowan shrugged. “We reconnected a couple years ago and hit it off—better than we ever had in high school,” he added.

Aelin had just enough self-control to paste a smile on her lips. Now understanding what Rowan was doing for, she took his hand casually.

Rowan’s hand envoloped Aelin’s, and his rough calluses scraped against her palm. It took restraint not to shudder, and Chaol be damned, Aelin was no longer paying attention to the conversation. Her world focused in on the warm hand interlaced with her own.

Less interested, probably now that he’d realized he didn’t have much to hang over her head, Chaol said a farewell and retreated with the fiancée who hadn’t spoken a single word. Aelin watched them leave gratefully.

Rowan slipped his hand out of Aelin’s and she almost objected before realizing herself.

“Thank you, Rowan,” Aelin said softly.

Her gaze drifted over to him and snagged on his piercing green eyes.

Rowan stared back at her for a moment. “No problem.”

Aelin shook her head. “It wasn’t no problem. That was very kind of you.”

Rowan shook his head, but said nothing more about the endeavor. “How long are you in town?”

“A whole week. I wanted to stay with my parents for a bit.”

“And I don’t suppose while you’re here you want to grab coffee together? I still need an example of the atrocities you claim I put you through, after all.”

Aelin’s expression turned fiendish. “Does tomorrow work?”

———

Tag List (this is so outdated so lmk if you want to be removed/added!):

@aelin-bitch-queen

@autumnbabylon

@charlizeed

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@leiawritesstories

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@mybloodrunsblue

@nehemikkele

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowaelinismyotp

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thegreyj

@the-lonelybarricade

@thenerdandfandoms

@yesdreamblog

#rowaelin #tog #older but never wiser #my writing

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Ten: Co-Stars With Chemistry @rowaelinscourt

Find Part One Here Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Thanks for all the kind words on part one! I hope part two lives up to your expectations! Part three, and the conclusion, will come later this month. Bonus points if you spot the "against the tide" reference ;)

Warnings: None, right around 4k words

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

The Words We Share-Part Two

<<Welcome to Terrasen!  I’m your host Aelin Galathynius and this week we’ve got a special episode coming your way.  We’ll be live with none other than Rowan Whitethorn to discuss his new book.  Dead Man’s Game is his first step into fantasy and a twisted tale of pirates, curses, and of course a dive into Scottish history.  Join us next week in a special LIVE episode.  Until next time, readers.>>

It wasn’t the worst promotional Aelin had ever done in her life.  But it also wasn’t the best.  She’d written and scrapped over a dozen and so far, that was the one that hadn’t sucked the most.  Somehow.

Aelin stared at the blinking square on her computer that asked if she wanted to publish the message or not.  Technically she could still turn down the interview.  She could tell Dorian off and ignore Whitethorn for the rest of his existence and move on with her life.  And then she’d probably lose her job and end up homeless.

Wincing, she clicked the button and immediately spun away from her computer.

Her office, big and bright and vibrant, had a large window that overlooked downtown.  In the distance the mountains were shrouded in a thick layer of clouds, not surprising but a little disappointing.  She much preferred her summer months warm and clear.  Still, she let herself admire the view and took a moment to appreciate the stillness of the day.

Until her gaze landed on her phone.

There were a handful of messages from Sam that she’d left unread.  He’d tried calling her after she’d returned home, but she didn’t pick up.  Rowan was still on her mind.  Rowan and his stupid accent and his stupidly large hands.  How was it that someone she hated (and who hated her in return) could treat her to the best date she’d been on in months?  Years?

She didn’t know.  And she didn’t want to call Elide to talk to her about it because Elide was a meddlesome little minx.

Now as Aelin stared at her phone, she found herself wondering if there was anything Sam could say that would have her forgive him.

Whoever stood you up is an idiot, Rowan had said.

And…maybe he was right.

A knock at the door was the only thing that snagged her attention.  She looked over to see Dorian leaning against her doorway.

“Aelin,” he greeted.  He had his usual grin in place, black hair in an easy disarray.  His blue eyes shone with too much placating humor.

“I hate you.”  It wasn’t an exaggeration either.  He was really good at being annoying.

“Oh, c’mon, I’m doing you a favor,” Dorian insisted.  He didn’t look the least bit apologetic. “I guarantee this’ll get your viewership up.”

“Not even Chaol is this mean,” Aelin said.  She slumped down in her seat, tilting her head back against the chair rest.

“You only like him because he brings in chocolate cake,” Dorian said.

“Yeah and he isn’t an ass like you.” Aelin continued glaring at her boss and friend, picking up her pen to scratch at the pad of paper beside her desk, just for something to do.

“Aelin, Rowan’s our best-selling author, not to mention the demand of getting more events from him like this.” Dorian picked an invisible piece of lint from his shirt and shrugged. “Hate him all you want, but our readers and your listeners have been begging for this.”

Aelin had seen requests forms on their website, she’d been to plenty of conventions and heard the reviews—she knew that Dorian was right.  But…

“I like Whitethorn even less than you,” Aelin said.  Though, the words sounded hollow in her own ears.

Dorian didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, yeah.  I’ll take you out to dinner to make up.”

Aelin had had enough of men propositioning her for dinner.  She waved Dorian off.

“Go be the big CEO man, I’ve gotta write this script and get the general outline to Whitethorn,” she said.

Dorian left with a wave of his hand.

Aelin rolled her eyes and pulled up a new document on her computer.  A small notification bar in the corner of the screen indicated views on the recent upload.  In the span of three minutes there were already over two hundred views and the number was rapidly rising.

She glanced at the large stack of paper still sitting in the corner of her desk.  She’d gotten it just last week—the tell-tale mysterious new novel Rowan had written.  Even Dorian said it was remarkable.  Aelin had yet to view it since it was no longer a part of her job description to edit and critique manuscripts.  But since she’d be interviewing Rowan, she got early access to the novel.

In truth, she’d enjoyed Rowan’s work.  There was always something about it, even if she did mark up every page with as much red as she could manage.  But, really?  Most of the comments weren’t negative.  Often, she even found herself praising the way a sentence worked or the callbacks he gave to earlier chapters. 

Now, having the manuscript before her, Aelin couldn’t help but feel a little excited at having the book before her.

At least this would be enough of a distraction for her.

It wasn’t until the sun began to set and shadows crawled across the walls of her office, that Aelin finally looked up from the manuscript.

And to her phone that lit up with another message.

Cursing, Aelin opened the chat with Sam.

>>Sam: you can’t keep ignoring me.

<<Aelin: I told you I needed time.

>>Sam: It was one night. we’ll have dozens more.

Aelin scoffed at the surety in his words.  Shaking her head Aelin sent one last message.

<<Aelin: I’m done.  This is over.  I can’t keep playing games and being a placeholder.

>>Sam: We’ll talk in the morning.

He could try calling her, but would find it difficult considering she was blocking his number that very moment.

It felt good to set that boundary, to tell him no, to feel like she was in control. 

In all honesty, she was still caught up on spending time with Rowan Whitethorn and not tossing her wine on him.  He’d been a gentleman, an ass, but respectful all the same.  She would have to thank him for helping her that night despite how much she didn’t want to.  He didn’t need to step in and give her an excuse to use against Kaltain.  And he certainly didn’t need to pay for dinner and make sure she got into a cab safely.  He hadn’t needed to do any of it and she hadn’t expected him to.  But he had.

She wanted to be irritated at him for it.  She wasn’t a damsel in distress for him to take care of or who needed help to begin with.  She would have dealt with Kaltain on her own just fine.  

Still, it was nice to have someone looking out for her.

Shaking her head, Aelin flipped through the manuscript to the first page once again.

She had a dream, once, years ago, where she would stand out on a rocky shoreline and stare into the ocean as she wondered just how far she could sail before the world swallowed her whole.

…

Between screaming Fall Out Boy lyrics, two impromptu dance parties, and chugging half an energy drink in the parking garage of the publishing building—Aelin finally found herself ready to face the inevitability of the day.

“It’s going to be fine,” she told herself one more time as she fixed her lipstick in the rearview mirror. “Everything is going to be fine.”

It had been her mantra that she prepared for the live podcast she would be filming that day.  For the first time in a very long time, Aelin found herself nervous for the day.  And she did not get nervous.  No, Aelin prided herself on being confident, capable, and being able to keep her head on straight.

That was before she’d read Rowan’s book, though.  

She got out of her car, energy drink and manuscript in hand, and headed up to her office to prepare for the interview.

She hadn’t had any issue in reading Rowan's book.  In fact, she’d stayed up the entire night just to finish it.  Everything about the book had captured her attention.  From the magic to the world building to the romance—it had all been just what she loved most in a book.  Even if the book wasn’t as spicy as Aelin preferred to get in her books, there had been something real about the way Rowan chose the write this novel.

And now she’d have to tell him.

She was not looking forward to it if she were being honest.  For as much as she loved gushing about novels and diving into different worlds and characters…she’d never done so about one of Rowan’s books. And this book was so different from his other books.

Aelin felt far too jittery as she waited for the elevator.  The usual crowds all milled about her, all too concerned with their own issues to give her much credence.  She didn’t know if that was better or worse.  

She hadn’t felt this way about an interview in ages.  Only her first real podcast session had been as bad and that was only because she’d gone into in on no sleep and four shots of espresso.  

The elevator slowly lumbered up to the proper floor while Aelin paced the small space.  Thankfully no one else was in here with her.  That would have just been icing on the cake.  

“It’s going to be a great day and everything is going to be fine,” she told herself as the doors slid open to the proper floor.  Dorian of course was standing right there, leaning against the far wall.

His black hair was styled perfectly out of his face, his smirk ever present. He gave one last twist to the new wedding band on his finger as Aelin stepped out of the elevator and began walking to her studio.

“You ready for today?” he asked, keeping stride with her easily.

“Of course, I am,” she replied.  Her confidence was deceiving, but it was something she’d practiced ever since she was a child who wanted to get out of trouble. “It’s just like any other podcast.”

Dorian made a noise in the back of his throat. “This is potentially the biggest release our company—”

“I know, Dorian.” Aelin stopped outside her studio and handed Dorian the mess of energy drink and notes she was carrying so she could unlock the door. “I’m not an idiot.”

Dorian followed her inside and she caught a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry.  I know you know.  And I know you’ll take this seriously.  Just…try not to hate on him too much, yeah?”

It was no secret really that Aelin and Rowan had a slight rivalry going on.  At least, Dorian was the only one really aware of it.  And Elide.  But Elide was the best at keeping secrets herself.

“Can I tease him about the fated mates trope?” she asked.

“No.”

“Boo.”  Aelin took her things back from him and rolled her eyes. “Do you want to read through my notes?  Give me your approval, oh great one?”

He was already walking back out of the studio, waving a hand overhead. “Behave!”

Aelin snorted a laugh; she’d been granted honorary approval to go to his bachelor party three months ago; if anyone needed to behave it was him.  She wondered partially if his wife actually realized what she’d gotten into.

No matter.

Aelin settled into her usual routine upon arriving at the office in the morning.  If she kept things as normal as possible, they were bound to work out, right?

So she bounced between her actual office and the studio for the next hour, running through her questions and side comments she could make about various points and ideas she’d highlighted from Rowan’s book.

Elide stopped by a few times to give her a countdown to when the podcast would air.  The other woman was technically an acquisitions editor, but Aelin was going to try and steal her to be her assistant.  That would piss Kaltain off.

