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lucienarcheron · 2 months

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Spirit Meets the Bones - I

Eris and Iris. Son of a high lord, daughter of a fiend. An arranged marriage brought them together and beneath all the hate, the two are more alike than they’d like to be.

Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse.

Author's Note: Today marks the three-year anniversary of when I first posted this story and what better day to start reposting than today! It means so much that people stuck around and are still excited for it to continue. I hope you enjoy how it unfolds!

biggest shoutout will go to @abruisedmuse ♥️ without you, I don't know how I'd finish this fic. ily!

Find it all here.

Eris's hands were clasped behind his back as he stood rigidly next to the female who had now become shackled to him. His bride had only repeated the words of binding in a dull, dry tone and shifted her face slightly so he’d kiss her cheek rather than her lips in front of everyone. Already, she had more nerve than he anticipated. He had only smiled.

The two now stood in their finest before his parents, the festivities of the wedding raging on behind them. It would continue to rage on when the bride and groom took their leave. It all meant nothing to either of them.

Eris stood in his suit, tailor-made, and fitted in forest green. Iris’s bridal gown of white covered every inch of her, painted against every delicate curve. Eris had only stolen glances, not looking for too long. The hatred in her eyes had become grating.

He spared Iris another side glance, aware his father was watching him, and gave his parents a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, Father. You spared no costs on this wedding.”

“If only the bride and groom seemed to enjoy it as well.”

Eris offered his father another tight smile. “It all happened so fast. We’re both a bit whiplashed but I’m sure Iris loved it as much as I did,” he said and finally fully looked at his bride. “Didn’t you...wife?”

Iris automatically bowed her head towards the Lord and Lady of Autumn and turned her gaze to her now-husband. “Of course...husband. Forgive me, I am a little tired. It’s been a long day.”

Eris and Iris.

Iris and Eris.

He only looked at her with boredom.

She looked at him wanting to desperately snap his neck.

“Well, run along then. Enjoy your wedding night. Don’t embarrass me, son. Make sure to show your bride a good time.” Beron mused with a laugh and the Lady of Autumn, Lady Enya, gave Eris a pleading look as he nodded to his parents.

“Welcome to the family, Iris.” Lady Enya said softly.

Iris bowed her head in thanks and turned once more to look at her now-husband who gave her a small smirk and Eris couldn’t take his eyes off her. Couldn’t help the slight glee at how hard she was trying not to sneer back at him.

“Come along wife, it’s time for the fun part of being married,” Eris said with a coy smile and held out his arm.

But Iris only stared at it. She stared at his arm and wondered what would happen if she just...snapped it off his body. Or stabbed him. Or at least attempted either option. Her father had nearly ripped her head off when he found out about the small knife hidden beneath her dress. The sting of his smack had barely settled down before she walked into her wedding. Nonetheless...her fingernails could be sharp enough to maim.

When a moment passed and Iris still hadn’t taken his arm, Eris stepped closer to her.

“Take my fucken arm before I drag you out of here.” he hissed and Iris blinked then tilted her head towards him with a shy smile, the ever-blushing bride as she approached him and slipped her arm through his. Never mind that it was trembling slightly.

“Try dragging me out,” she said softly. “I’ll only end up dragging your bleeding body back across this hall.”

It was Eris’s turn to blink then his lips twisted into a smirk. “Is that what your eyes have been trying to tell me? We can fulfill your dirty little fantasy once we’re alone.”

Iris stood before her husband and schooled her expression so that anyone looking at her would see her gaze reverent rather than murderous. As if they didn’t know how reverent murdering someone you hated could be.

“Oh, does that mean once we’re alone, I can run a blade several times through your torso?” she said sweetly. “Because that’s exactly what I was fantasizing about.”

Eris chuckled, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. The challenge in her voice. The sternness in her hooded eyes. “Big words for a shaking gazelle in a room full of wolves,” he said softly and leaned in to kiss her temple, ever the besotted groom. “Don’t forget, you married the worst of them. I’d watch that pretty mouth if I were you.”

Iris let him pull away and let him see the shy smile on her face even as rage flashed in her eyes. Her grip tightened on his arm and she leaned into him again. “Or what?”

A chuckle slipped out before he could help himself. Bold. She was bolder than he expected. “You’ll find out once we’re behind a closed door, wife.”

He felt her body tense but paid her no mind as he nodded his acknowledgment to the people congratulating them, as he did practically drag her out of the room. The sooner they got out of there, the sooner this night would be over and he could somehow think of how to handle this female that had been shoved at him.

They walked in silence down the hall, nodding to any lingering guests before turning a corner and the path before them was empty.

“Did you lose your tongue, little gazelle? No more big words now that you don’t have an audience?” he said quietly, as the two walked down the halls of The Forest House towards their wing. A whole wing where he was to now live with his little lady. “Not going to try and run?”

She finally yanked her arm free from his and openly glared. “And go where?” she spat. “As if you wouldn’t drag me back here and humiliate me for trying.”

Eris only hummed his response and watched as she huffed then continued walking and he took the time to openly observe her in the silence. In a tense, nearly suffocating silence.

His wife.

Wife.

He mouthed the word silently to himself then frowned thinking of how, for the second time, he was forced into a union he had little say in. At least this one hadn’t fucked anyone else as far as he was aware.

It wouldn’t have mattered if she did at this point. She was now his and he was hers. There was no escape. There would be nobody else. And Eris wasn't exactly sure how to feel about this.

How was he supposed to feel about a female he knew nothing about? How, exactly was he supposed to feel when he had only found out a month before the wedding that she was to be his?

Her father, a wealthy merchant — a criminal as Eris had understood, wanted to build better ties with the High Lord of Autumn to no doubt get away with things he shouldn’t. Never mind that the male was as big of a piece of shit as his father. He had simply offered his daughter to Beron as a bride for Eris like she meant nothing to him. Wrapped her up for him like a delicious dessert to be eaten.

And delicious she was. Eris let his eyes roam her body as she stalked in front of him toward the room. She didn't even know which way they were supposed to be going and yet, the confidence in her walk of rage didn’t hold her back. Her chestnut brown hair coiled up in braids, the tiara sitting atop her head, exposing her long lovely neck.

The train of her dress trailed behind her and he only quirked his brow at the design, not as frilly as he had expected. Then again, he knew nothing about her. No one had given him the chance.

Eris stepped on the tip of the dress’s train and she startled, a small gasp escaping her lips. Turning sharply, she glared at him.

“Get off my dress.” she seethed but he only gave her a small smile.

“We’re here.” he said and watched as she froze again, color seeming to drain from her face. He pursed his lips and wondered just how badly she thought this was going to go. “Are you thinking about running now?”

This seemed to unfreeze her body and Iris blinked at him. “Just open the door.” she muttered quietly. But he could hear her heart beating. He could almost taste her fear and his lips curled in disdain.

Eris waved his hand for the door to open and with a mocking bow, he gestured for Iris to step inside. She gave him a withering look then slowly stepped into the room and Eris followed her in.

The two stood in the doorway of the suite taking in the grandness, the room a swirl of all the autumn colors in one, coming together to give it a look of a magical place of rest. Never mind that the two people required to live here wanted to do anything but be in this space. The suite was huge, decorated with a seating area in one corner, a small dining space in another, a bedroom set that included a large closet across the wall, a vanity, and —

Iris’s eyes fell on the bed that was big enough to fit six people and her fists clenched. She only gave him a look of loathing and wrapped her arms around herself, wanting to refuse even acknowledging the space.

But then Eris closed the door and locked it, and the sense of panic she had been holding back all day filled the room. He heard her swallow and as he took one step closer, Iris whirled around.

“Don’t touch me.” she snarled.

Eris paused then took a deep breath, his hands once again clasped behind his back, a sour taste in his mouth. Naturally, she was to assume the worst about him. Naturally, he might as well oblige her.

“You’re my wife now. I thought the whole point of the wedding night was for us to be touching as much as possible,” he said quietly, his signature smirk gracing his face as he moved closer to her. “Or did they not teach you that?”

Iris flushed and shot him a glare, pointing viciously. “Don’t you take that tone with me or I’ll make you regret it.”

Eris’s smile was feral at the challenge. “Claws are coming out now, are they, wife?” he said quietly and took another step closer. “I wonder if you have claws like that in bed.” He tilted his head, observing her. “Why is your dress so modest? Didn’t they tell you I like to see some skin?”

She took another step back, hating the predatory look in his gaze. “You won’t be near my dress for too long so don’t concern yourself with it.”

“Are you sure about that? I do need to fulfill my husbandly duties and take it off of you.” he said again and took the final step for them to share a breath. “Make you feel all the wonderful things a husband should make his wife feel.”

“Stop talking to me that way.” she hissed, shoving him back.

He chuckled and grabbed her arm firmly, pulling her into his chest. “I will talk to you however I see fit, especially when it makes you flush so beautifully.”

And indeed, Eris hadn’t gotten the chance to stare at her so openly until this moment and it was unfortunate how beautiful she actually was. Very unfortunate, he thought, especially when his own heart started beating wildly in his chest and he felt hers sing to the same erratic rhythm.

The world seemed to still as his fingers gripped her arm. His amber eyes found her hazel ones and both pairs of eyes widened slightly. His gaze intensified as he soaked in her features and how a few loose strands of hair had slipped to frame her face so wonderfully. Iris’s own thoughts had paused at how close his lips were to hers and the way he stood so elegantly and effortlessly towering over her.

It was truly unfortunate. Because Eris’s eyes had flickered down to her lips and back, the corner of his lips lifting. How much would she hate him if were to kiss her? Could he have one taste?

Iris flushed deeply as Eris leaned in even closer and she did the only thing she could think of to get away from him.

Eris let out a groan of pain as she kneed him in the balls and crossed to the other side of the room.

“What the fuck was that for?” he hissed, doubled over, his glare meeting the one Iris shot at him.

“I told you not to touch me. Married or not.” she hissed, taking a step back. “And based on everything I’ve heard about you, I definitely don’t want you touching me.”

Eris ran his tongue over his teeth as he straightened and took another step towards her.

A chair flew towards him then and he barely ducked in time.

“What the ever-loving fuck —”

“Stay on your side of the room.”

“I’m not going to —”

“One more step and the dagger will be next.”

Eris stared at her in confusion, at the dagger that looked so much like —

He looked down at his belt where he knew his dagger to be sheathed...except it was not.

“You were too busy trying to intimidate me to notice,” she said with a snort, and gone was the trembling gazelle that he’d seen all day, his dagger twirling her hand. “Surprise.”

Eris blinked then huffed out a noise of disbelief. “Well, wife. This is an interesting turn of events...How did you manage to steal it?”

“Most males are stupid and get easily distracted by beautiful females. If I let you believe I was weak, you automatically assumed you could dominate me and lose the upper hand,” she said simply and shrugged. “Your mistake.”

He narrowed his eyes. “From the things your father told me about you, handling weapons wasn’t on the list.”

“My father is a lying piece of shit and doesn’t know an actual thing about me.”

“He told me your passion was piano and you prefer to stay indoors because you were sensitive to the sun,” Eris stated flatly and Iris rolled her eyes.

“I do love piano but the only thing I’m sensitive to are the bruises he gifts me that people would notice if he let me out as often as I’d like.”

Eris froze. A distant roaring filled his ears as he stared at Iris. He stared and stared and when she narrowed her eyes at him, he clenched his teeth and took a breath.

“Your father beats you?” he asked quietly.

Iris shrugged and it was a shrug that he knew well. A shrug he had mastered to deflect Beron’s marks on his own body. A shrug he had mirrored from his own mother.

“My father seemed giddy at the idea that you’d be beating me too,” Iris began and sunk the dagger into the table with a loud thud, before meeting his gaze again. “But if you think that gives you permission to lay a hand on me, I will break every single one of your fingers and carve your heart out of your body. I would die trying.”

Eris stared at her. Trying to think of a response. Trying to think of all the things he’d heard about her before this moment.

“My daughter is delicate.” her father had told him. “She’s also foolish and needs guidance with a heavy hand. Don’t be afraid to put her in her place.”

There was nothing delicate about the fiery rage he saw in the female in front of him. Nothing but sharp glares and determination. Her stance alone told him she would be nothing of what he had expected.

His mother’s bruised skin flashed in his mind and Eris swallowed then met Iris’s gaze.

“I would never harm you,” he said firmly and she tilted her head, quirking a brow.

“Your reputation says otherwise.”

“My reputation is catered to a specific audience.”

“Your reputation is the reason I am willing to kill you and face death myself rather than let you turn me into the broken doll my father tried to make me.”

Eris pursed his lips at that and slipped a hand in his pocket, the other coming to brush back his hair. “It appears wife, that you and I aren’t what we seem.”

Iris crossed her arms. “So it seems, husband.”

“We wasted time not getting to know each other a month ago.” Eris scoffed with an eye roll and Iris froze. “Your father insisted you were too nervous and shy.”

“What do you mean a month?” she asked breathlessly, her hands fisting at her sides.

Eris’s blink marked his confusion. “A month. Our engagement was announced a month ago.”

Iris blinked then blinked again and Eris watched as a cascade of emotions flashed across her face.

“A week.” she gasped out. “I was told a week ago.”

Eris’s eyes narrowed and he took in her shaking hands. “A week?” he asked quietly.

Iris only stared at him and he felt his chest tighten when she started taking deep breaths. Eris opened his mouth to say something — he felt compelled to say anything — but she held up a hand.

“I will only say this once,” Iris spoke, her voice surprisingly steady. “We may be sharing a bed but we will not...go further than that.”

Eris frowned, his own hands fisted at his sides. “Alright.”

She blinked in return. “Alright?”

His expression immediately turned sour at that. “I think the expectations for tonight have been made very clear. What more do you want from me?”

“Nothing. I don’t want anything from you.” Iris replied, all steadiness was gone from her voice as her face fell. “I wish I had nothing to do with you.”

And with that statement, she darted into their shared bathroom and slammed it shut.

Eris remained rooted to his place and simply stared after her, at the closed door she now hid behind, his thoughts a thousand miles a minute.

He thought about their names and the silly way they matched.

He thought about the similar father figure they seemed to have and the history they seemed to share.

He thought about the small thrill he had felt when he had been within kissing range.

Eris's frown deepened at the sniffle he heard from behind the door and wondered...just how much hell would they be in for now.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x oc #smtb chapters #spirit meets the bones #acotar fanfiction #gfics

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throneofsapphics · 7 months

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RowAelin in falling in love with the palace healer? 👀 they are trained killers but god they can’t get enough of her? Sometimes even they will make sure that in the next sparing sesh that one or both of them gets hurt so they have an excuse to see her 👀👀👀👀 or even that at one point Aelin sees her helping somone else and gets jealous and straight up looks Rowan in the eye while she stabs herself and he’s like AH while running her to the healer while she smiles HEHEHEHHEH

any reason

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: Aelin will find any reason to visit the palace healer.

Warnings: self-inflicted injuries, blood, not proofread as usual

A/N: I love this, Aelin is SO chaotic, it’s just a lil drabble based on part of the prompt! maybe i’ll write a longer version later, thank you for the request!

Aelin had a wicked look on her face as she raised her knife, flipping it in her palm.

“Aelin,” Rowan groaned. “Please don’t Fireheart.”

She shrugged, stabbing the tip of the knife into her forearm - in a completely non-lethal place, but deep enough it would require healing.

“For fucks sake,” he cursed under his breath as she wiped the blood off on her pants, heading directly for the healers quarters. One specific healer - that she knew was on duty. Then again, they both always knew when she was working. Aelin had even stolen a copy of the healer’s schedules.

He grumbled under his breath but followed after her. He wouldn’t turn down a perfectly good chance to see y/n.

“You’re ridiculous.” Y/n groaned as Aelin walked in with a grin on her face, holding her arm out. She sent the Queen a small smile.

“Careful how you speak of your Queen,” Aelin teased.

“Apologies, your Majesty.” She dropped into an exaggerated curtesy. “I swear, I think you do this on purpose sometimes.” She huffed, but gathered the necessary supplies. First, she carefully washed the wound - ignoring Aelin’s winces, before throwing a particularly strong cleansing tonic over it, and finally using her magic to heal the small but deep cut. She could’ve sworn Aelin let out a moan, and she ducked her head to hide the blush forming on her cheeks.

“How did you get that?” She asked, finally lifting her head to look at her. She spotted Rowan in the corner, leaning back against the doorway. Of course, she wouldn’t complain about seeing them - but sometimes she wondered why they didn’t just heal themselves or each other.

Aelin flicked her eyes towards Rowan, who pinned her with an exasperated look. Maybe it was self-inflicted.

“A secret,” she gave a small smile and y/n didn’t question any further.

“You’re all set,” she told her after examining the space one last time. No scar, either.

