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throneofsapphics · 5 months

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old faces, part seven

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again after seven years, and deal with the fall-out of a secret.

Warnings: mentions of death, drinking, flashbacks/ptsd

Word Count: ~6k

A/N: we’re starting to pick up a bit now! some time skips

series masterlist

Seven days in the castle. You enjoyed breakfasts with Aelin and whatever members of her court were around, evenings with Fenrys and co, more chances to interact with Ceri and her friends, free time to try and figure out your damn way around the city, but you were going crazy. Surrounded by people at all times, even if they were kind, exhausted you.

As much as you tried, there wasn’t a truly private place in this castle. Maybe it was paranoia, but you knew someone could always be watching - there could always be eyes.

But, there was a pattern. Halle would be on edge if someone was nearby, if there were prying ears, and she only fell into a deep sleep if it was the two of you - or if it seemed private enough. You trusted her judgment. The judgment of a cat. Then again, she wasn’t an ordinary cat.

She had her own kind of magic. That’s a secret you decided to keep as long as possible. Even if magic was freely accepted here, her kind could easily make her a target.

For gods sake she was buddies with fleetfoot. Aelin had been worried in the beginning, but her dog bounded right up to Halle.

Fleetfoot sniffed, tilted her head, and licked Halle’s face. The cat didn’t hiss or swipe, instead headbutting her.

Aelin gave you an incredulous look.

“She’s never met a dog.”

“Fleetfoot usually doesn’t make friends with cats,” Aelin turned back towards the duo, “you’re special Halle.” A small purr, and yellow eyes stared right at her, as if to say; ‘obviously.’

Aelin snorted and shook her head, ‘if Fleetfoot’s on her side, nobody should bother her.”

‘I’d like to see them try,’ the small hiss said. Seemed to say, you corrected yourself. The two of you couldn’t communicate, but it was easy enough to read her expressions.

One hand holding up your book, she rested in your lap. Rowan was in the room, sitting across from you, just having finished up Ceri’s bedtime story for the day. Another change over the last week, you’d gotten comfortable being in a room alone with them. Not that it had been necessarily uncomfortable in the past, but you shed some of the fear of perception. If people read into it too much, that was on them. You knew your relationship with them, you knew you were only platonic. Those who paid attention would know that too.

“There’s something .. off about that cat,” Rowan commented. He’d discreetly observed the two of you over the edge of a few reports he brought with him, intending to finish them as he waited for Ceri to fall asleep. There was only one left, and he figured he might as well get it done now. Abraxos’s story was requested again, and he didn’t have anything new to say. Like hell he’d write to Manon and ask. There would be a set of meetings and a ball hosted in Orynth the week after Beltane, and hopefully he could convince her not to ask during that. He didn’t know the witch well enough to tell how she’d react. Maybe she’d find it amusing, as far as he remembers witches were always protective of young ones. The nations of Erilea, and sometimes contingents from other countries, met once every two years, and it was Orynth’s turn to host this year. It would be interesting, convincing you to attend alongside Ceri.

Yellow eyes peeked up, Halle’s fur standing up, as if she’d heard the insult and taken it personally.

“Be nice,” you whispered, running your fingers through her fur. The little demon settled instantly, purring on your lap. There was definitely something off about that cat. Almost like it had purposefully found you. Ceri had seemed a bit put out that the cat liked you more than her. But, with your animal form it was to be expected. He’d never tell you this, not yet at least, but there was a small betting pool running for which form your daughter would take. Avian, or feline.

On their visit to Antica, he’d met some of the baast cats in the library of the Torre Cesme. More he thought about it, he’d never actually seen your animal form.

“Can you … talk to her?”

“Obviously,” you grinned, “I just told her to be nice.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, you knew what he meant.

“As a cat,” he drawled, raising a brow at you.

“Why would I spill our secrets to you?”

“So you can?” He knows cats communicate with each other in some way, Gods know birds do. Not that he’d ever tell Aelin that, she’d be relentless.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “I haven’t shifted around her yet.”

“When was the last time you shifted?”

“Probably too long,” you absentmindedly stroked the little creature. Who looked asleep, but Rowan got the inkling she was faking it.

Initially, there was a slight fear you’d bring a shifter with you, but he realized quickly you would’ve caught on to that. Above all, he trusted you and your judgment. Rowan trusted you’d never do anything to endanger Ceri, but recognized you’d easily throw yourself into any kind of danger if it meant protecting her. The more he thought about it, the more he realized just how much you’d sacrificed for her … how much you’d sacrificed for Ceri, and something about it didn’t sit right with him.

Fenrys insisted on a house-warming party. You wanted to call it ridiculous, but you’d never had something like this before, and you gave into his badgering. It didn’t take too much effort on his part, but you let him annoy you about it a bit. That way he’d feel like he accomplished something.

One month after you moved in, you finally hosted it.

The party was small, and perfect. Rowan, Aelin, Fenrys, Aedion, Lysandra, Evangeline, who came to surprise Ceri, a friend you’d made, and Ceri’s three closest friends.

A bit of poking around, a few questions to Aedion, and you learned the three of them were orphans. A piece of your heart shattered.

Edde and Edie, twins, and their cousin Elias. All Fae, all lived at the castle most of their lives - long enough they didn’t remember anything else. They all wanted to train as warriors, even though they were barely eleven. You and Fenrys, acting like gossiping mothers, had easily figured out why they attached themselves to Ceri. Fae recognize power, and something inside them would’ve drawn them to that wild magic. Ceri was powerful, there was no denying that. Reaching her father’s levels, and maybe passing it one day. Sensing that type of power was right up your alley.

Fenrys pressed a mug of, you looked down into the cup, catching a drift of the sweet honey - mead, into your hands. You took it with a grateful grin. As much as you loved wine, mead was your favorite. But, it was expensive and sometimes difficult to find. Instead of chugging it, you let yourself savor every drop.

Ines sidled up next to you as Fenrys walked away. All it took was a drunk night together for you to count her as one of your closest friends. She was in a similar situation to you, a daughter - but her father lived quite a distance away. In Eyllwe. She would spend winters down there, and summers up here. You were excited to meet her. A few years younger than Ceri, but you had an inkling she would take her under her wing. Only time would tell if your daughter was a good or bad influence.

“You have a beautiful home,” she sighed, swirling her glass in one hand. Halle weaved around your feet, the little kitten had been growing, and fast. She’d been circling the house the entire time, judging all of the new visitors. For some reason, you got the impression she was assessing if they were worthy of being in their presence. A meow. The connection the two of you shared is not something to ponder right now.

“Yours is just as pretty,” you countered. And it was - an elegant townhouse in the middle of the city.

She hummed, and emptied her glass, nudging you with her elbow. “So, you and … Fenrys?” She hesitated, forcing herself not to put his title in front of his name. He hated that.

“Friends,” you nudged her back. “And that's it,” you hoped you emphasized the last word enough.

“I’m wounded,” the male said, before switching his gaze to Ines. “But yes, we are just friends.”

Where had he come from? Either way, you were glad he came and backed you up. Otherwise, she may never have believed you.

Rowan, Aelin, and the others were currently being treated to prime entertainment by the four hellions. Probably just for the night, the cousins had shed their shy skin for the night, now re-enacting … some sort of game they played earlier. Evangeline was just as taken with the others as she’d been with Ani, and you watched how they already were latching onto her like an older sister.

Another small pain in your chest, one another sip of mead washed away for the night.

Now was as good of a time as any to pull out a little creation you’d been working on. Gods, you’d started this project nearly a year ago, and just now you’d finally gotten it right.

Rowan watched as you quickly slipped out of the room, and debated following you. But, you returned quickly. A type of crystal now in your hand. Round, with a flat bottom, and … no, it was glass, encasing several different kinds of crystals, all carefully arranged to form symbols. And it swirled with magic, practically a beacon to anyone who knew what to look for. Apparently, it attracted his wife because she was at your side within moments, peering down at it curiously.

“It can only play one long track,” you admitted.

A track? Music?

Placing it on a table, he watched as your eyes focused on it, fingers pressing against the glass. Normally you could do these types of things with just a thought, but maybe this one needed touch to work.

Sure enough, a tune started playing through the room, and caught everyone’s attention. You turned red, the attention flustering you, but you quietly explained what it did. It captures and plays back music. Only one long track, this one about four hours before it would repeat. You’ve only made the one.

The last statement, your left thumb and forefinger pressed together. One of your tells, you lied. Interesting. Something he could ask about later. Calling you out on bullshit was always amusing to him, as long as it was relatively harmless, of course.

“Took me over a year to get right,” he heard you tell Aelin.

The music was from Antica - he knew that much.

Aelin caught his eye, no dancing, he said quickly - anticipating her next question.

A large sigh and roll of her eyes, but she turned back to you instead.

The party went well, as well as you could’ve predicted. By eight, it began to split up. The three “E’s,” as they’d been nicknamed that night, and Evangeline would spend the night. There was plenty of room, and you liked a full house.

Rowan, Aelin, and Fenrys stuck around as the others left. Lysandra promised to get your drunk friend home in one piece. Now, you all splayed out on the couches. Fenrys shared one with you, your legs currently thrown over his lap as you stretched out. One hand rested on your shin, and the other propped up behind his head. The portrait of casual arrogance.

“This was fun,” you commented, stealing a glance at Aelin and Rowan. Their positions nearly mirrored your own, Aelin stretched out like a cat on the other couch, but with Rowan’s hand resting on the inside of her knee.

“Oh absolutely. We should do it again.”

“I do not want to move houses anytime soon,” you groaned.

Fenrys poked you, “not every party has to be a housewarming one.” He caught your ankle as you brought your leg back to try and kick him. “Slow,” he tutted, and you rolled your eyes, accepting the failure.

It’s true, the alcohol and fatigue was delaying all of your reactions.

“A question, for you, y/n,” the look in his eyes promised trouble.

“Oh no.”

“Find anyone to warm your bed this winter?” Fenrys teased. That comment caught Aelin and Rowan’s attention. Rowan was proud you managed to land a kick on him, even if he didn’t react, he fought the urge to glare at Fenrys. “Ines is quite pretty,” he added.

“It’s none of your business,” you rolled your eyes, “but no, I haven’t, and Ines is just a friend, with no interest in women or females.” Rowan shouldn’t have felt that relieved, the relief flew out the window with what she said next. “I suppose it’s never too late.”

“That’s more like it,” Fenrys grinned - ignoring Aelin’s frown. He tried very hard to keep his face neutral.

“I don’t think I’ll get involved with anyone until Ceri’s a bit more grown up. At least seriously.”

“You’re really going to be single for that long?” Fenrys countered.

“We’re immortal,” she huffed. “Can we not talk about this?” If Rowan didn’t know better, he’d think you were avoiding looking at the two of them. Actually, looking anywhere but at them.

“I’m trying to be helpful. You look like you need a good fuck.”

“Fenrys. Shut. Up,” Aelin looked ready to throw a fiery dagger at him, and he only shrugged.

“Just pointing out the obvious.”

Even if a very drunk Aelin, who didn’t remember it the next day, admitted she really liked you, you were off-limits. Painfully off-limits, and not shown a hint of interest in them. He’d settle for - no, it wasn’t settling if there was no interest there on his end. He’d be your friend. Rowan liked being your friend. Friends were good, and friends was safe. The last thing he needed was for this to get messy.

“There’s going to be a ball, around beltane,” Aelin commented casually, carefully watching your reaction.

“Do we need to go dress shopping for Ceri?”

“For you and Ceri.” You paled, and she heard your heartbeat quicken. Your mouth parted, before closing again. Of all the things to make you speechless, it was this. “We’d like for both of you to come,” she added gently.

“Who … who will be there?”

“Every two years, the countries on Erilea meet for meetings. Sometimes countries too, and there’s always a ball. Music, food, dancing.”

Your entire arm began to shake. She held on tightly to your hand, felt your palm beginning to sweat. Your eyes glazed, and Aelin began to panic. The door swung open, revealing Rowan. He looked between the two of you, and crossed the room. Slowly, he knelt in front of you, taking your hand, disentangling Aelin’s fingers from yours. He called your name, over and over again.

“You’re in Terrasen. You’re in Orynth.”

“What triggered it?” He met Aelin’s eyes, not releasing his grip on your hands.

“I asked about the ball.”

Rowan swore lightly under his breath.

You were still shaking, eyes still glazed over, lips starting to turn blue. He gathered both of your hands in one, the other gripping your chin, squeezing enough so your lips parted. She felt his magic swirling, forcing air into your lungs.

You jolted, as if you were transported back to your body. Rowan hadn’t released his grip on your hands, and good thing because you looked ready to swing at him. Shaking, but eyes now clear, you looked around the room, studied their faces.

“I should go,” you murmured.

“You’re not going anywhere until you’re feeling better.”

Narrowed eyes stared at Rowan, and he stared right back. You didn’t argue, perhaps sensing this was a fight you wouldn’t win.

She felt the instincts flaring in him, in herself, the instinct to protect someone they claimed as their own. Friend or other, if someone was defenseless, vulnerable … it was normal amongst Fae to feel this. She had before for friends, but maybe not to this level.

“It happened once, when we were together,” Rowan said, after you’d fallen asleep - curled up right on their couch. Your eyes started drooping, falling quickly into sleep, and Rowan showed no inclination of wanting to move you back to your rooms, instead they carefully arranged you into a more comfortable position, tucking a blanket over you.

Like before, you weren’t able to give a solid reason why. He’d ask again tomorrow, and maybe things would be a bit clearer for you.

Rowan knew this happened before, and he was running through the circumstances, trying to pick out similarities.

“A friend invited me to a ball,” you commented absentmindedly. He knew you weren’t fishing for jealousy, you were just bringing up something going on in your life - something on your mind.

“Oh?” Rowan ran his hand up and down your bare back. “Are you going?”

“I’m not sure. I’m not the best person to bring to those.”

Rowan doubted that, and called it. “Bullshit.”

He felt more than saw your scowl. “I don’t like them.”

“That’s better,” he teased. “Why?”

“Bad memories.”

That peaked his interest. You rarely mentioned the past, and he always wanted to know more - maybe because of that, you were somewhat of a mystery. “Want to share?” He asked. You froze.

The only similarities were the ball.

Rowan cursed under his breath as you shook in your sleep.

A ball! It was magical, and beautiful. Males and females dressed up, and your mother had made you a pretty blue dress for it. Everyone’s attention was on your father, but you didn’t mind - it gave you time to observe everyone.

You were still thinking about it as you all trotted up towards your house, still in Fae form. You’d set off too early in your opinion, but it was smart to travel by daylight. You were glad you’re old enough to travel in Fae form. Carriages were much less fun.

You still carried your pack on your back as you shifted back, dumping it in your bedroom before hurrying back for breakfast. The dagger you got for your birthday was still strapped to your thigh, but you didn’t mind now.

Their faces were grave, and your mother crouched before you, gripping your shoulders. “I need you to run for the hills. Leave, do not look back.”

“But -,” looking out the window - the wards were strong, but hundreds and hundreds of soldiers were quickly descending, as if they’d been hiding and waiting for your return. It was easy enough to sense out who they were. Mortal soldiers, without magic. “I can help,” you insisted.

“If you die too,” the first tears left your cheeks, “then they win. Do you understand?”

You shook your head.

“They want to kill us, to kill your father and wipe our bloodline. To wipe our magic out.”

Her eyes said; you’re the only hope, you’re our legacy.

A few more convincing words from both of your parents, and you ran for the hills. As soon as you tried to turn back, the wards were melded around you. To keep you away from any threats.

Absolutely useless, but you forced yourself to watch as it happened. As they finally fell, as their heads were staked on the fence posts. The soldiers remained, but you could out wait them. You could memorize their faces, memorize the way they spoke, commit it to memory and find your vengeance one day.

“Terrasen,” a familiar voice interrupted, “You’re in Orynth.”

“Safe,” another said. Female.

A memory, that’s what it was. You weren’t trapped in that moment, you could come back to the present. There was nothing holding you here, not now.

“Good,” the male voice coaxed as your body relaxed, as you leaned into the sensations around you. Blanket, hands gripping yours, pine, snow, jasmine, and lemon verbena, the feeling of ancient magic - of fire, ice, wind, and a hint of water. Eventually, you managed to open your eyes.

