#rowaelin month day two
Note
Hi I was wondering if I could request either a feysand or rowaelin x reader? About how the reader is insecure and a really nice person and is like friends with everyone. And theres this one toxic friend of hers that like makes her believe that Rowaelin or feysand don't care about her because they don't spend eough time with her. Because feysand or rowaelin are really busy with their duties they don't have time for the reader and are really stresses about something so when the reader asks if they could take a bit of time off to spend time with the reader they snap at her? And you could maybe continue of from their if that okay? Could it have like a fluffy ending?
Sorry if thats too long and I really love your writing by the way !
how long will I bleed
Feysand x Reader
Summary: Tired of being ignored, reader finally reaches her limit.
Warnings: anxiety
A/N: ahh thank you! and please don't be sorry! I haven’t written feysand in a while so I apologize if it's a bit off, thank you for the request :)
“How often do you actually see them?”
“Every day,” you frowned, not sure where she was going with this.
“I know, I know. You sleep in their bed.” Their bed? As far as you were concerned, it belonged to all three of you. “How often do they spend time with you, besides what they’re obligated to?”
Obligated. That didn’t sit right with you, and whether she meant it or not - your friend was striking a deep insecurity, tucked away in your subconscious.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” she patted a hand on your shoulder, you fought the urge to flinch. Absolutely she meant it that way. “Just something to think about.” Right now, it’s the very last thing you want to think about now. Thankfully, she prattled on about something else.
-
For a while, you only watched. Observed. After some time passed, you subtly tried to nudge towards spending more time together. But, they were always busy, always tired, always had an obligation.
Obligations that ranged from formal events in hewn city, to gatherings with some of their friends either here or from other courts. Gatherings you didn’t attend, mainly because you couldn’t tell if you were invited. There was never an explicit, come with us, or we want you there. It started to feel like they didn’t care.
Actually see them. Obligated. Their bed. The words from your friend echoed like an ugly melody. Each week, she’d bring it up again. Each time, you brushed it off or shut it down. Reducing the time you spent with her would be the smart thing to do, but you couldn’t find it in you to cut her off like that. Even with the subtle digs and harsh comments, she’d been with you since before your relationship with the High Lord and Lady, and ending your friendship felt like breaking away from the past too much.
It took you a few months to accept that if you wanted it to change, you needed to tell them.
“Do you think we could spend some time together?” you asked over breakfast, pointedly keeping your eyes on your plate.
“That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it?” Rhys sounded vaguely amused. Briefly flicking your eyes to him, the angle of his head told you he was already glancing at the clock.
“Maybe … maybe we could take a day off together?” You couldn’t remember the last time you spent an entire day together, just the three of you.
Feyre’s mouth pressed into a tight line, “I don’t think we’ll be able to.”
“I can work around your schedule,” it would be easy enough for you to get time off from work.
“We don’t have time to spare,” she snapped. Spare. Feyre didn’t mean it, but it felt like she was calling you a spare. Their second choice, always coming behind compared to the two of them. A small tear welled in the corner of your eye. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, a tad more gently. Rhys glanced at the clock again, then back to Feyre, eyes glazing.
Lost enough in your own spiral, you didn’t care that they were having a silent conversation in front of you. After a few minutes, they finally deigned to speak aloud.
“We have to leave for Court business. We’ll be back in a week.”
“Oh.” How long have they known about this trip? You didn’t want to ask. “Alright,” you finally said, throat bobbing. “When do you go?”
“In the next few minutes,” Rhys looked distracted.
Fine, that was fine. At least they told you before they left.
“I’ll miss you,” you tried. It was like your words floated right over them, only getting a gentle smile from Feyre, your words echoed with little sincerity. Rhys offered you a half-smile, and a gentle caress against your mind. They each kissed you before they left, winnowing on the spot to … they hadn’t even told you where they were going. Maybe your friend was right. If they cared, they would’ve made time for you.
Nice, you were always nice. That’s how everyone described you - kind, nice, gentle, a variety of synonyms. At this point, nice started to feel another word for pushover. You threw your heart out, only from them to stomp over it, not recognizing the trail of blood in their wake. The worst is, they weren’t doing it on purpose. Crushing you was an unintentional, careless, and passive habit. It was their default.
This time, they’d pushed you right to the edge, to a place they’d actually have to try to drag you back from.
A week was more than enough time to move out and crash with your cousin. She didn’t ask too many prying questions, only offered up her home and spare room.
-
Rhys was excited to see you. He did feel a bit guilty at how they shot down your idea, how they had to leave you with such little notice. Time, that’s all you’d asked for, and they could manage that. If not this month, then the next. Stress had gotten the best of both of them recently, what felt like a thousand different negotiations to go through, a plethora of contracts and trade negotiations to review, left little time to spend with you, beyond the brief moment over breakfast occasionally, or before bed. Until you’d mentioned it, until he had some spare moments to reflect, Rhys didn’t realize just how bad it had gotten.
He knew something was wrong as soon as they entered the Riverhouse. Your scent was … stale, and faint. Like you hadn’t been here in a week. Maybe you’d gone to stay with your cousin or a friend, a big house can be lonely by yourself. That’s what he probably would’ve done. Rhys tried to extend a mental bridge, to reach your mind, but was greeted with a wall of stone. A wall he’d taught you, designed to keep him out.
“Can you reach her?” He asked Feyre.
A few seconds pause. She shook her head.
Walking through the house, he carefully looked for any signs of distress. Could someone have broken in here and taken you? His mind went to the worst case scenario, heart beginning to race.
A note, pinned under the salt shaker on their breakfast table.
I’m tired of being pushed aside.
Sorry to leave like this, but it’s for the best.
Two lines, not even your name signed at the bottom. A small spot smudged the last word, like a tear had dropped onto it. Hurt, anger, betrayal, fear, and regret flooded him at once.
-
It was the worst and best week of your life. Worst, because you missed them more than you wanted to, and they kept showing up in your dreams - uninvited. Best, because you finally felt free. With the pressure of a falling relationship gone, you could breathe again.
Anticipation filled you as the week came to the end. Would they try to find you? Would they care enough to? The question you really needed to ask yourself, is if you’d take them back. After their return, you’d learn just how much you meant to them. You’d learn if you truly were the spare.
Eight days after you left, you dragged yourself out of bed for an early shift, regretting the extra glass of wine you indulged in last night.
Slipping through the alley, around the back door, you didn’t notice him at first. Fumbling with your keys, you finally managed to slide it into the lock when you heard your name. The voice that had haunted your dreams for the last week.
A squeak, and keys clattered down on the cobblestone, the sound echoing. Bracing your hand on the door, you took deep breaths to slow your heart, before turning to face him.
Rhys stood there, looking like he hadn’t slept at all, blue-purple half moons under his eyes, messy hair like he’d been running his hands through it. He raised one hand, a small piece of paper balanced between two fingers. Your note. It was quite brief, but you’d been angry at the time and couldn’t find it in yourself to come up with flowery words.
“For the best,” he quoted. “Do you really believe that?”
Oh, that put you right on the defensive. “I said it, didn’t I?”
The paper vanished, and he tucked his hands into his pockets. “I don’t want it to end like this.”
It. One tiny word to sum up three years. “But you want it to end?” your voice came out small.
“No,” he said harshly, closing the space between the two of you. “I don’t.” You didn’t reply. You didn’t know what to say. “When do you get off?” He finally asked. Gentle claws poked at your mind, but you slammed your shields back up.
“Two,” then your coworker would come take over.
“We’ll be here,” he reached out, running his thumb over your cheek. It took all of your self control not to lean into the touch. Taking a step back, he winnowed.
That entire morning and afternoon, you were … off, to say the least. But, work helped relieve some of your anxiety, falling into the monotonous tasks you’d done for years.
We’ll be here. What did he expect to happen? What did you want to happen?
By the time two came around, your coworker arrived a few minutes early, you were a ball of anxiety, your entire body tense, heart beating fast, mind swirling.
“There’s two someones waiting out there for you,” she nudged your shoulder, tilting her chin towards the alley. Giving her a tight smile, you gathered up the rest of your things, to take a few breaths. In and out. You could do this.
Feyre’s eyes lit up as you swung the door open, excitement tinged with a bit of melancholy. You chose to focus on the excitement.
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and even with the lingering hint of resentment you felt more loved than you had in months. Part of you recognized that might be a red flag, that even a few hours of attention could have that effect on you, but it was easily brushed aside.
You were nestled between the two of them, on a bench overlooking the Sidra. Rhys’s hand ran lazy strokes up and down your thigh, Feyre’s arm curled over your shoulders as you leaned into her. Gentle currents rolled back and forth, bouncing off of the stone walls caging in the river, music floating through the streets. Loud enough to hear clearly, but not so loud that it could drown out any conversation.
“Come home with us,” she said softly.
A moment of hesitation, but you knew you couldn’t resist.
“I will.”
#feysand x reader#feysand x y/n#poly!feysand x y/n#poly!feysand x reader#acotar drabble#rhysand x y/n#feyre archeron x reader#rhysand x reader#feyre archeron x y/n#rhys x reader#rhys x y/n#acotar imagine
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I Don't Want To Wait, seventy-one
rowaelin high school bff au
masterlist
TW: College admissions. Sorry if you’re going through this now! Also, I went through this a longgggggggg time ago, and I know this isn’t exactly how admissions works, so apologies for creative liberties. I was supposed to post this before Aelin's birthday, but I missed May 3. Just by two days, though, so not too shabby! Okay, lets go. Final stretch, my loves.
“What do you mean you don’t want to celebrate your birthday?” Rowan scoffed. “Ace, you love your birthday.”
Aelin stretched her arms overhead and reached to touch her toes, ignoring the way her boyfriend stared at her with his usual hawklike intensity and instead leaned into her shins, helping relieve the ache from sore and overworked muscles. Dance practices had been relentless on her body, especially with the spring showcase just a few weeks away, she seemed to be in perpetual knots always.
Well, she guessed she couldn’t just blame dance on that. She was having a hard time with everything at the moment. While her friends were smiling and laughing at their last few weeks of high school, Aelin was feeling an acute sense of panic. The weeks following spring break had melted away faster than she could process, gone in the blink of an eye, filled with an onslaught of dance practices and AP exam prep and constantly checking her inbox for that little email notification from Wendlyn. And not nearly enough Rowan, who was spending all his free time with his lacrosse team. Not only that but everyone around her seemed more excited than ever with the prospect of leaving Orynth right around the corner, but with each passing day the knot in her stomach grew tighter. Everything was a ~last~ —and she was having a hard time enjoying that. She didn’t want any of this to be her last. Why was everyone excited that time was moving so fast? Why couldn’t she just freeze right here in this moment. In this limbo things were stressful, but they were still fine. Without knowing what her fate held.
College acceptances had come rolling in, one by one, her friends grinning wildly as they opened their emails. But Aelin’s inbox remained woefully empty. So, she wanted her boyfriend to forgive her for not feeling particularly celebratory, but then again, she hadn’t discussed any of this with him for fear of making him feel guilty about it.
As she breathed into her next stretch, she turned her torso to look back at Rowan, who was still waiting patiently for her response.
“My birthday last year was a disaster,” Aelin finally replied, completely ignoring the real reason she was feeling less-than-enthused. “How quickly they forget.”
But Rowan just rolled his eyes. “That was an exception. I have a feeling that no one is going to get arrested or go to rehab this year. Usually your birthday is all you can talk about for months. Are you really telling me you haven’t planned anything? For your eighteenth birthday?” he asked. “It’s in less than a week.”
Aelin shrugged, leaning to the other side and groaning as she stretched out a particularly tender muscle.
“I just don’t want to do anything this year,” she said. “The spring dance show is in two weeks, and I’ve been practicing every night. So, for my birthday I just want the night off.” She paused. “Is that really so bad?”
“No…” Rowan said quietly, picking up his phone and furrowing his brow. She’d know that face anywhere. He looked concerned.
“What?” she snapped and immediately regretted it when she saw Rowan’s face. He didn’t deserve to be the receptacle of her stress or ire. All he wanted was to make sure she had the birthday she wanted. Her sweet, sweet Rowan. “Sorry,” she apologized quickly. “I’m just…”
“Tired?” Rowan filled in, and she nodded and lifted her arms above her head, extending them out for him. He swooped in quickly and helped her to her feet, enveloping her in a warm and comforting embrace. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered into her hair, and she could feel her tension melting away with each one of his butterfly kisses.
Aelin finally looked up at him, and his worried green eyes were staring back down at her. “I’m so tired, Ro,” she admitted as she squeezed him against her tighter. “The idea of doing something big for my birthday just seems like so much work.”
“It’s just a big one,” he replied softly. “I don’t want you to regret not celebrating.”
“And I appreciate that,” she said, letting herself melt into his chest fully. His heartbeat helped center her, and she rued the day that she wouldn’t have it there for her at a moment’s notice. “But I just want to hang out with you, eat too much chocolate cake and maybe go to sleep early.”
“So I should tell Lorcan to cancel the surprise trip to the strip club?” Rowan asked. Aelin’s head shot up, and her boyfriend’s answering smirk was telling enough.
“You almost had me there,” she said.
“He tried,” Rowan laughed, “But I shut him down pretty quickly.”
“What kind of strip club are we talking about?” she asked, causing Rowan’s worried expression to disappear, as she intended. As Rowan explained how he had to talk Lorcan off the ledge, Aelin took out her phone and needlessly refreshed her phone over and over. But her inbox remained unchanged.
. . .
“Stay calm and vote Manon and Elide as queens for prom!” Dorian shouted while shoving a rainbow flyer into a passerby’s hands. “A vote for Manon and Elide is a vote against The Man!” he continued, causing Aelin to snort into one of the crown-adorned cupcakes Maeve had contributed to the cause. Dorian had taken it upon himself to run point for Manon and Elide’s prom queen campaign and had recruited Aelin to help him during their shared free period. Not that he needed the help. Orynth High had rallied around the pair of women, and there was no doubt as to who would sweep the vote, but it was still something that Aelin could do without that horrible nauseous feeling taking over her entire body – which might have been helped by the fact that Dorian was also still waiting for a college acceptance email, and so the pair of them were happy to use lifting up their friends as a distraction. Or at least use it as a reprieve from constantly refreshing their email. He’d received a few rejections and was pinning all his hopes on one last college.
“A vote for Manon and Elide is a vote for equality!” he shouted, offering up his own plate of cupcakes to a nearby freshman, who accepted it readily.
As if they’d heard their names called, the pair rounded the corner, hand in hand, smiling softly at each other. Manon pulled away for a second as she tied up her newly dyed turquoise hair into a messy bun, causing Elide to sigh dreamily. Aelin watched as they slid their fingers tighter as they came back together and leaned into each other’s shoulders. They’d both received their acceptances to Perranth, a small liberal arts school nearby, earlier this week and the pair hadn’t stopped smiling since. Aelin was happy for her friends; honestly, she was. But that didn’t stop her stomach from churning with jealousy at the fact that they were going off into their post-high school future together.
“Oooh, are those Maeve cupcakes?!” Elide asked, eyeing the funfetti confection in Dorian’s hand. He lifted the plate, offering it up, and Elide wasted no time in grabbing it and shoving half of it into her mouth.
“Sooooo good,” she mumbled around a mouthful of crumbs. Manon rolled her eyes at her girlfriend’s enthusiasm and used one of her long nails to brush away a bit of frosting from above her lip. Unable to control herself, she swooped down and kissed the spot she’d cleaned, as if to make sure it was completely free of sugar.
“And I thought Rowan and I were disgusting,” Aelin laughed.
“You are,” her friends all said in unison, not wasting a single beat.
Aelin flipped them all off, burying her face into her own cupcake instead as Manon asked Dorian for a status update on his polling info. She was taking this extremely seriously, and it kind of warmed Aelin’s heart to see her cold friend use her ruthlessness for good. Well, for Elide’s good.
Though they were deep in conversation about numbers and which cliques were voting for whom, Dorian stopped and gasped loudly.
“What?” Manon asked, and Dorian opened his phone and showed it to them.
In bold at the top of his email inbox was a brand new email, waiting in bold from Anielle University with the subject: Dorian Havillard, Application Status.
“Oh my god, OPEN IT!” Manon shouted as she reached for the phone, but Dorian clutched it to his chest in horror.
“NO!”
“No?” Aelin asked, raising a brow in his direction.
“I can’t open this in the middle of the hallway,” he hissed. “What if it’s a rejection?”
Aelin’s chest panged with sympathy. She knew how hard Dorian had worked this year with volunteering at the hospital and all his APs to get into the college of his dreams. Aka, one far away from his father. Anielle was as far as it got, and it was a great school, too. Not to mention it was the last one he was waiting to hear from.
“Do it when you’re ready,” she said. “Don’t let these college admits pressure you,” she continued.
“Ah, fuck it,” he said. He closed his eyes tightly as he pressed the bolded link. He took a deep breath, and cracked an eye open before shutting it again. “I can’t look. Someone look for me.”
“Give me that,” Manon grumbled, pulling the phone out of Dorian’s white-knuckled grasp. As a wide smile appeared on her face, Aelin’s stomach clenched further. She knew what that look meant. “Look yourself,” Manon said, handing the phone back to Dorian, whose eyes were still clenched tightly closed.
He blindly groped for the phone before Aelin shoved it into his wandering hand. “Congrats,” she whispered, knowing what the email would say without even seeing it herself.
Dorian’s eyes shot open, darting across the screen as that very same smile she’d seen on all her friends one-by-one ripped across his face.
Aelin tried to smile back as Manon and Elide crowded him with high fives and hugs and lifted celebratory cupcakes into the air and cheersed them together. Aelin refreshed her own inbox, but there was nothing there. Of course there wasn’t. At this point she was just assuming that she would have to reapply to colleges next year and maybe do community college locally for the year. That would be fine, though. She’d continue to teach dance and maybe volunteer at the hospital some more. Get some real-life work experience. Plus, she’d have time to drive out to Wendlyn and see Rowan on the weekends, if he still wanted her to do that, of course.
“Still nothing?” Elide asked Aelin, having noticed her quiet smile.
Aelin shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll get the rejection soon,” she laughed. “I just wished they’d do it sometime soon and put me out of my misery.”
Elide reached across the table and squeezed Aelin’s tense shoulder. “I know this is going to sound patronizing, but I mean it. If they reject you, it’ll be their loss.” She paused. “Have you talked to your mom, asked her if there’s anything she can do?”
Aelin physically blanched at the mention. “No. Not since the interview debacle.” She cringed more, realizing that her mom would most-likely be calling her on her birthday in just a few days, and she’d be wondering what Aelin’s status was. And Aelin would have to admit that she as a disappointment, just as she always assumed she’d be.
Yet another reason why she would not be in the mood to celebrate turning the big one eight. She’d need a full day to recover from whatever her mom said to her. She tried to remember if Evalin had ever forgotten her birthday before. She was pretty sure she had. And those years had hurt, had made her want to celebrate her birthday even harder. But she wasn’t sure if talking to her this year would be worse than not hearing from her at all. I guess only time would tell.
Instead of wallowing in her feelings, Aelin joined the celebratory cupcake party, drowning her feelings in Maeve’s delicious buttercream frosting, and hoped yet again for a single email to arrive and put her out of her misery.
. . .
Three days later, Aelin woke up to a small nudge against her nose. Then a soft kiss to one cheek, then to her other.
“Five more minutes,” she groaned, causing the offending kisser to laugh against the soft skin of her neck as his kisses trailed down toward her shoulder. “I’m serious, Buzzard, fuck off,” she said, but it lacked any real vitriol. After all, the man of her dreams was kissing every inch of her skin as thoroughly as he could while still being gentle enough to rouse her from her dreams with ease.
“Happy Birthday, Ace” he whispered as his lips ghosted over hers.
She finally cracked her eye all the way open and couldn’t help but smile widely at the sight of Rowan kneeling beside her bed, a sparkling glint in her best friend’s eye as she came to life beneath his gaze.
“Eighteen years old,” she whispered back, her voice still hoarse from hours of sleep.
“I know you said you wanted chocolate cake,” he said, “So I considered making you my poor attempts at breakfast cake again,” he laughed, reminding her of the day she’d woken up on her sixteenth birthday and resolved herself to kiss her best friend within that year. How far away that birthday now seemed, even though it was a mere two years ago. They were different people then. They hadn’t known how much they’d go through, how much life they’d live together to come out of it in this moment on her birthday again. Together. “But I decided to do you a solid and just bring a chocolate fudge cake for breakfast. Because you’re a grownup now. And grownups eat chocolate fudge cake for breakfast.”
She loved that despite their long history that Rowan still rambled when he got nervous with her. She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him close, kissing him thoroughly. Her tongue slid between his lips and he groaned in response, kissing her harder and letting himself fall on top of her, despite still being on his knees.
“Maybe my first act as an official adult should be having morning sex with my boyfriend,” she mumbled against his lips, tugging him closer. He kissed her back, but shook his head and pulled away, causing her to pout sadly.
“As much as I would love that, your dad is downstairs.”
Aelin closed her eyes and stuck out her hand, revealing a thumbs down. Rowan laughed heartily, and she loved the way it made her feel dizzy.
“But we can eat some cake first,” he said, handing her a fork.
“Thanks, Rowan,” she said in a rare moment of sincerity between the two, not joking at all, and she loved the way his cheeks colored with a dark pink as his head ducked.
“I love you,” he simply replied. And though Aelin had dreaded the approach of this day, she relished in the fact that this boy – her best friend – loved her. For right now, that was good enough.
. . .
“Happy birthday, baby,” Rhoe said, enveloping Aelin into a warm hug.
Aelin quirked a brow up at her dad, who was not usually this sentimental, but she accepted the hug regardless.
“Shut up,” he said, chuckling softly as he pulled back. “It’s the last time I’m going to be with you on your birthday morning, and I deserve a hug. As a reward for getting you to eighteen at the very least. I think I did an okay job,” he said, looking her over.
“You did more than okay, Rhoe” Rowan said, pouring a large cup of coffee into Aelin’s favorite mug and then handing it to her. “You did amazing.”
“You’re already forgiven for waking me up too early,” Aelin laughed, but accepted the coffee nonetheless. “Mmmm, hazelnut,” she said, appreciating that her household had made her favorite flavor, despite not loving it themselves.
“DID I MISS IT?!” Lorcan asked, his voice breathless as he burst his way into the kitchen.
“Missed what?” Aelin asked, looking around at the empty kitchen.
“The gifting of porn and cigarettes, obviously,” Lorcan said with a wry smirk. But Aelin just rolled her eyes.
Her dad narrowed his eyes and looked at Lorcan with disdain. “You’re so lucky I like you.”
Lorcan’s grin only widened in response. “Happy eighteenth, slugger,” he laughed, handing Aelin a pile of scratch-off lotto tickets. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
Rhoe’s lips curled into an unwitting smile as he wrapped his arm around Aelin’s shoulders, tugging her close once again.
“Dad?”
“Lorcan is being an absolute idiot, like he always is.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I know you’re still waiting for official replies, but no matter where you end up next year…” Rhoe began. “I’d like you to be able to come and visit as much as you like.”
He pulled something from his pocket and handed it to Aelin. “Happy birthday, Aelin.” He looked around the room. “From all three of us.”
Aelin looked at the men in the room, staring back at her, before processing that the thing now resting in Aelin’s hand was a key. Not just a key. But a car key.
“SHUT UP,” she said, her eyes widening. “SHUT UP!”
“I will not,” Rhoe said, but he couldn’t help but smile.
Aelin sprinted for the door before anyone could stop her, and she was practically crying as she reached the driveway where a dark green sedan waited for her.
“She’s old, but we gave her a pretty good makeover,” Rhoe said, apologetic. But Aelin knew how huge a gift this was.
“You guys did this?” she asked, and Rhoe nodded.
“One of my crew members was ready to retire it for scraps. It’s a got a fair amount of miles on it already, but we replaced all the important parts. New alternator, air filter, battery, breaks, headlights… pretty much anything that wasn’t up to code from 30 years ago.”
“Dad…” she said, running her hand over the shiny fresh coat of paint. “That must have been really expensive…”
But Rhoe simply shook his head. “It was less than I thought it’d be. The whole crew helped out during their down time, and these two bozos put in a fair amount of labor on some overnight shifts.”
Aelin’s gaze shifted to Rowan, who was pushing the toe of his sneaker into the gravel of their driveway.
“I might have lied a few times about being too tired after lacrosse to come over. Sorry,” he said, tucking his chin into his chest, and Aelin was suddenly buzzing with an warm feeling in her chest. The knot that had been there, tightening for weeks, suddenly loosened. Love. That’s what this feeling was. Just the sweetest, most incredible feeling. To be cared for like this by the people around her. So overwhelmed, she couldn’t help herself; she corralled the three most important men in her life together and widened her arms around them into a giant group hug.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She made sure to say it three times, thanking each one of them.
“Well,” Lorcan said. “Don’t you want to get in?”
Aelin squealed, throwing herself into the driver’s seat and adjusting the chair to her particular height. She breathed in the pine scented air freshener they’d hung on the rearview mirror and smiled. It was perfect.
The car was old, that was not a question. But that only added to its charm. The seats were a comfortable worn-in fabric with a pattern that reminded her of the old Terrasen airport carpet, with its greyscale geometric patterns. The dash was covered in a faux wood pattern that she recognized as being trendy decades ago, but it just made her love it more. This car had history. She’d seen things. She was well-traveled, and Aelin couldn’t wait to give her a brand-new life and explore even more. She knew they’d have many, many adventures in this car. Overhead, there was a sunroof, which she immediately opened to let in the mid-morning light, and she couldn’t help but tilt her chin into the light and let the glow warm her skin.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she finally said, lowering the window to look at her dad, who was more than pleased with his own handiwork.
But Rhoe simply scoffed at that comment. “So, are you driving us all to breakfast or what?”
Aelin grinned as Rowan pulled up a playlist titled, “A-ight-teen” and connected it to the clearly refurbished stereo system.
She laughed as the first song came on loudly – Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman – causing Rowan to grin widely, a grin that he reserved solely for her. Their matching smiles morphed into guffaws as Rhoe and Lorcan folded their hulking, tree-like bodies into the backseat, squeezing into the cramped sedan with no complaints.
“To Maeve’s?” Aelin asked.
“Yes, Jeeves,” Rhoe said in a ridiculous fancy accent, causing them to break into laughter again.
. . .
“SURPRISE!”
Aelin literally jumped as her friends popped up from behind the counter of Maeve’s. She glared at her dad and Rowan, who had clearly planned this, despite her specifically telling them she hadn’t wanted to celebrate her birthday with a party. I mean, had she known she was going to see more than just Maeve she would have at least put some makeup on!
As if reading her mind, Rowan wrapped his arm around her waist and whispered, “You look beautiful.”
She frowned but accepted the compliment and a long kiss. As they parted, Aelin was swept into a number of excited hugs from all her favorite people. Manon, Elide, Dorian, Chaol, Lysandra, and Aedion circled around her, and she gasped as Aedion stepped in, surprising her with a bear hug and lifting her off the ground. They were causing a bit of a ruckus, especially with Lorcan making his own rounds saying hi to everyone he hadn’t seen in a few months, so Maeve quickly ushered them all out to the back patio where she’d set up a special table, and Aelin couldn’t help but moan with pleasure at the plates stacked high with all her favorite breakfast foods.
“…stuffed French toast, maple cured bacon, cinnamon rolls with extra frosting…” Maeve started listing, pointing along the table at the overly filled table.
“Anything for someone who doesn’t want to go into diabetic shock?” Rhoe laughed.
“Cheesy scrambled eggs, potato hash, bagels, and toppings for breakfast tacos,” she said, pointing out all the savory options on the table, too.
“Yummmm,” Aelin groaned, her eyes practically rolling back into her head with pleasure at her first bite of French toast, despite having a chocolate cake appetizer barely an hour earlier.
“I think she’s fine with the surprise,” Rhoe snorted, elbowing Rowan, who practically jumped out of his chair, tearing his eyes away from Aelin’s mouth.
Manon cackled with glee. “As if we would let the birthday queen not celebrate her birthday. It’ll probably be the last time.”
A round of awwwws went around the table, but instead of the tightening Aelin would usually in her stomach, her panic was abated by Rowan’s fingers lacing with hers beneath the table. He squeezed, as if to silently say, I’m here and I know and I love you. And Aelin let the familiar feeling of his callused finger pads calm her quickly. As he drew circles on the back of her palm, she couldn’t help but think at how different this birthday was from the one only two years ago – the one where she’d planned to tell Rowan her feelings and chickened out. She remembered the way he’d simply sat in the corner, watching her socialize, and she wondered what would have happened if she’d told him then – would they still have ended up together? Or did they need to go through… everything in order to get to where they needed to be today.
Looking at the way he made conversation with everyone from Lorcan to Lysandra, something shifted inside her. This man would one thousand percent have rather been alone with her all day, but he also knew that – despite her protests – she did actually want to celebrate with her friends. Because he knew her. Fully. And that’s when she knew without a doubt that regardless of what happened between them two years ago, ten years ago, or ten years from now, Rowan would always be with her, silently loving her and helping her be her best self.
Aelin gulped, that knot that had abated earlier suddenly tightening in her stomach again. She had been so panicked for so many months about every moment being the last, progressively becoming more stressed as each of her friends discovered what their future held, while she still didn’t. But what was shockingly clear all of a sudden is that she did know what her future held. I mean, sure, she didn’t know where she’d end up or what she’d end up studying or exactly what her life would look like, but she knew that Rowan would be there by her side no matter what.
She almost laughed at herself. Wasn’t that what he’d been saying to her over and over and over? Why did it take until this moment to make her believe that?
“Presents?” Maeve suggested, and though Aelin nodded and smiled through each one, her mind was elsewhere, thinking about what she needed to talk about with Rowan tonight. Her stomach flipped – although she wasn’t entirely sure that couldn’t be blamed on the copious amounts of sugar she was consuming and her never-emptying mug of coffee.
