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emilystheories · 1 year

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Bryce Quinlan's true home: A compilation of all the evidence.

[ACOTAR, CC and slight TOG spoilers!]

It seems that the consensus among fans is that Bryce will return back to Midgard at the end of CC3, and that most of the story will be wrapped up. On the contrary, I think it's just getting started, and instead believe that:

Bryce Quinlan's true home is Prythian. She will be the Starborn Queen, and ruler of the Dusk Court.

And not just Bryce. I think Hunt, Ruhn and everyone else will be joining her too... because (to put it bluntly).. Midgard is fucked.

Allow me to go through the evidence.

Bryce is repeatedly connected to dusk.

One of the first thing Hunt notices about Bryce is that her scent is of the "first stars at nightfall." Nightfall is another word for dusk. SJM often uses scent to foreshadow a character's home (ie. Rowan of TOG smelling like Terrasen, and Rhys smelling like Velaris).

Bryce has been obsessed with Pegasus dolls since book 1. It's then no coincidence that the Pegasus's in Prythian came from the Prison Island... where the Dusk Court (most likely) used to be. (And... think about that Pegasus doll that SJM included in the CC3 reveal video...)

Bryce often has her nails painted in "twilight" colours (another word for dusk), and even her damn nipples are described as "dusk pink" (lmfao).

"Dusk's Truth" seems to be of great importance, and I'm willing to bet that everything Danika did - from giving Bryce the Horn, to even her own death - was so that Bryce could escape Midgard and reach Prythian and the Dusk Court. Recall Baxian's words; that Danika was searching for a way into a new world - one without the Asteri.

The home of the Starborn fae isn't Midgard, it's Prythian - the Dusk Court. Bryce Quinlan is heir to the Starborn fae. She is Queen Theia's descendant.

Bryce is also connected to Prythian.

The star on Bryce's chest is a "beacon" for Prythian, and glows for people who also originate from the ACOTAR world (I don't think people understand how big a deal this is...). If Bryce returns to Midgard permanently, then she'll forever wear a star on her chest that glows for another world.

Bryce is the Horn. If you subscribe to the theory that the Horn is the 4th Dread Trove item, with the other 3 being in Prythian, then she is obviously needed there - especially when ACOSF hinted that all 4 items joined together allows for something big to happen...

The prophecy about the knife and the sword suggests that the ACOTAR and CC fae are going to be reunited. Bryce owns this prophetic sword - she has a big part to play (one that surely can't be fulfilled if Bryce just pops into Prythian for a quick visit, and then leaves again... and really, what would be the point of that?)

Foreshadowing that Bryce will be a queen.

It is repeatedly stated that Bryce bears the exact light of the Starborn Queen.

Bryce's name in Hunt's phone is 'Bryce Is a Queen.'

Hunt himself often remarks on Bryce's queenly demeanour:

And in CC2, Hunt again thinks to himself that the 'princess' title isn't enough for Bryce... that she is something more...

Then in the final CC2 chapters, we see Ruhn pleading with Bryce to become Queen:

To which Cormac agrees, and then says that the future of their people moving forward, all depends upon Bryce...

And most importantly, Ruhn's last words to Bryce: "Long live the Queen."

And now that I'm thinking about it, it is repeatedly stated that Hel's armies strike at Bryce's command. The entirety of Hel... await Bryce's orders. As if she too is their Queen. (It won't surprise me if the Dusk Court is strongly intertwined with Hel, there's SO much evidence... but that's for another post).

Other characters and their connection to Prythian.

Bryce isn't the only one with ties to Prythian. We also have:

Ruhn and Rhys looking identical.

The Asteri originating from Prythian, and making clear that their true goal is to go back there to get revenge (so the plot is likely to follow in this direction...)

The Princes of Hel are connected to Prythian: the Illyrian's and Hel's armies have the same wings, we have a "Lord Thanatos" in the Hewn City, the 7 layers of the library, that "cat presence" watching...

When Bryce is taken to the town house in Prythian, she remarks that the interior decorating is the same as Jesiba's and the Autumn King's - they are both likely from Prythian.