“I need you to tell us where you went,” Rowan said, even adding, “please, y/n.”

How often had he said your names? How often does he say please? Words were effort, but when he asked so nicely, you could share. Trust, you reminded yourself. The small thread, a sign of the Goddess who watched over you, tugged and encouraged you.

“The night before my parents died,” your voice was hoarse, your throat aching - like something dry had been shoved down it. “We were at a ball. We arrived home that morning, and they were waiting for us. Surrounded.”

“When your parents died?” Aelin asked quietly.

It hurt, gods it hurt so fucking much, but you told her the story - as much as you could manage, and she listened intently. Thankfully, there was no pity in her eyes - understanding, instead. That was much more palpable.

Rowan thought he experienced the same thing as Aelin. When you shared the story about the dagger, but this time it was directed towards him. The entire time you shared, your eyes never drifted from him.

A show of trust to him, and he’d take that gift and hold it close. Your trust was difficult to earn, and relatively easy to break. He’d treat it with caution, like he would any treasure.

He was glad Aelin didn’t give away that he’d already told her the story. His wife was a good actress, and it shoved. The small bit of trust you showed him made him feel like a hypocrite. At the time, telling Aelin about your past felt essential, but now it resembled something of a betrayal.

“How are you going to explain my presence?”

Rowan and Aelin exchanged a glance, one that told you they’d already discussed this. Not surprising.

“Even without the ball,” he emphasized, “we considered asking if you’d like to be an advisor to the court.” He held up a hand as your lips parted, and damn you, your mouth shut on instinct. At least he didn’t seem to gloat about it. “The wards around Orynth could use another look, and you have unique skills and expertise.”

They actually value your opinion, you reminded yourself.

“You swear it, without the ball you still would’ve?” You’re not sure why, but it really mattered to you.

“I swear it.”

Rowan’s promises are as good as gold when it comes to him, so you gave your agreement. Then started to plan what you’d do about the castle and city wards. Of course, you’d already had time to think about it.

The ball would occur a week after beltane this year, when the last of the snow was predicted to abate, making travel tolerable.

Time passed quicker than you thought was possible. Ceri turned eleven, her birthday falling on the spring equinox this year. As her present, you let her pick out her chickens, and you and Rowan teamed up to start teaching her how to shift. An argument wouldn’t be right, but you did have a few disagreements over teaching styles. At least Aelin was on your side for that.

Then, it was beltane. Early that morning, you and Ceri went out to leave some gifts for the little folk at the crosspaths near your home. She’d spent a good portion of the previous day helping you craft them. Surprisingly patient and focused. Maypoles had been raised, hawthorn bushes decorated, and piles of wood gathering on the field before the city, waiting to be set alight.

You didn’t walk out with the Queen and King, by the time you arrived the fires were already burning. Ceri’s friends had come over before, for an early dinner, and now trailed together in a small pack.

“You know your signal?” You murmured to your daughter. A burst of magic, one to let you know if she needed you, with three different levels of urgency.

“Yes,” she grinned up at you. Ceri was quite proud of herself for mastering that - as she should be.

“Go on, then.”

The four raced off, weaving in and out of the fires, brief flashes of silver hair were like a beacon. Heads would turn as she passed, followed by small whispers. Ceri had adapted easily to those, thrilled by the attention, it was you that needed adjustment. Needed to stop giving a death stare to anyone who watched a few seconds too long.

Fenrys found you first, hanging out towards the edge of the fires, fully content to observe and watch.

He was not content with that, instead he dragged you right into the heart of the celebrations.

Thankfully, Aelin and Rowan didn’t try to drag you into anything. It was a time for the people to speak with their Queen and King, and you had plenty of exposure to the pair.

“How did you escape doing all of that?” You jerked your chin towards where they were speaking with another group.

“I came early,” he shot you a grin. His attention wavered, and you knew exactly who was making her way across the field.

Ines, all auburn hair, freckled skin, and bright green eyes, strode for both of you - cheeks already flushed. You didn’t miss how her heart rate picked up when she spotted who was next to you.

“Do I need to give you two a moment?” You murmured under your breath.

“We’ve had plenty of those.”

You groaned. Suspicion is fine, but you didn’t need confirmation.

Ines gripped your hand, “we’re jumping over one of them,” she announced, “for luck.”

“I know what it’s for,” you let her drag you anyway. When was the last time you’d done this? Maybe the year before Ceri was born.

Picking a medium low fire, the two of you gathered your skirts in one hand, still holding onto each other, and kicked your shoes away.

“One,” She grinned at you.

“Two,” you shot one back at her, eyes lighting up.

“Three.”

With surprising coordination, you both launched yourself over. Heat skimmed the bottom of your bare feet, but you made it over without any burns. Ines, thankfully, did as well.

Laughing, arms wrapped around each other, it took you longer than you cared to admit to locate your shoes again.

Rowan watched you jump over the fire with your friend, his mouth turning up at the corners.

Of course, you had to pretend you didn’t know each other, but you’d been at the same beltane celebration before, and he had the pleasure of watching you jump over fires. At least you remembered to hold your skirts up. He had to suffocate the flames last time.

Aelin tapped his shoulder, “I’d give her a seven out of ten.”

A genuine laugh left him, and she wound her arm around his waist, resting her head against his shoulder. He never took these moments, these reminders of the peace they fought for.

Neither did everyone gathered around them.

The celebration lasted into early hours of the morning, and it was near three when the fires finally died down. You’d trusted Evangeline to escort Ceri and her friends back to the castle, and mentally prepared yourself to head home. There were plenty others flooding through the streets, so it shouldn’t be any issue.

Somehow, you found yourself roped into going into the castle. Fenrys informed you that their Majesty and Highness wanted to see you, and him - of course. Aedion and Lysandra joined you - a few bottles of wine each, Rowan and Aelin coming shortly after. Gods, you could drink, but northerners were on another level.

“Stay the night,” Aelin insisted. “There’s no need for you to traipse through the streets after dark.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes,” Rowan huffed, like it was ridiculous you were asking for confirmation. It really was, they wouldn’t have offered if they didn’t mean it.

This was nice. Aelin never took these nights for granted. The beltane celebrations, seeing her people at peace, out and enjoying the traditions squashed by Adarlan for a decade. She loved that you were here now, that you’d been brought into their lives. Now, she could count you as one of the people closest to her, and gods she hoped you felt the same.

They might not have convinced you to live in the castle, but having you spend a few nights here - she’d take it over nothing. Just having you in Orynth was heaven.

Aelin decided the little bit of wine she had could explain these thoughts. Very inappropriate thoughts about you, about the mother of her mate’s child. She hated herself for reducing you to that, rejected the thought as soon as it drifted inside her mind. You were more than just a mother, even if you didn’t always see it that way.

A foot nudged her leg, tracking her back to the present.

“You’re staring,” Rowan murmured. You were caught up in conversation with Aedion, but Fenrys kept shooting Aelin wary looks. She didn’t bother trying to stare him down, only looking at Rowan, her eyes saying; sorry.

Why?

She’s very pretty, came out. She hadn’t had enough wine to blame these thoughts on. These were the thoughts of sober Aelin, just flowing more freely this time.

His eyebrows flicked up in amusement, I’m aware.

Right, he did put a baby in her. The thought didn’t make Aelin jealous, she almost wished she was there …

“It’s so weird when the two of you do that,” Aedion’s voice cut her off.

“Deal with it,” Rowan growled, before turning back to her. You should do something about that little crush of yours.

Maybe I will.

Rowan cut off the wine after another bottle, all but kicking Fenrys, Aedion, and Lysandra out. It was nearing five in the morning now, and even with nothing planned in the morning, it was getting late. Besides, he and Aelin wanted you in here - alone with them. When you rose to leave, Aelin grabbed onto your hand, tugging you back down.

“Stay a while,” she insisted, squeezing your hand. Rowan carefully monitored your every reaction. Aelin wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into her side like she usually did. He didn’t think it was entirely romantic on your part, at least that you knew, but he saw how you practically purred with the touch, how much you loved it - acted like you needed it. Everything was going to plan.

Aelin pulled away, and you frowned - instantly missing the warmth of her body. But, her hand trailed up your arm, stopping to cup your jaw. When you didn’t pull away, she wound another arm around your waist, tugging you closer, her eyes scanning your face.

“Fuck it,” she muttered, and her hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling your lips to hers.

At first, you froze. But when she didn’t stop, you followed her lead, falling into her rhythm for a few moments before reality caught up to you. With a gasp, you pulled away from her.

She had a hungry look in her eyes, watching like she was waiting for a moment to pounce again, to take you back and claim you. No, no, no. You found Rowan’s eyes, an apology right on your lips, but a shake of his head stopped you as he stood, crossing the room to sit on your other side. His finger pressed against your cheek, turning you to face him. Even as he had your attention, he didn’t move his hand, only sliding it to cup your jaw. An intimate touch. Aelin’s arm was still wrapped around your waist.

“Are you going to deny her, deny Aelin, what she wants?” This question felt like a trap.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” Rowan’s eyes lit with amusement - and something else, something familiar. Familiar enough it terrified you.

Aelin twisted you, now so you faced Rowan, her other hand twining itself in your hair, tilting your head to the side. Her lips pressed against your neck, trailing up the side. Your head fell, granting her more access, a small whimper slipping past your lips. She didn’t bite, but nipped at the skin - right where your neck met your shoulder. Did she know how significant that was? Apparently so, because she chuckled behind you.

She was purposefully holding you here. Keeping you where you’d lock eyes with Rowan, where he could watch the two of you. His knuckle grazed your cheekbone, a small ‘this is fine,’ and cemented it with a small nod.

That was all you needed, before you twisted back around, letting Aelin’s lips meet your own.

Aelin decided, first, that she’s very glad she did something about her ‘little crush.’ Next, she decided you were a fantastic kisser, and she needed to figure out how to repeat this experience. Preferably as often as possible.

When you finally pulled away, desperately sucking in air, she took the chance to glance at Rowan.

She’s good. His brows flicked, but he didn’t comment. Isn’t this the part where it’s your turn?

Aelin ran her thumb over your lips, keeping your attention on her while she waited for Rowan’s response.

What do you think? She hadn’t heard him this unsure in a while. It was rather endearing, to see him caught off guard.

Aelin looked back down to you - to your puffy lips and bright eyes, and lowered her voice. “Rowan wants to kiss you,” she said, and watched for your reaction. First, your eyes widened, and then you glanced over your shoulder quickly, before turning back to her. You wanted her permission. Maybe for her to make the choice for you. Something Aelin could easily do.

“Are you going to deny him?” She teased, copying Rowan’s earlier words. A snort from behind her, but sure enough you were pulled away. Even Rowan had limits to his patience.

Watching the two of you, how his hand gripped the back of your head, the other cupping your jaw, your arms hesitantly resting on his shoulders, Aelin realized she might be something of a voyeur. At least with the two of you.

He took control, tilting your head exactly where he wanted you, and you easily followed. Seamlessly, effortlessly. Aelin felt like she was viewing a memory, something from deep in the past, and didn’t find herself jealous.

You pulled away, “I think… I think that’s all I can handle for tonight.”

Lips bruised, hair messed, and cheeks flushed, Aelin wanted to keep you here, but she wouldn’t push.

Rowan ended up walking you back to your rooms, taking a step inside before closing the door gently.

He gripped both of your shoulders, making sure your eyes were on him. “Don’t overthink it.”

“Easier said than done.”

Arms wrapped around you, tugging you right into a hard and warm chest. Easily, you wrapped your arms around him. This was familiar, this was safe.

“We both wanted it,” he rubbed circles into your back. Maybe he sensed you needed reassurance.

“Let me guess, you made a plan?” You joked.

Rowan didn’t answer, and you tilted your head to look up at him. He had an unapologetic grin on his face. Eyes rolling, a laugh came from your chest. Brushing hair away from your face, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t run away in the morning,” he said and you dropped your arms. Taking a step back, keeping his eyes on you, he gripped the doorknob. Another smile, and he slipped out the door.

“Goodnight to you too,” you called down the hallway.

Thirty minutes later, you paced inside of your rooms, the haze fading, and traced your finger over your now bruised and puffy lips. Had that really happened? Had you imagined it?

Definitely not.

Are you going to deny her? Are you going to deny him?

Oh fuck.

Bracing your hands on the counter, you took a deep breath before looking in the mirror. Facing you, was a female with flushed cheeks, messed hair, bruised lips, and a glow. A female who looked free.

It’s a shame freedom has its costs, because this couldn’t happen again.

taglist: @holb32 @fussel9913 @moonlightttfae @cassianswh0reeee, @reidishh

#rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin x reader #throne of glass fic #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galathynius x reader #rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x y/n #throne of glass x reader #rowan whitethorn x y/n #aelin galathynius x y/n

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leiawritesstories · 7 months

Text

Who Gave My Wife Liquor?

Rowaelin Month 2023, Day 20: Drunken Antics

y'all know i cannot resist this prompt 🤭🤭 so enjoy some fun drunken shenanigans involving the whole court of Terrasen plus Fenrys, Dorian, and some potentially bad decisions (but no angst i promise). fair warning: it's total crack, i honestly don't think it makes any sense, but it's (maybe) fun

also based off a prompt sent to @rowaelinprompts: "drunk and clingy Aelin" ;))

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, intoxication, silly goofy times

Enjoy!!!

@rowaelinscourt

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

Aelin was absolutely beaming as she descended the stairs and headed into the well-lit great room of the castle's private wing, where a fire was blazing merrily in the hearth and laughter spilled from the wide-open doors. Her heart was full twice over at the sound of her friends' laughter--they had all been through so much in the last ten years, and the fact that they could still laugh was a miracle in and of itself.

"You're late!" Dorian called, catching her arm and leading her into the informal party. "And about three drinks behind, Your Majesty." Grinning, his sapphire eyes just beginning to glaze over, he grabbed the nearest flask and poured her a cup, tapping his drink to hers. "Cheers!"

"And you have shit tolerance, Your Majesty," she teased, downing the short glass of wine in one go. Dorian rolled his eyes, and she laughed. "Lighten up, Dor. Not all of us have your youthful ability to recover." Dorian, as a human, had less tolerance than the Fae and the shifter and Elide, who could drink Lorcan under the table, but he also recovered rapidly from his hangovers.

"Again with the you're an old man jokes?" Lorcan clicked his tongue, smirking. "Wasn't it you who kept telling me to get creative?"

"That would be your wife, actually." Aelin raised her refilled cup to the hulking, dark-haired male, whose face flushed bright scarlet at her innuendo.

"Galathynius," he grunted, tipping the contents of his glass down his throat.

"Don't be so put off, darling," Elide soothed her husband. "Aelin's just grumpy because you made me scream so loud last night we woke the whole castle up."

"And I'll do it again tonight," he winked.

Fenrys spewed wine all over himself. "Fucking gods!" he shrieked, pretending to be mortified. "You lot and your insatiable se--"

"You're just as bad, Fenny," Aelin smirked. "Or should I say, good boy?"

The normally roguish blonde blushed bright crimson and said nothing, choosing to grab the nearest ounce glass of liquor and tip it down his throat. "How?!" he demanded, both mortified and genuinely curious to discover how Aelin had heard that little pet name.

She beamed innocently and threw back a shot of her own. "That's for me to know and you--and your pretty boy--to find out."

"Pretty boy?" Lysandra wheezed, slinging her arm around Aelin's shoulders. "Holy rutting gods, Fen, I knew you weren't particular in bed, but I never would have guessed you'd want to be the one taking orders."

Dorian was conspicuously silent.

Observant as ever, Aelin turned towards the young king, a smile so friendly and approachable that it was truly terrifying slipping across her face. "Dor, darling."

"Oh fuck," he muttered.

"Have you been satisfied with Lord Moonbeam's visits to your kingdom?" The enquiry was perfectly polite, even diplomatic, but the smirk on Aelin's lips added a twist to the innocent words.

Dorian picked up the closest flask and drained it.

Fenrys snickered. "Don't be shy, Majesty. We won't--ah!" His teasing was abruptly cut off with a soft yelp. Dorian flicked the blonde Fae a look heated enough to boil water.

Aelin had a very good idea just what (phantom) hands had silenced Fenrys before he could make an incredibly ribald remark. "I see."

