#rowaelin one shots

[wanderingpages]

idk if you do requests outside of jurdan but its been in my head like tattoo artist Rowan and receptionist Aelin? and dating? and like...smut? ahhh thank you bye

∞

Rowan frowns when he sees her, sitting on the step just to the side of his shop. It’s been raining on and off all weekend, only now subsiding to a foggy mist, turning the small town as gray as Rowan’s reluctant to admit he’s been feeling. Aelin is under an awning, so she isn’t quite wet, but the damp strands of her hair is enough to let him know she’s at least ran through a sudden downpour from her car to where she’s currently at. She perks when he approaches, squinting but the pretty gem like hues in her eyes are still breath taking to him. She’s grinning wide and it breaks something in him, something he hates to even acknowledge he’s built up over the past few days. Aelin stands, bouncing from her tip toes as he nears her. Even heightened by the step, he still towers over her. She doesn’t mind tilting her head up, though.

“Hi,” She says.

His lip tilts upward, “Hi,” he responds. She takes a step to the side, and he reaches behind her to open the door. He gestures her first, letting her lead the way up the steps, to his apartment. Her shorts are high waisted, and he’d always tease her about her pairing it with oversized sweaters, much like she’s wearing today, because it made no sense to him - to be only partially warm. He does not point out the goosebumps on her legs, knowing he’d only get a narrowed eye response instead.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” She murmurs, ruffling her hair a bit. “Wasn’t sure if you’d answer, with your appointment today.” As his front receptionist, Aelin is well versed in all the clients booked for months in advance, so he’s not surprised that she knows he had an eight hour session, inking a regular customer of his. She probably also knows he should feel absolutely drained right now -  barely managing to remember to buy food before returning home - but he’s not. Rowan is absolutely zinging with unchecked energy.

It probably started the day she walked into his shop to answer an ad the previous receptionist had posted. Sparked when she’d ask him to pierce her not long after. Maybe it snowballed with her opting to stay behind after hours, using the break room for her class assignments, quietly keeping him company when sessions had flown well into odd hours. It definitely ignited when she’d kissed him goodnight on a whim, running off to her car before he’d even gotten the chance to comment.

It's been kindling when he’d gotten her chocolate during his lunch break one day and then every day after. When she'd left him a note the next day. When he had invited her up for dinner, when he had dropped her off to class the morning after, picked her up some time in the afternoon. When he thought it was cute when she eyed the women who get inked by him, flustered him when he felt jealous over a guy flirting with her.

They hadn’t been shouting it from rooftops. In fact, if Rowan’s honest with himself,  he’d been the one to keeping it under the radar – he’d felt bad enough because of the age gap, but to add the fact he’s her boss as well? Yet, roles applied still didn’t mean Aelin did not have complete control over him, mind body and soul. It took him a while to accept it, but he was all hers.

He just finds himself wondering if she was all his, too.

She reaches up to the ledge above the door, finding the spare key he’d shown her some time ago, and easily opens the door, jiggling the knob just right and giving it a quick kick after turning the key twice. She holds it wide open for him, toeing off her soaked kicks as he enters. He sets the food on the counter, before working on his boots and tugging off his hoodie.

“Were you waiting long?” She leans against the shut door, watching him undress like she hasn’t seen it more than a few times before, still it reddens her cheeks, despite the utter conservativeness of it all. She bites on her lip like she’s waiting for a show and he can’t help the small chuckle he lets out.

She shakes her head, coming back to the moment. “No." She shrugs as if its any consolation for her wait, "I missed you,” she smiles at him, almost shyly. It had been some time since they’d last been able to speak to each other properly. Despite her spending most nights with him, she had requested a few days off of work for finals, and he was at that point of the year where all him and his artists were booked until the end of summer. Still, he’d manage to find a few hours, and eager as he was to finally just be with her, Aelin had turned him down. He’d been too late, apparently, she’d already made plans. He frowns, trying not to think about it, hating the way it makes him feel, if he’s to be honest with himself.

“Missed you too,” he lets her know, heading to the cupboards to grab some plates. He divides the food, half for him and half for her, while she takes a seat at the table, tucking her cold toes beneath her. They talk idly, comfortably, touching when they can – hands, shoulders, knees. They seem to only gravitate closer to each other, stealing from the other’s plate, talking lower to have their heads meet in the middle, leaning closer to steal quick kisses – it’s all very domestic, so then why is Rowan feeling so goddamn feral?

They’ve managed to move to the couch, he’s leaned back watching a game he can’t quite say who’s winning or what sport it even is and Aelin is turned to face him, kneeling beside him, feet tucked like they had been before and she’s touching the ink on the side of his face tracing the patterns to the scruff of his hair. “When are you going to ink me,” she teases.

“When you know what you want.”

She rolls her eyes. “Your roots are growing,” she comments, tugging lightly at the overgrown locks where dark meets silver. He smiles but it's wary. His hand rests on her hips and he squeezes lightly, and without thinking, he leans his head on her, pleased to find that thump of her heart beating roughly against his ears. Aelin lets out a sigh, raking her fingers into his moonlight locks and finally asks, “Is something wrong?”

“Hmm?” he debates on bottling it up, because maybe this is a generational thing and dating means something different to him than it means to her.

“You seem… out of touch with me,” and her voice splinters at the end, going so soft, it almost gets drowned out by the insistent pumping of her heart in his ears.

He holds her tighter, and finally admits, “I… I walked by the bar after work that day.” Maybe she hadn’t meant to purposely leave out exactly whom she was planning to meet up with, but the guilt ridden look on her face tells him that she’d thought nothing good would come from Rowan knowing this information. “Did you think I wouldn’t know about your date?” he tries to smile but it feels all wrong – he had tried to be teasing, but he’s hurt – angry even. “Or did you think I wouldn’t have trusted you?”

“We were just talking,” she tells him, “It wasn’t anything serious.” Rowan holds his tongue, figuring maybe if he’d been more public with their relationship instead of sneaking in kisses during the day when no one’s watching, treating dates as secrets, and avoiding answering questions by their peers, maybe he wouldn’t feel as shitty as he does now. “I should have told you – but I didn’t think it meant anything – it still doesn’t mean anything.”

He tilts his head to look up at her, holds her steady and reaches with his free hand to touch the ends of her hair, twisting sunlight around his finger almost absently. “This is new – everything with you is new,” he confesses. He doesn’t want to be that guy – the one who’s insecure about his girl hanging with other guys, doesn’t want to second guess when she says she’s made plans. He traces down her arm, grabbing the tips of her fingers and leading them to his lips, kissing them lightly. “I trust you,” he lets her know, “So please,” he begs, watching the flush in cheeks, the tug of her bottom lip between her teeth, “Don’t make a fool out of me, Aelin.”

“I promise,” she says, not even a beat later and just the same, he’s tugging her on top of his lap. The television casts an array of colors like an aura behind her – godly, he thinks. She bends forward, her hair curtaining them, encasing them with a familiar scent. “Maybe I should have let you known,” Aelin says quietly, “That when I'm with you, I'm with you. No one else.” Rowan’s hand glides just under her sweater, fingers splaying where he knows birthmarks hide. His other hand weaves gently into her hair, pushing strands back, behind her ear, palm pressing to her cheek, holding her face steady when he shortens the distance and kisses her so softly. Her toes curl, knees on either side of him squeezing his thighs. He brings her closer to him, so close the fabric of their clothes begin to imprint and indent against their skin. “I’m sorry,” Aelin murmurs against his lips.

She’s rough when she’s kissing him again, desperate, like she needs to show him she means it and this is the only way she can think of. And when Rowan bites at her lips, he knows she doesn’t mind because her hands are at the nape of his neck, pulling him deeper against her, then she guides his lips down her neck when she can’t seem to get air in her lungs. His teeth scrapes against her flesh, her nails against his. He breaks only to get her sweater off, digits immediately at her navel, fingerprints covering the golden charm he had so carefully pierced into her skin. He mouths at her breasts, pulling her bra down enough to latch on to a nipple. She calls out his name in surprise, hips grinding hard against his. His tongue flicks roughly against the nipple before it flattens over her, soothing the ache while Aelin rubs her hips against his, frantic for more friction.

He should slow down, he thinks, biting at the swell of her breasts, blooming pink and reddening marks wherever he can. He’s never been this rough with her before, never thought of his markings as punishment - but she’s guiding his hand to her the buttons of her shorts, fumbling to get them undone, “Rowan… - I, ahh,” she doesn’t mind. More, she wants to say, but she doesn’t have to, his fingers are right where she wants them, working fast and expertise, having her panting and quivering and he’s not even in her yet, just rubbing her between her folds, soft then faster, and when he presses down on her clit, she’s screaming into his shoulder, trying to muffle her cries when she comes.

She’s still breathing rough when he has her on her back, her bra behind the couch, her shorts and underwear right at his feet. His shirt came off, but his jeans are just barely undone, settling below his hips, because he’s feeling so fucking frantic. “Wait – ah,” she throws an arm over her eyes, trying to settle the stars swimming in her vision, “need to breathe,” she tells him, though she lets him spread her legs wide and position himself right between her. Her stomach tenses on the contact alone. Her chest heaves up and down, she’s coming down but not quite there yet. Her body jolts and she twitches involuntarily, knees shaking when the tip of his cock slides right between her folds.

He likes her like this – he likes her in a lot of different ways, but especially this. Her hand flies to his bicep and he has a full view of how her face contorts, how her eyes screw shut so tight that her nose scrunches up. “Look at me, princess,” he murmurs, “let me see those pretty eyes,” she opens her eyes, a wave of colors akin to the sun meeting the ocean, and her lips part as he slides his cock up and down, pressing the tip to her clit. His breath is hot in her ears, “You can catch your breath later,” is all the warning he gives her when he pushes into her.

She cries out, fingernails digging into his arms, eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Ah!” she’s not yet fully back from her first orgasm, but it already feels like an onslaught of much more hitting her in succession, too quickly, too soon. One of Rowan's hand is holding a thigh in place, at angle just right, hitting her fucking womb with every thrust. His other hand is placed against her stomach, and she feels like she’s going to explode – at a loss for words, at a loss for all her senses, Aelin really only knows his name. “Ro – ah… ah! Ro...wan…” She manages to move her hands to his face, pulling him closer, heads touching when she gets lost in his eyes. Tears prick, and her breath catches. Her chest feels so tight but she just wants him to consume her. “Ah…” she manages just hoarse little noises, overwhelmed he’s fully inside of her, and he begins to just rotate his hips enough that his pelvis rubs against her swollen clit.  “Want… it…” she gets out, gibberish in her slurs, “Want you…”

Rowan moves out of her slowly, “You’re so good,” he murmurs, thumb moving to press her clit. She weeps, drawing blood when her nails scrape down the back of his neck. He feels himself sliding in and out of her, the palm of his hand practically caving into her abdomen. He’s fucking her so deep and so hard, he feels like he’s absolutely losing himself in her. “You look… so beautiful,” Rowan whispers, maybe for the first time with the way her eyes flash in surprise. “Look how well you take me,” he murmurs, in place of the awful possessive shit he really wants to say. "So good..." He’ll hold his tongue from saying, “this is mine – you’re all mine.” He makes sure to embed it into her skin instead, makes sure Aelin still feels him when this all over, makes sure he leaves his marks on her like lewd little tattoos.

#asks #requests #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin fic #rowaelin fanfic #tog fic #rowaelin smut #rowaelin one shot #tattoo shop au? lmao idk #okay both of these asks have been in my inbox since july 2020 and i am so so so sorry #i was overwhelmed back then 😔 #still am but slowly trying to clean out my inbox rip #im so sorry i hope i did them justice #its been so so so long since i read tog lol #also sorry @ the second request i was going for that but then it went somewhere else and i scrapped it and ended up with this in the end #one shot #smut #oh age gap mentioned and all cus we got kinks ok #will edit later

[wordsafterhours]

Hawk White

Author's Note: This idea started with a TikTok I saw, talking about a girl falling for her older brother's best friend, and that TikTok was based off a video clip. Anyways, the idea had been stuck in my head. Enjoying this unedited one shot.

Triggers: a little cussing never hurt anyone*

Word count: 4.5-5k?

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Aelin should have known that when she woke up this morning with a splitting headache as though someone was trying to drill through her skull, that it was a precursor to how the day was going to go. But instead of going back to bed, like she wanted, she had drunk a large glass of water and taken two ibuprofens before getting dressed to conquer the day. 

The end of senior year’s fall semester was rapidly approaching, and her professors had been laying on the material relentlessly. Between a full course load of twenty-one hours, labs, and work, there weren’t enough hours in the day. Quite frankly, it was amazing she was doing more than treading water. With the exception of one B on a paper, things had been going her way.

Had. 

That was no longer the case. First it was the headache, next it was the stalled train, preventing her from getting into Orynth proper from her house, and when she finally made it to University, a lecture covering most of the content for the final, was five minutes from being over. She had pleaded with Professor Darrow to let her come by during official office hours to go over the content. He hadn’t wanted any part of it and made some off-handed remark about how he wouldn’t reward tardiness.

Aelin, for once had held her tongue, not wanting to reap any unnecessary consequences from Darrow by arguing how she’d never been late before and had the best grade in the class. No one liked a brownnoser or something like that. By staying over, she was late to her chem lab and ended up being partners with Cairn. The only thing he was good for was making arrogance his only personality trait and sleeping his way through the university’s cheerleading squad. 

His ego was stifling and because he was used to women falling at his feet, he’d never forgiven Aelin for not throwing herself at him. Now, he looked for any excuse to make snide comments when she walked past in lecture or knock ingredients over on her lab table when they were doing independent study. For two hours, she’d had to endure his hovering over her shoulder as she did what was supposed to be “group work” and then had the audacity to criticize them being docked two points when she missed a plus sign on one of the chemical formulas.  

When noon rolled around, she was two seconds from telling off the gods, and going home to her bed—it might have stopped the downward spiral in its tracks if she had. Alas, she had promised her boss that she’d inventory the new shipment of books that had come in. She’d spent hours organizing the books, putting them in careful stacks, and double-checking what needed to be put out on the shelves. This was something she’d done a million times, but in the monotony of it, her brain had wandered back to the events of the morning, and a stack of first editions had been the casualty of forgotten coffee. 

Never in her four years of working for Emrys had anything like that transpired. When he found her crying on the floor, coffee on her pants and the books, he didn’t fire her. He didn’t even chastise her. He simply bent down and slipped his arms around her, repeating “it’s okay, it’s okay” until her shoulders stopped shaking. After the mess had been cleaned up, he told her to go home, and they’d figure out what to do with the ruined books another day.

Now, she was lying face first in the bed that she never should have left to begin with. And her head was pounding again. With a loud sniffle, she turned, cracking open a swollen lid, staring at her discarded school materials. The number of waking hours left to get assignments done were dwindling—she needed to get up and get to work. Getting shot at or runover by a car sounded more appealing than academia.  

Blindly, her hand rifled through the discarded backpack, looking for her phone. 

“Aha!” she declared excitedly when she found it. There were two missed texts from Lysandra, probably asking her why she was late to lecture this morning, but those were for later. Flipping through the rest of her notifications, she smiled to herself when she noticed Rowan had a new Instagram post up. 

Rowan Whitethorn, her older cousin Aedion’s best friend, and her secret but not so secret friend. He was almost four years her senior, just like her cousin. He’d transferred from Doranelle his last year of high school and was a walk on for their high school’s rugby team. He was the talk of the entire school and one day, Aedion brought him over to family dinner, and he seamlessly joined in teasing her like he’d been doing it forever. Aelin had never regretted Aedion living with them until then.   

Rowan was constantly hanging out with Aedion, disrupting her peace, and filling the house with loud cheering and rambunctious behavior only befitting of teenage boys. Every interaction just honed her dislike; gods was he downright arrogant and annoying. It didn’t matter looked he walked off the page of a modeling magazine with his striking silver hair, strong jaw line, defined muscles, and sinful green eyes, he was the proverbial thorn in her side. If you’d asked her then, she would have swore an oath that he went out of his way antagonize her whenever the chance presented itself.  

But, as the summer between her freshman and sophomore year was fading into August, something changed. She wasn’t sure when it happened but one day, the teasing lessened and when he came to pick up Aedion, he invited her. Her cousin’s neck had about broken after, their mutual aversion to one another no secret. Weeks later, when the boys left for college south in Adarlan, Aelin thought their newfound friendship would dissipate just as quickly as it had come.

Four years later, she’d considered Rowan to be one of her best friends, and the person who knew her best. 

She clicked on the notification, the app immediately opening to his story. He looked so happy standing outside one of the large, opalescent buildings in downtown Orynth, arms resting atop Aedion and Fenrys’ shoulders as they smiled widely at the camera. She snorted reading the caption: “The Boys are Back in Town”.  

Their architecture firm Cadre had just opened last week but now it seemed all the more official being posted on his social media platform. Her best friend deserved all the happiness, he’d work so hard on bringing his dream to life, they all had. Her painted fingers were dialing his phone number before her brain could register what she was doing. 

“Hello?” his lilting voice questioned after one ring.

“Hey.”

“Hey you,” he greeted his voice having lost its seriousness.

“I saw you’re Instagram official now,” Aelin commented excitedly.

“Yeah.” His short reply sounded sheepish, and she knew his cheeks were tinged pink. Sometimes it was silly how shy he could become with compliments. He worked hard but had this impression that it didn’t need to be recognized, at least not as often as she congradulated him. 

“It’s bad ass! I’m proud of you, you’ve worked so hard. You should be putting it everywhere you can.”

“Everywhere I can, huh?” he quipped. 

It was her turn to blush, the tips of her ears burning uncomfortably at the innuendo. “Rowan!”

“After all this time, you’re still so easy to tease, Ace. I can’t help it,” he laughed. She imagined his green eyes were full of mirth, lips pulled up in a wicked smirk.

“Mhmm.” She usually would poke back at him, but the day’s events had left her in a rut that she didn’t feel like subduing just now. The other end of the phone grew silent—he’d picked up on her mood.

“Ace?” he asked quietly. 

“Yeah, Ro?” 

“What’s wrong?” He sounded worried, genuinely so. It was one of the things she loved most about him, that he always handled her with such care.

Sighing loudly, Aelin started recalling all the bad things that had happened to her since she’d woken up, making sure to highlight how she’d ruined books, including an extremely rare Terrasen history volume detailing the origins of the country itself. Aelin wasn’t sure where Emrys had found it or why it was even in the boxes of other books, but it didn’t matter now that it was covered in coffee.

“Do you have plans?” he asked loudly, sounding a little out of breath. 

“Well, not really. I mean I have homework but when don’t I?”

“I’m coming to get you,” he said, his tone stern and leaving no room for disagreement. 

She squeaked, surprise forcing her to her feet. “You’re what?”

“I’m coming to get you. You sound like you just need to decompress. We can go get ice cream or something.”

“Ro, I love that you want to hang out with me, but I know you’ve probably had a long day. And you’ve been so busy with the launch of Cadre. Honestly, I’ll just work on my paper and go to bed.” As much as she wanted to lay eyes on his handsome face and melt into a hug while being wrapped in the smell of pine and snow, she could do without. Aedion had looked ragged every time he dropped by the house lately, and it was likely Rowan was the same. They both didn’t have a healthy sense of self-preservation when it came to work-life balance.

“I’m already pulling out of the parking garage and heading that way. You can’t deny me after I ran down ten flights of stairs instead of waiting on the elevator; that’d be cruel even for you.” The devious half of her wanted to deny him, just a little, to see what his response would be, but she pocketed the idea instead.

“I’m only agreeing because you mentioned ice cream.” 

Lie. A complete lie. The mere promise of confined, alone time with her best friend would undoubtedly soothe her frazzled nerves like salve on a burn. Witty banter over the phone had been expected, what she wanted, but in true Rowan fashion, he knew her better than she knew herself.

“I’d say I was wounded, being second to ice cream, but your penchant for sweets is unparalleled.” 

“I make no apologies.” 

“Naturally. I’m exiting, I’ll see you soon if people aren’t driving obnoxiously slow,” he sounded annoyed already. Pained even. 

Aelin snorted. “Not everyone drives an expensive sports car.”

“They should,” he muttered before ending the call. 

Rolling off the bed, she headed straight into the bathroom. Her mascara was smeared, eyes puffy and red, and what looked like dried snot to the side of her nose. “Disgusting,” she shuddered turning on the faucet. Meticulously, she washed the makeup from her face and applied a tinted moisturizer once it was dry. It wasn’t perfect but she didn’t seem as ruddy now, and Rowan had seen her on more than one occasion looking less put together. 

She ran a brush through her long blonde hair and slipped into her faded Orynth University sweater. It was her favorite, its dark green coloring reminding her of Rowan’s eyes. Not that she’d ever admit that. Ever. It was one of the secrets she would take to her grave. Bounding down the stairs, she was surprised to find the house blessedly unoccupied. In the back of her brain, it seemed like she knew they wouldn’t be here. Last week, her mother had mentioned a work function but in true Aelin fashion, her attention had lapsed midway through the conversation. 

At least one merciful thing was happening today—she wouldn’t have to explain to her parents where she was going. Or listen to them dote over Rowan. You would think he had been born into the family with the way they were invested in him. It was nauseating at times. Peeking through the open curtains, Aelin’s turquoise gaze caught sight of Rowan’s sportscar coming up the long driveway and she headed out the door. 

He pulled up the car, putting it into park, before he got out and came around. It took every ounce of self-control to not drop her jaw. He was wearing a tailored button down, white, rolled up over his forearms, showing off part of his tattoo. Three buttons were open at the top, providing another view of black ink as it creeped up the left side of his neck. His pants hugged his muscled legs well, tight enough to show he worked out, but not enough to eclipse professionalism. They were the same color as her sweater. 

He looked positively sinful and the idea of confined time with him no longer seemed like a reward, but punishment instead. “Here,” he said warmly in greeting, bending to open the door for her. Smiling tightly, afraid of what might pass her lips if they parted, she slid into the cognac-colored seat. The door didn’t shut until her seatbelt was buckled. 

