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throneofsapphics · 2 months

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old faces, part 10

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 drinking, panic attack, references to death, child labor

Word Count: ~4.5k

A/N: I promise I've started on part 11! I appreciate all of your love on this series <3 it seriously means the world to me

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Fenrys, sat to your right, was watching you. He was subtle, others wouldn’t notice - perhaps except Rowan or Aelin, but you felt his attention on you, like he knew something was wrong. The bastard probably did.

The encounter had rattled you. Especially because the male was still sitting further down the table. You’d done a good job of ignoring him for the most part, even though his attention wandered your way several times. Earlier, you’d been correct assuming it was a personal matter, because he didn’t bring up a single thing related to an artifact causing trouble, or your bloodline. Not even a hint of it.

Yes, his questions had unnerved you, but the memory moreso. You’d kept your oath, but you tried not to think of him. It had been years, but the pain and loss still felt like yesterday, the scar still felt fresh, guilt and horror threatened to overwhelm you -

A warm hand on your knee, a small squeeze. Fenrys. A scan of the table showed nobody looking closely at you, good - it would’ve been embarrassing and unprofessional if you’d spaced out while a question was asked.

Trying not to count down the seconds, you did your best to hang on to every word, to listen intently, but your mind scrambled. A glass of wine, maybe a good book, and sleep was desperately needed.

With Fenrys next to you like a guard dog, he only shot you a look, probably meant to be some kind of promise of a future conversation. You’d need a good amount to avoid him, and lately your luck has been running terrifyingly low.

Waiting an appropriate amount of time after the meeting concluded - mainly until he left the room, you beelined for the door. A broad back cut you off, Fenrys asking some kind of question you couldn’t hear through the ringing in your ears, the pure panic rising in your lungs.

Vaguely aware of the empty room surrounding you, Rowan’s face loomed in front of yours, his mouth forming words you couldn’t hear or comprehend. Chest caving, each breath felt like a chore, the sharp pain of your nails in your palm couldn’t distract you, couldn’t break you out, you were suffocating, drowning - one hand squeezed your shoulder, another gripping your chin, tilting it up to meet his gaze.

“Breathe,” you read his lips, the movement of his mouth slow and exaggerated. “You’re safe.”

His hand enveloped yours, drawing it up towards his chest. The grip on your chin didn’t move, forcing you to look at him to focus on the steady beat of his heart under your palm, the exaggerated rising and falling of his chest, the way his hand still covered your own. Slowly, the ringing subsided, your breaths growing easier.

“Good?” He asked, and you hated the gentleness in his voice. You replied with a terse nod. Rowan studied you for a few moments, and unlike yourself you squirmed under the scrutiny, shifting back and forth on your feet.

“Alright,” he said slowly, releasing your chin, lowering your hand back to your side. He strode back towards the door, jerking his head, speaking lowly enough your Fae hearing couldn’t catch the words. Fenrys strode back in, his face unusually severe. The door shut with a soft snick, a comforting shield of wind surrounding the room. You were too overloaded to add your own magic.

Fenrys looked concerned, but you shook your head, “I'm fine.”

“Then what the hell happened before?” At least Fenrys got straight to the point.

“Someone just … asked something that rattled me,” you hedged, leaning back against the table, crossing your arms, trying to buy yourself some time to find a way to explain it that wouldn’t make them overreact. Logically, you knew it was too late for that.

“You don’t get rattled,” Rowan crossed his arms. Technically, that was a compliment. You glanced at Fenrys, like he might make some kind of joke, but his face was nearly as serious as Rowan’s. Two walls of unrelenting and overbearing male arrogance. “Who?”

“Does it matter?”

Neither male bothered responding. Running fingers through your hair, you told him, and added “it wasn’t exactly a threat.”

‘Exactly’, was your mistake.

“Tell me everything.” The demand in Rowan’s tone, the sheer sense of authority and arrogance, made you prickle but … this time you gave in and recited the conversation.

“What do you think he’s looking for?” Fenrys asked before Rowan could get a word..

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know.” The second part wasn’t necessarily true. He’d peaked your curiosity, hit that lingering sense of guilt perfectly - as if he already knew how to work you. But, curiosity killed the cat - you wouldn’t make that mistake.

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Rowan said, glancing up at the clock. Another meeting would start soon - one should probably be at. “Stay here for the night.”

“Right where he is?” You raised your brows.

“Right where we are,” he corrected.

“I’m not that scared.”

“So you admit you’re scared?”

“Oh fuck off,” you snapped at him.

“We fought with that male,” Rowan snarled, “we’re well aware of what he’s capable of.”

Of course they had. You caught Fenrys’s nod from the corner of your eye.

“And I’m more than capable of protecting myself. Find someone else to be a fussy bastard to.”

“I care about your safety,” he gritted his teeth, “is that so wrong?”

Damn you, something inside of you softened and you hated yourself for it.

“It’s safer for me to be at home.”

“Safer for who?” The edge in Rowan’s voice grew, “because I know damn well you’re trying to draw a threat away from the castle.” Away from Ceri was implied. He probably didn’t know it, but you wanted it away from him too. From him, Aelin, Fenrys, all of the people you cared about. You couldn’t argue.

“Don’t fucking underestimate me.”

He laughed roughly, “trust me, I’m not.”

“Then don’t try to coddle me,” your left fist clenched.

“It’s common sense, not coddling.”

Fenrys’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of you, and you threw your head back in a groan.

“If anything happens tonight, even if I get a bad feeling, I'll come back here,” you said with enough finality and sincerity that the males very begrudgingly agreed. “I’m going home now,” you sidestepped Fenrys, skirted around Rowan, the shield of wind falling, and strode out of the door.

Rowan hadn’t slept well since you left the night before. You showed face yesterday, probably just to assure him and maybe prove a point, but the Akkadian contingent would be present for two more days. He told Aelin, of course, and had to be the reasonable one to prevent her from doing an interrogation of her own. She’d agreed, already knowing there was a close eye kept on them. But, it was near impossible to keep track of everyone entering or leaving without raising suspicion.

Quarter to midnight, just when he figured he should try and get some sleep, and kick the rest of the Court out, Halle appeared with a … piece of paper between her teeth. She jumped directly on him, claws digging in, dropping the paper, hissing when he didn’t immediately grab it. He took the hint, and didn’t hesitate before unfolding it.

I’m going to have company soon. If you and Aelin attend, it’ll raise too many suspicions, and it’s the dead of night. Send Fenrys? I’ll stay in until then.

Gods, you planned on confronting him. The words were scribbled quickly, letters shaky, ink blotted in a few areas.

He tossed it to Fenrys, who caught it between two fingers - glancing once curiously at the cat, her keen eyes now fixed on him. Attending. You said nothing about a hawk keeping watch from the sky. Besides, you’d said ‘you and Aelin,’ not ‘you or.’ Aelin would be pissy she needed to stay here, but if they were both absent from the castle …

Sometimes, Rowan missed when he wasn’t King, when he could confront a problem like this without having to worry about political repercussions, when he lived somewhere there were few laws against murder.

He flew above Fenrys - taking a back exit from the castle, sticking to secluded areas. Somehow, the giant white wolf went unnoticed. Perhaps because it was a Friday night, and the current areas they ran through were nearly abandoned.

Regardless, he scouted the way ahead, spotting the two males just a fifteen minute walk from your house now. It was obvious they didn’t know exactly where they were going, but Fenrys should arrive with a few minutes to spare. He knew you’d notice his presence, and he’d avoid showing his face to keep your wrath away.

He momentarily forgot keeping your wrath away as he watched you slip past the wards and shift. Then - disappeared. Catching a draft, he set out to intercept Fenrys.

You’d lied to them unintentionally, the decision made last minute, a switch, but it was the … choice that felt right, a warm hand on your shoulder - a feminine voice in the back of your ear, guiding you. Slipping past the words, sending silent apologies to the night, you shifted.

It was easy enough to track their magic, moving in between the folds of time and space. Harder, was deciding the best way to ‘run into’ their path.

Pinching your cheeks until they flushed red, hands shoved into pockets, head down, senses awake - a slight sway in your step, humming a tune frequently played in Terrasen’s taverns, you turned the corner and let the threads of fate throw you to the wolves.

“Oh,” you laughed, stumbling back a few steps, brushing hair away from your face, “didn’t think I’d see you again today. Your voice carried over the wind, although you spoke a tad louder than necessary. The location was empty, but not abandoned. Probably not where they would’ve chosen. It felt important that you chose the place. “Convenient, finding you here.”

“Convenient, indeed,” the predatory gleam in his eyes raised the hair on the back of your neck. Still, stupid male. If he thought beyond whatever agenda he’s set on, he would’ve wondered how you ended up directly in his path. “There’s some things we’d like to discuss-”

“It’s past business hours, I’m afraid,” you yawned.

“We can keep this separate,” he purred and you fought the urge to gag. His friend was stone-faced. They looked similar enough they could be brothers or cousins.

“What do you want?”

“Like I said,” he cleared his throat. “There’s an artifact causing trouble, we need your skillset to track it down.”

He said it as if it was a done thing, like you’d agree in an instant. “I’m not the person you’re looking for.”

“Andal said you were.”

You paled, all of the color flushing from your skin. He couldn’t see it, in the dark, but the silence probably told him he’d hit the mark. Nothing was telling you to run, nothing pushing you away from this - although you wished it would. Deny, deny, deny, was the safe choice but … you had to get to the bottom of this one way or another. Worst case, you shift and disappear. Hopefully.

“If Andal said,” you pretended to think about it, just for a moment, tapping your fingers on your thigh, before shaking your head “it doesn’t matter, I’m out of business.”

“This is urgent,” his friend, stone-man, growled.

“Oh he speaks,” you teased.

“It’s one of the -” his words froze mid-sentence, a pulse of ancient and near primal magic weaving into the space.

Fenrys nearly bowled you over - stumbling, bracing his hand on your shoulder. “Quit leaving me behind,” he huffed out a laugh. An icy and familiar wind brushed against your cheek.

Immense relief filled you, although you were seconds away from getting the information you wanted. “My bad,” you shot him a smile.

Nearly imperceptibly, his fingers tightened around your shoulder as he straightened, examining the two males in front of you. Males he already knew were there. Still, you were impressed by his acting.

“New friends?” He drawled. You shrugged, but didn’t shake off his hand, and he didn’t move it.

“They were asking for my advice,” you cleared your throat - after an uncomfortable minute of silence.

“Advice that cannot wait until tomorrow?”

There was an underlying threat in his words, a slight change in tone, and with it the air filled with tension - suffocating, like all of their magics rose to the surface, postures tense and ready to snap at any minute.

“I’m sure it can wait,” the male said roughly, jerking his chin towards his friend, as they both strode down the street - back towards the castle. “I’ll be in touch,” he called over his shoulder. Fenrys stiffened, but you didn’t bother replying.

You and Fenrys waited until they were out of hearing range, and then a few minutes longer for good measure. At this point, you knew Fenrys well enough to tell when he was furious.

Clearing the city streets, shadows of the stress covering the two of you, you finally spoke, “I’d almost figured out what -”

A flash of light came from your right, you pivoted, faced with an angry silver-haired male, mouth frozen mid-sentence, “I’d ask what the hell you were thinking,” he snarled, “but it’s obvious you weren’t.”

“I was thinking I’d keep those bastards from finding my gods-damned house,” you hissed.

“How do you know you’re not leading them right back to your gods-damned home?” Fenrys said, his dark eyes flashing.

Fixing him with a sharp look, you didn’t bother answering.

One, you’d be able to tell.

Two, it felt like an insult to your intelligence.

Three, they weren’t stupid enough to follow if Fenrys was with you.

You considered telling them to piss off, but knew it would be pointless. Tense, angry silence filled the walk back to your home.

The wards were heavy, thick magic pulsing, enveloping you the closer you got. It might be uncomfortable to the others, but for you it felt like a hug - like it was singing and welcoming you home, magic reaching out with small threads to tug you into its embrace. You realized that the density of magic might be a beacon, and made a note in your mind to possibly research a way to obscure it.

Running your finger down the invisible wall, a sliver appeared - just big enough to slip through as, snapping back into place as soon as you passed the threshold.

The silence carried until you were inside, all sitting stiffly on the various couches and chairs. None of you bothered to appear at ease.

Rowan’s hand slipped into his pocket, pulling a familiar slip of paper out, holding it between two fingers. Dramatically, he unfolded it and read;

“I’ll stay in until then,” a breeze floated the page towards you, and you batted it away. A streak of orange, and Halle caught it between her teeth, shaking it in her jaws like a dog. She looked up at you and hissed. A small smile curved on your lips. Reaching a hand out, she rubbed her head along your fingers, lifting her chin for a scratch. A minute passed, and it appeared the two males were waiting for you to break the silence this time. You forced yourself to lean back, the armchair big enough for Halle to jump up and settle next to you, one paw batting at you when you dared to stop petting her.

“Do you ever feel like some kind of God or Goddess is watching over you?”

“Aelin killed them,” Fenrys deadpanned, Rowan cut a glare at him. That, you didn’t know, but as Rowan’s glare turned on you, you decided it was best to ask that question later.

“It’s like a warm hand on my shoulder,” you continued, “or a voice, nudging me. It hasn’t failed me before, and today felt like a bad time to test it.”

“You couldn’t have found me?” Fenrys asked, “maybe waited until you weren’t alone to confront them?”

“I should’ve,” scratching the back of your neck, you avoided his gaze.You were old enough to admit when you’d done something stupid, to realize you had indeed fucked up, even if you hated doing it. “Look,” you let out a slow breath, “this is very … personal.”

Silence.

“If I'm going to explain this, Aelin really should be here,” you mumbled. She could easily hear from Rowan, or you could tell the story twice, but you wanted her here. Something about her presence soothed an edge, made dark parts of the past more bearable.

Rowan stood. “I doubt she’s sleeping,” he said mildly, a glint in his eyes. “I saw you shift earlier, it shouldn’t take long to get there.”

Fighting the urge to snarl or stomp, you lead the way out the door. “I’ll walk,” you called over your shoulder. Mainly because it would piss his impatient ass off. Based on his snarl, it did.

Rowan snarled as you took off without him, sending a grin over your shoulder. His eyes rolled, but within a few strides he’d caught up to you.

“Walking me home?” You teased, “how kind of you.” He gently shoved his shoulder into yours. “Really,” you huffed, “I’ll be fine.”

“It’ll make me feel better,” he countered, and that was the end of the argument. You’d refused to shift and head back, anyway. You didn’t show your animal form to anyone. Even him.

“I’ll go with you,” Fenrys quickly caught up to you, walking shoulder to shoulder as the memory faded, “we might run into them again.”

A flash of light, a shriek from a hawk, and Rowan headed off, likely to warn Aelin.

Ten minutes into the walk, the silence was getting to your head.

“What is it?”

“I’ve never wanted to be back in Doranelle,” Fenrys said quietly, “but there, I could’ve just killed them.”

“Murder isn’t always the answer,” you snorted, and finally had the courage to look him in the eyes. He was fighting a smile. Throwing your head back, a slightly-incredulous, probably insane sounding laugh bubbled from your chest.

“Some of the objects my ancestors made had uses they didn’t expect, and ended up with the wrong people,” you tapped your fingers against your legs, Aelin tried not to make it obvious she was hanging onto every word. “There’s a sense of … responsibility that comes with it. To destroy them, I suppose. There was never enough time to properly explain it.”

Sounds like bullshit, Aelin thought, but kept listening.

“Few know how to use Wyrdmarks, and very few have the magic to strengthen or infuse them. Some can catch traces of those objects - track them. Not all of my ancestors were angelic, some tracked them down - either to use themselves or sell to the highest bidder,” disgust filled each word as you spat them out. “I was warned that not all will have bad intentions, but even the best intentions can be skewed by greed,” that phrase came out like a quote, one you’d memorized years ago, stored in the back of your mind - perhaps as a reminder. This was mostly information they’d been able to piece together, and Aelin waited for the other side, for whatever big secret you’d been holding onto.

“It would be good to know what they're looking for, specifically.” Rowan looked ready to interrupt, but Aelin held up a hand. “Then I'll know their intentions. “I’d almost figured that out earlier,” you shot what was probably supposed to be an annoyed look at Fenrys, but she caught the hint of gratitude. As you turned back to them, a hint of guilt hit her at the exhaustion in your face, at the fear in your eyes.

“I was nine, stuck on the streets. Someone found me, told me if I helped them out they’d make sure I was taken care of. I worked for them for five years, and did whatever they told me to. I knew I'd get fed, a warm bed, and a few marks here and there - to a kid it felt like riches. My … handler, you could say, had an idea of what my magic could do. Eventually my great uncle found me and dragged me out of it.” You ran a hand over your face. “That’s why they’re asking for help, because they know I’ve done it before.”

“Andal?” Rowan asked quietly. He must’ve overheard that. All Aelin could think of was that word you used; handler. As the name Andal rolled around in her mind, it sounded eerily like Arobynn. Still, she focused on you - your expression, the paleness of your skin, the mixture of anger and fear flashing at the name, fists clenching slightly, shoulders tensing, feet pressing firmer into the ground - like you were ready to launch into a fight. Aelin understood how a name could trigger such a visceral reaction.

“I fell for his trap and promises, I was so naive,”

“You were a child,” Rowan insisted. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Part of me always knew it was wrong, but I was so-” your head snapped towards the door, and seconds later a very insistent knock interrupted. Ceri. Rowan’s shield of wind, and one of whatever your magic was, parted and the door flew open.

Ceri sprinted through the room, launching herself into your arms.

“You’re here,” she shrieked. Excitement. A smile naturally spread over your face, the tension of the previous conversation put aside as Ceri recounted the past day's events, settling herself next to you on the couch as you watched with rapt attention - cutting in at all of the perfect moments.

It had been a long week and … Aelin realized the two of you didn’t get to spend much time together. She exchanged a glance with Rowan, and they both silently rose, murmuring a good night, before leaving. They’d get up early to talk in the morning.

