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fanwarriorfictions · 29 days

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Not Again- Part Three

Azriel x Rowaelin daughter reader

Summary: The inner court has many questions about Y/n and her world. Missing home even more, all she wants is to fly and clear her head, luckily, her babysitter indulges her

Series Masterlist

-Part Three-

Azriel knew this was going to be a long day from the moment he woke up. Surrounded by his shadows who would not shut up for three gods damned seconds. She’s awake, awake, awake, upset, won’t eat, upset. The little busybodies had snuck off while he slept, and apparently they were very concerned about the state of the female next door for whatever reason.

He found himself dressed and in the hallway waiting for any sign of her, when he didn’t receive one in the ten minutes he’d stood there he’d finally crossed the hall and knocked three times on the door.

She was still in there, he knew that from the way his shadows kept trying to slip through the cracks towards her. And he could feel the shield of air she’d placed around the room, hiding the sounds of her approaching footsteps.

The door swung open and Azriel couldn’t explain why his breath caught in his chest. The house had gifted her new clothes, the traditional night court style that Amren preferred to wear, in the deepest darkest night court black. The silk cropped shirt hugged her curves, and the flowing high waisted pants left a small sliver of skin on display. Beautiful, pretty, black suits her. His shadows whispered again and again and again, he was about ready to lock them away for a moment of peace.

“Here to take me to the dungeons yet?” She asks, lifting her arms towards him as if expecting cuffs, amusement glittering in her eyes as she watches his eyes lift from her waist, “what’s on the table today? Just some light interrogation? Maybe a bit of torture?”

“Breakfast actually,” he replies dryly, “the others will be here shortly.”

“Well that’s no fun,” she pouts, dropping her arms to her sides, “lead the way then, shadowsinger.”

The title rolls off her tongue, that accent swirling and dripping with charm. A small smirk on her lips as she notices his hesitation, turning his back on her still felt like a bad idea, even though he didn’t glimpse a single dagger on her, he’s sure she wouldn’t need it.

She seems fine, less tense than the night before, a mask of cool amusement and charm, yet his shadows seem concerned, upset, they’d whispered all morning. As they walk he keeps one eye on her, taking in the way she examines every surface, every turn, every nook and cranny. She was mapping out the halls in her head, memorizing the ways out, smart. If she wanted to she could shift into that magnificent hawk form and fly through the halls and off the balcony before he could even try to catch her.

They turn into the dining room, Rhys and Feyre already sat at the table. The table set for several people, Azriel assumed the rest of the court would be here soon, Cassian flying them up from the River House. Elain would stay back with little Nyx, her mate there to protect them both.

“Good morning,” Feyre says, voice reserved yet kind, “I’m Feyre.”

Y/n grants her a small smile, bowing her head slightly in greeting. She doesn’t say anything, opting to examine the room around them like she’d done in the halls, nervous. She didn’t let it show on her face, but Azriel could tell, could see the tension in her shoulders.

“Please, sit,” Rhys says, gesturing to the seats across from them, “the rest will be here shortly.”

“Should I be worried about that?” Y/n asks, her tone is light, that cool amusement hiding the faint look of panic that flashes through her eyes.

Azriel’s shadows writhe at his sides when he sees that look, something about it settles wrongly. She had nothing to fear from them, but how would she know that? Strangers who had found her vulnerable, who had tried to look into her mind, who she knew next to nothing about.

Feyre laughs lightly, “no, no, of being talked to death perhaps, but I swear, no harm will come to you.”

That seems just good enough to Y/n to coax her to sit across from Feyre, her eyes glance warily at the foods laid out between them and instead of filling her plate like the High Lord and Lady across from her she simply leans back in her seat and watches. Azriel takes the seat beside her, pointedly filling his plate with mounds of eggs and bacon and bread with jams.

She won’t eat, eat, eat, eat, she needs to eat. Shadows angrily whisper in Azriel’s ears but he forces them away as he hears the sounds of his family grow closer down the hall, Cassian’s booming laugh echoing into the room. He can see the moment Y/n tenses, her body readying for a fight that would not come.

“A rambunctious lot you’ve got here,” she says coolly, that mask of indifference slid into place.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Rhys sighs.

Cassian is the first to come through the door, followed by Nesta who rolls her eyes at her mates back.

“Is this the female who handed Azriel’s ass to him?”

