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siderealxmelody · 1 month

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The Forever War: Part II

During the Daglan Civil War, Bryce was a cartographer and accompished Mage who studies the arcane secrets of magic. She and Rigelus went to the same rigorous schooling, competing for accolades as they grew in their prowess.

As the war took hold they were pulled from their school and put to work. The nature of their family alliances put them on opposite sides of the war.

They were never close, enjoying one upping each other with runic magic puzzles and traps at battle sites or other drop off points.

When Thurr came with the new army Nismera gave him he brought with him three spies under her mate's direct command.

Juniper, Danika and Fury set out to befriend Bryce. To make her feel special. She had never been the one in the spotlight - that always belonged to her sisters Imogen, the next Daglan Empress or Camryn, the tracker in Samkiel's personal Cadre. It was rumored Camryn could follow even the most elusive animal without getting caught.

Bryce had never had friends like them, she adored it - the late nights, the drinks, the tavern stops. She was seen for the first time in a long time and relished it.

When it was time Danika sprang the trap and dragged her to Nismera. There the Daglan warrior queen tortured her for information on Samkiel's movements.

She had learned from her mate that Rigelus and Bryce's souls sang the same tune. When Bryce wouldn't break she had Rigelus torture her. He couldn't, and so failed her little test.

They were both locked deep in her cells, forced to watch as the other was tortured to the point of passing out.

When the war ended and everyone began to rebuild in this new realm, Bryce and Rigelus followed Vincent to Vaalbara.

Neither wished to be close to Daglan and their politics, they wanted to be left alone.

Vincent had them slowly archive and catalog the hundreds of war records and histories for him. Bryce's sisters followed her and chose to work with Vincent to build up his court.

In this new world, Samkiel had retired fo Avallen - a mist covered island to heal with his brother Hellas and Hellas mate Anneith.

As Vaalbara grew so did its power and greed. Vincent's mate Alana set up gladiatoral pits and pleasure stables for the elite.

The bought changelings from Lanthys and Vesperus's breeding program. Eventually this culminated in Theia. She was sent to the Stables where she met Aidas. He mated her and brought her to court.

Theia slowly seeded her influence there and when was the time lead a revolution against Vaalbara.

Her revolution united the Changelings far in their archipelago. Her forces destoryed Fion and Sive's country estate, sending them and Thurr and Mala's families scrambling for safety.

The Daglan in Wendlyn were slow to act, only interceding when Achlys was hurt. She was Vincent's younger sister - as she lay dying her Daglan mate Korok ascended her to a Daglan, breaking a cardinal rule among the Daglan.

The war was slow and grinding, the Changelings had come prepared with weapons and had evolved to be naturally repellent to the magic the Daglan and Valg wielded.

As Sebastian and his friends grew up, tragedy after tragedy hardened them. Neculai's deaths saw them at the mercy of changeling forces - their parents fighting to far away from to come to their aid.

For ten years they were on their own, fighting and surviving with only their instincts.

It was Sarai that killed Theia, dealing a final blow to the female. Natalia and Maeve snuggled Theia's daughters to their Daglan mates.

Sebastian, Athril, and Viren helped Achlys take control of the changeling archipelago in the ensuing power vacuum.

Valg who had supported Achlys grew fearful of another master. Hyrieus, Theon, Furiad, and Zimri sought to run - being targeted for their children - their power.

Even Korok's siblings fought to stop Achlys rise to power - but she won in the end. She slammed wards down to keep those she deemed as threats out.

Vincent would later find and acquire the children her ex-Cadre had hidden around the realms, helping her train new Blades for her empire.

Creon, Anaxia, Shahar, Sandriel, Gavriel and Orion were honed into deadly assassins. Nismera mate Isaiah made sure to make them remorseless. Sebastian occasionally visited Creon and Orion, keeping an eye on them as he'd promised their father he would.

When the group eventually found out the truth of their birth families - some rebelled. Anaxia, Shahar, and Orion lead another revolt against her, changeling Clans rising with them.

Creon, Sandriel, and Gavriel met them, turning the war bloody. But Achlys won in the end - binding every changeling and blade's magic.

Sandriel and Gavriel were exempt for their loyalty. Creon who had nearly betrayed her for a rebel, Firebird named Lyn had his magic bound, and his voice stolen.

He and Anaxia were mates, he knew that in his bones even if they'd not completed all the steps to seal the bond.

1. Blood - one's magic sings recognizing the other's magic and complimentary power.

2. Body - the couple begins courting and building a physical bond.

3. Soul - the couple meet in a trance like dream-bridge exchanging vows and bearing their souls.

Creon and Anaxia had not gotten farther than the second step - but Creon knew Anaxia. She would follow him to the ends of the earth - to death.

He couldn't do that to her, couldn't watch her shatter like that.

So he sowed discord, pretending to fall for one of her rebel friends. Hoping that it would be a story Achlys fell for. He shattered Anaxia's heart hoping his rage and hate of Achlys would trick her into thinking he hated her.

Anything to save her from what he'd have to do. It didn't, she saw through it - but whatever was there didn't survive the argument they had. They were both too stubborn, too volatile and rather burn it all to the ground than wait.

200 years later, he'd convinced himself he'd been wrong. 200 years of being alone, of not caring of anyone or anything at all.

It all seemed hopeless till Alys appeared in one of the trade ships from one of the Summer Clan's tithes. How did she get in? How did she get pass the wards at all from Wendlyn??

She says she was looking for her sister, but could she be what they were waiting for? Could this be the sign they all needed?

He began to train her, to slowly feel again. To feel warmth and emotions for the first time in 200 years.

Slowly news began to trickle in of the other territories being stabilized. Midgard fell as some changeling female named Merka took to the city. The last stronghold Bryce and Rigelus had built after Vaalbara burned to the ground. Merka claimed it was to do with her sister - but Creon had no idea what Achlys and her people had to do with it.

He didn't much care to find out either.

He got word from Isaiah, he'd taken control of the changeling army there bringing them to the Alliance's secret base. Orion and Shahar were with him, they'd taken Bryce and Rigelus hostage forcing them fight for them.

Creon took Alys with him there, working with them to locate the bindings that Mother made real to hold the changelings hostage. Sandriel and Gavriel refused to aid him, staying loyal to their queen.

Gavriel was left injured in the scuffle, Sandriel taken prisoner. In the ensuing chaos Alys could only free his voice or his magic - Alys was young, only 22 summers.

She wished to hear his voice, to hear the words he signed to her in those quiet moments.

Creon was grateful to have his voice - but they won't win a war with that. As the Alliance began to prepare, he directed Tared (Lyn's mate) to Achlys dungeons to bring Leesan to them.

He'd been a promising scholar for Achlys - but he'd refused his duty, to bring Sarai's daughter to them.

Perhaps if they could get a call to Wendlyn she could come to them now. Leesan she said she was as morally driven as her mother was. Did this mean they'd be able to drag The Wild Ones out of retirement? Would Sebastian take up his title as Blood Shrike again? Would they have another Darkling? Would Sarai summon her blood mists?

Would they finally free his people? Would they finally get rid of foreign rulers?

Creon tried to ignore his growing attraction to Anaxia, it was Alys who had understood - who had vouched for him when no one else had. It was her who had seen him when no one else did.

But as the choices grew incredibly hard - he was reminded of her soft heart, of her nativity - could they afford that?

Could his heart afford such things?

Did he want to keep protecting her? Leashing himself to her ethics?

Or did he want to be free? To indulge the bloody chaos he knew he'd find fighting with Anaxia and by her side?

Did any of this matter when they had bigger things to worry about?

@luxmaeastra

@starlsssankt

@sankta-alina-s

#updated and more coherent #🤩🤩#ooc post #the forever war verse

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newtsbloodygf · 6 months

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1st Chapter of "Shot by Cupid's Arrow"

Such a tease

~Third person's pov~

Maeve was one of the few female warriors in the area. She was known for being fearless and untouchable.

She was now practicing, riding her horse while trying to shoot an arrow at a target.

While she was practicing, she noticed that the guys had been keeping their eyes on her, admiring her. She saw that one of the guys, Hyunjin, was clearly judging her.

With his crossed arms and the cold look in his eyes, definitely jealous, he spoke to himself.

"What's so good about her..." Hyunjin muttered and turned to look at the others.

~Maeve's pov~

As my horse walked, I aimed my bow and my arrow hit my target.

The guys' eyes were wide open as I hit the target successfully.

All eyes have moved back on me. I could feel the tension in the air, like a heat was rising.

I could see Hyunjin's face blushing as he looked down at the soil. He turned his head to look at me again.

"That was impressive." He sighed and looked away.

My horse kept walking and I aimed at my target again and my arrow hit it again.

The guys were all stunned, they just keep staring at me. Hyunjin's face is turning more and more red.

"How did she do that?" One of them said.

"She is good." Hyunjin nodded, still blushing.

All of the other guys started to talk among themselves.

I aimed at my target again, hitting it for the third time in a row. I smirked at my victory.

"You are quite talented." Hyunjin stated calmly, which caught everyone's attention.

The guys' faces turned red in a flash. Nobody was expecting him to say that.

Everyone just stood in silence, watching the two of us.

"You have an interesting way of shooting. You're good at it!" Hyunjin continued.

I got off my horse and looked at Hyunjin with my siren eyes and a smirk.

"I'm good at much more than just shooting!"

I say slowly and seductively and wink at him as I finish my sentence.

The guys' jaws all dropped at the same time. Their faces were red as cherries.

They couldn't believe what they just heard from me, and now they can't take their eyes off of me.

Hyunjin's heart was beating faster as he stared at me with a soft expression on his face. His cheeks turned red even more.

"What's your name?" He asked slowly. Everyone is watching the two of us now.

"Maeve!"

I reply confidently, still smirking and looking at him with my siren eyes.

"Maeve." Hyunjin repeated as he stepped towards me.

I could feel his body heat coming closer to mine. Everyone was still silent.

"Maeve... I'd like to see you again." Hyunjin said quietly.

