#galan ashryver

[leiawritesstories]

Varese, Reimagined

Rowaelin Month, Day 30: Alternate Canon Scene

sh*ttiest title ever, i know, and also super horribly late but we'll ignore that because....college 🙃 anyway here's a lil alternate canon scene thing based on the idea of "age reversal"

Word count: 2.3k (currently)

Warnings: swearing, bickering, fighting, weapons, sassy Rowan, snarky Aelin, mentions of Maeve

enjoy!!!

@rowaelinscourt

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

Gods, it was boiling in her cousin's useless excuse for a kingdom. 

Maybe it just felt that way because the terra-cotta rooftop she was currently perched on had been baking in the sun for hours, but still…if Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was going to survive another day of waiting for her darling aunt Maeve to make a godsdamned move, she needed more wine. She reached to her left, where she could have sworn there was a glass bottle of cheap, unripened wine that she’d swiped from a vendor yesterday, but the bottle was gone. 

She turned, blinking in the harsh sunlight, and found the rutting bottle teetering on the edge of the rooftop as if it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to fall. Before she could roust herself to lunge for it, the damn thing tipped over the edge and crashed to the cobbled street with a symphony of shattered glass. 

Hells. 

Grumbling some of the more creative curses she knew–three centuries of life had their benefits, it seemed–Aelin swung her sleep-stiff body upright, stretched the creaks and cracks out of her limbs, and darted across the tiled rooftop towards a convenient drainpipe. She wrapped her legs around the sturdy clay pipe and slid with feline grace down into the alley below. 

The instant she set foot into the street, her senses were assaulted with the acrid scents of sweat, spices, alcohol, and the clamor of too many people crammed into the vendor-lined street market. Even without her Fae senses, the sensory commotion was nearly enough to topple her. She sighed, tucked her face into the shadows of her hood, and joined the throngs of people bustling through the market. 

It was laughably easy to swipe some roasted meat on a stick and a flask of wine from various stalls, and she ate the food quickly, washing it down with the absolutely terrible wine. Gods above. If she happened to visit Galan’s castle like Adarlan thought she was going to, she’d need to have some words with her human cousin about the piss-poor quality of his kingdom’s wine. She dropped the empty flask in a gutter, swiped a new one from a different vendor, and sauntered back into the alley, intending to slip back up to the rooftops to watch the stars appear. 

The back of her neck prickled as she turned into the alley. It took her all of three seconds to identify the presence of a male body in the shadows near the end of the alley, so she stopped in her tracks and took a long draft of the wine–marginally better than the other one, but still godsdamned awful. Then, summoning all the bravado she could, she spoke. 

“If you’re here to kill me, you might as well get it over with.” 

There was a rustle, and a tall, muscular, cloaked Fae figure stepped into the soft orange glow of the single streetlamp. “I’m not here to kill you.” His face was hidden by the shadows of his hood, but from the depth of his voice, she could tell he was an adult. At least Maeve hadn’t sent some quivering youngling. 

“Really?” She kept her tone conversational. “Because lurking in the back corners of an alley certainly seems conducive to a friendly greeting.” Sarcasm oozed into the end of that sentence, and she waited for the male’s retort. 

“I’ve been sent to bring you to Doranelle.” The words rushed out too quickly to be natural–he’d memorized that line, probably at the hand of Maeve herself. “Her Majesty would prefer to meet you alive, but she is not averse to the sight of your corpse.” 

“How unfortunate that I have no intention of meeting her, dead or alive.” Aelin tossed the flask into the side of the alley. 

The male strode forward, each pace eating up the distance between her and him. “It is not my desire to harm you.” Swift as the wind, he darted behind her, knife glinting in his hand, and made to immobilize her. 

Centuries of training with Terrasen’s (and other kingdoms’) military and years of Arobynn’s relentless harshness had made Aelin just as swift and twice as lethal, though, and she dodged his attack, countering with a well-placed boot to his upper thigh. He grunted and lunged towards her, and she grabbed a fistful of his cloak and twisted, destabilizing him. 

“Shit,” he yelped, jerking himself back onto his feet but losing his cloak in the process. He stumbled a few steps back, as if it would stop her from assessing him. 

She swept a keen gaze over him, from his silvery, braided hair to his well-worn boots. “A Whitethorn, hmm?” A grin curled across her face. “I’ve never met a Whitethorn.” 

“Prince Rowan Whitethorn,” the male snapped, as if her borderline-lustful comment had hit precisely the nerve she wanted to hit. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Prince.” Aelin smirked, and with a tight exhale, she shifted into her Fae form. “I’m sure my lovely auntie has told you all about me.” From the poorly-suppressed flicker of fear in his emerald eyes, she deduced that Maeve indeed had. “Don’t be afraid, little prince,” she purred. “You’ll wake up a little dazed, but it will be alright.” 

Rowan glowered. “Do not call me that,” he hissed. “I am thirty-four, not a rutting child.” 

Aelin chuckled. “My mistake. When one has lived centuries, it is easy to forget how childish we all were for our first century.” 

“You–you’re–but we thought–” He was, for once, lost for words. 

“Has nobody taught you manners, prince?” She clicked her tongue. “It is terribly impolite to ask a lady her age.” Darting forward with whip-swift speed, she swung the hilt of her dagger at Rowan’s temple, aiming to knock him unconscious. 

He caught her wrist with barely centimeters to spare. “No so fast, Galathynius,” he growled. “I. Am. Taking. You. To. My. Queen.” 

“Now, now, there’s no need to speak down to me,” she chided, teasingly. “You forget that I have a century or three on you, young one.” 

Ire flared in those pine eyes. “And I have your knife hand in a–ooooof!” He’d been so distracted trying to keep her wriggling knife hand in his grasp that he hadn’t noticed her knee gradually slipping back until she rammed it directly into his groin. 

“I don’t want to do this any more than you do, Whitethorn.” Aelin set her face into placid blankness. Doubled over, clutching his manhood, Rowan wheezed, unable to form speech. “But I do so hope we shall meet again.” With that, she bashed the hilt of her knife into the male’s temple. 

He dropped like a stone, unconscious before he hit the cobblestones. She held the back of her wrist over his mouth to make sure he was breathing, then swiftly tied up the slumbering Whitethorn prince, and propped him up in the same dark corner where he’d been waiting for her. 

“Sleep well, Whitethorn,” she crooned, blowing him a kiss as she left. 

~

Rowan’s head hurt worse than it had since the first time he let the Moonbeam twins take him to a tavern. The agonizing throbbing pounded insistently through the fog of his brain as he fought his way out of sleep, his memories blurred, fuzzy. What in ten hells had happened? He reached for his head to see if there was a bump or a bruise. 

And found his arms bound tightly behind his back. 

Hellas himself. 

The memories of the night before suddenly flooded back with crystal clarity. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. Working on orders from his Queen, Rowan had tracked down the elusive princess, followed her scent into its freshest mark, hidden himself in the shadows, and waited, patiently, for the supposedly alcoholic, supposedly human princess to make her appearance. 

Everything he thought he knew about her was wrong. Rutting hell, everything Doranelle thought they knew about the Galathynius princess was wrong. She was far from the lost, drunken, half-feral assassin they thought she was–not only was she perfectly in control of herself, but she was coherent, shrewd, fought with a terrifyingly unfamiliar blend of military, assassin, and unknown technique, had enough Fae heritage to shift, and was bleeding immortal. Queen Maeve would have his head on a fucking spike if he returned emptyhanded. 

Muffling a frustrated scream, Prince Rowan Whitethorn started working his fingers around the ropes binding him hand and foot. He’d be rutting damned if he couldn’t get out of the bonds within an hour, and if he had to use a knife to do it, then so be it. 

As he grappled with the last knot standing between him and enough freedom to move his hands properly–of course, this would be the least maneuverable knot–Rowan heard a soft, amused chuckle, and it was with no small amount of dread that he dragged his gaze up and found Aelin Galathynius leaning against the alley wall, hood tipped back just enough to partially reveal her stunning face–still Fae, he noticed–her smirk razor-sharp in the afternoon sunlight. 

“Are you familiar with Illyrian knots, Whitethorn?” 

He scowled and bit his tongue, forcing himself not to answer. 

She chuckled. “Probably not, I keep forgetting I learned those knots two hundred years ago.” She took two paces forward, bringing herself close enough that her scent–jasmine, lemon, and the crackling tang of fire–drifted into his Fae nose. “In simplest terms, the more you tinker with the knot, the tighter and more tangled it will get.” 

“Hellas,” Rowan grunted. 

“No, a Hellas knot is far simpler to undo.” Mirth laced her words. 

He sighed and dropped his almost-freed hands in defeat. “You’ll just abandon me in this godsforsaken alley, then?” 

She hummed. “As much as I’d like to leave you to the urchins and street thugs, I believe my darling aunt is waiting, and it seems I need one of Maeve’s own to get into Doranelle.” 

For an instant, hope raced through his veins. “So you’re setting me free?” 

Aelin tipped her head back and laughed. 

A fierce blush scorched across Rowan’s dark tan face. “Am I to be let in on this hilarious joke?” 

“Respect your elders, young one,” Aelin drawled, lazily rolling a throwing star back and forth across her gloved knuckles. “I’m offering you a choice, Whitethorn. Either you stay here and rot in this pathetic excuse for a respectable street–unless, of course, you figure out how to unravel an Illyrian knot before nightfall–or you serve as my guide to dear old Auntie Maeve.” A frighteningly sweet smile curved her full lips. “The choice is yours.” 

“Not much of a choice,” he snarked. Deep down, though, he had already decided.

She shrugged. “We all have to learn about one-sided choices somehow.”

He clamped his lips together, refusing to submit to the painfully obvious decision for as long as he could stand. Just say it, Whitethorn! shrieked the little voice inside his head. You know perfectly damn well you’ll be useless in an attack if you’re still tied up!

“Enjoy your new home, then.” Aelin’s voice held absolutely no shreds of emotion; she merely turned on her heel and started to leave the alley. 

“Wait!” His hoarse yell cracked through the hot, still air. “I-I’ll do it.” 