The tension in Y/n’s shoulders slip every so slightly and Azriel feels himself relax too. He was prepared to leap inbetween his family and her, to protect which one he wasn’t sure.

“You say that like it’s such an impossibility,” Mor says as she and Amren step through the doorway, “I’ve seen plenty of females hand you your ass, Cassian.”

“But it’s Az,” Cass laughs, “Mister dark and broody spymaster caught off guard by the second female falling on his lap.”

“She did not fall into my lap,” Azriel sighs, “she was in the-“

“Whatever,” Cassian interrupts, waving his hand, “close enough.”

Azriel rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics, recognizing them for what they were, a way to break any tension, to make this seem like a simple breakfast instead of the interrogation it was sure to become. One glance at Y/n told him she wasn’t buying it for one second.

Her eyes travel over them all, stopping briefly on Nesta as their eyes lock. Both females had that cold stare that could freeze oceans. Though she’d given back a majority of the cauldrons power, it still lurked behind Nesta’s steely eyes, that silver fire rolling in warning. Y/n looked just as lethal, those cold eyes almost glowing with the power lurking below her skin, wether it was ice or fire, Azriel wasn’t sure he wanted to find out which she’d use first.

Nesta seemed satisfied with whatever she saw in Y/n’s eyes, grabbing her mates hand to drag him to their seats beside Feyre. Mor slipped into the seat beside Azriel, Amren taking the seat beside her.

“Well,” Rhys says with that charming grin, “now that everyone is here I’d like to introduce our lovely guest, Crown Princess of Terrasen, Y/n Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius.”

“Now that’s a mouth full.” Mor whistles as she piles her plate full of sweet pastries and fruits, “lovely to meet you, Princess.”

“Y/n will do.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about the fangs,” Cassian says when her sharp canines peak through her lips.

Azriel keeps one eye on the female next to him as he pretended to be interested in the food on his plate. Her arms were crossed over her stomach, her mask not slipping despite the eyes weighing her down.

“What is this place?”

Rhys raises a brow at her, “would you like to eat first before we get to the nitty gritty?”

Y/n nods towards the food, “I’d like to know exactly who and what I’m dealing with before I accept food from fae I don’t know. Didn’t anyone ever teach you stranger danger?”

Eat, eat, tell her to eat. Azriel tries to quiet the shadows, getting annoyed with how insistent they were. As if she heard them, Y/n glances at him, frowning at the little wisps that stray to close to her.

Rhys looks ready to give her a sarcastic response but Feyre rolls her eyes and butts in, “you are in Velaris, the heart and soul of our territory, the Night Court.”

“You’re the leaders of this place,” Y/n states more than asks.

“High Lord and Lady, few of many on this continent,” Feyre nods, “how’d you know.”

“I’ve dealt with plenty of royals,” Y/n shrugs, “Queens and Kings, Lords and Ladies, Emperors and Empresses.”

That peaks everyone’s interest, Azriel can feel the curiosity in the air. When Quinlann had arrived, she’d been at war with the Asteri, the ruling power of her world, despite having kings and queens, they all answered to the immortal, intergalactic parasites, as Quinlann had put it. She and her mate had succeeded in ridding their planet of the monsters, but who knew where else these creatures lived.

“What is your home like?” Mor asks, the question seemingly harmless, but depending on the answer could bring a whole world of consequences.

Y/n examines her, not missing the hidden question beneath is your world a threat to our own, “much like your own it would seem. We’ve been at peace for the last 25 years. Until a gate opened up and ripped me away from my family.”

There’s the briefest change in her then, that mask slipping just enough that Azriel recognizes it, grief. She’s upset, homesick, won’t eat. It made sense now, she’d said she’d been with her father when the gate had taken her, when she’d been dumped onto a foreign land surrounded by strangers she couldn’t understand. She must have been terrified.

“Before you ask, I have no idea how or why the gate opened, or why it took me,” she continues, “it shouldn’t have been possible. None have been opened since the lock was forged during the war.”

“War?” Cassian’s brow raises in question, “what lock?”

It seems to set her back into a memory, her eyes not entirely focused on the male who’d asked, “the war against the Valg. Demons from another world who liked the taste of ours. The fight against them spanned over centuries, over multiple wars, my ancestor was able to lock the King away with a stolen object not meant for her to use, but for that there was a price demanded from the gods who’d made the lock in the first place, an heir of her blood to forge a new lock, to open a gate and send them to their true home, my mother. Queen Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, she almost died paying their price, and in the end they betrayed her anyway.”