Everyone was watching, even when me and Hyunjin were the only ones talking.

I have everyone's attention now. They all can't stop staring at the two of us.

My eyes darted from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes.

Hyunjin's heart was beating so fast now. He could feel his chest getting tighter as I looked from his eyes to his lips.

He noticed how I was staring at him, it made him blush more.

Everyone was still watching, wondering if I would kiss him.

In that moment, Hyunjin couldn't take it anymore. He walked closer towards me, and cupped my cheek.

He gently leaned over to me, and slowly leaned towards me until his lips touched mine.

The guys' jaws dropped once again as they watched this happen right before their very eyes.

Even though some of the guys didn't like me, now they're now all jealous of Hyunjin for kissing me.

I could feel his warm, soft lips on mine.

The kiss we shared was slow but really passionate, our eyes closed and our lips and heads moving in sync.

While the two of us were kissing, I could feel my body getting warmer, and my stomach getting tight.

Hyunjin's lips were making me feel like I were on cloud nine.

He held me tighter as he kissed me, showing everyone that I was definitely his.

I could hear the guys' whispering and some laughing, even though they were trying to hide it.

The kiss finally ended and the two of us pulled away and looked at each other.

I still had a small smirk on my face, while I looked at him with my beautiful, siren blue eyes.

Hyunjin still had his hand on my cheek and he looked at me with a smile on his face.

All of the guys were speechless, unable to say anything.

No one could deny that the two of us looked so cute together.

"Can I see you again?" Hyunjin asked with a soft expression on his face.

"Of course..."

I said seductively, putting my index finger on his chin while still smirking at him with my siren eyes.

As I put my finger on his chin, I could see that Hyunjin's face was still turning even more red.

Hyunjin looked at me deeply in the eyes, and the guys noticed that and turned to looking at each other.

Then Hyunjin leaned again towards me with his lips just centimeters away to meet mine again.

I pulled away, teasing him.

"Not so fast..."

I giggled softly at his eagerness to kiss me again.

Hyunjin laughed at my teasing too.

He moved a little away from me and crossed his arms, just looking at me.

His lips were now slightly opened as he looked back at me.

Meanwhile, the guys laughed and were all teasing Hyunjin.

"That was just a tease!?" Some of them laughed.

"C'mon, kiss her again!" Some guys shouted.

"I'm such a tease, aren't I?"

I said seductively, looking at Hyunjin with my siren eyes and a smirk.

Hyunjin laughed at my comment.

He looked at me and nodded, as if I knew what I was doing.

All of the guys were still looking at the two of us, most of them still teasing Hyunjin.

I could hear them whispering some words, and it was clearly about me...or..me and Hyunjin.

"What kind of girl is this, she's definitely teasing him!"

"I just want to see them kiss again!"

My index finger brushed his chin again, as I looked at him with my siren eyes and a smirk.

"Until next time..."

I said seductively, teasing him by starting to walk away, taking my horse with me.

Hyunjin's heart was beating faster, as he watched me walk away with my horse.

He could see how I was trying to tease him, and it was making him more attracted to me.

I got everyone's attention, especially Hyunjin's.

As I walked away, the guys were all talking about what happened between me and Hyunjin.

"There's no way, Hyunjin is actually in love."

"She's amazing."

"How did Hyunjin even catch her attention?"

I got back on my horse and rode my horse back to my house.

While I was riding on my horse, Hyunjin was still standing where the two of us had met.

I could see him watching me as I was riding away and his face was filled with a soft expression.

I then realized how he was looking at me and it made me want to visit him again.

As I reached my house, I found myself thinking about him more and more.

That kiss... it made me think about him...

At night, as the moonlight shined on the sky, I was still thinking about Hyunjin.

That kiss of ours kept replaying in my mind as I was thinking about how sweet and soft his lips were.

There was silence outside, as I could hear nothing, but my own thoughts.

I couldn't stop thinking about seeing him again.

Then, I remembered I had said "until next time."

The temptation to see him again is too much for me to handle....

#stray kids #skz #cupid.txt #shotbycupidsarrow #adventure #action #mystery #fantasy #supernatural #hwang hyunjin #maeveraven #love #love at first sight #meeting #teasing #warriors #archery

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msviolacea · 1 year

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Song 6!

This one turned out to be How Not To Drown - CHVRCHES ft. Robert Smith. Which is a fabulous song that talks about the lead singer of CHVRCHES's feelings about fame and being at the mercy of the music industry, which in my head I started equating with the Warrior of Light and their relationship with the title/fame their deeds have thrust upon them.

This one features my recently renamed and finally existing in-game WoL Maeve and her relationship with Estinien, set at the end of patch 5.1. Contains minor Shadowbringers spoilers.

(She's still a baby adventurer in game now, and I need to learn how to mod to give her the more wavy hair she truly has, but we take what we have in the moment.)

For a brief, terrible moment, it feels like Estinien truly means to leave again, without sparing a moment for her, and Maeve has to steel her spine to finish her conversation with Tataru and Krile without showing her emotions. Is this, then, the singular piece of straw that will break her? She's saved worlds, plural, and faced down enemies the likes of which will never been seen again, so the idea that the attention - or lack thereof - of a man will be what does it is maddening.

But then again, this particular man has a knack for it, damn him anyway.

She walks out of the Rising Stones, intent on going ... somewhere. Where? She doesn't know, she just knows she needs to be somewhere else. But she doesn't get much beyond the threshold before a hand grabs her arm. "Come on, then," Estinien says, tugging her toward the town's exit, in the direction of Silvertear.

Maeve lets herself be pulled along. "I thought you were leaving."

"Did you now." He gives her a side eyed glance. "I did make a promise, you know."

"I thought you might have forgotten."

"Never."

The single word settles a small thread of the chaos that churns inside of her, enough to let her walk along in relative peace, until he leads them to a patch of rock overlooking the lake. There aren't a lot of people here today, thankfully; she can see the folks at St. Coinach's Find bustling in the distance, but their work doesn't appear to lead in this direction right now.

Maeve takes a deep breath and lets some of the strength leave her. She carefully sits cross-legged and looks out at the lake. Estinien lowers himself to sit next to her, and together they look out at the water for a long time, long enough for the light to begin to change. Finally, though, he speaks again. "Will you tell me?"

She closes her eyes. "I don't know how, exactly. I don't have the words to describe - to convey how it - to ..." She shrugs as she trails off.

Estinien remains silent, waiting until she feels like trying again. "It feels weird, to say that the worst part is that everyone believed in me. It feels ungrateful. But gods ... it felt like I was drowning."

"That's not ungrateful, nor surprising. What would surprise me is if you've not felt it before."

"Some," she admits. "But not like this. Not nearly like this." She puts up her hand, and for a brief moment, imagines that the late-afternoon light is coming from under her skin again. "Did Krile tell you anything about it? The light corruption?"

"She tried, a bit, but magical theory isn't my forte. I can tell you, though, that Nidhogg stirred at the mention. Whatever all this light and darkness is, it frightens him." He reaches up to skim a hand over her hair. "I worried for you."

"You ... were right to worry."

"That's not something you would normally admit."

"No." And then, finally, she lets herself lean against him, feel his large, solid presence at her side. Now the chaos threatens to overwhelm her - safe to let it flow, at least a bit, now that she's in the presence of her shield. "I wonder," she murmurs, feeling herself shiver, "if it was a bit like it felt to have Nidhogg in you, in the time before you came to terms with him."

His arms come around her, and she feels his slow, soft exhale against her hair. "In the time before you saved me, you mean. You and Alphinaud. I can't say, but if it was, then ... I'm glad the boy was with you. Him, and the rest."

"Me too." She lets her head fall against his chest. "The worst part, though? Was that everyone believed in me, needed me ... not Alphinaud and everyone, but the rest, the people who belong there. They'd lived so long without hope, and I was hope for them, and I couldn't let myself not be hope - I couldn't stop, couldn't scream, couldn't ..."

She trails off, and there's a long moment of silence. "You can now," Estinien finally replies, his voice little more than a rumble against her.

And for the briefest of times, there in the fading daylight over Mor Dhona, Maeve lets herself fall apart.

#jaime writes #ffxiv #estinien wyrmblood #estinien varlineau #wol x estinien #oc: maeve cato #sasslett

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vicioushauntings · 2 years

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(ahn jae hyun, he/him) To SIMON MUHN, the whole world looks like an open page. With a leap of faith, their ability of MEDIUMSHIP grows a little stronger. They’re pledged to the HOUSE OF BELTRAN to defend the enchanted lands of Cagliostro with their SPYMASTER’S STOPWATCH. For FORTY years, they have survived a world of magic with both their CONTEMPLATIVE and COLD. They work as a MAGICAL ARTIFACT RESEARCHER, but if they could change their fate, they’d want to BREAK THE CURSES THAT PLAGUE HIS FAMILY.

BASICS

FULL NAME: Sung Min “Simon” Muhn NICKNAMES: None BIRTHDAY: December 31, 1985 ZODIAC: Capricorn sun leo moon Taurus rising GENDER: Cis male PRONOUNS: He/him SEXUALITY: Pansexual

APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: 6’1 DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Glasses TYPICAL FASHION: Black wool coats on top of black turtlenecks. Mostly muted colors. Black, gray, deep green, brown, garnet. JEWELRY AND ACCESSORIES: Black wool coats on top of black turtlenecks. Mostly muted colors. Black, gray, deep green, brown, garnet.

PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS: Contemplative, discreet, logical, meticulous, organized NEGATIVE TRAITS: Cold, condemnatory, deceitful, gloomy, irritable NEUTRAL TRAITS: Confidential, formal, impersonal, reserved, sarcastic HOGWARTS HOUSE: Ravenclaw MBTI: ISTJ OPTIMIST/PESSIMIST: Pessimist INTROVERT/EXTROVERT: Introvert DAREDEVIL/CAUTIOUS: Cautious LOGICAL/EMOTIONAL: Logical MESSY/NEAT: Neat

LIFE

HOMETOWN: Port Alvarna EDUCATION: University PETS: None OCCUPATION: Magical artifact researcher SIBLING(s): Maeve Muhn ( presently sea foam ) SIGNIFICANT OTHER(s): Song Han Jae DISABILITIES: Simon suffers from Meniere’s disease, which causes him to have vertigo and be hard of hearing.

