#happy birthday aelin

[caprifiles]

she was the heir of fire. she was fire, and light, and ash, and embers. she was aelin fireheart, and she bowed for no one and nothing, save the crown that was hers by blood and survival and triumph.

#throne of glass #tog #aelin ashryver galathynius #happy birthday aelin #mine #litedit

[charityreadsabookanddrinkswine]

Could really go for some chocolate cake right about now

#happy birthday aelin #where’s some chocolate cake when you need it #dammit #sjm #sjm trash #tog #koa #com #hof #Qos #eos #tod #aelin fireheart #aelin ashryver galathynius

[leiawritesstories]

1778 (My Soldier Boy)

Rowaelin Month, Day 28: Wartime Sweethearts AU

A/N: this might just be the most American thing i've ever written lmaooooo 😂😂 so here's the context: the fic is set during the American Revolutionary War, which took place from 1776-1781. Rowan is a soldier in the Continental Army (the American side) and Aelin is the only daughter of a Loyalist (sympathetic to the British) family. and they're star-crossed lovers, yay!! posting this partially as a lil birthday treat to myself but mostly for you, hope you enjoy :))

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: archaic language (i'm a nerd lol), mentions of war, old outdated traditions, mentions of battle, brief mild angst, flirting

enjoy!!!

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

16th July 1778

Heart of my heart,

I write this in secret, barely able to make out my letters by the faint light of this single candle. I apologize for the sloppiness of my script; my governess would have a fit if she were to see this chicken scratch. Of course, I would then retort that she ought to have taught me to read and write in near darkness, as that is the more useful skill these days. 

A few words, my love–we are leaving in three days.Yes, leaving! Mother has only said that it was what she and Father thought best, given the current…unrest. I am perfectly capable of reading the unspoken words. We are leaving because they fear what our neighbors might do while we sleep. We are leaving because the English are so hated here. We are leaving because nobody has seen or heard from my brother in months. Nobody save me, that is. I know where Aedion went, and I know what he is doing. 

If you love me, Rowan, please send word that my brother is safe, that he is well clothed and has some form of roof over his head. Please. It will calm my nightly worries at least a small bit. 

I do not know where we will go, only that we cannot make a scene of our leaving. We must pretend that we are only going into town like we typically do, except that our cart will be full of our belongings, rather than grain and butter to trade. I suspect we shall attempt to head east, towards the port at Baltimore, and from there we shall attempt to book passage on a ship. Father seems convinced that returning to England is the best course of action. 

I do not want to leave. 

They do not know that, nor do they care. It breaks my heart to admit it, but they do not. They expect me to keep quiet and obey. I have heard them discussing the possibilities of our lives once we return to Mother’s family estate in England–marriage. My marriage. To some titled landowner’s spoilt son, who gives not a whit what I want or who I am as long as I can give birth. I refuse to subject myself to such a fate. 

Rowan, my love, I write this both as news and as a warning. I will not silently accompany my parents in their hasty retreat. I cannot abandon my brother in the middle of a war, nor can I leave you, the other half of my soul. 

I will be waiting for you, my love. I swear it. 

To whatever end,

AAG

~

Heart in his throat, Captain Rowan Whitethorn marched in step with his regiment up the muddy road leading into Baltimore. The bustling port city was largely unmarred by the war that continued to rage on, continuing to serve as major sea access for traders and soldiers alike. As he and the men that called him their leader entered the city proper, Rowan breathed a short, soft sigh of relief. They had two weeks of leave, unless they were called back into battle, and he fully intended to use those two weeks to the fullest. 

“Enjoy your leave, men.” He saluted. “We shall regroup here in two weeks.” The blue-jacketed men broke ranks and ambled into town, most of them probably dispersing to the nearest pleasure house for a good strong drink and as many hours with a woman as their few remaining coins could buy. Rowan didn’t begrudge them their pleasure. 

After years of war, they all needed whatever solace they could find. As did he. 

Fingers instinctively wrapping around the small, precious bundle of letters in his jacket pocket, Rowan strolled towards the calmer part of town, the residential section not so crowded with soldiers on leave, traders, merchants, shouting vendors, and all the rest of the noise, chaos, and diverse cast of characters that populated a thriving shipping town like Baltimore. He glanced at the street markers as he walked, searching for the one with a blue stripe painted around it. 

There. 

Pulse hammering louder than gunfire, he turned down that street and walked past tidy clapboard houses interspersed with the occasional grocer, butcher, baker, and seamstress. He was certain every single one of the handful of people he passed could hear his thundering heartbeat, but none of them had said anything to the young man whose ragged blue jacket marked him an officer in the Continental Army who was walking up their quiet street like it was perfectly normal for him to do. One motherly lady had simply offered him a smile and a “thank you, son,” which had struck him right to the heart. 

He emerged into a busier street, full of shops and taverns and public houses, the businesses bustling but not crowded with soldiers and sailors like the cheaper taverns down by the wharf were. Eyes scanning the signs, Rowan walked up the side of the street. The building he was looking for appeared suddenly in front of him. A brightly painted kingsflame flower adorned the pub’s wooden sign, its carefully wrought petals the work of a singular artist. An artist Rowan knew as well as his own heartbeat. 

With his heart in his throat, Rowan walked into the pub. Immediately, a peal of soft, faintly raspy laughter caught his ear, and his attention snapped to the bar at the back of the softly-lit, cozy space. Behind the well-worn oak bartop, her golden hair tied back with a blue rag that he recognized as his own old shirt, stood the woman who owned every last shred of his heart. 

Aelin Galathynius glanced over towards the door, and the whole sky lived in her vivid eyes. 

Tin clattered against the bar. 

Surprised grunts arose from a table full of stocky, gray-haired farmers. 

And with a rush of air and a strangled gasp of his name, Aelin was in his arms, tears glittering in her eyes, warm and solid and real and clinging to him as if her life depended on it. 

~

He was here. 

Rowan was here, whole and healthy and standing on his own two legs in a much-patched blue jacket and dirt-stained trousers and battered boots, and his eyes were on her alone. 

Aelin flew across the pub floor and all but leapt into her soldier boy’s arms, clinging desperately to him as if he would vanish unless she held him tight. She buried her face in his shoulder and drew in a deep lungful of his scent, the faint trace of mountain pines clinging to him even beneath the layers of sweat and grime. Hot, salty tears of joy leaked into his shirt through a tear in his jacket’s shoulder. 

She felt his deep, familiar chuckle rumble beneath her ear. “Why are you crying, my love?” 

“I’m crying,” she sniffled, raising her head to meet his adoring gaze, “because you smell so bloody awful that my eyes are watering.” 

He tipped his head back and laughed, loud and unrestrained. “God above, I missed you.” 

“I missed you more,” she returned, tracing her thumbs along the sharp juts of his cheekbones. “Every day felt like the longest one yet.” 

“I’m here now,” he murmured in the soft voice he only used for her. 

With tears pooled in her eyes, Aelin leant an inch forward and kissed him, her soldier boy, with all the pent-up fervor of the last several months. She’d been so terrified when her parents announced that they were leaving the Colonies, afraid that she would be uprooted from the life she’d come to love and forced to marry some stuffy lord and shut away in a manor house forever. The very idea that she would be forced to leave Rowan, her love, and Aedion, her brother, without knowing whether either of them would make it back to Baltimore unharmed was enough to disrupt her sleep. She had hardly dared to hope that her desperate escape plan would work until she stood on the pier and watched her parents’ ship depart without her on it. 

Every long day of pouring pints of beer for rowdy sailors, handsy soldiers, and disruptive drunken no-goods was worth it to have her soldier boy back in her arms. 

“Where–ah, Rowan!” Breathless, Aelin poked him in the ribs, pretending to disapprove of the promising way he kissed her throat. “We’re in public.” 

“Let’s fix that, shall we?” He set her down onto her feet, caught her hand, and grinned. “I believe I need a bath, my love. Could you help me with that?” 

“You are incorrigible,” she laughed. She pecked a quick kiss on his lips and led him out of the pub and down the streets, turning into a quiet neighborhood and leading him up the front steps of a tidy little brick cottage with a blue front door. “Please be kind about the mess.” 

“I’ll show you a mess,” he whispered into her ear, far too tempting for his own good. 

She flushed, her cheeks staining bright pink. “Rowan!”

“Aelin,” he mimicked. They were safely inside the house, so he looped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. “I’ve been dreaming of you for months, love.” 

“And you’re going to bathe before you act out any of those dreams, my love.” Giggling, she ducked out of his embrace and led him down the short hall to a washroom. “The tub is full, but it might be cold.” 

“I don’t care if the water is cold.” He shrugged off his jacket and stepped out of his boots. “It’s a hell of a better bath than we get in the army.” 

She sighed fondly. “I’m still going to boil some water.” He made to protest, and she placed her fingers over his mouth. “Ah-ah, soldier boy. Let me spoil you. Besides, the hot water is half for your filthy clothes.” 

“Fine,” he acquiesced. He shed the rest of his dirty, worn clothing and climbed into the tepid bathwater, groaning quietly as he sank into a proper bath for the first time in too long. “Join me, love.” 

“Soon.” She kissed his forehead and dropped a washrag and a bar of soap into the tub. “When you stink a little less.” 

His playful growl followed her all the way out to the front room. 

~

Following the bath–where she had indeed joined her soldier boy and taken his mind off the weight of war for a few moments–and a hearty dinner, Aelin exchanged her regular blouse and skirt for a soft cotton nightdress, braided her hair, and settled into bed with a lantern lit on the side table and a novel in her hands. Rowan was in the washroom; the faint splashing of water indicated that he was scrubbing out his uniform like he insisted he wanted to. So she opened her novel to the page where she had last left off and lost herself in the tender romance unfolding amidst the pages. She was so absorbed in the novel that she didn’t notice the mattress shifting as Rowan climbed into the bed and settled down beside her. 

His soft, low chuckle drew her out of the novel-world. “Good story, Ae?” 

“Wonderful,” she murmured. Reaching the end of the chapter, she placed the bookmark, closed the book, laid it aside, blew out the lantern, and tucked herself into his side, her head against his chest. 

“I missed you,” he whispered after a peacefully quiet interval, stroking one hand idly up and down her back. 

“And I you.” In the faint moonlight, her eyes met his, months of pent-up yearning and uncertainty glossing their turquoise depths. “I am sorry I didn’t write more.” 

He soothed her worry with a gentle kiss. “I would likely have found you before your letters found me. ’Tis the life of a soldier.” 

She hummed in agreement. “On that note…when did you last see Aedion?” Her older brother, whom she loved dearly but whose rashness she did not ignore, had vanished from the Galathynius home early last spring, leaving no indication of where he was going or why. Aelin alone had an idea of what he had gone to do, because he had confided his wishes to her. He had gone off to be a soldier in the Continental Army, but his unit were scouts, which meant that he could be anywhere between Philadelphia and Yorktown. 

Rowan exhaled a long, controlled breath. “The last time our paths crossed was in September, at the camp outside Newport. He mentioned going south, but no details.” 

“South.” Aelin rolled the idea over in her mind, forcing herself not to consider the harsher implications. “Was he…how was he?” 

“Healthy, as far as I could tell, and tired, but so are all of us soldiers.” Rowan ran his hands along Aelin’s tense shoulders, encouraging her to relax. “He said to give you his love and that he’ll do unspeakably horrible things to me if I hurt you.” 

Aelin laughed. “Now that sounds like Aedy. Too protective for his own good, he is.” Idly, her touch trailed along the slope of Rowan’s shoulders, tracing the new scar that slashed from his right shoulder down towards his pectoral muscle. “Tell him that I will return the unspeakably horrible favor if either one of you does anything stupid.” 

“Indeed I shall.” Laughing softly, Rowan pulled Aelin flush against his chest, her heartbeat atop his, and kissed her. She sighed into the kiss, threading her fingers into his overgrown hair. 

“I don’t want you to go back,” she murmured after they had separated. 

He swallowed thickly. “We both know I must.” 

“I know.” Her voice was a fragile thread. “I’m keeping you all to myself for the next two weeks, though. It’s only fair.” 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, my wildfire.” 

She smiled tenderly at him. “I love you too, my soldier boy.” 

~

Mid-November, 1778

Aelin, 

I apologize both for the shortness of this note and the fact that it took me so bloody long to write it. There is something I must tell you, and I can only hope that you hear it from Rowan rather than me and my paltry excuse for a letter. 

We are marching to Savannah. Intelligence has it that the Redcoats intend to advance upon the city, and we cannot let the stronghold go without a fight. 

I cannot promise that I will be able to write for any amount of time, and as much as I hate to do this, I leave you all my affection. I will stay as safe as possible, that I can promise. The moment I am able, I swear on my blood that I will come to you, and if possible, that I will bring Rowan. 

Stay strong for us, dear sister. 

Yours, 

Aedion

The short note had reached her in late January of 1779, after three and a half months of ever-increasing tension and worry spurred by the grim reports coming up from the South. Before he left in mid-November, the same time Aedion’s letter was dated, Rowan had revealed that his unit was headed to Savannah to reinforce the troops already there. He had been confident that, with the extra reinforcements, the Army would be able to stave off the British–if not all on their own, then at least long enough for the shipment of French troops to arrive. 

Just before the New Year, the newspapers reported Savannah’s defeat. 

Since then, all Aelin had received was silence. No letters, no notes, nothing listed in the papers, no weary soldiers showing up on her doorstep. The fact that Rowan’s and Aedion’s names remained out of the papers was but a small measure of comfort; all too often, fallen soldiers’ names never made it onto the listings. 

The cloth tying back her hair was black now, the only outward sign of suffering she would allow herself. The people who came into the pub noticed her quiet demeanor, the way her usual vivacious cheer was dampened, and passed quiet condolences to her across the worn oak bartop–a squeeze of the hand, a mourning mother’s shared tears, a word of comfort, a “thank-you” from someone who rarely spoke those words. It lifted her spirits a bit, but not much. 

Every night, she trudged home to her quiet little house, cradled a small watercolor portrait of Rowan–done a year ago, it was the only portrait she’d ever convinced him to sit for–stared down into his painted face, and refused to let her captive tears fall. Though her heart and soul ached for her soldier boy, though her sleep was disturbed by nightmarish imaginings of what could have happened or could be happening to him, she refused to let her tears fall until she knew his fate for certain. 

If nothing else, she owed him--and the child just beginning to stir inside her womb--that fragile hope.

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed or if tags don't work :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

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@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

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@silentquartz

#my writing #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin month 2023 #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass au #revolutionary war au #american revolution #happy birthday to me

[thegreyj]

A simple drink

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEIA! 🥳 @leiawritesstories

May your birthday be amazing and incredible and full of magnificent stories!

Here's a little Rowaelin oneshot for you!

A simple drink

It had been one of those days where everything seemed to go wrong. The morning had started off fairly well, but when Rowan was picking up his usual coffee order, someone had crashed into him making his cup fly and spill its contents right on Rowan’s shirt. Of course he had to run back home and change. His apartment was on the opposite way from the coffee shop, so this detour made him quite remarkably late for work.

At the office Rowan had first managed to break the scanner while trying to get an important signed document copied. He tried to turn the machine off and on again, knowing that would be the first instruction their tech help would give him, but somehow that small, common function managed to mess up the settings of the machine. Rowan found himself staring at the tiny touch screen which displayed something that could very well be hieroglyphs to him.

His day of hell was just beginning. He’d been working on a presentation for months, knowing they were supposed to receive foreign visitors from a partner company that day. His boss Maeve was supposed to go over the presentation before actually presenting it to their guests, but the email attachment wouldn’t work and his boss couldn’t get it to open. Rowan then decided to just simply transfer it to a thumb drive and give it to Maeve. Somehow the entire presentation then vanished, making Rowan panic. 

His boss was not happy, which was how Rowan had ended up improvising a speech to the group of visitors. There was just one major problem with that; Rowan was not good with words, strange people or performing, so he pretty much tanked the entire speech. Trying to save the last remnants of his dignity, he tried to leave the conference room quietly. Only to end up face flat on the floor with the coffee cart on its side and the snacks rolling all over the hallway. The snacks that were meant for their visitors.

With the day not even halfway through, Rowan was completely done with the day. He just wanted to go for a nice, calm drink before going home and forgetting about the horrible day. Luckily the rest of his work went by without any major issues, only a couple of scheduling issues. And a virus on his office computer, which had been attached to an email sent by his friend and colleague, Fenrys, who just wanted to improve his friend's mood. Rowan did not find the dancing, multiplying penises on his desktop funny. In fact, he was mortified when he - once again - had to call the tech help department to come get rid of the virus.

Fenrys seemed to realise his mistake, and wanted to make it up by offering Rowan a drink after work. They made plans to meet up at their favorite bar once they had had a chance to change out of the stuffy work clothes and into something more fitting. Nothing could go wrong with going out for a simple drink, right?