When there was ten minutes left until they were slated to begin.  Aelin went to the studio to make sure everything was ready.  She usually made sure the couch and chair were angled properly first with microphones at the ready before ensuring a blanket and a few pillows were easy to reach.  Not that she thought Rowan would want to snuggle up with a puppy studded fleece blanket—it was the thought that counted.

She was just organizing her desk with her notes and her copy of Rowan’s manuscript when she heard Elide’s voice down the hall.

“She’s just down this way.”  

Aelin gave everything one final look in the studio before deciding that was just as good as it was going to get.  After all, everything was neat and organized.  Except the bookshelves.  Those were pure chaos.  But in Aelins opinion, keeping bookshelves looking perfect was a useless task.  

Elide rounded the open door, looking far too amused by what was about to unfold.

“Hey Aelin,” she said, leaning against the jam.  Her black hair hung in loose waves and her expression was carefully impassive—though that gleam in her eyes was hard to miss. “I found your next interview in the halls.”

Sure enough, standing behind her was Rowan.  He was dressed casually, far more casual than she’d ever seen him before.  No dress shirt or tie, no slacks, no fancy shoes worth more than her car.  It was a startling contrast to when he’d saved her at the restaurant.  Even his hair was different.  Not that it was bad.  The man had good hair.

“Thanks, Elide,” Aelin said with a smile.  She hadn’t been staring too much, had she?

“Let me know if you need anything,” Elide said.  There was no mistaking her brow raise as she departed.

Oh, Aelin was certainly going to be interrogated later this afternoon.  She stuffed that away far in the back of her mind.

“Come on in, Mr. Whitethorn.”  Aelin gestured him into the room and swung the door shut behind him. “Have a seat on the couch, we’ve got a few minutes.”

She was going to keep this professional and dignified.  All she had to do was get through the next forty-five minutes and then this would be over.  Fifty if she took in time for ads and brief intermission in the middle.

“You can call me Rowan, you know,” he said as he took up an easy position on the couch.  His silver hair was, as usual, perfectly styled and left his handsome face on display.  “After the restaurant and everything.”

Aelin had to fight to keep from glaring too much at him.  Though she did end up pursing her lips tightly enough that her lipstick was definitely going to smudge.

“I think we should agree to never talk about that night.  Ever.”  True nothing that embarrassing had come of it, other than a hit to Aelin’s pride, but talking about it would only lead to more people hearing about it.  And she really didn’t trust Whitethorn not to tease her about it.  Besides, talking about getting stood up by a guy she’d wasted too much time on, to Whitethorn of all people, was not something she wanted to do.

Especially considering she’d spent a great deal of time in the last week thinking about how handsome Rowan actually was.

Rowan only smiled as he watched her shuffle her notes and papers.  Aelin knew if she met his gaze that she would let something slip so she avoided eye contact.  She'd gotten good at that. 

"If you need water, there's a mini fridge under that end table,” Aelin told him.  “Or I can get you a coffee real quick?”

“Water’s fine,” Rowan said.  He reached for the fridge and pulled out one of the plastic bottles chilling. “I'm curious though, did you forgive the man who stood you up?  Or did he have a reasonable explanation?"

"It's none of your business," Aelin replied stiffly.  This was a mistake.  Maybe she could call Elide in here to act as a buffer.  "Do you want a look at some of the questions I have planned or are you okay going in blind?"

Rowan shrugged. "I'm always up for a bit of fun."

Aelin didn't have a response for that so she spent the last few minutes until airing explaining to Rowan how the microphone worked.  He could mute himself if he needed to cough or anything like that, but ultimately, she had control over sounds volume and everything along those lines.

"Do your worst," he told her as she opened the podcast.

"Welcome to Terrasen, listeners and readers alike," Aelin said, still glaring at Rowan. "As you know, today's session is going to be extra fun and special as we have Rowan Whitethorn with us for the first time.  I know many of you have asked about having him on the show as well as have been interested in what he's been working on recently, so here we are."

She paused for a brief moment in preparation. "Rowan, thanks so much for taking the time to join us today."

"Thanks, Aelin," he said, leaning into the mic just a little.  His accent lilted in that familiar way and he looked far too at ease sitting across from her.  His watch clicked happily along on his wrist catching the light as he clasped his hands together. "It's good to be here.  I've been a long-time listener."

Liar.  "Really?  What have been some of your favorite episodes?"  She'd catch him out and not feel the least bit sorry for it either.

"Well, the series about what makes a romance book was rather interesting, I have to say.  Especially your comments on smut," he grinned at her and Aelin flipped him of.  At least this wasn't a video session too.

"I like a bit of fun," she dryly, throwing his own words back at him. "Good to know what keeps you entertained."

"Oh, I like hiking too."

"Right," Aelin snatched on to that with the sole goal of getting out of the current conversation. "Which is something you grew up doing a lot of right?  You grew up in Scottland?"

"Aye, just outside of Edinburgh," Rowan said. "Moved to America when I was seventeen, but most of my summers I went back to stay with my cousins."

"Do you miss it?" Aelin asked. "From what I've read in your books the landscape the history, the people, it's all so beautiful and wonderful and rich."

"Aye," Rowan ran a hand over his chin. "It'll always be a part of me.  My da taught me everything about the outdoors and nature and adventuring as he could before he passed, that's why I moved to America.  So my mum could be near family.  And growing up without him just left a hole in my heart, y'know?  So writing and research just turned into a way for me to remember him.”

Aelin tried to ignore the effect of his words.  She knew what that was like exactly.

“Right,” she agreed, “sometimes telling stories is the best way to remember someone, or something.”

Rowan met her gaze again and something flashed in his eyes as he nodded his agreement.

“Plus, it’s an easy way to relieve stress,” he added. “With all the research I’ve done, y’know I spent every day for three months training with a group of tae kwon do specialists just to learn how to describe one fight scene properly?”

From there, it was easy for Aelin to continue asking him about writing and research and why he’d chosen non-fiction to begin with.  Just like the night at the restaurant—it was far to easy to talk to him.  Far too easy to have this simple, easy-going conversation with him.

In fact, it had been a long time since she’d been able to talk like this to anyone.  Which, maybe wasn’t a good thing.  Most of this was scripted anyways not to mention Rowan had done plenty of other interviews and certainly had many of these responses memorized.

Hell.

She’d started reading too much into this.

“So,” Aelin said as they were nearing the end of the segment. “I’m still surprised you actually made the leap in to fiction—fantasy no less.  And with a lead character like Celaena Sardothien.”

“You’re surprised I can write a female main character?”  Rowan chuckled.  He’d rolled up the sleeves to his shirt a while ago, one of his arms in a full tattoo sleeve.  She couldn’t understand whatever language the majority of the tattoos were in but she did recognize a few Gaelin words and symbols in the mix.

“Well, yes.”

“C’mon, Galathynius,” he said, “even you have to admit you liked my book.  I did a good job.  Especially with Celaena.”

“Do I though?  You should see all the marks I made on the manuscript.”  In truth there weren’t very many, at least not as many as she had given in the past.  But she would add some if it would shut him up.

“The book hits all your favorite tropes,” Rowan said.  He wore that all knowing smirk of his that had been infuriating (and fine, fascinating) her for the last forty-five minutes.

“How do you even know what I like?”

Rowan chuckled, a sound that hit Aelin like a shot to the heart. “We’ve been friends for five years.”

“We’re not friends,” Aelin corrected, but there was no malice in her words.

“Please Galathynius,” he insisted, “you like me.”

“Shut up Whitethorn.”  Aelin muted him as burst into laughter and she had to fight to keep her own voice even as she addressed her listeners. “We’ve just had a great conversation with novelist, Rowan Whitethorn about his upcoming high fantast adventure Dead Man’s Game which will be released on November fifteenth.  Thanks for listening friends, we’ll see you next time.”

She made all the necessary clicks and flicks to shut the mics down properly and just like that the segment was over.  Looking up, Aelin scowled at Rowan.  She’d been doing that a lot hadn’t she?

“Seriously?” she asked.

“Are we really not friends?”  Rowan finally leaned back in his seat.  Even that small bit of distance was enough that Aelin felt she could finally take a breath of air.

The table between them wasn’t even that big but being close to him had put her heart in overdrive and made her mind feel like a pile of mush.

“Whitethorn,” she said, ignoring his small eyeroll at the use of his last name, “we both know the extent of our “relationship” has been insulting each other.”

That made him pause and another look flashed across his features, one Aelin couldn’t identify.  But it made her squirm all the same.  So, she launched herself out of her seat.  She didn’t want to think about anything beyond being done with this segment and maybe having some peace of mind.

“It was a live session,” she told him, “so you can listen to it whenever.  I think Dorian had a few extra things he needed to get you relating to your edits.”

Aelin needed to shut down whatever emotions were cutting through her.  It wouldn’t do good to dwell on them or Rowan longer than necessary.  This was just a passing occurrence.  Eventually he would leave their publishing house—or get so big as a name that he couldn’t be bothered with her silly little podcast.

Not that she cared.  Or that it mattered.

Slowly, Rowan stood from his seat, his eyes trained on her. “Do I get your edits?”

Aelin blinked. “What?”

“Your edits?  All the notes and thoughts you had on the manuscript?” He didn’t move to leave like she expected him to.  He just kept waiting for her answer.

“I—” she paused. “You really want them?”

“Of course,” he said, “your thoughts have always been invaluable to me.”

She’d never really understand that word: invaluable.  Oh she knew what it meant and that Rowan said it as a compliment, but it had always struck her as an asinine and bland way of describing somethings true worth.  Rowan regarded her with such sincerity that Aelin was already reaching for the giant stack of papers from where she’d left it on the edge of her desk.

For some reason, she was hesitant on giving him the pages.  It wasn’t like she’d struggled with this before.  As she held the manuscript out for him, however, she felt shy.  And Aelin damned Galathynius was not shy.  Mala above.

“Ignore what you don’t like,” she said, just as she always did.

“Thank-you,” Rowan said.  He tucked the papers into his arm and, finally, retreated for the door.

“Wh—” Aelin paused mentally cursing herself, “Rowan?”

He turned, hand on the doorknob.

“Where did Celaena’s character come from?” she asked, it was the one question they didn’t get into during the interview, but the one that intrigued her most. “She’s brilliant, strong, and has to be inspired by someone.  Who?”

A small smile quirked one side of his lips as he pushed the door open. “I thought it was obvious.”

And then he was out the door, swallowed up by a shout from Dorian calling him into his office.

Aelin could only stare after him.  And just like the night of that insufferable date—she was left confused and uncertain about what his words actually meant.

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

Tumblr is not allowing me to tag anyone right now, so if you could reblog to increase exposure, I would so very much appreciate it! <3

#rowaelin #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan

[gwynrieldefenseatty]

do u think people genuinely ship vassien or do they just use vassien as like a mask to hide that they’re just an elriel or something?? or did I miss something, it’s been a little over a year since my last re-read so did Vaasa and Lucien have some kind of moment that I just forgot about??

cuz I saw a video of this person claiming that they really ship vassien and it has more substance and buildup than gwynriel and that Lucien isn’t a threat to elriel so they weren’t just shipping them to “get Lucien out of the way” idk am I crazy but I thought Vaasa and jurian were gonna get together?

Well, you aren't crazy. Lucien and Vassa don't have any chemistry in my opinion. I think people just ship them together because it gets Lucien out of the way for E/riel.