Slowly, with the kind of graceful confidence that only came from lifetimes of experience, she turned back around and prowled towards him, stopping when she reached the knife she’d left on the sun-warmed cobblestones. “A wise decision, prince.” 

He grunted. “Get me out of these ropes.” 

For the second time in ten minutes, she threw back her head and laughed. “You think you’re giving me orders?” She flicked a mirthful tear off her cheek with the point of the knife–a feat Rowan refused to admit made admiration rush through him. “Hardly, Prince Rowan.” She smirked, the expression purely Fae, tinged with just enough wickedness to make his heart stutter. 

It made him wonder just how Aelin’s eventual meeting with Queen Maeve would go. 

“Move, and the knots will tighten,” Aelin warned, waiting for him to still his body before she strolled around behind him and released the ropes binding his restrained legs to his restrained arms. 

The ropes slackened for a moment, and he leapt to his feet, surging backwards to knock her off balance, only for her to give a sharp yank on the ropes and send him sprawling gracelessly to his feet. 

“Rutting hell,” he muttered, dignity crumbling. 

“Well played, Whitethorn,” was all she said in response. She knelt and held a flask to his lips, and despite his embarrassment, he was bleeding thirsty, and the water was cold and fresh, so he drank. She whistled shrilly, and there was a minute of silence before hooves clattered against the street and a horse trotted into the alley. 

Rowan blinked, half convinced he was dreaming. “Galathynius, is that my godsdamn horse?” 

“Is it?” she returned, innocently. “He was tethered a few blocks away and looked awfully thirsty, the poor thing, so I took care of him and here he is now.” 

Rowan chose not to answer. 

Aelin snickered. “Shall we?” She tugged on the ropes again, and Rowan picked himself up, stood, and faced the princess of Terrasen and her immortal, incorrigible smirk. 

“Are you going to make me follow my own damn horse like a war criminal?” he grumbled. 

“No.” 

“Then–” 

She cut off his question before he could ask it. “Mount up, Whitethorn. I’ll ride behind you so you don’t try any clever shit like shifting.” 

Well, shit. There went his perfectly sound plan. 

Aelin waited for him to mount, then swung effortlessly up into the saddle behind him. “Lighten up, prince,” she teased. “You won’t be able to shift for a few weeks, anyway.” 

He blinked. “What?!”

She tossed a tiny glass vial over his shoulder. “Didn’t anyone teach you about nightroot tincture when you were in warrior school?”