Oh, how wrong Rowan was. Going out was not a bad thing in itself; what made it a bad thing was the fact that he was now accidentally crashing a private birthday party. Rowan did not like surprising situations or meeting with new people - strangers made him nervous - so this was practically a nightmare for him. Right from the moment he stepped inside the bar with Fenrys, they had been pulled along, party hats strapped on both of their heads and some disgusting colorful shots handed to them. Fenrys happily threw his shot down his throat, but Rowan just stared at the purple concoction with a frown, before stating that it looked unfit for human consumption. 

Of course his night of horror didn’t end there; how he ended up helping the birthday girl blow out the candles was a complete mystery to him as well. One minute he was trying to remove his party hat, the next a random leggy blonde was pulling him towards the middle of the pile of people, screaming it was time for cake. Keeping his hand in hers, she stood behind the cake singing the birthday song along with everyone else, before saying make a wish and blowing out the small flickering flames. Rowan was getting more and more confused, but not wanting to make a big deal out of himself, he decided to play along until he could leave.

Finally finding the perfect time to detach himself from the party group, Rowan ordered a whiskey from the bartender before successfully hiding himself in a dark corner where he could still see everyone around. He was exhausted after being so social, and he had been waiting for this glass of whiskey for the entire day. It was just him and the golden brown drink in front of him, with the party sounds still going strong in the background.

“I thought the birthday hero is supposed to be at the party instead of hiding from the guests,” a voice interrupted Rowan’s thoughts. Lifting his gaze up, he noticed the same leggy blonde who had pulled him along to the main part of a birthday celebration. Rowan quirked a brow before responding.

“I did not force you to leave your party, did I? I just wanted to enjoy a nice glass of whiskey.”

“Wait- what? My party? I thought-,” the woman in front of him scrunched up her face. “I thought we were celebrating your birthday.”

“No, I’m pretty sure my friend and I crashed your birthday celebration,” Rowan let out a small laugh. 

“Okay, so, wait- if it isn’t your birthday, and it definitely isn’t mine… then… did we just hijack someone’s birthday celebration? I totally thought it was your party and I tried to get you to blow out the candles. Oh my gods, this is hilarious and also now I understand why you stood there so awkwardly. I’m sorry,” the blonde burst out laughing. Rowan couldn’t help but join in - this was definitely an unexpected turn of events.

“Maybe we should get out before they realise what happened and who stole the thunder from someone else,” the woman suggested and for the first time in his life, Rowan didn’t feel awkward with a stranger, so he found himself nodding before throwing a few bills on the table. Getting up, they walked to the coat room and ever the gentleman, he helped the blonde put on her coat.

“Oh, by the way, my name is Aelin. Thought it would be nice to introduce myself to my partner-in-crime,” she said when they were outside.

“Rowan. Can’t say it was a pleasure to be involved in such a horrendous crime, but I did enjoy meeting you,” Rowan flirted, much to the amusement of Aelin, who let out a loud and melodious laugh at his comment.

“Well, Rowan, are you ready for an adventure? I’m assuming you’re available for some more criminal acts, we can’t just leave it on stealing some stranger’s birthday wish,” Aelin asked with a mischievous tone and a smile that told him she was up to no good.

“Under normal circumstances, I might be tempted to say no. However, this day has already been so weird, I don’t think there’s anything that could possibly make it any worse,” Rowan stated, not yet aware just how much his night was about to change. The smirk he had in response made him wonder if he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life, or perhaps the best decision by going along with whatever Aelin was planning. 

--

Tags: @rowanaelinn @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @leiawritesstories @aelinchocolatelover @backtobl4ck @wesupremeginger @goddess-aelin @hiimheresworld @swankii-art-teacher

#happy birthday Leia #all the best for you #rowaelin oneshot #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass fanfiction #tog fic #rowaelin fanfiction #tog fanfic #throne of glass #my writing #aelin galathynius

[goddess-aelin]

Little Falcon

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

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none!

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

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

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

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

“Why were you calling Alma’s name?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was hidin’ Daddy!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe murdering Fenrys could wait a few more minutes.

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

Tagging:

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[mariaofdoranelle]

Catastrophic Blues

Written for @sjmromanceweek

Prompt: Favorite tropes (exes to lovers yay!)

I wrote most of this oneshot a year ago, and I never posted because it’s so sad, and also it’s the only time I fully trauma dumped on my fics. Anyway. Enjoy this thing that was based on one of the most pathetic days of my life lol

Warnings: none?

Words: 2,2k

The low lighting the uber had at night only called more attention to the cold, churning mess that was Aelin’s stomach. It was the lack of something to focus on when what she needs right now is sensory overload. The smell of alcohol, loud music, strobe lights.

Aelin wanted to focus on anything that wasn’t her destination—or who she’d meet there.

It was fine. She was fine.

It was Fenrys' birthday. The cheeriest of Aelin's cheery friends. Aelin definitely couldn't miss his birthday. Today was about Fenrys, and not the ex-boyfriend who was also invited.

But Aelin was fine. It wasn't a big deal. It’d been more than a month since they broke up, and Rowan even texted her asking if she’d be comfortable if he brought his new girl tonight.

How considerate of him.

But Aelin agreed, with no regrets. The only thing she regretted was merging her group of friends with her ex-boyfriend when they were dating. That was something she’d keep in mind for the next time she met someone.

Out of the car and in front of the bar, Aelin let the cool summer breeze wash her nerves away. He was probably in there already, always on time. She knew this would eventually happen when they broke up and decided to stay friends for the sake of the gang. There was no need for her to freak out—good thing she wasn't. And if she acted weirdly today, what would Rowan do a month from now?

The crowded place was booming with laughter and drunken yells, busy waiters running around the place, barely paying attention to the graceless group of friends singing Bohemian Rhapsody at karaoke.

A large hand gripped her waist, turning her towards the source, and Aelin met a smiling pair of onyx eyes.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

“Fen!” She hugged her friend and handed him his present, wishing him a happy birthday.

“Everyone’s at a big table back there, and…” Fenrys trailed, trying to read something on Aelin’s expression. Whatever words he was about to say died in his throat.

Aelin crossed her arms. “Spill.”

He shrugged. “You’re hotter than her.”

Lyria, he meant. And Aelin agreed, she was definitely hotter. It wasn’t hard to find Rowan’s new girl on Instagram after she commented a red heart on his last picture like a dog peeing on the comment section for territory. She found out about it even before he told her himself.

Aelin narrowed her eyes at Fen. “I’m over him.”

He shrugged. “Just thought you’d like to hear it.”

Her smirk was met with a similar one from Fenrys. He knows her too well.

Then Aelin shook her head, chastising herself for such thoughts. She was the one to end things, due to her… distressing circumstances. She had no right to shame Rowan for settling for a less hot person.

It’s not like she cared, anyway.

Stepping onto the back of the bar, Aelin quickly spotted the table and greeted everyone—including the lovebirds.

Rowan was stiff like a robot, and Lyria was polite. Bland. Guess he lied when he said he liked Aelin’s fiery personality and the way they clashed, since his new girlfriend is the total opposite. He’d probably still be his dutiful self to her in a month, and Aelin would be in Suria with rows of men—or vodka, most likely—lying at her feet.

She sat beside Elide and ordered a non-alcoholic beer—the doctor had cleared her to drink alcohol with moderation by now, but she didn’t want to risk it. Connall decided to restart whatever work gossip he was telling to keep Aelin in the loop.

She was paying attention, or at least she was trying to, but—why did Rowan shave off his beard? God, she loved his jawline. How it looked so firm by far, but felt so soft under her lips and teeth. Aelin could still remember how his beard tickled against her skin when he decided to grow it, or even better, the feeling of it against her thighs when he--

"Ace, are you alright?" Elide whispered in her ear, "You look a little lost."

Aelin blinked, trying to focus on her friends. Apart from Ellie, no one noticed she'd zoned out. Looking back at her friend, Aelin nodded, a small smile on her lips.

Her friend arched one eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

Rolling her eyes, Aelin chuckled. "Of course."

Looking back at everyone, she caught Rowan’s eyes on her. Busted, the only thing left for him to do was send her a small, close-lipped smile and tip his head to the Heineken 0.0% she clutched. Aelin raised it and took a long swig, letting the bitter beverage go down throat, the feeling so close to the real thing.

He feels proud of her growth. Not a big deal when he keeps a perky brunette under his arm.

But she knew this feeling was just an initial clash of their lives apart. Aelin was fine, she truly was. Her feelings towards Rowan would never be the same she had to a regular friend, because the nature of their memories together was different. Erasing their history was impossible, so it was either fully leave or learn how to live in the shadows of what they used to be.

This hollowness she felt in her chest was just an initial shock, an adjustment. Aelin wasn't the only person in the world to lose the love of her life, and some of them even did great after that, with their second-best significant ones.

No one can keep every good thing that happens in their life forever. Even if said good best thing is right there, standing in front of you.

Actually, she was wrong. Aelin did keep Rowan in her life. As a friend. Which was enough, and just what she needed.

“…Right, Ace?”

Aelin blinked, being dragged out of her thoughts back into the conversation. “Excuse me?”

Elide sighed. “The birthday cake, Fenrys got it from Emrys’. Isn’t that the place you recommended to him?”

“Oh.” Aelin blinked. “Yes. Absolutely, yes. They’re the best.”

Ellie gave her a quick look that was hard to decipher, but maybe it was time for Aelin to pay attention.

And pay attention she did. She leaned on the table and held her chin under her palm. Turns out the owners of Emrys’ are regulars at the motel Fenrys works at. Disgusting news to hear, and Connall agreed with her unshared thoughts. Fenrys accused his brother of being homophobic, since they’re talking about a gay couple. Connall retorted, saying that he can’t be homophobic if he’s gay, and it’s not prejudice if he hates everyone equally.

The twins bickered on and on. Rowan watched them as if it was a tennis match, with undiluted attention, while Lyria seemed endlessly amused by it.

Aelin wished she had stayed home.

But she came here for Fenrys, and for Fenrys she stayed. And stayed and stayed and stayed until that fucking song started playing. For Mala’s sake, today was not her day.

Aelin looked around, trying not to be too obvious that she was looking at them. Trying not to look too much or too little.

He's got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on my heart.

Rowan took Lyria's hand and held it against his chest.

Just like he used to do with her.

Aelin swallowed, her chest shrinking. She was going to be sick.

She excused herself and got up, walking to another section of the bar near the restrooms where she couldn't be seen from the table, and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.

Breathe in.

She could still feel the shape of Rowan’s lips against hers.

Breathe out.

She could still feel the weight of his body above hers.

Breathe in.

She could still feel his calloused hands caressing her bare back in bed.

Breathe out.

Her heart was beating just as much as on the day she finally got the courage to cuddle him after sex, almost two years ago. When she first rested her head on the crook of his neck, Aelin scented her favorite version of Rowan’s smell because it was completely ingrained with hers. And she did it again. And again. And again. Her hand could trace the shape of him even that long after the last time they were together. She hated how much she'd cling to those small details, and she hated even more that she cared about this. Because she did. Aelin would barely admit it to herself, but of course she did.

She took a deep breath, ignored her quivering stomach and schooled herself, walking to the bar's counter.

The man next to her leaned on the counter so much he was half laid in it, but he still managed to turn his piercing blue eyes at Aelin and smile.

"Can’t find a bartender," he complained, his speech slurred. "I need a beer."

Aelin chuckled, leaning her forearms on the surface too. "And I need water."

He raised his head a little. "I'm Dorian."

"Aelin." She looked at him up and down, from the fumbled hair to the rumpled clothes and untied shoes. “Are you sure the bartenders aren’t bartending you on purpose?”

“I’m sure they are.”

“Huh.” Aelin scanned the liquor selection, tempted. She really was doing better with this new medication, and Dr. Hafiza cleared her for an occasional drink. She could definitely use a drink now. Instead, she tilted her head at Dorian and said, “Did you lose a puppy or something? Or this is just your usual Friday night?”

He ran a hand through his hair and grinned at her, so confident it reminded her of Fenrys. "My answer depends on whether you're giving me your number or not."

Aelin snorted. She thought of how satisfying it would be to watch Rowan watch her leave the bar with someone else, but a drunk wouldn't do. Besides, this wasn't a competition. Aelin had already lost.

"Not a chance. Spill."

He sighed and slumped again on the countertop, hitting his head against it.

"My situationship doesn't see me as dating material."

Aelin grimaced. "That sucks"

He waved a hand, dismissing her pity. "You?"

Her mind went back to a year ago, how he stood by her side, red-rimmed green eyes when Aelin became a shell of herself. How his anxiety skyrocketed when hers did too. How well he was doing now that she wasn't his problem anymore.

A bitter chuckle left her lips. "My sadness is contagious."

Dorian rolled his eyes. “I just bared my soul to you, and this is what you tell me?”

“You did not!”

“I’m gonna get another drink if you don’t entertain me.”

“Is this a threat?”

“Absolutely, yes.”

Aelin sighed, looking up while she gathered her thoughts. “I broke up with my boyfriend.”

“Obviously.”

“Because I was bringing him down. No drama. We decided to not break up our group of friends.”

“No drama, you said?”

“He’s with his new girlfriend at the back of the bar and all my friends are schmoozing with her now.”

“I sense drama.”

“And we have a trip booked for next month we didn’t discuss.”

“Paid it all before the breakup, huh?”

Aelin nodded and ordered two waters before they traded stories about their pathetic love lives. She didn’t know how long they stayed there, neither if she liked Dorian or just this escape from the table from hell, but being here was a respite.

They were about six Tinder horror stories in when a hand landed on Aelin’s shoulder, making her jump, heart racing with surprise.

Rowan stood beside her with his trademark frown. “It’s been a while since you left the table.”

“Yup.” What was she supposed to say?

He jutted his chin towards Dorian. “Is he bothering you?”

“Not at all.” She squared her shoulders, trying to find a light way to describe their pity party. “This is Dorian. I’m getting funny dating stories out of him before I call an uber and send him back to his world of heartless women and tawdry men.”

“I see,” he trailed, eyes trained on them, and took a step back. “Okay. I have to go back there, but if you—“

“I know.” She waved him off. He needed to be at the table and be a good boyfriend to someone else, she got it.

Aelin was fully aware that her mind was going on a petty path, but she couldn’t help it. Yes, Lyria was nice. Yes, Lyria had been nothing but polite to her the entire night. The only problem was that Lyria was dating the wrong person. Or the perfect one, if Aelin wanted to address her issues more directly.

She banged her head against the disgusting counter, resting there to contemplate this rare moment of self-pity.

Aelin dug her own grave.

Dorian had his eyebrows raised. “Damn, he’s hot.”

“And thoughtful.”

“I wasn’t thinking about his thoughtfulness when he murdered me with his eyes.”

“He did not.”

“He did. And you know why.”

“I do not.” Aelin sipped her water. “Anyway, what happened to the guy who was cheating on his wife with you?”

Dorian’s eyes sparkled with the memory of this unfinished divorce story, and she was thankful to get the spotlight of the conversation away from her.

Unlike Aelin, Rowan had his shit together and was happy. She wouldn't—actually, she couldn't—disturb this little peace he found after she cut him off.

Her selfishness only went so far.

Read part 2 here

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[throneofsapphics]

deadly instincts 

Fenrys x Reader

Summary: “That night, Aelin lost a valued member of her court, a dear friend, and trust in another.” 

Warnings: angst, suicide (not reader) referenced, violence, implied past abuse, a bit of fluff 

A/N: this is based on a request, but I won’t put it here because of spoilers. for @moonlightttfae happy birthday!!

deadly instincts 

Fenrys x Reader

Summary: “That night, Aelin lost a valued member of her court and a dear friend, and trust in another.” 

Warnings: angst, suicide (not reader) referenced, violence, implied past abuse, a bit of fluff 

A/N: happy birthday to -. this is based on a request, but I won’t put it here because of spoilers :) 

The two of you had a ‘working’ relationship first. Aelin had scouted you to be another emissary for Terrasen, and you gladly took on the position. In the beginning, you shadowed Fenrys for a while, and the two of you became fast friends - always sent on assignments together. 

You were drunk enough you struggled to remember the name of the gods-damned city you were in. It had to be the liquor, considering the foreign dignitaries were smirking at Fenrys, specifically. Even wasted off your ass, you wouldn’t cause an international incident or let your friend. Nope, you were too classy for that. 

At least you could hold your liquor, although that couldn’t be said for the male next to you. He let out a low hiss as your foot stomped on his. “Get it together,” you whispered under your breath, as the others looked away. 

“I’m not that -” 

Gods, even his words were slurring. 

“Stop talking.” 

Apparently your voice was firm enough, because the male’s mouth snapped closed. A few glasses of water later, you decided he was probably okay for you to walk back to your lodgings. 

“We have an early start tomorrow,” you told the others. One man, someone you’d grown to know rather well over the decades, eyes darted between you and Fenrys, before he gave you a knowing look. Your mouth indented at the corner, relaying the silent; not really, but I need to get his drunk ass home.

You slid from the booth, putting a gold mark down to cover your tab, ignoring their attempts to shove it back at you, and linked your arm with Fenrys, “Get it together, wolfie.” 

