#princess evalin ashryver
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Just Two Heirs: Pt 1
The wedding
Summary: We know Dorian and Aelin could have been betrothed in another universe. Well in this one they are.
A/n: I had an existential crisis. Anyway. Enjoy. It’s pretty long and I haven’t been to a wedding since I was about 10 so I can’t remember what is said. And there will probably be inconsistencies in the characters because it has been a long time since I read the books. Aedion says cuz. Chaorian?? The dialogue is very repetitive.
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Dorian was to be wed to the crown princess of Terrasen.
The betrothal had been planed out since he’d been 11.
His father and Aelin’s parents and the king of Terrasen agreed it was a good decision, one to strengthen ties and secure the succession of both kingdoms.
Never thinking that they would both be marrying someone who was nearly a stranger to them.
But Dorian couldn’t do much to stop it.
Chaol thought he should just go along with it.
“From what I hear she’s quite beautiful, you could do a lot worse.”
But he didn’t get his reputation as an infamous womaniser and heartbreaker for listening to his friend.
But marriage would put an end to his adventures with the women of court. Dorian was many things. But he would not be unfaithful.
She was coming in four days, they would have a week to properly get to know each other before being wed.
Preparations for the biggest social event of the decade were under full swing. Decorations were already being put up, his father had a tailor coming tomorrow to fit him for some new outfits for the ceremony and their honeymoon, wherever they decided to go.
He stared out at the gardens currently being trimmed and cut ready for the visitors. He would go find Chaol, spar with him to take his mind off his future.
Aelin wasn’t quite scared.
More so apprehensive.
In about a week and a half she would walk down the aisle to say her vows and tie her life to that of the prince she’d met thrice.
“You will be fine, darling.” Her mother, Evalin said, watching as Aelin tried on the various dresses in hope one tickled her fancy.
This one was rather revealing, with a deep plunging neckline. She shook her head and it was taken off her.
“I know mother, but I have no idea what to expect, for all I know he could be ugly and horrid.” She knew he wasn’t. Unless he’d majorly changed in the last seven years and the stories she’d heard were wrong, he was extremely handsome and a much loved man.
“All will be well, worse comes to worse, you get divorced after a few heirs are born or you take another lover.”
“Mother.” She moved her hair over her shoulder so the dressmaker could do up the gown. “Surely you are not condoning cheating.”
She took a sip of the wine. “Of course not.”
Aelin turned and looked in the mirror.
This was the one.
It was silk and hugged her curves, the neckline showing a little bit, but not too much, with off the shoulder sleeves that gaped open at her wrists.
“I love it.” She whispered. The dressmaker smiled at her reflection.
“It’s looks wonderful on you, fireheart.” Evalin said. “Everyone is going to love it.”
The carriages had been prepared as Aelin slept. She, her mother and father, her cousin Aedion, and great uncle, the king of Terrasen, would spend the next few days travelling to Rifthold so they could get there in time for the week of celebration that was customary to precede the wedding.
The adults were going in one carriage and the cousins in another.
Aedion wasn’t happy about the marriage. He was fiercely loyal to his cousin and family and would do anything for Aelin. Evalin had taken the boy in after his mother, her cousin, had died and his father had been no where to be found.
But it was no secret amongst the Ashryver Galathyniuses that his father had been fae.
Aelin was fae too. She could shift into an immortal form.
Not that she did it often.
The carriage lurched and so began the journey.
Their first stop was in Perranth. The home of Lord Lochan.
His wife, Marion, was one of Aelin’s nurses but was travelling with them, so she had been happy for the excuse to see her daughter Elide, who was the same age as Aelin.
Aelin pretended not to notice the covert glances between her friend and cousin.
They set off the next morning and stayed at an inn in the Oakwald Forest.
Very few of the guards had slept that night with how unprotected they were.
Then finally, they made it to Rifthold.
The city was bedecked with garlands and decorations everywhere.
People cheered as the procession made its way through the streets to the glass castle. It glinted in the sunlight, massive and casting a large shadow over the city.
The carriage stopped and Aedion jumped out before taking Aelin’s hand and helping her down.
Standing in front of the large doors was the king.
The Galathyniuses walked up the steps and Orlon shook hands with the king.
“It is a pleasure to be here for the joyful union of our kingdoms.” He said.
“Yes, it will be a great one.” The king replied.
Aelin and her family followed the king through the castle and to a dining room, where four people were standing.
Queen Georgina, Price Hollin, a man she didn’t recognise, and her betrothed. Dorian.
At least the reports of his beauty had not been exaggerated.
Midnight black hair and piercing sapphire eyes, cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass, a full mouth and toned body shown off by the cut of his white shirt and black pants.
He looked every bit a charming prince.
“Princess Aelin, my eldest son, Dorian.”
Dorian walked over to Aelin and kissed the back of her hand. “My lady.”
She curtsied to him. “Prince.”
He extended her his arm and when she took it he lead to her a seat down the far end of the table.
He has lovely manners. She thought.
Dorian pulled out her chair, pushed it in and sat to her left.
The other man she did not recognise sat next to him, and Aedion sat on her other side next to Evalin.
“How was your journey?” The prince asked.
“It was well, a bit tedious, but we made it.”
Dorian nodded.
Aedion stuck his head so he could see around them.
“Who are you?” He asked, tone bordering on rude.
The brown-haired man looked at Aelin’s cousin. “Chaol Westfall, captain of the guard, close friend to Prince Dorian.”
Aedion frowned. “You look too young to be captain of the guard.”
Chaol glared right back at him. “I’m 20.”
“Let’s just calm down, okay?” Dorian said, raising his hands. “Prince Aedion, I assure you we are well protected here.”
Aelin looked at Aedion with a brow raised.
Servants brought out dish after dish. Much more than they would serve for only 9 people in Orynth, and only halfway through Aelin felt as though if she ate anymore she would explode.
Dorian seemed to notice this. “Father, do you mind if we leave the table?”
The king remained silent.
It was Orlon who said, “Let them go, enjoy some time together before they get married.”
Both of them stood up, leaving Aedion and Chaol glowering at each other.
Aelin had no clue where Dorian was leading her, but she hoped it was somewhere cool. The Adarlanian summers had a sting to them.
“These are my rooms.” He announced. “And in a week, I suppose yours too.”
He flopped down on a couch and gestured for her to sit opposite.
“I suppose you’re as joyed about his union as I am.” She said.
He raised his brows. “And how joyed are you?”
Aelin felt a blush creep over her cheeks. “Not overly, I would rather marry a man I know and for love, not for the political gain of my family.”
Dorian sighed. “I would too, but there is not much we can do, unfortunately as nobles, how we live and who we marry is predetermined for us.”
Aelin made a snort of agreement.
Dorian lied down so his head was resting on a chair arm and his legs dangled over the other. “We could always divorce once we have heirs and our parents are no longer hounding us.”
Aelin smiled. “That’s almost exactly what my mother said.”
The corner of his mouth lifted and he turned to face her. “Or you never know, maybe you’ll learn to love me.”
She looked at him incredulously and he laughed, the sound and the splitting smile turning him from beautiful into devastating. “Don’t look so disgusted. I have broken the hearts of many a woman, and once a man.”
“That doesn’t mean I’ll give you mine.”
He grinned. “We’ll see.”
The next few days lasted without incident. Dorian and Aelin would go for walks throughout the gardens, or down into Rifthold to allow Aelin to get the feel for her new home, Chaol and Aedion continued their pissing contest, and the king continued to give Dorian disapproving glares, despite the fact he was doing what he had been told.
Aelin slept in a room next to his, which he understood.
He was sleeping in, two mornings before his wedding when there was a knock on the door.
“Who is it?” He called. It would have to be someone trusted or the guards wouldn’t let them in.
“Me.”
Chaol.
“Come in if you must.” Dorian grabbed the pillow from under his head and laid it over his face.
If Chaol was here this early it was not a good sign.
“Dorian.”
“What.”
“Can you remove the pillow.”
He moved it back and sat up, watching his best friend who stood in full uniform, posture ridged and correct. “What can I help you with?”
“Your future in-laws wish to meet with you.”
Dorian’s eyes widened. “Why?”
“Not sure, but I would assume they would want to know you a little bit.”
Dorian sprung out of bed and threw on a shirt, gesturing to Chaol to turn around so he could change his pants.
He froze, one leg halfway in. “My parents… they’re not meeting with Aelin are they?”
Chaol remained staring at the wall as he replied. “I know your mother wishes to speak with her, but I do not think your father cares.”
He finished putting on his pants. “If Aelin does talk with my mother, I want you to get her out of it immediately.”
“Can I turn around?”
“Yes.”
Chaol spun to face him. “You will not be able to separate them for the rest of her life, nor can you keep her from your father.”
“My father is a horrible man, and I want no one to have to go through even a fraction of what I did.” He said, grim determination on his face as he stared down his best friend.
“So please, take her to the library, the bakery, the gardens or stables, anywhere Chaol, please.”
Chaol nodded and the two friends left the room.
Dorian raised his fist to knock on the door of King Orlon’s room. He made eye contact with Chaol, who nodded, and rapped his knuckles on the wood.
The door was opened by Evalin. “You’re here! Come in come in.”
She shut the door in Chaol’s face.
Evalin looked a lot like Aelin. They had the same hair colour and those Ashryver eyes.
Aedion, Orlon and Rhoe all sat around the coffee table. He assumed the casual atmosphere was supposed to ease him, but it just made him more nervous.
“So Dorian, you excited for the wedding?” Rhoe asked, stirring his tea.
Dorian contemplated how to answer that. “I am looking forward to it, it will be something very different that’s for sure, but Aelin seems wonderful from what I’ve gotten to know these past few days, and I think we could make each other happy.”
There you go, he didn’t show resentment for the predicament, he complimented their princess, and he made a statement about how their relationship could go.
Evalin and Rhoe seemed satisfied and nodded with smiles on their faces.
“What do you hope to accomplish once you become king?” Orlon asked.
Shit. It was no longer about Aelin.
“Well, there are a number of things, I would like to smoothen our relationships with other kingdoms, both on Erilea and the other continents. And I wish to help the impoverished, make sure they can afford to eat and live well.”
Orlon nodded. “Very good. Once you marry princess Aelin, where will she fit into this?”
Back to Aelin.
“I’m not sure yet, I she may help me if she wishes to, but her time is her own.”
The king nodded. “Hypothetically, if both of you were to come into your birthrights, so if your father, myself and Rhoe were to die, what would you do in terms of titles and kingdoms?”
Dorian honestly has never thought of that. Even if his father died, there was still Orlon and Rhoe, so he didn’t imagine getting both crowns for years and years.
“I’m not quite sure, I would imagine if say my father died first, Aelin would become my Queen Consort, and then if something happened to the both of you she would also be Queen of Terrasen.”
“And you would also be king consort.”
“Maybe.”
“Would you not just divorce?” Aedion cut in. “Or merge the kingdoms?”
Dorian looked to the prince. “I would not divorce your cousin just for the succession, and combing Adarlan and Terrasen would not be sustainable.”
Orlon smiled. “Good answers, boy.”
Evalin spoke next. “Dorian, we understand this… situation may not be how you envisioned getting married, but we are grateful for your cooperation.”
He nodded.
“You may leave.”
Aelin had to meet with Queen Georgina. She was not looking forward to it.
Considering the rumours of Dorian had been true, she assumed those of his mother would be too, that she was a very vain and self centred woman.
And well,
They were right.
Georgina’s rooms were full of maidens rushing around, getting dressed and things ready for the ceremony.
Aelin sat down across from the Queen consort and wondered how this woman came to be married to the king.
“So, Aelin…” She began. “How do you find my son?”
“He’s nice, sweet, I think he would be a good husband.”
She smiled like they had some kind of inside joke. “That’s how they all start off, before you know it, you’ll be neglected, it’s nice to have options.”
“Options?” She echoed. Why did everyone think that just because she and Dorian didn’t know each other well that they would take other lovers?
“The captain of the guard is rather handsome.”
Aelin fought the urge to cringe and throw herself out the window. She quickly changed the subject. “What colour dress are you wearing?”
“Oh red and gold of course, the kingdoms colours. Much the same as you are wearing Terrasen’s.”
That was true. The gown was lovely and green with silver trimmings.
“Most of the guests will arrive tomorrow, Dorian’s cousins, the princess of Ellywe, some delegates from Wendlyn.”
Aelin nodded. She knew all this. Invites had been sent out 6 months ago.
She, yet again, wondered how many fae would be in attendance. While the fae were not being persecuted, they were still looked down upon, especially by the nobility in Adarlan. She wondered how Dorian would feel if he knew he was engaged to a faerie.
“Where are you thinking of going for your honeymoon?” Georgina asked, breaking the silence. “You will have to decide that soon.”
Aelin nodded once more. “I’m not quite sure yet.”
They sat in silence, watching the maidens and sipping their tea when someone knocked on the door.
One of the ladies in wait opened it and Chaol Westfall followed her.
He bowed to both the women. “Pardon your majesty, but Prince Dorian wishes to see his fiancée.”
Aelin stood up and tried not to run out the door.
“Just a word of advice, Aelin.” She turned back to the queen. “There are many in court who will not be happy with this union. Especially those who wanted to be the one to wed my son, so I would recommend that you always watch your back.”
“Thank you.” Aelin tipped her head and followed Chaol out.
“Where’s Dorian?” She asked.
“The library.” He replied, setting off down the hallway.
“Wait- you have a library?”
He looked at her. “Well, I don’t have one, but yes, the castle does.”
“Maybe I will move here permanently.” She mused and Chaol tipped back his head and laughed.
Eventually they made it too the entrance and Chaol opened the door for her. “I doubt he wants me there, so enjoy.”
She thanked him and set off to find her future husband.
Aelin found Dorian in the romance section, sitting in an armchair. He was holding a book open with one hand while the other rested on the back of the chair.
“I’ve read that book.” She said as way of hello.
He looked up her. “It’s good isn’t it?”
She nodded and noticed this was the only seat in this part of the library.
“I’m surprised though.”
“Why?” He moved over and patted next to him on the chair, an invitation to sit.
Aelin took it and squished in next to him, trying to ignore the heat of his body and where their thighs pressed against each other.
“Because it’s a romance book.”
He raised a brow. “Are you saying that just because I am a man, I cannot read a romance book?”
“No, of course not.” She cried indignantly.
“I’m just messing with you.” He grinned. “I enjoy reading about other people, ones who don’t have the responsibility that comes with a crown.”
“I know the feeling.” She muttered.
“You can borrow as many books as you want, keep a few in your room.”
Aelin’s face broke into a wide grin. “You’re going to wish you didn’t say that.” She jumped up from the chair and pulled Dorian after her. She ran up to a shelf and picked out a book. “Hold this.”
And so that went on for 20 minutes. Aelin would grab books and pass them to Dorian, who would occasionally give his opinion on ones he had read and thought she would like, picking out a few for himself
The traipsed back to their rooms, laughing at the tremendous amount they were carrying.
Chaol stared at them as he followed them back.
“At least you’ve found a common interest.”
“Just because you can’t read doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t.” Aelin called in a sing-song voice.
Chaol’s mouth dropped. “I can read thank you very much, I just don’t have the time to.”