But what some people don't understand is that Sarah is a FATED MATES author. For E/riel and Vassien to work.. she would have to go back on the thing she's known for.. which is... mates. Now someone tell me a time when Sarah didn't write mates being together. You can't. In fact, it seems like to me that Sarah makes characters mates when they end up together. (Lysandra and Aedion. Elide and Lorcan.) It doesn't matter that Sarah said in ACOTAR that "mates are rare" because you best believe every character of hers WILL be getting a mate. (Ithan baby I'm looking at you. And unfortunately, it's not Sunball) Slight talks of CC3 but Baxian and Aidas both say how hard it is to live when their mates are dead. Rhysand told Feyre it can drive a Male mad to have a rejected bond. Not to mention.. Elain and Lucien are ALWAYS going to have a bond. It doesn't go away. It can be weakened but it will always be there. Regardless if the bond is rejected, they will always have a connection that the Mother created.

#elucien supremacy #elucien #pro elucien #elucien is endgame #ask me anything

[triviallytrue]

Korean War just seems so…unmythologizable? like obviously people do. Pro-American liberals and capitalists see it as the defense of an anticommunist free republic, mls see it as the defence of a proletariat state against the encroachment of empire. but really it was just senseless bloodshed. sad, broken hopes of democracy; soldiers fed on the dream of unbridled freedom after a horrendous occupation used as nothing more than cannon fodder by heroes turned rivalling petty despots. i dunno, i’m sorry for drunk ask-ing in ur in box. but like. history sucks. not the academic study. just the knowledge that all these people just like me. and i think my life so big so beautiful. but their lives were too. and they ended, unimportant, unmythologizable. in the cold uncaring mud. and for what? for dfucking what???

Yeah, I think the mythologizing on both sides hits a wall when you dig deeper into the historical realities of the time, which has left me in the somewhat unenviable position of disagreeing with what feels like basically everyone on this

The pro-American liberal idea of the Korean War as a just war in defense of a sovereign nation falls apart pretty easily - the split between North and South Korea was recent and done by imperial powers (the US and USSR) as a means of demarcating their respective zones of control, not a true split in any sense. The US went out of its way to sabotage any attempt at reconciliation in the years following the split, and the guy they put in charge arguably had a lot less popular legitimacy than his communist counterpart (and embarked on a campaign of right wing political violence to shore up his incredibly weak position)

So if you squint and ignore the context, you can say that the US was defending a sovereign nation, but it's one they created with no popular legitimacy at all, with a leader that brutalized his people. And none of it was necessary! The thing about the overwhelming power of the United States and its massive fucking military is that the whole "we need a right wing dictator to shore up this country against communism" routine is so transparently because the US wanted to support right wing dictators, not because it was in any sense necessary to ensure that the country wasn't communist. If anything, doing the whole sham democracy thing where you force everyone to vote for the asshole you put in charge massively benefits the communists! No wonder there was a massive insurgency going on

This is without even getting into the horrifying details of how exactly the war was prosecuted

And then there's the ML narrative, which correctly identifies the mass of popular support behind Kim Il-sung due to his time fighting against the Japanese occupation and conveniently elides historical details like "which side actually invaded the other, starting the full blown war" and other such unimportant details, like the subsequent structure of the North Korean government making it virtually impossible for anything resembling democratic influence on the political process to occur

If there's something to be said for Syngman Rhee, it's that his grandson is not currently ruling SK. He was deposed in 1960, and then after decades of political turmoil and various deeply shitty leaders (again, much of which probably could've been avoided if the US hadn't insisted on Rhee as their man in the 1940s) SK eventually became a place where you could vote and were a lot less likely to be the victim of political violence.

As for Democratic People's Republic of Korea, well. If your take on the Korean War is "I wish that instead of just the people of North Korea, everyone in Korea would have to live under the current North Korean government" I don't really know what to say about that. North Korea is repressive and isolated in the extreme - if you think that is the result of "people's committees" and the North Korean population's natural devotion to the Kim family spanning three generations now, you are at best a mark.

So yeah, it's a tragedy - the Japanese occupation of Korea was fucking horrifying, then the US and USSR arrived to artificially split the country with no serious attempt at reunification while putting two real bastards in charge, and then it escalated into a shooting war where millions of people died just for the 38th parallel to still be the dividing line.

So who benefited? Everyone but the Koreans, I suppose. The US gained a client state, managed to use the UN to do whatever it wanted, and demonstrated its commitment to suppressing communism via military force. The USSR gained a client state and saw the US spend a bunch of its military capacity on a war that cost the USSR very little and wasn't even won by the US. China got a buffer zone between it and the US empire and solidified their victory over the KMT, albeit at tremendous cost.

Hopefully someday the Korean War will end.

[throneofsapphics]

can i please request one where reader is rowaelins daughter and she goes out and parties with lysaedions daughter, manorians daughter and elorcans daughters? in this elorcans daughter is dating reader , they all know but help them hide,they organize a sleepover at the palace and sneak out when their parents are busy. they party all night long, going from club to club praying to all the gods that their parents don't catch them. they drink and flirt and dance until they grow bored and decide to go to a brothel for some fun. they finally leave and are met with the most scary sight ever, they freeze be they are caught by all of the parents.

all good things come to an end  

Reader (Rowaelin’s daughter) x Elorcan’s daughter 

Summary: you and your friends have a night out. 

Warnings: drinking, drug use, overprotective parents

Word Count: ~1.8k

A/N: a bit different, but still similar. thank you for the request I loved writing this! coming up with names was a struggle, but Elorcan’s daughter is Emelyn, Lysaedion’s is Brielle, and Manorian’s is Astra. 

Their parents went on the hunt. Well, the Fae and Witch were doing most of the searching. Elide and Lysandra watched in amusement. 

Their parents went on the hunt. Well, the immortals were doing most of the searching. Elide and Lysandra watched in amusement. 

They knew their kids were up to something. Even though they’re of age, they couldn’t help worrying about them. Still, the mothers mostly wanted to catch them in the act. Aelin maybe to have something to hold over them - or make fun of them for. She loved a good challenge, and so far they’d done well. In a way, she was proud. The males, on the other hand, were in something of a panic. 

They were clever enough they’d never been caught, yet, each inheriting the best - or worst - of their parents. It was made tricky by Astra, Manon and Dorian’s daughter. She had inherited his magic, and used it to subtly alter their features - enough none of Orynth’s citizens would recognize the trio. Rowan figured it out when y/n came back last time - her normal Ashryver eyes hazel. They were fixed by the morning. 

“Fussy bastards,” Lysandra murmured affectionately, tugging on Aedion to get him to slow down. 

-

You spun Emelyn, your girlfriend, in a circle - the small laugh that left her brought a smile to your lips as you pulled her closer, running a thumb over her cheek. She leaned into you and pressed a light kiss to your lips. 

“Gross,” Astra hissed. 

“Don’t be jealous,” Brielle teased her. Astra had dragged her away from the male she was flirting with, one who’d bought all of them a round of drinks - a hopeful expression on his features. Like he might get very lucky tonight. 

“We’ve been here too long,” the witchling snapped back at her, eyes darting across the room. You’ve all had a feeling you’ve been hunted tonight. Astra insisted on modifying their features with each bar they went to. 

“Why are you so paranoid?” You sighed, separating yourself from her. 

“What’s the worst that can happen if they catch us?” Emelyn piggy backed. 

“Your father,” the other two said in sync. 

You ran a hand through your hair. She did have a point. Lorcan was the most likely to … overreact. Your parents were protective, but if they figured out exactly what you were up to when your friends visited, you couldn’t guarantee their reactions would be pleasant. When you and Emelyn were … “discovered,” Rowan had quickly shoved him out of the room, meanwhile your mother’s started asking when you’d be married. 

You’d stood in the garden, arms wrapped around her as you buried your face in her neck, breathing in her scent. Your thumb ran gentle strokes up and down the back of her neck. They’d approached so silently you had no chance of covering it up, “I didn’t expect this,” the Lady of Perranth’s voice hit your ears. 

“I’ve been hiding our scents.” You hedged. 

“And you give us a new look every hour.” Lysandra and Aedion’s daughter, Brielle, tagged on. You shot her a grateful look, that she was on your side for once. 

Golden eyes narrowed at you. “Let’s go.” She jerked her head towards the door. 

“Bossy.” You muttered under your breath. She was the unofficial leader of your group, even if the three of you gave her slack for it. She would either roll her eyes, or snap iron teeth at you, depending on her mood. 

“We should be afraid of your mother,” you said wryly. Emelyn’s elbow jabbed you in the side, and she shot you a look that said “don’t jinx us,” you returned with a grin you knew would irritate her. “I know where to go,” you announced. Orynth is your city. You led the way, stopping briefly for Astra’s magic to do its job and led them somewhere hopefully your parents wouldn’t recognize. 

The owner, a demi-Fae, smiled at you - undoubtedly recognizing your scent again, even if you showed up wearing various faces. “One of these days, you’ll tell me who you’re hiding from, she chuckled,” and led you inside. 

A small room in the back, a door securely locked and shielded with three layers of magic. 

“I wish I didn’t end up naked every time I shifted,” Brielle muttered - to no one in particular. 

You started re-arranging the small pipe on the table, surrounded by a few bottles of wine. You’d never pressure anyone into smoking, of course, and usually only you and the shifter indulged, the others picking up wine instead. 

“Mixing is a bad idea,” your girlfriend cautioned. 

“I’m an expert.” 

Astra snorted, rolling her eyes at you. “Say that again when I’m dragging you home.” 

“I,” you pointed a finger at her, “can drink any of you under the table.” Nobody disagreed. 

An hour later, you lay against Emelyn’s side, giggling at Brielle’s recent recounting of her latest encounter with visiting Courtier’s in Cavarre, she’d taken up her mother’s role of prowling the halls as a ghost leopard. Maybe taking a few too many liberties with her new position. 

“Do you ever want to leave?” Astra asked everyone, and the room fell quiet. 

“Sometimes,” you admitted. You weren’t first in line to the throne, thankfully. Emelyn ran a hand through your hair, combing out the slightly tangled strands. The two of you spoke extensively about traveling - leaving Terrasen to see other places. 

“Where would you go?” 

“The southern continent,” your answer was automatic. If you could convince the King and Queen to agree to a trip. Well, the bigger issue was convincing the Lady and Lord of Perranth to let you take Emelyn. You glanced at the clock. It was nearly three in the morning. 

“We should head back.” You stood, swaying slightly on your feet. 

“For gods-sake,” Astra muttered - not at the thought of leaving, but at your current state. You knew an alcohol flush was over your cheeks - and likely your eyes slightly red, pupils dilated. There wouldn’t be any hiding that, but hopefully everyone else was asleep when you got back. 

Emelyn grabbed your hand, leading you out the door. You called out some thanks to the owner, slipping her another few silver marks. She winked at you, wishing you a safe walk home. 

-

Tracking you had failed, again. Rowan was caught between being impressed and pissed off. Lorcan and Aedion were stewing, Aelin and the other females seemed more amused, insisting they could take care of themselves. Elide yawned, but they’d insisted on staying awake to see them home. Actually - to catch them at the gates. 

With a flash of white light, he shifted, taking in the air to circle around and search for four females stumbling back to the castle. Finally, he spotted a group - heading towards a smaller side gate, all of them supporting each other. The group paused, one - Astra, using some sort of magic. He was right - about you all changing your appearances. 

-

Astra spotted them first, a string of very creative curses leaving her. “It’s too late to turn back.” She muttered. “Act normal.” She snapped at you, and you tried to straighten yourself. It should be fine. Should be. 

“They all came,” Emelyn whispered softly. “Are you sure we can’t turn around?” 

“It’ll be fine.” Brielle said, fake confidence edging into her as she straightened her shoulders. “We haven’t done anything illegal.” 

“Only mildly.” 