“What do you say we drive around first before ice cream? I don’t think you really want to get back to homework,” he speculated as he shut his own door. Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she rolled it back and forth in trepidation, hesitant to agree to his proposition. An unexpected tug of her head sideways caused her to shriek loudly in surprise. 

“Don’t start!” she chastised, looking sideways at him, eyes narrowed in annoyance. 

“You didn’t answer me,” Rowan explained, a hint of a smile on his face. 

“I was trying to decide if I could wait. You know my day has been godsdamned awful,” she defended dismally.

“You don’t always have to be perfect, Ace.” His words draped heavily across her and she dropped her head, staring intently at her fingers as she took out her anxiety on her fingernails. They’d be bloody nubs soon if she didn’t relax. 

“That’s easy for you to say.” 

He let out a breathy sigh, fingers drumming against the gear shift. “It is now. It took me a long time to realize I didn’t have to be perfect all the time and my life is better for it. I was in my own way for too long. Cadre almost didn’t happen because I was ready to throw in the towel when roadblocks kept happening. I felt like I wasn’t working hard enough. Making the right decisions. That I had to have all of the right answers when someone asked me a question,” he confessed quietly and full of conviction. 

“It’s daunting sometimes,” Aelin whispered, choosing to look out the window and away from him before she proceeded, “to live in the shadow of Aedion and you.” 

“Huh?” Without looking at him, she just knew his eyes were wide and his silver eyebrows had probably disappeared into his hairline. 

“My parents are so proud of you two. They constantly talk about you guys. At dinner, to friends, the work functions. The Orynth Gazette article that came out last week when your business opened… it’s already framed and on the wall. Both of you played Rugby in college and graduated Magna Cum Laude. You had two published articles in an architecture magazine before you were even a junior. I’ve never seen my parents be disappointed about either of you.” 

She cleared her throat, swallowing down the well of tears trying to crawl out. “Me? I made one B, one B, and they looked at me like confessed that I’d murdered our dog.” A loud sniffle filled the car as she continued to stare angrily at the darkening pine trees dotting the side of the road. 

“Did you ever think maybe they’re disappointed for you and not at you?” 

She laughed, the sound mangled, sounding more like a sob. “I still have a perfect GPA; I’m set to graduate with more hours than required of me. I’ve already submitted job applications into the city’s top scientific research lab and I’m going to be part of a published study on Ghost Leopard genetic mutations. They literally can only talk about that stupid B.” 

“This is not me being on their side—" his lilting voice said hesitantly. She leaned her head against the glass but flicked her gaze to him in silent permission to continue. Her body was stiff with anticipation. “—but maybe they act like that because they know you’re capable of always achieving at or above excellence. You set that bar a long time ago Aelin and I think they’re used to it. And you’re used to it. You are your own worst critic and if you set the expectation that it’s okay to do less sometimes, I think they’ll follow suit.” 

“Maybe you should tell them that,” Aelin muttered under her breath, angry that what Rowan had said made some sense. 

“I will. You know I will.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to get into the middle of it. I’m grown and I do possess the capability to tell them off.” Well, she should anyways but both were in high-powered jobs and could be intimidating without trying to be. “I think.” 

“Are you at least feeling better?” Rowan prodded. 

“Yeah, I am. You’ve just listened to me whine and whine today, I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t ever have to hid how you feel with me, okay? Friends don’t do that. Your troubles are my troubles.” His expression had become somber, green eyes darker than normal. Aelin thought he even looked a little mad but that didn’t match with the gentleness of his voice. 

“I knew there was a reason we were friends.” 

“And here I thought you kept me around because I buy you sweets,” he smirked. 

Her agreement to his statement was caught off when an annoying dinging sounded from the dashboard. Rowan’s lips pulled into a frown as he stared at the instrument panel. “Gods, the fact that this thing was basically empty earlier slipped my fucking mind. I’m sorry Ace, ice cream will have to wait longer.” 

“You’re just gripping because fuel prices make you cry.” It was her time to pick on him. Aelin had heard more about this car than she’d care to admit. She knew it’s time to go from zero to sixty, a whopping 2.8 seconds.  How many horsepower the engine was, its production time, when it came off the line in Doranelle… even the name of the damn paint color, Hawk White. It was Rowan’s pride and joy and it only liked premium gas. 

“I’ll never admit to it.” 

“Mhmm,” she replied, tabling his denial for now. 

The annoying dinging sounded twice more before he pulled into one of the city’s fancier gas stations. Aelin only ever came here when she was with him. Her reliable SUV didn’t need expensive gas or frequent maintenance. It didn’t bother her that it dragged to even get to highway speeds or needed an adapted to play her music, she loved it anyways. Besides, the garage was full of luxury cars is she felt the need for classy speed. If she had taken one today, maybe she would have made it to school on time. 

Rowan rolled cracked both windows halfway before cutting the engine. The gas tank was on her side, so they could still talk while he filled the tank. Shamelessly, she stared at his back, eyes tracing the taut fabric lines over his shoulders as he swiped his car and placed the pump into the opening. Casually, he rested his forearm on the window, hand dangling just inside. It was close enough, the calluses on his hands were visible. How would his thumb feel tracing her bottom lip? How would they feel tracing the most intimate parts of her?

Subtly, Aelin shook her head, astounded at her own audacity. Rowan was her best friend, not a piece of meat, and certainly not someone to muse salacious things about. Gods, she should have never left her bed.

“Bed?” Rowan asked.

Fuck. She’d said that last part out loud. “Oh nothing, I just was talking to myself.” 

“About your bed?” he prompted, green eyes sparkling in amusement.

“I happen to love my bed, it’s very comfortable.” 

“Yes, I know. I’ve been in it before.” He winked before turning away to look at the pump, arm still resting on the window. Speechless. She was speechless as she stared at his back once more, noting a small shake to his shoulders. The bastard was laughing.  If the gods possessed any modicum of pity for her, one would smite her here and now. 

She was two seconds from rolling his arm up in the window when an unfamiliar voice sounded from outside the window. 

“That’s a beautiful car.” 

“Thanks, I’m pretty fond of her myself,” he admitted, giving is full attention to whoever was outside the car. Aelin tried to look in the passenger mirror, but his frame was obscuring most of her view. Craning her neck, she looked back to see a dark-haired woman standing by her car at the pump behind theirs. 

“Zero to sixty in 2.8 seconds, right?” The woman flicked her dark hair behind her, showing off her lowcut shirt as she awaited his response. Was she seriously trying to show case her boobs while talking cars? Breaking her gaze from the woman, she looked over to see Rowan still giving her his full attention. 

“You know your cars, that’s unusual in a woman,” he supplied playfully.

“What am I, chopped liver?” she huffed angrily. He didn’t hear her and continued talking back and forth with the mystery woman. Aelin’s neck was becoming stiff from looking over her shoulder, never one to forsake nosiness but if they kept this up, she’d have to. 

Rolling her eyes, she decided to try a new tactic: staring holes into the side of his face until he remembered her presence. It was a wash. He was too busy flirting back and forth to even acknowledge the click of the pump shutting off. The woman’s overzealous laugh did her in, what he’d said wasn’t even that funny, and out of exasperation, she grabbed his fingers.

Rowan glanced down, his green eyes taking her in as he flashed a smirk full of white teeth before flicking his gaze back to where it had been. Once more, she squeezed his pointer and middle finger, trying to convey her frustration. She was ready to go. He could flirt on his own time. And she had been promised ice cream. Turning back around, she noticed the woman had moved much closer and had her phone out. 

“I’d love to talk cars some more, but I have to get going. My friend is going to wonder why it took me so long to get back. Could I get your number?” Unconsciously, Aelin went from grabbing two of his fingers, to grabbing his whole hand, squeezing tight enough to cut off blood flow. Briefly, he looked down at her, adjusting his arm to be further in the car, which wasn’t what she had been trying to accomplish at all—she wanted to stop having a front row seat them blatantly flirting with one another. 

With zero progress being made, she loosened her death grip on his hand, only to be shocked when he took the moment to thread his fingers through hers, preventing retreat. Tugging against him only caused him to hold tighter. “Full disclosure, if I give you my number, it’ll have to be from a friend only standpoint. My girl here might actually have something to say if I wasn’t upfront about that.” 

Her stomach felt as though it was in her throat, like she’d just ridden one of the amusement park rides that drops you 100 feet in seconds, and she was too aware of the rubatosis of pure shock. Had Rowan Whitethorn, secret crush of her high school and college years, star of her late-night fantasies, just referred to her as “his girl” whilst simultaneously turning down a beautiful woman? Too caught up in her own crashing thoughts, she’d completely missed the reply and only realized that when Rowan was pulling his hand away and then getting into the driver’s seat. 

The engine purred softly to life, and he shifted into gear, pulling back out onto the road. Robotically, her gaze counted the yellow stripes marking the lanes of the highway. And when they became too blurred to count, she started accounting for the mile marker signs instead. Anything was better than acknowledging whatever had just happened. Or didn’t happen. 

Rowan finally breached the stifling silence. “Are we going to talk about that?”

“Talk about what?” Aelin asked, feigning ignorance. 

He rolled his eyes and shifted gears, increasing the car’s speed as headed into a curve. “You know what.” 

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. Despite it being dark in the car and the only illumination of features being provided by the instrument panel, she could see every little mannerism he did. His jaw clenched twice before he pushed for a different answer. 

Vexed, she caved. “You mean that woman that clearly wanted in your pants? That’s the only thing to talk about and we don’t have to, I had a front row seat to it. A onetime admission was more than enough.”  

Unwelcomed fingers jabbed into the side of her rib, his pitiful attempt at gaining her attention further. Aelin wasn’t having it and angrily shoved his hand away, which was exactly what he’d intended. His large hand wrapped around hers and he moved it to rest atop the gear shift, using their combined grip to shift the car into another gear. Normally, a move like that would have had her core heating and a string of dirty thoughts to accompany it, but she wanted nothing to do with him, or his hand. 

She hastily tried to take back her hand, yet only worsened the situation. He let out an annoyed huff and placed her palm against his thigh, his flattened over the top. The warmth of his body was seeping into her skin and her heart was racing with awareness. In all their years of friendship, no hug, comment, touch, had ever come anywhere near this line. “Aelin,” he hounded expectantly.

“Rowan, there’s literally nothing to talk about. Gods, just give me back my hand and take me home. It’s late and I need to get my paper done.”  

“Whatever you say, Aelin.” He released her hand as though it had burned him, eyes straight on the road, and his face perfectly calm, giving nothing away. She couldn’t help but continue to peak over at him, trying to decide what was going on in head. The car’s atmosphere was suffocating and getting out of this car couldn’t come soon enough.

Five minutes later, Rowan turned down her road, and pulled his car into the same spot where he’d picked her up earlier. It seemed so long ago now, even though it had been mere hours. When he didn’t put the car in park, her brow furrowed in confusion, and she looked over after him. 

“We need to talk about what happened.” His tone was jarring, revealing how affected he undeniably was. 

“What?” she demanded, stubborn as ever. 

“What?” he parroted, gesturing quotation marks with his hands. “You know what I’m referring to. You’re much too smart to play dumb. You know it. I know it. So don’t insult yourself by doing it,” he spit icily. The lines of his jaw seemed cut from marble, clenched and unmoving, the set of his brow equally hard. 

Rowan would not win this battle. Aelin didn’t owe him anything, especially after he fragrantly flirted in front of her face and then used her as an excuse to get out of the situation. Typical man.  Dogged as ever, she angled her body towards the door and stared out into the night. The car slipped into park and the engine cut off. For someone so tall, Rowan had a certain quick grace about it and occasionally it took him using it, to remind her so. Now was one of those times. He was throwing open the passenger side door and undoing her seat belt before she could prevent him from doing so. 

She didn’t move, choosing to glare, crossing her arms across her body. He stepped back and made a grand gesture for her to get out of the car. Giving him a saccharine smile of thanks, she shoved off the seat, intent on making a beeline for the front door. His right arm blocked her, and he pushed her back to rest against the now closed car door. Both were breathing hard, eyes narrowed in disdain.  

If he thought he was going to use his body to bully her like he used to, he had another thing coming. Smirking, she lifted up a leg, aiming for the apex of his thighs. His eyes widened and he stepped back, staring in disbelief, hands covering her intended target. It was a low blow but effective. Aelin booked it for the front door—a few seconds head start was all she needed to beat him.  

Shoving open the front door, she smiled to herself in success. It was far easier to ignore phone calls and door knocks than an actual living, breathing person’s presence and he couldn’t get in a locked house. “That’s not very nice,” he scolded as his boot came to be between the frame and the door, preventing it from being shut. 

“Godsdamnit Ro, go away. I’m so beyond over this, I rather be fed to a pack of wolves than do whatever this is.” 

He pushed his muscled frame through the door, shutting it behind him. She took a step back, he followed. Somewhere in their dance of parry and counter moves, Aelin had stopped paying attention to her surroundings until her back was flush with the door, with nowhere to go. Victoriously, he grinned a predator’s smile, “We could have been done with this in the car, but you keep pretending we have nothing to talk about.” 

“Gods, stop, just stop. Quit being such a domineering ass. It was absolutely nothing. I know she was annoying you by the end, so I was just trying to get you out of the situation.” Aelin clenched and unclenched her first, trying to bury the burning temptation to throw them into his chest.  

“That’s a lie and we don’t lie to one another. You’re going to tell me the truth,” he said lowly, the anger rumbling in his chest. He placed his hands flush against the wall, almost brushing her upper arm as he did so, caging her in. 

“What truth are you expecting me to tell?” she inquired hostilely, the gold rings in her eyes flaring at his high-handed behavior.

“Admit it, you were jealous.” His face was serious, his green eyes piercing her with accusation. 

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Wrong answer, Aelin.” Rowan adjusted his right arm, moving his hand to rest against the wall alongside her face. “You didn’t want me to give her my number, did you? It made you jealous, didn’t it?” 

“You can do whatever you want, you’re a grown man. I was ready to leave, that’s it.” He was so close, his body heat was radiating, heating her already flushed skin. Could he see it, the pink tinge staining her cheeks and the column of her neck? Could he hear how loud her heart was pounding? She felt like a moth caught in a web, waiting to become its captors next meal. 

Shaking his head very deliberately back and forth, his adamant disapproval skated across her nerves, “Again, wrong answer, Aelin.” She didn’t think it was possible, but Rowan moved closer, his knee forcing her legs apart, his thigh coming to rest against the apex of hers. His head dropped, leaving mere inches between their faces, warm breath fanning her face, “I’m going to ask you one more time, were you jealous?”

“I’m not doing this. I don’t know why you’re being so insistent about an answer!” Giving into her earlier desires, she pushed her palms against his chest, attempting to put some distance between them. It proved futile. Under splayed palms, she could feel the rippling muscles of his chest as he breathed in and out. All logical thought was rapidly dissipating. “If the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t have cared. Stop making it a big deal.”

“No, I wouldn’t have been.” His eyes darkened with an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher as he stared intently down at her, waiting for her to process the words. 

“Huh?” Aelin asked dumfounded, her heart hammering faster than it ever had. There was no way she had heard him accurately. 

It was late, she was tired. It had been a stressful day. Rowan Whitethorn had not just admitted to being jealous while having her pinned up against the door with his body. 

“Every guy that touches you. Talks to you. Even so much as looks at you, makes me rage. So no, Aelin, I would not have been ‘okay”. I would be jealous, and I would have been able to tell you that if you’d asked it of me,” he growled the last part, his jaw clenching so hard it looked like it would snap under the pressure. 

“I don’t understand. You can’t possibly mean that,” she weakly protested. 

“Please,” he said, his left hand coming up to mirror his right, forcing her to look only at him. “Don’t act like you don’t know. So. Were. You. Jealous?”

Aelin wasn’t sure if it was the fact their noses were basically touching now or that she couldn’t look anywhere else, that there was no reprieve from his heavy gaze. Whatever it was, she could no longer lie to his face. The confession fell from her lips. “Yes.” 

Rowan’s massive frame retreated a couple steps, evidently taken aback by her candidness. Her body wept at the sudden loss of warmth. Her blue eyes roved over his unmoving form, rejection starting to take root in her belly, and laying waste to the anger and attraction that had previously occupied it. What had he gained by pushing her this far? Was he mad about earlier? Had he actually wanted that girl’s number? She had been pretty, actually she had been gorgeous—and that was part of why she’d interrupted him in the first place. Grabbing his hand had seemed like the most logical distraction. He had been there, with her, for her, making her bad day better, and having to share him with a pretty stranger had not been on her bingo card. 

He said nothing. Did nothing. And the bitter realization of being the punchline for whatever cruel joke this was threatened to suffocate her. It felt like a chore to breathe in and out, to even stay and hold her ground while feeling like she was being shredded. 

Within one blink, the distance between them vanished. His tattooed hand splayed out of the front of her neck, tipping her head up to rest against the door. “Right answer,” he praised against her lips before capturing them in a searing kiss.  

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Tag list:

@lunadorned @theresyourfireandblood @backtobl4ck @leiawritesstories @morganofthewildfire @rowaelinismyotp @jorjy-jo @theresyourfireandblood @numbers-colors-fashion @swankii-art-teacher @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart  @stardelia @astra-ad-mare

**** hopefully you guys don't mind being tagged outside of "Songs About You". If you do however, just shoot me a message and I won't general tag you :)

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass #rowan x aelin #aedion ashryver #Best friend #one shot #jealousy #throne of glass fic #fanfiction

[catastrophesandcures]

|| A Heavy Name || Throne of Glass One-Shot ||

(Where: the new Heir of Terrasen struggles with cursive G’s, the eyes of people long gone, and holding up her mother’s name)

Adele, Age 8

Adele Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius wishes for a shorter name. Her hand cramps, fingers occasionally spasming, as she signs her name over and over and over, over, over…

She works to perfect her handwriting, to get accustomed to the long loops and scrolls. She’s sometimes taken to signing with a simple AAWG, but Uncle Darrow, the old badger, says princesses of Terrasen wield their powerful names. 

What the sword won’t do, the name can. 

Adele glares over her shoulder to the portrait of Uncle Darrow that hangs beside old king Orlon. Adele shakes her practice sheet at Uncle Darrow’s stern, always watching picture as if to say, See? I’m not cutting corners! 

Adele peaks at Orlon, then. For some reason, she’s always afraid to fully look the painting in the eye. Beside him, Grandfather Rhoe. Then, Grandmother Evalin. She looks like Mama, but younger. She has the same eyes as Mama, maybe softer, less…wild. Adele looks away from Grandmother Evalin too, not able to think about Mama not having a mama. She stops looking at what she calls the Big Pictures–faces of the dead–and moves her gaze to the smaller frames along the hearth’s shelf, to the pocket sized portrait of her younger brother, Arryn. He’d just cut his own hair, and the golden strands spiked in different directions. Adele giggles. He looks awful, and the squiggle of a mustache she’d drawn over his lip has yet to be noticed. 

Uncle Darrow seems to frown down at her, then. She can hear him telling her to get back to work. Adele rolls her green eyes, but practices and practices until her handwriting is perfect. She must be perfect. Not just a princess of Terrasen, but Heir of Aelin Firebringer. Heir of so many people. There are so many eyes, waiting and watching. 

Adele messes up her G, again. She always messes up the G of Galathynius. She starts a new line, from her first name, and goes and goes, her little hand straining to hold the quill, straining to make it to the end. 

She loops the G in the wrong direction. 

“Rutting G!” 

Adele likes to curse when she’s alone, and she spits the word Uncle Aedion taught her again and again. Her chest heaves and she pants, tearing the paper in half, shredding it to pieces, and splits them until she holds confetti. 

Until she holds burning paper in too small hands. Ashes fall between her fingers, her palms unable to keep all that she holds, all that she burns. 

She doesn’t often cry. Adele is a princess, Heir of Fire–she is strong. 

But, she weeps. The blooming flame in her hands rutting scares her. She can’t put it out. She shakes her hands. She blows, but her breath is shallow and shaking. 

Adele screams. Screams at her hands, at the fire, at the G’s she turned to ash and stomped beneath her feet. Her handheld fire blooms and grows. “Rutting stop!” Adele screams at her open, unburnt palms. 

And then cool, soft but calloused hands, close over hers. Water meets her fire until there’s no more smoke, but steam. They are the most familiar hands in the world. Scarred and calloused; nimble, long fingers prone to playing a haughty tune on the pianoforte. Cool to the touch. Patient. They keep holding Adele’s, hers sweaty and clammy. 

Adele doesn’t look up. Her chin dips to her chest as tears roll down her face, her nose. 

Fingers catch her tears–cool, calloused, familiar. “Why do you cry, Fireheart?”

Adele sobs at the name. Exhausted, head splitting, she relinquishes to her mother’s embrace and nestles into the space between chin and breast. The safest place in the world, as if Mama’s body had been carved to fit Adele’s. 

“Because,” Adele hiccups, “I’m not perfect.” Another hitch of uneven breath, then, “And it makes me feel lost.”

Mama grips Adele, tight and warm. She smells like the embers of a home’s hearth, like jasmine and wind. Adele presses her nose to her mother’s skin, clinging to the comfort. 

When Mama pulls away just slightly, just enough so that their eyes meet, Adele looks away. Mama has none of it. Her palm cups Adele’s cheek, bringing them face to face. Turquoise and gold meet pine green. Soft meets sorrow. Mother sees daughter. 

“Perfect,” Mama’s warm, fiery tone says, “can go to rutting hell.” 

A knowing gleam shines in Mama’s eyes, perking the corner of mouth. Adele laughs nervously, but Mama laughs with her, hands still holding Adele’s flaming face from the crying. And the magic. 