“I could kiss you.” Aelin hummed, and y/n shot an alarmed glance to Rowan, who only raised one brow, as if to say I don’t care. She swallowed and ignored it. The queen ran her hand down her forearm, squeezing her hand. “Thank you,” her mouth curved up at one side and y/n got the opinion Aelin knows exactly what her words and touch do to her. “See you next time,” she said cheerily, rising and leaving the room. Rowan gave her a polite nod, and followed her from the room.

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

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brackenfur · 11 months

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i find bluestar + oakhearts relationship post bluestars prophecy to be so fascinating. they spend the years while stonefur and mistyfoot are growing up either stealing glances at each other or trying their best not to attract attention towards either other so no one finds out they were together, but sometimes over the years they still can get away with talking at gatherings. asking how things are, wondering if everyone is okay. it’s awkward but they’re at least in each others lives still and that’s better than nothing. and then redtail and oakheart dies and bluestar is being told by tigerclaw that oakheart killed redtail and bluestar is….at first she’s heartbroken that her former mate is dead because there’s so much she didn’t get to say to him, so much that she wanted to tell him….but then it sinks in that he killed redtail and she’s so. angry. redtail was her deputy and someone close to her, and her former mate killed him. she can’t believe that oakheart - someone so noble and kind - would break the code like that, but tigerclaw wouldn’t lie, would he? and then she’s almost glad he’s dead, sometimes. she thinks that maybe it’s true you never really know anyone, that maybe love and being mates with someone doesn’t mean anything at all. she doesn’t want to hear about oakheart after his death and can’t even look crookedstar in the eye.

and then when fireheart tells her what actually happened, after tigerclaws exile she hurts so much becuase she was wrong to turn her back on oakheart so quickly. he was a good cat and he didn’t do anything wrong, he died tragically in fact, and their kids were left without their father. and she wishes she could take back everything she said and thought about him.

#wc #shark noises

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mariaofdoranelle · 4 months

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Mistletinder

Masterlist

Merry Christmas/Yulemas, @writtenonreceipts! I hope this fic finds you well. I was so happy when I got you in the draw because I admire you so much, and I hope you have as much fun reading your gift as I had writing it ❤️

@rowaelinscourt thank you for organizing the secret Santa!

Warnings: moderate alcohol intake

Words: 4,7k

“This is gonna bite you in the ass someday, you know?” Sellene reproached from behind the steering wheel. Her friend couldn’t see what Aelin was doing on her phone, but somehow she knew.

“Shh!” Aelin looked behind her to check on the girls, but they were still sound asleep. At the age of four, if they listened to any curse word, it’d be forever until they stopped repeating it over and over again. At least, from what she was told, the Whitethorn family was used to small children and their demands. It was the whole reason why she was spending Yulemas with them, after all.

Aelin and Maisie were on their own now, and when Sellene all but dragged them to her family’s farm because of all the kids and animals, it was hard to argue. After the year from hell they had, a nice Yulemas was the least she could do for Maisie.

“You’re avoiding the subject,” Sellene insisted.

“Yes. Because I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“But you sure seem to want to keep doing it, huh?”

When you’re broke after your divorce and your business isn’t thriving, ain’t it funny what you’ll do?

On one drunken night amidst her separation, Aelin downloaded Tinder and scheduled a date on the bookstore café she owned. But when she freaked out and canceled right after the guy—Archer—arrived, she could only watch from her mezzanine office, amazed, as he stuffed his face with baked goods and left with two books.

After that, luring people from Tinder into Fireheart Books & Cafe was just a small part of her marketing plan. And the most unethical one.

“It’s a lucrative strategy,” Aelin said, feeling defensive.

“That you don’t need anymore.” Sellene rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you just butcher the anthropology section to fit more tables?”

Yes. For the same reason Aelin added sidewalk dining tables. “Your point is?”

“Did you at least give someone a try while you’re at it?”

Once. Just one person that made her actually enjoy the execution of her plan, even extending it so she’d talk to him more before ghosting. Conversation flowed, and Aelin had already gone on some dates at that point after her separation, but she wasn’t naïve enough to think she’d find love on Tinder.

“That app is a lost cause, Sel.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t find some good hot dates.” Her friend wiggled her eyebrows. “I know I did.”

Aelin managed to muffle her laughter with one hand so the two sleeping beauties on the back wouldn’t wake up. She brushed her daughter’s chestnut hair away from her face, watching the way she leaned on her friend during their nap. Maisie and Bree were thick as thieves in preschool and, as single moms, Aelin and Sellene would frequently help each other out.

Sellene has a hot date? Auntie Ae and Maisie will happily have Bree for a sleepover.

Aelin is busy at the book shop? Auntie Sel and Bree can drop Maisie there when school is over.

Sellene was godsend this year, and listening to her rant about her love life was just one of the fun perks of being so close to her. If the few dates Aelin went to this year actually happened, it was because her friend insisted.

“So, how’s that thing with Ilias again?” Aelin said, desperate to change the subject.

A groan. “You will not believe what he texted me this morning…”

Aelin let her friend go on about her situationship, a little relieved that she wasn’t the focus of the conversation anymore.

Truth was, she was a little anxious about this Yulemas. Sellene guaranteed that her family was too big for Aelin to intrude in something intimate, and the Whitethorns were properly notified about her stay, but that nagging feeling that her and Maisie were crashing the party wouldn’t go.

After they got to the farm, it was a while before they reached the house.

When Sellene told her about all the family traditions and how homey it was, Aelin expected an old farmhouse of sorts. To be honest, she didn’t think much about how the house would look, but she definitely wasn’t expecting a classic-looking manor with an exterior made of white stone.

A blonde woman showed up on the porch before Sel parked the car, then she ran inside and came back, tugging a man by the arm. By that time, they were already leaving the car with their bags, but the older couple still insisted on helping them.

Rory and Owen, her friend’s aunt and uncle, as they introduced themselves. Aelin’s introduction was brief, since Sellene filled her family in on who she was beforehand, but they still made small talk. Though she wasn’t paying much attention, too caught up on the similarity between Sellene and Owen. Her friend joked about some strong traits running in her family, but this was uncanny.

“Genetics, huh?” Sellene said, a teasing grin on her face.

Aelin was staring, wasn’t she? Oops. “Yes, genetics.” She turned to Owen. “I can’t believe you’re not even her father!”

Rory laughed and urged them inside. “Come on, darling, there’s a lot of silver hair and green eyes for you to compare.” She smirked before she added, “And if you happen to like it, my son is single. Thirty-one, stable job, goes to the gym a lot—“

“Auntie,” Sellene reproached.

The matron frowned. “I’m not being very smooth, am I?”

Her husband gave her two gentle taps on the shoulder. “You’re never smooth at matchmaking, darling.”

Rory gave Aelin an apologetic smile before continuing, “We’re stuck with some housework right now, but if you can wait—“

“I’ll show her around,” Sellene said, waving her aunt off.

“Alright, then. Pick any empty room you’d like.” Rory turned to Aelin. “You and your little one are the most welcome, make yourselves at home,” she said with a beam before scurrying away to the kitchen.

And about Aelin’s little one: where the hell was she?

Sellene leaned closer to Aelin and murmured, “But you can totally flirt with my cousins if you’d like. There’s a whole bunch of them for you to pick.”

“I don’t think I’ll have time for that, but thanks.” Not that she wants to, but it’ll become a hard no if she’ll have to wrangle Maisie all the time.

“I saw them coming inside.” Sellene tugged Aelin. “Don’t worry, she’s safe here.”

“Your house is not.” At least not with her four-year-old on the loose.

The two women dropped their bags by the entrance and ran around looking for them, calling their names. Aelin couldn’t register much other than white walls and wooden furniture, her mind filled with what could Maisie possibly break in this small time frame, and how much it costs.

Aelin’s worry was peaking when she listened to her daughter’s voice coming from another porch, this one attached to the living room.

"Do you do your tattoos alone, or does your mom help you too?"

The man blinked, confused, until Maisie showed him the few Barbie bubblegum tattoos on her forearm. She gave it a pointed look, then to the many tattoos he had on his left arm, taking most of the limb.

Aelin decided it was best to make herself known, introduce yourself, and see if this stranger needed rescuing from her curious preschooler. She couldn’t see this man’s face from her point-of-view, but she had an inkling of who he could be because of his—shocker—silver hair.

“Maisie!” She called from afar, “I was looking for—“

The words died in her throat when she recognized the man before her. Aelin’s core felt ice-cold all of a sudden, despite the dangerous pounding of her heart. There was no way in hell this was happening, and she blamed Tinder for not requiring users to use their last name there.

“Aelin.” He made a point of looking at his bare wrist, as if checking the time. “I think you’re a bit late for our date.”

˜˜

Upstairs, in the safety of her bedroom, Sellene had the gall to cackle.

Aelin glared at her. “Could you not?”

Before ten minutes ago, her friend was absolutely clueless to the fact that Aelin and Rowan knew each other, just like she had no clue that Sellene and Rowan are cousins. But it saved her, since the woman walked into that porch and spared Aelin from doing any talking.

“Alright, lemme just…” Sellene turned away, as if Aelin couldn’t see her friend’s shoulders shaking from behind. Then she took a deep breath and turned back around. “Alright.” A twitch on the corner of her lips that was quickly concealed. “But you said you liked him?”

“That’s not the point!” Aelin said, pacing in the empty space between the bed and the wall.

Chatting with Rowan was nice, and she may have indulged in conversation with him more than she usually lets herself, but Aelin felt so drained after her divorce. She let herself be dragged to dates sometimes, but she didn’t have it in herself to fully face the dating scene again.

Sellene rolled her eyes and threw herself on the bed. “That’s the key point, actually. It’ll define our entire course of action.”

“Nope. Our course of action is whatever protects Maisie from this mess.”

Aelin was so afraid of fucking up Maisie’s Yulemas when she got here, she didn’t realize she’d potentially fucked up even before arriving. Her throat felt thick just to think of it.

Sellene squeezed her hand. “He’s not gonna cause a scandal or anything, Rowan’s not like that.”

“He’s not going to tell your incredibly welcoming family that I’m actually a cold-hearted milf that stood him up and ghosted?”

“Okay,” Sel trailed, grimacing. “He’s not like that, but he is a bit of a gossip, so…”

Aelin sat on the edge of the bed and groaned, her face resting in both hands. Whether he had a big mouth or not, she needed to fix this. Because she couldn’t put Maisie’s Yulemas in jeopardy, yes, but also because Rowan deserves an apology.

Truth is, Aelin never felt tempted to give a chance to the guys she chatted with, because everyone she met on Tinder could be classified as one of: a chronic manwhore, overall gross, or gross for a single but relevant reason, or a misogynist bigot. And sometimes she even liked to leave them stranded, especially when they fell into the latter category.

Usually, Aelin just acted flirty enough to let the guy think something other than coffee would happen, that way he’d run to their ‘date’ without wasting more of their time.

But there were exceptions, of course, and Rowan was one of them. He wasn’t exactly chatty, but she still found herself texting him back and forth late at night for almost two weeks. When he oh-so-gently requested to meet her in person after dropping some hints about it here and there to no avail, she knew she had to cut this short.

It was just business, or so she told herself when it was time to cancel the plans that were never bound to happen. Aelin didn’t have space in her life for much else.

But now the girls, Rowan and a few other Whitethorns were off to see the baby goats and some other kid-friendly farm animals, which gave Aelin a small time frame to plan her next move.

Sellene got up from her bed, nothing but determination on her face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do: we’ll wait downstairs. When they come back, I’ll keep an eye on Maisie while you scurry him away to apologize.”

This was the lamest plan Aelin has ever gotten into. “I expected better scheming from you.”

“No scheming this time,” her friend warned, “just tell him the truth.”

And that was what Aelin kept in mind, as she waited with Sel in the kitchen under the disguise of chatting with Rory.

The kids barreled into the room a while later, chatting about the farm animals they saw, petted, or even fed. Rowan lingered on the other side of the kitchen, carefully avoiding Aelin’s eyes while he rectified the little one’s exaggerated stories with things like actually, no goat charged at them, they just wail all the time.

Despite the high excitement, Maisie’s attention drifted when she noticed the batch of gingerbread men coming off the oven.

“My grandma makes gingerbread people too,” she said to Rory, then frowned. “Do you know my grandma?”

Aelin’s heart squeezed at the sight. She was hoping to keep Maisie’s mind off her father’s family these holidays.

“I’m afraid not, honey. Is she from Doranelle too?”

“No, she lives very, very, very far. I need to get on a plane to see her.”

“That’s very far indeed.” Rory chuckled. “What’s she doing this year?”

Maisie shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t have Yulemas with Daddy this year because he’s stuck in prison.”

The room fell silent, all eyes on her little girl’s outcast expression as Aelin’s face grew impossibly hot. Gods, her daughter sure had a way with words.

“Because he’s a prison psychologist,” Aelin amended, to everyone’s relief, by the way their shoulders collectively relaxed.

Chaol wasn’t seeing his daughter these holidays because he was too busy in the Southern Continent with his girlfriend—former mistress—but there was no way Aelin was telling her little girl that. Work was the go-to excuse to why he missed so many bi-monthly visitations, and it worked for Yulemas too.

One day, Maisie would understand that Aelin has been a single mom since long before her divorce. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to postpone said realization for as long as she could.

“Oh, how silly of me! I forgot to get rosemary.” Rory changed the subject when silence reigned, thank Mala. The time when Chaol was a touchy subject was long gone, but people still tiptoed around it with her.

The woman continued, “Aelin, darling, could you get me some, please?”

“Sure…” she trailed, looking around. “Where can I—“

“Rowan will show you the garden,” Rory quipped.

And Aelin thought that getting him alone for a moment would be tricky. Clearly, she underestimated his mother.

Rowan glared at the older woman, but she didn’t waver. Instead, the more that odd exchange lasted, the more Rory seemed to enjoy forcing her son to spend time with someone he clearly didn’t want around.

Fuck, Aelin needed to fix this immediately.

He gestured to the open back door in the kitchen, and led her to a kitchen garden close to the house.

Sunshine glanced off the leaves which vegetables, herbs and fruit grew, and Aelin wished she could enjoy its beauty more. The smell of fresh herbs and sound of the leaves shuddering were the only soothing things, given the conversation she had ahead.

She waited for him to make a start, to no avail. Perhaps he did, earlier today when she first saw him, right before Sellene walked in and they pretended that first exchange didn’t happen.

“I’m sorry.”

Rowan’s step faltered for a second. He gave her a curt nod, and continued his stroll towards the rosemary shrubs.

She continued, “I shouldn’t have stood you up, it was really shitty of me and I totally deserve it if you hate me right now.” A pause. “But I was hoping we could put this aside for Yulemas, you know? Being in the same house and all.”

“Alright,” he said while slowly nodding, and Aelin’s shoulders loosened up with relief for a moment, until he finally looked her in the eye and added, “I'll go easy on you if you tell me what happened.”

“I told you, I’ve been having a hard time dating after my—“

“Yeah, you told me that in your apology text, but I feel like there’s something missing.”

He got her there. It was true, but not the ugly truth.

“Remember the shop I asked you to meet me at?”

He nodded.

“I own it. And my Tinder account is strictly for… cash inflow.”

This time, he fully stopped. He studied Aelin with widened eyes, and after judging the seriousness in her expression, he laughed. It was loud and full, overpowering the gentle flutter of the leaves and birds’ wings around them.

He kneeled by the shrub, snapped a few branches with his fingers, and it was just then that Aelin realized they had already arrived at their destination.

“You’re not mad?”

Rowan shrugged, and she wanted to read his expression so bad, but he had his back to her, still working on his mother’s rosemary. “I guess should be mad. I’m definitely impressed. It’s a very clever move.”

Aelin didn’t know if she should thank him or not. “But are we cool?”

He chuckled, something more amicable in his eyes this time, when he turned around. “Yes, sure. It was just online dating. Do you know how often people get ghosted? I wasn’t gonna start a riot because of that.”

“‘Kay, thanks.” He was being such a nice sport, his forgiveness only worsened the guilt she felt. “And though you’re right about that, I’d be totally mad and petty if someone stood me up. Just saying.”

“I wasn’t mad that you stood me up—“

Aelin sent him a cut-the-bullshit look.

He sighed and continued, “Alright, I was upset. Not mad. What actually made me mad is that you ghosted me after that.”

She stopped mid-stride, her head tilted. This made absolutely no sense. Rowan broke eye contact to rearrange the branches inside the small bag, making his fingers busy for a small moment of awkward silence that lasted a lifetime in Aelin’s head.

“I liked you, Aelin. You didn’t have to do that for me to visit your coffee shop.”

Aelin didn’t want to think about why his words stung, but they did.