FAVORITES

COLOR: Teal FOOD: Spicy beef soup MUSIC: Jazz LITERATURE: Historical FLOWER: Bachelor’s Button

HOBBIES & HABITS

HOBBIES: Antique weapon collecting, cooking, reading, grave rubbings MUSICAL INSTRUMENT: None SPORTS: None SPENDING HABITS: Cigarettes and sleeping pills mostly. Antique books, heavy sweaters, fancy pens. VICES: Cigarettes, alcohol, & sleeping pills

HEADCANONS

Although his main job is working at the local university studying and archiving various magical artifacts that they’ve obtained, he also gets regular calls regarding pesky spirits that plague homes and businesses. And, partnered with Gilbert Gladstone, he also semi-regularly cons people out of money, jewels, and other priceless artifacts.

Simon suffers from a rather peculiar curse, caused by a Spymaster’s stopwatch. Like nearly everyone, Simon is capable of dying…with the surprise twist of being able to regenerate after a time and return back to life. This is the result of tampering with the stopwatch - which would allow the user to temporarily stave off any harm done to their body. While meddling with the magic, however, the spell reflected back onto Simon and, upon his death, his body now “resets” to a previous state.

During his days in Port Alvarna, Simon and his partner, Han, lived together in an old lighthouse at the edge of the water. There was never much to do in terms of actually maintaining the lighthouse, although he did keep his eye on the lens and scheduling for various maintenance.

SPIRIT WARRIOR

House: Beltran Unique Gift: Mediumship From his childhood days, Simon has always been able to perceive the presence of ghosts near him, and the years he studied at House Beltran allowed for him to hone in on his ability better. He remains unable to turn off his ability to see ghosts - which so often plague his dreams - but in his waking hours, he can both summon and banish specific spirits, although spirits are capable of returning to their haunting grounds once Simon’s magic wears off. Because of his abilities, he is also more susceptible to possession, which he has difficulty preventing, and leaves Simon feeling cold and physically ill after. Magical Object: Spymaster’s StopWatch This stopwatch, once owned by a master spy, was previously used to temporarily preserve the user’s body to give themselves more time in case of emergencies. Once clicked, the user’s body would remain in a state of stasis for a single hour. Meaning that any afflictions and harm that came to their body wouldn’t take affect. However, at the end of the hour, any physical wound or harm that had come to their body would all take affect at once. Because of Simon’s tampering with the watch’s magic, it no longer works as originally intended; instead, the watch becomes more cracked and disfigured with each one of Simon’s deaths. Lisence Status: Not Active

BIOGRAPHY

Born to a mother more interested in her business than her family and a father who felt the same, Simon knew from a young age that he was a mistake. His sister, Maeve, just a few years older than him, was there for the appearance of having a happy, tightly-knit family only. Simon was the accident who was never supposed to be born.

He’d always been a solemn, quiet, and different child…and he, evidently, had been born with the gift of magic - a remnant from a since forgotten grandparent whose existence Simon had never heard of. At the prospect of freeing themselves from their unwanted child, the moment Simon was old enough to hone in on his newfound abilities, his parents happily shipped him away. His first week was full of frights and the belief that his skill would never match that of his elders. He wasn’t welcome back at home and couldn’t make his way with the magical houses…so what good was he?

Leaving was easier said than done, of course. And once Simon gave himself time to settle into his new environment he, slowly but surely, blossomed under House Beltran’s watchful guidance toward his abilities. Ghosts haunted his nightmares, but he learned they weren’t always malicious. Most just wanted for someone to listen to them for the first time in a long time. And Simon couldn’t help but be understanding.

As others his age finished their studies and began taking the proper steps to procuring a spirit warrior lisence…Simon had other interests in mind. Studying at a local university, he wanted to expand his studies beyond what he’d learned at the psychic house; there was so much more to magic than what he’d been taught about himself, of course, and certainly other forms of magic that had long since been forgotten from the world…Simon planned on studying them all.

But what he didn’t have was the money required to pursue the majority of his studies. Being young and dumb…he took it upon himself to enter a contract with a dreamshade with a reputation for thievery, much against the advice of his peers. His contract has lead him to being stuck in situations he never would’ve imagined himself in, but they at least always brought a decent chunk of change, and the occasional magical item for Simon to study in his free time.

And somewhere along the way, the impossible happened: Simon found himself with a family. Despite his irritating behavior, some small affections had grown towards Gilbert Gladstone after having worked with him for years. Then there was his roommate-turned-partner, Song Han Jae, and the twins they’d taken in together, Jasper and Johanna. His little life in Port Alvarna was far from perfect, but it was a home he’d made for himself, and one he’d never see himself leaving.

And then The Boundry came, and Simon witnessed his own sister turn to sea foam before his very eyes. It would’ve been impossible for him to take all of his belongings with him as Simon and the remainder of his small family fled to Selphia, but he grabbed all he could and hasn’t looked back since.

#cag: intro #simon muhn; intro

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nurselaurenatl · 2 months

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: ANTHROPOLOGIE Maeve Horse Print Colette Wide Leg Pants.

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doctordonovan · 3 months

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❝ just stay here with me… by my side. ❞

there's no need for more than this: for more than the gentle encouragement to remain in spot, some ancient sentry left behind to stand guard as wife finally rests heavy eyes. ( there is so much time, and even with eternity in their veins, maeve has never been much of a sleeper. ) it's rare for any of them to have a full night without nightmares, without the things that haunt them pulling on their sleeves threatening to sink them too deep in ocean to ever find their ways home.

instead, she kisses the top of @venturousheart's head, voice low and adoring. ❝ I'll be right here, I promise. let me keep an eye on world as you rest. ❞ she's no warrior - but for clara, she will make exceptions for every rule. gentle hand continuing rubbing wife's back, tracing patterns as she stares at dark walls in temporary bedroom. ❝ sleep, love. it's too late for my sun to be up, you can rise with the new day. ❞

#venturousheart #𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗘: // answered asks #𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃: // hearken to the voice of our prayer #𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓: // many moons of waiting on a steady sun. [ clara & maeve ]#𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗘: // queue

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unverbalise · 2 years

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Prologue

Editor: Mrinali Jadhav Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com Fire or ice, She shall rise. Fight for what is right, And leave with what is hers. Kind from core , A warrior like never before. Break what is precious, Don’t fall under her gracious. "All hail, Maeve.” “Princess Maeve, do you think she’ll come?” A woman six-feet tall standing with her head covered inside a tent in the…

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#Art #Charts #Lesson #Prologue #Recommend #Series #Shortstory #story #Topranking #Writeup

