#lysandra ashryver would wear this

[induro-a]

𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐘𝐍𝐈𝐔𝐒

#〔 aelin 〕Save the crown that was hers by blood and survival and triumph #〔 aelin / visage 〕And there are no gods left to help you now Aelin Galathynius / I am a god #〔 aelin / musings 〕You could rattle the stars / deep down it’s what scares you the most #〔 aelin / answered memes 〕You do not yield to anyone #〔 aelin / headcanon 〕Some girls wear their scars the way some wear their jewels #〔 aelin / dyn : sam cortland 〕Repeat after me I am Celaena Sardothian and I will not be afraid #〔 aelin / dyn : rowan whitethorn 〕Then she smiled with every last shred of hope for the glimmer of that glorious future #〔 aelin / dyn : chaol westfall 〕And maybe just maybe Chaol deserved to burn too #〔 aelin / dyn : dorian havilliard 〕They joined hands so the world ended and the next would begin #〔 aelin / dyn : manon blackbeak 〕But perhaps the monsters needed to look out for each other every now and then #〔 aelin / dyn : lysandra ennar 〕She was fury she was wrath she was vengeance #〔 aelin / dyn : aedion ashryver 〕Aedion grinned at his queen as the entire world went to hell #〔 aelin / dyn : yrene towers 〕And I cannot bury another friend #〔 aelin / dyn : aroybnn hamel 〕Just remember that you are alive today because of that training #〔 aelin / verse : heir of fire + 〕She would build it for her people who had survived this long and whom she would not abandon #〔 aelin / verse : kingdom of ash + 〕Tell me . . . tell me that even if I lead us all to ruin we’ll burn in hell together #〔 aelin / verse : assassin’s blade + 〕You will find that one does not deal with Celaena Sardothien / One survives her #tag drop

[firehcart]

connections.

iv.  rowan whitethorn.  »  to whatever end.  « iv.  sam cortland.  »  a light for her to take out when things were darkest.  « iv.  dorian havilliard.  »  they were full of light ; of fire and starlight and sunshine.  «   iv.  chaol westfall.  »  suddenly finding a part of herself that had been missing.  « iv.  aedion ashryver.  »  he would burn the whole world to ashes if she asked him.  « iv.  manon blackbeak.  »  perhaps the monsters needed to look out for each other.  « iv.  fenrys moonbeam.  »  and four blinks ; i am here with you.  « iv.  lysandra ashryver.  »  nothing but wild beasts wearing human skin.  « iv.  elide lochan.  »  a promise made is a debt unpaid.  « iv.  lorcan salvaterre.  » he had been born from and gifted with darkness .  « iv.  yrene towers.  »  the world needs more healers.  « iv.  nehemia ytger.  »  the princess who had been called the light of eyllwe.  «

#tag drop #iv. rowan whitethorn. » to whatever end. « #iv. sam cortland. » a light for her to take out when things were darkest. « #iv. dorian havilliard. » they were full of light ; of fire and starlight and sunshine. « #iv. chaol westfall. » suddenly finding a part of herself that had been missing. « #iv. aedion ashryver. » he would burn the whole world to ashes if she asked him. « #iv. manon blackbeak. » perhaps the monsters needed to look out for each other. « #iv. fenrys moonbeam. » and four blinks ; i am here with you. « #iv. lysandra ashryver. » nothing but wild beasts wearing human skin. « #iv. elide lochan. » a promise made is a debt unpaid. « #iv. lorcan salvaterre. » he had been born from and gifted with darkness . « #iv. yrene towers. » the world needs more healers. « #iv. nehemia ytger. » the princess who had been called the light of eyllwe. «

[rowanaelinn]

Slipped away - chapter one

prompt - single parent @rowaelinscourt

“It’s cold,” Fenrys complained, sitting on Rowan’s new couch.

“We are in the north, you dumbass.” Lorcan snapped. “Of course it’s colder than what you’re used to.”

“Doranelle is in the North too.”

Lorcan took a deep breath, apparently, he wasn’t feeling very patient today. “I don’t know, Fenrys, it might be because we are on a whole other continent, maybe?”

Rowan snorted at his friends, Fenrys was playing dumb just to annoy Lorcan and as always, it worked. They were enjoying their last day of rest before their first day of work tomorrow. It wasn't a new job, not really. The company they worked for had just moved from Doranelle to Orynth, and of course, Rowan and the other employees had to move too.

Rowan knew that with the opening of the new Valg Industries headquarters the next few months would not be smooth sailing, but he believed in himself. Maeve was so confident that she even promoted him. It was a new beginning for Rowan and he was happy about it, his life in Doranelle was the perfect definition of dull. Not that he hated it, he was just glad to be away from his cousins. He didn’t hate them, they were just so… meddlesome.

Rowan walked into his kitchen and opened his fridge, empty. He cursed under his breath. The few bottles of beer he had last night ran out very quickly, they didn’t even have leftovers of the pizza they ordered yesterday. Which was a problem because Rowan was starving and there was no way he would order food for the second night in a row, it had already bothered him to do so yesterday.

He checked his watch, six in the afternoon. He was pretty sure the grocery store didn’t close before seven, he had little time if he wanted to go there. He needed to be quick. “Going shopping, be gone when I come back,” Rowan told his friends as he picked his car key. He needed some time alone but he knew they would probably still be there when he came back, his friends weren’t ones to listen.

He slammed the front door behind him and got into his car. It still smelled new, the leather still a little too stiff under Rowan's body. He had gotten the car yesterday, he had decided that if he was going to change his life, he would do it all the way. Nothing in his life in Doranelle set foot in Terrasen except his friends and his job.

Rowan lived in an upscale residence in downtown Orynth. Between his family's money and the money he was making even before he was promoted, he could afford it. He didn't want to live in the apartments that the company offered to its employees, he needed some peace and quiet.

So Rowan took a house that was too big for him, in a suburb full of family, as if he wasn't almost thirty and wasn't still alone. He had never felt so out of place, but he would get used to it.

He had chosen the opposite of the life he had until then, wanting space. He had left to forget.

When he pulled into the grocery store parking lot, Rowan could have sworn he saw a familiar face. He blinked and it was gone, he shook his head. How could he recognize anyone if he had never been to Terassen? He needed to sleep.

He got out of his car and shivered slightly. Maybe Fenrys was right, it wasn't cold but it was definitely colder than Doranelle at this time of year.

He walked into the store, it was large. Everything in Terassen looked big. The houses, the buildings, the stores... Rowan could get used to it.

He took a basket from the entrance and went straight to the vegetables. The store was almost empty considering the time of day, he could hear a couple of kids laughing in the background but otherwise, everything was quiet. It felt good to be away from the world.

He selected enough vegetables for three days, preferring to shop for short periods rather than a whole week. It made less mess and allowed him to control what he ate. That's one of the things he needed, control.

"Gotcha!" He heard a woman's voice laugh rather loudly.

"Noooo!" A little girl said and Rowan heard her laugh and ran. Gods, children were loud.

A few seconds later, something hit Rowan's legs. He looked down to find a little girl. She was a brunette with blue eyes. She laughed and stood up. "Sorry," she said before running off again to lose whoever was trying to catch her, but it was too late. A tall blonde lady came running up and threw herself on top of the little girl, grabbing her under the arms and throwing her over her shoulder. The little girl screamed with laughter and tried to struggle as the adult spun around. "Stop!" the child screamed but continued to laugh.

Rowan felt like he was intruding but he couldn't stop the tip of his lips from rising slightly. The adult stopped spinning but did not let go of the child, the little one wrapped her arms around the woman's neck and hid her head. "Hey, little monster, did you apologize?" She asked, her eyes still on the little one. Rowan couldn't see her face with the hair hiding it. "Huh?" She shook the little girl slightly but she refused to look at her.

"She did," Rowan said, not wanting the little girl to get into trouble. When the woman looked at him, his heart stopped beating and his whole body froze. It was impossible.

Did the gods hate him that much? What had he done to them for them to punish him like that?

Her eyes widened and he noticed her body going still, her hold around the girl tightening. Her mouth opened and then closed.

As he had been years before, he was struck by the intensity of Aelin Galathynius’s gaze. These blue and gold eyes were mesmerizing, had always been and always will.

His only thought was that she looked older, but since he had last seen her when she was nineteen it wasn’t surprising. She looked like a woman now, and womanhood suited her. She was wearing a white shirt and black skirt, a simple outfit for a working woman, and yet Rowan couldn’t help but stare longer than necessary at her body. If she had been beautiful seven years ago, she was magnificent now.

He wanted to punch himself in the face, so much work to forget about everything that happened, so much work to ignore the guilt and pain just to be ruined by a meeting in a grocery store.

“Rowan,” she breathed.

“Hi, Aelin.”

The little girl looked at him and he noticed everything she had in common with Aelin. Her eyes first, and the same nose and lips. They looked so similar.

Suddenly he was struck by the truth standing in front of him. While it had taken everything in him to try to forget about her, Aelin had moved on. And she had a daughter. Aelin had a life and if the laugh she let out a minute before was any indication, she was happy.

“What are you doing here?” He blurted.

A snort. “What am I doing in a grocery store?”

“In Orynth.”

“This is my hometown.” She said, her voice so tight he couldn’t guess what she might be feeling. It had always been so damn hard to read her. Orynth was her hometown? How come he never knew that? He knew she was from Terassen, her accent betraying her, but didn’t know exactly where. He knew so much about her but at the same time so little. That little truth hurt. “What are you doing here?”

“I moved. For work.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Fuck, that was awkward. “How old is your daughter?” He asked, nodding toward the small girl playing with Aelin’s hair. Aelin looked at her and her expression softened a little.

“Oh, no. She isn’t my…” She took a deep breath. “She’s Aedion and Lysandra’s daughter. I’m just babysitting for the night.” Right, Aedion. That’s why the small girl looks so much like Aelin. “Remember Aedion?”

Of course, he did, last time he saw the man Rowan got his nose broken and a black eye. He wouldn’t forget his old friend so soon. But Rowan didn’t care about that, right now he only cared that Aelin, in fact, didn’t have a daughter. It was easier to breathe suddenly. “Yeah.”

“But she’s four,” Aelin said and he knew it was only so she had something to say. Talking was awkward but the silence was worse.

Before he could say anything else, someone interrupted them by hitting Aelin’s legs, hugging them. This girl was blonde, Ashryver blonde. Gods, how many children did Lysandra and Aedion have?

The youngest paused on the ground and did not waste time before leaving from where she came. Aelin seemed to forget Rowan's entire existence as she knelt down to face the child, though she looked even tenser than a few minutes before.

"Hey, pumpkin, what's going on?" She asked softly, delicately taking the girl's grip to force her to look at her. "Tell me."

"Asper pulled my hair!" The girl cried and Aelin smiled.

"Did you try to tickle his neck?" She asked, making Rowan choke. Aelin didn’t spare him a glance. He wanted to ask her why she wasn’t punishing this Asper for pulling hair but he guessed Aelin would beat him up if he questioned how Aedion chose to raise his children. “You know how sensitive he is.” She smiled at the child. The girl sniffed heavily and Aelin used her sleeve to dry her tears. "Go back over there, I'll be there in two minutes." The child nodded briskly and before she left, she turned her head to Rowan.

His blood ran cold as green eyes fixed on him.

She looked like Aelin on the little one before, of course, but not only that. Did she... No. Lysandra had green eyes too. Rowan could have sworn that Lysandra's eyes were much lighter, but he hadn't seen her in seven years. He was wrong. He had to be wrong.

"Hi!" She said with a big smile. She was missing a tooth in the front, but that didn't take away from her charm.

Rowan swallowed, "Um, Hi." He managed to smile but he couldn't help that she looked too little like Lysandra.

“Are you a grandpa?” The girl asked and Rowan choked. “Only grandpa has grey hair.” She smiled and looked proud of herself. Silver, his damn hair is silver, not grey.

"Go ahead, Helia," Aelin said before Rowan could answer, her voice firm. She pushed the little one toward the alley away from Rowan. Aelin stood up when the little one was gone and his eyes shot to hers.

"It was nice to see you again," she said but he knew she was thinking the exact opposite. Rowan's heart was beating so loudly that Rowan could hear it pounding in his ears.

"Aelin," He called to her, stopping her in her tracks. " Just how... How old is she?"

"Bye, Rowan." Her voice left no room for questions, but he didn't care. He didn't care about what happened in college and now wasn't the time to start.

"Answer me." Not a question and she knew it. He could swear he saw the gold ring in her eyes flutter, a sign he had learned to recognize as anger. Well, let her be angry, he deserved answers.

"Ace, is everything okay?" A man with nearly black hair and sapphire blue eyes asked him. A boy a little taller than Helia was sitting on the man's shoulders and when Rowan saw his green eyes...

He had to be wrong.

"Aelin?" The man asked again as Aelin hadn't looked at him yet, her gaze still on Rowan.

"Yes." She replied with her voice cold. "My friend was just leaving, right?"

The way she said the word "friend" was anything but friendly. Fuck, he wanted to yell at her, he wanted to demand answers now, but he didn't. The two little girls were behind Aelin and the man, watching what was going on.

"Answer my question first."

"Get out." She gritted through her teeth.

"Why do you have your angry voice, Mommy?" The little boy asked and suddenly Aelin's eyes softened and she looked at the boy. She grabbed him by the underarms and took him in her arms.

Mommy.

Her son.

Clearly not the son of the man next to Aelin. He looked about six, maybe even seven.

No. That was impossible. It was only one night. One night he had spent the last seven years regretting...

“Mommy’s not angry.” She smiled as she caressed her son’s hair. Their… No, her son. For all Rowan knew, Aelin only had a thing for men with green eyes. It meant nothing. “But she’s busy right now, go back to the car with uncle Dorian, okay? Then we’ll eat pizza, that’s your favorite, right?” The three kids cheered and Aelin gave her son to the man, Dorian.

“You okay?” He asked, touching Aelin’s shoulder. Rowan didn’t know why but he wanted to slap the man.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in two minutes.” She reassured him and he nodded, letting Aelin’s son on his shoulder as he held the two girls by their hands and walked back to the parking lot. Rowan wanted to stop him, wanted to ask that boy and girl how old they were but they were just kids. He couldn’t scare them. This was between Rowan and Aelin.

“I deserve the truth.”

“You don’t deserve shit. Not after what you did.”

“It was between me and you, not between me and-” He was cut off by her.

“There is nothing between you and them. Do you understand me? Nothing.” Them. So the girl…

He couldn’t take it. She had made it clear already, deep inside he knew the answer to his question but he needed to hear her say it. “Are they mine?” He finally asked and if looks could kill, Rowan would be buried already.

“They are mine.”

Why did she have to be so fucking complicated? He clenched his fists, trying to keep his anger inside him but it was so damn hard. “Am I their father?”

Both of them were breathing heavily and Rowan was glad for the empty store now, not wanting to cause a scene. “No.” Her voice was lethal and Rowan’s mind froze. He didn’t know if it was a good thing or not. But they looked so much like him… “If your question is whether or not you knocked me up, the answer is yes. But you are not a father. Never been and never will be to them.”

They were his. Rowan’s entire world stopped and he wasn’t sure how he kept standing. He was a father, no matter what Aelin said.

“How could you hide this from me? How could you take them away from me?” He was screaming now. He didn’t care about causing a scene anymore, he didn’t care about anything but the two kids in a car outside. “They are my kids!”

“You don’t even know their fucking name!” She was screaming too, cheeks red. Fuck, why did she always had to be the most attractive when she was angry? He hated her so fucking much. “I am the one who’s been raising them alone for almost seven fucking years!” She didn’t look alone, not with that Dorian by her side.

Suddenly, he knew Aedion didn’t punch him for what he and Aelin shared the last night he saw her. He had punched him for getting his cousin pregnant. He knew Aelin hadn’t been honest about what happened between them after the sex or he would have been dead by now, so now he was sure it was because of the kids. He had deserved it, deserved more than the five punches Aedion managed to give Rowan before Fenrys and Lorcan separated them.

“I will die before I let you treat my children like you treated me. Get out of Terassen, nobody wants you here.”

She left storming out of the store without her groceries and Rowan was frozen. He knew he should go back after her and apologize, he should beg her for a chance to know his kids but he couldn’t move.

He had children, twins. And Aelin had been raising them alone because of him, because of what happened.

He was so fucking screwed.

He didn’t care about what Aelin told him, he wouldn’t go anywhere. It was too late to save what could have happened between him and Aelin, it had been too late since the night she left his apartment in tears. But it wasn’t too late for his children and he would fight for them.

————

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @hellasblessed

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #slipped away

[leiawritesstories]

As I Am, 2

Summary: London, England, 1816, early spring. The opening of the Season is every year’s most anticipated event in high society, especially among the young ladies. This Season has been predicted to be one of the most promising yet, given that the debutantes include Miss Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Misses Nesta, Elain, and Feyre Archeron, Miss Elisa Selvari, Miss Elide Lochan, and many more. Not to mention that His Grace Rowan Whitethorn, the newly ascended Duke of Doranelle, shall be in town with his companions. Where shall the Season lead? We have yet to find out, but as with all Seasons, there will be parties, promenades, dancing and dining, a profusion of flowers in each young lady’s parlour, and of course, scandal. 

STORY WARNINGS: language, arranged marriages and other 19th-century problems, eventual fighting, eventual smut