˜˜

Engaging in conversation at dinner would be a lot easier if Maisie was eating, not showing Bree magic tricks.

She placed a french fry on the table, between her and her friend. “Now close your eyes,” Maisie commanded. When her friend complied, she shoved the fry in her mouth and said, “Ta-da!”

Bree opened her eyes, and the loud gasp she let out after noticing the fry was gone gave Aelin a good chuckle.

“Do it again!” Sellene’s daughter said, clapping her hands.

“Maybe you could do it with the cucumber this time?” Aelin cut in.

Maisie turned to her mother with all seriousness a four-year-old can muster. “Mommy, it’s Friday. We only eat fries.”

Being the little entertainer she is, the people near Maisie laughed, not for the first time this dinner. Including Rowan, who sat next to Sellene, almost in front of her. It was weird, hearing his laughter instead of reading a “haha”. A good weird. Still weird. For Mala’s sake, she needs to sort her feelings out.

“You are such a silly goose,” her friend said, fondness filling her eyes.

“No, Auntie Sel, you are a silly goose. I’m a silly gosling.” The little girl took her time pronouncing each syllable of the last word, careful to get it right.

Aelin’s mouth was ajar as she stared at her. “Where did you learn that?”

“Wowan.” Maisie said, beaming. “We’re bestest friends now because he’s an animal doctor, and he promised to show me all his animal friends so I can be friends with them too.”

“Is that so?” Aelin plastered on a smile, hoping it wasn’t too strained. It didn’t go unnoticed that he was nice enough to Maisie for her to consider him her new ‘bestest friend’, even before Aelin apologized. Fuck, she needed to unpack this later.

When she dared a glance at Rowan, he looked a little stiff, but still gave her a quick, close-lipped smile. “She likes the baby goats.”

Aelin would know. Maisie talked about them all day.

“Wowan, I’ll do a magic trick.”

He turned his full attention towards Maisie.

She continued, “Did you see me do it before?”

“Yes.”

“Try to forget.”

“I can’t do it, Maisie, I saw you do that trick too many times.” He leaned back on his chair, a lazy smirk on. “But I haven’t seen you make the cucumber disappear.”

She jolted on her seat, put a cucumber slice on the table, pointed a finger at Rowan and yelled, “Close your eyes!”

When he complied, Maisie ate that cucumber with a ferocity Aelin had never seen before.

“Dear Mala,” Rowan said when he opened his eyes, feigning shock. “Do it again.”

And that’s how he convinced her to eat every single vegetable on her plate. Fuck, he sure knows how to woo a single mom.

Not woo, Aelin chastised herself. Rowan said he liked her. In the past tense. Which should be a relief, but this wasn’t how she felt as she watched him smile at her daughter and make her have fun while eating healthy.

Rowan stole a glance at her, but Aelin had her eyes on him already. He swallowed, likely unsure of what to do after being caught staring while she was already staring.

Thank you, she mouthed so Maisie wouldn’t hear. To her surprise, his eyes softened, and he gave her a small smile.

Relief finally washed over her, when Aelin realized that the awkwardness in his expression had vanished.

˜˜

As predicted, Maisie was so hyper Aelin didn’t manage to properly enjoy the farm herself. But she didn’t mind it, since her daughter was the whole purpose of this trip. Besides, sometimes watching the kids play could be better than TV.

“I wanted to go out to eat with you, not you and your baby!” Maisie’s arms flailed around as she tried to explain her frustration.

Bree clutched her doll to her chest, a wounded look on her face. “But I can’t leave my baby alone!”

Rowan, who was just passing by the living room, froze when he registered what was going on. He turned to Aelin, confusion written all over his face, and discreetly sat by her side on the couch.

“Everything alright?”

Aelin pointed at the tea party toy set near the girls. “They’re at a pretend restaurant, eating pretend food and talking about their pretend jobs.” A pause so she wouldn’t start laughing here and there. “Maisie was expecting a girls’ night, but Bree brought her baby with her.”

“Oh, I see.” Aelin’s gaze swept over him for a minute, and it was unfair how good his pine-green eyes looked when they were filled with amusement like this. “Whose side are you on?”

“I’m getting popcorn. You?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured, “I think this is a very complex issue. We can’t read it under a Manichaean view.”

Aelin chuckled, and they fell into comfortable silence while watching the girls. Rowan’s pine scent hit her senses, but it was the chilly wind coming from the window that made her shiver.

“You cold?”

She shrugged. “Not that much.”

Rowan stood up. “I’ll warm us up.”

“You’re getting a blanket?”

“Better,” Rowan said, a troublesome glint in his eyes. “Wine.”

Not as effective as a blanket, but definitely more fun.

“Merlot?” He suggested with his head tilted.

Unbelievable. Aelin briefly mentioned her favorite type of wine to this man over text in a late night conversation, and he still remembered it weeks later.

Rowan seemed to misread her silence, his expression becoming guarded. “But I can share the bottle with Enda if you don’t feel like it.”

Aelin’s gaze quickly turned to her daughter before she focused back on him. “Can it wait until after Maisie’s bedtime?”

Rowan took a step back with a grin on, and his eyes wouldn’t leave Aelin. “I’ll get the snacks ready.”

After wrangling Maisie around the house a little more and putting her to bed, Aelin found herself in the same living room as before. However, this time, the tea party set on the table was replaced by a small charcuterie board and two glasses of red wine.

They talked about their lives for hours. Now it was nearing midnight, and none of them seemed to grow tired of each other’s companies. It was just easy like that with him, and she knew it. Too easy, was what Aelin told herself in her office as she let him down. Too easy to be true, and not the delusion of a lonely twenty-nine-year-old divorcée.

Aelin had so many reasons why she couldn’t give Rowan a real chance, but she couldn’t remember a single one of them right now. Actually, she could remember, they just felt… small.

Too bad she was too late.

“And you never thought to move back here? Being a vet and all?”

Rowan sipped his wine. “I’ve lived in the city since I was a teenager, my whole life’s there. But I visit a lot.”

“And your cousins?”

“Not as much, but Yulemas is always here.” He cocked his head, his expression shifting as he grinned at her. “Though the company is usually much less good-looking.”

Aelin blinked. She stared at the glass of wine. It was her second, and Aelin knew her limits. She wasn’t even tipsy. It couldn’t be.

“Rowan Whitethorn… are you flirting with me?”

“Yes, I’ve been trying for a while.” A pause. “Is it working?”

Wow. She looked around, mind racing and empty at the same time. A turned-off TV. Potted plants with fairy lights on. A mistletoe. Gifts under a tree.

Rowan was flirting with her.

Rowan, Maisie’s new “bestest friend”. Kind, attentive Rowan who remembered her favorite wine and looked as delicious as the Focaccia bread he stole from the kitchen for her.

Rowan, who seemed to give her a second chance even when she didn’t deserve it.

“It’s working, yeah.”

He didn’t dare say a word after her response, and neither did she. He leaned forward, barely blinking as he tried to meet her eye.

Aelin needed to say something. She wanted to say something else, but it was hard to do it while she felt her old resolutions shatter like a wall of glass.

Going on shitty date after shitty date so she could find someone reasonably good, until something happened and she had to go back to the stream of shitty dates? No, meeting new people was a hard no for now.

But it was different when she had already met someone, right? Aelin wasn’t ready to give dating a chance, but she was more than willing to give Rowan a chance.

She got up and tugged Rowan’s hand.

“What?”

Aelin tugged on it again, so he got up from the couch too. Wordlessly, she led him to a spot right under the beam that divided the living room and the hallway.

She pointed at the mistletoe above them. “Oh, look.”

“Wow.”

“I definitely didn’t see that and drag you here.”

“And my mother definitely didn’t fill the house with mistletoes tonight because she’s in love with you and Maisie.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” she lied.

“So surprising.”

“Shocking.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

“Absolu—”

Rowan pulled their lips together, cupping her face with both hands while she wrapped her arms around him. Their lips brushed together, and it was almost unfair how soft he felt. He gently nipped hers so Aelin would open up to him, and the kiss was sweet and hungry at the same time. His hands traveled down her neck and arms, making her shiver, until he reached her waist and tugged her closer.

Well, fuck. If Aelin didn’t have any doubts about giving this a chance anymore, she didn’t know what to call it now. A negative amount of doubts? Anyway, her mind was jello. Aelin couldn’t know where this was going, but she knew she’d let it happen now. No more holding back.

Rowan broke the kiss and put their foreheads together, breathlessly breathing her in with closed eyes.

“If I ask you out on another date, will you show up this time?”

“Yes,” Aelin said, right before her parted lips morphed into a teasing smirk. “And I might even delete Tinder, depending on how large your coffee order is.”

You can get notified when I update by either turning notifications on for @backtobl4ck-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

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

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fieldofdaisiies · 1 month

Note

Hmm... number 7 for Rowan and Aelin? :>

7…to shut them up for Rowaelin

"You know who I am!" Aelin places her hands on her hips, glowering up at her mate.

"I know who you are," he answers with a smirk.

"Then don't tell me what to do."

"I didn't tell you what to do, Fireheart."

"Don't call me that. Not right now. Not when I am angry at you." She furrows her brow even more, trying to glare at him, but his smirk only grows. "And you did tell me what to do. You said it would be too dangerous for me to go there."

"Semantics, Fireheart. I only said that it would be dangerous, not too–"

"I know what you said, don't deny it now. You said–"

Rowan cradles her chin in one broad hands and slams his lips against hers, shutting her up. He smiles in triumph when he hears Aelin gasp and uses the moment to slide his tongue into her mouth, kissing her deeply, and with so much hunger it makes a blush creep into her cheeks.

#rowaelin #throne of glass #tog #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #kiss prompts

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thunderc1an · 1 year

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op im begging you to lore drop about the Scourge and Tigerclaw [evil!bluestar?] au you have going on i need to know if tigerclaw is good or not

Bluestar isn't evil in this au.

It's more along the lines that the events of "The Prophecy Begins" happen earlier (Brokenstar things, bringing windclan back, etc.)

Just think of it as if the protagonist of the first arc is Tiny (THEN the protagonist of arc 2, finding the clans a new home, is fireheart, and everything else from the other arcs get pushed back too)

What i want most out of this au is to see (from the perspective of Snowfoot, tiny) a complex version of Tigerclaw, how through his own grief he does the things he does.

Though Fireheart (as an apprentice) is still the character that will reveal what Tigerstar (Leader of thunderclan) has done, and Snowfoot (deputy of thunderclan) would be the one to end him.

So that being said, the whole thing about Bluestar, straying further and further from Starclan because of her own grief, causes for Thunderclan to crumble. This and her friendliness towards riverclan does cause for a lot of the cats that Tigerclaw cares for to die.

In a simple sentence Tigerclaw (later -star) is a bad cat, he does kill to get to his desired endpoint. His endpoint is "good", bringing strength and dignity to Thunderclan after Bluestar's leadership. But I also want the viewer to have their own thoughts about if he's good or not

#warriors #warrior cats #warriors au #tigerstar au #sorry if there are any grammar mistakes #I am watching a movie with my roomates heehee #tigerstar #bluestar #wc scourge

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redux-iterum · 23 days

Text

Charred Legacy: Chapter One

(AO3 counterpart here.)

All things considered, it was a nice night.

Fireheart was half-rolled onto his back, front paws tucked into his upturned chest while his rear end remained on its side. His tail tapped absentmindedly on the still-warm sand as he gazed up at the stars. The weather had loosened up, mercifully keeping the sky clear and even warming the air a little. It was still somewhat chilled, but the ground had softened from muddy slop to dense soil—still retaining a bit of moisture, but not enough to stick to a traveling cat’s paws—and the frost had barely made an appearance before shying away and melting again into dew.

Thank the Three for small miracles, Fireheart thought as his eyes lazily drifted from star to star. They know we needed it.

Caught up in the beauty of the sky and the grainy comfort of the sand, he was only somewhat registering cats talking around him. Faint squeals drifted out of the nursery’s entrance and his ear twitched at what he thought (hoped, really) was Goldenflower gently chiding the kits inside. Frostfur’s litter was already out, but in the past month they had calmed down considerably and come to prefer talking with the one cat in the apprentice’s den who would soon be a warrior, Swiftpaw, as he regaled them with stories of the territory and all the strange creatures they would see there.

Fireheart twisted his head back and to the side a bit—yes, there they were, listening to the black tom recounting his experience going to the Mother on the far side of the territories.

“And I know she looks scary,” he was saying, “but that’s kind of the point, I think. It makes you respect her even more. You just have to be brave and go into her mouth, trusting her. And Yellowfang will be there to guide you, so you’ll find your way.”

The sole molly of the litter, fluffy ginger-patched Brightkit, spoke up now. “I won’t be scared. The Mother wouldn’t hurt us—we’re her favorites.”

Thornkit, dark and golden-brown, frowned at her. “Still gotta be ‘spectful.”

Fireheart’s mouth twitched into a brief grimace in sympathy as the tom’s ears went back in embarrassment at the end of his sentence. Thornkit still slurred and stumbled over his words, even with as much as Frostfur had worked with him on speaking clearly, and he had been speaking shorter and shorter sentences recently, and at a much lower volume. His siblings understood him just fine, save one.

That one, the deaf little white tom directly in front of Swiftpaw, was Snowkit. His bright blue eyes, wide and vibrant, were fixed on Swiftpaw’s mouth as the apprentice said, “Yeah, it’s important to be quiet on the walk in and during the ceremony. Just wait until Yellowfang speaks to you.”

Brackenkit, a thinner and lighter version of Thornkit, tilted his head. “Will Cinderpaw be there?”

“She was when I went.” Swiftpaw’s eyes lifted upwards as he squinted a bit. “I mean, we did ours together, so that’s why, but I think she’d have to go anyway.” He turned to look at his dark grey sister as she limped out from the ferns by the meeting stump. “Hey, Cinderpaw! Are you going to be with these kits when they do their pilgrimage?”

Cinderpaw beamed with a hacking scoff very similar to her mentor’s. “Obviously! I have to learn how to do it myself, and there’s no way I’m missing out on Brighty getting blessed.” She swept her tail, crooked at the tip, in the direction of the toms. “And you guys, of course.”

Brackenkit seemed to take no offense. “I bet my blessing will be from Rokhar.”

Fireheart purred, rolling slowly onto his side. Of all the three gods, the Tiger was the one he understood the least. Then again, it seemed like everyone outside of the seer role had some trouble grasping exactly what Rokhar was all about. The first seer of Fireheart’s life in ThunderClan, Spottedleaf, had described him as being “in-between” and “all-encompassing”. Even after more than a year of being a Clan cat, Fireheart still had no idea what that meant.

“Why Rokhar?” Swiftpaw asked, sounding amused. “Because he’s the cool—?“

“Because he’s the cool one!” Brackenkit said, exactly in tandem with the apprentice. At another frown from Thornkit, he added, “I mean, they’re all cool, but Rokhar’s the coolest.”

Cinderpaw limped up to the little gathering of the young, her bad leg crumpled up towards her belly. “Knowing your dad, he’s probably telling Horoa right now to bless all of you with a Lion’s touch.”

While the kits all started babbling to each other about whether that was true or not, Fireheart’s heart clenched at the mention of Lionface. He had been the deputy of ThunderClan after Redtail, another first for Fireheart when he had joined the Clan from life as a house cat. Both of them had been great toms, Redtail kind and friendly and Lionface majestic and confident (even if he and Fireheart had clashed here and there). Both of them were gone, and both of them had been…

Fireheart’s claws sank into the sand. He eyed Cinderpaw’s crippled leg.

It had been around a month since the trial that shattered the Clan’s collective heart. No one had spoken of it after it happened, and even the mere implication of something that would link back to that night was hushed or ignored. Fireheart couldn’t stand this thing Clan cats had with refusing to acknowledge bad cats or the things they’d done; it didn’t help anyone feel better, it just made things awkward and sad. Supposedly, the spirits of these bad cats could come back if spoken about or named and haunt the territories, but as far as Fireheart had seen, the only thing they haunted was his dreams.

What he’d give to talk about this with Goldenflower.

But she was in the nursery now, and she needed peace and quiet to raise his adoptive siblings until they were big enough to come out and explore camp. Being forbidden from visiting, Fireheart just had to rely on news shared by Brindleface or Frostfur—mostly Brindleface, as Frostfur had left the nursery early to give the crowded den some room and now only came to check on her nearly-grown kits. Brindleface had been incredibly nervous and sensitive when she was stuck in the den, but now that she had been able to leave her kits for walks here and there…

“Fireheart! There you are!”

The ginger tom blinked and got to his feet, shaking off what sand had clung to his fur. The beautiful grey tortoiseshell in question had just climbed up and out of the nursery, her pale green eyes shining as Fireheart approached her.