"For a queen so revered, Ae, you have no propriety," Aedion fake-sighed, reaching across his cousin to grab the glass bottle of whiskey that had definitely come from the back of the cellar.

"Says the one who cavorted his merry way through the mountains," she retorted, passing her glass to be filled. "Say, how is Kyllian doing these days?"

"He's fine," Aedion said, too quickly.

Lysandra grinned and curled herself close to Aedion's side, whispering something into his ear that made him choke on his mouthful of whiskey and splutter the aged liquor all over his shirt.

She cackled, tears of merriment spilling out of her bright green eyes. "There's no need to worry, Aed. We're all friends here, no?"

"How sweet," Elide crooned. She pinched her husband's cheek. "See, Lor? We're all friends."

"Lorcan doesn't have friends," Rowan said, completely deadpan. He'd been lounging in a comfortable armchair, admiring his wife and sipping on his glass of liquor like the civilized old male he was.

Lorcan snorted. "Fuck you."

"Let's keep the past in the past, shall we?" Rowan smirked over the rim of his glass.

For the second time that night, Lorcan's tan face flushed violently red, and the room exploded into laughter.

"I knew it!" Aelin cried triumphantly, pointing at Lorcan. "I knew you and my buzzard were lovers!"

"Best he's ever had," Lorcan mumbled, barely audible.

Elide gasped for breath through her peals of laughter, clutching at her chest and clinging to Lorcan's broad shoulder for support. "We need to get you drunk more often, love," she wheezed.

"The hell you do," he grumbled. "That sounds like a terrible idea."

"I have a GREAT idea!" Fenrys announced, rising unsteadily to his feet and brandishing his bottle of wine.

"You absolutely do not," absolutely everyone else chorused.

"First of all, that'sh' fuckin' rude!" He pretended to pout. "An' shecon'ly, it's a great idea!" He took a long drink from the bottle and pointed right at Lorcan. "Lorky, I dare you."

"You dare me to what, Moonie?" Lorcan shot the younger male an insolent smirk.

Fenrys beamed, which was both hilarious and terrifying. "Clothes off, an' pose as a sh-sht-stashue for three minutes."

"Fine." Lorcan drained the rest of his drink, stood up, shucked his clothes except for his undershorts, and strolled out into the hall. The others followed him, laughing and playfully ogling.

Elide wolf-whistled. "Don't be shy, Lor, pose like one of the ancient sculptures." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Most of us have seen you naked, you know."

Lorcan sighed, and Aelin swore she heard him mutter something about so much for keeping secrets under his breath. "I'm not drunk enough for that, Li."

"Pity," Aelin snickered. "You'd make such a well-endowed sculpture."

"Careful, Rowan," Lorcan drawled. "Your wife's objectifying other males again."

"Who gave my wife liquor?" Rowan called, laughing. "She only does that when she's drunk."

"You're mean," Aelin teased, frowning theatrically at her grumpy buzzard.

"Thought you liked me mean," he murmured, the words a wicked promise that set her blood alight. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and laid his hand against the curve of her ass, squeezing just enough to make her inhale.

"No!" Aedion yelped, throwing his hands over his face. "Shit, I'm standing right here!"

Lysandra doubled over with laughter, throwing a wink over at Aelin. "Look what you've done to your poor innocent little cousin," she giggled, unable to get all the words out without losing her grip on her merriment.

Aelin snorted. "Lys, if Aedy is innocent, then I'm a virgin priestess."

Lys wiped tears from her eyes. "All right, you--is Fenrys naked?"

Yes. Yes he was.

Completely undressed, Fenrys sprinted down the hall and back, grinning like a schoolboy when he reached the others again. "I didn't fall over!" he crowed, exuberant.

"Didn't stand up, either," Aelin muttered, half to herself.

Rowan coughed, a deep laugh billowing out of his chest. "Give him some slack, Fireheart," he laughed. "Moonie here is a little too drunk to perform as quickly as he usually does."

Fenrys shrieked in protest. "I perform longly!"

"Tha'sh'not a word, Fen," Dorian drawled, his words slurring together.

"Neither is anything the two of you are about to say to each other," Rowan whispered into Aelin's ear.

She around and pressed her face into his chest to stifle the fit of laughter that made her whole body shake. "You and your godsdamn impeccable timing," she gasped once she'd regained her breath.

Her husband winked. "I try."

Slowly, their dear friends began to disperse, first Fenrys and Dorian, the two leaning on each other for support but still staggering, then Elide and Lorcan, and finally Aedion and Lysandra. Aelin looked around the room at the empty glasses and bottles and flasks left on tables and couches. "Should we--"

"Later." Without blinking, Rowan swept her up into his arms. "Right now, you need to go to bed."

"Is that a promise, buzzard?" She looped her arms effortlessly around his neck, lowered her lashes, and smiled lazily up at him, sending a hazy image of slick skin and dancing flames into his mind.

He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. "Don't tease me, princess." His voice dropped to a thick rumble, the way it always did when she'd pushed just the right buttons. In a blur of Fae speed, he whisked them upstairs to their rooms, kicked the door shut, and laid her gently on the bed.

And she promptly fell asleep.

Chuckling softly, Rowan slipped Aelin's shoes off, changed into his nightclothes, splashed some water on his face, and slipped into bed, curling himself around her. She sighed and went boneless against him, her breaths deep and rhythmic. In moments, he was asleep as well, following his queen into dreams as he did every night.

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

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goddess-aelin · 7 months

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Little Falcon

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

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none!

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

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

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

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

“Why were you calling Alma’s name?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was hidin’ Daddy!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe murdering Fenrys could wait a few more minutes.

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

Tagging:

@cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @backtobl4ck @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127 @tothestarsandwhateverend @highqueenofelfhame

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelinmonth2023 #rowaelin month #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #my fics #my fic

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writtenonreceipts · 7 months

Text

Rowaelin Month Day Twenty-One: Scars @rowaelinscourt

Find my Rowaelin Month Masterlist here

warnings: none except a joke of editing, ~1k words

Scars

Aelin sighed as she knelt on the stone floor of the washroom before her daughter.

It was mid afternoon and a gentle splash of sunlight cut through the window just behind them, illuminating the small room just enough. Wynne, youngest of her small brood and current biggest problem of the castle, sat on an old oak stool with her legs kicking idly out in front of her. The wood clicked and groaned as Wynne wiggled about, unable to stay still. She was barely five years old but already had enough attitude and energy for Aelin to wonder if it was possible for her daughter to be an exact replica of her. Maybe this was the gods' retribution taking place for all the chaos Aelin had caused in her youth.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Aelin asked. She dipped a rag in a bowl of water and tonic on the ground beside her before slowly raising it to Wynne’s knee. She’d dismissed the servants not long ago, telling them she'd see to her youngest daughter. It wasn’t well received. Especially considering Aelin had cancelled a delegation meeting with an advisor from Doranelle, but she’d just send Ren along with an apology and an old weapon from the stores and all would be forgiven. Hopefully.

Wynne wiggled again and Aelin reached out to put a steadying hand on her daughter’s shoulder. It was a firm touch, steady and significant. She met her Wynne’s eyes—emerald green.

“I was playing,” Wynne said slowly. She held up the edge of her dress and stared at the cut on her knee. Already it was welling with blood.

Aelin began to clean what she could, dabbing at blood and dirt. She tried to remain gentle, but Wynne flinched all the same. Her pale hair was falling out of the coronet of braids a maid had put it in just that morning. Fine wisps fell around the little girl's face in a halo.

“Right, you were playing in the stables which I’ve told you not to do,” Aelin said.

Wynne fisted her dress in her hands and looked down. “Meiri and Fin and Coilin were already playing in there too!”

“And papa is talking to them about that too,” Aelin assured her. Really the stables were no place for any of the children but Meiri. At fifteen, the eldest of Aelin’s brood, had begun riding lessons in earnest. But even if she were learning horse care and how to ride well, she shouldn’t have taken any of her siblings out to the stables.

Aelin wiped up the blood, being careful when Wynne winced again.

Wynne had yet to display what her magic would be so Aelin didn’t rely on any special healing magic for her daughter. It wasn’t strange for a fae child to not show any magic, Rowan had assured her. But even when she was still in the womb, Wynne had been different from all her siblings.

Aelin worked quickly and efficiently until she wrapped a clean bit of cloth over and around the knee. Then she leaned over and pressed a kiss to the bandage.

“Now,” Aelin said as she readjusted Wynne’s dress. “What have we said about going to places you're not allowed to go?”

“I wanted to see the baby pony,” Wynne murmured, she clasped her hands before her and looked through her eyelashes at Aelin.

Indeed a new foal had been born just two days ago. It was wonderful and excited and children just loved when new babies came around.

Aelin sighed. “Why didn't you ask papa or me to take you?”

“You've been busy.”

The soft admission cut at Aelin and it was her turn to look away. She remained kneeling at Wynne’s side, running her hand gently over the bandage. It was true she and Rowan had been busy. Tensions were running high with the witches even if Manon was an ally. And then the flooding in Doranelle which was why she was supposed to meet with Ren. Oh, and a large portion of farmland had been eaten away by locusts that summer. It was a strange phenomenon that didn’t happen often, but when it did it made things a bit more miserable than usual.

And Aelin had needed to deal with it. Rowan had been offering services to the training the army and even going on a few expeditions as of late. He’d long loved the journey and exertion in those sorts of adventures that Aelin couldn’t begrudge him that.

But here was little Wynne who just wanted to see the new foal.

“Oh, darling,” Aelin sighed. She stood and cupped Wynne’s face in her hands. “Papa and I will always be here for you. We always want to help you. But we have these rules for a reason.”

Wynne’s lower lip trembled and Aelin swept her daughter up, holding her closer to her chest. They stood like that in the small washroom for several minutes. Long enough for Wynne’s tears to subside and Aelin to hold herself together just a little longer.

She swung Wynne onto one hip, brushing stray hairs from her eyes.

“Papa and I love you with all our hearts, you know that right?”

Wynne nodded slowly and brought one hand up to Aelin’s cheek. The touch was gentle and sudden all at once that Aelin could only look into her daughter’s eyes and wait.

“Momma?” Wynne poked at one spot in particular on Aelin’s cheek where she knew was a scar from the war. “Am I gonna have a scar like you?”

Aelin swallowed. Oh Mala, she hoped not. “I don’t know, love. Maybe.”

“I just wanna be brave,” Wynne said. She snuggled herself into the crook of Aelin’s neck and sighed. “Just like you, Momma.”

Tears pricked Aelin’s eyes and she held her daughter tight against her. This beautiful little soul was already so strong. She was her own being in a world of voices already so loud and chaotic. But Aelin knew in her mother’s heart that Wynne would one day do great things.

“You are brave, love,” Aelin said, “brave and wonderful.”

And she meant it. With all her heart.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

not tagging to try and keep my sanity in tact lol what sanity

#rowaelin #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelinmonth2023 #throne of glass #tog #fanfic

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theladyofdeath · 1 year

Text

Back to Orynth {Rowan x Aelin}

Written with @snelbz

Rowaelin. Canon. The castle in Orynth. NSFW.

Based on prompt: Rowaelin mutual masturbation fic, but then they just can’t keep their hands off each other and they fuck. But in canon. Not AU. by anonymous.

Word Count: 4,166

A/N: We've decided to take a little bit of time and post more OS! We have a very long list that we're set on tackling, and although we do a lot of AUs, I like that we started with one in canon. We hope you enjoy!

WARNING: NSFW. 18+ ONLY. The following story contains descriptions of sex. No one under 18 should continue past the link.

Aelin stood on the balcony outside of her bedchamber and watched as snowflakes drifted toward the ground. It had been a fairly mild winter for Orynth, but she still couldn’t imagine that flying through the snowy winter was all that pleasant, no matter how much snow fell. Yet, she kept her eye on the horizon, expecting to see a familiar white-tailed hawk soaring through the falling flakes at any given moment.

Aelin was growing impatient. He'd better hurry.

It had been nearly two months since she’d last seen her Mate, her husband. There had been suspicious activity along the northern border and Rowan had led the charge in the investigation, then went on to make sure that the entirety of Terrasen’s border was secured.

Which was all fine and good, but it did mean that Aelin’s bed was cold and her heart was only half present.

The grandfather clock in her sitting room chimed six, and knowing that the sun would soon be setting, Aelin was growing impatient. She wondered if she screamed, as loudly as she possibly could, if that would make him come faster. Surely he would hear her, he’d have to be close enough, and nothing worried Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius more than his wife in danger.

Even if he knew perfectly well that she could take care of herself.

Territorial, over-protective fae bastard.

Just as she was about to give up and go back inside, she could see him, the tiniest hint of his animal form in the distance.

He flew directly towards her, without having to even think about it. It was not his first homecoming, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last. As he grew nearer, there was a flash of light, then he was landing on the stone ledge with a thump. His boots were filthy and he had a new scratch on his cheek that hadn’t fully healed, which Aelin knew meant that the original gash must have been pretty deep.

Yet, the moment he changed, his eyes were soft as he smiled at Aelin. “Nothing better to do than wait for me to arrive?”

“Well, I have a kingdom to run, but your impending arrival was distracting me,” she said, watching him fondly as he approached.

“Glad to know I’m more important than your meetings,” he crooned, pausing before her. “I do hope you gave Lord Darrow the respect he deserves.”

“Absolutely,” she replied, eyes sparkling. “After he interrupted me for the third time, I called the meeting and spent the rest of the day in our private library.”

Save for the threat at the border, things had been prosperous since Aelin’s rule began. Trade was booming, the rebuild of the land was tedious, but created jobs the territory needed. The meeting on foreign affairs was more for pomp and circumstance than it was for a specific need.

“Our private library, huh?” He cupped her face in his hands and leaned down, finally bringing his lips to hers. The kiss was brief, but full of promise for later. “Surely you weren’t reading the texts on ancient battle strategies like I’ve suggested?”

Aelin hummed as she slid her palms up his chest and around his neck. “I assure you the strategies that I indulged in were far more…useful than any ancient battle strategy.”

Rowan chuckled as he shook his head. “If any member of our court were to wander into our library and stumble upon a book of yours, they would be appalled at such filth.”

“And that is why I keep all the good ones in our private library.” She kissed him again, and he groaned quietly against her mouth. “You smell atrocious.”

Rowan let go of his wife and stepped inside. “It’s been weeks since I’ve had a proper bath, I’m not sure what you were expecting.”

“I was expecting you to at least take some soap with you in your pack. You’re a king, for the gods’ sake,” Aelin teased, following him into their sitting room and closing the double doors that led out onto the balcony.

Rowan snorted as he took off his pack and tossed it on the couch, then began unhooking his weapons, one by one. “Who do I have to thank for putting up with your sarcastic ass while I’m away?”

“Oh, the list is long,” Aelin crooned, watching the show he was now putting on. Once his weapons were gone, he began unbuttoning his dusty jacket. “If you’re going to thank them all, it’s going to be all you’re doing this week.”

Rowan shook his head, but she could see the slight twist of his lips as he shrugged off his jacket, adding it to the pile. “Maybe I’ll thank them by taking you off their hands for a few days.”

“Ah, I am a burden,” Aelin said, meandering over to Rowan and fisting her hands into the fabric of his thin tunic. “Are you sure you want to take on that task?”

“I think I’ll manage,” he muttered, before kissing her once more. Aelin reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, which was growing longer once again. She loved it.

“Take a bath,” she whispered, kissing his cheek, his jaw, his neck. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Don’t we have people for that?”

“I find doing things for myself keeps me humble.”

Rowan huffed a laugh before disappearing into the washroom.

As the water ran, Aelin hurried down to the kitchens, smiling politely and greeting everyone she passed. After collecting a platter of meats, cheeses, bread, and berries, Aelin was finding her way back to her rooms. The water was still sloshing around from the washroom, so Aelin placed the platter on their table before finding her way back into her bedchamber and her wardrobe. After slipping off her gown, she pulled on a thin, golden nightgown and a knee length robe, leaving it open. She pulled the pins out of her hair, knowing that her duties for the day were complete and she would not be leaving this room any more tonight.

Collecting the book she’d been reading earlier, Aelin curled up on the couch in the sitting room, filling a glass with wine from a bottle brought straight from the personal stores of the King of Adarlan. She sipped the wine with an appreciative hum before opening her book and picking up where she’d left off.