“You’re telling us this now?” Her eyebrows raised, voice rising. 

“Quiet, don’t pretend you didn’t know.” you tried to hush her and turned to the others. “There’s no law saying it’s legal but there’s none forbidding it.” An exaggerated groan left her. “I’ll take the blame.” 

“Yes you will.” Astra snarled and grabbed your arm, keeping you firmly upright. 

“Wouldn’t it be better if Emelyn held me up?” You turned to look at her, the world slowing down as your vision blurred. The female in question was currently propped up against Brielle. You swallowed your fear, and kept heading towards the castle gates, Astra catching you each time you tripped against a small stone or crevice in the path. Maybe you'd smooth this walkway out tomorrow. 

The Queen of Terrasen watched you approach, eyes identical to yours dancing, even if her arms were crossed. Your father looked decidedly less amused. His eyes tracked the entire group, stopping on Emelyn. 

“Your eyes are the wrong color.” He deadpanned, and you snapped your head towards her, swaying slightly. They were. Still dark blue instead of their normal Onyx. Astra hissed under her breath, probably taking it as a personal insult. Emelyn only gave a sweet smile. 

“I’m trying out a new look.” 

Lorcan, apparently, was fed up because he strode towards her, the rest of you shifting out of his way, as he tossed her over his shoulder and stalked back to the castle. You watched her pound against his back, calling him an overstepping bastard and many other things you’d never say to his face. Out of self-preservation. 

“I’ll have words with you tomorrow.” His head snapped over his shoulder, glaring at you. 

Aelin stepped in front of you, returning his nasty look. “You will not.” His eyes rolled, and he kept walking, probably cursing your name the entire time. Elide mouthed sorry, and took off after him - yelling for him to slow the hell down. 

Dorian snorted, eyeing the three of you left. “I’ve done worse.” He admitted. You fought the smile creeping on your lips - you could always count on him, or Fenrys when he was present, to de-escalate. “Impressive with your magic,” he admitted to his daughter. She shot him a smile - one that definitely didn’t come from her mother, in return. “And yours.” He turned to you. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” You tried to say innocently - words all slurring together. 

Your father let out a sharp exhale, and your mother took you off of Astra’s hands, giving thanks to her. “Just because you’re not first in line …” 

“Rowan shut up.” Aelin snapped. “That can wait. She won’t remember it now.” 

“Yes I will,” you insisted. 

“At least two of you are responsible.” Aedion muttered. His wife elbowed him sharply and he winced. 

“Rude,” you frowned at him. 

“Go inside.” Manon snapped. You were surprised she hadn’t spoken yet. 

“You don’t give me orders.” Aelin countered. Aedion, rightfully, had an alarmed glance on his face. 

“I think I’m going to-” you mimed throwing up. Rowan almost looked like he would call your bullshit,  but realized what you were doing. 

After you’d gotten inside, your mother out of earshot, he spoke to you, “you’re lucky I hid your scents. Lorcan won’t be out for blood.” 

Gods, you hadn’t thought of that. “It was only me and …” 

“Don’t tell me.” He interrupted. 

Fair enough. He steered you towards your room, making sure you actually got inside. “I don’t need you fussing.” 

“Would you rather your mother come in here?” 

“No. Nope. No.” You quickly said, heading towards your bathing room. Maybe you’d burn your clothes - hide the evidence for now.

#throne of glass next gen #throne of glass fic #next gen throne of glass #throne of glass x reader #reader x elorcans daughter

[rufousnmacska]

@throneofglassmicrofics

Here’s an entry for Fracture 🥺

This was done super fast and I’m awful at word limits so please forgive me! Also it’s not March yet but I had the idea and thought I should write it now instead of waiting.

A little scene from the victory party at the end of KoA

***

Yrene shrieked as Dorian spun her around and pulled her back against him. The great room was raucous with music and laughter. Humans, fae, witches, from three continents, all celebrating victory. Chaol watched from where he sat with Nesryn and Sartaq, beaming at her joy.

Glancing up at Dorian, she frowned, noticing his distraction despite his perfect steps on the dance floor. His eyes were focused on something over her head and across the hall. She didn’t need to look to know that’s where Manon was seated.

“Why don’t you ask her to dance?”

Dorian pulled his gaze from the witch queen and gave her a polite smile. “I assume she doesn’t dance.” Again, he twirled her, and again his attention flew to Manon before she was back in his arms.

Yrene clicked her tongue in annoyance. “To assume makes an ASS out of U,” she said. “You’re smarter than that, aren’t you?”

Stumbling for the first time in their dance, Dorian gaped at her. “I believe I’m your King, Lady Westfall. Is your language appropriate?” A raised eyebrow was the only sign he was playing.

Yrene raised her chin. “I am practically your sister-in-law. And if you’re being an ass, I will tell you.”

His eyes flicked back to Manon and his shoulders seemed to slump in Yrene’s arms. “I don’t want to scare her away,” Dorian sighed, his face overcome with longing and fear.

Yrene felt it in him. The desire, the timidity, the worry. Her magic sensed it all. She’d sensed Manon’s bottomless grief and confusion when she’d hugged her the other day.

As the music ended, she hugged Dorian then said, “I’ll find out if she dances.” Tugging his arm, she placed him in front of Elide for the next song. Avoiding Chaol’s curious look, she made her way through the crowd.

***

“May I sit here?”

Manon hadn’t seen the healer approach. She hadn’t truly seen anything that night. Blinking, as if coming from underwater, she heard the music, saw the dancing and the food. Saw the healer wait politely for an answer.

Manon nodded, and the healer sat, her hands resting on her belly as she put her feet up on another empty chair.

“Do you dance?”

Her name was Yrene, Manon remembered, turning away to stare at the table in front of her. She’d eaten at Glennis’s urging, and now the food sat leaden in her stomach.

“I was taught to fight, not dance,” Manon finally answered. The healer was smiling, one foot tapping, seemingly enthralled by the celebration.

“I would say I’m sorry to hear that if it weren’t for how you and your witches saved Orynth.” Yrene was now staring at her, smile gone, foot still.

Manon huffed a breath. “Did Dorian put you up to this?” Her eyes had fallen on him throughout the night despite her best efforts not to watch him.

Yrene laughed. “Absolutely not. He’s an idiot.”Without intending to, Manon gaped at the healer. At the expression, Yrene added, “Chaol told me not to baby him even though he’s king. Besides, I just wanted to sit down somewhere quiet. You were at this table alone…” She waved her hand as if that was that.

Alone. Yes, Manon was always alone now, even in this hall of hundreds of people. Even with witches trailing her everywhere she went. They were the wrong witches though.

“I didn’t mean to…” Yrene said, her face exuding a kindness Manon had never seen before.

She’d felt it though. When they’d first met, Yrene had pulled her into a hug that had felt … wondrous. Calming. Like a weight had eased from her chest just a little.

“Will I ever feel whole again?” she asked Yrene, surprising herself with the hushed voice, the blunt honesty she’d never before allowed with anyone but Dorian.

Yrene sat up and smiled sadly, reaching for Manon’s hand. That warmth she’d felt in that hug returned, spreading through her.

“No,” the healer replied. “You won’t. I still feel a piece of myself missing where my mother resided. She can never be replaced. But my heart has grown around that missing part. I have Chaol, our baby, my work, my friends.” At that last, Yrene squeezed Manon’s hand.

“Grief is fickle and sneaky and it never goes away. Some days it will hide and you’ll laugh at a memory of them. Other days it will consume you and you won’t be able to leave your bed.”

Manon swallowed thickly, forcing herself not to sob, not to let the moisture in her eyes overflow. “I don’t know how to live without them.”

Was it her touch? Her warm honey eyes that looked at her with compassion but not pity? How was this healer pulling these feelings from her?

“I didn’t know either,” Yrene said, letting her own tears fall. “But I’m still here. With help from strangers who became friends.” A laugh escaped Yrene’s lips as she looked towards Aelin dancing with Rowan. Focusing on Manon again, she said, “I am a good listener. Whenever you need it.” Another squeeze. “Or I can just sit and hold your hand.”

The magic grew stronger and Manon felt lighter. It wouldn’t take away the pain or that image of white light that blasted her awake whenever she tried to sleep. It wouldn’t get rid of the nausea or the nerves. It wouldn’t fix the fractured heart that was somehow still beating in her chest.

But it felt good. And like she wasn’t alone.

Manon nodded, unable to speak the thank you she felt. And Yrene nodded in return.

They say in comfortable silence for a while as the festivities carried on.

“He’s not really an idiot,” Yrene said in Dorian’s direction.

He was dancing with Glennis now, both of them laughing at the pronounced height difference. The sight made Manon’s mouth twitch upwards. “I know.”

***

Hope you liked this! Check out my fic master list for more ☺️

#manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #yrene towers #yrene westfall #throne of glass #my writing #kingdom of ash #throne of glass microfics #tog microfics

[manonblaqkbeak]

Time With You

Hello everybody, happy 2024!!! I'm on annual leave (that i took to read hofas lmao) and decided to use this time to right this fic that has been in the back of my head for monthsssss but i hate using my laptop so never got around to writing it until now.

it does start out with Aedion's POV, something i dont think ive ever done, but it ends with Aelin's as this is a rowaelin story lol

as always, hope you enjoy!!

cw: brief mentions of death/grief, arobynn hamel being a POS. but otherwise its purely fluff bc i love human au rowaelin fluff

word count: 1500+

Aedion couldn't stop staring at his cousin—which sounded strange, but he had a very good reason for why his eyes were glued to his cousin; Rowan Whitethorn's hand was on her bare thigh.

And why was it on her bare thigh? He had no idea.

Aedion was aware that they were talking more, had become friends instead of constantly bickering, but he wasn't at all aware that their friendship had moved to the point where Rowan was resting his hand on Aelin's thigh.

And Aelin seemed to like the fact that it was there. He knew his cousin as if she was his sister—if she didn't want that touch, then she would remove it and bite Rowan's head off. It wasn't like she was a stranger doing that. One of their first conversations when Aelin had started at Orynth University had been a verbal spat; Rowan bumped into her and when Aelin asked for an apology, Rowan claimed that she had been in the way and that she should apologise to him.

And so that one conversation started years worth of petty arguments and forced proximity due to Aedion's friendship with the silver-haired man.

“Stop staring,” Lysandra hissed under her breath.

Aedion turned to his fiancee, and frowned. “How long has that been going on for?” He hoped that his cousin and Rowan couldn't hear him. All of their friends were at their local pub, the best way to catch up these days, the air outside in the courtyard refreshing after being inside a stuffy office. And when everyone got there, they had found that Rowan and Aelin were already there, occupying a tall table with stools—with only enough room for the both of them. And when everyone else went to the long benches that they always sat at, Aelin and Rowan stayed at their own table, talking amongst themselves.

“They've been talking for a while,” Lysandra said, her emerald green eyes sparkling from the warm fairy-lights strung up around the place.

Aedion's frown deepened. “What does that mean?”

Just then, Rowan stood up, the menu from the restaurant behind them in his hand, his wallet in his other and he leaned over and kissed Aelin on her cheek.

Aelin's smile was brighter than the sun.

“Since when does Rowan kiss Aelin?” Aedion asked his eyes about to drop out from their sockets and his confusion growing even more. He and Aelin were as close as siblings, but he could admit to himself that he did feel a little hurt that Aelin hadn't told him of this development.

With Rowan out of sight, Lysandra and Elide shot up out of their seats and made their way towards Aelin. Aedion followed after them, even though Elide said, “Women only, cousin.” Aedion didn't listen and stood next to Lysandra, patiently waiting for his cousin to speak.