Ceri spared no detail, and talked until her eyes started closing, yawns interrupting her words.

“Why don’t you tell me more in the morning?” You asked gently.

Her lips pursed, like that was the last thing she wanted to do, but she eventually nodded. She stood, her small hand latching onto your wrist, and dragged you both towards your bedroom. It had been years since she insisted on sleeping in your bed, but you didn’t question it. After tonight, you wanted her close.

The next morning, thank the gods, nobody woke you up at the ass crack of dawn. In fact, a tray of food waited just outside of your door, all of your favorites and Ceri’s. After discerning it wasn’t poison, you brought it in.

A few cups of tea later and you felt ready to continue last night’s conversation. Partially. None of this way easy to talk about, and you supposed that was a good thing.

‘As a child,’ Rowan had said. Sure, you’d been young and naive, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you should’ve known better. ‘Nobody was there to teach you, it’s not your fault,’ a voice that sounded eerily like Aelin’s countered in the back of your mind.

Ceri left reluctantly, making you promise to spend another night at the castle. It was an easy promise to give, you’d missed her after all.

As soon as the three of you sat, you said the words you’d rehearsed in your head all morning. “Before we get into … that situation,” you cleared your throat, fighting the tightening sensation. “Whatever it is between us,” you’d caught their attention, both staring at you with keen eyes, “I want it - if you still do. To figure it out when we have time.”

“I still want it,” Aelin’s mouth curved up at one corner, the mirth in her eyes bringing a pink flush to your cheeks. Rowan met your gaze, pine-green eyes flashing with rare emotion, and nodded. You didn’t need words from him, the look said everything.

“How dangerous are these objects?” Rowan cleared his throat. Aelin rolled her eyes.

“Depends on who has them, and if they know what they’re doing.” You realized that was uninformative, and explained, “most of them can capture traces of magic, in some way or form. With enough exposure and time, they can be quite destructive.”

“You said you helped hunt them, did they ask anything else of you?”

You nodded, throat constricting, and forced the next words out, “I was a kid who didn’t know what she was doing. I appeased them, changing small marks, making things up, but I really had no idea. I still don’t know what I changed, or what they can do now.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Aelin said, firmly.

“It’s not your -”

“My responsibility, I know,” she waved her hand, “but I want to.”

The way she said ‘want’ implied she would, whether you liked it or not. You’d learned, over the last few years, that Aelin can be quite good at getting what she wants. Still, you didn’t want to roll over for her.

“I always pictured myself going on a … quest, some day,” you let out a low, dead, laugh. “When Ceri was grown, hunting down all of the objects I messed with - destroying them.”

“Getting revenge?” Rowan raised a brow.

“Redemption,” you countered. He looked like he wanted to argue. “Besides,” you played with the hem of your tunic. “It’s what my uncle would’ve done.”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” He said quietly, not with pity, just framing a fact as a question.

“Yes.”

Another gods-damned sacrifice. All to keep you alive. All you could do was try to be worthy of it.

“Ceri didn’t inherit my magic,” you said abruptly.

“I know,” Rowan replied. “Maybe your knack for sensing it, but not the actual magic.”

“Sensing can be taught,” you replied.

Aelin hummed. “What do you want to do about this?”

A few blinks of surprise, but you leaned back. “Honestly? Forget it all happened.” Aelin snorted. “Practically, I should hear them out and figure out what I’m dealing with.”

“And put yourself in danger?” Aelin’s head tilted, her voice a tad too calm.

“What if we make it an ‘official’ thing?” When neither outright objected, you continued, “do it during a meeting, make it public.”

“Then you’ll expose yourself,” Rowan stated. You raised a brow, you already had - to them. “To everyone,” he added.

“Not necessarily,” you brushed the non-existent dirt off your pants. “I can give them my useless ‘notes’ on the subject,” you’d never intended to give them material that would actually help. “If they try for specifics, clarify what they’re looking for, others will start suspecting them, and I doubt that’s what they want.”

“How will that tell you what they want?”

“They’re arrogant and obviously desperate,” you shrugged. “They’ll get irritated, find me, and tell me.”

“Your plan is to piss them off?” Fenrys looked at you like he prayed you were joking.

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danikamariewrites · 8 months

Note

Could I ask for Rowaelin x pregnant reader please

Poly!Rowaelin x pregnant!reader headcanon

The two of them get waaayyy over protective when you find out you’re pregnant

Especially Rowan bc of everything that happened with Lyria

He was terrified that he’d lose you and the baby

But you and Aelin were there to comfort him and remind him that the evil was gone, you were safe

Rowan refused to leave your side, insisting that he was always around to guard you and you weren’t even showing yet

You started going to more court meetings just so he would do his kingly duties

Aelin spoiled you more than usual

Any junk food you wanted she got it for you! From chocolates to any wild sandwich you could think of it was in your hands

When your bump started showing you were so happy. You could finally feel your little babe and could talk to your stomach without getting an insane looks

Since you were about 3-4 months along you could still fit in your clothes so you put on one of your favorite dresses and set out to find your mates to show them

You find them in the throne room, just having finished a meeting with the lords

You keep your hands in front of your stomach as you walk up to them and you have this stupid grin on your face

“Y/n! Good morning sweet girl, how are you.” Aelin cooed at you as she raced off her throne to you, Rowan on her heels

“Perfect. Look!” You remove your hands to show off the small bump

Aelin let’s out a cry covering her mouth, “it’s so cute! That’s our babe ohh.” And she kissed you softly

Rowan was mesmerized by it. Silver lined his eyes, his lips pulled into a tight smile

He dropped to his knees and cradled your stomach between his hands leaving feather soft kisses across it, “this is amazing.” He whispered as you ran your fingers through his silver hair

You and Aelin would shop for baby clothes during your free afternoons with Rowan acting as your bodyguard of course

Rowan would growl at anyone who looked at you

It didn’t matter if it was a friend or stranger

Rowan and Lorcan almost got into a fight bc he accidentally growled at Elide for touching your bump

The farther into your pregnancy the more fatigued you got

Eventually you just stayed in bed resting and taking a few walks during the day

Your walks were your alone time with the babe since your mates were always around

You’d point out your favorite flowers in the garden, tell them about Aelin and Rowan, and the latest gossip

This child was going to be the biggest snoop because of you

They would make sure you had everything you needed during your pregnancy

And most importantly that you were healthy and comfortable

Sometimes Aelin would massage your shoulders while Rowan rubbed your feet and ankles

They loved talking to the babe before bed, “were you nice to your mama today?” “What did you two do?” “We already love you so much baby.”

#throne of glass imagine #throne of glass #throne of glass headcanons #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass rowan #aelin throne of glass #rowaelin x reader #rowaelin x you #rowaelin #poly!Rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin headcanon #poly!Rowaelin x you #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn

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leiawritesstories · 23 days

Text

queen's crown

rowaelin + kiddos // written for April microfics @throneofglassmicrofics using the prompt "Crown"

word count: 725

warnings: none :)

enjoy!!!

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

The Staghorn Crown of Terrasen sat atop its emerald-green velvet pillow, the gold spires that resembled antlers jutting proudly up into the still, silent air of the throne room. At its center, the kingsflame bloom encased in crystal seemed almost to glow, the scarlet and crimson and orange of its petals radiating warmth and light.

The princess rose onto her tiptoes and fixed her wide-eyed gaze upon the crown, the pedestal just barely taller than her head. At the sound of footsteps entering the throne room, she startled, and her elbow knocked into the pedestal as she wobbled, trying to keep her balance.

She stared, her wonder turning to horror, as the crown tipped off of its cushion and tumbled towards the floor.

But a swift, wintry wind brushed through the throne room, caught the crown, and deposited it neatly back on its cushion, its tendrils wrapping carefully around the princess as she wobbled on the steps.

"Are you alright, little love?" Her father's voice, her father's wind.

Six-year-old Alanna Whitethorn Galathynius felt her lower lip shiver as the tears slowly spilled out of her eyes, the same bright pine as her father's. In an instant, her father was there, scooping her up into his arms, soothing her.

"I--I almost broke Mama's crown," Lana half-sobbed, burying her face in her dada's warm shoulder.

"Shh, little love, it's alright." Rowan carried Lana back to her rooms, where her mother was waiting, concern on her face. He kissed the top of his daughter's blonde head. "You know Mama and I would never let anything happen to you, Lana."

She sniffled. "I sorry, Mama."

Aelin took her daughter from her mate's arms, giving him a brief, tender look. "Lana, lovey, you mean so much more to me than that silly old crown." She cupped the little girl's face, meeting Lana's teary gaze with her own steady one. "Were you trying to see Mama's crown?"

Lana nodded. "Auntie El said you used to try and see it all the time when you were my age."

A distant, yearning smile slipped across Aelin's face. "That was...a very long time ago. I'm surprised she remembers." When she was a child, Aelin had often slipped into the throne room to stare at the crown from a distance, a memory she'd almost forgotten until her daughter brought it up.

Calming, Lana touched the bracelet that curled around Aelin's wrist, a smaller version of the crown with golden prongs like antlers. An everyday crown. "It matches."

"Yes, it does." Aelin kissed Lana's forehead. "Do you want to go see the crown, lovey?"

Lana's big green eyes lit up. "Yes!"

"Alright, then." Aelin stood up and took Lana's hand, and with Rowan at her back, ever the hovering buzzard, she led her daughter down to the throne room. Together, they walked across the quiet, shadowed expanse of the room, its soft darkness broken by the sunlight that streamed in through the arched windows along the walls.

At the front of the throne room, she lifted the crown's cushion off the pedestal, slowly knelt down in front of her daughter with a flicker of a grimace of discomfort, and set the cushion on the ground. Lana's expression widened with wonder as she clung to her mother's hand and stared at the crown.

Rowan knelt next to Aelin, concern creasing his face. "Are you sure you should be--"

"I'm fine, you overbearing buzzard," she sighed, one hand drifting to her very rounded stomach.

A tiny mirror of her father, Lana pressed both of her small hands to Aelin's bump. "Mama, baby?"

"Baby is just fine, lovey," Aelin promised. Gently, reverently, she lifted the crown from its cushion and raised it into the shaft of sunlight, causing light to radiate off of the kingsflame bloom. As her daughter and her mate watched, she carefully lowered it onto her head, feeling its familiar weight settle over her.

Lana stared raptly. "Mama so pretty," she murmured.

Aelin smiled as she lifted the crown off her head. "One day, my daughter, this will be yours." Lana held very still as Aelin placed the crown atop her small head, holding it in place so it didn't slip down the princess's face.

And the Queen of Terrasen looked at the future queen, her heart full to bursting at the sight of her family.

~~~

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

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

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

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@aelinschild

@renxzs

#my writing #answered prompt #prompt fill #throne of glass microfics #throne of glass #queen of shadows #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin #awlin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #canon au #post canon au #rowaelin and kiddos #rowaelin babies

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highladyofterrasen7 · 4 months

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How the sjm couples react to their ship names

Feysand- Rhys starts signing documents with feysand. Feyre finds it adorable

Nessian- cassian calls her nessian. Nesta gets pissed, they argue, they fuck

Gwynriel- az starts blushing and runs away. Gwyn runs after him

Elucien- both run away. (They like it)

Rowaelin- aelin loves it, starts cackling. rowan is annoyed (nothing new)

Manorian- dorian also calls her it, manon is afraid bc of commitment issues, and tries to run away but abraxos stops her

Lysaedion- Lysandra laughs with aelin. Aedion gets annoyed and broods with rowan

Elorcan- Lorcan loves how elides name is first and elide sits there smug before joining the others and laughing

Chaorene- chaol wants to name his child it. Yrene says no.

Quinlar- hunt is in the asteri dungeons??? He can’t react. Soz

Srsly tho- they brood bc it’s their last names and they’re vain (try to combine umbra mortis and starborn)

Ruhnlidia- Lidia gets annoyed bc it’s uninventive. Ruhn likes it

Ariflynn- (shush) Ariadne disappears (again) bc why would she have a ship name with him??? Flynn adores it

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darklinaforever · 6 months

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“Sarah J Mass continues the trend where abusive relationships are portrayed as completely acceptable.”

Um... Feysand is abusive ? Is Elriel abusive ? Nessian is abusive ? Rowaelin is abusive ? Manorian is abusive ? I... WTF ?!

Apparently, from what I know, people are saying that Feysand is abusive starting in book 4, when... no ? Yes, it sucks that Rhysand hid the pregnancy problem from Feyre, but you know what stress can do to an already stressed pregnant woman ? A miscarriage. And clearly, even if Rhysand wasn't perfect on this one, the risk and fear it provoked in him made sense. Making a mistake in a healthy relationship isn't the end of the world, especially with such a complicated situation, essentially dead end. The purpose of this plot specifically being Nesta's rescue for her relationship with Feyre. Maybe SJM didn't handle the scenario very well, but that's okay in itself. Especially since Rhysand planned to talk to Feyre about it at one point or another. He wasn't planning on hiding it from her until the birth or never telling her ! What would have really been toxic is... oh I don't know, absolutely wanting to risk having your son at the risk of Feyre's life and the baby no matter what by hiding it from her ?! (And let me have a doubt, but Rhysand's life was just as threatened as Feyre... If one dies, so does the other. No ?!) Also, it's a fantasy universe... I mean, a mistake in a couple of two immortal Fae essentially caused by the fear of the death of your partner and your baby... Uh, I think we can forgive, right ? This is nothing compared to the whole relationship Feyre had with Tamlin !

I've literally seen people say that if Feyre had died at the end of the book, it would have confirmed that Rhysand was toxic / abusif, but in what way ? I remind you that Feyre knew about it at that time and that no matter if she would have known from the start, there was no solution for Feyre's case ! It was literally a no-win situation ! Rhysand would have been abusive of what ? For getting her pregnant ? Knowing that Feyre wanted this baby and was the one who decided to have one ? Also, these people were even talking about the fact that Rhysand would probably have blamed himself for Feyre's death but believed that he had done the moral and right thing... Like WTF ? Did these people even forget that Rhysand would have died with Feyre if she was fucking dead ?! They don't even make the effort to pretend they know what they're talking about ! Seriously, the reasoning of the antis is slammed to the ground.

Rhysand essentially wanted to avoid any risk of unnecessary stress to Feyre (because once again it's fucking dangerous) in the sense that he hoped to find a solution to save her before telling her about the problem. And then, even if he didn't tell her right away after understanding that no, there was no solution, I would like to see you there telling the love of your life that she is inevitably going to die during delivery with the baby, when she was so happy and impatient to have this child and start this new chapter of your life together ?!

Oh, and apparently the protective shield was toxic... You know, that same shield, brought in with the new threat emanating from the mortal queens, Beron's schemes and fucking Koshei... (Knowing that Rhys literally said in book 2 that he would be terrified to see his soulmate pregnant while they were surrounded by enemies, and the idea of what he would be capable of doing if Feyre was expecting a child and that she was threatened or harmed. Well I don't even see how this shield thing would shock the reader or be out of character for Rhysand...) This same protective shield that Feyre accepted despite gently making fun of it with Cassian, and that Rhysand then lowered so that she could be in contact with their family members whenever they wanted and / or whenever the moment presented itself once they were able to fully master it. So basically she could still touch her family / people she wanted... (Especially since Feyre may have a shield on her, but she is not kept locked up. She is free to go out and do what she wants. At one point, Feyre even says that she should accompany Nesta, Casian and Azriel into danger, after Rhysand says the same thing, then Rhysand corrects it by saying that they should accompany them both. Not that she shouldn't go. He's not fucking controlling her !) The real toxicity would have been keeping the shield on under all circumstances despite the conversation Feyre and Cassian had about it the first time he was addressed.

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demigods-vampires-fae-are-bae · 6 months

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rowaelin having a baby

Baby: F.... Fa....

Aelin: Father? You want your dad?

Baby: F.... FUCK Mave and Erawan.

Aelin:

Baby:

Aelin:

Baby:

Aelin: ROWAN COME QUICK, OUR CHILD IS A FUCKING GENIUS—

#throne of glass #tog #sarah j maas #sjm #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowaelin #celaena sardothien

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writtenonreceipts · 7 months

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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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shyvioletcat · 8 months

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ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY EIGHT

~ Single Parent ~ Ah yes, this is always one of my favourite days. This is part two to my Fish are Friends fic, so please enjoy. @rowaelinscourt

~~~~~

“This guy is loaded.”

Aelin snorted at her friend's awed exclamation as she eased off on the accelerator coming up the long, paved driveway. The house wasn’t obnoxiously large, but it was well beyond decent with a pretty facade and well kept gardens. And if the price he had offered initially for her services today was anything to go by, yes Rowan did have money to burn.

She had waited until she got home to text him back and to say yes to the offer of Ivy’s birthday party, claiming that now she had turned back into a mermaid she could talk mermaid business. With how the girl was so enamoured by the whole mermaid performance Aelin couldn’t even think of saying no. Rowan had immediately come back with a price just under what her gig at the aquarium paid in a fortnight and she stared at it wide eyed for a full minute. She knocked it back, then there was a mildly heated discussion over what the price should be. Rowan was overly generous, and Aelin helped equate the cost by saying she needed to bring a friend along to help her with her costume and they would split it. That had been fine, of course, and why Lysandra was sitting in the passenger seat.

The car stopped and Lysandra was still peering out the windows trying to get a better look. “His wife, slash girlfriend, slash whatever must be living the life.”

“He’s divorced,” Aelin said, pushing the gear stick into park.

“That’s an awfully weird thing to find out in a conversation that went for two minutes,” Lysandra added.

Aelin shrugged, seatbelt clicking as it undid. “Well his daughter did demand he kiss me.”

Lysandra paused from where she was checking over her make-up in the sun visor mirror, head turning sharply. “She what?”

“I had to keep the magic alive and I may have told her that I needed a kiss from my true love to stay a mermaid. There was something about a sea witch curse in there too.”

The mirror closed with a snap. “That’s real dedication.”