Dorian gave his friend a look that said, you’re gonna have to deal with this for a long while.
When they made it back to Dorian’s room they stacked the books in a corner and grabbed one that the other had already read.
When one came across a plot twist or a funny moment the other would ask which part of the book that was and they would discuss it.
For the first time since coming here, Aelin felt that she could at least be friends with her husband.
Dorian stood on a balcony and watched the procession of guests as they were ushered into the castle, where they would be taken to the hall, in which he would be wed.
He saw the princess of Eyllwe, the crown prince of Fenharrow, his cousin Rolland-who he would need to keep away from Chaol-, a silver-haired fae prince from Wedlyn, a son of the Kaghan, some dukes and lords.
People who didn’t care that two 19 year olds were to be married to near strangers. Even if they had developed a friendship in the past few days.
He sighed and went back inside to the waiting assistants to help him into the clothes he would wear for the ceremony.
“You look stunning sweetheart.” Evalin said, hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “Like a queen of old.”
Aelin smiled and looked in the mirror. The dress was a deep green with silver lining. The stomacher was embossed with patterns and swirls and a full skirt fell to the ground. Her golden hair hung around her shoulders, unbound and in romantic waves.
Her father, uncle and cousin nodded their agreement.
Orlon stood up and walked to Aelin, a wooden box in his hands. He opened it and her eyes widened.
Inside was a beautiful tiara, silver and inlayed with emeralds, perfectly matching her dress.
Her uncle took the tiara in hand and placed it onto her head.
“Wonderful.” He said.
Aelin barely comprehended what happened for the next two hours.
She ate and talked with her family, she tried to ignore the pounding in her heart. She was led to a side room, where she would wait until the hall was full and Dorian was in place at the far end for her to walk to.
Dorian strode down the aisle, his father, mother and brother ahead of him and Chaol, as his best man, behind him.
He stood on his side of the dais in front of the officiant, looking at the hundreds of people gathered.
“Nervous?” Chaol whispered.
Dorian chuckled. “Not quite.” He was more so apprehensive at his impending nuptials.
The doors were thrown open and in walked his bride.
The breath was stolen from Dorian’s lungs.
“Ready?” Rhoe asked.
Aelin nodded. The others had already gone.
She took her father’s arm and they left the side room and walked to the entrance of the hall.
Hundreds of heads turned to see them walk down the aisle.
She was surprised to see a few fae among the crowd, including a male with silver hair and green eyes, a massive dark haired male next to him.
Aelin looked to Dorian.
He was gorgeous is a navy blue jacket and pants, a circlet upon his brow.
Rhoe lay go of Aelin’s arm and kissed her cheek. “I wish you much happiness together.” He shook hands with Dorian and sat next to his wife in the front row.
Dorian took Aelin’s hands in his own. “You look lovely.” He said, just low enough for her to hear.
“You clean up rather well yourself.” She muttered.
Dorian smirked and gave a nod to the officiant.
The grey haired man cleared his throat and began. “Dearly beloved, family, friends and guests, we are gathered here today to mark the joyful union of these two young people. Prince Dorian Havilliard of Adarlan, and Princess Aelin Ashryver Galathynius of Terrasen.”
Aelin almost fell asleep as the officiant went on his rant about how it was an honour to be here to witness this momentous occasion.
She wished he would wrap it up so they could exchange vows, and from the distant look of the assembly, they wished much the same. She locked eyes with Dorian who raised a single brow. Aelin bent her head so her hair would cover her smile.
“Now for the vows.”
Finally
“Dorian, you first.”
Dorian took the ring from Chaol’s outstretched hand and slid it on Aelin’s finger. “I swear to remain faithful and loyal, to cherish and love you, from now until the day I die, I ask you, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, to be my bride.”
“Aelin, do you take Dorian to be your husband, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.”
Chaol passed her the other ring and she took it, slipping it on Dorian, trying to ignore the heat of his hand and the piercing gaze of his blue eyes. “I swear to remain faithful and loyal, to cherish and love you, from now until the day I die, I ask you, Dorian Havilliard, to be my husband.”
“Dorian, do you take Aelin to be your bride, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests, by the power vested in me, I proclaim Dorian and Aelin, husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.”
Shit.
She forgot about this part.
Aelin froze as the gathering clapped and cheered.
Dorian seemed to sense her nerves, cupping the side of her face gently and slowly bringing his lips to hers, it was a light kiss, barely there, the kind that said, you can pull away now if you wish.
But for some reason she didn’t. Instead she put a hand on his forearm and pushed her lips so they were properly kissing.
His lips were soft, gentle.
She’d just gotten ready to move deeper into it when Chaol cleared his throat.
She pulled back, embarrassed, but no one was looking at them. The people at the front were congratulating their parents.
Dorian took Aelin’s hand.
“Ready?” He asked.
Her father had asked that exact word when he walked her down the aisle, now she was leaving with her husband. She nodded, still slightly flustered from the kiss, and together they walked out the hall, everyone watching them now and cheering.
They made it out of the hall and were ushered into a spare room that contained things such makeup, water, biscuits and cheese, and others that it was thought they might like.
“When are we due for the banquet?” Aelin asked.
Dorian took a sip of water. “They’ll come get us when everyone is seated, then we just walk to the head of the table and then we eat.”
She took a deep breath. “Easy enough.”
Dorian out down the glass and walked over to her. “You okay? You seem anxious.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine, it’s just, this, I guess. We’re married know y’know? We will spend the rest of our lives together.”
“Tune down the excitement would you?” Dorian smirked.
Aelin looked up at him. “I’m so overjoyed, Dorian, you are just so incredible and beautiful, it is truly an honour to be your wife.”
“That’s more like it.” He grinned.
She rolled her eyes.
When did he get so close?
Indeed Dorian was now leaning over her. “Aelin.”
“Hmm?”
Just like at the ceremony he cupped her cheek, and leant down. “You okay?” He breathed, the double meaning was there, was she okay with him kissing her.
“Yes.” The word was barely there as Dorian kissed her, wasting no time with gentle brushes, sinking into the kiss, lips and tongues moving together.
Aelin had kissed a few boys before, but none of them had been as skilled as her husband. She moaned softly into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies flush against each other.
Dorian pulled back. “Do you-”
The door was flung open and Chaol strode in. “They’re ready for you.” He took in the compromising position, the flushed cheeks and swollen lips. “Shit- sorry… I’ll just… be outside...” He shut the door leaving the two royals.
They remained quiet for a beat before Aelin burst out laughing, Dorian following soon after. They straightened their clothes and crowns and walked out, both avoiding Chaol’s stare.
It seemed that the party had gotten underway when they were gone, people drinking and chatting and laughing, but they all turned to watch the newlyweds walk to their place.
Two seats that were like thrones sat at the far end of the middle table, usually this spot would be reserved for Dorian’s father, but today he and his wife were more important.
He held Aelin’s hand as she sat and flopped down next to her, trying to ignore the raging within him to kiss her again and continue what they started.
The entrees were served.
Dorian was bored
The mains were served.
Dorian was bored.
This was his wedding, surely he should be able to do what he does at all parties, get drunk and take a girl to bed, and he knew exactly what girl he wanted.
The one sitting next to him. With her round green eyes and gorgeous hair, the bare shoulders that begged to be bitten. If she would let him. He watched her from his peripheral, trying to find some indication she was as agitated as he was.
But she seemed to be perfectly happy, chatting with the princess of Eyllwe.
It was going to be a long night.
Aelin could feel Dorian’s heated stare as she talked with Nehemia.
The young princess had come on behalf of her parents, and said that the ceremony had been beautiful, if a bit long.
The song the band was playing changed and Nehemia grabbed Aelin’s hand. “I love this one!”
They danced together for the duration of the song, ignoring the glances of the other people.
Once it ended in favour of something slower, she headed back to Dorian, a flush over her cheeks.
He took a sip of his wine. “Did you enjoy yourself?” He asked.
Aelin grinned. “Very much, thank you.”
He watched her with such intensity she felt the flush creep back up, but for an entirely different reason.
“May I have this dance, highness?” Dorian’s cousin Rolland stood next to to Aelin’s chair, hand outstretched.
She didn’t even glance at Dorian as she took his hand and he led her onto the dance floor. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked.
She ignored that those were almost the exact same words Dorian said. “I am.”
He looked a fair bit like Dorian, the same hair colour, same face structure, but where the heir’s made him look beautiful and welcoming, his cousin’s was hard and serious.
The song ended and Rolland went to get drinks from the bar.
A woman Aelin had never seen before approached her.
She had dark hair and a face that seemed permanently sketched in a scowl. “So you’re Dorian’s wife.”
“Considering I just married him, yes.”
A cruel smile pulled at her lips. “We used to be a thing, he and I, he claimed he loved me.”
Aelin has seen the jealous types in court before, the women who think they have some claim to a man with a title. She had to deal with a fair few who wanted to know everything about Aedion, is he dating anyone? Does he prefer blondes or brunettes? Aelin always tried to avoid those interactions.
“That’s nice.” She said, tight lipped smile that said she didn’t want to be here. She turned to head back to her husband and ask just who this woman was.
“He’ll tire of you like he tired of me.” The woman said. “Everyone knows it is an arranged marriage, you won’t last long in his bed, he’ll favour some younger thing.”
Aelin turned back to her. “I have no intention of letting that happen, I plan to stay exactly where I am.”
She didn’t intend for the innuendo that she was in Dorian’s bed, but it caused the woman’s face to redden.
“He won’t love you, he doesn’t love anyone.”
Aelin’s gaze narrowed. “Or maybe he just doesn’t love you.”
Dorian watched Rolland dance with his wife with barely restrained rage.
When his cousin left to the bar he breathed a sigh of relief, until he saw just who approached Aelin.
Kaltain.
Aelin walked over to one of the other tables where Aedion sat.
He made the move to head over there before Kaltain intercepted him. He suppressed the urge to groan.
“Dorian.” She purred.
He nodded. “Kaltain.” Despite what she probably told Aelin, they’d never been in a relationship, though she’d made her intention on the matter clear from the beginning.
“Just had a… lovely chat with your bride.”
“I bet you did.” He muttered, gaze tracking to where Aelin was now dancing with Chaol. Bastard. He was supposed to be his friend.
“Dorian, listen if you ever want-” she placed her hand on his bicep.
“No sorry, I’ve got to go.” He extracted himself from her grip and stalked over to Chaol and Aelin.
Aelin tipped her head back and laughed. “No way you fell.”
Chaol grinned. “I did.”
The captain spun her and she saw Dorian striding for them.
Chaol pulled her back to him.
“May I dance with my wife?”
Chaol frowned at his friend. “The song hasn’t finished.”
Aelin extracted herself from his arms. “It’s fine.”
Dorian pulled her to him, placing one hand firmly on her waist.
“Who was that woman that spoke to me?” She whispered.
“Kaltain Rompier. Her father is a lord, she’s been pursuing me for years.”
“Oh.”
“How’s the wedding?” He asked.
Aelin shrugged. “It’s alright, I think it’s a bit over the top, but I do appreciate all the planning and decorum.” She yawned, a hand over her mouth.
“Bored?” He raised a brow.
“Out of my mind.” She replied in a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s been three hours since the ceremony, surely we can leave now.”
Dorian laughed and his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “We could probably sneak out, the novelty of the wedding has worn off, everyone’s just using it as an excuse to get drunk.”
Aelin shivered. “Someone could see us.”
She could hear his smirk as he replied. “And? We’re sneaking off after our wedding, something married couples usually do.” He drew out the last words so she knew exactly what he meant.
“Dorian.” She hissed.
“What?” He grinned down at her. Devastatingly beautiful.
Aelin’s breath hitched and she quickly averted her gaze. “Nothing.”
“We can leave if you want to, Aelin.” The seriousness in his tone surprised her.
His blue eyes held such severity she found herself at a loss for words. “I-”
“Dorian! Aelin!” Came a shout from the other side of the room.
They both turned to find it was his father.
Dorian looped Aelin’s arm through his and they weaved through the dancing couples.
“Father.”
“Children I would like you to meet Rowan Whitethorn.” Aelin didn’t particularly like how he called them ‘children.’
A fae male stood in front of them. He was the one with silver hair that Aelin had seen at the ceremony.
Rowan bowed to them.
“You’re fae.” Aelin said.
Rowan nodded. “Prince of Doranelle.”
“Whitethorn came to see the wedding on behalf of Queen Maeve.” Aelin detected a bitterness in the king’s words, she remembered that he held a dislike for faeries.
“Nice to meet you.” Dorian shook the male’s hand. “My wife and I thank you for coming.”
Rowan nodded. “It was a lovely ceremony.”
“How long are you staying in Adarlan?” Aelin asked.
“Just a few days. Then I have to meet with the witches.”
Witches. The blue-blooded men-eating women who primarily kept to the mountains. Aelin hoped she’d never have to cross paths with one.
They discussed a few more things with Rowan before he excused himself, as his massive friend was about to punch a lord.
Of course that left them alone with Dorian’s father.
Aelin could feel the tension in her husband, so she took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“I hope the both of you have enjoyed the wedding.”
Aelin nodded. “We appreciate all the planning that has gone into it.”
Aedion sauntered over to the couple. “Can I talk to you two?”
Aelin nodded and they left the king.
“What is it?” Aelin asked.
“When’s an acceptable time to leave the party?”
“You came to ask me that?” Aelin hissed.
Aedion ran a hand through his hair. “Well yeah.”
Aelin glared at her cousin. “I suppose you can go.”
Aedion clapped Aelin on the shoulder. “Thanks cuz.” He took the hand of a dark haired woman and they walked out.
“You know, if he left, we probably can.” Dorian suggested.
Aelin sighed. “I’m ready to leave.”
The prince took her hand and they snuck out of the ballroom.
They were giggling as they ran up the stairs to Dorian’s tower.
“What’s it like being married?” Aelin asked.
Dorian shrugged. “Not much different, but I know have to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Yes, but I’m fantastic.” Aelin grinned.
Dorian stopped and brought her hand to his lips. “Of course you are my dear.”
Aelin watched him kiss her hand. “You sound sarcastic.”
The prince pulled her to him, pressing their bodies flush. “Never in my life have I been more serious.”
“You’re a shameless flirt.” She chastised, but her heart wasn’t in it.
“Unapologetically.” Dorian tapped her nose with his own.
Aelin’s gaze dropped to his lips, just centimetres from her own. She slowly, so slowly, brought them so she was kissing him.
When she moved to deepen the kiss, Dorian groaned, taking her face in his hands and backing her onto the bed.
They spent the night doing the things married couples usually do. Thankfully Chaol wasn’t there to get in the middle of it this time.
Aelin woke up sore and warm. It took a couple of seconds to realise it was because Dorian’s arms were wrapped around her waist. She carefully shifted around to face him.
His inky hair was soft as she brushed it back from his forehead, mussed from her running her figures through it last night, fading pink scratches marred his biceps.
Dorian groaned as he opened his eyes. “It’s too early for this.”
“For what?” Aelin asked.
Dorian did a double take as he remembered the night previously.
The Princess of Terrasen- his wife- looked back at him, golden hair spread around her shoulders, the green eyes rimmed in gold looking back at him.