“I told you to stop calling me that.” Good, he was more coherent now. 

“Oops, I forgot” your lips curled into a smile, voice honeyed with false innocence. 

Fenrys scoffed, and flicked your nose. The bit of alcohol you had delayed your reactions, and you failed to swat his hand away. 

Rowan would have both of your asses if he knew you were intoxicated in a foreign kingdom. There’s always a chance it could get back to them. You voiced your concerns. 

“What the bastard doesn’t know, can’t hurt him.” 

That … insubordination, you guess, isn’t something you could get away with, but Fenrys had known the ‘bastard’ a lot longer than you. 

“I love you,” Fenrys sighed, you tilted as he leaned some of his weight on you, leg extending to try and keep your balance. 

“Love you too, friend.” 

There was an extra emphasis on that last word. Several people, including their majesty and highness, had commented on the ‘romantic’ tension between the two of you. But, you weren’t quite ready for that. A shiver ran down your spine, thinking of your past failed encounters. Disastrous, more like. 

Fenrys, as always, noticed, “everything alright?” 

A forced smile and nod didn’t seem to satisfy him, but he kept from questioning you further. With great timing, you crossed the threshold of the inn you were staying at, and thanked the gods your rooms were on the first floor. 

“Lock your door,” he instructed over his shoulder. 

“Yes, yes,” you waved him off, but did, going the extra mile to secure a chair under the handle. Peace had flourished in the continents throughout recent years, but you could never be too careful. 

-

Three weeks later, you were back in Terrasen. Fenrys was … shifty. Not avoiding you, but he’d been looking at you strangely. At first, you thought it was your mind playing tricks on you, but after a few days of it you’d had enough. 

“What is it?” You asked. The two of you were alone in his sitting room, a fire raging in the corner. Your legs were stretched out on the couch, Fenrys’s thumb running circles into your couch.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” each word was careful as his body tensed, hand settling down on your leg.  

“I’d hope so,” you tried to reply casually - but your heart was racing. The way he looked at you … it was not like a friend. 

Every fear from the past surged, bubbling over into a state of near panic, but you forced yourself to focus on him. This was Fenrys, Fenrys was safe. A friend, confidant, and steady presence in your life over the last few years. But, things had slowly been changing for the two of you. More casual touches and affection, craving each other's presence more and more. It felt natural, everything with him was easy, natural even. Maybe your friendship was strong enough to survive if this went … wrong. He reached for your hand, and you let him pull you up to sit. 

“Gods you’re beautiful,” he murmured. Carefully, watching each reaction, each tensing of his muscles, you reached for him, letting your hand rest against his cheek. He didn’t flinch, he leaned into your touch. 

“I doubt there’s much that could ruin our friendship,” you breathed. 

He took his time closing the gap between you, resting his forehead on yours. “So do I.” 

-

“Could we chat, outside perhaps?” A female said with a saccharine smile. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, but Aelin had said specifically to try and grow closer ties with her territory, so you relented. This entire ball had been ‘fun’ in a way, but you were looking forward to getting back to the suites you and Fenrys now shared. Three blissful and beautiful decades, and you fell in love with him more and more each day. 

She led you into a familiar courtyard, and your eyes scanned the area, barely spotting the glint of moonlight on steel. 

You managed to duck the deadly swipe to your neck, redirecting it to your arm instead, screaming as flesh tore and blood bubbled out from it. Survival mode kicked in, and you fought back, ducking each of her blows. Where was your magic? At least she doesn’t have any. Throwing her arm to the side, squeezing her wrist to dislodge the knife, before twisting it at the right angle - a small crack and scream coming from her. You kicked her knees out from under her, a sharp blade pressing against her throat. You wouldn’t kill her, now, you needed answers. And help. 

From the corner of your eye, blonde hair flashed and a smidge of relief went through you. Fenrys was here, you weren’t alone anymore. 

A large weight slammed against you, the back of your head hitting the wall with enough force that stars shone in your eyes, your vision blacking out as a hand squeezed your throat, legs leaving the ground. 

Fenrys. Eyes dark and murderous, you tried to whisper his name; but his entire being was filled with rage. What the hell was happening? Your lips opened and closed, not enough air or words to come out. Gods, he was going to kill you. 

Air flushed back into your lungs as a strong wind threw him to the side, sending him skidding back against the courtyard, your back brushed against the stone, ass hitting the ground as you struggled to get air back into your lungs. 

“W-what?” Aelin was in front of you, her back to you as she seemed to stand guard. Thrumming with murderous energy, thankfully not directed at you. Vaguely, you registered guards tugging the other female away. Good. But … Rowan was speaking to Fenrys in low tones, arms wrapped around his chest to keep him from flying towards the other female. 

“Mate,” you read the words on his lips. Something in your chest splintered. Your lover’s mate tried to kill you. And so did he. Instincts, you could understand, but there was no coming back from this. It felt like your future fell apart in front of you. 

Aelin’s hand wrapped around your forearm, tugging you to your feet and holding you to her side, carefully skirting out of Fenrys’s vision. “We’ll get you to a healer.” 

Every step was a struggle to stay conscious, and you made it all the way to the door of the healers rooms before collapsing. 

-

That night, Aelin lost a valued member of her court, a dear friend, and trust in another. It would take decades to build that up again, even though his reaction could be explained as instinct. They’d all been furious beyond belief, but no more than Fenrys was at himself. Rowan somehow kept him locked away for a week, until his fervor towards the bond had more than settled, and he was begging to try and see you. He made multiple requests - to explain and ask for forgiveness, each one more desperate than the last, but she’d denied each one.

As soon as you healed, you’d left Orynth. 

“Do you … want to see him? He asked,” Aelin hesitated on her words, hesitated to dig up the fresh wound. You only looked at her, eyes haunted, and shook your head. 

Now, she watched as slung your pack over your shoulders. 

“Come back one day?” She nearly pleaded. “Please.” 

Recognizing the rarity of the word coming from the Queen’s lips, your face softened. “One day,” the assurance was weak. One day could mean decades or centuries in the lives of immortals, but Aelin would take what she could for now, and hold on to it.  Despite needing the space, walking away hurt. 

-

It was three years before you returned. Terrasen was your home, and nowhere else felt right. Facing him would be the biggest struggle, but you couldn’t avoid him forever. You’re immortal, and spending the rest of your life hiding away from your home would be miserable. Disappearing in the early hours of the morning, only the moonlight overhead, and Aelin and Rowan to wave you off.

As soon as you spotted Terrasen, as soon as you breathed in the fresh air - you knew you made the right choice. 

Each letter he sent was opened, but never returned. You hated yourself for it, but some part of you still craved him - craved what you had. Something that won’t return. It disappeared that day, within the space of minutes.

One of the conditions of your return was to not work with Fenrys. Aelin hadn’t questioned it. 

Each time he spoke to you, public or private, you brushed it off. 

Had you ever seen the male cry before? Maybe not. But three years ago took away your ability to. Took away any chance of feeling real human emotions again. Sure, you could fake it - and had done so to great success, but the actual sensations never settled in you anymore. 

“I understand … you were protecting your mate,” you forced a small curve to your lips. “I’m past it.” 

No, you weren’t. Aelin told you in hushed words what happened to the female - how they’d found her dead by her own hand, and you hated that your former friend went through it - you were still glad the bitch was dead.  

-

Fenrys spent the next century winning you back, and maybe the trust would never fully be there again - but damn you it worked. The same person who took it away, breathed life back into you once you let him in. 

Sun warming the sheets, soft snores came from behind you. Soft, but loud enough they’d woken you. Doing the mature thing, you kicked his leg. 

“What the fuck?” his eyes opened, still half lidded. 

“You’re snoring.” 

“Returning the favor, love,” his voice was rough with sleep, and you loved it. 

“I do not snore,” you hissed anyway. 

“Mhm,” his arm wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest. You sighed, but melted into his embrace. “Happy anniversary,” he whispered.

#fenrys x reader #fenrys x y/n #fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys moonbeam x y/n #throne of glass fic

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Older but Never Wiser

CW: a bit of language

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

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

1458 words

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

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

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

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

Some things really didn’t change.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aelin’s jaw dropped. “Damn, okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Rowan,” Aelin said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

@aelin-bitch-queen

@autumnbabylon

@charlizeed

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@leiawritesstories

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@mybloodrunsblue

@nehemikkele

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowaelinismyotp

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thegreyj

@the-lonelybarricade

@thenerdandfandoms

@yesdreamblog

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

[bellamyblakru]

have you seen how my life's been going? cause i’ve been wondering what you'd say. would you have told me to keep going, or would you say to walk away?

happy birthday to the one who i love dearest. mi amor, you are the light of my life. i wish you the brightest and happiest year ahead, and i hope to be along for the ride until the very end. thank you for being my best friend. i would move heaven and earth to see you smile, to hear you laugh, as much as you deserve to. i love you so, so much. (im crying writing this smh my head.) please remember that you always have me in your corner—through thick and thin, my beautiful wife. here’s to you—you brilliant, talented, loving, kind, caring human you. you will always be the arthur to my merlin, the louis to my harry, the rowan to my aelin, the love to my life. @its-hyperfixation ♥️♥️

#ashley creates #merlin bbc #merlin #merlingifs #alielook #xuserann #userdorksinlove #southfarthing #bruh that second gif is 9.9mb i was so clenched waiting for it to tell me it was too big #hey ayman i love u in every lifetime #louis tomlinson #chicago #faith in the future #fitf #i had been waiting to use this quote since the minute i heard it btw #i was saving it for something special

[tomtenadia]

Detours to you - 19

Hello all,

I am off on holidays to Lisbon tomorrow for a few days to celebrate my bday so I will leave you with a new chapter. It's Maya's bday too (she is a January girl like me).

Hope you will enjoy the fluff

MASTERLIST

A week elapsed and Maya’s birthday had finally arrived. They had waited until the Saturday for the celebrations and Aelin had closed the shop for a day so they could host the party there. They had invited her parents, Lys and Aedion, Elide was coming on her own since Lorcan was on shift, a few kids from the school that Maya liked and Rowan had the day off but was on call. Aelin just hoped nothing would interrupt the day. He needed a day of celebrations. His week had been hellish. She had accompanied him to the funeral of his three firefighters and had seen how broken he had been. Rowan had been grieving and had been so busy with the investigation that she worried about him. 

Now he was at home with Maya while she was at the bookshop getting it ready for the party.

They had gone for a mix theme of hockey and space. Rowan had started teaching her basic astronomy with the telescope he had gifted her and Maya had fallen in love with it.

A knock came at the front door and she saw her parents. Aelin invited them in with a hug “Hi mum, and dad.”

“Hi Aelin, where’s the birthday girl?”

“Rowan will bring her here as soon as I gave him the okay that the shop is ready.”

Evalin walked around the shop and looked at the decorations “This looks lovely.”

Rhoe looked at the space decorations and Aelin walked up to him “Rowan had been teaching her about the stars.”

“I know,” her father added “She is actually teaching me all about it now.”

Aelin laughed “she is teaching me too.”

“I brought a lot of biscuits and a cake too.” Added Evalin, showing her daughter the box she was carrying. 

Aelin grabbed the containers with food and placed them on the table that they had set up..

“Mum she will love your cake, it has the perfect level of chocolate.”

Evalin laughed “I also have a box for Rowan. I know he is not a fan of sweets so I made him the orange oatmeal biscuits that he loves so much.”

Aelin thanked her mother and she knew that she had always had a special place in her heart for Rowan.

Lysandra, Aedion and Elide arrived not long after together with the other few guests. She had texted Rowan that it was time to bring Maya. When later on he texted her that they had parked the car and walking to the shop, the group had switched off the lights and got ready for the surprise.

Rowan walked with his daughter on his hand and at the shop, he used the key Aelin had given him. As soon as they were inside, the darkness got replaced by a starry sky and slowly the people appeared and Aelin walked to her daughter and Rowan was at her side “Happy birthday, Maya.”

Maya hugged them both and then looked at the stars “mama your shop has stars.”

“Yes, baby, do you like it?”

“I love it so much.”

Slowly they turned up the lights and allowed her to see all the guests.

“Nana.” Maya ran to her grandparents.

“Happy birthday, my love, you are a big girl now.”

“Yes, nana I am six.” She proudly lifted her fingers.

Aelin encouraged the kids to gather in the children section where they had created a corner for them. She had also organised a story telling session with cake after the presents. But most of all, she was looking forward to see the present she got from her and Rowan. They had bought her first bike. She knew Maya was going to love it.

Rowan walked to her side “you have done a wonderful job with the bookshop. The starry sky  is perfect.”

Aelin leaned her head against his shoulder “You should see my mum’s hockey themed cake.”

“She will feel like the queen of the world today.” His arms wound around Aelin’s waist and pulled her closer “she is definitely my princess.”

“I found this young lady running around, does anyone know her?” Aedion was carrying Maya potato sack style and the girl giggled at her uncle antics “Dad save me, the dragon has taken me.”

Rowan laughed and followed the two, pretending to fight Aedion while he growled.

One of the mums walked at her side “He is so good to her.”

Aelin nodded while sipping her juice.

“You know that at school he has won the title of DILF, right?”

Aelin knew. The news had reached her and a lot of the mums had a crush on him. It had pissed her off to no end and she had been jealous too. Just as she was jealous of Lyria. The whole relationship between them was still very frail, they had not set on a label but she wanted to be possessive. Rowan was hers.

“I know and I hate it.”

“My husband was their target until Rowan came up. I know how you feel.”

“I hate them and that Remelle woman and her son caused so much grief to Maya.”

The woman gave a nervous laugh “I had my running ins with Remelle. She almost messed up my marriage with her lies.”

“Mama, we are opening presents!” Maya walked to her grabbing her hand to drag her where all the presents were gathered. 

The adults they all sat down and Aelin took Maya where all the gifts were, and started to hand out all the parcels. 

“Ok birthday girl, let’s open up a few present, shall we?”

Maya started jumping up all excited “Yes! Yes! I want the presents!”

They started with the ones from her school friends then it was then time of Elide and Lorcan who had bought her a pass for the observatory and then a limited edition jersey of the Stags. Maya ran to hug Elide. Lorcan could not be present because he was working  “Thank you auntie Elide. I love it.” 

“Mama, can I wear it?”

“Not yet, after cake maybe but not now. We don’t want to ruin it with chocolate.”

“Ok.”

Aelin placed the item of clothing aside and grabbed a present she knew was from Aedion and Lysandra. They had gifted her a super special edition book of Terrasen folktales and then her own hockey stick with the Stags colours.

Maya screamed happily and grabbed her stick swinging as if she was playing “I am playing hockey!”

They all laughed and Maya kept playing happily until Rowan pulled her back to attention for her grandparents presents who had given her a tent for her bedroom that had a space theme and then a projector for her bedroom so she could project the sky in her room.

“Nana and I thought they would be nice for the days you can’t go out in the garden. So you can have the sky in your room.”

Maya ran to her grandparents and hugged them tightly “Thank you.”

“Come on now, you have the last one from us.”

Maya walked back to her parents and Aelin and Rowan sat down beside her and Aelin handed her a small packet. When she struggled Rowan helped her opening it and she looked at her present with a curious face. Rowan lifted the passes “Maya, this is a ticket for a special event the Stag are doing and meeting the fans.”

Maya looked at her dad with big green eyes “Dorian too?”

Rowan caressed her face “yes baby, we are going to meet all the Stags again.”

She threw herself at her dad and Aelin moved closer brushing her back. They remained in silence while they cuddled their daughter then Rowan pulled back “we have one last surprise for you.” He passed Maya to her mum and walked at the back of the shop. When he came back he was pushing a green bicycle and Maya ran to him “Is it for me?”

“Of course,” he grabbed her hand and helped her sit on. The bike still had stabilisers and Rowan showed her how to use the pedals and within minutes Maya was cycling, with a fussy Rowan hovering over her.

“I think you guys topped her presents. Aeds and I tried to give her a cool one.”

“Lys, your presents were great as well.”

Lysandra stared at Rowan with Maya “He is so cute with her.”

Aelin nodded.

“So, are you getting married next?”

She chuckled “Elide asked me the same thing a while ago.”

“Because you both have made some strides and are improving, that is the next logical step.”

Aelin was silent for a moment “As I said to El, we are not there yet. For now, let’s all concentrate on your wedding.”

“Mama look, I am cycling.”

Aelin looked at her daughter on her bike and smiled. Rowan had approached her one day saying that Maya had mentioned about having a bike like the other kids. He said that he wanted to teach her and Aelin had agreed. She loved that Rowan had involved her too after the hockey classes fiasco. Classes that were going to start next week and their daughter was the most excited person ever. 

“You are doing so well, Maya.”

They were all in the middle of having cake when Rowan’s radio became alive. Everyone fell silent and he grabbed it running away to a quiet corner.

Aelin watched him with a tightness in her chest. She knew he was on call and that if an emergency happened he’d have to leave. She just hoped that for one day Orynth would have no drama so he’d be able to celebrate his daughter’s birthday in peace. It was the first one for him and she wanted it to be special for both.