“You okay, Fireheart?” Rhoe asked, nudging her ankle from across the table.
“Yup,” she answered, forcing a smile back onto her face and actually meaning it for the first time in a while. “Too much frosting,” she laughed, patting at her overly full stomach. Rhoe simply returned her laugh and handed the plate of frosted cinnamon rolls to the other end of the table where Dorian accepted it eagerly. And though she continued to open her presents and bask in the love of her friends and family around her, Aelin couldn’t wait to get Rowan alone.
. . .
“Did you have a good birthday?” Rowan asked, fluffing the pillows on the ground as Aelin gathered a warm quilt and pulled it over their makeshift bed. It’d been months since it was warm enough to go up to Maeve’s rooftop, but it felt like the perfect place to end the day.
“It’s not over yet,” Aelin said, snuggling into his side.
Rowan looked at his phone. “You’re right. You have ninety more minutes to celebrate. How do you want to commemorate your eighteenth year of life?”
Aelin raised her brow. “You think I brought you up here just to talk?”
Rowan snorted and pulled her closer. “You’re a menace. Come on, talk to me. I’ve seen your brain working a million miles an hour all day.”
Aelin looked up. “How do you do that?”
Rowan shrugged. “Do what?”
“Read my mind,” she said. “It’s spooky sometimes. I feel like you know things before I say them out loud allllll the time.”
Rowan chuckled. “I wish I could read your mind,” he said, tapping the side of her temple gently. “Now, come on. Tell me what’s going on.”
The words were on the tip of her tongue when her phone vibrated in her pocket. She’d been so distracted all day that for the first time in weeks, Aelin hadn’t spent every minute of every day refreshing her inbox.
She froze, and then her heart took off in a gallop, racing until she felt shaky with adrenaline. Sure enough, as she pulled the phone up, it was lit up with an email alert from Wendlyn University. Re: Aelin Galathynius Admission Status.
“Oh fuck,” Aelin whispered. Rowan’s eyes darted to the screen, and he shot up, sitting up too quickly and knocking Aelin off him.
“Are you gonna check it?” he asked, but even as Aelin clicked into her inbox, she couldn’t press it. The email that would tell her whether she and Rowan were going to end up at the same school for the next four years. And then, suddenly, she knew what she had to say. And she had to say it before she opened up that email and revealed her fate. Because her fate could only be one thing. One person, really.
She placed her phone down and looked Rowan straight in the eyes and said with as much conviction as she possibly could, “I think we should get married.”
#idwtw au#rowaelin#tog fic#throne of glass fic#tog fanfic#rowaelin fanfic#charincharge writes#rowan x aelin#weeewooooo#throne of glass#throne of glass fanfic
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Could I ask for Rowaelin x pregnant reader please
Poly!Rowaelin x pregnant!reader headcanon
The two of them get waaayyy over protective when you find out you’re pregnant
Especially Rowan bc of everything that happened with Lyria
He was terrified that he’d lose you and the baby
But you and Aelin were there to comfort him and remind him that the evil was gone, you were safe
Rowan refused to leave your side, insisting that he was always around to guard you and you weren’t even showing yet
You started going to more court meetings just so he would do his kingly duties
Aelin spoiled you more than usual
Any junk food you wanted she got it for you! From chocolates to any wild sandwich you could think of it was in your hands
When your bump started showing you were so happy. You could finally feel your little babe and could talk to your stomach without getting an insane looks
Since you were about 3-4 months along you could still fit in your clothes so you put on one of your favorite dresses and set out to find your mates to show them
You find them in the throne room, just having finished a meeting with the lords
You keep your hands in front of your stomach as you walk up to them and you have this stupid grin on your face
“Y/n! Good morning sweet girl, how are you.” Aelin cooed at you as she raced off her throne to you, Rowan on her heels
“Perfect. Look!” You remove your hands to show off the small bump
Aelin let’s out a cry covering her mouth, “it’s so cute! That’s our babe ohh.” And she kissed you softly
Rowan was mesmerized by it. Silver lined his eyes, his lips pulled into a tight smile
He dropped to his knees and cradled your stomach between his hands leaving feather soft kisses across it, “this is amazing.” He whispered as you ran your fingers through his silver hair
You and Aelin would shop for baby clothes during your free afternoons with Rowan acting as your bodyguard of course
Rowan would growl at anyone who looked at you
It didn’t matter if it was a friend or stranger
Rowan and Lorcan almost got into a fight bc he accidentally growled at Elide for touching your bump
The farther into your pregnancy the more fatigued you got
Eventually you just stayed in bed resting and taking a few walks during the day
Your walks were your alone time with the babe since your mates were always around
You’d point out your favorite flowers in the garden, tell them about Aelin and Rowan, and the latest gossip
This child was going to be the biggest snoop because of you
They would make sure you had everything you needed during your pregnancy
And most importantly that you were healthy and comfortable
Sometimes Aelin would massage your shoulders while Rowan rubbed your feet and ankles
They loved talking to the babe before bed, “were you nice to your mama today?” “What did you two do?” “We already love you so much baby.”
#throne of glass imagine#throne of glass#throne of glass headcanons#throne of glass fanfiction#throne of glass fanfic#throne of glass rowan#aelin throne of glass#rowaelin x reader#rowaelin x you#rowaelin#poly!Rowaelin x reader#poly!rowaelin headcanon#poly!Rowaelin x you#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn
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Little Falcon
For day 22 of Rowaelin Month: Magic/Shifting lessons with the kids
@rowaelinscourt
Masterlist
Word count: 1k
Warnings: none!
Aelin was going to kill him, she truly was. She usually was a forgiving soul, one of the kindest people he knew despite her penchant for violence and general mischief. But for this, she would kill him.
Because he committed probably the worst act he could have ever committed. Worse than killing a man. Worse than forgetting Aelin’s birthday. Worse than eating his wife’s chocolate hazelnut cake. No, Rowan lost their daughter. Alma was almost four years old, her blonde, shining hair always a beacon and her quiet, yet temperamental disposition a mirror of her mother’s. It seemed that she had also inherited her mother’s ability to sneak around. Because she wasn’t here. She wasn’t anywhere.
He’d been searching the castle for almost an hour, hoping to find the little trickster before Aelin was done with her meeting. He began in Alma’s room, hoping that her golden hair would be sticking out from her covers or her tiny toes from under her bed. No such luck was found. He made his way around the royal family’s wing of the castle with the same circumstances. He quietly asked the staff members if they had seen her, all to a resounding “no” and a look of disapproval that he lost Alma.
He was about to shift into hawk form to do a fly-by of the castle grounds but before he could, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs to their wing. Alma. Relieved, he rounded the corner, shouting her name and about to give the little girl a stern talking to when he stopped in his tracks. Aelin was standing in front of him, one brow raised and a knowing look on her face.
“Why were you calling Alma’s name?”
Rowan let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, you see…” He knew Aelin could probably see the sweat beading on his forehead. “Alma and I, we were….we were playing hide and seek! Yeah. And she’s just so good at hiding that I can’t find her.”
Aelin rolled her eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, Buzzard. Just tell me you lost our daughter so we can go find her.”
He deflated at that. “Fine. I lost our daughter. Happy now?”
“Not particularly, no.” Aelin sighed. “I was gone for less than two hours, Rowan. How did this happen?”
“Errin needed to be changed so I stepped out of her room for a minute. A single minute, Aelin. And the next thing I knew, she was gone.” Panic laced his voice and he knew that he was about five seconds from completely losing his shit. It was a miracle he had kept it together this long, to be quite honest.
“I put Errin in his crib for a nap–don’t worry, one of the nursemaids is in there with him–and I came back and she was just gone. I didn’t even hear her little feet scamper by or anything. I don’t understand it.” Tears were finally forming in his eyes as the realization that he lost their daughter set in.
Slender arms wrapped around his middle, embracing him tightly. “It’s okay, Buzzard. We’ll find her, okay? We’ll look together and we’ll find her.” Even if Aelin was putting on a brave front, he knew she was probably panicking as much as he was. “Besides, she has the bravery of both of her parents so I’m sure she’s totally fine.” Aelin gave him a small smile and pulled him by the hand toward her room.
Gradually, they overturned every cushion, ripped every blanket from her bed, and opened everyy door and drawer but still no Alma. Rowan tugged on his hair, hoping to relieve some of the tension that was building in the pit of his stomach again. Aelin was slowly putting everything back to where it was so he figured he’d go and make another round of their bedroom.
Aelin’s voice halted him about halfway down the hall. “Uh, hey, Buzzard?”
He doesn’t think he ever ran so fast in his life. With panicked eyes, he burst into the room like a tornado. Aelin was standing calmly in the center of the room, looking up at the small curtain rod that hung over Alma’s bed.
“Look there,” she pointed toward the ceiling where a small bird was perched on the curtain rod. A suspiciously golden-looking falcon stared back at him and chirped. The tiny falcon flapped its wings, getting enough air to rise up from its perch and glide down to land on Rowan’s shoulder.
Aelin’s voice was breathless when she spoke, “Is that–”
Rowan nodded. “I think it is.” Rowan brought a single finger up to gently pet the bird’s head, it’s color too close to Alma’s blonde waves for it to be a coincidence.
As his finger stopped its motion, a bright light flashed and then there was a familiar weight in his arms. He was shocked into silence as he beheld Alma sitting in his arms, smiling.
“I was hidin’ Daddy!”
Slowly, so as not to startle her, Rowan brought her into the tightest embrace he could manage without crushing her little bones. “I can see that,” he choked out. When he looked up at Aelin, she had a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She gave him a look that seemed to say, Well, shit.
“Alma, how long have you been able to do that? Turn into a bird?”
“I not just any bird, Daddy! I’s a falcon! Uncle Fen said so!”
“Uncle Fen knew about this?” Alma nodded enthusiastically.
“Yeah! He said I should sup’rise you.”
Rowan smiled tightly at his daughter. “Consider me surprised, little falcon.”
His daughter put her tiny hands over her mouth and giggled. The sight made his cold heart melt. But quickly, the severity of the situation overtook him.
“You have to let me know when you’re going to shift, okay? I want to teach you how to fly safely so you don’t hurt yourself.”
“Daddy, you’re bein’ a Buzzard. Jus’ like Mommy always says.”
Rowan’s mouth hung open. Aelin’s cackle could be heard throughout the castle as she doubled over in hysterics.
Eventually, Aelin’s laughter died down and she met his eyes through her tears. I’ll get you back for that, Fireheart.
Mmhm, sure. Not before you murder Fenrys though, right?
Rowan gave a curt nod and pulled his giggling little falcon back into his arms. She placed a tiny hand over the tattoo on his face.
“Daddy, I can’t wait to fly with you! It’s gonna be so much fun.” And with that, she snuggled into his arms once more.
Maybe murdering Fenrys could wait a few more minutes.
A/N: I absolutely loved writing this one and I was squealing from cuteness while doing so 🥹
Tagging:
@cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @backtobl4ck @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127 @tothestarsandwhateverend @highqueenofelfhame
#rowaelin#rowaelin fanfic#rowaelinmonth2023#rowaelin month#rowaelin fanfiction#rowaelin fic#throne of glass#throne of glass fanfiction#rowan whitethorn#aelin galathynius#my fics#my fic
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Rowaelin Month Day Ten: Co-Stars With Chemistry @rowaelinscourt
Find Part One Here
Rowaelin Month Masterlist
Thanks for all the kind words on part one! I hope part two lives up to your expectations! Part three, and the conclusion, will come later this month. Bonus points if you spot the "against the tide" reference ;)
Warnings: None, right around 4k words
.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.
The Words We Share-Part Two
<<Welcome to Terrasen! I’m your host Aelin Galathynius and this week we’ve got a special episode coming your way. We’ll be live with none other than Rowan Whitethorn to discuss his new book. Dead Man’s Game is his first step into fantasy and a twisted tale of pirates, curses, and of course a dive into Scottish history. Join us next week in a special LIVE episode. Until next time, readers.>>
It wasn’t the worst promotional Aelin had ever done in her life. But it also wasn’t the best. She’d written and scrapped over a dozen and so far, that was the one that hadn’t sucked the most. Somehow.
Aelin stared at the blinking square on her computer that asked if she wanted to publish the message or not. Technically she could still turn down the interview. She could tell Dorian off and ignore Whitethorn for the rest of his existence and move on with her life. And then she’d probably lose her job and end up homeless.
Wincing, she clicked the button and immediately spun away from her computer.
Her office, big and bright and vibrant, had a large window that overlooked downtown. In the distance the mountains were shrouded in a thick layer of clouds, not surprising but a little disappointing. She much preferred her summer months warm and clear. Still, she let herself admire the view and took a moment to appreciate the stillness of the day.
Until her gaze landed on her phone.
There were a handful of messages from Sam that she’d left unread. He’d tried calling her after she’d returned home, but she didn’t pick up. Rowan was still on her mind. Rowan and his stupid accent and his stupidly large hands. How was it that someone she hated (and who hated her in return) could treat her to the best date she’d been on in months? Years?
She didn’t know. And she didn’t want to call Elide to talk to her about it because Elide was a meddlesome little minx.
Now as Aelin stared at her phone, she found herself wondering if there was anything Sam could say that would have her forgive him.
Whoever stood you up is an idiot, Rowan had said.
And…maybe he was right.
A knock at the door was the only thing that snagged her attention. She looked over to see Dorian leaning against her doorway.
“Aelin,” he greeted. He had his usual grin in place, black hair in an easy disarray. His blue eyes shone with too much placating humor.
“I hate you.” It wasn’t an exaggeration either. He was really good at being annoying.
“Oh, c’mon, I’m doing you a favor,” Dorian insisted. He didn’t look the least bit apologetic. “I guarantee this’ll get your viewership up.”
“Not even Chaol is this mean,” Aelin said. She slumped down in her seat, tilting her head back against the chair rest.
“You only like him because he brings in chocolate cake,” Dorian said.
“Yeah and he isn’t an ass like you.” Aelin continued glaring at her boss and friend, picking up her pen to scratch at the pad of paper beside her desk, just for something to do.
“Aelin, Rowan’s our best-selling author, not to mention the demand of getting more events from him like this.” Dorian picked an invisible piece of lint from his shirt and shrugged. “Hate him all you want, but our readers and your listeners have been begging for this.”
Aelin had seen requests forms on their website, she’d been to plenty of conventions and heard the reviews—she knew that Dorian was right. But…
“I like Whitethorn even less than you,” Aelin said. Though, the words sounded hollow in her own ears.
Dorian didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll take you out to dinner to make up.”
Aelin had had enough of men propositioning her for dinner. She waved Dorian off.
“Go be the big CEO man, I’ve gotta write this script and get the general outline to Whitethorn,” she said.
Dorian left with a wave of his hand.
Aelin rolled her eyes and pulled up a new document on her computer. A small notification bar in the corner of the screen indicated views on the recent upload. In the span of three minutes there were already over two hundred views and the number was rapidly rising.
She glanced at the large stack of paper still sitting in the corner of her desk. She’d gotten it just last week—the tell-tale mysterious new novel Rowan had written. Even Dorian said it was remarkable. Aelin had yet to view it since it was no longer a part of her job description to edit and critique manuscripts. But since she’d be interviewing Rowan, she got early access to the novel.
In truth, she’d enjoyed Rowan’s work. There was always something about it, even if she did mark up every page with as much red as she could manage. But, really? Most of the comments weren’t negative. Often, she even found herself praising the way a sentence worked or the callbacks he gave to earlier chapters.
Now, having the manuscript before her, Aelin couldn’t help but feel a little excited at having the book before her.
At least this would be enough of a distraction for her.
It wasn’t until the sun began to set and shadows crawled across the walls of her office, that Aelin finally looked up from the manuscript.
And to her phone that lit up with another message.
Cursing, Aelin opened the chat with Sam.
>>Sam: you can’t keep ignoring me.
<<Aelin: I told you I needed time.
>>Sam: It was one night. we’ll have dozens more.
Aelin scoffed at the surety in his words. Shaking her head Aelin sent one last message.
<<Aelin: I’m done. This is over. I can’t keep playing games and being a placeholder.
>>Sam: We’ll talk in the morning.
He could try calling her, but would find it difficult considering she was blocking his number that very moment.
It felt good to set that boundary, to tell him no, to feel like she was in control.
In all honesty, she was still caught up on spending time with Rowan Whitethorn and not tossing her wine on him. He’d been a gentleman, an ass, but respectful all the same. She would have to thank him for helping her that night despite how much she didn’t want to. He didn’t need to step in and give her an excuse to use against Kaltain. And he certainly didn’t need to pay for dinner and make sure she got into a cab safely. He hadn’t needed to do any of it and she hadn’t expected him to. But he had.
She wanted to be irritated at him for it. She wasn’t a damsel in distress for him to take care of or who needed help to begin with. She would have dealt with Kaltain on her own just fine.
Still, it was nice to have someone looking out for her.
Shaking her head, Aelin flipped through the manuscript to the first page once again.
She had a dream, once, years ago, where she would stand out on a rocky shoreline and stare into the ocean as she wondered just how far she could sail before the world swallowed her whole.
…
Between screaming Fall Out Boy lyrics, two impromptu dance parties, and chugging half an energy drink in the parking garage of the publishing building—Aelin finally found herself ready to face the inevitability of the day.
“It’s going to be fine,” she told herself one more time as she fixed her lipstick in the rearview mirror. “Everything is going to be fine.”
It had been her mantra that she prepared for the live podcast she would be filming that day. For the first time in a very long time, Aelin found herself nervous for the day. And she did not get nervous. No, Aelin prided herself on being confident, capable, and being able to keep her head on straight.
That was before she’d read Rowan’s book, though.
She got out of her car, energy drink and manuscript in hand, and headed up to her office to prepare for the interview.
She hadn’t had any issue in reading Rowan's book. In fact, she’d stayed up the entire night just to finish it. Everything about the book had captured her attention. From the magic to the world building to the romance—it had all been just what she loved most in a book. Even if the book wasn’t as spicy as Aelin preferred to get in her books, there had been something real about the way Rowan chose the write this novel.
And now she’d have to tell him.
She was not looking forward to it if she were being honest. For as much as she loved gushing about novels and diving into different worlds and characters…she’d never done so about one of Rowan’s books. And this book was so different from his other books.
Aelin felt far too jittery as she waited for the elevator. The usual crowds all milled about her, all too concerned with their own issues to give her much credence. She didn’t know if that was better or worse.
She hadn’t felt this way about an interview in ages. Only her first real podcast session had been as bad and that was only because she’d gone into in on no sleep and four shots of espresso.
The elevator slowly lumbered up to the proper floor while Aelin paced the small space. Thankfully no one else was in here with her. That would have just been icing on the cake.
“It’s going to be a great day and everything is going to be fine,” she told herself as the doors slid open to the proper floor. Dorian of course was standing right there, leaning against the far wall.
His black hair was styled perfectly out of his face, his smirk ever present. He gave one last twist to the new wedding band on his finger as Aelin stepped out of the elevator and began walking to her studio.
“You ready for today?” he asked, keeping stride with her easily.
“Of course, I am,” she replied. Her confidence was deceiving, but it was something she’d practiced ever since she was a child who wanted to get out of trouble. “It’s just like any other podcast.”
Dorian made a noise in the back of his throat. “This is potentially the biggest release our company—”
“I know, Dorian.” Aelin stopped outside her studio and handed Dorian the mess of energy drink and notes she was carrying so she could unlock the door. “I’m not an idiot.”
Dorian followed her inside and she caught a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry. I know you know. And I know you’ll take this seriously. Just…try not to hate on him too much, yeah?”
It was no secret really that Aelin and Rowan had a slight rivalry going on. At least, Dorian was the only one really aware of it. And Elide. But Elide was the best at keeping secrets herself.
“Can I tease him about the fated mates trope?” she asked.
“No.”
“Boo.” Aelin took her things back from him and rolled her eyes. “Do you want to read through my notes? Give me your approval, oh great one?”
He was already walking back out of the studio, waving a hand overhead. “Behave!”
Aelin snorted a laugh; she’d been granted honorary approval to go to his bachelor party three months ago; if anyone needed to behave it was him. She wondered partially if his wife actually realized what she’d gotten into.
No matter.
Aelin settled into her usual routine upon arriving at the office in the morning. If she kept things as normal as possible, they were bound to work out, right?
So she bounced between her actual office and the studio for the next hour, running through her questions and side comments she could make about various points and ideas she’d highlighted from Rowan’s book.
Elide stopped by a few times to give her a countdown to when the podcast would air. The other woman was technically an acquisitions editor, but Aelin was going to try and steal her to be her assistant. That would piss Kaltain off.
When there was ten minutes left until they were slated to begin. Aelin went to the studio to make sure everything was ready. She usually made sure the couch and chair were angled properly first with microphones at the ready before ensuring a blanket and a few pillows were easy to reach. Not that she thought Rowan would want to snuggle up with a puppy studded fleece blanket—it was the thought that counted.
She was just organizing her desk with her notes and her copy of Rowan’s manuscript when she heard Elide’s voice down the hall.
“She’s just down this way.”
Aelin gave everything one final look in the studio before deciding that was just as good as it was going to get. After all, everything was neat and organized. Except the bookshelves. Those were pure chaos. But in Aelins opinion, keeping bookshelves looking perfect was a useless task.
Elide rounded the open door, looking far too amused by what was about to unfold.
“Hey Aelin,” she said, leaning against the jam. Her black hair hung in loose waves and her expression was carefully impassive—though that gleam in her eyes was hard to miss. “I found your next interview in the halls.”
Sure enough, standing behind her was Rowan. He was dressed casually, far more casual than she’d ever seen him before. No dress shirt or tie, no slacks, no fancy shoes worth more than her car. It was a startling contrast to when he’d saved her at the restaurant. Even his hair was different. Not that it was bad. The man had good hair.
“Thanks, Elide,” Aelin said with a smile. She hadn’t been staring too much, had she?
“Let me know if you need anything,” Elide said. There was no mistaking her brow raise as she departed.
Oh, Aelin was certainly going to be interrogated later this afternoon. She stuffed that away far in the back of her mind.
“Come on in, Mr. Whitethorn.” Aelin gestured him into the room and swung the door shut behind him. “Have a seat on the couch, we’ve got a few minutes.”
She was going to keep this professional and dignified. All she had to do was get through the next forty-five minutes and then this would be over. Fifty if she took in time for ads and brief intermission in the middle.
“You can call me Rowan, you know,” he said as he took up an easy position on the couch. His silver hair was, as usual, perfectly styled and left his handsome face on display. “After the restaurant and everything.”
Aelin had to fight to keep from glaring too much at him. Though she did end up pursing her lips tightly enough that her lipstick was definitely going to smudge.
“I think we should agree to never talk about that night. Ever.” True nothing that embarrassing had come of it, other than a hit to Aelin’s pride, but talking about it would only lead to more people hearing about it. And she really didn’t trust Whitethorn not to tease her about it. Besides, talking about getting stood up by a guy she’d wasted too much time on, to Whitethorn of all people, was not something she wanted to do.
Especially considering she’d spent a great deal of time in the last week thinking about how handsome Rowan actually was.
Rowan only smiled as he watched her shuffle her notes and papers. Aelin knew if she met his gaze that she would let something slip so she avoided eye contact. She'd gotten good at that.
"If you need water, there's a mini fridge under that end table,” Aelin told him. “Or I can get you a coffee real quick?”
“Water’s fine,” Rowan said. He reached for the fridge and pulled out one of the plastic bottles chilling. “I'm curious though, did you forgive the man who stood you up? Or did he have a reasonable explanation?"
"It's none of your business," Aelin replied stiffly. This was a mistake. Maybe she could call Elide in here to act as a buffer. "Do you want a look at some of the questions I have planned or are you okay going in blind?"
Rowan shrugged. "I'm always up for a bit of fun."
Aelin didn't have a response for that so she spent the last few minutes until airing explaining to Rowan how the microphone worked. He could mute himself if he needed to cough or anything like that, but ultimately, she had control over sounds volume and everything along those lines.
"Do your worst," he told her as she opened the podcast.
"Welcome to Terrasen, listeners and readers alike," Aelin said, still glaring at Rowan. "As you know, today's session is going to be extra fun and special as we have Rowan Whitethorn with us for the first time. I know many of you have asked about having him on the show as well as have been interested in what he's been working on recently, so here we are."
She paused for a brief moment in preparation. "Rowan, thanks so much for taking the time to join us today."
"Thanks, Aelin," he said, leaning into the mic just a little. His accent lilted in that familiar way and he looked far too at ease sitting across from her. His watch clicked happily along on his wrist catching the light as he clasped his hands together. "It's good to be here. I've been a long-time listener."
Liar. "Really? What have been some of your favorite episodes?" She'd catch him out and not feel the least bit sorry for it either.
"Well, the series about what makes a romance book was rather interesting, I have to say. Especially your comments on smut," he grinned at her and Aelin flipped him of. At least this wasn't a video session too.
"I like a bit of fun," she dryly, throwing his own words back at him. "Good to know what keeps you entertained."
"Oh, I like hiking too."
"Right," Aelin snatched on to that with the sole goal of getting out of the current conversation. "Which is something you grew up doing a lot of right? You grew up in Scottland?"
"Aye, just outside of Edinburgh," Rowan said. "Moved to America when I was seventeen, but most of my summers I went back to stay with my cousins."
"Do you miss it?" Aelin asked. "From what I've read in your books the landscape the history, the people, it's all so beautiful and wonderful and rich."
"Aye," Rowan ran a hand over his chin. "It'll always be a part of me. My da taught me everything about the outdoors and nature and adventuring as he could before he passed, that's why I moved to America. So my mum could be near family. And growing up without him just left a hole in my heart, y'know? So writing and research just turned into a way for me to remember him.”
Aelin tried to ignore the effect of his words. She knew what that was like exactly.
“Right,” she agreed, “sometimes telling stories is the best way to remember someone, or something.”
Rowan met her gaze again and something flashed in his eyes as he nodded his agreement.
“Plus, it’s an easy way to relieve stress,” he added. “With all the research I’ve done, y’know I spent every day for three months training with a group of tae kwon do specialists just to learn how to describe one fight scene properly?”
From there, it was easy for Aelin to continue asking him about writing and research and why he’d chosen non-fiction to begin with. Just like the night at the restaurant—it was far to easy to talk to him. Far too easy to have this simple, easy-going conversation with him.
In fact, it had been a long time since she’d been able to talk like this to anyone. Which, maybe wasn’t a good thing. Most of this was scripted anyways not to mention Rowan had done plenty of other interviews and certainly had many of these responses memorized.
Hell.
She’d started reading too much into this.
“So,” Aelin said as they were nearing the end of the segment. “I’m still surprised you actually made the leap in to fiction—fantasy no less. And with a lead character like Celaena Sardothien.”
“You’re surprised I can write a female main character?” Rowan chuckled. He’d rolled up the sleeves to his shirt a while ago, one of his arms in a full tattoo sleeve. She couldn’t understand whatever language the majority of the tattoos were in but she did recognize a few Gaelin words and symbols in the mix.
“Well, yes.”
“C’mon, Galathynius,” he said, “even you have to admit you liked my book. I did a good job. Especially with Celaena.”
“Do I though? You should see all the marks I made on the manuscript.” In truth there weren’t very many, at least not as many as she had given in the past. But she would add some if it would shut him up.
“The book hits all your favorite tropes,” Rowan said. He wore that all knowing smirk of his that had been infuriating (and fine, fascinating) her for the last forty-five minutes.
“How do you even know what I like?”
Rowan chuckled, a sound that hit Aelin like a shot to the heart. “We’ve been friends for five years.”
“We’re not friends,” Aelin corrected, but there was no malice in her words.
“Please Galathynius,” he insisted, “you like me.”
“Shut up Whitethorn.” Aelin muted him as burst into laughter and she had to fight to keep her own voice even as she addressed her listeners. “We’ve just had a great conversation with novelist, Rowan Whitethorn about his upcoming high fantast adventure Dead Man’s Game which will be released on November fifteenth. Thanks for listening friends, we’ll see you next time.”
She made all the necessary clicks and flicks to shut the mics down properly and just like that the segment was over. Looking up, Aelin scowled at Rowan. She’d been doing that a lot hadn’t she?
“Seriously?” she asked.
“Are we really not friends?” Rowan finally leaned back in his seat. Even that small bit of distance was enough that Aelin felt she could finally take a breath of air.
The table between them wasn’t even that big but being close to him had put her heart in overdrive and made her mind feel like a pile of mush.
“Whitethorn,” she said, ignoring his small eyeroll at the use of his last name, “we both know the extent of our “relationship” has been insulting each other.”
That made him pause and another look flashed across his features, one Aelin couldn’t identify. But it made her squirm all the same. So, she launched herself out of her seat. She didn’t want to think about anything beyond being done with this segment and maybe having some peace of mind.
“It was a live session,” she told him, “so you can listen to it whenever. I think Dorian had a few extra things he needed to get you relating to your edits.”
Aelin needed to shut down whatever emotions were cutting through her. It wouldn’t do good to dwell on them or Rowan longer than necessary. This was just a passing occurrence. Eventually he would leave their publishing house—or get so big as a name that he couldn’t be bothered with her silly little podcast.
Not that she cared. Or that it mattered.
Slowly, Rowan stood from his seat, his eyes trained on her. “Do I get your edits?”
Aelin blinked. “What?”
“Your edits? All the notes and thoughts you had on the manuscript?” He didn’t move to leave like she expected him to. He just kept waiting for her answer.
“I—” she paused. “You really want them?”
“Of course,” he said, “your thoughts have always been invaluable to me.”
She’d never really understand that word: invaluable. Oh she knew what it meant and that Rowan said it as a compliment, but it had always struck her as an asinine and bland way of describing somethings true worth. Rowan regarded her with such sincerity that Aelin was already reaching for the giant stack of papers from where she’d left it on the edge of her desk.