“Yes it is and that’s why I need you to go knock on the door and suss out where I need to go so Ivy doesn’t know I’m here until I’m dressed. I’m only human between three and six to her knowledge,” Aelin explained, gesturing to the dark wood door.

“I feel like there was an easier way to do this,” Lysandra said.

Aelin shooed her with a gesture of her hand. “I was under pressure, now go.”

Lysandra didn’t answer, just did what she was asked, hopping out of the car and making a show of knocking on the front door. Aelin sunk in her chair a little, ready to hide completely if anyone little appeared at the door. She managed to see an older woman with greying auburn hair look her way as Lysandra pointed to the car. There was some more conversing and then some nodding, and then Lysandra was coming back over to the car.

She opened the car door and lent in. “So, that lady was Iris and she’s the grandmother. She said all the littlies are inside making bracelets or something so you are all clear to sneak in using the side gate and use the pool house to get ready.”

“Fantastic,” Aelin replied and didn’t waste any time. Children were unpredictable, who knows when they might choose to stampede outside. “Let’s go.”

The two of them unloaded the gear, managing to get it all gathered together in one load. Tail and accessories in hand, the side gate was easy enough to spot. Aelin led the way, listening out for an excitable little girl who’s birthday she did not want to ruin. Sounds of laughter and music came from inside the house, but Aelin ignored it all and headed straight to the pool house. Luckily, the blinds were down on the floor to ceiling windows saving them the trouble. It was a tidy space, besides the child’s toys stacked in a corner. There were a few lounges, a small kitchenette and a door Aelin assumed led to a bathroom.

The gear was dumped on one of the lounges and Aelin started to strip off. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

~~~~~

Rowan tried to keep his hand steady even as the little girl in front of him was determined not to stay still. Ivy had begged him to do face painting at her party, and of course he was going to say yes. He had spent the last month practising on paper, his daughter and even his friends when they let him. Rowan had been good to start with, and now he was considering making it a weekend job. Not really, being a deputy principal during the week and being a full time dad was more than enough work for him. But at least it was therapeutic.

“Hold still for just one more second,” Rowan told the brown haired girl sitting in front of him. She huffed, but listened, the lure of a unicorn horn and ears overriding the need to see what was going on. Adding a few last details on the horn to really give it some sparkle and then he was done. “There.”

Rowan didn’t need to say more than that and the girl was off. He wiped his hands on an old tea towel and was about to refill some of the snack bowls when his mother approached him looking like she was holding in a secret.

She sidled up close, beckoning him a little closer so Rowan had to lean in as she whispered. “Your mermaid is here.”

“Oh,” Rowan said, taking a look around. “Where?”

“I sent her and her friend to the pool house,” Iris said. “After Ivy’s rave reviews I’m excited to see her myself.”

Because Aelin was all Ivy could talk about and she already fawned over her to anyone who would listen in her select circle of people she chose to talk to. Rowan had kept the mermaid appearance under wraps and he was glad to see his surprise hadn’t been ruined. His daughter was going to lose her mind.

“Pool time!” Rowan announced to the room, excited squeals drowning out his chance to say anything else.

Ivy was by his side in a second, pulling at her dress so she could get to the swimsuit she had insisted on wearing underneath. Rowan helped her before he could do some damage, revealing the mermaid scale patterned one piece with a frilly little tutu skirt around her waist.

“Come on, Dad!” Ivy said, pulling on his hand and trying to drag him towards the pool.

Rowan smiled at her eagerness. “Hold up, we gotta wait for everyone else to be ready.”

That didn’t take long at all and it was only about 10 minutes later that everyone was crowded around the new location for gathering. To help ease the minds of the parents he’d paid a couple of his friends to be honorary lifeguards. In the end he had chosen Connall and Vaughan, and it had taken some heavy consideration. Lorcan was out because his lack of care and observation might just end in disaster. Fenrys’ sole purpose would be showing off shirtless in front of the mums and anyone else who found themselves interested, and Rowan needed the children in the water to be the priority. And even though Vaughan had similar motives, he would at least include the supervision of the children in his displays. Connall was the easy decision because, besides Rowan himself, he was the most level headed and had more than an ounce of common sense.

“Excuse me.”

Rowan turned at the unfamiliar voice behind him. A stunning brunette who he did not recognise stood there. She didn’t have the look of one of the parents and she wasn’t a caterer—she was dressed too casually for that. It had him wondering who she was.

“Hi, I’m sorry but…”

“Oh, Lysandra,” she said, a hand on her chest. “Friend of Aelin.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Rowan extended his hand for a handshake which was returned.

“Likewise,” Lysandra said. “Aelin is ready but we’ve hit a bit of a snag.”

“How so?” Trying not to sound too panicked at the potential flow in his party plans.

“Um, she can’t exactly walk out of there.”

Rowan felt the confusion on his face as he tried to figure it out.

Lysandra smiled. “She doesn’t have legs.”

“Oh, right,” Rowan said, laughing a little. “What do you need me to do?”

“It’s a good thing you at least look strong,” Lysandra said, beckoning Rowan to follow.

“Mam, can you watch Ivy and the pool,” Rowan threw over his shoulder—her affirmative answer sounding as he headed towards the pool house.

The blinds were closed and Rowan did one last check of the pool before he ducked into the building right behind Lysandra. Aelin sat on one of the lounges in her full get-up, tail and seashells and the make-up that had her face sparkling. Once again, he was struck by how beautiful this woman was, it was an impossible thing not to notice.

“Nice to see you again,” she said with a little wave.

“You too,” Rowan said, then hastily added. “And thank you. For doing this.”

“Anything for the kids, right?” Aelin said.

“Speaking of, should we get to it?” Rowan asked.

Aelin gave a flourish of her hands down the length of her body. “By all means.”

Rowan tried not to be awkward as he bent down and scooped Aelin up bridal style, she even draped her arms around his neck. The tail made her stiffer than other women he’d carried like this, but he managed.

“If you could get the door?” Rowan asked Lysandra.

“Of course.”

Rowan was concentrating so hard as he stepped through the doorway, trying his best not to knock Aelin’s head or tail. She must have been concerned as well because her grip tightened and she hugged herself closer to him. He managed it all without incident and brought them safely into the sun.

“Look who I found in the bathtub!” Rowan announced, drawing the attention of the party. Ivy’s exclamation of Aelin rang out over all of it. He lowered his voice so only Aelin could hear. “Where do you want me to set you down?”

“Shallow end, by the steps,” Aelin replied quietly before turning her attention to the party. “I heard it was someone’s birthday.”

Rowan set Aelin down and Ivy was there a heartbeat later.

“It’s me, Aelin. It’s my birthday,” Ivy said nearly climbing onto the mermaid.

Aelin graciously took it all in her stride, wrapping her arm around the girl. “I couldn’t miss that.”

Within moments Aelin had control of the party, all the kids flocking to her and her magnetic energy. Rowan left her to it, heading outside the pool fence to grab himself a drink. He grabbed a beer from the cooler in the kitchen before returning to the back patio to watch the show. There was no doubt in his mind that Aelin would be putting on a performance if her work at the aquarium was anything to go by.

“Dude, you got a mermaid?” That overly question came from Fenrys, who had appeared next to Rowan, face still decorated with a large rainbow and a collection of stars. Ivy had insisted her uncle get his face painted and like everyone else in her life, he hadn’t refused. “She looks legit. Where’d you find her?”

“The aquarium,” Rowan answered before taking a sip from the beer bottle in his hand.

“I don’t know if you’re kidding or not,” Fenrys said.

That made Rowan laugh. “I’m being serious. She works at the aquarium, and Ivy fell in love with her the other day. I asked her if she did private functions and she said yes.”

“Private functions? That sounds shifty as hell,” Fenrys added.

Rowan thought for a moment, recalling how Aelin had stalled and the awkwardness had skyrocketed. It was nearly enough to make him flush with embarrassment again.

“Yeah, I realised my error in wording pretty quickly,” Rowan admitted.

“How much did she cost?”

That voice was female and accusatory, it made Fenrys grimace sympathetically before he left Rowan to deal with answering. He turned around, finding his ex-wife just behind him, glaring in the direction of the pool before her eyes darted back to him. Waiting.

Strained was an apt description to describe the relationship between him and Lyria. They had been high school sweethearts that decided to get married before they knew anything of the world. They’d stuck it out years longer than they should have, divorce had been up for discussion when they’d found out Lyria was pregnant. It hadn’t helped the already precarious relationship and by the time Ivy was two Rowan found himself a first year teacher and a single father with majority custody. He had been ready to fight for Ivy but it was an obvious choice considering the stability and flexibility of his job. Rowan was guaranteed a job with manageable hours, he’d have school breaks off, and with the money he made plus what he had from his family to back him, allocating him as primary carer was an easy choice. It just left him open to continual criticism over the choices he made about raising his daughter, especially when it came to money.

“It doesn’t matter,” Rowan said. “She’s made Ivy’s day, what’s more important than that?”

Lyria hummed her objection, her gaze darting over to their daughter again at a bright burst of laughter. “You need to stop throwing money at things just to make her happy. She’ll grow up with a skewed view of the world, not knowing what the real world is like.”

Rowan resisted rolling his eyes. They’d had this discussion before, and they’d have it again. She always accused him of spoiling their daughter in the worst way. And maybe he did, to an extent, but Rowan was also sensible to a fault as his friend’s like to point out.

“We figured it out, and so will she,” Rowan said. “Hopefully sooner than we did, hmm?”

He left Lyria to muse over that, not wanting to have this fight and potentially ruin the party. Rowan decided his time was better spent refilling the snack bowls and checking the cake hadn’t been damaged in the fridge. Once those menial tasks were done and his beer finished, Rowan wandered to the poolside again.

Aelin was in the water now, showing the kids how she swam from one end to the other with her tail. It wasn’t just the kids watching either, like at the aquarium she had the whole crowd entranced. Rowan took up a spot on the transparent fence waiting to see what Aelin might be up to next. She’d stopped swimming and sat on one of the pool steps, from her hips down in the water. Bubble bottles had been conjured from somewhere and all the kids sat in a row having a competition to see who could blow the biggest one. Aelin pursed her lips, bubble wand poised in her hands. He was again struck by how beautiful she was, and just as he had been that day at the aquarium Rowan found it hard to look away.

The makeup she wore still remained intact depite he time in the water, the gold shimmer around her eyes highlighting their unusual colour. What had him damn near entranced was her smile, it seemed to brighten her entire being. Rowan felt like he was getting dangerously close to leering—respectfully—when he was interrupted.

“Not, bad Ro. Not bad at all,” Fenrys said, his only reply was an eye roll. “You don’t have to dent it, mermaids are hot.”

“I didn’t know you had that much experience,” Rowan quipped back.

“I’ve been chatting to her friend. Did you know she’s a mermaid too?” Fenrys asked.

“I did not,” Rowan replied flatly.

“Well, she is. And just like your friend here, she’s smoking. You did me a solid favour,” Fenrys went on to say.

Rowan sent his friend a questioning look. “What does that mean?”

Fenrys backed away, shrugging his shoulders and giving Rowan a conspiratorial wink to an unknown conspiracy.

Ivy saved him from being made to suffer through more idiocy, her damp hand patting his forearm where it rested on the top of the fence. “Daddy, I need to ask you something.”

Rowan stepped back so that he could lean down a little closer. “What is it, love?”

“Um, can I… wait. No, can you—“

Ivy’s rambling had him confused but half a second later it was all made clear. A wave of water hit him, drenching his head and arms, the rest of him saved by the protection of the fence. Ivy was caught in it too, but she just cheered and laughed, trying to clap but the floaties on her arms stopped her hands from meeting fully. Rowan wiped the water from his face and saw Aelin swimming away, smiling and sending him a wink. Rowan let out a chuckle at the antics, grinning broadly at the uncontrollable giggles bubbling out of Ivy.

“We got him!” Ivy squealed and then launched herself back in the pool.

He saw on Aelin’s face the mirror of his own lurching gut as Ivy hit the water. She knew how to swim of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to throw her a pool party if she didn’t, but most confidently with assistance. The concern for her safety was hard to shake, and luckily Aelin was right there, arms out to keep the girl’s head well and truly above water.

Rowan had no idea how Aelin was able to do everything she did without sinking to the bottom of the pool. If he had his legs bound together he would not be doing so well. His shirt was clinging to him uncomfortably and decided to change. So he left his daughter to the mermaid, knowing that she was in safe hands. Or maybe that was fins.

~~~~~

Aelin hadn’t expected to have this much fun at a kids birthday party. It might have been because Ivy was just so stinking cute and enthralled by the whole mermaid thing that it was hard not to be infected by it as well. Or it might have been because the pay was just that good it was an immediate mood booster. Aelin had expected it to be the latter, when in fact it was the former.

She had been in the pool for a good two hours, playing around and telling stories. When the kids started to shiver the parents had dutifully begun to dry them off. With the afternoon sun fading behind the clouds it was hard to keep warm, and that included Aelin. Her tail offered no insulation and just made the situation worse. Even though the kids begged for more entertainment while drying off or returning to the poolside, Aelin could feel the goosebumps on her skin even when she tried to ignore them. Soon she would start shivering and she was sure her lips would start turning blue. There was a lull in the activity around her and Aelin looked around for Lysandra or at least Rowan, hoping to flag either one of them down to get some help getting out of the pool.

Neither was within Aelin’s sight, and a shudder went from head to hip, everything lower down completely immobile. She needed to get out of her tail, and fast. Looking around again Aelin spied Ivy talking to a woman sitting on one of the pool chairs. Her brown hair was wavy and her gentle face seemed to hang on every work Ivy said. If Aelin were to hazard a guess, she would say that woman was the girl’s mother.

“Ivy,” Aelin called, her voice catching because she was just that cold. “Hey, Ivy.”

That time Ivy heard her, quickly walking over because she had announced more than once that her father said there was no running around the pool. “Hi, Aelin.”

“Sweetie, I wonder if you could find your dad for me,” Aelin said.

“Yeah, I can.” The little girl was excited and easy to please.

But on the way past the woman stopped Ivy, catching her by the hand. “We should get you dried off for cake.”

Aelin nearly groaned, because that was enough to divert Ivy attention completely. Watching Ivy being led away Aelin started cursing her friend who had somehow entirely disappeared without a trace. She kept looking over the various adults milling around and moving into the semi alfresco dining area readying for cake. Never spotting Lysandra, Aelin eyed the cement around the pool and contemplated the damage to her skin and tail if she had to crawl her way back to the pool house. The children might just die from shock if she stripped off her tail here.

The chorus of ‘happy birthday’ sang out from the house and Aelin peered through the crowd to see Ivy beaming at her expertly mermaid themed decorated cake. This was now ridiculous. Lysandra knew the kid even less than Aelin did, if she was in there singing along and hoping for a slice of cake while she was freezing her tits off out here.

“Where is she?” Aelin muttered as she wrapped her arm around herself.

This silicone tail might be the death of her. All she could do was be resigned to her fate. Aelin zoned out, keeping her body distracted and warm as she could by flicking her tail through the water. The sound of the pool gate creaking had her looking over and found Rowan approaching, a plate in hand.

“I brought you some cake,” he said.

“Thanks,” Aelin replied, voice unsteady.

That was enough to stop Rowan in his tracks, and Aelin watched his eyes dart over her. “You’re blue.”

“It’s turquoise, actually,” Aelin said, pushing a lock of damp hair out of the way.

Rowan put the cake on one of the pool chairs. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. What didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried to send Ivy to you but she got distracted,” she nodded over at the cake. “By cake.”

Rowan just shook his head, motioning for her to get ready to be picked up. Aelin bent her knees the best she could now that her legs were stiff and cold, and let herself be scooped up. He carried her back to the pool house, Aelin holding on tight while there was some awkward manoeuvring around the door handle.

“Where’s best?” Her saviour asked.

Aelin couldn’t stop the whole body shiver. “Uhh, here. I just need to get this tail off.”

Rowan obliged, easing her down onto the couch. It was difficult and awkward but Aelin rolled to the side and started battling with her zipper. Her cold and numb fingers were completely useless, all they did was slip and fumble. When she swore viciously she heard Rowan halt in his exit.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

Aelin gave up and flopped onto her stomach, she had never felt more like a fish in her whole career as a mermaid. “I can’t get out of my godsdamned tail.”

“Oh. Should I go see if I can find your friend?”