“I thought you were Chaol.”
“And why would Chaol be in your bed?” Aelin questioned.
“No, that’s not what I meant.” He groaned, flopping back. “I thought he’d woken me up.”
“By brushing the hair out of your face?”
Dorian grabbed the pillow and lightly hit Aelin in the face with it. She laughed, and wacked his bare chest.
“Ow.”
“It’s a pillow, it doesn’t hurt.”
Dorian sat up, a shit eating grin on his face. “Want to test that theory princess?”
Aelin scrambled for the other side of the bed, giggling. “No.”
Dorian grinned as he crawled, naked, across to her. “Come here wife.” He pinned her to the mattress.
Aelin shuddered. Dorian grinned, kissing her deeply.
He just got ready to take her again when the door was banged against.
“Who is it?” Aelin called.
“Me.”
“Go away Chaol.” She yelled back.
“You two need to leave for your honeymoon.”
Dorian groaned. Great.
Aelin slipped out from under him and started getting dressed. “Just think, two weeks with no Chaol.”
That snapped Dorian to attention, as he hurried to get in his clothes.
Once they were ready they walked out, hand in hand.
They’d chosen to go to one of the family’s beach front houses, there was a small town near it that Dorian claimed did the best seafood.
Both the Galathyniuses and the Havilliards gathered to wave goodbye to the newlyweds.
They set off in the carriage, smiling nervously at each other, at this new life.
That last line was really cringy. Sorry.
#just two heirs#dorian x aelin au#sarah j maas#throne of glass#tog fanfic#throne of glass fanfiction#aelin galathynius#aelin ashryver galathynius#dorian havilliard#chaol westfall#rowan whitethorn#manon blackbeak#elide lochan#fenrys moonbeam#aelin x reader#dorian x reader#dorian x celaena#I tagged the x reader tags to try and get to the fanfic sides
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𝐀𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐲𝐧𝐢𝐮𝐬
ENTJ
Gryffindor
Chaotic Good
Aries Sun, Taurus Moon, Gemini Rising
*spoilers for the throne of glass series*
Formerly known as Adarlan's greatest assassin, Celaena Sardothien, Aelin is the last surviving member of the Galathynius bloodline. Her parents, Rhoe Galathynius and Evalin Ashryver, died in their kingdom of Orynth, with Aelin in between them in bed.
As a young girl, she ran away from her home to escape the King of Adarlan as he brought her kingdom to its knees. She was found by Arobynn Hamel the king of the assassins (who had been entranced by the ghost of Elena). He gave her two choices: to train with him and become an assassin or to live on the streets.
Throughout her life, Aelin hid her true identity, from everyone.
At the age of sixteen, she was sent to Skull's Bay with Sam Cortland (another assassin and boy she grew up with) to enact a deal with the pirate lord. However, when finding out it was a slave deal, she and Sam set them free.
In retaliation, Arobynn beat her badly and sent her to train with the Silent Assassins in the Red Desert where she learnt more about herself than anything else. On her journey there, she met Yrene Towers in a run-down pub and taught her how to defend herself, as well as leaving her with a sack of coins. During her time in the Red Desert, she met Ansel of Briarcliff.
When Celaena/Aelin came back to Rifthold, she realised her feelings for Sam, and after a while, they decided to leave Arobynn's assassin's guild.
Arobynn did not like this. And within a few months, Sam was dead and Celaena was sent to Endovier's salt mines for avenging her lover's death.
That's how she came to be the king's champion. The king's son, Dorian, chose her as his champion. After surviving the trials and tribulations sent her way, she signed a contract and agreed to be in the king's survive for four years. To do his bidding.
Celaena and Aelin are the same woman but have slightly different personalities. Celaena is more sly, cunning, and willing to use whatever means necessary to achieve her goals. She's independent and seeks out trouble.
Aelin has a lot of responsibility to carry, she's a fae princess and the last of her line in succession. Although when she claims her original name, she has matured, Aelin starts to think before she acts.
This woman is one of the most powerful beings. Going head to head with gods and goddesses themselves, she's fallen through worlds and won wars.
#witchthewriter#aelin#aelin fancast#aelin galathynius fancast#aelin fireheart#celaena sardothien#celaena sardothien fancast#witch the writer's moodboards#headcanons#aesthetic#moodboard
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|| A Heavy Name || Throne of Glass One-Shot ||
(Where: the new Heir of Terrasen struggles with cursive G’s, the eyes of people long gone, and holding up her mother’s name)
Adele, Age 8
Adele Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius wishes for a shorter name. Her hand cramps, fingers occasionally spasming, as she signs her name over and over and over, over, over…
She works to perfect her handwriting, to get accustomed to the long loops and scrolls. She’s sometimes taken to signing with a simple AAWG, but Uncle Darrow, the old badger, says princesses of Terrasen wield their powerful names.
What the sword won’t do, the name can.
Adele glares over her shoulder to the portrait of Uncle Darrow that hangs beside old king Orlon. Adele shakes her practice sheet at Uncle Darrow’s stern, always watching picture as if to say, See? I’m not cutting corners!
Adele peaks at Orlon, then. For some reason, she’s always afraid to fully look the painting in the eye. Beside him, Grandfather Rhoe. Then, Grandmother Evalin. She looks like Mama, but younger. She has the same eyes as Mama, maybe softer, less…wild. Adele looks away from Grandmother Evalin too, not able to think about Mama not having a mama. She stops looking at what she calls the Big Pictures–faces of the dead–and moves her gaze to the smaller frames along the hearth’s shelf, to the pocket sized portrait of her younger brother, Arryn. He’d just cut his own hair, and the golden strands spiked in different directions. Adele giggles. He looks awful, and the squiggle of a mustache she’d drawn over his lip has yet to be noticed.
Uncle Darrow seems to frown down at her, then. She can hear him telling her to get back to work. Adele rolls her green eyes, but practices and practices until her handwriting is perfect. She must be perfect. Not just a princess of Terrasen, but Heir of Aelin Firebringer. Heir of so many people. There are so many eyes, waiting and watching.
Adele messes up her G, again. She always messes up the G of Galathynius. She starts a new line, from her first name, and goes and goes, her little hand straining to hold the quill, straining to make it to the end.
She loops the G in the wrong direction.
“Rutting G!”
Adele likes to curse when she’s alone, and she spits the word Uncle Aedion taught her again and again. Her chest heaves and she pants, tearing the paper in half, shredding it to pieces, and splits them until she holds confetti.
Until she holds burning paper in too small hands. Ashes fall between her fingers, her palms unable to keep all that she holds, all that she burns.
She doesn’t often cry. Adele is a princess, Heir of Fire–she is strong.
But, she weeps. The blooming flame in her hands rutting scares her. She can’t put it out. She shakes her hands. She blows, but her breath is shallow and shaking.
Adele screams. Screams at her hands, at the fire, at the G’s she turned to ash and stomped beneath her feet. Her handheld fire blooms and grows. “Rutting stop!” Adele screams at her open, unburnt palms.
And then cool, soft but calloused hands, close over hers. Water meets her fire until there’s no more smoke, but steam. They are the most familiar hands in the world. Scarred and calloused; nimble, long fingers prone to playing a haughty tune on the pianoforte. Cool to the touch. Patient. They keep holding Adele’s, hers sweaty and clammy.
Adele doesn’t look up. Her chin dips to her chest as tears roll down her face, her nose.
Fingers catch her tears–cool, calloused, familiar. “Why do you cry, Fireheart?”
Adele sobs at the name. Exhausted, head splitting, she relinquishes to her mother’s embrace and nestles into the space between chin and breast. The safest place in the world, as if Mama’s body had been carved to fit Adele’s.
“Because,” Adele hiccups, “I’m not perfect.” Another hitch of uneven breath, then, “And it makes me feel lost.”
Mama grips Adele, tight and warm. She smells like the embers of a home’s hearth, like jasmine and wind. Adele presses her nose to her mother’s skin, clinging to the comfort.
When Mama pulls away just slightly, just enough so that their eyes meet, Adele looks away. Mama has none of it. Her palm cups Adele’s cheek, bringing them face to face. Turquoise and gold meet pine green. Soft meets sorrow. Mother sees daughter.
“Perfect,” Mama’s warm, fiery tone says, “can go to rutting hell.”
A knowing gleam shines in Mama’s eyes, perking the corner of mouth. Adele laughs nervously, but Mama laughs with her, hands still holding Adele’s flaming face from the crying. And the magic.
Mama’s finger tilts Adele’s chin up again, and this time Adele really looks at her. She wonders if she looks like her, or if Adele takes more after her father. Her cousins tease her that she’s too serious. A courtier from Mellisande had once pinched her cheeks and told her to smile more. Has anyone ever dared pinch the cheeks of Aelin Ashryver Galathynius? Adele holds the ends of her mother’s long, gold hair in a fist and wonders if she’ll wear that queenly, beautiful face one day. If she’ll carry grace and mischief as well as Aelin of the Wildfire. Adele knows the stories–well, just some. Just the ones from the shelves she could reach. Which, Adele knows, are the least interesting shelves in the Library of Orynth. She’ll have to start climbing to the higher, dustier shelves where the real stories are waiting for her. There’s a book up high that has Mama’s name on the spine. It ripples with red and gold and blue, as if a living flame wraps the pages. Another book beside it, The Walking Dead, doesn’t sound nearly as interesting as the one about her own mother.
Mama raises her brows slightly and looks down her lashes at Adele–a look she knows means to listen, and listen good. She’s the prettiest lady in the whole wide world.
“If I cared about being perfect,” Mama says softly, and a moment passes where her eyes cloud, as if she’d gone very far away. Adele doesn’t know what to call that look, that distance in her mother’s eyes, but she feels it. “I wouldn’t be me. And I,” her mother quirks a conspirator’s brow at Adele, the light in her eyes shining once more, “am rutting wonderful.”
Adele laughs again.
Her mother leans down to wiggle their noses together. “You are wonderful, my girl. No matter what you do, to whatever end, I will be the voice that never lets you forget it. I want nothing from you, Fireheart, other than to be completely yourself.”
“What if I’m not like you?”
Mama props Adele onto her feet so that she stands. Mama kneels before her, and Adele wonders if anyone in the world has ever seen Aelin on her knees. Adele knows she’s just a child, that there are things she doesn’t know, but she cannot imagine it–her mother, the strongest, most powerful person to ever exist, who Adele worships like a god–on her knees. But, Mama does kneel. Now, before Adele. Though she only meets the top of her mother’s head, Adele wonders if she’ll ever stand as tall as her.
“Then I’ll be glad for it.” Mama’s eyes flash and she almost looks like an animal from Oakwald with the intensity seeping through her, like fire taken skin. “Be yourself. Let yourself discover who that is. You do not belong in my shadow, Fireheart. You are the torch I carry.”
Mama catches a rogue tear, and something ripples across the surface of her face. Adele has only ever seen her mother cry at the birth of her brothers and baby sister, but she almost does now. Her eyes, the same as Grandmother Evalin and Arryn’s, mist.
“I was your age when…” Mama trails off, distant again, lost in thought as her gaze roams every inch of Adele, as if memorizing her, as if remembering something.
A breeze passes through the study though no windows are open. It smells like winter and Yulemas, and Adele instantly perks. She feels joy in her chest, a spark of belonging and home. Mama’s eyes flutter in that same joy Adele must be feeling.
Mama continues, having found the strength she needs, and says, “I was your age when a lot of people made me feel like I was wretched and horrible. The world hated me for a long, long time.” Mama smirks. “Someone always will.”
Adele balks at the idea of anyone even remotely disliking her mother, but Mama nods as if to say it’s the truth. “Let no one ever, ever make you feel that way. Not even me. No, you’re not perfect. You are my daughter.” Mama combs her fingers through Adele’s hair. “Which means, you’re bound to be misunderstood, to make mistakes. You are my daughter, which means, you’re bound to always get up again.”
They lean their brows together, and Mama whispers, just for Adele, “You are the greatest thing that ever happened to me.” Then, louder, “And you can tell your nosy, nursemaid father I said that.”
A deep chuckle sounds from the far ends of the study. Another winter wind that reminds Adele of all her favorite memories drifts to them. It combs through her hair, and Adele can feel Papa’s phantom hands, bigger than her head, bigger than any problem or tear.
Mama squeaks, jolting as if something had pinched her, and laughs as she throws a glare towards where Papa still lingers in the dark somewhere.
Before they get up to join him, her mother pulls her into one more tight embrace. Her arms are solid and muscled, and they hold Adele like precious jewels.
Mama whispers, “We carry a heavy name. Bear it however the rutt you want.” She leans back, eyes shining. “Now, let’s discuss your copious use of curse words.”
Adele shrieks, running away.
#lil one shot I had stuck in my head#mom!aelin#sneaky taylor Swift lyrics if you squint#throne of glass#throne of glass fic#aelin galathynius#aelin ashryver galathynius#rowaelin#rowaelin babies#heirs of terrasen#tog#tog fic#next gen tog#next gen throne of glass
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The Assassin And The General
Word count: 2,469
Warnings: it’s still pretty angsty. Language, some violence, mentions of more violence/blood/death/Arobynn, grief, and some other painful things. But also Aedion! Yay!
Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aedion Ashryver wrapped his fur-lined cloak around himself and waited, eyes trained on the rolling hills that marked the border between Adarlan and Terrasen. He’d been oddly silent since moving himself and half the Bane out here, as if he were searching his mind for what he remembered of Terrasen’s only surviving direct heir to the throne. He was so young when the plague swept through Orynth, a boy of only eleven to Aelin’s nine years. They were practically siblings, raised together from the day Aedion arrived in his Fae father’s arms, barely a year old, and was welcomed into the Galathynius family. He and Aelin had been the terror of the castle together, her quick mind and his penchant for strategy combining to create a never-ending stream of pranks.
And then the plague struck.
Aedion and Aelin both had escaped illness, but Rhoe and Evalin had not. The children had stayed by their bedside near constantly, Aelin suddenly turning more serious than he’d ever seen her be, pleading with her parents to recover, to stay, to ascend to the throne like she knew they were destined to do. King Orlon had fallen ill as well, earlier. His illness was brief, so ravaging that there was little the healers and doctors could do beyond easing his pain. The king of Terrasen had died peacefully in his sleep, his pain numbed by a tonic from one of the healers. Everyone had thought that Rhoe would ascend to the throne after an appropriate mourning time, him being next in line, and then he and Evalin fell ill. Their illness...lingered. It broke Aedion’s heart to see little Aelin pleading with her parents, to see her parents reassuring her that they would be okay when everyone knew, after a certain time, that they would not recover.
Only a few days before they passed, Rhoe and Evalin called Aelin into their rooms alone. She emerged crying, but carrying herself with the posture of a crown princess. That night, she’d told Aedion that she was going to be the queen. She’d cried, the pain of watching her parents leave this world and the fears of what becoming queen would involve crashing over her, and he’d just held her through her sobs. When she’d calmed down, Aedion knelt to face her, holding up his dagger, and sworn his eternal loyalty to her, slicing the blade across his palm to seal the vow.
Eyes red, back straight, Aelin had accepted his blood oath, slicing the blade across her own palm to seal their bond in shared blood.