For some reason, she was hesitant on giving him the pages. It wasn’t like she’d struggled with this before. As she held the manuscript out for him, however, she felt shy. And Aelin damned Galathynius was not shy. Mala above.
“Ignore what you don’t like,” she said, just as she always did.
“Thank-you,” Rowan said. He tucked the papers into his arm and, finally, retreated for the door.
“Wh—” Aelin paused mentally cursing herself, “Rowan?”
He turned, hand on the doorknob.
“Where did Celaena’s character come from?” she asked, it was the one question they didn’t get into during the interview, but the one that intrigued her most. “She’s brilliant, strong, and has to be inspired by someone. Who?”
A small smile quirked one side of his lips as he pushed the door open. “I thought it was obvious.”
And then he was out the door, swallowed up by a shout from Dorian calling him into his office.
Aelin could only stare after him. And just like the night of that insufferable date—she was left confused and uncertain about what his words actually meant.
.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.
Tumblr is not allowing me to tag anyone right now, so if you could reblog to increase exposure, I would so very much appreciate it! <3
#rowaelin#rowaelin month#rowaelinmonth#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#rowan x aelin#aelin x rowan
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ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 10
~ Co-host/Guest Star with Chemistry ~
You might remember this fic from last year. Well, I had plans to make it a one off thing but then I couldn't help it and I got another idea. And I just want to say thank you to everyone who read the first part and loved it. It's so fun when you guys love something as much as I do. Without further delay, please enjoy Part 2 who we really and truly have to thank Rowaelin month and @rowaelinscourt for.
~~~~~
All Aelin could do was stare at her own reflection in the mirror of her dressing room vanity. She didn’t have long before she had to leave her sanctuary and face a crowd of strangers like her entire world hadn’t been rocked at its foundations. Acting was a talent she’d taken to at a very young age, the tales of her dramatics often told around the dinner table. Aelin would be fine, she’d put on one of her charismatic smiles and give her audience her all, and everything would be fine. But for now, it was only her stunned expression to keep her company.
That was how Rowan found her however long later, silent and still as her mind was whirring with thoughts of the future. Aelin had lost track of the minutes spent doing absolutely nothing, and as Rowan appeared in the mirror she startled, a hand flying to her chest as if to stop her heart from flying out of her chest.
“Holy gods, you scared me,” she breathed as Rowan removed his cap and kissed her on the cheek.
“I’m sorry, love,” Rowan murmured onto her skin as he kissed her again. When he noticed she still hadn’t moved, not in the slightest, to look at him or seek out another kiss his voice changed from teasing to concern. “Are you all right?”
Aelin finally found the compulsion to move, swivelling in her makeup chair to face Rowan. It was always infinitely more pleasant when he could come to the studio without the threat of being in front of the camera. Not as exciting for her, but she was still happy to see him. When he came to visit her here Rowan had to sneak in and from the sheer amount of times he’d done he’d developed quite the skill for it. The tricky part was not drawing attention, and with years of practice he had the art of blending in down to a fine art.
The key was appearing so much unlike his professional self that it would take more than a double take to place why he looked so familiar. So today with his scruffy hat hair, hoodie and stubble covered cheeks, he was a far cry from the suave and composed image he gave the camera.
Since Rowan’s last public performance here he’d been promoting his new album and gone on tour. Over the past eight months Aelin had hardly seen him except via a phone screen. The last time they had managed to see each other in person was when he had shows in Suria and snuck away when he should have been sleeping in to come see her. That was about six weeks ago.
“We have a situation,” Aelin had said, looking up at him and jerking her head towards the vanity. “And I think we have this room and that couch to blame.”
Rowan’s brows furrowed then looked to where she had directed. His eyes went wide and he did a few double takes before his gaze finally settled on her. There was an open question in his eyes and Aelin just nodded. Then he let out a shaky laugh as he realised fully what this all meant, a hand rubbing his stubbled chin.
“Well, I guess this changes things,” Rowan finally said.
“Indeed it does,” Aelin confirmed. “We need a plan, and I think I have one.”
THREE AND A HALF MONTHS LATER…
Aelin always got butterflies waiting behind the curtain for the final call of action. The crowd was still humming with chatter and she could hear the last camera checks over her in-ear monitor. This time the butterflies were worse, enough to make her nauseous. Today’s show would be one to be remembered and it had taken a good amount of deceit and scheming to get here.
“Alright, Aelin,” a voice said into her ear. “Curtains open in five, four, three…”
Aelin took in a deep breath, the last two counts sounding in her head. Two, One.
The applause started and then the curtains opened, Aelin taking the ten steps forward to get to her mark. She smiled and waved while she made eye contact with a few people seated in the audience. There were cheers and whistles, and when it went on a little too long Aelin held up her hands to start quieting them down as the prompt screen undoubtedly displayed QUIET PLEASE. Once the audience had settled Aelin began her welcoming monologue.
“Thank you so much,” she said, her smile stretching wide, and there were cheers again. “Now, now, as much as I would love to stand here and lap up every bit of your admiration, I don't get paid for that.” There was a healthy amount of laughter. “I get paid to put on a show and what a show do we have planned for today. They’re always special, what am I talking about? It reminds of something my father used to say, slightly inappropriate but I think—”
The strum of a guitar interrupted her and Aelin made sure she looked affronted even though she knew exactly what was going on. When the the chord turned into music she sent a confused look to the audience a millisecond before they broke out in raucous cheers. Aelin whirled around to see Rowan strutting out, centrestage from where she had been standing moments before with the smallest of smug smiles on his face. He was looking down at his guitar and Aelin put her hands on her hips to show her displeasure. Rowan had the gall to wink at her. If he wasn’t careful he’d give the whole gig away.
Even though it wasn’t his job, it was Fenrys who darted out from the wings and dropped a mic and stand in front of Rowan, and then he was gone again. It became a stand off, Rowan playing while he challenged her with a look that told her to get off his stage, even though it was her stage.
He had to win for the whole ploy to work, so Aelin gave an overexaggerated and exasperated sigh, her hands falling to her sides as half turned to the audience as she said, “I guess I know when I’m not needed.”
It was hard, but Aelin withheld her own smile as she gave Rowan the limelight. He hadn’t stopped playing, the chords effortlessly coming from the instrument and he never missed a beat. Aelin found a spot by the foot of the low steps near her interview platform, right beside Fenrys who had decided not to head out of sight. He nudged her with his elbow and winked. Aelin tried not to look too pleased with herself.
The tempo picked up and Rowan readied himself in front of the microphone. Aelin’s breath caught in her chest, it always did in the anticipation of the song beginning. It always happened when Rowan was about to sing. He closed his eyes, grounding himself to the melody and then his deep voice filled the studio.
I found a love, for me
Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead
Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet
“Sweet?” Fenrys muttered under his breath.
Aelin tried very hard not to snort and ruin Rowan’s performance. “Artistic licence. Now hush”
'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love
Not knowing what it was.
They might not have been kids but they were young and stupid enough to mistake their mutual animosity for other feelings that were way at the other end of the spectrum. When they had admitted to their true feelings it was like Aelin’s entire world had fallen into place. Rowan was everything she wanted and she had just been too willfully ignorant to see. Thank the gods they had come to their senses. Eventually.
I will not give you up this time
But darling, just kiss me slow
Your heart is all I own
And in your eyes, you're holding mine
Baby, I'm dancing in the dark
With you between my arms
Barefoot on the grass
Listening to our favourite song
When you said you looked a mess
I whispered underneath my breath
But you heard it
Darling, you look perfect tonight
Aelin remembered that night, Rowan had surprised her after she’d been deep cleaning her house all day. It was the first time that Rowan had seen her so dishevelled. Her cheeks had burned, he didn’t notice, just sweeping into her kitchen to make dinner. They had sat outside, eating on a blanket, and after Rowan had pulled her to her feet to dance under the night’s sky, the cooling grass beneath their feet.
The backing curtain rose, revealing a small band to accompany Rowan and his guitar playing. The music swelled to new heights and Aelin was reminded of just how much she loved this song.
Well, I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know
She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home
I found a lover, to carry more than just my secrets
To carry love, to carry children of our own
Unconsciously Aelin’s hand drifted to her stomach. It was an unconscious gesture, but how could she not when he was singing about that.
We are still kids, but we're so in love
Fighting against all odds
I know we'll be alright this time
Darling, just hold my hand
Be my girl, I'll be your man
I see my future in your eyes
Baby, I'm dancing in the dark
With you between my arms
Barefoot on the grass
Listening to our favourite song
When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful
I don't deserve this
Darling, you look perfect tonight
When the instrumental bridge began Rowan stopped playing, letting the backing band have their moment. Confused, Aelin sent him a questioning look with a raised eyebrow. He just pulled his guitar over his head, walked over and handed it over to Fenrys. Before Aelin could even ask aloud about whatever was going on right now Rowan had taken her hand and spun her into a dance. Fenrys’ laugh was audible and she knew they must have looked quite the sight. It was hard not to melt into his embrace, which came to her so naturally in this moment. They were still on camera, and they had images to maintain. Her the larger than life social star, he the cold and callous musician, although with this break in character Rowan’s was very quickly unravelling. Aelin knew this song by heart, he’d played it for her enough, so she knew when he had danced too long for that standard interlude, but the band covered him.
He did dance her back over to her spot by the stage before it was too obvious that he was stalling and took his guitar back. Rowan was effortlessly able to join back in, his voice impassioned as he started the final rendition of the chorus.
Baby, I'm dancing in the dark
With you between my arms
Barefoot on the grass
Listening to our favourite song
I have faith in what I see
Now I know I have met an angel in person
And she looks perfect
I don't deserve this
By the gods he did. With everything that he had been through and what he had given to Aelin without question, he deserved every bit of happiness they had together. As her thoughts ran off the music slowed, Rowan closing out the song, strumming the last few chords himself and ending it on a truly acoustic note.
You look perfect tonight
The applause was deafening, and Aelin joined in. Like he always did, Rowan went a little shy when accepting the adoration being rained down on him. His cheeks went a delectable shade of pink and he nodded at the crowd who just kept clapping. Aelin gave Fenrys a jab in the arm to get him moving off camera and out of the way. Knowing the camera was now on her, Aelin put on her signature teasing smirk, clapping as Rowan approached. Gods damn him, but he held out his hand like the gentleman to help her up the miniscule steps. His back was to the camera, convenient as he scowled at the towering heels she’d chosen to wear today. He would say they were a safety concern, Aelin was adamant they made her outfit.
They sat in the arms chairs, sinking into the plush cushions. Their eyes were on each other while they waited for the commotion to die down enough for the interview to start. Rowan must have made quite the impression because it took the QUIET PLEASE flashing longer than usual for the audience to follow the instruction. When they finally did Aelin grinned.
“How dare you interrupt my monologue,” she said.
Rowan had assumed his cool and aloof demeanour, and he just shrugged. “That song was more heartfelt than any spiel you were about to give.”
Aelin gasped. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
In fact, she’d woken him up with soft kisses that had led to more, and he’d left bed in the best mood possible.
“Now that song,” Aelin said, drawing out each word. “It’s a love song, and from those beautifully written, heartfelt words, it feels like it might have been written about someone special.”
“If you have a question, Aelin, just ask it,” Rowan challenged.
She lent forward, the thrill of the game exciting her. “I have many questions. First, what can you tell me about this,” Aelin waved her hand flippantly over her shoulder, where she knew a photo from Rowan’s Instagram was being shown. “I showed this post a few months ago and I can tell you there were more than a few broken hearts in this studio.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the audience. Aelin shot a glance at the picture, admiring the large emerald set in a gold band. Rowan couldn’t have done better in picking the perfect engagement ring for her, Aelin had hated that she hadn’t been able to wear it and to show it off. The only public admittance of their relationship was this photo and because it only showed Aelin’s hand she had remained anonymous. There was just the widespread devastation that Rowan Whitethorn was officially off the market, the media sent into a tizzy because no one knew who his mystery woman was. It cost them both an exorbitant amount in NDAs but somehow they had managed to keep it all out of the public eye.
“My favourite comment is this one: WTF But you and Aelin! I shipped the two of you so hard. You’ve broken my heart,” Aelin read. “How could you break their heart like that, Rowan? Have you no compassion?”
“I don’t know how people can see the way we interact and imagine us together,” Rowan said.
“Shipping is the word you’re looking for,” Aelin explained. “You may be too old to be down with the lingo, unfortunately.”
Rowan scoffed, selling his arrogance. “I could say the same about you, I doubt kids today know what the word lingo means.”
“At least I’m not as old as you,” Aelin threw in a little bite to her words to make her anger believable. “I have that going for me amongst all my other admirable and desirable qualities.”
“If you say so.” She saw Rowan fighting his smile but he kept his composure in the end. “You just like anything that draws attention to you. Never mind how ridiculous and unfounded that attention might be.”
“I see falling in love hasn’t done any favours to you manners,” Aelin teased.
“Maybe it’s just you, Aelin. You seem to make it your mission to make me as nasty as I can be." Rowan sounded both impatient and offended, a practised tone for him.
“What can I say, I love to ruffle your feathers. And It’s not my fault they’re so easily ruffled,” Aelin countered. “But I should at least offer my congratulations. An engagement is one thing but I’m more interested in what comes after.”
A video played on the large screen behind the two of them, the song Rowan had just sung playing again in lower quality with just him and his guitar. Aelin watched the grainy video footage, seeing him dressed in dark pants with the buttons of is white shirt rolled to his elbows, the rest of his features were blurred by the terrible quality of the camera work. His stand out feature was his voice as he sang to an unknown figure. The heads of the guests obscured the view of who that was, the only thing that was seen of her was her hands dancing above her head for a few moments. Fenrys had done a wonderful job purposefully terrible camera work.
There were some murmurs from the audience as they put together the other pieces of information the video showed them. It was more than clear what this delightful snippet was from, but Aelin began the dance anyway.
“That looks like you’re at a wedding,” she said.
“My own, in fact,” Rowan confirmed. There were a few cheers at that, the news wasn’t new. It had been hard won but they had managed to fully control what information had gone out about the special event. “You should know, you were there.”
This time there were a few surprised gasps and muttering of what. The animosity between Aelin and Rowan was notorious, and although some tabloids tried to put a flirtatious spin on it it never seemed to stick. Their feuding held more entertainment and money.
“I wasn’t invited directly, I came as a plus one for a very important guest.” Aelin lent back in her chair, consciously keeping her hands on the arms of it. “It was a magical affair and a wonderful night. I must say though, I think you could have done better. You’re worth millions after all.”
Rowan’s eyebrows rose with indignant surprise. “Care to elaborate?”
“Well, the venue for starters,” Aelin said. “It felt like a prison inside, all those high walls and artificial lighting. Why were we punished for your success?”
“I’m a private man, as you well know. There’s certain things I can’t compromise on to maintain it.”
“And the colour scheme,” she made a disgusted sound. “So basic. Green and gold? Sounds like the colour scheme for a sports team.”
There was a chuckle from Rowan at that. “I didn’t know you paid attention to such things.”
“You’d be surprised at what I pay attention to,” Aelin said with a flirtatious wink. “That dress. Stunning. Couldn’t have chosen a more stunning piece of art.”
“At least you have one positive thing to say,” even though he sounded completely unimpressed. “She was stunning as ever, even though wedding planning did make her kind of a diva.”
Aelin lent a hand on her chin, a smile quirking up the side of her mouth even though she wanted to insist the contrary. “Pity about that, though I’d say your temperaments match. Or more likely she realised it was your sorry ass that she was marrying and didn’t want you to face the embarrassment of being left at the altar. I think you should thank her for that kindness.”
“Anything else that didn’t meet your expectations, your Highness?” Rowan made sure to add an edge of mocking to his voice, but Aelin could see the mirth dancing in his eyes.
Aelin tapped her chin, sending a conspiring look to the audience as they sat on the edge of their seats waiting for her next biting quip. “The wine, I would have chosen better.” That held some truth, because Aelin hadn't exactly participated in the trying before buying.
“You didn’t even drink any,” Rowan said, almost ruining everything by laughing. They would need to wrap this up quickly before he gave them away completely. This man couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.
“That,” she drew the word out as a warning, “was because I heard it was so terrible I didn’t even bother with it. Now let’s get back to your lovely little song.”
“If you’d like,” Rowan added callously.
In return Aelin sent him a wry smile. “I understand it was for your wife. A serenade for her on your wedding day.”
Rowan just nodded. There was a call of but who is she from the audience. Host and guest both pointedly ignored it.
“The lyrics are beautiful, and obviously come from the heart. She must be a very lucky woman to have your devotion.” Then Aelin turned towards the audience. “Who knew Rowan Whitethorn could be such a softy, even his vows had me in tears.”
There was no word of a lie there. As Rowan had declared his love to her, and promised to honour and care for them as long as he lived, Aelin couldn’t keep back the tears. Her father had to pass her his pocket square so she could dab the tears away without ruining her makeup.
“Over all, it was quite the party,” Aelin said.
Rowan snuck her a secret smile. “It was.”
“I’d say the party really started once the bride and groom left,” Aelin mused.
“Did it just?” Rowan said in that dry way of his.
“Mhmm,” she hummed, trying not to remember too vividly how they had gone back to their room and really celebrated lest she blush on camera. “Your presence has that kind of impact.”
Rowan had to look down to hide most of his smile as he shook his head at her antics. It really was time to wrap it up before he lost all restraint and just blurted everything out because Aelin teased too hard and he bit too quickly.
“Where is your shiny new wedding ring anyway? It just about blinded me at the reception,” Aelin said.
This was the predetermined phrase that would uncover them at last. For nearly two years Aelin and Rowan had managed to keep their relationship private and out of the public eye. They were about to undo all their hard work, but it was about time and most definitely worth it. Bringing their relationship to light would save them from all the speculation and rumours that continuously surrounded them. Not completely, there would always be gossip of cheating and the like, but it would be nice not to hide anymore.
Rowan shifted so that he could reach into his back pocket and then showed off his ring, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “I took it off to play, didn’t want it getting in the way.”
Even though they had no idea what they were anticipating, the audience seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for something to happen. Rowan slipped his ring onto his finger then looked right at Aelin.
“I’ve got yours, too,” Rowan said, this time reaching into the pocket over his heart. There was tittering from the audience, Aelin struggled to keep her face neutral. “I found them on the bathroom counter, I thought you might want them.”
The was a singular, very high pitched WHAT from someone in the audience. Rowan held out his hand to her, palm up with the emerald on full display.
Biting her bottom lip to stop her grin was futile and Aelin only had eyes for Rowan as she said, “Thank you, but I’d left them there on purpose.”
Rowan was grinning too, his eyes darting down to her stomach. “Why?”
“Well, I couldn’t get them on,” Aelin said casually, risking a glance at her audience who looked like they were ready to explode. “My fingers were too swollen. Tends to happen when you’re pregnant.”
Absolutely pandemonium broke out. Aelin stood, watching as the audience collectively lost their mind and smoothed her hands over her dress, showing off the small bump she had hidden beneath. Everyone was on their feet, cheering and clapping, there were whistles and a few screams. She smiled, caressing her bump affectionately again. It had been difficult but they had managed to keep the pregnancy out of public knowledge. A few of the tabloids had run stories about her looking pregnant but when nothing came of it, they just gave up. Aelin had faced pregnancy allegations every other week for years, this time it wasn’t a lie. She was just too good at keeping secrets. A baby had been a surprise, to say the least, but not at all an unwelcome one. The wardrobe department had a hard time dressing her lately in an attempt to hide the pregnancy and to keep her comfortable. Even more NDAs were handed out over it.
And then Rowan stood too, off script. He swept an arm around her waist and she went willingly into his embrace. Rowan tucked her hair behind her ear and gave her a sweet smile, the kind that was just for her, his eye crinkling in the corner. When he kissed her Aelin let him, returning it fervently. It was probably too amorous for day time television but Aelin couldn’t find it in herself to care—not when Rowan whispered I love you and looked at her like that.
Once the chaos died down Rowan had been sent off and Aelin had to focus on her real job, Getting through the rest of the show had been a feat. As soon as Rowan had left the stage Aelin pretended like nothing had happened. The next segment had been promoting various popular books, followed by video chatting a school telling them her studio was providing them with iPads. All in all, it was a fantastic show, but now that it was over she was free to return to her dressing room.
Rowan was waiting for her, arm draped over the back of the couch and looking far too good. Aelin tried not to slam the door but her excitement got the better of her. Kicking off her heels she wasted no more time before climbing into Rowan’s lap, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him. His hands went to her waist, his thumbs brushing over her sides.
When they finally broke apart Rowan said, “You could have let up a little.”
“I’m still mad about it being a shotgun wedding,” Aelin pulled back and narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t know if it was the hormones or purely the lyrics but I had to blink back the tears.”
“How is that my fault? You’ve heard that song a hundred times.” Rowan was giving her a look that only insisted that part was not his fault.
Aelin ignored it completely. “And you almost gave it away so many times, like when you told the world I wasn’t drinking.”
Rowan's deep chuckle rumbled through his chest and he urged her closer. “We were heading in a wedding direction anyway. We just needed a little bit of a push. You can’t blame me for getting a little excited over telling everyone.”
His hand rested over her stomach, right over the tiny thing that had given them much more than a little push. Finding out that they were pregnant had accelerated all the plans they had for their future. They didn’t see the point in waiting to get engaged or prolonging the time between that and a wedding. They had chosen each other, and like their vows had said, they were in this together until whatever end. Still, the joke of the shotgun wedding was too funny to let go of, and there had also been the fact she hadn’t been able to wear her engagement ring outside the house. It was beautiful and deserved to be shown off.
The feeling of Rowan’s lips making their way up her neck drew her back to the present. “I worked it out.”
“Worked what out?” Rowan asked but wasn’t deterred by her shift in topic and kissed her jaw.
“That we most likely conceived on this very couch,” Aelin explained. “You were busy with your tour and I checked the dates and you were only in town for those few days.”
Rowan stopped kissing her to laugh. “Is this a lucky couch then?”
“Hmm, I dunno,” Aelin said, her hand slipping into his hair tugging it just the way he liked. “I certainly like to get lucky on it.”
Rowan groaned, leaning in so that scrape his teeth over the sensitive skin of her neck. “Did you lock the door?”
The words were whispered onto her skin and made Aelin shiver. All resolve lost, she melted against Rowan, sighing as his hands wandered over her body. Gods, she needed him, her blood still thrumming from all the excitement of the interview. And she could feel how much Rowan needed her, a teasing roll of her hips only intensifying the situation.
“There’s no need,” Aelin said and Rowan pulled back enough to see his face. “To quote our dear friend Fenrys, after all that foreplay no one would even risk disturbing us right now.”
Rowan’s grin was near feral. “No more wasted time then.”
They both moved, meeting in the middle for a kiss that set every fire within them blazing. The couch it seemed, would prove to be more than useful yet again. And like Aelin had said, lessons had been learned and no one interrupted them… this time.
~~~~~
Hope you like that one! I know I certainly did
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Aelin Week - Day 6: Rowaelin | @rowaelinscourt | AO3 | Masterlist
Summary: Aelin is having a very bad day… or week. Okay, more like a very bad year. She’s in dire need of a little kindness and comfort. Although she tries to deny herself of it, feeling utterly undeserving—Rowan Whitethorn will deny her none of it.
Word Count: 3.5k
CW: basically shameless smut (18+ only), hurt/comfort, mutual pining, depressive thoughts, Aelin desperately needs a hug, mention of parental deaths, coworkers who become..a bit more, modern au
I won't always have the words
to pull you back from the dark.
But I will always be here
to sit with you in it
and take your hand
or wrap my arms around you
until it passes.
For every day of sunshine
there will be a night of darkness,
but I want to spend
both of them with you.
—S.K. Williams
Arobynn Hamel, her prick of a boss, slowly shook his head as the crease between his brows deepened. He flipped harshly through the pages of the case folder she had handed him moments ago.
Aelin’s body went rigid, preparing for whatever verbal lashing he was about to spew. Entirely negating the amount of time and effort she poured into this case over the last two weeks, discounting hard work she was actually proud of.
She would not allow him the satisfaction of seeing the effect his condescension had on her, how truly deep it sometimes cut. She maintained a look of impassivity and waited.
“This is your best work? Really?” Arobynn scoffed derisively and leveled her with a hard stare, contempt rolling off him. Aelin focused on breathing steadily through her nose.
“If this is it, then I need you to do the fucking best of someone better.” His words were small glass shards being hurled at her, slicing and stinging upon contact. She curled her shaking hands into tight fists on her lap, nails digging into the flesh of her palms.
Today had been shit, the general week a living hell.
Then again, Aelin couldn’t honestly say many of her weeks spanning the past twelve months have been much different.
This weekend marked the one-year death anniversary of her parents. One year since the tragic accident that had left her entirely alone in this world. One year since unwavering guilt and shame had settled and made a home in her chest.
Spoken out of hurt and anger amidst a heated argument, those final words to her parents only a handful of hours before they were just… gone would haunt her until the dark god came to claim her.
Aelin could usually endure Arobynn’s volatile mood swings and mistreatment—weather the rage storm and emerge from his office relatively unscathed.
But this particular week…?
The very moment consciousness had greeted her this morning, she knew she should have stayed curled under the blankets and out of reach from the rest of the world.
Aelin expelled a long breath. It did nothing to relieve the heaviness twisting in her gut and weighing in her bones. It was a marvel how one could feel so heavy yet utterly empty at the same time.
She tipped her drained glass towards the nearby bartender. “Another, please.”
A moment later, a new glass was slid in front of her and her eyes fell to the sloshing liquid. She must look as pathetically dejected as she presently felt, considering the very generous pour.
A chill of awareness pricked across her nape and skittered down the smooth curve of her spine as a presence sidled up next to her. Quiet flutters stirred low in her belly, and Aelin cursed her traitorous body’s response to his proximity.
Because of course it was him—she knew it was him without needing to look. It was as if she had a preternatural sense specially tuned to him. And she’d been more than aware of his presence across the room—felt him all evening. Those piercing green eyes boring into the back of her.
Aelin refused to look at him. “Can I help you, Whitethorn?”
“You know,” he drawled, leaning his forearms onto the bar top next to her. “Agreeing to drinks after work typically entails actually sitting within the remote vicinity of those who extended the invitation.”
Aelin lifted the glass of dark amber liquid to her lips and took a long, pointed sip before speaking cooly, “I’m here for the drinks, not the company.”
Rowan slid into the vacant stool next to her.
Not easily deterred, then.
A few silent minutes passed between them. Rowan patiently waited, watching her still. Aelin inhaled a long breath as frustration started to build. Couldn’t he just leave her alone to sulk in solitude?
“What do you want, Whitethorn?”
She couldn’t fully tamper the edge in her voice. All the better though. Maybe he’d take the hint and finally rejoin his rightful group of coworker-turned-friends.
The heat of Rowan’s gaze flitted across the side of her face. She took another drink.
“Are you okay?” His soft sincerity caused her chest to constrict.
“Christ, Aelin—what do I even pay you for?” Arobynn flung the heavy file folder back across the desk at her. “Being a pretty face around the firm? You barely manage that lately.”
Her eyes closed against the resurfacing memory. The slight burn of unbidden tears pricked in her nose. Aelin sniffed then cleared her throat before speaking. “I’m fine.”
Aelin met his stare in challenge, to show just how fine she was. But her voice had sounded strained, even to her own ears. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Rowan either, if the gentle look of disbelief and concern were any indication.
Her chest felt like it was going to cave in. She couldn’t stand him looking at her like that. She didn’t need his kindness or concern.
Didn’t deserve it.
Yet Rowan is always so fucking nice to her. Checking in during the day and inviting her to outings with their coworkers. Most recently, he’s started bringing his lunch over to eat at her desk once he realized she was never going to take him up on the invitation to join him and the others in the break room.
Time and time again, he has tried to scale the icy fortress she’s spent years carefully constructing around herself. Yet his efforts seemingly remained undeterred, even with her doubled efforts to keep all others out throughout this past year of hell.
Aelin threw back the last of her drink. She needed to get away from him before he made a crack in her barrier. Only the gods know he’s come close before. And something deep, deep down screamed at her to let him do it.
But once he did crack her open, only to find cold, ugly darkness seeping out—what then? He’d inevitably discard her like everyone else. Because why would he want that? Why would anyone?
She couldn’t bare it. Couldn’t risk the hope of maybe having him just to lose him and have her chest hallowed out once more.
Aelin slid from her seat and threw a few bills onto the bar top.
“Hey, hey—Aelin.” Rowan reached for her arm.
She whipped towards him with a withering glare that could usually send anyone running. Rowan didn’t falter.
“Talk to me,” he implored.
“Why do you even care?” She demanded.
Still seated, Rowan tugged her into the space between his legs. A quiet sadness swirled with the flecks of deep green in his eyes.
“I just… do.”
Aelin’s heart felt crumpled and emotionally stripped.
Home. She just wanted to go home and curl up in her bed. Wanted to be done with this day—this dreaded weekend.
“You shouldn’t.”
Her lips pressed into a firm line to keep from wobbling. Her gaze lingered in the direction of their coworkers huddled together in a circular booth. Laughing and joking and clinking glasses. Rowan should be over there with them, not here attending to her mess.
She averted her eyes upwards, blinking a few times to keep impending tears at bay. A calloused hand smoothed down her arm until he wrapped his hand around hers. He squeezed gently.
“What do you need?”
A single tear streaked her cheek. Rowan’s free hand gently wiped it away. He kept quiet, but she didn’t even know what to say. What did she need?
So many things, all seemingly out of reach.
So often the silence was deafening and the loneliness gutting within the dark place she’s locked herself, behind the icy fortress wall. Numbed for so long, she’s forgotten what it feels like to live.
The silence stretched between them before she finally rasped, “To feel something.”