“No.” Aelin blurted out, quite loudly and on the wrong side of desperation. She was ready to start begging. “I need it off, now. Can you help me?”

~~~~~

Rowan just stood there, blinking down at the mermaid sprawled out on his couch. He could see goosebumps raised on her exposed skin, she was obviously freezing. The smartest option was to go and find her friend because he had never once in his life removed anything close to this tail. He didn’t know how, didn’t know where to begin.

“I feel like this isn’t a job for me,” Rowan said.

“I feel like a literal popsicle, and I’m not beyond begging right now,” Aelin said, and he swore that her teeth were chattering.

“If you insist,” Rowan said, leaning down and finding the top of the zipper.

It might have been the most impressive zipper he had ever seen, sturdy and strong, it had to be to hold the silicone together. Awkwardly unfortunate for him, it sat tight over her ass and it was hard not to touch it in the process. At least the materials were thick and Rowan told himself that was the firmness he was feeling. He tugged the tail down, but everything came to a rushing stop when he caught sight of what Aelin wore underneath. Peeking through the gap between the zipper sides near the top of her hips was a dark blue thong.

“Is it stuck?” Aelin asked with a glance over her shoulder.

Rowan felt his face flush, only deepening his embarrassment. “Ah, no.”

She laughed, maybe at him, maybe it was the situation. “I’m not shy.”

And by the gods did he believe that. Rowan ignored the flaming in his cheeks and the hint of a broad grin on Aelin’s face as she turned back around. “I’ll, uh… close my eyes then.”

Like he said he would, Rowan kept his eyes closed and let the zipper run its natural course. And then he didn’t know where else he was supposed to try and extract it.

“You have to pull at the hips and then work your way down, then do it all again until it comes all the way off,” she explained.

“Right,” Rowan said. That would be mighty hard to do with his eyes closed.

But Rowan gave it his best effort, fumbling between closed eyes and squinting. When there was a tug that gave way more than he was expecting on instinct his eyes opened, a hand flying out to stop himself from falling right on top of Aelin. His hand was lucky, his eyes not so much. He copped an eyeful.

Just as quickly he shut them, but the damage was done. He wouldn’t be forgetting that sight any time soon. Rowan went back to his task and in the end when she was free enough Aelin ended up kicking the tail off herself. Respectfully he kept his eyes down, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“There’s a shower you can use, it’ll get you warmed up,” he offered. “There’s clean towels and everything in there.”

“Thank you,” Aelin said.

Rowan left her to it, and even though she’d undoubtedly take a shower he was still concerned. Back inside the party had died down, mainly just family remaining, so he went to the kitchen and turned the kettle on. While that boiled he went upstairs and retrieved a hoodie. The day had started out fairly warm but without the sun the atmosphere had begun to chill. If she didn’t bring anything with her she’d just catch te cold again.

By the time he got back down to the kitchen the kettle was done and he filled a mug with water, along with grabbing a few selections of teas. No one noticed him leave and head back to the pool house. Most thankfully Ivy remained oblivious. She was better off not knowing Aelin was out there un-mermaidified and the magic be ruined at the end of such a perfect day.

Rowan knocked and heard a faint Come in. Aelin was sitting on the couch, dressed in leggings and a loose shirt. She was drying her hair with a towel, looking much better than she had a few minutes before.

“I brought you some tea,” Rowan said, gesturing to the mug. “And a jumper if you needed it.”

“Thank you.” Aelin took both and slipped the hoodie right over her head. The hood caught on her head and the rest of the fabric drowned her. But she at least looked warm and content.

Rowan offered the teabags and Aelin took a few moments to decide. She picked and dropped the bag into the awaiting water.

“You did a great job today,” Rowan offered. “Although you didn’t have to go as one as you did.”

Aelin picked up the string and bobbed the tea bag up and down. “How could I not? Ivy was having such a good time.”

“Still, it wasn’t something to risk your health over.”

“Not the worst situation I’ve been in,’ Aelin said, taking a sip of her tea and sighed.

The door opened suddenly and for one sickening moment Rwan thought Ivy might have tracked him down. But instead it was Lysandra, turning up from who knew where to finally help out her friend.

“Where have you been?” Aelin demanded, putting down her tea.

Lysandra gave a noncommittal twist of her shoulders. “Here and there.”

“I nearly died,” Aelin said drastically.

Lysandra actually shot Rowan before looking back at Aelin. “I am sure that’s not what happened.”

“You know what?” Rowan said, cutting through the building tension. “Why don’t I keep an eye out and you guys can head off?”

“Great idea,” Aelin said, putting her mug on the low table and pointing a damning finger at her friend. “If you think you’re getting a cut of the money you’re severely mistaken. You did nothing for me today.”

Lysandra actually laughed at her friend’s theatrics and Rowan decided this would be the best time to leave. He went and stood by the corner of the pool fence where he had a good view of anyone who might be coming outside. It wasn’t long before Aelin and Lysandra left the pool house, a hissed conversation passing between them as they headed for the side gate. Just before disappearing around the side of the house aelin stopped, giving him a broad smile and a wave. Waving back, he had to admit that he was sorry they hadn;t had more time to chat.

As Rowan watched her disappear from sight he was disappointed that he didn’t have another excuse to see Aelin again. Maybe he would have to take another trip to the aquarium just to see what might happen next if he by pure chance she was there too.

~~~~~

I’m currently in a quirky hotel room and posting from my iPad so I’m not even going to attempt the disaster that is tagging at the moment.

#To the very excited anon #Work was way busier than I expected today #But here it is!

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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year

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rowaelin // 5.8k words // masterlist // ciwyw masterlist let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing :) i hope you enjoy <3 i can't wait to see all your comments. y'all are kILLING me with them on this one.

As much as he knew he shouldn’t be, Rowan was drunk. Again.

Tomorrow they had a match against Adarlan on Doranelle’s home field. While Rowan laid on his back, staring at the ceiling fan above him with a full half-empty bottle of whiskey resting on his stomach, he knew they were going to lose. Not because Adarlan was better or because they wanted it more, but because Rowan was a selfish piece of shit and couldn’t put the bottle down. There was no way he would be in any condition to play tomorrow— at least not well.

Burying his sorrows at the bottom of the bottle seemed like the better alternative until he could figure out how to repair what he had catastrophically obliterated. It had been a full week with no word from Aelin. Not a single one of those days had passed without him sending an apology text into the void. There had even been a few voicemails Wednesday night that went unanswered. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was erasing them without bothering to listen. He deserved that much.

Rowan Whitethorn had never had social media. Ever. Not even in high school when it was just becoming a cool thing to do. Nobody needed to know that much about his life. At this point in his career, his agent and PR team begged him to do it because it would garner him more popularity. Even Lorcan posted on instagram from time to time and kept everyone happy.

The thing that finally drove Rowan to making an instagram account was stalking Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. It was easier for his thumbs to scroll through her feed while nursing sips of whiskey, trying not to double tap on any pictures. He was pathetic enough— Aelin didn’t need to be aware of his sulking and pining.

This all came after he googled her name paired with various words like ‘spouse,’ ‘husband,’ ‘wife,’ and ‘wedding.’ Nothing came back with a result, but it had been lurking in his mind when she didn’t answer his question earlier. Besides, Rhoe Galathynius very well could have been her father-in-law. As it were, she wasn’t married, and Evalin and Rhoe only had one child: their daughter. At least if she was married, there was no record of it. No photos of her in an elegant white gown standing next to the love of her life.

Good. He could deal with that.

What he couldn’t deal with was the photos of her in bikinis, arms wrapped around the waists of other men. She was nestled between the pair on the deck of a yacht all three of them with wide smiles and sunglasses covering their eyes. Her bathing suit looked more like lingerie and Rowan had never wished so hard for summer to come back around than he was right then.

There were pictures of her with a stunning brunette woman, both of them dressed in finery or night-out attire depending on where they were headed. Aelin with a full face of makeup, with sultry dark eyes and a full pouty lip was enough to drive him into madness.

He found photographs from holidays with her family, Aelin perched on a couch in comfy clothes and thick socks with Aedion Ashryver standing behind her. Further down her page he found the ones from years ago of her on Aedion’s shoulders after he won some match or another. It was captions Always my hero.

Lower and lower he went until he finally hit her first post: a simple kingsflame flower from nine years ago with the caption Fireheart. He supposed that was where she garnered the name for her foundation. Gods above, she was incredible. A super-hero amongst ordinary women.

Rowan scrolled back towards the top of her instagram, all the way back to the most recent one. It was from their day downtown, when they had bought a piece of chocolate hazelnut cake and sat outside the bakery. Aelin was laughing around her thumb that she held between her teeth. At that moment, he had been teasing her about getting the frosting everywhere. Behind the camera he was smiling just as brilliantly as she was. The light in her eyes, her smile, the utter joy that radiated off of her… It was enough to make him breathless all over again.

“Fuck,” he murmured to himself, heart squeezing and soul dying at how absurdly beautiful she was. It didn’t seem fair. Everything about her was perfect. Not just outside, but inside, too. Aelin Galathynius was the most selfless and loving person he had ever met. Inside and out, she shone with the light of a thousand suns. It made it impossible to look away and broke his heart that he had driven her away so sharply.

“M’such a bloody dobber,” he mumbled, zooming in on her face as close as it would get, until she was little more than a monochromatic cluster of pixels, none of her features distinguishable.

The phone fumbled where he held it over his face, falling directly onto it. Rowan swore, the taste of metal blooming over his tongue where his tooth had cut through his lip. Worse than that, though, was when he noticed the giant heart that appeared in the center of the picture he’d been staring at.

Rowan had accidentally liked it. Just as quickly, he unliked it and tossed his phone to the other end of the couch. Jail. He needed to be in phone jail.

It had over ten thousand likes and three hundred comments. There was a chance she would never notice the notification appearing and disappearing. She might never notice. It didn’t stop the ice creeping into his veins, though. The idea that she would realize how utterly pathetic he was, as if all the texts weren’t indication enough.

Rowan swore violently under his breath and grabbed his phone again. With bleary, bloodshot eyes he opened their text thread to send off another message. Just as his fingers started their drunken dance over the letters once again, his phone began to ring loudly. The vibration shook him to his core as he beheld the name flashing on his screen, a photo of the two of them laying on her couch flashing in front of him. The sight of it knocked the wind out of him.

Aelin.

Fuck. Shit. Mala fucking fry him.

“Hello?” he said, breathless like he’d been running a marathon.

“Hi.” Aelin’s voice was quiet. Rowan could imagine her sitting in the middle of her couch, a tv show paused.

“I am so sorry, baby,” he began, letters and syllables stringing together with no space between. “I need to explain, to—”

“Did you just like that picture on my instagram?”

“I…” it was long and drawn out as he squinted at the ceiling, trying to find a way out of it. There wasn’t one. Heat crept up his neck and bloomed over his cheeks like rose petals. “Ye-yeah. That was me.”

“Are you drunk?” was her follow up question. On the other end of the phone it sounded like she was rolling over in bed. Gods, he would love to be wrapped up in bed with her. The expanse of her golden skin under his hands wasn’t beat out by anything, not even football.

“No,” was his quick response.

“You sound drunk.” It was impossible to tell what, exactly, her emotions were. Rowan swallowed thickly, setting the bottle on the coffee table and nudging it out of reach.

“I sound like a pathetic bastard that ruined something perfect.”

“You’re definitely drunk.” If Rowan wasn’t positive that she hated him, he might mistake her tone as amusement.

“I miss you. And I’m sorry,” he paused to hiccup, “And I want you to tell me what to do to fix what I’ve broken.” A heavy, resigned sigh came through the phone and Rowan froze.

“Start with sobering up–” Fuck. She was going to hang up, and he had blown his only chance at making things right. Shit.

“Don’t hang up,” Rowan pleaded, lip tucking between his bottom teeth while he waited for her to respond.

“Get some sleep and win your game tomorrow. After that… maybe we can talk.” If that was what it took, then yes. A thousand times yes he would do both of those things. Anything to get her to talk to him, anything so he could hold her, feel her lips on his skin, taste her and feel her beneath him.

“Do you promise?” A schoolyard thing to say, but he couldn’t help it. The gift of hearing her voice again after an entire week of deafening silence was the most beautiful thing he could ever imagine hearing. If he could, he’d bottle it up and get drunk off it. It was better than any alcohol, any drug.

“I promise,” she replied, and Rowan swore he heard a hint of laughter weaving between each letter of those two, simple words. That couldn’t be right, though. Aelin was mad at him. They wouldn’t be laughing together anytime soon.

“Okay.” It felt stupid to say, but it was the only word he could find.

“Okay.” Aelin’s voice was still soft and told him nothing of the status of his forgiveness, or if he needed to beg on his knees and worship her as penance. He would never, ever stop if that was what she required. “Goodnight, Rowan.”

The line went dead before he could say anything else and a new zap of determination electrified his blood. If she wanted a win, she would get it. But he had to get sober first.

With a pained groan, he pulled himself upright. A few deep breaths later the room wasn’t spinning quite so quickly and he was able to stumble to the kitchen. The smell of coffee made his nose wrinkle when he opened the bag. It quickly filled the space of the kitchen as he dumped the beans into the grinder, wincing at the shriek it made. Coffee and bread would help sober him up, and then he would focus on fluid intake to not be a useless sack of meat on the field tomorrow.

He leaned against his counter, ignoring incoming messages from his teammates checking on him, and shoved half a piece of bread into his mouth. A cold shower would wake him up, and tons of water and painkillers before bed would help the hangover tomorrow.

Anything Aelin wanted, he would give her. Starting tomorrow night by defeating the Adarlan Wyverns and handing it to her on a silver platter.

When he finally drifted off to sleep, his phone screen was still illuminated in his palm: that final photo he’d taken of her at the bakery wearing a smile just for him.

~*~

As soon as she took one step into the Neon Moon, she found Connall looking over at her with a healthy dose of surprise in his eyes. Aelin moved through the crowd that had gathered to watch the game, managing to snag a single barstool in front of the beer tap.

“Water, please,” she half-shouted over the loud voices filling the room. As soon as it was in her hands she took a long drink before placing it down on a napkin in front of her. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” A crooked grin spread across his face and he leaned forward on his forearms. “Watching the game?”

“Against my better judgment,” she sighed, ruffling her fingers through her hair. Now that she knew that he played for Doranelle, she just couldn’t miss it. Had she known from the get-go, there wouldn’t have been a single game that she missed. Even if it meant she’d be catching up on work during the short commercial breaks. “How much do you know?”

“Oh just… everything.”

Aelin groaned and looked up at the ceiling. She wasn’t upset that he’d told his friends, his support system. Rowan needed that, just like she did. Though she had yet to tell her family, she was going to do it soon. Maybe tomorrow or the day after. Some of the dust had to settle with Rowan first.

Though she was content to let him stew for a few more days, the single like she’d gotten from an account called actuallywhitethorn made her pick up the phone. A result of her doom-scrolling before bed, the notification had dropped from the top of her screen. By the time she clicked her notification icon, that particular like from that specific account was gone. It was like fate, she decided, for her to have seen it in its brevity. If he was miserable and pining enough to accidentally like an instagram picture, it wouldn’t hurt to call him. So she did.

At first, she didn’t know what to say, but as he talked it became more and more clear that he was very drunk. All his words had melded into one long syllable, and the fact that he was likely drinking away his feelings and problems had tugged at her heart. He really was adorable when he was drunk, calling her baby and trying his hardest to apologize, begging her not to hang up the phone. As much as she really did want to talk to him, it wasn’t a conversation to have while he was only half-aware. The apology she deserved needed to come from his sober lips, not drunk, loose ones.

After they hung up, Aelin had decided she would go to the bar to watch the game. It didn’t seem like a feat she could conquer at home alone on her couch. Even with Lysandra a phone call away, it felt too big to do on her own. The bar made sense.

“Congratulations?” Connall offered, and it was the first time she’d really picked up on any shyness or hesitancy from the man.

“Thank you.” It was still so new, so foreign. The racing of her thoughts hadn’t died down about it yet, her emotions didn’t have a full grasp on the situation. “How is he?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.” Kind of. If his texts were any inclination to his mental state, he was having a rough go of things at the moment. “Feels like a piece of shite.”

“Yeah, well.” That was a little deserved after what he’d said to her. Connall didn’t seem to disagree, merely shrugging as he followed her eyes to the television.

The game had been on for fifteen minutes, and Doranelle had scored one point. Adarlan had nothing. It was a bit of a feat to score so early on in the game, showing just how skilled Rowan and his teammates were. A camera zoomed in on the players, a towering, dark-haired man with a glove tucked under his arm, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face. Aelin’s eyes widened and her head whipped toward Connall when the spitting image of him appeared on the screen. The only difference was the color of the curls: Connall’s were black, his brother’s golden.

“You have a twin?” By way of answer, Connall merely winked and nodded back at the TV where Rowan had come into view. His uniform for home games was navy blue with white letters. Hands braced on his hips, he joined his teammates where they talked. It was only when he turned around that she saw how horrible he looked.

Though his skin was golden brown as ever, his face was ashen. Dark circles clung beneath his eyes and his bottom lip was swollen and scabbed over. The sweat gathering at his temples didn’t do anything at all to make him look well, if anything he just looked sicker.

“Whitethorn looks a bit… peaky,” Connall said cautiously, the corners of his lips tugging downward into a scowl.

“As drunk as he was when I called him last night, that makes perfect sense.” She was frowning, too. The most put together part of him was his hair, the single french braid down the center until it all met in a mess of a bun on the top of his head.

As soon as the whistle blew, he inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. That was when the cameras zoomed back out to take in the entire field, all the players getting into position. Aelin watched closely, one eye on the ball and the other always aware of where Rowan was in the frame.

For a while, it was a lot of passing back and forth, working up and down the field, the ball getting stolen one way or the other. Once, Adarlan got close to scoring but the goalie for Doranelle was quick to block it and pass it back down the field. Another of Rowan’s teammates was quick to get it back toward the Adarlan goal. It was passed back and forth between a few as they worked further and further down the pitch until a pass from Connall’s twin had the ball being juggled between Rowan’s feet.

Watching Rowan play brought back the old feelings she felt watching Aedion. Her competitive temper rose in her chest as he sprinted downfield with the ball between his feet. Somehow, he never tripped or stumbled. When he passed it off to a dark-haired man, Vaughan, Connall told her, it was with tricky footwork that he made look easy. Seconds later and a single pass back toward him, Rowan lunged from behind a crimson jersey. By some grace of the gods he managed to land the perfect kick that arched beautifully through the air. Adarlan’s goalie missed it by a fingertip.

The bar became deafening– some of them rooting for Doranelle, others wanting them to lose for the sake of Varese’s team. On the TV, Rowan’s teammates pulled him off the ground and jostled him amongst them, Connall’s golden-haired brother smacking a kiss to Rowan’s sweaty forehead.

If Aelin didn’t know any better, she would say his teammates were being a little more gentle with him than they might be otherwise. Rowan’s jaw remained clenched tightly, that muscle feathering as he nodded to the only person on the team that was taller than him where he stood down the field.

“Who is their goalie?”

“Lorcan Salvaterre. Team captain and one of Rowan’s closest friends. My twin’s name is Fenrys.” Aelin nodded and rested her chin on her hands as the next play started, polished blue nails digging into her palms. She knew of most of these names from Aedion’s soccer days and the afternoons at her parents house where her father prattled on about different team rosters.

The minutes ticked by, Rowan fiercely focused on the game. That look of sheer determination never left his eyes, even in the brief moments of reprieve he had to gather his wits. Whenever he could, Connall hovered near her for the moral support she’d come in search of. It meant more to her than she could ever put into words. Being in a new city, far away from her support system, with no one else to lean on? It was really nice to know he was there. Even if they barely knew each other.