He came back at the front and she knew from his face that it was not good. She had forgotten how easily she could read his expressions “What is it?”

“I need to go. I am sorry.”

Aelin hugged him tightly “Be careful, please.” A soft whisper against his neck, the scent of pine and snow soothing her soul “Come back to me. To us.”

Rowan kissed her on her lips and pulled back, kneeling in front of Maya “I have to go to work and help people.” His heart broke at Maya’s wobbly lip “I will see you later at home, baby.”

Maya threw her arms around him and softly sobbed.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

Rowan then forced himself to stand and take a step towards the door. He cast a last glance at the party and then walked out in a run.

Aelin watched Rowan go.

There was an ache in her chest. An ancient fear rising in her. It was the anguish she had felt when he was on active duty and a regular firefighter. Waiting for him to come home after his shift and knowing he was safe. Aelin had accepted the dangers of his job the day she had confessed him she was in love with him. 

Gods, she loved him. She had to tell him. She let him go to his job without telling that she loved him.

Aelin prayed Mala to bring him back to her.

I will come back to you.

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity  @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98  @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love  @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #aelin x rowan #rowanwhitethorn #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin galathynius #rowaelin kids

[moodymelanist]

prompt: nessian at sephora idk what they're doing or what they're buying idk it'd just be so cute though gor crazy with this prompt if you decide to do it 🫶🏼 love the fics btw

Thank you so much 🫶🏽 I wanted to try and get to this for romance week but it got away from me, so I hope you don’t mind me taking so long to get to it!

“Cassian!” Nesta yelled from upstairs. “Put on your shoes! We’re going to the mall!”

Cassian jerked himself awake from where he’d been dozing on the couch at the sound of his girlfriend’s voice. “Wha?”

“I need to get Emerie a birthday gift,” she explained once she was downstairs. “She said she wanted this new blush from Sephora, and I need you to be my guinea pig so I can get the right color.”

“Okay,” he agreed once his brain was back online. He was more than secure enough in his masculinity to let her use him as a makeup tester, and maybe he could sneak in a surprise gift of his own for her if he was sneaky enough. She always rolled her eyes at the little things he grabbed for her, but he knew how much she enjoyed them deep down. “Let me get my jacket.”

Ten minutes later, they were in the car and on the way to the mall. Nesta put on one of the new Taylor Swift songs, and Cassian found himself humming along no matter how much he denied he was a Swiftie.

He pulled into a parking spot in the garage easily enough, and they made their way into Sephora without too much fuss. It was surprisingly empty for a Saturday afternoon, but he wouldn’t complain about that. “I always forget how bright it is in here.”

“That’s why you should always test stuff in natural lighting before you decide to keep it,” Nesta replied absentmindedly, her eyes quickly searching through the store as she looked for the right brand. “Oh, there it is. Come on.”

He followed her lead to the Rare Beauty display, more than content to let her use the inside of his arm for as many swatches as she wanted. “What’s the difference between this and the stuff you use?”

“Liquid blush can be a lot more pigmented,” she answered as she dabbed the shade Lucky onto his arm. It was a shockingly bright pink that she ultimately vetoed before moving onto the next one. “See? You don’t need that much.”

“Oh I see alright,” he murmured, more than content to watch her in her element with a happy little smile. She loved makeup, whether it was the more natural look she tended to do for work or the more dramatic ones she liked to do when they were going out. “And I’m liking what I’m seeing alright.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, but her cheeks went a little pink at the compliment anyway. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me anyway,” Cassian replied, grinning as he leaned down to press a kiss to the side of her face.

“God help me, but I do,” she murmured. She looked up and stole a kiss while he was still close to her, leaving his lips pleasantly warm and tingling before she went back to blending blushes out on his forearm.

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearloftheorients | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard

#acotar #acosf #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #moodymelanistwrites #anon asks #nessian prompts

[rowanaelinn]

Happiness - Chapter Two

Happy Birthday @backtobl4ck !!! I rushed this one, but I know you were excited for it so I wanted to post it today for you! I hope you are having a great day!

Warnings: PTSD | Word Count: 3,400

As a hand brushed his shoulder, hope bloomed in his chest. He’d been standing here for more than an hour now, but it was alright. She was here now. He could work past the humiliation of talking everyone’s ears off about his wife for months now just for her to come out late, but only for her beautiful eyes. She’d just been late, exactly what he’d thought. Traffic could be awful at this time of the day. 

He broke the tense stance and turned around with his lips tipping up. He couldn’t wait to sweep her in his arms. Yes, there’d be a conversation to have later. About his departure, about their fights, and all the calls he’d left unanswered during his time away but… For now, he just wanted to breathe her in. 

Yet, he was only left with cold disappointment as he saw Fenrys’ mother there. There was a kind smile on her lips, the one she used to have on her face whenever she had to announce him his parents had forgotten to pick him up when he was a kid. He looked around, but at the exception of Fenrys and Connall, nobody else was there. Everyone had been tapped out already. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” the woman who used to take care of him as a kid said.

He wished he could tell her something, that he wasn’t so awkward with people that he could touch her shoulder or lie to her and say that it was okay. Instead, he managed to give her an uncomfortable shrug before turning toward Fenrys. They’d grown up together, went to school together and enrolled in the military together. Even if he pissed off Rowan to no end most of the time, he was still grateful for his friend. “Did she call you?” 

Out of all his friends, Aelin got along the best with the twins. She had that weird relationship with Fenrys that made him want to punch the guy in the face most of the time he was near his wife, and he also knew that Connall and Aelin supported each other whenever he and Fenrys were deployed. 

He knew the answer before Fenrys shook his head. The man had his emotions written all over his face. “She isn’t answering. Maybe something’s wrong with her phone?” 

He had to shut down any reaction he could be feeling. He had to be practical about this situation. Analyzing. Factually, he knew where she was. But if he was correct, it would mean that this would be another problem. It means that down the road he’d find pain. He had enough of pain. 

He cleared his throat, chasing all tells of his emotions away. “I’ll take a taxi to the hospital, thank you.” Thank you for waiting, thank you for tapping him out so one of the officers wouldn’t have to do it. 

“Nonsense,” Connall said. “Fenrys will catch a ride with Mom, and I’ll drive you.” 

He thanked his friend with a nod, and in the car didn’t bother to try to hold a conversation. Connall wasn’t trying, anyway. He knew better than to ask a soldier how they felt so early after they came back from active shooting zone, and he also knew that whenever he and Aelin had… issues, he became even less talkative than he usually was. It was easy to be silent when with Connall. 

Connall waited in the parking lot when Rowan asked one of the receptionists to call for Aelin, which he was only allowed to do once he said he was her husband. He was glad there was some semblance of security for the staff of this hospital. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that these places were safe. Aelin would say that he was paranoid. 

He looked at posters when he felt her. He couldn’t explain it, knew that there was no scientific reasons as to why whenever she entered a room he felt it. He still did, and had from the first moment they met. He took a deep breath before turning around, and then he allowed himself to take her in. His wife. 

She’d changed. There was some fatigue on her face that hadn’t been there when he left, no matter how much she threw herself into work then. He couldn’t help but wonder when her last full night of sleep had been. 

She seemed… surprised when she saw him. Surprised, conflicted. Happiness wasn’t the main trait on her features now, and he knew it was the same for him. He couldn’t blame her for that. 

When she hugged him, wrapping her arms around him, he wanted to leave. He didn’t want to have that conversation with her, but he’d missed her so fucking much that he still stuck around. At least it’d be time spent with her, even if it was just to argue.  

---

“We’re here,” Connall said, and when Rowan looked up, they were indeed parked in front of his house. They hadn’t chosen to live in a military house, instead buying one closer to Aelin’s work and back then, her university. They’d also wanted to avoid the nosiness that came with military towns. 

Rowan thought he’d enter the house alone, and maybe unpack. But Connall got out of the car and helped Rowan with his belongings, even if he could have done it alone. He told his friend so. 

Connall shrugged, “Don’t stay alone, offer me a beer.” 

That made him want to smile. 

The house was… cold. Not literally, as Aelin loved to live in warm spaces, but the feeling of entering. He thought he’d find stuff everywhere, knowing how messy his wife was. But no. The house was neatly clean. Not a single thing out of space. Her office had been organized with her messiness, showing how much time she spent there. But this house? It was as if no one had lived there in months. Yes, this house was cold. 

“You can just leave these here,” he told Connall, who listened and placed the bag just next to the staircase. 

He went into the kitchen, opened the fridge and was glad to find a few beers there. He liked his drinks cold, but Aelin hates beer and since she forgot about him coming… He didn’t think she’d have anything ready. But she did, and these were his favorites. 

Should that make him feel as conflicted as he’s feeling now? A simple beer in the fridge? 

He grabbed two and closed the door, but before he could walk to the living room where his friend was waiting, his attention was captured by the wall of pictures on his left. It had always been there, but there were a few new pictures. He walked there, wanting to see what he’d missed. 

Next to the one that had been taken at their wedding—a beautiful shot of Aelin and her cousin dancing together—was a new picture of her and Fenrys that must have been taken before their deployment. She was dressed in a pink sundress and had the man’s arm wrapped around her shoulder, the both of them grinning. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was something wrong with this picture. And it wasn’t Fenrys this time. He trusted his friend and his wife.

Under this one, another picture captured his attention. Was that at Aelin’s graduation last year? He’d been back home that day, but his superior had asked for his help to train new recruits, which means he’d been gone for two weeks. He wished he could have been there, although he hated how much she worked he knew how much she wanted that degree. He felt so proud of her, and wished he could have been there to celebrate but it wasn’t possible. No one can say no to Rowan’s bosses. 

But as he admired that picture of her, he had never seen, Aelin holding her degree and smiling for the cameras. No, she wasn’t smiling. That one was a little more obvious than the one picture before but… she was smirking. 

It was strange. Yes, he’d seen her make that face a few times over the years, but never when her face was supposed to be filled with happiness. Perhaps it was the biggest tell. Even louder than how she had stopped kissing him before bed two years ago, how she had stopped joining him downstairs after she woke up for coffee, instead choosing to stay hours in their room, always studying. It was even more telling than how she had slowly pulled back, always angling her body away from him. 

She wasn’t the same Aelin. She still looked the same, yes. But he barely saw the woman he married in that picture. There was no anger in him, though he had felt so much of it during his deployment. No, his emotions were… numb. How could she look the same and yet so different at the same time? 

He looked at another picture then, one taken at their wedding. It was the first picture they’d hung on that wall, and he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her as they did that. Just as he was glued to her on that picture. She was wearing a short white dress she’d bought at the mall the same morning, and she was tucked right into his side. It didn’t stop him from staring at her, that smile that had felt so natural back then. She was smiling, too. So radiant that she must have blinded the entire room that night. 

But next to this picture was a new one taken when he came back from his last deployment. It wasn’t the same expressions. She still smiled, still looked at him but now, when he could compare, it was obvious the difference. She resented him. That wasn’t… wasn’t something he’d ever wanted to face. He’d been happy to ignore it, but how could he when it was so obvious? Did everyone who walked into the house saw it? Did any who ever saw them—

It was instinct that took over as the ringing in his ears appeared, at the way his body froze for half a second when the loud noise made itself heard. He went for his belt, only to not find his gun there. Goddamn it. How could he be in an active warzone and walk without his gun. He grabbed the first thing he saw: a knife. In the next second, he was in fighting stance, ready to kill or be killed. 

“Shit, man,” someone breathed on his left. The voice was familiar. He looked and saw Connall. 

Connall Moonbeam, a lawyer. Who had nothing to do with the military. He couldn’t be there.

And this room… this wasn’t a desert. It was his house, in Doranelle. 

He let the knife fall onto the floor, trying to regulate the shaking in his hands. They weren’t supposed to shake, had never before. 

What the fuck was that? 

“Rowan, you okay?”

He swallowed, looking around himself. The kitchen, he was in the kitchen. Not there.

“Yes,” he said, trying to sound convincing. He had to get away from here. “Con, can I spend the night at yours?” 

---

It was late when Aelin opened the door and was wrapped into the house warmth. Or perhaps it was early. She didn’t really know where the line stood, but she knew that she was picking as many hours in the hospital as possible. Even more so than before. 

What else should she be doing? 

Her plans were to pour herself an obscene amount of wine and watch some TV, and then hope to find some sleep. Not that she had been sleeping a lot lately. She particularly enjoyed the nights where she was so exhausted that she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

But finding Rowan sitting on the couch hadn’t been in her plans. 

Her stopped in her movements as she saw him there, but quickly regained power over her limbs. She wouldn’t let him see her reactions. He looked up, eyes scanning her body as he always did when he saw her. Not in a lustful way, though it had happened, but more as a way to make sure she was safe. Probably something picked up from his entire love and devotion to the military. 

“Did you finally come back to your senses?” She asked coldly as she took off her coat, leaving her in her scrubs. 

“You’re home late.” 

She glared at him, making her way to the kitchen where she picked a glass and a bottle of her favorite wine. Then, she poured a little more than necessary. But no one was here to judge her for that. Oh, except… Yes, he followed her to the kitchen. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked, not even othering to spare him a glance as she took a long sip of her drink. She was too aware of him, so she knew when he settled against the kitchen island. 

“It’s my home.” 

She huffed a laugh then. “Is it, really?” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” He asked, tension in his voice. 

She braced herself on the cold marble of the kitchen island, then turned her head to look at him. “Well, I don’t know. You always look so eager to leave. First to sleep on bunk beds in the middle of the desert, then to spend a week the Gods know where just after you come back.” 

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I have to leave for work, I don’t choose to leave so far. And I thought we needed space, until we could talk.” 

He chose to leave, though. His contract had ended at the end of his previous deployment, and he still re-enlisted. No matter how any times she begged him not to. That was his choice, not something that he was forced to do. 

“Where were you?” He was dressed in civilian clothes, but that didn’t mean he didn’t spend time at the closest military base. It was late, and he could have had time to change. The idea of him living there was funny. He’d be so close to everything he freaking loved, and twenty miles away from what he seemed to loath now. 

“Connall’s.”

She gritted her teeth. It bothered her more than she wished it did, that he spent time there. That was where she’d spent multiple nights during his and Fenrys’ deployment. He was a huge part of her support system, and he’s only texted her once in the last week. 

“Well, don’t let me stop you. I’m sure he’s waiting for you.” 

“I’m staying,” he stated, as if she wouldn’t question that. 

She snorted. “Yeah, for how long this time. An hour?”

“Until I find myself a new place. Until things are settled.”

She could feel the fire rise in her. He used to joke that the gold in her eyes turned into flames whenever she was angry, well if it was true, he was aware of how she felt now. She took another sip of wine. “I’m not sure she’d really appreciate it.” 

His brows furrowed. “She?” 

Aelin cocked her head to the side, taking a step in his direction. “Yes, she.” She swallowed another sip of alcohol. Why was she even brushing that subject, goddamn it? “You know, that woman you found in the Southern Continent.” Another step, but he didn’t move. “The one you’ve got to know. You fell for her. Who knows, you may have even fucked her,” she breathed, looking in his eyes. She took another step, not realizing how close she was. She was shaking, though. She didn’t know why. Maybe it was the fatigue, or maybe it was the disgust at the idea of him with someone else. “Or should I say the one you’re leaving me for. Does that ring a bell?”

Something shone in his eyes, before he dimmed it. “I didn’t meet anyone, and I don’t cheat.”

She snorted, “I don’t believe you.” But she wanted to, very much so. 

He took a step, breaking any sort of safe space Aelin had tried to keep. He had to look down to keep eye contact, and as a reflex, she tilted her head up. He was as punchable as he was lovable.

“You’re leaving me,” she breathed. It was settling in slowly, how he wanted out. When he mentioned it for the first time, she nearly laughed. Until she realized he was serious, that this was truly a wish of his. When this set in, it was as if a hole was being dug in her chest. A hole that kept getting bigger and bigger the most the thought about it, hence why she stayed at work longer. 

“Not for someone else,” he replied on the same tone. “I’d never do that.” 

“Just like you swore you’d never leave? Is that another of your promises?” They meant shit to her now. Nothing mattered because he was gone. Physically he was present, but emotionally? He found his way out. Using a backdoor she had contemplated using sometimes, but never found it in herself to really want it. 

He closed his eyes, breathing ragged. The warm, nearly burning, air hit her face at every respiration, but she didn’t push him away. She should, though. Shouldn’t she? They shouldn’t be allowed to be near, now. 

He wasn’t her Rowan anymore. It wasn’t just his idiotic wish to be separated but… He’d stopped being her Rowan years ago. She’d spent more time with a husband she resented than one she adored. 

“You don’t get to want a way you,” she sneered. “Not when I’m stuck here because of you. Not when I gave you everything.” 

He pulled away, then. Glaring. “Then accept. Let’s get divorced, so you can go back to your fancy Orynth.” 

Her lips parted. He wanted her gone. 