Mama’s finger tilts Adele’s chin up again, and this time Adele really looks at her. She wonders if she looks like her, or if Adele takes more after her father. Her cousins tease her that she’s too serious. A courtier from Mellisande had once pinched her cheeks and told her to smile more. Has anyone ever dared pinch the cheeks of Aelin Ashryver Galathynius? Adele holds the ends of her mother’s long, gold hair in a fist and wonders if she’ll wear that queenly, beautiful face one day. If she’ll carry grace and mischief as well as Aelin of the Wildfire. Adele knows the stories–well, just some. Just the ones from the shelves she could reach. Which, Adele knows, are the least interesting shelves in the Library of Orynth. She’ll have to start climbing to the higher, dustier shelves where the real stories are waiting for her. There’s a book up high that has Mama’s name on the spine. It ripples with red and gold and blue, as if a living flame wraps the pages. Another book beside it, The Walking Dead, doesn’t sound nearly as interesting as the one about her own mother. 

Mama raises her brows slightly and looks down her lashes at Adele–a look she knows means to listen, and listen good. She’s the prettiest lady in the whole wide world. 

“If I cared about being perfect,” Mama says softly, and a moment passes where her eyes cloud, as if she’d gone very far away. Adele doesn’t know what to call that look, that distance in her mother’s eyes, but she feels it. “I wouldn’t be me. And I,” her mother quirks a conspirator’s brow at Adele, the light in her eyes shining once more, “am rutting wonderful.”

Adele laughs again. 

Her mother leans down to wiggle their noses together. “You are wonderful, my girl. No matter what you do, to whatever end, I will be the voice that never lets you forget it. I want nothing from you, Fireheart, other than to be completely yourself.”

“What if I’m not like you?” 

Mama props Adele onto her feet so that she stands. Mama kneels before her, and Adele wonders if anyone in the world has ever seen Aelin on her knees. Adele knows she’s just a child, that there are things she doesn’t know, but she cannot imagine it–her mother, the strongest, most powerful person to ever exist, who Adele worships like a god–on her knees. But, Mama does kneel. Now, before Adele. Though she only meets the top of her mother’s head, Adele wonders if she’ll ever stand as tall as her. 

“Then I’ll be glad for it.” Mama’s eyes flash and she almost looks like an animal from Oakwald with the intensity seeping through her, like fire taken skin. “Be yourself. Let yourself discover who that is. You do not belong in my shadow, Fireheart. You are the torch I carry.” 

Mama catches a rogue tear, and something ripples across the surface of her face. Adele has only ever seen her mother cry at the birth of her brothers and baby sister, but she almost does now. Her eyes, the same as Grandmother Evalin and Arryn’s, mist. 

“I was your age when…” Mama trails off, distant again, lost in thought as her gaze roams every inch of Adele, as if memorizing her, as if remembering something. 

A breeze passes through the study though no windows are open. It smells like winter and Yulemas, and Adele instantly perks. She feels joy in her chest, a spark of belonging and home. Mama’s eyes flutter in that same joy Adele must be feeling. 

Mama continues, having found the strength she needs, and says, “I was your age when a lot of people made me feel like I was wretched and horrible. The world hated me for a long, long time.” Mama smirks. “Someone always will.”

Adele balks at the idea of anyone even remotely disliking her mother, but Mama nods as if to say it’s the truth. “Let no one ever, ever make you feel that way. Not even me. No, you’re not perfect. You are my daughter.” Mama combs her fingers through Adele’s hair. “Which means, you’re bound to be misunderstood, to make mistakes. You are my daughter, which means, you’re bound to always get up again.” 

They lean their brows together, and Mama whispers, just for Adele, “You are the greatest thing that ever happened to me.” Then, louder, “And you can tell your nosy, nursemaid father I said that.” 

A deep chuckle sounds from the far ends of the study. Another winter wind that reminds Adele of all her favorite memories drifts to them. It combs through her hair, and Adele can feel Papa’s phantom hands, bigger than her head, bigger than any problem or tear.

Mama squeaks, jolting as if something had pinched her, and laughs as she throws a glare towards where Papa still lingers in the dark somewhere. 

Before they get up to join him, her mother pulls her into one more tight embrace. Her arms are solid and muscled, and they hold Adele like precious jewels. 

Mama whispers, “We carry a heavy name. Bear it however the rutt you want.” She leans back, eyes shining. “Now, let’s discuss your copious use of curse words.” 

Adele shrieks, running away. 

#lil one shot I had stuck in my head #mom!aelin #sneaky taylor Swift lyrics if you squint #throne of glass #throne of glass fic #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowaelin #rowaelin babies #heirs of terrasen #tog #tog fic #next gen tog #next gen throne of glass

[cresswellslover]

[MASTERLIST]

friend me on goodreads <3

One-Shots

Tell Me (Elucien)

Two Broken Souls (Gwynriel)

Moonlit Promise (Gwynriel)

Book Playlists

Aelin and Rowan (Throne of Glass)

Manon and Dorian (Throne of Glass)

Feyre and Rhysand (A Court of Thorns and Roses)

Nesta and Cassian (A Court of Thorns and Roses)

Gwyneth and Azriel (A Court of Thorns and Roses)

Lidia and Ruhn (Crescent City)

Evangeline and Jacks (Once Upon a Broken Heart)

Audrey Rose and Thomas (Stalking Jack the Ripper)

Emilia and Wrath (Kingdom of the Wicked)

Juliette and Roma (These Violent Delights)

Jude and Cardan (The Folk of the Air)

Sarai and Lazlo (Strange the Dreamer)

Tessa and Will (The Infernal Devices)

Cordelia and James (The Last Hours)

Emma and Julian (The Dark Artifices)

Citra and Rowan (Arc of a Scythe)

Lila and Kell (Shades of Magic)

Nina and Matthias (Six of Crows)

Darcy and Lance (Zodiac Academy)

Hermione and Draco (Manacled)

Daisy and Christian (Magnolia Parks)

Book Sorters

Book Couples Sorter

Book Boyfriends Sorter

Book Girlfriends Sorter

Throne of Glass Characters Sorter

Sarah J. Maas Books Sorter

Cora Reilly’s Book Boyfriends Sorter

Rina Kent’s Book Boyfriends Sorter

Taylor Swift Sorters

Debut Sorter

Fearless (Taylor’s Version) Sorter

Speak Now Sorter

Red (Taylor’s Version) Sorter

1989 Sorter

Reputation Sorter

Lover Sorter

Folklore Sorter

Evermore Sorter

Folklore and Evermore Sorter

Midnights Sorter

Taylor Swift Sorter

The Tortured Poets Department Sorter

#cressworth #evajacks #manorian #gwynriel #rowaelin #elucien #wessa #acotar #tog #ccity #ouabh #sjtr #kotw #tvd #tcp #std #tid #tlh #tda #scythe #som #soc #sjm #books #playlists #one shot #sorter

[house-of-galathynius]

Home for Christmas

Rowan Week, Day 4 (November 9th): When Aelin is away

I know we’re still a month out from Christmas, but I’m in the festive mood... so here’s a Rowan Week one-shot! Hope you all enjoy it!

@rowaelinscourt​

                                                           ~ ~ ~ 

Rowan should have been used to spending Christmas alone. He had been doing it since he was nineteen, after all. But he supposed there had been something inside him that had been hoping Aelin would’ve stayed for the holiday anyway— or invited him along to her own family celebration. But all that happened was she had given him a long, lingering kiss before pulling her over-filled suitcase out the front door and into the waiting taxi.

His apartment suddenly felt very empty. Whilst Aelin didn’t actually live there with him, she had managed to accumulate enough stuff to make it seem like she was moved in. And with her excitement about the upcoming Christmas season, she had gone wild with decorating. Every corner of the flat decked out in tinsel or string lights— she’d even gone and purchased a real tree that she had then spent an entire afternoon painstakingly decorating, not letting a single person touch it or help.

But now the sparkling lights, the garlands, the pops of red and gold… all of it was a reminder of his utter loneliness.

Rowan’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he smiled at Aelin’s name, and then huffed a laugh as he read her message.

I know what you’re thinking. DO NOT touch the decorations.

She knew him too well. He replied: Wouldn’t dream of it, Fireheart.

There had been a time when Rowan would have been excited too. He would’ve helped put up the decorations and he would’ve gone to carol services and drunk mulled wine, he would play Christmas music all day and spend Christmas Day drinking and laughing with family.

But he felt cruel celebrating now— when his own family could no longer.

Gods. He hated how mopey he got at this time of year. He had so much to be thankful for.

Aelin, for one.

She had been his absolute saving grace— coming into his life at just the right time. He maintained that she had saved him, and if she had appeared in his life any later than when she did he would have done something stupid.

Their relationship had been a bit of a whirlwind. He had met her two years ago. At first he had been uninterested in anything other than his own pain. In fact, he had found Aelin to be cocky and far too intense for his liking, finding her personality to be irritating— her happy-go-lucky spirit the complete opposite to his grumpy demeanour. But slowly over the next few weeks she had chipped away at his hard exterior and had eventually got him to crack a smile. Rowan looked back on those weeks fondly now. Since then they had been almost inseparable. The two of them never sleeping apart, meeting on their lunch breaks, vacationing together… everything. It still baffled Rowan at how she had broken down his walls so quickly and how fast he had found himself falling in love with this fiery woman.

Luckily, Aelin had felt it too.

And although it was the second Christmas they had spent as a couple, it was only the first that they had been apart. Last year, Aelin had had to take a long shift in the hospital and there was no way she would have been able to get out of it. So despite his aversion to the holiday, Rowan had cooked her favourite Christmas meal, even going as so far to try and bake her favourite cookies, serving them to her in bed after she had returned home. It had been a slow and lazy Christmas but he had never felt happier.

He didn’t begrudge Aelin going home this year. He wanted her to have fun and to celebrate with other people who were just as excited as she was. But he couldn’t deny the sense of disappointment that he hadn’t been able to tag along.

His phone buzzed again and his smile grew at the selfie Aelin had sent him. She was in an over-the-top Christmas jumper that lit up, a Santa hat on her head and a cup of hot chocolate covered in whipped cream in one hand. She was smiling brightly, whipped cream over her top lip, her eyes bright and happy.

Need me to clean you up a bit? He replied cheekily.

You’re definitely on Santa’s naughty list, Rowan.

He laughed and tried to ignore the pang in his chest.

The flat was so quiet, but he decided to turn on some music and grab a book, settling down in the large armchair. He kept reading the same sentence over and over until he officially gave up and put the book down, glancing out the window.

Terrasen winters were brutal and today was proving that. The snow was falling heavily outside, the wind whipping it around. A person was battling against it, holding onto their hat tightly as they tried to find some shelter in a store front. He, for a split second, debated shouting out the window if they needed help, but decided against it— instead heading into the kitchen.

The Christmas spirit had not missed the kitchen either. Aelin had put a tablecloth over the small round table in the corner. It was covered in gingerbread men and candy canes, the obnoxious red of it making Rowan squint. Aelin had also left boxes of sweet treats— four different types of cookies, brownies and a not-so-beautifully iced bundt cake. He had tried to argue with her that he was never going to eat that much food, but she had insisted.

Rowan rummaged in the fridge. Eventually pulling out a beer and some leftover lasagne from the day before. It wasn’t exactly a Christmas feast that he was sure Aelin was going to be having, but it would do.

His parents had always made mountains of food. He could remember having the whole family sat around digging into huge turkeys and a million different side dishes, followed by three or four different desserts. He fondly remembered retiring to the living room afterwards and not moving for hours as he went into a food coma. He hoped that one day he could have that again— probably with Aelin. He wasn’t sure he could ever see himself with anyone else at this point. She had wiggled her way into his life and into his heart completely, and even a day without her was torture.

He ate quietly and checked his phone occasionally, but everyone he knew was busy. So he just aimlessly switched through the channels on the TV instead.

Missing Aelin was always rough. And now more than ever he wanted her to be here. He sent off another text. I miss you.

Seconds later she replied. Love you.

Rowan didn’t have anyone but himself to blame really. His cousins had offered to host Christmas and had invited him. But he hadn’t been back to Wendlyn since his parents had died. He didn’t think he was ready to go back to the village they lived in and see the house— now occupied by new people— or see the church where they were now buried. It had been seven years since they’d died and most people would have moved on. But it was too hard.

Aelin had been instrumental in his healing process though. Not just because she was this happy, bubbly girl. But because she understood his pain and never told him that his hesitance at getting over their deaths needed to sped up. She would sit and listen to him talk about them late at night on a random Tuesday, even when she was barely able to keep her eyes open after working. Nor had she pushed he go back for his cousins wedding or that he needed to respect his parents by visiting their graves. She just… understood.

Gods, he loved her.

He loved her enough that he wandered into his bedroom and pulled open the bedside table drawer and held the small black box in his hand. It had been sat there for a year, taunting him every time he opened it up. He had been struggling to find the right moment— worried that Aelin might think it was too soon or that they were too young. But he knew that someday he would ask her to be his wife. And it was moments— days— like these that made him realised how much he truly wanted her to be his forever.

Rowan was distracted for a second at the sound of car doors slamming shut and the muffled voices of people downstairs. He tucked the ring back into its spot and put it away quickly. He went over the window to see the commotion, but saw nothing but the heavy snow and faint footprints that were soon covered in the white. He was going to go back to the chair and attempt to read again, but he paused as he heard the heavy footsteps up the stairs and then the familiar sound of a key in the door.

He poked his head into the hallway just as the front door opened and he was frozen.

“Surprise!” Aelin shouted, her hands full of bags, her cheeks rosy, snow in her hair. She shuffled in through the door, but he was still frozen in place as he saw her parents come in behind her, then Lysandra and Aedion, Fenrys, Lorcan and Elide…

He shook his head.

Aelin carefully placed the things in her hands on the floor and came up to him, winding her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. Rowan, still completely bewildered, put his own arms around her and held onto her tightly. Kissing her head and pulling back so he could see her face.

“What is this?” He asked.

Aelin grinned. “You really thought I was going to leave you by yourself on Christmas?”

“I don’t…” He laughed lightly, still in utter surprise at the people in front of him. All of them now unloading presents under the tree and food onto the table.

“I know you hate this holiday,” she glanced behind her then back to him, “I know it has a lot of bad memories associated to it. But it doesn’t have to be all bad… and we can make new memories. Together.”

He rested his head against hers. He wasn’t a sentimental person, he was never one to cry. But he could feel the tears forming, could feel the emotion bubbling up inside him. This woman never failed to surprise him and he couldn’t possibly love her more.

“You didn’t need to do this.” He managed to choke out.

Aelin rose on her toes and kissed him gently. “You’re my family too, Rowan.”

He kissed her again. This girl had lugged her entire family and their friends from their own homes in the middle of a blizzard to come here, to make sure that he had a good day too. She had decorated, baked and wrapped presents all the while working twelve hour shifts in a hospital— all for him.

“I love you.” He whispered.

Aelin brushed her nose against his and then kissed him once. “I love you, too.”

Rowan held her tightly for another minute. “I’ll never be able to thank you for this.”

“You don’t need to thank me. You know I’d do anything for you,” she was interrupted by Lorcan complaining about smelling like cinnamon and Elide shushing him promptly. But Aelin just smiled, her eyes shining, “even if it means getting Lorcan to put on an awful Christmas jumper and getting him to play silly games.”

Rowan laughed. “I’m impressed you managed it.”

“I may have offered to take his night shifts for the next month.”

“How can I ever repay you?” Rowan joked.

Aelin’s eyes lit up and she rose her brows. “I have some whipped cream and a very scandalous nightgown in my bag.”

Rowan’s entire body heated and he almost groaned that he couldn’t take her up on the offer then and there.

“Later, buzzard. We have a huge turkey and about a million desserts to get through before you can even think about ravishing me.”

And though he wanted to drag her away into the bedroom and shut the door, ignoring everything and everyone. He let Aelin drag him into the kitchen where he was supplied with copious amounts of whatever Christmas cocktail Lysandra had made up and then handed a plate ladened with food. And by the time they dragged themselves to bed he could barely function and was only able to tuck Aelin into him and hold her close as they both drifted off into sleep.

~ 

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#rowaelin #rowaelin one shot #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan week #rowaelinscourt #rowaelins court #rowan whitethorn #rowan #aelin #aelin ashryver #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin galathynius #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan

[malulls]

I'll be there for you

Manorian one shot

Slightly nsfw

— I don't know the tailor who made your dress, but I'm going to steal her for myself.

Elide smiled at Lysandra. The Lady of Perranth looked beautiful in her wedding dress. The elegant and perfectly embroidered bodice was finished with a gorgeous silk sash trimmed with gold. The full skirt of the dress was made of a surprisingly light and beautifully ornate fabric. Manon never cared much for clothes, but it really was a beautiful work.

— I have never worn something so perfect. I'm just trying not to get nervous and throw up all over it.

The Witch Queen spoke for the first time since Elide tried on her wedding dress to show them, twenty minutes ago.

— You have faced Ilkens on your own. You will survive a wedding, despite your questionable choice of husband.

— I am forced to agree with you, witch — said Aelin with a too serious face.

The lady glanced appreciatively at Manon, before casting a disapproving glance at the two of them.

— Do you hate him that much?

— No Elide, but I won't miss the opportunity to pick on dear Lord Lorcan Lochan.

The women gathered in the small room laughed at hearing the name, even Manon gave a small smile. They were trying on their dresses with Elide, except for the witch, who continued with her leathers after the lady assured her that she wouldn't mind if she didn't wear one of those outfits.

— If you excuse me, I think I'd better go now. It's late and Josie must be hungry. — Yrene said as she removed the yellow dress that had been prepared for her and returned to the clothes she wore before. — Good night, ladies.

After the future bride put away her dress, Aelin and Lysandra said goodbye and left the room. Manon was about to follow them when Elide called her.

— Manon? I wanted to ask you something.

She sat down again.

— What is it?

— I was wondering if you'd like — She opened and closed her hands nervously — if you'd like me to set aside a seat only for you. To hold their places. I wish they could be here.

Manon felt as if a rock had hit her, right in the chest. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat so that she could speak.

— Yes. Thank you.

Elide squeezed her hand and smiled sadly at the witch. The only thing Manon managed to do was a nod of goodbye as she went back to her own room. Browen and Petrah were taking care of her kingdom so that she could go to Lorcan and Elide's wedding.

So Manon was alone. As she had always been since the end of the war. She hated that word. Alone. That's what she was.

Those thoughts haunted her mind as she walked the stone halls of the Perranth Castle. And long after that in the warm night that followed.

—

The ceremony was touching. Elide looked stunning, in addition to her dress, her ebony hair was neatly done in a bun that highlighted the beauty of her face. She radiated happiness as she walked up to Lorcan, who looked elegant in a black tunic, obviously, and flashed a smile that for five hundred years no one had ever seen.

Manon was wearing her sumptuous red cloak over the witches' leather clothes, her hair falling in waves down her back, her crown shining and illuminating the queen's beautiful face.

She didn't notice the few guests who looked at her strangely and wondered why she was alone. Some of them guessing that it was because everyone was afraid to get close to her. None of them would have dared to think that if they could read the mind of a young king who had been watching her for a great part of the night.

Dorian was in the bank opposite hers in the ancient temple of Perranth, now restored with the return of the rightful lady of the territory and properly decorated for her own wedding. Manon looked painfully beautiful, as always, and was watching Elide and Lorcan take their vows with a seemingly calm expression. But Dorian knew how hard it was for her to be alone in that bank. He just knew.

As if sensing the gaze, for the first time, Manon turned toward him. The two just stared at each other, for a long moment. The queen had no idea what Dorian wanted or why he was looking at her that way, but she didn't look away from his sapphire eyes. A slightly cold sensation coursed through her wrist. An invisible hand.

When she opened her hand and exposed her palm, he entwined the fingers of the ghost hand in hers. She held him back. The two looked away and did not face each other again until the wedding was over. It was not necessary. And he didn't let go of her hand for a single second.

—

The party that followed was just as impressive as the wedding. The stone walls of the castle hall were decorated with ribbons and the flowers that covered the green fields of Terrasen that spring. The music of various instruments echoed off the walls as the lady and lord of Perranth swirled around the hall.

A few tables covered with white linen and decorated with flower arrangements stood in the corners of the room, accommodating the few who were not dancing. Manon was one of these people. She had been watching the party in front of her for almost two hours, quiet and seeing people dance, sing, and smile. She wished she wasn't like that at the wedding party of someone she considered a friend, but she couldn't help the uncomfortable feeling that had arisen in her chest and didn't want to go away. It would probably disappear and tears would take its place.

Manon rarely cried, but the few times it happened it was desperate and she couldn't stop for a long time. She was grateful to Elide for giving up a place for the Thirteen even though they were not there. And the reminder that they weren't, though it was constant, that night felt like an iron fist around her heart.

— May I sit down?

She blinked, surprised to find Yrene Towers hovering beside the table. How could she push away a lady with a baby on her lap?

— Why?

She was at the table with Dorian and Chaol, who were currently discussing who would dance with Aelin. Why did you suddenly want to sit next to me?

— You are alone here. I came to give you some company. If you don't want to, that's fine. But if you don't mind, I'll just stay here. We don't need to talk.

Manon's first instinct was to reject it. But she had just been mentally complaining about not having anyone. And honestly, a small part of her was grateful to the healer. So she allowed Yrene to sit down.

—

Dorian smiled at Aelin as he spun her around the room.

— Are you reading any interesting books?

— A lot. I brought some with me, I can lend them to you if you want. How's Fleetfoot?

— Always making a mess at the palace. I would have brought her, but we were hurrying and I didn't want to force her to walk so far. Besides, Fenrys would beat me if I had to cross a dog.

The king smiled at her.

— You should have called me, then.

Before Aelin could ask, the two of them disappeared and reappeared in another corner of the room. The Queen of Terrasen gave him an incredulous look, trying to understand what had happened.

— You learned it!

— Among other things. Now I know how to make flowers grow too.

— I will demand a beautiful bouquet every day. — He gave her a mocking smile. — Since you can do it now, are you going to make some interesting trips to the Wastes?