XXXXX

It was a little embarrassing to admit it, even to herself, but with the moment Rowan put his hand on her bare thigh, all thoughts but one disappeared.

Aelin liked Rowan, a lot.

And when Rowan got up to order their dinner—and was insisting on paying for her—Aelin forgot that all their friends were only a few feet away, that there were strangers surrounding them, that live music was being played, but when he got up and left, and her friends and cousin were in front of her, asking question after question, Aelin had to mentally slap herself out of the stupor she found herself in and asked Aedion to repeat his question, but only because he was the one who spoke last.

“Are you and Rowan dating?”

“No, not yet.” And Gods, maybe it sounded pathetic, which she hated sounding, but she hoped that they would soon move on from this weird-limbo thing that found themselves in and would start seeing each other properly.

“When did you start liking him like that?”

Aelin shrugged, if only because it was too long of a story to get into right now. “I'll message you about it later.”

Aedion raised his eyebrow. “You promise?”

Aelin huffed a laughed when he extended his pinkie finger, his fathers ring gleaming in the fairy-lights. “I promise,” she said, wrapping her pinkie around his. “Now go, all of you, Rowan's coming back.” They all rolled their eyes at her, but did what she said and soon, Aelin found herself face-to-face with Rowan again.

XXXXX

Aelin was glad she left her car at her apartment, finding that the evening was nice and breezy without being too cold, because it meant that Rowan walked her home and held her hand the entire time. Her smile was so wide she knew that she would still feel it hours later.

Gods, she couldn't remember the last time she had been so...giddy about someone. Maybe in the beginning stages with Chaol, before their relationship fizzled out and they both realised that they were better off as friends (and they very much were; sometimes it was like they never dated for two years and lived together for one).

But this beginning with Rowan, it felt different. She didn't want to think too much of it, but Aelin...she thought to herself that it would be very easy to fall in love with him. How funny life was to go from heavily disliking him, to holding his hand weeks after she found in the park near the beach, his eyes teary as he sat in silence, his grief consuming him over the death of his late girlfriend, Lyria.

Aelin found herself at that same park due to her own grief over the deaths of her parents. They had been gone for years and years, but the time living under the harsh and cruel roof of her foster parent, Arobynn Hamel, still lingered, may always linger, as her therapist told her, but it was up to Aelin to decide what to do with those emotional and mental scars.

And they found themselves talking about their grief, their lives and wishes for their futures. He walked her home after that as well, and their friendship had changed after that, for which she was very grateful for—that there was someone else like her that dealt with dark thoughts and feelings, but was fighting each day to overcome them.

Shaking off the thought, Aelin blinked and realised that she and Rowan were just a couple of moments away from the front doors of her apartment building.

Rowan dropped her off at her front door, the scent of her favourite diffuser—camellia and lotus flower—greeting her as she opened her front door. Rowan cleared his throat and Aelin turned to him.

“It's your weekend off, isn't it?” he asked, his Doranelle accent still quite thick even after living in Terrasen for years now.

“Yes.” She was assistant manager of Havilliard Books. She and Dorian, one of her oldest friends and store manager, long ago worked out a schedule that worked amazingly for them both. And not only was she assistant manager, but she handled their stores personal Instagram page, and because Dorian's father owned the multiple stores throughout the continent, Dorian made sure that she received extra payment for keeping their page up to date and inviting.

“Did you have any plans this weekend?”

“No, I'm free all day.” She usually reserved Sunday for an apartment clean, but fuck that. She could clean later.

Rowan smile, his facial tattoo crinkling slightly. It was a work of art, that tattoo, the Old Language of Doranelle was stark against his golden-tanned skin.

“How about I finally take you out on a proper date? Starting from the moment I arrive here tomorrow morning and it ending whenever you want?”

Aelin's smile grew impossibly more. “I would very much like that.”

Rowan's smile grew too. “Good, then I'll see you tomorrow, Aelin. I am very much looking forward to it.”

Aelin reached up and kissed his cheek like he had kissed hers earlier. “I'll see you tomorrow. Thank you for walking me home. Goodnight, Rowan.”

“Goodnight, Aelin, I'll see you tomorrow, how does nine sound?”

“That sounds good.” And as an early riser—even on her days off—it would give her plenty of time to get ready.

“Okay, I'll see you then.” He kissed the top of her hand, reminding her of her favourite romance stories and waited until she was inside and locked the door behind her to leave.

A whoosh of air left Aelin and she found herself humming to her favourite classical pieces. She did end up cleaning her apartment, finding that she had too much energy to have a shower and go to bed, and as she cleaned, she called Aedion, telling her cousin of her budding relationship with Rowan. Her cousin was ecstatic for her, even as he promised to kick his arse if Rowan hurt her—although Aelin told her meddlesome cousin that she could very much do that herself, as she took self-defense classes at her gym and had the toned and muscled body to prove it.

Afterwards, as she lay in bed, she and Rowan texted each other until Aelin's eyes started drooping, her last message only half-written, but she fell asleep with a smile on her face, ready for tomorrow.

#rowaelin #my work #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction

[shyvioletcat]

A/N: Look what's back! Think I'll just say PROGRESS and leave it at that.

~ Made of Ashes Masterlist ~

~~~~~

The fourth trimester was a valid title given to the months that followed birthing a child. Nine months of pregnancy was just the beginning, once the baby was on the outside it was like entering a whole new world. Through the steep learning curve and every life altering change, Aelin had made it. Elsie was officially three months and ten days old and as happy as could be. She had smiles for everyone, especially her mother, and the most darling laugh that was infectious. Sleeping through the night was rare and the sheer amount of nappies was ridiculous, but that was all part of the job. As far as Aelin could tell, her daughter was perfect and she knew she was incredibly biassed. She was allowed to be, it came with being a mother. Life with a newborn hadn’t been easy but there wasn’t anything in the world Aelin would trade her daughter for. 

Right now they were sitting by the couch, Elsie in her bouncer and Aelin sitting cross legged in front of her. Elsie cooed at her mother, her eyes wide as she watched whatever was going on to keep her entertained. Which was currently reading a book, the tenth changeup in however many minutes. Aelin held the book in front of her, giving her best animation to the words despite how tired she was, but it did no good. Elsie was too distracted to pay attention to the book, preferring to watch her mother instead. 

“You aren’t even listening, are you? How am I supposed to instil you with a love of reading when you’re just obsessed with me?” Aelin put the book down and tickled Elsie's sides.

She giggled, the sound so sweet Aelin’s cheeks hurt from how hard it made her smile. Eyes that were most definitely leaning towards green watched her every move. When the murky blue of Elsie's newborn eyes had started to lighten and shift towards emeralds rather than sapphires, Aelin had been in denial for a long time. She was adamant that there was still time, the colour could still change—and technically it still could. But it looked like no matter what they would be a shade of green in one way or the other. It wasn’t such a bad thing, it would never be held as a flaw.

“Now you wait here, I have to check on the mousse,” Aelin said, tapping her daughter’s nose. “It is from a packet but with you keeping me up half the night our friends can’t really ask for more.”

She went to the fridge where the mousse was setting in individual glasses. The Lochan’s were on their way over for dinner and she was providing dessert. They were bringing the main course as per Elide’s insistence. Taking out one of the glasses Aelin poked a skewer right into the middle. Pleased with the progress she licked the end clean as her phone started buzzing in her pocket. She pulled it out, the caller ID telling her it was Lorcan who was trying to reach her. 

Aelin answered, putting the phone to ear. “Let me guess, you’re running late,”

“Not exactly,” Lorcan said. “Korby is sick and Elide thought it best to keep him at home.”

“Oh, no,” Aelin cringed. Elsie was yet to get sick, but she’d seen enough of Rue and Korby being unwell to know it was a feat. “But that’s fine. I’ll see you guys another time.”

“Here’s the other thing, Elide also thought it best to bring you dinner so you can eat because we cancelled last minute,” Lorcan explained. 

Aelin stopped her pottering in readiness to give her all to this fight over the phone. “You don’t have to.”

Lorcan let out a short laugh. “I did, and before you say anything else I’m halfway to your place, so...”

“Elide,” Aelin said, withholding her own laugh.

“Elide.” If she could see Lorcan she was sure he would be nodding. “I’ll see you in about ten.”

“Yep, bye,” Aelin said and hung up. 

Elsie started announcing her displeasure at being left alone, so with hands on her hips Aelin walked back to the living room. “Did you know your Aunty Elide might be more stubborn than I am, and that’s saying something.”

The baby just grinned, legs kicking. Aelin dropped back on the floor putting on some music and holding onto Elsie’s hands to make her dance. They kept that up until there was a knock on the door. Elsie wasn’t happy about it but she let her mother go after holding on as long as she physically could. Knowing her time was limited, Aelin practically jogged over and opened the door of her apartment, revealing Lorcan waiting with a wrapped up casserole dish under his arm. She didn’t say anything, just swept her arm out in a gesture that told him he was welcome to step in whenever he was ready. 

“Pork chops and vegetables,” Lorcan said, heading for the kitchen. “About fifteen minutes in the oven should do it.”

“You didn’t have to bring anything over, we would have survived,” Aelin said, following after she flicked the door shut. “I do know how to use a phone or even cook for that matter.” 

“I know, but Elide felt so bad that she wanted to make sure you had dinner for tonight. And there should be enough leftovers for the late night hungers,” Lorcan said. 

He was referring to the phenomenon of being perpetually hungry while breastfeeding. Aelin’s pantry was currently a treasure trove of snacks that she could grab and eat when she needed to. Which was often. In fact, she might be hungry now. Lorcan left the dish on the bench and Aelin went to the pantry and chose a honey covered nut bar.

“How’s Korby?” she asked.

“He’s a mean little bastard when he’s sick, and I mean that with all the love in my heart,” Lorcan said. “And he’s such a Mama’s boy that he wants nothing to do with me.”

“Feeling a bit lonely?” Aelin teased. 

There was an impatient squeal from the living area where Elsie was reclined in her bouncer, her kicks setting it in motion. Her eyes were on the man who hadn’t even bothered to say hello, and from the cross look on her face she was very offended by it. 

“Oh I’m sorry, Elsie-girl,” Lorcan said, using the nickname that had slowly but surely settled on her. “Did I not pay you any attention?”

As Lorcan got closer Elsie’s expression changed, her fists knocking against each other as she smiled up at him. It was still so odd to see this side of Lorcan. He was so much softer with the kids, and that was to be expected with his own but the way it had extended to Elsie had taken Aelin by surprise. Lorcan scooped up Elsie, holding her close to his chest. He was such a gentle giant.

“There, is that better?” Lorcan asked her. Elsie just reached her tiny hands for his face. 

“But he’s alright, isn’t he?” Aelin called from the kitchen. 

Lorcan walked to the counter and pulled out a stool. “Yeah, he’s just expelling so much snot.”

“That’s kind of gross,” Aelin said, turning her back so she could return the kindness of dinner with the dessert in the fridge. There was a hiccup followed by a wet sound. She turned around in time to beige slime running down Lorcan’s hand.

“Your kid just vomited on me, I’d say that’s pretty gross too.”

Aelin snatched a tea towel that was hanging from the oven door and threw it to Lorcan. He caught it while keeping hold of Elsie with the vomit covered hand. Having children tended to desensitise a person to such things and Lorcan only looked very mildly repulsed as cleaned the both of them up. He left the dirty towel on the counter looking down as he pinched one of Elsie’s chubby cheeks. She chased his hand with her mouth, her hands desperately trying to coordinate to catch him. Lorcan gave in, letting Elsie hold his hand and chew on a knuckle.

“Take some of these,” Aelin said. “Or I will literally eat them all and she’ll be drinking chocolate milk.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” Lorcan added, heavy on the sarcasm.

Aelin decided that packing the mousse into a plastic container would be the easiest way to send it with Lorcan. She scooped three servings out and then licked the spoon. This would definitely be gone, and soon, it tasted too good. Maybe it would be her very early morning breakfast when she would be dragged from sleep by a hungry baby and the sugar would help wake her up. 

“You take this and I’ll take my baby so you can return to your family who is desperately missing you right now,” Aelin said, sliding the box across the bench.

“Elide maybe, not Korby,” Lorcan said while he passed the baby over. 

Once she had a good hold on her daughter Aelin picked up Elsie’s arm, making her wave. “Say bye to Uncle Lorcan.”

“Bye Elsie-girl.” Lorcan waved back.

He let himself out of the apartment, and the new silence made Aelin realise how disappointed she was that her dinner guest had to bail. Socialising as a new mother was hard. Sometimes she missed interacting with adults instead of being caught in her own little family bubble. Emrys had been more than generous with her maternity leave and she wasn’t due back to work until next month. Aelin had considered going back early just for more interaction with people. And Elsie would be coming with her anyway, so it wasn’t exactly a terrible idea. 

Aelin sighed, hefting her daughter up a little higher so that she could kiss her cheek. “Well, it’s just you and me, babe.”