She had wanted to leave for years, to go back near her family. To where she had grown up. But she had made her home in Doranelle now. Had friends, her cousin had moved here. She refused to leave this nest she had created for him. 

She refused to be away for him, that was what she didn’t dare to admit to herself. 

She looked away for a second, but the pull to look at him was too strong. There was this pit in her chest, one that was filling with tears quickly. Tears that burned her eyes, making her bite the inside of her cheek until she could control the wobble of her lips. 

She couldn’t let him see her cry. 

Not when he was almost… a stranger. 

That was how she saw things. 

“You’re taking the spare room,” she said, because she knew that she had no way to tell him to not sleep here. 

She could ask him to leave, and he probably would. But she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to share a house with him, but she couldn’t throw him out either. 

She needed her own space, though. So, no, she couldn’t share a room with him. She refused.

There was something that flashed in his eyes, and she had an inkling on what it was. They had never called the spare room that way. Ever since they bought the house, that second bedroom had always been the Baby’s room. Where their child would sleep and play. But it never happened, and certainly would never happen now. 

Aelin had bought an adult sized bed and some furniture for the times her family from Orynth decided to visit. Her uncles were always welcome here, and she had wanted to make it has home-y as possible. 

He nodded. “Of course.” 

She could go back to her room now and break alone. But she stood there, watching him. He’d changed, was more guarded now. He had never been guarded with her, had always allowed her a door into his thoughts. She lost the key sometimes in the last few years, though. 

She shook her head, thinking of everything he’s throwing away. All the time she’d lost. Her voice was weak as she said, “I wish I had never met you.” 

••••••

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney y // @feysand-loml // @elentiyawhitethorn // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @danibutterr // @endlessdaydream // @thegreyj // @gracie-rosee // @acreativelydifferentlove // @cretaceous-therapod // @louphantomdragon // @mis-lil-red // @backtobl4ck // @whoever-you-choose-to-love // @lemonade-coolattas // @mad-madeline-ace // @the-introverted-bibliophile // @leiawritesstories // @emilyoftheshadows // @anniesbookshelf // @rainbowcheetah512 // @astra-ad-mare // @story-scribbler // @superspiritfestival // @wordsafterhours // @rowaelinrambling // @black-daisy-water // @fireheart-violet // @livsdriverslicense // @charlizeed // @ladykreads // @mariamuses // @autumnbabylon // @justreadertings // @highqueenofelfhame // @earthtolinds // @bowdawn // @psychopath-at-heart // @ginnyweasley06 // @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

#happiness #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan and aelin #aelin of the wildfire #aelin galythinius #tog fandom #tog fanfic #throne of glass

[sarahjswift]

A Terrible Day - Rowaelin Oneshot

I'm trying to expand my writing resume on this app, because all the wonderful creators I follow have these insanely long masterlists with links that lead to more links that lead to more links and it's everything I want to be XD

I wrote this in a frenzy of two hours, including breaks for running and to gulp down some iced tea and eat a slice of cheesecake :D

If you go to my masterlist(https://docs.google.com/document/d/1rNsQz959dwBibJ4ydmb6_0fixjSEBXBiVRKVoyd-tQ0/edit), you will see the fics I wrote for the 2023 Aelin Week. Most, if not all of my fics are in AUs but I thought I'd switch it up with a "what happened next" kind of fic, which is what I did for Aelin Week. Not saying I liked it more than my other AUs, but it was just cozy to write you know? ☺☺

If you'd like me to do more of these, let me know! It's a Oneshot for now but we'll see, I could just do short stories of their adventures inbetween my current projects!

This is the most NSFW thing I've ever written and I felt so guilty doing it - I kept glancing around like I had a bomb or something LMAO. It's not even that bad I don't think, but I COULDN'T DO IT *sobs*

How do you fanfic writers do it???

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, Smut

Summary: Aelin has a bad day and sweet sweet Rowan cheers her up (mostly just fluff)

Tag List <33: @backtobl4ck, @aelinchocolatelover, @renxzs, @blue-bird17, @autumnbabylon, and @luell1q

enjoy dear readers!!

:3

Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius had had a terrible day.

Not like her usual bad days - where Fleetfoot had rubbed mud all over a new dress, or the bakery in Terrasen Square was closed (although she shuddered whenever she thought of those days) - but bad in the sense that she felt her chest constricting. Darrow hadn’t budged on the topic of Aelin’s passion project - a community garden for the citizens of Terrasen. A trivial want, yes, but it was close to Aelin’s heart. 

However, as Darrow had made extremely clear at their meeting; “A community garden is a complete waste of resources. We need to focus on rebuilding Terrasen before we have the time to worry about meaningless projects such as that.” 

Now Aelin was trudging down the hallway, melancholic. At least it’s the end of the week, she thought glumly. She had no more meetings, nothing to work on for the next three days. 

The queen reached her private corridor. Here lay her bedroom, personal library, and office(well, one of many). Aelin often felt guilt over the luxuries that she indulged here, but she couldn't help wanting to live in this area of the castle - her parents had as well, and she could sometimes hear the pitter-patter of her feet running down the hall, her giggles as she raced her father. Remembering these moments was a happy thing, but today it just made her more depressed.

Two guards monitored this corridor - Beor and Alys. Beor was a kind, shy man, and the only time he ever talked was to rave about his wife and two young daughters. Alys was a fierce woman who had clearly been through unimaginable things, which only became more apparent from the vicious scar slashed down the side of her face. She was strong and reminded Aelin of Nesryn. Aelin liked the two guards greatly, but she pitied them occasionally when she was reminded of what…sounds they were witness to, as they were stationed outside her bedroom door during the night. The morning after her birthday, Beor could barely look her in the eye without going beet red. 

Aelin nodded to them as she passed. “Majesty,” they both murmured, bowing briefly. She flashed them a quick smile, all she could muster, before retreating into her bedroom. She faced the door, locked it behind her, and burst into tears.

All the stress from the day caught up to her - Darrow, missing her parents, the strain of the crown. She slid to the floor, not even bothering to turn around as she cried, hugging herself. She prayed Alys and Beor couldn’t hear her, not as-

“Aelin?”

She froze when she heard that deep voice say her name. “Shit.” She knew who it was instantly, but turned around still to find her husband and mate, Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius. He stood there, his face full of concern for his wife, and the sight of it made Aelin sob harder. 

“Hey, hey,” Rowan soothed, advancing toward her in a split second. He held her close, sitting there on the floor with her, and Aelin turned fully toward him, clutching his shirt, crying into his neck. He was so strong, so steady that Aelin felt like she’d been drowning and now she’d found a lifevest. 

Rowan stroked her hair and rubbed her back simultaneously, patiently waiting as she cried it out. Finally, she scooted back, sniffling. “Oh, Gods, I’m so sorry.” Aelin couldn’t meet his eye as she wiped her cheeks, focusing on the floor. She probably looked like a mess. 

“Aelin.” He tilted her face up, piercing green eyes scanning her face. She only realized now he was tense, jaw clenched, filled with a mix of concern and anger that somebody had hurt her, something only a mate could feel. “What happened?”

“I’m fine, first of all,” she sighed. She smiled as he slumped with relief, but it faded as she recounted her day. “Darrow…Darrow is still very against the garden idea. I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid. He sure thinks it is.”

“Wait, why is he against the garden?” Rowan frowned. “I love the idea.”

Aelin arched a brow. “I think you’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not!” her mate protested. “It’s a great idea, Aelin. Darrow might not see it, but it could help those who were affected - ah, hell, let’s be frank. I think every being in the world has at least some trauma, and I really think the garden could help them. It could help them build something, trust in something.”

“Well, thank you, buzzard. That’s the idea, but it’s too silly to spend money on.” Aelin leaned back into her husband, who immediately encircled his arms around her. She ran her fingers down his muscled arms, pressing down slightly. She snickered as she felt him flex underneath her fingertips. “We need the money to be put toward the library, and just getting our bearings after the war.”

“I thought we were well off.”

“We are - our coffers run extremely deep. I don’t think we will have to worry about money ever again, thank Gods. But that’s us. Our money is different from Terrasen’s money.” 

“Hmm.” Aelin could almost feel Rowan frowning, thinking of something to help her problem. The thought warmed her heart and she tilted her head up, observing him. He is so beautiful, she thought. His bronze skin was smooth, his lashes long, his bone structure immaculate. But of course, she was drawn to his eyes. It was always his pine green eyes. They would always, always be her favorite asset of his. She ran her fingers lightly over his face, tracing it to memory like she’d done hundreds of times, like she’d do many more times. 

“Aelin,” he breathed. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his. He opened up to her and she kissed him deeply, threading her fingers through his hair to tug him to her. She felt his warm hands slip up her shirt and she broke the kiss, biting her lip as she watched him. Rowan leaned in and kissed down her neck. She gasped as she felt his tongue on her skin, digging her hands into his shoulders. 

She kissed him roughly, their lips falling into a rhythm, and she made to unbutton her shirt. “Wait,” Rowan murmured onto her lips, holding her hands firmly in his to still them. She broke away, confused and a little hurt. As if seeing the second emotion in her eyes, he kissed her on the lips quickly - or at least, he tried to make it quick, but Aelin followed his head with her own, prolonging the kiss. As her tongue brushed his, her mate groaned before pulling away again. 

“Why do you keep pulling away?” she panted, resting her forehead on his. Rowan released her hands to stroke her cheeks. She felt him breathe in her scent and smiled, knowing it comforted him as much as his did her.

“Well, for one I’m not taking you on the floor,” he started, chuckling when she smacked his arm. 

It’s not like it’s never been done before, she said to him, mind-to-mind. She felt him freeze and glance up at her smirking face. 

“You’re making this harder,” he grumbled.

“Good,” she snickered. He stared at her confused, before going red as he got the joke. She cackled for the first time today, standing up from the floor. She helped him get to his feet as well, laughing again as he winced and rubbed his back. Her buzzard, ever the old man.

“And two,” he glared at her, “I thought it would help you cheer up if we went to Finlas’s.”

Aelin squealed. Finlas, a kind old man, owned her favorite place to eat in Terrasen - Finlas’s. He served the most amazing dishes, not to mention their desserts. “Yes. Oh, Rowan, you’re the best!”

Rowan grinned, pleased with himself. “Well, let's go then.”

They got ready in a matter of minutes. As Rowan went to tell Alys and Beor, Aelin checked her reflection and groaned. Her face was red and puffy from crying. She splashed cold water on her face and frantically rubbed a jade green marble over her skin, something Lysandra had said would help with puffiness and bone structure. Luckily, it seemed to do the job. Dressed in the simple white shirt and black skin tight pants she’d worn all day, Aelin grabbed her bag and hurried to leave.

The mates walked out of the castle and towards the Square, hand in hand. It was a beautiful early summer evening, the sky darkening to pinks and purples, the humid air cooling to an ideal temperature. The spring flowers were giving way to green, every tree lush and bountiful. Aelin swelled with happiness as she looked around her kingdom, even more so as they reached the Square and saw people milling about, shopping and talking. 

They reached Finlas’s and Rowan hurried to open the door for her. Aelin smirked as she passed. “What a gentleman,” she teased, and Rowan rolled his eyes. To their delight, Finlas himself greeted them and led them to a booth in the back. The back of the establishment was clearly meant for couples, with its dimmer lighting and flickering candles on the tables. Each seat even had a red rose placed atop its plate. As they walked by, people stared and whispered to each other.

“Enjoy your meal,” Finlas said warmly, before bowing and hurrying off to greet the next customer. Aelin settled into the cushioned booth, watching her mate as he did the same. 

“What are you going to get?” Rowan asked. Aelin opened her mouth to respond before he interrupted. “Wait, no - let me guess. A medium-rare, absolutely massive steak with fried potatoes, and a fizzy drink?”

Aelin grinned. “Exactly. Great job, buzzard. Now let me guess; a curry that you will burn your tongue on like you do every single time, an iced tea and some bread?”

Rowan barked a laugh. “Exactly.”

They ordered just that, and enjoyed the meal. Aelin groaned improperly as she took her first bite of steak, sounding enough like another activity that Rowan shot her an annoyed look. 

“Sometimes I can’t tell if food or me gives you more pleasure,” he hissed across the table. 

“Can’t it be both?” Rowan was not pleased with that, and to Aelin’s delight her husband glared at her plate for the next ten minutes, as if it were another man who had stolen her away. 

They talked of their days and their plans for the next coming weeks. Rowan was working every day on the building of the library, which was coming along speedily, most likely thanks to his Fae strength and speed. He’d even begun to help with the design aspect of the building, something Aelin wholeheartedly trusted him with. “By this time next year, you will most likely be picking out books to stock the library with,” Rowan told her. A task Aelin was most excited for, and already planning to enlist Dorian with. 

Finlas brought them a huge chocolate cake free of charge. “Oh no, we couldn’t,” Aelin protested, reaching for her wallet. “It’s really to trouble at all-”

“Stop, Your Majesty,” Finlas said gently. “After what you’ve done for us - you deserve all the food in this restaurant for free.” At Aelin’s confusion, he explained; “I was a victim to a Valg raiding of my village. They took my son for their army, but…Your Majesty made sure he was safe. I have my son back now.” 

“That was all Yrene, not me,” she managed to say, overcome with grief for Finlas. 

Finlas shook his head. “No, Majesty. It was because of Lady Yrene, but you were the one who saved Lady Westfall, and then sent Lord Chaol to the Southern Continent to heal. Because of your kindness, you saved my son, no matter how distant the efforts were.” 

Aelin couldn’t see through the blur of tears, and gave Finlas a watery smile. “Thank you.”

__

They walked back to the castle, the sky even darker. Aelin smiled as she looked around, surrounded by people walking through the city. Laughter filled the air, the type of laughter she hadn’t heard in a while. She pulled Rowan into an alleyway abruptly, ignoring his yelp of surprise. 

“Thank you, Rowan,” she said to him. “My day was shit and now…you turned it into a happy day. You…you truly just know me so well. It still surprises me sometimes.” 

Rowan smiled down at her, his face soft and open in a way she knew it only was for her. “Anything for my Fireheart.” 

He bent his head and kissed her. She drew him down, opening the kiss. She felt him wrap a shield around them and glanced over, giggling when she saw him using his power to prop large slates of wood to separate their alley from the bustling town square. The noise disappeared, the only sound their ragged breaths. 

“I love you,” she breathed, tipping her head back as he pulled her shirt off. His nostrils flared as he took her in, gripping her waist, rubbing his thumb over her skin. 

“I love you too,” he gritted out, his eyes near black. He leaned forward and Aelin couldn’t help her loud moan as he went to work on her upper assets. She felt him huff a laugh onto her skin, and managed to pant out a; “What?”

“I made you moan louder than when you ate that steak,” he smirked, staring up at her with an expression of complete male satisfaction. She laughed, but went quiet as he claimed her mouth. 

Quickly they were both only in their lower undergarments, standing in their piles of clothes. Aelin shifted impatiently, waiting for him to take her against the brick, but he was examining the wall with concern. “What are you waiting for?” she begged.

“This seems...unsanitary,” he frowned. She whined, but he still wouldn’t move - at least, until she dragged her fingers down, down his stomach…

__

Later, he rolled off of her, both of them panting. After the alley, they’d dressed and hurried home before he took her twice more. She should give Beor and Alys a raise, honestly. 

Aelin sunk into the pillows, sleep already overtaking her. She was so glad they’d invested in this luxurious, massive bed. Rowan laid on top of her, his head on her heart, and Aelin’s arms encircled him, fingers toying with his hair. With her mate laying with her like this, the plush mattress beneath her, the soft blankets, and the feeling of happy exhaustion from the pleasure of before, she was in heaven. But just before sleep took her, her mate interrupted the peaceful silence. 

“Fireheart,” he whispered into the darkness, “did you have a good day?”

Aelin smiled down at her mate, knowing the male in her arms was the male she’d worship and adore for the rest of her days. “Yes, Buzzard. Yes I did.”

#sarah j maas #throne of glass #fanfic #rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #little canon fluffs #adorable #rowaelin fanfic

[leiawritesstories]

little princess

HAPPY BIRTHDAY EZRA!!!!!! @rowanaelinn you are such an incredibly talented writer and wonderful friend and i'm so glad we share this crazy fandom space <3 here's some fluffs for you❤️❤️

word count: 827

warnings: none, i swear

Enjoy!

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

Eleven hours.

He’d been pacing outside that door for eleven godsdamned hours. A track showed in the carpet. The outrageously expensive rug Aelin had carefully selected and imported from Eyllwe.

“Aelin’s going to castrate you for that, you know.”

Rowan whirled at the voice, finding Lorcan casually standing at the end of the hall, observing his brother warrior with arched brow. 

“For the track?” He shrugged. “Either of us can fix it with a flick of a finger. What she doesn’t know won’t bother her.”

“You forget that she’s in no condition to forgi—”

“I know what godsdamned condition my mate is in, thank you, and if you came here to snark at me, you can shove it up your a—” His sentence cut off abruptly as Lorcan called up whatever godsdamned power he controlled and whisked the two of them out to the training yard. 