Unconsciously, Aedion rubbed his thumb across the scar on his palm. Where the hell are you, Aelin?
~
Celaena had planned every step of her journey into Terrasen meticulously, from the supplies she needed to the cover story she’d spread. Arobynn needed to be convinced that she was following his orders, or...
She stopped the thought of what could happen if Arobynn wasn’t convinced before she could think it.
As far as everyone in her unit knew, Captain Sardothien had heard rumors of a group approaching the Adarlan-Terrasen border, and she’d headed off to investigate. If she found anything, there’d be no trace by the time she returned. So far, that story was enough to keep Arobynn’s leash from tightening, so she stuck with it and prayed to whatever gods existed that it held.
Pack strapped to her back, weapons tucked into every holster on her uniform and hidden in her boots, her sleeves, her thigh sheath, Celaena pulled her heavy winter gear on over her leathers, formally left Nox in charge during her absence, and headed out, soon vanishing into the hills that rippled across the Adarlan-Terrasen border. The landscape was quiet, almost serene, the greens and grays and browns blanketed with snow. Early spring had only just begun to spread across the Staghorn Mountains, pockets of green beginning to appear from beneath the winter’s coverings, and the air, though fresh, remained bitingly cold. She wore her Fae form, the immortal body allowing her to cover far more terrain in a shorter time than her human form, and as she ran through the hills, the landscape blurring past, she felt...joy. She felt free for the first time in years, free to run through the starkly beautiful mountains in her Fae body, free to run towards her cousin, towards her homeland, towards the promise of shattering Arobynn’s spell.
Not quite two hours into her journey, she felt it. She’d crossed into Terrasen. Unbidden, an ancient, depthless well of fire surged within her, the iron fist that had become her magic’s constant companion thrown aside.
And Celaena burned with her flames, releasing the wildfire in a tiny, contained bubble of gold, allowing her fire to break free for the first time in years. Alive with the rush of controlling her power on her own, Celaena closed her eyes, speaking to the fire that lived within her. Tendrils of burning reds and oranges and golds snaked up her arms, caressing her skin, weaving into a circlet of living flame around her brow.
Hood thrown back, the crown of fire burning brightly on her red-blonde head, Celaena Sardothien traced a finger down an old scar on her palm, reaching out for an old blood bond that would lead her to someone she hadn’t seen in ten years. Someone who could help her bring Arobynn’s unholy spell crashing down on his worthless, cruel head.
Aedion Ashryver. Feared general of the Bane. Her bloodsworn cousin.
The blood oath, dormant for so long, shifted, tugging her faintly to the east. So Celaena turned eastwards, crown of flames blazing, and headed off to bring Erilea’s tyrant to his death.
~
She scented the small camp before she saw it, the unmistakable odor of a squadron of men carried to her immortal nose on a soft breeze. Wrinkling her nose, she strode forward, soon approaching the sentry standing at the edge of the camp. Poor little fellow took one look at her Fae body, at the burning gold ring in her eyes, at the crown of flames ringing her head, and sprinted into the camp, looking as if he’d piss himself at any minute.
Celaena chuckled to herself, sauntering into the camp bold as brass. After all, she technically had the authority to enter any of Terrasen’s military camps as she pleased, her being the heir apparent. Aelin being the heir apparent.
Booted footsteps crunched in the snow behind her, faltering as they drew near. She turned, meeting the emotion-choked gaze of a man with eyes twin to her own, a man who took one more hesitant stride forward and fell to his knees, tears pooling in his eyes.
“Aelin,” Aedion breathed, her name settling over her like a familiar blanket.
“Aedion,” she whispered, her voice threatening to break despite her best efforts.
He crushed her against his chest in a heartbeat, his strong, familiar arms wrapping around her. She returned his embrace just as fiercely, careful not to let her wildfire crown singe him. His pulse thundered in her pointed ears, the joy and relief and a hundred other emotions of reuniting with her setting his blood afire.
“I thought you...I thought...” He trailed off, unable to form the words.
“I’m very much alive,” Celaena--Aelin--reassured him, grasping his hand in comfort. “I left Orynth to avoid being taken in by the advisors.”
He shuddered. “A wise decision. Here.” He held open a tent flap. “We can talk here.”
“No one would disturb the general in his private tent?” she smirked, raising an eyebrow. Fuck, she knew.
“No indeed!” he smirked right back.
She chuckled, the sound so achingly familiar yet so changed with age, and seated herself in one of the two chairs, letting her wildfire crown fade away. “So Aeds, what do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“Specify,” she deadpanned, folding her hands.
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Tell me--tell me where you went, all those years ago, and then we can talk about the spell.”
So she told him how she traveled to Rifthold, how she ended up in the Assassins’ Keep, how she was trained--all of her training, the beatings and the missions and the agony she endured at Arobynn’s hands--how she went to the Academy on her own time and money to learn about her wildfire, how she was so, so beyond lucky that she’d learned to lock the power away and display only an ordinary fire gift.
“If he knew, if anyone knew, I’d be dead.” Simple, cold fact.
And she told him of her spying on Arobynn and his inner circle, how she’d figured out their plans before they acted, how she was helpless to resist once the spell slammed into place, leaving Arobynn master of all the magic-wielders within the spell’s confines.
“So where are the borders?” Aedion asked, peering at the notes she spread across his desk.
“Here.” Aelin traced the lines she’d inked, the outlines of the massive region which Arobynn controlled, the area where his unholy spell was active. “It stops at the Wastes, at the sea, at the edge of Eyllwe, and here at the Terrasen border.”
“Why Terrasen?” It was a logical question. “Why doesn’t it extend into Terrasen?”
“No pillars,” Aelin replied, tapping the marks she’d made at the corners of the spell. “He cast the spell so its pillars were the ancient temples, and--”
“And there aren’t any ancient temple ruins in Terrasen,” Aedion finished, his general’s mind catching on.
“Exactly.”
“So you’re planning to take out the temples?”
“One by one.” Fire sparked in Aelin’s eyes. “Or all at once, if we had the numbers to do it. But no, it’ll have to be one by one. Or at least...” She trailed off, speculative.
“At least one of the northern ones before striking at the one in Rifthold?” Aedion asked.
Her eyes jerked to his. “How--”
“Take out the center, and the borders will fail.”
Aelin’s eyes welled up, hearing her father’s gentle wisdom in her cousin’s voice. “Yeah.” She sniffled. “Gods, I forgot you studied with...with Father.”
“Taught me near everything I know,” Aedion murmured. “Right. So what’s your grand plan, Ae? You can’t possibly be planning to burn the place down.”
“I can’t burn the place down, you idiot,” she snorted, her old snark reappearing, “not when I’m back under that shithead’s control.”
“That asshole prick,” Aedion grumbled, ire flaring in his eyes.
“So, naturally, we’ll just have to plant charges and stage an accidental fire that just so happens to spark one of those charges.”
“Accidental?” Aedion raised both his brows. “Little cousin, nothing you do is ever accidental.”
“Shut up,” she shot back, “it’ll look like an accident. And by the time he finds out, the spell’s borders will already have shrunk, so he can’t do shit about it.”
Aedion whistled softly. “Brilliant.”
“Don’t flatter, Aed. I’m not some general you’re trying to woo into your bed.”
“Shut up,” he grumbled, a blush flaring up.
Aelin just chuckled. “Lighten up, Aed. You know I won’t betray any of your... activities to anyone.”
“I know,” he sighed. “Shit, I just wish the rest of my men weren’t so godsdamn terrified of approaching my tent, though.”
“Afraid their poor eyes will fall upon something they don’t want to see?” Aelin teased.
“And of what’d happen next,” he grumbled.
“Fair enough,” she snorted. “So, General Ashryver. Are you willing to potentially sacrifice yourself and your men on a crazy suicide mission led by your slightly unhinged assassin princess?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he swore, dropping to one knee. “Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, heir to Terrasen, I pledge to you my sword.” He drew a blade from its sheath along his spine, and she sucked in a gasp. The Sword of Orynth laid in her cousin’s hands, its ancient, scarred bone handle balanced atop his open palm.
“May your blade never falter,” she intoned, voice steady despite the emotion clogging her throat at seeing her kingdom’s famed sword. Aedion sheathed his sword and stood, clasping her hand.
“Will you send word?”
“As soon as we’re ready,” she promised. “Look for the messenger bird to arrive.”
He nodded, so much shining unspoken in his eyes. Instinctively, he embraced her once more, clinging to his cousin, his queen, lost for so long but returned crowned in flames, ready to face and conquer the darkness spread across the continent.
“To whatever end, Aed,” she promised, the Galathynius family motto coming so easily to her lips.
“To whatever end,” he swore, the blood bond between them thrumming.
As Aelin exited the camp, she passed through the rest of the Bane, gathered speechless at the sight of their queen. So she ignited her crown of flames once more, walking through her soldiers with a straight back, head high, the promise of a new dawn burning in the flames wreathing her head. She heard their reverent whispers, the soft chants that escalated into full-blown war cries, the Bane promising their swords, their strength, to their queen. Heart overflowing, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius left the Bane’s small camp and headed back towards Endovier, back to her legion and her duties and the temple in the city. To the promise of blasting through one of the spell’s pillars.
To freedom.
~
Aedion watched Aelin disappear into the hills, watched that crown of blazing flames grow smaller and smaller until it vanished into the snowy terrain. Then he turned back to his men, giving them orders to remain just where they were. He sent a small squad back to the main camp, ordering the rest of the Bane to move out and establish camp a few miles away from this one, so the whole legion was close to the border, waiting for Aelin’s signal.
The screech of a hawk ripped through the sky, drawing his attention away from giving out orders. A white-tailed hawk swooped overhead, diving down to perch atop one of the tents. Aedion narrowed his eyes at the bird, the enhanced senses he’d received from his Fae father prickling. His nostrils widened, sniffing at the breeze, catching a tang of pine and snow and winter stronger than could be considered ordinary for early spring, even in the Staghorns.
Before he could make another move, another guess, the hawk hopped off the tent pole, fluttering down to the ground. There was a flash of light, and then Aedion was looking into the slightly bemused green eyes of a pure Fae male taller and broader than him. His eyes narrowed, then widened in sudden recognition, the male’s silvery hair and the tattoo winding down the side of his face and disappearing into his fur-lined clothes distinctive, marking him...
“Prince Rowan Whitethorn,” Aedion greeted the male, bowing from his waist. “What brings you to the Bane’s camp?”
~~~
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Evalin
FULL NAME: Evalin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius
SPECIES: fae
TITLE: Princess of Terresan
FANDOM: Throne of Glass
PHYSICAL
FACECLAIM: Imogen Waterhouse
PRONOUNS: she/her
AGE: 15
BIRTHDATE: July 17
HAIR: blonde
EYES: turquoise
HEIGHT: 5'6"
ORIENTATION: bisexual
RELATIONSHIPS
MOTHER: Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius
FATHER: Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius
GRANDFATHER: Rhoe Galathynius (deceased)
GRANDMOTHER: Evalin Galathynius (deceased)
PERSONALITY
OTHER RELATIONSHIPS: Dorian Havilliard, Aedion Ashryver, Lysandra, Manon, Elide, Chaol Westfall, Yrene Towers
MBTI: ESFP-A “The Entertainer”
ALIGNMENT: lawful good
TEMPERAMENT: sanguine
ENNEAGRAM: 7
OTHER
POWERS: Enhanced hearing, enchanced speed, enhanced healing, immortality, hydromancy, lightning magic
TAGS
Threads
Headcanons
Musings
Inspo
BACKSTORY
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Evalin Ashryver Galathynius, Princess of Wendlyn and Terrasen, 4/?
#throne of glass#crown of midnight#heir of fire#queen of shadows#empire of storms#tower of dawn#kingdom of ash#the assassin's blade#evalin ashryver galathynius#evalin galathynius#evalin ashryver#evalin#princess evalin ashryver#tog#terrasen#princess of wendlyn#wendlyn#princess of terrasen#aelin#aelin ashryver#aelin ashryver galathynius#aelin galathynius#aelin of the wildfire#fireheart#rhoe galathynius#aedion ashryver#erilea#sarah j maas
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...oops |rowaelin month- day 5|
rowaelin masterlist
an: i had a dream about this and i kind of hate the ending buttt enjoy! :)
word count: 3,988
~~
“You did what?”
It wouldn’t take a genius to note that twenty one year- old Princess Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was fuming. And it would have been to no one’s surprise if the princess herself brought the very palace down in flames herself in a matter of moments.
The Queen of Terrasen sighed and with a small shake of her head, daintily placed her teacup on the table in front of her. With her hands crossed in her lap, she turned her blue gaze to her daughter’s twin one, this one holding a fire many would cower from despite the girl’s young age. But it seemed that Evalin Ashryver feared no one but the gods, and she faced her daughter’s seeth head-on.
“Fireheart-”
“An arranged marriage? I wasn’t aware I was a doll who’s life you can just play with. Is this top okay or would you like to change me into a new pretty dress?”
Evalin merely rolled her eyes at her only daughter, allowing her to rant and fume as she pleased for what seemed like hours before the princess finally collapsed into the chair beside her, blue in the face and a vein popping out of her forehead.
“Fireheart,” she began again, this time gentler. “You have to understand, your father and I are simply doing what we believe is best for the country. For our people.”
“By selling me away? I’m not a child anymore mother, and I can make my own decisions just fine.” The anger had vanished, now replaced by a look of utter despair in the princess’ eyes as she gazed at her mother, an attempt to delay what she knew was inevitable.
“We know that Aelin, of course we do, and we would never do anything to purposefully hurt you. Terrasen is… is struggling right now, my love. You may be our only hope.”
The look in her mother’s eyes settled something in her chest and she realized there would be no fighting this- although she most certainly would try. Her parents were set on an arranged marriage for the Princess of Terrasen.
And as she stormed through the door of her chambers, Aelin’s thoughts settled on one in particular.
The Prince of Doranelle better be handsome.
~~
The Wild Princess of Terrasen, they called her.
Well- Aelin thought as she gunned the Corvette through the streets of the capital- if they wanted a wild princess, a wild princess is what they would get.
She remembered a time where her mother had rolled her eyes when her daughter had told her she wanted a Corvette for her sixteenth birthday. She didn’t even have a license, and she would never be driving herself, so what good would it do?
Aelin smirked. Apparently they were perfect for fits of rage.
She vaguely remembered a few lessons Brullo had given her when she had managed to bribe the grumpy body guard with cookies enough for him to teach her how to drive- unbeknownst to her mother, of course. Aelin bet that Evalin Ashryver would just about have a heart attack if she knew her daughter could drive.
Aelin swerved into the left lane without her turn signal, earning an angry honk and a few unkind words from the car behind her.
Well- sort of knew how to drive.
Oops, she thought. From then on, she turned her speed down just a bit.
As Aelin careened through the streets of Terrasen, she realized that as a princess, she truly had been deprived of her own country. Sure, she had been escorted through the streets during the annual parade, and her father used to take her to Malakai’s for her favorite cake every once in a while, but the streets she drove through now were unknown to her.
She passed jogging college kids and mothers with strollers and toddlers, couples holding hands and homeless people that scattered some of the streets. The sight made her heart clench and her knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.