Anger simmered in her eyes, Azriel could feel heat radiating off of her, that fire under her skin wanting to come out.

“What became of them?” Rhys asks.

She takes a moment to rein that fire in and then she meets the High Lord’s eyes, “she killed them all.”

A silence ripples through the room, her mother had killed her world’s gods. Were they like Midgard’s asteri, Prythian’s daglan, or maybe their own kind of nightmare.

“She locked the gates, fell through time and space, through hundreds of worlds, guided back by my father who would not let that mating bond slip through his fingers. When she’d come back, she had a fraction of her power left, the power that could end the valg Queen and King and save them all.”

“How did they win?” Nesta asks in the quiet that follows.

A smile, not a smirk finds Y/n’s lips and Azriel’s shadows dance towards her. He barely keeps them in check, one resting on the edge of her chair before it was reined back in. He catches the curious look sent his way by Rhys. He’d surely hear more of that later.

“My Aunt Yrene,” she says, “a healer, the valg were vulnerable to their touch, she took the evil shriveled soul of the valg King and turned him to nothing but a black stain on the floor. We put a rug over it.”

A surprised laugh slips out of Mor, “please tell me it’s hideous.”

“The tackiest thing I’ve ever seen, they let me paint on it as a child. It’s covered in bad stick figures of my uncles.”

They’d asked her questions until it was nearing lunch time. Cassian had about fallen out of his chair when she’d told them of the witches and their wyverns. From the look in Amren’s eye, Y/n knew that if she’d ever met Manon, the world would tremble in fear.

Rhys had been particularly interested in her mother’s journey through worlds, he had an uncanny feeling about it that he couldn’t quite explain. Feyre and Nesta had been shocked to learn that her mother was half human. Mor had asked her millions of questions that she could barely keep up with.

During it all, Azriel had been silent at her side. No questions on his lips but she could see the wheels turning in his head, could almost hear the whispering shadows that danced closer and closer to her every chance they got. She’d felt one drifting over her elbow for a moment before Azriel had glared right at the curious little shadow and it flew back to his side.

They’d slowly stopped their questioning and then they left one by one, Amren had left to look into this worlds knowledge on Wyrd markings and gates, Cassian and Nesta had said something about a training session, Rhys and Feyre needed to go relieve the third Acheron sister from babysitting duty and Mor had desperately wanted to see her nephew.

And just like that, it was down to Y/n and Azriel. She assumed he was still on babysitting duty, despite their apparent trust in her. She didn’t blame them for being cautious, Wyrd knows she’d not let a single one of them out of her sight if the roles were reversed.

Y/n stood stretching out her sore muscles, an involuntary groan slipping past her lips as she lifted her arms above her head. They’d been sitting there for hours and her body still aches from the events of yesterday.

“You didn’t eat anything,” his cool voice startles her, deep and slightly gravely.

She glances down at him, noting the way his eyes drag up from that small sliver of skin at her waist. The clothes we’re comfortable, yet much more revealing than anything she’d been used to. She can’t help the smirk that rests on her lips as she looks down at the handsome male, she could get used to clothes like this.

“I’m not hungry,” she shrugs, moving through the room, glancing towards the huge windows that showed the vast city far beneath them.

“You haven’t eaten since you’ve been here,” he says, eyes tracking each of her movements.

“Oh? And how would you know that,” she looks pointedly at the shadows, “I thought I told you to keep wandering eyes to yourself.”

He simply shrugs, “they do what they want.”

“Clearly.” She turns towards the door, “are you to play babysitter all day? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

She’s out the door before he’s has the chance to reply. The place was massive, she’d memorized the walk from her room to the dining hall, but the amount of halls that laid around told her she’d only seen a small portion of what the place had to offer.

“Would you care for a tour?” Azriel’s suddenly standing to her side.

“Babysitter and tour guide,” she snarks, exploring down the hall, “A double threat.”

“I’ve been told to keep any eye on you.” He looks down at her, “and that’s what I plan to do.”

“Oh I have no doubt about that.” She turns into a large living space littered with comfortable looking couches and chairs, a doorway leading to a balcony against the far wall. “I’m sure you’re a male who takes his duties very seriously.”