Gods burn him, it was going to be a long ride to Doranelle. 

~~~

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#my writing #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin month 2023 #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #heir of fire #heir of fire au #canon au #alternate canon #age reversal canon #because i said so hehe

[mariaofdoranelle]

I saw these two ex to lovers prompt and I can't choose so if you like them you can pick one or both idk ahaahaha

- sending their ex a book a day, the first word of each title spelling out an apology.

-ten years after their breakup one receives a letter inviting them to their exes wedding with a “help me” written in a tiny font on the bottom.

You Still Would’ve Been Mine

Written for my Drabblefest

I wrote both, but with a twist (not exactly an apology and it’s ten months instead). I hope you like it 😆

PS it’s canonverse

960 words, no warnings

⨯ ⁺ ✦ ･ ｡ﾟ⨯ ﾟ♡ ✧* ･｡* ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

If Rowan listened to one more word about Terrasen or Adarlan, he was going to lose his mind.

He wasn’t even a useful prince, he had no idea what he was doing in Sellene’s Throne Room.

“The merchants won’t stop complaining ever since Adarlan made these new trade deals,” Uncle Ellys explained, “Terrasen’s goods got into the Adarlanian market like the plague.”

“Enda,” Sellene called from her throne. “send word to our spies.

After every other family member was dismissed with an assignment to do, it was just Rowan and Sellene there.

“C’mere.” She kindly requested him to come closer. “Rowan, we are losing Erliea’s biggest kingdoms. The Fae from Adarlan now have access to Terassen’s Fae liquor, magic hospitals, magic schools, every month is a new thing. And now this.” Sellene took a deep breath and rubbed a hand on her face, letting her shoulders drop for a moment. “I know you don’t talk about Terrasen, but I need you to tell me what you saw.”

“I saw nothing,” he answered with a neutral face, masking his tense body.

It was true. It was supposed to be a trip with Fenrys to visit Galan, and they ended up being guests in the Ashryver party to visit Terrasen.

Rowan’s presence wasn’t political, and the only thing he saw was walls ornate with gold, silk bedsheets and the top of pine trees when he was flying, using his hawk form to sneak in and out of the crown princess’ bedroom.

Rowan’s ground his teeth, his pulse racing. Well, that was before she not only backstabbed him, but his entire country as well.

“Okay, I got it,” Sellene said when she sensed the growing notes of rage in his smell. She bit his lip and fiddled with an envelope in her hand. “This came in for you.”

Rowan snatched it from her hands. “I thought the mail interceptions were over when Maeve died.”

Sel grimaced. “Lorcan gave me this one because he thought it was an exception, sorry. I didn’t open it, though.”

An exception indeed. Rowan opened the seal with one of his blades, wishing he could use it to stab the wedding invitation instead.

The King and Queen of Terrasen request the pleasure of your company—Rowan rolled his eyes—at the marriage of their daughter, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, to Duke Perrington, blah blah blah.

Rowan was once told it would be his name instead, but those promises were long gone.

I’m yours, she said, her smile lit through the darkness. Tell Sellene to request an official political alliance with a marriage proposal, and I’ll be officially yours.

Rowan was on a boat home the next day.

He shook his head, his heart constricting as he tried to shake off the memories too. Especially the ones of him learning, right before leaving Doranelle again, that Aelin’s hand was already promised to another.

Rowan’s eyes skimmed through the wedding invitation, until he found something that made his heart stop, the world world narrowing down to two little words in the bottom of the invitation, in a familiar handwriting.

Help me

“What?” Sellene said while snatching the invite from his hands. “Gods, I’m never talking about Terrasen with you again. Your smell gets weirder and weirder and— oh, shit.” She looked up, eyes widened and personal scent tinged with alarm. “Have you been in touch with her?”

“No.”

Sellene sent him a cut-the-bullshit look.

He crossed his arms. “She’s been sending me books. Just that.”

“Not a word? Just books?” She got up when Rowan nodded in confirmation. “Where do you keep them?”

They both shifted into their bird forms and flew out the window towards Rowan’s bedroom, where he kept a small collection of books he didn’t want to store in the Royal Library.

If Sellene heard how fast Rowan’s heart was beating, she didn’t show. His insides were quivering as he scrambled his mind for answers, but nothing came.

Sellene shifted back and frowned at the bookshelf, both hands on her hips. “Just the books, no letters attached?”

“Yes. These ones.” Rowan pointed at the books with one hand, fingers tangled in his hair with the other. “They’re in the order she sent, it stopped a couple of months ago.”

His cousin barely heard him, completely focused on the books. “Havelok the Dane, Erec and Enide, Laxdæla Saga and Piers Plowman.” Sellene’s index finger ran across these four book’s spines. “Side by side like this, as if they were in a box set, it kinda looks like they spell ‘help’.”

“What?” With his heart beating out of his chest, Rowan grabbed a piece of paper and scrabbled the titles there, in the order Aelin sent him.

Havelok the Dane

Erec and Enide

Laxdæla Saga

Piers Plowman

The Divine Comedy

Amadís de Gaula

The Decameron

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

The Owl and the Nightingale

Lancelot, the Knight of the Cart

Doon de Mayence

Le Morte d’Arthur

Egil’s Saga

His entire world halted when he put them all together, four words tearing down his walls of hurt and resentment.

Help, dad sold me.

Rowan felt dizzy, barely breathing as everything clicked together.

All the trade agreements, scholar exchange, diplomatic alliances between Terrasen and Adarlan he heard of. It was all because Rhoe sold his daughter to the highest bidder.

Over his dead body.

He ran to his room, grabbed his sword and a pouch with enough gold for three intercontinental trips—one to go, two to come back—and tucked his wedding invitation into his jacket’s pocket.

Sellene’s eyes were firm as she clutched his forearm, putting all her Fae strength into her crushing grip. “Do not. Cause. An international disaster.”

Rowan just shifted into his hawk form and flew to the nearest port.

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[faithfire-writes]

Thank you for reaching out! So, I picked up TOG for the first time at the end of June, and fell in love with the first two because of Chaolaena. Fast forward to February, when I finally got copies of my own. I'm not planning on reading them for several more months, but now I'm wondering if it's a mistake. I wrote a venting post in the fall detailing my unhappiness with how SJM handled things. And now it's just gotten to a point where I'm getting more and more angry over it. I don't feel like I can really express myself freely because most pro-Chaol fans are only for Chao, and are anti Aelin, or they like Chaorene, which I'm not for. But yeah. I don't even have to go into the anti SJM tag to get "triggered" as it was.

Welcome to the club. I got into ToG before Queen of Shadows and became a Fan. I preordered books so I could get pins/tote bags. I LOVED it. Then the Fae agenda started pushing harder and harder. I latched onto the witches and Lysandra and the non-Fae stuff. I wanted Rowan and Aelin to have a mentor/mentee relationship like Geralt and Ciri. I never did finish the last book because I got So Sick of every other page gushing over Fae. Basically what my tiff with SJM boils down to "missed opportunities". She focused so much on Rowan/Aelin that she missed a lot of the potentially fascinating political subplots. Ansel is Queen of the Wastes. The Wastes are the witches' ancestral home. And yet there are no issues there? I was excited to see them FEUD over it. Galan Ashryver is related to Aelin, but how did he end up in Wendlynn when the rest of the Ashryver family is in Terrasen? Was Elide a witch or not? There are so many unanswered questions I still have. I won't say do or don't read the books, it's your choice. One of my favorite characters (Lysandra) comes in in book 4, and again, I LOVE the witches. There's some good stuff there, but if you're a fan of Chaolena, I will warn you, it's a rough ride again. Feel free to DM me any time about your thoughts.

#sjm critical #anti sjm #just in case

[highladyof-erilea]

CODENAMES: Chapter 1

Celaena Sardothien is the world’s best assassin. Of course, no one knows that. They only know a name and a reputation. And she would like to keep it that way. But when the infamous group of operatives labeled “The Cadre” prevents Celaena from completing her latest mission, everything goes to hell. As it turns out, some people know more about her than just a name.

a/n: Hey guys! This is the first chapter in my new fic CODENAMES!! It's a crossover between Throne of Glass and Agents of Shield. Not sure how long this series will be but I am hoping it to be decent sized. Enjoy!

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

Chapter 1: Adarlan's Assassin

Adarlan’s Assassin had no identity. Nothing was known about who they worked for or where they came from. Many assumed that they were a bedtime story told to keep people’s mouths shut and pockets open. The only thing that was known about them was the fact that they were one of the world’s best assassins, if not the best. They were on the top of every agency's Most Wanted list and hunted like a feral bat in a nursery. Everyone wanted them dead, not because they were a risk to their lives, but because if Adarlan’s Assassin was given your name, you would be dead. Not only your body, but your reputation and everything you had ever built, touched, or even looked at. If you wanted to stay alive in this world, you learned not to be on the wrong side of their gun.

Luckily for Celaena, she didn’t need to worry about being on the wrong side of the gun. She was the gun. The way people revered her reputation was laughable at times. Considering where she started, one would think that Adarlan’s Assassin would have a less than desirable reputation. But her old reputation was in no way even considered to be the same person as Adarlan’s Assassin. Celaena’s style and work had grown and changed so much from her first few years as a trainee that nobody suspected or even connected her offenses to being committed by the same person. 

Considering that she was one of, if not the most feared assassins around, you would think that she would get her pick of assignments. However, instead of being sent on the one assignment she had ever begged to be on, Celaena was instead sent to Wendlyn. She was to kill the President’s son, Galan. President Ashryver had recently denied Arobynn some vital information in the form of locking up one of his many lap dogs and Arobynn held grudges. Hard. 

To Celaena, this was nothing more than a punishment for her. She should’ve been doing other bigger, better assignments, but Arobynn had had it out for her ever since she messed up an assignment a while back. Either way, she was stuck with this assignment now, and she would deal with her anger the best way she knew; showing Arobynn just what he was missing out on by completing this mission, one way or another.

Which ultimately led her to her current state, being shacked up in the attic of a liquor shop. The attic was in a somewhat suitable state, being mostly used as storage so Celaena had to move around a few boxes in order to make space for herself. There were also a few critters scattered here and there, but Celaena didn’t mind them. When you're on your own for so long, you learn to make friends in the smallest of critters. Celaena gave them a few pieces of bread she had swiped from a stand while strolling through the market earlier today. 

The liquor store’s attic window had the perfect vantage point for the route that Galan Ashryver would be taking to his family’s summer home and the store owner’s were oblivious enough that they didn’t notice someone enter their shop and never come out. Stupidly enough, Wendlyn lived in such a state of peace and ignorance that most of their government traveled light, with only one other escort and more often than not, had an open roof on their cars. Celaena may have thought it to be stupid but she wasn’t going to complain, considering it made her job ten times easier. 

After adjusting her rifle and ensuring that she had the perfect viewpoint of the street, Celaena took a swig from one of the dozens of flasks she had found while arranging herself in the attic. She may be one of the best assassins around, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun on the job. After all, if she was going to do something worthless, she might as well enjoy it. Arobynn might scold her if he finds out she was drinking on the job, but the worst he would do was give her a few beatings. Nothing she couldn’t handle.

Galan wasn’t set to be arriving for another few hours, so Celaena settled under the window and opened the latest book she had been invested in. It was set in a world with a school of magic and dragons. She’d always wanted to ride a dragon. Celaena hated to admit it, but reading was her guilty pleasure. Books took her away to another world where she didn’t have to think about any of her problems in the real world and could just spend a few hours imagining she had an entirely different life. If Arobynn found out she wasted time on something as revolting as reading rather than working to “hone her craft,” he would have a fit and most likely burn every book she had in her collection. And probably her as well. She never took them out when he was around. 

Over the next few hours, Celaena immersed herself into the book all the while keeping an eye on the meticulous schedule she had to keep if she wanted to come out unscathed from this assignment. 

When it neared the time that Galan was scheduled to be turning onto her street, Celaena sat up and began arranging herself on the floor into a comfortable but advantageous position. She was a little woozy from all the alcohol she had consumed, but not nearly enough for it to impair her job. She could still shoot the rifle with precision. Her other senses just may not have been as strong as they usually were. 

Either way Celaena was prepared to kill Galan. She may not have liked it, but eventually she would get over her guilt and move on. She always did. 

Not too long after getting into position, Celaena heard the tell-tale signs of Galan’s motor parade, what with all the cheering and commotion going on. Celaena never understood what it was that people loved so much about the Ashryvers, but she couldn’t blame them. Everyone was brainwashed at some point in their life. Even her.

Taking a deep breath, Celaena centered herself and began to count down from 10.

10…

Celaena reached down and loaded a round into her rifle’s chamber.

9…

Shaking out her shoulders, she relaxed her body and leaned into the rifle.

8…

Celaena heard a creak of floor boards behind her, but paid no mind to it, making it out to be the critters she had seen roaming around earlier.

7…

Celaena closed her eyes and blocked out all outside noises and distractions, giving into Adarlan’s Assassin and letting it take the reins.

6…

Galan’s escort turned the corner and Adarlan’s Assassin centered their scope on Galan, straight through the open window.

5…

Adarlan’s Assassin felt the breeze from the open window against their neck and placed their finger against the trigger.

4…

There was the distinct sound of a glock being disengaged.

3…

The feeling of a cold, hard muzzle was pressed against the back of her head and Celaena’s whole body froze, her eyes open wide in panic.

2…

A cold, rough voice behind her spoke; “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

1…Shit.

#throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #agents of shield #tog fic #celaena sardothien #rowaelin au

[rowanaelinn]

Yeah let’s normalise violence 🙄 Aelin became “good” only after she named herself Aelin again. But before that, when she was still Celaena, she was a horrible person, as almost everyone in the books who knew her before said. So please stop portraying her as a “Good Queen who does no wrong”. She’s an interesting character with her own flaws, but she has lots of them.

Celaena the bad woman who freed slaves and got herself tortured for it

Celaena the bad woman who spared the life of a traitor and helped protecting another team of assassins

Celaena the bad woman who put her place in the competition at risk to help a man when she could have saved her ass and it would have helped her in the competition to get rid of Nox

Celaena the bad woman who found it in herself to love the son of the man who killer her family and to love his captain of the guard

Celaena, the bad woman, who refused to kill the king’s target and put herself and the people she loved in danger every time she let them live

Celaeana, the bad woman, who refused to kill Galan Ashryver because she had hopes he would save the world even if he didn’t come to her help when her country was destroyed

Celaena, the bad woman, who put herself in danger to save Luca and then begged on her knees for forgiveness because she said one mean thing

Celaena, the bad woman, who almost died trying to save demi-Faes in Mistward when she had people to come back to

Celaena, the bad woman, who couldn’t stand to see the man she loved being whipped in front of her and chose to save him instead of securing an alliance with a monster.

Sam saw the good in her. Dorian saw the good in her. Rowan saw the good in her. Ansel saw the good in her. Ilias saw the good in her. Nehemia saw the good in her. Nox saw the good in her. The only person who didn’t was Chaol, and I wouldn’t take his word on anything when he walked into a slave camp and didn’t care a single bit

Aelin has a lot of flaws I never saw anyone denying it. She is hot-headed, secretive to a fault, and many other things.

But if there is one thing that will never describe Aelin Whitethorn Galathynius is evil. Because she didn’t put herself at risks so many times to save a world that hated her for you to call her evil.

#ask

[longsightmyth]

Hello! I've been very confused about Aelin's family tree and who isn't and is related, like who the parents and siblings are. If it's not too much to ask, could you explain it to me?

Hi! If you mean Canon Celaena, she has no siblings. On her mother's side she has plenty of relations though, some of whom have their blood relationship spelled out in text (Mab is textually Celaena's great-grandmother) and some of whom do not (is Galan Celaena's first or second cousin?)

We know that Aedion's unnamed mother is Evalin Ashryver's first cousin, because Aedion has Mab's eyes and Evalin and his mother are stated to be cousins. Since Mab is Celaena's great-grandmother, the only blood relation Aedion could be is her second cousin via his mother, who has to be Evalin's first cousin. Whether Evalin and Glaston (Galan's father) are first cousins or siblings depends entirely on whether the previous monarch of Wendlyn was a woman or man: if it was a woman, they could be siblings because Celaena's inheritance of Faerie Queen of the West has to come to her unbroken through the female line. If it was a man, Evalin and Glaston have to be first cousins for the same reason.

Rowan is descended from Mab's sister Mora a ton of unspecified generations back.

On Celaena's father Rhoe's side, we have his uncle Orlon and Orlon's partner Weylan. There is a deceased sibling for Orlon in there somewhere, obviously.

Further we have a descent from Brannon Galathynius and Mala the fire goddess, who had Elena Galathynius and presumably other children, since Elena was never queen of Terrasen. She married Gavin Havilliard, who ruled Adarlan via a land grant from Brannon Galathynius, apparently not to his daughter but to his daughter's husband. Celaena and Dorian et al are related on that side of things, but also later on a havilliard had to marry back into the galathyniuses at some point in order for Elena to be Celaena's ancestor as stated by the text.