Inspired quite a lot by Bridgerton and Pride and Prejudice. Unknown chapter count. Characters are from Throne of Glass and ACOTAR, as well as various other characters from various other authors. I’ll credit them as they appear, and if anyone is unfamiliar, please go check out their books!

~~~

Welcome to the first ball, or, as the balls of Regency England were known, excuses for flirting, drinking, and allllll the actions that ensued. 

Oh and this chapter features Elisa, Rhys’s sister. No, that’s not her canon name, but she didn’t freaking get a name in canon. I was VERY disappointed we didn’t get more than a few lines about her, so SJM, this is my revenge. Mwahaha.

CHARACTER LIST

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: language (maybe), innuendo, the overprotective big brother trope

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

Elisa Selvari, all of seventeen years old, had scarce been home for ten minutes when her giddy voice floated into her brother’s office. 

“Oh Mamma! Her Majesty complimented me! And with my feet as unsteady as they were, why, I know not how I kept my balance!”

Countess Selvari smiled fondly at her only daughter. “You deserved the praise, my dear. And the reason you kept your balance—”

“Is because you have been tottering about in heels since you were but five years old and did not allow years of training to fail you at the critical junction.” Rhysand Selvari, older than his sister by four years, sauntered into the room.  

Elisa rolled her eyes. “No, Rhys, it’s because I was wearing so many petticoats that I could not have fallen even if I tried.” She smoothed her skirts. “But Lysandra outdid herself with this gown, did she not?”

Rhys leaned against the doorframe. “I would not doubt it.” he smiled. “Would that I had been present for this, the most momentous day of your life……excepting, of course, your wedding day.” As the eldest son of the Count and Countess Selvari, Rhys inherited the title when his father passed some six years ago. He was but fifteen; Mother acted as mistress of the estate, with him at her side, until his eighteenth birthday. Now, at twenty-one, he remained one of the youngest titled nobles and thus one of the town mammas’ prime subjects of discussion, being an eligible bachelor. 

Which may have been why he buried himself in business on Elisa’s debut day. Far be it from him to risk his sanity in a roomful of gossiping mothers and flirtatious, flibbertigibbet young ladies. The task of escorting her to all the dances, soirées, balls, and other social engagements would no doubt prove taxing enough. The mere thought that he would be required to witness God only knew how many helpless young dandies fall victim to the irresistible charm of Lis’s smile and then deal with a flood of simpering suitors barging into his house and ruining the quiet ambience in which he worked so efficiently.

Although to be fair, his adopted brothers did more than their fair share of ruining the quiet. Daily. 

“Do cheer up, Rhys, ’tis not as though you should be subjected to torture.” Elisa’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Who knows, you might even find yourself a bride at one of this season’s events.” 

Rhys huffed a snort. “Only you, Lis, only you would try to arrange my life while I observe your surely endless train of incoming suitors.”

She grinned mischievously at him. “Can you fault me for attempting to bring you some small happiness, dear brother? Since you will be attending just as many social gatherings as I, you might at least try dancing with some of the eligible young ladies present. We both know that you shall not go unnoticed, not with your looks.”

“Do not forget his title, Lis,” grinned Mother. “There is nothing more attractive to a young lady of society than a handsome, titled young man.”

“Mother!” sighed Rhys. “You are absolutely insufferable. Cannot a respectable gentleman merely escort his sister to her interminable stream of parties without his mother meddling in his love life?” 

Mother patted Rhys’s cheek. “’Tis not meddling when there is nothing to meddle in, my son.”

She swept out of the room before Rhys could splutter his indignant answer. Sighing in defeat, he headed back to his office until duty forced him to prepare for the evening’s ball, the first (and thus worst) of the season. 

~

As their carriage rattled up the smooth gravel drive, Elisa could hardly keep her delight and anticipation of her face. Only her mother’s arched brow of disapproval kept her from squishing her face against the glass of the carriage window as she so wanted to do. 

“I cannot believe my eyes! Her Grace must surely have bought every flower in the town, ’tis lovely!”

“Lovely, as well as conveniently decorated so as to provide certain…private alcoves,” smirked Rhys from across the carriage. Elisa swatted him with her fan.

“Behave yourself, Rhysand. I shall not allow my rake of a brother to ruin my first ball.” 

Rubbing his arm, Rhys nodded. “I shall be the very model of propriety, dear Elisa. Indeed, I shall not so much as harbor the slightest thought of seducing the first young lady to pay me any heed and escorting her to a tasteful floral alcove for five minutes of—oooof. Mother!”

Mother frowned at him, but her eyes hid laughter. “If you were to control yourself, my son, I should not have to stoop to childhood punishments to remind you of your place.” She tucked the parasol back under the bench. “Now do sit up. Take a few deep breaths. I am sure you are not harmed.”

Rhys sat up, removing his hand from his sore ribs, and glared at her halfheartedly. “I had forgotten how effective your skills with the cattle prod were, Mother.”

She gave him a prim look. “Remember that I will not hesitate to draw you away from unseemly behaviour, forcefully or not.”

Flushing slightly, Rhys nodded. 

Moments later, the carriage pulled into the drive of Briarcliff Castle, the footman swung open the door, and Rhys hopped down. He extended his hand to Mother, then to Elisa, who was smiling hugely in delight. As they entered the hall, her eyes darted everywhere, no doubt cataloging every detail of the place for later notation in her diary. Rhys noticed her grow tense as they approached the ballroom entrance, her hand tightening on his arm. 

“Relax, Lis,” he murmured, “you have nothing to fear. You are sure to be the most sought-after young lady in attendance, given what Her Majesty said to you.”

Elisa’s countenance shifted to anticipation, most of the nervousness gone. “I only hope that I shall find at least a few dance partners.”

“I doubt that you shall lack company, Lis, but if ever you do, I promise to keep you dancing. After all, our brothers and I can dance with you, and I am sure there are some gentlemen of my acquaintance present whom I can cajole into a dance with you.”

“Threaten, you mean,” giggled Elisa. 

Rhys snorted quietly. “I have never threatened any of my acquaintances into anything.”

She scoffed, and then they were descending the stairs into the ballroom. Elisa’s violet eyes scanned the grand, elegant room, noting the décor, the chamber orchestra, the finely dressed ladies and gentlemen, and the patterns of dancers, knots of chatting people, and the chain of mammas who prowled the edges of the floor, searching for suitable partners for their marriageable daughters. 

Not expecting to notice anyone she found familiar, she was surprised, then, to catch the sharp, dark eye of the Duke of Perranth’s daughter, Elide Lochan, who was spending the season at her cousin’s London residence. Coincidentally, her cousin was Miss Aelin Galathynius, a fellow debutante and the Selvaris’ kitty-corner neighbors. Lady Elide was often out at the park, walking, or riding at the same times as Elisa, and she had found the heiress of Perranth a most companionable young lady. She sent a quick smile in Elide’s direction, which Elide returned. 

Rhys nudged her. “Let us take a turn about the room. Scout the prospects, as it were.” He winked.

Elisa grinned. “I pity the man who looks at me without your approval.”

Circling slowly about the room, Rhys and Elisa met no fewer than twenty young men, each more eager than the last to request the pleasure of a dance. She politely refused most, but did allow a few respectable-seeming men to add their names to her card. Glancing up at her brother, she was about to ask if he would be escorting her in the first dance when she noticed his eyes trained on a young lady across the room. With a small, predatory grin, she slipped her hand from his arm and strolled away. No sooner had she left Rhys’s side than a tall, grinning young man appeared in front of her and bowed low, an errant blonde curl falling across his forehead. 

“Might I have this dance, my lady?”

“You may, good sir.” She placed her hand in his proffered one and stepped into the dancing floor. “If it is not too forward of me, sir, might I ask your name?”

Her partner grinned, brown eyes sparking. “I am Fenrys Strahl, from Doranelle. ’Tis about three hours’ drive west of the city, a lovely estate.”

Elisa smiled at him. “Most pleased to make your acquaintance, my lord Strahl. I am Elisa Selvari.”

His eyes widened. “Countess Selvari’s daughter?”

“Indeed.”

“I am honored to make your acquaintance, milady.”

Lord Fenrys proved a charming, polite partner. Their conversation flowed naturally, and he escorted her to the edge of the floor when the dance ended. “I assume a lovely lady such as yourself no doubt has many partners awaiting the joy of your company?”

“Not quite so many as you assume, my lord. But yes, I do have a partner for this next dance.” Indeed, the man approached even now, his distinctive red hair marking him as her next escort, one Lord Lucien Vanserra.

Moving through the steps of this waltz, Elisa noticed over Lord Vanserra’s shoulder that her brother had taken a partner for this waltz, and to her great delight, it was the selfsame young lady to whom his gaze had been drawn earlier. She appeared about Elisa’s own age, with bright blue eyes and beautifully coiled golden-brown hair. Her gown, a soft coral pink color, set off the grace of her figure. As she and Rhys waltzed past, Elisa noticed that both her brother and the lady were smiling, obviously enjoying each other’s company.

I simply must write this down, she thought, when else will I have the opportunity to poke some small fun at Rhys?

She noticed her brother dancing with the young lady once more during the ball. Twice, if one counted the reel, but the reel was hardly a paired dance, given the constant switching of partners. So he was adhering to propriety and the Rule of Two Dances, then. He must truly not want the mammas’ attentions. Wise of him. 

Wonder of wonders, when Elisa went to find refreshment some hours into the ball, she found her brother’s lovely dance partner at the table. She grinned and strolled over to meet the girl.

“If you will excuse my forwardness, I absolutely adore your gown! Who made it?”

The girl turned to meet Elisa’s eye, smiling politely. “Thank you! It is a Lysandra Ennar piece.”

“‘Tis lovely, as her work always is,” Elisa replied, grinning.

“Your gown is her work as well? It suits you most beautifully,” the young lady gushed. 

“Why thank you.” Elisa looked out over the scene. “I declare, is this entire location not perfectly picturesque?”

The young lady turned to meet Elisa’s eye, smiling politely. “Indeed it is. Were I alone, I should very much like to paint it.”

“Do you paint, miss?”

“Yes, and I very much enjoy it. I am Feyre Archeron, and painting is my one vice.” Her smile warmed.

Elisa dropped a slight curtsy. “Delighted. My name is Elisa Selvari.”

Feyre’s cheeks flushed nearly the same pink as her dress. “You would not happen to be a relation of—”

“Rhysand Selvari?” Elisa grinned. “That would be my elder brother. A perfect sweetheart, to be sure, when he is not acting the part of Count Selvari.”

“He dances most elegantly.”

“He ought to; he has been my practice partner since I began lessons. I rather think he enjoys dressing in tight pants and twirling around an open floor.”

Feyre giggled. “I should agree with your thoughts, Elisa.” Her gaze lost focus for an instant. “I do hope he calls at my house tomorrow. He was such wonderful company.”

“Feyre, if I might be frank, I do believe he shall be knocking at your door the moment proper calling hours begin. I have never seen my brother look at anyone the way he looked at you while you were dancing.”

“Then I shall await his calls.”

“And his proposal.”

“Elisa! Are you not jumping to conclusions rather hastily?” But she was smiling.

Elisa cocked a knowing brow. “He will wait as long as propriety and Mother dictate, and then, my dear Miss Archeron, I do believe he shall plight his troth. Were customs not of import, I like to imagine he would have taken you for a bit of a stroll this very night and proposed posthaste.”

Feyre blushed again. “At any rate, I do hope you consider visiting. You are most welcome.”

“As is my brother?”

“Quite.”

TAGS:

@crazybookworm

@charlizeed

@loudphantomdragon

@ingrid1234

@themoonthestarsthesuriel

@heirofflowers

@story-scribbler

@nicolivesinbooks

@valkyrie3strong

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@flora-shadowshine

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@mackenzieclutt

@stardelia

@maeclin

@swankii-art-teacher

@tomtenadia

@pen-paper-and-ink

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@cretaceous-therapod

@gracie-rosee

@morganofthewildfire

@autumnbabylon

@live-the-fangirl-life

@shyvioletcat

#as i am #my writing #regency au

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 1

I'm finally back with some more rowaelin! I started this fic in november last year and wrote the first 10k in 24 hours, but from then on this fic was a struggle... Thank you so, so much to @morganofthewildfire for sharing so much of your time to help me with this, this fic would not be here without you 💗 I'm so happy to have finally finished it and can share it on here. I hope you enjoy

CW: past drug abuse, minor character death, violence

7.7k - masterlist - ao3

--

When her agent sends her the script it’s not the first time she’s heard of Rowan Whitethorn, his name is written at the top under the heading director, which itself is under the big red text reading confidential. He’s been at this stuff for a while now, directed a couple of movies that popped up on her radar but that nothing ever came of for her, and he’s well known in the business.

He was even nominated for an Oscar a couple of years ago, and she watched the ceremony with Lysandra, slapping the bills into her outstretched hand when he didn’t win.

His movie had been far too fucking raw for him to have won, she knew that, a tale about a group of kids who witnessed a murder and how it stayed with them and fucked them up into adulthood, but it had stuck with her nonetheless and she’d put her money on him anyway.

She reads the section of script Dorian has sent her, tucked up in bed with a glass of sparkling water and her most comfortable sweater, leaning back into the mountain of expensive pillows she had Elide buy for her and pondering how so much money could end up so uncomfortable, and she knows it’s something special.

She realises she wants this role, almost to an uncomfortable degree, when she’s about five lines in. The heroine is bratty and rash, but serious and pained in a way that makes her completely fleshed out and Aelin wants to play her, wants to be her and embody her in a way that takes her out of the pit she’s in.

She hopes this could be what gets her out of it.

Aedion had tried to pull her out, gods bless him, dropping by her apartment every morning for weeks to check up on her with a coffee in his hand, topped with cream and two sugars the way he knows she likes. Each morning he let himself in with her spare key, the one she gave to him the day she moved in, wanting him to be able to let himself in whenever he wanted but also knowing there was no one else she wanted to give it to.

She would have given it to Sam, would have given everything to Sam, but he’s gone and she’s left sitting here, wondering how to salvage what’s left of her reputation.

What reputation she had even managed to build after starring in one mediocre TV show and a handful of low-budget movies. She knows deep down, and in a way her brain likes to remind her of when she’s at her lowest, that the main reason she isn’t a complete nobody is because she’s Evalin Ashryver’s daughter. Her therapist tells her every time she bothers to go to a session that having a famous mother doesn’t mean she’s a failure and that she has to recognise each of her successes as her own. She nods along every time, but she doesn’t believe her. What has she managed to accomplish truly on her own?

It hasn’t been made public yet that Rowan Whitethorn is involved in the film, she only knows because Chaol wrote the whole script himself and texted her to let her know when he signed on to direct. She’s known Chaol since she was eighteen and took her first solo trip to Rifthold, drawn to the lights of the big city and the almost magnetic pull of the heart of the industry. He’d stumbled upon her in a club she was far too young to be in and had pulled her out, sending her home in a cab that he paid for. Looking back she was grateful for his attempt to avoid what she knew later was an inevitability.

She had cursed him when he told her she’d still have to audition, but she gets it. She hasn’t exactly behaved in a way recently that makes people want to take a chance on her.

Stumbling out of clubs, eyes as wide as saucers and high as a fucking kite isn’t the kind of star casting directors are desperate to hire, but she’s trying to be better. She’s promised those around her that she’ll be better, and she knows that the only reason she hasn’t ended up in rehab is that she has an incredible therapist and a highly persuasive manner of dealing with her friends and family. The only reason they’ve taken that chance on her is time, and she’s grateful for that mercy.

She turns the page, hitting the final line for the third time. Chaol’s script is so good she’s read the few pages she’s been sent over and over.

She only reads scripts in physical copies, takes the time to print them out using her shitty printer that belongs right back in 2008, and she knows it’s wasteful but she allows herself that small luxury of the crisp paper in her hand as she delves into each new world. Her character is in the middle of a teary monologue that she knows exactly how she’d do, the way she’d halt her breath and choke out the words-- it’s not her character. Yet.

The audition is next week, and she’ll work her ass off to make sure she’s ready. Her usual pre-audition ritual involves taking up far too much of Lysandra’s time to practice reading the lines and filming herself time after time, take after take, and watching it back in the unholy hours of night until she’s happy she’s made an improvement.

Or at least that’s how she used to do it, nothing has made her want a role like this in a long while. She worries as she bites her lip, that wanting something this much means she’s getting over Sam. That maybe one day she won’t think of him and hear the pounding in her ears, won’t feel the lightheadedness that comes with a memory of their time together. Worries that if she forgets the sounds of his screams she’s failing him somehow.

She takes another sip of her sparkling water. It’s poured into a wine glass so she can at least pretend she’ll get the relaxation she craves. Alcohol was never one of her vices but she finds it’s better to be safe than sorry. It’s unhealthy as far as coping mechanisms go, but she’s been worse so it’s going down as a win.

Chaol told her some guy called Brullo is casting this one. She’s never heard of him, which is kind of rare. She’s been on the periphery of this bubble for pretty much her entire life, following her mother around her own movie sets and sitting on the wooden directors chair when her legs still dangled off the side, but if he’s like any other casting director in Adarlan she knows how to impress him.

When she reaches the last line of the part of the script she’s been sent, her mind wanders again to Rowan Whitethorn.

He’s the kind of director up and coming actors can only hope to one day work with, even though she’s pretty sure he can’t be much more than thirty, he’s built himself to a level where he can be choosy with his projects.

It's a well deserved privilege. Each of his works has stayed with her after watching, his style is gritty and dark, but grounded in a way that leaves her empty each time after finishing.

She wants this, and she buries the guilt she feels for that. Sam would want her to want this. She deserves it, or at least she hopes she can come to.

Dorian books her a mid-morning flight so she doesn’t have to wake too early before the audition, he’s a damn good agent and one she definitely doesn’t deserve with his seemingly endless patience, but she’s continuously grateful for him.

Aelin styles herself for it, ties her hair back and leaves the makeup to a minimum in a way that she hopes shows them she’s right for the part, that she can be the insecure little girl who experiences far too much. She knows she doesn’t have the sheltered innocence the character has, but she’s an actress and this is what she does. Aelin pretends for a living.

He’s also booked her a room in a pretty nice hotel for the night, she’s not sure whether he’s used her meagre acting funds or the funds from the account she knows he mom throws money into every month. It’s an argument she and Evalin have had repeatedly, she wants to stand on her own two feet, but she never protests too hard. The account kept the roof over her head when she was too busy snorting her life away to consider where her next paycheck would come from.

Aelin throws herself backwards into the crisp white bedding on the hotel room bed and takes a deep breath. The only luggage she brought with her is a carry on slung somewhere by the door and the room feels too empty to sit here and wait for the car that’s arriving to take her to the studio in just over an hour. If she sits here and waits the nerves will only build, and then she’ll itch for something to take the edge off.

She picks her phone up to text her cousin.

Jet lag from a 2 hour flight. Who would have thought?

Aelin waits two minutes for a reply, locking and unlocking her phone as she sits there, but one doesn’t come. Aedion’s probably at a training session and not checking his phone. Aelin runs a hand through her hair, careful not to dislodge the pins she placed carefully in it this morning, she needs to stop using him as her crutch. She knows he doesn’t mind, but it’s not right either way.

She needs to get out of this room.

The streets of Rifthold are busy and crammed as she meanders down them, clutching the takeout coffee cup she bought from a vendor with a stall at the side of the road.

People pay her no mind as she walks, the oversized shades hide her eyes that she knows are a dead giveaway for her membership of the Ashryver line. Even if she didn’t wear them, everybody else here wants to be someone, and so far she can still blend in if she tries.

She sends a text to the assistant organising the audition, it’s kind of shitty of her but she keeps it brief because she can’t remember their name, letting them know the car isn’t needed anymore and that she’ll make her own way there. She needs the stroll through the streets to clear her head.

Aelin needs to nail it. She hasn’t felt the twisting of desire so sharp in her stomach for a long time and the only way she’ll manage it is with a clear head.

She alternates her breathing with sips of her coffee, the taste is bitter but she keeps drinking. She pulls her phone out to check the directions to the studio.

Spontaneous isn’t a word Aelin would use to describe herself anymore, any longing to go with the flow died the minute she lost control. It’s safer now to plan, to make sure she won’t lead herself astray.

Brullo is a man in his mid forties, with dashes of grey seasoned through his muddy brown hair, and kind lines around his eyes as he smiles and shakes her hand. Aelin wipes the sweat off her palm on her jeans before clasping her hand in his.

The audition goes about as well as she can hope for, she remembers every line, and the other casting director is fairly natural reading the lines for her to act against. Aelin swallows back her tears after she finishes, trying to keep what dignity she can to end the audition when there’s snot threatening to run down her upper lip. It was a brutal scene to start with, but if she can pull this off she can surely manage the rest.

Brullo’s expression is carefully guarded as she leaves, giving nothing away, but Aelin thinks she did a good job, which is all she could have ever hoped for.

She’s staring at the tiled floor, mulling over Brullo’s parting words, thanks Aelin, our people will be in touch, when she hits something hard and warm.

She’s too busy dissecting those eight words to register exactly who it is with their hands clamped around the top of her arms, steadying her as she stumbles, but she looks up and her gaze meets that of a pair of striking, green eyes.

The man gripping her is easily over a head taller than her, broad and strong enough that she fights back the shiver that wants to roll through her at his touch. He’s staring down at her, the strong planes of his face drawn into a deep frown, with his strangely coloured eyebrows pulled in.

They’re a kind of silver that matches his short cut hair, and it shines in the fluorescent light of the hallway in a way that it can only be natural, but she’s never seen a shade quite like it.

“Sorry,” she manages to stutter out, still thrown from the vulnerability of her audition.

“It’s alright.” His voice burns through the words, his accent rolling in a way that raises hairs down the back of her neck. He flashes her a dangerous grin and she steadies herself. She knows what that look means. She’s used to the male attention, and as much as she hates to acknowledge it, she knows her looks are an element of how she’s got as far as she has. That and her family’s name.

The decision of whether to register in the guild as Aelin Ashryver or Aelin Galathynius was one she had spent hours deliberating over. Did she want the level of independence Galathynius would give her, or the reputation being an Ashryver would bring?

The man releases his grip on her shoulders, but not before running his hands down her arms until he reaches her wrists which he releases with a light squeeze. She takes an almost imperceptible step back, leaning back to breathe some air into her lungs. All she ends up doing is filling her mind with this man’s smell, inviting and intoxicating, a delicious combination of pine trees and snowy winter mornings.

“I don’t usually go around slamming into people like this,” she tells him, letting some of her snark slip through. He’s said two words to her so far but she knows he can take it, and she wants to play.

His grin becomes even more wicked and it truly is a sight to see. This man is built like a god; broad, muscular shoulders stretching the white button up he wears and she spies the dark lines of a tattoo threatening to slip past his collar.

It’s been a couple of months since her last mindless hook-up, and this man would more than do. The mischief glimmering in his eyes tells her he’d know how to make her gasp and beg.

“Slam into me anytime.” His words are a sensual croon and her mouth drops open slightly, but he sidesteps her before she can manage to speak again, nodding towards the door she’s come through. “Good luck with whatever you were here for.”

With that he’s gone, leaving her to turn and watch the way his grey slacks pull against his thighs as he walks away from her.

Aelin tries not to think too much about the outcome of the audition, and flies back to Orynth in economy class with a sleep mask tucked over her eyes lest she be recognised when all she wants to do is curl up in bed and be alone for a bit. That or get fucking wasted, and she can’t do that.

She tries far too hard to forget about the man from the hallway, forget about the way his voice had rumbled deep in her chest and the tug in her belly that his words had sent through her.

She begs Elide to come to a bar with her, and she agrees. Aelin needs to pay her more, maybe change her title from publicist to publicist-come-part-time-therapist-and-life-saver. Aelin’s not sure she has the budget for that really.

Elide would smack her if she knew Aelin’s thoughts. Would scold her for looking at Elide just like an employee as if they weren’t childhood friends and Elide hadn’t been there holding her hand through the whole Sam thing. As if she, Lysandra and Aedion hadn’t been her only reason for being here now.

A bar might be a risk, but she can sip her sparkling water while she browses the small selection of men that Orynth has to offer.

She enjoys the easy conversation she has with Elide, chatting about what their friends have been up to, even though most of them are mainly Elide’s friends at this point. After Sam she stopped speaking to everyone but those who were necessary. She couldn’t manage any more than that.

“You should come with us next time,” Elide is saying as she sips her own lemonade. Aelin knows Elide would normally choose a crisp glass of white wine over a lemonade and her sobriety solidarity touches her heart.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, noncommittal.

The look Elide wears tells her she’s debating pushing the issue for the millionth time against the risk that Aelin would pull back again. She hates that she does this to her friends so she sighs.

“Text me next time,” she tries. “I’ll see if I’m free.”

Elide offers her a thankful smile, and Aelin returns it, trying to tell herself this is what she needs and that she shouldn’t just stay locked up thinking about Sam.

There’s a dark haired guy at the bar catching her eye, his jeans are far too tight and his shirt is ridiculous, but she can see the body beneath and his face is striking. Elide notices her stare and smirks.

She likely knows why Aelin invited her out tonight, but doesn’t mind. Lorcan’s probably waiting for her at the home they share, waiting for her to come back so they can be in love. Aelin hates the bastard, except she doesn’t. She introduced her friend to the tall, dark and grouchy hockey player at the wrap party for the shit teen movie she did a couple of years back, and she’s big enough to admit she wants what they have.

She had what they have.

What’s left in her glass slips down her throat easily in one mouthful and she promises to text Elide tomorrow before slipping out of the booth and over to the guy at the bar.

“You going to just stare at me all night?” She asks with a sly smile. “Or did you plan on doing something about it at some point?”

His smile makes him look even more attractive.

“Maybe I was waiting for you to make the first move, a beautiful girl like you can be intimidating.”

It’s a shit line and she rolls her eyes, but tugs him into a cab back to her place anyway.

“Please.” Her voice shakes as she begs. “Please don’t do this.”