“I have a surprise for you,” she said when he was close enough. “Well, two surprises.”

Fireheart perked up. “Really? Are they about Cloudkit?”

“They are.” Brindleface’s fluffy tail curled at the delight that must have immediately brightened up Fireheart’s face. “I’m sorry you couldn’t have come seen him before, but that makes this a little more interesting.”

Cloudkit had been adopted into the Clan, the same as his uncle. Fireheart had been given the kit by his frantic sister, Rosy, and ThunderClan took him in with only a bit of reluctance. The two of them did not look similar—Fireheart was skinny and shorthaired and Cloudkit was a ball of white fluff—and with the automatic distance of Fireheart not being able to visit to see his nephew and bond with him, he could only hope that they wouldn’t be so different that they could not find common ground besides being outsiders at birth, especially since Fireheart had promised to mentor Cloudkit once he became an apprentice.

“What is it, then?” he asked, trying not to sound overly-eager.

“Well, for one…” Brindleface turned and poked her head into the nursery. “Babies, do you want to come out now?”

Indistinct squeaks of excitement immediately followed this, and Brindleface purred before turning back to Fireheart, saying, “That’s the first surprise. They’re ready to meet you.”

Fireheart’s fur flared out and he beamed. “I can see him now!”

Brindleface nodded, her whiskers twitching. “And the second…”

She gestured with her paw just in time for the first kits to scramble out of the den: both grey with broken tabby markings, similar in every way except for the molly being both more delicate in the face and fluffier than her brother. They completely ignored Fireheart and bumbled out into the center of camp. Who followed them was—

Not the kit Fireheart had brought in.

This kit was fluffy and round, sure, but ginger covered his ears and nose and was steadily claiming his tail. His fur was quite long and puffed out, even if he was a bit small; if it weren’t for the unusual color, he would fit perfectly in with the rest of ThunderClan. By the way his deep blue eyes blinked owlishly at Fireheart, he was just as surprised at the reunion.

“Cloudkit,” Brindleface said with another paw-gesture, “this is your uncle, Fireheart. Remember how we talked about him?”

“Ohhh,” Cloudkit said loudly. He looked Fireheart up and down before announcing, “You’re short.”

“Cloudkit!” Brindleface scolded. “That’s rude.”

Fireheart chuffed and bent his head to meet his nephew’s eye-level. “And you’re pudgy.”

Cloudkit squinted at Fireheart. “What’s ‘pudgy’?”

“Fat!” Cinderpaw called from across the clearing.

Cloudkit squawked and slowly and clumsily swatted a paw in the direction of Fireheart’s nose. “’Mnot pudgy! You’re pudgy!”

Brindleface stared at the little tom in baffled embarrassment, but Fireheart pretended to be struck and rubbed his nose like it’d been scratched.

“Don’t beat me up, please,” he said, poorly hiding his amusement. “I’m sorry, you’re not.”

Cloudkit nodded in satisfaction—then, to Fireheart’s surprise, he toddled right up to his uncle and bumped their noses together. Him being so small, it didn’t hurt, but it was more of a punch than usual.

“Hi, uncle,” Cloudkit said, pulling back.

Fireheart’s whiskers twitched. “Hi, nephew.”

“That’s better.” Brindleface stepped forward to lick Cloudkit’s ear. “Are you ready to meet your Clanmates now?”

The little puffball nearly jumped in place and waddled off after his siblings, who were currently interrupting the discussion between Frostfur’s litter and Swiftpaw. Fireheart watched him go, amazed at the strength of the flame of affection in his chest, even when he hadn’t seen the kit since he’d come to the Clan.

“How did his fur get like that?” He turned to Brindleface now. “He was white when I brought him in.”

Brindleface rolled a shoulder. “Kittypet blood, I’m guessing. I’ve never seen anything like that in the territories. I thought he was sick at first, but he’s been perfectly happy and healthy this whole time.” She gave Fireheart a cheeky squint. “Both of you stick out now.”

Fireheart sighed a chuff. “At least he’ll be warm this winter.”

Brindleface nodded. Then her eyes flicked to the side and narrowed a fraction before she walked off after her litter. Fireheart’s gaze followed where she’d looked.

Darkstripe. Of course. He was glaring at the now-wandering Cloudkit.

Fireheart contained another, much heavier sigh. Since the trial, the dark tabby had hardly said more than one word to anyone, and they had to speak to him first. Fireheart hadn’t dared start a conversation with him—Darkstripe had never liked him to begin with, but since the end result of the trial was largely on Fireheart’s shoulders, the hatred in Darkstripe’s eyes burned Fireheart’s back whenever the two had to cross paths. He’d done his best to give the older warrior space, which was difficult when they shared a den.

Anticipating the glare to turn on him, Fireheart prepared to look away and find something else to engage with. He was saved by the camp entrance rustling to reveal the pale brown tortoiseshell Speckletail leading a patrol in. As her followers trotted to the prey-pile, she approached Darkstripe and said something to him Fireheart didn’t catch. Darkstripe didn’t respond beyond a twitch of his lip, getting to his feet and stalking out of camp. Speckletail watched him go, huffed and shook her head before joining the rest of the patrol.

After the loss of the prior deputy—the one that trial had been all about—Speckletail had been selected to replace him. She hadn’t been the expected choice, but she had accepted the role and immediately went about keeping the Clan busy and organized for the first month of her tenure. Fireheart suspected that this was a tactical decision; giving everyone something to do kept them from stewing in their own thoughts over the events of the past fall. Things had finally slowed down, with the warmer weather gifting the Clan with more prey than Fireheart had been told showed up in the end seasons. This was one of the first nights in quite a while that Fireheart had gotten to stay home and just enjoy the peace of camp.

“Good evening,” he said to Speckletail as she walked past him with a woodrat.

She nodded to him, putting down her prey for a moment. “Any word while I was gone?”

Fireheart shook his head, ears going back sadly. “I haven’t spoken to her since a few days ago.”

Speckletail sighed through her nose. Her eyes were tired. “I’ll talk with her once I’ve eaten.” She picked up her prey again and continued on her way, sitting down with Willowpelt on the far side of camp.

Fireheart’s eyes drifted to the wall of briar that surrounded the sandy clearing. Though he couldn’t see it, his gaze landed on the area where the leader’s den was situated on the outside.

Where Bluestar was undoubtedly sleeping.

The trial and the near-murder preceding it had hurt everyone, but it had broken something in the Clan’s leader. Only a few days after the deputy’s execution, Bluestar had become a rare sight. She now walked alone in the forest or holed up in her den, only coming out to order patrols or respond to something Speckletail asked her about. It had been part of the quiet conversation for some time now, but no one dared to broach the topic to Bluestar—even Fireheart, her former apprentice, or Whitecloud, her nephew.

It wasn’t fair, Fireheart wanted to shout to the stars. Of all the cats suffering, why did their leader have to struggle the hardest? The pain and suspicion and fear clouded her eyes and silenced her voice. It had been her throat the deputy’s teeth nearly crushed, her friends and Clanmates he crippled and murdered to get to her. Now, whenever she looked at her charges, it seemed like she was gauging their intentions, how well they could be trusted. Even Fireheart had been under scrutiny more than once.

She really would benefit from being able to talk about this whole thing…

“Cloudkit, please!”

Fireheart blinked and was back in camp. He turned his head to see his nephew marching for the fallen log that was the elder’s den. The elders were already out—lanky and grey One-eye, dark brown Halftail, and black-and-white Patchpelt—but they were talking among themselves, completely unaware of the kit making his way towards them, his siblings trailing behind with curious looks on their faces. Brindleface was padding after them, calling for Cloudkit.

“Let them be—” she started, but Cloudkit broke into a clumsy imitation of a run and continued on. Just as he reached Patchpelt, he tried to slow down, only succeeding in crashing right into the elder and stumbling backwards, plopping into a sitting position.

Patchpelt coughed (as he had been lately) in surprise and looked round to see the kit. His faded eyes brightened. “Well, now! I don’t remember this one.”

“I’m Cloudkit.” The furball blinked up at him. “My sister is Aspenkit and my brother is Ashkit.”

Halftail tilted his head, eyes narrowed analytically.

“You’ve got some ginger on your face, little ant,” croaked One-eye, peering with her single eye at the kit. “Or you’ve been playing in the sand.”

“No, he’s supposed to look like that.” Brindleface hurried up to them. “I’m sorry he disturbed you.”

“You know we love being disturbed,” Patchpelt said fondly, looking at the grey kits as they approached. “Ah, and this must be Ashkit and Aspenkit.”

The tom kit nodded firmly, standing as tall as he could, while the molly lowered her nose and shyly regarded the ground. Cloudkit, meanwhile, was meeting One-eye’s gaze, looking completely unbothered by the marred face that every kit and new apprentice was a little taken aback by. Fireheart noted with pride that he didn’t broach the topic of One-eye’s accident, only chirping, “You’re tall.”

One-eye chortled. “And old, on top of that. Do you know what my name is?”

Cloudkit shook his head.

“I’m One-eye, unsurprisingly.” The pale molly nodded to her denmates. “That’s Halftail and Patchpelt. Can you guess which is which?”

“Um…” Cloudkit scrunched up his little face before answering slowly. “Patchpelt’s got patches, and Halftail’s brown, right?”

“Very good.” Patchpelt purred. “We have easy names to remember.”

Cloudkit brightened up and wagged his short little tail. “I did it!”

“Yes, you did it,” Brindleface said, touching her nose to her adopted son’s head, adding to the elders, “I can distract him if he starts to bother you.”

“Oh, he’s not a bother at all.” One-eye tilted her head comically at Cloudkit, who trilled in response. “I haven’t had a kit not flinch at my face since I became an elder.”

Fireheart watched on as Cloudkit made his way around to Halftail, who eyed him suspiciously but said nothing. An anxiety he didn’t know was in his stomach settled at the warm looks on the elders’ faces when Cloudkit loudly announced, “Fireheart’s my uncle!” and puffed out his little chest.

He’s bold, Fireheart thought affectionately, watching his nephew respond to Patchpelt’s kindly questions about life in the nursery. Rosy, whether or not you get to see him again, I know you’ll be proud.

#warrior cats #redux iterum #iterum #chapter #chapter one #book three #arc one #charred legacy

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goddess-aelin · 4 months

Text

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

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angstywildcats · 4 months

Note

it’s been a hot minute since ive read warrior cats so i just wanted to ask what the relationship between ferncloud and brightheart is? and in turn the general premise of your coming surrounding them? im really interested!!

It has been a hot minute since i've touched a book too, anybody is free to correct me but. In canon, they really just were apprentices at the same time.

If you wana pepe silvia it up, it should be noted that the books however included that:

Fernpaw and Ashpaw's mother is killed by the dogs

Swiftpaw would invite Fernpaw (and Ashpaw) to find out what's been out there hunting down Thunderclanners (It should be stated that Swiftpaw, I think, did this for his Warrior name and wanted support. I don't know if there was ever any mentioned other noble cause on saving his Clan or specifically his apprentice denmates)

Brightpaw and Swiftpaw leave, that whole tragedy happens.

Fernpaw is the one to confess to Fireheart (and Cloudtail, I think?) about where the missing Swiftpaw and Brightpaw's whereabouts are. Which, theoretically helps Brightpaw be found in time.

The book never really shows them interacting otherwise, as far as I can remember, but Ferncloud and Brightheart also most likely shared time in the nursery together since they have kittens around the same era... which you never see because that's in between The Prophecies Begin and The New Prophecy, and Whitepaw is an apprentice by then.

Basically I'm making mountains over underdeveloped molehills over side characters, but I think with what's given, there's a lot of emotional exploration to be had over it, while still feeling in-line with canon!

I should say as well, I was all particularly inspired by this because a couple of Warriors videos ('Danse Macabre', 'No one, Everyone, Your mama') both included a shot of Fernpaw watching them leave in the night. It's such a simple thing to include, but there's a lot of weight to seeing your friends the very moment they leave to go on a suicide mission and one of them never coming back! What would have happened if you broke their trust and just told on them to not leave! Is it your fault they died!?

Soooo with all that being said, and my absolute hunger for just... more interpersonal relationships between characters in Warriors (which they fail me for even the main characters), there's a lot of strong potential in this.

With my take on Brightheart and Ferncloud, I just see them as really good or bonded friends who grew up together. They go through a lot through shared trauma, and based on the tidbits of personality given for both of them, I think they also would get along. Fernpaw being timid, Brightpaw being caring for others. In my comic I've added a bit to also imply Brightheart agreed to go with Swiftpaw not only to support him but to do it for Fernpaw/Ashpaw as well. I hesitate to put any further label on it since... well, their children get together romantically so it would add to the tangle of bloodlines, but I def can see it as how some childhood friends have sibling bonds.

For the comic... you will have to see exactly what happens! It's short, chill. Mostly conversational, just like the Shrewpaw/Ferncloud one but i hope it still hits emotional beats. I think something just fun to chew on while I make it is... How would it feel to watch your friends try hunt something that killed your mother, and only one survives, coming out of it extremely shaken. What would seeing her again feel like.

Perhaps I have talked to much, but I actually planned to do an extension of this comic where it timeskips further on where all the apprentices, grown up, visit Swiftpaw's grave.... but I decided against this because. 1. This is already a lot of work to do this many pages. 2. It's gonna be pretty long already, and I do not like making extremely long posts on tumblr. 3. I found a different way to end the comic I preferred.

Here's the script. Perhaps maybe I'll touch on it another while but admittedly after this I may be tired of exploring the Dog Incident for a bit.

Thank you for being so kind and inquiring! It's very fun, I enjoyed explaining this.

#not art #ask #anonymous

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leiawritesstories · 4 months

Text

The Universal Rules of Mistletoe

a fun, hopefully cute, little fluffy fic based off this prompt from @rowaelinprompts "Our friends set us up under the mistletoe"

a gift for @sahana-draws!! happy @rowaelinscourt Rowaelin Secret Santa! it's been so much fun working on this little piece and I really hope you enjoy :))

Word count: 2,054

Warnings: none! (just clueless idiots in love)

Enjoy!

🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️

Fifteen Years Ago

Shiny patent-leather shoes tapping lightly against the hardwood stairs, Aelin hurried downstairs as fast as she could while in her poofy red tulle Christmas dress. Five steps up from the bottom, she stopped, peering across the wide hallway into the main floor of the Galathynius home, which was full of beautifully dressed adults. Her eight-year-old imagination latched onto the sight of her mom and dad with their hands linked, smiling and laughing as they talked with their friends.

She wanted everything they had when she grew up.

Slowly, a little nervously, she moved three more steps down, stopping again as the nervousness flared up in her stomach. This was the first year she had been allowed to come to the Christmas party, and even though her babysitter would be there with her, she wasn't sure if she could do it.

"Hey." Another voice--a boy's voice--interrupted her scattered thoughts. Rowan Whitethorn, the boy from next door whose parents were longtime friends with Aelin's parents, stood on the other side of the staircase railing, looking at her with solemn green eyes. "I like your dress."

"Thanks," she said, smoothing her small hands down the fluffy layers of the skirt. "Mom let me pick it out."

Rowan grabbed two of the stair rails, using them for support as he rose onto his tiptoes to stick his head over the top of the banister. "Are you gonna come to the party?"

"I dunno." She stood on the last step, one hand lingering on the banister. "There's only grown-ups there."

"I'm there too," he said. "Hey, do you wanna play party tag?" Party tag was a game they had invented two years ago, when they were six and seven, during one of the many events Aelin's parents had hosted. Because Rowan and Aelin were so young, they would show up at the event for a bit to be cooed over by all of their parents' rich friends, and then be swept off away from the event. They'd invented a quiet, no-running form of tag where whoever was "it" would have to sneak up on the other person and subtly tag them. Nobody could run, and there had to be at least two minutes between tags.

It was more fun when one of their friends was also at the party, but they made it work with just the two of them.

Aelin cracked a small smile. "Okay." She stood up and stepped off the last stair, and he walked around to stand with her. "Are we gonna go now?"

"Yeah, we--"

"Oh, Enna, look!" Evalin Ashryver Galathynius's voice floated in alongside a cloud of her expensive designer perfume. "Our little ones seem to have found the mistletoe!"

Alarmed, Aelin looked up, finding a small bunch of mistletoe tied with a crimson ribbon hanging from the chandelier above the staircase.

"You know what that means," Enna Whitethorn beamed, setting her champagne flute aside and whipping her phone out of her clutch. "Rowan, darling, do you want to give Aelin a kiss?"

Rowan's whole face turned bright pink. "Do I have to?"

"No," Aelin whispered, blushing just as bright. "It's just a stupid thing the grownups do when there's mistletoe."