The love interests had finally just given into their attraction for each other, desecrating every surface in the mountain side cabin in the best way. The kitchen table, the wall, the bath, the bed, Aelin couldn’t get enough as she turned page after page—

The next thing she knew, she heard the door to their bathroom opening wide and she glanced up to where her husband stood, taking up most of the doorway with his broad frame. He wore a pair of loose linen pants and…that was it. No shirt and from how low the pants hung on his hips, from what she could tell, no undershorts either.

His eyes took in where she sat on the couch, on the glass of wine on the side table and book in her hands and he smirked as he headed for the platter of food laid out on the table.

As he passed in front of the couch she sat on, Rowan froze, nostrils flaring delicately as he scented the air. Raising her eyebrows, Aelin cradled the book to her chest. “Yes?”

“What exactly are you reading?” He asked, continuing to the table the food was laid out on and leaning against it. He plucked a bunch of grapes up before picking them off one by one and popping them into his mouth.

“Nothing of your concern.” Aelin let the book fall back open in front of her, her eyes scanning the page. Rowan watched her for a moment, slowly eating his grapes, before grabbing a slice of bread and walking toward the couch. He plopped down next to her and read over her shoulder with a curse. “I repeat my earlier sentiment. Your court would be appalled if they knew of your reading material.”

“My court should admire how in touch and confident I am with the idea of romance,” Aelin crooned, nudging her husband in the chest with her shoulder.

Rowan snorted as he bit off a piece of bread. “This is not romance. This is animalistic fucking.”

A satisfied sensation flooded Aelin’s body as she looked up and met his gaze. “I’ve had to have some sort of companion in your absence.”

His green eyes were bright as he shoved the rest of the bread into his mouth and swallowed. “Surely this doesn’t compare.”

“No?” Aelin asked, teasingly, as Rowan dropped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. “I don’t know. Me and my books have had some remarkable nights since you've been away.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed, and although humored, they darkened slightly. “So you’ve been well taken care of, then?”

“Don’t you admire how I can take care of myself?” Aelin asked, setting her book on the table beside the couch before giving her Mate her full attention.

“Always have,” he confirmed, brushing his knuckles down her cheek. “Although I feel it defeats my purpose.”

She loved it when he teased her, when he was playful. To the rest of the world, he was a nightmare come to life, a warrior with one intent, an ancient, powerful male who had the hands of death and the heart of a soldier. Aelin knew better. He was all of that, of course, but he was also a male who sat on the couch with her and flirted, who teased her and made her laugh.

Who made her toes curl and her most delicate parts throb uncontrollably.

“Is that all you’re good for?” Aelin asked, shifting on the couch to straddle his lap. Rowan’s arms went around her waist, the most handsomely seductive little smile twisting his lips. “Pleasure?”

“As the husband of a queen?” he asked, one brow raised. “Yes. Yes, I’m fairly sure my only duty is to bring undeniable pleasure to Her Majesty.”

“Hmm.” Aelin pursed her lips. “That’s quite the claim. And if I can pleasure myself just as well as you can?”

A low growl came out of Rowan. Even in their playful state, she could sense his jealousy brewing. “I’ll have to be the judge of that.”

Aelin’s heart began beating just a little bit faster, and she hadn’t even realized that her hips had begun to move, slowly rolling over his, until she asked, “Oh?”

As Rowan nodded, his lips brushed her neck. “Show me how you’ve pleasured yourself in my absence, my Queen.”

Aelin’s eyes rolled back and she bit her lip, fighting the urge to moan. Beneath her, she knew exactly where Rowan’s mind was at. Between the hard thickness she rocked against and his scent, excitement and need bloomed in her core.

“I don’t think you can handle such a sight,” Aelin said, her grin wild and devious. “A month and a half of travel has surely left you needy. Handsy. Possessive.”

“I think you forget how patient I am,” he said, quietly, fingers teasing the hem of her nightgown.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “You’re not patient. You just like to pretend you are.”

Rowan took her chin between his fingers and made her meet his gaze. “Try me.”

There was something about his tone that filled her body with fire and chaos. His eyes were bright, crazed, full of lust and longing. Aelin was sure that hers mirrored his. Every night that she had spent alone in his absence was full of wishing he was there beside her, holding her, loving her until her knees shook and every thought from her mind had evaporated. Now that he was here, all she wanted was to have him inside of her, but she would play his game.

She would give him a show until he was begging.

Still straddling his lap, Aelin shook off her robe and took the hem of her silk nightgown, slowly pulling it over her head until it was sitting behind her on the carpet. Rowan’s hands found her waist but she shook her head, smirking as she pushed them away, back down to the couch cushions. “No touching.”

His eyes blazed as they swept from hers, to her bare breasts, then back up again. Although his breathing had increased, he didn’t protest. Instead, his cock twitched beneath her as he gripped the couch cushions on both sides of his thighs.

Aelin took her time pulling her hair back until it was held snugly by a ribbon, and Rowan was practically growling by the time she slid her hands down her abdomen, to the band of her undergarment.

“Is that patience of yours thinning?” she teased.

“No,” he said, but the word was clipped, his jaw hard as his eyes trailed down her body and rested on her fingers, where they began to slide down the thin fabric of her panties. A slow, heavy breath left Rowan and his eyes darkened as the fabric swept down her thighs and every inch of her was bared before him.

He didn’t even try to hide his lingering gaze. A gaze that Aelin felt powerful under. As Aelin ran a finger through her slick folds, Rowan cursed, low and filthy. His fingers flexed beside him, but his hands did not move. He obeyed the command of his Queen, even as Aelin moaned into the quiet space.

Even the thought of her husband had left her wet and wanting. She could slide down on him to the hilt, effortlessly, but she wouldn’t. No— she wanted to see how long this game would go, how far she could tease him without him pouncing.

How long he could go without completely losing his shit.

She wanted him completely unleashed.

Their joinings after time apart were already nearly cataclysmic, neither of them leaving their bed chamber for a day or two. It reminded Aelin of the true mating frenzy they’d been robbed of when Maeve stole her off that beach. As if the time they spent apart built up until it blew, until it wasn’t safe for anyone but the other to be around them.

That suited her just fine.

Dipping her finger into the well of her center, Aelin gasped softly, watching Rowan as he watched her. His nostrils flared and she knew he was scenting her, dying to bury himself in her arousal. With her other hand, she dragged her fingers up her toned stomach to her breast, cupping one. Her fingers toyed with her nipple, rolling it and teasing it until the sensitive bud was tight and peaked.

Rowan’s tongue darted out as he wet his lips, the only sign that he was struggling. His features were still set in stone, as if he were unfazed by her ministrations, but those eyes were locked on her.

Aelin removed her hand from her sex, fingers still glistening and reached up to touch Rowan’s chest.

Faster than she could blink, his own hand had captured her wrist. Her fingers were inches from his skin.

“What is it?” Her voice was husky, yet dripping with innocence, as if she didn’t know what she was doing to him.

Rowan sounded like he was in pain. Only a few moments and she’d already worked him up. “You said no touching.”

She clucked her tongue, leaning in so her chest pressed into his. It pinned their hands between them. “I said you couldn’t touch me.”

“Then you can’t touch me.”

And before she knew what was happening, Aelin found her self on one end of the couch, her back to the plush, rolled arm, while Rowan sat on the other end.

Much too far for her liking.

He didn’t move. His eyes never left her. They trailed after her fingers as she settled against the couch cushions, her legs stretching out, her toes nudging Rowan’s thigh. His breathing was shallow as his eyes locked on the hand that palmed her breast.

His hands didn’t stay still, though. Instead, Rowan untied his linen pants before slipping them down his thighs, his hardened length springing free. Aelin’s bottom lip was pulled between her teeth to keep from moaning at the sight of him, completely ready for her. She throbbed between her thighs and every thought from her mind vanished as Rowan fisted his cock and stroked.

Aelin could practically feel him thrusting into her as the image flooded her mind. This time, she let a moan free as she began circling the throbbing ache of her clit that was begging for relief.

Rowan’s rhythm matched hers, and for a moment, nothing could be heard in the room except for their heavy, disoriented breaths.

“Your books don’t seem to be of much use now,” he teased her, not bothering to look at the object behind her she claimed gave her so much pleasure.

Smirking, Aelin spread her legs wider, baring herself further to him. There wasn’t an inch of her body he hadn’t seen, hadn’t tasted, and she could see the raw hunger in his eyes. “They’re only necessary when I lack the imagination needed to—”

Her words fell off with a soft moan as she circled her clit, watching as Rowan worked himself. The muscles of his abdomen were straining and his hips would buck off the cushions every so often. Her mouth watered as he teased his cock, stroking the head slowly as beads of wetness appeared. Aelin wanted to lick him clean, to taste the unadulterated essence of her Mate after such a long time apart, but this game between them was first and foremost in her mind. What had started as a way to tease him had backfired in the most glorious way, and as Aelin watched her husband pump his cock in time to the plunge of her fingers into her core, she knew there was no way she would break first.

She breathed his name as that familiar sensation built in her core and Rowan’s jaw locked as he watched her body writhe beneath the power of her own fingers. Suddenly, Rowan’s hand worked himself faster, and a curse of his own left his mouth while Aelin cursed.

“Is this what you do in my absence?” Rowan hissed, his tone half teasing, half undone. His shoulders tensed as his wife cursed again, a string of profanity falling from her lips.

“Jealous?” she asked, but the word was nothing more than a whisper. She could hardly get it out as her hips rolled into her hands.

“How can I be jealous?” Rowan asked, his tone only pushing her further towards her release. “I know what’s going on inside that pretty little mind of yours.”

Aelin’s fingers slowed to a tantalizing speed. “And what is it that I’m thinking?”

Rowan grinned, and the sight had a whimper sounding from Aelin’s closed lips. “You’re thinking how good it’s going to feel when I finally bury myself deep inside of you.”

Aelin scoffed, although it was clear that it was nothing more than an act. “I thought I made it clear…I get by perfectly well in your absence. All by myself.”

Rowan’s hand slowed, until his hand wrapped around his cock but it did not move. “Your soul is mine. You are never alone.”

There was certainly some romantic notion in that statement, but it was mostly an animalistic declaration. No, as her Mate, their souls were connected. There was never a second that Aelin pleasured herself that she was not thinking about Rowan, even when he was thousands of miles away.

That thought alone had Aelin breathing, “Touch me.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth that Rowan grabbed her across the couch, dragging her body over his, and crashed his lips against hers. One of his hands was in her hair, the other on her ass and Aelin adjusted herself until she felt him pressing against her center, thick and hard and ready.

Gods, she needed him and she didn’t want to pretend she didn’t, no matter what game they were playing. He was not weaker for needing her, not as he’d once believed, and she wasn’t either. As he ravaged her with his kiss, Aelin rose up on her knees, lining him up with her entrance and sank down in one stroke that had both of them gasping.

Rowan’s mouth found her neck as she rode him, kisses alternating from long, languid sweeps of his tongue that made her squirm, to biting nips of the sweetest pain that had her quivering around him. His lips continued down her neck and shoulders, over her chest, until he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently.

Throwing her head back, Aelin moaned, writhing atop him, threading her fingers through his hair.

Rowan’s fingers kneaded her ass as he sucked and praised. He thrusted up as she rocked and bounced, and they did not even try to hide the noises that were shamelessly filling the space between them, around them. Aelin hoped the entire castle could hear, hoped that they all knew her Mate was home and her soul was complete yet again.

Rowan’s lips found hers, hungrily, his tongue diving into her open mouth. Their bodies were pressed up firmly against one another’s but it still wasn’t close enough. It would never be close enough. Aelin would always long to be closer, even if they were as close as two people could be. She whispered his name and came crashing down upon him yet again, drawing a deep moan from the back of Rowan’s throat. His head fell back and he cursed before throwing her back against the couch and claiming her with a primal relentlessness that had Aelin seeing stars.

She loved him like this.

Completely unhinged.

Lost in all she had to offer, unable to control his needs and desires.

All of it, only for her.

The room filled with Aelin’s gasps and screams and cries of his name as Rowan fell into her again and again, urgently and meticulously. With one hand gripping her thigh, the other fell in that little space between them and his thumb rolled her clit until she was falling into oblivion, drowning in her sweet release. Her knees shook and her chest heaved as she swore, her nails digging into his skin.

Rowan’s eyes were bright as she clenched and spilled out around him.

It was only a few more frantic thrusts before he was following her over the edge, groaning her name as he came.

His head fell into the crook of her neck, both of them breathing heavily as they came back down. Aelin was the first to move, dragging her nails up and down his back in slow, languid strokes.

A quiet groan rumbled in his chest and she laughed softly as her fingers found her way into his hair.

“Your hair will need a trim before we hold any official court business,” she mused with a smirk as he worked to settle his breathing.

“Your court can take me as I am.” His response was muffled by her skin, but she could hear the exhaustion in his words.

She hummed as she finger combed through the tangles. “I guess you're right. I am queen, after all. What I say goes.”

Rowan snorted, knowing she’d never use her power for something so vain, but didn’t reply.

“We should clean up,” she said, glancing down. His body still completely covered hers, right down to where he was still buried inside her, their mixed releases making a mess on the couch.

“We can clean up tomorrow.” He still hadn’t raised his head, his warm breath on her skin. “Sleep now.”

“We have a bedchamber for that, you know,” she teased and he finally pulled back to look at her.

She had only seen her mate look so exhausted a few times, so completely and utterly drained that she knew the moment his head hit the pillow, he’d be asleep, so she leaned up, pressing her lips to his. “I missed you.”

“I missed you,” he echoed, wrapping his arms around her tighter. “Every day and every night.”

Without warning, he stood, carrying her into the washroom, making quick work of cleaning them both off before heading for their bed.

Aelin clung to him, refusing to let go even for a second. She had to soak up every minute before he was called away again to fulfill yet another duty in honor of the beautiful country that they had brought back from the ashes.

They never redressed before snuggling closely together beneath the heap of blankets on their bed, dwelling in the heat and comfort of one another’s bare body.

They remained in that bed together all night, intertwined and connected, and stayed there until the following night came.

#rowaelin #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #sjm fanfiction #snacmc collab #oneshot #tog #tog fanfic #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #canon #fanfics #snacmc answers prompts

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mariaofdoranelle · 8 months

Text

Don’t Hold Your Breath

Rowaelin Month masterlist

@rowaelinscourt

I hate to post this this late, but I had a weekend from hell and this was the only time I could find to finish this fic and post it. I started writing it a while ago, after being overly excited with this prompt by @dailyau and @yellowmagicalgirl

Warnings: none I think? It’s a little Sleeping Beauty-ish

Words: 1,8k

“I can’t say I wasn’t expecting your visit, Rowan.” Maeve drawled, holding the teapot herself to pour them the infusion. “Still, it’s been so long since I last had an old friend over.”

Rowan held his vessel, using his ice magic to cool his tea. Every movement he made was carefully nonchalant. If Maeve sensed a single rise in his pulse, she’d use that against him somehow.

His family was about to start a war against her, after all.

“Our friendship hasn’t been the same since you tried to kill me.” He gave her a sneering grin. “Was Remelle your last attempt? Or did I miss something?”

Maeve’s mask slipped for a second, allowing him to see her glare and the cold fury it held.

Remelle, Maeve’s spy. She barged into Rowan’s room ready to kill him, but now her weapons must be somewhere by the foot of his bed. He was more than ready to get rid of her, but not while she still had information his family could use.

“Straight to the point, eh?” Maeve’s tone was disdainful, her condescending mask slipping back on. “I know you have a message from your clan, just as you know I’ll have to kill you.”

“Will you?”

It took nothing more than a second thought to break the stained glass adorning Maeve’s walls. The wind burst into the stone castle, Rowan’s magic tearing her throne room apart with wind alone, ripping luxurious tapestries with sharp edges of broken glass, making her lackeys in animal form so scared they ran away, leaving their Queen alone.

It all happened in a matter of seconds, while he sipped his tea. It was too sweet, unfortunately. Rowan looked up, observing with no small amount of pride that while he had obliterated Maeve’s throne room, the two of them didn’t have a single hair out of place.