The man in front of them scoffs and Sam squeezes her hand, his palm rough against her own.

“Aelin, baby. It’s okay, just do what he says.”

He lets go of her hand and turns back to the guy in front of them. His face is covered by a black mask, only two slits show her the dark brown of his eyes. She can barely look away from the knife he holds out in front of himself, it’s pointed at Sam but that doesn’t make her feel any better, it makes her feel worse in fact.

“Your wallet,” the guy demands.

Tears are rolling down her cheeks, fat and hot, as she fishes around in her bag for her purse.

“Just dump the whole thing,” the guy growls, irritated, but she’s pretty sure she’s going into shock and she can’t focus. Can’t breathe.

Sam’s voice is steady by her side as he throws his own wallet onto the street in front of them.

“Alright, man. We’re doing everything you say.”

“Hands up.” The mugger’s voice is sharp. “Don’t fucking move.”

She raises her arms straight in the air, trying to control the way her hands are shaking and the attacker ducks down to grab their things.

She lets out a tiny whimper and feels Sam spin to her, his eyes begging her to trust him. No, she shakes her head.

“I said don’t fucking move,” the guy yells and lunges for Sam.

His scream cuts the night air and she whirls, hands dropping into the air between them as he drops to the ground. The mugger takes off, sprinting down the empty street and she falls to her knees by Sam’s side.

In the dark, the pool spilling out across the floor by Sam’s side just looks black, but she knows that really it’s red. She’s not stupid. His face is twisted in pain and her hands flutter around his torso before she manages to pull back the flap of his jacket.

There’s a hole in his white t-shirt and now her jeans are wet where she kneels.

She needs her phone, needs to call someone who can make this all better, but her phone is gone.

She presses her hands against his side and his eyes shutter closed as he gasps. His breathing is stuttered and uneven.

“Sam. Sam, no,” she cries. “I’ll get help. You’re okay.”

“Aelin.” He raises a hand to press against her cheek, and the blood on it is sticky and warm.

“No, Sam. No, stay with me.”

The scream that tears through her throat will hurt tomorrow but now she barely feels it. “HELP!”

His breathing becomes much quicker as she presses on his side and screams again.

She knows abstractly that she’s crying, tears and snot streaming down her face as she desperately presses her hands against his side.

There’s a strong arm around her waist, tugging her back and away from Sam, and she screams one word over and over.

“No, no, no, no.”

There are people here now, leaning over Sam, leaning over his body.

“NO.”

Aelin gasps as she launches up in her bed. The sheets are stuck to her clammy skin and her head flies to the side. The guy is gone, the side of the bed he occupied when she fell asleep now cold. Good.

She lives it over and over in her dreams, sees the dark street more often than not, feels the phantom warmth of his blood down her legs. Wakes screaming herself hoarse just as she did that night. She doesn’t normally let people stay the night. Even when Aedion tried for the first few weeks after the fact, she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t turn her brain off for even a second. Every time she closed her eyes she was back on that street, begging and pleading for him to open his eyes.

She grasps at her side for the switch of her bedside lamp and flicks it on. Her room is cold and empty and she hasn’t had it in her to decorate past the basics so it’s plain and impersonal when she looks around, trying to calm her breathing.

She checks the time. 6:25am. Not bad, she must have managed about six hours of sleep last night, and it’s more than she usually gets.

There're a few texts waiting in her inbox, including one from Elide, and she expects it to be a request to let her know that she got home safe but it’s not.

Call me as soon as you wake up.

Sent at 6:02am. Elide is a chronic overworker, no matter how much Aelin begs her to stick to a 9 to 5 schedule, but she couldn't imagine her friend any other way. The smiling emoji at the end of the text lets her know it’s nothing she needs to panic about, so she takes a moment to scroll through her other messages. It’s unusual for her to wake up to so many.

She clicks on her conversation with Dorian, the only message she can see, his most recent one, just says Aelin. He has sent her nine messages while she slept, and she scrolls up to reach the first one.

Aelin, you did it. You booked the Rowan Whitethorn movie.

Her heart pounds in her chest, running into overdrive as she processes the words on her screen.

She got the part. She fucking did it.

This is one of those moments she knows she’ll remember.

Dorian has forwarded over a number of contracts and official things but she ignores them in favour of dialling Elide’s number.

“Aelin!” Her friend’s voice is breathy when she answers. “Congratulations, I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks, El.” A pause where she takes a deep breath in. “I can’t believe it.”

She falls back onto her mattress, pressing a fist to her lips as she smiles, eyes closed, almost giddy as she listens to her friend talk.

“They’re putting a press release out today at 12:30, announcing you and the male lead, who I haven’t found out yet but I will.”

“Oh my gods,” she sighs, covering her eyes with a clammy hand.

“I know,” Elide laughs.

She allows herself one tear as she stares up at the white of her ceiling.

This is big, she can feel it.

Later her phone buzzes as Elide sends her links to two different articles breaking the news.

Fenrys Moonbeam and Aelin Ashryver to star in new Chaol Westfall drama. More to follow.

Rowan Whitethorn signs on to direct The Crescent City, the latest project from Chaol Westfall (Throne of Glass, The King’s Hand & more).

She presses the phone to her chest as she lets out a sigh of relief.

It all moves pretty quickly from that point.

She’s on a plane back to Rifthold the next day and Chaol has sent over the whole script for her to read on the plane, bypassing Dorian completely even though that’s how it normally goes and she knows the two are like brothers.

Chaol was the one to introduce her to Dorian, and they kind of took her under their showbiz wings in the first few years she began to get really serious about acting.

They gave her the inside scoop, having been in the industry for a few more years than her. Chaol writing and making movies and Dorian doing all the background stuff like contracts and negotiations and exposure. They took her to their wrap parties that everyone knows are just networking events and introduced her to some of the big names in the industry without so much as batting an eyelid, and she knows she owes them a lot.

The script is phenomenal, and she has to try and hide the tears that form when she reaches the end, it probably wouldn’t be the best start to the project, being photographed crying on the plane on the way to start shooting. It really is some of Chaol’s best work, and she sends him a text when she lands that says fuck you, I hate it, but his reply lets her know he knows she’s joking.

It tells the story of her character, Feyre, and how she’s dragged into selling drugs to pay for her mom’s hospital bills. Along the way she meets Fenrys Moonbeam’s character, Rhysand, the glowering bad-boy who’s well established in the gang and together they see some shit and do some shit but manage to get out together. The topics are kind of cliché and over done, but Chaol has managed to add a level of originality to it that makes it really special.

It’s heavier on the romance than Rowan Whitethorn’s previous projects, but it’s gritty enough that she can see why he’s signed on. It’s going to be hard, she knows this, and it will really push her to her limits trying to embody the range of emotions her character goes through. But she wants it, and she will make her performance incredible if it fucking kills her.

There’s a niggling part of her brain that reminds her that she’s surrounded by some big names on this project, names that are big for a reason, and she can’t let them hiring her be a mistake.

She sends Chaol a follow up text, wtf are these names btw???

He ignores her.

When she’s in the car taking her to the apartment the studio is renting out for her while they film she decides to take a little trip through Instagram and look up her new co-star. Fenrys is a household name by now, a couple of years in after his debut, but it can’t hurt to know a little more about her leading man.

f.moonbeam01 comes up as the first option when the types the three letters f e n into the search bar and he has over eleven million followers.

Shit.

Not that she needs a reminder but it slaps her in the face that this is actually big. Aelin only has a few thousand followers herself and Elide has already told her to prepare herself for that to rise.

His Instagram is a mixture of mostly photos of himself, some selfies and some professional shots, and he’s obviously gorgeous. His deep brown complexion playing well against his golden curls with a straight strong nose and flawless white teeth. He’s definitely leading man material, and she can tell just how charming his grin is even through a screen.

There are also promo pictures for all the movies he’s involved in at the moment, there are at least three projects he has coming out this year. Damn.

His most recent picture is a screenshot of the article announcing their casting, and he’s actually tagged her in the photo along with Rowan himself. She hasn’t seen the tag until now, it’s normally Elide’s job as her publicist to tackle the professional side to her social media, but there’s 6.4 million likes on the photo.

Again, shit.

She can’t help herself from clicking onto Rowan’s account, rowanwhitethorn is a pretty simple handle. He only has 27 posts, most of them are behind the scenes shots from projects, one with his classic director’s chair that has his surname printed across the back in thick white lettering, and a few pictures of different cameras and pieces of equipment.

There’s only one picture of him on there, and it’s from 2017. He has his back to the camera and the sunset behind him lends a shadow that covers all of his features. Very artsy she muses to herself as she double taps the screen to like it, he probably won’t see anyway, the notification will probably get lost in the ones his account no doubt gets from his 2 million followers. The only thing she can gather from the photo about his physical appearance is that he has pretty broad shoulders.

She’s tempted to google him, wanting to know what he looks like, but she feels a bit too much like a stalker, and she knows she’ll meet him in a couple of days anyway so she leaves it and pulls up her emails to reply to the seemingly endless list of forms she has to fill out and send back to Dorian.

The apartment she’s living in for the next few months is modern and airy, with clean lines and bright decor. Aelin likes it, and while it’s not hers in the same way as her home back in Orynth, it’s far better than a hotel room that lower budget movies tend to shove actors in. Another reminder that this time is different, there’s a bigger budget than she’s used to, bigger names than she’s used to, and she can’t fuck this up. There’s more eyes on her now than ever before.

She sends Elide a picture of her new bedroom and her friend just replies with a bunch of exclamation marks and she forwards the picture across to Lysandra too. Aelin wanders through to the kitchen, wondering if anyone bothered to stock the kitchen, not that she can’t do groceries herself, it would just be nice. She’s delighted to find a fridge full of fresh produce and gets about making herself a dish of pasta and veggies.

She tucks herself in front of the big television, munching away as she watches some National Geographic documentary about whales and it helps to take her mind off the fact that this is her last night of peace for a while. She’s trying not to get too in her head about it, there’s a fine line between knowing it’s a big deal and freaking the fuck out about it, and she needs to stay on the right side of that line, needs to keep herself in check.

If she allows herself a moment to relax, a moment to sink into the situation and bask in the opportunity; she’s excited.

And depending on how well this movie does, she knows she may not have another night like this one. Somehow the thought doesn’t seem to scare her.

Lysandra calls her as she’s waiting for the car to arrive to take her to the studio, it's day one of their table read today and she’s tired. She spent all of last night tossing and turning, unable to shut her mind off and panicking over every single detail of how this day could go.

She’s lucky it’s only a table read, she’s not sure even a professional make-up artist would be able to cover the dark circles under her eyes.

“Hello, you.” Lysandra’s voice is cheery through the phone and Aelin smiles, she’s really missed Lysandra and hasn’t taken nearly enough time to seek her out during her recent whirlwind. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

They had texted since the news dropped, but with Lysandra shooting a campaign for a brand she can’t remember somewhere over in the Southern Continent they haven’t had time yet for a call.

“Thanks Lys,” she says as she gets into the back of the sleek black car that the studio has sent for her, tucking her small black backpack onto the seat next to her. It’s all she can use at this point, any other bag just makes her think of that night.

“How’s it going? Have you met everyone yet?”

Lysandra runs in these circles of A list celebrities and Aelin wouldn't be surprised if she already knew Fenrys. She met Lysandra when they were teens; years before her first show for Victoria’s Secret, years before she was walking for people like Gucci and Prada, and they stayed close when they were both living off cheap ramen and thin strands of hope. Aelin likes to tease her about hanging with a lowly C-lister like herself but Lysandra is always quick to quip that she’s maybe a G-lister at a push.

That could change.

“I haven’t met anyone so far, but I’m literally on my way to meet everyone now.”

“That’s exciting, you’ll have to let me know if Fenrys Moonbeam is really that good looking in person.”

“So you don’t already know him?” she asks, teasing. Maybe Lysandra doesn’t know quite everyone.

“Oh you know, apart from every week-end when we hook-up, we’re not really that good friends.”

Aelin laughs, mostly to herself, knowing that somewhere out there that probably is a story that’s cropped up in some cheap tabloid. She knows there’s probably some dating rumours about herself and Fenrys already even though she’s still yet to meet him. It’s just how it is, she knows this, has known this since she was old enough to read the stories about her parents’ messy divorce.

“What does Aedion have to say about that, hm?”

“Oh, he joins us obviously!” Lysandra’s laugh is bright and loud through the grainy speaker.

No-one is more desperate for Aedion to propose to Lysandra than Aelin, not even the magazines, desperate for a scoop of the golden couple, quarterback for the Rifthold Ravens and the world-famous supermodel.

“I think I’ve heard enough, thanks,” Aelin laughs as the car pulls through security checks at the studio. “Lys, I have to go, I’ve just got to the studio.”

“Okay, good luck! Promise you’ll call me later though and let me know how it goes.”

She needs to make sure she puts aside a minute to catch up properly with Lysandra, she’s been slacking recently and she knows her friend misses her. She misses Lysandra too, and Aedion. Maybe she’ll stay with them for a couple of days when she gets a break from filming, she can probably see them far more often now that she’s in Rifthold too.

“I promise,” she agrees. “Tell Aedion to make sure he spoils you from me.”

Lysandra snorts, “Oh he does, I’ll pass it along anyway though.”

“Means a lot. Love you, got to go.”

Lysandra’s returning love you is sincere, but she cuts off the phone as the car comes to a stop outside the plain brick building.

She readies herself in the back of the car, pulling down a deep breath to center herself, she can do this.

The girl leading her to the room doesn’t speak other than to tell Aelin to follow right this way, and she’s grateful, she’s not sure she could speak right now without vomiting all over the dated linoleum flooring.

She needs to get a grip, and fight the urge for a hit that strikes her when she’s nervous like this. It could make her fears disappear, at least for a moment before they all came crashing back down ten-times worse the minute the high faded. There is a reason she packed that shit in, and she knows her nerves will pass. It’s been a while since she’s done any of this, her last movie read was pre-Sam and no matter how hard she tries to push it down, there’s a lot of pressure on her for this to go well.

The girl pauses outside an unassuming white door and holds a hand out to gesture for Aelin to go in. She rolls her shoulders back, holding her head high before she steps into the room. If all else fails she’s still Evalin Ashryver’s daughter and to some people that is something to be proud of.

Fenrys Moonbeam is the first person to catch her eye when she steps into the room, and it seems he’s done some stalking too because he ends his conversation by the food table with some others she doesn’t recognise and bounds straight over to her with a grin.

“Aelin Ashryver,” he says, his voice deep and smooth like velvet. “I’ve heard of you. It’s a pleasure.”

“You have?” She’s both surprised and not at the same time as she holds a hand out for him to shake.

He bypasses the hand she holds out and tugs her into his chest, wrapping both arms around her and knocking her backpack off her shoulder.

“I have,” he says as he bends down to pick her bag back up. “Sorry about that.”

She shakes her head. She needs to stop acting like a bewildered school girl meeting the Queen, she needs to remember that she has second billing for this movie thanks to Dorian.

“Don’t worry about it.” Aelin finds a smile and plasters it on.

Someone calls for everyone to take their seats and she notices the name placards spaced out in front of each chair. She locates her own and it's surreal to see her name printed there, Aelin Ashryver, between Fenrys and another actress playing her sister called Manon Blackbeak. She’s even less known than Aelin, and she only feels slightly guilty for how much that relaxes her.

Aelin knows how this goes down, they sit opposite the production team, the director and all the executive producers and she realises that she’s opposite the sign that reads Rowan Whitethorn.

She slides into her seat, Fenrys and Manon chatting over her head as she does, and she spots a male slipping into the chair opposite her. He’s wearing a slim-fit forest green henley and dark jeans, his shoulders are just as broad as they were in his Instagram photo and here there’s no shadow across his handsome features.

She can’t deny that he’s attractive, she knew it the first time she saw him. Her stare locks onto the man from the hallway after her audition and he smirks at her as if they have a secret. And maybe they do, but now she’s realising that he’s her boss, and a little voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Elide is whispering to her that opportunities like this don’t come around everyday.

She owes it to Sam and she owes it to herself not to fuck this up, but the look that Rowan Whitethorn is sending her across the table makes her think she could risk it all.

It takes them three hours to run through it in full, and she’s happy to see she’s not the only one with a tear in her eye at the end. Rowan doesn’t cry, but he hasn’t looked at her since before they started and each time she read a line she avoided looking at him. She knows there were a couple of times where he nodded along with her expression of the lines. She’s ignoring it.

This is what she lives to do, they’re not even filming yet and she feels like she’s right where she needs to be. It’s cliche but she breathes easier when she acts, the air feels lighter when she takes on a new personality and feels all the things she’s told to feel.

It takes away the restlessness she feels when it’s all just down to her, being told how to feel is far easier.

Her therapist tells her she has both anxiety and PTSD, but she feels like giving it a name doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. She knows a diagnosis can be a relief for some, but to Aelin, what she feels is far too messy to be summed up in four letters. Her life has simply become the before, and the after, even though what each of those contains is a complete fucking shit show.

There are two Aelins; pre that night and post that night.

The Aelin from before that night doesn’t exist anywhere but in her own memory.

Once the run through is completed and basic notices are given by the producers, things like call sheet distributions and health and safety, the occupants of the room begin to mingle. She sees him make a beeline for her, and she swallows. She’s not ready for this.

“You look surprised to see me.” His voice is as hot as it was the last time she saw him, the slight rasp in his throat and his accent. Gods, the accent.

“You don’t look too surprised to see me.” She tilts her head at him because she feels way thrown off, like he has all the power here. Which he does. But like, she can play it cool. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? “Maybe had a little google search?”

He shakes his head at her, biting his lip kind of like he wants to laugh, and she bristles. She needs to level the playing field.

“Says you.” He’s definitely laughing now. “I saw you liked my photo last night.”

“What about it?” She shrugs, hoping her acting skills are up to it. He only tilts his head to the side as he takes her in.

“Do you think I didn’t know who you were in the corridor? I’m the director.” And fuck him for saying it like that, full of an easy confidence that in any other situation would have had heat pooling in the floor of her stomach. “Brullo discussed the casting with me.”

Right. Of course.

She’s not sure what to say next. Honestly? She kind of wants to flirt with him, but fuck.

Instead she hums a laugh, not really caring whether he thinks it’s sincere or not, and looks absentmindedly around the room instead of back up at him. He reaches a hand out to brush his fingers down her arm, looping them round the bones of her wrist and squeezing slightly like he did the last time before letting go. Her eyes snap back to his.

“Just between you and me?” he asks and the smile he wears is far too hot for her to deal with right now. “I think we made a good choice.”

“Thanks,” she says, but it’s a little too breathy. A little too dazed for having spent such a short amount of time in his presence. She’s aware that she needs to be careful, they are very much not alone in this room right now, and she doesn’t need to start any rumours that would destroy her chances of escaping this without a scandal.

She’s here to do a job, and she’s going to do it well. She doesn’t need any distractions.

He leaves her soon after that, and his parting remark of “have a good first day, Aelin” sticks with her, and she tries not to replay the way his voice had wrapped around her name.

Manon Blackbeak is watching them from across the room, and she arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow at Aelin. She ignores her; let her think what she wants, she’s surely professional enough not to gossip to any press, and stomps over to where Fenrys is chatting with one of the producers. It seems like a good enough place to start.

#rowaelin #rowaelin au #rowaelin fic #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #nobody does it like you do #ndilyd #im so nervous to post this lol #hope you all enjoy #cw: past drug abuse #cw: minor character death #cw: violence

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Love Is Near, but Danger Is Nearer prompt: Aelin hearing Danny talking to someone in the middle of the night 👀

Love Is Near, but Danger Is Nearer | Chapter Ten

CW: language

Masterlist//Moodboard//Send a Prompt//1086 words

Saturday

“You did what?” Lysandra screeched.

“Calm down,” I hissed, then glanced over to Danny, who was sitting on the couch watching cartoons. He was looking over at us in concern. I waved reassuringly, then turned back to Lys.

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, I swear to the gods if this doesn’t turn out to be some foul prank—”

“Lys, listen,” I interrupted. “It’s for his safety.”

“You couldn’t have married someone, I dunno, less sketchy? What kind of guy offers to marry a lady he doesn’t even know, just to help out her kid?”

“A nice one?” I winced. “Okay, or maybe a bored one. It doesn’t really matter. There was hardly anyone else!”

“Well, I’m sure you could have found somebody. Hell, I would have married you for fuck’s sake. Do you even trust him around your kid?”

“No,” I said firmly. “I don’t think he would do anything to Danny, but still no. But this isn’t going to be permanent.”

“It doesn’t even need to be temporary,” Lysandra snapped. “Go get divorced. Right now, Aelin.”

I crossed my arms. “Would you stop. What’s done is done. I’m doing this for Danny, and Rowan is entirely in agreement that we’ll get divorced as soon as it’s done.”

“And what are you going to tell him?” Lysandra nodded her head in Danny’s direction.

“I’m going to tell him the truth.”

“The truth?”

“Some of the truth,” I corrected. “That I’m married, and I guess that it won’t last forever. I don’t want him to get attached, you know?”

“Is that really the most of your worries?”

“Lys. I know it was rash—”

“You married the man fifteen minutes after he proposed. He proposed fifteen days after meeting you.”

“It was more than fifteen days,” I said, scoffing. “It was like… almost three weeks.”

Lysandra sighed. “Gods, Aelin.”

“I understand why you’re freaked out, but I don’t want some fucking serial killer coming after my son. I did what I had to do.” Lys nodded slowly. “I’m taking Danny to meet Rowan today,” I added hesitantly.

“Taking him where?”

“A cafe. I was hardly going to have Rowan move in today, was I?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Lysandra muttered.

I shot her a glare. “He’s moving in next week. And he’s not going to be selling his house or bring a shit ton of stuff, since this should all be going away soon. We just need to do enough to make this look realistic.”

“And what happens after? Are you two going to keep dating?”

“Probably,” I admitted. “I liked him to start with, and now he’s doing all this for me. I still don’t know if it will go anywhere, but I’m not going to dump him the second this blows over.”

Lys groaned. “I hate you. Alright, what time do we leave?”

“We?”

“You thought I was letting my baby boy meet that creep with only his brain-damaged mother for company? Hell no.”

I sighed in resignation. “Whatever.”

—

After Rowan shared his idea with me last night, I had thought about it for the rest of dinner, per his request, then accepted once the meal was through.

We had gone to city hall immediately following, and gotten married. It felt surreal.

Next we worked out most of the details concerning what this was going to look like. A lot was left for debate, and Rowan told me not to rush it. And I would still be wearing Sam’s ring. Rowan had been very kind about the whole affair.

Then I had gone home and gone straight to bed. Lys had slept over, as she did sometimes, and I had waited until the morning to inform her.

And so that conversation had happened. Then I went about informing Danny. He was surprised, to say the least, but excited to meet Rowan. I hadn’t mentioned the reason for the impromptu marriage, and Danny didn’t think to ask. After all, he was young. He probably didn’t have a solid timeline in his head of how long it usually took for adults to get married.

After that, we left for the cafe. It was the same one Rowan and I had met up in after the grocery store incident. It made the situation a bit sweeter, I thought.

Rowan wasn’t there yet. We took a seat in a booth. After a minute of debate, Danny was seated beside Lys and I was going to be next to Rowan. We ordered waters and waited.

“Can’t even show up on time to meet his new son,” I barely heard Lysandra mutter. I rolled my eyes.

Rowan finally showed up, only slightly late. His eyes landed on our little mismatched trio and he smiled, no trace of nerves or regret.

“Hello, Aelin. And you must be Danny.”

Seeing that Lys wouldn’t be deigning to stand up, I tugged Rowan down beside me. “Yes, this is Danny. Danny, this is my new husband, Rowan.”

Danny smiled shyly. “Hi, Rowan.”

Rowan winked, and I wondered if that was just a guy thing. “It’s nice to meet such a handsome soul as yourself.”

Lysandra snorted. I cleared my throat. “And this is Lysandra. She wanted to meet you.” She’s skeptical, I mouthed in addition.

Rowan nodded, unfazed. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Lys said, smiling fakely. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I sighed internally.

I wasn’t really sure what to say next, but Rowan quickly picked up on the speaking. He talked mainly to Danny, asking him his favorite movie and color, and other such things. Danny responded cheerfully, and started to get over his introverted tendencies and ask a few questions of his own. That was a good sign.

That was a very good sign.

—

I pulled the covers over my head tighter. And then I wondered if Rowan would be under the same covers less than a week from now. We would have to cross that bridge when we came to it.

I sighed, then smiled. I wasn’t entirely upset by this. This could be fun, actually.

I thought I heard someone speak in the other room, someone with a voice deeper than Danny’s. I jolted up, listening carefully.

I couldn’t make out the whole sentence, but I heard Rowan. It had been Danny then, talking to his imaginary friend. I was going to get confused on which Rowan I was talking about when my husband Rowan moved in.

Relaxed, I lay back down and pulled the blanket up. Then I feel into a fitful sleep.

���——

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@courtofjurdan

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

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@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

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@rhysandswingspan

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@sexy-dumpster-fire

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@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thenerdandfandoms

@yesdreamblog

#rowaelin #tog #love is near but danger is nearer #my writing

[sassyhobbits]

everything i wanted (ONS oneshot)

here it is! the promised celebratory One Night Standards oneshot! I hope you all enjoy this. I know I had a fun time writing it! thank you all for the love and support for this story, also with your patience since i havent been able to get out as much writing as i would like like recently! <3

masterlist