The Bone Carver drew three interlocking circles in the sand, which is the exact symbol of Parthos (and the symbol of Bryce's Archesian amulet). The Bone Carver's brother is Koschei (the upcoming ACOTAR antagonist) - he is also likely connected to Parthos.

The Under-King is described exactly like The Suriel (they're likely the same species). Bryce's star even glows for the Under-King, which tells us he is from Prythian.

Bryce's star also glows for Cormac and the Avallen fae; they're likely from Prythian also (and the Dusk Court). In fact, one of the first thing Bryce notices when she lands in Prythian, is that everyone is wearing the same clothes as the Avallen fae.

The Thunderbirds (and likely Hunt) were connected to "Dusk's Truth." (So, Bryce ending up in Prythian isn't just about the Bryce x Azriel theory...).

And this leads me to my most controversial opinion of all: although unbeknownst to readers, Crescent City is an ACOTAR spin-off series. That's not to say it can't stand on it's own, or that is has lesser value - but rather that almost all characters have ties back to the ACOTAR world - and this is surely not a coincidence.

I truly believe that SJM is planning a full multiverse crossover series between all 3 of her worlds, and CC was the series needed to bridge ACOTAR and TOG together. But, more on this later...

We don't want the characters staying in Midgard. They need to get out.

Midgard is entirely different to the ACOTAR and TOG worlds. The Asteri entered Midgard, absolutely obliterated everyone and everything, and then built their own world from the ground up. Every building, road, every inch of this world - was created and orchestrated by the Asteri. Their power and influence is absolute. Bryce realises this too:

We see the death camps in Kavalla... but I would argue that the whole of Midgard is one giant death camp. Any sense of freedom... is an illusion.

And because the Asteri control everything, they see everything, and know everything. I can't see how any of the CC characters will overthrow the Asteri in Midgard (I mean, they get close to Rigelus at the end of CC2, and Bryce has to world jump to escape, and Hunt and Ruhn are facing slavery, or worse. And yet we're to believe that SIX Asteri will be defeated in one book...?)

However, if this is all part of a larger scheme, where a multiverse book series in the works, and ACOTAR, TOG, and CC characters will rally together to defeat the Asteri (TOG Spoilers - as well as Orcus and Mantyx... they're still out there, don't forget), then maybe there's a chance.

And, let's not also forget that Bryce bargained away her resting place to the Under-King. If Bryce dies in Midgard... she's screwed. She has no chance of reincarnation, or eternal peace, or... whatever happens after death. But, if she dies in Prythian, it's a different story...

Midgard is doomed.

Following the final chapters of CC2, it is clear that Midgard is heading towards imminent destruction.

We know that Bryce has been thrown into another world. Ruhn is in the Asteri dungeons, his future uncertain. Cormac was killed. Do we really think the two fae kings; the Autumn King, and The Avallen King, are just going to sit back and accept this? Let the Asteri murder and torture their children?

We also know that the leader of the human rebels, Pippa Spetsos, was killed. I can't think of anything that would enrage the rebels more (and their mech suits, the synth - everything they've been brewing, feels like it's reaching its climax...)

Then we have Apollion mentioning that the 'Northern Rift' is groaning, and that he senses war approaching. (And for what it's worth, I'm not sure I trust Apollion...)

Lastly, we are still yet to see the consequences of Tharion's actions, and the River Queen's wrath. It is stated multiple times that the River Queen has the power to flood Lunathion if she wished, and I can't help but feel that is relevant.

The flooding of Midgard.

When reading CC1 and CC2, did you happen to notice the sheer amount of times it is raining?

SJM even makes a point to tell readers that there is record rainfall... (and thank you to @/highladyfeyre on TT for her theory on this!)

Then, in Throne of Glass, Aelin falls through the worlds, and sees the ACOTAR world and the Crescent City world. However, she also sees a world entirely covered in water.

Linking to this, in ACOSF, Merrill explains that all of the worlds are stacked on top of each other, even sharing the same space - but what separates them is TIME. Again going back to TOG where Aelin falls through the worlds, it says this; "She was falling. Falling and being thrown. The Wyrdgate sealed behind her, and yet she was not home. As it closed, ALL WORLDS OVERLAPPED. And she now fell through them."