~~~~~

Weddings were a family obligation Rowan could do without. He never understood how the Whitethorns could make such a thing out of every occasion. Maybe it was just the sheer number of them, and the fact that they just kept multiplying. His plethora of cousins were more than happy to make miniature versions of themselves. Many of whom were causing a ruckus as Rowan tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. 

It was another situation of Rowan causing more of a fuss and getting more attention if he didn’t turn up. So here he was, a chair dragged to the wall and waiting until the guests were given the okay to leave. He was more than happy for his cousin Enda who’s wedding this was. From what he could tell the man he’d chosen to spend the rest of his life with was the perfect choice for him. Rowan’s enthusiasm hadn’t been forced throughout the ceremony and toasts, but now it was time for dancing—something he was not enthusiastic about. 

He could see his parents on the dance floor, happy as could be amongst the other couples. Dateless and alone, it might only be his mother who could convince him to go out there. Rowan was just checking the time and his emails when he was abruptly interrupted. 

“Claudia, would you look at this,” Sellene, his most meddlesome of cousins, said with her daughter perched on her hip. “Remember this day because this might be the first and last time you even see cousin Rowan.”

“You’re hilarious,” Rowan replied, tucking his phone back into the inside chest pocket of his jacket.

Sellene took the seat in front of him that was still relatively associated with a table. “That sounds like you doubt my hilarity, which I find offensive.”

Rowan ignored that piece of bait and redirected. “I have met her before. Many times.”

“Yeah, but this is the time that counts because she’ll remember it,” Sellene said.

Rowan sighed and chose to humour his cousin. “Hello, Claudia. Pleased to meet you.”

He stuck out his hand for the girl to shake and to her credit she didn’t hesitate to take up the offer. “Hi. Mummy says you’re grumpy.” 

Sellene laughed and nodded, and even Rowan cracked a smile at the declaration. Claudia must have been about three now, maybe four, if he was remembering correctly. She definitely was carrying on the Whithorn genes with her silver hair and green eyes.

“But you can be grumpy and nice, are you nice Rowan?” Claudia asked.

“Well, that depends on who you ask,” Rowan replied. He could have given the little girl a long list of people who thought he was a bastard. 

Claudia tilted her head, like she was analysing him, or trying to read into his soul. Maybe she was, and maybe she found something there that wasn’t bleak and bitter because she said, “Yeah, you’re nice. Do you want to dance with me?”

“Ah,” Rowan didn’t know how to turn down a kid. What if she started crying? 

Thankfully his cousin took pity on him. “Come on Claudia, I think your dad wanted the next dance.”

Sellene shifted Claudia off her lap and stood up, taking the girl’s hand. “It was good to see you, Rowan. Until the next family gathering.”

The two of them walked away, Claudia turning to wave at him three times before they were out of sight. Rowan had waved back, it would have been rude not to after all.

Children liked him, and it was a strange phenomenon because he hadn’t really given them much thought other than the fact that he didn’t want that for his life. When Lyria had gotten pregnant all those years ago he had been entirely unprepared. They had been too young and Rowan hadn’t wanted that life for himself. It had put a wedge between them from the very moment she had told him. She had been his first serious relationship, and if things had happened differently maybe they would have married one day. Lyria might be the one next to him and not an empty chair. But the unexpected announcement had caught him by surprise and forced him to confront things he wasn’t ready for. He had just started at Stone City Advertising and his goal had been to prove himself as quickly as possible. Caring for a child hadn’t factored into that.

To distract himself from the sense of impending doom he had thrown himself into work, a habit that still lingered today. When things got hard, he just worked harder. He and Lyria had the arduous conversations, and she tried to hold them together. But when she miscarried, Rowan’s relief had just about broken her heart and they fell apart from there.

Shaking off the shadows of the past, Rowan looked out on the dance floor and saw Sellene dancing with her family. Her husband had Claudia on one arm while he spun Sellene with the other. It was a picturesque sight, something right out of a movie with how they laughed and effortlessly seemed to move so in sync with each other. It was enough to draw that dormant loneliness to the surface.

If, if, Rowan had ever decided he wanted children there was only one woman that his imagination ever entertained. As he watched the happy family he had a fleeting moment of what if. What if he and Aelin were still together, would he have changed his mind about wanting kids of his own?

Rowan shook his head, stopping those thoughts before they could gain any more clarity. He had been haunted by the past enough for one evening. There was no point in them, any future he had with Aelin was gone. What was the use of thinking of it now?  

~~~~~

A day off was meant to be at least the tiniest bit relaxing. Unless your car needed a service and your child had gone through a sudden growth spurt. That was how Aelin found herself at the mall, her car at the mechanics in the same complex and wandering around looking at clothes for a small human. It was a convenient system for her, especially when she had a little tag along. In classic toddler style, the pram was full of bags while Elsie walked. It made things slower but there was time to kill until Aelin got the call that her car was ready. Although they would have to stop for lunch soon.

Right now they were looking through racks of dresses, something in Elsie’s size for her upcoming birthday. They might not quite be the right term. Elsie was hiding in the middle of the racks, shoulders up obscured by clothes. Every once and a while Aelin split the row of dresses to keep her daughter stationary and within her immediate vicinity. If they made this into a game of peek-a-boo Aelin could keep her in *this rack instead of wandering off. 

“My goodness, Elsie just keeps disappearing,” Aelin said, keeping the game alive. The answer was a giggle. “Ah-ha! There you are.”

Aelin slid across some tulle monstrosities to see her daughter who let out a very loud squeal at being discovered. Elsie covered her face like that would hide her and Aelin went back to browsing. She pulled out two options, not particularly sold on either but she’d ask anyway. 

“Elsie, do you like these?”

Too lost in her own little world, Elsie didn’t bother to look over, choosing to babble away to herself instead. That sound had Aelin’s lips tilting into a crooked smile. The mind of a child — what her imagination must paint her surroundings into. There was nothing here that was worth the fight that came with forcing a toddler to wear something not by choice. 

Aelin managed to easily lead Elsie out by the hand. “Come on, let's go somewhere else, none of these are speaking to you or me.”

Aelin decided to try one more store, but there was still no luck. On the way out Elsie caught sight of the toy section and she was gone before Aelin could even think the word no. They spent a while wandering the aisles, no now being said more times than could be counted. Elsie was looking at toys that made far too much noise when she sneezed, a long line of snot shooting out of her nose.

“Damnit,” Aelin muttered, practically diving into her bag for a tissue. She found one a few seconds later and wiped away the mucus. It was clear, which was a good sign, but the snot situation would have to be monitored in case that led to something more. 

Elsie was not phased in the slightest, she just scrambled through the bottom basket of the pram demanding snacks. Not wanting everything thrown on the floor, Aelin picked out a packet of fruit flavoured puffs and opened them before handing them to her daughter. That was enough to indicate that it was time for lunch. 

The walk to the restaurant enclosed courtyard was slow going, and Aelin had to apologise to the other people in the elevator when Elsie pushed all the buttons, but they eventually made it to the courtyard filled with restaurants. Aelin already knew which one they’d be going to because toddlers were notorious for only choosing to eat certain things. Elsie would want noodles from the Japanese place and Aelin would get something with rice. A ping from her phone distracted her, automatically pulling it out of her pocket to check the text. It was in that split second when she took her eyes off her daughter for the smallest moment that she lost track of her. Because when Aelin looked over to where Elsie had been standing next to the pram… now she was gone. 

~~~~~

Rowan’s parents' time in Orynth was coming to an end and it was time for them to move on. That was why he found himself at an overcrowded shopping mall on a Sunday, a place he tried to avoid on the weekends if he could help it. But his mother had asked him to come along to help since they’d returned their rental car, something Rowan had no issues with. He would have offered to drive them if she hadn’t asked him first. She had promised him lunch though, even if he would make sure he would be the one paying. 

They were currently in a luggage store while his father looked for a new backpack. Rowan was idling browsing the suitcases, not really looking for something for himself, the one he brought with him was absolutely fine. Maybe just in case it busted a wheel or something, he’d have an idea of what to get next. Even then he’d be more likely to fix it himself before he spent money on something new. Rowan was not a browser, never had been. He was boring himself with his own inner ramblings.

Moving on, Rowan ended up in front of the children’s suitcases. Most of them were little hardcases that barely reached past his knees, decked out in bright colours and all kinds of characters on them. He had very little knowledge of such things and could only assume which might be princesses from popular franchises. What he did find himself considering is which one Elspeth might choose if she was here. Did she have a favourite movie? A favourite character? Maybe she was into animals rather than princesses.

“So,” Iris said, appearing next to him. “Yesterday went well, didn’t it?”

Ah, yes. The now infamous park meet up. 

“As well as it could,” Rowan replied. “It was nice to have less hostility stewing.”

They were both quiet for a moment and then his mother asked, “What will you do when we’re gone?”

Rowan had spent most of last night thinking about it. His parents, especially his mother, allowed him access to Elspeth that he couldn’t quite manage himself. It was still a challenge to break through the cool indifference Aelin had towards him. Without that advocacy into Elspeth’s life, Rowan wasn’t quite sure how he was going to manage his new resolution to prove himself.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I guess I’ll just have to play it by ear, wait on Aelin’s whims.”

Iris made a disapproving sound. “You’ll have to stop that.”

Rowan shot his mother a look. “What?”

“The animosity, that won’t be good for Elsie,” Iris explained. 

He managed to hold in his sigh, flashes of Elspeth’s stricken face when she’d been caught in the middle of all those arguments still haunting him. “To be fair, we’ve cut down on it quite a bit because we did notice that.”

“Well, look at that. You can work together,” Iris said, the slight sarcasm carrying a healthy dose of truth. 

Rowan’s laugh was humourless, his mother still had a point. 

“Right, time for lunch?” Evander announced, his new purchase in his hand. 

“Sure,” Rowan said. “What do we feel like?”

“Not sure, why don’t we head to the food court and see what’s there,” his father said.

Although it had been a few years and there were some recent renovations, Rowan remembered his way to the courtyard that held the restaurants rather than the fast food options. 

“Any updates on what we feel like?” Rowan asked, surveying what was on offer. 