Dorian's smile narrowed. He knew there was more behind that question. They had not had time for a decent conversation, the king imagined Aelin was curious trying to understand what had happened between Manon and him.

— I'm not sure if anyone wants me there.

Aelin slowed down.

— Things... didn't end well between you?

— That's the issue, I don't know. They ended up complicated.

— Why?

The song ended, another one started, and the two didn't notice or stop for a moment.

— It was easier before, when we just slept together. Things were different by the end of the war, but after everything that happened, I'm not sure that she wants anything to do with me.

— But she cares about you, doesn't she?

— In her own way. She may have spat it in my face at a time when she clearly wanted to skin me alive, but yes.

— So go talk to her.

He wanted to, but after months it could not matter anymore what she had said to him, not when her eyes looked so empty and tired.

We'll see.

A tense silence followed between the two of them for almost an entire song.

— Are you all right, Dorian?

— Are you?

Aelin rolled her eyes, as if she were the only one who could take care of other people's lives.

— The hard days diminish with time.

— I still can't handle them properly.

Stopping completely in the middle of the dance, Aelin put her arms around him. He hugged his friend back.

— I wish we weren't so far away, you know. So I could keep an eye on you.

— You have a kingdom to look after, Aelin. You don't need to take care of one of your many tragic friends.

Neither of them said anything, and the silence was filled by the lively music and the chattering in the hall.

— I missed you.

He held her tighter.

— I missed you too.

Someone cleared their throat near them both. Before she could even lift her face completely off Dorian's shoulder, Aelin had already raised her middle finger.

— Go be territorial with the chickens, buzzard.

— I'm not being territorial. I just came to ask if I could borrow my wife after she dumped me for three dances in a row.

But who was couting. Dorian laughed.

— I'll borrow her.

— To Chaol, who I'm dancing with now. And you can calm down, bird.

She walked away to the lord of Anielle. Dorian laughed at Rowan's irritation, who merely gave the king an annoyed but amused look. The laughter slowly faded as he walked over to the table where Yrene was sitting with Manon.

The Lady of Anielle kept to what she had said and didn't say a word, except for the few times she spoke to the baby on her lap. The comfortable silence between them was interrupted by Dorian's arrival.

— Do you know where my husband is?

— Dancing with Aelin. I don't think they'll have much time before Rowan has a syncope.

— Let's go get your father then, Josie.

Yrene left the table with her daughter, leaving the King of Adarlan and the Queen of Witches alone. Gold met sapphires. The tension of the silence between them was almost palpable. So Dorian dared to break it.

— Hello, witchling.

— Hello, princeling.

The king didn't know what to say. He had no idea how things were between them, even though she had held his hand during the wedding.

— What do you want?

— To know how you are. I haven't seen you for months.

He knew very well the mask of indifference she was wearing. It was an expression he used more often than he would have liked.

— I'm fine.

Damaris went cold in his belt at the lie, but it was the only thing she offered, and if that was what she wanted to say, it was fine. Dorian hadn't expected her to simply tell him everything, anyway. That moment between the two of them before the king left for Morath was a rare display of vulnerability, and probably the only one he would have of her.

Someone called out to him from across the hall. Yrene, asking the king to dance with her. He was distracted by talking to her for a minute, and when he looked at the chair next to him, Manon was already gone.

—

The Queen did not notice how much time had passed since she had left the party. The perfumed night air enveloped her, from her balcony she could see the festivities in the town below the castle, where the peasants of Perranth were celebrating their lady's wedding. Elide had said something about spending some time at the parties in the town the next day with her people. Lanterns filled the grass-covered fields of Terrasen with points of golden lights. A few floors below her, Abraxos was sleeping happily with his head tucked into white lilies.

Manon was trying to push that feeling she hated so much out of her own mind. She was surprised at how much being on that empty bank actually weighed on her.

The witch's sharp hearing acknowledged footsteps, but she didn't bother to turn to speak to Dorian.

— Do you really want to stay alone?— He leaned on the balcony beside her.

— No.

— Then what are you doing here?

— There was too much noise there. Too many people, too much music.

It wasn't noticeable in the room, but the music was so loud that she and Dorian could clearly hear the melody despite being on a far balcony. The sound filled the stillness between them as they didn't say anything, for a long time.

— Do you want to dance?

The question surprised her as much as the sudden break in the silence. When Manon turned around, Dorian was already looking at her.

— Haven't you already danced too much today?

— A prince never dances too much.

Changing the subject clearly didn't help Manon escape the invitation, because Dorian held out his hand to her.

— I don't dance.

— In 117 years?

— I had more important things to do than worry about parties.

Manon didn't let herself think about what she had spent a century doing. She had enough fucked up thoughts for one night. She shifted her eyes to Dorian's extended hand.

— Please?

He came closer. There were only a few inches separating their faces, and the queen's breathing quickened when Dorian reached up to put a lock of hair behind her ear.

The king looked surprised when she took his hand.

— If you tell anyone I danced with you, you'll be food for the wyverns, princeling.

He opened a smile, completely ignoring the threat, and entwined his fingers in hers, wrapping the witch's waist with his other hand. He pulled Manon close, much closer than was necessary for a dance.

For the first time in the evening, she paid attention to the music, not as an irritating and frivolous sound in the background, but to the joyful melody and the instruments that were being played. She was distracted by the smell of Terrasen pines, by the cool night air, by Dorian moving the two of them across the stone floor of the balcony, pulling away to spin her around and then pulling her close again.

When that song ended the two danced the next one. And the next. Again and again and again. With the end of the sound of the instruments the king suddenly stopped. Only then did she notice how long the two of them had danced, that her breathing was slightly shallow and her feet a little sore.

These thoughts vanished from the queen's mind when Dorian lowered his mouth to hers. She released his hand to tangle her fingers in the black curls of the his hair.

— I wanted to do that the moment I saw you.

She didn't answer, and instead kissed Dorian again. The two only pulled apart when they were breathless, and still continued to hold their foreheads together, stealing small kisses until Manon pulled away. She knew how this would end if it continued, and although a part of her wanted to drag Dorian into the bedroom and disappear with his clothes, she still had a lump in her throat and knew she wasn't up for it.

— I'm tired.

— We don't have to do anything if you don't want to. But I like sleeping with you.

Manon let him hug her, and they plunged into the darkness, then emerged back into a hallway. If he hadn't been holding her, she probably would have fallen to the floor.

— What was that?

— That thing Fenrys does when he disappears from one place and appears in another.

— And you know how to do it.

He opened the bedroom door and Manon followed him inside.

— It's quite useful, actually. Maybe when I can cross longer distances I will take a trip to know the Wastes.

The witch almost smiled at the hidden suggestion. If he could, the two of them could see each other often. She would not complain about that. Dorian dropped his tunic on a chair and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes while she did the same. Manon hesitated, but eventually opened the drawer where he was keeping things and grabbed the first shirt she found before taking off her leather clothes. He was smiling when Manon went to the other side of the bed.

— What?

— You' pretty in my clothes.

When they both lay down she couldn't help but think of the last time they had been like this. What the two of them had said in the tent, how different things were now. And the question that had been pounding in her head for hours.

— Why did you hold my hand at the wedding?

— Because I wanted you to know that you are not alone.

— Wasn't the empty bank indicative enough of the opposite?

He turned so that he could look into her eyes.

— The empty bank was the reason I did it. I wanted to show you that you don't have to go through this alone. That if you ever need to, even if it's just to talk, you have someone.

— You are on the other side of Erilea.

— Just because I am far away doesn't mean that I don't think about you, that I don't worry, or that I don't miss you. You can come to me when things get hard in your kingdom. You will always have a place with me, if you want.

He looked surprised when she hugged him, but it didn't take him long to wrap his arms around her, as if he was afraid that she would suddenly change her mind and disappear.

— You will always have a place with me too.

Manon was trying to learn to trust the people around her. People who hadn't spent a century by her side. She didn't know how to speak comforting words, but she would be there whenever he felt lonely because she knew exactly what it was like.

Dorian turned around and put an arm around the queen's waist, then pulled her in, until her back was against his chest. She was still awake when she heard his breathing become steady and his arm relax around her. Manon was relieved she didn't have another damned crying crisis. That had been a long day and she was more than ready for it to end, knowing she would be better in the morning. At some point in the night, she lost herself in the warmth that the king's arms offered and fell asleep as well.

—

Her eyelids fluttered as her eyes tried to get used to the light coming from the window. A comforting feeling had settled in the queen's chest, chasing away the bad feelings of the previous day. Manon wondered if some of this was due to the owner of the hand that drew lazy circles around her waist. Dorian was smiling when she turned and laid her head against his chest.

— Good morning?

— Hm.

He laughed.

— Such a good mood.

— What kind of person wakes up in a good mood?

— Someone who's waking up with me, I guess.

Manon lifted her head to roll her eyes at him, but she found his blue eyes darkening with an expression she had seen many times before. He moved the hand that had been on her waist again, reaching the back of her tighs.

— Do you think Elide will mind if we're late for breakfast?

She turned to the window. From the position of the sun, it was just after dawn.

— It's too early for breakfast.

The witch had barely finished her sentence before Dorian passed his hand around her neck and pulled her face to his. It took only one movement and the two had switched positions, she digging her nails in the king's shoulders as invisible hands opened the buttons of her shirt. His shirt, actually.

The ghost hands moved up the queen's waist, leaving a trail of ice and fire that made her arch as they cupped her breasts. He lowered his body, kissing her skin until his face was between her thighs.

Manon grasped the sheets.

—

Dorian was much more awake when the two of them arrived, definitely late, at breakfast. He wouldn't have minded staying in bed all morning, though. Or the whole day. But they would have that night and all the others before they needed to leave. And they would certainly make up for the lost time. Aelin smirked at the king as he pulled out his chair to sit at the table, Manon did the same next to him. Here we go.

— Good morning, lazy people. Did you sleep well?

— Yes — he replied, ignoring the malice in her voice. — And you?

— I didn't sleep much, actually — the queen replied with a wink.

Chaol hid his face in his hands.

— One meal. One meal in peace was all I wanted.

— At least you don't have to suffer through this constantly— Lorcan grunted from across the table.

— I know you love us, lord Lorcan Lochan.

The Demi-Fae showed his middle finger to Fenrys.

— Not even at my wedding will you get off my back?

— "Not even at my wedding". Now he goes around telling even the stones that he is married. I bet you'll soon start writing that on your forehead.

— Relax, Lorcan. — The lord stopped grunting when Rowan pointed at Fenrys. — The puppy is just jealous because he's single.

— Single because he wants to be — Aelin corrected. — I'm sure a little tour around the city would be enough to bring him back with half the population as candidates.

Fenrys leaned back in his chair.

— I think I've decided to follow your example — a signal to Rowan and Lorcan — and wait for a beautiful, furious woman who definitely doesn't like me to appear right in front of me.

He cast a curious glance at Manon, beautiful and furious, definitely didn't like Fenrys, and right in front of him. Dorian hoped that no one noticed the cold wind that he couldn't keep from rushing through the room.

— So, witch — Fenrys gave her a smirk — Would you like to win a very handsome fae?

The king thought she would jump at Fenrys and shove a fork down his throat for the audacity, but she only frowned.

— Do you have invisible hands?

Fenrys blinked.

— What?

— Invisible hands. Do you have?

— No.

— Then no, I don't want.

Dorian bit the corners of his mouth to keep from smiling at the Wolf's confused expression. Aelin, however, understood very well and opened her mouth so wide that he could swear he heard her jaw snap.

— You use your invisible hands to... How naughty.

Dorian winked at the queen. The sound of metal clashing with wood filled the room as Aedion dropped the silverware on the table.

— Could you two please not talk about sex while we're having breakfast?

— No one has mentioned that word, Aedion. You're the one with the impure mind.

Aelin nodded to Dorian in agreement.

— I don't know why he keeps playing innocent. I've heard so many things...

— Aelin — Lysandra shouted across the room.

As the table fell into another discussion, he looked at the Witch Queen from the corner of his eyes and found her golden eyes already focused on him. Dorian gave Manon a small smile. She smiled back.

#manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #manorian #elide lochan #elorcan #lorcan salvaterre #sarah j maas #throne of glass #dorian x manon #elide x lorcan #fanfic #one shot #fenrys moonbeam #aelin galythinius #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #yrene towers #chaorene #chaol westfall #lysandra ennar #aedion ashryver

[throneofsapphics]

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

series masterlist

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

[leiawritesstories]

Who Gave My Wife Liquor?

Rowaelin Month 2023, Day 20: Drunken Antics

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

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

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, intoxication, silly goofy times

Enjoy!!!

@rowaelinscourt

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dorian was conspicuously silent.

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

"Oh fuck," he muttered.

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

Dorian picked up the closest flask and drained it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lorcan snorted. "Fuck you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes. Yes he was.

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

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

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

Fenrys shrieked in protest. "I perform longly!"

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

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

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

Her husband winked. "I try."

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

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

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

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

And she promptly fell asleep.