When Adarlan scored, Aelin had over half the pub groaned. The Doranelle players looked beyond pissed. Rowan and Lorcan shared matching expressions, both of their jaws grinding as they shook their heads before getting back into position.

It led them into more volleying back and forth, the ball little more than a blur between feet. And then it was back in Rowan’s possession. It was like the wind sang for him, pushing him faster as he bolted down the field. Almost as soon as he made his goal, the one that would get them a point ahead though, a whistle blew and a yellow-checkered flag was waving.

“Shit,” she murmured, closely eyeing the playback. It was a fair call, he had been offside. When the camera showed Rowan again though, he was pointed at the goal, mouth wrapping around words that looked a lot like fucking bullshit. The words weren’t more than a whisper as she said, “Rowan, you stupid idiot.”

Connall chuckled, despite the dire situation at hand. She knew he was only laughing at her, not his friend’s situation. Still, she wadded up a napkin and threw it at his head. It nailed him in the temple.

“It’s not funny,” she hissed, nibbling on the end of her straw, a sick feeling roiling in her gut.

The referee pulled a yellow card brandishing it in front of his face. A spark of anger flickered behind his eyes, mouth opening to spew something else when Fenrys grabbed him by the shoulders and made him turn away. Aelin exhaled a tight breath as Rowan shook his head on screen. Fenrys said something in Rowan’s ear and he nodded, lips thin in a stiff line.. It was enough to make him nod and hustle to his spot on the field, shaking his arms out when he came to a stop.

Beneath the bar, Aelin’s legs were bouncing. Butterflies flitted their way through her insides enough that she braced her hands against her stomach as though it would calm them. It was impossible to look away as Adarlan took their free kick from the offside, launching the ball halfway down the field and into another frustrating back and forth between the two teams.

This was always the part of the sport that Aelin hated. No, perhaps hated was too strong of a word. The build up always made her feel nauseous, waiting for one team to make one quick move to kick everyone into high gear to avoid a goal or make one. Being pregnant, it was worse. It felt as though her stomach was in the back of her throat.

Just before the end of the second half, disaster struck. Aelin saw it coming. She was pretty sure everyone watching at home or in the stands did, too. Connall swore filthily as Rowan ran for the ball and dove feet first to knock it away from Adarlan. Except in the process, his cleats clashed into the other player’s feet and they both went down in a heap on the field.

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Connall asked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the screen as a ref jogged across the pitch.

“I told him to win and maybe we would talk! I didn’t tell him to–” A yellow card appeared in the ref’s hand, followed by a red one and Aelin lost all of her words. Both were for Rowan.

“I think he took that a little too do or die.” And so it seemed he had.

Distantly, she heard the announcer saying it was the first time he’d ever been red carded in his entire career. The patron’s of the bar murmured amongst themselves, many of them asking what the hell was wrong with Whitethorn tonight.

The cameras zoomed in to where he walked off the field, sweat trickling down his face. Their coach followed him to the end of the field, the words he muttered only for Rowan to hear. Though he looked ready to hit anyone that was close enough, Rowan simply nodded. Fenrys caught his arm just before he walked off, mouth moving too quickly for Aelin to decipher.

The last clear shot of him was walking into the tunnel and off the pitch, body rigid and muscles rippling while he pulled his jersey off his body.

“I… I need to go,” Aelin said to Connall, who only nodded in response. She threw a few bills on the counter as a thank you and pushed her way out of the pub, walking as fast as her feet would carry her to her rental car down the street.

~*~

Even though his team had another win under their belt by the time the game was over, it had been a fucking disaster. Rowan watched the second half on his phone from the comfort of his car after getting kicked out.

It was the first time in his eleven year career he’d ever received two yellow cards, and consequently a red card, and been ejected from a game. All that anger and frustration from the week, from his hangover, had boiled to a head and exploded on the field. Next week he would have to sit out, too.

Failing his teammates didn’t sit right with him. Lorcan was probably fuming and Rowan anticipated a less than friendly visit from him tomorrow. Coach Malakai was mad, too. The last thing he told Rowan was to get his shit together before practice on Monday. Only Fenrys, who never missed a chance to be a jokester about anything, had murmured words of encouragement before he left the field.

By the time he pulled into his driveway, he was exhausted. His entire body ached from that last dive. There would definitely be bruises on his hips and thighs tomorrow from the way Ress Taylor landed on top of him. All he wanted to do was let his muscles thaw under a shower so hot it burned. A glass of whiskey would be great, too. Not that he deserved it after his performance on the pitch.

The game was… rough.The entire day was rough. From the time he’d woken up his mood had been in the pits of hell. Drunk Rowan hadn’t been able to piece together what Aelin said just before they hung up, but sober Rowan did as soon as his alarm sounded.

Win your game tomorrow.

Not win the game, like she used to say when she thought he was the coach. She didn’t ask him to wish the boys good luck like she had in the weeks prior. The words had changed. Win your game. The game he would be playing in, that belonged to him. She had given him a personal goal and though he helped his team achieve it, he still felt like he failed. Especially since he would have to sit out next week, too, because of the red card.

It had been stupid of him to think she wouldn’t find out the truth before he had the chance to tell her. Everything had just gone to such absolute shit before he had the chance. Rowan Whitethorn would be groveling at the feet of Aelin Galathynius for the duration of his life, and then some more after he crossed into whatever afterworld awaited him.

The news of his career was just another lie he had to make right. All day it sat with him, festering like an open wound. It wasn’t that he suddenly felt bitter about his job. He didn’t. Rowan loved what he did, he loved the sport. It was his greatest passion and love in life. But Aelin deserved to hear about it from him. Not knowing how she found out only made it worse, until everything he felt was bleeding out into the astroturf beneath his feet and getting him thrown out of a game.

Upon pulling into his driveway, something white in front of his house caught his eye. His heart came to a stop as soon as his car did. Rowan didn’t even bother to pull into his garage, just parked beside the white SUV and stared at his porch. It felt like a fever dream, getting home from a hard game and seeing Aelin on his porch swing. The wind slowly moved her back and forth, but when she saw him step out of the car she stood, hands sliding into her back pockets.

“I told you to win, not get a red card before the second half was up.” The lilting tone of her voice made his knees buckle. It forced him to gather himself before approaching, slowly walking up the stairs until he stood one below her.

“My mouth keeps getting me in trouble this week, it seems,” he said back, mouth completely dry. It was an effort to make his tongue form the words with his lips. “But it got you to my house, so I suppose there are worse things that could have happened.”

“Few things are worse than a red card.”

“Not talking to you might beat out all of them,” he said smoothly, fingers sliding along each of his keys until he found the one for his front door. He held it up between two fingers and Aelin nodded, stepping to the side and gesturing toward the door.

She wore simple leggings and an oversized t-shirt, a pair of socks and slides on her feet. Though she wore no makeup and her hair was twisted half-hazardly onto the top of her head, she had never looked so beautiful. Lorcan would laugh himself hoarse if he heard the thoughts Rowan had about this woman, yet he didn’t care. Even in her most dressed down and casual state, she was breathtaking.

He led her inside, locking the door behind them. It was late enough he assumed she would be staying for a while. Few people made a nearly two hour drive to turn around and leave upon arrival. Then again, he hadn’t seen last weekend going that way, either, and it’s exactly how that night ended.

“You played…”

“Shittily,” he offered, hanging his keys on a small hook by the front door.

“Brutally,” Aelin amended, slipping off her shoes and heading to the kitchen. Rowan watched as she grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and handed one off to him before heading for the couch. “Have you eaten?”

“No. Have you?”

“Not since lunch.” Phone in hand, she curled up in the corner and pulled a blanket over her lap. “I doubt we have any notable options, but Taco Bell is open and is shockingly one of the few things not making me sick at the moment.”

Rowan watched her from where he stood in the center of the room. It didn’t feel real. None of today did, really. It could be the hangover talking, but the day felt like a horrible dream. He was scared to move, scared that if he sat on the couch with her that she would vanish into nothing and he would wake up alone in his bed.

“Are you going to just stand there all night?” Her eyes didn’t leave her phone while presumably selecting everything she wanted to eat, eyes narrowing at the screen briefly in thought. A moment later she held it out for him. Rowan stared at her, heart thundering away in his chest. “Rowan.”

“Right. Thank you,” he murmured, taking the phone and trying not to acknowledge the rush he felt when his fingertips grazed her palm. Not big on fast food most of the time, it took him a little longer to pick his dinner. “What do I owe you?”

Aelin just snorted as she submitted the order, eyes rolling slightly before placing her phone face down on the couch next to her, head tilting as she said, “Come to think of it, maybe you do. I think your twenty dollar fast food order might do me in completely. I’ll have to take out a loan.”

“I can Venmo it,” Rowan said dumbly, reaching for the phone in his back pocket.

“I don’t need your money any more than you need mine.” Once there might have been a teasing edge to her voice. Her delivery was much drier than he was used to from her. But there it was. That stupid thing he’d said before he could stop himself, the words that brought everything they were building crashing down.

“Sit,” she told him, patting the cushion next to her. Rowan was careful to leave plenty of space between them. There were definitely lines and boundaries now. The risk of getting ensnared in one was too great and he had a lot of apologies to make. With his arms elbows braced on his knees and hands clasped loosely between them, he stared at the floor.

“You’re actually getting a pretty sweet deal.” Aelin sighed, shifting so she was facing him full on. His green eyes didn’t leave the rug. “According to google my net worth is two-and-a-half times what yours is. Isn’t that crazy?”

“I didn’t know,” he finally said. As much as he wanted to look at her, he couldn’t. He was a fucking coward. Guilt was a disgusting, oily thing crawling beneath his skin. It threatened to consume him whole even worse now that he was talking to her than it had the rest of the week.

Aelin sighed again, finally pulling his attention to her face. She laid her head back against the sofa and a few tendrils of hair fell down to frame her face. Rowan’s fingers curled into fists to fight the urge to sweep them behind her ear. She must have sensed it because she did it herself. The blue of her fingernails was the same blue as his jersey. Part of him wondered if it had been on purpose.

“I think tonight we can call a truce.” Aelin seemed to notice his gaze on her fingers because she folded her arms over her chest, curling her hands so her blue nails were hidden. “We’ll eat, sleep, and then tomorrow… Tomorrow we’ll talk.”

“Okay,” he agreed. The word was falling off his tongue as soon as she finished speaking. Her cheeks seemed to twitch with amusement, and if he had reacted differently last week she would probably be smiling.

“I am curious, though. Did you make an instagram for the sole purpose of stalking me?”

Rowan cringed. His eyes squeezed shut, lips rolling between his teeth as he looked away. Beside him it sounded like Aelin laughing, though it was little more than puffs of air coming out of her nose. It would have been easy to go on the defensive, to add one more lie to their crumpled house of cards. Instead, he went with the truth.

“I missed you. I just wanted to see your face.” He looked back over at her then, but it was she who looked away now. Her eyes were glassy, the dim lighting making the unshed tears in her eyes sparkle. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s these fucking hormones.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand when he started to reach for her. It stung more than he would ever let on, but he retreated and dropped his hand into his lap while she used the collar of her shirt to dry her eyes.

It was silent after that, the two of them alternating from staring at nothing to sneaking glances at the other. Rowan only knew because he caught her staring at him more than once when he thought he could take a second to drink her in. It was only when the doorbell finally rang and he stood that she said his name, stopping him when he was halfway to the front door. Turning to look at her, eyebrows raised in question, he watched her lick her lips.

“I missed you, too.” It was barely a whisper, spoken so softly he might have dreamed it if he was any more tired.

Still, it was enough to get him through the rest of their silent night. Enough that it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would when he insisted she sleep in his bed without him. Enough to chase him with sweet dreams when he finally slipped into the guest room down the hall and tumbled into a deep sleep.

@elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294 @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @backtobl4ck @shyvioletcat @mariamuses

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rowaelinscourt · 9 months

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Rowaelin Month: PROMPT LIST

HERE IT IS! The Rowaelin Month 2023 Prompt List! We are ecstatic to be back for a the full month of September once again!

We hope you all love these prompts as much a we do and we are so excited to see what everyone will create in honor of our beloved Fireheart and Buzzard!

We've included a handy calendar image for you all, but if for any reason the image isn't working or is hard to read, the full list will be written out below the cut.

START DATE: September 1st

Green filled boxes denote CANON SPECIFIC PROMPTS

1. Participation every day is not required. You can create a many or as few submissions for the listed prompts as you like!

2. Please remember to tag your creations with #rowaelinmonth so people following the tag can find them! And don't forget to mention @rowaelinscourt in your post do we can reblog it!

3. Please remember that all works MUST have appropriate tags and content warnings. NSFW content is required to be tagged clearly and hidden below a 'Read More cut. We want everyone to have a fun and safe time engaging with content!

4. All genres of work are welcome, but please note any major warnings at the top of the work so readers or viewers have some idea what to expect.

5. Canon Week is back (with 2 whole extra days!) to fill that canon shaped hole in our hearts! While we kindly request that Canon Week prompts remain specifically for canon scenarios, remember that any and all prompts are welcome to be interpreted as canon/a canon-inspired setting as well! With creativity and imagination, the possibilities are limitless!

6. Any kind of fanwork can be submitted for this event so long as it can be applied to the prompt! Fanfiction, fanart, headcanons, playlists or any thing else you can think of! There are no requirements and you can submit multiple works for the same prompt of your so wish.

Rowaelin Month Prompt List

September 1: Song Fic

September 2: Accidents Happen

September 3: Rowaelin as teens

September 4: "Friends don't do this"

September 5: A Bad Date

September 6: Forced Proximity

September 7: Vacation or Outdoor Adventure (ie a road trip, beach day, hiking ect)

September 8: Single Parents

September 9: Renaissance Fair

September 10: Co-host/Guest Star with Chemistry

September 11: Getting Arrested/ A Trip to the Police Station

September 12: Meet Cute / Meet Ugly

September 13: Babies / Kids / Next Gen

September 14: An Argument/ Making up After an Argument

September 15: Meeting the Parents

September 16: Mob AU

September 17: Mating Ceremony

September 18: Aelin with hawk Rowan

September 19: Telling Their Children about Their Tattoos

September 20: Drunken Antics

September 21: Scars

September 22: Magic/Shifting Lessons with the Children

September 23: Domestic Fluff

September 24: How Rowan Knew "Fireheart"

September 25: Arranged Marriage

September 26: Taking care of the littles solo

September 27: Person A is touch starved but didn't know how to reach out to Person B

September 28: Wartime Sweethearts

September 29: Firsts (date/kiss/time/child/ect)

September 30: A Missing or Alternate Scene from Canon

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #rowaelinmonth2023 #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #tog

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throneofsapphics · 5 months

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old faces, part two

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 drinking, death, and grief

Word Count: ~6.4k

A/N: I'm hesitant about this one, but I’m going to throw it out here anyway. feedback is more than welcome :) thank you to everyone who gave me the idea for this! the next two parts will be coming soon!

series masterlist

Rowan counted the whirls in the ceiling, the delicate and detailed decorations of their assigned suite in the palace. A window propped open, letting a dry summer breeze in. Aelin’s taste for luxury couldn’t compare to here. A few centuries of relative peace could accomplish that. She squealed in delight at the sunken bathing pool, filled with aromatic oils, candles lighting the edges, a window showing greenery beyond. Rose petals. There were gods-damned rose petals floating on top.

Despite his best efforts, his mind drifted to you and his daughter, Ceri. He fought the ugly resentment at your secret. Your actions were justified, but If he hadn’t caught sight of you, he could’ve lived the rest of his immortal life with no idea he had a child out there. Rowan ruminated on the fear that he’d somehow failed both of you - although realistically he knew there was nothing he could’ve done. He debated how he’d make up for lost time, how to convince you to move closer, how to gain his daughter’s trust.

“What’s on your mind?” Aelin asked, turning over to prop herself up on her forearm.

“Ceri,” the words came easily, but he hesitated to say you were on his mind as well. Aelin hadn’t given him any indication she was jealous, or that this would pose a problem, but it was foreign territory for both of them.

“They should both come to Terrasen,” Aelin murmured, catching his attention. Rowan’s head snapped, eyes widened. That’s … not what he expected her to say. Maybe that Ceri should come, at least for a few months a year, but certainly not his former … lover. His wife’s lips were curled into a smile, “I enjoy her company.”

He raised his brows. Considering how she’d treated Remelle, “She’s nothing like her,” Aelin scoffed, reading the words in his eyes.

It could be merely that Aelin enjoys her company - or that she wants to keep an eye on her. As usual, he wouldn’t know until Aelin decides to tell him.

‘In another world, I could’ve built a life with her,’ the thoughts of his past echoed. It was another world now, a better world. Building a life with you didn’t mean romantic, but a life where he could co-parent his child, where he could keep both of you safe and happy. It might be a better world, but there were still threats. Still people who would take the two of you, if only to have leverage over him and Aelin. A fist clenched in his chest, pressure building, squeezing, suffocating him - if anything happened to the two of you -

“We’ll keep them safe,” Aelin shifted and ran her hand up and down his arm.

‘We can figure it out tomorrow,’ Rowan had said. Tomorrow came in the form of a ghost from your past.

“It wasn’t wise for them to come again,” the blonde-haired emissary explained. Now bloodsworn to the Queen of Terrasen. Aelin, she insisted you call her.

You recognized Fenrys instantly. The two of you used to frequent enough of the same taverns and circles to know each other by name. The same recognition had flashed in his eyes, mouth turning up at one corner as he greeted you.

You blinked, dragging yourself back into the present. “So they sent you as a messenger?”

He snorted, “something like that,” and paused, onyx eyes assessing you as you fought the urge to squirm in your seat.

“And the message?”

“They want you to consider … relocating, for your safety. For both of you.”

His eyes flicked to the glass door, where your daughter played in the small garden beyond. There had already been murmurs, more inquiries about your daughter, more curious gazes.