Aelin was so focused on the people around her, she forgot to look forward as she drove through a glaring red light. Luckily there were barely any other cars around her, and the only indication that she had done something wrong came from a distinctly aggravated male voice screaming, “What the fu-”
“Shit!”
Aelin slammed her foot down on the breaks as her gaze came into contact with a man in front of her- she was going full speed towards him as she tried crossing the cross walk. The car came to a screeching halt directly in front of him, but the momentum proved to be too much as the Corvette did in fact make contact with him.
She thought time slowed down as the man went shooting to the ground with a groan of pain.
Yes, she had just hit a man with her car.
But her mother was going to absolute assassinate her.
Another loud groan from outside the window had Aelin shoving the car into park and flying out to the man in front of her, heart in her throat.
As she took in the man, she wondered what the odds were of hitting a person with your car and having them be one of the most attractive people you’ve ever seen. Pretty low, Aelin would think, but like everything else in her life, statistics did not seem to be on her side.
The man was clearly young, maybe a few years older than her, and even though he wore a thick winter jacket to protect him from the Terrasen winter, he was clearly built like a greek god. With silver hair almost matching the snow around him and tan skin that signaled to Aelin he clearly wasn’t from around here, the man could have been on the front page of any popular magazine.
“Fuck!”
Aelin kneeled down beside the man who was thankfully still conscious, face scrunched up in pain and clear anger. It made him look older, she thought as she finally looked at his eyes. They were a stunning green. She wanted to hit herself with her car. Of course they were.
“A-are you okay?” She helped him up, placing a hand on his lower back and pushing him up until he sat forward enough until he could support himself.
The man glared at her, teeth clenched in pain as his gaze burned into her own.
“Are you crazy?” he growled, his voice even deeper than Aelin thought it would have been. “Am I okay? You just hit me with your fucking car!”
Aelin jerked her hand away from him, suddenly defensive. “Look, I am so sorry. I- I wasn’t looking where I was driving and-”
The man scoffed. “Obviously.”
Aelin saw red.
“Well what the fuck were you doing on a crosswalk two seconds before the light turned red? You had plenty of time to move out of the way and you’re blaming me because you couldn’t look around?”
It was moments like these where Aelin realized why Elide’s fiancee liked to call her ‘fire breathing bitch queen.’ Sure, she could acknowledge it. She had just hit the guy with her car, and Aelin had foung a way to blame him.
“Maybe if you had been less careless about crashing Daddy’s car you would have been a bit more careful and we wouldn’t be here right now, Princess.”
Aelin almost slapped him, if not for the derogatory way her title slipped through his tongue. And that was when she realized that he had no idea who she was. The man in front of her didn’t look like an idiot. He wouldn’t be insulting her if he knew who she was. And Aelin realized she didn’t want him to know. Not as the words that spilled through her lips could ruin her entire legacy.
“Watch it.” The words were low and dangerous, and something flashed in the man’s eyes that signaled to her than he had caught the anger lacing her tone. “You don’t know shit about me.”
“I don’t think I need to. Nor do I care enough to want to.”
“Well you’re clearly fine, if you can spew ridiculous insults out of your head at the drop of a dime,” Aelin deadpanned. “So, can we wrap this up?”
“Gladly.” He made to get up, placing his weight on his arm as he pushed himself upward, cutting off with a loud gasp of pain before sinking back to the ground, his green eyes alight with agony. The sight made a pang shoot through Aelin’s chest and she grabbed his arm to steady him before his momentum his head careening toward the ground.
“Shit, we need to take you to the hospital.” She rose, already on her way back to the car.
“No way am I going anywhere with you.”
“That’s fine.” Aelin’s smile was purely saccharine. “You can stay here if you’d like. It’s supposed to drop to -10 in a few hours when the sun goes down but you look pretty toasty to me. Of course, your fingers will fall off before the ambulance gets here, so it’s really give or take.”
The man growled and rubbed a large hand through his hair.
“So what do you say, Superman?” Aelin gestured to the car behind her. “What’s the worst that can happen? I already hit you with my car today.”
If the tone of his voice was any indication, the man was in enough pain to barely put up a fight.
“Fine. But get into another accident and I’m calling the police.”
Aelin almost laughed. Little did he know that she owned the police.
It was only during the awkwardly silent drive to the hospital that Aelin realized the workers at the hospital would recognize her, and then the man beside her would. The thought put a sour taste in Aelin’s mouth. She liked fighting with this man- liked the fact that he treated her with the same amount of respect he would anyone who hit him with their car. Even if he was an infuriating prick of a man.
“Alright,” she pulled the car into park. “Here we are.” The man grunted in acknowledgment.
Surprisingly enough, the ER was close to empty on the Thursday evening and Aelin was grateful that it meant fewer people would recognize her. Who knew how the paparazzi would react if they saw their crown princess in the ER with an unknown man.
As if her ‘issues’ weren’t plastered in the tabloids enough already.
Aelin hadn’t realized how tall the man was until he was standing solidly behind her at the check-in desk. He was close enough that she could feel him at her back and she swore her shoulder had bumped below his own. Gods, he was strong.
She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, and turned to the man at the desk.
“Hi um, I’m here to check in a patient.” If the way the man swallowed was any indication, said patient was glaring daggers from beside her. He turned to the monitor in front of him and began typing something into the computer.
“And, what’s the reason for your visit today?”
Aelin cleared her throat. “Just- just a checkup. He had a bit of a fall, we just wanted to make sure everything is okay.” She felt what must have been a scoff from behind her but ignored it. The man nodded without looking at her or stopping his typing.
“Okay,” he finally said after a few moments of silence. He handed a clipboard to Aelin holding a few pieces of obvious paperwork. “Fill this out and give it back to me when you’re done. It’s a slow day so you should be able to meet with the doctor in just a second.” Aelin nodded, thanking the man and making her way to the empty seats across the desk, dragging her silver-haired friend with her until he collapsed into the seat beside her with a huff.
She ignored him in favor of flicking through the paperwork as casually as she could, attempting to not draw attention to the fact that she clearly knew none of the personal information about the man beside her.
Aelin leaned close to him and almost rolled her eyes when he leaned significantly away.
“Hey,” she whispered. She watched as he rolled his eyes.
“What?”
“What’s your name?” he leveled her with a confused look and she held up the paperwork. But really, what kind of an idiot hit someone with their car and didn’t ask for their name. Aelin was such an idiot. Such an-
“Rowan.”
“What?”
“My name. It’s Rowan.” She raised a brow,
“Rowan…?”
“Whitethorn.” Rowan Whitethorn. The name sent a pang of familiarity through her and Aelin struggled to ruffle through her mind to find where she had heard it before.
“What do you do for work?” The question was out of her mouth before she could berate herself for how stupid it was. His eyebrows shot up to the top of his head.
“Is that on the form?” his voice was defensive but Aelin shrugged nonetheless and Rowan sighed before running a hand through his hair. “Let’s say I’m involved with politics.”
Aelin grimaced. Maybe that was why her mind had blocked out his name. Anyone involved with any kind of politics was automatically dislikeable in Aelin’s eyes. She had been around enough politicians to recognize their slimy exterior.
Rowan clearly noticed her face and scowled at her. “Well not all of us have a choice in our future just because we’re young and irresponsible.” Like you, was what he didn’t have to say. Aelin wanted to kick him. If only he knew. Instead, she rolled her eyes and looked back at the sheet in front of her.
“Date of birth?”
“December 8, 1995.” Aelin almost dropped her pencil but instead turned to Rowan, surprised to find him already looking at her.
“Seriously? You’re twenty- five?”
“What’s your point?”
“All of the high and mighty, ‘I’m your elder’ attitude and you’re only four years older than me.” She shook her head and turned back to the form, ignoring the glare she could feel burning into her skull and trying her best not to think about how good Rowan smelled from beside her. She never would have thought that the scent of pine could be so intoxicating.
“Place of birth?”
“Doranelle.” Aelin wondered if he knew anything of the infamous prince she was to marry. She really should have done some more research before storming out of the palace.
“Height?”
“6’ 4”.”
“Any allergies?”
“Blondes.” Aelin ignored that one.
“Any family history of fatal medical issues?”
“No.”
“Type and reason for pain?”
“An irritation in my head from the woman beside me.”
Aelin threw her pen at him and watched as he winced before looking at her with wide annoyed eyes. But she frankly didn’t give a fuck anymore. She could have let him freeze to death outside and here he was complaining about her.
“You know, this whole thing would be a lot easier if you weren’t such a prick.”
“Actually this whole thing would be a lot easier if you hadn’t-”
Rowan was cut off by the clearing of a throat in front of them, signaling someone had come through the door. The two had been too preoccupied with one another to even notice the doctor standing in front of them.
She’s beautiful, with cinnamon skin and curly hair, and she wears an amused smile on her face as she looks between the two. Aelin and Rowan automatically calm themselves into an acceptable demeanor and Aelin stands to shake hands with the doctor in front of them, handing her the unfinished paperwork.
“Alright, Mr… Whitethorn. I’m Doctor Towers and I’ll be helping you out here today. Why don’t you come back here with me and we can check you out.” Rowan stood up to follow her out of the room before Doctor Towers turned back to look at Aelin. “You can come too, Mrs. Whitethorn. We’ll probably need you to clear a few things up.”
Aelin hated the blush that sprang to her cheeks at the implication that she could be married to Rowan, and she almost laughed. As if she could ever marry someone like him. Their protests are cut off by the creaking of the door and neither Aelin nor Rowan bothers to correct the doctor as she leads them to a section of the hospital filled with open hospital beds and shitty curtains for ‘privacy.’
Pulling one shut, Doctor Towers gestures for Rowan to sit on the bed. Once he does, she leans back on her heels and pulls out her own clipboard.
“Okay, what seems to be the problem today?”
They’re silent for a moment, both looking at each other with wide eyes, not knowing what to say. Eventually, Aelin clears her throat.
“Um, we had a bit of an accident-”
“I would hardly call it an ‘accident.’ She-”
“He decided to walk through a crosswalk during a green light and-”
“You hit me with your car!”
It seemed the entire hospital went silent for a moment before sound resumed once more and Aelin allowed her head to fall into her hands.
“It wasn’t like that. I-”
“You slammed straight into me!”
“I barely knicked you!”
Doctor Towers had been watching the sparring match between the two with wide eyes, clearly still hung up on the fact that he had been hit by a car and was still alive. It took a moment before she shook her head and scribbled a few things down on her piece of paper.
“I hate to ask this,” she cleared her throat. “Was this- um, a crime of passion?”
Aelin and Rowan stared at her blankly before turning to each other, both confused. She tried again.
“I mean- when a wife hits her husband with a car-” Realizing what she was implying, Aelin and Rowan were quick with their rebuttals.
“She’s not-”
“I’m not his wife!”
“Most definitely not-”
“As if I’d ever marry this prick-”
“I would rather hit myself with a car than voluntarily pledge myself to her.”
Aelin rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her defensively. “Now that’s a little dramatic.”
“Well, you did hit me with a car.” If Aelin didn’t know any better, she would say that it almost looked like amusement twisted his lips.
“You’re never gonna get over that, are you?”
“Not likely.”
Doctor Towers cleared her throat from beside them, causing the two to snap their gazes back to her. Whatever they found there had them shut their mouths like scolded children.
“So…” she arched a brow. “It was an accident?”
Rowan nodded while Aelin muttered, “Unfortunately.”
Doctor Towers ignored the comment in favor of looking at Aelin closely. She watched in despair as it clicked in her head who exactly was standing in front of her and Aelin found herself holding her breath. But surprisingly enough, the doctor said nothing, simply turning to Rowan with a knowing look.
“So Mr. Whitethorn, what hurts?”
“Besides everything?” Rowan grimaced as he circled his shoulder. “Mostly my shoulder. I don’t know if I pulled it today specifically, but it’s been bothering me for a while. I think today just aggravated it.”
“It could be a stress fracture,” she mused. “Has anything happened recently in your life that could have caused your anxiety and stress levels to shoot up? It could be anything really from, an increase in work to a big change or big news…”
Rowan let out what Aelin assumed was some sort of laugh. She ignored the shiver it sent down her spine.
“You could say that.”
Doctor Towers didn’t press for more information, merely nodded and wrote something down before looking at Rowan again.
“The only solution I can really offer you right now is to ice it as often as you can for about eight to ten weeks, and it should heal on its own. No cast necessary.”
“Really?” Aelin exclaimed, unable to hold back the relief in her voice. Maybe her mother wouldn’t kill her after all. “That’s great.”
“It is,” Doctor Towers gazed at her through a knowing smile and narrowed eyes. “Just try not to hit people with your car anymore Pr-, ma’am.” Aelin almost laughed at the comment, even more at the mistake she had almost made, but instead nodded with a small smile.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Turning to Rowan, Aelin found him already watching her, a strange look on his face as he gazed between the two women. He opened his mouth to speak when the door to the ER burst open, and the Queen herself strutted through.
Aelin thought that if a look could set a flame, she would be ashes by now.
She felt herself pale as her mother walked toward her on near-silent footsteps, leaving citizens bowing in her wake. But the Queen only had eyes for her daughter. Very angry eyes.
“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius,” she hissed, and Aelin tried not to cringe. “You are in so much trouble young lady.” Aelin opened her mouth to defend herself. “Sneaking out, close to Yulemas in fact, when crime rates are highest, stealing a car-”
“It’s not stealing if it’s mine-” Her mouth snapped shut at the look her mother gave her.
“You’ll come to learn Aelin, that as future queen of this country, you have a status to uphold. You have an image- a reputation, one that should not include sneaking out of the palace unsupervised and ending up in the ER.”
She felt the words like a stab to the heart. Aelin knew the last thing her mother wanted to do was hurt her, especially with her words. But Aelin felt the truth of them to the bottom of her toes, and she was swept into a tidal wave of disappointment in herself. No wonder her parents wanted to marry her off. Of course she couldn’t lead a country on her own.
“Mother, I’m sorry I snuck out. I was just so upset with you. And do you think I meant to end up in the ER? I hit him with my car for Gods sake! I couldn’t just-”
“You’re the princess?”
The surprisingly choked voice came from Rowan, and the two pairs of Ashryver eyes snapped to him in a millisecond. Rowan was looking at Aelin like he had never seen her before, and she frowned at him in confusion. Maybe he hadn’t met a princess before, but this was hardly how she thought he would react. It was as if he was going to be sick.
From beside her, Evalin let out a strangled laugh and Aelin gazed at her mother incredulously. From beside her, Aelin’s mother burst into peals of laughter.
“Well, this is quite the situation, isn’t it?” she laughed. It was a moment before she composed herself and turned to Rowan. “Rowan Whitethorn. I suppose introductions aren’t necessary.”
Rowan was bowing, green eyes hard as they met Aelin’s and stayed there, even as he addressed her mother. “Your majesty. Allow me to express my gratitude for welcoming me into your country.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Evalin insisted, still smiling as if she couldn’t believe what was happening. “You’re practically family, after all.”
And that was when it hit her.
Let’s just say I’m involved with politics.
Doranelle.
Recent stressful news.
His name.