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

~~~

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#my writing #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin month 2023 #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #ft the court of terrasen #aedion ashryver #lysandra #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elorcan #fenrys moonbeam #dorian havilliard #and they're all having fun #because i said so

[goddess-aelin]

Feels Like Home

For @backtobl4ck for the Rowaelin Yulemas celebration/ Secret Santa. For the second year in a row, I once again had the pleasure to write something for Maria! I was so excited when I found out I had you because we both loveeeee fluff and friends to lovers. So I hope you love this little gift and have a very happy Yulemas :) @rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: none!

Her hands were everywhere. Her lips touched his softly as she breathily moaned at his ministrations between her thighs. Silky blonde locks brushed his face as he made his way down the side of her neck. He never tasted anything so sweet, so right. “Rowan. Rowan. Rowan.” Her voice got louder and louder as he laid her back on the cushions of his couch, muscles straining to reign in all the things he wanted to do to her. He had to do this right. Move slowly. This thing between them was as precious as the sun’s warmth. “Rowan. Ro.” Her voice changed cadence, suddenly closer and louder. “Ro!” 

A stinging sensation against his cheek woke him. Like lighting, he shot up, catching the arm of the person who slapped him. Once he registered where he was and what was happening, the first thing he noticed were the depthless blue and gold eyes of his best friend. His best friend. Aelin. Who he was in the middle of having a sex dream about.

Rowan could feel his face flush as he became more aware of his surroundings. He silently thanked the Gods that he chose to cover himself with a blanket for this particular nap. Otherwise, it would’ve been painfully obvious just exactly what he had been dreaming about. 

“Must’ve been some dream, huh? Since you didn’t wake up the first twenty times I called your name.” Aelin raised an eyebrow. “Sorry for the slap, though. I just didn’t know how else to wake you up.” Aelin gave him a devious smile. 

Rowan rubbed at the still stinging area on his left cheek. The good thing was that the slap hid any blush that might’ve remained on his face. “Sure you are, Fireheart.” She pouted slightly, giving him her best “but I’m innocent” look. “Wait, how did you even get in here?”

“You gave me a key, remember?”

“Yeah, for emergencies. Not to barge into my house at…” He checked his phone. “4:35pm on a Thursday afternoon.”

“This is an emergency, Ro.” 

He raised an eyebrow and silently commanded, explain.

“Well ok…you see, I have this cousin. His name is Galan. Well he’s sort of my cousin but he’s also not. Not in the sense that Aedion is my cousin. But he’s still sort of close family, ya know? And I got the invite a few weeks back and I hoped that I could find a date but I haven’t yet and I just really think that maybe it would be a fun time and there’s going to be good food-”

“Hold on. What the fuck are you talking about?” Rowan couldn’t keep the humor and huff of laughter out of his voice. Aelin tended to ramble when she was nervous. So obviously this was something she was nervous about. He gently took her hand. “Start again and take a deep breath this time.”

For once, she listened to him. After inhaling and exhaling deeply, she tried again. “My cousin, Galan. He’s getting married and I have a plus one. I can’t go alone because my mother will have a fit and that will make her and my aunts scheme like hell to set me up with one of the groomsmen. But I 100% do not want that. I know Galan’s friends and they’re all dumbasses. I love my cousin, but his groomsmen all make really stupid, idiotic decisions. So no, thank you. So I guess my question is, will you go with me? As my plus one?” 

Rowan took a moment to process the information. What are the odds that he would have a sex dream about his best friend right before she asked him to be her plus one to a wedding? He was treading dangerous territory and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

He must’ve taken too long to answer because Aelin hastily said, “As friends, of course. And you’d get free food, booze, and a night of dancing. You get to dress up, which I know you hate but it’ll be fun! Plus, you’ll get to have the most beautiful, amazing, graceful date on your arm.” 

That shocked him out of his stupor. Rowan let out a cackle. “Modest, aren’t you?” 

“Modesty is my middle name.” 

Rowan hummed in mock agreement. “Yeah, I’ll go with you. It’ll be fun. A night away, drinking, eating great food, and getting to watch the bridal party get increasingly drunk as the night goes on? I’m in.” 

Aelin beamed but quickly bit her lip. He knew her too well to know that it wasn’t just a nervous tick. There was something else. Rowan narrowed his eyes.

“It’s also like five hours away in Varese so we need to rent a hotel for the night.” She looked apprehensive, as if this new information was going to make him change his mind and say no. 

“O..kay? We’ve been on vacations together before, Fireheart. What’s different this time?” 

She blew out a breath. “I don’t know. I just know you don’t like being the center of attention and I know that my mom and my aunts are going to be all over you like vultures. So I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into before saying yes.”

Rowan shrugged. “How bad can it be?”

- - - - -

Bad. The answer to his question from a few weeks ago was just that: it could be bad.  The date of the wedding crept up steadily, he and Aelin hammering out the details of their stay in Varese. Aelin, of course, insisted on coordinating colors for their outfits, which is how he found himself standing at the base of the stairs in the grand ballroom attached to their hotel in a black tux and emerald green bowtie, talking with Aedion while waiting for the two ladies to make their grand entrance. Aelin insisted on the emerald green to match his eyes. He really didn’t care either way, he just hoped he was able to reign in his budding feelings when he saw Aelin in what just so happened to be his favorite color. And that if he somehow did accidentally let some of his feelings show, that it wouldn’t make it awkward for when they got back to their hotel room.

Oh right, that. The other predicament he was in. 

Once he and Aelin arrived at the hotel that morning, they were surprised to find that not only did their room only have one bed, it also had one of the most romantic views of Varese, overlooking the river that flowed through the center of the city and its beautiful architecture. Aelin was quick to insist that she had nothing to do with this and that she ordered a double room. At the time, the wedding was only a few hours away and Aelin shoved him out of their room towards Aedion and Lysandra’s across the hall, stating that she needed to get ready and she couldn’t have his broody self in the room while she was doing so. So he and Lysandra had switched places, Aelin assuring him that they’d remedy the bed situation later. 

He and Aedion took a whopping total of ten minutes to get ready in comparison to Aelin and Lysandra’s two hours. Rowan’s foot started tapping of its own accord as the time ticked closer to the ceremony. If Aelin didn’t hurry her ass up- albeit her very, very nice ass- they were going to be late. 

He was cut off from his thoughts by the two sets of clacking heels on the marbled floor coming from the top of the stairs. It took one look at the thigh slit of Aelin’s dress for his mouth to dry up. Another glance at the way it hugged her hips for his body to go wholly still. And one final glance to her beautiful, glowing face for him to black out completely. 

He must’ve actually blacked out since, in what felt like a single moment, Aelin was standing right in front of him. Her emerald green dress matched his bowtie perfectly, of course, the gold accent of her minimal jewelry complimenting her eyes. She didn’t need baubles and gems to make her sparkle. She, just as she was now, was an ethereal being, glowing from an internal, unseen star. 

Rowan tried so hard; so, so, incredibly hard to will his mind to say something, anything. And yet, words escaped him. How could he ever put into words how beautiful she was, how much she meant to him? As saliva started making its way into the dry desert that was his mouth, all he could manage was a “Holy shit.”

Aelin’s laugh was like twinkling bells in his ear. “Back at ya, Buzzard. You look…very handsome.”

Was it just his imagination or did she sound…breathless? He couldn’t help but become aware of every place her eyes drifted to, like they were emitting invisible fire and burning him everywhere. His hand subconsciously came up to rub at the back of his hair, trying to smooth out anything that was out of place. “You’re being sarcastic, aren’t you?” He managed a small smirk. Or, he hoped he did.

Aelin’s eyes continued their unhurried perusal, mouth parting slightly and hand coming up to grab his own to stop him from messing up his hair even more. “No,” she breathed, “For once in my life, I’m not. I Promise.” Rowan could see her swallow hard.

Rowan had to take a deep gulp of air, otherwise he was sure he was going to pass out. Somewhere, deep inside of him, some air of confidence kicked in and gracefully allowed him to offer his arm for Aelin to take. Gently, she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, both of them silently making their way to the doors where the ceremony would be held. As they neared the room, Rowan purposefully slowed them down, falling behind Aedion and Lysandra. “Fireheart,” he whispered. “You look…you look stunning. It’s what I wanted to say earlier but I couldn’t find the words.”

Rowan could have sworn a blush overtook her face. But she beamed up at him, giving him a sweet, shy smile. 

“Thank you.” He could feel more than see her sharp intake of breath. A breath to recenter and refocus. “Well, shall we, Buzzard?” Rowan nodded and steered them once again to the doors.  

An hour later, the ceremony was over and Rowan’s stomach was rumbling. Loudly. Seated next to Aelin, he knew she could hear it and she continued to sneak glances and little smirks at him. The hunger he could deal with. The sly glances from Aelin? Not so much. She had been driving him insane since she floated down those stairs and it was slowly but surely causing him to lose his cool. That would be if he ever had it in the first place.

And as the night went on, the torture only continued. Throughout dinner, her arm would brush his as she turned to talk to Lysandra next to her, her leg would tap against his own when she told a joke, and she would find any excuse to touch him as often as she could. In normal circumstances, he wouldn’t mind. But they were here as friends. And these touches were making him want much, much more than that. 

The only time he felt like he could breathe was when Aelin got up to dance with Lysandra to an upbeat pop song, leaving Rowan and Aedion sitting alone at their table to chat. Rowan had a few drinks already but he was nowhere near drunk. A nice buzz was flowing through him but he was still very much so in control of his actions.

At least, that’s what he thought until Aedion cleared his throat. Rowan broke his stare from Aelin’s sensuous dancing. Did she even know what she looked like to him? How much she was torturing him just by being herself? He wasn’t sure if she was aware. But Aedion sure as hell was. 

The blonde man gave him a knowing look and raised an eyebrow. Rowan just rolled his eyes and allowed his gaze to maneuver back to Aelin. He caught the moment when she threw her head back and laughed, the sound making his bones feel like they were both on fire and also a pile of mush. It was a feeling that he was unaccustomed to, having only felt anything of the sort with his high school girlfriend. But if that feeling was a good one, this one made him feel like he was flying. Made him feel a need so deep that he wasn’t sure he would ever recover. He needed every inch of her. Not only her body, but her soul, her smiles, her laughter, her tears. He wanted everything.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. 

Beside him, Aedion chuckled. “You’re only now just realizing it?”

Rowan could do nothing but stare at the table, knowing that if he looked at Aedion, his secretly harbored feelings would be completely out in the open for the other man to see. And if he looked up at Aelin, the same outcome. So yeah, he was fucked. 

“I know you’re having a complete crisis over being in love with her but I’m glad you finally figured it out. Took you long enough.” 

That made Rowan look toward the man sitting next to him, brows furrowed. 

“Yeah, we’ve all known this for ages. I feel like it was obvious to anyone with eyes, to be completely honest. Some of us even have a bet on how long it’ll take for you two to finally admit that you’re in love with each other.” 

  Rowan made to open his mouth with a denial but Aedion held up a hand. “Nope, dude. Save the bullshit. I know just by looking at you that you’re so far gone for her, it’s unreal. And I know that Aelin has never been as happy as when she’s with you. She never laughed this freely until she met you.” Aedion let out a small huff of breath. “You have my blessing.” 

Rowan just repeated his earlier statement. “Fuck.” 

Their conversation was interrupted by a breathless Aelin sitting in the seat to Aedion’s right, where she promptly picked up the half-full glass of wine and chugged it. 

“So what are you boys gossiping about over here that has poor Whitethorn all red in the face?”

Internally, Rowan was panicking. Aedion opened his mouth to say something that Rowan was sure to be snarky but before he could, Rowan blurted out, “birds!” 

The corners of Aelin’s mouth quirked up slightly. “Birds…?” Rowan could tell that she didn’t fully believe him but luckily, Aelin was already half drunk. He hoped she would just let it go. 

The first mistake Rowan made was making eye contact with her. She always had an uncanny ability to read him like an open book, despite most people not understanding him. As she narrowed her eyes, the part of their souls that has always been intertwined translated for him, as if to say, I don’t believe you and think you’re full of shit, Buzzard.

So Rowan sent his own thoughts back, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Fireheart. 

The second mistake was continuing to hold her gaze. Not because he gave anything away to her but rather because it prompted the man sitting in between them to throw his hands in the air and exclaim, “Oh no. Oh helllll no. This isn’t happening right in front of me.” Aedion quickly shoved his chair away from the table and got up to leave. Before walking away completely, he turned around and pointed right at the two of them. “I’m tired of this bullshit. You guys need to get it together and just fucking make out already. Gods.” And with his piece said, Aedion stalked away, directly to the bar where he knocked back a shot immediately. 

Rowan turned back to Aelin, whose eyes were wide and brows furrowed. 

“Umm, what just happened?”

The only thing Rowan could do was shrug. He sure as hell wasn’t going to lie to her but he wasn’t sure that he could outright confess his feelings, either. He was saved from deciding by the transition to a slower song, one he knew Aelin liked. As he looked back over at her, her eyes had drifted closed and her shoulders were swaying slightly, moving along to the lilting melody of the song. 

Rowan shoved his chair away from the table, extending his hand toward her. Blue eyes met his own and held his gaze with an intensity that could’ve set him on fire. “Dance with me, Fireheart.”

Aelin managed a small smile and took his hand, following him to the dance floor where Lysandra and Aedion and her parents were already coupled up and swaying back and forth. He gently guided her hand to rest at his shoulder, laying his own on her waist, and cradling her other to his chest. 

Looking down at her, he felt like he could do this forever. Her bright teal eyes were hazed with alcohol and something else, as if she felt content, safe. Slowly, she tilted her head so it rested on his chest. Of their own accord, Rowan’s lips gently placed a kiss to her hair, inhaling her sweet lemon verbena and lavender scent. Aelin always smelled so good. So…comforting. Like home.

Through the haze of their otherworldly bubble, Aelin murmured something. 

“Hmm?” he asked.

Pulling her head back, she answered him, “I said ‘are you going to tell me what that was back there at the table? With Aedion?”

He tensed, Aelin tensing along with him. “It was nothing, Aelin.”

She raised an eyebrow in protest. He knew she was disappointed. She could tell he was lying through his teeth. “It obviously wasn’t nothing. Just tell me. Did my mom say something? She and my aunts have been watching us all night like hawks.”

“Really, Fireheart...I…It’s nothing. Everything’s good.” He gave her a tight smile, hoping she would let it go and they could go back into their bubble. But, of course, this was Aelin. She tensed even further, pulling her hand off of his shoulder and making to pull away from him completely. But before she could walk away from him, he grabbed her hand and as gently as he could, pulled her back toward him. She was caught off guard, Rowan could easily tell that much. 

He slowly began to sway them back and forth again. Not caring about the eyes on them, he murmured “I’m not good at this.”

Aelin’s brows furrowed together. “At what?”

Rowan’s shoulders shrugged up and down of their own accord. “This. Talking about…about my feelings.”

Aelin’s head tilted in that way of hers that told him she was thinking. “And what about your feelings are you having a hard time with?”

“I’m not having a hard time with my feelings, I just…I can’t–” Rowan sighed. “For fuck’s sake.” It was at that moment, when Aelin was looking up at him with her eyes that could see everything, her beautiful mind that could work out any problem, that he grabbed her face. “Aelin–I love you. I’m in love with you.” Rowan felt as if his heart was going to beat out of his chest, his breathing so ragged as he waited in anticipation for what she would say back. But the answer didn’t come after a few seconds. And then it didn’t come after a few more. Aelin just stood there, wide-eyed and mouth opening and closing as if she couldn’t find the words, either. And bit-by-bit, Rowan was beginning to give up hope. 

   Slowly, he loosened his grip on her face, meaning to step back and give her space. But before he could pull away completely, Aelin threw her arms around his neck, dragging his head down forcefully and attaching her lips to his own. If he was being honest, it was probably the least romantic kiss he’d ever experienced but it didn’t matter one bit because it was Aelin. 

The kiss was over before it started and Aelin pulled back slightly. Just enough to murmur, “I love you, too, Buzzard.” 

He couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face. Properly this time, he held her face between his hands and brought her mouth back to his. This kiss was entirely different from the first. Gone was the urgency and desperation and in its place was genuine love and devotion. Would he ever get enough of this? He could’ve died in her kiss a happy man right at that moment. But he hoped that he would get many more chances to experience Aelin in all her glory.

Cheers and clapping broke them out of their reverie, startling them both back into reality. Rowan assumed it was cheering for Galan and his wife but as Rowan’s gaze roamed over the crowd, they all seemed to be watching…him. Aelin’s mother was at the head of her sisters, all five of the Ashryver sisters looking toward him and Aelin. All with smirks on their face. He could’ve sworn he heard a few swoony sighs as he and Aelin made their way back to their seats, faces aflame. 

Once seated, Aelin leaned in close, putting her hand dangerously high on his thigh. “Well, I’d say it’s not such a bad thing that our room only has one bed, wouldn’t you Buzzard?” 

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “Did you plan this, Fireheart?” 

Aelin shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Who could ever know.” Rowan pinched her side, making her giggle. “I will say, though, that my wheels might have started turning the moment I walked in on you having a nice little smutty dream about me.”

Rowan gaped. “Wh-what?!”

Aelin shot him an answering smirk. “Oh yeah, did you think I didn’t know? You were literally moaning my name in your sleep. How else was I supposed to take that? Unless there’s another Aelin in your life, which, if that’s the case, excuse me, I’ll let you two be alone.” She feigned getting up from the table but he pulled her right back down, bringing her face close to his. 

“And so what if I was, Fireheart?” He murmured in her ear. He both saw and felt the shiver that made its way down her body. 

“Then, Buzzard, I’d say its a very good thing that our room has a king bed.” While his blood heated at her promise, he couldn’t help but think that this was the start of something amazing. Something that felt like home.

Tagging:

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#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #throne of glass #tog #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin au #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #my fics #my fic #rowaelin secret Santa

[shyvioletcat]

ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 19

~ Telling their kids about their tattoos ~

Another bonus addition to canon week. I had a random idea and it became this. @rowaelinscourt

~~~~~

The palace guards let them through to the private wing, Aelin nodding her thanks as they passed. Already she could feel herself calming. Only family and the inner most members of the court were allowed in this part of the palace. Here, they were just Aelin and Rowan, no expectations and no critical eyes on them. 

Approaching their rooms Aelin kept an ear out for what her children might be up to. It was mostly quiet, and then as they approached their door Aelin heard hurried footsteps. The footfalls were heavy and didn’t belong to a child. Meaning they must belong to the royal children’s current minder. Rowan reached out to open the door but it swung open before he got close. Fenrys stood in the doorway, a hesitant smile on his face. 

“What did you do?” Rowan asked, immediately sensing something was afoot.

Fenrys glanced at Aelin, looking for some assistance against Rowan’s potential wrath. “Before you come in I want you to remember creativity is good for children.”

Now Aelin was starting to feel some apprehension. “What did you allow them to do?”

Fenrys moved aside. “It’s quite sweet, really.”

Rowan finally let go of her so that they could fit through the doorway and Aelin eagerly followed behind, wondering what kind of disaster they were walking into. Her children had a penchant for chaos, especially when left with Fenrys. Someone wiser might insist the boisterous male not watch her children, but he adored them so profoundly as they did in return. It was worth everything just to see the smiles they created by being together. 

“Oh no,” Rowan breathed.

With a hand on her very round stomach Aelin stepped aside from behind Rowan’s imposing form so that she could see as well. She had no words, she could only take in the sights before her. 

They had been painting, pages upon pages were scattered over the low table in the middle of their sitting area. And the children had progressed past the paper. Aelin looked at her daughter, Elspeth had dark swirls and lines all the way up her left arm, a very obvious simple imitation of Rowan’s tattoos. That was not the worst of it, that title would belong to what was no doubt the Princess' doing. The young Prince was not longer wearing a shirt and on his back was where Aelin’s tattoos were depicted.

“How?” Aelin asked, turning to Fenrys. 

“I stepped out for a moment to visit the bathing room and Elsie had already started on Finnian’s, and I thought it was best to let her finish,” Fenrys explained. “And then she was complaining that she didn’t have any tattoos so what was I supposed to do?”

“Not let her paint herself or her brother,” Rowan shot back.

Fenrys shrugged. “I’m not one to crush the artistic ambitions of the Princess.”

Rowan gave a long suffering sigh and it was that all too familiar sound when Fenrys was around, and that finally seemed to catch the attention of the two children. Elspeth’s head snapped up from where she was adding finer details to her hand. 

“Da! Mama!” She squealed. The five year old was on her feet in an instant, dropping the paintbrush on the ground and running over. “See what I did?”

Rowan knelt, not a care for any paint that might end up on him as Elspeth got in close with her arm held out. “I see, my little love.”

“It’s just like yours,” she put their matching arms together. “And I did Finnian to be like Mama.”

“It looks wonderful, Elsie,” Aelin said. “Now say goodbye to Uncle Fen, it’s time for him to go before your father maims him.”

“What maim, Mama?” Finnian said, wiping his paint covered hand over his chest, dirtying himself further. 

She gave her son a wink. “I’ll tell you later.”

Both children said goodbye to Fenrys, and he shot an apologetic look at Aelin as he left. “I’ll come and clean this up once he’s cooled down.” They all knew who the he was. 

“You better be, boyo,” Rowan said over his shoulder. 

Fenrys fled after that, making Aelin laugh. The room was in chaos with paper, paint and brushes haphazardly scattered about. There were pictures of simplistic figures of people and trees, and poorly drawn animals that were not made by her children. All in all, the damage wasn’t too bad. None of the furniture would need to be replaced. Rowan was glaring around like he was going to ask her to set fire to it all. 

Aelin put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Come on, it will all be fine. They just need a bath.”

“I’ll do that, you have a lie down,” Rowan said, shooting her a look before she could protest otherwise. “Don’t even try and convince me otherwise, I know you’re tired.”

Aelin hated to admit it but she was. Right now, nothing sounded better than sending off her mate with her children and tucking herself into bed for a while. 

“Come on you, two.” Rowan hefted a child up in each arm. “Time for a bath.”

Rowan didn’t bother to take the children back to their own rooms and just carried them through to the bathing chamber attached to his and Aelin’s bedroom. Aelin followed after, watching as her babies talked to their father and he responded with pure adoration in every response. The way he was with them made her proud to call him her mate. 

When the rest of her family out of sight Aelin prepared herself for bed. She unlaced the front of her dress and pulled it off. Left in her underdress, she considered going to the wardrobe and finding a nightgown of one of Rowan’s shirts to put on. In the end Aelin decided that what she wore was enough, it certainly covered more than her preferred night wear. It was warm enough that she just lay on the top of the bedding, rubbing a hand over her stomach. It wasn’t long before her eyes were falling closed and she drifted off to sleep.

Excited giggles and a low rumbling laugh is what woke her up some time later. Looking towards the door Aelin saw Rowan carrying Finnian in one arm while Elspeth hung onto the other. They always kept spare clothes for the children in their quarters and today their planning had paid off. Her two freshly clean children both climbed onto the bed and hugged their mother, Elspeth going as far as to press a kiss to Aelin’s stomach. Finnian was still determined to pretend the growing sibling did not exist. In about a month he wouldn’t have any other choice. 

“They have some questions for us,” Rowan said, sitting on the end of the bed.

Aelin sunk back into the pillows, trying to get as comfortable as she could with her three children encroaching on her personal space. “Is that so?” 

What had she woken up to? She gave Rowan a look that told him if they were about to ask where babies came from again, he could deal with it. 

“Mama, what do your tattoos mean? Why did you get them?” Elspeth asked. 

Oh, that is a question, Aelin said in a look towards her mate.

Indeed it is, Rowan sent back.

“Well, I think we should hear from Da first. His story will lead into mine,” Aelin said aloud.

Out of the corner of her eye Aelin saw two small heads turn to look at their father. He wore an expression she had not seen in a long time. The grief and shame still lingered for him, it might always, but it was a reminder to them all of how far he had come and how they would not be where they are today without his sacrifices.

“Long before I met your mother, I was mated before,” Rowan began but was interrupted by a shocked gasp.

“Before Mama?” Elspeth sounded betrayed. 

“It was a long, long time ago,” Rowan went on, a small smile appearing at Elspeth’s loyalty. 

“Yes, because remember children your father is very old,” Aelin added. 

Rowan sent a reproachful but playful look. “I believed that this female I had met far away in Doranelle was my mate.”

He went silent for a moment and Aelin knew he was searching for the right words to say. She sent a surge of comfort down the bond.

“Her name was Lyria, and through evil devising and my own arrogance she was lost to me. I felt so much sadness over losing her that I had the story of our time together tattooed on my skin to honour and remember her,” Rowan explained. 

Elspeth left where she was next to Aelin and crawled across the bed to be next to Rowan. Her small fingers traced the patterns on his skin. It was something she had done since she’d developed control of her hands. Aelin loved the gesture, it was sweet and seemed to have a soothing result on both father and daughter. 

“Did you love her?” Elspeth asked in an open, honest way only a child could possess. 

Rowan nodded. “I did.”

“It’s nice that you want to remember her, Da,” Eslpeth said. 

It was such a simple and yet profound statement that Aelin felt a tightness in her throat and when she looked at Rowan she could see that his eyes were misting. These were difficult topics to discuss with a child, but they had such a simple understanding that it made it a little easier.

“It is what Lyria deserves,” Rowan said, dropping a kiss onto Elspeth’s golden hair. 

“When I understood the significance of Da’s tattoos I wanted my own,” Aelin told her children. “I wanted to do as he did. The first tattoos he gave me I lost, but he did them again.”

“Did they hurt?” Finnian asked.

Aelin nodded, “They did for a time, but your father was as gentle as he could be. As he always is when it comes to those he loves.”

For a moment Aelin was taken back to Mistward, to those long hours she had spent grieving and reviving the lost parts of her soul. Rowan had been with her every moment, steady and grounding, the first of her bloodsworn and ready to follow her to whatever end. And then the second time, in those desperate hours in that tent as he tattooed his last efforts to bind them together into her skin. He had succeeded, and now they had this life. 

Aelin couldn’t help the tears that welled, and wiped her cheek as one rolled down her cheek. “My tattoos honour those I have lost and that we’ve told you about before. Your grandparents and great uncle, my friends who helped me, there are lines that affirm my dedication to our land and my people. But there is also the story of your father and I, the story of how we found our way to each other and always will.”

“Lucky for us, huh Mama?” Elspeth said. 

Rowan chuckled, and hugged her. “Very lucky, Elsie.”

“Well,” Aelin said with a sigh, and shrugging off the weight of the conversation. “The baby is hungry and I think it’s time for afternoon tea.”

“Can we invite Uncle Fen?” FInnian asked. 

Aelin laughed at the scowl Rowan wore. “I don’t see why not. Hopefully he’s cleaned up the mess he made by now.”

“That was us, Mama,” Elspeth reminded her. 

“Yes, but he’s responsible for it,” Rowan explained as he helped Elspeth and then Finnian off the bed. “Go and find him. We’ll be along.”

The children ran from the room and it turned out that Fenrys was already there, seeing to the paint and supplies as he had promised.

“You’re going to have to help me up,” Aelin said, shuffling herself to the edge of the bed. “Your child is getting heavy.”

Rowan stood with his hands outstretched, smiling with so much adoration for her that Aelin might just end up crying again. When she was on her feet Rowan wasted no time before kissing her, long and sweet. 

“I’ll get you your robe,” Rowan offered. 

The one he chose was one of Aelin’s prettier ones, it was more like a dress than a robe. It was comfortable, and right now that’s all that truly mattered to her. Rowan held it up and Aelin turned. She was surprised by the caress over her back as Rowan traced the lines of the words he had inked into her skin.

“Do you think they understood?” He asked, sliding the robe onto one arm and then the other. 

Aelin turned to face him and tied the robe closed at the top of her bump. “As much as they could. I’m sure when they’re older they’ll have more questions.”

“And we’ll be there again, to answer them together,” Rowan said. 