Rowan traced a thumb along her cheek. “Then let me help you feel.”
His words hung between them, their implication glaring and heavy. Every nerve in her body roared for his touch, his kindness, his comfort. Him.
Aelin’s denied herself of all of it for so long, from anyone. Let alone from this beautiful man who refuses to let her fade to the black nothingness constantly on the brink of consuming her whole. This man who has unknowingly taken hold of her beaten down heart, bit by bit.
Just this once.
Just this once she could allow herself to give in, to want him. Just for tonight.
Her voice barely a whisper above the din of the bar, “Yes.”
His small answering smile so soft, so warm, it made her chest ache.
~
Aelin toed off her heels before stepping past the entry way. Her eyes flitted around the apartment, tidy and warm. Her focus snagged momentarily on a bookshelf nestled against the far wall. The spines a variety of colors, sizes, and conditions of wear. She was inclined to step closer and nose through what kinds of books filled his shelves, to gain a small insight into his mind—
Rowan moving deeper into the living room caught her eye though, and she turned to watch him ease onto a plush sofa. He offered her one of his rare soft smiles, then reached a hand out.
“C’mere.”
Aelin approached him slowly until she stood between his parted legs. He looked so good like that, splayed out lazily. Lap and warm smile more than inviting. Heat emanated from his large hands as he gently gripped her hips. She didn’t resist, allowing him to settle her astride his muscled thighs.
Her form-fitted work skirt rucked up to her hips so her legs could accommodate his width. Deep green eyes devoured the newly exposed skin, tracing calloused hands up the soft flesh before hooking behind her to pull her impossibly closer.
Aelin’s stomach curled and skin pricked with the intimacy of their position. Never imagined they would ever be this close—never allowed herself to.
Rowan ran a hand up her back and she arched gently into the touch, chest pressing into his. It’d been so long since she was last touched like this. Her body craved it.
So did her heart.
She closed her eyes against that thought.
“This is just sex.”
Rowan hummed noncommittally. He brushed loose tendrils from her face and smoothed them behind her ear. Her chest tightened as she settled her gaze back on him.
“I’m serious, Rowan,” she hedged.
He nodded softly, running a thumb along her jawline, over her bottom lip. “Is that truly what you want?” his voice hushed.
Was it? No. At least she didn’t think so. But…
“It has to be,” she whispered, resolute.
His eyes pierced through her, burned to her very soul. As if he could unearth all of her darkest thoughts and secrets and turn them to ash.
“Why?”
Because I am nothing. Worthless. And you should be running—away from this, away from me.
She wanted to push him away, protect him from herself. Instead her fingers flexed in the soft silvery hair at his nape. The tightness in her chest splintered out as unwanted emotions and thoughts bubbled to the surface, a familiar numbing ache seeping into the hollow parts.
A slow, sad shake of her head. “I have nothing to give.”
Something crumpled behind those pretty green eyes. Then Rowan pulled her face closer, grazing his lips over hers. “I don’t want anything.” The featherlight touch of his lips as he spoke sent a chill up her spine. “Just you, Aelin.”
His words… the way her name sounded on his tongue—it fractured something deep within. And she was helpless to the sob that racked up through her body. No one has ever wanted her before, not for just her.
“Shhh,” Rowan soothed. “I’ve got you.” He gently wiped the salty streaks from her flushed cheeks. Ran soothing fingers through her long golden waves. Held her so close to stave off any fears that he’d let her go. “I’ve got you,” he repeated.
Aelin nuzzled into the crook of his neck, too far past the ability to feel embarrassed over her tears seeping into his shirt collar and skin. Rowan didn’t seem to care anyways. So she sunk into him—reveled in the strength and warmth of his arms wrapped tightly around her. Tentatively allowed herself to be comforted by his unyielding presence.
It wasn’t until her breathing had steadied and the dampness on her cheeks nearly dried that she pulled back to find eyes open and searching, a gentle caress across her face.
She stared back, in disbelief of this man and his kindness and his heart. Always so stoic and broody to the outside world… but for whatever reason she’d always had a special pass to the softer, gentler parts of him. Gods knew she’d done nothing to earn that trust of vulnerability.
But she was… thankful, anyways. And she wanted him to know. She could at least give him this.
Aelin swallowed then placed a gentle hand along his jaw. “Rowan…” she rasped, voice not sounding like her own, hoarse with spent emotion.
The rest of her gratitudes died on her tongue. She wasn’t any good at these kinds of things. Aelin resolved to showing him then.
His eyes didn’t leave hers as she shifted on his lap, tilting his head back so she could lean over him. Their breaths mingled in the space between them, then Aelin pressed her lips to his. Rowan didn’t hesitate in returning the kiss, slow and deep.
Her mother used to always say Aelin was born with wildfire in her heart. Burning bright and wild, yielding to nothing and no one. Always one to unapologetically blaze her own trail. And oh, how far Aelin has fallen from that little girl once with wildfire. Her heart has been cold and shrouded in darkness for so long, she didn’t remember what it felt like to burn.
Until now. As Rowan breathed flame back into her and it crackled through her blood with every touch and brush of lips. This single kiss fractured her very foundation and reforged her anew.
A prolonged moan fell from her lips as Rowan’s hands ran down her body then back up her bare thighs, smoothing around to knead and cup her ass. Using the leverage, he ground her thinly cladded core against his straining arousal and devoured the little gasps and whimpers coaxed from her.
Aelin broke away and pressed open mouthed kisses along his strong jawline as deft fingers worked the front buttons of his dress shirt, only pausing for him to yank hers overhead. The second it was off, her mouth and hands were back on him—touching, licking, tasting.
Her bra was next to go and Rowan soaked in the sight with pupils blown wide. He almost looked crazed with want, and hell—maybe he was. She surely was.
The corner of her mouth tugged into a small smirk before tangling her fingers into his hair and guiding him back to her in a messy kiss. Rowan licked into her mouth and greedily swallowed her moan when his fingers slipped beneath the hem of her underwear. And he was so good.
All coherent thoughts fell away. Leaving her with just the feel of him beneath her—of them, moving together.
“Rowan,” she panted, hips rolling against his very skilled fingers.
Small hands flitted over broad shoulders, across the expanse of firm chest, over thick biceps, into silvery tendrils—unable to decide where to land. Entirely overwhelmed with an incessant need for him—for more.
Finally her hands landed on his belt buckle, then the button and zipper of his slacks. Shimmying them and his boxers down just enough to free his cock. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him, jutting proud and head glistening with his desire. The urge to wrap her mouth around him pulsed through her. But first—
Aelin rose on her knees to align herself above him. Rowan’s eyes widened slightly and gripped her hips to keep her from sinking down.
“Aelin… like this?”
His eyes darted over their still half-clothed bodies then back up to her face as if he were asking, Here? She was sure he had a perfectly fine bed somewhere but Aelin swore she was going to die from scorching need if she didn’t have him in the next five seconds.
She didn’t need romantic gestures and soft mattresses. Just to be filled with him, consumed by him.
Aelin nodded emphatically. “Please.” Desperation to feel something—to connect—threatened to swallow her whole.
A look passed through the green depths of his eyes and she knew he understood. Rowan pressed a kiss to her sternum. “Okay, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Tell me how you need it.”
“Hard.”
Mischief glinted in his eyes as he smirked up at her and her stomach flipped. “As you wish.”
Rowan’s mouth crashed against hers in a bruising kiss—demanding, claiming. His thumb hooked and pulled aside the dainty lace that still covered her core, and guided her down onto his cock.
A throaty whimper fell from her. The way he stretched her open fell just on the side of painful, stealing the breath from her lungs.
“Fuuuck, Aelin,” he groaned. “So fucking tight.”
Before she could fully adjust to his size, Rowan snapped his hips and set into a punishing pace. And she was glad for it—eager to be ruined by him.
Aelin’s head fell back with a cry.
All she could do was hold on, nails digging into beautiful bronze tattooed skin, and lose herself to the burn building within her. Nothing else mattered outside this moment, outside of them and the way he made the flames flicker and dance in her soul.
Rowan wound long gold tresses around a hand and tugged to draw her head back, keeping the hold on her hair taught. Aelin moaned and arched just as he nipped at the exposed skin before licking up the length of her throat.
“Rowan, please,” she begged. Desperate for a release that dangled just out of reach.
Rowan latched on to her pulse point and pressed a thumb to her clit, the added sensations just what she needed to be sent hurtling over the edge with his name singed on her lips.
His breaths turned jagged while he shook with restraint. “Again,” he ground out. Molten pleasure sparked through her core in response to the command.
Aelin rolled her hips into his, milking the drag of his swollen cock along her oversensitive inner walls. All the while his ministrations didn’t falter, thumb still pressing tight circles against her clit. The the pleasure sharp and bordering too much.
Her nails dug deeper into his heated skin, she wouldn’t be surprised if she drew blood and—
O-oH, gods!
Rowan grunted as her body began contracting around him again, and a prolonged moan fell from her lips as she drowned once more in a blanketed wave of pleasure. He thrusted one final time before spilling deep into her and joining her in bliss.
Golden waves tumbled down her back as Rowan finally released his hold. He sagged against the sofa cushions, bringing Aelin with him, both of them panting and boneless.
Minutes ticked past, maybe hours. It didn’t really matter as she’d lost all concept of time. Only aware of the warm drag of his fingers up and down her back; of the soft brush of his lips against her temple.
Rowan shifted beneath her, slipping out, then effortlessly hauled them both up from the sofa. Aelin’s legs wrapped around him as he carried her deeper into the apartment.
A mattress gave way at her back as Rowan gently lowered her to the bed. He looked her over for a moment with shining eyes and a soft smile before wordlessly removing her remaining garments, leaving her fully bare before him.
With eyes glued to her lithe body sprawled out across his bed, Rowan groaned in appreciation while discarding the rest of his own clothes.
Aelin sucked in a breath.
He was glorious standing there in the nude—all corded muscle, bronze skin, and tattoos.
Heat reignited in her core.
Rowan eased onto the bed and crawled slowly up her body, kissing and nipping along the way. Aelin stretched beneath him and arched into his touch. His hand ran up along her ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of her breast.
“Gods, Aelin, you’re beautiful.” His reverence washed over her with gentle warmth.
She smiled lazily. “I know.”
Rowan snorted, a broad grin stretching across his handsome face. “There you are,” he murmured.
Yes, there she was. With the whisper of a flame finally flickering back to life in her heart.
The smile remained until Rowan leaned down to capture her awaiting lips once more.
--
Masterlist
#aelinweek#rowaelin#rowaelin fanfic#rowaelin smut#aelin ashryver galathynius#rowan whitethorn#throne of glass#throne of glass fic#rowan x aelin
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A Visit to Orynth
Rowaelin Month, Day 24: How Rowan Knew "Fireheart"
Word count: 2.2k
Warnings: canon has been edited because i said so, Maeve, royal politics, references to the blood oath and other canon fun
Enjoy!!
@rowaelinscourt
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The prince first visited Orynth when he was a young male, barely twenty-four years old. His parents frequently traveled for diplomatic reasons, and they’d invited him to accompany them for the first time that year. We won’t ask you to do anything, they promised. Just come along and get a sense for what the world of politics is like.
Prince Rowan Whitethorn had never been a fan of politics. He preferred steel to statecraft–give him a broadsword or a pair of hatchets any day.
But he went to Orynth that spring, and for some reason that he couldn’t name, he felt oddly at home in the sprawling city with its unusual but somehow perfect blend of stone buildings and patches of greenspace like little meadows dotting the cobbled streets.
He left most of the diplomacy and politicking to his parents, who spent most of their days holed up in council chambers with Queen Elena and King Brannon and their court. The first couple of days, he had to attend the sessions, and he paid as much attention as he could before resorting to drawing little battle diagrams on his note sheets. His father noticed, but said nothing, only muffled his knowing smile and quietly directed Rowan towards the training yard. So Rowan spent the rest of that visit with the palace guards, sparring and training and exchanging technique and tactical notes with the highly skilled military.
That was the last time he visited Orynth for nearly three centuries.
Upon his return to Doranelle, Rowan entered the legions, and he barely saw his home or his family for the next three hundred years. He rose swiftly through the ranks, ascending rapidly to the rank of captain before he was seventy-five years old. His queen took notice of his prowess, and he was inducted into the bloodsworn legions, an honor granted to precious few warriors. The decades he spent serving closely under the queen’s command honed him into a warrior of near-impossible capacity, and honed his heart into a block of ice, as impassive as the glaciers of the far north.
~
Prince Rowan Whitethorn was three hundred and thirty years old the second time he visited Orynth.
Erilea had been casually discussing their relations with Doranelle for the last century, and it had finally reached a point where the rulers of the Erilean kingdoms decided to host a summit and invite representatives from Wendlyn and Doranelle. Wendlyn, of course, sent a delegation of Ashryvers, who were relations of the royal family of Terrasen. Maeve called together her bloodsworn and chose two of them to accompany the five selected Fae delegates.
“I trust you will keep your Queen aware of the discussions,” she purred, a deceptively soft smile gracing her lips as she handed Rowan and Vaughan their notes for the talks.
Rowan dipped his head in acquiescence. “Of course, Majesty.”
Three weeks later, as he stepped off the ship and set foot into Terrasen for the second time in his life, he drew in a lungful of the crisp, clear mountain air, and found that its scent comforted a part of him that had been empty and aching since his parents passed away.
He pushed that thought to the back of his mind, occupying himself instead with the concerns of the discussions. Maeve had sent him–her legendary warrior-prince–for a reason, despite his lack of diplomatic skill, and he intended to prove that he could hold his own at a meeting full of human royalty. And if things went poorly, then he could fall back onto Vaugahn’s quiet, diplomatic tact.
King Orlon Galathynius greeted the Doranelle contingent as they entered the council room on the first day of the summit. The human king was aging, but the lines around his eyes and the gray of his hair only strengthened his image as a capable, compassionate leader. According to what Rowan knew, Orlon had ruled Terrasen for nearly twenty years and showed no signs of abdicating soon, although his younger brother, Crown Prince Rhoe Galathynius, worked closely with the king.
“Welcome to Terrasen,” King Orlon said warmly, clasping Rowan’s hand in a firm handshake that proved he retained his physical strength. “It’s an honor to welcome Doranelle back to our land.”
“The honor is ours.” Rowan dipped his head in a bow to the king. He bowed lower for his own Queen, but the courtesy was still due.
Inside the meeting chamber, a dark-haired, younger version of Orlon approached Rowan and Vaughan and exchanged greetings. “Rhoe Galathynius. Pleasure to meet you in the flesh, Prince Whitethorn, Lord Recorre.”
“Please, leave off the title, Highness.” Rowan shook Rhoe’s hand, noting the insignias the human prince wore on his jacket–military rankings. “We’re all just delegates for peaceful relations, aren’t we?”
“Indeed.” Rhoe smiled. “Let me show you to your seats; this room is rarely used, so it’s always a nightmare to navigate. I keep telling Orlon we need to use the throne room, but he–ah, Evalin!” A stately, golden-haired woman with the distinctive turquoise eyes of the Ashryver family and a slender silver circlet around her brow had walked up and laid her hand fondly on Rhoe’s arm. He tucked her arm into his with a soft, tender smile. “Vaughan, Rowan, allow me to introduce Princess Evalin Ashryver, my lovely and far more talented wife.”
“Welcome back to Orynth,” Evalin smiled. “It’s been far too long since we hosted Queen Maeve’s people.”
In that moment, Rowan knew two things with absolute certainty. First, Princess Evalin Ashryver knew that he and Vaugahn were bloodsworn–he didn’t know how she knew, but she did. And second, if her lineage (and her scent) were correct, she was a direct descendant of the Fae Queen Mab, Maeve’s sister, and therefore was most likely the Fae Queen of the West.
Suddenly, he wondered if he’d been sent to Orynth to view Evalin with his own senses and bring knowledge of the Ashryver princess back to Maeve.
The sonorous peal of the great brass gong tore Rowan away from his thoughts.
“Ah, we’re about to start.” Rhoe dipped his head at Rowan and Vaughan. “It truly is an honor to host you in Orynth. Please, attend dinner with Evalin and I.” He flicked a half-grin at his wife. “We’d better get to our seats, Fireheart.”
Fireheart.
“You and your misleading nicknames,” Evalin teased as she and Rhoe walked off. Rowan’s Fae hearing picked up their conversation. “I don’t have the fire gift, my love, only the water. Fire is Brannon’s line’s gift.”
“You have the fire in your heart, my love,” Rhoe returned. “And who knows? Perhaps someday the gift will manifest in one of our children, if we’re so blessed.”
“It’s a slim chance.” Evalin’s whisper contained an ocean of sadness.
“It’s still a chance, Fireheart.” Rhoe kissed his wife’s forehead.
Rowan stopped listening then, overcome by what he’d just learned. The fire gift. It wasn’t a myth after all–the gift of fire magic laid dormant in the royal bloodline of Terrasen, and the intersection of the Ashryver and Galathynius lines with Rhoe and Evalin’s marriage just might be enough for the near-mythical gift of Brannon Galathynius’s fire to manifest again.
Fireheart. So the prince’s affectionate name for his wife was more than just an endearment–it was a wish for their future. For their kingdom’s future.
Fireheart.
~
Rowan went to Orynth again ten years later, but this time, he went uninvited. He shifted into his hawk form when his small ship had docked in the harbor, and he remained in that form for the entirety of the next few days. He went to Orynth not to negotiate or pay a formal visit, but to linger on the parapets of the castle and pick up conversation.
He went as a spy.
On his last night in Orynth–a blustery, rainy night–Rowan perched on a window ledge and pressed his hawk body as close to the window glass as possible without making a terribly loud noise. He stretched his Fae senses down and out, into the dining room below his perch, and strained to hear the conversation taking place in the room. The royal family of Terrasen was hosting the royal family of Adarlan, and rumor had it that relations between Adarlan and every other Erilean kingdom were tense, if not outright hostile.
Rowan couldn’t make out much of the conversation, but he heard enough. Bits and pieces of politely veiled threats, the sneer behind the king of Adarlan’s tone, the uncomfortable shifting of the staff and guards who stood at the edge of the room–it pointed towards looming conflict. He hopped off his perch and flew up to a window he knew was in Rhoe and Evalin’s chambers. Perhaps he’d hear something worthwhile from them.
It wasn’t long before the prince and princess came wearily into their rooms, speaking in hushed tones about the poor signals from Adarlan.
“I’m worried, Rhoe,” Evalin admitted. There was a soft clink as she laid her jewelry on top of the dressing table. “There’s something bigger than just Adarlan at play here.”
“Something magical?” Rhoe asked.
“It’s possible. I…I don’t think it’s purely magical, though. That ring of Adarlan’s…I can’t describe it, but I felt like it was looking at me, almost like it wanted to claim me.”
Rowan gripped his perch with all the strength of his taloned feet, determined not to slip despite his shock.
“Fireheart,” Rhoe breathed, coming over to embrace his wife, “are you certain? I trust your judgment–I have no way of detecting magic–but…” He took a deep, measured breath. “A wrong move from Adarlan could constitute war, and if there’s magic at play…”
“It could end us all,” Evalin whispered.
Rowan had heard enough. Quietly, he hopped off the window ledge and launched himself up into the wind and rain, his thoughts churning as rapidly as the storm. Adarlan. Magic. War. He hadn’t known what his Queen had wanted him to discover when she sent him to Orynth, but he’d bet his broadsword that it wasn’t rumors of magical war.
Three weeks later, when his ship docked back in Doranelle, Lorcan delivered the news, and the information he’d heard while spying suddenly clicked into place.
Adarlan had performed some kind of ritual that banished magic. The King of Adarlan had armies marching across Erilea to root out magic-users, and everywhere his army went, he claimed dominion. Melisande and Fenharrow had capitulated. Eyllwe seemed on the brink of collapsing. The Western Wastes and the Witchlands had separated.
And the entire royal family of Terrasen was dead.
~
Orynth was so different from the first time Rowan had set foot in the city, but the mountain breezes still smelled the same. The ancient and modern buildings and the winding cobblestone streets bore scars from the war, but new green life had begun to creep across the slashes and scuffs and scorch marks, blanketing the damage of war. The grand stone castle still crowned the city hill, but its doors were no longer barred. Instead, commoners and nobles and Fae–both full and partial–filtered in and out of the castle grounds, uniting the crown and the city.
The continent was healing, and his wife had made it all possible.
Speaking of…Aelin’s voice sounded in his mind. Is the castle really that bad, buzzard?
He grinned. I find my skills better suited to the physical act of rebuilding.
I know a physical act or two that could use your skills.
I’m sure you do, Fireheart.
A surge of her love filled his mind. Where are you?
Near the western wall.
Solitary buzzard. He felt her bright laughter ripple through his blood, warming him through. I’ll be there in a moment.
And a few minutes later, she was there, her crown tipped sideways atop her messy hair. “Rowan.”
“Fireheart.” He set the one last stone into place in the section of wall he was working on, turned, and pulled her against his chest, reveling in the trace of embers that always followed her.
“You keep avoiding court when I need you,” Aelin teased. “Who else is going to scowl at the lords when they say something idiotic?”
“I’m sure you can handle that,” he drawled. “You are the queen, Fireheart.”
She chuckled and went quiet for a moment, gazing over the tumbled wall out into the evergreen hills. “I’ve been wondering, buzzard. Why ‘Fireheart?’ You can’t have known that’s what my parents called me when I was a child, even with all your centuries of knowledge.” Humor laced her last words.
“Are you calling me old, love?”
“Always.” She smirked. “Tell me, buzzard.”
Rowan was silent for a long moment, working over the story, wondering how much he could say before someone inevitably interrupted the queen’s private time with her husband. “I met Rhoe and Evalin, once, many years ago. I remember Rhoe calling Evalin Fireheart.”
Aelin stroked her thumb over the ruby of Rowan’s wedding band. “I never knew you met them.” I miss them, she murmured into his mind, muted grief shadowing her mind.
“Just once.” Cupping his free hand under her chin, he tilted her face up and kissed her, soft and tender, a gesture of both love and comfort. “You are everything they dreamed Terrasen would be.” I’m entirely sure they’re smiling down on you from the afterlife, he added.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He touched his forehead to hers. “I love you too, Fireheart.”
~~~
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#my writing#rowaelin month#rowaelinmonth#rowaelin month 2023#rowaelin#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#rowan x aelin#rowaelin fanfic#rowaelin fanfiction#throne of glass#throne of glass fanfic#throne of glass fanfiction#ft aelin's parents because i said so#canon au#except we kinda ignored canon oopsies
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i don't know who i think i am updating so many times this week, but here we are. enjoy it while it lasts, kiddos. and happiest of birthdays to @shyvioletcat who is the reason i even wrote this fic in the first place. love u bb 💚
rowaelin // 7k words // masterlist
The pillow beside him still smelled faintly of her perfume, yet when he reached for the warm body that should have been next to him, he found nothing but cool, rumpled sheets. Rowan let out a low groan of disappointment and rolled halfway off the bed to feel for his jeans. When he finally found his phone in the back pocket and checked the time he knew she hadn’t been gone for too long. It was only six-thirty in the morning, and he was almost positive she had been pressed against him the majority of the night.
Gods, last night. Rowan hadn’t had sex in months, and the woman Connall had pushed toward him like an offering had been his perfect match. Everything he gave her, she had given back. She took as much as he did, and he couldn’t help himself when he sent her tumbling over the edge until she was a shaking, sweaty mess. It was, by far, the sexiest thing he had ever seen. The sounds of her breathy moans, the feeling of her cherry red nails dragging sharply up his back and over his shoulder blades, or of the way she’d pressed her fingertips into his lower back to urge him closer… Those were things he would not soon forget. He was pretty sure if he looked in the mirror, he would have the reminder of her hands etched on his skin until at least tomorrow.
He was desperate to do it all over again with her.
It took him a moment, but he managed to find another pair of sweatpants and an old college t-shirt in the back of the closet. As the door leading to the apartment closed behind him, a heavy sigh sank from his chest. Connall had a smirk that said he knew way more than he should. The bastard. He spent so many late nights at the bar, it wouldn’t surprise Rowan if he had been there all night and heard every sound he pulled from Aelin’s soft, perfect lips.
“Terrasen won last night.” Connall was standing in the doorway that led to the kitchen, drying a clean glass as he took in his friend.
“I know,” Rowan grumbled, adjusting his clothes from the night before in his hands. Several of his missed text-messages had been about their victory. Apparently, it had been a close game that went into overtime. But it seemed that Orynth grew football players in the mountains, fertilizing them with the gods only knew what.
Through the window the sky was already full of fluffy white clouds. It made it hard to be too glum. Soon the sun would be shining brightly over Varese. It was a new day, Monday was a new week, and there was still time for someone to knock Terrasen out of the winning streak that had been going on for the last two years before Rowan had to face them in a few months.
“Your girl left about an hour ago, if you were wondering.” He was, but instead of saying so he just grunted a response and headed out the door.
The following week was his normal routine. Rowan returned to Doranelle after spending the rare off-weekend down in Varese. More than once he had tried to pry details from Connall about if Aelin had been back to the bar or not. Apparently she hadn’t, but his friend swore to let him know if she did. It had been five days and she hadn’t been seen. Was it pathetic the way he wished he had a way to contact her? Definitely. But there was something about her that he couldn’t shake, that he refused to let fade into the recesses of his mind.
On the sixth day since meeting her, not that he was counting, he’d carried his laundry hamper downstairs to throw in the wash. Out of habit, he patted down the pockets of all his pants. Rowan had learned the hard way a few years ago that not doing so resulted in very expensive headphones being ruined in the wash. Could he afford another pair? Of course he could, but it was a waste of money when he could simply not wash them and not have to spend two hundred dollars for no reason.
There was a soft crinkling in the pocket of his jeans, one that he barely noticed. They were already halfway into the washer when Rowan fished out the folded piece of paper. Merely a receipt from any of the establishments he visited last weekend, he tossed it on top of the dryer while he finished loading the rest of the clothes and tossed in the detergent. He swiped it up again to throw away on his way out. For reasons unbeknownst to him, he decided to look at it before trashing it. Just to make sure it wasn’t from anything he might need to return later.
When he unfolded it and saw the writing over the top of a faded credit card transaction, his heart stopped beating. It wasn’t a receipt. Well, it was, but nothing that he had purchased. It was a note written in blue pen, words a little smudged from being folded up before the ink had fully dried. Each letter was in swooping, sloping, cursive letters with a little heart underneath.
Just in case you need to release some more tension. I know I do. - A
The short message was followed by a series of numbers, and Rowan had never in his entire life scrambled so hard to put a contact into his phone. A tattooed finger traced over the numbers, lips mouthing the numbers in an attempt to double check himself. Without giving himself a single heartbeat to change his mind or chicken out, he pressed call.
By now she could have forgotten about him entirely. Maybe she wasn’t interested anymore, or perhaps it had taken him too long to reach out. He did have a good reason for the latter, but she might not see it that way. There was hope that she would, though. Everything about her had seemed easy going and he doubted she would be mad that she sent him on a scavenger hunt with no directions. Maybe if he wore normal clothes instead of athletic shorts or sweats more often he would have found it sooner. It was too late to change that now, though. Impatient fingers drummed atop the counter while it rang, and rang, and rang.
Her voice chirped through the speaker, but when he opened his mouth to speak he realized it was just the recording of her voicemail. Her accent, so different from his but lovely all the same said in a teasing tone, “While it is your absolute utmost misfortune to have missed me, leave a message and I’ll call you back. Unless it’s about work. Call my work phone and we’ll talk about it.”
Rowan had never wished so badly to have someone’s business line in his life, but he still patiently waited for the beep. His heart was a stampede of wild horses while he waited for the beep. As soon as it sounded, he cleared his throat and immediately grimaced at himself. Idiot. Why didn’t he do that before it started recording?
“Aelin, it’s Rowan. I’m sorry it took me so long to call, but someone hid her phone number in the back pocket of my jeans and I just got around to doing laundry. I’m not in Varese this week, I’m actually in Doranelle for work. But I should be back in town soon, maybe next week, I–” The voicemail beeped, declaring the message was fully recorded and he swore colorfully as he ended the call.
With a mind of their own, his fingers opened a new text thread and shot off a message: My voicemail got cut off, but I’d love to see you again. Let me know if you’re up for it. xx
After pressing send, he cringed. Since when did he sign off a text message with an x? Much less two of them? He’d spent one night with the woman and now he could barely figure out which way was up and which was down.
Sure, he had been out of the dating game for quite some time, but he didn’t have to sound like he was. The last time he flirted intentionally had been years ago. Every other encounter had been random hookups in random cities across the world where he didn’t have to worry about following up.
Except that this time, he wanted to. There had been so much ease when he talked to her, the flirting had come naturally. It hadn’t even been wholly intentional to begin with. Rowan had never used talking about soccer as a seduction technique, but it had clearly worked on her somehow. The banter they’d shared back and forth displayed a unique type of chemistry he hadn’t experienced in a long time, if ever. He could only hope that she felt the same way and still wanted to do it all over again, too.
~*~
“I really like everything you have here, but–”
“It’s not great,” Luca interrupted, his shoulders sagging while he waited for the sharp edge of disappointment. Aelin’s lips pursed as she looked at the young man. Luca was fresh out of college as a graphic designer, and working for the Fireheart Art Foundation was his first real world job post-graduation. It made her simultaneously want to berate the insecurity out of him and comfort him by how traumatized he was from difficult professors in college.
“I was just going to say that I want this header font to be white.” She gave him a look that portrayed exactly how she felt about how hard he tended to be on himself. “I wouldn’t have hired you to work in this office if I thought you needed to be micromanaged.”
Luca let out a breath, nodding and sinking into one of the chairs across from her desk. Nervous hands ran up and down his thighs like he was shaking out the nerves. She understood. The feeling of mountains of pressure on you and like you had no room for error was a familiar one. Helas below, she felt like that right now. Aelin was in her mid-twenties and running a charity and she refused to let it fail.