"Of course you don't have to," Enna reassured her son. "But it would make such an adorable photo, right Eva?"

"Oh, it would be precious!" Evalin agreed. "Fireheart, will you at least pose there for a minute? Yes, just like that! So cute!" She snapped a few photos in rapid succession as Enna did the same. "Enna, could you get a few of just me and Aelin?"

Relieved, Rowan hurried to stand next to his mother as Evalin came over to Aelin. "You look beautiful, little Fireheart," she said warmly, tidying the big red bow in Aelin's blonde hair. Enna snapped a few photos, and Evalin took Aelin's small hand in hers. "Are you ready to come to the party?"

Eyes wide, Aelin nodded. "Do I have to stay for very long?"

"Just long enough to say hi to a few people." Evalin squeezed her daughter's hand. "I promise. Then you and Nehemia can go have your movie night, right?"

"Uh huh." Aelin straightened her spine, a move she'd seen her mother do endless times. "I'm ready." Quietly, Rowan fell into step next to her, his mother on his other side. And, with her mother on one side and her best friend on the other, Aelin felt a little better about going into the grown-up party.

Present

Aelin was halfway through curling her hair, lips held apart while her matte crimson lipstick dried, when a rapid-fire knock drummed against her bathroom door. Before she could respond, the door swung open and Elide Lochan, her second cousin and dear friend, barged into the bathroom.

"I'm not dressed!" Aelin yelped, scrambling to pull her satin robe closed while still holding the curling iron in her other hand.

Elide rolled her eyes. "I can tell, Ae. Don't worry, you still have an hour before anyone is supposed to get here."

"You could've said that before you ran in here like everyone had already showed up," Aelin grumbled. "But thanks, Ells."

"No problem." Elide grinned. "Nice lipstick. Gonna get it all over someone's face tonight?" She wiggled her eyebrows.

Aelin snorted. "Gods, no. I'm the host, not some teenager who can run around all night kissing the boy she has a crush on."

"You're also twenty-three and you work too hard." Elide snatched the curling iron from Aelin's hands and took over curling her hair. "You deserve to have a little fun at your own freaking Christmas party."

"Yeah, sure," Aelin said sarcastically. "Bring me a man to kiss under the mistletoe and we'll see about that."

Elide smirked. "You're on."

An hour later, Aelin headed down the stairs, the same staircase she'd walked down every day since she was a little girl, and paused at the bottom step to take a deep, preparatory breath. You can do this, Galathynius, she told herself silently. Everything was all set up--the dining room table with a charcuterie spread, the silver-and-blue themed Christmas tree in the foyer, the large, open living room adorned with soft twinkle lights and decorative snowflakes and soft music piping in through the speaker system her parents had installed years ago. It's going to be just fine.

The doorbell rang.

Collecting herself, Aelin stepped off the stairs and went to the front door, a gracious smile spreading across her face. Her smile brightened when she found her cousin Aedion and his fiancée, Lysandra, waiting on the front step.

"Merry Christmas, Ae!" Lys squealed, hurrying inside. "Let us in, it's freezing!"

Aelin laughed. "Hi, Lys. I missed you!"

"You wouldn't miss me if you weren't working all the time," Lys teased, hugging Aelin tightly. "That dress looks fantastic, oh my god."

"Thanks," Aelin whispered back. Her crimson silk dress--of course her lipstick matched her dress--had thin straps, an elegantly scooped neckline, and was fitted in the bodice before flaring into a spill of floor-length skirts.

Aedion wrapped his arms around her. "You're not this tall," he teased.

She rolled her eyes. "It's called stiletto heels, genius."

"Sounds dangerous." He winked.

"Only for you boys who don't want to feel short." She laughed. "Hi, Aeds. How's wedding planning going?"

"Do not get me started," he groaned. "I'm so stressed, and our wedding isn't until another seven months away."

"Hey, relax. Have some punch. Just think about Christmas for a while, not the wedding."

"I'll try." He flashed her a grin.

The doorbell rang again, and Aelin opened the door to find four six-foot-plus men crowding her front steps, acting like small children with their elbows everywhere even though they were all at least in their mid-twenties.

"You can't all fit through the door like that," she drawled, beaming.

Fenrys elbowed his way through the others and broke into the house first. "I win!" he crowed, sweeping Aelin into a hug that pulled her off her feet.

"Good grief, Fen, you haven't even had any drinks yet!" she laughed. "Congratulations on winning whatever it is you think you won."

"He thinks it's a competition to get into parties first," Connall, his twin, explained. He affectionately tugged Fen's man bun. "Put the host down, Fenny."

"Don't call me that, you little--" Fen put Aelin down and went after Con, who'd sauntered away into the living room.

"They're all children, I'm sorry." Rowan pulled off his heavy winter jacket and shook the film of snowflakes off his pale hair. "Merry Christmas, Aelin--oh my god." He stared at her for a good long minute, his eyes wide and his jaw slack.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Lorcan drawled, nudging Rowan int he shoulder. He wrapped his own arm around Elide's shoulders; the two of them had been dating for just over a year and Aelin had never seen Elide so happy.

"Merry Christmas, Ro." Aelin restrained her giddy smile and did a little spin to show off her dress. "Thanks for--oh!" Rowan caught her, pulling her into a warm, pine-scented hug.

"You look stunning," he said softly. "I didn't know if I could say that in front of all the others, they'd never shut up about it, probably because they know how much I like you...uh, because we've known each other since..." He trailed off, blushing fiercely.

Shocked, Aelin looked up at him, her thoughts going a mile a minute. "You...me...what?" She shook her head. "I'm going insane. I need a minute--five minutes--I--" Abruptly, she hurried towards the stairs, only managing to get two steps up before Rowan's hand closed gently around her wrist.

"Hey." He stabilized her, his voice as grounding as it had been since they were little kids going to their parents' party for the first time. "I'm sorry, Ae, I didn't mean to scare you."

She turned around. "You didn't scare me, Rowan. You just...you said you like me?"

"I like you, Aelin." Warmth and a smidge of uncertainty flickered in his eyes. "But if you--"

"Stop that right now," she chided softly. "I thought I was always going to like you from the shadows, Ro. I've had a crush on you since we were kids."

It was his turn for stunned silence. "I should have said something years ago," he finally said, chuckling in disbelief. "I guess--"

"MISTLETOE!" Elide all but shrieked, completely shattering the mood. She--and everyone else, good grief--were suddenly piled into the walkway between the foyer and the living room, eagerly watching the couple on the stairs.

Aelin felt her face heat up, and she was on the verge of running upstairs to hide from everyone. Rowan was blushing again, even as he threw a glare that screamed "Traitor!" at Lorcan, who was smirking.

"Looks like you're together under the mistletoe, Ae," Elide repeated, beaming so wide Aelin almost thought her cheeks would split. "You know what that means!"

"That someone set us up?" Aelin asked, suddenly wondering how convenient it was that she and Rowan had had that moment together on the stairs.

Elide shrugged, her eyes bright. "There's universal rules of mistletoe, Aelin, and you're gonna have to follow them."

"We knew it!" Fenrys blurted, unable to control the secret. "Why else would we have gone into the living room as soon as we got here?"

"Fenrys!" came a collective groan.

"We shouldn't have told him," Lorcan half-mumbled, shaking his head but grinning. "Boyo has a bigger mouth than anyone I know."

"I know they're our friends," Aelin whispered to Rowan, grinning, "but I kind of want to kick them all out of my house right now." She looped her arms around his neck. "I want you all to myself."

"Me too, but we can hardly ignore the mistletoe rules." He gave her a secret, quietly joyful little smile. "Can I?"

"Please do." She tipped her head up and met his lips, his kiss soft and sweet and lingering. Completely perfect.