That probably didn't clear up a lot, but hopefully some. I know too much about throne of glass.

[sharmerika]

Aelin and Manon

I also love that in Kingdom of Ash, Aelin started rebuilding Terrasen, and Manon united the two clans of witches, the Crochan and the Ironteeth.

Ansel got the Briarcliff.

The Ashryver line, and Wendlyn, Galan (Aelin and Aedion’s cousin) is the one holding it

Dorian had to rebuild Adarlan, as well.

Chaol and Yrene became lord and lady of Anielle.

Elide became the Lady of Perranth

Nesryn and Sartaq became the emperor and empress of the southern continent

It’s that kind of ending that has a lot of possibilities

Meaning we can still see them in the future books of SJM 😄

#Instagram

[ao3feed-acotar]

A Court of Shadows: When Worlds Collide

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/go7p2Il

by HufflepuffJessica9505

Vaughan knew that Maeve was not to be trusted, that she was something else. He had known when he took that vow, after learning how to ward himself from her dark magic. His grandmother had taught him everything, things that had been taught to her from her own father, who had fought alongside the fire king himself. Now that knowledge rests him and he will not fail. After gaining her trust, he bides his time, waiting and watching, until the heir that had been promised arrives. Once she has, the first chance he has to leave her takes, leaving not just Maeve's side, but the world itself. The very world Maeve had her eyes on next.

Its been a year since Lyra and her twin brother Rhysand fought and won against the Koshei, that last remaining death god. A year of healing and watching their children grow, basking in the warmth of their mates. All that comes to a screeching halt when the sudden arrival of a male changes everything. Barring stories of horror and nightmares, he begged them to help save his world, before that same threat can come and destroy her own.

What none of them know is that by colliding their two worlds together, may come at a price.

Words: 2053, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of A Court of Shadows

Fandoms: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: Multi

Characters: Feyre Archeron, Rhysand (ACoTaR), Rhysand's Sister (ACoTaR), Nyx (ACoTaR), Azriel (ACoTaR), Cassian (ACoTaR), Morrigan (ACoTaR), Eris Vanserra, Lucien Vanserra, Elain Archeron, Original Elain Archeron/Lucien Vanserra Child(ren), Cresseida (ACoTaR), Gwyneth Berdara, Emerie (ACoTaR), The Lady of the Autumn Court (ACoTaR), Helion (ACoTaR), Amren (ACoTaR), Varian (ACoTaR), Manon Blackbeak, Dorian Havilliard, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien, Aedion Ashryver, Lysandra (Throne Of Glass), Rowan Whitethorn, Chaol Westfall, Yeran (Throne of Glass), Yrene (Throne Of Glass), Galan Ashryver, Evangeline (Throne of Glass), Original Nesta Archeron/Cassian Child(ren), Original Azriel Children, Gavriel (Throne of Glass), Elide Lochan, Lorcan Salvaterre, Asterin Blackbeak, Imogen Blackbeak, Kaya Blackbeak, Sorrel Blackbeak, Thea Blackbeak, Fallon Blackbeak, Faline Blackbeak, Ghislaine Blackbeak, Vesta Blackbeak, Linnea Blackbeak, Edda Blackbeak, Lothian Blackbeak, The Thirteen (Throne of Glass), Nesryn Faliq

Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Azriel (ACoTaR)/Original Female Character(s), Nesta Archeron/Cassian, Elain Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Manon Blackbeak/Dorian Havilliard, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn, Aedion Ashryver/Lysandra, Helion/The Lady of the Autumn Court (ACoTaR), Eris Vanserra/Imogen Blackbeak, Cressida (Acotar)/Vaughan, Elide Lochan/Lorcan Salvaterre, Emerie/Morrigan (ACoTaR), Gwyneth Berdara and Galan Ashryver, Chaol Westfall/Yrene, Original Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn Child(ren)/Nyx (ACoTaR), Amren/Varian (ACoTaR), Evangeline (Throne of Glass)/Original Character(s), Asterin Blackbeak/Gavriel, Fenrys (Throne of Glass)/Original Female Character(s), Nesryn Faliq/Sartaq

Additional Tags: Not Canon Compliant, saved a lot of people, the thirteen live, Alternate Universe - A Court of Thorns and Roses Fusion, Alternate Universe - Throne of Glass Fusion

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/go7p2Il

#ao3feed #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

[deathcherries]

Rowan, hauling dorian out of adarlan before the witches sack the city and eat him alive:

#dorian: i should stay here and die with my people #rowan: bold of you to presume you have a choice considering that if i show up without YOUR royal ass aelin will beat MY royal ass #dorian havilliard #rowan whitethorn #celaena sardothien #chaol westfall #manon blackbeak #aelin ashryver galathynius #adarlan #rifthold #orynth #aedion ashryver #terrasen #lysandra ennar #galan ashryver #the cadre #gavriel #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #vaughn #fenrys moonbeam #connal moonbeam #maeve #valg #sjm #sjmaas #sarah j maas #fantasy #ya fantasy #ya

[leiawritesstories]

Queen of the Seven Kingdoms

Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmm........hi

this obviously is not the promised/anticipated FTBF update, but instead is something completely different! because my brain is just Like That! anyway, here, have this little something that i don't entirely know what to do with so i'm just gonna leave it here.

word count: ~2.5k

enjoy!

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

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was completely and utterly petrified.

She rested one elegant hand on the smooth, polished marble railing and stared out over the gently rippling waters of the Great Ocean, eyes closed, feeling the early-evening breeze waft across her face. She'd only been standing like that for a moment before booted footsteps clicked on the tiled flooring behind her and a man's voice broke into her reverie.

"Ah, there you are, little cousin." Aedion Ashryver, her cousin who was three years her senior and absolutely insufferable about it, strolled through the delicate curtains, coming to stand by her side. "Have you been hiding away up here this whole time?"

Aelin rolled her eyes. "I do not hide away, Aedy." The deliberate use of his childhood nickname aimed to irritate.

The prince huffed. "Then what do you call it when you conveniently forget to make an appearance for our guests?"

"You neither needed nor wanted me at that men's meeting," she returned coolly. "I simply did you the favor of not interrupting."

"Bullshit," Aedion muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is your future we are talking about, Aelin, you do know that?"

"My future is all I ever hear about," she scoffed. "At least do me the favor of flattering my intelligence and call it what it is--the next step in your scheme to retake the throne."

Aedion wrapped his hand around her bared bicep, turning her to face him. "Fine." His eyes, the turquoise hue twin to her own, bored into hers. "Your marriage to Prince Whitethorn is a key step in our journey to reclaim our rightful throne. Understood?"

"Kind of you to refer to it as ours," she snorted. "Aedion, we have been in Wendlyn for ten years, and now you decide that this is the time?"

He sighed heavily. "I cannot expect--"

"If you finish that sentence, I will personally tear off your ears and stuff them down your throat," Aelin snapped. "Do remind me who insisted that I be by your side at all important meetings since the day Galan took us in?"

Aedion had the grace to flush slightly. "All right, I won't be an ass."

"Too late for that."

He poked her shoulder. "Please, Aelin, I...I don't want to force you to anything any more than you want to be forced."

"Yet clearly, that want only goes so far." Freeing herself from his halfhearted grasp, she took a step back, rooting herself in the last embers of the falling sun's warmth. "Tell me, Aed--when the Whitethorns approached you offering their armada in exchange for my hand, how long did it take you to cave?"

His face shuttered. "Good night, Aelin." Spinning sharply on his heel, he stalked out of her rooms, the rapid click of his bootheels indicating his muffled ire.

"Aed--"

"Don't." The soft warning sounded off to the left.

Aelin turned, her right hand straying towards the slender knife she kept strapped to her upper thigh, the steel politely hidden by her gauzy skirts. "Who's there?"

"Just me." Philippa, who had been Aelin's lady's maid since she came to Wendlyn, emerged from the door to the bathing room. "Your cousin will come to his senses; he just needs to see it."

Aelin sighed and tugged the pins from her hair, letting the soft blonde waves cascade down her back. "If he'd only been open about this visit being a marriage negotiation, I wouldn't have such a problem with the whole thing." She yanked the ties of her dress, allowing the sheer layers of fabric to fall loose on her frame as she entered the bathing room. "I knew I would not get to decide the time of my marriage, but..."

Philippa's motherly face softened in sympathy. "But you deserve more than an order, Highness."

"Don't call me that," Aelin mumbled, stepping gracefully out of her dress. "How many times do I have to tell you, just call me Aelin?"

"At least once more, my lady," Philippa teased.

Grumbling, Aelin stepped into the huge, sunken tub--really, it was more of a pool--wincing slightly at the faint twinge of pain when the hot water hit the scars clawing across her back. After four years carrying the marks, she thought she'd be used to the faint hints of pain that still cropped up.

She was not.

Drawing in a deep inhale, Aelin submerged herself into the bath's scalding embrace, closing her eyes against the water. Odd as it may seem, she'd never been bothered by the heat, instead finding it comforting--even when others would not even be able to get into the tub until it had been tempered with cooler water. She allowed herself exactly sixty seconds to luxuriate beneath the bath's surface before standing up, steaming water cascading off of her body, and settling down on a step.

As her lady's maid helped her bathe, Aelin once again let her gaze drift out the windows, watching the Great Ocean shift and stir under the darkening sky. Watching the ripples and crests of the waves.

Looking east, back towards the seven kingdoms that were her right to reclaim.

~

It was far too godsdamned early for this nonsense.

Prince Rowan Whitethorn shifted in his saddle, pressing a soothing hand to his horse's neck. Shh, Chiri, we will ride soon. He didn't know why the hell Aedion Ashryver had requested this...business to happen at the crack of dawn, but a promise was a promise.

And, if he was being completely honest, Rowan didn't think he would mind if his first sight of Princess Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was something of a bleary memory, given the early hour.

Arranged marriage tended to do that to a person.

Conceptually, Rowan completely understood and even agreed with the rationale. Doranelle and the Whitethorn clan were ancient, powerful, and filthy rich--just what the last two living Ashryvers needed to back their claim to the Erilean throne. And the Ashryvers were no struggling pair, either. The two cousins might have been the last of their line, but they brought the legendary power of the Ashryver-Galathynius line--the dynasty even older than the Whitethorns and rumored to have dormant fire magic sleeping in its veins. And a rather staggering fortune squirreled away in foreign banks.

So, when Aedion and Galan Ashryver had reached out to Ellys a few months ago, it had taken Rowan's lovely (if somewhat rash) uncle all of ten minutes to decide that he was going to send Rowan off to marry the foreign princess. Of course, he sent a full contingent of Whitethorn family, warriors, and personnel along, but Rowan knew that if Ellys had ordered him to go alone, he would have gone alone.

After all, he was the Whitethorn prince--maybe he wasn't the head of the clan, but he was the head of the army. And that certainly counted for something.

Resisting the urge to glance at the rising sun for some hint of the time, Rowan muffled a yawn.

To his right, his cousin Endymion coughed quietly. "You could at least pretend to be happy on your betrothal day."

"Piss off," Rowan grumbled.

Enda smirked. "Where's the grinning groom?"

"He'd be grinning a whole lot more if this whole damn business wasn't so...contractual." Rowan frowned. "It's not like I don't understand why this has to happen, I'd just rather not have it all so suddenly."

"Right." Enda offered a small, crooked half-grin of condolence. "The princess is probably in the same position, y'know. Maybe you'll find some consolation in that."

"Always with the optimism," Rowan grunted.

Enda beamed. "Much better outlook than your infernal grouchiness."

"Why don't you--oh." All the breath suddenly and unexpectedly rushed out of Rowan's lungs, his calculating emerald gaze trained on the stone stairs in front of the Whitethorn contingent.

Where a golden-haired woman who looked eerily like the female version of Aedion Ashryver was descending the stairs, her expression carefully placid, her sharp turquoise eyes trained onto Rowan.

Princess Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.

His...his fiancée.

With Aedion and a handful of guards and staff at her back, Aelin strode down the stone steps with all the royal confidence of her ancient bloodline, stopping a pace away from him. Rowan found himself mildly shocked at how small she appeared from his perch atop Chiri. Her stature, though, was no match for the fire blazing in her sea-glass eyes.

Finding himself unable to speak, Rowan simply nudged his horse slightly forwards, locking his eyes onto the princess's. There was a long, rather tense, beat of silence.

Then he reached down, swung Princess Aelin Ashryver Galathynius up into his saddle, settling her in front of him, wheeled Chiri about, and galloped down the drive in a cloud of dust and gravel.

Aedion blinked. "That went...well?"

Enda chuckled. "If Rowan had decided he didn't approve of the princess, we would know. Trust me, Ashryver."

"Why do I find that concerning?" Aedion muttered. He tipped his head at the contingent behind him.

"Let's go."

~

Aelin's brain still hadn't caught up with the fact that she was currently sitting in the same saddle as Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle, the famed warrior-prince of Wendlyn. Or that he'd been remarkably gentle despite the brute force of the way he swung her up into his saddle.

Or that she was going to be married to him at sundown.

Rowan reined in his stallion at the edge of Galan's grounds. "We can wait for the others to catch up," he said, the deep rumble of his voice surprising her.

"So you're not the kind to run off with your bride, then?" Aelin snarked, the barbed comment slipping out before she could think twice about it.

Rowan's eyes widened--in shock or outrage or interest, she couldn't tell. "No."

"Mmm." She tilted her head. "I thought a warrior prince would be more interesting."

He pressed his lips together, definitely trying not to snort. "Are you implying that you wanted your betrothed to run off with you?"

Just like that, reality slammed into her. "Right. Betrothed."

The prince--gods, no, this was not the time to start thinking about his admittedly rather attractive appearance--loosed a soft, short sigh. "Does it feel like a business contract to you, too?"

For some reason she couldn't name, she decided to be honest. "I'm a princess, Prince. My marriage was always going to be little more than a business contract."

"Call me Rowan," he responded, and Aelin nearly laughed.

"Rowan, then," she offered, rolling his name on her tongue. "All right, but only if you call me Aelin."

"Aelin." He pronounced her name with such care, the syllables flowing with the dips of his accent. "I...I can't honestly say I expected the betrothal process to go like this."

"But here we are," she mumbled.

"Here we are," he agreed. "And--"

And then Enda, Aedion, and the rest of the contingent appeared, and whatever conversation might have been beginning was abruptly cut short.

~

The actual marriage ceremony itself was short and simple and something of a blur. Aelin didn't quite remember repeating the priestess's words, didn't quite remember the sash tied around her and Rowan's hands, binding the two together. She didn't quite remember the following feast, barely even tasted the rich array of foods laid out before her. She twisted the plain gold band around her left ring finger, wondering how something so small and simple could possibly represent something so wholly life-altering.

As the sun began to descend, Philippa and a Whitethorn woman came to Aelin's sides and led her away from the feast to a private tent, where they helped her out of her ornate wedding gown and into a sheer, flowing nightgown. They loosed her hair from its complicated braids, allowing the golden waves to spill down her back unfettered, and took all her jewelry except her wedding band and the delicate golden necklace she always wore.

They led her out to a waiting horse and cart and handed her into the seat, murmuring quiet goodbyes and good wishes and reminders that she could just close her eyes and let her mind roam. Then the driver nudged the horse into motion, and Aelin was taken away.

She was dropped off near a rock outcropping with an absolutely stunning view of the Great Ocean. It was to that view that she turned, sighing faintly at the caress of the sun's fading warmth, letting her eyes drift over the blaze of colors painting the sunset sky. She closed her eyes and felt the evening breeze kiss her skin and lift her hair, rooting herself in the peace of that moment.

Once again, footsteps behind her broke into her peace. This time, though, the footsteps were her husband's.

Rowan stopped a pace or two away from her, his jaw slightly agape as he drank in the sight of her. In the fading sunlight, the long silvery strands of his braid glinted golden, a few stray ones loose and waving in the breeze, framing the sharp angular planes of his face. "Aelin," he whispered, her name a caress.

She turned to face him, showing down the fear that welled up within her. Not fast enough, though, because the flicker that crossed his face told her he'd seen it.

"I won't."

She blinked. "What?"

He raised his hands, palms up. "Unless and until you tell me to, I won't touch you, Aelin."

A surge of deep gratitude swept over her. "Thank you, Rowan," she whispered, suddenly finding the man attractive in more ways than just his appearance.

A tiny smile flicked across his face. "I have a gift for you."

She raised a brow. "Oh?"

He nodded. "Come here." He held out a hand. Aelin slipped her hand into his, something sparking in her blood at the feel of his large, warm, calloused hand wrapped around hers. He led her down the ledge to where his horse and another mare were hobbled, led her up to the mare's side. "Her name is Kasida."

"Rowan," Aelin breathed, incredulous. "An Asterion?"

Her husband's lips quirked upwards. "The Whitethorn clan has something of a fondness for rare breeds of horses; there are several Asterion mares and a few stallions in our stables." He tugged the end of his braid, a little nervously. "I...thought Kasida would be a proper gift for my wife. For the Ashryver and Galathynius heiress."

Aelin's heart fluttered at his thoughtfulness, his sincerity. Almost before she registered it, she rose up onto her toes and pecked a kiss against Rowan's cheek. "She's beautiful."

Rowan's tiny smile grew, curling his lips further upwards. "Here," he murmured. "Let me help you up." Cupping his hands, he boosted Aelin into the saddle, then smoothly mounted his stallion. "Ready?"

Once she'd adjusted herself in the saddle, Aelin nodded. "I am."

And together, the Prince of Doranelle and the heir to the Ashryver-Galathynius dynasty galloped off into the night.