“I just want to do a good job.”
“And you are, my friend. I chose you and your portfolio of work out of a lineup of seasoned professionals. You bring something new, young, and fresh to the table. Your lack of experience doesn’t mean that you’re incapable of doing a good job. It just means that you’re still learning, and I want to help you with that. You don’t need to be nervous to show me something that you’ve created. If something needs to be tweaked, obviously I’m going to tell you. But you understand the brand I’m building and the image I’m putting out almost as well as I do. Be more kind to yourself,” she said gently, a soft smile pulling at her lips.
“You are nothing like what my professors said future bosses would be like.” Aelin laughed at the same time her personal phone started buzzing on her desk. She didn’t recognize the number and it was silenced as she handed the tablet back over to Luca.
“I sure hope not. While I have a specific vision of things, I want you to use your creativity and have fun with it. I’m never going to give you a list of a hundred specifications. I’ll tell you what needs to be included and let you take your knowledge of our company plus your creativity so you create something you’re proud of. When you eventually move on from Fireheart, I don’t want you to have a stack of things you made for us that you aren’t proud of to show off. Okay?” Aelin’s phone pinged with a new voicemail from whoever had been calling and sighed. “Email me the file after you change the header.”
Luca gave a mock salute and flipped the tablet case closed, walking toward the door and shutting it behind him. Aelin let out a content sigh in the silence, leaning her head against the back of her hair while she gazed out the window at the city below her. She let it sink in, the work she was beginning in a new country on a different continent, an ocean away from home.
It was easy to allow herself to feel pride in the foundation, an idea she brought to her parents a few years ago. The Fireheart Foundation began three years ago when she was twenty-two. What started as an idea to work with local underprivileged youth in Orynth soon blossomed into two, then three, then four offices scattered over Terrasen. Her home country had always taken huge pride in the arts– Orynth itself was huge on the importance of it for its young citizens. The rest of the world shared those sentiments because by its second year they were receiving global recognition. Now, on the eve of its third birthday, Aelin was expanding to Wendlyn: her mother’s home country.
She had plenty of family in Varese. Most of Evalin’s family still lived here, Aelin’s grandparents included. Ever the proud grandfather, Ciaran Ashryver had been beyond excited to help her find an apartment until the end of November, locate appropriate office space, and had started putting out a few feelers for potential employees almost as soon as she mentioned the idea. By the time she stepped off her plane, she was all set with somewhere to live and a floor in a building downtown to begin working.
A handful of employees from the other locations in Terrasen had arrived this morning to be hands on in helping train some of the Varese staff. New members to this office were taking positions that needed little actual training and something more like direct guidance from Aelin. Like Luca and his graphic design. He didn’t need to be trained how to do his job, just needed the push to grow into his full potential.
Aelin’s thoughts were tugged back to reality when another small vibration from her phone had her reaching for it. Ah, right. The missed call, voicemail, and now text message from the number she didn’t know. It was a local area code– probably a new employee getting her their contact information like she’d requested.
As soon as she saw the message preview, though, she was quick to unlock the screen. With arms braced on her desk, she scanned the message with a growing smile on her face. Rowan. He had finally found the note, it seemed. No time was wasted in saving his number to her contacts and tapping furiously to get to the voicemail.
When Rowan was cut off mid-sentence, she laughed out loud. It was really more of a school girl’s giggle than anything, relief that he had not just texted, but called, too. It made warmth flood from her toes to her fingertips. There had just been something about him, about their matching wit and seductive teasing that left her craving more. For the first time in an extremely long time, it hadn’t felt like it was just about sex. Despite how she had kept everyone at arm’s length and refused to let them get close since her relationship with Sam had ended so poorly, things with Rowan had been different since the moment he sat beside her at that bar. It didn’t mean it would go anywhere besides a fun fling, but a kernel of hope still flickered in her chest.
She tried to think about what Lysandra would tell her to do: how long she should wait to text him back, what the rules were. It had already been nearly a week, though. Hadn’t there been enough waiting on both parts? His voicemail had sounded rushed enough that it was like he was impatient to talk to her again, too. The follow up text practically proved it. No, she wouldn’t follow silly hard-to-get dating rules. Maybe she didn’t want to be hard to get. Besides, she was only here for a few more months. It likely wouldn’t lead to anything serious, and there was no harm in having fun while she was here.
That is what Lys would want for her. Something fun and easy that she didn’t have to think too much about. That would give her release from the insanity of running an international foundation with little outside help. Having made up her mind, she tapped his contact and hit the call button.
“Aelin?” Her name was breathless on his tongue when he picked up after the third ring. With a brow furrowed in curiosity and a small smile resting on her lips, she leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling in an attempt to ignore the somersault her stomach lurched into when he said her name.
“Rowan,” Aelin drawled, entirely positive that he sighed with what sounded like relief. “Did I catch you at a bad time? You sound–”
“No, I was just– no. This is good. Perfect time, actually.”
“Are you sure?” She heard rustling on the other end, like maybe he was adjusting himself where he sat.
“Is it embarrassing and off-putting if I tell you I lunged for my phone when I heard it ringing? I was in my bedroom and jumped onto the couch to get it before it stopped.”
“What if it hadn’t been me calling back? Did you even check the caller ID?” The laughter that bubbled out of her was entirely involuntary. Having a man that excited to talk to her was so sweet it made her teeth ache. When had anyone ever been so forthcoming with any level of affection for her? Dorian, probably, but that was a relationship based solely on fun and most of the time he was teasing.
“No,” he grumbled. “I would have disconnected the call as soon as I got a denial it wasn’t you.”
“That is the most adorable thing a man has ever said to me,” she vowed, her hand resting on her stomach to calm the swarm of butterflies within.
“I’m not doing an absolute shite job, then?” There was a timidness to his voice that made her heart squeeze. What on earth did he have to be nervous about?
“I called you back, didn’t I?” She teased, but when he didn’t answer and seemed to be waiting for a genuine response, she assured him that he was doing absolutely perfect.
~*~
“Who the fuck has you smiling, Whitethorn?” Lorcan Salvaterre whipped his towel out to smack Rowan directly in the stomach. He immediately frowned, locked his phone, and rubbed the spot above his belly button the corner of the towel had popped. Lorcan tossed the weapon over his shoulder, sitting down on the bench in front of his cubby. The wet, dark curtain of hair hung around his face as he bent down to start shoving his match gear into the bag at his feet.
“Nobody.”
“That’s a lie,” Fenrys quipped from behind them. Rowan glared over his shoulder, knowing full well that the blonde was in complete cahoots with his twin brother. Evidently Connall had told him everything. How Fen had managed to keep his mouth shut about it all week was entirely beyond him. If it hadn’t been about his personal life, Rowan might have been impressed with his self control. “He met a girl.”
Lorcan’s head swung around, eyebrows raised high as he said, “Did we not learn our lesson from the last jersey chaser?”
With a scowl pulling his entire face into a frown, Rowan shook his head. “It’s not like that. She doesn’t even know who I am. To be entirely honest, I don’t think she would have talked to me if I hadn’t saved her from one of Con’s mystery cocktails.”
At that, Lorcan winced. Just like he’d told Aelin, they were all too familiar with those special drinks. It didn’t matter how impressive one’s alcohol tolerance was, no one was safe. Rowan distinctly remembered a time several years back when he had to tie Lorcan’s black hair out of his face to avoid it getting in the toilet. Everyone was pretty sure he had alcohol poisoning that night, but it wasn’t totally Connall’s fault, either. Lorcan had said he could handle it. The joke was on him at the end of the night, though. Nobody could handle them as delicious as they might be. Those fuckers were dangerous.
“Met her at the pub then?” Lorcan’s eyes were full of hesitancy and skepticism as he spoke. It seemed like he was choosing his words carefully. That topic was a tedious tightrope to walk, one that had ended in Rowan shutting down completely more than once.
“She gave me a lot of shit about ‘soccer.’ We talked through most of the Orynth and Red Desert game.”
“And then Rowan took her upstairs and–” A sweaty pair of shorts hit Fenrys directly in the face, cutting him off with a violent gag. Always the drama king. “I just showered.”
“That’s enough out of you, boyo,” Rowan said in a tone that meant shut up or it will be my fist next time. A few of their other teammates filtered from the showers, several of them claiming they needed full body massages STAT. Rowan was inclined to agree, but he had better things to do tonight. They had won their match against Adarlan and he was feeling lucky all around.
“You’re not… worried?” Lorcan was pulling on a fresh pair of socks as Rowan sat on the bench beside him, jaw tight. This was not something he wanted to think about right now. Aelin gave no indications that she knew who he was, and most of the girls that fawned after them for being professional athletes couldn’t make it through a whole conversation without expressing what huge fans they were. As if their obsession with his body would make him more likely to sleep with them. It was a trick that worked when he was young and stupid, but now that he was older it was just… violating.
No, he wasn’t skeptical. It had been two weeks and soccer had only come up in the form of jokes between conversations that ranged from casual to toeing the deep-and-personal line. Their texts were as constant through the day as they could be with them both working. At night when they were both available and Rowan wasn’t completely wiped out from practice, they would have hours-long phone calls. Last night Aelin had fallen asleep mid-sentence, like she couldn’t stand to say goodnight to him even though she needed to sleep. When he realized she had dozed off, nothing but the soft huffs of her breathing coming through his speaker, he’d quietly wished sweet dreams upon her before hanging up.
Her apologies had been profuse throughout the day, but they weren’t needed. It had been a long while since anyone had taken the time to get to know him for him and not one of the world’s best center-forwards. With her, he was just Rowan. No grass-stained jerseys and golden trophies attached. Just the version of himself that he was over ninety percent of the time.
“I’m not worried about that with her. She’s not… like that. I’m going to tell her what I do soon, but for now she thinks I coach at the high school.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He and Lorcan did put on football camps at their old high school in Doranelle over the summer. Tirelessly, they would host two separate camps that lasted for two weeks in June and July. It was part of his job… just not his actual job right this second.
“What does she do?” Fenrys asked, shooting Rowan’s dirty shorts back over to him. He dropped them into his bag and zipped it up, slipping his feet into his slides. Vaughan came out of the showers then, bumping his fist as he passed and muttering that Rowan played well, to which he gave his friend a nod in return.
“Charity work. She teaches piano and dance class at different art programs. For the next few months she’s doing after school lessons in Varese.” Rowan hefted the duffel up onto his shoulder, wincing as he stood. Nothing was hurt, but he wasn’t quite as young as he used to be. While he should probably spend some time in an ice bath to help his muscles recover, it was honestly the last thing on his mind. All he could think about was getting in his car and speeding down the highway to Varese.
“Please tell me you’re not about to get in your car and drive two hours to see a girl you just met immediately after a game,” Lorcan said flatly. Try as he might, it was impossible not to grin. Just a little.
“Hate to disappoint you. Maybe you’ll understand one day when you stop being such a coldhearted dick.” It was a joke, but there was some truth to it. Lorcan had a strict policy about women during game season, and kind of in general. There would be absolutely no distractions for him during the season. He might let off some steam and have random hookups here and there, but the possibility of any sort of real relationship was off the table. During the off-season, he claimed it was time to have fun. Everyone was thoroughly convinced he would never settle down, or that it would take an absolute badass of a woman to turn him into a house-broken man. Rowan wasn’t sure that was possible.
Lorcan grumbled mostly to himself while the rest of their lingering teammates gave Rowan encouraging slaps on the back. While he hated that it was out to his teammates and friends already, he knew it was genuine support. A few years ago he had been through absolute hell and ever since there had been a stormy cloud hovering over his head because of it. Rowan knew Lorcan came from a good place. Everything with Lyria had ended… extremely poorly. Things with Aelin wouldn’t be like that, though. This was different. She was different.
It had been two and a half weeks since the first night, and their budding relationship had been strictly through text messages, phone calls, and the occasional video chat. Rowan hadn’t been able to get back to Varese because of practice, games, and her work schedule. The one night he would have been able to make it into the city, she had called him an hour before he was due to head out and explained that something came up at work that she had to deal with. It had been disappointing, but he understood. If they had lost their game today he wasn’t so sure he would be driving anywhere but home to sulk.
With a shiny new win under his belt, he was eager as he snapped his seatbelt into place and began the two hour drive up to Verese. It would be after ten by the time he finally got there, but Aelin had insisted– was still assuring him– that it was entirely okay. Evidently she would have dinner ready for them when he arrived. His growling stomach could hardly wait.
~*~
Rowan’s muscles throbbed dully when he pulled himself from his car a couple hours later. Thankfully he would have the rest of the night and all day tomorrow to recover before practice. He made a mental note to head in early for a little physical therapy on Monday morning.
The plan was that they would hang out for a little while before Rowan headed to his apartment in the city. While he lived primarily in Doranelle, he liked that he could be a little more low-key in Varese most of the time. It had become his second home, and a few years ago it made sense to get an apartment nearby to avoid having to crash in Connall or Fenrys’s guest room every time he was in town. Tomorrow, Rowan had vowed to show Aelin his favorite spots downtown and a few that he just had an inkling she would like.
Based on their conversations, Aelin had quite the sweet tooth. There was a bakery on 4th avenue that was more than capable of satisfying her cravings. Less than a five minute walk from her office was his favorite coffee shop, and the heart of the city was stuffed to the brim of delicious restaurants and alluring confectionary shops she would love. The weather tomorrow would be absolutely beautiful– the perfect day to stroll downtown before the beginning of another hectic week for Rowan. For her, too, it seemed because she had days where she felt like she was putting out little fires everywhere.
Double checking the apartment floor and number Aelin had sent over earlier that afternoon, Rowan began his climb up the stairs. It was an older building with the elevator apparently in a constant out-of-order state since she had moved in. She had both complained and apologized about it in advance, but Rowan was used to running up and down the stands during practice that it didn’t really matter.
Despite being a century old, the building had character and hadn’t slipped from its former glory. The floors were black and white marble, the wood of the staircase a deep mahogany. Gold accents were littered throughout in vases, frames, and wall sconces. Just inside the front door a glittering chandelier reflected small rainbows along the walls and floor through the crystals that dangled from its arms. Even if Rowan hadn’t known its historic significance, it was easy to imagine how it looked just after it opened. It was still a luxury apartment building, regardless of age.
His thighs ached with the ascent, feeling every stride he had taken on the field a few hours ago. Thankfully he only had to get to the second floor and a few doors down according to Aelin. Gods, he was exhausted. There was little time in a match when Rowan wasn’t on the field and throwing his all into every step he took, every kick that sent the ball flying into the goal with ease. After most games he would soak in an ice bath or get stretched out by one of the trainers, but he’d been entirely too eager to get to Varese to waste any time. Tomorrow he might regret it a little, but he would have regretted not making the drive even more.
It wasn’t until he was standing in front of her door that he started to have a small, momentary bout of panic. How was he supposed to greet her? Did he hug her? Kiss her? They hadn’t discussed it, but then again who plans out a greeting? Rowan wanted to bang his head against the door at the knots this woman twisted his stomach into. He was being ridiculous. Rowan Whitethorn was a thirty-one year old grown man, for wyrd’s sake. Surely he could handle not fucking up as soon as she opened the door.
As it turned out, he didn’t need to worry. Seconds after knocking, Aelin opened the door and pulled him inside by his fingers, rocking up on her toes and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as soon as the door was closed before saying, “Hi.”
“Hi,” he replied, letting her pull him deeper into the apartment.
Rowan had seen the space in the background of their video chats, but it became abundantly clear that Aelin had a taste for opulence. Various pieces of art were framed all over the walls, fresh flowers rested on the table tops. Several jewel-toned rugs lay upon the restored wooden floors and her couch was deep green made of plush velvet. The dining and end tables were golden and topped with marble. Even the blankets over the back of the couch were fluffy fabrics that no doubt felt like being covered with a cloud.
A handful of boxes were still stacked in the corner of the living room, easily visible because of the open floor plan the space offered. To the left, the kitchen boasted marble countertops with golden hardware. Yes, this apartment building was still very much in its golden age, or maybe Aelin was just that skilled with decorating.
Rowan’s was a modern apartment building closer to the business district, but this one honestly blew it out of the water. In the short time she had been there, only a few weeks she had told him, Aelin had managed to make this into a home. It felt lived in and loved, like she had always been here. Despite being able to smell the slightly-musty age of the building, it was buried under layers of jasmine, lemon verbena, and the dinner she had simmering on the stove.
“Ignore the boxes, I’m still waiting for some shelving to come in for my books and things,” she explained with the wave of her hand. As if the stack of boxes could ever take away from the magical oasis she had transformed the apartment into. Compared to this, the house in Doranelle that he had lived in for the last six years was bare and nowhere near a home.
“Are you sure you’ve only been staying here for a few weeks?” Aelin’s laughter was bright as she walked into the kitchen and began mixing the contents of a large pan with a wooden spoon. Aelin’s legs were bare, seemingly nothing beneath the t-shirt that hung to the tops of her thighs.
“I’m a creature of luxury. Besides, I’ll be splitting my time between here and Orynth with work.” It was admirable how much she seemed to love the kids she taught, how passionate she was about her work. Piano and dance lessons couldn’t afford an apartment like this, though. Not when she so proudly supported underprivileged areas of major cities. Rowan was sure her parents had the money to help her out, not that it mattered. That was a conversation for another day, especially when she started plating their dinner. “I hope you like pasta.”
“Are there people that don’t?” He asked, taking both plates from her. Aelin walked past him with a bottle of wine and two glasses, heading for the couch instead of the table.
“It should be a felony, but I’m sure some bizarre creature or a human exists out there, hating pasta with every fiber of their being.” Rowan snorted in response, handing her the plates after she sat down and folded her legs like a pretzel in front of her. The tiniest pair of shorts that he’d ever seen peaked out from beneath the hem of her shirt.
Sitting beside her and taking his plate, he had to fight back a groan when he took the first bite. Aside from his mother, he couldn’t remember the last time someone cooked for him that didn’t involve a waitress as a go-between. It was nice to feel cared for, he realized. Even if they both knew tonight would end in her bed.
A documentary played while they ate, conversation ebbing and flowing with ease throughout. He managed to get her talking a little more about work, how a coworker named Luca was having a hard time with confidence in what he produced but he didn’t need to be. According to Aelin, he was a brilliant young graphic designer and she hoped that with some nurturing under her wing, he would bloom to his full potential.
When he asked about siblings, she shrugged, “I have a cousin that’s really more like my brother. We’ve been inseparable since the day I was born. Besides him, I’m an only child.”
“So am I, but I have a hoard of cousins. I’m closest to Sellene and Endymion. Sellene would like you.”
“What’s not to like?” She teased, eyes full of mirth as she looked at him over the top of her wine glass. The heat in her eyes gave him a vivid memory of what she had looked like writhing beneath him.
Gods above, he needed to get a grip.
Aelin listened intently while he talked about his mom and dad, Sellene and Endymion. Her laugh was like a tinkling bell when he recounted memories from his childhood and chimed in with her own. Both of them may have been only children, but agreed they’d never felt lonely or alone for the most part.
“There was a period when my cousin went off to college—” she paused for another sip of wine and to place her empty bowl on the coffee table. Rowan did the same. “That was the only time I felt lonely. He’s four years older than me, so it was hard to go through my entire high school experience with him not quite as close. He actually went to college in Doranelle and could only really come home for holidays. He surprised me for my 16th birthday and it was the best one I’ve ever had.”
There was a small smile on her lips before she continued, “My parents had a limo for me and my friends to ride to the venue it was at, and I got in the car and the partition was lowered. The driver was wearing a hat and aviators, straight out of a movie. And then he said I hear we have a birthday girl in our midst and I knew it was him. I completely lost it. Best present ever.” Rowan found himself grinning along with her, her joy at the memory contagious to his core.
“You’re lucky you didn’t have cousins that terrorized you until you were big enough to fight back.” That had been the general tone of his upbringing, but once he went through puberty and grew well over six feet tall, the teasing had calmed down a bit. Probably because Rowan could easily throw Enda over his shoulder by the point.
“Oh, gods. Believe me, we have been through it. There were times when he was annoyed that I wanted to do everything he did, and times when I was annoyed that he tried to embarrass me in front of my friends or boys that I liked. He used to sit on me and tickle me until I cried and we were constantly trying to flick each other until we were bruised like peaches. Typical sibling stuff.”
Rowan laughed, nodding as he recalled having very similar memories with Enda specifically. He could relate to the ones based in annoyance— Sellene had been a hellion.
“Sellene used to embarrass me in front of pretty girls, too. Not that I needed help in that department. I do fine enough on my own to this day, but seventeen year old Rowan didn’t know how to talk to women at all.”
“You’ve done alright with me.” Aelin’s small hand reached for his, lacing their fingers like she had done it a million times. Her nose wrinkled as she grinned, and he had to fight the urge to kiss her. Godsdamn, this woman.
“I wouldn’t be so lucky if we were in high school.” At that, she laughed, making a teasing quip about his rushed voicemail and stilted text message. At the end, she reassured him it was charming and that he wouldn’t be here if she didn’t think so.
“Some people struggle digitally. I won’t hold it to you, old man.” Rowan flicked her knee at the moniker, but couldn’t repress the smile on his lips all the same.
~*~
“Rowan,” Aelin said softly, rubbing her eyes and sitting up on the couch. The man behind her released a low groan as his arm tried to pull her back down.
After talking for what must have been hours, they settled on watching New Girl and had, apparently, fallen asleep not too long after it started. A wide yawn escaped her as she patted his thigh a few times to rouse him awake.
“Shit, what time is it?” Rowan forced himself to sit up behind her, knocking his elbow into her shoulder in the process. Instead of cowering in pain, she started to giggle through the sleepy fog. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, it didn’t hurt,” she promised, tapping the screen of her phone. “It’s almost five.”
“I can go. I didn’t mean to fall—”
“I’m not waking you up to kick you out. I’m waking you up to come to bed with me.” Aelin stood, holding out her hand. Once she had both of his hands in hers she began to tug, taking steps backward while he pretended to protest by going nearly entirely limp against the couch. “You can sleep by yourself out here, it’s fine.”
Dropping both of his hands she turned and made her way toward her bedroom. Aelin had only made it a handful of feet away before strong arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Rowan pressed soft kisses against her neck at the same time he lifted her entirely off the floor. Stomach flipping, she squealed while he padded toward her bedroom, finally placing her down on the bed.
She was quick to crawl under the blankets, flipping them back so he could get in with her. He followed dutifully, slinging his shirt off and tossing it onto a little chair in the corner of her room as he sank down until his head rested against the pillow.
Despite how easy it would be for either of them to roll onto the other and make the other unravel at the seams, she gently pecked his lips a few times. Each one lingered a little more than the last until she finally pulled away and rested her head against his chest. With his hand rubbing soothing lines up and down her back, it was easy to melt into him, eyes drifting shut as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep that smelled like home.
@elentiyawhitethornorn @autumnbabylonylon @fancysludgeshoelampelamp @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-lifee @the-hospitality-of-knivesf-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @secondstartorightand @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294 @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior
#i know their interactions seem a little rushed and glossed over#just bear with me here#tog#rowaelin#rowaelin fanfiction#rowaelin fluff#tog fanfiction#tog fanfic#tog fluff#throne of glass fanfic#throne of glass fanfiction#aelin galaythynius#luca#rowan whitethorn#connall moonbeam#fenrys moonbeam#vaughan#lysandra#rowan x aelin#aelin x rowan#rhoe galathynius#evalin ashryver galathynius#call it what you want#ciwyw2
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Back to Orynth {Rowan x Aelin}
Written with @snelbz
Rowaelin. Canon. The castle in Orynth. NSFW.
Based on prompt: Rowaelin mutual masturbation fic, but then they just can’t keep their hands off each other and they fuck. But in canon. Not AU. by anonymous.
Word Count: 4,166
A/N: We've decided to take a little bit of time and post more OS! We have a very long list that we're set on tackling, and although we do a lot of AUs, I like that we started with one in canon. We hope you enjoy!
WARNING: NSFW. 18+ ONLY. The following story contains descriptions of sex. No one under 18 should continue past the link.
Aelin stood on the balcony outside of her bedchamber and watched as snowflakes drifted toward the ground. It had been a fairly mild winter for Orynth, but she still couldn’t imagine that flying through the snowy winter was all that pleasant, no matter how much snow fell. Yet, she kept her eye on the horizon, expecting to see a familiar white-tailed hawk soaring through the falling flakes at any given moment.
Aelin was growing impatient. He'd better hurry.
It had been nearly two months since she’d last seen her Mate, her husband. There had been suspicious activity along the northern border and Rowan had led the charge in the investigation, then went on to make sure that the entirety of Terrasen’s border was secured.
Which was all fine and good, but it did mean that Aelin’s bed was cold and her heart was only half present.
The grandfather clock in her sitting room chimed six, and knowing that the sun would soon be setting, Aelin was growing impatient. She wondered if she screamed, as loudly as she possibly could, if that would make him come faster. Surely he would hear her, he’d have to be close enough, and nothing worried Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius more than his wife in danger.
Even if he knew perfectly well that she could take care of herself.
Territorial, over-protective fae bastard.
Just as she was about to give up and go back inside, she could see him, the tiniest hint of his animal form in the distance.
He flew directly towards her, without having to even think about it. It was not his first homecoming, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last. As he grew nearer, there was a flash of light, then he was landing on the stone ledge with a thump. His boots were filthy and he had a new scratch on his cheek that hadn’t fully healed, which Aelin knew meant that the original gash must have been pretty deep.
Yet, the moment he changed, his eyes were soft as he smiled at Aelin. “Nothing better to do than wait for me to arrive?”
“Well, I have a kingdom to run, but your impending arrival was distracting me,” she said, watching him fondly as he approached.
“Glad to know I’m more important than your meetings,” he crooned, pausing before her. “I do hope you gave Lord Darrow the respect he deserves.”
“Absolutely,” she replied, eyes sparkling. “After he interrupted me for the third time, I called the meeting and spent the rest of the day in our private library.”
Save for the threat at the border, things had been prosperous since Aelin’s rule began. Trade was booming, the rebuild of the land was tedious, but created jobs the territory needed. The meeting on foreign affairs was more for pomp and circumstance than it was for a specific need.
“Our private library, huh?” He cupped her face in his hands and leaned down, finally bringing his lips to hers. The kiss was brief, but full of promise for later. “Surely you weren’t reading the texts on ancient battle strategies like I’ve suggested?”
Aelin hummed as she slid her palms up his chest and around his neck. “I assure you the strategies that I indulged in were far more…useful than any ancient battle strategy.”
Rowan chuckled as he shook his head. “If any member of our court were to wander into our library and stumble upon a book of yours, they would be appalled at such filth.”
“And that is why I keep all the good ones in our private library.” She kissed him again, and he groaned quietly against her mouth. “You smell atrocious.”
Rowan let go of his wife and stepped inside. “It’s been weeks since I’ve had a proper bath, I’m not sure what you were expecting.”
“I was expecting you to at least take some soap with you in your pack. You’re a king, for the gods’ sake,” Aelin teased, following him into their sitting room and closing the double doors that led out onto the balcony.
Rowan snorted as he took off his pack and tossed it on the couch, then began unhooking his weapons, one by one. “Who do I have to thank for putting up with your sarcastic ass while I’m away?”
“Oh, the list is long,” Aelin crooned, watching the show he was now putting on. Once his weapons were gone, he began unbuttoning his dusty jacket. “If you’re going to thank them all, it’s going to be all you’re doing this week.”
Rowan shook his head, but she could see the slight twist of his lips as he shrugged off his jacket, adding it to the pile. “Maybe I’ll thank them by taking you off their hands for a few days.”
“Ah, I am a burden,” Aelin said, meandering over to Rowan and fisting her hands into the fabric of his thin tunic. “Are you sure you want to take on that task?”
“I think I’ll manage,” he muttered, before kissing her once more. Aelin reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, which was growing longer once again. She loved it.
“Take a bath,” she whispered, kissing his cheek, his jaw, his neck. “I’ll get you something to eat.”
“Don’t we have people for that?”
“I find doing things for myself keeps me humble.”
Rowan huffed a laugh before disappearing into the washroom.
As the water ran, Aelin hurried down to the kitchens, smiling politely and greeting everyone she passed. After collecting a platter of meats, cheeses, bread, and berries, Aelin was finding her way back to her rooms. The water was still sloshing around from the washroom, so Aelin placed the platter on their table before finding her way back into her bedchamber and her wardrobe. After slipping off her gown, she pulled on a thin, golden nightgown and a knee length robe, leaving it open. She pulled the pins out of her hair, knowing that her duties for the day were complete and she would not be leaving this room any more tonight.
Collecting the book she’d been reading earlier, Aelin curled up on the couch in the sitting room, filling a glass with wine from a bottle brought straight from the personal stores of the King of Adarlan. She sipped the wine with an appreciative hum before opening her book and picking up where she’d left off.
The love interests had finally just given into their attraction for each other, desecrating every surface in the mountain side cabin in the best way. The kitchen table, the wall, the bath, the bed, Aelin couldn’t get enough as she turned page after page—
The next thing she knew, she heard the door to their bathroom opening wide and she glanced up to where her husband stood, taking up most of the doorway with his broad frame. He wore a pair of loose linen pants and…that was it. No shirt and from how low the pants hung on his hips, from what she could tell, no undershorts either.
His eyes took in where she sat on the couch, on the glass of wine on the side table and book in her hands and he smirked as he headed for the platter of food laid out on the table.
As he passed in front of the couch she sat on, Rowan froze, nostrils flaring delicately as he scented the air. Raising her eyebrows, Aelin cradled the book to her chest. “Yes?”
“What exactly are you reading?” He asked, continuing to the table the food was laid out on and leaning against it. He plucked a bunch of grapes up before picking them off one by one and popping them into his mouth.