She moves towards that door, towards the open air beyond, Azriel following close behind. She could feel the wind beyond, begging to caress her wings, she’d shift and fly for hours and hours, maybe she could fly home.

“You could make this easy for both of us,” he says, letting a shadow block her path, “and quit trying to run away from me.”

“Now who said I was trying to run away,” she flashes an overly sweet smile over her shoulder, one that she can tell gets under his skin.

“You’re not a prisoner,” he almost growls, “but if you choose to make this harder than necessary, I have no problem tying you to a chair.”

She snorts, “Kinky, but no thank you, I’m not interested.”

He doesn’t respond, that carefully crafted expression not shifting an inch, though his shadows give him away. They writhe around him, reaching for her and pulling back over and over, like he was trying not to strangle her.

“Tell you what,” she says, “I’ll stick around you like glue if you let me go for a quick flight.”

She doesn’t hide the longing glance she gives the balcony, whenever she was stressed or upset her and her father would go flying, they would fly until she was ready to talk about what was eating at her, or until she tired herself out and he would take her home and tuck her into bed just to go fly the next morning. Y/n couldn’t think of a time she’d been more stressed than now, stuck in a foreign world with no way home, surrounded by powerful fae who she didn’t trust not to bury a dagger between her shoulders the second she turned around, depsite how kind they had been.

“Fine.”

Her eyes meet with warm hazel, surprise not hidden on her face. She would’ve thought he’d fight back harder, keeping her here, where she couldn’t fly away was safer, easier. But he’d agreed, and she gives him the first genuine smile she’d had since she’d arrived and says, “Thank you.”

He nods once, “after you.”

She’s out the door in seconds, shifting with a flash of white light, and diving over the edge of the balcony towards the city far far below.

Azriel was regretting his choice to let her fly, simply due to the fact that she was so damn fast. Despite the chill in the air, she flew over Velaris with such speed, the air biting his wings as he tried to keep up. She zigzaged over the city, following streets up and down, from the cliffs of the house all the way to the open mouth of the Sidra. They flew over the bridge into the Rainbow, the artists quarter and almost like an invisible string tugged her towards it, they ended up at one of the many amphitheaters.

Music of practicing artists flowed out, preparing for a concert later that evening, there was no single melody, a mesh of different tunes that somehow melded together into a new song of its own.

Y/n landed on a high wall of the amphitheater, that flash of light, and then she was sitting precariously on the edge, as if there wasn’t a steep drop directly behind her to the streets below. Azriel landed next to her, carefully sitting down with a comfortable distance between them. It felt wonderful to rest for a few seconds, letting the sun warm his wind chilled wings.

He watches her, the way she leans towards that music as if she couldn’t help but be drawn to it. There’s a longing look in her eyes, a sadness that cracks that carefully constructed mask to pieces. Azriel wants to comfort her, he’s overcome by the sudden need to fix whatever is wrong, but he was never good at that, so he just sits beside her, mouth firmly shut.

“One of the first things my mother did after the war was rebuild the theaters,” she says quietly after several minutes, “my earliest memory is sitting in the Queen’s box, they’d written a symphony about the final battle, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I can still hear the horn that signaled my mothers arrival.”

Azriel listened carefully, “Your mother seems to be a brave warrior.”

“She didn’t have a choice but to be,” Y/n whispers, “Most of my family didn’t.”

“You seem to be a warrior yourself,” he says, “were you given a choice.”

Her eyes don’t stray from the players below, “Yes and no, my parents insisted I train, they wanted me to be prepared for anything, I wanted to anyway, mostly because I wanted to grow up to be just like them. My father is one of the strongest fae warriors in the world, Rowan Whitethorn, soldiers talk about him around camp fires like he’s a myth. He and my uncles, his cadre, oversaw my training. My mother too, she’d once been a renowned assassin, I’d begged and fought with her to teach me everything she knew until she got sick of me and relented.”

He could see that, the way she struck fast and quietly during their first encounter, she moved with the grace of a dancer, struck with the strength of a warrior.

“Quite the family,” he says, searching for anything to lighten the mood, something Rhys or Cassian would say, “I’m sure bringing home boys was interesting.”

She laughs, and he can’t help but enjoy the sound, “you have no idea, not only do you have to impress my parents, but also the kings and queens of several nations. I made the mistake of bringing a boy home when Manon was visiting from the witch lands. She tried to introduce him to Abraxos, I don’t think I ever saw him again.”