“Well, I—oh my,” Iris said, apparently stumbling forward on nothing. For a heartstopping moment Rowan was flooded with concern, until he saw his mother look down and smile. “Hello there.”

“Iris!”

Head snapping to the sound of that little voice, Rowan was more than surprised to find that his daughter had once again been conjured out of nowhere. 

“Elsie, where did you come from?” Iris asked, putting a hand on her messy curls.

Elspeth spoke quickly and Rowan managed to catch something about ‘mama’ and ‘lunch’. He looked around, and Aelin was easy to spot, hurriedly pushing a pram filled with bags towards them. 

“Hi, sorry,” she sounded a little breathless. “Gods, she’s quick. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“That’s what children were made for,” Evander said. 

Aelin laughed, and Rowan could have sworn it was out of nervousness and the flush on her cheeks was from embarrassment. “I swear I don’t lose her like that often.”

Iris reached out and put a hand on Aelin’s forearm. “Don’t worry about it, I lost Rowan for a solid hour when he was little.”

“You did?” Rowan asked.

His mother nodded. “Not my finest moment.”

Elspeth let her grandmother go and transferred her grip to her mother’s legs. “Noodles, Mama?”

“Sure thing.” Aelin looked at the three Whitethorns, her eyes quickly darting over Rowan. “We were about to get lunch. Have you guys eaten?”

Rowan couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Unless he was about to be corrected Aelin had invited them all to lunch. Including him. This was miles beyond a meet up in the park. 

“We were just considering what to eat ourselves,” Iris said. “Is there anywhere you like to go in particular?”

“Yeah, Elsie loves the noodles from the Japanese place over there,” Aelin pointed behind them. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Evander said. “Whatever the Princess wants.”

Aelin laughed. “Words I live by. Come on Elsie, time for noodles.”

To everyone’s astonishment, especially his, Elspeth grabbed onto Rowan's hand and started leading the way. 

“‘Tum on, Rowan,” her pronunciation of his name was still a little off. “Noodles this way.” 

He just let it happen and tried not to think too hard about it, rather than whether or not it should be happening. Rowan didn’t know what restaurant they were going to so he walked slow enough that Elspeth kept in front of him directing him where to go. She was in another tutu today, this one with yellow with thin straps and a long t-shirt underneath. The tulle always seemed impractical to him, but he wasn’t a little girl. There had to be some underlying appeal that was beyond him. They stopped outside a tidy looking restaurant, the interior filled with dark furniture and sleek lines.

A waiter came forward and as the first one there it was up to him to sort out their seating. “Table for four, well five actually.” 

“Right this way,” the waiter said.

Rowan spent most of lunch seated at the end of the table on the padded bench observing. Aelin and Elspeth were at the other end of the table and they kept the conversation going up there. He certainly felt like an outsider, watching as Elspeth just fell into place with her grandparents. They loved her so much already, he could see it in the way they looked at her, how they were so gentle and couldn’t help but hang on every word she said. Rowan was glad he’d been brave enough to initiate this for them. When Elspeth finished her lunch she got restless and Aelin freed her from the high chair. 

His mother immediately got her attention, beckoning Elsie onto the bench seat next to her. The new seat was apparently the most amazing thing she had ever seen from the way proudly sat there by herself. Amazing, and fleeting, because the next moment she was dashing to the pram to retrieve a stuffed dog. She showed her grandparents and they fawned over it, much to Elspeth’s delight. It made Rowan smile. 

“Do you mind? I can’t hear in here,” Aelin said, holding up her phone.

Iris nodded. “Go ahead, we’ve got her.”

Aelin was gone a few moments later, phone pressed to her ear. Elspeth didn’t notice at first, too busy patting down the ears of the toy dog that had her attention. She wandered down the length of the table, softly humming to herself and mumbling nonsense to her puppy. Then she looked up and Rowan saw the moment that she realised Aelin wasn’t there. Elspeth looked devastated. 

“Mama?” she asked him.

“She’s just outside on the phone, sweetheart,” Rowan told her. “Come stand up here and you can see.”

He patted the bench seat next to him and Elspeth took his invitation. When she struggled Rowan helped her up, keeping hold of her hand as she stood. And then she lent on his shoulder too, her curls tickling his nose as she peered out the window trying to look for her mother. When she spotted her she gave an excited gasp and started waving. By some kind of motherly intuition Aelin turned, seeing Elspeth and waved back. 

Content with her mother's closeness, Elspeth went back to playing. “Puppy, Rowan. See?” 

“I do,” Rowan told her. “It’s very pretty.”

Elspeth nodded enthusiastically. “Yep, yep.”

Having her this close made something in Rowan’s chest ache. She hadn’t been quick to move after waving to her mother, and she still clung to him. It was hard not to get swept away with how adorable she was, it was hard for him to look away. When he did, he caught his mother looking at him, she was smiling but he didn’t miss the emotion in her eyes. 

Elspeth sneezed, so sudden and forcefully that Rowan actually jumped. Snot dribbled out of her nose and without a second thought he picked up a napkin to wipe it away. Face clean, she decided it was time to sit down, and she started playing with her dog right next to him. 

“How was everything?” the waiter asked, appearing again to clear away the plates. 

“Fantastic, thank you,” Rowan said. “Can we get the bill?”

As expected there was some discussion over who would be paying, Rowan made sure he was the one to get the cheque and slip his card in with the receipt. All the while Elspeth continued playing beside him while Aelin was still outside on the phone. Then things unexpectedly went still and quiet. To his everlasting surprise he looked down to see that Elspeth had fallen asleep, her head resting on his thigh as her arms hugged her toy. 

Holy Gods, Rowan didn’t know what to do except sit perfectly still.

And he did, right up until Aelin came back in, eyes darting around for her daughter. 

“Ah, over here,” Rowan said, awkwardly pointing down next to him. 

With brows furrowed in confusion, Aelin came over. The confusion changed to surprise, but she didn't comment on it. “I’ll get the pram.”

Rowan kept up with his frozen state, not wanting to move and disturb the sleeping child while Aelin got the pram ready. She pushed a button and a whole section fell backwards, making it so there was a flat surface for Elspeth to lie on. He had no idea that prams could do such things. Then Aelin came over and very carefully picked Elspeth up. Once safely in her arms, she whispered softly to the girl, kissing her cheeks before lowering her down into the pram. 

“Sorry, apparently my car needs more work than I thought so it will be a few days,” Aelin explained, then shrugged. “What can you do? And I should probably get Sleeping Beauty home.”

“Well, we’re ready to go,” Iris said.

“The bill?” Aelin said.

Before Rowan could say anything, his father spoke up. “Don’t worry about it.”

Outside, Rowan gave his parents and Aelin some privacy to say goodbye. They wouldn’t see each other before they flew out tomorrow evening. He wasn’t too far away, close enough that he could still hear the hum of their conversation, but not what was being said. There was laughing and joking, but there were tears lining his mother’s eyes as she turned away. They made their way over to Rowan while Aelin checked her phone again. With a deep breath Rowan took a chance and walked towards her. She didn’t move, even when she saw him coming. He stopped a healthy distance away, second guessing himself. 

“Aelin, I…” Rowan sighed, frustrated at himself over his inability to just say the words. “Thank you for that.”

For a moment Aelin just eyed him assessingly, then said, “It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t and we both know it,” Rowan said.

Aelin looked down at Elspeth, still blissfully asleep in her pram. “I did it for her.”

That was a loaded statement, it could refer to lunch or it could apply to everything Aelin had done for the sake of her daughter over the past three years. Rowan was too much of a coward to question it further but he did have other things he needed to say. With a drama free meal creating such a positive environment, he might as well do it now. 

“I’m sorry,” he said simply, some of that anger that plagued him dissipating. 

But for Aelin it seemed to have the opposite effect. She stood straighter, her gaze turning harder. “For what exactly?”

This wasn’t going how he thought, he hadn’t meant to piss her off. So Rowan went on, dousing the flames instead of incensing them.

“For my behaviour since I arrived. There was a right way to go about this and I didn’t choose it,” Rowan said. “It was unfair to Elspeth for me to disrupt her life like that because of my own feelings. She’s so young, she doesn’t understand.”

Aelin cleared her throat. “You had every right to be angry.”

That admission took Rowan by surprise, but this wasn’t the time or place to start unpacking that. This was only going to work if he took it one step at a time, and he had one more thing he wanted to apologise for before he used up all his luck. “I’m sorry about punching Fenrys in the face.”

“You sure about that?” Aelin was fighting a smile.

Rowan let out a humourless laugh. “Like I said, a right way and a wrong way. Whatever he did, Fenrys didn’t deserve that.”

“Alright,” Aelin said after a few pensive moments. “Thank you. I accept your apologies and I appreciate you offering them.”

Rowan nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets—the vulnerability of this situation making him feel uncomfortable. Right now he didn’t expect anything more from Aelin. He knew that if they delved any deeper into the situation between them they would risk things fleeing hard and fast from civility.

“This feels never ending,” there was resignation in Aelin's voice, like she truly believed they would be stuck in this limbo of emotions and tension forever. 

“Did you need a ride? Because your car isn’t ready?” Rowan offered after a few more moments of heavy silence. 

Aelin shook her head, holding up her phone. “Fenrys is coming to get us, and you don’t have a carseat anyway.”

“Right, of course.” Rowan hadn’t even considered that, it hadn’t even entered his mind in the slightest. They didn’t just let two year olds rattle around in cars these days. If he were to have some kind of future with Elspeth in his life these were things he would have to consider.

“See you around,” Aelin said, turning and pushing the pram away, not bothering to wait for him to return the goodbye. She had never seen the point to maintaining a conversation past pointlessness.

Iris and Evander were waiting for him and without a word his mother wrapped Rowan in a hug. Pulling back, she gave him a small smile, something a little sad about it. “I’m so proud of you, Rowan.”

Swallowing against the tightness building in his chest he just said, “Thanks, Mum.”

“You can only go up from here,” Iris said as they started back to the car. 