They only separated at the cheers and whoops of their friends, and they came into the party hand in hand, laughing, and hardly left each other's sides all night long, because sometimes, it took the quiet scheming of dear friends to get the couple who was quietly in love with each other to admit it.

~~~

TAGS:

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@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

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@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

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@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

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

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@silentquartz

#my writing #rowaelin #rowaelin secret santa 2023 #rowaelin secret santa #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fluff #shameless holiday fluff

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bonefall · 6 months

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I find it funny in an unfunny way that they pinned some of the blame on Yellowfang

Like, Yellowfang?

Yellowfang, who suffered from abuse from Raggedstar, was framed for murder and exiled from her clan?

Yellowfang, who takes no bs, saved countless lives as a medcat, helped Cinderpelt and was a major support pillar for her, and died saving people from fire?

The very same Yellowfang who killed her son because of everything he did, all the murders and child soldiers he caused? Who wished Firestar was her son? Then killed Brokenstar AGAIN???

THAT Yellowfang???

And they said Starclan let her let Ashfur into their ranks???

I honestly believe they began writing a completely new character after TPB. She's NEVER felt like the person Fireheart knew in life in subsequent material, not in StarClan, not in her SE, nowhere.

Knowing how hard she is on herself in regards to StarClan and her feeling she deserves "divine punishment," it makes sense to me that she'd *repeat* StarClan's ruling on the matter, or even that she'd be hard on Squilf and Leafp in their trials. But LETTING ASHFUR IN??

ENOUGH THAT WE CITE HER AS A REASON?

Nooo fucking way. She would never make that ruling. She felt WRETCHED for what she had to do to Brokenstar and like it was "teaching her a lesson," you can't tell me that she would let Ashfur get off scot-free for trying to murder 3 people out of romantic spite

And like, I've also gotta stress; it's not JUST three counts of attempted murder.

He was beating the shit out of Lionpaw, in a way reminiscent of the harsh training Brokenstar was putting apprentices through, PLUS the abuse of Stumpypaw

He DID successfully murder his leader, just the one life but he WANTED it to be all 9

Treason in working with Ashfur. That is canon. People forget it's canon and Hawkfrost used his dying breath to tease that he had inside help

Assault of Squilf, he was going to make her watch her children get crispy-fried

Absolutely insane article. Story team should stop even trying to explain themselves they just make everything worse. Their choices are baffling enough, but their thought process is truly like the world's worst Rube Goldeberg machine

#And like. Fuck off. If you have to come in years after the fact you write an abusive relationship to confirm it--#--because you are consistently so bad at writing romance you keep unintentionally writing abuse and have to CLARIFY when it's unhealthy--#--you utterly failed your audience of young teens.#Bone babble #Yellowfang

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lucienarcheron · 2 months

Text

Spirit Meets the Bones - V

Genre: Angst/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse.

shoutout to my darling @abruisedmuse for keeping me sane while writing. ily!

Find it all here.

“So, tell me wife,” Eris began. “Other than piano and the urge to stab, what else are you interested in?”

Iris rolled her eyes. “Is this your question for a question?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Eris had taken one look at her expression this morning as they stepped out in the hall and knew the tour could wait until later. After a very quiet departure where they slipped out unnoticed by all, they were finally out in a quiet field, letting their horses leisurely stroll side by side as they explored alone.

They had ridden in silence for the first few moments and if Eris had to sit quietly for another moment without asking her something he would lose his mind.

Iris’s lips went into a thin line as her eyes drank in the sight of the open field around her. There wasn’t a single soul around them. It was a sense of peace she hadn’t expected to be feeling the morning after her wedding.

“I think…” she began and glanced at him, “If given the chance, I would’ve liked to properly study the art of healing.”

Eris hummed in thought, his eyes on her for a moment then back at the road ahead. “A healer?” he asked. “That seems like a noble choice. Why would your father be opposed to it?”

Iris grimaced. “My father...didn’t like the idea of me knowing too many useful things,” she replied, gently running a hand through her horse’s mane. “If I became useful, I wouldn’t need him. If I didn’t need him, I could defy him. And if I could defy him? Well then...I’d be a much bigger problem.”

“You seem to have done that anyway. It doesn’t seem to have stopped you from getting away with quite a lot,” he said quietly.

Iris shook her head and glanced at him. “I was...very limited in what I could do. Kept on a very tight leash. I can socialize but only when he allows it with the specific people he wants. I could have hobbies but only if he deemed them appropriate and he had the power to take them away whatever he wanted, at any point in time.” she said and her voice lowered to a mumble. “It was his favorite thing to do, and everything came at a price.”

She frowned and Eris tilted his head, saying nothing as he watched her, hoping she would continue. It surprised him that he wanted to know more. He needed to know more.

After a few moments of silence, Iris seemed to remember she had more to say.

“Everything I really cared about doing, or rather everything I tried to do, had to be done in secret. I never learned how to properly defend myself because I had to sneak to do it. The same applies to healing. I had to be very careful how I approached my instructors with questions. If I seemed too eager or began excelling too quickly, it would be taken away. The piano was allowed because he used it as a selling point.” she said with a snort. “I was his so-called poor sickly daughter who couldn’t be out and about for too long and whose only joy was her little piano. I annoyed him enough that he let some things slide but after a while, he got sick of it and... what’s another bruise?”

The nonchalance shrug made Eris’s jaw clench and he shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. Too similar. They were much too similar.

“Did you try healing yourself?”

Iris looked away, towards the open field once more. “I did. But it had to be gradual. If I did it too quickly, he would notice.” she replied. “I liked it best when he didn’t notice me.”

Eris watched her silently for a moment, watched the longing in her eyes at the open field and space. A bitterness clawed its way into his chest. He knew all too well how trapped a person can feel.

“You can ride out if you’d like,” he said, forcing his tone to be as gentle as possible. “The edge of the border takes you to the sea, about an hour’s ride.”

“And leave you all alone, little lord?” she said with a scoff. “Wouldn’t want you to start crying.”

Eris smirked. “Aw, wife. Just say you can’t bear a moment without me by your side. I understand, I’m very dashing.”

Without looking at him, Iris flipped him off. “I won’t run off, you know.”

“I know," he confirmed. "So, if you’d like to ride, go for it. It’s just us here.”

She glanced at him and then again looked around. “Is that why you didn’t take me on a tour inside first?”

“One look at your face told me you’d rather not stay inside for too long. I figured seeing the land was a good start,” he replied, his fingers tightening on the reins briefly. “Was I wrong?”

Iris didn’t want to acknowledge it but gods, he was right. The idea of taking a tour where people were going to stare at her and wonder how she was still standing after a night with their stupid lordling made her want to vomit. “No,” she said quietly. “I don’t exactly look forward to being gawked at when we return.”

The corner of Eris’s mouth lifted. “They won’t,” he said. “The bride and groom have the blessing to avoid other human interactions for a week at least. It’s why you won’t see any of our housekeeping and I’m relieved of my duties this week. They’ll leave us alone for now to enjoy each other’s company.”

“Is this a custom I have never heard of?”

“It is when you’re the son of a high lord,” he replied, and Iris snorted but her curiosity was piqued.

“So, we will have our own housekeeping staff then?”

“Of course. I personally went through the process of vetting them.”

She nodded and stole a glance at him to find him watching her as curiously as she watched him. “You also have your own guard, right?”

“Yes. I pick them myself. I need to know I can trust them.”

Trust. Such an important thing between him and his men. It would be an important thing between the two of them as well. If Eris would allow it to grow. If Iris would accept it.

Glancing ahead, fingers still tight on the reins, she asked, “And what do your duties include?”

“Helping my father run this court,” he said, his eyes drifting to the fields around them. “I have handled all the trades and business with our farming lands since the unfortunate incident with Jesminda. I also meet with and handle any citizen concerns as well as oversee the security measures around our border. Sometimes I’ll help train new soldiers. A few things here and there.”

Iris blinked rapidly. “A few?” she snorted. “If you do all this, what does your father do?”

Eris scoffed, his expression souring slightly. “Sit on his throne and drink wine.”

Iris’s eyebrows rose but she bit her lip, holding back a snicker. “What about your brothers?”

“Fucking their way through the city and spending my money,” he replied with a snort and this time, Iris didn’t hold back her small smile.

“It almost seems like you’re the only responsible one here, dearest husband.”

“I am, dearest wife. You lucked out.”

Iris rolled her eyes but then paused, hands gently brushing the mane of her horse again, her eyes locked on him. “It also seems like you don’t like your family members much,” she asked carefully.

Eris knew the question she was asking and though they were in a wide field all alone, not a soul to listen to their conversation as he had intended, he hesitated. She didn’t need to know the depth of his disgust with how his family lived just yet.

“I cannot live a day without them,” he said dully. “They bring me happiness every day.”

“Even your father?” she asked, her lips twitching.

“Especially my father. He is the spark of joy in my heart.” Eris added in the driest of tones and Iris chuckled, bringing a small smile to his face.

“You’re an excellent liar,” she said with a shake of her head. “I thought you said it was just us. And that our question for a question would remain honest?”

Eris eyed her carefully. He wasn’t a foolish male, he knew when he could trust people and when he couldn’t. And yet.

“My relationship with my family is complicated,” he answered slowly. “I am sure you’ll understand more as you get to know them.”

She hummed in thought then scrunched up her nose. “Do I have to get to know anyone besides your mother?”

“I’d personally prefer not but there’s no escaping my father,” he said with a sigh. “My brothers...can be ignored until otherwise noted.”

Iris pursed her lips. She had even more questions now but clearly, his family was a touchy subject. Which was fair; just the mere mention of her father made her blood boil and she openly hated him.

“Now that I know you’re a very busy male, husband,” she began. “What exactly am I supposed to do with my time if I’ll never see you once this week is up?”

“Sitting in our bedroom looking delicious and happily waiting for me,” he replied immediately and smirked at the glare she shot him.

“Seriously, Eris.” she huffed. “What am I supposed to do? I — I don’t want to be sitting around uselessly.”

“How did you spend your time before?” he asked, and Iris scowled.

“Doing anything I could get my hands on,” she said, and Eris watched as her eyes cataloged every detail around them, avoiding his gaze. “I read a lot of books. Painted. Sketched. Sculpted with clay. I even played with pottery...The results were terrible as I do not have an artist's hand and mostly made a mess.”

Eris fought the chuckle rising in him.

“I dabbled in writing, which was also terrible. I even tried my hand at gardening but it…did not go well. Our gardener hated me.” she added with a snort. “I baked, I cooked, I even learned embroidery —which was a terrible waste of time as all I did was stab myself repeatedly.”

“Ah, so that’s where your stabbing fetish comes from.”

“I even tried weaving with an actual loom.” she continued, ignoring him completely and Eris watched her rant with barely hidden mirth. “All of this ended with me bothering the house staff as much as possible because I was so bored.”

“Sounds like you’re an absolute menace. I’m thrilled,” he said his lips twitching and Iris rolled her eyes, flipping him off with both hands.

“What about you then? I’m sure you’ve been an angel. What are you interested in?”

“Murder.” he deadpanned.

“Right up my alley then.”

He finally gave in to his amusement and laughed softly. “It sounds like you kept yourself very busy.”

“Uselessly busy.” she snapped and frowned at him. “I don’t want that to continue. I don’t want to be useless.”

Eris pulled on the reins of his horse gently to halt it, gesturing for her to do the same. Iris’s frown deepened but she stopped as well, turning her horse to face his.

“What would you like to do?” he asked.

And it was the shift in his tone that had Iris sitting up. She thought quietly for a moment and Eris watched her mind working.

She opened her mouth a moment later, but he held up a finger with a small smile.

“I’ve already factored in training for the two of us, time for you to practice your music skills, and time for the two of us outside of the house considering I can’t really show you everything I want to in a week,” he said, and Iris blinked.

“You already thought of all that? When?”

“I am to be a high lord, my mind has to work very quickly,” he said with a smug smile. “What else would you like?”

Iris blinked once more. He...was being strangely thoughtful. It made her nervous. She narrowed her eyes at him.

He quirked a brow, waiting.

“To be with you when you’re hearing people’s concerns.” she blurted out. “I want you to teach me the court rules. I want to study healing again and take up the practice.”

She wanted so much. All she could think about was how much she wanted to do things and be present and have a say, but would he let her? What would he ask in return? Would he —

“More time together then?” he asked with a smirk. “You better pace yourself wife, I think my charm is starting to win you over.”

Iris tried not to squirm as he watched her, but it didn’t stop the slight blush that bloomed on her cheeks. “I don’t exactly have anyone else to hang out with. You’re as good as it’ll get,” she mumbled, and Eris scoffed.

“I’m so flattered you’re this excited to spend time with me,” he said, and he hated that it bothered him. “Don’t you have friends you can visit? Or visit you? You can have those, you know. No one will stop them from visiting you.”

He watched her expression fall for a split second before her face neutralized again and she fretted with her braid instead. “I — I don’t have friends,” she said quietly. “Friends notice things.”

Silence fell between them and without saying a word to one another, their horses began moving again. Eris stole glances at her, feeling the embarrassment radiating off her and his mouth went into a thin line. As if she had anything to be embarrassed about. She had no idea how similar they were.

He pursed his lips then softly said, “Aside from Lucien and Elain...neither do I. And that’s been a long process. A very long process...I still don’t trust anyone and it’s hard to make friends when you don’t know who will stab you in the back.”

Her shoulders relaxed as Iris let out a breath, her face still a little flushed. She stole another glance at him.

“You can’t build any kind of relationship without trust,” she said, and the weight of the statement sat between them.

A heartbeat passed as Eris considered her across from him, a partner now shackled to him.

“No. You can’t.” was all he could think to say.

And Iris wondered just how much she could trust him and just how much he could trust her. It seemed like he had so much more to lose than she did. Then again…

She looked at him once more as they rode on. “So.”

Eris gave her an amused look. “So.”

“Are you and your brother closer now than before?”

Eris nodded slowly then smirked. “He won’t admit it but I’m his best friend.”

“That seems like a lie.”

“It is not. I’m his favorite person,” he said with a snort. “But I like Elain more than him anyway. She’s nicer to me.”

It was Iris’s turn to snort. “I’m sure he loves that.”

“He’s very jealous of Elain and I’s relationship.”

Iris rolled her eyes. “You sound like a child,” she said, and Eris sniggered. “She’s nice then — Elain?”

“Are you worried about my relationship with your sister-in-law?” Eris teased. “Don’t worry, wife. I will always put you first.”

Iris’s expression flattened. “Just like you to make a question not about you, about you.”

Eris chuckled. “Yes, Elain is very nice,” he answered. “She’s a character. I think the two of you will get along just fine.”

“And you’d want that?” she asked curiously. “For us to get along?”

“Of course,” Eris replied and Iris noted the sincerity in his expression. “Aside from my mother, they’re the only family I care about. They’re the only ones who matter.”

"Your other brothers aren't high on the list, huh?" she asked and Eris pursed his lips.

"It's...complicated," he answered with a diplomatic smile.

Iris’s eyebrows rose at his statement but she sat quietly, digesting it. He didn’t seem too ready for her to engage with his family in this court but was open to her having a relationship with the ones who didn’t live here…which was interesting.

She could have a friend in Elain at least, if Eris liked her so much. And — and a friend in Lucien too. His other brothers...Iris would have to see about that. She snuck a glance at her husband and found him watching her curiously.

She could also find a friend in him as well, she supposed.

“Are my other requests reasonable?” she asked quietly, and Eris gave her a small smile, feeling that faint sense of approval from him again.

“I think our court would benefit from a healer on a throne,” he said quietly. “It would be good for you to be involved. I will make it all work smoothly into my schedule.”

Iris gave him an amused look, biting back a smile at his statement. “Organized, are you?”

His grip tightened on the reins before he loosened his grip again. “I like things to be in a certain order so I will make sure it all works well and is accounted for with our combined schedules.”

Iris watched him curiously. He liked control then. Which was...not surprising. It made so much sense. Iris saw all his inappropriate comments in a whole new light now.

She let a moment of silence pass between them before finally saying, “Wow.”

“Hm?”

“You really let me ask for things with no requests for kisses in return? Or for me to sit in your lap? Or do any of the other filthy things I know you’re constantly thinking of?” she said with a scoff and Eris grinned. “Dare I say in a matter of hours, growth?”

“Oh no, I’m saving it for later,” he said with a lazy smile then slowly gave her a thoughtful look. “Though I have never taken someone astride a horse before. Do you think Axel will mind if we ride each other while riding him?”

Iris shook her head, sighing. “Spoke so soon,” she mumbled, and Eris chuckled. Ignoring how his chuckle seemed to dance across her skin, Iris asked, “Where are we exactly? Near the Spring Court?”

“No, that’s more south. We are in the east forest, towards the Mortal realm with the sea between us,” he replied and moved his horse closer to hers.

Iris pursed her lips for a moment and gave him an almost pleading look, but Eris only jerked his chin again. “Go on.” he only said.

And she hesitated for a breath until Eris blinked, and then she was off, riding in the wind.

He knew he wasn’t doing her any favors and shouldn’t feel too proud of himself for it, but the wide smile on her face as she rode ahead brought a small one to his own. Eris followed her at a slower pace, letting her ride ahead, to give her some time to herself while he watched her.

One night and it had changed...something for him. It had been a night and day of marriage and suddenly, with every conversation they had…he had started caring. Which would be problematic. His father alone would make it a big problem and he desperately needed Iris to be aware of that.

But as he neared her slowly and she turned to him with that wide grin on her face, Eris felt his wretched heart skip a beat and any concern of his father quickly slipped his mind.

“The view is wonderful.” she quickly gushed. “And the fresh air! And the sound of the waves!”

His brows slowly went up as an amused smile came onto his face. “You’ve never been near the sea, I’m assuming?”

“No,” she said, and her smile dimmed slightly. “But — but we can go, right? Will you take me? Can we go now?”

And the hopeful expression on her face made his heart clench. He couldn’t afford this. He couldn’t afford to care about another person for his father to use against him. But the way she was looking at him…

“Not today but we can plan another visit,” he promised, and the wide smile returned on her face. “I’d rather have the area secured first and bring a hound or two of mine with us for extra measures. We don’t venture out this way often and I’d rather be prepared.”

Iris immediately sat up straighter on her horse. “Those famous hounds of yours?”

He gave her an amused smirk. “Famous, are they?”

“You know they are! They’re rare as it is and rumor has it you have twelve of them,” she said, almost accusingly and Eris truly had to fight back a smile. “Is it true?”

Eris blinked at her with what he hoped seemed like an innocent enough expression but couldn’t stop the chuckle when she gave him a pointed look.

“Well?”

“I do. They’re my prized possessions.”

“They are not possessions!” she immediately said with a scoff. “They are companions, and you should view them as such.”

His level of amusement was rising by the moment. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this entertained.

“Are you a fan of animals then?” he asked dryly.

“Yes. I’ve always wanted a pet of my own,” she said then pointed at him threateningly. “You will take me to meet them. I would like to pet them all.”

“They are lethally trained smokehounds bred to fight and protect,” he said with a snort. “Not some house pets you can cuddle.”

“I’ll bet you anything they’ll let me cuddle them.” she challenged.

Eris wondered what her reaction would be if she found out how much he actually cuddled with his hounds. Some days they were the only things anchoring him.

He flashed her a smirk instead and teasingly said, “You’ll bet me anything?”

Iris immediately narrowed her eyes and pointed one deadly finger at him again. “One more word and I’ll kick you right off your horse.”

He snickered then shook his head. “Regardless of your betting, it takes them a while to warm up to strangers.”

“We shall see,” she said, with her nose in the air. “I still want to meet them. Will you let me?”

Another request in a matter of minutes. Either she was getting too comfortable, too bold, or she really didn’t take him seriously. He wasn’t sure which of those options should bother him.

But then again, wasn’t that what he wanted? For her to be comfortable with him...for him to show her kindness?

“We shall see,” he repeated back to her, and her lips formed into a slight pout that seemed to have the sole purpose of testing whatever will he had to live.

“I object to that unclear decision.”

“Well, you’ll just have to deal with it, wife.”

She huffed, tugging the reins slightly so the horses turned to face the direction of home. “What are the plans for the rest of the day?”

“I thought I would give you the grand tour and then we can have lunch. We can decide what to do in the evening together.”

Iris nodded slowly and bit her lip before carefully asking her question. “Will your mother be having dinner at the house?”

Eris tilted his head slightly. “Likely. She usually has her own meetings with court ladies,” he said. “Why?”

“I know you said I can join her for breakfast but...I was wondering if she was free, we can have dinner with her?” Iris asked softly, a light blush creeping on her cheeks. “I want to thank her for her kindness with the clothing and we can spend some time with her. If that’s alright?”

Eris blinked and tried to stop the small smile on his lips. “Of course. I can ask her when we get back.”

“Alright,” Iris said with a small smile and the two observed each other then, quietly.

The open space around them. The sounds of nature. Not quite knowing what to make of one another yet drawn to know more.

Feeling self-conscious as her husband stared intensely at her, Iris straightened on her horse.

“I’ll race you back to the stables?” she challenged, a playful glint in her eyes and Eris gave her a smirk.

“Think you’ll beat me?”

“If I win, you have to take me to the hounds immediately,” she demanded, and he chuckled.

“And if I win, little gazelle?” he asked and before he could say one of the many filthy things he loved to scandalize her with, Iris held a hand up.

“If you win, maybe you’ll get that kiss you’ve been craving from me.”

Eris quirked a brow. “There you go again with that maybe of yours.”

“Maybe is as good as it’s going to get.

Eris eyed her, giving her a small smirk. “Alright then, wife,” he said. “I’ll take my chances.”

With an obnoxious wink and no other warning, he sprinted off leaving a very outraged Iris scrambling behind him.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris x oc #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar fanfiction #gfics #smtb chapters #If you'd like to be tagged or removed pls let me know!

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shyvioletcat · 7 months

Text

ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 18

~ Aelin and Hawk Rowan ~

Just something silly and sweet for our beloved otp

~~~~~

The world passed by in a blur, Kasida’s stride eating up distance over the grassy plain. Each hoof beat resounded through Aelin’s body, the fast paced rhythm creating a symphony that only added to the thrill of the ride. Aelin trusted her steed completely, knowing she had the care for both their safety and avoiding unsteady ground. And they were not alone.

Rowan swooped, his wing brushing her cheek. As much as she loved the gesture, it was distracting, and Aelin almost missed the turn onto the forest path. Bastard, he was trying to distract her. Kasida slowed just a little, her sure footing not faltering as the path was swarmed with vegetation. Aelin assumed Rowan flew above the trees to avoid entanglement in the branches. Their little race was almost over and she hoped she could rely on the thick, overlapping boughs to help her win.

An obligation free morning had presented itself and tired of courtly nonsense stealing her away from him, Rowan had insisted they flee the palace. And he always complained about her affinity for dramatics when at times he was equally so. He had told her to dress for riding and meet him at the stables while he would sort out the rest.

Aelin had taken the time to brush and saddle Kasida herself, basking in the simple and ordinary task. Sometimes it was nice to pretend that she didn’t have the weight of an entire kingdom on her shoulders. It had barely been a year since the war had ended, her country was still rebuilding and there was so much to do. Still, she needed to take time for herself or she might go insane. Aelin had Kasida fully tacked when Rowan appeared, a pack on his shoulder and a wide grin on his face. Then he’d told her to meet him by the stream and shifted.

To get out of the city Aelin had used a small gate built into the outer wall, only for secret royal usage. Rowan had circled above her while she warmed up her steed, the mare impatient to run. When she was ready, Aelin turned Kasida to follow the edge of the Oakwald. And then they were off, Rowan’s screech of approval echoing. He understood her intention, this would be a race.

He gave another such call now, letting Aelin know he was still wth her. She was almost at the stream. With the thick foliage overhead she might just win. It would be hard for him to find a way through without risk to himself. Her fae senses picked up the sound of the stream, the scent of the damp soil. A few more moments and she’d be there. The trees parted, the stream was in view, and then there was a bright flash of light that had the over excited horse shying in surprise. Rowan stood there, leaning against a tree like he hadn’t a care in the world.

“I win,” he had the gall to say.

Aelin was nearly panting as she dismounted. Flames simmered at her fingers, the thrill of the ride and the indignation over what her mate had said only adding to the fire.

“I was here first,” she protested.

Rowan just smirked at her. “I would say otherwise.”

“Of course you would.”

“Because I won,” Rowan reiterated.

Aelin groaned in frustration, quickly tending to Kasida so she could graze but not wonder off. Then she was storming over to her husband, embers flying in her wake.

“You cheated,” she accused. “You tried to distract me.”

Rowan dropped the pack to the grassy floor, standing a little straighter, no longer using the tree to take his ease. “I did no such thing.”

This time Aelin growled at him, baring her pointed canines. Rowan just continued to smirk at her. The insufferable, cheating bastard.

“Fireheart, it was only a little race.” All his words did was antagonise her further.

“It’s never just a little race.”

Rowan chuckled softly. “My apologies, milady. I must have forgotten how competitive you are.”

Aelin was right in front of him now, nearly chest to chest. “Memory problems tend to persist in old age.”

Before Aelin could even think of a new argument, Rowan had reached for her shoulders, and spun them so that her back was against the tree. His body crowded around hers, but Aelin was not ready to give in. She just kept looking up at him, defiance all over her face.

Her mate ignored every ounce of malice she was sending his way, and lent in closer. “Are you going to waste our alone time talking?”

There was a hand on her waist, and Aelin couldn’t help but arch into the touch. As it rose higher her breathing quickened at it had nothing to do with the exertion from the ride. Rowan moved closer, his nose brushing against Aelin’s in a teasing gesture. She was about to demand he do something more when he finally kissed her. She surrendered to it, loving the privilege of having Rowan so close. They saw each other every day, but finding time to truly be with each other was hard to find some days.