He sipped some more to hide his smug smirk. The amount of power you have is directly proportional to the difficulty you’ll have controlling it. Rowan hadn’t shown off his skills like this in a few decades, but it looked like he was still sharp.

“You know I’ve demolished castles stronger than yours alone.” Rowan’s tone was relaxed, and he leaned back on his armchair. Everything about him portrayed the words he didn’t say: you know you can’t kill me.

Maeve plastered on a strained smile, her jaw clenched. “Cocky, aren’t you?”

“Just realistic.”

“And I’m assuming I can’t convince you to work with me.”

“I have no need for more money or titles. I’m not turning my back on my family.”

“What about your mate?”

Rowan stiffened, his pulse picked up. He heard it right, Maeve’s knowing smirk wouldn’t be so big otherwise. But she was toying with him, she had to.

He was a prince. He had more money than he could count. He loved his duty as a general. Rowan never, ever thought he’d be so lucky to have a fated mate. There was a limit to what people could be born with, right?

Rowan’s erratic heartbeat and quickened breaths were too loud to hide from Maeve’s Fae ears, and he could barely register her watching him with a wicked gleam in her eye.

“You’re lying.”

“This discovery was an accident. I was looking for her, but the only thing I saw was you.” Maeve drew lazy circles with her finger on the armrest, her smirk predatory. “Let’s say I have unfinished business with her bloodline, but I’m too busy to deal with that now, with your family nagging me all day long.”

“Stay away from her,” Rowan warned, but his voice had a shaky tone that was rare to come out of his lips.

He had a mate, and Maeve was the only way to get to her. Somehow she was wanted by the most vile person Rowan knew, and he had no way to warn or protect—

“We could make a bargain, of course.” Maeve took a sip of her tea. “You could stay out of my way during this war, and we’ll deal with your mate after.”

Abandon his family, and in return receive the greatest happiness ever known to some rare chosen Fae, the ones blessed enough to have a mate. Rowan got up and took a step back, feeling dizzy all of a sudden.

Maeve’s smile grew. She knew she had him.

“Do you, Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle, accept to be kept away until your lips touch your mate’s?”

He blinked, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Did Rowan have any guarantee he’d kiss his mate while being kept away? Mate. What did being kept away entail?

Mate. Rowan had a mate.

But Maeve wanted to kill him, and there would be no mate if he died from blindly agreeing to a bargain.

“That’s some sketchy wording, Maeve.”

She smirked, her darkness surrounding him. “Take it or leave it, Whitethorn.”

He’d have to be kept away, and would only be free when his mate kissed him. Rowan was sure this meantime wouldn’t be comfortable, the same way he knew he wouldn’t know peace until he found his mate, now that he knew he had one.

“I’ll do it.”

And that’s when Maeve’s darkness engulfed him.

“Do I look like a sexy version of Queen Maeve?” Lysandra checked her reflection on her phone and twirled around the renaissance fair’s First Aid Station Aelin was working at.

Using shape-shifting abilities to do cosplays should be considered cheating, but Lysandra’s magic was so rare they didn’t have rules for that.

“I don’t think The Ancient Queen’s dresses had that kind of cleavage, Lys.”

She booed. “The judges will love it.”

“I’m sure they will.” Aelin rolled her eyes. “Just take off the fangs and pointy ears.”

“Oh, come on!”

Aelin sighed. Sometimes Lys got so excited with her shapeshifting abilities, she forgot that races aren’t costumes.

“I’m going to expose you on Twitter if you don’t take it off.”

“Fine.” Lys shape-shifted into the exact same form she had before, but without Fae traces. “Do I look good as a human Faerie Queen now?”

“You look amazing. Now go away.”

“Ouch!”

Aelin gave her friend a pointed look. She was on call as the renaissance fair’s nurse, ready to assist the visitors. And instead of enjoying the event, Lys had been at the same dull place, chatting with Aelin for hours.

The stone castle was open for visitors for the first time after being unused for 400 years, the fair being in its gardens while people took guided tours inside. Aelin thought it was cool at first, but now she felt an unusual tug in her chest every time she came to work.

All she knew was that Prince Rowan Whitethorn’s disappearance was the last straw to start the war that killed Queen Maeve, 400 years ago.

The Royal Family made sure Prince Rowan was remembered, but Aelin always wondered why they kept Maeve’s castle closed for so long. Until she felt that strange tug in her gut.

Aelin!

The shout came as a warning before Ress, from the security team, barged into the First Aid Station.

“There’s an unconscious body inside the castle.”

Aelin jumped from her seat, grabbed her medical bag and hopped on the golf cart waiting for her. It wasn’t as fast as an ambulance, but the faster a four-wheeled vehicle could go inside an event like this.

“Did you call an ambulance?”

As qualified as Aelin was, there was only so much she could do outside of a hospital.

“A visitor did,” Ress replied, “but you can get there faster.”

After a small ride and two long sets of stairs, Aelin didn’t find a patient, but the crowd that gathered around one. Ress pushed them aside to let her inside the room, and she thanked Mala the security team had kept the visitors away from the patient.

Tending for an unconscious person with a crowd was chaotic, to say the least.

Aelin ran the patient’s way, kneeling by his side. He must be a cosplayer, given the clothes.

Lysandra gasped near her. “You need to save him. He’s too hot to die!”

Aelin stiffened. “What are you doing here?” she snapped while checking the male’s pulse. Or lack thereof.

Ress raised both hands in surrender. “She was with you for so long, I thought she was a patient under observation!”

Aelin rolled her eyes and started the compressions, the heel of her palm against his sternum in the rhythm of the song inside her head. He. Got. My. Heart. Beat. Skipping. Down. 16th. Avenue.

“Which Whitethorn do you think he’s cosplaying?” Ress asked Lysandra in the background.

“I don’t know,” her friend replied, “they all look the same to me.”

After thirty seconds of CPR, she pinched the male’s nostrils closed, sealing his open lips with hers to give him a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

When she placed her hands to restart the chest compressions, she felt his rib cage expanding.

Unconscious Hottie was breathing. Aelin’s shoulders dropped in relief.

In a matter of seconds, his breathing was normal. Way too strong, considering his previous state. His eyes blinked way too fast.

A recovery this quick could only mean his blackout was caused by magic.

Aelin left the CPR position and sat by his side, just helping him be more comfortable while the male came back. If he still needed medical assistance, only a magical healer could help him now.

“My mate,” he breathed.

The Fae slowly sat up with Aelin’s support, but he didn’t seem to mind his own fragile state. His eyes were blown wide, aimed at her, his breath ragged.

"How long hath I waited for thee, my soul’s mate?" the silver-haired Fae asked with a desperate, longing gaze.

Aelin was kneeling by his side, her mouth hanging open. God, this cosplayer was good. But how did he get back to his role so fast? People can’t fake their heartbeat stopping, right?

“Hey, is everything alright?” She squeezed his shoulder. “What happened? Did someone poison you?”

The male didn’t answer her. Instead, despite his weak limbs after the incident, he kneeled before Aelin. He bowed his head and raised the sword strapped to him with both hands, the same way people were portrayed making vows in very old paintings.

“As a prince of grace and dignity, I, Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle, doth pledge to thee my love, my sword, and my service, from this day forth. Even when this world is forgotten, a mere whisper of dust between the stars, I shall hold thee dear in my love."

Holy rutting Mala.

Aelin’s mouth fell open, a wave of coldness spreading from her core and numbing her thoughts. She was always ready for the unpredictable, but did he… did he just—

“Ae.” Lys cleared her throat. “Did this total stranger just propose to you?”

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@thegreyj

@throneofus7

@violet-mermaid7

@wishfulimaginings

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowaelin month #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic

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manonblaqkbeak · 7 months

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Scaling in the Moonlight

Hello everyone!!! Long time no see!!! It's been eleven months!!!!! since I last wrote anything. I hated the fact that I missed last years rowaelin month and was determined to write something for this years rowaelin month (and a special thank you to @goddess-aelin for her lovely note saying she missed my work <3)

And thanks to the lovely people that run rowaelin month!!! you are all amazing!!! @rowaelinscourt

Apologies in advance if my writing and grammar and characterisation is a little rusty, like I said, it's been eleven months since I last wrote anything and I'm slowly getting through my ToG re-read (which has really opened my eyes to how traumatised Aelin is as a person/character).

Words: 800+. CW: none, I don't think.

Day 18- Aelin and Rowan's hawk form.

It was two AM and Aelin was out, wondering the dark city streets of Orynth, looking for the right building.

Instead of using the castle's obstacle course like most sane people would, Aelin decided that she needed to do this the way she was trained too—by scaling the side of buildings, using every muscle in her body to pull herself up to reach the top of the building, to run across the rooftops to get closer to her target.

She needed the reminder that she could—and that she hadn't lost her edge.

Although, she was sure she had lost it. She did still train, from magic to weapons to hand-to-hand combat, she did whichever she was in the mood for with what free time she had, but as Queen and mother to five children, she had no need to scale buildings and jump from rooftop to rooftop.

So she had decided, as she ate her dinner with her family, she was going to relive her past life; if only for a couple of hours.

Aelin walked through one more street before she found a good starting point—a shoe store that she did frequent with Rowan and their children. It was two storeys tall and she knew that no one occupied the apartment above the shop so no one would see her.

Hopefully no one would hear her either.

Stretching before climbing, Aelin told herself that it would be fine. She had given birth to five children, all without pain relieving herbs, she could—would—scale this building with ease.

Finding her footing was easy enough, so Aelin started her trek—and thankfully didn't fall off, although she did slid time a few times and had to grit her teeth to stop her cursing from echoing around town.

The burning in her muscles took her back to how she used to be, how she used to be able to demand any contract and fat coin purse she desired.

She didn't miss that life, not at all, but it was part of who she was and she was not ashamed of it.

Taking one last gulping breath, Aelin hoisted herself over the roofs ledge and let the accomplishment rush through her.

So determined she was in proving herself that she could still do this, she hadn't been aware that she had a follower.

A follower that now clicked his beak at her.

Aelin's head snapped upwards, taking in her mate's large hawk-form as he perched on the chimney.

“You were asleep when I left,” was all Aelin could think of to say.

Rowan clicked his beak again, as if to say And now I'm awake.

“Clearly,” Aelin said, “how'd I go from your end?”

She waited for him to shift back but he didn't. He wasn't mad at her, she knew that much, but she didn't want anyone to see her talking to her mate like this—it felt too intimate to be like this in public, but after two decades together, Aelin could converse with Rowan in his hawk form as easily as she could talk to him in his Fae form.

Rowan didn't say anything but flew to the building next to her. He clicked his beak. You can climb well enough, let's see how you can jump.

Aelin moved to the ledge, looking down to the ground, if she didn't make it, she wouldn't die, but she'd probably be bruised all over.

She looked at Rowan, who was waiting patiently. “Will you nurse me back to health if I fall?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at her husband, who rolled his eyes.

“That better be a yes,” she said and moved back to take a running jump.

Gods, if she fell, she'd never get over the embarrassment.

Aelin ran and jumped—and just made it. She hit her chin hard enough that when she made it over the ledge of the building, she laid down and stared at the open night sky.

A flash of light brighter than the moon came and went, and then there was Rowan, taking her in.

“Fireheart,” he said, his voice deep and concerned. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” Aelin said, her chin sore but she would live. She eyed her mate up and down, however, and said, “But I would still appreciate being nursed back to health—especially if you take your shirt off.”

Rowan rolled his eyes again, but obliged her, his shirt coming off in one easy movement that had her contemplate making a sixth baby.

“Where does it hurt, milady?” her king-consort asked, his rough fingers moving across her collarbone.

“Here,” she said, pointing to her chin, and soon she was better, especially as she chased Rowan around in his hawk form, easily jumping from roof to roof as the hours went by.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin fanfic #my work #rowaelin month 2023

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sarahjswift · 11 months

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A Terrible Day - Rowaelin Oneshot

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

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

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

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

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

How do you fanfic writers do it???

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, Smut

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

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

enjoy dear readers!!

Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius had had a terrible day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aelin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought we were well off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rowan barked a laugh. “Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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tomtenadia · 1 year

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Our first Beltaine

Hello all,

Here is my first fic for Aelin’s week. It’s set a decade after the end of KOA. Rowaelin have a daughter and it’s the girl’s first fire festival and she gets to play with her growing powers.

It’s just pure domestic fluff, silliness and Rowan being the usual amazing dad. I wrote this in an hour, hope you will like it.

@rowaelinscourt

The castle was all adorned and ready for celebrations.

It was Beltaine and since the end of the war, the Queen and King of Terrasen had made an effort to bring back all the ancient festivities of the land.

Beltaine marked the end of the darkness and the arrival of the long days, of life triumphing over the darkness of winter. After the years under Adarlan rule, the citizens of Terrasen had embraced such celebration with open arms and rejoiced at their freedom. Light over darkness.

The castle had been opened to all citizens and the extensive yard was full of vendors and booths with sellers and performers.The main attraction, however, was in the royal garden were bonfires had been prepared for the revellers. A few fire wielders were slowly stoking the flames to allow the participants to jump across the bonfires as tradition. Couple would leap the fires to ask a blessing for their union to the gods or people would just just for good luck. It was a celebration of life and people would start arriving on the royal grounds as soon as the night started to fall.

Aelin and Rowan were in their royal chambers and were getting ready for the festivities. That night it was a special one for them. It was their daughter’s first Beltaine. Aisling was six. Until the year before they had kept her away from the fires but that year they had decided to finally allow their daughter to join. Aisling had just started showing signs of magic. It was very early for a child, but given who her parents were, no one had any doubts that the girl might be a skilled magic wielder. The girl had inherited both of her parents powers and they had just started training her in controlling her gifts. So far the biggest incident had been her freezing the entire castle after getting frustrated with one of her toys. Rowan had ran to her quickly enough and stopped the glacial wave that had descended on the castle.

“Look at you, your tunic is almost regal.”

Rowan looked at his wife and raised an eye brow. He had worn a nicer green tunic for the festivities, but nothing compared to the stuffed ones that he hated but had to wear for annoying courtly stuff.

“This will allow me to enjoy the evening without feeling stiff.”

Aelin smirked and walked towards him, her hands brushing his chest “and much easier to peel off later on, for our own personal celebrations.”

Rowan was about to add something, when the soft patter of Aisling’s feet reached their ears.

“Mama, dada, I ready!”

The little girl was wearing a green dress with a puffy skirt, a crown of kingsflames on her silver-haired head and a set of wings on her back.

Aelin turned and ran to her daughter “my love, you look beautiful.”

Aisling turned around to show off her dress and then bowed to both.

Rowan went to pick up his daughter in his arms and spun her around as she was properly flying “did auntie Lys help you dress up?”

“Yes. Am I pretty dad?”

Rowan smacked a kiss on her cheek “you and your mum are the two most beautiful ladies around here.” The girl giggled happily and snuck against her father.

“Now we need to wait for your mum to finish dressing up. She is not as organised as the two of us.”

Aelin, who was getting ready in a corner of the room, complained loudly “I heard you, buzzard. You’ll pay for this.”

Rowan let out a low chuckle and placed Aisling back on the floor and she scurried away. When she came back, the little girl was carrying a simple tiara and passed it to her father “for you, dada.”

Rowan kneeled in front of her and lowered his head so that she could place the item on his head “now you are pretty too.”

A loud laugh escaped his lungs and when Aelin emerged he stood and turned to her “What do you think, wife? Am I pretty too?”

Aelin tried not to laugh “Our girl definitely has more taste than you when it comes to dressing up.”

He moved closer and playfully nipped her neck in provocation and Aelin hummed happily.

“You will be happy to know that I am finally ready.”

Aelin was wearing a simple red velvet dress with a squared neck and long sleeves, her hair up in an intricate fashion with a few kingsfklames tucked in it.

Rowan stared at his wife transfixed. No matter that they had been together for almost a decade, she would still take his breath away.

“You are stunning, fireheart.”

In response, Aelin kissed the corner of his mouth “you are not too bad yourself, my king.” And with those words she planted a kiss on his mouth with the promise of more that night.

“Mama, dada, no kissy.”

At their daughter’s words they pulled apart and Rowan went to take her hand, followed then by Aelin and eventually they left the room, ready to join the festivities.