“Nothing of your concern.” Aelin let the book fall back open in front of her, her eyes scanning the page. Rowan watched her for a moment, slowly eating his grapes, before grabbing a slice of bread and walking toward the couch. He plopped down next to her and read over her shoulder with a curse. “I repeat my earlier sentiment. Your court would be appalled if they knew of your reading material.”
“My court should admire how in touch and confident I am with the idea of romance,” Aelin crooned, nudging her husband in the chest with her shoulder.
Rowan snorted as he bit off a piece of bread. “This is not romance. This is animalistic fucking.”
A satisfied sensation flooded Aelin’s body as she looked up and met his gaze. “I’ve had to have some sort of companion in your absence.”
His green eyes were bright as he shoved the rest of the bread into his mouth and swallowed. “Surely this doesn’t compare.”
“No?” Aelin asked, teasingly, as Rowan dropped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. “I don’t know. Me and my books have had some remarkable nights since you've been away.”
Rowan’s eyes narrowed, and although humored, they darkened slightly. “So you’ve been well taken care of, then?”
“Don’t you admire how I can take care of myself?” Aelin asked, setting her book on the table beside the couch before giving her Mate her full attention.
“Always have,” he confirmed, brushing his knuckles down her cheek. “Although I feel it defeats my purpose.”
She loved it when he teased her, when he was playful. To the rest of the world, he was a nightmare come to life, a warrior with one intent, an ancient, powerful male who had the hands of death and the heart of a soldier. Aelin knew better. He was all of that, of course, but he was also a male who sat on the couch with her and flirted, who teased her and made her laugh.
Who made her toes curl and her most delicate parts throb uncontrollably.
“Is that all you’re good for?” Aelin asked, shifting on the couch to straddle his lap. Rowan’s arms went around her waist, the most handsomely seductive little smile twisting his lips. “Pleasure?”
“As the husband of a queen?” he asked, one brow raised. “Yes. Yes, I’m fairly sure my only duty is to bring undeniable pleasure to Her Majesty.”
“Hmm.” Aelin pursed her lips. “That’s quite the claim. And if I can pleasure myself just as well as you can?”
A low growl came out of Rowan. Even in their playful state, she could sense his jealousy brewing. “I’ll have to be the judge of that.”
Aelin’s heart began beating just a little bit faster, and she hadn’t even realized that her hips had begun to move, slowly rolling over his, until she asked, “Oh?”
As Rowan nodded, his lips brushed her neck. “Show me how you’ve pleasured yourself in my absence, my Queen.”
Aelin’s eyes rolled back and she bit her lip, fighting the urge to moan. Beneath her, she knew exactly where Rowan’s mind was at. Between the hard thickness she rocked against and his scent, excitement and need bloomed in her core.
“I don’t think you can handle such a sight,” Aelin said, her grin wild and devious. “A month and a half of travel has surely left you needy. Handsy. Possessive.”
“I think you forget how patient I am,” he said, quietly, fingers teasing the hem of her nightgown.
Aelin rolled her eyes. “You’re not patient. You just like to pretend you are.”
Rowan took her chin between his fingers and made her meet his gaze. “Try me.”
There was something about his tone that filled her body with fire and chaos. His eyes were bright, crazed, full of lust and longing. Aelin was sure that hers mirrored his. Every night that she had spent alone in his absence was full of wishing he was there beside her, holding her, loving her until her knees shook and every thought from her mind had evaporated. Now that he was here, all she wanted was to have him inside of her, but she would play his game.
She would give him a show until he was begging.
Still straddling his lap, Aelin shook off her robe and took the hem of her silk nightgown, slowly pulling it over her head until it was sitting behind her on the carpet. Rowan’s hands found her waist but she shook her head, smirking as she pushed them away, back down to the couch cushions. “No touching.”
His eyes blazed as they swept from hers, to her bare breasts, then back up again. Although his breathing had increased, he didn’t protest. Instead, his cock twitched beneath her as he gripped the couch cushions on both sides of his thighs.
Aelin took her time pulling her hair back until it was held snugly by a ribbon, and Rowan was practically growling by the time she slid her hands down her abdomen, to the band of her undergarment.
“Is that patience of yours thinning?” she teased.
“No,” he said, but the word was clipped, his jaw hard as his eyes trailed down her body and rested on her fingers, where they began to slide down the thin fabric of her panties. A slow, heavy breath left Rowan and his eyes darkened as the fabric swept down her thighs and every inch of her was bared before him.
He didn’t even try to hide his lingering gaze. A gaze that Aelin felt powerful under. As Aelin ran a finger through her slick folds, Rowan cursed, low and filthy. His fingers flexed beside him, but his hands did not move. He obeyed the command of his Queen, even as Aelin moaned into the quiet space.
Even the thought of her husband had left her wet and wanting. She could slide down on him to the hilt, effortlessly, but she wouldn’t. No— she wanted to see how long this game would go, how far she could tease him without him pouncing.
How long he could go without completely losing his shit.
She wanted him completely unleashed.
Their joinings after time apart were already nearly cataclysmic, neither of them leaving their bed chamber for a day or two. It reminded Aelin of the true mating frenzy they’d been robbed of when Maeve stole her off that beach. As if the time they spent apart built up until it blew, until it wasn’t safe for anyone but the other to be around them.
That suited her just fine.
Dipping her finger into the well of her center, Aelin gasped softly, watching Rowan as he watched her. His nostrils flared and she knew he was scenting her, dying to bury himself in her arousal. With her other hand, she dragged her fingers up her toned stomach to her breast, cupping one. Her fingers toyed with her nipple, rolling it and teasing it until the sensitive bud was tight and peaked.
Rowan’s tongue darted out as he wet his lips, the only sign that he was struggling. His features were still set in stone, as if he were unfazed by her ministrations, but those eyes were locked on her.
Aelin removed her hand from her sex, fingers still glistening and reached up to touch Rowan’s chest.
Faster than she could blink, his own hand had captured her wrist. Her fingers were inches from his skin.
“What is it?” Her voice was husky, yet dripping with innocence, as if she didn’t know what she was doing to him.
Rowan sounded like he was in pain. Only a few moments and she’d already worked him up. “You said no touching.”
She clucked her tongue, leaning in so her chest pressed into his. It pinned their hands between them. “I said you couldn’t touch me.”
“Then you can’t touch me.”
And before she knew what was happening, Aelin found her self on one end of the couch, her back to the plush, rolled arm, while Rowan sat on the other end.
Much too far for her liking.
He didn’t move. His eyes never left her. They trailed after her fingers as she settled against the couch cushions, her legs stretching out, her toes nudging Rowan’s thigh. His breathing was shallow as his eyes locked on the hand that palmed her breast.
His hands didn’t stay still, though. Instead, Rowan untied his linen pants before slipping them down his thighs, his hardened length springing free. Aelin’s bottom lip was pulled between her teeth to keep from moaning at the sight of him, completely ready for her. She throbbed between her thighs and every thought from her mind vanished as Rowan fisted his cock and stroked.
Aelin could practically feel him thrusting into her as the image flooded her mind. This time, she let a moan free as she began circling the throbbing ache of her clit that was begging for relief.
Rowan’s rhythm matched hers, and for a moment, nothing could be heard in the room except for their heavy, disoriented breaths.
“Your books don’t seem to be of much use now,” he teased her, not bothering to look at the object behind her she claimed gave her so much pleasure.
Smirking, Aelin spread her legs wider, baring herself further to him. There wasn’t an inch of her body he hadn’t seen, hadn’t tasted, and she could see the raw hunger in his eyes. “They’re only necessary when I lack the imagination needed to—”
Her words fell off with a soft moan as she circled her clit, watching as Rowan worked himself. The muscles of his abdomen were straining and his hips would buck off the cushions every so often. Her mouth watered as he teased his cock, stroking the head slowly as beads of wetness appeared. Aelin wanted to lick him clean, to taste the unadulterated essence of her Mate after such a long time apart, but this game between them was first and foremost in her mind. What had started as a way to tease him had backfired in the most glorious way, and as Aelin watched her husband pump his cock in time to the plunge of her fingers into her core, she knew there was no way she would break first.
She breathed his name as that familiar sensation built in her core and Rowan’s jaw locked as he watched her body writhe beneath the power of her own fingers. Suddenly, Rowan’s hand worked himself faster, and a curse of his own left his mouth while Aelin cursed.
“Is this what you do in my absence?” Rowan hissed, his tone half teasing, half undone. His shoulders tensed as his wife cursed again, a string of profanity falling from her lips.
“Jealous?” she asked, but the word was nothing more than a whisper. She could hardly get it out as her hips rolled into her hands.
“How can I be jealous?” Rowan asked, his tone only pushing her further towards her release. “I know what’s going on inside that pretty little mind of yours.”
Aelin’s fingers slowed to a tantalizing speed. “And what is it that I’m thinking?”
Rowan grinned, and the sight had a whimper sounding from Aelin’s closed lips. “You’re thinking how good it’s going to feel when I finally bury myself deep inside of you.”
Aelin scoffed, although it was clear that it was nothing more than an act. “I thought I made it clear…I get by perfectly well in your absence. All by myself.”
Rowan’s hand slowed, until his hand wrapped around his cock but it did not move. “Your soul is mine. You are never alone.”
There was certainly some romantic notion in that statement, but it was mostly an animalistic declaration. No, as her Mate, their souls were connected. There was never a second that Aelin pleasured herself that she was not thinking about Rowan, even when he was thousands of miles away.
That thought alone had Aelin breathing, “Touch me.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth that Rowan grabbed her across the couch, dragging her body over his, and crashed his lips against hers. One of his hands was in her hair, the other on her ass and Aelin adjusted herself until she felt him pressing against her center, thick and hard and ready.
Gods, she needed him and she didn’t want to pretend she didn’t, no matter what game they were playing. He was not weaker for needing her, not as he’d once believed, and she wasn’t either. As he ravaged her with his kiss, Aelin rose up on her knees, lining him up with her entrance and sank down in one stroke that had both of them gasping.
Rowan’s mouth found her neck as she rode him, kisses alternating from long, languid sweeps of his tongue that made her squirm, to biting nips of the sweetest pain that had her quivering around him. His lips continued down her neck and shoulders, over her chest, until he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently.
Throwing her head back, Aelin moaned, writhing atop him, threading her fingers through his hair.
Rowan’s fingers kneaded her ass as he sucked and praised. He thrusted up as she rocked and bounced, and they did not even try to hide the noises that were shamelessly filling the space between them, around them. Aelin hoped the entire castle could hear, hoped that they all knew her Mate was home and her soul was complete yet again.
Rowan’s lips found hers, hungrily, his tongue diving into her open mouth. Their bodies were pressed up firmly against one another’s but it still wasn’t close enough. It would never be close enough. Aelin would always long to be closer, even if they were as close as two people could be. She whispered his name and came crashing down upon him yet again, drawing a deep moan from the back of Rowan’s throat. His head fell back and he cursed before throwing her back against the couch and claiming her with a primal relentlessness that had Aelin seeing stars.
She loved him like this.
Completely unhinged.
Lost in all she had to offer, unable to control his needs and desires.
All of it, only for her.
The room filled with Aelin’s gasps and screams and cries of his name as Rowan fell into her again and again, urgently and meticulously. With one hand gripping her thigh, the other fell in that little space between them and his thumb rolled her clit until she was falling into oblivion, drowning in her sweet release. Her knees shook and her chest heaved as she swore, her nails digging into his skin.
Rowan’s eyes were bright as she clenched and spilled out around him.
It was only a few more frantic thrusts before he was following her over the edge, groaning her name as he came.
His head fell into the crook of her neck, both of them breathing heavily as they came back down. Aelin was the first to move, dragging her nails up and down his back in slow, languid strokes.
A quiet groan rumbled in his chest and she laughed softly as her fingers found her way into his hair.
“Your hair will need a trim before we hold any official court business,” she mused with a smirk as he worked to settle his breathing.
“Your court can take me as I am.” His response was muffled by her skin, but she could hear the exhaustion in his words.
She hummed as she finger combed through the tangles. “I guess you're right. I am queen, after all. What I say goes.”
Rowan snorted, knowing she’d never use her power for something so vain, but didn’t reply.
“We should clean up,” she said, glancing down. His body still completely covered hers, right down to where he was still buried inside her, their mixed releases making a mess on the couch.
“We can clean up tomorrow.” He still hadn’t raised his head, his warm breath on her skin. “Sleep now.”
“We have a bedchamber for that, you know,” she teased and he finally pulled back to look at her.
She had only seen her mate look so exhausted a few times, so completely and utterly drained that she knew the moment his head hit the pillow, he’d be asleep, so she leaned up, pressing her lips to his. “I missed you.”
“I missed you,” he echoed, wrapping his arms around her tighter. “Every day and every night.”
Without warning, he stood, carrying her into the washroom, making quick work of cleaning them both off before heading for their bed.
Aelin clung to him, refusing to let go even for a second. She had to soak up every minute before he was called away again to fulfill yet another duty in honor of the beautiful country that they had brought back from the ashes.
They never redressed before snuggling closely together beneath the heap of blankets on their bed, dwelling in the heat and comfort of one another’s bare body.
They remained in that bed together all night, intertwined and connected, and stayed there until the following night came.
#rowaelin#rowan x aelin#aelin x rowan#rowaelin fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#sjm#sjm fanfiction#snacmc collab#oneshot#tog#tog fanfic#throne of glass#rowan whitethorn#aelin galathynius#canon#fanfics#snacmc answers prompts
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Timeless [Immortals]
Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn
The world is large and time may be endless, but it's all an exciting adventure with the right person beside you. Inspired in part by Timeless by Taylor Swift, Immortals by Fall Out Boy, and by my own historical research fixations. Also a tiny bit of Istanbul by They Might be Giants
A/N: I will say I wanted to flesh this out a bit more and had a whole plan on how to, but I started a new job recently and I haven't had the energy to keep writing during my free time, so I edited what I had and have it here for you to enjoy. I also wanted to write for a bunch of Rowaelin month days but I think this is all I have in me for now.
Finally, I just have a fair warning: I got really into slang words in this. i had way too much fun with them, so hopefully its understandable lol
Masterlist | Rowaelin Month | Read on Ao3
6494 words
Written for Rowaelin Month 2023 - Day 1: SongFic
*******
Morning light peeked through the curtains fluttering around the open window of their living room. She could faintly hear the sounds of the neighborhood filtering through – cars cruising by, a riding lawnmower cutting clean lines into the grass, a couple of kids out riding their bicycles, and the steadily growing music of an ice cream truck.
“Rowan, have you seen the…” Aelin trailed off as she realized her husband wasn’t in the room with her anymore.
He chose to go by his given name nowadays, reminding her again of their youth and all the best parts about learning how to grow up before the reality of time set in.
She was sitting cross-legged on the plush rug, combing through a box of mementos she’d found tucked away between stacks of old books.
She must’ve been more distracted by them than she had thought because when she looked at the clock, nearly two hours had gone by and Rowan, who had been sitting in the armchair across from her, wasn’t there anymore. She did have a vague memory of a kiss being pressed to her forehead and hearing his muffled voice but she’d been too distracted.
Aelin gathered the things she’d been picking out and put all the photographs, letters, and trinkets back in their box, before getting up and carefully carrying it with her as she went looking for Rowan.
It didn’t take long. The man was out on their back porch, sitting on the wooden swing and using one leg to slowly rock himself back and forth. He wasn’t looking at her but she saw the smile on his face as she approached. He always knew she was there; he could always sense her. Aelin walked towards him and grinned against his mouth when she ducked down to kiss him, before unceremoniously dropping down onto the swing beside him. His rocking didn’t falter a second.
“Is that what’s taken your attention today?” He asked, nodding at the large, well-loved box she placed on the floor in front of them.
“Have you looked through this recently?” She let his question float away and started pulling out some of the forgotten treasures they’d accumulated.
Shrugging, Rowan leaned forward to get a better look and fondly bumped his shoulder against hers.
“Don’t think so,” he rubbed at the stubble shadowing his face as he thought about it. “Probably not since we moved in.”
Aelin hummed in answer and quickly picked through the papers. “I forgot we had all of this stuff.” She paused, thinking, and dove back into the box, this time with purpose. “Do you know where the portraits are?”
A light breeze blew a strand of blonde hair into her face and Rowan reached out to tuck it behind her ear.
“Which portraits?”
“You know,” she waved irreverently, “the ones done by…what’s his name?”
“Oh of course,” he amended seriously. “Those portraits.”
Huffing a laugh, Aelin fell back against the swing and swatted his shoulder as he chuckled. “You know who I’m talking about,” she insisted.
Truth be told, they’d had so many pictures taken and portraits painted that he didn’t know where to start with his guessing. His wife could be referring to anything.
“Leo?”
“No,” she shook her head.
“Johannes?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Vincent?”
“Ugh,” she groaned, rubbing her hand down her face, “this is going to bug me all day.” A second later she popped back up and turned towards him with wide eyes, “Oh! You know what I really wish we still had?” she asked.
He wished they could have saved all their keepsakes, but that would’ve been impossible. “Not a clue.”
“Those busts we had back in Ἀθῆναι,” She said, her eyes growing distant as she fell back into a memory from their younger years.
He hummed, knowingly. “Those were nice. But I doubt they’re in Athens anymore.”
“No, I know that.” She said sitting back and leaning into him, getting closer as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I think the last time I saw them was in Constantinople.”
“Istanbul,” Rowan corrected.
“What?” she turned her face to see him from where she’d tucked herself into his side.
“It’s Istanbul.” He said again.
She blinked and then rolled her eyes as she understood what he was saying. “Well, it was Constantinople.”
“And now,” he poked her, earning himself a startled laugh, “It’s Istanbul.”
“Whatever,” Aelin snorted. “I still miss those statues.”
Rowan kicked one leg out and began rocking them again, careful not to overturn the box. “You know where they are,” he reminded her, “we could always go see them.”
She scrunched her nose up. “Yeah, but I don’t like paying an entry fee to see myself.”
The breeze picked up and the pair enjoyed a few minutes of quiet, broken only by the faint creaking of the swing and the birds and insects outside. She absentmindedly took his other hand in hers and couldn’t help but think back –
Back to when they were young and naïve and had no idea what sort of life they would have ahead of them.
Back to their beginning.
The land of their childhoods was rich, and their life a simple one. Most everyone around them were farmers or fishermen, soldiers or tradesmen. There were scholars, artists, and builders.
Aelin learned stories of gods and heroes and gave tribute to Athena, the patron goddess of her home. She learned how to weave from her mother, and waited for the day she was set to marry the son from a family her father wanted ties with.
Rowan worked and studied and then became a soldier, fighting in bloody battles across the city-states before he returned to wed.
The two had always known they would be married. Their families arranged it long before either Aelin or Rowan were old enough to offer their thoughts. But they were happy. It was well.
For a while, their life was as ordinary as any others in their Polis.
It wasn’t until the two of them had watched their families grow old that they realized their own lives were different. Unchanging. Everlasting.
They learned how to adapt.
The armor Rowan wore became stronger; the language of the orders being shouted changed; Democracy, philosophy, and art flourished. Wars raged. The land they lived on changed names and changed again.
Sometimes years passed when Aelin and Rowan were apart, separated for one reason or another. Other times, decades went by without notice, time losing the meaning it once had. But they always gravitated back to each other.
They met as Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn.
They reunited as Aeliana Galanis and Romulus Whitheia.
As Eleyn Galliano and Rowland Whitton.
As Astrid and Warin.
As Alana and Royce.
There were some names they liked better than others.
They saw empires rise and fall. A world they once called home became ancient.
And as the world became more complicated – as royalty and religion shaped the nations, conquering and separating territories, as battles waged and revolutions erupted, as explorers flung themselves to the far reaches of the earth – Aelin and Rowan found their lives drifting apart from one another until they only had their memories and a knowing sense that someday they would find each other again.
"Whiskey. Neat." He drawled, dropping his dusty hat onto the bar top. The wood was scratched up from too many glasses missing their mark. And sticky, too. Not that he'd say so. He was a smart enough man not to complain to the lady behind the bar. Even it meant swallowing back a grimace at the thought of putting that hat back on his head. "Ma'am."
The woman was already halfway finished pouring the bottle. She had known it was him before he’d opened his mouth; but she smiled when his voice hit her, having recognized the sound of him walking ‘cross those old floorboards and taking a seat at his usual stool – the one right in front of her.
She’d had lifetimes to recognize him.
Still turned away, she shelved the dark bottle of booze back where it belonged.
For a moment, it reminded him of the day he found her here.
He’d been up in Oregon near the California border, following a late wave of gold seekers when he caught whispers of a town a few days south of him, where a woman was holding down a claim to the saloon. A real Calamity Jane if there ever was one.
He knew she was somewhere out here, that she’d ventured west at the call of adventure. Hell, he’d braved across the frontier too, slowly working his way from ranch to ranch and crossing lands that didn’t exist on the maps he’d once held.
But knowing there was a chance of finding her again, and actually hitting pay dirt were two very different things. He had ridden into town knowing not to get his hopes up, but when he stepped into that saloon, heavenly shaded and cool from the high-noon sun, he knew it was her.
She’d been standing behind the bar with her hair woven into a loose braid tossed over one shoulder. Her well-worn clothes somehow suited her just as well as laced-up gowns, pirate’s trousers, or peploi of their youth. Her skirts were long but didn’t look heavy and she had pushed the sleeves of her blouse up to combat the heat. Around her waist, she wore a holster which didn’t surprise him one bit and he supposed running a saloon warranted the pistol that she’d slotted in there.
He was walking towards the bar before he knew what he was doing, and when she lifted her arm to count the bottles she’d lined up on the shelves, he caught sight of the small scar on her forearm. If he still had any doubts, seeing that blew them all to the wind. He could recall with deafening detail the day she’d gotten that scar, the spatha blade that gave it to her, and the Roman general he’d killed for it.
Her back was still turned towards him when he slowly sat down on the stool across from her.
“Aelin.”
In an instant, she went completely and utterly still.
She would know his voice anywhere. Know him anywhere. And even if she hadn’t, there was only one person who would ever call her by that name.
Lifetimes worth of memories flashed behind her eyes as her heart began pounding a thunderous beat. She felt like all the wind had been knocked from her, yet also it was the first time she could breathe in years. She wasn’t sure how that was possible. But then, she’d long since given up deciding what was possible and impossible when it came to him.
And her mind was putting in the licks like a six-shooter horse; like she was electrified.
Carefully setting the bottle in her hand back down on the countertop, slowly, so slowly, she turned to face him.
As they locked eyes a million different emotions flew across her face and he was sure as a gun his was looking the same.
She smiled, wide and bright, and her eyes lined themselves with silver.
“Linny,” she breathed, her first word to him in over half a century. “It’s Linn, actually, but everyone ‘round here calls me Linny.”
Her voice was dipped in that sweet, honeyed drawl they’d been surrounded by. And he laughed, feeling like the years just melted away because she did too. The kind of laugh that said more than words ever could.
A few men at a nearby table looked over to see what all the fuss was about, but it was a joke that only the two of them knew the punchline to.
And then, having been reminded that they had eyes on them, she was reaching across the old wood bar holding out her hand. “Linny,” she said again, still beaming at him, “Linny Gale. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” she trailed off with a knowing smirk.
He remembered every instance in which she had looked at him with those same twinkling eyes, and by the growing elation of her face, so could she. He cleared his throat and took her hand in his, smiling even broader when his roughened skin met hers. “Roe Wyatt.” Her smile softened into something special. “At your service, ma’am.”
Roe hadn’t known what came next for him, but what he did know was that she was here – staying. So, he stayed, too.
As she set the glass of whiskey in front of him, that day from almost a decade prior faded away and she brought him back with the small curve of her lips as she greeted him, “Sheriff.”
At least here, in this dusty town on the far side of the world, filled with desert rats still scrounging for that elusive gold, and where he's wearing the badge instead of running from it...at least here he gets to see her face every day.
*****
Life out here was tough, Linny knew that, but she liked it. And she liked it much more now that Roe was back in her life. Point is, she knew folks made their money any way they could, especially the women.
She’d seen enough life to know what it’s like when you don’t have the resources you need. So for every working woman who found herself under Linny’s roof, she’d be offered a spot as a barmaid, pulling in the pieces so they wouldn’t feel like they needed to work upstairs. But if they did, they wanted to - and for that, all the power to ‘em. Everyone who frequented her saloon knew that if they misbehaved themselves with those women, they’d be looking down the barrel of her shotgun.
The first - and last - unlucky man who mistook her for a painted lady didn't make it back out that door.
Linny knew her way around a broken bottle well enough that the Sheriff ordered another round and watched two of the regular old boys clean up the mess. Most of it, anyway. He knew there was still a spot near the end of the bar where the wood’s stained darker than the rest. She thanked him mighty finely for turning a blind eye, too. She was sweet on him like that.
To everyone else in town, it was a mystery why they ain't gotten hitched yet. They all saw the knowing glances and conversations with so many in-jokes it sounded like they were speaking a different language. She never accepted any other man’s courtin’ and folks from around these parts knew not to try anymore, especially when the Sheriff only ever had eyes for her.
They knew not to mess with Linny Gale, too, because if she didn’t get you first, the Sheriff would make sure you never stepped foot in town again; and if some Hay Seed thought he was quicker to the draw than Roe Wyatt, he either ended up food for the buzzards with a lead plumb between his eyes or was found crawling out the back of the saloon while the arsenic-flavored whiskey he got served hit its mark.
To everyone else, his calling on her was moving slower than molasses in January.
They didn’t know the half of it.
*****
“Howdy, Miss Linny. Sheriff.”
She half smiled at the old man taking a seat on a bar stool two over from Roe. She was already grabbing a glass and pouring as she asked, “What can I get’cha for?”
He chuckled when he saw she’d already poured his whiskey. “You know me too well.”
“And whose fault is that y’old honeysop,“ she laughed.
He’d gulped down half the drink and the skin at his eyes crinkled. “My mammy used to say that…honeysop…I ain’t heard no soul say that since ‘fore I could look over the dinner table.”
Her small smile was wistful as she wiped down the countertop and grabbed another glass, using a different rag she’d slung over her shoulder to give it a good wiping down.
“I’m an old soul.”
He chuckled; eyes distant, lost in a memory. “Yeah, m’ mammy was too.” He looked up and smiled the way he did at his little grandbabies, “A sweet thing like you is too young for that.”
Linny kept wiping down glasses sharing an automatic glance with Roe. A small smile graced her face as easily concealed mirth danced across his.
Setting the last glass down, she tossed the towel back over her shoulder and leaned closer to the older man. “Sweet talking me ain’t gonna pay off your tab, Rolph.”
“Always gotta try, ma’am,” he huffed a laugh and stood, finishing the last of the amber liquid.
Linny shook her head fondly and Roe lifted his hand in a wave. “This is the last one, ya hear?” The old coot held his hand over his heart and smiled before walking out into the blaring sun.
“How many last ones ‘ve you given him?” Roe asked, still nursing the drink she’d poured him a while ago.
A huff of air blew a stray blonde lock out of her face. “A few.”
“You’ll run this place out of business ‘f you keep doing that.”
“He’s sweet,” she rested her elbows on the bar and leaned in, “He’s been taking wildflowers up to Madam Briar’s twice a week. Sometimes I see them ambling together down by the general store.
“He don’t mean no harm. He calls me young and sweet; I like it.” She laughed and he smiled. “And don’t you be worrying about this place. She ain’t in trouble yet. I always overcharge those rowdy boys that breeze in from the next town over. Don’t know why they keep coming back, sure as hell not for my welcoming, not after one couldn’t hold his booze and was sick as a horse all over my floor.” She huffed indignantly but then shrugged. “But I’m keeping my shutters painted and bottles full ‘cause of them so they ain’t so bad.”
Most days were right as rain. Linny handled her saloon with little trouble, but if there was any left after she was done, Roe used his badge to finish it.
So, when some fella too big for his breeches moseyed on in, you could cut the tension with a knife.
The saloon fell silent, something Linny might’ve marveled at if it weren’t for the no-good Saddle Stiff who’d sauntered in looking for hell to pay. The man took one long look around the room until his eyes landed on Roe and the star-shaped badge on his chest.
“You the gunslinger ‘round these parts?” His voice was rough and hard when he stepped in front of the Sheriff.
Barely blinking, he eyed the newcomer up and down, then he took a long sip of his drink and looked him square in the eye before gesturing with his half-empty glass to Linny. “You best be taking that up with her.”
Scoffing, the man didn’t even look at her. “You that cowardly a Sheriff you’ll let some hussy take your beatin’?”
Any lingering whispers went completely quiet as Roe slowly stood from his stool. He had a few inches on the man and didn’t bother fighting off a smirk when the newcomer tried squaring his shoulders to look as big as him. The Sheriff held the man’s gaze as he finished the rest of his whiskey before stepping closer and looking down at the lunkhead.
“First off, partner,” Roe drawled in a low voice. “I don’t let her do anything. Second,” he stepped closer, forcing the other man to falter before regaining the ridiculous bravado he walked in with. “You come in here, rilin’ everybody up, hollerin’ for the man in charge, I’ll tell you this – you’re in this town, in this saloon – she’s in charge. And she don’t take well to outsiders walking in here acting like they know their ups from downs.
“Finally,” Roe took another step into the man’s space and shoved his chest with one hand before gripping the material in his fist and hauling him up. “You ever call her that again, you’ll really have to deal with me, and you don’t want to deal with me after spitting on this here lady.” He leaned closer and practically growled, “You won’t be walkin’ ‘way from that.”
Roe let the man drop back down flat-footed and watched as he stumbled but looked between the Sheriff and Linny who’d been watching the scene. He made some sort of decision and went to open his mouth trying to say shit nobody wanted to hear but before he could get two words past his gullet, Linny reached into her skirts, pulled out a loaded pistol, and aimed it straight between his eyes.