She couldn’t help herself though, that fire of mischief still burned. Aelin broke the kiss, taking joy in the annoyance that entered Rowan’s green eyes. “And another thing—“

It seemed Rowan had had enough of her antics because he tugged her against him for another kiss, smothering her laughter. They stayed like that until they were both breathless and the only reason they broke apart was to catch it. Rowan’s hands weren’t idle though, they worked on untucking her shirt from her pants, touching the bare skin on her waist. That let Rowan recover and his breathing evened out, but with each insistent sweep across Aelin’s body her breath was hitching. Especially when those hands moved higher.

“Once upon a time I promised the first time I would take you wouldn’t be against a tree,” Rowan murmured onto the skin of her neck. Then he pulled back, watching Aelin’s face as he pressed into her firmer, so she could feel every hard line of his body. “It’s not the first time, is it?”

Aelin shook her head furiously, anticipation getting the better of her. They kept eye contact as she looped her arms around her neck and Rowan's hands slid down to her thighs. Cheating or not, Rowan had a point. She could argue this again later when they had more time.

Aelin arched into him, inviting him to take more. “I’m waiting, buzzard.”

Rowan laughed and kissed her again, and this time they didn’t stop until they had both unraveled completely.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed this little bit of canon silliness

@rowaelinscourt

#I should have a minimum two more canon works ready in the next 24 hours #rowaelin month #rowaelin month 2023 #throne of glass fanfiction

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likecanyoujustnot · 1 month

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Just Two Heirs: Pt 1

The wedding

Summary: We know Dorian and Aelin could have been betrothed in another universe. Well in this one they are.

A/n: I had an existential crisis. Anyway. Enjoy. It’s pretty long and I haven’t been to a wedding since I was about 10 so I can’t remember what is said. And there will probably be inconsistencies in the characters because it has been a long time since I read the books. Aedion says cuz. Chaorian?? The dialogue is very repetitive.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Dorian was to be wed to the crown princess of Terrasen.

The betrothal had been planed out since he’d been 11.

His father and Aelin’s parents and the king of Terrasen agreed it was a good decision, one to strengthen ties and secure the succession of both kingdoms.

Never thinking that they would both be marrying someone who was nearly a stranger to them.

But Dorian couldn’t do much to stop it.

Chaol thought he should just go along with it.

“From what I hear she’s quite beautiful, you could do a lot worse.”

But he didn’t get his reputation as an infamous womaniser and heartbreaker for listening to his friend.

But marriage would put an end to his adventures with the women of court. Dorian was many things. But he would not be unfaithful.

She was coming in four days, they would have a week to properly get to know each other before being wed.

Preparations for the biggest social event of the decade were under full swing. Decorations were already being put up, his father had a tailor coming tomorrow to fit him for some new outfits for the ceremony and their honeymoon, wherever they decided to go.

He stared out at the gardens currently being trimmed and cut ready for the visitors. He would go find Chaol, spar with him to take his mind off his future.

Aelin wasn’t quite scared.

More so apprehensive.

In about a week and a half she would walk down the aisle to say her vows and tie her life to that of the prince she’d met thrice.

“You will be fine, darling.” Her mother, Evalin said, watching as Aelin tried on the various dresses in hope one tickled her fancy.

This one was rather revealing, with a deep plunging neckline. She shook her head and it was taken off her.

“I know mother, but I have no idea what to expect, for all I know he could be ugly and horrid.” She knew he wasn’t. Unless he’d majorly changed in the last seven years and the stories she’d heard were wrong, he was extremely handsome and a much loved man.

“All will be well, worse comes to worse, you get divorced after a few heirs are born or you take another lover.”

“Mother.” She moved her hair over her shoulder so the dressmaker could do up the gown. “Surely you are not condoning cheating.”

She took a sip of the wine. “Of course not.”

Aelin turned and looked in the mirror.

This was the one.

It was silk and hugged her curves, the neckline showing a little bit, but not too much, with off the shoulder sleeves that gaped open at her wrists.

“I love it.” She whispered. The dressmaker smiled at her reflection.

“It’s looks wonderful on you, fireheart.” Evalin said. “Everyone is going to love it.”

The carriages had been prepared as Aelin slept. She, her mother and father, her cousin Aedion, and great uncle, the king of Terrasen, would spend the next few days travelling to Rifthold so they could get there in time for the week of celebration that was customary to precede the wedding.

The adults were going in one carriage and the cousins in another.

Aedion wasn’t happy about the marriage. He was fiercely loyal to his cousin and family and would do anything for Aelin. Evalin had taken the boy in after his mother, her cousin, had died and his father had been no where to be found.

But it was no secret amongst the Ashryver Galathyniuses that his father had been fae.

Aelin was fae too. She could shift into an immortal form.

Not that she did it often.

The carriage lurched and so began the journey.

Their first stop was in Perranth. The home of Lord Lochan.

His wife, Marion, was one of Aelin’s nurses but was travelling with them, so she had been happy for the excuse to see her daughter Elide, who was the same age as Aelin.

Aelin pretended not to notice the covert glances between her friend and cousin.

They set off the next morning and stayed at an inn in the Oakwald Forest.

Very few of the guards had slept that night with how unprotected they were.

Then finally, they made it to Rifthold.

The city was bedecked with garlands and decorations everywhere.

People cheered as the procession made its way through the streets to the glass castle. It glinted in the sunlight, massive and casting a large shadow over the city.

The carriage stopped and Aedion jumped out before taking Aelin’s hand and helping her down.

Standing in front of the large doors was the king.

The Galathyniuses walked up the steps and Orlon shook hands with the king.

“It is a pleasure to be here for the joyful union of our kingdoms.” He said.

“Yes, it will be a great one.” The king replied.

Aelin and her family followed the king through the castle and to a dining room, where four people were standing.

Queen Georgina, Price Hollin, a man she didn’t recognise, and her betrothed. Dorian.

At least the reports of his beauty had not been exaggerated.

Midnight black hair and piercing sapphire eyes, cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass, a full mouth and toned body shown off by the cut of his white shirt and black pants.

He looked every bit a charming prince.

“Princess Aelin, my eldest son, Dorian.”

Dorian walked over to Aelin and kissed the back of her hand. “My lady.”

She curtsied to him. “Prince.”

He extended her his arm and when she took it he lead to her a seat down the far end of the table.

He has lovely manners. She thought.

Dorian pulled out her chair, pushed it in and sat to her left.

The other man she did not recognise sat next to him, and Aedion sat on her other side next to Evalin.

“How was your journey?” The prince asked.

“It was well, a bit tedious, but we made it.”

Dorian nodded.

Aedion stuck his head so he could see around them.

“Who are you?” He asked, tone bordering on rude.

The brown-haired man looked at Aelin’s cousin. “Chaol Westfall, captain of the guard, close friend to Prince Dorian.”

Aedion frowned. “You look too young to be captain of the guard.”

Chaol glared right back at him. “I’m 20.”

“Let’s just calm down, okay?” Dorian said, raising his hands. “Prince Aedion, I assure you we are well protected here.”

Aelin looked at Aedion with a brow raised.

Servants brought out dish after dish. Much more than they would serve for only 9 people in Orynth, and only halfway through Aelin felt as though if she ate anymore she would explode.

Dorian seemed to notice this. “Father, do you mind if we leave the table?”

The king remained silent.

It was Orlon who said, “Let them go, enjoy some time together before they get married.”

Both of them stood up, leaving Aedion and Chaol glowering at each other.

Aelin had no clue where Dorian was leading her, but she hoped it was somewhere cool. The Adarlanian summers had a sting to them.

“These are my rooms.” He announced. “And in a week, I suppose yours too.”

He flopped down on a couch and gestured for her to sit opposite.

“I suppose you’re as joyed about his union as I am.” She said.

He raised his brows. “And how joyed are you?”

Aelin felt a blush creep over her cheeks. “Not overly, I would rather marry a man I know and for love, not for the political gain of my family.”

Dorian sighed. “I would too, but there is not much we can do, unfortunately as nobles, how we live and who we marry is predetermined for us.”

Aelin made a snort of agreement.

Dorian lied down so his head was resting on a chair arm and his legs dangled over the other. “We could always divorce once we have heirs and our parents are no longer hounding us.”

Aelin smiled. “That’s almost exactly what my mother said.”

The corner of his mouth lifted and he turned to face her. “Or you never know, maybe you’ll learn to love me.”

She looked at him incredulously and he laughed, the sound and the splitting smile turning him from beautiful into devastating. “Don’t look so disgusted. I have broken the hearts of many a woman, and once a man.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll give you mine.”

He grinned. “We’ll see.”

The next few days lasted without incident. Dorian and Aelin would go for walks throughout the gardens, or down into Rifthold to allow Aelin to get the feel for her new home, Chaol and Aedion continued their pissing contest, and the king continued to give Dorian disapproving glares, despite the fact he was doing what he had been told.

Aelin slept in a room next to his, which he understood.

He was sleeping in, two mornings before his wedding when there was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” He called. It would have to be someone trusted or the guards wouldn’t let them in.

“Me.”

Chaol.

“Come in if you must.” Dorian grabbed the pillow from under his head and laid it over his face.

If Chaol was here this early it was not a good sign.

“Dorian.”

“What.”

“Can you remove the pillow.”

He moved it back and sat up, watching his best friend who stood in full uniform, posture ridged and correct. “What can I help you with?”

“Your future in-laws wish to meet with you.”

Dorian’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“Not sure, but I would assume they would want to know you a little bit.”

Dorian sprung out of bed and threw on a shirt, gesturing to Chaol to turn around so he could change his pants.

He froze, one leg halfway in. “My parents… they’re not meeting with Aelin are they?”

Chaol remained staring at the wall as he replied. “I know your mother wishes to speak with her, but I do not think your father cares.”

He finished putting on his pants. “If Aelin does talk with my mother, I want you to get her out of it immediately.”

“Can I turn around?”

“Yes.”

Chaol spun to face him. “You will not be able to separate them for the rest of her life, nor can you keep her from your father.”

“My father is a horrible man, and I want no one to have to go through even a fraction of what I did.” He said, grim determination on his face as he stared down his best friend.

“So please, take her to the library, the bakery, the gardens or stables, anywhere Chaol, please.”

Chaol nodded and the two friends left the room.

Dorian raised his fist to knock on the door of King Orlon’s room. He made eye contact with Chaol, who nodded, and rapped his knuckles on the wood.

The door was opened by Evalin. “You’re here! Come in come in.”

She shut the door in Chaol’s face.

Evalin looked a lot like Aelin. They had the same hair colour and those Ashryver eyes.

Aedion, Orlon and Rhoe all sat around the coffee table. He assumed the casual atmosphere was supposed to ease him, but it just made him more nervous.

“So Dorian, you excited for the wedding?” Rhoe asked, stirring his tea.

Dorian contemplated how to answer that. “I am looking forward to it, it will be something very different that’s for sure, but Aelin seems wonderful from what I’ve gotten to know these past few days, and I think we could make each other happy.”

There you go, he didn’t show resentment for the predicament, he complimented their princess, and he made a statement about how their relationship could go.

Evalin and Rhoe seemed satisfied and nodded with smiles on their faces.

“What do you hope to accomplish once you become king?” Orlon asked.

Shit. It was no longer about Aelin.

“Well, there are a number of things, I would like to smoothen our relationships with other kingdoms, both on Erilea and the other continents. And I wish to help the impoverished, make sure they can afford to eat and live well.”

Orlon nodded. “Very good. Once you marry princess Aelin, where will she fit into this?”

Back to Aelin.

“I’m not sure yet, I she may help me if she wishes to, but her time is her own.”

The king nodded. “Hypothetically, if both of you were to come into your birthrights, so if your father, myself and Rhoe were to die, what would you do in terms of titles and kingdoms?”

Dorian honestly has never thought of that. Even if his father died, there was still Orlon and Rhoe, so he didn’t imagine getting both crowns for years and years.

“I’m not quite sure, I would imagine if say my father died first, Aelin would become my Queen Consort, and then if something happened to the both of you she would also be Queen of Terrasen.”

“And you would also be king consort.”

“Maybe.”

“Would you not just divorce?” Aedion cut in. “Or merge the kingdoms?”

Dorian looked to the prince. “I would not divorce your cousin just for the succession, and combing Adarlan and Terrasen would not be sustainable.”

Orlon smiled. “Good answers, boy.”

Evalin spoke next. “Dorian, we understand this… situation may not be how you envisioned getting married, but we are grateful for your cooperation.”

He nodded.

“You may leave.”

Aelin had to meet with Queen Georgina. She was not looking forward to it.

Considering the rumours of Dorian had been true, she assumed those of his mother would be too, that she was a very vain and self centred woman.

And well,

They were right.

Georgina’s rooms were full of maidens rushing around, getting dressed and things ready for the ceremony.

Aelin sat down across from the Queen consort and wondered how this woman came to be married to the king.

“So, Aelin…” She began. “How do you find my son?”

“He’s nice, sweet, I think he would be a good husband.”

She smiled like they had some kind of inside joke. “That’s how they all start off, before you know it, you’ll be neglected, it’s nice to have options.”

“Options?” She echoed. Why did everyone think that just because she and Dorian didn’t know each other well that they would take other lovers?

“The captain of the guard is rather handsome.”

Aelin fought the urge to cringe and throw herself out the window. She quickly changed the subject. “What colour dress are you wearing?”

“Oh red and gold of course, the kingdoms colours. Much the same as you are wearing Terrasen’s.”

That was true. The gown was lovely and green with silver trimmings.

“Most of the guests will arrive tomorrow, Dorian’s cousins, the princess of Ellywe, some delegates from Wendlyn.”

Aelin nodded. She knew all this. Invites had been sent out 6 months ago.

She, yet again, wondered how many fae would be in attendance. While the fae were not being persecuted, they were still looked down upon, especially by the nobility in Adarlan. She wondered how Dorian would feel if he knew he was engaged to a faerie.

“Where are you thinking of going for your honeymoon?” Georgina asked, breaking the silence. “You will have to decide that soon.”

Aelin nodded once more. “I’m not quite sure yet.”

They sat in silence, watching the maidens and sipping their tea when someone knocked on the door.

One of the ladies in wait opened it and Chaol Westfall followed her.

He bowed to both the women. “Pardon your majesty, but Prince Dorian wishes to see his fiancée.”

Aelin stood up and tried not to run out the door.

“Just a word of advice, Aelin.” She turned back to the queen. “There are many in court who will not be happy with this union. Especially those who wanted to be the one to wed my son, so I would recommend that you always watch your back.”

“Thank you.” Aelin tipped her head and followed Chaol out.

“Where’s Dorian?” She asked.

“The library.” He replied, setting off down the hallway.

“Wait- you have a library?”

He looked at her. “Well, I don’t have one, but yes, the castle does.”

“Maybe I will move here permanently.” She mused and Chaol tipped back his head and laughed.

Eventually they made it too the entrance and Chaol opened the door for her. “I doubt he wants me there, so enjoy.”

She thanked him and set off to find her future husband.

Aelin found Dorian in the romance section, sitting in an armchair. He was holding a book open with one hand while the other rested on the back of the chair.

“I’ve read that book.” She said as way of hello.

He looked up her. “It’s good isn’t it?”

She nodded and noticed this was the only seat in this part of the library.

“I’m surprised though.”

“Why?” He moved over and patted next to him on the chair, an invitation to sit.

Aelin took it and squished in next to him, trying to ignore the heat of his body and where their thighs pressed against each other.

“Because it’s a romance book.”

He raised a brow. “Are you saying that just because I am a man, I cannot read a romance book?”

“No, of course not.” She cried indignantly.

“I’m just messing with you.” He grinned. “I enjoy reading about other people, ones who don’t have the responsibility that comes with a crown.”

“I know the feeling.” She muttered.

“You can borrow as many books as you want, keep a few in your room.”

Aelin’s face broke into a wide grin. “You’re going to wish you didn’t say that.” She jumped up from the chair and pulled Dorian after her. She ran up to a shelf and picked out a book. “Hold this.”

And so that went on for 20 minutes. Aelin would grab books and pass them to Dorian, who would occasionally give his opinion on ones he had read and thought she would like, picking out a few for himself

The traipsed back to their rooms, laughing at the tremendous amount they were carrying.

Chaol stared at them as he followed them back.

“At least you’ve found a common interest.”

“Just because you can’t read doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t.” Aelin called in a sing-song voice.

Chaol’s mouth dropped. “I can read thank you very much, I just don’t have the time to.”

Dorian gave his friend a look that said, you’re gonna have to deal with this for a long while.