~~~

Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius had never known that joy could come in the form of a person until she welcomed her daughter into the world.

Eliora was a new bright light in both Aelin and Rowan’s life, who brought them new levels of happiness with each passing day. Aelin couldn’t have been more blessed with her daughter. Eliora was a jubilant child, with wide, curious eyes that matched her mother’s and a sweet, gummy smile she flashed from time to time that made both of her parents positively melt.

Most importantly, Eliora was healthy. Although Aelin’s pregnancy had been rather easy, the birth was less so. It was something Aelin had prepared herself for, knowing her own mother had a difficult time giving birth as well. So, when Eliora was born perfectly healthy and Aelin healed from the tumultuous birthing process, both she and Rowan knew that some of the gods had been looking out for them.

That had been four months ago. Four months of raising their daughter, of getting used to being parents, no matter how exhausting it could be. Aelin wouldn’t change it for the world.

Aelin smiled down at her daughter as she wiggled on the bed below her, sticking a tiny fist into her mouth. She was getting her changed into a pale-blue dress that Lysandra had found and insisted it would look wonderful on Eliora. Aelin wasn’t even surprised that her friend had taken to styling her baby as well as the princess.

“Don’t you look so beautiful?” Aelin cooed, pinching Eliora’s little feet, making her flash a wide, toothless smile. Aelin laughed before grabbing a bow that matched her daughter’s dress, slipping in over her silvery-blonde hair that was getting thicker by the day. She looked positively adorable, perfect for the day.

The day of Lorcan and Elide’s wedding.

Aelin was so incredibly happy for Elide, that she had found love. Although Aelin and Lorcan had gotten off to a bit of a rocky start, once Aelin realized how much he truly cared for Elide, things had gotten easier between them.

And now they would be married.

Aelin had already prepared herself for the day, wearing a silky, pale-pink midi-dress that Lysandra had sent her way and a pair of sensible, strappy heels. She didn’t bother to do much with her hair, knowing the Eliora often managed to grab handfuls of it whenever it was in reach. Any efforts would have been quickly undone.

“Are you two nearly ready?” Rowan called from the conjoining sitting room, a good-natured sort of exasperation in his tone.

“Having a hot wife takes time, Rowan,” Aelin hollered back. “I wouldn’t be complaining if I was you.”

Although she couldn’t see him, Aelin could picture him scoffing out a tiny laugh and shaking his head. He wouldn’t want to be amused, but he would be anyway.

She heard footfalls coming her way, and soon enough Rowan walked through the threshold. Instantly, a bright smile lit his face, as it always did when he saw the two of them together.

“You look beautiful, Fireheart,” he said, coming to her side and pressing a quick kiss to her temple, a broad hand resting on the dip of her waist. He looked down at Eliora, and his face softened even further. “You both look beautiful.”

“I can’t get over how perfect she is,” Aelin commented, squeezing her daughter’s chubby thighs. “Every day, it just blows me away.”

“Me too.”

They stood there for a few moments, gazing down at their daughter as she looked wide-eyed up at the two of them. Aelin felt as though she could watch her for hours. But, she didn’t have the time for that today.

“I suppose we should get going,” Rowan sighed. “I think it would be bad form if we were late.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Rowan leaned down and scooped Eliora into his arms. Aelin always loved the sight of her massive husband holding their tiny daughter. The first time he had held her, she had promptly broken into tears. Even now, seeing her family, always had her on the verge of crying once again.

But, she controlled herself. She didn’t want to ruin her makeup before the wedding.

The ceremony was being held at the palace out in the gardens. It was a perfect day for an outdoor wedding. The mid-spring air was warm and pleasant, the sky a brilliant blue with a few fat clouds floating across lethargically. The air smelled heavily of the sweet flowers blooming from every corner of the palace’s expansive gardens.

The wedding wasn’t a huge affair, kept mostly to friends and family. There were a few rows of white seats lined up before the altar that was situated beneath an arc of white roses. Some of the seats were already filled up. Aelin said hello to Elide’s parents. Her mother, Marion, apparently hadn’t been able to stop crying all day. Elide’s father, Cal, had been doing his best to console her throughout the morning, though Aelin could tell he was getting a little misty-eyed as well.

She and Rowan went towards their seats near the front, finding some of their companions already there. Lysandra’s face lit up in a comically large grin once she laid eyes on Eliora in Rowan’s arms, immediately standing and reaching out to take her. Lysandra’s own baby bump was just beginning to show, nothing more than a tiny swell under her green dress. Lysandra and Aedion had taken to commandeering Eliora from time to time, saying they wanted to give Rowan and Aelin some alone time. Aelin knew her cousin and his wife honestly just wanted some extra practice with babies before their own came.

“How are you, sweet girl?” Lysandra cooed, taking Eliora from Rowan and bouncing her on her hip. “Don’t you look so beautiful in the dress Auntie Lys got you?”

“She is the cutest baby in the world, isn’t she?” Aelin agreed, leaning into Rowan’s side.

“For now, at least.” Aedion shrugged before kissing the top of Eliora’s silver head and placing a hand on Lysandra’s stomach.  “At least until my kid gets her.”

Aelin gaped at her cousin. “Shut your traitorous mouth!”

Fenrys then arrived, clapping Rowan’s shoulder in greeting. He looked as if he were about to strike up a conversation before he laid eyes on Eliora being bounced in Lysandra’s arms. His attention was then instantly diverted. Aelin’s daughter was always quite popular when she was in a crowd.

Rowan’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. Aelin’s heart was full as she watched her friends and her daughters, took in their laughs and their smiles. What a wonderful family she had amassed in these years.

“What are you thinking about, Fireheart?” Rowan murmured.

“Just… how lucky we are to have all of this. How much I love them all… and love you.”

He smiled before leaning down and pressing a long, lingering kiss to her lips, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I love you too.”

Aelin would have liked to linger in the moment a bit longer, but they were interrupted by Fenrys’ obnoxiously loud laughter. He had managed to steal Eliora from Lysandra and slip his sunglasses on to her tiny face.

“Check out how cool she looks!” Fenrys announced with a bright laugh.

“Oh, no,” Aelin muttered, shaking her head. She quickly strode towards Fenrys, taking the sunglasses off of Eliora’s head and shoving them back over the lord’s eyes. “Get those tacky things off my daughter’s perfect face!” The princess took Eliora back firmly into her arms, the toddler releasing a stream of nonsense baby-babble, to which Aelin nodded seriously. “You’re right, sweet girl. Those frames are so last season.”

Fenrys gawked in offence, head swiveling towards those around them. “They are not last season! Rowan, tell her they’re not last season!”

Rowan didn’t even bother to respond, looking towards his friend dryly. Once Fenrys realized he wouldn’t be getting any support from the prince, he looked towards Lysandra and Aedion for backup. But, Lysandra could only shrug apologetically.

“Sorry, Fen. They are last season.”

Fenrys continued to sputter in protest while everyone else began to drift to their seats, the beginning of the ceremony nearing.

Aelin took a seat between Rowan and Lysandra, holding Eliora, who was taking in the sights around her, on her lap. The band settled into their position, taking their instruments from their cases. Aelin was more than excited to see Elide. She and Lysandra had helped her pick out her gown, but the effect of seeing her now, with her hair and make-up and veil, was sure to make Aelin cry.

“I can’t believe they’re getting married,” Aelin remarked.

Lysandra snorted softly. “I can’t believe Lorcan is taking Elide’s last name.”

“Hm… Lord Lorcan Lochan. It had a nice ring to it, right?”

They giggled amongst themselves, but their laughter faded once a towering figure appeared on the altar, followed by a heavily robed priestess. Aelin had to admit that Lorcan Salvaterre cleaned up well. His tux was cut to him perfectly, long, black hair shining as it fell down his back. The most striking difference was the lack of the scowl on his face.

“Did I look this nervous on our wedding day?” Rowan murmured into Aelin’s ear.

“Which one?” she asked absentmindedly, straightening the bow on Eliora’s head. “Our first one, worse. I could have sworn you were about to piss yourself.”

“And whose fault was that?”

“Your meddling cousins that didn’t give me time to respond after you decided to confess your love out of the blue on the night before the wedding.”

“Whatever you say, love.”

Eventually, Eliora appeared to grow tired of the view from Aelin’s lap, reaching out towards Rowan. Aelin handed her daughter to Rowan, who was very content to be held up against his chest. She was a true daddy’s girl and had Rowan wrapped around her little finger.

A few more minutes passed before a hush fell over the crowd and the musicians began to play. It was a serene, lilting song, and old Terrasenian lullaby. Aelin’s mother had sung it to her in her youth and now she sang it to her own daughter.

The crowd rose to their feet, looking down the aisle. Aelin already had a too-wide grin on her face, throat clogged up with tears she was trying to keep at bay. Rowan, ever the observant one, noticed and shifted Eliora into his left arm, freeing his other hand to hold Aelin’s tightly. She dared a glance at the altar, finding a surprising amount of emotion displayed on Lorcan’s face. He looked so, so happy, and so very in love. Aelin couldn’t imagine a better person for Elide. She knew Lorcan would love her until his last breath, would use every day in his life to make sure that Elide was happy and content.

Aelin looked back down the aisle just in time to catch the first glimpse of Elide.

She was a breathtaking bride. Elide wore a stunning gown with flowing, gossamer skirts and a bodice covered in delicate, lace flowers. The sleeves were long and gauzy, drooping from her pale shoulders and swaying in the spring breeze. Her hair was twisted up in an elegant coronet, white flowers tangled within her dark locks. Her veil drifted behind her, trailing her by a few feet. The tears sprung from Aelin’s eyes not long after that.

Elide's dark eyes, gleaming with unshed tears, were pinned on Lorcan. Aelin knew the grin she wore was solely for the man waiting for her at the altar.

Elide stepped closer to where Rowan and Aelin stood. The bride took her attention off her future husband for one moment to look towards her princess. Aelin only beamed through her tears, mouthing I love you.

Elide mouthed it back before her gaze caught on Eliora is Rowan’s arms, sending the baby a wide smile. Eliora took a break from sticking her tiny fist in her mouth to send a little smile of her own back.

Elide looked back down the aisle, back towards Lorcan and her future, and she did not falter.

The crowd all lowered themselves into their seats as Elide came to a stop before Lorcan.

Aelin rested her head against Rowan’s shoulder as the priestess began to speak, uttering ancient words that had been tying people together in Terrasen for centuries. She simply couldn’t get over how happy, how deeply in love, Lorcan and Elide were. Aelin was fairly certain the two were barely listening to the priestess, too absorbed in one another to be bothered with the rest of the world at the moment.

The time came for them to read their vows. They reached out, taking one another’s hands firmly. Elide went first. Even from where Aelin sat, she could see her friend swallow hard, no doubt trying to stop herself from crying.

“Lorcan,” Elide began, voice a bit wobbly with emotion. “I’ve never known how happy I could be until I met you. Everyday, you manage to show me new levels of bliss. Marrying you is a blessing I once hadn’t even known I needed. Now, I know I wouldn’t give you up, what we have, for the world. I love you with everything I am, Lorcan Salvaterre.”

Aelin swiped at the tears dribbling down her cheeks, Rowan wrapping his arm over her shoulder and tugging her closer to his body.

It seemed Lorcan needed a few moments to compose himself after Elide’s speech, chin tucked to his chest. He sucked down one more deep breath before facing the woman before him once more, dark brown eyes glimmering.

“Elide Lochan, you’re the love of my life,” he began. Aelin could tell how hard he was working to control his voice. “I truly don’t know what I did to deserve you. You are the brightest light in my life, the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me. I thank whatever god took pity on my miserable ass and let me walk into your life. I promise to do everything in my power to make you the happiest woman on the planet, to love and cherish you for the rest of my life. You… gods, I love you so much Elide.”

Aelin’s heart melted as she listened to Lorcan’s vows, eyes flickering up to Rowan. Even her normally stoic husband had misty eyes.

The priestess looked back and forth from Elide to Lorcan, a serene smile on her wrinkled face. She finished the ceremony, speaking the same words that had bound Rowan and Aelin three years ago.

“I’m honored to announce,” the priestess said grandly, “that under the eyes of the gods and of Terrasen, this man and woman are now wed!”

With that, Lorcan took Elide’s face into his hands and kissed her soundly. The cheers and applause erupted from the crowd, everyone rising to their feet once more for the newly-weds. Lorcan seemed reluctant to stop kissing his new wife, but he eventually pulled back and they faced their audience.

Aelin couldn’t be more excited to see where life would take the both of them.

…

The celebration following was still held in the gardens, no one wanting to put such a beautiful day to waste. They ate and drank and were happy, celebrating all the love that was in everyones’ lives.

As the day wore on, some people left, leaving only the closest of Aelin’s friends and family behind. They were scattered around a few tables, finishing off drinks and snacks as the sun began to set below the horizon.

Aelin was enjoying some girl time, finally finding some time alone with Elide and Lysandra. The boys were all sitting around together, drinking beers and entertaining Eliora.

Lysandra leaned back in her seat, absent-mindedly stroking the swell of her stomach. “I can’t believe we’re all married now.”

“All of us except for Fenrys,” Elide pointed out.

Aelin shrugged. “He’ll be hitched soon enough. He and Ress have been dating for like, four months now. They really like each other.” It was true. Everyone could tell they were already ridiculously in love with one another. Aelin was ecstatic to see two of her friends so happy with one another. They were so cute it was sickening. “I can’t believe we’re going to have another baby around here soon!”

Lysandra hummed and looked fondly at the little life growing inside of her. “It’s going to be hectic, but I’m so excited. I don’t know what all these boys are going to do with two babies to spoil.”

As one, all three of them looked towards where the boys were. Eliora has been passed from Aedion to Lorcan. He held the babe at his eye level, his normally grumpiness nowhere in sight, even as Eliora dragged her sticky hands down his face. He could only smile.

“Oh, gods,” Elide squeaked, face quickly screwing up as she began to cry.

“Elide, honey, what is it?” Lysandra asked, placing a hand on Elide’s thigh. “I know it’s so cute to see the boys with babies, and I certainly cried the first time Aedion held Eliora, but you’ve seen her and Lorcan together plenty of times and have never cried.”