If the worlds are separated by time, then it can be argued that Aelin wasn't looking at separate planets - she was looking at the same world, throughout differing time periods (more evidence for this here). Meaning, the world covered in water... is still yet to happen.

And following CC3, what is the final Crescent City book to be called...?

House of Many Waters.

The Multiverse series.

You might be thinking - what the hell is the point of Midgard flooding?

Well, the 'flooding of Midgard' is a key event in Norse Mythology, and signals the arrival of Ragnarok (a huge war across all of the worlds, that resulted in the end of life as they know it).

Another term for Ragnarok, is "Twilight of the Gods."

The same name as Sarah's WIP book series... one that she appeared to draft at the same time as Crescent City...

Twilight is another word for DUSK. It all just fits too perfectly to be a coincidence.

Thus, I wholeheartedly believe that CC3 and CC4, as well as the final ACOTAR books, are the precursors to SJM's endgame series - Twilight of the Gods. Where the ACOTAR, CC and TOG characters will unite for a universal war, in order to stop the end of the world.

"But SJM said ACOTAR and CC will be standalone!"

Firstly, with all due respect to SJM, her word in interviews is not always gospel. She is known to deceive fans in interviews; for example, in 2020, SJM said a multiverse crossover would never happen, and in her most recent interview, she revealed that she has actually been planning the crossover for years. I'm not suggesting SJM has malicious intent, if anything, it's the opposite - she does not want to spoil the books for us.

Secondly, SJM never confirmed that ACOTAR and CC are both entirely standalone reads (if they were, she'd never go forth with the crossover). Instead, she said that you don't need to read ACOTAR to understand CC3. That makes sense, and to me just means that she is going to include extra contextual information to help out those fans who are indeed standalone readers (which won't be hard, because Bryce will be learning everything about Prythian for the first time too).

But the most important point is this - the multiverse crossover changes everything, and 100% changes the ACOTAR world as well.

As proof of this, consider Rhys. He has been studying the universe intently for years now. He even built his own orrery - his own map of the universe. As of CC2, he has just met a girl from another world. This girl will almost certainly be telling him about the Asteri, and that their true goal is to go back to Prythian - Rhys's home - and exact revenge.

So, do you really think that Rhys will learn about the existence of other worlds, the existence of the Asteri (who actively want to hurt his loved ones), and then just.. forget about it in future books? Send Bryce back to Midgard alone, simply wishing her well, and then going back to his ordinary life? No.

Elain's book.

As even further proof of this, consider that Elain's story will be the centre of the next ACOTAR book.

In ACOSF, we are told that there are three prominent mountains in Prythian, known as the "three sister peaks." The mountain where 'Under the Mountain' took place (and where Amarantha held people captive), Ramiel, and the mountain of the Prison Island.

Feyre conquered the first mountain; when she defeated Amarantha.

Nesta conquered Ramiel.

Which leaves the third mountain, the Prison Island mountain, to the third sister... Elain.

And what is the Prison Island most likely to be....? The Dusk Court.

I'm willing to bet that Elain's story intertwines heavily with Crescent City also.

That all of this... is so much bigger than we can imagine.

#crescent city theory #crescent city #bryce quinlan #acotar #acotar theory #sjm theory #sjm universe #sjm spoilers #sjm multiverse #sjm crossover #sjm books

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likecanyoujustnot · 1 month

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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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gabilina · 1 month

Text

“Chaol loved the idea of Aelin”

I've seen this type of comments on Instagram and Tik Tok which is another prove that readers have problems with reading comprehension.

While being Celaena Sardothien, she and Chaol were in a relationship in which they hid many things from each other. It wasn't only on Chaols part, in fact… they both fücked up in this. During that time, he knew her being the assassin and not the lost princess. He only realised that she is Terrasen's heir bc before departuring to Wendlyn (which is at the ending of the book) she whispered to his ear some date or something.

My question is:

How could Chaol Westfall love all of her if he didn't knew that Celaena Sardothien, the Adarlans assassin was in fact Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the lost princess and heir of Terrasen and didn't even get a chance to do so bc of how these books were written?