~~~

A/N: most of this scene and concept comes from the first season of Game of Thrones, with some alterations for the TOG characters and world.

~

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

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

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

@llyncooljones

#my writing #throne of glass #tog au #got au #because...brain be like that #also you canNOT convince me the ashryvers aren't the targaryens #it's just the truth #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #aedion ashryver

[mariaofdoranelle]

The Circus

Rowaelin Month 2022 — Day 4: Royalty/Modern Royalty AU

I made this so anyone is able to read it, but it’s inside the Royal Rebels universe! Before they had a Fae queen to kill lol I loved writing this so much

Warnings: language, NSFW, chipped tooth

Word count: 2,9k

|/\| |/\| ｡･ﾟ･(ﾉД`)ヽ(￣ω￣ ) |/\| |/\|

“Aedion, you know I hate the circus.”

“Still, you go there every year.”

“Because you make me.”

“Should I start counting how many times a year you make me go to the Royal Theatre?”

“That’s not the same!”

Aedion only sighed and didn’t say a thing. He didn’t need to, they both knew he accompanied Aelin in all of her public appearances, worrying about her safety ever since they were children.

The reason she was avoiding the circus this year had a name, a warrior’s body and a royal household: Rowan Whitethorn. Her cousin Galan decided to bring him and Fenrys to Orynth, and Aelin was the only person smart enough to doubt his intentions. Queen Maeve’s nephew was in her kingdom, plotting something in her castle halls and distracting Aelin with his teeth and tongue. She didn’t know about his political goals, the only intention of his she was sure of was the one Rowan showed in the bedroom, and Aelin had no idea how to feel about that.

After hearing Aedion’s plans, she got ready and left before he came back to retrieve her and meet everyone at the southwestern gates. During their walk, Aelin would have to either make small talk with Rowan or hear Aedion inquire him about war stories. Their destination was too far to stand this.

The circus was in an area which one could clearly see the Staghorn Mountains behind the afternoon skies, and Aelin was always mesmerized by Terrasen’s sights. There were a lot of announcements and chatter going on, so her Fae sense of smell led her to the food. After buying a snack, she just wandered around without entering any attractions.

Aelin didn’t know what got into her, but she decided to enter the small line to see the fortune-teller. The inside was a bit dark and had lots of candles and crystals, but the woman sat behind the table rooted Aelin to the spot.

“Elide, what the hell are you doing here?”

Her friend shrugged. “I came into this tent and there was no one here. Then a guy came right after and asked if I could read his fortune.”

“And you said you could,” she presumed, clearly amused.

“Yeah, why not? The poor guy was a wreck, he could use some encouragement.”

Aelin cackled. “Come on, then. Tell me my fate, fortune-teller.”

Elide did a show of closing her eyes and breathing deep, just before gripping a crystal ball and shuddering like she was receiving divine intervention. Then she exhaled and slowly opened her eyes, looking directly into Aelin’s eyes.

“You have a complex, flourishing love life.”

That was one way to make Aelin’s heart race. Jerking on her seat, she blurted, “How in hell do you know that?”