Rowan’s eyes were on hers as the realization struck that Aelin not only fell into the statistics of people who hit attractive strangers with their car but also happened to hit members of royalty.
No- Aelin thought as she gaped at her betrothed- she most definitely did not fall in favor of most statistics. But they had fallen with her on one account.
The Prince of Doranelle was handsome.
~~
this prompt was: “i accidentally hit you with my car”
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Fire on Fire - Chapter Three
Chapter two // Chapter four
“My head’s gonna explode,” Elide Lochan sighed before she drank two big gulps of water as if she had been thirsty for days. Aelin knew the feeling. She’d been working for two hours now but it felt like ten. The bar was so hot and the music so loud, she couldn’t wait to go home and come back to the silence of her room.
Today was her first day and of course, it was a Saturday night, the busiest night of the week. The uniform, which was basically only a tight white shirt and a pair of black booty shorts, was one of the other reasons Aelin decided she hated this job but only stayed for the money. Aelin had been lucky today if you can call it that, but unfortunately, that luck didn’t extend to Elide.
Some douche-bags slapped her ass when she served him his drink, and of course, all his friends howled with laughter. As if sexual harassment was some kind of joke. The moment Elide mentioned this incident, Aelin had wanted to slam the guy's head on the table but Elide stopped her. The customer was always right and both Aelin and Elide needed this job too much.
They had decided not to tell their co-worker Manon about that, Aelin and Elide had already worked with her before and Aelin knew where Manon was, violence usually followed. It was something Aelin loved about that woman, and she also found it hot as hell. Okay, maybe she had a bit of a crush on the white-haired woman. But in Aelin’s defense, Elide did have a crush on her too. It was like a general experience.
“Do you think we’ll be fired if we don’t go back?” Aelin put her cold bottle of water against the back of her neck, in an attempt to cool her down.
“Definitely, Rofle is a dick. I mean have you seen this outfit?” The brunette turned on herself and gestured to the more than revealing clothes. Aelin agreed, if her cousin saw her in this outfit he would have a heart attack. She was suddenly glad this bar opened last week, at least Aedion didn’t know this place. Yet.
“Girls,” Nesryn interrupted them. “Break’s over. Go back to work.”
Aelin undid her ponytail, a forbidden hairstyle in this bar apparently, and went back behind the counter. She wore her best fake smile and ignored the lingering looks on her breast or her backside, winked and flirted back when clients thought they had a chance of taking her home with them. Aelin hid her disgust of these men pretty good, she was proud of herself for it.
She would quit if she wasn’t low on money lately. For hell’s sake, Aedion was paying half of her rent. It had been a very long discussion between them, Aelin would rather live on the street than depend on someone. Aelin got convinced when Aedion made it clear if she didn’t accept he would call her parents. So Aelin put her pride aside and accepted, at the only condition Aedion let her pay him back whenever she could. He had argued but accepted. The Ashryver family wasn’t very good at compromise, but at least they tried.
“Aelin, go take the order of table nine,” Manon yelled at her over the background noise. Aelin gave her a thumb up as she kept pouring alcohol in the shaker.
When Aelin was done making this cocktail she wiped her hands and walked toward table nine. She looked down to grab her little booklet and pen she left in one of the pockets of her apron as she said, “Hi, welcome to the sea dragon, what can I-” She stopped as she took in who was sitting in front of her. Lorcan Salvaterre, Fenrys, Connall Moonbeam, and of fucking course, gods-damned Rowan Whitethorn. She took a deep breath and smiled, but she knew her fake smile wasn’t as convincing as it was minutes before.
She focused on Fenrys and Connall, the only ones she could stand at that table. “What can I get you?”
Fenrys had an amused look on his face, accentuated by his smirk full of wickedness. “So this is your new job?” He asked, and if she didn’t know him the look could be considered genuine.
“You knew it, Fen. I told you hours ago.” Rowan’s head whipped to Fenrys, and Aelin’s face suddenly mirrored Fenrys’s. She didn’t know what the blonde had in mind, but if it annoyed Whitethorn, Aelin was on board. Rowan’s head turned back toward her and he narrowed his eyes. “Got something on my face, Whitethorn?” She couldn’t help it, she had to always argue with him.
“Yeah, all that make-up,” his eyes roamed over her body, it took everything in her not to move under the weight of his gaze. “What’s that outfit anyway?” His disdain was quite obvious.
“My uniform, dumbass.” She tightened her grip around her pen and notebook so much that her knuckles turned white. “Be careful, it almost sounds like you care.” It was one of the most sarcastic things she had ever said in her life, the look in his eyes was enough proof.
“Why would I care about you when you’re dressed like a stripper?” He crossed his arms and Aelin had to force herself not to stare at his muscles and at the tattoo on his arms. He was a handsome bastard and it made him quite hard to hate.
“So, no respect for sex workers, Whitethorn? Why am I not surprised?”
“No, actually I respect them a lot. You’re the only person I don’t respect.” It took everything in her not to punch him in the face right now, but that’s what he was waiting for. It was like he loved to see her lose control.
“I’m going to enjoy spitting in your drink.”
“Do that and I’ll have a nice chat with your boss, good luck to find another job, princess.” He was getting angry, Aelin loved that, it meant she was winning their little game.
“Feel free to do it, it just means you’ll have to share that splendid bathroom with me longer.” She winked at him and wiggled her brows. Rowan clenched his jaw, another sign of his anger.
“Can you two stop for a minute? I’m thirsty.” Lorcan Salvaterre interrupted them and Aelin rolled her eyes. She wasn’t exactly on friendly terms with Lorcan either, but instead of always arguing as she did with Rowan, they just ignored each other.
“Who are they?” Elide asked as Aelin prepared her roommates’ order. The four of them wanted a beer, classic.
“Two of them are the bane of my existence and the two others annoying but very pretty.”
“I want him in my bed,” Elide said as she bit her lip. Aelin whipped her head toward the guys, trying to know which one she was talking about.
“I have no idea which one you’re already planning to get naked but one of them is gay and the other three aren’t good options.”
“Great, I don’t want good and I don’t want to be good. And It’s the tall one.” Elide winked and left before Aelin could say anything. Of course, Elide would be attracted to Lorcan. Alein went back to their table, accidentally spilling a little bit of Rowan’s beer on him when she accidentally tripped. He swore at her but she decided to ignore it, instead, she pushed him so she could sit next to him to be right in front of Lorcan.
“You,” She pointed at Lorcan, with her smile full of mischief.
“Don’t look at me like that.” She shook his head and she heard the twins laugh.
“What’s your type of woman?”
“Everything you aren’t.”
“I’m gonna look past that insult because I am an amazing woman,” she was cut off by Rowan’s snort. “You shut up, you’re thirty and still single.” She looked back at Lorcan but heard Rowan correct her on his age. His highness was still twenty-nine for three months. “What about 5”2, brunette, very very scary. She’s also one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen, but unfortunately, she doesn’t have good taste. I’m not her type but you are.” She winked at him. Rowan muttered something that sounded a lot like “We aren’t teenagers anymore” but she ignored him.
Lorcan furrowed his brow, Aelin could see him hesitate. “Where?”
“Want to see her dance?” Aelin didn’t wait for the answer and walked back to the bar.
-
Rowan was mesmerized.
The moment Aelin Ashryver Galathynius started dancing was the moment he lost his mind.
He hated her for it, hated her for being the first thing anyone looked at when they entered a room. Hated her for being the most attractive woman he had seen in a while.
She had been raised to become this. Well, not to become a barmaid in a piss-poor bar in Doranelle. But to become the type of woman everyone looked at, everyone wanted.
With Evalin Ashryver as her mother, how could Aelin become something else? Her mother was an incredible actress, and one of the most famous ones. She was also known for being cunning, ambitious, and beautiful as a sin.
And with Rhoe Galathynius as her father, Aelin knew how to captivate an audience. Rhoe was a legend of football. Whenever he played, all eyes were on him. He was smart and as cunning as his wife, a perfect match if you listened to the papers. That’s probably why he was a coach now, and that’s also why his team almost always won.
So Aelin was born with amazing genes, a talent to bewitch everyone who looked at her, and a bank account bigger than anyone should have. That’s why he didn’t understand why she would be working here and living with five guys instead of just having a big apartment in the richest part of town. But Aedion had told everyone to never mention her parents, so they all listened. Everyone was careful to do just that, maybe because Lysandra had threatened to cut their favorite body part and to make them eat it if they ever mentioned Rhoe’s or Evalin’s name. All that the day they met her when she was one month away from turning eighteen.
Now this she-devil had him under her spell. He couldn’t stop looking at the way her hips moved perfectly on beat with the music, at the way her hands wandered over her stomach, the side of her breast, and then lifted her hair in the air. Or even at how close she was to her friend, the one who is apparently interested in Lorcan. Both of them were giving a show, and when Rowan finally looked away from the blonde it was to find almost every man with their eyes on her. She knew what she was doing, he knew she did. It made him want to yell at her, even at work she couldn’t help but want attention.
Aelin turned her head, and their eyes met. Rowan sat straighter, swallowing. Her sinful mouth turned into a smirk and she accentuated her hips’ movements, aware of Rowan’s eyes on her. It was also something they did, along with arguing. They caught the other checking the other out, but wouldn’t call them on it. They would never bring it up, it was like a secret between them. He shouldn’t find the idea of sharing something with her so exciting.
She never stopped looking at him as she danced, sometimes she would bit her lip, sometimes her hands would wander on her breasts. He had to stop himself from growling as his cock hardened. Aelin was a sin.
Who did she think she was? He hated her, he made that clear. She hated him, and she had also made that clear. Why did she feel the need to tease him? She was trying to mess with him, and it was working.
The bubble broke when one of Aelin’s coworkers interrupted her, telling her and her friend she was dancing with to go back to work. Rowan couldn’t help but stare at her ass as she walked back behind the counter. He would have felt bad for it, wasn’t it for the slight sway of her hips and the look she threw at him when she started serving people again.
“I want her.” Lorcan almost grunted, and against his best wishes and even if they weren’t talking about the same girl, Rowan agreed.
-
Aelin wasn’t tired, no, tired wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what she was feeling. It was almost three in the morning and her shift ended in one hour, thank god she wasn’t supposed to close the bar today.
A customer asked for another sex on the beach, his fourth of the night. Aelin smiled as she prepared it but decided it would be his last of the night. Rofle didn’t want his barmaids to stop clients from drinking because more drinking means more money. But all the money in the world wasn’t worth the customers’ life. She would never forgive herself if someone had a car accident or became an alcoholic because of the drink she served. She gave the drink and took the man’s car keys, saying she would call a cab when he wanted to leave.
Aelin’s phone started ringing and when she saw who was calling her she sighed. If she was tired now it would be worse by the end of the night.
“Hello,” She answered as she got into a cupboard to find some quiet.
“Hi, you’re Aelin Galathynius?” A deep male voice asked. From the tone of his voice, the man must be as exhausted as Aelin was.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Aelin already regretted picking up this gods damned phone.
“I’m sorry to bother you but a guy’s at my bar. He’s tall-”
“Yeah, I know exactly who it is. Let me guess, he is drunk and absolutely refuses to call a taxi because taxis are disgusting. He also told you to call me, didn’t he?”
“You got it all right.”
“Okay.” She sighed. “Where’s your bar?” She nodded when he told her the address and told him she would be here in half an hour.
Aelin went to Elide, apologized, and asked her to cover the rest of her shift. Elide understood, it wasn’t the first time Aelin had to leave for the same reason. Elide was pissed but not because she had more work, but because she didn’t want Aelin to go.
Aelin took her car and drove, maybe a little slower than she should but it was night. Roads were dangerous, especially on a Saturday night. Aelin parked right in front of the sidewalk. She took her phone and wanted to text Aedion to tell him she would be late but her phone was dead. Amazing.
Aelin walked into the bar and realized she didn’t take time to change clothes, she was still in her uniform. She crossed her arms, trying to cover her chest as best as she could. Even if she had liked to have Rowan Whitethorn watching her tonight, she didn’t want anyone else to look at her this way.
It didn’t take long to see who had called Aelin, she walked toward him, the bartender looked relieved someone would come to pick him up. “I’m gonna take that.” She told him, and he gave her the car keys. Aelin turned her head to grey eyes watching her body, of course, he would notice her lack of clothing. “Let’s get you home,” Aelin said, trying her best not to let her anger out, it’s not going to help tonight.
“Hello, darling,” Arobynn purred.
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Cruel Summer, Part 11
cruel summer masterlist
AN: Some NSFW action in this one. You are all the best. Things are going to start to get slightly bumpy. Don’t hate me.
Sunlight streams through the slotted blinds into the guest room, waking Rowan slowly. He’s warm and content, tangled up in Aelin. His arm is draped over her stomach, and his face is pressed into the mess of blonde waves that spill over her shoulder. Rowan breathes slowly, unwilling to let this moment end yet. He knows as soon as Aelin wakes, he’ll have to put back on his mask of indifference, and he’s not quite ready to do that.
For a prolonged second, he lets himself feel. Feel how perfect it could be. He tries to imagine Aelin waking in his bed every day in an apartment, just the two of them – no roommates, no parents, no chaperones, no secrets. But the picture is too blurry, too far out of reach. Rowan grasps for it, but it quickly evaporates into smoke as he feels Aelin start to wake.
He closes his eyes, feigning sleep, as she turns to face him. He feels her trace her finger over his parted lips, and he can’t help but let them curl into a smile as she presses her mouth against his softly.
“What time is it?” he mumbles, cracking his eyes open. He tries not to gasp at how the gold around Aelin’s pupil flares and melts into turquoise in the early morning sun. She’s stunning.
“Early,” she croaks, her unused voice thick with sleep.
“Early enough to shower?” Rowan asks.
“Together?” Aelin asks, running her hands across his shoulders, and Rowan nods sleepily. “In my house, with my sleeping parents? In broad daylight?” she sasses, her attitude coming in full force, despite not being fully awake yet. “Risky, Mr. Whitethorn...”
Rowan is about to say never mind when Aelin rolls out of bed and pulls her nightgown over her head. She looks over her shoulder and tosses the silky fabric at Rowan, who watches her naked backside sway from side to side as she makes her way into the en suite bathroom.
Aelin is already in the shower by the time Rowan’s body catches up with his lust-addled brain. The water sluices down her tanned skin, dripping over her soft curves, and Rowan wants to touch her everywhere. He puts soap in his hands and rubs them together, lathering them up before running them down the smooth expanse of Aelin’s skin. It’s a weak excuse to touch her, but he doesn’t particularly care. She lets him soap her up thoroughly, letting his hands spend extra time on her breasts and between her legs.
“Please tell me you can be very quiet,” Aelin challenges him, holding up a condom he hadn’t even seen her grab. Rowan nods silently as Aelin rolls the condom onto him and turns around and bends over, hands pressed against the side of the wall. Rowan nearly passes out at the sight. He hasn’t had her like this before. From behind. And as he slides between her legs, he knows he won’t be able to do this often. She’s so tight and wet and warm. He swallows a moan as he bends over her, reaching for her chest and resting his head on his shoulder to hear her shallow pants. He holds her against him as tight as possible as their hips slap together, barely covered by the sound of water hitting the shower floor. He runs his hands between their legs where they’re joined, and Aelin’s knees suddenly buckle as she squeezes around him. It’s all too much and too fast, and Rowan follows behind her quickly. Aelin’s body sags, and Rowan has to work quickly to hold her up, lest they collapse.