As they walked out and reached the yard, people stopped to bow to the queen and king and Rowan stood up straight, not afraid of showing up in public with a girl’s tiara. It was a gift from his daughter and he would not break her heart for the sake of his pride.

They walked in the main area for the festivities and Aelin took the centre stage to make the usual speech that would officially open the festivities. Rowan moved at the side and picked up Aisling in his arms.

“My dear citizens, I welcome you all to another blessed Beltaine. This one is, for my husband and I, a special one. It’s our daughter’s first official Beltaine and we are both very excited.” She kissed the girl “Now, please have fun and be merry and let’s all celebrate the arrival of the longer days.” With a flick of her hand she fed the flames that burst up high in powerful blazes that lit up the evening. Then she brought her power back in control and the bonfires dimmed down and back under control of the fire wielders.

When she turned she noticed her daughter’s pine green eyes fixed on the flames in amazement “pretty.”

Aisling squirmed in her father’s arms and Rowan let her down but still keep a hold of her fearing she might snuck out to play with the bonfires. Her magic was still very unpredictable and he was terrified of what might happen if she got too happy near a fire.

“Come on, my love, let’s go and get some food first.”

Rowan passed Aisling to Aelin and stood in his corner admiring the evening.

Somehow his mind brought back the memory of the first Beltaine with Aelin in Mistward. When he was still training her. When she was still a brat that drove him crazy each single day. But that night when she burnt out was also the night that brought them a step closer. It had been when he had seen the scars, when she told him about Endovier. When for a brief instant she let him. He was so deep in his thought that he did not notice his two women coming back with a few plates full of food.

Rowan laughed and grabbed some, then he sat down and they followed. The grass was fresh and smelled alive beneath them.

“Here we go, buzzard, I have meat on a stick for you. I asked Emrys to prepare some for tonight especially for you and it seems to be successful.”

Rowan grinned and took some of the food Aelin was passing him.

Aisling sat between them and happily chomped away at the food that the cook had prepared especially for the kids. Her stare never left the bonfires as if she she was attracted to it.

“We are jumping too, let’s have dinner first.”

The little girl beamed at her father.

Having the king and queen to join the festivities and seat in the grass like all the other citizens was a common sight in Orynth. There were always some guards discreetly posted around the grounds, but both Aelin and Rowan had made clear from the start that at events like these they wanted to be free to celebrate together with their citizens. It had taken a lot of convincing but in the end the captain of the guard had yielded at their request. Rowan had also added that he was more than capable to protect his wife and daughter on his own if needed. Aelin had teased him by calling a protective brute. But when it came to Aelin and Aisling’s safety, Rowan never joked.

Once the family was fed, Rowan stood and grabbed Aisling “Come on, time to jump.”

Aelin stood too and Aisling jumped in excitement.

They found a bonfire a bit far away and once the last couple jumped, Aelin asked the fire wielder to move away. The fire died down and Aisling turned upset “mama, fire.”

Aelin sat down on the grass beside her daughter and Rowan did the same.

“I’ll show you.” Aelin extended her hand over the logs and a flame sparked up, dancing gently.

“You try now, like mama showed you.” She added, extinguishing the flames with a simple flick of her hand.

Aisling placed both of her small hands above the logs and scrunched her face hard in concentration. In those instant she looked exactly like Rowan and her heart skipped a beat at the image.

“I can’t.”

“Remember what mama told you?”

The little girl nodded. Aelin had been training her with her fire magic and Rowan helped with her ice and wind magic.

The girl kept concentrating, until a small flame popped up timidly.

“That’s it, baby.”

Rowan placed a hand on his daughter’s back as support and in that instant the flame grew a little bigger until it slowly engulfed the logs.

Aelin smacked a proud kiss on her daughter’s cheek “You are my little fire wielder, my love.”

Rowan pulled Aisling closer and kissed her silver hair “our little fireheart.”

The three stared at the flames dance placidly, swaying at the gentle rhythm of the wind that Rowan was blowing around them.

“I did it.” At the burst of joy, the flames sparked up high, but Aelin was ready to take back control in an instant “Shall we jump now?”

“Yes!”

The three stood, with Aisling between them, each holding one hand.

Aelin controlled the flames to a safe height and then they stepped back a few steps.

“Ready?” Asked Rowan.

He counted and at three they started running and jumped, both parents lifting an elated Aisling above the flames.

Aelin whopped happily as she landed.

Aisling let go of the hands and ran back to the bonfire “Again?”

Rowan turned and saw happiness in his wife’s face “again, fireheart?” He asked while offering his hand to her.

As a family they jumped a few more times.

Celebrating life.

Celebrating light over darkness and while jumping they whispered to the ancient gods the promise that bound their souls together.

To whatever end.

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#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #aelin x rowan #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelinsweek #rowaelin kids #domestic fluff #aelin galathynius

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rowaelinsdaughter · 3 months

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could i request rowaelin x reader, fluff where she has a horrible nightmare about them and they reassure her that it never happened and they just cuddle up with her PLS WIFEY🧎🏽‍♀️💔💗

NIGHTMARE

WARNINGS;; written in 3rd person, nightmares, blood, whip, trowing up, KOA SPOILERS

she woke up in another room. not the one she loved in the orynth castle. no. she was in a room that she hated and that sometimes, hunted her dreams.

she knew that chair. it was the same chair where her father had chained her mother, forcing her to watch how he whipped her. she wore the scars, the same one’s aelin had once on her back. aelin. her mate, and rowan. they were her mates.

she looked for them in the room, but it was too dark, so dark that she couldn’t see her feet. but then a faint light appeared in front of her. blood. so much blood that it looked like valg blood, a sound, a whip sound. the light grew stronger, and in front of her…

“no” she whispered “no, no, no, no,...”

she tried to break the chains, but it was impossible, she was forced to watch as her father whipped rowan. his arms were bound to the roof with iron chains, so he couldn’t use his powers to defend himself… and aelin. because aelin… she didn’t want to look to the ground, knowing what she was going to see, but a hand grabbed her neck and forced her to look at the ground.

a scream ripped her throat.

aelin was on the ground. a thin nightgown covered her body, or had covered her body, she couldn’t see her face, the iron mask she once carried, was hiding her beautiful features. and her back… she let her guts out to the floor. there was so much blood, so many wounds from the whip, she couldn’t even see the tattoo rowan inked on her. the hand on her neck tightened.

“let’s have some fun” she felt his wicked smile.

she started screaming again. a distant voice was calling her name, but she couldn’t hear it. the voice was approaching, her name more clear now…

she woke up again. this time there wasn’t blood, her father wasn’t there, she wasn’t chained to the chair, and her mate’s…

a cold wind tried to calm her, she knew that wind and the scent that lingered with it… rowan.

a soft voice called her name… aelin.

but the nightmare… she got up from the bed and went to the bathroom, but it was too far. she fell to her knees, throwing up again, and again. two pairs of hands were rubbing her back, the same cold wind tried to calm her. once she was done, aelin grabbed her arms pulling her to her body, wrapping her body with her. rowan hugged both of them. and then she started crying again.

minutes, hours… she didn’t know how much time had passed until she calmed down enough to talk, or not.

“you want to talk about it?” aelin said. her voice soft, as if she would disappear if she raised her voice. she looked at her, and aelin felt her heart ache, there was so much pain in those eyes… she took her hand, playing with the ring she wore when they married, the same rowan and she wore.

“you were dead” rowan and aelin tensed. “and rowan… was nearly dead. he… he whipped you, both of you, and…” she sobbed “and i was chained to the chair, i couldn’t move, i couldn’t do anything to save you. you were wearing the mask and your back… there was so much blood, i-” she didn’t finish.

rowan grabbed her by the legs and shoulders, laying her down on the bed again. his arm was on her waist and aelin traced patterns on her arm. when she was more calm, rowan murmured. “we aren’t going to leave, doll. you hear me?? we are going to be here for you, we are going to live for a thousand years with you, and if something happens, we will find you. we will always find you angel. always.” he kissed her forehead. she turned in his arms so she was facing aelin, a silver line in her eyes.

“can you tell me the story?” aelin didn’t ask what story she was asking for.

“of course angel” she grabbed her hand, and she felt rowan behind her, moving closer to her body.

“once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess, who loved her kingdom very much…”

tagging;; @throneofsapphics @shadowdaddies

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throneofsapphics · 5 months

Text

old faces, part five

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again, and deal with the fall-out of your secret

Warnings: drinking, mentions of death, incest jokes

Word Count: ~5.8k

A/N: all of your support with this little series means the world to me and is incredibly motivating! thank you so much. if anyone wants to be tagged in the next part, please let me know!

series masterlist

“Only princesses live in castles all the time.”

Rowan leaned against the wall, right next to the door, admittedly eavesdropping on your conversation. He’d intended to come talk to you, to see Ceri before bed, but now his heart is sinking. You’d only had this conversation with them yesterday, and insisted you speak to her first. Better sooner rather than later, he supposed. More time to figure out a plan.

“Some of the guards live here as well,” you countered, “and healers.”

A small pause. Then a sniffle. Gods, was she crying?

“Do we have to?”

Rustling and movement. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

“So I don’t have to study maths anymore?”

A huff of a laugh, and then a giggle from Ceri. “Maths are important.”

“You hate them.” He pressed his lips together to muffle his own laugh. Footsteps, and the door swung open.

You looked exasperated, at him, but he knew you’d already scented him - Rowan wasn’t doing anything to hide his scent.

“They’re still important,” you stepped aside to let him in, sending a pointed glance his way, “right?”

His mouth tilted up at one side, “right.”

A groan came from Ceri, then she was flying across the room, he braced himself as she flew into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle. Absent-mindedly, he ran his hand over her back.

“A story?” She tilted her head up at him, eyes pleading. Rowan nodded, and let her lead the way back to her room. They’d offered several other rooms, but Ceri always insisted on staying in the same one. At least it was semi-close to theirs.

“What kind of story do you want?” He asked, leaving the door slightly ajar. He already dreaded the day she’d stop asking for them.

“Wyverns,” Rowan blinked. Usually it was Dragons, and he’d tell her about a sea dragon. Lysandra was thrilled the first time she heard about it. “The ones the witches ride,” she added, as if exasperated he didn’t know. That’s what they had in history books now, or taught in lessons. He shouldn’t be as surprised as he is.

Rowan threw together a story, from what he could remember, of Abraxos and Manon, carefully avoiding

what happened to the rest of her coven.

As he reached the end, he was grateful her eyes started to droop, he was struggling to throw things together.

“I want to ride a Wyvern. I want to be a witch.”

Rowan was less grateful, his heart caught in his throat. She fell asleep before he could explain someone was born a witch, or that there’s no way in hell she’ll be getting within a hundred feet of a Wyvern. Most of them were not like Abraxos.

The door clicked shut gently behind him, and he found you, book propped up in one hand, cup of tea in the other. He settled in the armchair across from you, closing his eyes and kicking his legs out in front of him.

A wyvern. He needs to be more careful about the stories he tells.

Peeking his eyes open, he saw you close the book, gently tossing it to the side. No bookmark, he winced.

“Do you remember the page?”

“It wasn’t that interesting,” you muttered, hissing as you took a sip of your tea. Too hot. He didn’t think before he cooled the drink, just enough to be drinkable. Your eyes shot up in surprise, glancing between it and him. “Thank you,” you sounded a bit confused, but kept drinking the tea anyway. Confused he’d done something like that? He used to, all the time. Maybe you didn’t expect those sorts of things from him anymore, but he could easily change that.

“Our daughter wants to ride a Wyvern,” not mentioning the part about wanting to be a witch as well.

Jolting, the tea sloshed over the sides of your mug, landing on your pants, but you didn’t look away from him as the cup clanked on the side table.

“Wyverns?” you choked.

“She asked for a story,” he defended himself.

A laugh, an honest and deep laugh left your chest, “If she manages to bond with one of them, she would’ve earned the right.”

“You’re supposed to say it’s a bad idea,” he tried to scowl, but your laughter was infectious, and his mouth curved at the corners.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

“Exactly. Silence is agreement”

“Depends on the situation,” biting the inside of your cheek, you curled your legs up under you, snatching your mug again, wiping the small droplets of liquid off with the inside of your sleeve, expression straightening back out. He missed the smile.

“I’m assuming you heard our conversation.”

“I did,” a cautious answer, waiting to see if you’d snip at him for eavesdropping.

“If I didn’t want you to hear, I would’ve stopped speaking,” you read through his lack of words.

“I still want both of you to move in here,” he didn’t know what else to say, but made sure a small shield of wind would hide this conversation from small ears.

“I’m not the one you need to convince,” hands clenched around the mug as you took another sip, tongue darting out to catch the drop gathering on your lip. He swallowed, for a reason he should not be. Not that Aelin hadn’t shown … Rowan shoved that thought deep, deep down. Not the time. Would it ever be a good time? “I’m not sure what else I can tell her,” you continued, thankfully ignorant to his inner thoughts.

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” he forced the words out. Your hand covered a yawn, giving him a good reason to excuse himself, making it down the hall before he braced a hand against the stone, letting the rough material center him.

It had been somewhat of a disaster, Rowan bringing up Ceri and you moving to the castle. She’d outright refused at first, and still refused by the end of the conversation, but a little less vehemently. Not enough to bring her hope, but she knew Rowan was still thinking through ideas. Sure enough, Ceri had quickly changed the subject, and Aelin found herself on the receiving end of one of her difficult questions.

“Why do they call you Gods-Killer?” Ceri asked casually, and Fenrys choked.

“Because I killed some of the gods,” Aelin answered. It wasn’t the whole story, but that’s all she needed to know for now. If Ceri asked some day, when she was much older, maybe she’d tell her more. But a ten year old doesn’t need to know that.

“Why?”

“They killed someone I cared about very much,” Elena was already dead - but Deanna had taken away her chance of an afterlife, “and broke promises.”

“Good,” Gods, she really is so much like her father. And maybe more like her mother than either of them know. “So,” Ceri sat down her fork, and Aelin already didn’t like where this was going, “if someone breaks a promise, I can kill them.”

“No,” you said quickly, eyes wide, “those were very different circumstances.”

“Fenrys said we could have dessert first.”

“I did not,” the male immediately countered.

“You did,” Ceri shot back.

“I said the day you can beat me, we’ll have dessert for breakfast.”

“You didn’t say what I had to beat you in.”

A groan from the male. “In. A. Fight,” he clarified, avoiding yours and Rowan’s gaze.

Aelin watched as you leaned back, head tilted up towards the ceiling. Maybe praying for mercy, maybe cursing Fenrys - especially as a challenge gleamed in Ceri’s eyes.

“There are laws against murder,” Rowan steered the conversation back.

“When is murder allowed?”

Aelin remembered there were few laws against murder with the Fae, but - laws applied equally in Terrasen, regardless of whether someone was Fae, human, or Witch. Rowan, bless him, carefully and thoroughly explained the laws.

“Murder,” you murmured, just loud enough for her to hear, “I don’t know if he’s realized he’s telling her when she can kill.”

Aelin looked at Rowan, recognized the look in his eyes, “he knows.”

You turned your head, still resting on the back of the chair, to face her. A long-suffering look on your face. “She takes after her father.”

“And her mother,” Aelin added without putting much thought into it. You didn’t look convinced, so she kept speaking. “People … are drawn to her, the same way they do you.”

That’s the best way she could describe it, and a faint blush rose on your cheeks as you murmured a thanks.

“It's too big.”

“You’ve been coming here for months,” you’re not sure why you bothered to point it out, especially when she gave a contemplative pause.

“But you don’t like it here.”

Too perceptive, she was too damned perceptive. “The castle is fine,” you forced the words, ignoring the conflicted emotions swirling in your chest. It’s not that you didn’t like it, just that you'd prefer to live somewhere else.

“Fine doesn’t mean good.”

“Then we go looking for houses,” you ran one hand over her hair. “Don’t forget you can change your mind.”

Ceri nodded, “I know.”

“Would you like me to tell your father?”

A scowl. “I’m old enough to do that myself.”

Thank the gods, you really didn’t want to tell him. “I know,” you repeated her earlier words, hiding your relief.

“I’m going to wait,”

“It’s your decision,” you murmured, running your hand over her hair again, and she grinned up at you before darting off.

“What’s the verdict?” Fenrys approached a minute later.