From what they’d heard of the witch Queen, Azriel hoped the boy had just fled the kingdom, instead of becoming dinner.

She goes silent, and a shadow whispers in Azriel’s ear, she wants to go home, sad, very sad.

“Would you care to eat now?” Azriel asks, raising to his feet, “I know flying works up my appetite.”

She flashes him a saccharine smile, one that does its best to hide the pain but it can’t hide her eyes, “are you asking for a date? I thought I told you I’m not interested.”

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the slight twitch of his lips, “Trust me, Princess, you’re not my type either.”

She climbs to her feet, and Azriel finds that stretch of exposed skin at her waist as she turns to him, the scent of pine, snow, and embers drifting towards him on the wind.

“I’m everybody’s type.” Her tone lowers, dripping with charm, the kind that could make men and women crawl on their hands and knees. “Think you can keep up this time?”

Without warning she jumps off the back of the tall amphitheater. Azriel has a brief moment of panic, shadows whipping out to try and catch her, wings flaring as he goes to dive after her. Then, brilliant white light blinds him for a second, and that red tinged hawk shoots past him, letting out a cry that sounds suspiciously like laughter.

He swears, jumping off that ledge and shoots into the sky behind her.

#the shadows are my favorite characters by far #I like the term busybody to much #Azriel doesn’t know how to deal with feelings properly #I need them to banter more because it gives me life #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin

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danikamariewrites · 8 months

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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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highladyofterrasen7 · 3 months

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People who are going on my suicide note- sjm edition

Please note that this is satire and I’m not going to kill myself

Also, it’s the entire alphabet

A. People who hate rhys for how many houses he has

B. People who undermine what Mor went through (especially the Eris part)

C. People who praise Nesta for how she acted in acotar, acofas, and the beginning of acosf primarily

D. People who say it’s misogynistic to dislike Elain

E. People who came up with the “gwyn is a lightsinger” theory bc they realised their favourite ship is sinking.

F. Anyone who talks bad about my girl Feyre

G. People who say Cassian is abusive

H. People who say Rhys drugged and sa’d feyre utm

I. Anyone who says anything good about tampon

J. Quinlar deniers

K. People who say Danika was a terrible friend

L. Anyone who says Aedion’s reaction for the aelin-Lysandra secret wasn’t justified

M. People who in the same breath as attack rhys and cassian for keeping the mating bond a secret will praise aelin for doing the same

N. People who say Dorian isn’t the best tog man

O. Full and 100% chaol stans

P. That one person that said rowaelin aren’t allowed to dislike Lorcan and wrote a whole paragraph about it

Q. People who think acosf was the best book in the series

R. People who dislike acofas

S. Anyone who says anything bad about Sam

T. Anyone who is anti inner circle

U. People who ship lucien and tampon

V. People who attack fanartists for depicting utm rhys as pale when he’s literally described as pale

W. People who say manorian shouldn’t get a novella

X. Those weird people with their Eris and Nyx things

Y. People who say feyre is boring now (bc she had a baby)

Z. Anyone who uses there every breath to attack and find plot holes in sjms work (if you don’t like it, don’t read it) get a life

These are very me-specific opinions

Lmk which ones you strongly agree with

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anyoneseenadam · 2 years

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can you let your baby be my girl?

pairing: Fenrys Moonbeam x Rowaelin!reader (Throne of Glass)

summary: You didn’t get to meet your parents best friend until you were old enough to be surrounded by discussions of war and politics. But their plan on making you wait until you were off age may have backfired as you meet the handsome, older white wolf.

warnings: Age gap (reader is of age), smut, dom/sub dynamics, fighting, swearing, size kink, breeding kink (not quite sure how that happened), cute fluffyness at the end

wc: roughly 4K

a/n: damn I’ve had a long writing break, my bad. not sure why this has such a big bredding kink as i don’t really want kids, but also little Fenrys pups makes me happy so, lemme knonw what you think <33333333

request :)

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You had only met Fenrys officially a few weeks after your eighteenth birthday. You had heard stories of the glamorous white wolf all through your childhood and had occasionally snuck glances through half closed doorways with your siblings when you were supposed to be in bed. But he was rarely in your house for long and your overly protective father was determined to keep you all away from any business surround politics or war until you were at least eighteen.

You hadn’t expected it when you first met him, no warning from your parents when he arrived one night, bloodied up and leaning heavily on your doorframe – eyes half closed.