He kisses his way down her back, keeping her upright in his sturdy grasp, both of them breathing hard. Not a word is exchanged as the pair finish their shower. But Aelin squirts some shampoo into her hand and motions for Rowan to lean down. He does so willingly and nearly purrs at the feeling of her hands in his hair. Once they’re cleaned, Aelin tosses the dirty condom down the toilet and grins widely.
“Good morning,” she says, pressing her lips against Rowan’s.
With one last kiss, Aelin disappears across the hall, completely undetected. Rowan lays back down in bed. It’s still so early. Before he knows it, he’s asleep again.
Rowan wakes to the sound of loud, chattering voices downstairs. He’s slightly disoriented before he realizes where he is and what room he’s in. He quickly gets dressed and makes his way down the stairs to join the rest of the family, but he’s surprised to see an unfamiliar face at the breakfast table, sitting next to Aelin.
His dark hair is parted to the side, and his brown eyes light up at something Aelin’s said. He’s wearing a short-sleeved button down with some sort of whale pattern on it and expensive looking sunglasses hang at the collar.
“Rowan!” Evalin greets him with a chipper smile. “Come meet our neightbor, Sam Cortland.”
Sam stands, revealing his salmon-colored shorts, and stretches out his hand for Rowan. He’s everything Rowan is not. Prep school born and bred, wealthy, sophisticated. He looks like he belongs in the Ashryver’s Italian marbled kitchen. Unlike Rowan, in his park uniform polo and khakis. He can’t help but notice that Aelin matches him, in a pink and green flowered dress. They look like a match made in prepster heaven. Rowan’s stomach sinks, but he offers his hand back with a forced smile and introduces himself in turn.
“What would you like for breakfast?” Evalin asks, and Rowan declines, saying he’s not a breakfast person.
Dorian shovels eggs into his mouth. “Come sit anyway. We’re going to walk over to the park in a few.”
Rowan sits. He tries to relax and participate in conversation, but it’s hard when his body tenses each time Sam leans over to tell something to Aelin; each time Aelin laughs or smiles in response it’s even worse. He knows he’s driving himself crazy over nothing – that he was the one inside Aelin this morning, and last night, for that matter. But there’s something in Sam’s disarming tone and lackadaisical smile that unsettles him.
Rowan’s more than relieved when it’s time to head to work. The four of them walk down the beach together. Rowan manages to take his spot walking next to Aelin, letting his fingers brush against hers occasionally “by accident.” Aelin smiles each time, and so he doesn’t stop.
“So, what’s the best ride at this place?” Sam asks, looking directly at Aelin and no one else. “I think the last time I was here I was about ten, so…”
“The Firecoaster is my favorite,” Aelin answers immediately. “But Dorian likes the log flume.” Aelin pauses. “What’s your favorite ride, Rowan?”
“Uh, I haven’t actually been on any of the rides,” Rowan admits, and Aelin stops walking, her eyes widening in shock.
“What do you mean you haven’t been on any of the rides? You’ve worked at the park for a month!”
Rowan frowns. “Yeah, working.” He pauses, thinking. “My least favorite ride to work is the ferris wheel.”
Aelin looks as if her mind is being blown at Rowan’s answers, though he can’t quite comprehend why. “That’s it,” she says resolutely. “Next day off I’m taking you to the park.”
Dorian laughs. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what Rowan wants to do on his day off, Ace. Go to his place of work.”
“It’s the best place in the world!” Aelin replies. “He should be so lucky to have me show him around.”
Sam interjects. “I know I, for one, feel incredibly lucky to have you take me today.”
It takes everything in Rowan’s willpower not to roll his eyes.
“Sure,” Rowan answers, and Aelin smiles.
“Yeah?”
Rowan nods, and Aelin’s smile widens. He would do anything to keep that smile on her face.
They arrive at the park all too soon, and Rowan is reluctant to let Aelin out of his sight, but he knows he needs to check what shift he has first. He brushes by her and squeezes her hand softly, and he smiles when she squeezes back, acknowledging their small secret moment, before she takes off with Dorian and Sam.
It turns out he’s stationed at the log flume first, so he’s not surprised when he runs into Dorian nearly immediately.
“Where’s Aelin?” Rowan inquires, looking around for her familiar golden ponytali.
Dorian rolls his eyes. “The princess apparently didn’t wear the right outfit to get wet in, so they’re going to play games until I’m finished.”
Rowan pauses. “Sam didn’t want to come with you on the ride?”
Dorian scoffs. “I don’t think Sam is particularly interested in hanging out with me.” Rowan’s brow furrows, and he swallows, his mouth suddenly extremely dry. “Aelin’s a big girl,” Dorian clarifies, upon seeing Rowan’s face. He pats his shoulder. “Don’t worry. She can handle herself.”
“I’m not worried,” Rowan says too quickly, and Dorian throws him a knowing smirk as he hops onto the ride. Rowan reminds himself to work harder on his poker face.
The sun beats down on Rowan’s shoulders, and by mid-afternoon he can feel a burn starting to heat the back of his neck. Rowan’s mood has progressively gotten worse. He’s spotted Sam and Aelin and Dorian a few times in the park, but Aelin hasn’t stopped by to say hi to him once. He knows it’s because she’s entertaining Sam at the behest of her parents, but it still hurts a bit.
Which is why at the end of the day, when he sees a text waiting from her, Rowan is relieved and thrilled.
We’re getting dinner at Town Dock Tavern. Come join when you get off?
Rowan heads to the restaurant without even changing. It’s off the beaten path a little – overlooking the water with a perfect view of the sunset. It’s more intimate than he expected, the small tables it only by candles on the inside with a large wraparound window to get the best glimpse of the waterfront view.
Rowan takes a look at the menu in the window and notices the prices. $18 for a bowl of chowder? $30 for fish tacos? Rowan wonders if they’re putting gold into the food. Even though it’s a bit – okay, way – out of his price range, he’s still anxious to see Aelin. Maybe he can just sit with them and pick up something cheaper on the way home.
He enters the restaurant and spots her immediately. She and Sam are at a small table, just the two of them, heads huddled together and laughing over something. Sam reaches over the table and grasps Aelin’s hand, and she doesn’t pull away. In fact, she tilts her face down, tucking her chin into her chest, the way she does when she’s flustered and blushing. Rowan looks around, wondering where Dorian is, but he’s nowhere to be found. There’s not a third seat. Not a third plate. No, it’s just the pair of them. Looking very much like they are on a date.
Rowan’s stomach twists when he realizes that Sam has taken Aelin out before he has, despite them sharing beds for the last week. No, that’s not quite it, he reminds himself. Apparently, Sam is allowed to take Aelin out, but he’s not. Rowan exits the restaurant without alerting them of his presence.
Once he’s safely back in his truck, he texts Aelin back, working hard to keep his tone light and unaffected.
I think I’m going to head home. Someone kept me up late last night and woke me up early this morning…
He’s surprised when his phone vibrates a minute later with a reply.
Who would be so inconsiderate?!
It vibrates again.
Get some sleep. See you tomorrow?
By the time Rowan arrives back at this apartment, he’s a mess of feelings. It’s not that Aelin doesn’t like him – he knows she does. But they haven’t established any rules or regulations to this thing they’re doing. What does casual even mean? Does it mean she can hook up with other people? Date them? Is it too late to clarify? He hates this.
Manon can sense his bad mood immediately and sighs loudly as she follows him into the kitchen, where he pours himself a glass of whiskey.
“Want to bake?” she asks, and Rowan turns in surprise at his roommate.
“You’d bake with me?” he asks tentatively.
Manon shrugs. “I had a crap day, too.”
“Want to talk about it?” he asks as he pulls out the flour, sugar, butter, eggs and some mixing bowls.
Manon raises a carefully groomed eyebrow. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” Rowan chuckles.
“Yeah, me neither,” Manon agrees. She looks at the ingredients and then back at Rowan. “Okay, what are we making?”
Rowan explains the recipe he’s been wanting to try out – a sweet tea bundt cake with a pecan glaze. Manon is actually an excellent sous chef, helping him measure out everything, and the pair work in efficient silence, creating the sugary treat.
“You need to take a day off from her,” Manon finally says, her voice cutting into the silent room.
Rowan sets the timer as he closes the oven and sighs loudly. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about this.”
Manon shrugs. “Yeah, I can’t help myself.” She pauses and tugs at her platinum hair, clearly uncomfortable, before barreling forward. “Listen. I’m all for casual whatevering. That’s my life’s blood. But, what you’ve been doing isn’t actually casual. You’ve seen her literally every day for nearly a month. And the past two weeks have been all day, every day nonstop.”
Rowan wants to protest, but Manon isn’t wrong.
“I’m not saying ghost her for days. Don’t be a fucking ass,” she explains. “I’m saying, maybe just take one day off.”
“That’s not horrible advice,” Rowan admits.
Manon smirks. “Yeah, I know. If you’d ever fucking listen to me, you’d know I’m a genius.”
Rowan refills his whiskey and offers a glass to Manon, who gladly accepts it. They make their way to the couch and both plop down.
“Your turn?” Rowan asks, prodding Manon with his toe. She kicks him away and takes a large sip of her whiskey.
“Remember the date I went on the other night?” Rowan nods. “Well, turns out I thought it was a date, but she didn’t.”
Rowan rubs at his stubble. “Sorry, Man. That’s…shit.”
Manon shrugs, playing it cool, but even Rowan can see the hurt behind her golden eyes. “The trials and tribulations of being a gay girl. Whatever. We’re friends. It’s fine. I don’t care.”
Rowan laughs, softly at first. But once it takes off, he can’t stop. The laughter becomes raucous, releasing the tension he’s held in all day. “Oh, Man. We’re a mess.”
Manon looks at him seriously. “Take a day off. A full twenty-four hours.” Rowan looks at the phone in his hand with uncertainty. “You can do it,” Manon insists.
Rowan opens his phone and texts back.
I’m actually busy tomorrow. But let’s meet up later this week?
Rowan shows the text to Manon. She nods in approval, and he hits send. Rowan immediately turns his phone off, not wanting too see if Aelin replies or not. He hopes he has the strength to make it through one single day without her.
~*~*~*~*~
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#rowaelin#aelin x rowan#rowan whitethorn#aelin galythinius#charincharge writes#cruel summer au#amusement park au#throne of glass#tog fanfic
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Maeve said that Mab's line ran true, meaning the Ashryver line. Does that mean that the other Ashryvers like Galan would settle as well or not. And are Aedion and Aelin Prince and Princess of Wendlyn or are they not given that title.
Galan is Demi-Fae like Aelin, so there’s a chance he may settle, but there is also a chance that he won’t. It is never confirmed how old he is, so I don’t think we will ever know for sure whether he is immortal or not!
As far as I know, Aelin and Aedion are not prince and princess of Wendlyn, and that might be to do with the fact that Aelin’s mother married into the Galathynius family and may have had to give up her title to marry Rhoe and by extension any children she had would not have the title either? Again, that isn’t confirmed. Alternatively, Evalin may have willingly given up her title when she married Rhoe - thus any children would probably not have it either. (I’m not an expert on this, and I guess each royal family will have their own rules on things like this).
In regards to Aedion, I think he probably has more right to the title of Prince of Wendlyn as his mother never married and still had the surname Ashryver when she had Aedion. I can’t remember, but I don’t think that there is a mention of him being prince of Wendlyn, but he does hold the title “prince” but I don’t think it is specified where? Galan is the crown prince of Wendlyn, so even if Aedion/Aelin did have titles there, it wouldn’t make much difference as they aren’t necessarily entitled to the throne!
Sorry that got a bit long, but hope that clears it up a little! And if anyone has anything to add or can correct me then please do! :)
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With your heart in your hand (and your sword at your side)
a/n: here it is! the first request from my 300 follower celebration! this was requested by the lovely @morganofthewildfire, with the prompt “They’ve grown so much, it’s hard to believe how little they used to be”, with Rowaelin! enjoy!
~~~~
Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, queen of Terrasen, stood in the courtyard of her palace, fire flickering at her fingertips, watching as the two small children before her copied her stance and produced puffs of smoke that billowed from their hands.
“Good, Thallan,” She praised her son, smiling as a spark flew from his open palm and onto the stone ground. The boy grinned back at her, stretching his arms out further to focus the heat more.
“Aerith, that’s so good!” Aelin turned to the other child, her youngest daughter, feeling the heat at her side. The tiniest of flames fluttered from Aerith’s hand, and the girl’s blue-gold eyes lit up with delight.
“Mama! I’m doing it!”
The flame sputtered out a moment later, and Aelin couldn’t resist scooping up her daughter into a hug. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart!”
“Mama, look!” Thallan demanded her attention as a matching flame, twin to his sister’s, appeared in his palm.
Just like Aerith’s, Thallan’s flame didn’t last for more than a few seconds, but Aelin couldn’t care less. She pulled her littlest child toward her, relishing his squeal of delight.
“Both of you are doing so well!”
“Can we show Daddy?” Aerith begged, pointing to the sky. Aelin’s gaze followed the little finger, her grin widening as she saw the white-tailed hawk that was circling the courtyard.
“Of course you can. I know he’ll be impressed.”
Rowan dove to the ground, shifting in a flash of light and landing on his feet. The two five-year-olds escaped their mother’s grip to run to him, clinging to his legs.
“Daddy!” Thallan shouted excitedly, “Watch us! Me and Aerith can make fire like Mommy can!”
Rowan locked eyes with his mate across the yard, and she leaned against one of the walls with a smirk. Watch them, she said with her eyes, They both can do it.
“I’m gonna be the best fire wielder in the world!” Aerith laughed, focusing hard on the tips of her fingers. Fire danced at the tip of each one, for barely half a second, before going up in puffs of smoke. “Did you see that, Daddy?”
“That’s so good, sweetheart.” Rowan praised, his smile so wide that his pointed canines could be seen. “And you learned that so quickly.”
Beaming at his compliment, Aerith repeated her actions over again, producing small flames that went up in smoke.
Thallan tugged at his father’s hand, demanding his attention. “Daddy, I’m gonna be even better than Aerith.”
“Well, nobody can be better than Lyria,” his twin sniped back, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “So there.”
“Don’t start fighting, you two.” Rowan sighed. “Thallan, show me your fire. I’m sure both of you are incredible.”
He always knew just what to say. Aelin watched happily as her children both produced small bursts of flame. At five years old, they had already achieved a lot power-wise. Both of them were creating snowstorms in their cribs when they were toddlers, and their powers had only grown.
Recently, the two children had gotten overexcited during a game of hide and seek and set a curtain on fire, leading to their current situation; Aelin training both of them with her power of fire.
After showing off to his father, Thallan distracted his twin’s attempts at creating more fire by starting a game of tag. The high pitched squeals of the two children running around the courtyard were music to Aelin’s ears.
With Aerith and Thallan distracted, Rowan made his way over to his wife and mate. He wrapped a strong arm over her shoulders and leaned down to kiss her hair.