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sassyhobbits · 3 years

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Would That I, 4

masterlist

~~~

Rowan Whitethorn was furious.

Beyond furious.

He had left Mistward a week and a half ago, spending his time in the mountains, in that barren spot that had once been the cottage he had lived in with Lyria. He sat by her grave for hours on end, whispering to her, wishing that she could whisper back. She had always known what to say.

Lyria had been his mate. He had loved her. She had been sweet and kind and thoughtful.

Nothing like the half-feral assassin he had pulled out of Varese.

But, according to the gods, she was his too.

He had hoped the week of solitude would have given him an idea of what to do. Nothing became clear to him, no matter how long he beseeched the gods for some sort of sign. All he knew was that one morning he had woken up and realized he was running from his problems. And that made him a coward.

So, he had made the trip back to Mistward. He planned to send Fenrys on his way, to do what was ordered of him and oversee the girl’s training, no matter what.

Yet, when Rowan had arrived that morning looking for his comrade, he had only been told that Fenrys and Aelin had taken two mares the previous morning and had yet to return. Part of him hoped that Fenrys had thought of a training exercise that included travel.

But, Rowan knew Fenrys better than that. They had probably gone to drown themselves in alcohol in whatever town the young warrior felt like visiting that day.

Rowan had known the risk when asking the White Wolf to watch over Aelin while he was gone. He was never strict enough for Rowan’s tastes. Yet… Fenrys had been the only one he could trust not to tell Maeve about the fact that he had left the fortress so suddenly, not to ask questions. He knew that Fenrys would covet the opportunity to spend time with the Heir of Fire and wouldn’t jeopardize it by telling their queen.

Rowan waited for the pair to return. By late afternoon, he had half a mind to go out and track them down and drag them both back by the ear. He had headed down towards the kitchens, the quickest way to get outside, to do just that. However, he hadn’t needed to worry himself. He heard a familiar barking laughter before two figures strolled through the kitchen doors, side by side.

Aelin had looked up and locked eyes with him. So quickly, the bright smile she wore vanished, standing straighter, body tense.

He looked at her, wondering if simply seeing her again would lead to some sort of epiphany. But there was nothing besides a vague tug that he tried to ignore, telling him she was his mate.

He clocked their posture, the casual arms they had wrapped around one another. Rowan’s nostrils flared as he scented them. At first, he was assaulted by the smell of horse, a bit of sweat. But beneath that… sex. Unmistakably sex.

Aelin seemed to understand what he had realized, not taking her eyes off of him and she took a casual step in front of Fenrys. She was trying to protect him.

Some primal, Fae part of him, deep down, was enraged. But, Rowan had no intentions of ever climbing into bed with the Firebringer. The girl must have been acting on what little knowledge she had of the Fae, thinking that he would rip into Fenrys for what he had done.

He was more upset that Fenrys hadn’t done what was ordered of him.

Rowan stared evenly at Aelin before jerking his head towards the door. “Leave us.”

She blinked, those Ashryver eyes flaring in indignation. “I do not answer to you.”

Rowan bared his teeth. “That wasn’t a request.”

The girl opened her mouth, looking like she was ready to argue, but before she could even get started, a female voice sounded from behind him.

“Elentiya.”

Rowan glanced over his shoulder, finding a female he was vaguely familiar with, Arya, lingering in the threshold. Her dark, angular eyes skipped between the three of them. She was smart enough to recognize that the situation needed defusing.

Arya looked towards Aelin, face softening. “I’m glad you’re here. We could use a hand with the laundry. Eryn hurt her ankle training today.”

Aelin still looked like she wanted to argue, but instead, took a deep breath, calming herself down. She gave a single nod of her head. Whatever had happened since he had left, Arya had managed to earn Aelin’s respect. That much was clear.

He held Aelin’s glare as she stalked past him towards where Arya waited. She lingered only a heartbeat longer before she disappeared with the Fae female around the corner, leaving him alone with Fenrys. There was only a heartbeat of silence before-

“Well, you look like you’re in a delightful mood today,” Fenrys chirped.

A low, warning growl rumbled in the back of Rowan’s throat, showing that he was not in the mood for any of Fenrys’ snark. His companion’s mouth firmly snapped shut at the sound.

For a few moments, Rowan didn’t say anything, simply pinning the male across from him with his gaze.

“I asked you to train her,” Rowan ground out at length. “Not fuck her.”

Fenrys was silent. A rare occurrence.

“Tell me of what progress you’ve made with her then,” Rowan ordered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Has she mastered shifting at least?”

Still, nothing from Fenrys

Hot anger flashed through him again. “So. You’ve accomplished nothing, then? Except for drinking and gambling?”

“And dancing,” Fenrys mumbled. “She’s an excellent dancer.”

Rowan scoffed bitterly. “I wish I could say I’m surprised, but I didn’t expect much more out of that spoiled, useless brat.”

“Don’t speak about her that way,” Fenrys snarled, showing more backbone than he normally dared with Rowan.

“You coddle her. She needs to learn, to take responsibility. She needs to be pushed.”

“Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she needs kindness and friendship and comfort. Maybe all she needs is someone to be there for her.”

“You’re naive, boyo,” Rowan said. “She has lived a life shunning her responsibilities, shunning her birthright and her kingdom. Turning her back on her suffering people. She’s a coward and has been pampered by whatever master she has served for the past ten years.”

Fenrys bared his teeth, something in Rowan’s words setting him off. “You know nothing about her and what she has endured. Nothing.”

Rowan studied his companion for a moment, noting the anger and outrage on his face. Perhaps there was something Rowan truly didn’t know, or perhaps that assassin has spun fanciful tales to earn her sympathy instead of the scorn she deserved.

“Perhaps I don’t,” Rowan eventually said. “But I don’t care. I’ll finish her training from here. First thing tomorrow morning, you will return to your post.”

Fenrys looked as though he wanted to protest, but knew deep down there was no point. Rowan was his commander, and he had to do what he was told. The younger male eventually gave a stiff nod.

Fenrys didn’t wait to be dismissed before he made to leave, his shoulder bumping against Rowan’s as he stalked out of the kitchen. His proximity gave the prince another whiff of Aelin’s scent on him: jasmine and ashes. It enthralled him. It enraged him.

There was a dull throbbing between his eyes, the beginning of a headache. Rowan heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He surely had his work cut out for him.

…

Fenrys found Celaena later that evening. Arya had taken her to the laundry rooms and they sat by one another as they scrubbed dirty tunics in soapy water. The female could clearly see the tension Celaena held in her shoulders, the anger blazing in her eyes. Arya spoke soothingly about what had occurred in the compounds since she had left. Apparently, the kitchen boy, Luca, had a crush on Eryn. Eryn seemed to like him in return. Her little crush had apparently distracted her enough that she had lost her footing while training, leading to the injured ankle.

Celaena found that she appreciated Arya and her soothing words. She managed to help her calm down a bit, to get her mind off of Rowan and Fenrys and whatever was happening between them. She didn’t know much about mating bonds, but she remembered the stories from when she was younger and the Fae still lived on her continent. She remembered that the Fae could get territorial to the point of violence about their mates. She hadn’t wanted Rowan to hurt Fenrys because of what they had done, even if the prince had shown no inclination of wanting anything to do with her. She wasn’t sure what his instincts were telling him.

But, Arya had talked her down a bit. She reminded Celaena of her mother. Evalin had always been able to calm her down when her temper had gotten the better of her, when her fires had threatened to come spewing out. Her mother had always known what to say.

Gods, did Celaena miss her.

Fenrys managed to find her as she and Arya were bringing the wet laundry to be hung to dry. Relief flushed through her when she saw that her friend was unharmed. Perhaps a bit angry, judging at the crease between his brows, but not hurt.

He explained to her that he would be leaving the next morning, that Rowan would complete her training. Celaena couldn’t stop the feeling of dread from filling every inch of her at the idea of having to spend time with Rowan.

Fenrys helped them hang the laundry and complete other chores. Night came quickly. The females that Celaena had been rooming with joined them for dinner. Fenrys acted as if nothing had changed, being his ever charming self. And though Celaena tried to smile and laugh, they didn’t feel genuine. Fenrys was leaving.

She didn’t want to be alone again.

Celaena slept fitfully in her little cot that night, her dreams filled with silver hair and a white-tailed hawk whose cry seemed to ring through her ears even after she awoke before dawn.

She dressed and headed outside. There was still mist hanging above the dewy grass, the sky beginning to glow with the rising sun. She found Fenrys readying his mare, jaw clenched and face tight. But, his expression softened once he saw her there to say farewell.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’ll miss your gods-awful jokes,” Celaena said, trying to muster up a smile.

“I make wonderful jokes. I would miss them too.”

Celaena laughed even as she felt her throat beginning to tighten. She hadn’t known Fenrys long, but the kindness he had shown her had left its mark. It was a wonderful glimpse of what could have been. Of what should be.

Fenrys glanced up, studying the sky. His lips tightened. “Well. I suppose I should be on my way.”

"We'll see each other again. One day." Fenrys squeezed her shoulders, flashing that crooked smile. “Give him hell, Celaena.”

Celaena lunged forward, throwing her arms around Fenrys’ shoulders and hugging him tightly. He returned the embrace in full before pulling back and pressing a kiss upon the skin of her forehead.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."

He offered her a sad smile before his gaze caught on something behind her, eyes darkening for a moment before they were back on her.

Celaena glanced over her shoulder in the direction Fenrys had been looking, finding Rowan lingering by the fortress, face stony and arms crossed over his chest. He was waiting for her, waiting for them to begin her training. She swallowed the lump of nerves that tried to lodge itself in her throat before looking at Fenrys.

The smile on her face was sharp as she vowed, “I will.”

a/n: new part! hope everyone enjoyed. probably wont be able to get the next part out until my finals are finished. lmk what yall think!!

tags: @tiredbutstillreading @hellasblessed @thisismylibrary @miserablesmusings @empress-ofbloodshed @depressedreader @morganofthewildfire @sleeping-and-books @emily-gsh @ladyfireheart-and-buzzard @untoldstuff @swankii-art-teacher @poisonous00 @mis-lil-red @the-third-me @gracie-rosee @jesstargaryenqueen @pullnpeeltwizzlers @rowaelinismyotp @thewilderheart

#would that i #my writing #rowaelin

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celestialend · 3 years

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HEARTLESS, Prologue - Elorcan

I am so so so stressed to post this story. I’ve been working on it for months, it’s all planed out, and I really really hope you’ll like it ✨

When Elide walked in the ballroom, she was exulting confidence.

They’d just won a war, securing the three Wyrd keys from Maeve, and Elide was still basking in the satisfaction of seeing the dark queen stuck in the City Of Rivers.

In Elide’s opinion, Hellas and Anneith had been too kind in letting Maeve live. But she wasn’t Anneith’s right hand to give opinions. She was her dirty doer. A death angel, quite literally.