“Get your lousy ass outta my establishment.” She cocked the gun, not batting an eye. “Or I’m ‘bout to have another dead body on my premises. That ain’t gonna look so good to the Sheriff.”
Said Sheriff caught the bead of sweat finally dripping down the man’s face and shrugged. “Don’t know nothing ‘bout no body.”
Linny smirked and flashed him a wink before refocusing on the man standing on the other side of the bar. “Now, you gonna get back on that ruddy horse of yours that’s scaring all the fillies outside?” she asked. “Or are you gonna make me get my floors dirty?”
Having no sense of what he’d walked himself into, the man looked her up and down holding that pistol with a steady hand, and scoffed. “That supposed to scare me, Calico Queen?”
Roe slammed his fist on the bar and gripped the man’s shirt again, but Linny’s brows just shot up.
“Oh, you ain’t scared of this old thing?” she asked airily. One second the pistol was pointed at him, the next the flickering gas lamp in the corner of the saloon shattered in a rain of broken glass as a bullet lodged itself in the wood directly behind it. “That was giving me a damn headache anyway. What about this one?” she set the pistol on the bar and reached below it, pulling out a long shotgun.
The front doors came swinging in hard enough to crash against the walls as they pivoted on rusted hinges. Another man, a local who helped tend the horses, ran in breathless unaware of what he’d walked himself into.
“Sheriff!” he panted. “Need your help breaking up a brawl out front.”
Roe looked at Linny who had the situation very much in hand and let go of the scamp who wouldn’t be breathing much longer. Adjusting his hat, Roe nodded to her. “Duty calls, ma’am. For both our sakes, when you pull that here trigger, at least corral him outside will ya?”
“Fine by me, poppet. Less mess in here for me to clean up.” She smiled at him. “That’d be all yours to handle, Sheriff.”
And it was.
And they stayed in that town until they couldn’t.
And then they left. Together.
“Where do you want it, Ace?”
Annie – Ace – pulled out her deck of luckies and lit up a butt, inhaling and blowing the smoke out in a practiced ring. The alley she was standing in was blocked off from the main road and, for extra precaution, always had a protective pair of eyes on the entrance; not that anyone would notice the guards, she was too smart to orchestrate anything so obvious.
Keeping her face neutral, she surveyed the haul of smuggled liquor brought to her by one of the active bootleggers in their employ. The two men behind her stayed quiet; stoic, as she blew another smoke ring. She spotted in a second that the poorly concealed unease radiating off the man wasn’t because of the loaded weapons either of her boys was carrying. She looked the bottles over once, twice –
“You’re just the bees’ knees, Cal. Always bringing me the best.” She indulged him a bit, pulling the cigarette from her mouth, and watched the tension ease out of his shoulders.
“Anything for you,” he grinned shakily and kept fidgeting. The damn sap was sweating bullets. He tried making small talk and she let him think he was getting away with it for another minute before she stopped him from lamming off.
“One thing, you old Mug,” her voice dropped all sweetness, and as she stared him down, all the blood drained from his face.
Jerking her head at one of the trouble boys behind her, he wasted no time in pulling out a gat and pointing it at the idiot who thought he could fool her.
“Do you take me for a Dumb Dora? A patsy?” She asked steadily, smirking when she heard the trigger being cocked. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know the fucking difference between profitable giggle juice and piss-poor hooch.”
The man was shaking now but she had no patience for disrespect. Not here.
“I—I don’t, I don’t know what you’re spittin’ about, Ace.” He stammered.
“That’s Mrs. Thorne to you.” She corrected him, arching a brow. Turning on her heel she ignored Mr. Weston’s pleading and said to her trigger man, “Don’t make a mess. This damn alley smells bad enough.”
The other man who’d been standing behind her reached for the door holding it open for her without a word. She flashed him a smile and walked back into the speakeasy. Annie was immediately surrounded by raucous laughter and brassy jazz music, it was just enough to drown out the shot fired behind her and the thud of a body hitting the ground.
*****
Owen loved the sound of the big band. It never got old, no matter how many nights he spent sitting in this drum, putting down glasses of champagne. He liked even better, that no one bothered him at his table in the corner – no one he didn’t want bothering him, that is.
He especially liked it because he had a clear sight of both doors, the stage, and the bar. Not to mention he never had a problem picking his Ace out of the crowd. The club may have been bedecked in lights and gold, but his wife always shined brighter.
Tonight, he spotted her standing next to a young doll who looked scared enough just to be standing in a juice joint, let alone able to enjoy herself. But the longer he watched them, the more at ease the girl looked in Ace’s company.
“Don’t be getting the jitters, now,” Annie rubbed a comforting hand down the girl’s arm. She couldn’t have been older than twenty, and it was obvious she’d never been in a place like this before. “You see those fellas in the corner there?” she nodded towards a pair of men halfway through a bottle of gin, each with a fine damp on their laps. “Those boys are coppers.”
When the young girl looked back, startled, the blonde laughed and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Lose those heebie-jeebies. You’re safe here.”
Annie looked over the girl’s head and saw that her man was already looking at her. Like always. She gave him a subtle nod, which he immediately returned, setting down his glass and gesturing to one of the men standing to the side of his table. Ace didn’t need to hear him to know what her husband was ordering.
“No one in this joint is a danger to you, you have my word.” At the girl’s still skeptical look, Ace smiled conspiratorially at her. “Take another look around, you see that handsome guy sitting there – no don’t stare – people in here listen to him. And he listens to me.” She leaned in closer and the girl finally smiled, making Ace’s smile wider. “He is absolutely dizzy with me. Now, let's get you a delicious glass of bubbly,” She snapped at one of the nearby waiters who came by and handed the girl some champagne. “Relax here at the bar and listen to our sweet canary sing. I heard her practicing her verses earlier and she's lovely.”
Leaving the girl in good hands, Annie snagged her own glass of champagne off a passing waiter and strutted across the dancefloor towards Owen. Her dress shimmered under the lights as she flounced to her husband’s table which was now occupied with a couple familiar faces. He didn’t falter in his conversation as she gracefully draped herself across his lap and wrapped an arm around his neck, carding her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Ace,” he squeezed her hip in greeting, “you remember Lore and Fen.”
“Ain’t you a looker,” Fen winked, and Annie smirked, feeling her husband’s grip on her hip tighten.
“Down boy,” she chuckled, crossing one leg over the other and subtly leaning closer into Owen’s embrace.
“They were just telling me,” he explained to her, “that our buddy at the station got word some Dry folks want to take matters into their own hands.”
“They don’t think the coppers are doing their job,” Fen leaned back, smirking. “Not finding and shuttin’ down all those corrupted, underground joints.”
Annie snorted and turned over her shoulder to look at the two Johns drinking away with badges hidden somewhere in their jackets. “I think they’re doing a swell job.”
Her laughter was echoed by Owen and Fen, but Lore just rolled his eyes at her flippancy.
“Those damn teetotalers think they’re so high and mighty,” The man gritted out, glaring daggers at the policemen in the corner – darkly enough Annie was surprised the boys didn’t drop dead on the spot.
“Cut it out, Salterre,” Annie chastised. He redirected his glare to her and even though she felt Owen stiffen, she merely smirked at the glowering man. “If you keep up looking so sore, people are bound to notice, and then those fellas will get made. It won’t take a genius to figure out why a man sitting comfortably at this here table is looking to pop one of them off.”
“I don’t think Salterre has ever sat comfortably.”
None of them paid Fen’s comment any head, but Annie’s smirk widened just a fraction.
“Yeah?” Lore goaded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it between his teeth. “And why would that be so bad?”
Before she could answer, Owen beat her to it.
“What, you killing them? Or someone noticing you want to?”
“Both?” The dark-haired man asked, unconcerned. “Either? No one’s gonna be crying over a couple less coppers.”
“Get your head out of your ass, Salterre.” Annie snapped, staring hard at him. “You kill them? That comes back to bite us. I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re smart, but I know you have eyes.” She ignored his sneer. “Look around and tell me how many people are in the club? Tell me how many people would be able to say that they saw those boys here.”
“So? That’s bad for them, not us.” He shrugged dismissively.
Annie downed the rest of her champagne and wished for strength. “No one in here but a few of us,” she looked pointedly around the small circle, “know they’re coppers. Anyone else would just know that they recognized those two goddamn faces in here before you supposedly cut ‘em down. That leads questions coming back here, to our establishment, to you, to us. That is not what we fucking want. It's the whole fucking reason we pay those boys off in the first place – so that they won’t be bringing questions around here. We help them, they help us. That’s how this works, rattlecap.”
Annie snapped her fingers and a fresh glass of champagne found itself in her hand. She took a long sip before threatening, “If you think you’re above all that, then I’ll be handling you myself.”
Lore didn’t say anything when she raised her brows at him, he just shifted his gaze to her husband as if he would contradict or chastise her. Owen leaned back in his seat, pulling her with him as they settled into the plush cushion.
“You heard the lady,” Owen simply said, instead.
And with that, Fen started snickering and Lore stretched his arms out on the edge of the booth as he silently seethed. The band picked up the first notes of a new song that had Annie twisting on her husband's lap to listen to the music.
When she rested her head against Owen’s he squeezed her hip again and fondly muttered, “Ace.” Some days it was her sweet nickname, on others it was a curse, and sometimes, like right now and said in a way that made her turn to press a red-lipped kiss to his cheek, it was a prayer.
*****
The wind roared around them as their car sped down the road. Owen was driving with one hand on the wheel and the other half-hanging out the window. Annie smiled as the scenery flew by in a blur. Tall buildings and crowded streets gave way to green foliage and open land.
The engine purred and she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. She’d seen a lot of discoveries and creations, and she always wondered how they could ever get better, but they usually did - things always evolved and spurred the invention of new things. She remembered the journeys in horse-drawn carriages and knew that back then she wouldn’t have been able to dream of a day like today, flying down the roads in a beautiful car, the engine powering them to its limits.
Getting close to the house, Owen pulled off the main motorway and took a winding, private road that wound them beneath blooming trees, their canopies painting the pavement in shade.
The house wasn’t extravagant; in fact, it was incredibly modest. It was something her husband had built in his early days on this continent. Long before the Great War, before the Gold Rush, before the Civil War, and revolutionary battles. Back when they both were searching for something new and took those leaps, journeying across the ocean.
Their lives sometimes felt like swinging pendulums, positioned closely enough to intertwine, drawing them together indistinguishably, but angled just so and pulling them apart when they least expected.
As she reached for Owen’s hands and intertwined their fingers, squeezing once, she vowed to never let that happen again.
It wasn’t long before they’d brought their bags in and decided to take a walk along one of the trails beyond the house.
“Do you think we have to worry about Lore going rogue?” She asked quietly, leaning into Owen’s arm.
“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head, carding one hand through his un-slicked back hair. “He has a temper but he’s smart. Worst he’ll do is give ‘em some words, but he wouldn’t do worse than that. He knows it’ll only go bad.”
“I think you give him too much credit.”
“I think you give yourself too little,” he countered, and at her raised brow he chuckled. “He’ll put up a fight, but he won’t cross you.”
Annie hummed. “As far as he’s concerned, you’re the one he should be holding back for.”
Owen barked a laugh. “If you honestly think that he doesn’t know who is really calling the shots then you are severely underestimating him.”
“I’m not underestimating his intelligence. I’m insulting his lack of tact.” She told him as they kept walking. “You know we work together; I know we work together; they know we work together; but most of the fellas packing heat and doing the work still think you have the final word. And that works because it allows me to do things I need to do without as sharp an eye watching my moves.
“And if Salterre keeps pushing, then it won’t be long before everyone knows exactly how I can handle things – and that will be bad for both of us.” She pulled back and smirked up at his amused expression. “How do you think our supply is the best in town? Because I go out and make friends with all those grimy bootlegger’s dames; and between us ladies, things get done, arrangements get made, deals get sorted. And then, without watchful eyes on our lovely, delicate selves, we get our fellas to follow through with those deals…and the world goes round.”
“Okay, okay,” he laughed, agreeing. “Enough about that. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
“Good.”
“And, Ace?” he laughed again, “You and I both know that every son of a bitch who works with us knows damn well that you’re packing as much heat as any one of them.”
They fell into companionable silence. There was no one in the world she felt as comfortable around.
“Do you remember when we got married?” She asked him suddenly.
“Of course, I do, Ace. It wasn’t that long ago.”
Her dress brushed against her legs as the breeze picked up.
“No, not this time,” she said. “I mean the time during the revolution.”
They kept walking steadily as he thought. “Which one?”
“The European one,” she elaborated.
He glanced down at her again. “Which one?”
“Oh, stop you sap,” she nudged his rib fondly. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Yes, I know what you’re talking about.” He stopped them and turned her to face him. “I remember every wedding I’ve had with you. I remember every ceremony and every dress. Every officiant. Every wedding night. And the only – only – thing that is good about the years when we’ve been apart is that every time we were, I knew I had one thing to look forward to: finding you again and getting to learn who you’ve become.”
“Ἀγαπῶ σὲ,” Annie whispered, silver-lined eyes staring up into his deep green ones.
“Te amo.”
“Ti amo.”
“Je t’aime.”
“I love you.”
**************
Sitting on their aging porch swing, Aelin found herself sorting through faded pictures. There was one of them in a poodle skirt and leather, of flared bell bottoms and disco lights, of wild hair and rock concerts they still sing along to. There was one of them from New Year’s Eve, bedecked in glitter and tassels that had been shot off the moment that the millennium ended. And another one, taken a few seconds later – thank you Polaroid technology – of Rowan dipping Aelin, his arms wrapped around her as they both smiled too hard to really keep up their kiss, as they welcomed a new day, a new year, a new century and millennium. Giddy about what was to come.
“I think that’s enough reminiscing,” she finally whispered, reorganizing the images and replacing the lid on the box.
“Yeah?” Rowan asked, just as quietly.
Aelin smiled, pressed a kiss to his lips, intertwined their fingers so their wedding bands glinted in the fading light, and answered, “Yeah. For now.”
*******
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old faces, part six
Rowaelin x f!Reader
Summary: you and Rowan meet again after seven years, and deal with the fall-out of a secret.
Warnings: mentions of death, drinking
Word Count: ~5k
A/N: here we go! I’m curious, would y’all prefer short chapters and more frequent updates? or keeping them around the same lengths?
series masterlist
Three weeks passed since the two of you left for Caraverre for the last time, and today they received the letter telling them you’d arrive a week from now. The month was spent eagerly awaiting your arrival.
You’d written a post note;
Ceri found a kitten, and she’s coming with us. I asked if she was certain about keeping her, and was hissed at twice.
“You’ll need to make a new friend,” she told Fleetfoot, currently dozing at her feet. He was about ten years old now, and not quite slowing down, but not as energetic as he was several years ago. Lazily lifting his head, he opened one eye, before laying back down, tucking his head between his paws. He didn’t have the best track record with cats, but hopefully the new kitten would be an exception. Or at least confident enough to stand up for herself.
“Another friend?” Rowan asked, door closing behind him. She handed him the letter.
“A cat,” he looked at Fleetfoot, then at her.
Aelin shrugged, “she’ll keep the mice away.”
“When she’s here,” he pointed out.
“Wherever she is.”
He couldn’t argue with that. Preemptively, they’d looked into a few different places the two of you could live - even if they hated every second of it. If they could at least sniff out the safest areas, they’d feel a bit better. Then, just make some subtle nudges. Would you let them participate in house hunting?
-
“How long do we have to stay at the castle?”
“Until we find a home.”
“When will that be?”
“After we find one.”
A groan of frustration, “How long does that take?”
“It could be days or weeks.”
She didn’t look pleased with the answer, but that was the truth. As far as homes went, you’d be relatively picky. Maybe a tad more than relatively. There was a running list in your mind.
High exposure to magic in the past.
Enough space for Ceri to have her chickens, not enough space for a Wyvern.
Walking distance from the city.
The criteria was high, but you hoped something would come around quickly. You were eager to create a home base in Orynth, to establish a safe place, a place that belonged to both of you. A castle could be a home, you supposed, but not for you. You’d never feel like you belonged there.
You meant what you said to Fenrys. You were never born to live in a castle, and as of now, you had no desire to. That’s something you couldn’t picture changing over the years.
Another thing you didn’t expect was Ceri being this adamant against living in the castle.
Scanning the cramped interior of the carriage, you saw Ceri still wrapped up in another dragon book - but her eyes were starting to droop. You let a small smile curve on your face, gazing out the frost-covered window. A few more hours, and you’d be passing the gates of Orynth.
Breathe, you reminded yourself, and watched as your breath condensed in front of you. Gods it was cold, both of you bundled up as much as you could. Still, better than being outside.
A soft snore, and Ceri was sleeping, body laid out across the bench, mitten covered hands still wrapped around the book, now clutched to her chest. It was a miracle she could read with those on. Quietly standing, you lifted the bench beneath you, dragging out a warm quilt, and tucking it around her shoulders. It’s likely she’d sleep all the way to the gates, if not to the castle door.
Even with the relative safety, you never slept on your trips if you could help it, catching just a few hours as needed. A small shield covered the cabin the entire journey, and after the driver said they were comfortable with the magic, you let it cover them as well. At least it managed to keep out some of the cold.
Soon enough, you passed through the city gates, then - the Castle loomed ahead of you. The carriage halted in front of the gates, a guard peered in through the window shooting a smile your way and waving you inside without another question.
You’d met him the last time you were here, and wished you’d at least remembered his name. You made a note to ask later. You were reluctant to wake Ceri, with her looking so peaceful, but you did, gently squeezing her shoulder.
“We’re here.”
She perked up, throwing the blanket off her, face pressed against the window. One hand swiped away the condensation, wiping again as her breath fogged the window. She wasn’t this excited earlier, pestering you about how long you’d have to be here. It was easy to figure out why, peeking over her to get your own look out the window. Three of her friends were waiting there, a good distance away from Rowan and Aelin, but you could spot them.
Your heart warmed.
“Make sure you at least say hello to your father,” you reminded her. She sent you an offended look, and you only raised your brows.
-
Rowan watched as Ceri jumped out of the carriage, her gaze going to his right. He knew exactly who was waiting for her over there. But, you shot her another look, and instead she sprinted right to you and Aelin, barreling into him.
He’d gotten used to that, to her throwing her entire body weight into him. The first time it caught him off guard. She was stronger than any ten year old had a right to be. He shouldn’t have been surprised, you used to do that when they met up, flinging yourself into his arms.
At a slower pace, you followed behind her.
Ceri hugged Aelin, and bounced on her feet, eyes darting behind them. Where he knew three other children were waiting, a respectful distance away.
“Go say hello to your friends,” he told her and she shot off without another word.
Aelin wrapped you into a warm hug, squeezing until you let out an oof, complaining you couldn’t breathe.
You stiffened as Rowan wrapped his own arm around your shoulders, squeezing you into his side. Had he never done that? It felt .. natural, he almost released you - momentary panic setting in that he might’ve made you feel uncomfortable, but you wrapped your arm around his waist, giving a quick squeeze back before stepping away. Nothing seemed tense or on edge, in fact you still looked perfectly relaxed. Thank the Gods.
Aelin linked her arm through yours, talking about the book you’d mentioned in your most recent letter. As soon as you scribbled in a line about it, that Aelin might like it, she set out to find it. Three bookstores in Orynth later, Aelin had located it and devoured it in two days.
Gods, he’d even found her reading it in the bath.
“I should send this to Dorian,” she announced. After closing the book, in a daze for ten minutes before she finally spoke. Rowan learned the hard way not to interrupt that phase.
“A trashy romance novel?”
“It is not,” Aelin hissed.
“So I didn’t find you in the bath …” Wind suffocated the fiery dagger thrown his way.
“Scandalizing the King of Adarlan is always amusing.”
“Does he even read them?”
Aelin shrugged.
-
Aelin and Rowan weren’t quite as subtle as they thought they were. They’d obviously done some research and snooping on houses before the two of you arrived, and you found it endearing and helpful.
“What do you think about this area?” Aelin traced her finger over a spot on the map.
“I haven’t exactly seen it,” you shot her a smile. “Tell me about it.”
A moment of shock, but she did tell you everything she knew. Neighbors close enough you could vaguely see them, but not hear them. That’s a plus in your book. Most of the surrounding neighbors already planted a few gardens. A few houses were up for sale, the owners eager to get rid of them. Apparently there’d been a big push to move into the city, into the hustle of people. It’s still close enough to the city, within walking distance of a few schools.
You noticed that although it’s on the outskirts of Orynth, it’s located closer to the castle. It makes sense, considering Ceri will still be spending plenty of time there.
“We should go take a look around.”
Aelin’s eyes lit up. You liked that.
“Tomorrow?” She offered.
“Tomorrow.”
“Are we inviting Rowan?”
That, you didn’t know how to answer. “I’ll leave it up to your discretion.”
Turquoise eyes fixed on you, and it took everything not to break her stare. “A girls trip sounds nice.” You tried not to let out a huge sigh of relief. “Besides, he’ll likely terrify everyone we come across.”
You offered a half-smile, your sentiments were the same. That might be pushing a line. Lines you were very careful to balance. Gods, you’d practically made neutrality an art form over the years.
-
You bundled up, pushing a pair of mittens into a protesting Ceri’s hands.
“Do you want frostbite?” You kept the exasperation out of your voice. She snatched them from you, shoving them onto her hands, as you wound a scarf around her neck. It wasn’t actively snowing, but Terrasen winters were brutal. A grinning Aelin waited for you just past the castle doors. The two of you each linked one of Ceri’s arms. A good strategy to keep her from sprinting off.
She led you through the city, you’d hit the sweet spot in the morning - less people on the streets, less to gawk and stare, and she knew every back road and alley. It might take you a while to get used to the city, considering none of the roads made any sense. Scratch that, it would. They all lead in nonsensical directions, sometimes looping back on each other.
“I’ll need a map for a few weeks,” you commented.
“I’ll get one for you.” Aelin grinned, leading you through the city gate, and to the right, tracing back along the wall. You figured it had been a twenty minute walk so far, and sure enough five minutes later the small houses began to grow, and Ceri began bouncing.
A few for sale signs, and you opened your senses - looking for spots of residual magic. Where some magic wielders might have lived for a while. The area was brimming. Beautiful and ancient.
This was as good of a time as any for a lesson.
“Ceri,” you caught her attention. The two of you had let her go, making her promise to stay within ten paces. She stopped and turned, bright green eyes staring at you, before bounding back towards you. “See what you can feel.”
Her eyes squeezed shut. “Eyes open.”
She scowled, but listened. It was a crutch, and although you let it help at first, you knew she didn’t need it anymore. Her eyes scanned the perimeter, fingers wiggling beneath the mittens.
“A lot of magic. Old.”
“What else?” A long pause, but you waited. Aelin was silent beside you, watching curiously. You kept your focus on Ceri.
“It’s mostly from humans.” She was looking back at the various fields, now overgrown with grasses. Farmers used to live here, in masses.
“Good,” you grinned at her. She looked nearly identical to Rowan, but that was your mother’s grin on her face. Ceri led the way this time, spotting the houses with “for sale” signs.
You could tell Aelin was brimming with questions, so you started. “It’s the first thing I learned as well.”
“Sensing magic?”
You hummed.
“Is there a big difference between Human and Fae magic?”
“It’s subtle,” you admitted. “But it’s a good thing to know.” To know who you’re facing.
“How does your magic work?” She probed.
“I have the basic shielding, myself and others,” that was the easy part to explain. “I use magic to put … intention into different materials,” you huffed a laugh. It always sounds ridiculous when you put it like that. In reality, it’s a bit more complex than that, but that’s the easiest way to describe it.
“It lets you sense other magic.”
“Most of us can,” you countered.
“But more than others.”
“I haven’t had a chance to compare,” it’s true, plus you had no desire to. Few knew the extent of your magic, and most of them were dead. You preferred it that way.
“Intention,” she murmured - thinking aloud. “Like that dagger?”
“I didn’t create it,” you said, slipping into neutrality, hand slowly drifting over your cheek. You avoided looking at her.
“Is there something else different about it?”
Yes, but nothing that has to be said. Still, this was an opportunity for you to show you trust her. Trust, of course, has to be earned, but giving a small show of it - even just providing a bit of extra information like this, could make a difference in the future. A small thread tugged at you, encouraging you to share. The Goddess who’d always guided you. Listening was the only option.
“That particular one was created by an ancestor of mine. I don’t know who. Those daggers are more common than you’d think, most don’t know what they are. Usually intended for … ritual magic, tattooing, scarring,” you still couldn’t meet her gaze. “They used to be common practice. I don’t know how that male got that specific one, and it had worried you more than you cared to admit. But he was dead, they were destroyed. “It’s an object a collector probably would’ve loved.”
“Are there a lot of those in circulation?”
“Two less now,” you said without thinking, wincing before clearing your throat. “Made by my family? Very few.” Five were made actually, and you knew where one was, but the other two were still lost. The next part you hesitated, but one extra tidbit couldn’t hurt. “It’s not exactly illegal to create them on the Southern Continent, but highly frowned upon.”
“Is that why you destroyed them?”
“No,” you couldn’t lie to her. Silence radiated between the two of you, her surprise palpable. Aelin was waiting, waiting to see if you’d keep speaking. That wall started to surge, to form itself around your mind, to block, block, block, but this time you pushed back against it, a firm hand lowering it. Not to the ground, but so you could see past it. Finally, you looked at her. No judgment, just curiosity.
“You don’t have to share, if you don’t want to.”
Did you want to? Not particularly, but that stupid little thread tugged again. Mentally, you muttered a sorry at calling it stupid.
“That one was special. It scars as intended, yes, but any blood it encounters … if the victim has magic, some of it will transfer inside of the blade. Just a trace, nothing someone would miss, but enough to have other uses.”
You’d had too much time to think about it, to think on what it could mean. If someone had a dagger with your magic, even a hint of it … a weapon with the ability to throw magic into other objects? It doesn’t limit itself either, it would’ve kept on building the more victims it crossed. If the wielder knew how to use it correctly, they could potentially use it to throw someone elses magic into another person. One of your family’s daggers, objects missing for too long, thrown into circulation just as a large upheaval occurred. Just as everything changed again. It’s not something that could be completely ignored, even from Terrasen. But, some things were your burden to carry. Consequences passed through time and generations.
“Good you destroyed them,” Aelin said quietly. A glance at her, and you knew her mind went the same way yours did.
“They were originally used for healing,” you felt the need to defend your family’s legacy. You didn’t want to give the impression that they’d created an object with the intention for harm.
“Sounds like it could’ve been a great tool.”
“It was, for some time.”
Gods, you were sharing too much now. Ceri saved the day, bounding back towards you and pointing to the house.
“It’s perfect.”
Not huge, but not small. From the outside, everything looked fine. Glancing at the price, you knew there had to be a catch. A bit of fixing up, you could handle. But if the roof was about to fall down? That would be a no.
You looked underneath the price, squinting your eyes. To a good home.
An older male ambled out, spying the three of you eyeing it.
As he led you through the house, you got the sense you were being interviewed, and answered all of his questions honestly, explaining what you were looking for in a home.
“What do you want it to become?”
Aelin looked at you from the corner of her eyes, but the male’s keen gaze, piercing brown eyes, were fixed on you.
“A home for my daughter and I,” Ceri clutched your hand tighter, glancing between you and the other male. “Somewhere her friends can visit,” you squeezed her hands, “and relax.”
“Have a lot of friends, do you?”
Ceri nodded, and started rambling about the things they’d done yesterday. He listened patiently, commenting in all of the right places, and you could tell Ceri was taken with him. He did have a grandfatherly aspect to him.
“Well,” he cleared his throat. “There’s some mice sometimes, you’ll need a cat.”
“We have one,” Ceri piped.
“That’s perfect then,” he patted her shoulder. “It’s yours if you want it,” he looked up to you. Now, three pairs of eyes were on you.
“We’d be honored.”
The words felt … right. You’d learned the home had been in his family for generations, but he was the last of them. He didn’t need to tell you what happened to his family, but he said he’d been the last occupant of the home, and would be moving into the city with a friend.
“Are they a special friend?”
“Ceri,” you hissed.
“It’s alright,” he chuckled, looking at you with a hint of amusement. You replied with an apologetic grimace. “All friends are special.”
You squeezed your daughter's hand, telling her now is not the time. Thankfully, she kept her mouth shut. She’s at the age where a filter is a foreign concept to her, and any question seems appropriate.
Turn around would take about ten days. He’d left you all of the furniture, all of the kitchen ware, nearly everything, even a collection of what looked to be ancient books. It almost seemed too good to be true … but, this time, an instinct told you to accept something good happened. That it happened without a greater cost. That you were worthy of good things.
-
Aelin’s mind had wandered during the rest of your ‘girls trip.’ She half paid attention to the tour and conversations, enough so she knew what was going on if asked a question. But, her mind drifted to what you told her. She’d watched as you froze up, as you hesitated, but then told her anyway. As you showed trust in her. Trust with things you probably hadn’t told another person. There was still more to the story, but when she saw how uncomfortable you grew, common sense told her pushing wasn’t worth any potential knowledge she might acquire.
She was correct that someone from your bloodline created it. First the admission of the type of dagger, then how the ones your family created were different. Something a collector would’ve loved.
They were used for healing at some point, then stolen. At least that was what she picked up on. Her mind trailed to why you would’ve destroyed them, destroyed a family heirloom. Blood. Magic. Your magic - imbuing.
Victim’s magic store itself. Enough to have other uses.
Very few. Two less. There’s still more. And you don’t know where they are, or she has a feeling you would’ve tracked them down by now. Aelin had a decent read on you at this point, and she’s well aware you wouldn’t let something like that exist in the world.
Could those daggers have a history? Could she find mentions of them somewhere? You didn’t say relative, you said ancestor.
She needed to talk to Rowan.
-
Rowan could tell Aelin was nearly bursting at the seams with something. She waited until it was the two of them, you and Ceri already off to bed, before sharing.