“Oh, it’s just these damned hormones,” Elide sighed.

Aelin blinked, looking at her friend quizzically. She slowly raised a brow. “Hormones?”

Elide’s eyes flickered back and forth between Aelin and Lysandra, nibbling at her bottom lip for a few moments before she conceded. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re what?!”

“Sh!” Elide hissed, casting a quick glance towards the boys, but none of them had noted the outburst. “I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“How long have you known?”

Elide smiled sheepishly. “Two days.”

“Oh, Ellie, you couldn’t have waited until today to find out?” Aelin asked melodramatically. “Now this was a shotgun wedding!”

The girls burst out in laughter, Elide’s wiping away the tears that had escaped from her eyes. She looked towards Lorcan once more.

“I just don’t know how to tell him!”

“There is no how,” Lysandra said. “Just tell him! Gods, go right now!”

“Really?”

“Yes!” cried Aelin and Lysandra in unison, making Elide laugh some more.

Elide sucked down a deep breath, but on a brave face, and pushed to her feet, eyes locked on her new husband. She gave a firm nod. “Alright. I’m going to tell him.”

Aelin and Lysandra clapped and cheered quietly as Elide strode purposefully over to Lorcan. She placed a soft hand on her husband's arm, muttering something to him that Aelin couldn’t hear from where she was sitting. Lorcan nodded, handing Eliora back over to Rowan, whose head immediately whipped towards Aelin as if to say, What did you two do?

Aelin only held her hands up in defense. Not my fault.

Aelin and Lysandra waited until Elide and led Lorcan a respectful distance away before making their way over to their husbands. They looked towards them in question.

“What’s happening?” Aedion asked.

“Elide’s telling Lorcan she's pregnant.”

“Elide’s pregnant?!” Fenrys gasped. “Shotgun wedding!”

"That's what I said!"

"Shh! You're being too loud!"

They quieted down, watching as Elide and Lorcan conversed. They saw Elide take Lorcan’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze before she rested it over the bodice of her gown, on her stomach. Lorcan blinked once, and Aelin saw him mouth, Pregnant? To which Elide nodded.

Lorcan beamed, sweeping Elide up in his arms and twirling her around. Everyone heard her bright laughter and she threw her arms over Lorcan’s shoulders and kissed him deeply.

Aelin joined with their other friends in clapping and cheering for the couple once again. Lorcan eventually put Elide back down on her feet, the pair looking towards the crowd with too-wide grins on their faces. Instantly, some of them headed over towards where the newlyweds stood to congratulate them properly, but Aelin hung back with Rowan.

“Three babies in the palace at once…” Rowan breathed heavily. “We’ll certainly never be bored.”

“Certainly not,” Aelin agreed, looking at Eliora in her husband’s arms, who released a mighty yawn. It seemed the day had thoroughly worn her out. Aelin stood on her toes, pressing a kiss to Rowan’s lips before doing the same to Eliora’s forehead. Her daughter looked to her with wide, sleepy eyes. “You're going to have so many new friends soon!”

Aelin looked over to her companions, watching as they all laughed and smiled and embraced. There was a warm fondness in her heart as she took in the sight.

Aelin took Eliora into her own arms, holding her against her chest. She kissed her daughter’s cheek again, simply because she could, before smiling. “You’re going to have such a wonderful family, too.”

#ONE NIGHT STANDARDS #my writing #rowaelin #elorcan #tog

[sabrinaacarpenters]

Oh oh and top 5 love declarations from literature 👀

i kinda wanna just say an austen book for all five because that woman was the blueprint for amazing love declarations, but i feel like that wouldn't be fair to everyone who came after her lol

1. Knightley's speech from Emma

“I cannot make speeches, Emma...If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more." (literally tattoo this on my forehead)

2. Julian Blackthorn's in Lady Midnight

“These pictures are my heart. And if my heart was a canvas, every square inch of it would be painted over with you.”

3. Rowan Whitethorn's in Empire of Storms

“I love you. There is no limit to what I can give to you, no time I need. Even when this world is forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you.”

4. Aedion Ashryver's in Empire of Storms

“The useless sentries in the watchtower are now all half in love with you,” he lied. “One said he wanted to marry you.” A low snarl. He yielded a foot but held eye contact with her as he grinned. “But you know what I told them? I said that they didn't stand a chance in hell. Because I am going to marry you,” he promised her. “One day. I am going to marry you. I'll be generous and let you pick when, even if it's ten years from now. Or twenty. But one day, you are going to be my wife.” He shrugged. “Princess Lysandra Ashryver sounds nice, doesn't it?” (can you tell i loved eos lmfao)

5. Nikolai Lantsov's in Rule of Wolves

“I would give you a crown if I could," he said. "I would show you the world from the prow of a ship. I would choose you, Zoya. As my general, as my friend, as my bride. I would give you a sapphire the size of an acorn." He reached into his pocket. "And all I would ask in return is that you wear this damnable ribbon in your hair on our wedding day.”

ask me my top 5 anything

#replies #sara tag #ask game

[imaginedhaven]

Rules of Engagement: Chapter Twenty

Link to Masterpost

Just the epilogue left! That will likely be up sometime this weekend. Enjoy!

~*~*~

Two months passed, and soon Aelin stood before her closet once more, carefully selecting a gown. Today she would be crowned Queen of Terrasen, and though she had worked for it for so long she found she was still nervous.

Lysandra looked up from where she was carefully arranging a bouquet of evergreen boughs and delicate laurel blossoms, representing both the beauty and the longevity of her kingdom. “This is it,” she said quietly. “In a few short hours, you’ll be queen.”

Aelin nodded, fingertips trailing over the gauzy green material covering the gown they had commissioned for the occasion. “I can hardly believe it,” she confessed. “I keep thinking that I’ll wake up and find this was all some sort of fever-dream.”

Lysandra only smiled, smoothing the skirts of her own gown of green velvet. “I suspect Aedion would be only too happy to spar, if you needed a reminder that this is all real.”

That was true enough; if she knew her cousin, he was already pacing outside the throne room, one hand on his sword and the other fisted at his side so as not to muss his tied-back hair. “As much as we’d both enjoy the opportunity to beat each other, I’m afraid we don’t have that much time.”

Carefully, she slipped into the gown, forest green silks and gauzes sliding over her frame. It was truly a lovely dress, fabric in Terrasen green carefully embroidered in silver along the hem and the collar. Beside her on the dressing room table, a silver belt lay ready to be clasped around her waist. The only other adornment she would wear today was the crown of silver and gold antlers that Regent Darrow would present during the ceremony itself. Even her hair would remain unbound for this particular occasion. Lysandra approached her then, carefully fastening the ties at her back that held the gown together. When she spoke, her tone was reassuring. “You don’t need it. You’ve been preparing for this moment for years. Everyone can see that.”

It was still truly amazing that she had gotten this far. For the longest time after her meeting with the Lords of Terrasen, she had contemplated displaying the writ they had all signed granting her the right to her crown. It was still tempting, but she had finally decided the display might be off-putting to enough people so as not to be worth the glee it would bring her. She thought that Rowan would be proud of her for exercising such restraint.

At that thought, she sighed and left the closet, feet taking her to the balcony outside her bedroom. A bird of prey was circling the skies by the forest, but she knew without reaching for the mating bond that it would not be Rowan. She had asked Sellene to keep him in Doranelle until after she was crowned, and the Fae Queen of the East had agreed readily, knowing she would be leaning heavily on her cousin’s advice as she transitioned into power.

She had made the decision knowing it was important that she gain her crown on her own merits. However, she hadn’t given sufficient consideration to just how much she would miss her mate being by her side.

“He should be here soon enough.” The rustling of skirts indicated that Lysandra had come to join her. “Aedion says the reports out of Doranelle indicated he was on the move. If I were to guess, I would say he’d be here within the week.”

Gods, but she hoped so. “I can only imagine how it felt for you to come back here while I took Aedion across the sea,” she admitted. “If it was anything like this…”

“It had to be done. You needed your message to reach Terrasen, and I couldn’t bring Evangeline into that situation.” When Aelin turned to face her friend, she found only certainty in her expression. “Given the same circumstances, I would do it again.”

Aelin sighed. “Well, we’re back now, at least. And we’ve made it to today. Truly, we have a lot to celebrate.”

“And we will,” Lysandra grinned as she collected the silver belt to wrap around Aelin’s waist. “The delegation from Adarlan includes your erstwhile former betrothed, after all; I’m certain he’ll make sure our celebrations are held to a certain standard.”

“Oh, I’m certain as well,” Aelin replied with a laugh. “But enough of that. We still have to get through the ceremony first.”

And together they finished preparing for the day, Aelin taking the rare opportunity to braid her friend’s hair with a smile. “I almost never get to do this. Usually it’s you taking control of my hair.”

Lysandra smiled. “If you wake up early enough, you can do this more often.”

Aelin responded by making a face at her through the mirror. “My first order as queen will be that no official business can take place until lunch,” she swore. “And you’ll have to obey it too.”

“Aedion would never allow it, I hope you realize that. I think he would rather perish than give up his morning training sessions.”

“Aedion can do as he likes, as long as he doesn’t expect me to join him,” she said haughtily.

Before either of them could say anything further, a bell rang in the courtyard to mark the passing of another hour. “It’s time,” Lysandra said as she gathered the evergreen bouquets they would both carry. “Are you ready?”

Aelin’s hands shook as she accepted her own bouquet from Lysandra. She took a deep breath as she focused on a single thought.

I am Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and I will not be afraid.

Finally, she smiled. “I’m ready,” she declared. “Let’s go.”

~*~*~

Aedion stood to the left side of the throne in front of the crowds that were waiting to watch his cousin be crowned Queen of Terrasen, sword buckled around his waist and wearing Terrasen’s colors of green and silver. As commander of the Bane and the highest ranking military officer within Orynth, he would be standing by Aelin’s side as she accepted her crown from Regent Darrow. The regent himself was already present, as were the other lords and the newest Lady of Perranth. Lysandra and Evangeline would be escorting Aelin into the throne room within a few short minutes. Everything was ready, and he only had a few moments more to wait.

A group of musicians began to play behind him and he straightened his sword belt, focusing his attention on the doors at the opposite side of the throne room. The Song of Terrasen was played at every major function of their kingdom, and now it was the signal that Aelin was about to enter the room.

The crowd before him turned their attention to the doors as well, and he knew the officials gathered behind him would be standing now. Finally, the doors opened and Aedion’s breath caught in his chest as the three most important women in his life appeared.

Evangeline came first, grinning widely as she scattered evergreen leaves along the aisle and prepared the way for their new queen. Finally she came to stand by Aedion’s side, and he tore his attention away from the proceedings for a moment to smile down at her.

Aelin came next, with Lysandra close behind, sweeping down the aisle with all the grace that befitted her role as their ruler. Carefully, she climbed the three steps that led up to the throne and then knelt as Regent Darrow approached, the crown of antlers in his hands.

His vision had blurred by this point, and he knew that by the end he would be openly weeping. Aelin didn’t look like she was faring any better, but she still winked at him before returning her attention to the regent.

Darrow’s expression was solemn as he began to speak the ritual words in the Old Language, but he thought he could see a glimmer in the older man’s eyes as well. Aedion didn’t understand the Old Language very well, not truly, but the meaning of this exchange was one known to everyone of note in Terrasen. “Do you offer your life, your body, and your soul to the service of Terrasen?”

The gold in Aelin’s eyes blazed as she replied in kind. “I offer all that I am and all that I have to Terrasen.”

The ceremony went on exactly as rehearsed, the remaining words of Aelin’s vows a blur to him. As he watched, Darrow lifted the crown to catch the light, an homage to the goddess most honored by all in the Galathynius line, and rested it atop his cousin’s golden waves. His tears finally fell as Darrow spoke the last words of the ceremony. “Rise, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen. Long may you reign.”

There was movement along the outskirts of the crowd, but Aedion could hardly pay attention to such a thing when Aelin turned to look at him rather than sitting in her throne as they had practiced. “Aedion Ashryver, Prince of Wendlyn and General of Terrasen,” she called.

He froze. Could she possibly be…?

She rolled up her sleeve, and the tears began to fall all over again. “From the moment you came to our shores, you have devoted your strength, your sword, and your life to Terrasen. Will you swear to continue to do so for the rest of your days?”

He fell to his knees before her, shoulders and voice both trembling. “I swear it. In this life and the next, I will serve you and Terrasen.”

Aelin pulled out a knife—where in the gods’ names had she been keeping a knife?—and drew it along her arm, smiling as blood welled along the cut. “Then drink, Prince Aedion, and be welcome.”

He bowed his head and drank, and she smiled and whispered, “In front of everyone, just like you wanted.”

He couldn’t help a laugh in reply. “Only you would interrupt your own coronation just to make sure you could surprise someone.”

She winked and turned back to Lord Darrow. “Now, where were we?”

“Take your throne,” he replied with a gesture toward the seat of power.

Aelin straightened once more, letting her sleeve fall to cover the cut that was already beginning to heal, and faced the antler throne. Two steps closed the distance between herself and the throne, and her fingertips trailed over the arm. Her eyes fluttered shut as if in thought, and then the crowd gasped as she loosed a small fraction of the power that rested within her.

Fire swirled above her before taking a distinct form, and Aedion couldn’t stop a sharp intake of breath as he saw it. Aelin simply turned and sat, seemingly ignoring the kingsflame blossom she had called into existence above her head.

The crowd roared its approval, but Aedion kept his eyes on his queen, wondering when she would notice the delegation that had arrived immediately after the crown was placed on her head. As he watched, her eyes scanned the crowd and she smiled at her subjects.

From his position, still knelt by her side, he was in the best location to watch her eyes widen as they finally reached the back of the crowds and she saw her mate.

~*~*~

Aelin wanted nothing more in that moment than to run all the way down the aisle and throw herself at Rowan. From the look in his eye, she knew he was thinking the exact same thing. Unfortunately for both of them, though, she knew they would not have the opportunity to be alone just yet, and she needed to do this for herself.

Not to mention the fact that the various friends who were gathered to watch her in this moment probably deserved to actually be told about her mate.

And so she remained seated in her throne, Regent—no, Lord Darrow’s announcements about the ongoing festivities barely registering in her ears as she stared into pine-green eyes waiting for her across the room.

Of course, her friends completely ignored the suggestion that they move into the courtyards in favor of swarming the throne as the rest of the crowd filed out. At any other moment she would have been delighted to be surrounded by these people who had supported her along the way, but right now she had to feign joy and suppress her irritation.

As Nehemia and Elide fought over the right to be the first to hug her, she glanced at Rowan again. He simply winked, the frustrating bastard, and slipped behind one of the columns supporting the high ceilings of the throne room.

Evidently Dorian had grown tired of waiting on the girls to decide, as he swept her into his arms instead and spun her around. “Looks like you managed spectacularly without me,” he grinned.

“Of course I did,” she retorted. “I was only ever using you for your looks and your books.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh. “I suppose that’s fair.”

Rather than respond, she snuck a glance at the pillar that was hiding her mate from view. What was Rowan doing back so quickly? Had Sellene truly released him earlier than Aelin had requested? Had he found some way to circumvent the trappings of the oath he had sworn to her? What was going on?

She finally glanced back at Dorian to find sapphire eyes glimmering with mirth. “I truly doubt that pillar is as interesting as you think it is, but I can at least tell when I’m not wanted.”

Aelin made a face and shoved at his shoulder, but she couldn’t suppress her smile for long. “Then you’re smarter than most.”

With a wink, Dorian turned his charms to ushering everyone else out of the room as well. In a few blessedly short minutes, silence fell upon the throne room.

Once the others had finally, finally left, Rowan crossed the room in quick strides, sweeping her into his arms as she finally allowed herself to laugh and cry as she’d wanted to do from the moment she first saw him standing in the back of the room. “What are you doing here?” she asked between watery laughs. “I thought…” She didn’t know how to finish that sentence. I thought you would be in Doranelle for at least another month. I thought I would be terribly, completely alone today. I thought I would continue missing you with my every breath for far longer.

Thankfully, Rowan seemed to understand what she couldn’t quite say. He always had, she recalled, even when they would have professed to hate each other. Rather than making her speak, he simply held her closer, cradling her against him as he buried his face in the loose waves of her hair and they took a moment to finally breathe in each other’s scent for the first time in far too long. As the comfort of the pine and snow she had always called home surrounded her, she finally relaxed for the first time since their last embrace.

Finally he began to speak. “Sellene decided that the Fae Queen of the East should be present in person for the coronation of the Faerie Queen of the West, as a gesture of good will. Most of Maeve’s former blood-sworn came with her, myself included. Vaughan stayed behind to manage her affairs, as did Connall.”

“I should probably welcome her,” Aelin mumbled into his shoulder.

“Eventually, yes.”

Rowan continued to explain himself with words she felt more than heard, crushed against his chest as she was, but even being this close wasn’t enough. And so instead she did what she had been longing to do from the moment she saw him at the edge of the crowd and pressed her lips against his.

Of all the kisses they had shared, both shy and heated, this one was perhaps her favorite despite its artlessness. After all, her love, her other half, her mate was finally home to stay. And from the way he clutched her to himself, from the way he kissed her again and again until she was dizzy from either his presence or the lack of air, it seemed he intended to stay for as long as she would allow it.

Luckily for him, she fully intended to keep him forever.

This particular moment couldn’t last forever, though, and finally he pulled away just enough for their eyes to meet again. “We probably shouldn’t keep your subjects waiting.”

“You mean you weren’t going to let me have you on my new throne?” she teased, grinning at the flush that graced his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Gods help me,” he muttered. “I’ve not even been home an hour, and you’re already trying to kill me.”

She pretended to consider their situation before letting out a dramatic sigh. “I suppose you’re right. We don’t have enough time for everything I want to do to you, anyway.”

“Aelin,” he hissed.

“Tonight, I promise,” she grinned. “Calm down, it’s only teasing if I don’t follow through. Now, are you going to come with me and meet our people or not?”

He grumbled wordlessly for a few more moments before finally offering his arm, which she took with a smile. “Remind me to ask my cousin to avenge my death,” he muttered.

“That would involve telling your cousin exactly what I plan to do to you. In detail.” She watched as he spluttered, clearly indignant.

“That would involve no such thing.” Rowan took a deep breath, clearly intent on calming himself before they made their first public appearance together.

“You wouldn’t tell her, perhaps,” she allowed. “However, I would feel the need to defend myself against such obvious slander as you accusing me of attempted murder.”

Rowan clearly decided that it was best to end the conversation before he lost any further ground, for he quickly steered her out of the throne room and into the courtyard where their court and their people awaited.

Aelin smiled. She supposed she could allow his surrender for now. After all, they would have so much longer for her to torment him.

~*~*~

The afternoon passed into evening, and soon they were back indoors with the court for a meal and for dancing. Rowan stayed close to Aelin’s side, the blood oath and mating bond both crying out for closeness after spending so long apart. Thankfully, Aelin appeared to have no complaints about his nearness, for she seemed to be touching him almost constantly. A slim hand brushing against his arm, a nudge of her hip against him… it was enough to drive any male insane, though privately Rowan could admit that he was enjoying every moment of it.

Granted, he would enjoy it even more if there were any hope of them being able to find a way to sneak off together for a proper reunion, but he would take what he could get.

The musicians began a waltz, and Rowan saw an opportunity to surprise his queen rather than the other way around for a change. Grinning, he offered his arm to her. “Shall we?”

Aelin stared at him suspiciously. Shall we what, exactly? she seemed to ask.

Rowan simply glanced at the dance floor and then back at her.

Her eyes narrowed. “You can dance?”

“I was trained for the court in Doranelle. I may prefer a different sort of dancing, but I am hardly incapable.”

It had been the wrong thing to say; immediately Aelin turned a searing gaze to him and looked him up and down, slowly and thoroughly enough that a lesser male would have hidden away from her scrutiny. Rowan himself was sorely tempted to drag her away from the dance, guests and court be damned. And yet he did not waver, and he even managed to smirk at her as he continued to offer his arm.

Finally she accepted, her hand sliding against the sleeve of his jacket as she allowed him to lead her onto the floor.

What had felt stiff and uncomfortable as a younger male learning how to behave at court felt like second nature when it was Aelin in his arms, and they quickly adopted a comfortable embrace before beginning to move and twirl across the dance floor. “I don’t believe I properly congratulated you on your coronation,” he said quietly.

“You haven’t. And I wouldn’t encourage you to do so until we’re truly alone.” Aelin’s eyes glimmered with a wicked humor, and Rowan resisted the urge to groan in reply.

“You’re incorrigible,” he finally managed.

“I know.”

Rather than carry the conversation further, he carefully spun her out and then back into himself. Aelin followed easily with a bright smile, skirts flaring out around her before she stepped back into his arms, just a little too close to be strictly polite.