Chaol didn't love some idea of Celaena/Aelin, he loved the parts of her she SHOWED him and ALLOWED him to know. It's not his fault for not loving the parts she perpusely hid.

#pro chaol #pro chaol westfall #anti aelin #anti sarah j maas #anti throne of glass #anti sjm #anti tog #anti rowaelin

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mariaofdoranelle · 8 months

Note

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

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

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

You Still Would’ve Been Mine

Written for my Drabblefest

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

PS it’s canonverse

960 words, no warnings

⨯ ⁺ ✦ ･｡ﾟ⨯ ﾟ♡ ✧* ･｡* ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rowan was on a boat home the next day.

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

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

Help me

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

“No.”

Sellene sent him a cut-the-bullshit look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Havelok the Dane

Erec and Enide

Laxdæla Saga

Piers Plowman

The Divine Comedy

Amadís de Gaula

The Decameron

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

The Owl and the Nightingale

Lancelot, the Knight of the Cart

Doon de Mayence

Le Morte d’Arthur

Egil’s Saga

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

Help, dad sold me.

Rowan felt dizzy, barely breathing as everything clicked together.

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

Over his dead body.

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

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

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

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#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #ask #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #drabble #drabblefest

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catastrophesandcures · 10 months

Text

|| 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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princessyuwa · 1 month

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Nehemia x Fenrys - AU where Crown Princess Nehemia never dies for Aelin. After the war against Maeve, Terrasen's handsome ambassador who preferred the bachelor life falls hard for the Light of Eyllwe 😉.

#dress up games #throne of glass #nehemia ytger #nehemia deserved better #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x nehemia

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leiawritesstories · 8 days

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and the water creeps to my chest

oh no i got really into Mumford & Sons during finals and accidentally wrote some slight angst for @throneofglassmicrofics 😂🫡

basic premise: canon AU where fae/mythical creatures don't exist but magic and arobynn do ;)

Prompt: "Deep End" // song: "Thistle & Weeds"

word count: 574

warnings: slight angst

enjoy!!

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

The fire wouldn't come.

Aelin knew it could, and she knew that it had, and it wasn't. It wasn't coming. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how many breathing or grounding exercises or how many mental doors she unlocked, her fire would not come.

Perhaps it sensed the danger lurking in the red-haired man across the training yard and refused to bend to the cold cunning in his eyes.

Aelin had been sixteen years old when Arobynn Hamel became the weapons master, and he'd been trying to train her in magic ever since, even though he had no magic and knew nothing about the finicky, delicate art of magical training. He'd seemed content to put the Crown Princess of Terrasen through grueling physical training instead for the last four years.

Until he got too greedy.

Until the whispers started.

Until the Crown Princess unexpectedly became Queen and the whispers broke into shouts.

"It's simply...not budging," Aelin called across the training yard, weariness weighing down her voice.

Arobynn's lip curled in badly veiled disgust. "Disappointing, Aelin. Simply disappointing." Ordinarily, the insult would be enough to push her into a tidal wave of wildfire, but all it did was drop heavily upon her weighted shoulders. "Disappointing." He left, boots clicking against the stone steps.

Aelin let her sword tumble to the ground with a dull clang and made it a few jerky strides before she crumpled to the ground, her back flush against the sun-warmed stone of the far wall. Dark, shadowy clouds obscured the sunlight, and the summer air thickened to bursting, becoming heavy with the coppery scent of a storm.

She didn't have the strength to move.

Fat, lazy raindrops dripped slowly from the sky, plopping against the worn gray stones and sand of the training yard and the sweat-soaked material of Aelin's tunic and pants. She cupped her hands, catching the drops, overpowering grief crashing into her as she remembered her mother teaching her to catch the rain.

You may not have all of the water gift, my Fireheart, but anyone can hold the rain.

The queen tipped her head up to the sky as the rain thickened, its rapid patter splashing onto her face, mingled with the tears that slid down her face like the summer shower. I miss you, Mum. So much.