Elide loved her powers. The dark flames that she could summon, and that would sometimes rise to her temper. They were her best friends.

But speaking of death angel, she spied Lorcan, Hellas’ very own dirty doer. To each God their own.

Elide all but marched to the man, head high and a sway added to her hips. She and him had debts to settle.

“Hello, Angel,” Elide smirked at Lorcan.

“Stop calling me that,” he growled. He despised her sometimes.

“And why should I do that?” She was running her lips along the slope of his neck, and it was driving him insane.

“Because I’m not one.”

“You’re an Angel of Death, mon amour. You need to accept it.”

Lorcan only grunted in answer, one hand circling her hips, the other one getting tangled in her hair, so he could angle her head, lips brushing. She was so small against him.

“And what does that make you?” He asked, lips ghosting over hers, not quite touching.

Elide and Lorcan had been doing this dance for some time now.

They knew what they were to each other, knew one couldn’t go without the other, but as war was raging when they met, they’d chosen to wait for peace.

Elide pushed to her tiptoes, hands linking behind his neck.

“I’m your consort,” she bit his lower lip. “Your equal,” she breathed. “Your mate,” and then she truly kissed him.

Lorcan kissed her right back, fighting the urge to sweep her off her feet and give everyone here a show.

He’d been fighting this primal urge to claim her, to mark her as his, ever since they met.

He belonged to her, and she belonged to him. And he knew that with her last words she had given him the all clear for the claiming they both were so desperate for.

The war was over, and it was time for Elide and Lorcan, to become ElideandLorcan.

tagged: @stardustsroses s @the-regal-warrior @nalgenewhore @dawninlatin @highqueenofelfhame @sleeping-and-books @queen-of-glass @wifeofchrishemsworth @yikesitsmaddie @whydoineedtowriteanamehere @awesomelena555 @fireheartdreamerstarborn @acourtofabsandillyrians @maastrash @bookishwitchling @sayosdreams @rockgirl321 @agem10 @noodlecatposts @sanakapoor @se-ono-waise-ilia @notyournymphetish @grace-k-sterling @silentquartz @eleonor-da-silva @cristinaid28 @rowanisahunk @ireallyshouldsleeprn @louiseleblancdiggory @aelinchocolatelover @http-itsrebecca @shyvioletcat @thewayshedreamed @featherymalignancy @claralady @julemmaes @darklesmylove @city-of-fae @rowaelinismyotp @firestarsandseneschals @empress-ofbloodshed @live-the-fangirl-life

#heartless #my writing #throne of glass #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elorcan

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graphicpolicy · 2 years

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See what's coming in December from Red 5 Comics

See what's coming in December from Red 5 Comics #comics #comicbooks

MAEVE: RISING WARRIOR #1 Cristiano Seixas, Kevin G Corcoran (A) Caio Majado (CA) Caio Majado, Ed BenesFC · 40 pages · $5.95Available December 14, 2022ED BENES COVER JUL228558OCT221918 Discover the story of Maeve, Ireland’s greatest heroine of antiquity. The Irish warrior Queen of Connacht, who became High Queen of all Ireland and an Irish Goddess, through her will, strength and prowess over…

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#caio majado #comic books #Comics #cristiano seixas #dead kingdom #ed benes #etienne derepentigny #jim ousley #kevin g. corcoran #maeve: rising warrior #red 5 comics #the atonement bell #tyler ruff

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cicada-bones · 3 years

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The Warrior and the Wildfire

Chapter 7: Forged

Hi! so. yeah. I'm really sorry. I had a very hard feburary and then a surprisingly difficult march. but i promise you - this isn't going to be abandoned, just taking longer than usual unfortunately. Please let me know what you think!

word count: 3418

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A male, all in black, felt his muscles relax as the lights slowly flickered out of the warehouse across the way. As if someone was walking through the apartment, room by room, blowing out candles. The male looked until nothing more was visible through the darkened window, and a small sigh passed his lips.

A cold wind blew towards him, carrying his death-kissed scent back to the glass castle instead of towards the apartment before him and the Fae hidden within. Lorcan knew that Whitethorn and Galathynius were in the bedroom, but there was another – a male – hidden up on the roof.

The ancient warrior scoffed. It had been even easier than he thought it would be. Without magic, they were all completely helpless. Weak.

All he’d had to do was leave a false trail from the docks through the city and into the busy market square, then turn back to the harbor and wait. Wait for Whitethorn to appear, and guide him straight to the princess.

By that very night, he’d done just that.

Lorcan had to be careful to keep out of sight, to keep the wind at his back and his scent out of Rowan’s path, but before long, his quarry was in sight. That fire-breathing-bitch-queen, arrogant as ever. She was with two others; one, the male who was currently guarding the roof, the other, a human female, with a scent like figs and mint. Soon, the female peeled off from the group, her path headed towards that monstrosity of a castle.

While Lorcan didn’t follow her, he made sure to memorize that unusual scent to keep tabs on her later. Then he followed them back to this warehouse hidden deep in the slums, and the apartment hidden within.

It had all been so easy, so simple. He’d been the one who trained Whitethorn, after all. Lorcan knew how the male worked. He just hadn’t expected him to be this vulnerable without his magic. The idiot hadn’t even bothered to fortify the warehouse when they arrived.

Probably too distracted by the princess’ lips. Or her legs.

It hadn’t slipped Lorcan’s notice that when the lights had gone out, they were both in the same room. A room that contained only one bed.

Disgust rippled through him, disgust and fury. All Lorcan wanted was to slide off his perch, rush into the warehouse, and root the two birds out of their nest. But he had to wait, wait until he could catch them off guard, until there wasn’t a sentry to warn them of his approach.

For even now, without magic, Lorcan couldn’t be completely sure that he could overpower Whitethorn. The easiest way, the only reliable way, would be to separate them. To capture the princess and hold her hostage, ensuring that Whitethorn would stand down. While he negotiated for the keys.

In the meantime, Lorcan could scout out the city, discover its weaknesses and patterns and hidden pathways. So he could plan his attack.

So as the whispers in the bedroom quieted, and even the memory of candlelight had vanished, the warrior slid off the roof and onto the street below. Letting himself be consumed by the night and trying his best not to think of just how completely and utterly alone he was.

Without a nation, without a queen.

All he had left was his purpose, and he would follow it through to the bitter end.

···

Rowan awoke to an empty bed, Aelin’s scent swirling all around him, fresh and clean as the daylight streaming through the window beside him. He could hear her shuffling about the kitchen, filling a kettle with water and lighting the stove.

Rowan turned and stretched, his muscles pulling and tightening in all the right places. It had been wonderful to finally sleep in a real bed, with space lie down properly, instead of curled into that rutting wooden box.

His body and mind felt settled, comfortable, and it wasn’t just because he was finally well-rested. For the first time in over a month, Rowan had slept without a single nightmare.

There were no screams on his lips, no haunting images behind his lids, sweat on his limbs, bile in his throat. Nothing.

Rowan almost felt tears bud in the corners of his eyes, the relief was so intense. He wouldn’t ever let Aelin get away from him again. So long as she wanted him, so long as she needed him, he would be there.

Rowan listened as another set of feet entered the kitchen. There was a moment of silence as the two demi-Fae regarded each other, a moment where Rowan prepared to intercede if necessary. But then he heard Aedion say, softly, “There are mushrooms somewhere.”

“Good,” Aelin said, only the slightest edge to her voice, “Then you can clean and cut them. And you get to chop the onion.”

“Is that punishment for last night?”

A sound like cracking eggs, then, “If that’s what you think is an acceptable punishment, sure.”

Aedion’s voice seemed somewhat cheerier. “And is making breakfast at this ungodly hour your self-imposed punishment?”

“I’m making breakfast because I’m sick of you burning it and making the whole house smell.”

Aedion laughed quietly, then shuffled forwards, the sounds of a knife on a cutting board starting from the other side of the wall.

“You stayed on the roof the whole time you were out, didn’t you?” Rowan could hear the smile in Aelin’s voice, and he felt his lips twitch in response.

Pots clattered, and butter began to sizzle. “You kicked me out of the apartment, but not the warehouse, so I figured I might as well make myself useful and take watch.”

Rowan found himself nodding with approval. The male had crossed the line, but at least he had made himself somewhat useful. But remembering what he had said to Aelin last night…it was enough to make his hackles rise.

Rowan forced himself back to calm as Aelin said, “We both have atrocious tempers. You know I didn’t mean what I said, about the loyalty thing. Or about the half-human thing. You know none of that matters to me.”

It was definitely the best apology he was going to get. And far more than he deserved.

A short hesitation, then, “Aelin, I’m ashamed of what I said to you.”

“Well, that makes two of us, so let’s leave it at that.” There was a moment when all Rowan could hear was the scrape of a metal whisk in a glass bowl, then, “I - I understand, Aedion, I really do, about the blood oath. I knew what it meant to you. I made a mistake not telling you. I don’t normally admit to that kind of thing, but…I should have told you. And I’m sorry.”

Another tension-filled silence. Aedion was holding a knife…

Rowan kept himself very still, until finally, “That oath meant everything to me. Ren and I used to be at each other’s throats because of it when we were children. His father hated me because I was the one favored to take it.”

A pause was filled with more sizzling from the pan, now with what Rowan was pretty sure were fresh green onions. “There’s nothing that says you can’t take the oath, you know, Maeve has several blood-sworn members in her court.” Aelin said. “You can take it, and so can Ren – only if you want to, but…I won’t be upset if you don’t want to.”

“In Terrasen, there was only one.”

“Things change. New traditions for a new court. You can swear it right now if you wish.”

Against his will, Rowan felt his teeth grit together. This pause felt even longer than the others.

“Not now. Not until I see you crowned. Not until we can be in front of a crowd, in front of the world.”

Rowan couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved. He couldn’t begrudge Aedion the blood-oath, but still. He wanted Aelin to himself, for just a little bit longer.

Aelin dumped the mushrooms in the pan. “You’re even more dramatic than I am.”

Aedion snorted. “Hurry up with the eggs. I’m going to die of starvation.”

“Make the bacon, or you don’t get to eat any.”

Then the two cousins started to laugh, and this time, Rowan really couldn’t help the smile that sprang to his face. Their laugh was one of such old friendship, Rowan knew that he was no one to get between them. Knew that these petty disagreements were nothing to the depth of their relationship. The last two children of Terrasen’s throne. The two survivors.

Rowan breathed, then turned to rise from Aelin’s queenly mattress to see about some breakfast.

···

An hour later, they were all fed and watered and were now standing in a wide clearing among the stacks of crates, the late morning sunlight slanting through the windows near the high ceiling of the warehouse.

After breakfast, Rowan had finally gotten around to fortifying the apartment. Aelin had already done a pretty good job with it, heavy locks on all the windows, two types of barrier at each entrance, a carefully disguised exit down the back stairs hidden behind the kitchen, and a first floor that, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be that of a completely abandoned warehouse. There was no indication at all of what lay above.