When they made it back to Dorian’s room they stacked the books in a corner and grabbed one that the other had already read.

When one came across a plot twist or a funny moment the other would ask which part of the book that was and they would discuss it.

For the first time since coming here, Aelin felt that she could at least be friends with her husband.

Dorian stood on a balcony and watched the procession of guests as they were ushered into the castle, where they would be taken to the hall, in which he would be wed.

He saw the princess of Eyllwe, the crown prince of Fenharrow, his cousin Rolland-who he would need to keep away from Chaol-, a silver-haired fae prince from Wedlyn, a son of the Kaghan, some dukes and lords.

People who didn’t care that two 19 year olds were to be married to near strangers. Even if they had developed a friendship in the past few days.

He sighed and went back inside to the waiting assistants to help him into the clothes he would wear for the ceremony.

“You look stunning sweetheart.” Evalin said, hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “Like a queen of old.”

Aelin smiled and looked in the mirror. The dress was a deep green with silver lining. The stomacher was embossed with patterns and swirls and a full skirt fell to the ground. Her golden hair hung around her shoulders, unbound and in romantic waves.

Her father, uncle and cousin nodded their agreement.

Orlon stood up and walked to Aelin, a wooden box in his hands. He opened it and her eyes widened.

Inside was a beautiful tiara, silver and inlayed with emeralds, perfectly matching her dress.

Her uncle took the tiara in hand and placed it onto her head.

“Wonderful.” He said.

Aelin barely comprehended what happened for the next two hours.

She ate and talked with her family, she tried to ignore the pounding in her heart. She was led to a side room, where she would wait until the hall was full and Dorian was in place at the far end for her to walk to.

Dorian strode down the aisle, his father, mother and brother ahead of him and Chaol, as his best man, behind him.

He stood on his side of the dais in front of the officiant, looking at the hundreds of people gathered.

“Nervous?” Chaol whispered.

Dorian chuckled. “Not quite.” He was more so apprehensive at his impending nuptials.

The doors were thrown open and in walked his bride.

The breath was stolen from Dorian’s lungs.

“Ready?” Rhoe asked.

Aelin nodded. The others had already gone.

She took her father’s arm and they left the side room and walked to the entrance of the hall.

Hundreds of heads turned to see them walk down the aisle.

She was surprised to see a few fae among the crowd, including a male with silver hair and green eyes, a massive dark haired male next to him.

Aelin looked to Dorian.

He was gorgeous is a navy blue jacket and pants, a circlet upon his brow.

Rhoe lay go of Aelin’s arm and kissed her cheek. “I wish you much happiness together.” He shook hands with Dorian and sat next to his wife in the front row.

Dorian took Aelin’s hands in his own. “You look lovely.” He said, just low enough for her to hear.

“You clean up rather well yourself.” She muttered.

Dorian smirked and gave a nod to the officiant.

The grey haired man cleared his throat and began. “Dearly beloved, family, friends and guests, we are gathered here today to mark the joyful union of these two young people. Prince Dorian Havilliard of Adarlan, and Princess Aelin Ashryver Galathynius of Terrasen.”

Aelin almost fell asleep as the officiant went on his rant about how it was an honour to be here to witness this momentous occasion.

She wished he would wrap it up so they could exchange vows, and from the distant look of the assembly, they wished much the same. She locked eyes with Dorian who raised a single brow. Aelin bent her head so her hair would cover her smile.

“Now for the vows.”

Finally

“Dorian, you first.”

Dorian took the ring from Chaol’s outstretched hand and slid it on Aelin’s finger. “I swear to remain faithful and loyal, to cherish and love you, from now until the day I die, I ask you, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, to be my bride.”

“Aelin, do you take Dorian to be your husband, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

Chaol passed her the other ring and she took it, slipping it on Dorian, trying to ignore the heat of his hand and the piercing gaze of his blue eyes. “I swear to remain faithful and loyal, to cherish and love you, from now until the day I die, I ask you, Dorian Havilliard, to be my husband.”

“Dorian, do you take Aelin to be your bride, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests, by the power vested in me, I proclaim Dorian and Aelin, husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.”

Shit.

She forgot about this part.

Aelin froze as the gathering clapped and cheered.

Dorian seemed to sense her nerves, cupping the side of her face gently and slowly bringing his lips to hers, it was a light kiss, barely there, the kind that said, you can pull away now if you wish.

But for some reason she didn’t. Instead she put a hand on his forearm and pushed her lips so they were properly kissing.

His lips were soft, gentle.

She’d just gotten ready to move deeper into it when Chaol cleared his throat.

She pulled back, embarrassed, but no one was looking at them. The people at the front were congratulating their parents.

Dorian took Aelin’s hand.

“Ready?” He asked.

Her father had asked that exact word when he walked her down the aisle, now she was leaving with her husband. She nodded, still slightly flustered from the kiss, and together they walked out the hall, everyone watching them now and cheering.

They made it out of the hall and were ushered into a spare room that contained things such makeup, water, biscuits and cheese, and others that it was thought they might like.

“When are we due for the banquet?” Aelin asked.

Dorian took a sip of water. “They’ll come get us when everyone is seated, then we just walk to the head of the table and then we eat.”

She took a deep breath. “Easy enough.”

Dorian out down the glass and walked over to her. “You okay? You seem anxious.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine, it’s just, this, I guess. We’re married know y’know? We will spend the rest of our lives together.”

“Tune down the excitement would you?” Dorian smirked.

Aelin looked up at him. “I’m so overjoyed, Dorian, you are just so incredible and beautiful, it is truly an honour to be your wife.”

“That’s more like it.” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes.

When did he get so close?

Indeed Dorian was now leaning over her. “Aelin.”

“Hmm?”

Just like at the ceremony he cupped her cheek, and leant down. “You okay?” He breathed, the double meaning was there, was she okay with him kissing her.

“Yes.” The word was barely there as Dorian kissed her, wasting no time with gentle brushes, sinking into the kiss, lips and tongues moving together.

Aelin had kissed a few boys before, but none of them had been as skilled as her husband. She moaned softly into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies flush against each other.

Dorian pulled back. “Do you-”

The door was flung open and Chaol strode in. “They’re ready for you.” He took in the compromising position, the flushed cheeks and swollen lips. “Shit- sorry… I’ll just… be outside...” He shut the door leaving the two royals.

They remained quiet for a beat before Aelin burst out laughing, Dorian following soon after. They straightened their clothes and crowns and walked out, both avoiding Chaol’s stare.

It seemed that the party had gotten underway when they were gone, people drinking and chatting and laughing, but they all turned to watch the newlyweds walk to their place.

Two seats that were like thrones sat at the far end of the middle table, usually this spot would be reserved for Dorian’s father, but today he and his wife were more important.

He held Aelin’s hand as she sat and flopped down next to her, trying to ignore the raging within him to kiss her again and continue what they started.

The entrees were served.

Dorian was bored

The mains were served.

Dorian was bored.

This was his wedding, surely he should be able to do what he does at all parties, get drunk and take a girl to bed, and he knew exactly what girl he wanted.

The one sitting next to him. With her round green eyes and gorgeous hair, the bare shoulders that begged to be bitten. If she would let him. He watched her from his peripheral, trying to find some indication she was as agitated as he was.

But she seemed to be perfectly happy, chatting with the princess of Eyllwe.

It was going to be a long night.

Aelin could feel Dorian’s heated stare as she talked with Nehemia.

The young princess had come on behalf of her parents, and said that the ceremony had been beautiful, if a bit long.

The song the band was playing changed and Nehemia grabbed Aelin’s hand. “I love this one!”

They danced together for the duration of the song, ignoring the glances of the other people.

Once it ended in favour of something slower, she headed back to Dorian, a flush over her cheeks.

He took a sip of his wine. “Did you enjoy yourself?” He asked.

Aelin grinned. “Very much, thank you.”

He watched her with such intensity she felt the flush creep back up, but for an entirely different reason.

“May I have this dance, highness?” Dorian’s cousin Rolland stood next to to Aelin’s chair, hand outstretched.

She didn’t even glance at Dorian as she took his hand and he led her onto the dance floor. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked.

She ignored that those were almost the exact same words Dorian said. “I am.”

He looked a fair bit like Dorian, the same hair colour, same face structure, but where the heir’s made him look beautiful and welcoming, his cousin’s was hard and serious.

The song ended and Rolland went to get drinks from the bar.

A woman Aelin had never seen before approached her.

She had dark hair and a face that seemed permanently sketched in a scowl. “So you’re Dorian’s wife.”

“Considering I just married him, yes.”

A cruel smile pulled at her lips. “We used to be a thing, he and I, he claimed he loved me.”

Aelin has seen the jealous types in court before, the women who think they have some claim to a man with a title. She had to deal with a fair few who wanted to know everything about Aedion, is he dating anyone? Does he prefer blondes or brunettes? Aelin always tried to avoid those interactions.

“That’s nice.” She said, tight lipped smile that said she didn’t want to be here. She turned to head back to her husband and ask just who this woman was.

“He’ll tire of you like he tired of me.” The woman said. “Everyone knows it is an arranged marriage, you won’t last long in his bed, he’ll favour some younger thing.”

Aelin turned back to her. “I have no intention of letting that happen, I plan to stay exactly where I am.”

She didn’t intend for the innuendo that she was in Dorian’s bed, but it caused the woman’s face to redden.

“He won’t love you, he doesn’t love anyone.”

Aelin’s gaze narrowed. “Or maybe he just doesn’t love you.”

Dorian watched Rolland dance with his wife with barely restrained rage.

When his cousin left to the bar he breathed a sigh of relief, until he saw just who approached Aelin.

Kaltain.

Aelin walked over to one of the other tables where Aedion sat.

He made the move to head over there before Kaltain intercepted him. He suppressed the urge to groan.

“Dorian.” She purred.

He nodded. “Kaltain.” Despite what she probably told Aelin, they’d never been in a relationship, though she’d made her intention on the matter clear from the beginning.

“Just had a… lovely chat with your bride.”

“I bet you did.” He muttered, gaze tracking to where Aelin was now dancing with Chaol. Bastard. He was supposed to be his friend.

“Dorian, listen if you ever want-” she placed her hand on his bicep.

“No sorry, I’ve got to go.” He extracted himself from her grip and stalked over to Chaol and Aelin.

Aelin tipped her head back and laughed. “No way you fell.”

Chaol grinned. “I did.”

The captain spun her and she saw Dorian striding for them.

Chaol pulled her back to him.

“May I dance with my wife?”

Chaol frowned at his friend. “The song hasn’t finished.”

Aelin extracted herself from his arms. “It’s fine.”

Dorian pulled her to him, placing one hand firmly on her waist.

“Who was that woman that spoke to me?” She whispered.

“Kaltain Rompier. Her father is a lord, she’s been pursuing me for years.”

“Oh.”

“How’s the wedding?” He asked.

Aelin shrugged. “It’s alright, I think it’s a bit over the top, but I do appreciate all the planning and decorum.” She yawned, a hand over her mouth.

“Bored?” He raised a brow.

“Out of my mind.” She replied in a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s been three hours since the ceremony, surely we can leave now.”

Dorian laughed and his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “We could probably sneak out, the novelty of the wedding has worn off, everyone’s just using it as an excuse to get drunk.”

Aelin shivered. “Someone could see us.”

She could hear his smirk as he replied. “And? We’re sneaking off after our wedding, something married couples usually do.” He drew out the last words so she knew exactly what he meant.

“Dorian.” She hissed.

“What?” He grinned down at her. Devastatingly beautiful.

Aelin’s breath hitched and she quickly averted her gaze. “Nothing.”

“We can leave if you want to, Aelin.” The seriousness in his tone surprised her.

His blue eyes held such severity she found herself at a loss for words. “I-”

“Dorian! Aelin!” Came a shout from the other side of the room.

They both turned to find it was his father.

Dorian looped Aelin’s arm through his and they weaved through the dancing couples.

“Father.”

“Children I would like you to meet Rowan Whitethorn.” Aelin didn’t particularly like how he called them ‘children.’

A fae male stood in front of them. He was the one with silver hair that Aelin had seen at the ceremony.

Rowan bowed to them.

“You’re fae.” Aelin said.

Rowan nodded. “Prince of Doranelle.”

“Whitethorn came to see the wedding on behalf of Queen Maeve.” Aelin detected a bitterness in the king’s words, she remembered that he held a dislike for faeries.

“Nice to meet you.” Dorian shook the male’s hand. “My wife and I thank you for coming.”

Rowan nodded. “It was a lovely ceremony.”

“How long are you staying in Adarlan?” Aelin asked.

“Just a few days. Then I have to meet with the witches.”

Witches. The blue-blooded men-eating women who primarily kept to the mountains. Aelin hoped she’d never have to cross paths with one.

They discussed a few more things with Rowan before he excused himself, as his massive friend was about to punch a lord.

Of course that left them alone with Dorian’s father.

Aelin could feel the tension in her husband, so she took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“I hope the both of you have enjoyed the wedding.”

Aelin nodded. “We appreciate all the planning that has gone into it.”

Aedion sauntered over to the couple. “Can I talk to you two?”

Aelin nodded and they left the king.

“What is it?” Aelin asked.

“When’s an acceptable time to leave the party?”

“You came to ask me that?” Aelin hissed.

Aedion ran a hand through his hair. “Well yeah.”

Aelin glared at her cousin. “I suppose you can go.”

Aedion clapped Aelin on the shoulder. “Thanks cuz.” He took the hand of a dark haired woman and they walked out.

“You know, if he left, we probably can.” Dorian suggested.

Aelin sighed. “I’m ready to leave.”

The prince took her hand and they snuck out of the ballroom.

They were giggling as they ran up the stairs to Dorian’s tower.

“What’s it like being married?” Aelin asked.

Dorian shrugged. “Not much different, but I know have to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Yes, but I’m fantastic.” Aelin grinned.

Dorian stopped and brought her hand to his lips. “Of course you are my dear.”

Aelin watched him kiss her hand. “You sound sarcastic.”

The prince pulled her to him, pressing their bodies flush. “Never in my life have I been more serious.”

“You’re a shameless flirt.” She chastised, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“Unapologetically.” Dorian tapped her nose with his own.

Aelin’s gaze dropped to his lips, just centimetres from her own. She slowly, so slowly, brought them so she was kissing him.

When she moved to deepen the kiss, Dorian groaned, taking her face in his hands and backing her onto the bed.

They spent the night doing the things married couples usually do. Thankfully Chaol wasn’t there to get in the middle of it this time.

Aelin woke up sore and warm. It took a couple of seconds to realise it was because Dorian’s arms were wrapped around her waist. She carefully shifted around to face him.

His inky hair was soft as she brushed it back from his forehead, mussed from her running her figures through it last night, fading pink scratches marred his biceps.

Dorian groaned as he opened his eyes. “It’s too early for this.”

“For what?” Aelin asked.

Dorian did a double take as he remembered the night previously.

The Princess of Terrasen- his wife- looked back at him, golden hair spread around her shoulders, the green eyes rimmed in gold looking back at him.

“I thought you were Chaol.”

“And why would Chaol be in your bed?” Aelin questioned.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He groaned, flopping back. “I thought he’d woken me up.”

“By brushing the hair out of your face?”

Dorian grabbed the pillow and lightly hit Aelin in the face with it. She laughed, and wacked his bare chest.

“Ow.”

“It’s a pillow, it doesn’t hurt.”

Dorian sat up, a shit eating grin on his face. “Want to test that theory princess?”

Aelin scrambled for the other side of the bed, giggling. “No.”

Dorian grinned as he crawled, naked, across to her. “Come here wife.” He pinned her to the mattress.

Aelin shuddered. Dorian grinned, kissing her deeply.

He just got ready to take her again when the door was banged against.

“Who is it?” Aelin called.

“Me.”

“Go away Chaol.” She yelled back.

“You two need to leave for your honeymoon.”

Dorian groaned. Great.

Aelin slipped out from under him and started getting dressed. “Just think, two weeks with no Chaol.”

That snapped Dorian to attention, as he hurried to get in his clothes.

Once they were ready they walked out, hand in hand.

They’d chosen to go to one of the family’s beach front houses, there was a small town near it that Dorian claimed did the best seafood.

Both the Galathyniuses and the Havilliards gathered to wave goodbye to the newlyweds.

They set off in the carriage, smiling nervously at each other, at this new life.

That last line was really cringy. Sorry.

#just two heirs #dorian x aelin au #sarah j maas #throne of glass #tog fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #dorian havilliard #chaol westfall #rowan whitethorn #manon blackbeak #elide lochan #fenrys moonbeam #aelin x reader #dorian x reader #dorian x celaena #I tagged the x reader tags to try and get to the fanfic sides

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