“You prick! I’m supposed to be there!”

“You’re supposed to NOT be adding worry to your mate’s labor, dammit! And pacing your big ugly boots into her expensive carpeting isn’t the way to do that. Besides, I’m willing to bet you were practically screaming your worry down the bond, which really does absolutely nothing good.”

“At least I have big boots,” smirked Rowan, glancing pointedly down at Lorcan’s everyday shoes.

Lorcan’s face split into a positively feral smirk. “Five hundred years and you still can’t accept that my sword has always been broader." 

Whatever few remaining threads Rowan had tying his self-control together snapped. And he launched himself at his brother with a growl of pure Doranellian rage. Lorcan smirked, dodged his barreling attack, and kicked the back of his knee. Rowan grunted, catching himself before he could fall, turned, and let his fists fly. Lorcan met him blow for blow, jab for jab, that infuriating smirk of his never fading. Through the mire of stress and worry clouding his mind, Rowan realized that Lorcan was giving him what he needed: an outlet for everything overloading his brain. 

Thank me later, brother, the dark-haired male's vicious grin said.

Rowan grunted. So damn full of yourself whenever you think you did something useful. He brought his flagging defenses back up and landed a punishing hit to Lorcan’s stomach. The older male grunted, backhanded him, and kicked his legs out from under him. Swearing viciously, Rowan hit the dirt of the training ring with a thud. Lorcan tackled him, promptly rolled him over, and put him in a headlock. Pinned, he slapped the ground three times, yielding, a significant chunk of his stress gone. 

“Who would have known that getting your ass kicked would help you not to worry about your lovely, strong mate?” Lorcan inquired.

“Says the one who knocked Elide up first.”

“Quite. And look how well that turned out.”

Rowan snorted a laugh. “Cal likes me best.”

Lorcan rolled his eyes. "You're just saying that because he hasn't shit his diaper all over you or spit up all over your clean fucking clothes."

"Ah, the perils of fatherhood."

Lorcan swatted him. "We'll see who's joking when--" Elide appeared from an upstairs window and motioned with her hand. Instantly, the two males were on their feet again, racing for the doors.  

“Whitethorn?” Concern creased Lorcan's normally scowling face.

“What.” Nerves and anxiety nearly overpowered Rowan's better judgment; he really hadn't meant to snap at Lorcan like that.

“Gods above, calm down.”

“I am calm!”

“In that case, it’s time to go home. Aelin and your baby are—” Rowan was gone before Lorcan finished his sentence. Lorcan rolled his eyes and followed him into the manor.

Back in the queen and king's hallway, Rowan paused before the door leading into Aelin’s room. The sharp medicinal smells from earlier were gone. His wife’s scent still hinted at pain, but also…joy. Such unending joy. He lifted his hand to knock, but the door swung open before he could. Standing there, grinning, were Elide and Lysandra. 

“Ready to meet your little princess?”

Rowan gulped, fighting back unexpected tears. Princess.

Yes, you big oaf, a daughter. Aelin’s voice. Exhausted, but not lacking that wry humor of hers. 

Rowan crossed the room to his mate and the bundle of blankets in her arms. His daughter. Their daughter. Asleep, he couldn’t tell her eye color, but the little one's face—it was a tiny, perfect mirror of Aelin's own. He slumped onto the bed beside her, overcome with awe and fear and a hundred other emotions.

“May I...hold her?” His words were thick with unshed tears. Aelin smiled softly, tiredly, and placed their baby girl in his arms. Rowan looked down into the face of his daughter. And cried, overcome with the emotions of holding the baby he never dreamed of having. The first of many, he hoped. When his eyes cleared, he sniffled and looked to his mate. 

“What are we naming her?”

Aelin's exhausted face lifted with quiet joy. "Alanna Evalin Whitethorn Galathynius."