“Can you keep a secret?”

He gave you a look that said; blood sworn, like you were an idiot for forgetting that.

An over-dramatic roll of your eyes. “She hasn’t completely made her decision, but she thinks the castle is too big.”

“She’s been staying here for over a year.”

“That’s what I said.”

“What do you want?” He asked instead. For some reason, that surprised you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, even though the heavy coat kept away any chill.

“Whatever she wants.”

He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms this time. “What if it was your decision?”

“It’s not,” you said, with a bit more bite than you meant, and shot an apologetic glance at him. He didn’t seem phased.

“But if it was?”

You fixed your eyes on the cobblestone directly ahead of you. This was a dangerous question, a topic you’d avoided thinking of or ruminating on.

“I was never born to live in a castle.” And that’s all you would say on that. Fenrys seemed to sense it, to sense the wall going up.

“They mean well, but you know Rowan can be a bit stubborn about getting what he wants. So can Aelin.”

He didn’t fight for you, the nasty voice said. I never wanted him to, you countered. It was a relief he hadn’t.

“I’m not the one they need to convince,” you watched her climb up one of the trees, trying to get one of her friends to do the same. Another thing you’d noticed about your daughter while staying here, the amount of friends she has. Of course, she has plenty in Caraverre, but other children flock towards her. It’s always been that way.

“I’m taking you on a night out.” Talk about a subject change. “You look like you need one.”

“I’m vaguely insulted.”

“No monarchs invited,” he added. The storm had abated, the ‘monarchs’ in question insisted you stay an extra three days, just in case, and you were due to leave in two. The bitter part of you said it was only so they’d have more time to convince your daughter to stay in the castle, but realistically they did have a point, even if that was an underlying intention. Not everything has to be nefarious, you reminded yourself. Sometimes people do things out of genuine care. There’s not always a greater agenda, but in this case … you got the inclination there may be one, but you couldn’t figure out what, and that was going to drive you to the brink of insanity.

“Tonight,” he added, drawing you from your thoughts. Tonight, meaning in just a few hours. You scowled at him, he’d left you little to no time to find an excuse to get out of it.

“People go out in this weather?” The bright sun wasn’t enough to melt the snow banks gathered against the walls.

“They serve alcohol for a reason.”

He has a good point… and it would be nice to have a night out, a time you could pretend it didn’t feel like your entire world was bending and folding back over again.

Aelin wasn’t jealous, she had no reason to be. Maybe a bit offended that Fenrys had immediately declared ‘no monarchs allowed,’ for your night out. Just the two of you. Rowan didn’t look entirely happy about it either. But, she supposed he was your closest friend in Terrasen. Fenrys liked to boast about it, ever since he learned it pricked at her husband's temper.

When it came to pissing off Rowan, she was only second to him. Fenrys made it an art form. Still, as she watched you walk out arm in arm with him, she couldn’t help thinking he’d done it to piss off her as well.

“A night out will be good for her,” Rowan said.

“And if she decides to spend the night with someone?” She asked, a test.

Rowan’s face tightened, “then that’s her decision.”

Aelin frowned, he didn’t pass.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had this much fun, or when you’d drank this much. Before you became a mother, that’s for certain. Still, you weren’t quite sloppy drunk, but a good bit past tipsy.

“Your tolerance is shit,” Fenrys commented.

Poking him in the shoulder, “you’re just as bad.”

He shrugged, but grinned. At least you were equally as drunk. But, you were a bit peeved. One male had eyed you appreciatively, and even if you wouldn’t do anything about it - the attention was nice. Fenrys glowered at him, and he paled and turned away.

“Why did you do that?” you huffed under your breath,

“Do what?” He asked, voice honeyed with false innocence. He yelped as you dug your elbow into his ribs.

“At least my tolerance hasn’t changed.”

“I haven’t changed,” it was an obvious lie, and you both knew it. You’d realized a few seconds too late he wasn’t talking about you as a person, just your limits with alcohol - but you’d already opened the floodgates. “Maybe a bit,” you amended. “We both have.”

He hummed his agreement, “you don’t seem quite as … happy,” he hesitated on the word.

“I am happy,” there wasn’t a reason to be sad.

“I didn’t mean that. I meant you’re not as carefree.”

“Child,” you pointed out.

“More than that,” he ran a hand over his hair, perhaps a bit too drunk to put his words together.

The bartender shouted last call, her voice carrying over the crowd, and saving Fenrys from trying to explain himself.

“Another would be a bad idea,” you murmured, but Fenrys was already moving, getting ahead of the crowd, and missing your comment. You followed him, a bit unsteady on your feet. By the time you caught up, he’d already put in the order. For something, but you didn’t particularly care what - as long as it was strong enough to make you forget the last five minutes.

Fumbling with your pocket, you tried to slide a coin on the corner, but his hand stopped you.

“Put any coin on that bar and i’ll shove it-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you cut him off, but slid your hand back.

“We’ll finish the conversation when we’re sober.”

“We will not.” Fenrys already had that look in his eyes, the one that told you the conversation absolutely would happen. More time for you to prepare, then. “If we remember,” you added.

“I’ll write myself a note.”

“Your handwriting is barely legible on a good day.”

The drinks came by, saving Fenrys again, this time from trying to come up with a witty remark.

Despite the rather … thought provoking statement he’d made, it didn’t put a damper or shadow over the rest of the night. You took full advantage of the remaining hour, finishing your drink, laughing, singing along to some kind of bawdy song you only knew half of the words too, and all too soon you were saying goodbye to at least seven new friends you made. Could they be considered friends if you’d already forgotten their names? Well, hopefully there would be some friendly faces once you moved here.

If a night out in Orynth was this much fun, living here couldn’t be that bad.

It’s possible a white-tailed hawk soared above the city around the time the taverns closed, and may have shot back to the castle once he spotted two familiar drunk and laughing Fae stumbling back through the streets.

Rowan flew through the window, finding Aelin standing, arms crossed over her chest.

“Really?” She tried to sound disappointed, but looked more amused than anything.

A flash of white light, and he shifted back. “I needed to check.”

Aelin raised a brow, “you didn’t need to, they’re both adults.”

“I wanted to,” he corrected. “Is that a problem?”

Aelin’s brows lowered, studying him for a few moments, but he held firm. “If I could have, I probably would do the same thing,” her shoulders rolled back, “shall we greet them?”

“I want to see just how drunk they are,” her eyes said. He held out his arm in answer.

“Mother and father are here,” Fenrys announced as you entered the wing where your rooms were, just down the hall and around the corner from the Royal suite. Meaning, you usually had to pass by there in order to get to your room.

“He’s the father of my child,” you frowned. “That’s weird. Incest is weird.”

Each word began to slur into the other, and you heard a choking noise - but you were focused on Fenrys’s reply. “I suppose we aren’t in Adarlan,” you found some satisfaction that his words were slurred as well.

“Oh gods,” that was Aelin.

“Adarlanians,” you sounded out each syllable, “marry their relatives?”

Fenrys shrugged, like it was a rumor he could neither confirm nor deny. Aelin groaned, and started ushering the two of you back towards your rooms.

“My rooms are so far,” Fenrys whined - honest to gods whined, but his rooms were all the way down the hall, and around a few corners. For a drunk person, it might as well have been a mile.

“Crash in mine,” you offered, “there’s a spare room, and a perfectly good couch.”

“Thank you,” he went to link his arm through yours again, but Aelin beat him to it, turning over your shoulder, you caught Rowan glowering at Fenrys. Why would he glower? It’s not like you were sharing a bed. Why would it matter if you were? There’s nothing between the two of you, besides friendship. Friends shared beds all of the time.

“I’m a great cuddler,” you said, just to see if they would react.

“You kick,” Rowan countered.

“I do not,” you insisted.

“How would you know?” Aelin decided to cut in, “you’re sleeping.”

“I’ll find out tonight,” Fenrys added cheerily.

You could’ve sworn you heard a low growl or two, but you’d already reached the door, fumbling with the handle. You’d put too much of your weight on the door, because as soon as it opened - you went careening towards the floor. Fenrys tried to catch you, only to fall as well, alcohol throwing off his center of balance.

At least the carpet was soft, you rolled over onto your back, running your hands over it. It was comfortable.

“I might sleep here,” you sighed, eyes half lidded. Rowan and Aelin stood in the doorway, amused at the two of you, and you shot a bright grin their way.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.” Rowan, the bastard, needs to stop trying to give you orders.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you muttered, turning over on your side and tucking one arm beneath your head. Fenrys mirrored your movements, the two of you facing each other.

A long suffering sigh, from Rowan you thought, and gentle hands were pulling you up to your feet. You swayed back and forth, Aelin holding you steady with a faint smile on her face.

From the corner of your eye, Rowan was tugging Fenrys up, not quite as gently.

“Be nice to my friend,” you slurred. Aelin was biting her lip to hold back a laugh, and she was grateful Ceri decided to have a sleepover in another wing of the castle. Otherwise, she’d be wide awake right now and witnessing this mess.

“Hear that Rowan, the lady says be nice to me.”

Rowan released Fenrys, and the male stumbled back a few steps. She kept her grip on you as you tried to lunge for him. The last thing they need is to drag both of you off the floor again. Without realizing, her arms had wrapped around your shoulders, holding you back in place. When Fenrys caught himself, one hand on the arm of the couch, you sighed in relief, and melted back into her.

“Time for bed,” Aelin shifted so her arm wrapped around your shoulders instead, leading you off towards the room. Grabbing some night clothes, she offered them to you, trying to shuffle you off towards the bathroom.

“I think I’ll sleep naked,” you announced.

“As much as I’d enjoy the view, it’s still a bit cold out,” you wouldn’t remember this in the morning, but she’d remember how your cheeks flushed.

Rowan and Aelin left, only as you fell asleep, alone in your bed - Fenrys already snoring on the couch.

The end of the visit came all too quickly, and for the first time you found yourself looking forward to your return to Orynth. Looking forward to searching for a house on the outskirts of the city. Yes, you didn’t particularly look forward to staying in the castle in the meantime, but you couldn’t deny the city had it’s charm. Rowan and Aelin’s reassurances unlocked something in you. Not a desire to step into the public eye, but to stop avoiding it. If anything happened, you weren’t alone this time. Accepting help wasn’t a weakness.

Ceri waved as you set off, just around sunrise. In around two or so weeks, you’d be heading back to Orynth.

Your daughter, however, was currently pouting because you couldn’t ride horseback in this weather, and she didn’t like the carriages. She was mollified by the few books Aelin let her borrow from the Library of Orynth. You had a feeling she just hadn’t informed the librarians they’d be leaving the city.

Tilting your head, you caught part of the title; dragons. “What are you reading?”

Thankfully, she didn’t look annoyed at your question. Instead, her eyes lit up as she lifted her head. “About last dragons, besides Wyverns,” she flipped the book around to point at a page. A sketch of mountains, you squint your eyes, made of glass with a few dragons circling overhead, one breathing fire into them. You looked further at the book, it was old, by the color of the pages, but well preserved. Maybe with magic. Was this one of the few books that survived the initial siege of Orynth?

“They lived in the Kyzultum Desert. But they were all killed in a war eight centuries ago.” Kyzultum, a desert on the southern continent, far south from Antica. You’d never visited, but always wanted to, to see the glass mountains. “They made mountains out of glass. The book says it’s just speculation, but soldiers from Doranelle hunted the dragons to extinction.”

A small pain in your heart, for creatures hunted just for their power or because someone viewed them as a threat. Soldiers from Doranelle. You would bet gold marks on who exactly sent that order.

“Why did they kill them? The book doesn’t say.”

“Probably from fear.”

She hummed. “Do you think dragon eggs could survive this long?”

“I don’t know,” but Gods, if Ceri set her mind to it - she’d find out. And if they could … you started thinking of ways to discourage your daughter from hunting for Dragons. Maybe you’d have to lean on her father for that one. “Giving up on Wyverns already?”

She scowled at you, drawing a small laugh before she returned to her book.

Rowan was in a pissy mood, and Aelin knew exactly why. Ceri waited until the last night to announce her ‘decision,’ leaving all of them on edge. Then said she wanted to live on the outskirts of Orynth, with a small cottage, a garden, chickens, and a wyvern. Considering how you scowled at Rowan, she knew who you blamed for that idea. Still, they weren’t quite out of time. The two of you would return in around a month, permitting you could sell your house in that amount of time, and still stay in the castle while looking for another home.

“Y/n didn’t try to sway her decision,” she commented - although Rowan already knew that. You’d decided to stay perfectly neutral. It’s smart, not wanting to get into an argument like that. After all, she’d chosen the same path. “Besides, Ceri might change her mind later.”

“Right,” he cleared his throat.

“So,” Aelin leaned back in her chair, “Wyverns?”

“She asked for a story about them,” he groused.

“What did you tell her?”

“What I know of Abraxos.” As far as Wyvern’s go, Manon’s mount is the exception, and Rowan might’ve given the wrong impression when it comes to the beasts.

Aelin laughed, “I can’t wait to tell Manon. Already a bedtime story.” She didn’t know if the Witch Queen would be offended or amused. Ceri hadn’t met any of their friends from other Kingdoms, not yet. It would come one day, especially with the move. Would you want to meet them as well? SHe hoped so.

The little hellion’s presence made Aelin realize she wasn’t quite ready to have more children around. It would come one day, but faced with immortality there was plenty of time. Besides, maybe it was a bit selfish or strange, but she wanted to spend time with Ceri as she grew up, and wanted Rowan to as well. He’d missed out on seven years.

Aelin always knew he’d be a good father, but seeing it with her own eyes only cemented that. Plus, the rest of the court and castle got to witness a softer side of him.

“Had y/n already settled when you met her?”

“No.”

Gods, going through all of that with a small child. She had hers a few years ago, and it … sucked to say the least. The only plus being some of her magic returned, not quite to what it was before, but still much more significant.

Rowan had turned back to his book. Another question had lingered in the back of her mind, “What is her magic?” He marked his page, setting it to the side.

“She has an affinity for raw materials, imbuing them with magic. As far as I know, it’s unique to her bloodline.”

“What else could it do? Besides what she sells.” Protective wards, enchantments, all impressive.

“I never asked.” The dagger. Enchanted to leave a mark. Fenrys said she’d paled when she saw it. If it’s unique to her bloodline … maybe the attack wasn’t only meant for Ceri. “What are you thinking?” Rowan interrupted her train of thought.

“You said it’s unique to her bloodline,” Rowan nodded. “The dagger,” he stiffened but she kept going, “she recognized exactly what it was. Why use a dagger specifically meant to leave a mark? Why make a dagger like that?”

“It’s possible her ancestors made it,” he started, “daggers and knives like that could be intended for different rituals. Using it could’ve been ignorance - or a coincidence.”

Aelin’s mouth tightened. That was a bit too strange to believe. “You know that’s bullshit.”

“Sartaq hasn’t sent word of anything, there’s not much we can do from over here.” But, Rowan did look unsettled.

“Could anyone else have made it?”

“She’s better suited to answer that question.” A month from now. Aelin wasn’t particularly patient on a good day, but she’d remember this. “Don’t be surprised if she wants to leave it in the past.”

“What happened to her parents?”

Rowan didn’t look like he wanted to answer, but she felt like she needed to know. Like it was relevant. He told her the entire story, not sparing any of the more gruesome details. She read the words in his eyes; I didn’t tell you. If you ever decided to tell her, she’d act surprised. A stone settled in her stomach. You hadn’t just been hiding from Maeve.

“Then Lorcan hunted the rest of them down.”

“Who was it, the ones who attacked them?”

“The last armies of a Kingdom who particularly hated Fae, destroyed on Maeve’s orders.” And her father participated, that much she could put together. “It’s in the past, Aelin,” there was a hint of warning in his tone. To drop it.

She nodded absentmindedly. If she could find a way to be subtle about it, she’d keep looking into it.

“Leaving already?” One of your neighbors questioned, after you finished showing the house to a young couple - the woman currently at least a few months pregnant, and glowing. You nodded, watching them disappear. “Where to?”

“To Orynth,” you turned to look at her. A friendly older woman, living a few doors down, who’d greeted you the day after you moved in with a basket of cookies. This neighbor happened to be the mother of the son, currently linking arms with his wife, trudging through the snow. It was a given you’d sell the house to them, if they ended up wanting it.