Trying to hide a smile, Elide bit her lip. “Fenrys told Ren who told me.” She giggled. “I miss you at breakfast, by the way.”

Relaxing but still a bit apprehensive, Aelin asked, “Do you think I’m making a bad move?”

“You’re asking me if he’ll kill you in your sleep?”

“Oh, come on!”

“He could be on a quest to kill you, but I really don’t think that’s the case.” Aelin frowned, making Elide continue. “I’m serious! It’s not his fault he has a creepy old aunt. Besides, the Ashryvers like him.”

Aelin pouted. “I’m paying you to read my fortune, not to defend a Whitethorn.”

Laughing, Elide objected, “You aren’t even paying me!”

Trying and failing to suppress a grin, Aelin slammed a few copper coins into the table. “Fortune. Now.”

Elide tilted her head up and cackled. Then she recomposed herself in a serious tone and revealed, “You’re getting laid tonight.”

“Fuck you!”

“No, dear, that’s your fate.”

Aelin was torn between laughing and gaping at her friend’s bluntness, but she shook her head in mock-disapproval. “Kids these days have no respect for the royal family.”

“You better lick my boots, Galathynius. I’ll have a chair in your council in no time,” Elide snarked.

Snorting at the ridicule threat, Aelin jerked her head towards the exit. “Come on, before the real fortune-teller shows up.”

The two of them just roamed through the circus, making each other taste different snacks and gossiping—mostly about a love triangle between a guard, a cook and a horse groomer. One of the perks of living in a castle with hundreds of people was that things never got boring. The downside of it: you could quickly become the talk of the castle. Just like Aelin was last week, when she burned Rowan’s door out of anger. Oops.

The people strolling outside became progressively scarce, all of them heading towards the sword-thrower. It wasn’t their favorite attraction, but Aelin and Elide decided to check what was that commotion about.

They entered the tent to find nothing more than a shirtless Fenrys Moonbeam making a spectacle out of his apparent task of throwing swords. First Elide, now Fenrys. What was up with her friends wanting to work at the circus?

Apart from the knife-thrower’s poor assistant, there was also small band with string instruments. The task was clear: get a blade and throw it around the girl. However, Fenrys mas making a spectacle out of it. He danced while spinning, flipping and twirling the knives through the air, and Aelin didn’t know if people were more focused on his skills or on his bare upper body. Even the assistant he was pretending to aim at was swooning. Fenrys was sharing the stage with the actual sword-thrower, but Aelin didn’t think anyone noticed. He was the real show-stopper.

Besides, Fenrys had to put some oil in there, there was no way his abs were so shiny. By this sight, Aelin began to wonder what the hell happened at Rowan’s army base for the two them to be so ripped. Aelin’s lips parted as she pictured it. Was it the hundreds of years of intense training? For Mala’s sake, were all of his soldiers like this?

A calloused hand gripped her hip, snapping Aelin out of her thoughts, and when she closed her eyes, the only thing she could feel was its weight and a scent of pine and snow.

“I can smell your thoughts from here, and I don’t like them,” a raspy voice breathed in her ear.

Rowan’s canines ran against Aelin’s neck, but without piercing it. Not quite claiming, but still made her shiver.

Turning her face to meet Rowan’s, she found his darkened eyes firm into hers.

“Can’t I appreciate the sight?” she provoked right before turning her gaze back to the stage.

“Don’t tease me,” he said while running a possessive hand against Aelin’s body.

Her breath hitched, and she leaned against him, grinding her bottom against his building arousal. If he wanted to play with fire, she was fine with it. And Aelin expected no mercy from him after she bit back.

Grabbing her chin and yanking her face towards his, Rowan commanded, “Outside. Now.”

The snark comment was on the tip of her tongue, but Aelin knew it’d just prove his point further if she picked on his less than charming manners when it actually turned her on. Just to have the last word and tease him further, she pressed harder against Rowan and licked her lips, inviting him to follow her with her best attempt at bedroom eyes. If someone noticed what they were doing, she didn’t care by now. Light-headed, Aelin didn’t even ponder on how she was aching to replay what they did together that same day, just a bit before dawn.

It wasn’t hard to find a safe space, since the whole circus stopped to watch Fenrys. As soon as they were secluded enough, Rowan trapped her against a wagon and kissed her.

His hands were everywhere — her face, breasts, waist — and it still wasn’t enough. Aelin was filled with ecstasy, but it was never enough when it came to Rowan.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered. And then brushed his thumb against her nipple through her clothes, whispering on her ear, “Milady.”

Aelin’s whole body shivered, and she quickly obeyed. Calling her that was a low blow, and Rowan knew how to use it. She unfastened her pants just enough for him to sneak his hand in, and kissed him again.

“Eager much, Princess?”

“Shut up.”

Slipping his hand inside her clothes, Rowan darted two fingers between her folds and squeezed her clit between two fingers, his grip precise enough to make her cry out with pleasure.

With one hand slightly choking her neck, he commanded, “I want no sass while I’m having my way with you, do you hear me?”

Aelin nodded, hoping he didn’t notice the new flush of warmth spreading below her waist.

Keeping eye contact, Rowan slipped two fingers inside her at once, making her muffle a moan on his shoulder. He maintained a rhythmic pace, applying extra pressure on that spot that made her see stars. Aelin’s heart was pounding, and she felt intoxicated by his touch.

She pulled his hair, kissing and biting his neck without piercing it. Ever so responsive, he growled and added a thumb to his ministrations, pressing her nub. Aelin was writhing, her legs too shaky, and she held Rowan tighter to support herself.

“Do you like being fingered at a dirty circus, Milady?”

“I hate you so much,” she said between moans.

“I thought you agreed to be a nice little slut today, Princess.”

But Aelin didn’t answer this time. The growing burning sensation she was feeling peaked, and she tried to not be too loud as her walls spasmed around Rowan’s fingers.

Panting, she was staring at Rowan expectantly, but he sucked his fingers to swallow her juices and did nothing more.

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

“No.”

Aelin’s jaw went slack, incredulous. “What do you mean, no?”

He made a show of looking around. “You really think I’m gonna fuck you in here like a stray dog?”

Aelin gaped at the stuck-up bastard. She didn’t even know why she bothered with him. Walking slowly because her underwear was too wet, they made it back to the sword-throwing area, but the show had already ended.

As soon as they found the guys, Aedion smelled the air and looked so disturbed it was amusing. “Seriously, Ace? Now?” he whisper-yelled.

Aelin sent him a cocky smirk, making her cousin look at the setting skies, mutter something and leave to seek Galan and Fenrys.

It turns out they were close to the most crowded food vendor: the one selling beer. Deciding to indulge a little, Aelin gulped down a cup of this thing that tasted like... nothing. It was very watery, with no flavor whatsoever. That beer was very different from what she used to taste at the castle, but it would do.

In no time, Fenrys reappeared with something she couldn’t identify, and almost shoveled it in her face. The smell she scented made Aelin’s eyes go wide. “How did you find this?”

He brought Fae beer. It was so strong only a few places were allowed to sell it in Orynth.

“Just ask the vendor for Temis’s blessing. Tip from the hot magician’s assistant,” Fenrys replied with what Aelin was starting to recognize as his trademark smirk.

She shook her head in reproach and amusement at the same time. Temis, the Goddess of Wild Things, is probably insulted by now. “This is illegal, you know?”

“Oh, no!” Fenrys gasped and placed a hand on his chest, pretending to be horrified. “Someone should tell the Royal Family.”

Aelin cackled and gulped her Fae beer down.

Managing to find a table after a while, Galan asked for them to update him on the castle gossip of the moment. Elide’s narration was so good it held everyone’s attention, even if most of them knew the story already.

“So after she and the guard finally got together, she found out she’s pregnant of the cook and—“

“She’s lying,” a deep voice interrupted Elide’s explanation.

All heads turned to Rowan. The place was packed and loud with drunk conversation in the background, but the table stopped to stare and wait for him to explain.

“Her pregnant scent has Fae tones. It’d make more sense if the guard was the father, since he’s the only one with noticeable Fae blood among the three,” Rowan said like it was an obvious conclusion.

Dear Mala. Rowan Whitethorn was a gossip. Aelin did a mental note to think about this later.

Everyone in the table froze, too stunned to comment this new twist, until Aedion shook his head and exclaimed, “That bitch!”

“Hey!” Elide shouted before coming into the woman’s defense. The table erupted, every one having a different opinion about this gossip that would change absolutely nothing about their lives.

Her cousin Galan, always the quiet one, just offered a candy apple he’d just bought, which she gladly took. Aelin generally got involved in those kind of arguments, but watching Elide lose her shit in a shouting match with Aedion was too good and rare to interfere.

It was an apple with a hard, sugary cover that tasted absolutely delicious. She bit it without giving much thought, focused on the argument in front of her, but there was a small part of the candy apple that wouldn’t dissolve. Aelin spit it in her mouth and frowned at what she saw. It didn’t look like part of the apple at all.

“Aelin.” Galan called her attention, his shoulders shaking with a repressed laugh. “Your front teeth.” He put a hand covering his mouth, trying to look serious.

Running her tongue against her front teeth, Aelin noticed something.

A gap.

Holy rutting Mala.

Her front tooth was chipped.

Aelin gaped, trying to make sense of it, until she noticed Fenrys’s attention was on her. When their eyes met and he looked at her shocked face, he started guffawing so loud some people started staring at him.

Aedion stopped mid-argument to see what was going on and his eyes widened. She instantly closed her mouth, but it was too late. He started laughing along. “Oh fuck,” her cousin said while wheezing, “Your parents are going to kill me.”

“Fuck you!” she shouted. Aelin hated when people acted like Aedion was “in charge” of her.

Always observant, Rowan just got up and beelined to her.

“Give me the tooth.”

“What the fuck are you going to do with it?” Was this part of Maeve’s plan? Stealing teeth?

Running a distressed hand through his hair, he fumed, “I have soldiers. This won’t be first one I fix. Now give me. The fucking. Tooth.”

Rowan looked disgusted by how sticky the piece of tooth was from all the candy Aelin had, but took it anyway.