“Like we always are,” Aelin said, kissing her mate. “To whatever end.”

~~~~~

This fic might be completely self indulgent by why not? Tags are still being awful

#I have one more canon week fic that's nearly done but sleep depravation is getting the better of me #rowaelin month #rowaelin month 2023

[highqueenofelfhame]

rowaelin // 5.2k words // masterlist an: i'll add tags later tonight after work, but I wanted to get this posted before i leave <;3 tw: brief mentions of abortion, language

The bathroom counter was entirely covered with various types of pregnancy tests. After the first four showed positive, Aelin had gone back to the pharmacy and bought every type they had available. HCG tests that were no more than skinny bits of paper, typical plastic ones, digital ones. Not a single one had given her the negative she was looking for. Paper results from an emergency room visit yesterday morning showed the same thing, only this time it was there in her blood. 

She hadn’t gone to the ER for pregnancy results— that would have been silly. She went at the urging of Lysandra because since finding out a few days ago, her anxiety made her symptoms even worse. Aelin hadn’t been able to keep down liquids of any sort and dehydration quickly set in. A quick prick of a needle had fluids and anti-nausea medication flowing into her bloodstream. Discharge paperwork referred her to an OBGYN and had a script written for Zofran, a stronger nausea medication so she could keep food and water down. It had become her best friend.

The thought of an abortion had crossed her mind, even in the moments before Lysandra had asked if she wanted to keep it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be a mother— she did. But it was a dream that happened after she was more settled in her career and in a fully committed relationship. Not while she was opening the second office and had so much hard work ahead of her, not when she barely knew the father. 

It wasn’t an idea she could fully entertain without talking to Rowan first, to see where he stood on it. But she already knew what her choice was, even if he didn’t want the responsibility. She would keep it. As much as her anxiety felt like walking on the wooden slats of a rickety rope bridge over a gaping canyon, a deep love was already blooming in her heart the size of a sesame seed. It would only get bigger with each passing day, that what-ifs of it all dancing behind her eyelids while she slept. 

What are you up to tonight? I’m in Doranelle and if you can swing it, I want to see you

She shot off the text and stared out her office window while she waited for a reply. It had been a lie, she wasn’t in Doranelle. But she needed to see Rowan and talk to him about everything as soon as possible. With a mind full of racing thoughts and unanswered questions, of the half truths she’d given him about her life… the only thing that could truly calm her nerves was talking it through with him. 

All yours after 6. 

A heavy sigh fell from her lips as she glanced at the time— 4:30– then rubbed at her temples. It was going to be a long night. 

~*~ 

It was the first time Aelin had been to Rowan’s house in Doranelle. All of their time had been spent at her apartment so far. In fact, she had only been over to his apartment in Varese a single time, just long enough for him to grab something before they went out on their downtown adventure. 

The apartment was nice, of course, but didn’t seem to hold a candle to the house she was parked in front of. When pulling down the long and winding driveway, her eyes darted between the numbers on the house as soon as it appeared and what she had entered into her GPS. Rowan’s SUV in the driveway assured her it was the correct home, but… 

How the hell did a man on a coach’s salary afford this house plus a luxury apartment in another major city? 

It was new construction, a contemporary home made of dark wood and ebony stone. It was nestled back off the road and surrounded by towering oak trees in every direction. Long curtains were drawn inside, hiding which rooms had walls of floor to ceiling windows. She imagined him laying on his couch after a long day with the curtains open, gazing out at the setting sun beyond the trees. 

It was beautiful. The tranquility of it was amped up to a thousand when she opened her door and stepped out. Somewhere in the tree line a stream trickled along, the soft sound of moving water enough to calm her nerves if only a little. 

Almost as soon as her toes touched the bottom step that led up to the porch, the front door swung open. Rowan grinned at her, a dish towel in his hands while he dried them. Scents of garlic, onion, rosemary, and other spices wafted out the front door. Thankfully her stomach only growled in response and didn’t have her bent  over the railing to empty her stomach into the bushes. 

“Hey, you,” he said softly, meeting her halfway across the porch. Long fingers tilted her head back so he could press a sweet kiss to her lips. 

“Hi,” she whispered back, standing on her toes to kiss him again. Rowan took her hand and led her through the door and toward the kitchen. Even though she offered, he insisted she sit at the bar while he finished dinner. 

“Wine?”

“Water, please.” Thankfully it didn’t raise any questions about why. He filled a tall glass with ice water and slid it over the counter to her before turning to resume dinner. 

“How was your day?”

“Long,” she sighed, nervous fingers drumming against her stomach. One of her legs had taken to bouncing on the wooden footrest and her breaths became shorter, more frequent. Nausea swirled in the pit of her belly but this, she knew, wasn’t morning sickness. Aelin didn’t realize she was biting her lip until she tasted metal, nor did she realize Rowan had moved to her side. 

“Hey,” his bent forefinger guided her face to look at his, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk.” Those four words, four measly syllables were all it took to douse the room in cold tension. 

“Okay.” Rowan nodded, taking a moment to turn the burners on the stove down. He guided her into the living room where he sat her down on a plush gray couch that she seemed to sink into. 

“Can I just—” Aelin leaned forward and kissed him softly, then sat back with her legs folded beneath her. As if on instinct, her hands folded in front of her stomach protectively. 

“You’re starting to frighten me.” He murmured, hand resting on her knee to give her a comforting squeeze.  Aelin wanted to laugh, and almost did. Instead she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up one of several images of her bathroom counter and handed him the device. “I’m pregnant.” 

Rowan was silent while she swallowed down her emotions, forcing everything to stay buried under an exterior mask of calm. His green eyes stared, and stared, and stared at the picture, fingers zooming in on the dozens of tests on her counter. 

“Is it mine?”

“I–” Aelin tempered her frustration. It was a valid question. If she were in his shoes, she would have been asking the same thing. “Yes. You’re the only man I’ve been with in the last year.”

It was a little embarrassing to say out loud. The last few years had been busy and she’d seldom made time for a personal life. It was exactly the kind of thing her mother was referring to when she meant that Aelin had a knack for having absolutely no work-life balance.

“How? We used protection. You’ve told me before you’re on birth control.” More valid questions that she herself had voiced to Lysandra in the minutes after taking the first few tests.

“My guess is that it broke? The condom, I mean.  I haven’t missed a single dose of my birth control. I triple checked.” Aelin’s knee began to bounce, that anxious ocean ready to swallow her up whole from not knowing the outcome of this situation. She hated not knowing things, not being able to predict how a person might respond. 

Locking the phone, he placed it on the sofa between them, a muscle feathering in his clenched jaw. Rowan didn’t meet her eyes as he stared forward and tensely asked, “Are you doing it for money.” 

“What?” She sputtered, immediately standing and crossing the room from whatever bullshit that question had been. Of all the ways she had anticipated him reacting, this had not been on the list. All of the nervous energy roiling through her quickly turned to something hot. Like some struck a match and threw it on a puddle of kerosene. 

“Are you doing it for my money?” He repeated, voice flat as he finally looked up at her. Rowan didn’t move from the couch as he stared at her, all the softness she was used to on his face gone. Any of the mirth and joy in his eyes she’d become accustomed to was gone. 

The butterflies he usually filled her stomach with had turned into white-hot rage pouring through every vein of her body. Aelin’s face was hot, eyes stinging as she did her best to force her tears away. It had been a long while since she’d become so angry that she jumped immediately to crying about it. 

Something had changed in Rowan’s face, too, as he looked at everything written across her face as plainly as if she had shouted at him. His eyes softened a little, his hands clenching against his thighs. 

“Why the fuck would I want your money?” She didn’t let him finish before saying, “Ask me what my last names are.” 

“You have more than one?” Confusion had his brows pulled together and wrinkles stacked up his forehead. Rowan stood, taking a handful of steps toward her. Aelin retreated with her fingers pressed against her stomach. “Are you married or something?”

“Ask. Me.” She demanded of him, voice and hands shaking. Tears started to fill her eyes and spill over, her skin so warm they were cool as they ran down her cheeks. Even the tips of her ears had gone crimson, evident in the way they burned beneath her hair. It was the exact opposite of how she had felt the first time she saw those two pink lines on that pregnancy test. A sea of wild, unchecked flame lived within her, pumped through her heart, burned the back of her throat, her cheeks, her ears. 

“What are your—”

“Ashryver Galathynius. My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.” Each of her names was punctuated with that fire, her entire body trembling with so many emotions at once. As much as he was into the stupid fucking sport, he would understand what it meant.

And he did. Rowan’s entire face went slack, those wrinkles disappearing from his brows, his jaw popping open. Even his arms fell motionless to his sides. 

“As in— shit.” 

“My grandfather and my father,” she added for extra clarification, so that he knew it wasn’t a distant connection. It was direct. “Ask me again if I want your fucking money,” she spit the word at him like it burned her mouth to say it. It kind of did. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that his reaction would be so callous and cold, that he would accuse her of getting knocked up for money. What fucking money? Why the fuck would she go after a teacher’s salary when her own checking account was so loaded she, and her child, would ever want for anything? 

“Aelin–” Rowan took a step forward, hand raised as he reached for her. Aelin held up a single finger and shook her head, recoiling from him.

“Don’t.”

“I need to–”

“You need to go fuck yourself, Rowan.” Her footsteps chased her like thunder rolling in for a storm, punctuated by the window-shaking slam of the front door. To give him one ounce of credit, he did follow her, but by the time he made it outside, she was already in her car, pulling a u-turn in his yard, and speeding down the driveway. Nothing but a cloud of dust remained in her wake.

In the rearview, Rowan’s form was blurry from her tears, his arms on top of his head while he watched her leave. 

~*~

It was late. Like, the bar had been closed for an hour already, late. The Neon Moon was empty, save for Rowan, Fenrys, Connall, Vaughan, and Lorcan. They had an off weekend, and a drink was desperately needed by all. When Rowan arrived at the bar half an hour before closing and pounded back enough drinks that it was almost alarming, everyone decided to linger until he started to talk. 

“Dude.” Fenrys poked his arm with an outstretched hand. The response was a slurred grumble in the old language that not even Lorcan managed to pick up.

“What’d you do?” Connall asked, bracing his arms on the counter. Rowan lifted his head, room spinning like he’d just finished doing ballerina turns. Aelin liked to dance. He hadn’t ever seen it but he could imagine her in tights and a leotard, a tutu around her waist. She probably didn’t get dizzy when doing turns. 

Nausea hit him in a wave and he took a deep breath in through his nose, out through his mouth. Closing his eyes made it even worse, so he kept them open and fixed on Connall’s face. Ballerinas did that, didn’t they? Focused on one spot so they didn’t get dizzy or fall out of their tight spins? 

As the nausea abated, he remembered holding Aelin’s hair back for her while she was sick a couple weeks ago. Neither of them knew it then, but she was pregnant. He wondered if she was still feeling sick all the time or if it was getting better every week. A frown took over his whole face, eyes dropping to focus on a dent in the counter. Someone had carved a heart there, and he wanted to scribble over it. 

“She’s pregnant.” Was all he managed to get out, trying his hardest to enunciate his words. Everyone went utterly still and silent, Lorcan moving to sit in the chair beside him. 

“Did she fucking–” he started, leaning his head down to try to look at Rowan’s face. The silver-haired man waved his friend off, shaking his head like an indignant child.

“I’m not drinking because of the baby. Or the woman.” It was true. Rowan had always wanted to be a father, it was a dream of his. Sure, it would have been nice if it happened in a more ideal way, but that wasn’t why he took so many shots as soon as he walked through the door. No, it was the look on her face when he coldly asked if she wanted money. The betrayal that slowly leached over her features, the way she bit back tears until she couldn’t anymore. “I monumentally fucked up.”

“That does usually lead to a baby,” Fen quipped, a sly smirk starting to appear on his lips. As quickly as it started to form, though, it vanished after a hard smack! against the side of his head, courtesy of Lorcan. The fair side to Connall’s dark coin groaned, blindly slapping his hand against his attacker’s shoulder. Another searing look from Lorcan had Fen’s hands falling back into his lap. 

“In what way?” Vaughan had leaned forward to see around Lorcan’s head while he spoke. The wood was cool against Rowan’s cheek as he laid his head on the bar, desperate to stop the spinning of the room. 

“She told me she was pregnant, showed me all the tests from a photo on her phone,” Rowan waved his hand toward his phone that he frowned at, “And then I asked her if she did it for money.”

“Oh, you bloody wanker,” Fenrys mumbled, shaking his head. The man in question was sitting up on the counter, legs dangling over the edge. His foot twitched like he debated kicking him in the knee. Rowan wouldn’t have blamed him. He deserved worse than that. 

“It’s a valid question.” Lorcan’s voice was sharp enough that Fenrys twisted his mouth to the side, eyes narrowed like he might disagree with him, but wouldn’t to avoid further physical injury. Instead, he offered a shrug of his shoulders and kept his mouth firmly shut as Rowan laid his head back down. Something was damp beneath his cheek, cooling his whiskey-hot skin. 

“It really wasn’t. Not when she told me that Ciaran Ashryver is her grandfather and Rhoe Galathynius is her godsdamn father,” Rowan growled. His anger and irritation was pointed to no one but himself. “She doesn’t need my money. I’m pretty sure she still thinks I’m a soccer coach because she was absolutely mind boggled that I’d even ask her such a thing. I don’t even know why I asked, either. The fear of it all, of–”

“Her father is Rhoe Galathynius?” Lorcan cut in, and Rowan wanted to kiss his forehead for cutting off that spiral. 

“Yep,” he replied, the p sound popping more than it normally would. And her cousin is Aedion bloody Ashryver! How did I not see it? They look nearly like twins! They have the same face!” Rowan shouted, palm slapping against the counter between each revelation. Fenrys jolted, eyes widening as he slipped off the bar and an entire seat away. Rowan was too drunk to shoot him an apologetic look for coming so close to his leg. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out,” Connall said smoothly, grabbing an empty glass and filling it with water. 

“Are you telling me you fucking knew?” Rowan said through clenched teeth, lifting his head so he felt like he was seeing the room through a kaleidoscope. Despite the whirling of the world, he met his friend's gaze. A bit of mirth twinkled in Connall’s eyes, a match for the anger in Rowan’s own head on. Clearly Connall only had loyalty to his brother and himself, if he just threw Rowan to the wolves like that.

“I didn’t know her exact relation, I just assumed. They look too much alike to be anything else. Did I know she was a football princess? No, but she knew too much about the sport when you talked, I figured she was involved in some way.” With a shrug of his shoulders, Connall slid the water toward Rowan. “And she definitely doesn’t know who you are. Earlier this week she was asking me if the boys had any games this weekend because she wanted to see you but didn’t want to interfere with your coaching. She’s never pried about what you do for a living, always took it at face value and assumed you were being honest.”

“I want another drink,” Rowan grumbled.

That was the other thing, wasn’t it? Sure, she had been lying. But so had he. In that initial moment of shock, where he felt like history could be repeating all over again, he’d lost it. Deep down, he knew that wasn’t the case. How timid and nervous she was, how sick she had been, the evidence in the picture of dozens of tests covering her bathroom counter. Rowan had seen it all with his own two eyes and still taken the shitty, cold, asshole route. 

If he was being honest, at the time it felt like the easier road to take. Aelin clearly had a temper hiding under her skin, though. Those remarkable eyes of hers had glowed with the anger he sparked. It had been fire in her eyes, white hot and raging. Maybe it had been the light playing off the tears that welled in her eyes, making her eyes glitter, but he had never seen anyone quite so angry, or quite so devastatingly beautiful. 

That was the mother of his child. A stunning, spit-fire of a woman that it was all too easy to imagine a future with. A life with. Even before finding out about the baby Rowan had imagined ways he could make the long distance work when she went back to Orynth in a few months. Now, it felt stupid. A bomb had been detonated and it was entirely his fault. Because he was the bomb. Ruining everything good that touched him. 

Perhaps he should have been drunk when she delivered the news. Drunk Rowan would never have said that to her. 

“She’s so pretty,” he mumbled aloud, finger dipping into the puddle his ice glass made and beginning to write her name across the bar. Lorcan nudged his shoulder, shaking his head. Right. That was pathetic. Rowan Whitethorn was not pathetic. To prove it, he picked up the glass of whiskey Connall handed him and downed it in one go. 

“I can’t believe you asked Aelin Galathynius if she wanted money.” It seemed that Fen could no longer  restrain his smart mouth. His chest shook with suppressed laughter. “Hate to break it you, mate, but I’m pretty sure–”

“Fenrys,” Lorcan growled, immediately shutting the pup up. Even the laughter in his face was quick to die off. Drunk Rowan was grateful for it. Right now he was toeing the line of punch first, ask questions later. “Let’s get you home. We’ll start to figure this out tomorrow.”

Despite his words, Lorcan still sounded tense. Like he, too, was clenching his jaw with frustration. Rowan imagined it had to do with him not believing Aelin, thinking she knew and was chasing his money or fame. That didn’t make sense, though. Drunk or sober, it didn’t make sense for her to want his money or his fame.

Rowan’s mind wandered on the drive home. If she wanted the fame, it would be easy enough for her to get it on her own. Rowan had learned in the hours after she left that if she had wanted to, she could have been a socialite. She certainly didn’t need Rowan’s help.

Back when she attended matches there were hundreds of pictures of her cheering in her family’s suite, of her on the field offering the players high fives, of her family out to dinner. If it was fame she wanted, she already had a clear shot at it. Besides, she was already a national treasure to Terrasen. The following she on the Fireheart social media pages and her personal instagram alone was more than some of his teammates had. 

Money didn’t make sense either. She was on good terms with her parents and after minimal digging he discovered she wasn’t teaching dance and piano. Maybe she did sometimes, but recently her name and picture had been scattered through the headlines because she was opening a new office for her foundation that she founded, the Fireheart Foundation. There were already multiple locations throughout Terrasen targeting underprivileged youth, to enhance the art programs both in and out of school. Now she was doing it in Varese, her mother’s home city. 

Aelin didn’t need money. She didn’t need fame. It wasn’t about any of that, and he fucking blew it by being a coldhearted bastard.

“Thank you for the ride,” Rowan slurred to Lorcan, who was probably his best friend all things considered. Maybe he should tell him that. Of all the people in the world, Lorcan was usually easiest for Rowan to talk to. He seemed to understand him a little better than the others, even if they were all pretty close. Rowan decided then that if he ever got married, if he could fix this thing with Aelin, Lorcan would be his best man. Yes. That was an excellent decision. 

Rowan hauled himself out of Lorcan’s car, feet stumbling on the street. He barely caught himself from face-planting on the sidewalk, recovering by swinging himself around a street sign and throwing a mock salute toward Lorcan to indicate that he might have stumbled, but he was good. He didn’t need help. Rowan had this.

 His best friend looked at him drily, quirking an eyebrow as Rowan turned to walk to the door and–

Walked directly into the marble exterior of his apartment building. Double over, Rowan rubbed at his stinging face to ease the pain. A glance at his fingers told them there was no blood. Thank the gods he didn’t break his nose.

“For fucks sake,” Lorcan’s voice was suddenly a hiss in his ear, throwing Rowan’s limp arm around his shoulders.

“You’re really fast, y’know that? And tall. You’re gonna dislocate my shoulder,” He slurred, eyes focused on the ground so he could get one foot in front of the other. Lorcan told him to shut the fuck up and walk. Wisely, Rowan did. 

By the time Lorcan half-carried him up to his apartment and dropped him unceremoniously into bed, he was saying silent prayers to whatever god that would listen for him to be able to fix what he had so easily shattered.

~*~

“I know we’re anti-Rowan right now, but I want to know what my niece or nephew is going to look like.” Aelin gave her bestfriend flat look through the camera, but Lys merely shrugged her shoulders. The angle of her phone changed and Aelin knew she was on the hunt. Honestly, she should work for government security. The woman could find anything on anybody. “What’s his last name?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t ever find the right moment to tell him what mine were, and his just never came up. I never asked.” Aelin rolled onto her side in her bed, frowning at just how puffy her eyes were from crying the last several days. It was ridiculous. If he wanted to be a prick about it, fine. Aelin didn’t need him. It would have been nice, but… 

No. That thought was quickly tucked away elsewhere, somewhere at the back of her mind where it wouldn’t pick and poke at her sensitive emotions until she cried. 

“What did you say he does? A teacher?”

“Soccer coach in Doranelle. He doesn’t have social media as far as I’m aware. I’ve never seen the apps or anything on his phone.” Rowan didn’t give off social media vibes, either. It was hard to imagine him coming up with a witty caption for a vacation photo, or having the desire to post pictures of his life at all. 

“Rowan, Soccer, Doranelle. Lets see what that gives us,” Lys hummed, fingers flying furiously across the screen. From this point of view, Aelin had a great shot up her nose. If she wasn’t feeling so morose she would screenshot it and save it for a rainy day. “Oh my– Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.”

At her full name, Aelin propped herself up on an elbow, frowning down into her phone as she said, “What?” 

“Rowan Whitethorn. Google that and tell me if that’s him.”

“Why does Whitethorn sound familiar?” It both was and wasn’t a question for Lysandra. It was definitely tinkling a bell somewhere in her brain, the name. And as soon as she typed it in and pressed search, she understood why. “No fucking way.”

“That might be why he asked if you wanted money,” Lys said. Millions of search results came back. Photos, articles, interviews, the works. Thousands upon thousands of pictures loaded when she hit the images tab, and her jaw nearly hit the floor. 

Pictures of Rowan in a dark blue uniform with Doranelle’s logo across the chest, a number seven and his name across the back. Images of him from the side, his silver hair french braided with the rest pulled into a bun. There were pictures of him held on his teammates shoulders, of Rowan making a match-ending goal, Rowan squirting water into his mouth on the sidelines. 

“He’s got personal interest in the game, is all,” Connall had told her that first night. A vague memory of Rowan giving the bartender a flat look entered her mind briefly as she closed the tabs and looked back at her best friend’s face. 

“Why is the soccer world so incestuous?” Lys asked her, laughter in her voice.

“It’s not funny,” she hissed back, but there was no bite to it. Maybe it would be a little funny in a few days. There was no doubt in her mind that Aedion and her parents would find it absolutely hilarious. 

“The money thing makes sense now, though.”

“It does,” Aelin agreed, rubbing the heel of her palm into her eye. “But I thought what we had was different. Regardless… even if I had known about all of this I wouldn’t have thought he would react that way.”

“Maybe it’s happened before. Maybe you need to hear him out and let him explain.” 

She did and she knew it. The shift in his behavior happened so suddenly, had blindsided her entirely. It had to mean there was a reason for him to snap like that. It still pained her heart and soul, though. Even if he had the best reason in the world, it didn’t take away the betrayal and hurt she had felt. 

At the same time, she felt silly for feeling so upset. They barely knew each other. Of course he would be cautious of her motivations. It made sense. If it had been going on for longer, would his reaction have been more mild? Would it have been sweet kisses and promises that things would be okay? Did Rowan even want kids? Probably not, given the status he currently held in the soccer world. The man showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon. A baby would just complicate that. 

“That baby is going to be the most beautiful fucking thing.” Lys may have been mostly talking to herself, but Aelin found her lips tipping up at the corners because it was true. It would be. 