Eyes closed, the storm soaking through her clothes, Aelin felt the darkness close in on her, battering the wavering shreds of her faith. First the crown, now the wildfire--everything was being ripped from her fragile grasp. Even though it was late summer, even though the rain could barely touch the sand and stones before it soaked into nothing, she felt like the water was creeping up her chest, inexorably pulling her into its dark depths.

She was so...alone.

Unbidden, unprompted, heat rose up through Aelin's cupped hands, tiny sparks dancing around her fingertips. She cracked open her heavy eyes, released half a shuddering breath, and watched as the sparks kindled into tongues of flame, tiny dancing flickers of light and color amid the pouring rain. We are always with you, Fireheart, whispered a pair of voices in the depths of her heart.

The wildfire brightened, dancing higher, stronger, mirroring the hope that the queen grasped ahold of as she tugged herself to her feet, flames wreathing her hands and her brow, and picked up her sword.

She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.

And she would not be afraid.

~~~

TAGS:

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@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

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@llyncooljones

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@aelinschild

@renxzs

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sarahjswift · 1 year

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Short Story for Aelin's Month Again!

I started at Day 3 so I didn't want to say Day 2 lol

It is Day 4 and the prompt is Aelin's family! Thank you for all the love on the first one! Enjoy! :)

Aelin stared at the soldiers sparring in the arena below her. She sat in the Royal Box, watching in awe at their strength. Turning to her father, she exclaimed; “I want to be like them! I want to be big and strong too!” She was six years old and already was a bundle of promises and excitement.

Rhoe looked fondly at his daughter and ruffled her golden hair, cut to her shoulders. “Being big and strong like those men takes a long time. It isn’t as easy as you’d like, my daughter,” he said. Aelin pouted, unhappy with this response, and Rhoe smiled. He pointed down to the arena, Aelin’s gaze following.

“Look past their strength. Look at the patience they have, waiting and waiting to defeat their opponent. Look at their grace, balancing on those small beams. Look at their mental and physical stamina, how they have been sparring for over an hour and they haven’t tired. There are many things that go into being strong, Aelin. Not just muscle.”

Aelin nodded slowly, understanding. “I promise, Father. I will be strong for Terrasen.” Rhoe smiled gently down at her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yes, you will need to be strong for Terrasen. But be strong for yourself as well, Fireheart.”

_____

Aelin watched her mother carefully, noting her tells that only she could see. Her sharp jaw was clenched, her Ashryvr eyes narrowed, her hands gripping tightly together in her lap, were all tells that Evalin Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen, was very angry. At eight years old Aelin knew that when her mother was angry, a storm was about to break. At least she wasn’t unhappy at Aelin - instead, her fury was directed toward the men sitting around her at the table. Some of the court of Terrasen, old nobles who did nothing but complain.

Evalin said through gritted teeth, “I apologize, Lord Werloth, that you were unhappy with the battalion sent your way, but-”

“Damn right I’m unhappy! You promise a strong set of troops to protect my lands from opposing forces, yet a band of pathetic soldiers appear at my doorstep, asking for shelter,” Lord Werloth barked. “A good battalion should have tents. I don’t think you understand the threat my lands are on. Maybe your husband should handle this?”

Evalin drew in a sharp, angry breath, and Aelin smiled. She never liked Lord Werloth anyway.

Thirty minutes and some Werloth-flavored tears later, Evalin was storming down the corridor, Aelin’s small hand gripped firmly in hers. The Queen’s angry pace and sharp clacking of her heels made all those who passed immediately part to make room.

“Werloth is a pathetic baby,” Evalin fumed. “Who does he think he is? Saying my husband should do it.” She scoffed at this. “I’ve been Queen for fifteen years. I don’t need my husband's help handling Werloth’s meager lands. That battalion was all I could spare, given the threat from-”

At this, Evalin froze and looked down at Aelin, as if suddenly realizing it was her daughter next to her, not her friends. She crouched down and cupped Aelin’s face in her hands, kissing Aelin’s forehead. “I’m sorry, Fireheart,” she said softly. “I got carried away.”

Aelin smiled at her mother. “It’s okay, Mother.” She was never mad at her mother. Evalin was so strong and beautiful, and Aelin knew that she loved her fiercely. Evalin’s red lips curved into a grin, and she straightened up again.