Utterly perfect.

~~~

tags:

@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

@silentquartz

#my writing #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #little canon fluffs #happy happy birthday ez!!! #love you ezra

[elsfinix]

Aelin Knight and Ominis Gaunt for @bomivakarian. Happy birthday ;)

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanart #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #ominis gaunt x mc

[wordsafterhours]

Songs About You - Chapter 15

Author's Note: Buckle up and enjoy this fluff fest. I worked so long on getting this chapter right and I think it still fell short. But I just love this time of year. Fall and Winter are my bread and butter, especially Christmas. I'd like to live in a Hallmark movie and make zero apologies for it. In the next few updates, we will be seeing more explanation onto what happen to her parents, more details on Arobynn's betrayal, and Gavriel and Aedion's exile from Aelin's life.

*Unedited update. I couldn't wait.

Triggers: I can't think of anything crazy that would need to be listed

Word Count: 9.8k (I haven't written college papers this long)

Masterlist

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Still quite bemused with herself, Aelin dawdled through getting dressed and making her way down the stairs. Several familiar voices deep in conversation reached her ears long before she found them in the foyer, digging through dusty boxes. 

“Does she have decorations for every occasion? I’m pretty sure I’ve looked through thirty boxes and only found one with Yulemas stuff,” complained Dorian. 

“Her family was big on celebrating any and everything. It was magical coming here as a kid. Trust me, the Yulemas decorations far outnumber anything here three to one,” Elide stated matter-of-factly.

The dark-haired male dramatically whined and started opening another box. Aelin decided to take pity on him, “The items in question are in the basement and carriage house.”

“Oh, hey there. I didn’t realize you’d come down.” Elide’s cheeks tinged pink with her admission, clearly flustered at having been caught unaware. 

The blonde said nothing, leaning casually against the wooden banister to her left, patiently waiting for anyone to divulge an explanation for the scene at hand. Elide dusted off her hands against her jeans and smiled tensely. “I’m sorry about last night. You were right to be upset and after you left, I was such a mess trying to figure out how I was going to apologize. A little birdy told me the house wasn’t decorated and I decided that it would be the best apology I could muster.” 

Her friend bounced anxiously up and down while she talked, a telltale sign of how unsure she was of herself right now. Aelin knew it had taken a lot for Elide to show up uninvited, especially given how last night had gone, and in taking such a bold move to decorate the house. Yulemas wasn’t the same since her parents passing and even less so after exiling the only family she had left. Each year, as December fell, she longed to pull out the boxes, to put up trees and wrap garlands around the columns, yet it never came to fruition.

Chaol had tried it to snap her out of it, but after one too many meltdowns, he’d just stopped. He’d always get her a gift and then head south to Adarlan, to spend it with his father, Dorian, and Dorian’s family. It was easier that way. No fake smiles, pretend happiness, or unwanted melancholy chasing away the holiday joy. 

If the very idea of this holiday hadn’t been artfully avoided, the decorations’ locations would be a forgotten memory, beyond her grasp. But her mind cruelly remembered what each and every box had, where it lived, and whose job it had been to put it up. Yulemas used to be the one thing worth waiting for as a kid. Not her birthday, summer, visits from Aedion, or traveling the continents—it was and had only ever been Yulemas. 

As the air cooled and the calendar marked December 1st, her mother was hiring local city folk and paying bonuses to landscapers to help put up all the decorations. It was a grand affair and the week before Yulemas, her parents would open their finished home for tours. Hot cocoa, cider, and sweet treats were offered. Carols would be sung, and she would play piano for their guests. Aelin lived for it. What she wouldn’t give for five minutes in one of those memories. 

A very sharp delivery of her name brought her out the reminiscent reverie. She took a startled step backward in attempt to gather her bearings. Elide was in arms distance now, looking concerned more than anything. “Are you okay?”

Was she? Simple answer: no. Would that be shared? Also, no. 

“Only trying to process all of you here, digging through my house.” She internally winced at the tone, knowing its harshness wasn’t deserved, but too aggrieved to cop to it. 

“I wish all my friends groveled like these two,” Fen casually declared between bites of toast. 

“Sharing my bed wasn’t enough, you’re eating my food, too?”

“I worked up an appetite,” he whined, dark eyes giving her a pleading look that would rival Fleetfoot’s. 

Graciously, no one chose to run with the blond’s comment, sparing her from further humiliation and or drawn-out explanation. At least the day was giving something back to her, small as it was. 

“Who else is here?” 

“We all are, well minus Lorcan. He’s being a pain in my ass, and we can leave it at that.” 

She gave a non-committal acknowledgement, staring too hard at one of the boxes Dorian had previously been looking through. If she granted them the okay to pull out the Yulemas decorations, could she bear it? Would the joy of it overshadow the grief that was picking her a part, one stitch popping at a time, threatening the remaining seams that were left. 

A presence came to rest behind her and she unconsciously gravitated back. His warmth radiated across her, momentarily chasing away the chill that had settled. Even as upset as she was with him, as betrayed as she felt—Rowan had become a much-needed life raft. 

He shouldn’t be. 

Couldn’t be.

But yet, he was. There were somethings this world knew that she didn’t, but what she did know, undoubtedly, down to her very marrow, was that Rowan Whitethorn had been the very thing missing from hers. “It’s okay to be scared and sad, Ace, but you have to stop limiting your happiness. Take it back. You deserve joy. Elide told me how much the season means to you and it’s almost over, but it doesn’t mean you can’t partake in it. We’re all here for you. Just say yes.” 

His appeal was low, warmed breath washing over the exposed column of her neck, words meant to only be heard by her. Resigned, her shoulders sagged as she nodded in wordless acquiescence. 

“This is going to be so exciting!” cheered Elide, clapping her hands together in paramount enthusiasm.

At least someone was thrilled. All Aelin could feel was a ten-pound leaded weight sitting in the pit of her stomach. It was cruel how emotions could rule, define, own. She’d do anything to turn it all off; to be cold and unfeeling, if only to get through this day. 

Her blue eyes stared intently, roving over every oak plank not covered by the foyer rug. One, two, three… one-hundred and fifty-one. All visible ones accounted for and the heaviness humanely lessened. She was alone, the sounds of her friends muffled, but it was clear they had wasted no time tackling the decorations. 

“Better?”

Her breath caught in surprise. Why Aelin had assumed she was truly alone was beyond her. If her thoughts hadn’t consumed her so, his presence would have been felt. A lie was forming on her tongue, but it tasted bitter, too bitter to bring to life. “Not really, but I think you already knew that.”

“Perhaps. Not that you give me benefit of the doubt often, but I don’t know everything.”

An unladylike snort sounded between them. Her eyes widened in embarrassment, and she hid her face. Rowan laughed loudly, chasing away her self-consciousness, and warming her to the core. It was such a beautiful sound, carefree and unbound. 

“I heard they found the sitting room decorations and some aged sheet music. Dorian said you play. Can you show me?”

“Gods what a gossip queen,” she muttered with rolled eyes. 

“I know I don’t know him well, but he doesn’t seem like a vault by any means.” 

“He would spill everyones’ secrets for a good romp in the sheets.” 

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Rowan acknowledged dryly. 

Expectance hung in the air as Aelin waffled between telling Rowan no or sucking it up and playing. She hadn’t played in years. The piano was surely out of tune, the ivory keys covered in a telltale dust film. It was a talent, a habit long forgotten, buried beneath a barrage of painful memories.

The feel of smooth keys beneath her fingers could never be forgotten and suddenly hers were itching to glide across them. To artfully construct notes into beautiful chords and drown out the world until only music remained. Nothing else mattered when she sat at the bench. Maybe, just maybe, that was what she needed. 

“Just one song.”

“Just one song,” he agreed. He sounded somewhat surprised, but Aelin wasn’t too sure since her back was still to him. 

She brushed around the foyer table and pushed apart the dark wood pocket doors, revealing a beautiful brown piano, nestled in the far corner, between a window and fireplace. Without much thought, Aelin raised the lid, and then sat down, flipping back the cover, revealing ivory and gold keys.

The piano had been a gift from her parents one Yulemas, after she’d shown promise with the instrument. It had been redone just for her; the traditional black keys replaced with gold. After the finished stretching her hands, she played a few notes to ascertain how out of tune it was. 

It wasn’t as much as the thought and a small, pleased smile turned the corners of her mouth upwards. Out of her periphery, she watched Rowan’s large frame settle into one of the chairs that faced the piano. Her hands slightly trembled, the gravity of the moments to come setting her nervous system haywire. 

Assuming proper position, Aelin moved to the edge of the bench with her back straight, arms out and relaxed in front of her. The opening chord notes tinkered through the air, harsher than they out to have been—her wrists were dropping. In the back of her mind, the severe chastisement of her former tutors reminded her that she wasn’t “grasping the keys”, thus her wrists were not lifting accordingly, the notes not soft.

Playing solely from memory, more than a few missteps occurred, but if Rowan noticed, he never gave it away. His green eyes were piercing, watching her with rapt attention. He could have been a stone statue if not for the occasional rise and fall of his shoulders.  

Moving to the next piece, her fingers glided across the keys, caressing them in near reverence, like one would caress a lover after long being separated. Tendrils of blond hair slipped forward, partially obscuring her view of the man sitting opposite her. The wisp of privacy came at the perfect time—the crescendo was up. 

Furiously, her fingers danced upon ivory and gold with precision, the familiar ache settling into her hands and shoulders. Uncertainty, grief, life—it ceased to exist as Aelin gave all of herself to the keys. It wasn’t until the last beautiful note filled the air with a resounding resonance that she let herself breathe. 

Silence, the cliché type where you could hear a pin drop, settled heavily across the room. Rowan was still sitting there, wordless, jaw resting against a balled fist, watching her with an undecipherable gaze. Had she not played as well as she thought? Was he trying to find the words to critique it? Critique her? Vulnerability and anxiety came on swift wings, like thieves in the night, whisking away her joy.

His opinion should not matter, especially under the circumstances now encompassing their friendship, but it did. Rowan’s opinion perhaps mattered more than anyone’s and she hated he had that power over her. It was power she gave him, but the heart was a fickle, stubborn thing, particularly the one housed beneath her own twelve pairs of ribs. It did not adhere to the principles of logic, not now, not ever.

The statue broke from his confines, leaning forward, bracing both elbows on his knees, hands steepled. He remained quiet, his gaze still just as studious as it had been the entirety of her playing. If he didn’t say something, Aelin’s nerves were going to split apart. Vulnerability was making her it’s entire three course meal.

His warm timber reached her ears, and she stood in anticipation before he’d even said two words. He gave a faint laugh. “I think your piano needs tuning.” 

Six words have never been so defeating. The small kernel of joy that had roared to life instantly snuffed out, leaving as though it had never been there in the first place. The traitorous burn along her lower lids meant tears were welling up, preparing to fall down, like water from a broken dam. Aelin prayed to the gods for the floor to split open and swallow her whole; it would be a mercy compared to this. 

Angered, she roughly wiped away the moisture, pinning the silver-haired man with her gold and turquoise stare. “If you didn’t like it, you could have just lied to my face. It took every ounce of will I could muster to sit down and play for you and the only comment you can make is antagonistic? You can be a real godsdamned asshole sometimes, Ro.” 

His brow furrowed and he took a step back, hitting the chair causing it to squeak sharply in protest against the oak floor. There was just enough space for her to run by him and Aelin seized the opportunity. His warm hand encircled her left bicep, stopping her before she could get out of the sitting room completely. 

“Aelin, stop.” 

She fought against his hold, refusing to turn and face him. His pressure became a little firmer, not enough to hurt, but enough to cease almost all of the fight. Calloused fingers twirled the errant tendrils of hair along her face and neck, and as though he had done it a thousand times prior, he tucked the hair behind her ear, tracing the shell of her ear softly.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you. I didn’t know what to say. Everything that I was thinking just seemed so trivial and underwhelming. Inadequate.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“There are moments in life that define who you are. Moments that break and remake you all in the same breath. Moments that will be written on your bones for others to see long after you’re dead. Moments that you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you could revisit them because nothing will ever be as sweet.” 

He was whispering now, hushed, like he didn’t want any part of the world to hear him. Secrets and words were powerful currency. Both could be used at a moment’s notice to bring someone to their knees. Aelin had learned that with the death of her parents, Arobynn’s betrayal, Aedion’s strangled pleas as she shut the door on him. If you never gave words life or shared secrets—then they could never be used against you. 

“You can’t keep cutting my legs out from underneath me to protect yourself.”

“Aelin, that wasn’t my intention at all. I thought you’d call me on my bullshit with some line about how the piano wasn’t out of tune or something.” 

“I showed you my underbelly. I know you could tell I was nervous. Do you really think a joke was the appropriate response?”

He snorted. “Well, now I don’t.”

Exasperation zipped up her spine and she pulled hard against his hold. If he wanted to be a prick to someone, it wasn’t going to be her. Rowan adjusted his hold before slipping his other arm around her, holding her tight to his chest. She struggled but stopped when it became apparent he wasn’t going to let up. She didn’t have to see his handsome face to know he was wearing a smug smile as he rested his chin on her head. 

“I think that if I could bottle up that moment, I’d never know another sorrow for the rest of my life.”

The confession had been unexpected and brutally honest. The vulnerability in his words was profoundly tangible. A feeling all too familiar. The tension left her body as Aelin relaxed into him, taking time to process what he had said before she responded. Words, they mattered, and while he wasn’t hers, it felt like right now he was. In another life, she could turn to him and capture his lips with her own in a silent conveyance of how she felt. They were two faces of the same coin, different, beautiful apart, but whole together. 

But Hellas himself would have to drag that secret out of her. No acknowledgement meant no control. This life had enough influence on her; she couldn’t afford to give it anymore. So instead of saying and doing what she wanted, she offered him a small thank you that tasted rancid on her tongue. 

He continued to hold her; his strong arms wrapped comfortably tight. His shirt had moved up his arms a bit, showing off tanned skin, and the whorls of his tattoo. Later, she promised herself, she would ask him what it all said and meant. A handful of the words were known to her, but the archaic language had fallen out of favor years before her time. 

“Do you think we should help with the decorations?” his question vibrated across her back.

“Why should I help with my apology gift, defeats the purpose doesn’t it?”

“Always with the smart mouth,” he declared with a pinch to her side.

“It’s part of my charm.”

“I mean if that’s what you want to call it.”

“You know what, you get to put up the 26ft tree up outside. By yourself.” 

“You promise?”

He sounded too excited at the prospect. “Better yet, I’ll send Manon to help you.”

Rowan’s arms dropped from around her and he stepped into the doorway, wide-eyed.

“Snow leopard got your tongue?” Aelin’s smirk was threatening to split her face in two.

“I will take anyone else. She’s scary,” he fake whispered, looking over his shoulder while he said it.

“I know. I think it’ll be good for you.”

“I had another idea in mind.”

“Go on,” she encouraged.

“I was thinking you could help me. I won’t make you do any heavy lifting, and you can insult me the entire time.”

“It’s not enough. What else?”

“What else?” he said slightly taken aback. 

“Mhmm, what else?” She thoroughly enjoyed how panicked he looked as he wracked his brain to come up with something agreeable.

“I’ll bring you an entire chocolate hazelnut cake the next time I come by the shop.”

“But you’ve already brought me some before. Try again.”

He ran a hand through his hair, displacing some of the silver locks. Her eyes followed and it was then she knew what she wanted.

“You can let me braid your hair?”

He suspiciously sounded like he was choking before falling into a small coughing fit. Aelin had got him, satisfaction rolling through her.

“One time. This is a one-time deal because I fucked up a lot recently and I’d do just about anything to make you smile.

“Well, I chose wisely then. We better go drag tree out of the carriage house. And check on everyone else, because it’s too quiet and with Dorian around, that’s never a good thing.” 

Rowan gestured towards the foyer, allowing her the chance to head first into the chaos. 

Surprisingly, most of the upstairs had been decorated and the bannisters had been wrapped in garlands. When Rowan and Aelin had surveyed everyones’ work, both shared a look of guilt at not having helped. Connall and Vaughn had moved the big boxes for them and hadn’t been seen since. Rowan asked if they needed any other heavy lifting done, but Lys, Manon, and Elide waved them off. 

Taking the back set of stairs down, they wandered into the kitchen, to find Vaughn flipping through several cookbooks laid out on the counters, writing things down on a scratch paper. “Do you have a zester?” he asked without looking up.

“I should, in one of those drawers. What are you doing?” 

“Well, someone has to make Yulemas Eve dinner, Aelin,” he replied like it should have been glaringly obvious.

“I normally just have takeout and pretend the day doesn’t exist,” she admitted quietly. 

“Aelin?”

“Yeah, Con?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way but get out of the kitchen.” 

She questioningly looked up at Rowan and mouthed, “Was it something I said?” 

He jerked his head towards the back door and out they went. “He takes food very seriously. He loves to cook for everyone, and he eats pretty clean. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat takeout. He’ll eat at restaurants but spends twenty minutes picking apart the menu before eating. Its rather cumbersome.”

“So, it was something I said,” she chuckled. 

“Can you two shut up or go somewhere else?” a displeased, muffled voice asked. Both turned and noted Dorian happily smothered beneath two dogs on the porch swing. Rowan had brought Elliot. She smiled to herself—it was sweet he loved his dog the way she loved Fleetfoot.

“I thought you were helping with decorations, not sleeping your highness.”

“I was in the way and Fen said I was too whiny. Besides, Lorcan showed up looking angry and pushed me off the ladder. I wasn’t going to get into it with that guy. He’d eat me for breakfast or use me as snow leopard bait.” 

“And to think you’re supposed to be taking over running Adarlan.” 

“Well, when I take it over, I can order someone to deal with unpleasantries like that man. Or manual labor. You know I was built to supervise.” 

People told Aelin she was dramatic, which she was. But somehow, she knew they’d find another adjective to describe her antics if they had to put up with Dorian. He was lovable, fiercely loyal, fun, a good listener, but nauseatingly theatrical without much effort or thought. 

“If you change your mind and get tired of lying with the dogs, we’ll be out front putting up the tree.” Rowan looked like he was ready to bite through his lip to keep from laughing. 

It took twenty minutes for them to pull out all the tree boxes from the carriage house and drag them into the front yard. Lorcan and Fen had offered to help but Rowan had politely declined, letting them know if they were needed, he’d get them.

Aelin could tell Rowan was really trying to make up for last night. He’d followed each direction she’d given him to the T and done so without terrorizing her in the process. He didn’t even laugh when she tripped over an errant tree root poking out of the ground and knocked over several boxes, spilling shiny ornaments everywhere. 

The tree was halfway done, and she was fluffing the faux branches, waiting for him to return with ladders so they could put the rest up. Once it was put together, they could plug it in, and see what lights needed replacement before deciding on ornament placement. Her mom had always taken ornaments seriously and hung them all herself. It took hours sometimes because she’d take several breaks to step back and look, moving the glass balls accordingly until they were perfect. 

Inside, there was a Christmas tree for every room except the bathrooms and kitchen. All differed in size or style, each with their own set of dedicated ornaments. Each Yulemas, Rhoe had gotten both her and her mom a new ornament to be hung on the tree of their choosing. Some were wooden, others blown glass, and on occasion, metal. It had been years, but pain ferociously nipped at the heels of nostalgia made it feel like this was the first Yulemas without them. 

In a way it was. The holidays that had been celebrated with Aedion, Gavriel, and Arobynn, had been spent at the latter’s house. It was easier that way. She thought that Arobynn had been doing her a kindness but really it was just to ensure he could keep an eye on everyone. If all ends of the knot were in your hand, nothing could unravel, providing all the reassurance you needed. 

Not wanting to be melancholy when Rowan came back, she sidelined her thoughts, returning back to fluffing the branches, doing her best to fill in any bare spots. It was tedious, often cramping her hands, but there was comfort in monotonous activity.  Most of it was done, but one particular branch was proving to be a hindrance. A few colorful words escaped as she tipped forward, catching a mouthful of synthetic tree.

“Are you trying to tip the whole thing over?” he asked playfully.

“If that what it takes to get that last branch fluffed, then yes,” she replied stubbornly looking over her shoulder at him.

He tipped his head back, a full-bodied and carefree laugh sounding from him. He looked like the picture she’d been admiring on the bar wall—young and happy. She could only watch him, a smile of her own forming. Rowan was handsome; the most striking man she’d ever seen but nothing compared to this, and Aelin vowed to never let this memory go. He continued to laugh as he walked up and reached above her, righting the troublesome branch. 

“Is that better?”

“Yes. If you could have been a minute sooner, I wouldn’t have taken branches to the face.” 

“If my defense, the appropriate ladder was in the back of the carriage house, buried under stuff. And it’s heavy. I also stopped to talk to the guys.”

“Uh huh. I just hear excuses.” 

A loud squeal escaped her as Rowan’s strong arms picked up and tipped her upside down while tickling her ribs. “Excuses, huh?” 

“Ye—.” She tried to speak but he continued his assault, making it too hard to answer. 

“What was that? I can understand you. Words, Aelin. Use your words.” 

Every time she tried to talk; he tickled her again. Her stomach hurt from laughing and her head felt heavy from being upside down. If she was lucky, he was ticklish, too. She grabbed above his knee and squeezed—he jerked and almost dropped her. 

She screamed in half in delight, half in panic. Was tickling him back worth the possibility of being dropped? It wasn’t that far to the ground, but it was far enough. Tickling him won out and she latched onto his knee, squeezing it. 

“Hey, stop that!”

“You started it.” 

“Don’t make me drop you.”

“I trust you not to.” She smiled deviously. He wouldn’t drop her now, not after she’d said that. The likelihood of him dropping her before was minute, but added reassurance wasn’t bad. She hadn’t counted on him starting to spin. His grip tightened and he spun and spun and spun. Her head was swimming when he stopped. He seemed completely unphased.

Aelin was about to tease him some more when she felt the familiar vibration of a phone. Hers was inside, which meant it was Rowan’s. As though she weighed nothing more than a feather, he continued to brace her body against his with one arm and used his newly freed one to dig in his pocket. His body stiffened as he looked at the screen. Flipping her upright, he set her down and took two steps back, answering the phone. 

Eaves dropping was extremely rude, but he was still so close—it was hard not to hear every word of the exchange between them. His silver brow furrowed the longer the conversation continued, and he was intermittently pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Lyria was clearly upset that he hadn’t answered her previously calls or called her back. Then she brought up how he wasn’t “here”. Aelin didn’t know where “here” was, but she did know it wasn’t hanging out with his friends.

“I’m not going to do this with you right now. You’re jumping down my throat and I understand you’re upset, but this isn’t how I want to spend my holiday. I love you and I’m sorry I had a prior commitment. You knew this when you asked me last week.”

Prior commitment? The decorating was last minute, she knew from Elide’s tenuous confession and pleading this morning. So, what had Rowan given up to be here? The mother of his child was currently ripping him a new one, he’d ignored several phone calls, and still, he was in here, instead of doing whatever he was supposed to be doing. 

She startled when he said her name. She had missed him hanging up with Lyria. His guarded green gaze met hers and held steady. He was waiting for to ask him what was going on. Most of it didn’t need to be asked about because she heard it, but against her better judgement, she had to ask two questions.

“Where were you supposed to be and why aren’t you with her?”

His angular jaw tensed just enough to let her know he was uncomfortable with what she had asked of him. His left hand clenched into a fist, the tanned skin of his forearm flexing the tattooed whorls. “I’m not with her because I didn’t want to be.” 