“I’ve considered moving to Eyllwe.” You already spoke the language, and the climate was similar. It would be an easy adjustment, and closer to Terrasen.

Fenrys’s mouth parted, you’d surprised him with your answer, and it took him a few moments to reply. “We were hoping you’d consider moving to Terrasen.”

Exactly what you suspected. But, you had your daughter, Ceri’s, best interests in mind. Would she want to grow up under constant surveillance, for her every move to be watched, the pressure of her relation to the crown - even if she’s not in line for it. Possible slurs and taunts about the circumstances of her birth.

“Anywhere you go, she’ll eventually be recognized,” Fenrys said, as if he was reading your mind. Your knuckles whitened as you clenched your fists. He eyed you warily, sensing the protective instincts flaring inside you. “We’re not saying you need to move to Orynth, there’s other places if you want some distance from …”

Fenrys didn’t need to finish the sentence.

“Right,” you cleared your throat and stood. “I need to think about it.”

“Of course,” he recognized your not-so-subtle dismissal, and stood with you, depositing a roll of paper on the table. Your eyes narrowed, flicking between the scroll and him. Fenrys shot a wink at you, motioning for you to lead the way to the exit.

You paused at the gate, fingers curling around the latch, turning over your shoulder to look at him. “It’s good to see you.”

Fenrys understood the unspoken word, free.

“And you,” his throat bobbed, “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

The gate swung open, and he disappeared, footsteps silent as he rounded the corner. You took up a position on the bench, watching as the sun lowered, leaving a beautiful array of gold and pink hues, absorbing remaining warmth. Would Terrasen have sunsets like this? Gods, it sounded like you already made up your mind.

“Who was that?” Ceri chirped. She’d chosen to stay out of his way after the brief introduction, sending shy glances from the garden, and retreating when he left. You wouldn’t push her to spend time around someone if she didn’t want to.

“An old … acquaintance,”

“What’s an acquaintance?” She asked, the word foreign on her tongue as she drew out the syllables.

“Someone you know, but not a close friend.”

She nodded solemnly, as if this was crucial knowledge, and you couldn’t fight your smile.

“The Queen said we’re her friends now,” she bounced on her toes. We’re. Not just her, but the two of you. A small warmth bloomed in your chest, sobering as you realized the extra dangers of a friendship like that.

“That’s lovely.” She paused, remembering something, and sprinted inside without another word.

Ceri returned, holding a paper out for your viewing. “I want to give this to her.”

A drawing. Gray jagged mountains, dense forests, little rivers and valleys. The landscape had surprising detail, and nothing like Antica or anywhere you remembered showing her.

“I saw that in my dreams,” her small finger traced the outline of the mountain. Terrasen, the place popped into your mind, based on descriptions you read in books. Dreams, she was dreaming of a place she’d never seen.

“We’ll find a way to get this to her,” the words came out gently. At a young age, you lost faith in any kind of divine intervention, but this … this was too coincidental to ignore. A chill ran down your spine, only partially from the breeze. The sun had fallen, a gray sort of dusk replacing the orange hues from earlier, and you made your way back inside.

Your hands shook as you cut the seal on the scroll Fenrys left, unfurling the message. A list of different places in Terrasen; Perranth, Caraverre and Allsbrook. Promises the two of you would be taken care of, that you’d be able to find work, that there would be other children and day schools for Ceri.

But, this wasn’t a demand or order, it was a plea and offer. Even extended to your friend, Reya and her daughter Ani - Ceri’s best friend, if they showed desire to relocate as well. Ani would follow Ceri if her mother let her, and Reya expressed desire to visit Terrasen before. Reya’s family that had taken you in over the years. The day you arrived in Antica, just hours after you’d brushed the dust from the gate, an equally pregnant Reya sought you out, informing you your mothers had been friends - and because of that you were obligated to as well.

The Queen and King were practically bending over backwards to try and get you to come … or, they were genuine and wanted both you and your daughter somewhere safe.

Silver hair swished back and forth as she sat at her desk again, pencil already in hand - sketching out another drawing. If this was going to happen, you needed her to agree first. After you spoke to Fenrys tomorrow you’d bring it up, and the two of you would make the decision together.

“I don’t want to go,” her small foot stomped on the ground.

“Ani would come with us.” You weren’t surprised your friend agreed easily. “Your father lives there as well.”

Ceri put the pieces together quickly, asking for confirmation the day after they showed up on your doorstep.

“You said my father was a Fae warrior and royal,” she planted her hands on her hips. You nodded, pulling two chairs out, motioning for her to sit. Before now, she’d accepted your explanation - not asking for a name. The day would come eventually, but you thought you had a few more years. “He’s the King of Terrasen.”

“Yes,” you said slowly, letting her carry out her train of thought.

“Does that make me a princess?” You frowned as she spit out the word.

“Do you want to be a princess?” Her head shook rapidly and she scrunched her nose. Your mouth indented at one side. “Then you don’t need to be a princess.”

“If we move there, I have to be a princess, that’s what Ani said.” Her green eyes filled with tears, and you gently grasped each of her shoulders, crouching to be at eye level.

“Ani was wrong,” and you need to tell her mother to keep her daughter’s mouth shut, “you don’t have to be anything you don’t want to.” You brushed away one of the stray tears, opening your arms up to let her launch into you, running your fingers through the silver strands.

“But,” you murmured as she dug her face into your shoulder. “It’s not safe here for us, anymore.”

The words sliced into your chest - breaking away a small piece of you. The sanctuary you sought years ago, no longer a safe place to be. Just this afternoon you’d spotted two lurkers across the street, watching your home and the surrounding street. You tugged Ceri beyond the gate, slamming the wards in place, re-examining the marks etched in stone for any weaknesses or fading.

“It’s all his fault.”

No, no, no. This is not how you wanted the conversation to go. “It’s not,” you whispered, pulling her back. Her face was red, cheeks flushed in anger. “It’s not your father’s fault there’s bad people out there.”

“Why didn’t he stay with us?”

The animosity in her tone made your stomach turn. This conversation was coming, you knew it, and possibly long overdue.

“Your father used to serve a bad Queen, Maeve,” you started the hair on your arms standing up, “and I left, when I knew I was pregnant with you. To keep both of us safe. I didn’t tell him,” Her mouth parted to ask ‘why,’ but you held up a hand. “If he knew of us, he could have been forced to tell the Queen, who could do bad things to us or make him do bad things.” Her brows furrowed, and you wondered if you were butchering this explanation, but you were already started - you might as well keep going.

“I know he would have done his best to protect us.” You did know that, you knew the sense of loyalty Fae held to their children, the fierce protectiveness - you had it yourself. “But he was … bound to do her bidding, and if she ordered him to hurt us, he would have no choice. She may have been able to use you through him, and that’s a risk I'll never take.”

“Maeve is dead,” she stated, more to herself, but you nodded anyway. All of the children knew the story of the battle of Terrasen, of the war fought in Erilea. Reya was a widow, her husband died in Orynth, along with her brother. “Good,” her little fists clenched, shoulders rolling back. Maybe that protective sense extended to her Rowan, whether she knew it or not.

You cautioned her not to bring Maeve up to either of them, to any of the people from Terrasen, and that they would tell her if they wished to. There wasn’t a need to dig up fresh wounds.

One week left of the Royal visit. One week to try and figure this hellstorm out. Ceri’s reluctance transferred into your own. Perhaps Eyllwe would be a better option.

Fenrys came by in the early hours, letting you know Rowan, Aelin, and he would stop by later that night, after the sun had set. You promised a late dinner, and now grew to regret that promise considering how much you were panicking over the food. Keep it simple, your mothers words echoed in your mind as you put together the few heritage dishes she taught you, squinting to read the scribbled recipes, worn down by time and travel.

You felt more than heard their approach, the old magic swirling in the air, and the small ring of the ward’s alarms. Ceri followed you through the garden, less shy than last time, but still reserved as she half hid behind you.

The wards were up. Directly after the royals visited your home, you activated them. Only those you wanted to see the house or its inhabitants could.

Your eyes scanned the street beyond them, spotting two figures watching your house intently. They couldn’t see anything beyond the normal facade, the garden exactly as it’s supposed to be. Magic hid your figures, and the ones right before the gate. Did they catch their approach?

Still, you let out a low breath, focusing on keeping your panic down as you willed the magic to bend enough to let them inside.

“Those are clever wards,” the Queen commented, fingers tracing over the wyrdmarks carved in the pale stone walls.

“Thank you,” you forced a smile on your face as your hand shook lightly, gaze still on the figures across the street. This was the first time they stayed past sunset.

“Have they been bothering you?”

Aelin’s voice was low, but you recognized the edge of danger as she followed your gaze.

“They can’t see us.” A non answer, but before she could question further, you waved them inside. Rowan pinned you with a look that said he had more questions. Later, you mouthed. When Ceri was sound asleep.

Rowan watched you and Aelin go back and forth, discussing books - he’d forgotten how much you loved to read, debating who the better romance author was, the best and worst tropes. Things like; third act break-up, miscommunication, enemies to lovers, love triangles.

His attention switched back to his daughter, who had alternated questioning both him and Fenrys about everything, and especially magic. Each question she asked, he answered the best he could, and asked her more in turn. Rowan wanted to know it all, wanted to catch up on the seven missed years, and to catch up with you as well, to learn how your life had been, what raising Ceri was like, and how to be a worthy father.

“How did you learn Wydrmarks?” Aelin asked.

“My mother taught me,” you smiled at her, like Aelin was dredging up a pleasant memory. “I still have the books. She lived in Eyllwe for a while.”

Aelin asked her a question, in what he assumed was Eyllwe, and you joined in. Then, Ceri did, already speaking another language this young. That makes three he knows of; Eyllwe, Halha, and the common tongue. She inherited her mother’s intelligence, that’s for certain.

The three of you had a language you could speak in - one he couldn’t understand. Something told him that could lead to trouble. Fenrys caught his gaze over the table, smirking.

After dinner, he was informed his daughter had a gift for him and Aelin. Two drawings - of Terrasen. She was talented, especially for her age. The detail is what surprised him - vivid, as if she’d seen it with her own eyes.

“They’re from my dreams,” she piped up - and answered his question.

Behind her, your eyebrows drew together, teeth chewing on your bottom lip. Catching his gaze, you offered a half smile. An attempt at nonchalance, one he saw right through. You may have changed, but you still wore your emotions for everyone to see.

“They’re wonderful, thank you.” Aelin reached out, squeezing her shoulder.

He looked back down at his drawing, and spotted four stick-like figures, hastily added in a corner, the wax of the pencil fresher. She’d added them recently, maybe even an hour ago. The heights and hair colors made them easily recognizable, and filled him with some hope.

“It’s beautiful,” he finally looked up at her - into eyes identical to his own, but unburdened and radiant with joy. Gods, he’d do anything to protect that.

Ceri yawned, attempting to muffle it with her fist, blinking rapidly to try and keep her eyes open.

“Time for bed,” you announced, and she turned to you - a small pout forming, but yawned again and her shoulders drooped in resignation.

“Goodnight,” she said to the three guests, and dragged her feet down the hall. Five minutes later, you tucked the thin sheet up to her shoulders, making sure the window was propped to let in the breeze, pressed a small kiss to her forehead, and snicked the door closed - her breaths already evening out into a deep sleep.

They remained right where she left them - at the table. Rowan looked up from where he’d been studying his gift. “She’s talented.”

You nodded absentmindedly, sliding back into your seat next to Aelin. It had surprised and intimidated you when she claimed the seat by your left. But, she’d put you at ease quickly, easily guiding the conversation between your mutual interests.

“I never showed her pictures,” you cleared your throat. “But .. I'm assuming they’re of Terrasen.” Three nods.

“Have you made a decision about moving?” Fenrys braced his forearms on the table, getting right to the point. The others stiffened, but brimmed with anticipation.

“We’ve discussed it,” you tapped your fingers against the table. Honesty is the best way to go. “My friend said she’d go, but Ceri is … reluctant.”

“Have you tried to convince her?” Rowan replied harshly, a shadow of guilt following; as much of an apology as you’d get for his tone and implication. Not that you were owed one, you’d probably feel the same in his situation.

“This is her home, this is where her friends are, it’s not surprising she’s reluctant to leave,” you ran a hand over your face. And … you knew Antica was safer, but generational prejudices took time to undo. Terrasen used to be a safe place for Fae, interrupted by a decade of terror. It would take time to rebuild that legacy.

“She’s … open to the idea of a trial. To go for a few months, and see if she likes it. I promised her I won’t force her to stay if she doesn’t.” Years of building an iron will kept you from cowering under their stares. That was the only compromise you managed to come to. The next barb shot at Rowan before your filter caught up with you, “she inherited your stubbornness.”

That little comment lightened the mood, because Fenrys laughed, Aelin snorted, and you could’ve sworn a small smile graced over Rowan’s face. In all honesty, your daughter was a mini-Rowan in female form.

“I pity you,” Fenrys murmured, ignoring Rowan’s glare.

“I heard that,” a small voice chirped from the corner, and you groaned.

“She’s also quite skilled at faking her sleep, and eavesdropping” turning over your shoulder, you fixed her with a glare, and she looked completely unapologetic. You noted the natural breeze flowing through the window, strong enough it would’ve blown away her scent - and she managed to get close enough for her immortal hearing to let her eavesdrop without detection. “Did you hear everything?”

“Only about the trial visit.” You couldn’t scent a lie, and motioned for her to come to the table. If you’re speaking of her, she may as well be invited, and now that she knows - you doubt she’ll go back to sleep anytime soon. She slid into the chair next to her father, and you gave him a look to say; your turn. You did your part, he can do his best to convince her now.

Aelin and Rowan patiently answered all of her questions; is it safe? - yes, is it cold? - yes, are there ghost leopards? - yes, are they friendly? - Fenrys choked, and Aelin gave a firm no.

“Then,” Ceri cleared her throat. “Why should I visit? You’re not making it sound very nice.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you knew diplomacy was not in her future. Aelin spoke of the snow, sledding, the magic of the Oakwald forest, giant wolves, the Staghorns, learning to control her magic - that caught her attention, and by the gleam in her eyes; you knew you’d be moving to Terrasen, at least temporarily. There’s a reason Aelin makes a great Queen.

“You and your mother can choose where you’d like to live, if you come.” Aelin finished. Rowan’s jaw clenched, barely perceptible.

“What will she do with her work?”

“That’s for me to worry about,” you reached over the table, placing your hand over her own. She looked at you skeptically, but nodded. You’ve saved enough money over the years to keep the two of you comfortable for a decade or two - with careful spending.

“Your mother is talented enough to find work wherever she goes,” Rowan added, sending you a knowing look.

She tapped a finger against her cheek, looking between the four of you. “I agree,” she announced, and you watched Rowan - watched how his face lit up. Saw Aelin watching you, watch him. You tore your gaze away. There’s nothing left between the two of you, and you don’t want to give her any reason to think there might be. Even if you’d found each other at the right time, she was the perfect match for him. It only took hours in their presence to realize that. It filled you with a different sort of happiness; after everything he went through - he deserved the best love could offer.

The clock behind you chimed, you glanced over your shoulder - only ten, but you saw Ceri yawning, again, her eyes starting to droop with sleep.

“Are you ready to sleep now?” you asked her quietly. Maybe if you gave her the decision - she might stay in bed this time. She nodded, rounding the table and grabbing your hand. You stood with her, but she paused to look at Rowan.

“Will you tell me a story?” Rowan blinked once, but he agreed and stood, trailing after the two of you towards the bedroom. You sent a silent prayer to the Gods he’d given one that wouldn’t give her nightmares.

Against every instinct, you let them have some privacy after Ceri gave you a small nod. It was laughable that your daughter was giving you reassurance. Not quite ready to face Aelin and Fenrys alone, you leant stopped at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall. Rowan’s hushed tones floated through the open space, low enough you couldn’t quite understand the words.

“Y/n,” Aelin’s voice came through. Turning your head, you found her standing a few paces away. Either you were deep in thought, or she’s especially silent on her feet. Maybe both. Aelin tilted her head, indicating for you to follow. Fighting the scowl threatening to emerge - at the idea of obeying someone's orders in your own home, you pushed from the wall, leading her towards the sitting room. Dishes could come later, for now you let your body melt into your favorite armchair, a perfect view of the street beyond.

“Have there been many … lurkers?”

It would be so easy to lie, but she’d see right through those, and if you were going to co-parent … that’s not the foot you wanted to get off on. “Yes, a few each day.”

“Have they approached you?” Fenrys cut in quickly.

“They can’t see us, with the wards.” Aelin murmured something that sounded like; that’s what I thought, but you were distracted - glancing out the large window to see if they were still there. Sure enough, two shadowy figures remained, lurking across the street.

“How do your wards work?” Fenrys switched the line of questioning.

You studied him for a moment before answering. “I come from a family of magic wielders, and the lingering magic around the house built up over the decades. I used the Wyrdmarks to … direct it. It acts on my intentions, for lack of a better word. I’m not actively using my magic to surround the area” He looked at you, like he was prompting for more detail, “In all honesty, it would take me hours to explain each detail.”

“I’d love to hear it some day,” Aelin added, face light and smiling, but there was still a tension in her shoulders.

“Some day,” you promised. Maybe in the near future, maybe far away. If you ended up settling somewhere in Terrasen, you’d find a home already exposed to magic - maybe previously owned by magic wielders.

“It’s impressive,” you heard Rowan rounding the corner. Aelin had chosen the spot on the couch next to Fenrys, leaving Rowan to sit in the other armchair. Not quite as comfortable as yours. “What are you going to do about them?” He jerked his chin towards the window.

“There’s not much I can do,” you admitted. “They haven’t proven to be a threat, haven’t approached us.”

“Has anyone … approached you?” He leaned back, and you saw right through his attempt to look nonchalant.

“I’ve had a few questions about her, as expected.”

“What did you say?” Rowan pushed.

“What I’ve always said, that I don’t quite remember.” He let out a small grunt at her answer. It was the right thing to say, he knew that, even though it unsettled him. He wanted the world to know the two of you - you didn’t deserve to be some kind of dirty secret, he was proud to have Ceri as a child. And you as a … friend.