As they neared the rest of the delegation from Doranelle, Rowan nodded at them politely. Before long, though, he could feel himself frowning as he watched Lorcan.

Aelin stepped on his foot to get his attention, and he grimaced. “What could you possibly be grumpy about today of all days?” she demanded.

“I’m not grumpy, I… listen, I’m going to spin us around, and I want you to tell me who exactly has captured Lorcan’s attention.”

He did exactly that, and Aelin peered over his shoulder before her eyes widened and she began to laugh. “Oh, she’s going to eat him alive.”

“That doesn’t answer who she is,” he pointed out.

“That’s Elide Lochan, Lady of Perranth and part of the Lords of Terrasen. I really should look at changing that, now that a woman has inherited,” she mused. “Regardless, one of her first acts as Lady of Perranth was to vocally support my ascent to the throne, and you should have heard what she said to the other lords.”

Rowan lifted a single eyebrow. “So you’re telling me Lorcan Salvaterre, most powerful demi-Fae in existence, who hates you, might I add, has fallen for a member of your court.”

She laughed again. “Gods, we need to stop them now, before they can get married. Anyone marrying into one of Terrasen’s noble families inherits the noble name regardless of gender, and I don’t think I could look Lord Lorcan Lochan in the eye with a straight face.”

Rowan bit back a smile of his own before replying. “I know I’m the one who brought him up, but I’d really prefer we not talk about Lorcan any further.”

“Would you rather talk about what precisely you intend to do with me later tonight?”

Rowan glared at her. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?

“What?” she asked, tone entirely too innocent. “I could talk about my plans for you, if you’d prefer.”

“If you do that, you’ll be ending your own party incredibly early,” he warned.

She laughed and rested her head against his shoulder, and their waltz slowed into a gentle swaying back and forth. He allowed his hands to settle at her waist, reveling in the knowledge that he was allowed to hold her like this. Moreover, he would have her entire life to do exactly this.

Tomorrow, they would begin sorting out exactly what place he would have by her side. Tomorrow, he would have time to begin wondering whether she would Settle in the next few years. Tomorrow, they would begin shaping their court and sorting out their ties with their friends in other nations. But none of those problems could be sorted out tonight.

Instead, tonight he would hold his queen close as they celebrated all of their victories, large and small. Tonight they would enjoy the company of their friends both near and far.

Later tonight, when they were alone, he would make love to his queen for as long as both she and their duties would allow.

They had the rest of their lives ahead of them, after all. They could enjoy this one night.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer @rabodocardan - your tag isn’t working! Not sure what’s up with that. @courtofjurdan @danibutterr

#rowaelin #haven writes #rules of engagement

[starbornvalkyrie]

candy cane pants

Winter Drabbleland: Day Two - Manorian

Today is for my bb @theoceanfaewriter from the prompt: “Wow. That is quite the Christmas outfit.” I’m sorry it’s a day late and a little on the shorter side, and not gonna lie, kinda angsty pls don’t kill me Nyka, but I promise I’ll be back on track tomorrow! Enjoy!

my full masterlist

winter drabbleland masterlist [ i’m still taking prompts, check this masterlist for details! ]

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Miss Lysandra Ennar and Mister Aedion Ashryver on Saturday, 26 December 2020.

The ceremony will be held at 3PM, Christmas-themed reception to follow.

-----

Manon glanced at her watch for the fifth time in the last minute, knowing her attempts to make time go backwards were futile. She loathed being late, but her insufferable boyfriend had a penchant for being so.

They had an hour between the ceremony for Lysandra and Aedion’s wedding and the reception to change from black tie to “Christmas festive”. Manon didn’t mind because it meant she didn’t have to endure hours in stiletto heels, her usual outfit of a sweater and leggings were acceptable for an outing for once.

And if she was to be completely honest, the Christmas sweater Asterin knitted for her was her favorite. She would wear it all year round if she could. She still wasn’t over the loss of her cousin, and this sweater was the last gift she ever received from her.

Now’s not the time, Manon, she scolded herself. It was no secret that Manon loved the holiday, and with her friends finally getting married, there was no room for sad thoughts today.

Dorian chose that moment to exit the bedroom and join Manon in the living room, effectively stopping her dismal train of thought as she took in his attire. He stood before her wearing candy cane striped chinos and white Chelsea boots. Boots that used to be white, at least. Now, they have red painted stripes and are bedazzled with diamonds. Manon wouldn’t be surprised if they were real.Traveling up his body, she sees a bright red cloak lined with white fluff over a bright green Christmas sweater. On top of his head is a silver-sequin Santa hat.

“Wow,” she remarked, “That is quite the Christmas outfit.”

Dorian’s eyes lit up at her declaration. “I’m so glad you think so,” he pulled out a garment bag from behind his back, “I got you a matching one!”

Manon’s eyes popped out of her head as Dorian unzipped the bag, revealing leggings, combat boots, a cloak, and a hat that, sure enough, matched his to a T. Manon was about to call him out for how ridiculous she thought the outfit was when she made eye contact with those sapphire blue eyes she loved so much. His eyes were hopeful and a little worried, as though he was honestly scared she would hate what he’d done for her.

It was then that she remembered what she had once told Dorian. That Christmas used to be her favorite time of the year until it wasn’t. Until it was the holiday season that took her beloved cousin from her. She hadn’t been able to celebrate Christmas the same ever since. But Dorian had remembered, and this was this way of bringing the holiday cheer back into the season for her.

She looked at the outfit he’d made for her and back to his own. She sighed, she really did love the fool, didn’t she? “Hand me the bag, Dorian.” As her boyfriend handed her bag with a smile brighter than the star on top of a tree, Manon felt that Christmas spirit filling her heart once more.

---

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to be added to/taken off my general SJM tag list just send me an ask and be sure to include the fandom! i’m very good at losing them in the comments. love y’all! *bold tags didn’t work*

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#winter drabbleland #25 days of christmas #manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #drabbles #sfq meg writes

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 15

cruel summer masterlist

AN: CW, some angst. SEE YA. 

Aelin wakes later than usual the next morning, feeling suitably sore in all the right places, and can’t help but smile. She rolls over and sniffs her pillow, which is still scented with faint traces of Rowan’s pine bodywash. And is then hit by the overwhelming scent of sex. Yikes.

She strips down and makes her way into the bathroom, turning on the shower. As the water heats up, Aelin takes a long hard look at herself in the mirror. Her hair is a mess – a flaxen haystack – and her turquoise eyes are bright. Her eyes wander down her naked body, and she lets her hands trace over the faded bruises still marking her hips. New bruises have appeared in new spots, these ones a delicious red-purple spotting across the pale skin of her breasts. Aelin grins. She looks thoroughly ravaged.

Aelin takes a long time in the shower, standing under the hot spray of the water, letting it pelt against her sore muscles and wash away any evidence of the night before.

By the time she makes it downstairs, it’s nearly noon. After pouring herself a large cup of coffee, she wanders out to the back patio, where her family is gathered. Aedion splashes in the pool with Gavin and Evie, while her parents stretch out on their favorite lounge chairs.

“Well, well,” Aedion calls out to his sister. “Look who finally deigned to join the living today.”

Aelin apologizes for sleeping in and sits at the outdoor table with Lysandra, who is enjoying her own cup of coffee.

“Late night?” Lysandra asks, her green eyes wide with curiosity.

“Yeah,” Aelin says, thinking briefly about the way Rowan’s mouth felt devouring her.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Lysandra asks, but Aelin is distracted by an incoming text from Rowan.

Am I coming to you tonight, or are you coming to me?

Aelin smiles down at her phone and replies quickly.

Not sure, but either way, we’ll both be coming tonight.

Rowan texts back the wide-eyes emoji, making Aelin laugh to herself. Lysandra leans closer to Aelin and lowers her voice. “How’s Rowan?”

Aelin snaps her head up. “Huh?”

Lysandra points to Aelin’s phone. “Oh come on, you can’t sext at the table and not expect me to say something.”

Blood pools in Aelin’s cheeks as she whispers back forcefully, “I am not sexting.”

Lysandra stares at Aelin, and Aelin stares right back, unwilling to break. Her pulse thrums, nerves spilling over. But Lysandra’s eyes bore into her, unwaveringly confident. Lysandra knows.

“How’d you know?” Aelin rushes out in a whispered hush.

Lysandra smirks and takes a long sip of her coffee. “I caught him coming out of your window last night.” Lysandra pauses at Aelin’s worried face. “Don’t worry. I’m the only one who knows.”

“You can’t tell Aedion,” Aelin begs.

Lysandra smiles warmly. “Don’t worry, Ae. I can keep a secret.” Aelin looses a breath she doesn’t realize she’s been holding. “He’s so cute, Aelin,” Lysandra says, and Aelin can’t help but smile in return.

“He is, isn’t he?”

Lysandra taps her long, manicured nails on the table and cocks her head to the side, examining Aelin, unnerving her.

“What’s that look for?” Aelin asks.

“Since I’m keeping such a hefty secret from my husband, I’d love if you’d do me a favor in return…”

Aelin’s eyes widen at her sister-in-law. “Are you extorting me?”

Lysandra snickers evilly. “Yes. For childcare.”

“Fine,” Aelin says, willing to do anything to have Lysandra keep this information to herself. “When?”

“Tonight?” Lysandra asks. “Aedion wants to take me out to dinner. I’m sure we’ll be done early. You can still see your boy toy after. Or during. I don’t care, honestly. As long as you don’t fuck on our couch.”

“With the kids in the house?” Aelin sputters, shocked. “I would never.”

Lysandra laughs loudly. “Oh, please. You did last night.”

Aelin can’t say anything in response to that because Lysandra is right. She totally did that. But still. She would never in her brother’s house.

Lysandra calls out to Aedion loudly, telling him to book their dinner. She tells her children that Auntie Ae is going to hang out with them tonight, and the kids cheer from the pool, warming Aelin’s heart. She does love spending time with her niece and nephew.

She immediately texts Rowan to tell him the updated plan. That she’s going to be babysitting at Aedion’s, but he’s welcome to join once he gets off work, then they can decide if they want to go back to Aelin’s or to Rowan’s from there.

Rowan sends back to thumbs up emojis. Aelin laughs. He must be in a good mood to be so active on text and to be using emojis so liberally. He’s usually the type of person who responds with a “K,” leaving Aelin completely unsatisfied and wondering where he stands. She likes that he seems to be opening up to her.

Stomach grumbling, Aelin goes back into the house to scour the fridge for whatever Emrys has left for them today. She finds leftover skirt steak and veggie rice. It’s not exactly breakfast, but Aelin is too hungry to care. As she waits for her plate to heat in the microwave, Aelin hears a knock at the door.

Aelin’s surprised to see Sam waiting on her front stoop, although she’s not sure why. This is the third time he’s done this. It’s practically routine for Sam to show up at her house unannounced these days.

“Hey, Sam…”

He flashes her a too-white smile and asks what she’s up to for the day. Aelin’s about to say that she’s having a family day when her mom appears from behind her. She spots Sam and welcomes him in, embracing him in a tight hug.

“I hope it’s okay that I stopped by, Evalin,” he says, so casually calling her mom by her first name. But Evalin doesn’t seem to care. She hurries him into the kitchen to offer him something to drink or eat. He politely declines, saying he just ate brunch and wanted to see what their household was up to.

Aelin grabs her plate of food and heads out to the back patio, where Sam introduces himself to Lysandra and Aedion and the kids.

Rhoe shakes his hand, telling him how nice it is to see him again, but Aelin notices her dad lies back down quickly and returns to his book, leaving Sam hanging slightly.

“So, I confess,” Sam begins. “I actually came here with ulterior motives.”

“Oh?” Evalin asks, leading him.

Sam turns to Aelin. “I was hoping I could take you out tonight, Aelin.”  

Evalin starts to say, “How wonderful!” when Aelin responds that she can’t.

“Sorry,” Aelin says, feeling anything but. “I already promised Lys and Aedion that I’d babysit for them tonight.”

Evalin looks like she’s about to offer herself up for babysitting when Rhoe smiles at his daughter. “That was very nice of you, Fireheart. I’m sure the kids are excited.” He looks at the two kids, still paddling in circles around Aedion in the pool. “What do you say, Evie, Gavin, you excited to spend tonight with your favorite Aunt?”

The kids cheer again, and Gavin starts babbling about how they have to watch Toy Story. Aelin smiles, thinking of the small Buzz Lightyear toy he carries around with him everywhere. Aelin shrugs at Sam, as if to say, you see?

But Sam isn’t deterred. “Well, I know you’ll all be at my party tomorrow night, but perhaps the following night?”

Everyone looks at Aelin, who is totally and utterly stuck. She has no real plans the night after next, unless wanting to see Rowan is a plan. Sam knows exactly what he’s doing, asking her in front of her mother, who is practically salivating at the idea of them getting together. She can’t say no without publicly rejecting him in front of a large group of people and making things incredibly awkward.

“Sure…” she replies reluctantly, and Sam and her mother wear matching beaming smiles in response. Aelin has no clue how she’s going to clear this one with Rowan. She figures she’ll talk to him about it tonight, though. Hopefully she can convince him it’s not a big deal.

After securing his date, Sam stays and chats with Evalin about the plans for his big yacht party. For much too long. Aelin feels like he’s overstaying his welcome, but Evalin engages in conversation with him the entire time. It helps that Evalin is a known event planner, and she is quick to offer any assistance he might need. Sam thanks her graciously, but says he has it handled, and he can’t wait to see them all tomorrow.

As Sam leaves, Evalin can’t help but gush at her daughter. “He is so sweet, isn’t he?”

Aelin gives a weak smile to her mom and spends the rest of the afternoon in the music room, playing through her piano book, trying to relax herself. It doesn’t work.

At five, Lysandra and Aedion pile their family into their car and drag Aelin with them the short drive to their own house. It’s not as grandiose as the Ashryver Estate, more of a small beach cottage in a less expensive part of town. But it’s warm and homey and cozy, and Aelin loves it.

As Gavin and Evie are sent upstairs for their showers, Aelin puts in an order for pizza. She texts Rowan what he likes on a pizza, and tells him she’ll save him some. He replies that he likes spinach, mushrooms and olives. Aelin sends him back a vomit emoji and tells him he only gets a quarter with those gross toppings. Aelin orders the rest with cheese and pepperoni.

Lysandra and Aedion come back down, looking ready for their date, and Aelin can’t help but smile at her sibling. He looks so excited to take his wife out on the town. She doesn’t blame her. Lysandra looks gorgeous in a slinky green dress that makes her eyes pop.

“Have fun you two,” she says.

Lysandra smiles. “You, too.” She pauses and looks meaningfully at the couch. “But not too much fun.”

Aelin rolls her eyes and laughs. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

She waves the parents out of the house and waits for Gavin and Evie to join her on the couch. She cues up Toy Story and texts Rowan the address for Aedion’s house.

Aelin smiles at the sound of pitter pattering coming down the stairs as Gavin and Evie jump onto the couch. They wear matching striped pajamas and smell like Johnson & Johnson kiddie shampoo. The doorbell rings right on time, and Aelin goes to grab the pizza.

She brings plates and a giant stack of napkins into the family room and hands out slices of pizza to the two kids, who look at her with wide eyes.

“We’re not allowed to eat on the couch!” Gavin whispers.

“It’s a special treat,” Aelin says. “Don’t tell your mom or dad.”

Gavin nods conspiratorially and takes a too large bite of his pizza. Evie giggles as she takes a daintier bite than her brother, but soon the giggles fade to make way for the movie, which they watch with rapt attention.

Gavin passes out about an hour into the movie, but Evie makes it all the way to the end, albeit with very sleepy eyes. Playing in the pool in the sun all day is more than enough to have the two of them turn in early.

Aelin carries Gavin up to his room and tucks him in without him even stirring in her arms. By the time she reaches Evie’s room, she’s tucked herself in. Aelin gives her a quick kiss and turns the lights off and heads back down to watch some TV.

She slides the back patio door and texts Rowan that she’s left it open for him, so he doesn’t have to ring the bell or knock and wake anyone up.

Aelin cleans up the leftover pizza, putting Rowan’s two slices into a ziplock baggie, and throws the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.

By the time she’s finished, she’s startled to hear the door open. Lysandra and Aedion fumble their keys, clearly tipsy, and trying to squash their giggling. Aelin glances at the clock – already 8:30. Rowan should be there any second.

Lysandra looks around her immaculate kitchen and hugs Aelin and kisses her soundly on the cheek. “You are the best.” She quirks an eyebrow. “Where’s Rowan?”

“Rowan?” Aedion asks. “Why would he be here?”

Lysandra waves her hand at her husband. “I told Aelin she could invite a friend over to keep her company.”

Aelin smiles, thankful for even a drunk Lysandra keeping her secret. “He actually should be getting here momentarily. He’s coming straight from work,” Aelin explains.

Aedion hums, clearly uninterested, and changes topics to Aelin’s least favorite. “So, are you excited to go on your date with Sam?” he asks.

“No, of course not,” Aelin bemoans her unfortunate situation. “Like I said yesterday. We’re just friends.”

“Why?” Aedion asks. “He’s clearly into you.”

“Oh my god,” Lysandra bursts. “Because she’s obviously in love with Rowan!”

“Lysandra!” Aelin whisper yells at her sister-in-law, who slaps her hand over her loose lips. “You promised.”

“I’m sorry, Aelin,” Lysandra apologizes. “But sometimes your brother is so dumb.”

Aelin groans in frustration. She knows this is about to be a whole thing.

“Whoa, whoa whoa.” Aedion holds up his hand, needing clarification. “What?”

Aelin huffs. “So much for keeping secrets.” She pauses and glares at Lysandra, who, to her credit, looks incredibly apologetic. “First of all, I’m not in love with anyone.” She sighs and tugs at her hair. “We’re just… hanging out.”

Aedion’s eyes bug out of his head. “You’re fucking the staff?”

“Gods,” Aelin hisses. “I am not talking about this with you.”

She goes to gather Rowan’s plastic baggie of pizza from the kitchen, hoping they’ll be able to book it out of there as soon as he arrives.

“What is this?” Aedion asks, following her every step. “Some sort of porno fetish? Rich girl gets her rocks off with the gardener kind of thing?”

Aelin is nothing short of horrified at Aedion’s comment. She can’t believe he thinks that, much less verbalize it. Her face turns red as she splutters, “You did not just say that.”

“I mean, if the shoe fits…”

“Rowan is not our gardener, he works at the park!” Aelin says, and Aedion shrugs.

“Tomato, tom-ah-to.”

Lysandra slaps Aedion’s arm. “Don’t be a jerk.” Lysandra looks back at Aelin, who is standing defensively, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at her brother. “I think Rowan is great.” She pokes her husband again. “And whoever Aelin wants to be with is no one’s business but hers. And having a trust fund doesn’t make you a worthy human, or did you forget that I had to bartend my way through college?”

Aedion rubs Lysandra’s arm and coos, “Babe...”

But Lysandra has had enough. “Don’t babe me,” she snaps. “You were going to get laid tonight, but now I think I’m going to head out to the hot tub by myself, you snob.”

“Babe,” Aedion apologizes. “Don’t be like that. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one who needs an apology,” Lysandra says, her glare stern.

“I’m sorry,” Aedion grumbles at Aelin. “I didn’t mean that. I was just…surprised. Mom and Dad—”

Aelin gasps, panicked. “You can’t tell them, Aed. They would not be okay with it. And it’s just for the summer. It’ll be over in a few weeks, and you’ll never hear the name Rowan again. There’s no need to tell them, right?”

Aedion sighs. “Fine.”

Aelin exhales. “Thank you.” She looks at the pizza in her hand and back at the clock, which now reads 8:45 PM. Still no Rowan. “I’m going to wait out front for Rowan.” She says resolutely. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Aelin makes her way out to the front steps and texts Rowan that she’ll wait for him out front, so not to worry about the back door anymore. She sits up straighter when she sees a flash of headlights but deflates when they keep driving straight and don’t turn into the driveway.

Aelin sits on the front stoop to wait. She shifts uncomfortably, trying to push down the horrible things Aedion said and focus on the night ahead. She’s still excited to see Rowan, despite what her family clearly thinks of him. Aelin stares into the darkness, willing more headlights to come, but they never do. She finally glances at the time. A full hour has passed, and she still hasn’t heard from Rowan.

Hey, where are you? She texts him. There’s no reply.

And after another fifteen minutes of waiting, Aelin’s stomach sinks. Rowan isn’t coming. And she has no ride home.

Aelin makes her way around to the back of the house, where the kitchen door is still open. She sneaks inside and Lysandra yelps when she sees her walk into the family room.

“Aelin, gods, you scared me,” she gasps. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Aelin bites her lip. “Uh, are you sober enough to give me a ride home?” Her voice cracks, and she hates how pathetic she sounds.