From the inside anyways. There were six windows on the first floor, all half-width, and four more in the apartment above. Rowan was itching to scout the vantage points from the surrounding buildings, to check what could be seen from the outside.

But after spending half an hour carefully going over every lock and seal, Aelin had dragged him down to this clearing hidden in the center of the warehouse. And Rowan couldn’t deny that he was intrigued to see how Aelin had held up her training this past month, and to find out whether the northern wolf’s bark was worse than his bite.

Rowan and Aelin started with stretches, and after a few minutes she threw him a sparring stick and they started their routine warm up from those misty mornings in Wendlyn’s mountains, falling back into a pattern as warm and familiar as waking up in a bed suffused in her scent.

Sparring with Aelin was glorious. Even with the time spent holed up on the ocean, her movements were fluid and luscious and deadly. She flew between poses, the sparring stick a deadly extension of her arm.

Watching her move, their eyes locked together – it made him want to knock that sparring stick aside, shove her into a wall and peel off that tight black suit –

Rowan breathed deep, his eyes flickering shut for second. And the momentary distraction allowed Aelin to get behind his guard and rap him on the chest hard, her eyes glinting.

Rowan growled at her.

Aelin had always been a formidable swordsman – even during that time after he’d collected her from Varese, when she was drunk and dirty and so, so broken. However, she was now stuck in her human form.

So after a few minutes of easy sparring, Rowan executed a series of cuts and slashes that pushed her back into a defensive position, then when she was distracted finding her feet, Rowan knocked the stick out of her hands.

Aelin smiled wickedly at him, her eyes promising revenge as she turned to collect her sparring stick. Before she could unleash any of it on him, Rowan turned back towards her cousin, and after assessing his balance, strength and agility, began instructing him in a few complex maneuvers.

The male was tired, and clearly distracted by all that had been unveiled over the past few hours. And he was also in pain. He hid his grimaces as best he could, but every time a movement stretched his left side, his teeth would grit. And no matter how careful he was trying to be, his movements off his left side were slow and strained.

Rowan hid his exasperation best he could, even if he knew that Aelin had noticed the exact same details from across the clearing, and was not pleased with her cousin’s pigheadedness.

After half an hour with Aedion, Aelin stalked over from where she had been exercising and said, “I think that’s enough for today.”

Aedion stiffened, ready to make a rebuttal. Rowan held in his growl, his eyes flicking between the two cousins.

A moment passed in silence, then Aedion’s eyes narrowed, then turned back to Rowan. “I heard a story,” the young wolf drawled, “that you killed an enemy warlord using a table.”

Aelin spoke before he could, “Please,” she scoffed, “Who the hell told you that?”

“Quinn – your uncle’s Captain of the Guard. He was an admirer of Prince Rowan’s. He knew all the stories.”

Aelin’s eyes slid to meet Rowan’s, and he smirked at her, bracing the sparring stick on the floor. Her lips twitched, her eyes twinkling with surprise. “You can’t be serious,” she said. “What – you squashed him to death like a pressed grape?”

Rowan choked. “No, I didn’t squash him like a grape.” He shot her a smile. “I ripped the leg off the table and impaled him with it.”

“Clean through the chest and into the stone wall,” Aedion said.

“Well,” said Aelin, snorting, “I’ll give you points for resourcefulness, at least.”

Aedion rolled his neck. “Let’s get back to it.”

Aelin’s lips pursed, and she shot Rowan a look that said, Don’t you dare kill my cousin. Call it off.

However, Aedion wasn’t so slow-witted to miss the look that passed between them. The general’s jaw tightened even as his fingers tensed around the sparring stick. “I’m fine.”

“A week ago,” Aelin said, “you had one foot in the Afterworld. Your wound is still healing. We’re done for today, and you’re not coming out.”

“I know my limits, and I say I’m fine.” The demi-Fae’s words were tight, terse. Rowan found his lips spreading into a slow, sly grin. Aedion met his eyes, his brow tightening.

If he wanted to play, Rowan would play. The cub needed to be taught a lesson.

Aelin groaned, but kept her distance. Rowan found that he was grateful – if she intervened this time, it would take even longer for this to be resolved, and then who knows when it would finally be settled.

Rowan had nearly a full second’s warning before Aedion attacked, a simple feint to the right and swing low. Rowan dodged efficiently, deflecting and positioning to the offensive. Off-balance, Aedion swung his stick upwards on instinct, deflecting Rowan’s blow. Rowan let the young wolf hit the next blow, his lips tugging upwards almost against his will. This would be even easier than he had expected.

Rowan made to sweep Aedion’s legs out, but the wolf twisted out of the way just in time, stamping hard enough on Rowan’s stick to snap it in two and simultaneously making to swing his stick right into Rowan’s face.

Rowan ducked, grabbing the two halves of the stick in his fists and going low, swinging at the general’s legs. Aedion didn’t see the move coming, and had no time to react before he was flat on his back, gasping for breath and tears winking in the corners of his eyes as pain arced through the partially-healed wound in his side.

Rowan was already in place, one half of the stick pressed into the male’s throat, the other in his abdomen, a snarl echoing in his throat.

Aedion was just blinking beneath him, astounded. Rowan made sure his words were quiet enough that Aelin, with her human ears, couldn’t hear him. “Your queen gave you an order to stop – for your own good. Because she needs you healthy, and because it pains her to see you injured. Do not ignore her command next time.”

The muscles in Aedion’s jaw flickered, eyes blank.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed, fury licking at his bones. He pushed the sticks in a little bit harder. “And,” he added, “if you ever speak to her again the way you did last night, I’ll rip out your tongue and shove it down your throat. Understand?”

The general’s jaw seemed to relax slightly, the anger fading from his eyes. His words were hardly more than a breath, “Understood, Prince.”

Rowan stood and backed away, then whirled around as a bright, “Hello!” sounded from the doors to the warehouse.

A beautiful woman with piercing green eyes and flowing black hair was striding into the warehouse, her steps controlled and powerful, but not in the way of the warrior. More in the way of the wildcat.

This must be Lysandra.

Rowan relaxed slightly. Lysandra shut the rolling door behind her, boxes and bags in her arms. She moved like a cat too – soft and silent on the cobbles. No wonder Aelin was using her to spy on Arobynn for them.

She took two steps into the warehouse, then stopped in her tracks, her eyes meeting Rowan’s. Before they could do any more than look at each other, Aelin had stepped around him and was grabbing bags from Lysandra’s arms and steering her into to the apartment above.

Within half a minute they were both gone, the door behind them shutting with a soft click. Rowan turned back to Aedion, who was easing himself up from his sprawled position on the ground.

“Is that Lysandra?” Rowan asked.

“Not too bad on the eyes, is she?” The wolf’s eyes flashed.

Rowan snorted. “Why is she here?”

Aedion began prodding his side, checking to see if the stitches were still intact. “She probably has information about Arobynn.”

Rowan held in a grimace, shutting out the name of that bastard assassin to keep it from distracting him too much. “Yet she doesn’t want you to hear it?”

“I think she finds everyone but Aelin boring,” Aedion said, an edge in his voice. “Biggest disappointment of my life.”

But Rowan didn’t care about this arrogant male and his conquests. For the first time in a long time, she had found someone. Not a warrior, not a cousin. Someone she could keep for herself. He smiled, just a bit. “I’m glad she found a female friend.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aedion’s brow furrow, wondering at the change. Rowan let the softness fall from his face, turning his gaze back to the prince. “Aelin’s court will be a new one, different from any other in the world, where the Old Ways are honored again. You’re going to learn them. And I’m going to teach you.”

This was why he was here, he reminded himself. To form the foundation of her court. To make sure it would be strong.

“I know the Old Ways.” Aedion scoffed.

“You’re going to learn them again.”

The general pulled himself off the ground, his shoulders set back as his expression steeled. “I’m the general of the Bane, and a prince of both Ashryver and Galathynius houses. I’m not some untrained foot soldier.”

Rowan gave a sharp nod, a concession. This was a prince – he could not forget. “My cadre, as Aelin likes to call them, was a lethal unit because we stuck together and abided by the same code. Maeve might be a sadist, but she ensured that we all understood and followed it. Aelin would never force us into anything, and our code will be different – better – than Maeve’s. You and I are going to form the backbone of this court. We will shape and decide our own code.”

“What? Obedience and blind loyalty?” Aedion wasn’t taking the olive branch, but Rowan wouldn’t let the sharpness in his tone get to him, not when he was so close.

He felt the weight of his words as he said, “To protect and serve.”

“Aelin?”

Rowan met Aedion’s eyes, and the wolf’s did not quaver. “Aelin. And each other. And Terrasen.”

Aedion held his gaze for another moment before looking away, but Rowan knew that the young demi-Fae understood. That Aedion knew that what they were daring was something that no one had dared for a very long time. If ever. And that their success would require more than just strength or bravery or strategy.

That this precious, fleeting thing could be stronger than iron, than rock, than the very mountains thrust up from the depths of the earth.

But only if they forged it together.

···

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oohnoniall · 3 years

Text

Hawk & Sparrow [Rowan Whitethorn x OC] - Chapter 2

WARNINGS; Fantasy violence, cursing, Mirima doesn’t have self-control and that leads to her burning out a Lot, Rowan avoiding his feelings, Mirima having no idea about her feelings, there’s a lot of feelings being avoided, power dynamics in the relationship.

Prologue.

Chapter 1

A crooked smile stretched on his lips. She could see his sharp canine teeth, see the feral look in his eyes as he peered down at her. There was a bite of cold steel against the tender flesh of her neck. She could feel it digging into her pulse point. The coppery tang of blood in the air.

"I was right," his voice was a whisper. "You weren't good enough. You've never been good enough."

"Rowan," she hated the pleading tone in her voice. Hated the way her eyes burned with tears that she refused to shed.

His forest green eyes peered into hers, a look of malice and something else. She hated it, hated to know that Rowan was looking at her with anything other than his normal cool indifference. This wasn't her Rowan. Not the man who had pushed her and pushed her but a monster that she didn't know.

"Goodbye Mirima."

There was a hot stinging sensation at her throat, his hands on her shoulders like when she was burning out. He shoved her and she fell. Over and over, falling down into the darkest abyss. One that she couldn't see the bottom of.

It was then that she realized what else had been in Rowan's eyes when she had pleaded with him. When he had killed her.

Joy.

Mirima shot up from her bed, gasping for breath as her left hand went to her throat. Nothing. No blood. She wasn't falling off the edge of something. She was still alive. Still in Doranelle, waiting for her one and only opportunity.

The nightmares had been happening more often. She hadn't spoken to Rowan about them. Hadn't wanted to bother him with how useless they were. He would have been too concerned or acted like they were another reason to keep her out of the cadre. He wouldn't have been kind or understanding. Hardass Whitethorn would have been annoyed. Yet, for some reason, the knowledge had calmed her. She didn't feel as though she had to say anything about her problems.

His training was harsh enough that she often forgot whatever was bothering her besides what muscle hurt the worst.