“You do have an army of cousins,” Fenrys commented wryly, shooting a knowing glance towards, and you rolled your eyes. It’s common knowledge there’s plenty of Whitethorns in Doranelle. Aelin was watching the interaction with keen interest.

Do they know each other? She asked, meeting his eyes.

Yes.

“How do you know each other?” Aelin questioned.

“We ran in the same circles.”

“Drinking circles,” Fenrys clarified. “You used to drink most males under the table.”

“That’s a thing of the past.”

“You never get a night out?” He recognized the glint in the male's eyes - if you ended up in Orynth, Fenrys might drag you out for a night to celebrate. It would be good for you; ‘you don’t know what’s good for her anymore,’ the voice in his head countered.

“Night’s in mostly. I try to keep a low profile.” Another way you changed. The old you never turned down a chance to go out - to feed off the energy of a crowd.

It was crowded, one of the more famous bards in town for the night. Crowded enough the two of you could slip in against the wall, hood disguising your features, Rowan’s magic redirecting your scents. Nights out together were rare. Rowan watched as the male sang, one of those songs where the crowd would join in - each line growing dirtier as it went on. You knew every one, and countered his incredulous looks with an unabashed smile, not one bit of shame.

He pushed himself back to the present. The low profile you built was gone now. You both knew it. Before, it’s unlikely anyone but the royals or courtiers recognized your resemblance. But with their visit - it was as clear as day.

“The truth will come out, eventually.” For once, he mentally thanked Fenrys for opening his mouth.

“I know,” there was quiet resignation in your voice. Mourning, almost. Mourning a life under the radar, a life without him. Rowan pushed the thoughts out of his mind, not a life without him - a life of peace. Whether you liked it or not, now that he knew he had a daughter, he had an obligation to the two of you. Beyond obligation, he had a desire to be part of her life, and that meant being part of yours as well.

“Will your friend join you in Terrasen?” Fenrys questioned.

“Reya … she’s said yes. She -” you choked on your words, on the memory, clearing your throat, “her husband and brother served with the Darghan and died in Orynth,” you were surprised your voice remained steady, “she’s wished to visit for some time now.”

You tried to hide it, but he still saw the one small tear welling in the corner of your left eye. Just one.

Rowan read between the lines. He recalled some of his conversations with Sartaq after the battle. He told, in hushed tones, of Arundin, the mountain where suldes, the spears all Darghan warriors carried, were planted after their deaths. He said their souls would roam with the wind, and maybe Reya was searching for theirs, searching for closure.

It was like someone threw a haze over the room with your words, the shift poignant, dark silence radiating through the room. They were good men, and Reya wanted to find closure. You were there through it all, through the news of their deaths, felt the loss and suffering along with their family.

A shadow crossed through Aelin’s eyes, a hint of guilt flooding over her features, and you felt the need to do something about it.

“Ani, her daughter,” you continued, “is very proud of her father, and so is Reya and her family. Before he left, he told us that he was proud to fight for a better world.” Aelin seemed to lighten at that, so you continued. “You’re probably tired of hearing things like this, but we’re all proud our country fought for you.”

You’re not certain why, but you wanted her to know that - to assure her, in case she hadn’t heard it before, or heard it often enough. Based on the grateful look Rowan shot your way, maybe she hadn’t.

“Were you here, during the war?” Fenrys asked.

“I was, my mediocre healing skills came in handy. There was still a city to run,” your mouth curved at the corners. The Torre had been all but emptied, and there was still a city to run. Some of the tension left the room, thank the Gods.

The moon had shifted, full and bright, and some of the light flowed through the room. Full moons, time for transformation. Fitting, considering you were about to uproot everything you’ve known for the last seven and a half years.

“How soon can you be ready to leave?” Rowan asked. Aelin cut a sharp look at him, but he ignored her. Maybe he could’ve phrased that better.

A soft laugh left you. Different, even your laugh was different, filled with a weariness that wasn’t there before. “We’ve always been ready to go at a moment's notice, but I’d say two weeks or so to wrap everything up.”

One week, they’d be leaving in a week. There’s no reasonable way for them to extend their visit, not without turning more heads. One week he’d be away from Ceri and you, a whole seven days where he couldn’t be there to protect the two of you. A week left in a city - with a target firmly on your backs.

“We’ll make travel arrangements for you,” Aelin’s voice cut off his thinking.

“There’s no need-”

“I’ll already be leaving at the same time, it’s no bother.” Fenrys interrupted you. Right, he’d be in the city an extra week to wrap up some negotiations. Rowan felt slightly better now. He’ll feel even better once he threatens Fenrys within an inch of his life. You narrowed your eyes at Fenrys, for the interruption, and he gave an unapologetic shrug and changed the subject “Has Ceri ever been on the water?”

“Not the open sea,” you grimaced. “I’ll make sure we have something for nausea.”

What are you thinking? Aelin caught his eye as you and Fenrys went back and forth, debating the best remedies for nausea. At least he could avoid your light-hearted bickering. There’s potential for the two of you to be insufferable together.

Once we leave, people will be more motivated to act. That tightness gripped his chest again.

Aelin frowned; I know. I’ll speak to Nesryn.

Y/n won’t like that, he cautioned, even though he didn’t particularly care what you thought of it. When it came to your safety, he’d deal with your irritation.

Nesryn can keep a secret. The woman had been a rebel.

Are you going to tell y/n?

Too nervous? Aelin teased him, and his nostrils flared. Fine, he could tell you.

He caught your eye, and waited til your attention directed to him. “Once we leave, there will be a bigger target on your back.”

“I’m aware,” you crossed your arms, “I do have a functioning mind.” His brows flicked, at least you still had some thorns.

“It would be wise to have someone aware of who Ceri is,” Rowan went on as you looked ready to interrupt - to tell him off, no doubt, “aware of who she is to me, and that the two of you would be a valuable hostage.”

He watched as you visibly stiffened, eyes hardening. Rowan knows you were aware of the dangers, but hearing them aloud would put another sense of urgency.

“We have a friend, who can have someone look out for you - until it’s time for you to leave.” He could read the words on your tongue; I can protect us. “I know you’re capable,” he assured you, “but it’s not a weakness to have an extra set of eyes on you and Ceri.”

Rowan watched as you came to the conclusion - watched how you’d swallow any kind of pride or ego for your daughter, for his daughter. He would’ve asked Nesryn to keep an eye out regardless, but having you aware and in agreement made it easier.

“Who’s your friend?”

“Nesryn Faliq.” The future Empress.

The whites of your eyes shone, even as you said, “I shouldn’t be surprised.” Your fist came up to your mouth, stifling a yawn. The clock chimed again. Eleven already.

“We’d best get back,” Fenrys pushed himself up from the couch, Aelin followed quickly, giving the two of you a moment of privacy.

“It means .. everything, to me, that you and Ceri are willing to come to Terrasen.”

“It’s a trial, remember?” You teased him. One year, that’s what Ceri, and by extension you, had agreed to. They had one year to convince Ceri to stay permanently.

“I know,” he nudged you with his elbow, drawing out another one of your laughs. Lighter this time. He felt himself falling back into the old companionship, the easy way the two of you had with each other. You’d been something between a friend and a lover. The closest thing he could come to friendship, while serving under Maeve. Temporary, but here you were seven years later - now to be a permanent fixture in his life.

Aelin and Fenrys waited for them at the gates, the two lurkers were gone now. Good, he might’ve done something impulsive otherwise, something that may have damaged relations between both countries. Fae may have few laws against murder, but that’s not always the case for the rest of the world.

“Will you be back before the end of the week?”

“I don’t think so,” Aelin said. “It’ll draw more suspicion if we’re seen coming here.”

If Rowan could, he’d spend the rest of his time here getting to know the two of you.

“I’ll be back,” Fenrys shot a wink at you. “You’ll see plenty of these two in the next year.”

He found himself studying you, again. You didn’t look disappointed they wouldn’t be back, but not relieved either. He didn’t know how to feel about it, how he wanted you to react. It would be too easy for this to be simple.

Aelin and Rowan sought out Nesryn and Sartaq early the next morning.

“We’ve just learned Rowan has a daughter in the city.” Aelin got right to the point. “She and her mother are moving to Terrassen in two weeks.”

Midnight eyes shot to Sartaq, who’s mouth tightened. They suspected something, but hadn’t known for certain.

“There was suspicion of someone related to the Whitethorns living here,” he said, “but we never confirmed it. Her mother is known to us, of course.”

Of course. Maybe you weren’t quite as low profile as you thought.

“Her work.” Nesryn clarified. “Although she’s done a good job flying under the radar.”

“Not good enough for my spies,” Sartaq added.

“After our visit, it’ll be too obvious. It puts a target on their backs.”

“We’ll keep our eyes on her. Discrete ones.” Nesryn said, before she could specify her ask for help.

“Thank you,” Rowan said, and she could hear the relief in his tone, sensing the small tension leaving him through the bond.

“You’d do the same for us,” Sartaq answered. They were allies, and the Khaganate had already done so much for them, throughout the whole war. Without a doubt, she knew she’d do the same. Rowan went on to describe what he’d seen, detailed descriptions of the figures across the street, and a brief description of the wards she has up - of how they hide you. Nesryn gave a nod of appreciation, and Sartaq still didn’t seem surprised. Aelin remembered Chaol telling her he had an extensive network of spies.

The conversation left them in a much better mood, easing some of their nerves. Aelin barely knew Ceri, or you, but already felt fiercely protective. Maybe even as much as Rowan did. She’d never replace you, she didn’t want to, but she’d be a part of your lives no matter how the cards fell.

#throne of glass fic #rowaelin x reader #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galathynius x reader #poly!rowaelin 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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mariaofdoranelle · 7 months

Text

Whiny Whitethorn

Rowaelin Month masterlist

@rowaelinscourt

This whole thing was born last night, when my uber driver told me he got blocked from two different restaurants on iFood (but I wrote Uber Eats because it’s used worldwide even though it’s a huge flop where I live).

Enjoy!

Warnings: none I think? Nothing happened but Aelin thinks Rowan’s a creep but it’s just hinted. Anyway.

Words: 2k

Rowan had never felt greater loss in his thirty-two years of life.

He laid on the floor, wondering how he’d survived an entire month without his favorite restaurant already. His fridge felt too dull. His counter, too empty without Emrys’ Steaks takeout boxes. Meat on a stick would never be the same.

He did complain about the food every time, but only because he wanted Emrys’ Steaks to achieve even greater greatness. Rowan complained because he cared.

Now he moped around the house, chest hollow as he reminisced the times he focused on the bad parts instead of the good ones. A month ago, if he knew that would be his last time ordering at Emrys’ Steaks, he wouldn’t have complained to that lady that the fries weren’t as crispy. Neither would he make a suggestion about purchasing rice of better quality if he knew they were struggling financially.

Because that’s what happens, right? No restaurant that good would close without a good reason.

Feeling an inkling of doubt, Rowan opened Instagram and typed the restaurant’s name. He only visited there once because he preferred to have food delivered at home—

There’s a story. Posted one hour ago. Of the place open.

Emrys’ Steaks didn’t close, they just ditched Uber Eats.

Rowan closed his eyes and relaxed against his tiled floor, relief taking over his previously tense muscles and making him feel like he was fluttering. He was so grateful he felt like his body was expanding to another dimension. One filled with meat on a stick.

He considered changing his clothes and going to the restaurant to fully understand what happened, but decided to use the phone number available on their page.

The Uber Eats link was still there, but it didn’t open in Rowan’s phone. Odd. He should remind the staff to take the link off or fix it.

Rowan: Good evening.

Rowan: Can you send me a picture of the menu?

Emrys’ Steaks: hi

Emrys’ Steaks: [picture of the closed menu.]

He frowned. Maybe they put the same person who buys that second-rate rice in charge of the phone.

Rowan: Open, please?

Emrys’ Steaks: yes til 11pm

He pinched the bridge of his nose, refusing to let other people’s incompetence get to him because the food is worth it.

Rowan: I’d like to see the open menu

Emrys’ Steaks: apologize

Rowan: I’m sorry…?

Rowan: You know what

Rowan: I’ll just have a rump steak with bacon on a stick.

Emrys’ Steaks: sorry for the typo sir i meant i apologize for the inconvienent

Emrys’ Steaks: sorry again sir there’s no steak

Rowan: It’s a steakhouse.

Rowan: What do you mean there’s no steak?

Emrys’ Steaks: i don’t know sir my mom said that but uncle emrys is cooking a lot maybe theyre bringingh their own meat

And that’s when Rowan gave up on getting his dinner delivered.

˜˜

The small restaurant was cramped as ever, reminding him of why he insisted on ordering from home. Rowan walked until he reached a counter in the back, but the staff was busy going from one place to the other. The only unoccupied person was a little girl sitting behind the counter, playing on a phone. Despite being a literal child, she looked old enough to reason with.

Rowan cleared his throat. “Do you work here?”

He could finally see past that curtain of pitch-black hair, when she looked up with eyes so wide and blue Rowan had an impression she was trying to blind him with UV lights.

“No, but I’ll get someone who does. What’s your name?”

”Rowan. Rowan Whitethorn.”

The girl’s mouth fell, and she took him in with eyes so wide it looked as if she was seeing a ghost. “Are you Whiny Whitethorn?”

He froze. “What.”

She straightened her posture, studying the situation with her little inquisitive eyes, as if she were a miniature Sherlock Holmes. “Do you whine to my mom every week?”

“Not whining!” His voice rose, just a small display of the outrage he felt. “I call to give helpful input—“

The girl giggled, taking a few steps back until she was running towards the kitchen. “Mom! Whiny Whitethorn is here!”

The loud background noise, a deafening result of multiple tables’ chatter and laughter, was one of the reasons Rowan preferred to dine in his own home. The place was nice, but with a casual touch about it that made it look attractive to young people. As long as they’re well-employed enough to pay for the steaks, that is, since they were just a little over the average price.

A moment later, Rowan was taken aback by the woman emerging from the kitchen. Her light blue dress shirt that matched her turquoise eyes was tucked under a skirt tight enough that he decided it was best to snap his eyes back up.

For a second, he forgot about the nickname she and her daughter called him. For a second, Rowan was about to tell her she could call him anything she wants.

“Rowan Whitethorn?” The woman extended a hand. “I’m Aelin Galathynius, the person you… voice your complaints to over the phone.”

He shook her hand, a bitter smile adorning his face. “I believe you meant whine to.”

“Do you want a table, Mr. Whitethorn?”

”I do, actually.” He cocked his head with a pinched expression, trying to silently address how annoyed he was. “I’m here because you’re unreachable online.”

“Can you elaborate, sir?”

“You see, your Uber Eats page hasn’t been working for a month. I even thought you guys were closed.” Rowan opened up his phone and showed her the issue with Uber Eats, then his text thread with the restaurant. “And whoever is in charge of the phone is completely inefficient.”

“I see…” Aelin’s unwavering face faltered, and that’s how he knew she’d just found out about something not going according to plan. “Emrys, the owner, gave my daughter access to our commercial phone, but she isn’t allowed to speak with the clients in it. I apologize for the inconvenience.” A pause for her fake customer smile. “About the Uber Eats… I’m afraid you can’t reach us there because I blocked you.”

“You did what?” Rowan blinked, his mind racing and empty at the same time. He wasn’t expecting this. Was it even possible to block a customer? “Why would you do that?”

”Your bi-weekly phone calls were disrupting my work, sir. I weighed my decision a lot before doing it, considering how frequently you ordered from us.”

Rowan blinked. His mouth opened, but wasn’t able to articulate any reply. He couldn’t believe this—

“Come on, Mr. Whitethorn.” She rounded the counter, to lead him away from it. “I’ll show you a table.”

˜˜

A rump steak with bacon on a steak was always great to help him put things into perspective.

Except that there was no perspective. Rowan was doomed. Aelin said she’d come back to talk to him, and he could only think of all the ways he was going to grovel to get unblocked on Uber Eats—

The kid from earlier sat in front of him, at his table, without saying a word.

“Hello… child.”

“It’s Annie.”

He extended a hand for her to shake, unsure of how to act around kids. She shook it, before giving a skeptical, pointed look at his shirt.

“Are you a trainer on Pokémon Go?”

Rowan looked down, just now noticing he was wearing a silly t-shirt his friend Fenrys gave him a couple of years ago. It was of Pikachu on a cartesian plane, his thunder jolt making a parabola, and some projectile motion equations on the side. It was as nerdy as a shirt could get, and Rowan was sure the Pikachu was the only part of it that Annie understood.

He leaned closer, resting both forearms on the table. “Why do you ask?”

The kid mirrored his position, eyeing him up and down. “I can unblock you on Uber Eats. My mom won’t notice if you don’t call her again.”

He sighed in relief. “Thank you, Annie—“

“But I want two shiny or legendary pokémons in return.”

Rowan squinted his eyes at that devious little thing. Maybe kids weren’t a mystery after all. This one seemed to be sneakier than most adults he knew.

“Deal,” he grunted.

To Rowan’s surprise, the girl’s business-like stance fell for a moment. Her pinched lips broke into a grin, her upper body shaking with sheer delight in what looked like a giddy dance and a squeal. His eyes crinkled, that sight reminding Rowan of how kids were universally known for getting happy over silly things. It was an overly used cliché, but looked cute in person.

Rowan opened his app, looking for something a kid her age would like. “I have a shiny Squirtle with sunglasses.”

She shook her head with disappointment, letting out a heavy sigh. “I can get grounded, Rowan, and you offer me a Squirtle?”

That little urchin was so adorable it almost made him forget how smart she is. Rowan crossed his arms, jaw tight this time. “What do you want?”

“One galarian legendary bird.” Her eyes narrowed. “And the shiny Squirtle.”

He gaped, struggling to find an answer that matched his shock. Absolutely not. His galarian birds were sacred, and—

“Fork.”