“We’ll miss you here, and your little one.”

“We’ll miss you too,” you murmured, rubbing your arms to stave off the chill. “Want to come in?” It felt right to offer.

“I’d love to,” her face lit up. Ceri was due back from school in a few hours, and now big enough to walk on her own, although always with a group of other kids. It was a close little community, on the outskirts of the city, and you really did like it here even if it was a bit … boring. Maybe that’s part of the reason Ceri wanted to move to Orynth.

The two of you settled in front of the fire, hands warmed by mugs of tea, and you listened to her talk. Her husband - killed by Adarlanian soldiers, her three children - who went to fight in General Ashryver’s legion, the bane, only two returning at the end of the war.

“Something happier now,” she waved her hand. “What about your family?”

“It’s just me and Ceri now,” you forced a smile. She gave you a sympathetic look, and although you knew she meant no harm - you wanted to wipe it right off her face.

“Her father?” There’s the catch. She knew damn well who her father is, the entire town does, and you shot her a look to tell her that. She had the grace to look a bit sheepish, giving a small shrug of her shoulders. “Can’t help the curiosity,”

‘Yes you can,’ you wanted to say, but reminded yourself she’d been nothing but kind - and still is, but probably wanted to get in all of the questions she’d been dying to ask before you left. You were aware anything you said now would make its way through everyone else living here.

“We’re on good terms,” you said firmly.

“How did you meet?”

“We knew a few of the same people.” Actually, you’d met at a bar - but she had no business knowing that. An ache started to form between your brows. A few hours passed, conversation thankfully diverting from Ceri’s heritage and into more neutral topics. You found yourself enjoying the company.

“It takes a strong woman - or female, to raise a child on her own,” a brief haunted look passed through her eyes, and you offered her a tight smile. Her situation had been different, Terrasen being under occupation by Adarlan and all. She blinked a few times, letting out a long breath. “I’m making some meat pies this afternoon, I’ll bring one by.”

“Thank you,” she stood, and you led the way out the door, walking her down towards her gate.

Ceri was currently coming down the street, accompanied by a few friends, holding … something in her arms, bundled tightly. When she saw you, she sped up her pace, now almost-running down the street.

“Look, look,” she said, shifting her arms just enough for you to see what she was holding. A little head peaked up, yellow eyes, then a meow. “She was all alone, I couldn’t find her mother,” Ceri looked up at you with pleading eyes. You ran a gloved hand over the kitten’s back, getting a small purr in reply. Orange. It was rare to find an orange female cat.

“Let’s get her out of the cold,” a squeal of excitement, and she raced off towards the door.

The two of you bathed her in warm water, and the weird little thing liked it.

“Are you sure you want to keep her?” You asked, but even if she said no you’d probably insist. One hour, and you were already in love. Sure enough, you were hissed at. Twice.

“You can be friends with her,” Ceri said, sitting as close to the fire as she could get, the kitten wrapped up in a towel, sound asleep. She was talking about your animal form. A Baast Cat, not a housecat.

“I’m sure we’ll get along,” you smiled, taking up a seat next to her. That little head poked up again, meowing, before crawling out of the towel. Ceri let her go, choosing to take her mug of hot chocolate from you instead. Carefully, the kitten crawled over onto your lap, small claws digging in. “What should we name her?”

“Wyvern.” A hiss. Not Wyvern, apparently. Ceri rolled her eyes. She tried out a few different names, but none of them were approved. You’d already noted she was very intelligent, even for a cat, and looked up at you like you were supposed to know the answer.

“Halle?” you offered, as a half-assed guess. Surprisingly, a small purr came from her, and you ran your fingers through her fluffy fur, watching as she promptly fell back asleep. Like she was waiting for the conversation to be over.

“Halle’s coming to Orynth with us.”

“Of course.” You couldn’t leave the newest member of your family behind.

taglist: @fussel9913 @moonlightttfae

#throne of glass fic #rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin x reader #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galathynius x reader #rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x y/n #rowan whitethorn x y/n #aelin galathynius x y/n #throne of glass x reader

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leiawritesstories · 7 months

Text

Varese, Reimagined

Rowaelin Month, Day 30: Alternate Canon Scene

sh*ttiest title ever, i know, and also super horribly late but we'll ignore that because....college 🙃 anyway here's a lil alternate canon scene thing based on the idea of "age reversal"

Word count: 2.3k (currently)

Warnings: swearing, bickering, fighting, weapons, sassy Rowan, snarky Aelin, mentions of Maeve

enjoy!!!

@rowaelinscourt

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

Gods, it was boiling in her cousin's useless excuse for a kingdom.

Maybe it just felt that way because the terra-cotta rooftop she was currently perched on had been baking in the sun for hours, but still…if Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was going to survive another day of waiting for her darling aunt Maeve to make a godsdamned move, she needed more wine. She reached to her left, where she could have sworn there was a glass bottle of cheap, unripened wine that she’d swiped from a vendor yesterday, but the bottle was gone.

She turned, blinking in the harsh sunlight, and found the rutting bottle teetering on the edge of the rooftop as if it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to fall. Before she could roust herself to lunge for it, the damn thing tipped over the edge and crashed to the cobbled street with a symphony of shattered glass.

Hells.

Grumbling some of the more creative curses she knew–three centuries of life had their benefits, it seemed–Aelin swung her sleep-stiff body upright, stretched the creaks and cracks out of her limbs, and darted across the tiled rooftop towards a convenient drainpipe. She wrapped her legs around the sturdy clay pipe and slid with feline grace down into the alley below.

The instant she set foot into the street, her senses were assaulted with the acrid scents of sweat, spices, alcohol, and the clamor of too many people crammed into the vendor-lined street market. Even without her Fae senses, the sensory commotion was nearly enough to topple her. She sighed, tucked her face into the shadows of her hood, and joined the throngs of people bustling through the market.

It was laughably easy to swipe some roasted meat on a stick and a flask of wine from various stalls, and she ate the food quickly, washing it down with the absolutely terrible wine. Gods above. If she happened to visit Galan’s castle like Adarlan thought she was going to, she’d need to have some words with her human cousin about the piss-poor quality of his kingdom’s wine. She dropped the empty flask in a gutter, swiped a new one from a different vendor, and sauntered back into the alley, intending to slip back up to the rooftops to watch the stars appear.

The back of her neck prickled as she turned into the alley. It took her all of three seconds to identify the presence of a male body in the shadows near the end of the alley, so she stopped in her tracks and took a long draft of the wine–marginally better than the other one, but still godsdamned awful. Then, summoning all the bravado she could, she spoke.

“If you’re here to kill me, you might as well get it over with.”

There was a rustle, and a tall, muscular, cloaked Fae figure stepped into the soft orange glow of the single streetlamp. “I’m not here to kill you.” His face was hidden by the shadows of his hood, but from the depth of his voice, she could tell he was an adult. At least Maeve hadn’t sent some quivering youngling.

“Really?” She kept her tone conversational. “Because lurking in the back corners of an alley certainly seems conducive to a friendly greeting.” Sarcasm oozed into the end of that sentence, and she waited for the male’s retort.

“I’ve been sent to bring you to Doranelle.” The words rushed out too quickly to be natural–he’d memorized that line, probably at the hand of Maeve herself. “Her Majesty would prefer to meet you alive, but she is not averse to the sight of your corpse.”

“How unfortunate that I have no intention of meeting her, dead or alive.” Aelin tossed the flask into the side of the alley.

The male strode forward, each pace eating up the distance between her and him. “It is not my desire to harm you.” Swift as the wind, he darted behind her, knife glinting in his hand, and made to immobilize her.

Centuries of training with Terrasen’s (and other kingdoms’) military and years of Arobynn’s relentless harshness had made Aelin just as swift and twice as lethal, though, and she dodged his attack, countering with a well-placed boot to his upper thigh. He grunted and lunged towards her, and she grabbed a fistful of his cloak and twisted, destabilizing him.

“Shit,” he yelped, jerking himself back onto his feet but losing his cloak in the process. He stumbled a few steps back, as if it would stop her from assessing him.

She swept a keen gaze over him, from his silvery, braided hair to his well-worn boots. “A Whitethorn, hmm?” A grin curled across her face. “I’ve never met a Whitethorn.”

“Prince Rowan Whitethorn,” the male snapped, as if her borderline-lustful comment had hit precisely the nerve she wanted to hit.

“Pleasure to meet you, Prince.” Aelin smirked, and with a tight exhale, she shifted into her Fae form. “I’m sure my lovely auntie has told you all about me.” From the poorly-suppressed flicker of fear in his emerald eyes, she deduced that Maeve indeed had. “Don’t be afraid, little prince,” she purred. “You’ll wake up a little dazed, but it will be alright.”

Rowan glowered. “Do not call me that,” he hissed. “I am thirty-four, not a rutting child.”

Aelin chuckled. “My mistake. When one has lived centuries, it is easy to forget how childish we all were for our first century.”

“You–you’re–but we thought–” He was, for once, lost for words.

“Has nobody taught you manners, prince?” She clicked her tongue. “It is terribly impolite to ask a lady her age.” Darting forward with whip-swift speed, she swung the hilt of her dagger at Rowan’s temple, aiming to knock him unconscious.

He caught her wrist with barely centimeters to spare. “No so fast, Galathynius,” he growled. “I. Am. Taking. You. To. My. Queen.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to speak down to me,” she chided, teasingly. “You forget that I have a century or three on you, young one.”

Ire flared in those pine eyes. “And I have your knife hand in a–ooooof!” He’d been so distracted trying to keep her wriggling knife hand in his grasp that he hadn’t noticed her knee gradually slipping back until she rammed it directly into his groin.

“I don’t want to do this any more than you do, Whitethorn.” Aelin set her face into placid blankness. Doubled over, clutching his manhood, Rowan wheezed, unable to form speech. “But I do so hope we shall meet again.” With that, she bashed the hilt of her knife into the male’s temple.

He dropped like a stone, unconscious before he hit the cobblestones. She held the back of her wrist over his mouth to make sure he was breathing, then swiftly tied up the slumbering Whitethorn prince, and propped him up in the same dark corner where he’d been waiting for her.

“Sleep well, Whitethorn,” she crooned, blowing him a kiss as she left.

Rowan’s head hurt worse than it had since the first time he let the Moonbeam twins take him to a tavern. The agonizing throbbing pounded insistently through the fog of his brain as he fought his way out of sleep, his memories blurred, fuzzy. What in ten hells had happened? He reached for his head to see if there was a bump or a bruise.

And found his arms bound tightly behind his back.

Hellas himself.

The memories of the night before suddenly flooded back with crystal clarity. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. Working on orders from his Queen, Rowan had tracked down the elusive princess, followed her scent into its freshest mark, hidden himself in the shadows, and waited, patiently, for the supposedly alcoholic, supposedly human princess to make her appearance.

Everything he thought he knew about her was wrong. Rutting hell, everything Doranelle thought they knew about the Galathynius princess was wrong. She was far from the lost, drunken, half-feral assassin they thought she was–not only was she perfectly in control of herself, but she was coherent, shrewd, fought with a terrifyingly unfamiliar blend of military, assassin, and unknown technique, had enough Fae heritage to shift, and was bleeding immortal. Queen Maeve would have his head on a fucking spike if he returned emptyhanded.

Muffling a frustrated scream, Prince Rowan Whitethorn started working his fingers around the ropes binding him hand and foot. He’d be rutting damned if he couldn’t get out of the bonds within an hour, and if he had to use a knife to do it, then so be it.

As he grappled with the last knot standing between him and enough freedom to move his hands properly–of course, this would be the least maneuverable knot–Rowan heard a soft, amused chuckle, and it was with no small amount of dread that he dragged his gaze up and found Aelin Galathynius leaning against the alley wall, hood tipped back just enough to partially reveal her stunning face–still Fae, he noticed–her smirk razor-sharp in the afternoon sunlight.

“Are you familiar with Illyrian knots, Whitethorn?”

He scowled and bit his tongue, forcing himself not to answer.

She chuckled. “Probably not, I keep forgetting I learned those knots two hundred years ago.” She took two paces forward, bringing herself close enough that her scent–jasmine, lemon, and the crackling tang of fire–drifted into his Fae nose. “In simplest terms, the more you tinker with the knot, the tighter and more tangled it will get.”

“Hellas,” Rowan grunted.

“No, a Hellas knot is far simpler to undo.” Mirth laced her words.

He sighed and dropped his almost-freed hands in defeat. “You’ll just abandon me in this godsforsaken alley, then?”

She hummed. “As much as I’d like to leave you to the urchins and street thugs, I believe my darling aunt is waiting, and it seems I need one of Maeve’s own to get into Doranelle.”

For an instant, hope raced through his veins. “So you’re setting me free?”

Aelin tipped her head back and laughed.

A fierce blush scorched across Rowan’s dark tan face. “Am I to be let in on this hilarious joke?”

“Respect your elders, young one,” Aelin drawled, lazily rolling a throwing star back and forth across her gloved knuckles. “I’m offering you a choice, Whitethorn. Either you stay here and rot in this pathetic excuse for a respectable street–unless, of course, you figure out how to unravel an Illyrian knot before nightfall–or you serve as my guide to dear old Auntie Maeve.” A frighteningly sweet smile curved her full lips. “The choice is yours.”

“Not much of a choice,” he snarked. Deep down, though, he had already decided.

She shrugged. “We all have to learn about one-sided choices somehow.”

He clamped his lips together, refusing to submit to the painfully obvious decision for as long as he could stand. Just say it, Whitethorn! shrieked the little voice inside his head. You know perfectly damn well you’ll be useless in an attack if you’re still tied up!

“Enjoy your new home, then.” Aelin’s voice held absolutely no shreds of emotion; she merely turned on her heel and started to leave the alley.

“Wait!” His hoarse yell cracked through the hot, still air. “I-I’ll do it.”

Slowly, with the kind of graceful confidence that only came from lifetimes of experience, she turned back around and prowled towards him, stopping when she reached the knife she’d left on the sun-warmed cobblestones. “A wise decision, prince.”

He grunted. “Get me out of these ropes.”

For the second time in ten minutes, she threw back her head and laughed. “You think you’re giving me orders?” She flicked a mirthful tear off her cheek with the point of the knife–a feat Rowan refused to admit made admiration rush through him. “Hardly, Prince Rowan.” She smirked, the expression purely Fae, tinged with just enough wickedness to make his heart stutter.

It made him wonder just how Aelin’s eventual meeting with Queen Maeve would go.

“Move, and the knots will tighten,” Aelin warned, waiting for him to still his body before she strolled around behind him and released the ropes binding his restrained legs to his restrained arms.

The ropes slackened for a moment, and he leapt to his feet, surging backwards to knock her off balance, only for her to give a sharp yank on the ropes and send him sprawling gracelessly to his feet.

“Rutting hell,” he muttered, dignity crumbling.

“Well played, Whitethorn,” was all she said in response. She knelt and held a flask to his lips, and despite his embarrassment, he was bleeding thirsty, and the water was cold and fresh, so he drank. She whistled shrilly, and there was a minute of silence before hooves clattered against the street and a horse trotted into the alley.

Rowan blinked, half convinced he was dreaming. “Galathynius, is that my godsdamn horse?”

“Is it?” she returned, innocently. “He was tethered a few blocks away and looked awfully thirsty, the poor thing, so I took care of him and here he is now.”

Rowan chose not to answer.

Aelin snickered. “Shall we?” She tugged on the ropes again, and Rowan picked himself up, stood, and faced the princess of Terrasen and her immortal, incorrigible smirk.

“Are you going to make me follow my own damn horse like a war criminal?” he grumbled.

“No.”

“Then–”

She cut off his question before he could ask it. “Mount up, Whitethorn. I’ll ride behind you so you don’t try any clever shit like shifting.”

Well, shit. There went his perfectly sound plan.

Aelin waited for him to mount, then swung effortlessly up into the saddle behind him. “Lighten up, prince,” she teased. “You won’t be able to shift for a few weeks, anyway.”

He blinked. “What?!”

She tossed a tiny glass vial over his shoulder. “Didn’t anyone teach you about nightroot tincture when you were in warrior school?”

Gods burn him, it was going to be a long ride to Doranelle.

~~~

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