“But she’s having your baby. And it’s Yulemas tomorrow.”

“Thank you for that astute observation, Aelin.” 

“I just don’t understand,” she said plainly. Quietly. 

“I was supposed to go to Doranelle early this morning, on a red eye, but I didn’t. She’s mad because I wouldn’t cancel it to go spend the holiday with her and her parents. I’ve spent every Yulemas with my cousins since my parents died.” She knew he’d lost his parents, but he’d never stated is so plainly. Truly, he had said more about himself in those three sentences as he had in as many months of friendship. 

“Did you tell her you didn’t go?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“And she’s livid you still didn’t go to her parents.” It should have been a question, but she said it as a statement instead. It was evident from the tense exchange just how upset the dark-haired woman was about his lack of attendance.

“Correct.”

It was apparent that any further explication on the subject was going to be like pulling teeth. 

“Did you miss your plane?”

“No,” he answered flat and succinct. 

“Did they ask you not to come?”

“Of course not. They were very upset when I called this morning and said I wasn’t coming.” 

“Why didn’t you go?” she pushed. It was unfair he always knew what was going on in her head, soliciting more than what she wanted to comfortably give. She didn’t regret trying to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

“Don’t ask me that Aelin.”

While the please wasn’t audible, she knew it was implied, as was the reason he didn’t go.

Her.

His green eyes were still upon her, narrowing slightly, as he anticipated her next move. She wanted to call him on his unsaid truth. To prod and prod and prod until one of them snapped, the consequences be damned. But she didn’t. He’d shown her the smallest glimpse inside his walls. If her inquisition backfired, he’d never let her in again. 

Trust took an irrational amount of time to foster and create but could be forced to ruination in seconds. She would not bring their friendship to the battlefield today. As hard as it was to sit on her hands, it was exactly what she did.

“I think if we don’t hurry up with the tree, it’ll be dark, and we’ll have missed Connall’s cooking.”

Rowan visibly relaxed, like one of the Staghorns had been lifted off his shoulders. “You’re probably right. Fenrys and Lorcan won’t hesitate to eat our food if we’re not there when Con deems its dinner time.” 

The rest of the tree took around an hour to put together, Rowan of course doing all the heavy lifting, and much to his chagrin, some branch fluffing while Aelin directed him from the ground. After she had almost fallen off the ladder reaching to fix one of them, he had refused to let her back on, using his body to block her. She was secretly glad; it gave her a chance to watch him unencumbered. His muscled frame, despite being large, moved with graceful ease, keeping him steady 20 plus feet in the air. 

Aelin had only seen a small glimpse of the finished decorations and was itching to get up from the dinner table to look, but her friends kept sending judgmental looks her way. Rowan had thought it would be more special to plug in the lights outside once dinner was over, so they could ring in Yulemas as a family—she’d been pouting ever since. The need for instant gratification was on the forefront of her brain. 

Now that the decorations were up and finished, the joy she used to feel before her parents’ loss was coming to life, soon to be a roaring fire. Connall had said he was putting the finishing touches on several dishes and waiting for dessert to finish, before dinner would start. It felt like later would never come.

“Would you quit bouncing your leg like a little kid who has to pee?” Lys quietly said into her ear. 

“I’m starving and no one will let me look at the decorations.” 

“Yes because you got out voted and we’re doing it all together. Not any one person has seen it all.”

“Quit scolding me like a child,” whined Aelin, tipping her head back against the chair. On her left, out of the corner of her eye, she could see Rowan’s mouth tip up in a lopsided grin as his gaze flicked away from Fenrys to her. Her pain was the night’s entertainment.

“You’re acting like a toddler right now,” Lysandra tried to sound stern but ended up laughing.

“Lysssssssss.”

“This is why you were an only child. Elide was she this insufferable growing up?”

“Worse. Between her and Aedion, it was constant ego, theatrics, and bad decisions. I’m pretty sure it’s why I ended up being an only child. My mom had to put up with them and then come home to me. I asked for a brother once and she started bringing me to play with them… I didn’t want one after that.” 

“It wasn’t that bad, Elide,” Aelin declared indignantly.

The dark-haired woman remained silent, but raised a disbelieving eyebrow and stared her down. Aedion and Aelin had been menaces to her parents, Elide’s mother Marion, and Gavriel, but Elide had been their partner in crime too many times to count. Aelin would let the rest of the table believe Elide the angel she appeared to be, for now. 

“Aelin, why don’t you go decorate the tree in your bedroom? I left a box with your name on it sitting on the bed. It was full of ornaments,” chimed in Manon as she walked in from the kitchen, a newly poured glass of red wine in hand.

“You found my tree?”

Manon snorted, the wine almost sloshing over the side of her glass when she did so. “It was hard to miss. Giant scrawl was all over the two boxes declaring it was your tree and the decorations that went with it. You guys really love Yulemas in this house.”

“Yeah we did,” she agreed, renewed nostalgia setting in. A heavy hand landed on her bouncing leg, giving her knee a brief, reassuring squeeze. Her blue eyes flicked over to Rowan’s, and he inclined his head towards the door, motioning for her to go.

She weaved out of the room and out the front dining room entrance, ending up at stairs closet to her room. Halfway up, a second set of footfalls joined in hers, and without turning, she knew it was Rowan. The outside tree and being present today, had been apology enough, but if he wanted to watch her agonize over perfect placement for her tree, then she’d let him.

The box on her bed was open, ratty cardboard flaps revealing some of her most prized possessions. Twenty-one years of her life could be found in this box. Every year, her father would present her mother and her with handpicked ornaments. It was tradition to open them on Yulemas Eve and then hang them on the tree at midnight.

Manon had set the tree to the right of her fireplace. It stood tall and naked in front of her bookshelf. Eagerly, she stuck her hand into the box of brightly colored tissue paper, pulling out a wrapped ball. Instant tears welled in her eyes as she unwrapped it. A flaming red heart sat nestled in her hand. It had been the last one her father had gotten for her and the most meaningful Yulemas gift she’d ever received. 

A silent tear rolled down her cheek, dripping onto the tissue paper, darkening it. Another one followed. She knew it was in here but hadn’t expected it to be the very first one out of the box. She could feel his presence heavy at her side, probably wondering she was looking at her hands like they held the world. 

She sniffed, her runny nose making very unlady like noises, “My dad got my mom and I handmade ones every year. We’d open them the night before Yulemas and hang them on the tree at midnight, signifying the start of our favorite day of the year. This one, it was the last one he got me before they died.”

“Aelin, it’s beautiful.” 

“It’s what they used to call me. Fireheart.” 

“Very fitting.” 

“Not anymore. I don’t even know that girl.”

“I do,” he said quietly before slipping it from her hands and hanging it on a branch towards the top. 

Aelin wanted to argue with him, to tell him that the girl she used to be was just as dead as her parents. She had been a force, burning brightly—unapologetically herself. There wasn’t a mountain she couldn’t conquer. She had been someone who never needed anyone, who didn’t cry at the drop of a hat, and had never doubted herself. 

Now, she was nothing but a field of ash, burned and unrecognizable. 

He held out his hand, waiting for her to hand him another, and she did methodically until the box was empty. It was stunning, each placed just right. The tree could have been in a magazine, reminding her of the days when Evalin had spent hours adorning the trees to the same standard. 

Rowan’s tall frame dropped to the floor, and he plugged in the tree, illuminating the room. The heart at the top had been strategically placed, backlit by a bulb, giving the illusion it was actually burning. He leaned into her legs, his head resting against her hip as they stared at the tree. 

“Sometimes, we all just need a little light.” The statement was weighted and required no elaboration, clearly a nod to her earlier confession. She dropped her hand to his head, idly running her fingers through the loose, silver strands. He had taken his hair out of its bun earlier, in anticipation of her braiding it, but they had never gotten around to it. It would have to be done at a later date; he would not get off scot-free. 

“Dinner!” a cacophony of loud voices rang out from somewhere beyond the walls of her bedroom. Hastily, the pair separated, several feet of distance now between them. Shame felt heavy in the pit of her stomach as she stared at Rowan, who was conveniently looking at books on the shelf nearest him.

It might not have been the embrace of lovers, but the moment had been just as intimate, if not more. He was spoken for, a father-in-the-making, and situations like this, shouldn’t be happening. Aelin was to Rowan as a moth was to a flame—inexplicably drawn, despite the promise of a tragic outcome. 

Moving forward, she would have to religiously remind herself that traipsing the fine line between friends and something more was not in the best interest of anyone involved. Too many cards were in play, and she did not yet possess a winning hand. With one last look, she strolled out of the room and rushed down the stairs, eagerly returning to her earlier seat.

Elide gave her a questioning look when she sat down alone. She shrugged her shoulders, reaching for whatever dish was closest to her. Later, one of her friends would corner her, demanding answers about her quality time spent with the silver-haired male. They were all a bunch of gossips, yet, if she shoe were on the other foot, she’d be acting the same. Secrets were the glue that helped bind friendships together. 

Con had out done himself. The table was laden with various dishes from one side to the other. There was no way she was going to be able to try it all. She plopped a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes on the white and gold plate in front her and then followed it with carved pieces of turkey. A basket of rolls was making its way around but was rudely intercepted by Rowan’s big hand as he swiped one before sitting down. 

“Looks like that was the last one, Aelin,” shared Dorian with a sympathetic look. He set the empty basket down and all she could do was stare at it, letting out a loud and dramatic sigh. 

“There’s another batch baking. The rolls always go first,” called Con from the opposite end. It didn’t make it better. She had wanted one now. Instant gratification and all.

“Here,” he said warmly, his tattooed hand placing half a roll onto her plate. Melted butter glistened on the top and her ire softened, just slightly, at his gesture. Her turquoise eyes followed his hand’s retreat, a tingling, heavy sensation forming low in her stomach when he licked the butter from his fingers. Her thighs clenched together, a poor attempt at quelling the wayward response her body was having to such an innocuous act.   

The gods were testing her. As if last night’s conversation or today’s Yulemas decorating had not been enough, now they were dangling a hot, hot man who she couldn’t touch right in front of her. Perhaps, she should attend Temple and pray to Kiva for atonement or to Lumas’, whose birthday was tomorrow… he was the God of Love afterall. 

“I think we should go around and say one thing we’re grateful for or that we hope happens in the next year. Seems more fun than the traditional grace said at Holidays,” suggested Vaughn. 

“Oh, I love this!” Dorian declared excitedly, dropping his napkin into his lap, and sitting up straight. His blue eyes were sparkling. “I’m grateful I’m spending this holiday with great friends.”

“That is so lame,” Manon declared dryly. Her unnaturally yellow eyes were pinned on Dorian, daring him refute her.

“It may be lame, but it’s true. I usually spend today and Yulemas with my family and Chaol. It’s nice to do something different with people who don’t tell me how much of a screw up I am. Or who don’t rant incessantly about mutual friends.” His gaze flicked to Aelin’s when he said the last part; apology was etched into his face.

“Well, we’re honored to be the better choice,” Fenrys said, raising his glass to Dorian before tipping it back. “I’m grateful for the beautiful life I get to live, and I hope this next year continues to bring good things to me and my.” Collective nods and smiles spread around the table. 

“I’m grateful that Vaughn finally asked me out,” declared Conall with a grin so wide, it crinkled his eyes so much they almost looked shut. Vaughn leaned over, placing a sweet but chaste kiss against his lips. 

“Me too, you’re the best part of my day.” 

“Can we save some of the sweet for dessert? My teeth are rotting out just looking at you two.” 

“She has to eat children for breakfast,” Dorian whispered, looking slightly frightened. 

“I heard that,” Manon replied drolly. She took a large sip of wine from her glass, keeping the raven-haired male pinned with her glare. Aelin found it too amusing how much the woman liked to torture Dorian. He always acted as though at any second he was going to be disemboweled by her hands. Honestly, that seemed a little messy… she seemed the type to just snap someone’s neck and step over the body, unbothered. 

“I’m grateful for the success of The Thirteenth.” 

Lys coughed pointedly. Manon sighed, “I’m grateful for my friends. I guess you all are pretty cool.” 

“Glad we rank somewhere in your life,” Lys laughed. “I’m grateful for Fleetfoot and I hope that by this time next year, I have something like Connall and Vaughn.” Despite being a top figure in the modeling world and successful in her own right, Lysandra had struggled in the romance department. It seemed to Aelin that most guys just saw a pretty face and became disinterested when they learned she actually had brains to accompany the beauty. 

“I’m not doing this,” Lorcan vowed stone-faced.

“Yes you are,” argued Elide. Her dark eyes fiercely meeting his. A silent conversation passed between the pair, ending with the large, brooding male’s shoulders sagging in defeat. 

“I’m grateful for my brothers and for ‘Lide.” He didn’t smile at his admission. In fact, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here at the dinner table.

Elide rested her head against Lorcan’s arm, smiling to herself. The appeal of their relationship was lost on Aelin. Lorcan seemed about as fun as running naked through thorn bushes or fighting a Ghost Leopard with only your bare hands. 

“I’m grateful I twisted my ankle. I’ve never been glad to be clumsy until this year.” 

There it was. Aelin had never actually asked Elide how she’d found Lorcan.  Obviously, there were more details, but it seemed the angry man had a penchant for damsels in distress. 

The table looked expectedly at her and Rowan, waiting for one of them to go. The food they’d plated was likely cold and the rolls were probably burning. It was worth it though, to hear all the sappy things that holidays brought to light. 

“I’m fortunate to have irreplaceable friends and a proclivity for quality literature.” He didn’t bother to look at anyone else, his stormy green gaze focused on her. The conviction of his admission sent her heart skittering. A pink flush colored her cheeks, partly because it felt like he was stripping her bare and because there was an audience to his veil remark. The aforementioned line was growing finer by the minute. 

Eager to redirect the focus of the table back to the task at hand, she didn’t acknowledge him. “I’m most grateful that I don’t have to sit alone at rock bottom. And for the grace you have all shown me as I try to find myself, again and again. Thank you for being the kindling that keeps my fire going.” 

“Here, here,” cheered Fenrys loudly, his smile infectious. Aelin felt an answering one spread wide across her face. “Now let’s eat because there’s a whole lot of lights waiting for us.” 

And eat they did; what started as a daunting amount of food, hardly seemed like it was going to be enough at the end. Aelin hadn’t kept company with men who could eat like that since her cousin and uncle. Every single one of them was fit, with hardly any body fat to their name, and likely their insatiable appetite stemmed from their active lifestyles. Dorian, for as high maintenance as he was, worked out several times a week. He blamed it on having an “image” to uphold. 

Aelin was so uncomfortable, bloated like a fat tick, that she did not even have room to eat the chocolate hazelnut croissants sitting in front of her. Connall had found the recipe starred with a note declaring “Aelin’s favorite”. She’d probably have a good cry later after everyone left whilst eating one in the dark. Maybe if she was feeling terribly masochistic, she’d open the book, and run her fingers over the words written down. Would she feel the echoes of a mother’s love in the indented script? Would there be greasy fingerprints staining the pages? Would she hear the laughing chastisement of her dad as reminded her she had to wait for them to cool? What ghosts would creep in the dead of night?

“If I don’t walk around and digest this food, I’m simply going to perish right here.” Dorian was splayed out in his chair, looking pitiful, eyes pinched shut.

“Then get up. Your decomposing corpse will stain my floors.”

“Rude. You’d just let me rot right there?” he asked exasperated now staring at the floor. 

Aelin shrugged, unabashed. “You’re too heavy for me to move.”

His eyes grew wide, hand flying to his chest in horror. “I know you did not just call me fat.” 

“If you weren’t so vain, you wouldn’t have taken it like that.”

“That’s rich, the pot calling the kettle black.” 

She laughed loudly, amusement sinking in. “I never said I wasn’t vain. Besides my dead body would be easier to move.”

“Again, with the fat jokes.”

“What cheerful Yulemas conversation: rotting bodies,” deadpanned Lorcan.  

“You two are such children,” Lysandra observed. It sounded like she was trying to reprimand them, but the entertained look on her face said otherwise. 

“He started it.”

“Aelin, stop,” Elide begged, dragging out the ‘p’ dramatically.

Huffing, she rolled her eyes, and closed her mouth, the rebuttal sadly dying on her tongue. 

“Well, it’s almost midnight, so we better hurry through, so we can make it outside to plug the tree in when it’s officially midnight. Let the tour commence,” Elide sing-songed, clapping her hands together. One at a time, they filed out of the living room, through the kitchen, and into the living room. Both Fleetfoot and Eliot were asleep under the large Christmas tree that occupied one corner. The tree was decorated in only white ornaments, the clear lights slowly fading in and out, casting a warm glow throughout the room. It was so cliché, but perfect, nonetheless.

The exited the living room and made it back to the back stairs, the banister wrapped in frosted pine garlands with red bows. A small Christmas tree was nestled between the bathroom and closet doors. They followed Elide up the stairs, poking their heads in the decorated upstairs rooms, enjoying how each tree had its own theme. 

Manon had decorated the front porch balcony, a beautiful tree in the middle, wreaths hung from the windows, and garlands with bright red, velvet bows decorated the columns. The downstairs porch carried the same décor, sans the tree. Both trees in the formal sitting room and piano room could be seen from the windows—perks of having 6ft windows in all the rooms. 

They headed down the front set of stairs and took a moment to look closer at the trees in the sitting and piano room. The fireplaces were decorated with pine garlands with candied fruit slices strung along them instead of bows. It smelled liked mulled cider with a citrusy note. Aelin couldn’t have asked for a better group of friends. She knew that Elide had been the mastermind behind the decorations and today. After all, she’d really been the only one around to know how it used to be, to know how much care Evalin had put into the whole craft. 

Her eyes burned with unsaid emotion. Today had been exactly what she had needed. These decorations, these friends, these new memories… they helped lessen the ache that had griped her heart mercilessly tight for almost a decade. Grief had been holding her head under water for so long, it was difficult to know how to come up for air. 

Her ribcage expanded as she pulled in a deep breath and then exhaling, enjoying how it didn’t quite feel so heavy anymore to do so. “Thank you. It seems so paltry a gesture compared to this—,” she gestured to their surroundings, “but it’s the best way I know how right now.”

“Seeing your eyes light up has been all the thanks I needed. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you look like that,” Lys replied, slipping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She relaxed her head against her friend, enjoying the peaceful silence that had befallen them. 

“Hate to ruin the moment, but its 11:58, and there’s a tree that needs lighting.” Thank the gods Connall was paying attention. 

Hastily, they bounded out the front door, off the porch, and out into the yard. The unlit tree towered high into the night, the top barely visible. They stood together, merriment and anticipation freely flowing. The tree flickered to life with an audible buzzing sound. Aelin squinted, her eyes attempting to adjust to the bright radiance. Her and Rowan had done an amazing job. The ornaments were visible, some almost looking like they were lit themselves, the bulbs glowing against them.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed or even if it was. Truthfully, it felt like time was standing still—the moment felt infinite as they stood there, heads craned back, eyes wide with wonder. Yulemas, was a god’s birthday, but it was also a day of celebration and togetherness. A day for unbridled joy. An unspoken agreement with the universe that worries and troubles didn’t matter. No bad things could happen because just for one day, the gods hit pause on it all.

“Happy Yulemas.” 

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Aelin was wrapped in her favorite blanket, sitting on the porch, still basking in the tree’s light. She had missed its presence more than she had known and now that it was up, the idea of leaving it to sleep, caused an ache in her chest. All of her friends, except one, had left hours ago. She didn’t know the exact time, but it late, the horizon staring to lighten just barely, signaling dawn wasn’t too far off. 

It was supposed to snow, but the sky was clear, not a whisp of clouds in the sky. The air was heavy and still though, the smell of frost tickling her nose. Having a white Yulemas would be wonderous, especially with the house done up in spectacular fashion. It had been years since Orynth had been graced by snow on Lumas’ birthday.

“I have something for you.” His sleepy voice startled her. When she had last looked at him, he had been sleeping peacefully, Elliot curled into his side on the wooden bench. 

Her gaze flicked over to him, noting that while she had been staring off, wishing for snow, he had sat up, folded his blanket, and pulled back his hair into a bun. She really needed to work on her observation skills, if only for self-preservation. 

“It’s in the truck,” he said as he stood and extended a hand to her. 

As content as she was wrapped up like a burrito, she uncurled herself, and slipped her hand into his. It was warm and calloused and much larger than her own. He didn’t let go even when she was to her feet and Aelin knew she should pull her hand back, but she didn’t. For just five minutes, it would be okay to pretend that there was nothing wrong with holding his hand. No lines were being blurred or crossed or ignored. He was just a guy and she was just a girl.

Elliot faithfully trotted behind them, stuck to Rowan like glue. Her own dog, had refused to come outside, choosing to lay in front of the fire. Fleetfoot was spoiled and it showed. They did say people often picked dogs like themselves. 

Rowan opened the driver side door and dug around, only dropping her hand when he had to lean further across the bench seat. He stepped out of the door, allowing for Elliot to jump up into the truck—which caused her to deflate a little inside because it meant he was leaving. She wasn’t sure if she was dreading finally being alone or dreading him leaving. 

He shut the door and leaned back against it. Holding is hand up between them, a small brown box with a gold bow sat on his open palm. When she didn’t immediately grab it, he stepped closer, their bodies almost touching. If she took even half a step, angled her head just so, their lips would be flush, and that was the only thing running through her brain. 

When he spoke, his breath warmed her lips, “Are you going to open it, or do you have x-ray vision and haven’t told me?”

Embarrassment and shame coursed through her veins. Kissing him was the absolute last thing she should be contemplating. Her hand quickly relieved him of the package, and she took a step back, opening it. Reaching in, she hooked a green ribbon with her finger and pulled up. 

Fleetfoot. A dog had been carved out of wood, collar, and everything, and stained to appear just like her own. 

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed quietly. A tear streaked down her right cheek. 

Before she even registered him move, his hand was cupping her jaw, and he was swiping away the tear with his thumb. A small amount of pressure applied forced her to look at him. He stared intently at her, and she suddenly didn’t know how to breathe.  

“I carved it from a piece of wood I cut that day you were at my house. I almost took my thumb off a few times. It was hard to get her just right.”

“It seems like it would be hard to whittle something with so much detail.”

Rowan opened his mouth a few times but said nothing. He seemed to be struggling internally with himself, his brow furrowing quite noticeably for it being so dark and hard to see features in any great detail. Frustrated with his silence, she huffed, “What?”

“When you told me about your Yulemas tradition earlier in your bedroom, I thought to myself how fortuitous it was that I had spent weeks on this thing for you. Out of all the things, I’d carved you something to be hung on a tree.” His hand slowly down her neck, his words barely above a whisper. The drag of his hot hand against her cooled flesh sent shivers down her spine, straight to core.  Aelin’s self-control was fraying like a worn rope, soon too many fibers would break, and it would snap all together, ending with her doing something incredibly rash. 

Sucking in a ragged breath, she dropped her gaze, and counted to ten, a pitiful attempt to ground her thoughts. His hand remained against her neck, the tip of his thumb grazing the straight plane of her jawbone. She wondered if he could feel her pulse racing or the flushed heat of her skin against his open palm. 

“I love my gift, Ro. I’ll hang it on my tree when I go inside.” 

He suddenly pulled her close without hesitation, the end of her promise muffled by his muscled chest. Pine and snow deliciously filled her nose she tucked her face in a little tighter. She could feel his hands playing with the tips of her hair and the unmistakable press of lips against the crown of her head. 

“Happy Yulemas, Fireheart.” 

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Tag list:

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