Almost against her own will, her fingers pulled up Rowan’s text thread. He sent dozens of messages throughout the week. Most of them were begging for a conversation, asking if he could call her. Some of them from last night made no sense whatsoever, words strung together in a way that made her believe he was drunk. There were six in a row from last night in the old language. If she had been able to read around the typos, maybe she could figure out what they said. The spelling was so badly butchered, though, that some were different words altogether. Complete gibberish, utter word salad. 

Then there was the single one he sent her today that simply read: I’m sorry. For all of it.

There had been other apologies that requested the chance for him to explain, but none of them felt quite as barren and hopeless as this one did. Almost like he was ready to throw in the towel if she didn’t want to speak to him ever again. Though she was angry, it didn’t sit well with her. Maybe she felt a flicker of anger in her chest because he hadn’t been willing to fight for her for more than a few days, or maybe it was because she was frustrated he would stop because he believed it was what she wanted. Either way, she didn’t like it. 

It was then that she decided she would give herself a few more days. A few days to process the pregnancy, his reaction, her counter-reaction, all of it. And then maybe… maybe she would be ready to talk. 

#rowaelin #tog #throne of glass #tog fanfiction #tog fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin baby fic #baby fic #writing #my writing #ciwyw4 #ciwyw #call it what you want #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #fanfiction

[manonblaqkbeak]

Time With You

Hello everybody, happy 2024!!! I'm on annual leave (that i took to read hofas lmao) and decided to use this time to right this fic that has been in the back of my head for monthsssss but i hate using my laptop so never got around to writing it until now.

it does start out with Aedion's POV, something i dont think ive ever done, but it ends with Aelin's as this is a rowaelin story lol

as always, hope you enjoy!!

cw: brief mentions of death/grief, arobynn hamel being a POS. but otherwise its purely fluff bc i love human au rowaelin fluff

word count: 1500+

Aedion couldn't stop staring at his cousin—which sounded strange, but he had a very good reason for why his eyes were glued to his cousin; Rowan Whitethorn's hand was on her bare thigh.

And why was it on her bare thigh? He had no idea.

Aedion was aware that they were talking more, had become friends instead of constantly bickering, but he wasn't at all aware that their friendship had moved to the point where Rowan was resting his hand on Aelin's thigh.

And Aelin seemed to like the fact that it was there. He knew his cousin as if she was his sister—if she didn't want that touch, then she would remove it and bite Rowan's head off. It wasn't like she was a stranger doing that. One of their first conversations when Aelin had started at Orynth University had been a verbal spat; Rowan bumped into her and when Aelin asked for an apology, Rowan claimed that she had been in the way and that she should apologise to him.

And so that one conversation started years worth of petty arguments and forced proximity due to Aedion's friendship with the silver-haired man.

“Stop staring,” Lysandra hissed under her breath.

Aedion turned to his fiancee, and frowned. “How long has that been going on for?” He hoped that his cousin and Rowan couldn't hear him. All of their friends were at their local pub, the best way to catch up these days, the air outside in the courtyard refreshing after being inside a stuffy office. And when everyone got there, they had found that Rowan and Aelin were already there, occupying a tall table with stools—with only enough room for the both of them. And when everyone else went to the long benches that they always sat at, Aelin and Rowan stayed at their own table, talking amongst themselves.

“They've been talking for a while,” Lysandra said, her emerald green eyes sparkling from the warm fairy-lights strung up around the place.

Aedion's frown deepened. “What does that mean?”

Just then, Rowan stood up, the menu from the restaurant behind them in his hand, his wallet in his other and he leaned over and kissed Aelin on her cheek.

Aelin's smile was brighter than the sun.

“Since when does Rowan kiss Aelin?” Aedion asked his eyes about to drop out from their sockets and his confusion growing even more. He and Aelin were as close as siblings, but he could admit to himself that he did feel a little hurt that Aelin hadn't told him of this development.

With Rowan out of sight, Lysandra and Elide shot up out of their seats and made their way towards Aelin. Aedion followed after them, even though Elide said, “Women only, cousin.” Aedion didn't listen and stood next to Lysandra, patiently waiting for his cousin to speak.

XXXXX

It was a little embarrassing to admit it, even to herself, but with the moment Rowan put his hand on her bare thigh, all thoughts but one disappeared.

Aelin liked Rowan, a lot.

And when Rowan got up to order their dinner—and was insisting on paying for her—Aelin forgot that all their friends were only a few feet away, that there were strangers surrounding them, that live music was being played, but when he got up and left, and her friends and cousin were in front of her, asking question after question, Aelin had to mentally slap herself out of the stupor she found herself in and asked Aedion to repeat his question, but only because he was the one who spoke last.

“Are you and Rowan dating?”

“No, not yet.” And Gods, maybe it sounded pathetic, which she hated sounding, but she hoped that they would soon move on from this weird-limbo thing that found themselves in and would start seeing each other properly.

“When did you start liking him like that?”

Aelin shrugged, if only because it was too long of a story to get into right now. “I'll message you about it later.”

Aedion raised his eyebrow. “You promise?”

Aelin huffed a laughed when he extended his pinkie finger, his fathers ring gleaming in the fairy-lights. “I promise,” she said, wrapping her pinkie around his. “Now go, all of you, Rowan's coming back.” They all rolled their eyes at her, but did what she said and soon, Aelin found herself face-to-face with Rowan again.

XXXXX

Aelin was glad she left her car at her apartment, finding that the evening was nice and breezy without being too cold, because it meant that Rowan walked her home and held her hand the entire time. Her smile was so wide she knew that she would still feel it hours later.

Gods, she couldn't remember the last time she had been so...giddy about someone. Maybe in the beginning stages with Chaol, before their relationship fizzled out and they both realised that they were better off as friends (and they very much were; sometimes it was like they never dated for two years and lived together for one).

But this beginning with Rowan, it felt different. She didn't want to think too much of it, but Aelin...she thought to herself that it would be very easy to fall in love with him. How funny life was to go from heavily disliking him, to holding his hand weeks after she found in the park near the beach, his eyes teary as he sat in silence, his grief consuming him over the death of his late girlfriend, Lyria.

Aelin found herself at that same park due to her own grief over the deaths of her parents. They had been gone for years and years, but the time living under the harsh and cruel roof of her foster parent, Arobynn Hamel, still lingered, may always linger, as her therapist told her, but it was up to Aelin to decide what to do with those emotional and mental scars.

And they found themselves talking about their grief, their lives and wishes for their futures. He walked her home after that as well, and their friendship had changed after that, for which she was very grateful for—that there was someone else like her that dealt with dark thoughts and feelings, but was fighting each day to overcome them.

Shaking off the thought, Aelin blinked and realised that she and Rowan were just a couple of moments away from the front doors of her apartment building.

Rowan dropped her off at her front door, the scent of her favourite diffuser—camellia and lotus flower—greeting her as she opened her front door. Rowan cleared his throat and Aelin turned to him.

“It's your weekend off, isn't it?” he asked, his Doranelle accent still quite thick even after living in Terrasen for years now.

“Yes.” She was assistant manager of Havilliard Books. She and Dorian, one of her oldest friends and store manager, long ago worked out a schedule that worked amazingly for them both. And not only was she assistant manager, but she handled their stores personal Instagram page, and because Dorian's father owned the multiple stores throughout the continent, Dorian made sure that she received extra payment for keeping their page up to date and inviting.

“Did you have any plans this weekend?”

“No, I'm free all day.” She usually reserved Sunday for an apartment clean, but fuck that. She could clean later.

Rowan smile, his facial tattoo crinkling slightly. It was a work of art, that tattoo, the Old Language of Doranelle was stark against his golden-tanned skin.

“How about I finally take you out on a proper date? Starting from the moment I arrive here tomorrow morning and it ending whenever you want?”

Aelin's smile grew impossibly more. “I would very much like that.”

Rowan's smile grew too. “Good, then I'll see you tomorrow, Aelin. I am very much looking forward to it.”

Aelin reached up and kissed his cheek like he had kissed hers earlier. “I'll see you tomorrow. Thank you for walking me home. Goodnight, Rowan.”

“Goodnight, Aelin, I'll see you tomorrow, how does nine sound?”

“That sounds good.” And as an early riser—even on her days off—it would give her plenty of time to get ready.

“Okay, I'll see you then.” He kissed the top of her hand, reminding her of her favourite romance stories and waited until she was inside and locked the door behind her to leave.

A whoosh of air left Aelin and she found herself humming to her favourite classical pieces. She did end up cleaning her apartment, finding that she had too much energy to have a shower and go to bed, and as she cleaned, she called Aedion, telling her cousin of her budding relationship with Rowan. Her cousin was ecstatic for her, even as he promised to kick his arse if Rowan hurt her—although Aelin told her meddlesome cousin that she could very much do that herself, as she took self-defense classes at her gym and had the toned and muscled body to prove it.

Afterwards, as she lay in bed, she and Rowan texted each other until Aelin's eyes started drooping, her last message only half-written, but she fell asleep with a smile on her face, ready for tomorrow.

#rowaelin #my work #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction

[danikamariewrites]

hiii i was wondering if you’d be willing to write s part 2 to cardigan, the one with elorcans daughter, Diana x rowaelins daughter but now where they are faced with a threat and they’re alone so they have to fight alone. Something happenes and Diana almost gets hurt but reader takes the blow instead and Diana is heartbroken. the parents know something is wrong immedietly so they check on their daughters. They find reader almost dead and they heal her. Diana is distraught bc she feels like her soul is being crushed and they realize the mating bond is there🥲🥹 reader wakes up and Diana hugs her and cries and it’s all so fluffy. I just know Elorcan would have so much respect for reader after this, for anyone, getting Lorcans approval is damn near impossible but since reader is so close to them and especially after this, he approves. a little fluff moment with Elorcan

Anything For Her

Elorcan daughter x Rowaelin daughter!reader

A/n: not me liking this better than cardigan 🫣

You can read Cardigan here :)

Warnings: violence, blood and gore,

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission. Just you, Diana, and your brother Sam. The small group of Dark Soldiers had spotted you and just started an all out assault on the three of you.

From a few feet next to Diana, you watched one of the last soldiers standing nock an arrow in his bow and aim for your girlfriend. Panic floods through you. You act before thinking. The only thing on your mind was protecting Diana.

As the soldier let the arrow fly you dove in front of Diana. The arrow found home in your stomach. You fell to your knees clutching at the wound. The world went quiet before you hit the ground, closing your eyes. It hurt so much. This pain was unbearable.

You swear you heard a primal scream come from Diana’s throat. You wanted her near you. Needed her to hold you as the pain consumed you. You try to call out for her but your lips feel heavy. As your vision goes dark you hear Diana scream again.

Diana watched you fall to your knees and she saw red. Rage consumed her entire body as she launched herself in the direction of the soldier who shot the arrow. Drawing her sword back, Diana ran and didn’t stop until she swung. The man’s head rolling in the grass.

Skidding to a stop her chest heaves. Blood coated the grass as the man’s body fell with a thud. Diana turned taking in the small battle field around her. Then Sam over your body. He had his hands over your stomach to help staunch the bleeding wound.

Dianna wasted no time grabbing you and getting back on her horse. She rode faster than she ever had before, pushing Flicka to her limit. She didn’t look to see if Sam was behind them. She had to get you to a healer. To your father. She can’t lose you, she just can’t.

Riding right up to the palace doors Diana dismounts gently pulling you with her. “Help! Get the King! Call for a healer! Help!” She screams at the top of her lungs. Sam came rushing in the open doors. Rowan and Aelin quickly followed by Elide and Lorcan came sprinting into the entry hall.

With wide eyes your father took you into his arms yelling out orders as he took you to a spare room. Diana followed as healers rushed around you, your family standing off to the side with Elide and Lorcan. Sam clings to his mother apologizing over and over again.

Diana felt something in her chest fading. Like her heart was slowing down. Her eyes landed on your chest which was rising slower and slower with each breath. Diana feels something clench at her heart, then a tug in her chest as your hand twitches toward her.

“No,” she whispers. “NO! You have to save her! Save my mate!” The room is stunned into silence. Lorcan and Rowan share a pained look. Aelin sniffs the air and lets out a gasp. Elide clings to Aelin’s arm as they just stare at you. Diana won’t stop yelling at the healers and they need to concentrate. Rowan points his chin at the door and Lorcan lifts his daughter, dragging her out in the hall.

She fought her father every step of the way. Hitting, kicking, and screaming at Lorcan to be let back in the room. To be by your side as the healers worked.

Lorcan had never seen his sweet Diana like this. She’s usually rational, all think first act later. But this…this was the mating bond. He pinned her to the wall holding her arms to her sides. “Diana stop! Listen to me!” At her fathers sharp tone she stopped struggling. Her long black hair half in her face, hiding her tear stained cheeks.

“You need to let Rowan and the healers do their jobs. You screaming like a maniac will not help y/n. I know you want to be with her but it’s best you do not go back in that room, understand?” Diana slowly nods and crumples into her fathers chest. She lets out a wail that dies into broken sobs.

Clutching at her heart she sends love down the bond to you. Sending images of your sweet memories like your first kiss, sneaking around the castle, making up after your first fight. Lorcan held his eldest daughter as she cried. Hell, he even started crying. He never wanted his baby girl to feel this way ever. If he could get in there and heal you himself he would.

Hours later Rowan comes into the hall. Aelin immediately embraces him. “Is she?” The Queen whispers to her husband, “Yes. She’s going to be out for a while but she’s going to be fine.”

Everyone visibly relaxed. You were safe and Diana could breathe again. She felt the bond hum to life again.

Your father moved you to your room once you were more stable. Diana refused to leave your side until you woke up. She fell asleep with her head on your thigh while sitting in an armchair next to your bed. When you stirred the next morning Diana shot up.

“Y/n/n! Oh thank the gods, baby I was so worried.” Diana flings her arms around your neck as you groan from her slight weight. She pulls back, holding your face in her hands. It was clear she had been crying for hours. “Never. Ever. Do that again.”

You lay your hand over hers, turning your head to kiss her palm. “I’m sorry I worried you. But I couldn’t let that guy hurt you.” Both your eyes line with silver. “I can’t believe you’re my mate.” You whisper, smiling like a love sick fool at Diana. Her lips crash onto yours in a loving and passionate kiss. “I can’t either.” Diana whispers back against your lips.

Before you could pull Diana into bed with you, your door creaked open. Your mother and father poked their heads in. “Hey sweetie,” Aelin says softly. She rushes over to your bed resting a hand on your forehead. “Hi mom.” She shakes her head lovingly at you.

“You scared us half to death.” “I’m sorry mom, I just…all I saw was Di in danger and had to save her.” Rowan stepped up next to Aelin. “While your mother and I are upset we are happy for you and Diana. I understand the feeling.” He smiled down at you as he gripped your hand.

From the doorway Lorcan clears his throat. “Sorry to break up the reunion. Can I have a moment with y/n?” Your parents and Diana look between you and Lorcan. You nod reassuringly at them. Diana seems hesitant to leave. “I’ll be fine.” You say to her. “I’ll be in the hall,” she grimaces at her father who raises a dark eyebrow at her.

Lorcan sits in the arm chair next to your bed. He looks at you with a dark gaze, like he’s dissecting you. “I know your parents and Diana have already told you what you did was reckless and dangerous. Let me tell you what I saw.” You tilt your head curiously against your pillow. “I saw someone who cares about my daughter put their life on the line to protect her. I would always tell Elide that no matter who Diana dated no one would be good enough for my little girl. Not even her mate.”

You had no idea why Lorcan was giving you this speech now. If he was here to tell you he didn’t want you and Diana to accept the bond he could at least give you the courtesy of fully recovering first. You were about to tell him that when his next words shocked you. “But I take that all back now. I know you really care about each other and you more than proved that. And will have the scar for eternity to show her as well. Thank you, y/n.”

He got up to leave. As Lorcan was half way across the room you called out, “So does this mean we have your blessing. Because you were the one we were worried about.” Lorcan smirks at you over his shoulder. “I thought I made myself clear,” And leaves.

#throne of glass #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass fic #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass angst #throne of glass fluff #elrocan #Rowaelin #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius

[house-of-galathynius]

Every Step of the Way

Based off the prompt sent to @rowaelinprompts from @morganofthewildfire

“I don’t know what to do.” // “We’ll figure it out.” 

I thought I’d keep in line with a lot of the fics I’ve been seeing about Rowaelin pregnant and it was making me want more of them, so I couldn’t help myself but write a little pregnancy one-shot! Mostly fluff 😊

Word count: 2k 

~ 

Aelin hadn’t been able to look at it any longer. She had given the test one look and walked straight out of the bathroom and then paced the length of her bedroom before finally sitting on the edge of her bed. 

The test haunted her as she glanced every so often into the bathroom, seeing the little white stick sitting there. She had been unable to call Rowan or go downstairs to face her parents— because they would know something was wrong as soon as she went down. So instead she remained hiding in her room until she could pluck up the courage to do something.

She couldn’t pretend to be shocked or clueless about how this had happened. She knew very well how she had gotten pregnant. In fact, she was almost ninety-nine percent certain she could recall the exact night it had happened. Her parents had been away on a business trip and she had thrown a party— at first it was just a few people— but then somehow there were plus ones of plus ones and her house had been thrown into chaos. But Aelin had never been one to shy away from a good party, so she had continued to supply the drinks and the music and let her hair down. You couldn’t celebrate your final year of high school every day, after all. 

Rowan had moved to Orynth midway through the school year. He had been a broody, hard-to-read guy who had mostly kept to himself. Aelin never really conversed with him, not until they were made to be partners in English and had consequently become friends— of a sort. Aelin kind of liked his quiet, broody nature. It was so different to her own, but in a weird way it made them all the more compatible. The project had lasted only two weeks, but even after that Aelin started to seek him out to talk about the band they both loved or their favourite TV show, the both of them slipping seamlessly into a friendship. And that’s all it had been. Friends. 

Until the party. 

Despite the alcohol, Aelin wasn’t drunk. She usually left that to Aedion or Lysandra. She had really spent most of her evening conversing with various people and trying not to let her eyes wander to him. 

Rowan had been hiding in a corner all evening, judging everyone. Especially the girls who were desperate for his attention and affection. She’d caught him staring at her a few times and had eventually motioned for him to follow. 

Aelin had led him to her room, where the music was muted and she could hear herself think. It was the first time Rowan had been inside her house and her room, and she watched him with interest as he wandered around, picking up things and then putting them down, smiling at pictures she had stuck to her walls and rolling his eyes at band posters and merch that dotted her shelves. 

“You know you’re eighteen, right? This stuff is marketed to kids.” He had said to her, laughter in his voice. Aelin had rolled her eyes and strode over to him before yanking the little figurine from his hand. She remembered the moment that their hands touched, the feel of his calloused skin, the way his fingers had curled over her own as she had tried to take the figure from him. That moment was like a burst of realisation that this person was starting to feel like more than a friend to her. 

The feeling had been so out of the blue, hitting her like a ton of bricks that Aelin had staggered back a step. Perhaps it had been the alcohol or it was the dim lighting of the room… but Rowan had followed her every step, and with such gentleness, placed his hand on her cheek. His thumb stroking across her skin and she shivered at the touch, but unable to look away from his eyes. His beautiful green eyes. 

She remembered the quickness of her heart and the heat in both their eyes as Aelin had moved in close to him and rose on her toes to place a soft kiss on his cheek. Then tilting her head in offer. Can I kiss you? 

And that had been that. Rowan had devoured her in the bed, and then on the floor and then in the shower. The two of them utterly obsessed with the taste and feel of each other. They explored all of the other, kissing and licking, laughing… and in the morning she had woken with Rowan’s arm draped loosely across her hip, her body curved into his. 

She didn’t regret it at all. In fact, that night had spurred on the greatest relationship she had ever had— and hoped she would ever have. It had taken only weeks for her to fall in love with him. He was the brightest part of her day, the person she craved to be near all the time. She loved every second of being with him. He was the other half of her heart and she could not imagine wanting anyone else the way she did him. 

But now, sitting on her bed, she wasn’t sure if Rowan would feel the same. 

They were eighteen. They had plans for their lives: university, travelling, finding a career. Rowan had been accepted into one of the most prestigious universities in the country, he had internships lined up… What teenager would sacrifice all of that for a whirlwind romance? 

Aelin supposed she would get her answer in the next few moments as she heard the familiar sound of Rowan’s voice and her father welcoming him in. Even when she hadn’t spoken to him, he always knew when something was wrong. 

Aelin took in a few shaky breaths and stood. She smoothed down her clothes and then rung her hands together nervously as she waited for him to come in. 

The door opened slowly and he entered, a smile on his face. “Hey, Fireheart.” 

It took her a moment to summon words, but eventually managed a smile and a quiet, “hey.” 

Rowan noticed the subdued tone, and dropped his bag on the floor, coming over to her in two strides and cupping her face. “What is it?” 

Aelin stepped away from his touch and shook her head sadly. “Rowan…” She wiped a tear from her cheek, the reality of the situation hitting her. “I—“

He waited for her to speak. But no words good enough would find her. She opened her mouth and closed it before she ran a hand down her face and attempted to regulate her breathing. 

“Aelin, you’re kind of scaring me.” 

She closed her eyes and tried to silence the intrusive thoughts. Trying to find some semblance of calm. “We need to talk.” She said eventually. 

It was Rowan’s turn to look slightly afraid and he furrowed his brows in worry. “Are you breaking up with me? Because if you are, you don’t need to say it. I can just leave.” He rambled on. 

If Aelin wasn’t feeling so sick to her stomach with terror and worry, she might have been able to laugh at his jumping to conclusions. Except all she could manage this time was a shake of her head, “no. I’m not breaking up with you.” 

He sighed in relief. “What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“Sit down.” She said, “please.” 

Rowan did as she asked and perched on the edge of her desk chair.

She knew she was going to tell him, but she hadn’t exactly figured out the precise words. Considering she had only found out herself less than two hours ago, it was no surprise he was struggling. But no matter what she thought of, nothing seemed to fit right. Just blurting it out was too impersonal— too abrupt. But telling him the story about their first night together was too much like she was explaining how making babies worked. The problem was that Aelin knew it didn’t matter how she told him, that had never been the problem. It was that she had no fucking clue how he would react, and that scared her the most. 

“Aelin?” 

Okay. She just had to do it. “I took a test earlier.” She paused to see if he caught on, but nothing had seemed to have registered yet. “A pregnancy test.” She confirmed. 

His eyes went wide, “a pregnancy test?” 

She nodded. “I’ve been feeling weird the last few days. Nauseous, headaches…” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Aelin shrugged again. “I didn’t think anything of it at first. But then I checked my period tracker this morning and, well,” she sighed, turning to walk into her bathroom and picking up the test. She returned to the room and handed it to Rowan with shaky hands, “it’s positive.” 

Rowan didn’t say anything for a moment. He just stared at the test; at those two little pink lines that have just changed the course of their entire lives. “How accurate are—“ 

“Rowan, I’m almost one hundred percent sure that it’s correct.” 

“Fuck.” He murmured. 