“Sure…” Lysandra says. She knows Lysandra wants to ask her wha happened, but Aelin shakes her head. She doesn’t want to talk about it. She clearly got blown off.

Lysandra grabs the car keys and Aelin slides into the passenger seat. She drives her back home in complete silence. Aelin doesn’t even begin to know what she would say. When they arrive at the Estate, Lysandra grabs Aelin’s arm.

“Do you want me to drive through town? Maybe his car broke down or…”

“No, Lys, it’s fine.” Aelin sighs.

“It’s not.” She pauses. “And I’m sorry my drunk ass spilled your secret. I thought…” She sighs. “I forgot Aedion can be a total snob.”

Aelin waves her off, just wanting to escape the car. It’s been a long, weird day, and she just wants it to be over. Lysandra wishes her goodbye and tells her it’ll be okay, but Aelin feels less certain than ever.

Aelin takes her time showering for the second time that day. This time, the hot water burns her skin and does nothing to help relax her.

She gets into bed and stares at her phone. As if she willed it to happen, it finally lights up with a text from Rowan.

Sorry. Got pulled out by the guys for drinks and my phone died. Home now. But I’ll see you tomorrow?

Aelin replies with a Rowan signature text, simply saying, “K.”

She gets under the covers and rolls over. Her pillow still smells of pine. Tears pool in the corners of her eyes and unwillingly spill over her cheek and onto the cushion beneath her head. She closes her eyes, hoping the ache in her chest will disappear quickly. When she wakes the next morning, her pillow is still damp and no longer smells like pine. Aelin cries again.

~*~*~*~*~

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#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #lysaedion #cruel summer au #amusement park au #charincharge writes #throne of glass #tog fanfic #angst

[rowanaelinn]

I Feel Like I'm Drowning - part one

When Aelin Galathynius and her future court come to Doranelle to negotiate peace between Maeve's lands and Terrasen, Aelin didn't expect to find her mate.

“It’s colder than I thought,” Aedion said, interrupting a long silence. His loud voice resonated in the hallway and he didn’t seem to care that many fae ears could be listening.

“Are you joking? I’m sweating.” Lysandra complained and Aelin was inclined to agree, even summers in Terrasen weren’t usually this hot. Aelin could feel the material of her dress sticking to her skin and she hated that feeling.

“Aedion just decided he hated Doranelle years ago and is too stubborn to admit he was wrong.” Aelin winked and her cousin rolled his eyes. Aedion had been sent with her to protect her and because her parents knew Aedion wouldn’t be blind to Doranelle’s magical illusions. Evalin Ashryver’s distrust for Doranelle was well-known, and Aelin still had no idea why her mother acted this way.

“As if you are the best person to talk about someone's stubbornness.” Sam teased Aelin with a small smile on his face. He was standing next to Aedion, hands joined behind his back. He looked proud. He could, Aelin thought, Sam deserved everything good this world had to offer.

“You wound me,” Aelin said, placing a hand on her heart and fainting to be hurt. Sam just laughed and shook his head.

“They’re late.” Elide complained and Lysandra groaned.

“Oh for mala’s sake, not you, too.”

“Rhoe and Evalin would never disrespect a host by being late,” Aedion said and Aelin wanted to agree, her parents would never make their guest wait. She couldn’t vocally agree, though. Who knew who was listening to them? She may didn’t know why her mother distrusted this court, but Aelin trusted her mother. For the next few months, she and her future court would have to be careful.

“Someone come and save me,” Aelin murmured after a while. Why did she have to wear heels? These were not fashion-items, but torture tools. She missed the simple tunics she wore in Terrasen all year long. Maybe she could burn them and go barefoot. Maybe she could even burn her corset, who cared about what her breast looked like, anyway? She’d use her power if she knew how to stop it. She wouldn’t put her friends at risk. Maybe she could find another way to control her magic now that she was in the land of Faes.

“I think you can consider me your hero, your highness.” A deep male voice said and Aelin turned her head to find the prettiest male she had ever seen. He was tall with long blonde curls. They didn’t have males this beautiful in Terrasen. He had a wicked smirk drawn on his face, but nothing mean. No, it was playful. “Her Majesty is ready to see you.”

“She sent such a pretty male to inform us?” Aelin arched a brow and crossed her arms as she made a show of checking him out. He was all muscles. A warrior, then. This stranger roomed his eyes over her too, it just made her smirk wider. “My aunt must want to impress me.” Two people coughed. Aedion and Sam. Of course, they would ruin her chances to flirt.

“She only sends the best for her best.”

“You’re my type of person…” She silently asked for him to introduce himself.

“Lord Fenrys.”

“Well, Lord Fenrys, this is my cousin, Prince Aedion Ashryver.” Aedion had a severe look on his face and he looked like he was having a staring contest with Lord Fenrys. Gods help her, would he do this with every Fae male they would meet? Fenrys took a breath and looked paler. Before anyone but Aelin could notice, he looked normal again but tenser than seconds ago. “My ladies in waiting, Lady Lysandra and Lady Elide. And this is Lord Sam.” Fenrys looked away from Aedion and dipped his chin at Elide and Lysandra then his eyes met Aelin’s.

“Shall we?” He asked and started walking toward Queen Maeve’s throne room. Lysandra and Elide fell into steps next to Aelin.

“He’s hot!” The shifter whisper-shouted, which just made Aelin quietly laugh.

“If everyone looks like him in this court, then we can forgive Maeve for being late.” The other woman said and it surprised Aelin. Elide’s type was people as scary as she was. Dismissing Lady Elide Lochan because she seems small and sweet would be a big mistake. Aelin had known the girl her whole life and still didn’t know everything that hides in that wicked brain of hers.

“Please,” Aedion begged, making the three girls laugh.

“Don’t pretend you don’t think like them,” Sam murmured and he was right. Lord Fenrys was exactly her cousin’s type. Or he was just anyone’s type.

“You’re right,” Aedion admitted. “Nice ass.”

“You do realize he can hear you, right?” Sam asked and he looked a little pale. Out of everyone here, Sam was the one who spent the least time with Faes. Faes weren’t usually bothered by comments on their looks, that’s all she had learned of the demi-Faes living in Terrasen.

“It’s nice to know I’m approved by half of Terassen’s royal family.” Fenrys turned around and winked in Aelin’s way. She bit her lip and winked back. How good it felt to flirt with someone after all these weeks at sea, even if it would lead to nothing. She just loved to have someone who matched her energy.

“You and I are going to be very fast friends, Lord Fenrys.” She said as he opened the doors or a veranda. Aedion came on her side, just a step back. Lysandra, Elide, and Sam were all in rank behind them.

“I sure hope so, Your Highness.” She said quietly and when Aelin started walking in the throne room, she felt a hand brush the small of her back. Okay, maybe this would lead to something. Chin high and a small smirk on her face, her favorite mask when she had to be seen in public, Aelin started walking.

“Ready?” Her cousin asked quietly.

“Try to keep my sword clean.” She said, talking about Goldryn strapped on Aedion’s back. He had his own sword, the sword of Orynth who had been gifted by Aelin’s uncle two years ago, at his sword belt but he always kept Aelin’s sword when she couldn’t carry it herself so she could still fight if she had to. Never would she be hopeless again. Aedion’s grin was nothing short of feral. Aedion had come for her security but also in the hope to find good soldiers to spar with. These past few years he grew bored with The Bane’s soldier, Aedion’s skills were very impressive. Even for a demi-fae.

“Her royal highness, Princess Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.” Someone introduced her when she finally entered the throne room. Aelin could hear the river even in her human form. Maeve sat in her throne of stone, legs crossed and an elbow resting on the arm of the throne. She looked so at ease and it just made her terrifying. Aelin suddenly wished she had shifted into her Fae body, just to pick up everything she could in this room. Maeve didn’t wear any crown, it would be useless. Everyone on this earth would recognize her for what she was. Aelin and her companions stopped walking and her friends bowed. Not as low as they would for Aelin’s family but just enough to recognize Maeve’s royal blood.

Aelin, however, stayed still. She didn’t bow and wouldn’t until Maeve also recognized Aelin’s rank. She may not be a Queen yet, but she was the crown princess of the most powerful Kingdom in her continent. She would get the respect she deserved. Her eyes never left Maeve’s and the queen seemed amused by Aelin’s behavior. Something flickered in Maeve’s eyes as if she understood Aelin, and she lowered her chin slightly. Aelin figured out it was the best she would get so she lowered her chin too, as low as the queen did.

Maeve let out a low laugh and joined her hand on her knees.

“You may rise.” The fairy queen said and Aelin started analyzing everything in the room. Her whole focus had been on the Queen and how she would make her respect Aelin and her rank. Most of the room was made in stone, it was elegant but odd, too. Aelin definitely wouldn’t have chosen stone as material for her throne room, she loves luxury too much. There was a black wolf, lying in its belly, at the right side of the throne.

“Nice dog,” Aelin said and Maeve laughed softly as the wolf snarled. Fae, then.

There was a blonde male standing next to the dog and he seemed so familiar to Aelin. His eyes were fixed on Aedion and she would have wondered about it more, would have paid more attention to his shocked expression if someone else didn’t draw her attention. On the left side of the throne, a silver-haired male was standing, hands joined behind his back. She didn’t have to analyze him to know he was a warrior. Everything about him screamed power. She should be scared, Aelin knew he could kill her easily and faster than Aedion could react to protect her, but she couldn’t be scared. She knew Maeve used the warrior at the sides of her throne as a way to scare people, that’s what Aelin’s father did whenever they had visitors in Orynth. Aelin and Aedion were always at his side, protecting their king.

She was supposed to consider him as a threat, she was supposed to think about how she would survive a fight with him. But when did Aelin ever do what was expected of her, anyway?

When green eyes connected with hers, everything in her and outside went silent. Her entire world shattered. She knew there would be no way for her to live her life like she used to before she entered this room. It’s like she could feel her soul-touching his. It took everything in her not to fall on her knees as these deep green eyes held the answers to every question she ever asked. She could feel what it was like to be him.

She used to need air, water, food, and sleep to live. But now, only this stranger was necessary for her to live. She needed him and nothing else. He had shattered her world and remade it, changing it in the process. The simple thought of a life without him made her want to die.

Mate. He was her mate.

Aelin didn’t know much about the Faes but she knew enough to recognize a bond. His face was expressing his shock and she was sure her face was the same. Who was he? She needed to talk to him, with him.

“You’re my son.” A voice cut her in her emotions and she brutally turned her head toward the blonde male who stood right next to the black wolf.

“Bullshit.” Her cousin spat and Aelin realized she wasn’t the only one who would come out of this room changed. Her cousin had rage and pain written all over his face and seeing him like that changed something in her. Whoever hurt her cousin wouldn’t be left unharmed.

It was impossible, they knew nothing about Aedion’s father except that he was dead, surely this male couldn’t be him. But it would make sense. It would explain why Aedion's sense of smell and hearing was as good as Aelin’s when she was in her Fae form. Why he was so strong.

Aelin turned toward her companions and they were as troubled as she was. She started to take off her rings but Lysandra took her wrist to stop her and shook her head. “Not here,” Lysandra mouthed. She turned her head again and saw her mate taking a step toward her, his brows furrowed as his eyes went from her face to her hands. She abruptly hid them behind her and took a step toward her cousin. She could feel his anger and had to do something before he ruined all their chance at peace.

“Aedion,” Aelin tried with a soft voice but his eyes stayed on the man in front of him. His breathing was ragged and her heart sank at the sight of him this way, she’d slaughter that man if Aedion let her. The blonde man took a step toward Aedion who only took a step back and his hand drifted to his sword. She felt more than saw her other three companions tensing and getting ready in case they had to fight their way out of this room.

“Aedion,” Aelin tried again, this time her voice was stronger but nothing could make him look away. So Aelin took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and shifted in her Fae form. Maybe in this form, she could bring back the Fae part of Aedion to reason. “General Ashryver,” she repeated with a Queen’s voice. She felt all eyes on her and she had to fight not to show the pain she felt in her entire body. She could not appear weak. Aedion’s head turned back to Aelin and as much as she wanted to comfort him, he needed orders. So right now she wasn’t his cousin, she was his future queen.

“Gavriel,” Maeve used the same voice on the blonde male and Aelin’s eyes widened. Surely this male couldn’t be the Lion of Doranelle, right? Gavriel went back to his place at the side of Maeve’s throne but his eyes betrayed his emotions. Well, it seemed that Gavriel, contrary to Aedion, knew how to obey orders. She’d tease Aedion about it if she knew he wouldn’t beat her up for it.

“Permission to leave, your highness?” Aedion grunted through his teeth. He was shaking with anger and his knuckles were bone-white around his sword. For a second she thought about what it would look like if her general stormed out of their first meeting with Maeve. It was Aelin’s court first official appearance and it would be a disaster. Actually, it’s already a disaster. Of course, she had to find her mate, and Aedion had to find his not-so-dead father the first time Aelin’s parents decided to trust her enough to work for the crown. If Aedion were to make a scene, and she couldn’t blame him, it could lead to war.

“Granted,” Aelin said and Aedion didn’t wait for anything else before storming out of the room, leaving Goldryn to Sam. Aelin wanted to take it back, it was her sword, but even in his rage, Aedion was smart. Aelin couldn’t bear a sword, not if she wanted the rest of this meeting to be peaceful. Aelin looked at her cousin until he slammed the door and only then, Aelin turned back to Maeve and did her best to ignore the silver-haired male at her side. She couldn’t be more distracted. She had to think about Terrasen’s needs before hers.

“I apologize for my blood sworn’s behavior.” Even if she tried to hide it, it was pretty obvious she was angry. Aelin would have worried about what this cruel woman would have done was it not for the two words she said. Blood sworn. Everything in Aelin’s body froze.

“This male is blood-sworn to you?” She had to ask, and just when Aelin thought it couldn’t be worse…

“As are every male in this room.” Her aunt said with a proud smile as if they were all objects she liked to collect. Aelin’s head turned to her mate and for the first time since she entered the room, he avoided her gaze. She was going to vomit, her mate belonged to somebody else. He belonged to another queen. Before she could feel anything, she focused on her rage. The rage that had been there for years, now.

Aelin looked at Maeve and she knew flames were dancing in her eyes from the look on Maeve’s face. “I lay a claim on Aedion Ashryver, he is mine. He is to be my blood-sworn and he is my second in command. If you ever try to take him away from me or Terrasen it will be considered an act of war. If you lay a finger on my cousin, I will burn your kingdom to the ground.” She knew her friends had stopped breathing, waiting for Maeve’s reaction. Aelin didn’t let the fear enter her, no, she only focused on the rage. The rage she felt at the idea of losing her cousin, her brother. She meant every word, she’d burn this entire kingdom to ash if it meant getting Aedion back. He’d do the same for her.

“Threats, Aelin?”

“Threat, promise, take it as you want, I don’t care. As long as you got the message,” she smirked and felt more than saw everyone in the room, with the exception of Maeve, tensing. Lysandra took a step to stand beside Aelin. As her third, if Aedion wasn’t at Aelin’s side, Lysandra had to be. When Aelin looked to the side she saw the shifter’s face looking more feline than human, Aelin wondered if her friend would turn into her favorite form, a ghost-leopard and she didn’t know who Lysandra would attack first between the queen and Gavriel if she was given a chance. The feral grin on Aelin’s face wasn’t faked. With all the perfume and Aelin’s clothes on Lysandra, there were few chances of the faes in this room to know she was a shifter.

“I have no intention in taking your cousin, niece. I have enough blood-sworn here, don’t I?” She gestured again at the five males in the room and Aelin’s eyes landed on her mate. She wanted to take a step and talk to him. It was more than want, actually, she needed it. As if sensing she would do just that, she shook very slightly his head and she could read the words on his face. Don’t.

She guessed if she could read his face, he could too. Why?

Do you trust me? There was hope on his face and she knew her answer would set the tone of their relationship. Did she even want a relationship with him? For all she knew, he might be an awful person, but something on her told her she was wrong. Foolish as it was, she wanted to give him a chance.

Yes.

Relief was all over his beautiful and harsh face, probably imperceptible to anyone else but her. I will seek you out later. Play your part, your highness. She could have sworn there was a flicker of wickedness in his eyes. Aelin’s smirk was nothing but feral when she looked back at her aunt.

“If I were you, I’d find a sixth member to this little… cadre. I like even numbers.”

Maeve let out a low laugh. “My commander is away on a mission, but you’ll be able to meet him tonight when you and your companion dine with us.”

It was normal to be invited to dinner when you were sent for politics, but Aelin didn’t expect Sam and Elide to be invited too. But good, she would need their sharp minds.

Aelin smiled innocently at her aunt. Let the games begin.

————

i’m probably gonna create a tag list for my works so tell me if you want to be added!!

#rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #throne of glass #rowaelin fic

[kevin-day-is-bi]

“I’m pregnant.” for Rowaelin? i'll need some fluff after i finish KOA lol

Ok babe I messed up twice answering this ask. But finally here you go!!

...

“You’re certain?”

Yrene clasped her hands together and tucked them under her chin.

“I am. I can run a full medical examination, if you want, but I am certain I know.” 

Aelin stared down at the chair. Yrene’s rooms at the Rifthold castle were small, but in a cozy way, not cramped. Yrene placed a hand over one of Aelin’s. Aelin glanced up at her. Yrene tilted her head, brown hair falling to the side. She stayed silent, letting Aelin think. 

“I don’t understand how this happened.” Yrene shrugged elegantly. 

“Sometimes you need to change what you use. Sometimes you simply build up an immunity. Sometimes, it’s just...not enough.” She spread her hands. “I can give you herbs. To help, and to-”

“No.” Aelin stood. “No, to both. I need to think. To discuss this with Rowan.” 

Yrene nodded. 

“If you need help, I will be here. The road from Terrasen to Rifthold is not long, and you will still be here for the remainder of the week.” 

Aelin smiled and hugged her, squeezing tightly. Yrene wrapped her arms around Aelin and hugged back. 

“Thank you,” Aelin whispered. “For the diagnosis and the offer of help.” 

Yrene released her and gave her a radiant smile. 

“Of course.”

...

Aelin laughed, blonde hair falling over her shoulder. She caught Rowan’s gaze over Dorian’s shoulder, raising one eyebrow slightly. 

What?

You look hot in that dress. 

Aelin’s hand drifted almost subconsciously to her stomach. Her dress was tight, planned long before they had come to Rifthold. 

Those pants really show off your ass. 

He grinned at her. In front of her, Dorian huffed out a breath. 

“Can you undress Rowan with your eyes at a later date? Preferably one where you don’t have a conversation going on at the same time.” Dorian smirked at her as she whacked his arm. 

“I can undress my husband whenever I want, thank you very much.” 

“Then I’ll just go take Manon off to the bedroom and-”

“Your Majesty!” 

They both looked over to see Chaol marching towards them, Yene trailing behind him, looking amused. Chaol’s face was tight, one hand on his sword. 

“I think,” He hissed, as he got closer. “That this is not an appropriate place to have such conversations.” 

Yrene stifled a laugh behind her hand. 

“Oh, come now, Chaol. You forget I was the prince who had a new woman on his arm every week and was seen at brothels. I doubt I could say much that would shock the people in this room.” 

Chaol opened his mouth to protest but Dorian looked around. 

“After this, I plan to take the Queen to our bedchambers and undress us both.” Dorian’s voice was louder than necessary, but only one lady nearby and her lady-in-waiting looked shocked. Other than Chaol, of course, who looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. 

“See?” Aelin asked, poking Chaol’s chest. “We can be as indecent as we like.”

Dorian and Chaol started bickering, Dorian laughing and Chaol waving his arms around like he was trying to swat a fly. Yrene caught Aelin’s gaze and pulled her to the side. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“I’m fine. Rowan managed to get the resistance cell in Doranelle taken down and it seems quiet for now.” 

“I meant-”

“I know what you meant.” Aelin cut her off. She crossed an arm over her stomach. “No sickness yet. Nothing at all yet, really.”

“That’s normal.” Yrene nodded. “You shouldn’t experience too many symptoms at first.” 

“Symptoms of what?”

Aelin whipped around to see Rowan standing there, one eyebrow raised. She dropped her arm, smoothing a hand down her skirt. 

“Nothing. A little cold I caught somewhere.” Aelin glanced at Yrene, silently begging her to go along with it. 

“Colds are common at this time of year, I’m not surprised she got something. It should go away soon.” Yrene’s voice was soft, and she nodded slightly at Aelin. Aelin breathed out a sigh of relief. 

“The great Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen, Witch-Killer, blessed of the gods, has a cold?” Rowan teased, sliding his hands into his pockets. 