“Okay, now clean it.”

“With the beer?” How in hell was she supposed to do it?

Sighing, he had the tooth in one hand and used the other to pinch the bridge of his nose. “With your water magic.”

Oh god, he had no idea, had he? Aelin furrowed her eyebrows, pushing herself to her limits, and sent all of her water magic towards his hand.

And watched a single drop of water fall above the tooth, doing nothing to clean it.

“Can you at least cooperate?” he scolded.

Aelin recoiled on her seat, blinking at the bastard’s audacity. “That’s all I can do,” she hissed, “But if you want me to burn it to a crisp, count me in.”

Frowning, he murmured to himself, “People weren’t kidding when they said it went all to the fire.” He blinked. “Wait a minute.”

One of the drunk patrons that noticed what happened overheard Rowan asking the vendor for some water, and decided to help by screaming, “BOWL OF WATER FOR THE TOOTHLESS LADY!”

Rowan didn’t take long to clean that small piece of tooth and arrange their seats so he could properly stick his hands inside her mouth in the least sexy way imaginable. When Aelin placed a few spots of fire around them to help, he scoffed. She knew his Fae vision was more than enough, but it was dark and the stakes were too high for her to risk anything. Aelin couldn’t afford to become the Toothless Queen.

While Rowan’s magic glued Aelin’s teeth back together, the patrons watched it expectantly, like it was one of the circus’s attractions.

“You go, silver dude!”

“Do you think he’ll make it?”

“I hope he does. Marrying is hard for the toothless.”

“I thought he was her husband.”

“He could be my husband.”

They were either too drunk to notice her features or too focused on her chipped tooth, but thankfully no one seemed to notice the fire magic or Ashryver eyes that distinguished her as Princess Aelin Galathynius. At least one small mercy.

After a few minutes, Rowan’s hand retreated, and the gap wasn’t there anymore.

Rowan Whitethorn had just fixed her tooth, in a circus, with a crowd watching them, and he actually did a good job.

Fenrys stood on a chair and announced, “THE TOOTH LIVES!”

The whole place erupted, cheering and asking for another round of beer as they celebrated... whatever they were celebrating.

A few people started to shook Aelin’s hand and ask her to smile at them and show the tooth, so she directed herself away from the vendors, finding Rowan on her way.

“For what it’s worth, you don’t look that bad toothless.”

The remembrance of her own public humiliation made Aelin groan. “That’s the least sexy thing you’ve ever done to me.”

Rowan smirked. “You won’t be repeating that later tonight.”

general + royal rebels tag list:

@morganofthewildfire

@elentiyawhitethorn

@leiawritesstories

@throneofus7

@a-man-with-both-hearts-broken

@swankii-art-teacher

@rowanaelinn

@thegreyj

@autumnbabylon

#rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #throne of glass #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin x rowan #royal rebels

[lovingmyselfcore]

i can go anywhere i want just not home

A fic based on My Tears Ricochet!! Highly recommend listening to the song while reading. Very angsty, it's if something happened and Aelin was forced out of Terrasen and had to fake her death. So yeah. I'm working on my Illicit Affairs one so that should be soon? No promises

**Not beta-read or anything we die like men here and I think I'm allergic to editing after 8pm so I can't be blamed if it's really bad

“Do it,” She spat, staring up at him - at all of them. Rowan was the only one who met her eyes, he didn’t flinch away from her, he never flinched away from her. Until recently, at least. There was a sort of comfort in knowing that she was horrible enough that Rowan Whitethorn had finally flinched.

She felt that achingly familiar lick of flame, starting at the base of her spine slowly curling up, lighting the hollows in her spine and bones, in her soul.

Something must be smoldering in her eyes because Rowan shifted, almost imperceptibly. Only being his mate and carranam did she recognize it for what it was. He’d shifted enough to have placed himself between them. Between her, Chaol, and Dorian.

With a bitter laugh, she spat again, “It’s come to this? You’re protecting them from me!” Her voice got shrill.

“Fireheart,” Rowan started but she cut him off.

“No. No. Don’t. You. Dare. Call me that.” It took all her years of training in hiding herself, of becoming other people, that allowed her to keep her voice steady.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to curl up in her massive bed, half sprawled against the comforting warmth of her husband, with Fleetfoot resting in her lap and a good book in one hand, the delicious chocolate hazelnut cake an elderly woman in town had learned to make just for her in the other. She wanted to go home.

But home was a long way from here.

Dorian shoved forward, elbowing past Rowan, ignoring Chaol’s muttered warning, and stopped once he and Aelin were nose-to-nose.

“We didn’t want to do this.”

She just hummed, not backing away from him.

Those flames still curled, ready for her to wield.

“This is better than the alternative,” Chaol spoke up and she and Dorian both moved to look at him.

She arched a brow and schooled her face into that indifferent arrogance she knew made nearly everyone see red. “The alternative? What was the alternative to forcing me to flee my kingdom I have fought so hard to keep and fake my own death with only,” She jabbed a finger at each of them, “You three knowing the details of what happened.”

“The alternative was taking away the fake part,” Dorian said, cold water to match her own burning flame.

She started, and against her better judgment, looked at Rowan. “You were going to,” She swallowed and tried very hard to ignore the agony in his gorgeous eyes. “Kill me?”

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think anybody voted for that.” Dorian offered.

“Voted?” Her voice went shrill again and she saw Rowan twitch. “You all voted on what to do with me?”

“You couldn’t stay in Terrasen anymore, not after what you did, so yes. We voted.”

“And you three are the lucky bastards who have to force me out.”

“Force is only needed if you decide to fight us, Aelin,” Chaol said.

She ignored how pointed the words were, how they angered those festering embers.

“So Lorcan didn’t volunteer? I was sure he’d be the first to want to force me out of my own home and fake my death.”

“Nobody volunteered, Aelin. Nobody wanted this to be the way it went.”

“Hmm, well it seems someone did. Since we’re here, and all.” Her voice dropped low and she was suddenly talking only to Rowan. “Was what I did so unforgivable that you don’t love me anymore?”

He couldn’t look at her, this man, who used to look at her like the stars were born in her eyes, now couldn’t look her in the face. “I’ll always love you, Fi-” He cleared his throat, “Aelin. Don’t ever think I stopped but-” He looked like words had become too hard and merely stared at whatever his eyes were fixed on, somewhere behind her left ear.

Chaol and Dorian were both looking anywhere but at the two of them.

Looking at him in the dying sunlight filtering through the web of branches formed from ancient oak trees, the way his eyes glittered, the hard lines of him all highlighted, and his hair ruffled from the autumn wind, her resolve broke. She took a step, then another, then she was running. He caught her, swept her up, and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

It was oddly reminiscent of a time long ago, in Adarlan. That, however, was a reunion. This was a goodbye.

Tears streaked down her face and he held her closer; as if trying to further commit all of her to memory. “I’m sorry, Rowan.” She whispered.

“I know. I am too.”

She pulled away first. He wiped her tears away with painstaking gentleness and kissed her forehead, “This may not be the end.” From his tone and the way he was looking at her, he believed it as much as she did. Which is to say, this is the end. “Promise me you’ll stay alive.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Take care of Terrasen for me. They need you.”

He nodded, his hands still resting on her face, making no move to leave. “Where will you go?”

She shrugged helplessly, “Maybe I’ll bring Lillian back. I don’t know. I’ll just stay in the shadows for a few centuries, try and build a life where nobody knows me, nobody knows Terrasen.”

He nodded again and slowly dragged his hands from her face. She was the one that was ‘dying’ but he looked ready to keel over himself. He took a few unsteady steps backward and stooped to pick up a backpack they’d brought. He tossed it to her and she caught it easily, slinging it along her back.

She turned and looked at Dorian and Chaol, biting her lip. She wanted them to hurt, she wanted them to feel the betrayal she felt. Not a sting, no, she felt like she’d been stabbed. And as someone who had been stabbed many times before, she felt confident in her analogy. But they were her friends, once.

Make them hurt a voice whispered deep from inside her. She clenched her fists and felt the flames bubbling up.

Aelin. Rowan. In her head.

She breathed in deeply and nodded to them once, they nodded back. She acknowledged the pain in their eyes with not a small amount of satisfaction.

She took off sprinting into the forest and didn’t look back.

~~~~~~

They were walking back to Terrasen, they’d let Aelin off at the border.

“Rowan,” Dorian laid a hand on his arm, “Are you-”

He shrugged the young king off and shifted, taking to the skies, as far from them, from anyone, as he could get.

“We made the right decision, right?” Dorian’s voice was so strained it cut at Chaol’s heart.

“Yeah, yes. This was the right choice. The only choice.”

He nodded, but Chaol could tell the doubts lingered. As long as Aelin was out there, on her own, free but never allowed to return home, the doubts would always linger.

~~~~~~

Her knees buckled not far from where she’d taken off running from the three of them. She flew forward, throwing her hands out and scraping her palms along the rocks as slid to a stop. She tried to breathe, ragged, shaking breaths, as she tried to calm her mind. The world blacked-out around the edges and a whimper fell from her mouth. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t fucking do this.

A weak scream ripped from her throat and she dug her hands harder into the rocks, they sliced her palms open, warm blood trickling into the grass.

She tried to wrangle the fire, she tried to use the tactics Rowan had taught her what felt like lifetimes ago, but just like it had which led to her being here, she couldn’t control it.

It didn’t explode like she thought it would, it bubbled. Like lava in a volcano, it bubbled out of her, hot smoldering fire, trickling down her face like tears, tracing lines along her body like blood. It covered the grass around her and spread, her cry was futile. It burnt straight through some of the ancient oak trees, bringing them down and melting them entirely into the earth.