Gods, he hoped she was right. Rowan felt like he was finally catching his breath, and he couldn’t be sure, but he felt like he was seeing his first glimmers of true hope.

~~~~~

Thank you so much for reading! I know it's been a while... sorry.

#Tumblr has done something weird with the tags and I'm trying to figure my way around it...

[goddess-aelin]

Friends Don’t Fall In Love

For Rowaelin Month day 4: Friends Don’t Do This

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: we got a little angsty up in here. But happy ending, I promise!

It started as a typical night, the night that Aelin’s world came crashing down. She’d been out with her friends, huddled together in one of the sticky red booths that dotted the crappy dive bar in their college town. She was two drinks in when he decided to make the announcement that would change everything.

They were graduating in a month, of course Aelin realized that. She realized that they probably would all go somewhat separate ways. But she always thought they’d all stay in Terrasen even if it was in different cities. Aelin already had a job lined up in Orynth, the biggest publishing firm in the country already hiring her for a paid internship as soon as she graduated. Elide was going back to her home in Perranth and wherever she went, Lorcan was sure to follow. Lysandra found out she had some family in Caraverre and always wanted to visit, though she wasn’t sure about after that. Aedion would be working for her families firm, Galathynius Enterprises, in their marketing division and, even though he hadn’t admitted it yet, would probably be spending most of his weekends in Caraverre. Fen was a wild card. She wasn’t sure what his plans were but she was sure they’d be dramatic and exciting.

And that left him. She always thought that as her best friend, they were a package deal. She thought that he would be coming to Orynth with her, working at the Terrasen National Museum while getting his masters and eventual PhD in Historical Artifacts. He once told her that Terrasenian history was some of the most interesting he’d ever studied and that’s why he came to Allsbrook for college. That had been all he could talk about for the last few months.

So why was he all of a sudden saying that he accepted a two year position as a research assistant in Wendlyn? Not only was it a different country, but it was across the damn sea. It’s not like she could drive to him or even call him late at night when she was going to bed. Because by that time, it’d be early in the morning for him and he’d be living his best life as a Wendlynite. He’d forget all about her, she knew.

Even though Lysandra and Elide were moving away, it didn’t bother her as much as it did with him. He was supposed to be her best friend. He was supposed to always be there for her, her partner in crime with whatever came their way. He hadn’t even told her he was looking elsewhere. Maybe she didn’t mean as much to him as he did to her, after all.

The thought sent a pang of hurt that ran deeper than she wanted to acknowledge in the middle of a dive bar.

Of course, she knew she was in love with him. She would have been an idiot not to have realized that her stomach flipped every time he walked into the room. That every time he held her hand, she wished it wasn’t in comfort or reassurance but rather because he simply wanted to. That she wanted to kiss him so badly that sometimes the ache was unbearable.

But it didn’t matter. Because he was moving away. He would start a new life in Wendlyn, where the weather was always warm and he didn’t have to worry about commuting in the snow. Where the people were known for their friendliness and the women for their beauty. Where he was only two hours away from the family he grew up with.

Why would he want to come back here after the two years were up? She sure as hell wouldn’t blame him for staying.

A wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the alcohol washed over her. It was all she could do to not hurl her guts up on the table that was surrounded by her friends. She could feel Lysandra’s side-eyed gaze burning a hole into her face. She could feel Elide’s pity. She could feel that he was starting to wonder why she hadn’t said anything after his announcement.

She felt as though she was going to crawl out of her skin. She just needed to get home, throw up, take a shower, and cry it all out. That’s what she told herself, at least. Then she’d be over him. She’d make peace with him being a passing ship in her life and nothing more. She had to.

She rose from the table, not meeting his eyes. “I’m not feeling well, guys. I’m going to head out. I’ll call an Uber, don’t worry.” Her voice shook even though she tried her damndest to procure some sort of levity from the pit growing in her stomach. She met Lysandra’s gaze, who gave her a sad, knowing smile. And with a wave, she walked out the door.

Once outside, she forced herself to take a few deep breaths of the still-cool Terrasen air. It was April yet it still felt like winter. Point to Wendlyn. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts so she could call her Uber. The alcohol certainly wasn’t helping her coordination as she tried to type her address into the search bar but ended up dropping her phone. Tears prickled the corners of her eyes and her vision started to blur from the quickly swelling liquid.

Before she could bend down to pick up her phone, a familiar hand was in front of her, holding her phone.

“Rowan!” Her hand flew to her chest, “Gods, I didn’t see you!” She went to grab her phone from his grip yet he held the device like his life depended on it.

“Fireheart, what's wrong?” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to wrap around her back to pull her into a hug.

She shimmied away.

His brows furrowed. “Did I…did I do something?”

Her vision was starting to blur even more but the only thing she could do was shake her head.

“What can I do? Do you really not feel well? Or I can just get my keys and–”

“No!” She didn’t mean to shout but it was all too much. “No,” she tried again, this time voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t need help. I just…I just want to go home.”

“Let me drive you. You were out of there before I could even offer. I’m ready to call it a night anyway.” He was trying to get her to smile but she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

“Please don’t. Please.” She turned away from him, hoping that he couldn’t see how badly she was hurt. She never should have let him in, never should have come to rely on him so much that even the thought of him being taken away from her left her without any air to breathe.

The stubborn ass rounded to the front of her, placing a hand under her chin to bring her gaze up to his. “Fireheart, please. Tell me what’s wrong. You’re scaring me.”

She jerked out of his grip again, noticing the hurt that crossed his face. The hurt, vindictive part of her was pleased that perhaps he feel even a fraction of the hurt she was. But the better part of her, the one that was wholly in love with him, hated the way she was being with him. She never, ever wanted to hurt him in any way.

Her voice was barely a whisper when she asked him, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes were wide and she would’ve thought he was a statue for how still he was standing. “I wanted…wanted to surprise you. I didn’t even know if I’d get the job since they only hire two people in the entire world every year. My shot was pretty slim and I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”

“You didn’t even tell me you were thinking of it. I thought the plan was to come to Orynth?”

“It was. It still is. This is temporary, only two years. I’ll be back before you know it. Is that why you’re so upset?”

She shook her head. “You got the job because you’re amazing. Because they’d be stupid not to hire someone as smart and passionate as you are. And in turn, they’d be stupid not to offer you a permanent position after the two years are up. Can you honestly tell me that there is a 100% chance of you coming back here after the two years are up if you’re offered a position?”

“Well–I…no? Nothing is ever 100%. But the plan is still to come back here.” His voice was getting desperate and she could tell frustration was taking over. They were going around in circles and everything Aelin wanted to say to him all these years was finally coming out- just not in the way she wanted.

“You’re close to your family, Rowan. You’ll have beautiful weather, beautiful views, new friends.” At the last part, his brow furrowed.

“Is that what this is about? You think I’m going to make new friends and just drop you?”

“I–yes. No! I don’t know!” She felt like crying again, the intensity of the need to just scream building and building. She knew it would come out soon, one way or another.

“I thought you’d be happy for me! I’ll still text you and call you. I’ll come visit, of course. I’m not dropping off the face of the earth!”

“I am happy for you!”

“Then why are you so upset!?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, you asshole!” And there it was. The floodgates finally opened, the final plank that boarded up her heart broke completely. While the feeling of her heart breaking was awful, she also felt like a weight was released. She only had the energy to whisper a repeated, “I love you.”

Rowan stood there, frozen and mouth gaping. It looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. Didn’t know how. She knew rejection when she saw it. At least it was out there, at least she wouldn’t let him go knowing that she had hidden something so amazing and terrifying and beautiful from him. Even if he didn’t feel the same way.

Aelin hardened her gaze after a few moments of no-reply. “Don’t worry, it’s a common mistake. I’ll get over it.”

At that, Rowan seemed to awaken. And he looked angry. “Falling in love is not a mistake.”

“It is when it was with you. Friends don’t do this.”

“Then I guess I’ve been making a mistake the last four fucking years, Aelin!” She swore her heart stopped. “Because I’ve been in love with you since you sat next to me in Freshman Seminar and opened your damn mouth. And I never dreamed that you felt the same way. You never gave any indication that you felt the same way.”

She scoffed. “I flirted with you all the time.”

“You’re flirty with all of your friends. We’re best friends. It’s just what we do, how we are. And I was fine with that. With thinking that you never returned my feelings. Even if it hurts like hell all the damn time.”

They both were silent for what seemed like hours. She didn’t realize how close they had gotten. If they were the same height, their noses would probably be touching. Rowan seemed to realize it at the same moment because he took a small step back. But to her surprise, he brought his hands up to cup her face. With a gentleness that made her heart want to explode, he rested his forehead against hers.

“Fireheart. I love you. I have loved you for years and I will continue to love you for many more. You have to know that. It’s only you.”

Tears were freely flowing down her face and she wasn’t ashamed. Gently, slowly, she brought her lips to meet his. The kiss was sweet and exploratory, no heat or passion. No, this kiss was meant to heal, to shape, to show how much they cared. How much they loved.

“I love you, Rowan.”

He pulled her into a hug that felt like it slowly mended her back together. For the first time in a while, she was absolutely content. She had nowhere to be other than in this moment, in the arms she felt safest in. He was her home and perhaps that’s why she reacted so badly to his news. Gods. She was an ass.

“I’m so sorry.” She broke the tight embrace so she could meet his eyes. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I am happy for you. Gods, I’m so damn proud of you. I always knew you could do anything you ever dreamed of.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m glad you said what you did.” He cupped her face once more to place a gentle kiss on her lips. “I’m going to Wendlyn. I’m going to call you every damn day and visit as often as I can. We are going to make it work and it will work because it’s us and we’re inevitable. And when the two years are up, I’m coming back home. To you, Fireheart.”

The smile he gave her was so sweet she could have melted into a puddle.

A slow half smile crossed his face. “Ask me what I’m researching in Wendlyn.”

She was confused at the abrupt change but decided to play along. “What are you researching in Wendlyn, research assistant Whitethorn?”

He chuckled and brought his lips close enough to hers to share breath as he whispered, “Terrasenian artifacts that somehow ended up in Wendlyn’s museum.” Oh. Oh. “The plan was always to come home, Fireheart.”

A fresh wave of tears poured over her as she buried her face in his chest. “I love you so much. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He chuckled again and placed a few kisses to her hair, her forehead, her nose, and finally, her lips.

“Just think Aelin, you always wanted to visit Wendlyn and now you’ll have the perfect reason to.”

“I think maybe you’re giving yourself a little too much credit here. I’m only coming to visit Wendlyn for the fabulous food.”

“Mmhm, says the woman who just confessed her undying love for me in the middle of the sidewalk where anyone could hear. Keep telling yourself that.”

She loved when the playful side of Rowan came out. “Hmm, I don’t think those were quite the words I used.”

“Close enough.”

She laughed as he brought her face to meet his once more. Maybe falling in love with your best friend wasn’t such a bad idea.

A/N: Me?? Writing a bit of angst!??? I know, it’s a shocker but I couldn’t end it badly. They needed to have a happy ending.

Tagging:

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

[fucklestat]

so. "the fasting was a mistake, i wasn't thinking clearly," said while gazing into lestat's eyes, referring to the period of fasting before mardi gras, conveniently eliding that up until a few months ago he was in a constant state of fasting. or tacitly admitting that starving himself was a mistake all along, perhaps?

regardless, here's what's currently making me insane: the hunger and lightheadedness that louis feels that night were for much of his life the status quo. he only notices it because he went back on human blood for a while before they started fasting. after getting a taste of what he'd been denying himself, he feels its absence more acutely.

and just as louis spent most of his life starving himself, he spent most of his relationship with lestat in a state of romantic famine: because of lestat's ignorance and callousness and volatility, because of miscommunications and misunderstandings, because of louis repressing his own emotions and desires, and ultimately because of lestat's abuse, because of their subsequent separation, because of lestat's continued emotional abuse and gaslighting after they got back together.

but the beginning of the blood fast aligned with a reignition of louis and lestat's romance. louis allowed himself to open his heart with the justification that it was all part of the plan. and maybe lestat was doing the same: playing the loving husband, staying on his best behavior so that louis wouldn't suspect he had plans of his own. or maybe in his twisted mind louis planning to murder him was the height of romance. or maybe he was preemptively grieving their relationship and savoring it while it lasted. whatever the reasons, in the montage leading up to the ball we see some of their most sweet and loving moments of the entire season. even if it's built on lies, louis gets a reminder of what it feels like to love and be loved.

the scene where louis and lestat catch each others' eyes across the ballroom draws an explicit parallel between louis's hunger for blood and his hunger for lestat. identical parallel lines, but with slightly different starting points, with louis having traveled farther along one than the other. he starved himself of blood, then he feasted, and now he's fasting. he was starved of love, and now he's feasting, but he's staring down the line at a future without lestat. feeling the ache of the hunger pains and wondering how he lived like this for so long. looking at lestat and wondering how he'll live without him.

#i'm walking outside on this 23 degree F evening and jumping into the lake. btw #idk if i'm even saying anything new at this point. just spinning gay vamps in my brain forever #iwtv