You panicked, standing in your nightgown as you ushered the handsome man in and into a kitchen seat, he watched silently as you rushed around on bare feet gathering warmed water and wash cloths to clean him up with. Thankfully, none of his cuts were major so you simply bandaged them in silence, barely looking up from your job until when you finished tying of the last one and moved to step away he stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm.

“What’s your name pretty?” he asked, voice deep and low as he watched your eyes widen – shyness clouding your features as you mumbled it softly under your breath.

“(Y/n).” he rolled your name around his mouth, eyes trailing up and down you slowly as your cheeks burned at how little you were wearing in front of a complete stranger, your nipples catching his attention for a split second. They had hardened in the cold room, and he fought to push a breath out, forcing his eyes to meet yours again. “Well, thank you (y/n).”

After his words you scurried off to your bedroom an aching between your legs as you hid under your covers. You couldn’t help yourself but grind against your pillow that night, face hidden in shame as you thought of his handsome face and how his eyes had lingered on your thinly veiled body.

The next time you saw him you kept more of your dignity, fully dressed in a pale pink gown as you attended the first ball you were allowed to go to – no longer hiding behind the door and watching as the beautiful adults roamed around the room. Though you might as well off, as you felt incredibly out of place – your elder siblings talking to people with familiarity as you stumbled through small talk and clung to the few people you knew well.

You met Fenrys gaze from across the room and instantly felt a white-hot rush of shame fill you as his gaze once again trailed, suddenly feeling silly in your pink dress. But he excuse himself from his conversation anyway and moved to talk to you, unable to bear the sight of such a pretty girl standing afraid and alone.

“So I’m going to take a chance and guess your favourite colour is pink, given we’ve met twice now and it’s all I’ve seen you in.” you laughed at his comment, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I guess you’ve got me,” you retorted, and he gasped, a hand on his chest.

“She speaks!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands, “I was worried I’d scared you off when our first introduction was you keeping me from bleeding out.”

“Oh,” you waved your hand dismissively, “I didn’t do much you were fine.”

“No way darling, you saved my life. I’ll have to find a way to pay you back some day.” He winked and you felt your toes curl in your shoes as you stared up at him with a shy smile. Unbeknownst to you however, your eldest sister has sidled up next to you and as she saw your shy disposition she leapt at the chance.

“You need to pay her back?” she asked, and you whipped your head to face her – your eyes widening at her mischievous facial expression. “We’ve been trying to find her a suitable trainer because she gets too embarrassed around anyone whose tried.”

Fenrys eyes lit up, “Is that so?”

“And you’re one of the best warriors in the world, or so mum tells us,” She egged him on, and he winked at you again.

“Well we all know that’s true, you okay with this sweetheart?” You squeaked out a yes and he grinned wolfishly, “Perfect, meet at eight tomorrow then?”

“Eight am?” you pouted, and he laughed, a large hand moving to squeeze your chin.

“It’s a good habit to get into,” he said as he walked away, leaving you hot in the face and core as you watched him retreat.

You had been training together for a month and a half and you were slowly losing your mind. He had begun staying more permanently at your family home, and you were suddenly eating breakfast together and walking to buy a loaf of bread or bouquet of flowers with him when he errands to run and wanted company.

In Fenrys mind he couldn’t be any clearer in his advances. He was careful around your parents of course, not sure how his close friends would feel about the attraction he harboured for their young daughter. But when he placed his hand on your lower back and leaned down to whisper a crude joke in your ear – watching as you crumbled beneath his hand, eyes widening as you giggled cutely.

Your shyness had also started to melt away around him as you held conversations and eye contact with him. But along with that your fantasies had also started running rampant, nights spent grinding against your hand or pillow as you muffled your cries thinking of the older man you were so infatuated with.

The morning everything changed was right after regular a night of dreams, your face hot as you pictured him above you – strong arms holding himself up as he ground into your pussy, hot breaths in your ear with every pant. You imagined him calling you His pretty princess, His good girl. And you could feel your need for him becoming more than your need to breathe with every daydream.

Fenrys had decided on hand-to-hand sparring for that morning, wanting you to always be prepared even if you didn’t have any weapons on you at the time. You had been making steady process and during one of your fights you had somehow gained the upper hand, flipping him onto the floor and kneeling with your forearm on his throat – pressing just hard enough to show your victory. His dark eyes watched you from where you were perched on his chest, a knee over his heart as you smiled down at him, sweaty, breathless, and looking like his walking fantasy on legs. Or, on knees he supposed.