Despite the chaos around her, despite that first anguished cry, she knelt in the dirt. Wind ripped her hair away from her face as she burned the world around her, nobody could say Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius went out gracefully.

~~~~~~

Despite the initial burning at the border, no sign of Aelin had surfaced. He had to give her credit, the woman knew how to disappear. The thought sent an ache through him, intensifying what was already there.

He’d been like some kind of ghoul, Lorcan and Fenrys traded shifts watching over him, making sure he bathed and ate. Someone always sat at his bedside with him, waking him when the nightmares took him. Nightmares that Aelin was still held captive by Maeve. When they resurfaced, the first night his hand had shot out, seeking a warm body that wasn’t there. He’d flown into a fit of panic until someone had brought someone in. One of the women, Elide, maybe? They had calmed him enough to tell him Aelin wasn’t with Maeve. They weren’t in the war anymore. He remembered where Aelin was. That he didn’t know where Aelin was, only that he had sent her away. In some ways, that hurt worse.

Most of them had moved into the castle and would stay until most of Terrasen, until Rowan, settled enough to be left. Most of them were Lords and Ladies, however, so they alternated. One week Elide would stay at the castle, the next week Lorcan would. The same went for Aedion and Lysandra. He knew it hurt them, being separated like that, but they never once complained. Rowan hadn’t entirely been paying attention when they had decided how Aelin’s ‘death’ had happened, but they’d fabricated a story and spread it. Today was her funeral, nearly a month after she had left - since they’d made her leave - and Terrasen’s people had been in mourning ever since. They would be for a long while, but not nearly as long as Rowan would be.

He wasn’t sure what woke up, it wasn’t even dawn, but his eyes fluttered open. He oriented himself with what - who - surrounded him. Fleetfoot, that damned dog, was at his feet. She hadn’t taken Aelin’s spot, as if hoping she would be back. There was another animal asleep near the foot of the bed, on the floor, Lysandra or Fenrys, and he watched their chest slowly rise and fall and matched his own to it. His heart had been racing. Maybe that’s what woke him, an unseen nightmare.

He crept past the sleeping figure, probably Lysandra then, not as attuned to his every move like he knew Fenrys was.

He slipped out onto the balcony and was struck with the memory of the time Aelin had woken him and he had found her staring with tear-filled eyes at the Kingsflame blooming across those rolling hills.

He surveyed those same hills, the sleeping town below, and leaned forward, bracing his hands on the railing until he was close to tumbling off the edge and stayed there in silence for a long while before speaking. “Damn it Aelin!” He was nearly sobbing, he had no idea when the tears had started. “Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t you fight harder? Gods,” He broke off and slumped down, unable to speak thanks to the sobs wracking through him. “Please stay,” He nearly whimpered. “I know it’s too late but please, Fireheart, I need you. I need you.”

He fell asleep there, on the balcony, soothed by the beat of his heart. A beat that sounded suspiciously like an echo of Aelin’s fingers dancing along the pianoforte, drawing out a sound she commanded while quietly singing a lullaby she had told him her mother sang to her when she couldn’t sleep.

His eyes closed and he could’ve sworn her voice carried on the wind, that lullaby, followed by a nearly inaudible, “I love you, Rowan. I love you.”

~~~~~~

Half the time she slept in the forest like some kind of wild animal, the other half of the time she disguised herself and found some disgusting tavern to sleep in. She had no idea where she was anymore, she was just wandering aimlessly. She was currently sitting on the roof of one of said taverns. It reminded her painfully of her days as an assassin. She stared up at the stars, unblinking, the night wind was cold and stung her face but she was past caring. Up here, she took off the glamour, becoming Aelin again.

“Do you miss me, buzzard?” She asked the stars. “I hope you miss me as much as I miss you.” She shook her head and laughed angrily. “You became everything you didn’t want to, didn’t you? You bastard.” Her voice was getting louder with each word. “To whatever end? Right.” Angry tears streaked her face for what was definitely not the first time. “I’ve listened around enough that I learned my funeral is tomorrow.” She didn’t even know what she was doing anymore, besides pacing on a roof and shrieking at the sky. “Maybe I’ll stop in, I’ve always wanted to see my own funeral.” She jabbed an angry finger at a star she had deemed was Rowan’s stand-in. “I hope you make it worthy of me, you bastard. Gods, I hope you know me enough to make it as me as you can.” She blew a kiss at that star and something in her cracked, “I love you, Rowan Whitethorn. I shouldn’t, not anymore, but I do.”

She pulled her glamor back on and jumped down from the roof, landing on her feet with practiced ease. “Let’s see if I can make my own funeral, hmm?”

~~~~~~

It was as outrageous as Aelin would have wanted. Everyone was miserable, even those within the inner circle who knew what had really happened. Most everyone was here, except for all the royals within Erilea, and every other land Aelin had touched.

Music flourished from every corner, musicians from all over had come to play pieces for her, in honor of her. It was like some kind of twisted wedding, the way everyone turned when the royals entered. The leaders that Aelin had not known as personally entered first, stopping individually to give impersonal speeches about her. Then Galan entered. He knelt before the basically-shrine honoring her. “You were one of the greatest Queens this world has ever seen, cousin.” He cleared his throat, “You were so much more than all your titles give you credit for, and that’s saying a lot. You were so full of life and energy and,” A broken laugh. “Fire. You burned bright, Aelin. And now that you’re ash, we’re ash too.” He cleared his throat again and stayed kneeling next to the other leaders, murmuring words meant only for him and his cousin.

Manon entered next, she knew the truth but despite that, her eyes were rimmed an angry red. She stood next to Galan, “Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius.” She went silent for a moment before sinking to her knees. Everyone gasped. Family knelt, but other than that no leader, especially not a witch, knelt. “You-” She broke off and bowed her head, curling her hands into fists at her side.

When it was clear Manon wasn’t going to finish, Dorian entered. He knelt beside Manon (cue another gasp) his mouth moved, but it was only for him and Aelin. The goodbye he hadn’t had the chance to say in that forest.

Nesryn and Sartaq strode in, Sartaq didn’t speak, but Nesryn did. Her voice carried, unwavering. “No King or Queen is perfect, but Aelin was pretty damn close. She and I were never the closest but,” She hesitated and Sartaq reached for her hand, “She believed in me. She never looked down on me because I was human, and wasn’t in any huge position of power, and that faith in me never changed even when I became,” She gestured at her and Sartaq, at her dress, “Aelin mattered in a way that not many people have ever mattered. She will be remembered, for her fire and power, for what she’s done, but also how she has a soft spot for dogs and chocolate,” A few wet laughs, “How she loves music and theater, how kind she is to everyone.” The crowd nodded their agreement, there wasn’t a soul that wasn’t crying. “You did it. You made your mark.” She bowed her head and it was clear she was done.

Rowan was last, Goldryn in his hands. He laid in with pain-staking gentleness at her shrine. He stepped back and opened his mouth as if about to speak. His fingers fiddled with the ring on one finger. The ring Aelin had given him that he hadn’t taken off. That he would never take off. “Damn you,” He said finally. “Damn you, Aelin.” He bowed his head to hide from the crowd and someone moved, Elide. She came up to him, murmured a few quiet words, and led him to kneel next to Sartaq. She waited a few moments before returning to her spot.

The music rose as everyone knelt, heads bowed, before their dead Queen. It was ghostly, the way they knelt in total silence, besides their tears. Aelin was going to haunt everyone, for a very, very long time.

If anyone had been looking, they would have seen a female figure in the trees, slipping away as quietly and quickly as she could, tears flowing freely at the love everyone held for her.

“Goodbye,” She whispered. Well, looks like she could make a graceful disappearance after all.

#throne of glass #tog fic #rowaelin #dorian havilliard #elide lochan #lysandra #fenrys #aelin's court #aelin galythinius #chaol westfall #lorcan salvaterre #folklore #my tears ricochet #folklore fics #sjm fic #sjm fanfic #manon blackbeak #aedion ashryver #galan ashryver #nesryn faliq #sartaq #acosf spoilers

[house-of-galathynius]

Maeve said that Mab's line ran true, meaning the Ashryver line. Does that mean that the other Ashryvers like Galan would settle as well or not. And are Aedion and Aelin Prince and Princess of Wendlyn or are they not given that title.

Galan is Demi-Fae like Aelin, so there’s a chance he may settle, but there is also a chance that he won’t. It is never confirmed how old he is, so I don’t think we will ever know for sure whether he is immortal or not! 

As far as I know, Aelin and Aedion are not prince and princess of Wendlyn, and that might be to do with the fact that Aelin’s mother married into the Galathynius family and may have had to give up her title to marry Rhoe and by extension any children she had would not have the title either? Again, that isn’t confirmed. Alternatively, Evalin may have willingly given up her title when she married Rhoe - thus any children would probably not have it either. (I’m not an expert on this, and I guess each royal family will have their own rules on things like this).

In regards to Aedion, I think he probably has more right to the title of Prince of Wendlyn as his mother never married and still had the surname Ashryver when she had Aedion. I can’t remember, but I don’t think that there is a mention of him being prince of Wendlyn, but he does hold the title “prince” but I don’t think it is specified where? Galan is the crown prince of Wendlyn, so even if Aedion/Aelin did have titles there, it wouldn’t make much difference as they aren’t necessarily entitled to the throne! 

Sorry that got a bit long, but hope that clears it up a little! And if anyone has anything to add or can correct me then please do! :) 

#throne of glass #aelin ashryver #aedion ashryver #galan ashryver #evalin ashryver #rhoe galathynius

[oohnoniall]

Here’s the schedule if anyone cares

Updates every Saturday

1st of the month) Lantsov Emerald

2nd) Queen of Serpents

3rd) A Court of Fire & Ice

4th) Hawk & Sparrow (new Rowan Whitethorn fic!)

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #tamlin #acotar fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass #galan ashryver #rowan whitethorn #grishaverse #kaz brekker

[acourtofcouture]

An Insider’s Guide to Throne of Glass: the Shores of Wendlyn, 1/?

#throne of glass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #tower of dawn #kingdom of ash #the assassin's blade #the shores of wendlyn #an insider's guide to throne of glass #wendlyn #the kingdom of wendlyn #the great ocean #great ocean #house ashryver #king glaston ashryver #glaston ashryver #ashryver #galan ashryver #prince galan ashryver #prince galan #galan #varese #capital of wendlyn #the naval port #the royal family of wendlyn #the cambrian mountains #cambrian mountains #doranelle #the immortal lands