How was she going to deal with any of it while he was away? She had never had to train with someone else. Never had to think about how someone's training might differ from Rowan's.

She had met Fenyrs in passing but that didn't mean she knew him. She thought he was funny and much kinder than Rowan, which wasn't saying much, but she doubted his training would be anything like what she was used to. There was a high chance that he wouldn't know how ... Prone she was to overdoing things. What if Rowan had left that key information out?

Mirima tried not to focus on her anxieties as she readied herself for the day. Her hands were shaking as she brushed out the white blonde of her hair. Her eyes focused on the scar on her left arm as she slid her tunic on, counting each breath as she stared at it. One of the ways Rowan had tried to teach her control. One of the ways that had only worked to calm her mind and not her magic.

She would end up dying by her magic. It would drown her, it would take her under and never release her from its grasp. She didn't mind that. If she was going to die she wanted it to be from her lack of control rather than an enemies' sword. If only so she knew she wasn't a completely hopeless fighter.

She swallowed once, letting it take all of her worries into the pit of her stomach. Another technique of Rowan's that had never actually done more than making her feel stupid. She sometimes wondered if all his techniques were just ways to make her look like a fool.

Mirima slipped a few knives into her belt before making her way out of her bedroom. Her head held high, a haughty smirk on her lips. Everyone in Mistward was used to seeing her as the cocky would-be-warrior. There had never been a reason to let anyone see her differently.

The morning sun had yet to rise over the hills. The clearing that was normally used for her training was flooded with the grey light of early dawn. Before the world changed and turned into something beautiful, something better. The grass was dewy and wet, the world looked as though it had been reborn that morning.

Mirima loved being out there before anyone else. She loved it when she could breathe in the fresh air and not worry about it being polluted by other people yet. Everything felt fresh, clear. She could clear her mind for once. Let go of everything that bothered her. She didn't worry about not being part of the cadre when she was focused on how beautiful the morning looked, how she wanted nothing more than to just be present.

She took one of the knives from her belt, flipping it once in her hand. It was a perfect weight. She could balance it on the tip of her fingers. Rowan had given it to her years ago, on a birthday. One that he'd actually remembered.

The blade itself was made of steel and was almost as long as her forearm, just lacking an inch and a half. The hilt was the most stunning feature. Gold and onyx entwined to create small flowers with tiny rubies making up the center of each. Rowan had said nothing when he gave it to her but she liked to think that it had just reminded him of her in some way. Wishful thinking but Mirima didn't care.

She had to be making some impression on Rowan.

She gripped the knife, her hold mimicking the one Rowan had been trying to drill into her head for years. He often grew frustrated with the way she would go back to what felt natural, showing her just how wrong she was with a sharp tap on her wrist. At that point, she was certain that she was fucking it up if only to see the annoyance in his eyes. She liked that look on him. When he regretted ever giving Mirima a chance when he debated throwing her in a lake because of her mouth.

It was better than when he was fully angry with her.

Her body moved in the fluid motions that Rowan had taught her. Her eyes closing, her knife another part of her arm, her breaths even, the world right for once in her life. Her thoughts were no longer cluttered, just going through Rowan's instructions in her mind had been enough to calm her. She'd never tell him so. He would have been proud of himself or annoyed with her.

Up. Down. Guard your left. Right. Dodge. Roll. Again.

She heard his voice in her head almost as though he was standing right beside her. She relished the feeling, the sensation of knowing that she was doing something right. Something that she would do every single day of her life when she was in the cadre. She would have to thank him one day.

It just wouldn't be any time soon.

A low whistle brought her back to reality. She did not know how long he had been watching but she knew he had seen enough. Mirima straightened her spine, a smug look painted on her face as she turned on her heel.

Fenrys was more handsome than Rowan had ever dreamed of being. His hair was pulled up, with two strands falling pleasantly into his face. His skin was dark and he was slight of build, but the muscles on his arms were well-defined and she could imagine them in the middle of a killing field. While Rowan's face was covered with his tattoo, Fenrys' was mostly clear, his eyes sparkled with mischief and he looked as though he was part of an inside joke with himself.

Mirima hated how much she wanted to impress him. Hated how fun he seemed to be with just that one look.

"I don't see why I'm here," he stated as he peeled himself off of the tree he had been leaning against. "Rowan's got you training on your own already."

A slight blush crossed Mirima's cheeks at this. "Actually, he doesn't know how early I start my day. I didn't think he'd like knowing just how much I tend to ... overexert myself."

"Trust me, Rowan already knows everything that you do," Fenrys stated as he stepped towards her. His eyes trailed from the top of her head to her feet. He was scrutinizing everything that had ever made Mirima. She tried not to think if he was impressed by what he saw or if he was certain that she was useless. A waste of his and Rowan's time. She often feared that they would all see her as a fraud. As someone who would never be welcomed into their ranks. "Rowan's told us all about you. How quick you are to anger, how you refuse to listen to him and go home. He said you've had more burnouts than anyone he's ever met before.

"I know that he thinks you're reckless and that you don't have any sense of self-preservation," Fenrys walked around her, his eyes never once leaving her, as he spoke. There was a tension in him that she didn't expect. "I'm sure that he's found every single weakness of yours and used it against you at this point. Am I correct?"

She bristled at the accusation, her spine straighter than what should have been possible. "He has. Multiple times, in very different ways."

Something sparked in his eyes, something that she had seen once before. When she had looked in her mother's eyes before she had left to deal with the raiders all those years before. It was a mixture of pride and determination. Mirima had never been sure what it meant. She still wasn't.

"Good," Fenrys stopped circling her. "That tells me you don't scare easily. If you can handle quality time with Whitethorn, you're bound to be something. Perhaps not a fit for the cadre, but something we need."

Need. That one word brought forth a strong feeling of hope in her breast. She had never been told that she was needed before. Not for anything that mattered. Doranelle would need her. Maeve would need her. Hellas, even Rowan would need her if what Fenrys said was true. She was going to be exactly what they needed, who they would look up to. Mirima would be the hero that would be in all the stories. She'd show everyone just what a woman could do.

There had been warrior queens and lost princesses but there had never been someone that other girls could look up to. All her life, Mirima had heard tales of men gaining glory and victory. They saved damsels, fought wars in the name of what was true and just. Queen Maeve had always celebrated those men while ignoring the women who could do the exact same. She knew that she could be just as good as any of those men. She could rise up from the bottom and show just who a girl could be.

It was the only thing she'd ever wanted.

"However," Fenrys brought her back down to the world with just one word. "We do need to work on your control. Burning out in the middle of a battle will do you no good. We can't have our sister dying on her first outing."

He grinned at her. Not the feral dangerous grin that she had come to associate with Rowan. It was kind, bright even. Something that made her feel as though she were at home. She wondered what Rowan would say if she told him that she preferred Fenrys' smile. It was perhaps better to keep that conversation in her head.

"How do we do that?"

"Stand in the middle of the clearing," Fenrys instructed her, heading back to his tree. He sat down at the base of it, still and unblinking as though he were just another part of the forest that surrounded them. "I don't want you to do anything. Just stand there and listen. Take in every wingbeat of every insect, every beat of your heart. I want you to try and focus on your heartbeats while you're doing this. Slow, steady. You should be able to make yourself still."

Mirima looked at him for a moment. What in the hell did any of that mean? It sounded like nonsense. Focusing her heartbeats? Slowing them down? How was any of that supposed to help her with her control issues?

While she did question the whole thing, she knew better than to question her trainer. If he told Rowan, she was certain to have a punishment of some sort. Probably laps. Rowan knew how she hated them. She took a deep breath through her nose, disregarding her thoughts of Rowan Whitethorn and the laps he could potentially make her run.

Her eyes fluttered to a close. Every part of her body felt as though this was wrong. She shouldn't have just been standing there. She could have been working on her swordplay. She could have been working on the footwork that she was supposed to be learning. Listening for the bees that were fat with the pollen from the summer flowers was not something she had wanted to do. Why should she care about any of this? She was a warrior, not a farmer.

"Don't think negatively," his voice seemed to float through the air to her. "I can feel it from here. Just relax your mind and do as I've told you."

Mirima did not answer him, knowing it was not what he wanted. She focused on the sound of the wind in the trees. The way the leaves gently rustled together, the branches making a soft creaking noise that she normally wouldn't have noticed. She could hear the sea. So far away, yet always calling to her. The waves crashing along the shoreline. Pebbles scratching against each other when the water moved them. Sand turning to mush, the cry of a seabird. Mirima craved being there, craved feeling the water on her bare feet. Not a day went by that she didn't crave the ocean.

Her fingers twitched, her knife falling to the ground beside her. The water rushing in her ears and making it hard to hear the insects busying lazily by her head or the trees swaying gently in the breeze. Her heartbeat followed the motion of the waves. She could feel it slowing to match the lazy tide of the early morning. It was not an uncomfortable feeling but one that she welcomed.

She had often felt as though her home was the sea. The ocean breathed life into her. She had been blessed with the gift of water and yet, she still didn't know how to control it. Perhaps it was because one could not control water. The sea did not like to be tamed. Just as Mirima hated for anyone to try and control her. It had been so hard to learn to listen to Rowan. To learn to do as she was told. She still hadn't learned that lesson.

A voice spoke softly from somewhere. Her name, softly as though it was poetry. Rowan's face flashed briefly in her mind before being drowned out by another crashing wave.

Her fingers twitched once more. Something cold crept through the leather of her boots, touching her toes.

None of it mattered though. All that mattered was the way the sea was calling to her. The currents dancing for her and her alone. She wanted to be in the middle of it all. She could control the ocean. She could feel it in her bones. She ached to use the power that was deep inside of her. It was as though she could not breathe unless she was in the water, as if her lungs craved water instead of oxygen.

"Mirima," that voice again. Persistent this time. Repeating her name again and again. "Mirima."

"Rowan," she breathed out as a hand grasped her arm. It was not tight enough to be Rowan. It was loose, as though they were afraid of touching her.

"Mirima, come out of it." The voice didn't match Rowan's. Didn't match the person she had put all of her trust in.