He sat on the new wealth of information Aelin had learned. Moreover, he was shocked you’d shared all of that. It was more than you would’ve told him … would’ve told him in the past. There’s other reasons why you wouldn’t have shared that with him before. Still, if he’d asked the question would you have answered? A useless question, considering he wouldn’t ask you. He recognized you wouldn’t have told Aelin this if you didn’t expect he’d hear of it as well.
It wasn’t meant to be hidden from him, just to be heard second hand. It felt like a consolation prize.
“Is she worried about it?” He finally said, his pause giving the impression he was thinking the information over.
“Not excessively,” she shifted, stretching her legs out over his lap. Absentmindedly, thumb ran circles into her calf, loosening the tense muscles. A small purr left her chest. She was silent, contemplative, for a few moments. “There’s more to it. I know there is.”
“Aelin,” he paused his movements, catching her eyes, hoping to tell her not to dig into it. Based on the look in her eyes, that wouldn’t be a deterrent. “At least don’t push her. Let her come to you. It’s sensitive family history you’re digging into.”
At least that’s the impression he got. Aelin described how you seemed reluctant, emphasizing how she didn’t pry much. Speaking about your family had always been difficult for you, one of the topics you were most evasive about, and he doubted that changed too much over the years.
“I know.”
-
For the first few days, you struggled to figure out how to fill your time.
Last time you’d been here, everyone was snowed in for the majority of the time, but now there weren’t any restrictions or requirements to stay in the castle. Last time, your stay in Orynth felt temporary, even with the knowledge you’d be returning. It was also the first storm of the year, and an early one. Now you’d just hit december. Meaning Yulemas was quickly approaching. Peak season for you, to sell any kind of little crafts, but you didn’t have a space to work yet and working out of the castle didn’t feel right to you.
In the mornings and early afternoons, Ceri had lessons with the rest of her friends and a few teachers from the castle, so you took it on yourself to walk through the city, trying to memorize each street and back alley. That was a new kind of torture for you. Going alone made your explorations much longer, but it was important you learned how to find your way through without help, to not rely on anyone - besides the little map now becoming worn down and creased with how frequent you referenced it.
Making your way back to the main square, the jingling of bells and a few festive tunes reached you first.
A market.
Evergreen wreaths lined the streets, accented by bows, pinecones, and all sorts of little decorations. Stalls and stalls of vendors selling their wares, all of them braving the cold. A few had flasks on their hips, ones they took a few sips from time to time. You smiled to yourself, that’s certainly a way to help keep the chill out.
As it happens, you came across a woman selling little carvings, a list of different types propped up on her table. ‘Enchanted,’ had a line crossed through it. She wasn’t particularly busy, so you decided to be nosy.
“Enchanted ones already sold?”
She smiled ruefully, “aye, the normal provider’s temporarily out of business, don’t know when they’ll be back.” You realized she might be referencing you. “A female from Antica, now based in Terrasen, not sure where.”
“Are there others?”
Her mouth pressed into a tight line. “Not particularly good ones.”
“Out of those too?” Gods, you really were being nosy, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“If they don’t feel right or genuine, I try not to sell them. I like the ones that already have a bit of magic in ‘em.” She narrowed her eyes at another stall across the way. You nodded, and she seemed in the mood to share today. “The seller’s out of Antica, don’t know how she got here, but it’s lowered the price.” She was speaking of you.
“The price?”
“I used to import.”
“Oh.”
Maybe you should’ve kept track of where some of your work ended up.
“I try to keep the prices fair,” she sighed and leaned back in her seat, balancing it on two legs. “For the ones who look like they need it.” That, you could appreciate. “Makes me sell out quicker.”
You hummed, maybe you could make a few before the seasons up. “I heard a rumor,” you started hesitantly, and her head tilted, eyes curious. “That she’ll be back in business, have something ready about a week before Yulemas.”
Oh, you had her attention now. “Do you know her?”
A small nod. “You don’t?”
A shake of her head, but you’d caught her attention. “Always dealt with someone in the middle. A bit annoying,” you tried not to wince, “but safer for her that way, I can understand.”
“I can put you in touch.” It can’t be that hard to pretend you’re actually the one in the middle.
“Really?” She looked skeptical, and for good reason.
Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a small trinket. A small amulet, one of the last things made before you left Caraverre, and a design you hadn’t used before, but if she’s sold some of your things, she should recognize it as genuine. Carefully, you handed it to her, watching as she examined, eyes squinting to look at the tiny carvings.
“She won’t have much stock, and not til week or so before the holiday, but I can put you in touch and see what she has.”
“Even a few would make a difference,” she reached out and handed it back to you, gingerly. Almost like she was holding a treasure.
“Keep that one for yourself. I’ll come back and let you know.”
“That would be much appreciated.”
Based on your smile, and the way she undid the clasp, tucking the small necklace inside her coat, you knew she would. Keep it and not sell it. You’d need to wait a few more days before returning, maybe even up to a week. Just to give the impression you actually were someone in the middle.
Feeling in high spirits, a good deed done for the day, you headed back to the castle, hoping there would only be a few wrong turns this time.
-
Aelin reached an arm around pulling you into her side, a hug of sorts, but her arm lingered. Naturally, your head dropping to her shoulder. She squeezed further, and didn’t move. Aelin tugged you closer. Rowan didn’t look uncomfortable when you stole a look at him. In fact something like a smile ghosted across his face. You realized how much you’d missed touch and affection. Platonic touch and affection, just among friends. Reya had always been a big hugger, the two of you cuddling up next to each other on the couch.
Something you’d never even thought might be necessary. But now that it was here … you found yourself clinging to it like a lifeline. Touch starved enough that even the smallest affection feels like a blessing, like a gift from the gods.
Aelin sighed, and you relaxed your body further, letting the wine send you loosen you, giving yourself permission to feel this. To bask in this momentary peace.
“You’re much better at this than Rowan.” An indignant huff from the offended male. “Take notes,” Aelin teased him, drawing a laugh from you and a half-hearted glare from the other male.
“And you’ve had a lot of wine,” you countered Aelin, but didn’t move. She’d initiated it … and if she felt uncomfortable, you’d let her move away. Maybe you should, maybe this is crossing some invisible line the wine haze is keeping you from recognizing, but it felt so right.
“Am I a better cuddler than Fenrys?”
This time, you did laugh. Aelin is definitely competitive. “I wouldn’t know.”
She seemed pleased, and matter of fact, so did Rowan. You’re imagining it, for certain. In the morning you’d swear he never looked like that. Swear it was a figment of your imagination.
As much as Fenrys made jokes about it, this hadn’t happened with him. Right now, you didn’t want it to, maybe you wanted to claim her as your official cuddle-friend. It’s the wine. Aelin wasn’t yours to claim, not in any way. Besides, you don’t believe in belonging to others. You belong to yourself, and that’s it. That’s the way it’s always been, and how it will always be.
A part of you still lingered, still wondered what it would be like to have a mate. To forge a bond so deep, such a permanent and everlasting connection, one that could cross worlds and eternity, to love and be loved so deeply that separation was unbearable - that separation would tear your soul into tiny bits.
Not the love of a mother and daughter, the love of two people meant to bind their souls together. Meant to claim each other equally.
Could a bond like that be forged, or was it some kind of gift? Given just to those deemed worthy of it?
It’s the wine.
The odds are you’ll never know, and there’s no use in wasting time imagining it.
taglist: @holb32 @moonlightttfae @cassianswh0reeee @reidishh @fussel9913 @abbyrose13 @brandywineeeee @acourtofbatboydreams
(sorry it didn't let me tag everyone! you can comment on this or any others if you want to be added!
#rowaelin x reader#poly!rowaelin x reader#throne of glass fic#rowan whitethorn x reader#aelin galathynius x reader#rowaelin x y/n#poly!rowaelin x y/n#throne of glass x reader#rowan whitethorn x y/n#aelin galathynius x y/n
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Don’t Hold Your Breath
Rowaelin Month masterlist
@rowaelinscourt
I hate to post this this late, but I had a weekend from hell and this was the only time I could find to finish this fic and post it. I started writing it a while ago, after being overly excited with this prompt by @dailyau and @yellowmagicalgirl
Warnings: none I think? It’s a little Sleeping Beauty-ish
Words: 1,8k
“I can’t say I wasn’t expecting your visit, Rowan.” Maeve drawled, holding the teapot herself to pour them the infusion. “Still, it’s been so long since I last had an old friend over.”
Rowan held his vessel, using his ice magic to cool his tea. Every movement he made was carefully nonchalant. If Maeve sensed a single rise in his pulse, she’d use that against him somehow.
His family was about to start a war against her, after all.
“Our friendship hasn’t been the same since you tried to kill me.” He gave her a sneering grin. “Was Remelle your last attempt? Or did I miss something?”
Maeve’s mask slipped for a second, allowing him to see her glare and the cold fury it held.
Remelle, Maeve’s spy. She barged into Rowan’s room ready to kill him, but now her weapons must be somewhere by the foot of his bed. He was more than ready to get rid of her, but not while she still had information his family could use.
“Straight to the point, eh?” Maeve’s tone was disdainful, her condescending mask slipping back on. “I know you have a message from your clan, just as you know I’ll have to kill you.”
“Will you?”
It took nothing more than a second thought to break the stained glass adorning Maeve’s walls. The wind burst into the stone castle, Rowan’s magic tearing her throne room apart with wind alone, ripping luxurious tapestries with sharp edges of broken glass, making her lackeys in animal form so scared they ran away, leaving their Queen alone.
It all happened in a matter of seconds, while he sipped his tea. It was too sweet, unfortunately. Rowan looked up, observing with no small amount of pride that while he had obliterated Maeve’s throne room, the two of them didn’t have a single hair out of place.
He sipped some more to hide his smug smirk. The amount of power you have is directly proportional to the difficulty you’ll have controlling it. Rowan hadn’t shown off his skills like this in a few decades, but it looked like he was still sharp.
“You know I’ve demolished castles stronger than yours alone.” Rowan’s tone was relaxed, and he leaned back on his armchair. Everything about him portrayed the words he didn’t say: you know you can’t kill me.
Maeve plastered on a strained smile, her jaw clenched. “Cocky, aren’t you?”
“Just realistic.”
“And I’m assuming I can’t convince you to work with me.”
“I have no need for more money or titles. I’m not turning my back on my family.”
“What about your mate?”
Rowan stiffened, his pulse picked up. He heard it right, Maeve’s knowing smirk wouldn’t be so big otherwise. But she was toying with him, she had to.
He was a prince. He had more money than he could count. He loved his duty as a general. Rowan never, ever thought he’d be so lucky to have a fated mate. There was a limit to what people could be born with, right?
Rowan’s erratic heartbeat and quickened breaths were too loud to hide from Maeve’s Fae ears, and he could barely register her watching him with a wicked gleam in her eye.
“You’re lying.”
“This discovery was an accident. I was looking for her, but the only thing I saw was you.” Maeve drew lazy circles with her finger on the armrest, her smirk predatory. “Let’s say I have unfinished business with her bloodline, but I’m too busy to deal with that now, with your family nagging me all day long.”
“Stay away from her,” Rowan warned, but his voice had a shaky tone that was rare to come out of his lips.
He had a mate, and Maeve was the only way to get to her. Somehow she was wanted by the most vile person Rowan knew, and he had no way to warn or protect—
“We could make a bargain, of course.” Maeve took a sip of her tea. “You could stay out of my way during this war, and we’ll deal with your mate after.”
Abandon his family, and in return receive the greatest happiness ever known to some rare chosen Fae, the ones blessed enough to have a mate. Rowan got up and took a step back, feeling dizzy all of a sudden.
Maeve’s smile grew. She knew she had him.
“Do you, Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle, accept to be kept away until your lips touch your mate’s?”
He blinked, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Did Rowan have any guarantee he’d kiss his mate while being kept away? Mate. What did being kept away entail?
Mate. Rowan had a mate.
But Maeve wanted to kill him, and there would be no mate if he died from blindly agreeing to a bargain.
“That’s some sketchy wording, Maeve.”
She smirked, her darkness surrounding him. “Take it or leave it, Whitethorn.”
He’d have to be kept away, and would only be free when his mate kissed him. Rowan was sure this meantime wouldn’t be comfortable, the same way he knew he wouldn’t know peace until he found his mate, now that he knew he had one.
“I’ll do it.”
And that’s when Maeve’s darkness engulfed him.
~~
“Do I look like a sexy version of Queen Maeve?” Lysandra checked her reflection on her phone and twirled around the renaissance fair’s First Aid Station Aelin was working at.
Using shape-shifting abilities to do cosplays should be considered cheating, but Lysandra’s magic was so rare they didn’t have rules for that.
“I don’t think The Ancient Queen’s dresses had that kind of cleavage, Lys.”
She booed. “The judges will love it.”
“I’m sure they will.” Aelin rolled her eyes. “Just take off the fangs and pointy ears.”
“Oh, come on!”
Aelin sighed. Sometimes Lys got so excited with her shapeshifting abilities, she forgot that races aren’t costumes.
“I’m going to expose you on Twitter if you don’t take it off.”
“Fine.” Lys shape-shifted into the exact same form she had before, but without Fae traces. “Do I look good as a human Faerie Queen now?”
“You look amazing. Now go away.”
“Ouch!”
Aelin gave her friend a pointed look. She was on call as the renaissance fair’s nurse, ready to assist the visitors. And instead of enjoying the event, Lys had been at the same dull place, chatting with Aelin for hours.
The stone castle was open for visitors for the first time after being unused for 400 years, the fair being in its gardens while people took guided tours inside. Aelin thought it was cool at first, but now she felt an unusual tug in her chest every time she came to work.
All she knew was that Prince Rowan Whitethorn’s disappearance was the last straw to start the war that killed Queen Maeve, 400 years ago.
The Royal Family made sure Prince Rowan was remembered, but Aelin always wondered why they kept Maeve’s castle closed for so long. Until she felt that strange tug in her gut.
Aelin!
The shout came as a warning before Ress, from the security team, barged into the First Aid Station.
“There’s an unconscious body inside the castle.”
Aelin jumped from her seat, grabbed her medical bag and hopped on the golf cart waiting for her. It wasn’t as fast as an ambulance, but the faster a four-wheeled vehicle could go inside an event like this.
“Did you call an ambulance?”
As qualified as Aelin was, there was only so much she could do outside of a hospital.
“A visitor did,” Ress replied, “but you can get there faster.”
After a small ride and two long sets of stairs, Aelin didn’t find a patient, but the crowd that gathered around one. Ress pushed them aside to let her inside the room, and she thanked Mala the security team had kept the visitors away from the patient.
Tending for an unconscious person with a crowd was chaotic, to say the least.
Aelin ran the patient’s way, kneeling by his side. He must be a cosplayer, given the clothes.
Lysandra gasped near her. “You need to save him. He’s too hot to die!”
Aelin stiffened. “What are you doing here?” she snapped while checking the male’s pulse. Or lack thereof.
Ress raised both hands in surrender. “She was with you for so long, I thought she was a patient under observation!”
Aelin rolled her eyes and started the compressions, the heel of her palm against his sternum in the rhythm of the song inside her head. He. Got. My. Heart. Beat. Skipping. Down. 16th. Avenue.
“Which Whitethorn do you think he’s cosplaying?” Ress asked Lysandra in the background.
“I don’t know,” her friend replied, “they all look the same to me.”
After thirty seconds of CPR, she pinched the male’s nostrils closed, sealing his open lips with hers to give him a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
When she placed her hands to restart the chest compressions, she felt his rib cage expanding.
Unconscious Hottie was breathing. Aelin’s shoulders dropped in relief.
In a matter of seconds, his breathing was normal. Way too strong, considering his previous state. His eyes blinked way too fast.
A recovery this quick could only mean his blackout was caused by magic.
Aelin left the CPR position and sat by his side, just helping him be more comfortable while the male came back. If he still needed medical assistance, only a magical healer could help him now.
“My mate,” he breathed.
The Fae slowly sat up with Aelin’s support, but he didn’t seem to mind his own fragile state. His eyes were blown wide, aimed at her, his breath ragged.
"How long hath I waited for thee, my soul’s mate?" the silver-haired Fae asked with a desperate, longing gaze.
Aelin was kneeling by his side, her mouth hanging open. God, this cosplayer was good. But how did he get back to his role so fast? People can’t fake their heartbeat stopping, right?
“Hey, is everything alright?” She squeezed his shoulder. “What happened? Did someone poison you?”
The male didn’t answer her. Instead, despite his weak limbs after the incident, he kneeled before Aelin. He bowed his head and raised the sword strapped to him with both hands, the same way people were portrayed making vows in very old paintings.
“As a prince of grace and dignity, I, Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle, doth pledge to thee my love, my sword, and my service, from this day forth. Even when this world is forgotten, a mere whisper of dust between the stars, I shall hold thee dear in my love."
Holy rutting Mala.
Aelin’s mouth fell open, a wave of coldness spreading from her core and numbing her thoughts. She was always ready for the unpredictable, but did he… did he just—
“Ae.” Lys cleared her throat. “Did this total stranger just propose to you?”
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#rowaelin#rowan whitethorn#aelin ashryver galathynius#rowaelin month#throne of glass#rowaelin fanfiction#rowan x aelin#aelin x rowan#rowaelin fanfic#throne of glass fanfic
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i just loved headcanon modern rowaelin x reader, could you make one with nessian?
ps: I love your writing
Modern Nessian x reader headcanon
A/n: thank you anon ❤️
Warnings: none
You def met them at the gym
You and Nesta always waved to each other after running into each other in the locker room
Then it graduated to ‘hello’ a few times
They we’re your gym crushes 100%
You had never properly talked to them until Nesta was there alone one day and some dude was trying to hit on her
She spotted you on the treadmill and immediately rushed over to you, telling you what was happening
After having talking for a few Nesta got on the treadmill next to you and you guys walked and talked for like 2 miles
“He’s gone Nesta, you don’t have to pretend to talk to me anymore.” She looked taken aback, “I like talking to you. I’ve been meaning to introduce myself and Cassian too, my boyfriend that I usually come with.”
She invited you over for dinner that night at their house and that dinner was the start of your relationship
They loved to treat you
Especially Cassian, he loved to spoil you and Nesta
You two love going to the spa and Cassian wanted to make sure his girls were relaxed and well taken care of
You all went on vacation every few months. It was always somewhere different ranging from tropical beach vacations to skiing (Cass is def a snowboarder and he was so happy to teach you how)
They def have matching black motorcycles and you usually switch back and forth between who you ride with so it’s equal
One on one time with Nes was relaxing, reading, and nice cup of tea
She also loves shopping with you and helping you pick out your outfits (her fashion sense is the best out of the 3 of you)
With Cassian you both enjoy cooking together. Nesta can’t be bothered to use the kitchen except for the microwave so when you get the chance you and Cass cook together
He makes it fun! He puts on music or a trashy reality show (he’s invested in the Vanderpump Rules drama) and you just have fun singing amd talking
With both of them your go to activity is the movies
The next big blockbuster is coming out? Cassian ordered the tickets online weeks ago and preordered popcorn, drinks, and candy
He absolutely made you and Nesta do a Barbenheimer double feature. You were excited Nesta wanted to see just Oppenheimer
Cassian is more relaxed and silly where Nesta is more serious but you and Cass always make her laugh
You were nervous to meet their family, wondering if you would be accepted by them
Cass and Nes were super reassuring and helped you through your anxiety
Your favorite to cuddle up with is Cassian
His chest is so broad there’s so much room for you and Nesta and he’s just so warm and comfy
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar reader fic#acotar reader imagine#acotar imagine#cassian acotar#cassian x you#cassian x reader#cassian imagine#cassian fanfic#cassian fluff#nesta archeron#nesta archeron x reader#nesta acotar#nesta x you#poly!Nessian x reader#poly!nessian headcanon#poly!Nessian x you
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For Rowaelin, them being dilf and milf
Thanks for the wonderful prompt!! Sorry it took me so long to get to this but I thought it was perfect for Rowaelin Month! This is for day 13: babies/kids/next gen
@rowaelinscourt
Masterlist
Word count: 1k
Warnings: none!
Aelin always took his breath away. Always. It was an undeniable fact. The grass was green, the sky was blue, Aelin took his breath away. But standing in their kitchen, getting ready for a night out with her Lysandra and Elide, she took more than his breath, she took his whole godsdamned soul.
Standing by the counter trying to get an earring in, her tight, black dress glittered slightly in the low lights. He sucked in a breath when she turned, exposing the back, or lack thereof, to him.
“Are you sure you have to go out?”
She chuckled. “I will remind you that you were the one who told me to go out, Buzzard.”
He smirked as he sidled up beside her, pulling her to his chest. “Did I? I don’t ever remember saying that. In fact, I think I told you that you should stay home, right here with me where no one else can see this dress.” He accented each of his last words with a kiss to her cheeks, her nose, her neck.
A tiny wail broke them out of their reverie. Ah, yes, the reason that Aelin needed to get away in the first place.
At 8 months old, Alma was still in the fussy stage, especially because she had just started teething. But Rowan wouldn’t have it any other way. She was a perfect blend of both of them, her green eyes enrapturing Rowan from the moment he saw her and her fiery personality already showing through, likely from her mother.
Aelin hadn’t had a night out since Alma was born. Sure, they went to restaurants for a an hour or two, just the two of them. But she needed time with her girls, Rowan knew. Aelin would never ask for it, feeling as though she was being a bad mother or somehow putting more work onto him. So he secretly texted Lysandra to set up a night out for Aelin. And when Aelin was reluctant to go, he encouraged her that she needed a night out. Eventually, she relented and admitted that it would be nice to go out for a change.
So here they were, Rowan taking care of Alma while his wife stood in the kitchen, looking like the sexiest MILF he’d ever seen. When he told her as much, she just threw her head back and laughed, the sound igniting his bones in a way only she could. He loved her so much and was happy that she was going to enjoy a night out. His Fireheart.
- - - - -
When Aelin got home at 11pm, she expected Rowan to be in bed and Alma to be snoozing soundly. She stopped in her tracks when she beheld what she found instead. Rowan. In the Kitchen. Wearing their baby.
It was enough for tears to pop into the corners of her eyes. Fine, perhaps she had a little bit to drink. But these tears were happy tears. Ones that sprout from the joy of seeing their little family.
But as the tears dried, a different, headier feeling ignited in her belly. Gods, who gave him the right to be so Godsdamned sexy? His hair was skewed all over, giving him a rumpled look that made her toes curl. He was wearing simple pajama pants and…nothing else. Well, except for the baby strapped to his bare chest. And Gods, did it do things to her.
He finally noticed her standing in the doorway, giving her a sleepy smile. “Hey, Fireheart. Did you have a good time?”
“Mhmm.” She knew her eyes were slightly glazed. But who could blame her? She was slightly distracted.
“Feelin’ pretty good, huh?” He chuckled.
She just giggled and crossed to where he stood in front of the oven. “What exactly are you doing wearing our baby and…” she sniffed the air. “Baking?”
Rowan’s hand came around her, pulling her into his side while his other hand rested on Alma’s back. “Well, I know how snacky you get when you drink and Alma wasn’t sleeping so we decided to bake some cookies.” He looked down to Alma’s chubby, smiling face, rubbing his nose with hers. “Didn’t we, Alms?” The tiny girl giggled and squirmed, flailing her arms and legs uncontrollably.
Aelin could physically feel her heart turning to mush.
“Why don’t you go get changed and the cookies should be done by then?”
Aelin nodded but lingered a few seconds longer, just staring at her little family.
Rowan gave her a bewildered look, furrowing his eyebrows in a way that was comically similar to Alma. “What is it? Do I have flour on my face?”
Aelin couldn't help the loud laugh that escaped. “No, Buzzard. I just…” She sighed happily. “I just love you.” She strode the few steps back to him and allowed herself to be pulled into a tight embrace, Alma sandwiched between them. The little girl didn’t seem to mind if her heavy eyelids were anything to go by, having been lulled to sleep by a sense of security and love.
“I love you, too, Fireheart,” Rowan whispered. He gave a quick peck to her lips and went to turn back to the cookies.
But before he turned, Aelin caught his arm, leaning up toward his ear. “And this whole shirtless while wearing our baby thing? Incredibly hot.” As she backed away from him, her gaze turned half-lidded. To Rowan’s credit, he didn’t break eye contact with her until she reached the stairs.
It wasn’t long before she heard the heavy footsteps trailing up the stairs behind her, hurrying to put Alma down and then making their way closer to her, probably more quickly than he had moved in a while. She stifled her giggle. Rowan would never cease to make her heart flutter and her belly to ignite. But the best thing was how full she felt when she thought of their perfect little family.
A/N: I adore rowaelin as parents 🥹 thanks again for the prompt!
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Rowaelin Month Day Twenty-One: Scars @rowaelinscourt
Find my Rowaelin Month Masterlist here
warnings: none except a joke of editing, ~1k words
Scars
Aelin sighed as she knelt on the stone floor of the washroom before her daughter.
It was mid afternoon and a gentle splash of sunlight cut through the window just behind them, illuminating the small room just enough. Wynne, youngest of her small brood and current biggest problem of the castle, sat on an old oak stool with her legs kicking idly out in front of her. The wood clicked and groaned as Wynne wiggled about, unable to stay still. She was barely five years old but already had enough attitude and energy for Aelin to wonder if it was possible for her daughter to be an exact replica of her. Maybe this was the gods' retribution taking place for all the chaos Aelin had caused in her youth.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Aelin asked. She dipped a rag in a bowl of water and tonic on the ground beside her before slowly raising it to Wynne’s knee. She’d dismissed the servants not long ago, telling them she'd see to her youngest daughter. It wasn’t well received. Especially considering Aelin had cancelled a delegation meeting with an advisor from Doranelle, but she’d just send Ren along with an apology and an old weapon from the stores and all would be forgiven. Hopefully.
Wynne wiggled again and Aelin reached out to put a steadying hand on her daughter’s shoulder. It was a firm touch, steady and significant. She met her Wynne’s eyes—emerald green.
“I was playing,” Wynne said slowly. She held up the edge of her dress and stared at the cut on her knee. Already it was welling with blood.
Aelin began to clean what she could, dabbing at blood and dirt. She tried to remain gentle, but Wynne flinched all the same. Her pale hair was falling out of the coronet of braids a maid had put it in just that morning. Fine wisps fell around the little girl's face in a halo.
“Right, you were playing in the stables which I’ve told you not to do,” Aelin said.
Wynne fisted her dress in her hands and looked down. “Meiri and Fin and Coilin were already playing in there too!”
“And papa is talking to them about that too,” Aelin assured her. Really the stables were no place for any of the children but Meiri. At fifteen, the eldest of Aelin’s brood, had begun riding lessons in earnest. But even if she were learning horse care and how to ride well, she shouldn’t have taken any of her siblings out to the stables.
Aelin wiped up the blood, being careful when Wynne winced again.
Wynne had yet to display what her magic would be so Aelin didn’t rely on any special healing magic for her daughter. It wasn’t strange for a fae child to not show any magic, Rowan had assured her. But even when she was still in the womb, Wynne had been different from all her siblings.
Aelin worked quickly and efficiently until she wrapped a clean bit of cloth over and around the knee. Then she leaned over and pressed a kiss to the bandage.
“Now,” Aelin said as she readjusted Wynne’s dress. “What have we said about going to places you're not allowed to go?”
“I wanted to see the baby pony,” Wynne murmured, she clasped her hands before her and looked through her eyelashes at Aelin.
Indeed a new foal had been born just two days ago. It was wonderful and excited and children just loved when new babies came around.
Aelin sighed. “Why didn't you ask papa or me to take you?”
“You've been busy.”
The soft admission cut at Aelin and it was her turn to look away. She remained kneeling at Wynne’s side, running her hand gently over the bandage. It was true she and Rowan had been busy. Tensions were running high with the witches even if Manon was an ally. And then the flooding in Doranelle which was why she was supposed to meet with Ren. Oh, and a large portion of farmland had been eaten away by locusts that summer. It was a strange phenomenon that didn’t happen often, but when it did it made things a bit more miserable than usual.
And Aelin had needed to deal with it. Rowan had been offering services to the training the army and even going on a few expeditions as of late. He’d long loved the journey and exertion in those sorts of adventures that Aelin couldn’t begrudge him that.
But here was little Wynne who just wanted to see the new foal.
“Oh, darling,” Aelin sighed. She stood and cupped Wynne’s face in her hands. “Papa and I will always be here for you. We always want to help you. But we have these rules for a reason.”
Wynne’s lower lip trembled and Aelin swept her daughter up, holding her closer to her chest. They stood like that in the small washroom for several minutes. Long enough for Wynne’s tears to subside and Aelin to hold herself together just a little longer.
She swung Wynne onto one hip, brushing stray hairs from her eyes.
“Papa and I love you with all our hearts, you know that right?”
Wynne nodded slowly and brought one hand up to Aelin’s cheek. The touch was gentle and sudden all at once that Aelin could only look into her daughter’s eyes and wait.
“Momma?” Wynne poked at one spot in particular on Aelin’s cheek where she knew was a scar from the war. “Am I gonna have a scar like you?”
Aelin swallowed. Oh Mala, she hoped not. “I don’t know, love. Maybe.”
“I just wanna be brave,” Wynne said. She snuggled herself into the crook of Aelin’s neck and sighed. “Just like you, Momma.”
Tears pricked Aelin’s eyes and she held her daughter tight against her. This beautiful little soul was already so strong. She was her own being in a world of voices already so loud and chaotic. But Aelin knew in her mother’s heart that Wynne would one day do great things.
“You are brave, love,” Aelin said, “brave and wonderful.”
And she meant it. With all her heart.
*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
not tagging to try and keep my sanity in tact lol what sanity
#rowaelin#rowan x aelin#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#rowaelinmonth2023#throne of glass#tog#fanfic
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