“You know what I’m craving?” she asked. Aelin shook her head, hanging on to her hand. “Ice cream. Chocolate. Extra chocolate.”

Aelin squealed, and Evalin laughed. The Queen picked up her Princess and they raced down the hall toward the kitchens.

_____

Aelin woke up with a start. The morning light streamed in from the huge window next to the bed, and she panted, bringing her hand up to her forehead. Rowan was awake and surveying her anxiously.

“Not a nightmare,” she reassured him. “I’m okay. Go back to sleep.” Rowan’s green eyes analyzed her face, before kissing her softly and immediately falling back asleep against the pillows.

Aelin stared straight ahead as she ran her fingers absentmindedly through Rowan’s hair, thinking of her dream. It was an odd dream - most nights she had vicious nightmares of her traumas or happy, sweet dreams about her life and friends. But - tonight she had dreamed of her parents.

Even though they had died when she was just ten years old, Aelin still remembers the faces of her parents, her mother especially. They had both been beautiful and adored each other, and had been nurturing and sweet parents to her. They had raised her to be the queen that she was.

But this dream, the happy memories in it, had only evoked a feeling of deep sadness she hadn’t felt since the War. Aelin wished her parents were still on this earth, to see Terrasen thriving, to see the kingsflame that still carpeted the ground.

She wished they could have met Rowan. Her father would have been protective but Rhoe would have liked Rowan, his gentle nature agreeing with her mate’s quiet loyalty. Evalin would have loved him but would have kicked his ass if he so much as looked at Aelin wrong.

But what made Aelin want to cry was that her parents wouldn’t be there for her future children. She wouldn’t have her mother by her side as she went through the pain of birthing a child, and Rhoe and Evalin would never meet their grandchildren. The last time Aelin had felt her mother’s invisible touch was at her coronation five months ago.

Aelin felt a tear sliding down her cheek, and she wiped it off angrily. She wasn’t going to start the morning off crying. She eased herself out of the bed and padded into the bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror. She had slight dark circles under her eyes and her face was red. Perfect.

Aelin showered and then changed into a tight white dress and black heels that made her feel confident. She had a meeting with Darrow in a couple hours, but until then she was free - the one day she didn’t want to be.

She walked Fleetfoot on the castle grounds before letting her run wild in the fields, and then ate a quick breakfast of oats and fruit. Bored, she paced back and forth through the corridor from her room to the kitchens, going over her presentation for the meeting - proposing a community garden for the castle. She didn’t realize how loud and frantic she had become until a bleary-eyed Rowan stepped out of their room - in his pajamas(shorts) - and walked over to her.

“Fireheart, what’s wrong?” he asked, concerned. He held her hands in his, calming her pacing. Aelin stared into his beautiful eyes and blew out a breath.

“I…had a dream,” she began. “It wasn’t a nightmare. In fact, it was kind of nice. It was about…my parents.” Rowan’s eyes turned understanding, and he squeezed her hands. “It was two memories, one for each. My father was teaching me about what it meant to be strong, and my mother standing up for herself against the dirtbag men in her court. It just..shook me up, I suppose. Plus,” she managed a smile as tears streamed down her face, “I miss them like hell.”

Rowan wiped the tears from her cheeks away. “I understand what you mean. I had a good thirty years with my parents before they were killed in battle, and they never got to meet…well, Lyria. And they weren’t with us throughout the pregnancy, or..what happened after.” Rowan leaned forward so their foreheads were touching, and Aelin closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. “But the biggest regret of my parents being gone is that they never got to meet my Fireheart. My heart.” Aelin looked up at him, his face full of love, and placed her hand on his cheek.

She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his mouth. She pulled away as he hugged her to him. “I wish I could have met your parents. I wish you could have met mine. They would have loved you. But…,” Aelin smiled up at her mate and said the words she’d known all along, “..you are my family. No matter what. I’m not alone, because you will be with me.”

Rowan kissed her once, twice, three times. “And I you,” he breathed.

“Now,” Rowan said as he led her back to their bedroom, “tell me about your parents.” ____

#sarah j maas #throne of glass #aelinweek #rowaelin #aelin galathynius

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