Rowan frowned, wondering what was Annie’s issues with the cutlery, when he noticed Aelin coming their way. Shit, shit, shit. That trade was the only way to get him unblocked, and he had to act fast. He skimmed through the app, his eyes quickly finding a shiny Mew. Annie said she wanted one shiny and one legendary, Rowan could only hope she’d accept one with both things as part of their deal.

Confirm trade.

The little girl gasped in the exact same moment Aelin reached their table. And when she eyed the screen on Annie’s hand, her eyes went cold, her lips flat.

“I need to talk to you in the kitchen, Annie,” her mother said half-smiling her costumer smile, half growling between her gritted teeth. ”Now.”

The little girl jumped from the chair and ran away, leaving him alone with Aelin.

She was smiling at him, but it was clear that it wasn’t a cheerful one. It wasn’t even a costumer smile. This time, Aelin looked livid, her smile a sharp blade aimed at him.

“Look, Whitethorn, my patience with you is wearing thin. You’ll stay blocked on Uber Eats, and if you come back here, I don’t want you chit-chatting with my eight-year-old daughter again.” Aelin leaned closer, her eyes poisoned with rage and threat. “She might be with me at work out of need, but don’t you think for a second that I don’t watch her. If I ever see you trying to befriend Annie again, sending her online gifts behind my back, I won’t call the police. You’ll be the one wanting to call the cops on me.”

Rowan leaned away, shocked when he understood what she was implying. ”I think there was a misunderstanding, I’d never—“

“Did you understand, Whitethorn?”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Perfect.” Aelin took a step back, her costumer smile plastered on. “Enjoy your meal.”

It was actually cold by now, but it was better than no dinner. He got back to it, his movements slow as he processed what just happened.

Aelin’s assumption of why he sent Annie that pokémon was a huge misunderstanding, but he was still on the wrong side. Rowan was so desperate to be unblocked he engaged in a secretive deal with someone else’s kid. He didn’t need to know a lot about children to understand how unacceptable that behavior was. If he were Annie’s father, he’d be threatening strangers who did that too.

After quickly finishing his dinner, he had already accepted that his future depended on an eight-year-old. And he lost a shiny Mew with no guarantee that she’d take it instead of one shiny, and another legendary pokémon she requested. With very little hope, he opened Uber Eats on his way out.

Emrys’ Steaks 4,8⭑

30-45 min • $4 Delivery Fee

Rowan’s shoulders dropped in relief, his chest expanding as he breathed in the cold evening air. He thanked that little urchin in his mind, and got into his car with a triumphant smirk.

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leiawritesstories · 7 months

Text

A Memory of Your Love

Rowaelin Month, Day 19: Telling the kids about their tattoos

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: none, it's sappy melty fluffy goodness (i swear)

Enjoy!

@rowaelinscourt

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

“Mama.” The small voice was accompanied by a series of rapid knocks on Aelin’s partially-open office door. “Are you very busy, Mama? Da said you’d be busy.”

Aelin set down her quill and turned away from her desk, finding her second child, her son, poking his head through the crack in her door. “No, my boy, I’m not busy.” She stood, digging one hand into the small of her back–gods, sitting down for too long was terrible for her spine–walked over, and opened the door. “Come in, Bran. What do you need?”

Bran–Prince Brannon Whitethorn Galathynius–shuffled into the office, uncharacteristically quiet and shy. Normally, he was the most vivacious of the royal children, always with a laugh on his lips and a prank brewing in his mischievous mind. He got that from his mother. “I want to practice with the knives,” he said slowly, haltingly.

Aelin nodded. “And do you need someone to go with you?”

Sheepishly, he nodded. “Yeah. Da said I can’t be there alone, not yet.”

“Not yet,” she agreed. “When you’re a little more comfortable with the blade work, or maybe when you’re a little older, then you can go alone. Just not yet.”

He frowned. “Why not? All the other boys my age go out into the yard by themselves.”

“Ah, but they’re with each other, no?”

“Uh…yeeeeees?”

“That’s right, my son.” Aelin cracked a grin at her son’s slight flush. “You’re welcome to train with them, you know.”

“Don’t want to,” he mumbled. “I’m not good enough.”

“Now that’s just horseshit,” she scoffed.

In her mind, Rowan flinched. Fireheart!

What? she snarked. You know he’s heard worse from those hulking brutes you call friends. “Bran, you are good enough. They aren’t going to make fun of you.” She ruffled his hair affectionately. “Yes, I’ll go practice with you.” She winked. “Anything to sneak away from the boring paperwork.”

That made him snicker. “Are you going to make Da do the paperwork, then?”

“Maybe.” She led him out of her office and down towards the training yard. “It’s good for him to pretend like he has responsibilities every once in a while.”

I heard that.

I know. She blew her grumpy buzzard an invisible kiss.

Bran was at the door to the training yard. “Come on, Mama!”

“Just a minute,” she laughed. “I can’t train in this dress, it’s too frilly.” She ducked into a side room and changed into a loose, comfortable tunic and pants. “All right, I’m ready.”

“Come on!” Bran pushed open the door and bounded out into the training yard, running for the fenced-off area used for knifeplay. “I beat you, Mama!”

“You did,” she laughed, catching up with him. “I must be getting old.”

For a good hour, she sparred against her son, working with him on his form and his technique, especially taking a chunk of time to show him how to throw a knife. Bran had been wanting to learn that skill for a while, and she decided he was ready, no matter what his overprotective father and uncles thought.

Bran drew a deep breath, locked his turquoise eyes on the target, exhaled, and released the knife. It sliced through the air and embedded itself in the ring just outside the bulls-eye. “I did it!” he screeched, jumping up and down in thrilled excitement. “I did it, Mama!”

“You certainly did,” she praised. “I don’t think I could have done any better.”

He beamed. “Dare you, Mama!”

“Oh do you, now?” Challenge sparked in her bright eyes. “Stand back, B. I don’t want to hurt you.” She took her mark on the chalked line, inhaled, locked her eyes on her target, tipped her arm back, and launched her blade. Her tunic slipped, partially exposing her shoulder–perils of wearing her mate’s clothing rather than her own–but her knife flew straight down its intended path and buried itself right next to Bran’s knife with a thunk. “How’s that, Your Highness?” she teased.

Bran sprinted over to check the target and came back with the biggest, brightest smile plastered all over his face. “Mine was closer!”

“No!” Aelin exclaimed in contrived shock. “I really am losing my touch!” She grinned down at her son. “Congratulations, Bran, you’ve just out-thrown your queen.”

His attention flicked from the target to his mother and back again, a question creasing his forehead.

She knelt and met his eye level. “What is it, my son?”

“Your tattoo,” he said, unexpectedly. “I know you have one, I just…it looks like wings. Why is it wings, Mama? Shouldn’t it be fire?”

Aelin was quiet, thinking through how much to say. I can’t just brush him off.

No. We knew we would have to tell them eventually.

Right. Just…how much?

As much as you want. Rowan sent reassurance pulsing down the bond. We can talk to him and Lana later tonight, both of us.

I’d like that. With Rowan’s strength at her back, she took Bran’s hands. “Da did it for me.”

His childish face lit up with interest and wonder. “When?”

“Before…” She trailed off, her gaze going distant for a moment. “Before we settled. Before you and Lana were even thoughts in our minds.” She noticed his furrowed brow, and she squeezed his hands in comfort. “Da and I are going to tell you and your sister about it later tonight, because you’re old enough and you deserve to know more of our story. I’m not dismissing you, I promise; you just need to wait for a little longer, okay?”

Slowly, he nodded. “Okay,” he replied. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Of course.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Some,” she said, honestly. “But your father was with me, and that made it easier.”

Rowan wore a sleeveless shirt to dinner that night, the soft gray linen exposing the defined grooves of his muscles and the full breadth of the script inked down his arm. Aelin chose a dress that dipped low in the back, low enough to display the wings unfurled across her shoulder blades. She frowned as she laced the silken material up the side–it was almost at the point where she couldn’t wear it in public, else it would reveal too much. Just to be sure, she turned to the side and checked her profile, relieved when her reflection showed that the skirt still billowed out high enough to conceal the swelling of her abdomen.

Stunning. Her husband padded up behind her on near-silent feet, slid his powerful arms tenderly around her waist. His tattooed hand splayed over her stomach. “How much longer?”

“Another few weeks before we tell the children.” She laid her hand over his. “At least a month before anyone else even suspects.” Lest we…lose them.

“Of course.” Rowan dipped his head and brushed a whisper of a kiss across her pulse point. I love you, he murmured into her soul.

Aelin melted into him. As I love you.

Lana and Bran were full of anticipation and eager chatter at dinner, both children more than willing to ramble on about their days. Bran seemed to be back to his usual mischievous self, busily flicking tiny crumbs and a pea or two at his sister when he thought nobody was watching. Lana returned the favor by gradually increasing the heat of her brother’s chair, silverware, and even clothes, making him squirm in mild discomfort and drop his fork with a yelp when he picked it up and it nearly burned him.

Unsurprisingly, though, when dinner was over and they moved into the small, cozy, private living room reserved exclusively for the family, both Lana and Bran went quiet, settling down onto the small sofa and watching their parents expectantly.

Aelin settled into her chair and spoke first. “So you want to know about our tattoos.”

“Mhmm.” Lana nodded. “Well, I know about Father’s. Mostly.”

“Do you?” Rowan wore a half-grin.

“Uncle Lorcan told me it’s a record of your life and a memory of your love.”

“Uncle Lorcan talks too damn much.”

Aelin snickered. “Admit it, buzzard, that was a very lovely description.”

Rowan grumbled. “Fine. Lorcan can be civil once in a while.” He nodded. “Yes, that’s the most basic description of my tattoos.”

“You did them yourself, right?” Bran asked.

“Mostly. Gavriel helped, a little.”

Bran tilted his head. “And you did Mama’s?”

“He did,” Aelin confirmed. “Both times.”

“Both times?” Lana and Bran chorused, wearing twin expressions of disbelief.

“Both times.” Aelin shared a long, laden look with Rowan. “This set–” she turned around and let her children see the full expanse of the ink scripted across her back–“was done just before we kicked the shit out of the Valg once and for all.”

“Language,” Rowan sighed, teasingly.

Aelin huffed a laugh. “Says you. Like your father’s, my tattoos are my story. All of it–who I once was, who I became, who I am now.” She whispered under her breath, and two of the symbols glowed blue for a few seconds. “Those are your names, my loves, in the Old Language.”

“That’s us?” Lana breathed, both awe and tears clogging her words.

“That’s you,” Aelin murmured. “Your idiot father also wrote a whole entire spell into my tattoo–didn’t even think to tell me, oh no–in yet another language.”

“It was a protective measure!” Rowan protested. “And it worked, didn’t it?”

“Oh, all right, it did.” She laced her fingers with his. “Your father is boring; all his tattoos are just Old Language.”

“Can you read them?” Bran asked.

“I can.” A yearning smile curved Rowan’s lips. “It’s been a very long time since I spoke the Old Language, but I can read it, yes.”

“What’s this one?” Lana pointed to a sequence of characters on Rowan’s bicep. “It repeats a lot. There, and on your forearm, and on your neck, too.” The firstborn Whitethorn Galathynius always had been perceptive.

“It says Fireheart,” Rowan murmured.

A crooked little smile lit Lana’s face. “That’s…extremely sappy of you, Father. Aren’t you supposed to be the hardened old warrior?”

Aelin burst into laughter. “Oh, my daughter,” she wheezed. “Never change, Lana love.”

“I’m trying very hard to be unimpressed,” Rowan intoned, his lips twitching with the effort of holding back his merriment.

Lana giggled. “We’re all thinking it.”

Rowan laughed. “I suppose we all are.”

Bran’s smaller hands touched the ink spiraling up his father’s arm. “When I grow up, I want tattoos too!” he declared.

Aelin and Rowan shared a very long look.

“Maybe you will have tattoos,” Aelin told her son, running her thumb over his knuckles. “If you do, know that you carry the weight of every name and event written into your skin.”

“Even the ones that hurt?”

“Especially those ones.” Aelin gathered her children close. “It is the weight of the people we have loved and lost that guide us through life. They are always with us, even when they fade.”

#my writing #rowaelin month #rowaelin month 2023 #rowaelinmonth #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin and kiddos #rowaelin family fic #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #canonverse #surprise surprise it's canonverse lol

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goddess-aelin · 8 months

Text

Peonies and Poplars

Written for Day 12 of Rowaelin Month-Meet Cute/Meet Ugly

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: none!

Aelin had just put her hand on the last copy of Peonies and Poplars, the newest release in her favorite book series by R.J. White, set directly after Violets and Verbena and Tulips and Tithona. Aelin didn’t just want the book, she needed it like she needed air to breathe. She had to find out what happened to the titular character, Selena, who just got captured by Lord Westbrooke, her father’s greatest enemy. Aelin just knew that Selena’s star-crossed lover, Sir Rollins would rush to save her, but at what cost?

She was filled with glee at the prospect of doing a binge-read tonight.

Though, the moment her hand touched the book, another hand, slightly larger and tanner, did the same. She slowly turned to the offender, glaring just enough that anyone else would’ve started running. But this man just gave her a small smirk right back. Aelin’s eyes narrowed even more while the hulking brute clenched his jaw.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she tried to pull the book toward her. “I need this and since I was here first, I’ll just take that.” She tried to give a harder yank on the book, which was now held between them, to no avail.

“Well, seeing as we got here at the same time, Princess, I don’t think that’s exactly accurate.” He gave a yank in response to hers.

Still holding onto the book like it was her lifeline, Aelin once again narrowed her eyes. “Guess we’ll just have to settle this the old fashioned way.”

“Mhmm and how’s that?” The man rolled his eyes. “Flipping a coin?”

Aelin let out a humorless cackle. “Ha. As if I’d be so stupid. No, we have to have a good, old fashioned ‘who knows it best’ standoff.”

The man scoffed. “What does that even mean?”

“It means…” she paused for dramatic effect. When he raised his eyebrows in annoyance, she continued, “that whoever knows the trivia of the book best gets to keep the book.”

“As if I’d lose.” He had an amused look on his face..too amused. She should’ve known then.

“You’re telling me that you, Mr. Tall and Brutish, think you know this fantasy romance series better than I do?”

“Fantasy Romance has no gender stipulation, Princess. And judging by your attitude, I have a feeling you’d fit right in with Lord Westbrooke’s daughters.”

Aelin gasped. “You little–”

“Uh uh, Princess,” He nodded toward the small child standing at the end of the aisle, watching them with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. “There are tiny ears here, no cursing, please.”

Aelin knew her face was turning as red as a tomato. This man was infuriating.

“Fine,” she whisper-yelled. “First question, Buzzard. What did Selena’s sister tell her before she ran off to meet Sir Rollins?”

A smirk crossed his face. “Well, first, I’d ask which sister you’re talking about, since she has two. Nice try tricking me. But Alicent told her that their family would never accept Sir Rollins and Magdalena told her that she’d cover for her and to go be happy.” The man gave her a self-satisfied smirk and Aelin pursed her lips. “My turn next.” The man started tapping his free hand on his chin and she could tell whatever his question was was going to be terrible. “Who is considered the best character in the series?”

“WHAT?! That’s an opinion question! This isn’t even fair!”

“Rules are rules, Princess.”

Aelin’s hand started to shake and a noise of frustration left her mouth. She probably looked like a petulant child but she didn’t care at the moment. This man was done. Even if she didn’t answer his stupid question right in his eyes, she was going to be going home with this book. “The best character in the entire series is obviously Selena. She’s amazing and witty and beautiful. She’s everything anyone could ever want and she’s just…she’s the best.”

The man clicked his tongue a few times, forming a “tsk-ing” sound. “Sorry, but that’s the wrong answer.”

“How can it be a wrong answer if it’s my opinion!?”

“Well, I actually agree with you that Selena is the best but if you remember on page three-hundred and fifty-six of Tulips and Tithona, Lord Westbrooke actually proclaims himself to be the best lord in all the land.” He gave her a smirk that she wanted to absolutely rip off of his face. Or kiss. Wait, what?

This…this absolute bastard. He knew she’d get worked up. And he knew she would get distracted. And knew she’d answer with Selena. With a final burst of strength, she tried to rip the book out of his hands, only serving to cause her to lose her balance and fall straight onto her ass.

“Miss are you okay?” The concerned voice came not from the handsome yet ridiculously terrible man in front of her but from the clerk of the store. She nodded. “Okay, great. Just to let you two know, we’re closing. Please bring anything to the front for purchase.”

She nodded, the silver haired man just standing there, looking at her with a bewildered expression. He reached a hand down to help her up but she chose to just roll her eyes at him. She didn’t need his help. She dusted herself off, leaving the man standing between the stacks and hightailing it out the door. All she wanted was the book, and now she left with a bruised ass and an even more bruised dignity.

She stopped down the street from the shop, ducking into a small alcove and putting her hands over her face. She made such a fool of herself in there and she wasn’t sure how she was going to live it down. Hopefully she would never see the clerk or the man ever again. That shop was now off her list of places to go to.

With a deep breath, she pushed off the wall and started making her way back toward her apartment.

“Miss, wait!” She turned to see the clerk from the store running after her, bag in hand. “You forgot this!”

Aelin gave him a bewildered look. “I didn’t buy anything.”

The man shrugged. “Maybe not, but it was bought for you.” Aelin just stood there as he handed her the bag and jogged back to the shop.

She opened the bag to find the same copy of Peonies and Poplars that she was just fighting over. Did that buzzard just…buy her a copy? She took the beautiful hardcover out of the bag, admiring the golden sprayed edges and embossed flowers on the cover. Opening the front cover, she saw a bright green sticky note on the cover page.

“If you want to talk more about the book, my number is 234-7783. -R”

Directly under the sticky note was a freshly inked autograph, signed R.J. White.

Aelin could only stand there as it sunk in that she just didn’t just fight over a copy of the book. She fought over a copy of the book, with the Author.

A/N: this absolutely will have a second part. I can’t just leave it like that 😜

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