“Remember when they were so little?” Aelin sighed. Thallan nearly tagged his sister, but she shifted into her animal form at the last second, causing him to miss. The hawk she’d transformed into gave an indignant squawk, and flew up to the tallest tree.
“They’ve both grown so much.” Rowan agreed. “It’s hard to believe that they used to be that little.”
“Wasn’t it just yesterday they were just babies?” Aelin could feel herself starting to get emotional, and she wiped futilely at her eyes. “Wasn’t it just yesterday all of them were babies?”
“They grow up too fast.” Her mate murmured gently in her ear. “Remember how Lyria and Sam would crawl into our bed at dawn to snuggle?”
“Or how Aspen never liked to crawl, he was just sitting one day and walking the next?” Aelin sighed, reliving fond memories of her children.
“Or how Evalin would run around the palace with just her diaper and a tiara?” His hand rubbed gentle circles on her back as Aelin sniffed softly.
“And now they’re so big, Rowan.”
Before he could respond, Rowan’s attention caught on something in the sky. Aelin followed his gaze, a wet laugh escaping her throat as she saw her youngest children, both in their animal forms, chasing each other through the sky.
An ear-piercing shriek came from over the horizon, another bird flying over the high wall of the courtyard. Another white-tailed hawk, the same form as his father. Aspen shifted, landing on top of the wall, and waved to his parents.
“Hey Aspen, done with your schoolwork?” Aelin called, quickly drying her eyes.
“Uile air a dhèanamh*, Mama.” Her son replied proudly.
“Obair mhath, a mhic**.” Rowan replied in the Old Language. As part of their royal studies, Aelin and Rowan required all their children to study another language. Aspen, ever his father’s twin, chose to study the old language of the Fae.
“Are Aerith and Thallan practicing fighting?” Aspen asked, in common.
“Kids, do you want to show your brother what you can do?” Rowan called to the hawks in the sky. Both birds squawked back, and dove fast for the courtyard.
“Aspen we can make fire!” Aerith squealed, mouth already moving a thousand miles per hour straight from her animal form. “Watch watch watch!”
The twins proceeded to show off their new skills proudly, while their older brother looked on happily from his perch on the wall. Aelin glanced up at the sky, watching as the sun began to dip low.
“I think it’s almost time for dinner, yeah?” Rowan asked, interrupting Aspen showing the twins a move to control wind, “Let’s head in.”
“Rachamaid ithe!” Aspen cried happily, clearly trying to show off. When Aerith gave him a confused look, he translated, “Let’s go eat!”
Inside the palace, Aelin and Rowan sat at the dinner table, taking in the scenery of all their children gathered in one place.
Lyria, ever the princess, eating prim and proper. Sam, sunk low in his seat, arms crossed sullenly as he and his older sister quipped back and forth. Aspen, speaking rapidly in the Old Language to whoever would listen. Evalin, trying to get her little sister to hold still long enough to braid her silver hair. Aerith and Thallan, subtly flicking bits of dinner at each other.
Their family was messy and chaotic, and growing up far too quickly for her liking, but sitting there, eating dinner with all of them, Aelin wouldn’t trade them for the world.
~~~~
a/n: i used Scottish Gaelic for the Old Language, with just google translate, so it’s likely to not be correct. if anyone speaks that language, feel free to correct me!
Uile air a dhèanamh: All done
Obair mhath, a mhic: Well done, son
#mal's 300 follower celebration#mal writes stuff#fanfiction#throne of glass#tog#sarah j maas#tog gen 2#rowaelin#rowan whitethorn#aelin galathynius
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An Insider’s Guide to Terrasen: Princess Evalin Ashryver and her daughter, her fireheart, Princess Aelin, 1/?
#throne of glass#crown of midnight#heir of fire#queen of shadows#empire of storms#tower of dawn#kingdom of ash#the assassin's blade#an insider's guide to terrasen#princess evalin ashryver#evalin ashryver#evalin galathynius#evalin ashryver galathynius#evalin#house ashryver#house galathynius#fireheart#aelin fireheart#aelin#aelin ashryver#aelin ashryver galathynius#aelin ashryver whitethorn galathynius#queen aelin#aelin of the wildfire#princess aelin#princess of terrasen#heir of terrasen#terrasen#orynth#the palace of orynth
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Immortals Chapter 7
Hello lovely people! I am sorry for the later-than-usual update, my week has been seriously hectic. It’s involved medical collapses, panic attacks and sleepovers. Due to this, this chapter is 100% my least favourite, and it’s unedited. I do, however, have the chapter after this written, so I will not be late with the next update!
TW: minor swearing
Here is a link to my main masterlist, where the all chapters for this fic can be found.
“Good,” said Asterin, “we’re immortals. Things should change, and often, or they’ll get boring”
The next time Rowan saw Aelin Galathynius was two days later, in the throne room of Maeve’s stone palace. He was giving his report alongside Lorcan when she swept into the room and walked right up to Maeve. Without even a hint of a bow, she announced she was to visit Mistward, one Doranelle’s demi-fae outposts the other side of the Cambrian Mountains. Rowan liked Mistward, the people were down-to-earth and friendly, if a little intimidated by him. At least they weren’t snivelling nobility.
Apparently, her mother had spent some time there in her youth, fighting for demi-fae rights, and Aelin wished to visit the fortress she had heard much about. It seemed Evalin Ashryver had never had the chance to go back before her untimely death last year.
The Lord of Allsbrook and Lady Lysandra were to remain in Doranelle, and Aelin had set up meetings with Maeve’s foreign trade advisor for her entourage, and they were going to meet whilst she attended to her personal business.
Maeve had then promptly ordered Rowan to go with her to Mistward, to which Aelin had waved off, not needing an escort.
“I must insist. I can’t let my favourite niece wander the forest alone now, can I?” Maeve had replied with a snake’s smile. Rowan had no idea what Maeve’s ulterior motives were, but wasn’t about to ask any time soon.
Fenrys was on his way to Varese, so would accompany them for the first part of the journey. Rowan was deeply looking forward to this journey, it would be the best fucking highlight of his life. Two equally arrogant, swaggering fae who were currently in the business of bedding each other at every turn. Truly, Rowan couldn’t wait.
Rowan hadn’t been able to look Fenrys in the eye for two days after The Incident, until he finally got over himself and confronted the male about it. Fenrys had chuckled, clapped him on the shoulder, winked, and walked off without a word. So, Rowan thought it went well enough. It had been a sharp slap in the face, a reminder that he was a broken, centuries-old warrior, blood sworn to another queen. It had reminded him of what the tattoo covering his left side stood for. The shame he’d carry until his last breath. And Aelin, she was a young queen, a dreamer who was good for her people and the world. She was a gift to the world, even if she was arrogant and swaggering and slightly disrespectful. Gods, he couldn’t stand her contradictions. One moment she was kind and compassionate, helping a Doranelle youngling, and making his head spin, the next she was arrogant and rude addressing his queen and still making his head spin.
-x-
Waiting on one of Doranelle’s many bridges, Rowan traced the route in his head. He went through the comforting, familiar motions of securing his weapons and checking his food and water rations whilst he waited for Fenrys and the queen. Unsurprisingly, they were late.
A quarter of an hour later, Rowan spotted them in the distance. The queen was carrying a pack with a bedroll, for the two day trek to Mistward. He wondered how she would react to sleeping exposed to the elements, she was royalty afterall.
Fenrys’ blonde hair was up in a bun, a dark green tunic clinging to his body, complementing his bronze skin.
Once they’d reached him, he simply nodded in approval and turned toward the mountains, leading the way.
-x-
Two and a half hours later, Fenrys at last broke the silence that enveloped the three.
“So, are you going to be okay with sleeping out in the wild like this?” He addressed Aelin.
“Aw, are you worried about me?” Aelin’s tone was teasing.
Fenrys scowled, “Well, have you ever slept outdoors before?”
“Of course I’ve slept outdoors, who do you think I am?”
“Uh, the- Queen of Terrasen?”
“Fair point.” Aelin conceded, “But yes, I’ve slept on a bedroll before. Every summer, as the winter’s in Terrasen are too cold, me and my cousin Aedion do a three day hiking trip in the Staghorns, hunting and drinking ourselves half to death.”
Fenrys laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Reminds me of Connall and myself.”
“Yes well, Aedion is practically my brother anyways.”
“He’s bloodsworn to you, is he not?” Rowan cut in, curiosity getting the better of him.
“He is, swore it at my coronation last year.” Aelin looked surprised at his question.
“And he was okay with you both out in the wild without a guard?” Rowan’s tone was slightly judgemental, and Aelin frowned.
“Aedion knows better than to try and keep me locked up, I’d just break out and kill him myself.” Her voice was filled with fondness as she spoke of her bloodsworn.
“Couldn’t you just order him too through the blood oath?” Fenrys asked.
“Why the fuck would I do that? It’d take the fun out of everything.”
“He is your bloodsworn, though, so surely he has to do as you say?”
Aelin stumbled, looking toward Fenrys.
“Aedion is not some slave I order to do my bidding,” her voice was razor-sharp, “swearing the blood oath is a promise of respect and loyalty, not blind devotion. The orders I give him are his to do as he pleases, and should he wish to be free of his oath, he may do so at his earliest convenience. I neither can, nor do I even want to have people forced to serve me, and anyone who chooses to indeed follow me is valued and respected as their own individual within my court.”
Fenrys was looking at Aelin with a new sort of respect, and perhaps a hint of longing behind his eyes. Not longing for her, but for what position she could offer him in life. Indeed, Rowan’s own image of the young queen was constantly evolving, and her declaration had him smiling a little. He could imagine her court in the future, a band of nobility and commoners, standing strong against any threat to their immortal queen. Happy to serve, free to do as they please. A court to change the world. Dreamers, the lot of them.
She truly was the opposite of Maeve.
Nobody had spoken, but Aelin gave them a little smirk, and said,
“Anyway, nobody in their right mind could get past them.” She gestured to the surrounding forest, and Rowan sucked in a sharp breath at what he now noticed.
“The Little Folk,” Fenrys breathed from behind him.
Small figures, dryads and imps and pixies, all dancing through the trees silently.
Come to greet the Heir of Brannon. Perhaps they wondered after their kin in Terrasen, maybe had come to honour her Ashryver lineage or greet her as a descendant of Mab. Rowan had only caught glimpses of them in the past, they rarely ever revealed themselves. But here they were, murmuring to the Queen of Terrasen. And she… Aelin was whispering back.
Rowan had never heard of people talking to the Little Folk, but here was Aelin Galathynius, murmuring to them as if they were old friends.
She was speaking so softly, even Rowan’s sharp Fae ears had trouble hearing them. A winding ribbon of flame was dancing among them and the Little Folk suddenly receded, chattering amongst themselves. Looking back, Rowan started as he saw the Queen of Terrasen. A purple and blue flower crown sat upon her golden hair, and a delicate bracelet of acorns, daisies and thistles was upon her wrist. She was smiling softly, and Rowan’s breath was momentarily knocked from him.
Her eyes held a warm, content glow and embers seemed to light up her irises. Her golden hair was floating in the wind, and a truly happy smile sat upon her lips. Her cheeks held a light blush and in that moment, she looked truly beautiful.
Shaking it off, he looked at Fenrys and immediately glowered. The male’s eyes were on his and his eyebrows were raised as if to say ‘really?’ and his eyes had an amused, knowing gleam.
Turning back to the route, Rowan’s scowl remained for the rest of the afternoon, glaring at all the trees as if they’d personally offended him.
-x-
As they’d stopped for the night, Rowan had appreciated the queen’s quick, efficient way of setting up camp.
He did, however, hear her grumbling to Fenrys as she laid down on her bedroll for the night, set up next to but an appropriate distance away from the other male’s.
“Just because I’m used to these conditions, doesn’t mean I have to like them.” She was whining as Rowan rolled his eyes.
A pause then, “Rowan Whitethorn I can hear your eyes rolling right now.”
“Sure you can, Princess.” Rowan replied.
“I can!” Aelin protested, “and I’m serious. I would kill for a hot bath and one of my silk nightgowns right now.”
Fenrys whispered something in her pointed ear that made the temperature spike and earned him a punch to the arm.
Rowan rolled his eyes again so hard it hurt his brain, before rolling over and closing his eyes.
-x-
Waking with a jolt the next morning, Rowan found Aelin already awake, in her human form, whilst Fenrys was still snoring on the other side of mossy clearing.
“Morning,” he grunted.
Aelin just grumbled, raking her hands through her hair, wincing as her fingers caught on the tangles.
“Not a morning person?” Rowan chuckled as she levelled a glare at him.
Rowan just walked over to wake Fenrys up, telling Aelin to start packing up.
-x-
An hour later, Fenrys had pulled Aelin into a quick hug, murmuring goodbye as he separated for the way to Varese.
He saluted Rowan, receiving a roll of pine-green eyes in his response, before vanishing into nothing, leaving Rowan and Aelin in the middle of Wendlyn’s forests, staring at each other.
Rowan broke first, raking his hand through ruffled silver hair and sighing.
“Mistward is twenty miles away. I’m not in the mood to spend the next eight hours walking. Shift, and let's go. We’re running.” He gave her a feral grin, canines exposed.
Aelin narrowed her eyes at the commanding tone, but started to braid her waist-length hair at the base of her head. Rowan secured his pack as a flash of light indicated her shifting. Gods, she really was gorgeous. And her beauty was heightened in her Fae form, her ears delicately pointed and canines lengthened. She moved with ethereal grace, and everything seemed to revolve around her. Too bad he could barely stand her, even if he’d felt a… shift, in their relationship since they sparred. Since he’d felt their magic dancing around each other. Since he’d begun to see her as more of an… equal.
He didn’t exactly know where he stood with the young Queen of Terrasen, sometimes she acted like his mortal enemy, sometimes she just seemed like an overly-excitable acquaintance with mild pestering tendencies.
Aelin finished tying her braid, bracing her hands on her hips and smirking at him, arrogance back in full swing. Rowan nodded once at her, and took off.
He raced through the trees, dodging boulders and leaping fallen logs as the world blurred around him. The forest was so alive, all the plants and animals coming together to create its own kind of magic, a circle of life and death and rebirth. The wind whipped through his hair, and his arms pumped harder as he sprinted, a thin sheen of sweat starting to break out upon his skin.
Rowan looked sideways, and spotted a blur of gold through the trees a little way away from him. Aelin met his gaze, and grinned at him in the pure, unbridled joy that came with pushing your Fae body to the limits. The scents and tastes of the world around him were so exhilarating, and he felt nothing could compare to the feeling. He smiled back at the young demi-fae, and felt, almost, less alone. Maybe, just maybe, a friendship could be possible between the two. For the first time in a long, long while, Rowan felt… hopeful. Like he could look forward to tomorrow.
Tags: @bookworm232020 @brandyovereager @kendallambrosio @alyx801
I hope those are the right tags! Let me know if you would like to be tagged.
#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#rowaelin#fanfic#fanfiction#throne of glass#sarah j maas#sjm#aelin and rowan#rowan x aelin#aelin ashryver galathynius#aelin of the wildfire#aelin fireheart#immortals#chapter 7
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