Aelin stepped back. Her chest constricting as his response sunk in. She didn’t know what she had been expecting. It wasn’t like she had hoped there would be some big declaration of love, or a spur of the moment marriage proposal— not that she really wanted that now anyway. But she had hoped for something more… comforting. And it was probably the hormones and the shock, but she fell back onto her bed, the tears starting to come faster now. She put her head in her hands and sniffed, trying to calm her erratic breathing. 

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed, “I’m so so sorry.” 

Rowan was on his feet in seconds, coming to kneel in front of her. “Hey. No. Don’t do that. Do not apologise. I’m sorry, Aelin.” He took her hands, pulling them gently away from her face, “I didn’t think of what I was saying… I just, this is a shock.”

Aelin nodded. “I know. Gods, I know.” She cried. 

Rowan wiped her tears away. “It’ll be okay, Aelin.” 

“I don’t know what to do.” She whispered. 

“We’ll figure it out. Together.” Rowan replied softly. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m like super in love with you, Fireheart. You will never ever be alone, I have no plans on ever leaving you. And if you choose to keep this baby I will be here every single step of the way. And if you choose to not… even then. We’ll figure this out.” Rowan kissed her hands and smiled encouragingly at her. 

“But what about uni? What about all the plans—“ 

Rowan kissed her palm, “I have savings, we can get an apartment off-campus. I can work on the weekends. If you want to have this baby then I will support you. There are options, Aelin.” 

“I can’t do that to you.” 

Rowan shook his head, almost in anger. “That’s not for you to decide. I want to help. So let me.” 

Finally, she nodded. The anxiousness and terror that she felt was still there, simmering beneath her skin. She knew that the future would be hard, that having a kid so young would bring about countless hardships— but Rowan was there, he was going to stay. Though their relationship was new, she felt it deep in her bones that he would never betray her, never lie to her.

“Okay.” 

Rowan smiled then, relieved. “We can get married if that’s what you want. I’ll start looking at apartments and jobs and—“ 

Aelin chuckled, “how about we start with telling our parents first?”

Rowan ran a hand through his hair and laughed nervously. “Probably a good idea.” 

“You’re sure about this?” She said going up to him and winding her arms around his waist. 

Rowan mimicked her movement and then kissed her forehead. “I know that I want to be with you.” He smiled, “and if that includes having a little version of us… then I say bring it on.” 

~

Tag List: 

@morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @fredweasleyhasadhd @luckyrunawaycheesecake @live-the-fangirl-life  @fireheart-violet  @charlizeed @scarblx @xo-fangirl-xo  @wordsafterhours @jesstargaryenqueen @sailorsassley @sjmships @endlessdaydream @aflickeringsoul @tillyrubes10 @rowaelin-cressworth @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @rowaelinismyotp @rosegoldannie @maryberry @viajandosinalas @becarefuloflove @allthebooksunderthemoon @sheharahu @swankii-art-teacher @superspiritfestival @becarefuloflove @tanvee1231 @viajandosinalas @backtobl4ck @emily-gsh​ @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart​ @becarefuloflove​ @goddess-aelin @thegreyj​ @leiawritesstories​

#rowaelin #rowaelin fic #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan #aelin #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin prompts #rowan whitethorn #rowan whitethorn galathynius #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin ashryver #one-shot #prompts #every step of the way

[theladyofdeath]

Hello, lovely writer!!

Would you be willing to do a Rowaelin where there’s this giant romantic surprise (of your choosing) Rowan’s been planning for weeks

Valentines, anniversary, just because he can.

No pressure if you don’t like it.

A/N: I had a thousand ideas for this one, but I decided to keep it simple. I hope you enjoy! x Warnings: language

Everything was set, ready.

Rowan knew because he'd checked ten times and then once more for good measure. Although a cliche to propose to your girlfriend on Valentine's Day, Rowan thought it would surprise Aelin the most, considering he often ranted about how much he hated romantic cliches.

Gods, he was nervous.

Rowan was standing on a rooftop, surrounded by lanterns, string lights, and white rose petals. He was dressed in a suit that was way too expensive. He'd bought it that morning and physically flinched when he swiped his card, but he looked pretty damn good, so it was worth it.

At least, that's what Lysandra convinced him of.

Now he stood alone, waiting. Lysandra was supposed to pick Aelin up for a group date, where they would meet Rowan and Aedion at one of their favorite restaurants on this side of town. Little did Aelin know that they would be arriving at Rowan's apartment complex and coming up to the rooftop, overlooking the city of Orynth.

Little did she know that Rowan was about to ask her to be his wife.

He'd wanted to do it for a while now, but really grew serious about it a few months before. It wasn't something he wanted to rush, but something he wanted to take his time with. Aelin didn't deserve a spur of the moment proposal. She deserved a proposal as grand and dramatic as she was.

Rowan went to the railing and looked down at the street below. There was still no sign of Aelin.

They were taking forever.

Pulling out his phone, he shot a quick text to Lysandra. ETA?

She texted him back right away. We'll be there soon. Deep breaths.

Rolling his eyes, Rowan put his phone back into his pocket. Deep breaths. Like he wasn't calm. He was calm.

No, he wasn't.

He took Lysandra's advice and closed his eyes, taking in one deep breath after another. He did another check in his jacket pocket for the custom ring he'd had made for Aelin, tucked inside of a small velvet box. It was there, just like it had been every other time that he'd checked.

He paced for another fifteen minutes before his phone vibrated again. Lysandra. We have arrived.

Rowan went to the far side of the roof, where he stood beneath a flower arch. At first, Rowan had been against the white arch spun in roses, but Lysandra had insisted that it wasn't over the top. It was just enough.

He felt like he'd been standing there forever, alone on the roof, beneath the arch, but then the roof door opened, and she came out onto the rooftop.

Lysandra gave Rowan a wink before shutting the door, leaving the two of them alone.

Aelin barely made it beyond the door as she stared around the roof in awe, before her gaze landed on Rowan.

"Ro," she breathed, "what the hell is going on?"

This was it.

He felt like he was going to vomit.

"You don't like it?" he teased.

Aelin let out a shaky laugh, her eyes already misty. "I love it. I love it, Ro."

She made it to Rowan at last, between the aisle of rose petals. And before he said anything, Rowan fell to one knee.

"Aelin," he began, slowly, looking up at her, "I-"

"Yes."

Rowan hesitated. "Yes?"

"Yes."

He laughed, quietly. "I haven't even said anything yet."

"It doesn't matter." She was already crying, taking his hands. "My answer is yes."

Now Rowan was thrown off. Happy, overjoyed, excited as fuck, but thrown off. "Should I just get rid of the speech I wrote, then?"

He had been writing it for weeks.

Surely someone should hear it.

Aelin laughed again, shaking her head. "No, no, I'm sorry, please, I want to hear it."

Rowan opens his mouth, but soft laughter is all that comes out. This woman drove him mad. All this planning, all these months, and she just comes in hot, saying yes. But he can’t be mad, because that’s why he fell in love with her. She’s headstrong, she knows what she wants, and she does what she wants without waiting for anyone else.

So Rowan shook his head and said, “I love you. I want you every day, for the rest of my life.”

Aelin waited for him to go on with misty eyes, but when he didn’t, she asked, “Oh, shit, was that it?”

Ignoring the two page speech in his pocket, Rowan said, “Marry me.”

The tears in Aelin's eyes spilled over as she nodded, and then she was kissing him, urgently, relentlessly. "Of course. Of course."

Rowan was so caught up in the moment that he almost forgot about the ring. For something he had been planning for months, nothing was going as planned, but it was all so much better than he could have imagined.

Yes.

She told him yes.

Nothing else mattered.

Everything else was irrelevenant.

Nonetheless, Rowan took the little velvet box out of his pocket and opened it up. Aelin began crying all over again, holding out her left hand in anticipation. Rowan slid the ring onto her finger and they both stared, in awe of this moment.

This was it.

This was the moment that they would tell their children about, their grandchildren about. And it was perfect, even if all of Rowan's planning had gone completely down the drain.

He didn't care about the planning.

He didn't care about any of it. All he cared about was the fact that Aelin had said yes, that she was going to be his wife.

Considering that, nothing else mattered.

#rowaelin #rowan #aelin #tog #throne of glass fanfiction #au #modern au #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #throne of glass #fanfiction #fanfic #sjm #valentines day #happy valentine's day #valentines day au #proposal au #tara answers prompts #drabble #dabble #oneshpt

[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part five

Rowaelin x f!Reader

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

Warnings: drinking, mentions of death, incest jokes

Word Count: ~5.8k 

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

series masterlist

“Only princesses live in castles all the time.” 

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

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

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

“Do we have to?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what happened to the rest of her coven. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you remember the page?” 

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

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

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

“Wyverns?” you choked. 

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

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

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

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.” 

“Exactly. Silence is agreement” 

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

“I’m assuming you heard our conversation.” 

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

“Why?” 

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

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

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

“Fenrys said we could have dessert first.” 

“I did not,” the male immediately countered. 

“You did,” Ceri shot back. 

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

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

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

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

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

“When is murder allowed?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

“It's too big.” 

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

“But you don’t like it here.”

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

“Fine doesn’t mean good.” 

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

Ceri nodded, “I know.” 

“Would you like me to tell your father?” 

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

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

“I’m going to wait,”

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

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

“Can you keep a secret?” 

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

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

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

“That’s what I said.” 

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

“Whatever she wants.” 

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

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

“But if it was?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m vaguely insulted.”

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

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

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

“They serve alcohol for a reason.” 

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

Aelin frowned, he didn’t pass. 

-

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

“Your tolerance is shit,” Fenrys commented. 

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

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

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

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

“At least my tolerance hasn’t changed.” 

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

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

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

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

“Child,” you pointed out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll write myself a note.” 

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

“Oh gods,” that was Aelin. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m a great cuddler,” you said, just to see if they would react. 

“You kick,” Rowan countered. 

“I do not,” you insisted. 

“How would you know?” Aelin decided to cut in, “you’re sleeping.” 

“I’ll find out tonight,” Fenrys added cheerily. 

You could’ve sworn you heard a low growl or two, but you’d already reached the door, fumbling with the handle. You’d put too much of your weight on the door, because as soon as it opened - you went careening towards the floor. Fenrys tried to catch you, only to fall as well, alcohol throwing off his center of balance. 

At least the carpet was soft, you rolled over onto your back, running your hands over it. It was comfortable. 

“I might sleep here,” you sighed, eyes half lidded. Rowan and Aelin stood in the doorway, amused at the two of you, and you shot a bright grin their way.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.” Rowan, the bastard, needs to stop trying to give you orders. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you muttered, turning over on your side and tucking one arm beneath your head. Fenrys mirrored your movements, the two of you facing each other. 

A long suffering sigh, from Rowan you thought, and gentle hands were pulling you up to your feet. You swayed back and forth, Aelin holding you steady with a faint smile on her face. 

From the corner of your eye, Rowan was tugging Fenrys up, not quite as gently. 

-

“Be nice to my friend,” you slurred. Aelin was biting her lip to hold back a laugh, and she was grateful Ceri decided to have a sleepover in another wing of the castle. Otherwise, she’d be wide awake right now and witnessing this mess. 

“Hear that Rowan, the lady says be nice to me.” 

Rowan released Fenrys, and the male stumbled back a few steps. She kept her grip on you as you tried to lunge for him. The last thing they need is to drag both of you off the floor again. Without realizing, her arms had wrapped around your shoulders, holding you back in place. When Fenrys caught himself, one hand on the arm of the couch, you sighed in relief, and melted back into her. 

“Time for bed,” Aelin shifted so her arm wrapped around your shoulders instead, leading you off towards the room. Grabbing some night clothes, she offered them to you, trying to shuffle you off towards the bathroom. 

“I think I’ll sleep naked,” you announced. 

“As much as I’d enjoy the view, it’s still a bit cold out,” you wouldn’t remember this in the morning, but she’d remember how your cheeks flushed. 

Rowan and Aelin left, only as you fell asleep, alone in your bed - Fenrys already snoring on the couch. 

-

The end of the visit came all too quickly, and for the first time you found yourself looking forward to your return to Orynth. Looking forward to searching for a house on the outskirts of the city. Yes, you didn’t particularly look forward to staying in the castle in the meantime, but you couldn’t deny the city had it’s charm. Rowan and Aelin’s reassurances unlocked something in you. Not a desire to step into the public eye, but to stop avoiding it. If anything happened, you weren’t alone this time. Accepting help wasn’t a weakness. 

Ceri waved as you set off, just around sunrise. In around two or so weeks, you’d be heading back to Orynth. 

Your daughter, however, was currently pouting because you couldn’t ride horseback in this weather, and she didn’t like the carriages. She was mollified by the few books Aelin let her borrow from the Library of Orynth. You had a feeling she just hadn’t informed the librarians they’d be leaving the city.

Tilting your head, you caught part of the title; dragons. “What are you reading?” 

Thankfully, she didn’t look annoyed at your question. Instead, her eyes lit up as she lifted her head. “About last dragons, besides Wyverns,” she flipped the book around to point at a page. A sketch of mountains, you squint your eyes, made of glass with a few dragons circling overhead, one breathing fire into them. You looked further at the book, it was old, by the color of the pages, but well preserved. Maybe with magic. Was this one of the few books that survived the initial siege of Orynth?

“They lived in the Kyzultum Desert. But they were all killed in a war eight centuries ago.” Kyzultum, a desert on the southern continent, far south from Antica. You’d never visited, but always wanted to, to see the glass mountains. “They made mountains out of glass. The book says it’s just speculation, but soldiers from Doranelle hunted the dragons to extinction.” 

A small pain in your heart, for creatures hunted just for their power or because someone viewed them as a threat. Soldiers from Doranelle. You would bet gold marks on who exactly sent that order. 

“Why did they kill them? The book doesn’t say.” 

“Probably from fear.” 

She hummed. “Do you think dragon eggs could survive this long?” 

“I don’t know,” but Gods, if Ceri set her mind to it - she’d find out. And if they could … you started thinking of ways to discourage your daughter from hunting for Dragons. Maybe you’d have to lean on her father for that one. “Giving up on Wyverns already?” 

She scowled at you, drawing a small laugh before she returned to her book. 

-

Rowan was in a pissy mood, and Aelin knew exactly why. Ceri waited until the last night to announce her ‘decision,’ leaving all of them on edge. Then said she wanted to live on the outskirts of Orynth, with a small cottage, a garden, chickens, and a wyvern. Considering how you scowled at Rowan, she knew who you blamed for that idea. Still, they weren’t quite out of time. The two of you would return in around a month, permitting you could sell your house in that amount of time, and still stay in the castle while looking for another home. 

“Y/n didn’t try to sway her decision,” she commented - although Rowan already knew that. You’d decided to stay perfectly neutral. It’s smart, not wanting to get into an argument like that. After all, she’d chosen the same path. “Besides, Ceri might change her mind later.” 

“Right,” he cleared his throat. 

“So,” Aelin leaned back in her chair, “Wyverns?” 

“She asked for a story about them,” he groused. 

“What did you tell her?” 

“What I know of Abraxos.” As far as Wyvern’s go, Manon’s mount is the exception, and Rowan might’ve given the wrong impression when it comes to the beasts. 

Aelin laughed, “I can’t wait to tell Manon. Already a bedtime story.” She didn’t know if the Witch Queen would be offended or amused. Ceri hadn’t met any of their friends from other Kingdoms, not yet. It would come one day, especially with the move. Would you want to meet them as well? SHe hoped so. 

The little hellion’s presence made Aelin realize she wasn’t quite ready to have more children around. It would come one day, but faced with immortality there was plenty of time. Besides, maybe it was a bit selfish or strange, but she wanted to spend time with Ceri as she grew up, and wanted Rowan to as well. He’d missed out on seven years. 

Aelin always knew he’d be a good father, but seeing it with her own eyes only cemented that. Plus, the rest of the court and castle got to witness a softer side of him. 

“Had y/n already settled when you met her?” 

“No.” 

Gods, going through all of that with a small child. She had hers a few years ago, and it … sucked to say the least. The only plus being some of her magic returned, not quite to what it was before, but still much more significant. 

Rowan had turned back to his book. Another question had lingered in the back of her mind, “What is her magic?” He marked his page, setting it to the side. 

“She has an affinity for raw materials, imbuing them with magic. As far as I know, it’s unique to her bloodline.” 

“What else could it do? Besides what she sells.” Protective wards, enchantments, all impressive. 

“I never asked.” The dagger. Enchanted to leave a mark. Fenrys said she’d paled when she saw it. If it’s unique to her bloodline … maybe the attack wasn’t only meant for Ceri. “What are you thinking?” Rowan interrupted her train of thought.

“You said it’s unique to her bloodline,” Rowan nodded. “The dagger,” he stiffened but she kept going, “she recognized exactly what it was. Why use a dagger specifically meant to leave a mark? Why make a dagger like that?” 

“It’s possible her ancestors made it,” he started, “daggers and knives like that could be intended for different rituals. Using it could’ve been ignorance - or a coincidence.”

Aelin’s mouth tightened. That was a bit too strange to believe. “You know that’s bullshit.” 

“Sartaq hasn’t sent word of anything, there’s not much we can do from over here.” But, Rowan did look unsettled.

“Could anyone else have made it?” 

“She’s better suited to answer that question.” A month from now. Aelin wasn’t particularly patient on a good day, but she’d remember this. “Don’t be surprised if she wants to leave it in the past.” 

“What happened to her parents?” 

Rowan didn’t look like he wanted to answer, but she felt like she needed to know. Like it was relevant. He told her the entire story, not sparing any of the more gruesome details. She read the words in his eyes; I didn’t tell you. If you ever decided to tell her, she’d act surprised. A stone settled in her stomach. You hadn’t just been hiding from Maeve. 

“Then Lorcan hunted the rest of them down.”  

“Who was it, the ones who attacked them?” 

“The last armies of a Kingdom who particularly hated Fae, destroyed on Maeve’s orders.” And her father participated, that much she could put together. “It’s in the past, Aelin,” there was a hint of warning in his tone. To drop it. 

She nodded absentmindedly. If she could find a way to be subtle about it, she’d keep looking into it. 

-

“Leaving already?” One of your neighbors questioned, after you finished showing the house to a young couple - the woman currently at least a few months pregnant, and glowing. You nodded, watching them disappear. “Where to?” 

“To Orynth,” you turned to look at her. A friendly older woman, living a few doors down, who’d greeted you the day after you moved in with a basket of cookies. This neighbor happened to be the mother of the son, currently linking arms with his wife, trudging through the snow. It was a given you’d sell the house to them, if they ended up wanting it. 

“We’ll miss you here, and your little one.” 

“We’ll miss you too,” you murmured, rubbing your arms to stave off the chill. “Want to come in?” It felt right to offer. 

“I’d love to,” her face lit up. Ceri was due back from school in a few hours, and now big enough to walk on her own, although always with a group of other kids. It was a close little community, on the outskirts of the city,  and you really did like it here even if it was a bit … boring. Maybe that’s part of the reason Ceri wanted to move to Orynth. 

The two of you settled in front of the fire, hands warmed by mugs of tea, and you listened to her talk. Her husband - killed by Adarlanian soldiers, her three children - who went to fight in General Ashryver’s legion, the bane, only two returning at the end of the war. 

“Something happier now,” she waved her hand. “What about your family?” 

“It’s just me and Ceri now,” you forced a smile. She gave you a sympathetic look, and although you knew she meant no harm - you wanted to wipe it right off her face. 

“Her father?” There’s the catch. She knew damn well who her father is, the entire town does, and you shot her a look to tell her that. She had the grace to look a bit sheepish, giving a small shrug of her shoulders. “Can’t help the curiosity,” 

‘Yes you can,’ you wanted to say, but reminded yourself she’d been nothing but kind - and still is, but probably wanted to get in all of the questions she’d been dying to ask before you left. You were aware anything you said now would make its way through everyone else living here. 

“We’re on good terms,” you said firmly. 

“How did you meet?” 

“We knew a few of the same people.” Actually, you’d met at a bar - but she had no business knowing that. An ache started to form between your brows. A few hours passed, conversation thankfully diverting from Ceri’s heritage and into more neutral topics. You found yourself enjoying the company. 

“It takes a strong woman - or female, to raise a child on her own,” a brief haunted look passed through her eyes, and you offered her a tight smile. Her situation had been different, Terrasen being under occupation by Adarlan and all. She blinked a few times, letting out a long breath. “I’m making some meat pies this afternoon, I’ll bring one by.” 

“Thank you,” she stood, and you led the way out the door, walking her down towards her gate. 

Ceri was currently coming down the street, accompanied by a few friends, holding … something in her arms, bundled tightly. When she saw you, she sped up her pace, now almost-running down the street. 

“Look, look,” she said, shifting her arms just enough for you to see what she was holding. A little head peaked up, yellow eyes, then a meow. “She was all alone, I couldn’t find her mother,” Ceri looked up at you with pleading eyes. You ran a gloved hand over the kitten’s back, getting a small purr in reply. Orange. It was rare to find an orange female cat. 

“Let’s get her out of the cold,” a squeal of excitement, and she raced off towards the door.

The two of you bathed her in warm water, and the weird little thing liked it. 

“Are you sure you want to keep her?” You asked, but even if she said no you’d probably insist. One hour, and you were already in love. Sure enough, you were hissed at. Twice. 

“You can be friends with her,” Ceri said, sitting as close to the fire as she could get, the kitten wrapped up in a towel, sound asleep. She was talking about your animal form. A Baast Cat, not a housecat. 

“I’m sure we’ll get along,” you smiled, taking up a seat next to her. That little head poked up again, meowing, before crawling out of the towel. Ceri let her go, choosing to take her mug of hot chocolate from you instead. Carefully, the kitten crawled over onto your lap, small claws digging in. “What should we name her?” 

“Wyvern.” A hiss. Not Wyvern, apparently. Ceri rolled her eyes. She tried out a few different names, but none of them were approved. You’d already noted she was very intelligent, even for a cat, and looked up at you like you were supposed to know the answer. 

“Halle?” you offered, as a half-assed guess. Surprisingly, a small purr came from her, and you ran your fingers through her fluffy fur, watching as she promptly fell back asleep. Like she was waiting for the conversation to be over. 

“Halle’s coming to Orynth with us.” 

“Of course.” You couldn’t leave the newest member of your family behind.

-

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