I think I recall you complaining quite heartily of a headache just last week. Aelin cocked her head. The great Rowan Whitethorn, Prince of Doranelle, King Consort of Terrasen, and my darling husband incapacitated with a headache?

Don’t let Lorcan be proved right in his choice of nicknames, Fireheart. 

Buzzard.

Yrene coughed. 

“My apologies, I must prevent my husband from getting arrested for treason.” 

“Dorian could prevent that,” Rowan pointed out. 

“Dorian would probably have him arrested just to shut him up.” Aelin glanced over at the two friends, still arguing. 

Yrene laughed and waved farewell, going and placing a hand on Chaol’s shoulder. He shrugged her off and made a dramatic motion with his arm. Dorian doubled over laughing. Aelin relaxed, smiling softly at the sight. Dorian didn’t laugh so much now, though he kept his smiles and jokes up. 

Rowan brushed a hand down her arm and she glanced at him. 

That dress really is stunning. 

Aelin felt herself jerk to attention. 

Then why don’t you see how stunning I am out of it? 

Rowan inhaled, then gracefully inclined his head to the doorway. Aelin flounced past him, head held high. She heard his footsteps behind her and she moved through the crowd. She saw Lysandra and gave her a little smile. Lysandra waggled her eyebrows and waved her hand dismissively. Get to it. Aelin made a defensive movement as they walked through the arched doorway to the hall. She had absolutely no problem with Lysandra knowing exactly what Aelin intended to do. 

...

Aelin pushed Rowan against the wall, sliding her hands down his arms. He laughed against her mouth, hands supporting her back. He pulled her to him, pressing his body up against hers. Her stomach pressed into the hard planes of his abs and nausea rose inside her. She pulled back, pressing one hand to her mouth. 

“Aelin?” Rowan tilted his head, looking concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I-” She collapsed on the bed, one hand going to her stomach. “I just need a moment. Go back to the party, please.” 

“No, if you’re ill-”

“I just need to rest!” 

She put her head in her hands and tried to take a breath. She felt woozy, and slightly annoyed at her body for choosing to start nausea now. 

“Really, Rowan, I just need a moment to breathe.” 

She heard nothing, then footsteps. Footsteps going away from her, towards the door. She needed to tell him, needed him to understand. 

“Rowan, wait.” 

Aelin stood up, dropping her hands. Rowan paused in the doorway and glanced back at her. She shifted, trying to ignore the party happening mere feet away. She took a breath, shifting, then opened and closed her mouth uselessly. Rowan turned his whole body to her, taking a step towards her. 

“Aelin? What’s wrong?”

She crossed her arms under her chest and blew a piece of hair out of her face. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Rowan’s mouth dropped and his eyes got comically wide. Aelin took a breath and waited. She knew he would not hate her for being pregnant, they had wanted them at some point. But this was sooner than they had talked about; only a year and a half since the Battle of Orynth. 

Rowan let out all his breath in a whoosh and then he was crossing the room and wrapping her up in his arms. He buried his face in her hair. 

“Oh, Aelin.” He squeezed her, then pulled back. He was smiling, a full, happy grin that Aelin didn’t think she had ever seen. 

“I knew it.” Rowan shook his head, more in disbelief than upset. “Your cycle didn’t come, I was worried I had been caught up with the fae in Doranelle. Then I worried I may have missed it when I was on my trip, that it had come early-”

“No,” Aelin whispered. “No, it didn’t come. And when we came to Rifthold, I went to talk to Yrene, and she said that sometimes the herbs we used could wear off. And then I didn’t know how to tell you-”

“Oh, Aelin.” Rowan laughed, softly, and cupped her cheek with one hand. She smiled and kissed him, sweet and fierce. He lay a hand on her stomach. She covered his hand with both of hers, pressing lightly. Rowan stared down in awe, then swept her up in his arms again. She laughed and clutched at him. 

“This child will never know anything less than love,” Rowan murmured in her ear. “Fireheart, my carranam, my mate, my wife, I love you.” 

“Oh, Rowan.” Aelin held him tighter. “I love you, too.”

#throne of glass #tog #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #yrene westfall #yrene towers #i really am so sorry i messed up

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Sneaking Around | Chapter One

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius walked into the bar, heading over to her group of friends in the corner. Their company was having an office party tonight, and Aedion, Gavriel, Vaughan, and Lysandra were already seated. Aedion was her brother, the others close friends.

“Aelin! Fashionably late as always,” slurred Aedion.

Aelin sat down, rolling her eyes. “I’m three minutes early. Surely you can’t have had that much to drink already?”

“He can, and he has,” said Lysandra. “They got into a drinking contest. Again.”

“Hey, look who’s here. It’s Manon the bitch!” cried Vaughan.

Manon glared at him as she joined the table. “How very kind of you, Vaughan. Glad to see what my friends really think of me.”

“You know you are a bitch, though,” intervened Aelin. “I think, deep down, you took that as a compliment.”

The friends continued their banter as the rest of the group, Fenrys, Connall, and Elide, arrived throughout the next few minutes.

Just then, another person entered the already crowded bar. Rowan. Aelin wasn’t exactly a fan of Rowan Whitethorn, to say the least. He was broody, rude, and... very handsome tonight. He was wearing a plain, button-up shirt and jeans, and he was thoroughly rocking them as he strutted over to join them. Not that that changed her opinion of him.

“Hello everybody.” Rowan took the only open seat left at the table. Right next to her. Oh, this was going to be a pleasant evening. He was the IT manager, techie if you will. With Aelin as the office manager, there were plenty of chances for their tempers to cross paths. The only reason she tolerated (managed not to beat the shit out of) him was because they shared the same friend group. Why, Aelin hadn’t a clue.

The conversation went on, with Aelin adding bits of sharp-witted humor, and Rowan contributing wry observations. He was still getting on her nerves, with his arrogance and condescending nature, but he seemed to be letting go a bit more. He was already on his fourth whiskey and they had hardly been there for half an hour.

Aelin ended up discussing several matters with Rowan, as they were sitting next to each other and the others around them were having their own conversations. While they weren’t exactly getting along, there was no shouting or storming off, so Aelin considered it a success. They weren’t agreeing on anything, though. Rowan mentioned a new employee at the office rubbing him the wrong way, and Aelin immediately defended her, despite considering her extremely obnoxious. She figured he was doing the same thing. This tactic certainly wasn’t making the civility any easier, so Aelin turned to Lysandra and Elide as subtly as she could.

They made fun of Aelin, sipping her tequila of a number she didn’t know. She’d lost count. “It’s free alcohol. What did you expect?” Aelin replied to their comments.

Nearing the end of the party, people had already started leaving, many finding their way into someone else’s bed. Really, you can’t have a respectable office party at a bar. It just doesn’t work that way, Aelin thought.

She was completely drunk at this point, and ready to spend the rest of her Friday night drinking and laughing with her friends. Until she felt a hand on her thigh.

Rowan. He was probably drunk enough to want to touch the nearest woman; Fenrys was on his other side, so Aelin was his only option. As wasted as she was, Aelin didn’t mind it, and continued chatting with the girls.

He seemed to take her lack of objection as confirmation, and began to slide his hand up and down her leg. To her knee, back up. To the top of her thigh, back down. It felt nice. Maybe perfectly sober, Aelin would have rejected his attentions. Okay, definitely. But she wasn’t and it felt good. His hand plucked at the end of her knee-length blue dress.

Aelin jumped at any excuse to wear a dress, and tonight was no exception. She also had on deep-red lipstick and gold dangly earrings. Thinking about it (or as well as she could think in this state), Aelin supposed she looked rather good tonight.

She could hear Rowan talking with Fenrys and Connall, but was making it a point not to look at him. His stroking grew more daring as the minutes passed, his hand going up again, but this time under her dress, on her bare skin.

Despite their teasing, Lysandra and Elide weren’t doing much better than her alcohol-wise. Pausing her own drunken conversation to look around her, Aelin noticed that several of her friends had already left. “I should head out before I have to be carried out of here.” Saying her good nights, Aelin took Rowan’s hand from under her dress and gave it a squeeze, then stood and walked out of the bar. Several moments later, out came Rowan, probably having made a similar excuse.

Aelin was on him before he had a chance to say her name. She grabbed him by the collar, pulling his face to hers, pressing her lips against his in a needy kiss. He backed her against the brick, his hips against hers, hands moving. Dimly she realized this wasn’t the best idea. Aelin pulled back and said, “Anyone could walk out and see us.”

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Rowan asked, hands still roving over her hips.

Aelin only nodded.

Rowan grabbed her hand and half-dragged her to the nearest taxi. Obviously, neither were capable of driving at that moment.

He sat with his arm around her, tense against her body. The poor cab driver probably had a lot of situations like this on Friday nights. At least they weren’t making out or something.

The taxi reached the address Rowan gave him - an apartment building not too far away. Aelin reached for his hand again, letting him lead her in to a set of stairs, up one flight, then down the hall to his door.

Fumbling with his keys, Rowan finally managed to turn the lock and get them inside. After that they didn’t hold back.

Rowan kissed Aelin fiercely, and she let him guide her to his bedroom. She ran her hands over his chest, unbuttoning his shirt. Rowan shrugged it off when she finished, then turned Aelin around to pull down the zipper of her dress as she stepped out of her heels.

Rowan helped her out of the dress, both of them impatient. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Spinning her around again and backing her onto the bed, he paused to admire her.

“Damn, you look good, Aelin.”

She smirked up at him. “I know.” Then she grabbed his belt and unlatched it.

Rowan reached for Aelin’s hand. “Not so fast, princess.”

He grasped her breast, running his thumb over her nipple. She moaned in response. Rowan gave a self-satisfied smile and continued his ministrations.

Then, satisfied with his work, he kneeled before her. Pulling her lace panties down her legs and tossing them to the floor, he placed her legs on either shoulder. Rowan ran his tongue over Aelin’s center, making her moan loudly.

“Enough teasing,” Aelin gasped out.

She could feel him smile against her. Rowan stuck a finger inside of her, then another. He continued pleasuring her like this until she came.

Then, he stood up and tugged down his pants.

Aelin almost gasped at the sight of him. She pulled him onto the bed on top of her, lying back. The she ground her hips against his. He groaned.

“Oh, fuck, Aelin,” he got out. Then he remembered to get up and grab a condom from somewhere. She sighed at the loss of contact, but soon enough he was standing over her, then crawling onto the bed.

He entered her slowly and she gasped and held back another moan. Once she adjusted, Rowan began thrusting in and out of her, making them both utter each other’s names and groan in unison.

They continued like this for some time, and it was only after, lying naked next to him, that Aelin thought, What the hell did I just do? Then she fell asleep.

#rowaelin #tog #sneaking around #my writing

[brandyovereager]

"Is that my sweatshirt?" "Most definitely not." For Rowaelin! 😁

On ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24534604

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was sick as hell, and it was Lorcan Salvaterre’s fault.

Technically, Aelin had caught her cold from Elide at their last movie night, but Elide only had it because Lorcan had given it to her, and that meant the whole thing was his fault.

Thanks to her fever, Aelin’s apartment felt damn freezing. As a result, she was currently rolled up in a blanket on her couch wearing thick knitted socks, her warmest flannel pajama pants, and the ridiculously cozy sweatshirt she’d managed to steal from Rowan.

Aelin had no idea what it was about the sweatshirt—or men’s sweatshirts in general—but it was the absolute perfect loungewear. It was thicker than any sweatshirt Aelin had ever owned, it was humorously gigantic—her boyfriend was a gods-damned behemoth of a man—and it had a gradually fading pine scent that made her feel safe.

She really needed to sneak it back into Rowan’s possession for a bit, just long enough for him to wear it and get his scent all over it again. Of course, then she’d have to discreetly steal it again…perhaps she could just rub it all over him while he was sleeping…

Anyways, today was a day when she desperately needed the comfort of her beloved boyfriend’s sweatshirt. She was beyond exhausted. It had been miserable for the last twelve hours, and a pine-scented snuggle—entirely draped in the large article of clothing—was the only thing she could stomach the thought of.

Aelin was half-asleep when she heard her front door open. There were a few people who had keys to her apartment—Lysandra, Aedion, Elide, and Rowan—but she wasn’t expecting any of them. She shifted her weary body just enough so she could get a look at her visitor.

When she was met with the concerned eyes of her boyfriend, she felt a tired smile appear on her face.

“I thought you had work tonight?” He had told her as much earlier.

“I left early, couldn’t focus thinking of your invalid self here all alone.” He was wearing his patented I-love-my-bitchy-girlfriend smirk. “What did you say in that text you sent me? I believe it was ‘I’ve been left here to die by all you healthy bastards’, or something equally peeved.” She met his wicked grin with one of her own.

“How very sweet of you to come to my rescue,” she crooned, “now make yourself useful and heat up that soup that’s been trapped on my top shelf.” He laughed at her and then moved towards her cabinets.

“Why do you even put things on that shelf if you know you can’t reach it?” He stretched his arm up to grab the can of soup, lifting up the hem of his shirt to reveal a strip of skin bordering back and ass—yes, having him get the soup was a great idea.

“It gives me an excuse to have my boyfriend do things for me,” and ogle him as he does so. Her eyes gleamed with mischief as he turned back around to start preparing the soup.

“Do you need any medicine?” Aelin checked the time to see if she was due for another dose.

“I could do with some more Tylenol, the fever seems to be returning.” She saw his face grow visibly concerned before turning to open the pill bottle.

“Has your fever been really bad?” Aelin wanted to scoff in exasperation.

“Well, unless you also find that my apartment feels like the Arctic, I’d say it’s been pretty bad.” Rowan brought over a glass of water and the tablets for her fever. He helped her sit up and handed her the items, watching to make sure she got them down alright.

“Guess that means I’m gonna have to smother you with my body heat. Now, let me get in here.” Rowan sat beside her on the couch and curled himself around Aelin. It was quite nice, having both the comfort of the sweatshirt and the extra pine-scent of Rowan wrapped around her.

As Rowan went to adjust the blanket around them, Aelin felt him pause.

“Is that my sweatshirt?” She froze, cursing herself for getting caught.

“Most definitely not.” Aelin tried to casually take a sip of her soup, hoping her fever hid her blush.

“Oh, it’s not, is it?” That damn buzzard of hers was smiling too wide, and it was downright wicked. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Nope, it’s mine, all mine.” She would not give him the satisfaction of her admitting it.

“So what you mean is, no matter who may have purchased it, that sweatshirt is staying in your closet?” Oh, he may be a teasing pain in her ass, but he is certainly a keeper.

“Exactly, glad we have that understood.” She could still feel her blush as she smiled softly, finally meeting his eyes.

“I wouldn’t mind so much if you borrowed it every once in a while. It’s kind of nice when it smells like you.” She was minimizing things, but he could see right through her.

Rowan pulled Aelin tighter and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“Whatever you want, my love.”

#rowaelin fluff #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fic #tog #tog fic #tog fanfiction #tog fanfic #sjmaas #sjm fanfic #SJM #sjm fic #sarah j maas

[shyvioletcat]

Prompt: We’re the two camp counselors who hooked up in a canoe and now all of our campers are trying to figure out who it was

I had myself laughing with this one 

~~~~~

It had been stupid idea, Elide didn’t know what she was thinking. She’d been a bit tipsy when she had somehow found herself outside with Lorcan all by themselves. Then she was kissing him, she couldn’t really remember who started it, but he was kissing her and she was kissing him, and Elide decided that she wanted more.

She had been the one to take Lorcan by the hand and lead him down to the docks. How they ended up in the canoe was another mystery. But they had, shedding their upper layers on the warm summer’s night. Lorcan’s fingers had just begun to toy with the buttons of her jeans when they spotted the torches. Apparently some of the campers had decided to take a walk in the dark and as counsellors they should have been the one to scold them back to their bunks but given their current situation that wasn’t a good idea. Fumbling blindly they grabbed their things running for the shelter of the trees. They had been laughing and breathless as Lorcan slipped his tshirt over her head and kissed her again. But with wandering campers they decided it was probably best that they return to their respective cabins and call it a night.

It wasn’t until the next morning when Elide went to put her dirty clothes in her wash bag that she realised she had forgotten something. Her green lace bra was missing. Without drawing too much attention she had walked down to the canoe and tried to find it. But it was gone.

Elide was now sitting at the breakfast table, the whole room was tittering with excitement and the sinking feeling in her stomach made her think her suspicions about why might be true. Her suspicions were confirmed when Fenrys fell into the chair across from her

“Apparently someone decided to get a little frisky in a canoe last night,” Fenrys said smirking and Elide pointedly refused to look at Lorcan. “One of the kids found an item of clothing, although I’d barely call it that, and handed it in to Gavriel.”

Elide held in a groan. She had hoped maybe a squirrel or something had run off with it, using the softly padded cups as a new bed or something. Turns out she hadn’t been so lucky.

“Well, which of you lovely ladies does it belong to?” Fenrys asked.

“Don’t be such a perv, Fen,” Aelin said and threw part of her bread roll at him.

“So it was you?” Fenrys asked as he threw the bread back.

Aelin snorted. “No.”

“Are you sure? Not just lying to me for the cover?” Fenrys prodded.

“I’m sure,” Aelin said. Then she turned to Manon. “What about you? Sounds like something you and Dorian would be into.”

“What happened to not being a perv?” Manon counted as Dorian took a very deliberate sip of his coffee.

Aelin shrugged. “I’m just curious now. So, was it?”

Manon shook her head. “I don’t wear bras.”

Vaughan spat his orange juice all over his plate.

“I can verify,” Dorian muttered and this time it was Aelin who almost inhaled her drink through her nose.

“You are all the worst,” Aedion said as he pushed his empty plate away.

“Sorry about upsetting your delicate sensibilities, cousin,” Aelin said, sticking her tongue out at him.

“So it’s yours then, Ashryver,” Fenrys added and Aedion glared at him. But before he could snap back the bell rang for the end of breakfast. Which meant their morning meeting with head camp counsellor Gavriel.

The kids cleared out but all the camp counsellors stayed sitting as Gavriel walked in, a small canvas bag tucked under his arm. Elide prayed to Annieth that it wasn’t her bra. Gods don’t let that be her bra. Gavriel went through the outline of the day's activities and announcements and Elide had thought she was in the clear but then Gavriel cleared his throat.

“One last thing,” he took the folded up canvas bag from under his arm and put it on the table. “An item of... clothing was handed in by one of the campers, found in a canoe by the docks. The manner of the item and its discovery suggests that it belongs to one of our female camp counsellors.” Then he let out a very heavy long suffering sigh and Fenrys and Aelin hid their smirking faces behind their hands. Nehemia’s shoulders were shaking with restrained laughter down the end of the table. Gavriel didn’t look at anyone when he spoke, in fact he looked at the ceiling, probably hoping to not see his son’s or niece’s reaction incase they were the guilty ones. “Just a reminder, can we keep such activities out of public places. We are the adults here, let’s act like. The item in question is size 32 E and green. I’ll leave it here for collection.”

Then Gavriel walked out and everyone started to not so subtly try and determine everyone’s bust size. Elide folded her arms over her chest but Aelin and Lysandra were looking right at her. They’d been bra shopping enough together that they knew her size. Fenrys was the first one to cotton on to their stares and his mouth fell open.

“Elide?” He said, his voice full of surprise. “Who with?”

Aelin was glaring at the men around the table, looking for any tell tale signs as to who it might be. Lorcan didn’t move, Elide thought he might not be breathing in case even that tiny movement might draw her attention. There were a lot of no’s and not me’s and then Aelin’s fiery gaze finally landed on Lorcan.

“No way, no way in hell,” Aelin said then she turned back to Elide. “Him?”

Elide blew out a heavy breath and stood up. She walked to the end of the table and looked in the canvas bag. That was indeed her bra. “Yes, me and Lorcan were the ones hooking up in the canoe. Yes, this is my bra. And no, you cannot threaten him with grievous bodily harm because I like him.”

That was all she said before she picked up her bra and walked out. When the table erupted in whoops and wolf whistles Elide flipped them off over her shoulder. If they could have seen her face they would have seen her smiling.

It took a few more days for the kids to work out who the bra had belonged to, the lost green bra being the highest topic of conversation. Elide had been wearing it when the sleeve of her loose tshirt got caught on a low branch and pulled it halfway down her shoulder. Just her luck the kid who had handed it in had been there and recognised the emerald lace on the strap immediately. The next topic was who Elide had been with in the canoe, there were even rumours of a betting pool going on.

Rowan had been the one to blow their cover, albeit accidentally. Due to a sudden rainstorm he had ushered his kids into the games room that wasn’t usually used until the evenings. Being just after 11am Elide thought they would be safe, but apparently not, and their impromptu make out session suddenly had 12 witnesses. The campers gaped and Rowan just shook his head as Lorcan and Elide fled into the rain.

~~~~~

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