It was too much effort to open her eyes, to break her connection to the sea. But she did it.

Fenrys stood in front of her, his hands on her arms and his face more amused than concerned. Her feet were freezing, the breeze smelled differently. The sky had begun to lighten, pink marking the sky in the place of the grey that had filled the valley just a few minutes before. Had it only been minutes? She felt as though she had been there for days.

Slowly, she glanced down to see what was causing her feet to be so cold. Water had seeped up from the ground, a few inches covering the ground that surrounded her. Mirima had no clue how she had done it without thinking. She had no idea what she had done.

Maybe Fenrys was right about something. Maybe his techniques just worked better than Rowan's.

"Well, you weren't supposed to do that," he said, one of his brows quirked upwards. "But I can't say I'm surprised. Maybe next time Rowan makes you do something stupid, you'll be able to channel it."

Mirima rolled her eyes, her arms crossing in front of her chest. "Rowan's training isn't stupid."

"You're making shields of water, aren't you?"

"Yes. But that's integral to keeping control!" Mirima protested. Fenrys only shook his head.

"We don't use our abilities as shields. Well, Lorcan does on occasion but Lorcan's also the worst," he stated as he led her away from the drenched grounds. "Rowan's trying to prepare you for something but I doubt it's the cadre. He has your interests in mind, don't think otherwise." She watched as he grabbed a low-hanging tree branch and hauled himself up. "But that doesn't mean he's going to actually help you get what you want. No one should strive to be one of us."

"What is with the two of you?" Mirima demanded as she hoisted herself to sit on the branch beside him. "It's like neither of you can deal with the idea that a woman can be just as good as you."

"This has nothing to do with your gender. You've got more fight inside of you than most soldiers I know," Fenrys stated as he looked at her. His expression was too full of pity for her to stand. "You could do so much better than all of this."

"No, I can't," Mirima stared out at the clearing, watching as the water drained away slowly. "My gender has everything to do with this. When they see me, they see a woman who should be at home. Having children and mending socks. They don't see a warrior. They don't see me."

He looked at her then, looked at her as though she was something other than a woman sitting beside him on a tree branch. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Mirima had never felt exposed before. Rowan certainly had never looked at her as though she were anything. Fenrys was making her quite anxious, scared that he would run back to the others and tell them all about the woman who assumed she was good enough to be welcomed into their ranks. She doubted any of them would find it within them to want her after her show.

"I should go," she cleared her throat as she moved to drop down from the tree. Mirima landed on the balls of her feet, the squelching sound revealing that the ground had turned to mud. "Kitchen duties."

Mirima did not wait to be released from her training. She turned on her heel and headed back to the fort. She spent the entire walk thinking over everything that Fenrys had seen, everything that he had heard. She was mortified. Speaking like that in front of Rowan was one thing. But Fenrys? That was another. She knew better than to speak her mind around her superiors. She knew better than to leave before her training was over. Yet she had done both. She'd never live this down. She'd just proven that she would never be the type of person they welcomed into their ranks. Fenrys had said they didn't want her.

What was the point of continuing to fight? What was the point of trying to be someone she wasn't? Would Rowan even notice if she was gone when he came back? She doubted it. He'd probably use her absence as an excuse to return home.

As the would-be-warrior walked away from him, Fenrys watched her closely. Even with the sting of humiliation, she never let her shoulders droop. Her hand remained on the hilt of her blade. Her head was held high, no one would ever be able to tell that she was spending her day questioning herself and her choices.

"I see you."

#rowan whitethorn #rowan x oc #rowan whitethorn x oc #rowan is running out of patience #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass oc #mirima floros #mirima is trying #soulmate #are they soulmates or are they both just depressed #fenrys moonbeam

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aelin-queen-of-terrasen · 4 years

Note

"Are you going to be okay?" + "Please stop lying to me" for either Rowaelin or someone from the Cadre (Rowan and Lorcan or Fenrys and Connal)

note: so like, since we need more Lorcan and Aelin brotp fics, I'm gonna do them for this one. hope you don't mind. if you'd like to check out my other fics, here's the masterlist.

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Lorcan hated how much he was used to Terrasen now, hated how it felt like home more than Doranelle ever had. In the five centuries he had been alive, he had never imagined this is where he would end up. Bloodsworn to a queen of fire and ash, as wild as she was reckless. A queen who actually cared for her people and her court. A queen who no doubt hated his guts ever since that cursed day on the beach. He had nightmares about that gods damned day sometimes, of Aelin being bruised and battered. Aelin may have forgiven him but he couldn't forgive himself.

He had tried to avoid her as much as he could, didn't want to get close to the wicked queen and had done a good job at keeping away from her until today.

"You're sure there's no one else who can do this?" he asked, hesitant.

Emrys, the cook, quirked an eyebrow at that. The storykeeper had a bowl of steaming soup in his hand. "Prince Rowan isn't here and she's sick. Do you want to be the one to tell him why I let just some servant into close quarters with her when she was ill disposed?" The man had a point. The Fae part of him wanted to growl at the mere thought of letting anyone near her, not when she was probably passed out.

Lorcan sighed in resignation before he was making his way towards her private chambers, the bowl of soup in his hand. He knocked twice on the door of her private chambers and entered when a muffled voice replied, 'The door's open.' She had likely heard him arrive with her fae senses. He almost wished she hadn't let him in.

He didn't know what he expected but the fire breathing bitch queen hunched over papers, her quarters resembling a trash bin was not it.

She had her head propped up with one hand, another holding a piece of parchment that her eyes skimmed through. She half turned in her seat and gave him a wry smile when she spotted the bowl of soup in his hand. "First my bloodsworn warrior, now my personal servant? I'm impres—" the words were cut off by a sneeze, then another and another in quick succession.

She rose from her seat, then flicked a hand in dismissal. "Thank you. You can leave now." But then she was stumbling, eyes half shut and Lorcan barely caught her in time.

She righted herself soon, pulling away from him. Her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold outside, face uncharacteristically pale and turquoise eyes lacking their usual gleam of wickedness.

He frowned. "Are you going to be fine?" It was a stupid question. The woman was trying to work when she was so sick. She was anything but fine.

"Yeah, just a cold. You'd think after all the shit with Maeve and Erawan, I'd be immune to something as trivial as cold." Her humour failed to hit it's mark when a coughing fit seized her. She said, "You can leave. I'll be fine."

Lorcan didn't know what came over him, only that she was being an idiot and he needed her to rest if she was going to recover. "Stop lying to me! You aren't fine, you should rest." He pushed her back on the chair she had been sitting in, shoved the papers aside and slammed the bowl of soup in front of her. "Finish this."

"I don't—"

"Aelin, finish this now."

Short of using the blood oath to make him leave, there was nothing she could do that would make him leave. Lorcan doubted she'd use the oath and he wasn't leaving until he was sure she was fine, even if she did try to kill him a lot of times. For all he knew, she still did want to kill him.

Aelin grumbled but obeyed. "Damn you overprotective fae bastards."

While she ate, Lorcan drew the curtains shut to keep the cold air out, lit the fireplace when she didn't light it herself and tidied up the bed, making space for her to lay down between all the dresses sprawled on it. He could call in a servant to clean all that up but his fae instincts wouldn't let anyone within a hundred feet of her until he was sure his queen was safe and protected. Whatever reason Lorcan had for taking the blood oath, she was his queen now. It was his duty to protect her.

Aelin was back to working by the time he was done. "You're not working anymore, Aelin. Finish that tomorrow."

"I won't finish in time if I stop now."

"You will," he nudged her to rise. "If it's so important, I'll help you finish. For now, you need to go to bed."

She looked ready to protest and Lorcan was prepared to throw her over his shoulder, then chain her to her bed if that's what it took. Aelin must have known that because she surrendered and moved to lay down in her bed. Lorcan watched her closely should she stumble again. He didn't want to explain to Rowan why and how his wife fell face first onto the floor when the prince returned.

Aelin cocked her head at him when Lorcan moved to pull up the covers. "What, now you're tucking me in? Are you going to kiss my forehead, then sing me to sleep next, father?"

Insufferable, as always. "Can you please stop, Aelin?" he asked.

But of course, she couldn't stop. When had she ever stopped? "You didn't even call me bitch! Look at us bonding together! Elide bribed you into this, didn't she?" A pointed look at that. "You're going soft on me, Salvaterre."

He ignored the jibes, then turned to leave the room once he made sure she was safe and warm. "I'll be right outside, call me if you need something." Then he pulled back, scanning the room for any safety hazards before he left.

Aelin cleared her throat, stopping him with a hand on his wrist. "You don't have to do this. I know you don't like me, it's alright. I understand."

She didn't understand shit. He wished Elide had bribed him into doing this or something so he could claim he was here against his will. He didn't want to care for anyone else, not now, not after all that he had done and seen and lived. Especially not for another queen, one just as powerful—if not more—than Maeve. Sometimes, Lorcan had nightmares about that too—about serving in Maeve's court still, wreaking havoc in her name. He didn't want to end up devoted to this new queen as he'd been to Maeve even if he knew the two of them were nothing alike.

Maybe it was that realisation that made Lorcan want to say it. "I've never said it before, not like this but I'm sorry for what happened with Maeve." His voice wobbled as an image of a blood drenched shirt lying in the sad flashed across his vision. Lorcan steeled himself and went on. Aelin had saved his life and Elide's countless times. He owed her this truth, "...you were a foreign queen, a stranger I didn't care about. Now, Aelin? Now, you're my queen and I promise, oath or no oath, I will always protect you." Then, just to lift the mood, he added with a scowl: "Even if you are a raging pain in the ass most times."

Aelin snorted, nudging him to sit beside her. Hellas damn him, he did. "And here I was, thinking we'd become friends after that speech."

"The only way we'll be friends is if you use the blood oath to do that."

Aelin shot him a glare before she snuggled closer, head resting on his chest as if she was trying to leech off his warmth. "It won't be the worst thing in the world to have you around the palace sometimes, I suppose," she mused, her voice muffled and soft. Lorcan didn't move even when her breathing turned soft and steady, his arm wrapped around her.

He didn't regret a thing until the court returned to find the two of them wrapped in a warm embrace. Needless to say, no one let Lorcan forget about it for the next few weeks.

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note: oof, hope y'all liked reading that. it was fun to write Lorcan and Aelin. Would totally do it again. also, not to self promote but join the 1K celebration if you haven't already!

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