He held eye-contact, not speaking as he watched you come out of your shell before him – the knee that perched on his chest sliding off until you sat straddling his chest, releasing your arm from his throat. Neither of you were making any effort to move from the position you found yourselves in – Fenrys nostrils flaring as he smelt your obvious attraction, but when you tried to move and hide away he kept you attached to him with a firm hand on your hip.

“You okay there princess?” he asked, voice low and deep as you let out a muffled whimper. The sound made him grip your hip even tighter until you were sure he might leave bruises.

He raised his eyebrows and you nodded quickly, making him chuckle. “You look so pretty like this, just sat exactly where you should be.”

“Fenrys…” your voice trailed off at his insinuation.

He sat up, holding you closer as his voice dropped an octave, “What? You don’t think I’ve heard you,” his face dropped down to your neck, “Smelt you. Sat all pretty up in your bed, what do you think about huh?”

Your face burned with embarrassment, and you shook your head – not meeting his eyes.

“C’mon sweetheart. I already know it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I could even let you in on a little secret.” You looked at him, every muscle tensing as he moved closer – pushing you directly onto his crotch were you felt a prominent hardness.

“That hardly feels little,” you mumbled, and he laughed, canines bared as you watched him intently. He went to reply but you heard an obvious cough before you could, whipping your head around to see your uncle Aedion standing by the door with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised at your behaviour.

You scrambled out of Fenrys lap and straightened up, looking sheepish as you stumbled around an explanation of your training with Fenrys. He gave you a thin-lipped smile before suggesting your older brother was looking for you, you took the hint and ran off, looking back at Fenrys who was glaring down your uncle just before rushing out the door.

You hid in your room all day, too ashamed to face Fenrys who had seen you at your most vulnerable now. You snuck downstairs to grab food for your room in between mealtimes and feigned sickness when your mum came looking for you – deciding to spend your day soaking in Epsom salts and reading.

But you also knew you could only avoid Fenrys for so long, so when you heard a knocking on your door as you changed into your nightgown – the same one you had been wearing that first morning – you froze. You didn’t reply, instead quietly walking to your bed in order to pretend to be asleep, but before you could pull the covers up to your chin that deep voice that plagued your dreams.

“I can hear you moving in there princess,” he spoke, “Let me in.”

You paused, an internal battle going on in your head, debating whether you could even stand from the nerves filling your body. You felt bad for the man standing behind the door though so you spoke before you could second guess myself, “It’s unlocked.”

Fenrys smiled behind the door, resting his forehead against it for a second before trying the handle and finding the door opening. He closed it behind himself as he entered your room, bathed in candlelight with you – cross legged in the middle of your bed, surrounded by soft blankets and cushions. He thought you looked like a dream.

“Hi,” you squeaked out, in awe of the tall man leaning against your bedroom door.

“Hey sweetie,” he started walking towards you, “We never got to finish talking earlier.”

He perched on the side of your bed and reached a hand towards your face, cupping your jaw. You smiled softly at him and laughed, “Wasn’t much talking anyway.”

“Aha I suppose it wasn’t” he moved his hand, trailing down your neck and pausing on your collarbone, his thumb massaging your shoulder, “I still want to continue however.”

You blinked at him, scooting closer as he smiled at you, grabbing onto your waist to pull you back into his lap, “I need to know you want this with words before we do anything dear, because I’ve been thinking of you since we met, and I don’t want to risk losing you because we move too fast.”

“I want it!” you spoke quickly, heat spreading through your chest and face, “I mean, I like you too.”

He smiled at you, “Okay princess, I’m all yours now. But I have a couple questions first.”

“Okay,” you said as he leaned forward to press a tentative kiss to your neck, testing the waters.

“Are you a virgin sweetie?” he asked, and you shook your head making him look up, a quizzical expression on his face.

“You let someone else pop your cherry huh?” he asked, and you shoved his chest lightly, “Well, it doesn’t matter now anyway since I’m going to be the only one touching you after tonight.”

“Yeah?” you asked, insecurity clouding your features and he pulled your face close to his – resting his forehead against your own.

“I’m in for the long-haul honey, I don’t just want your body you know.” He said and you smiled, wider than you had in a while. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded and he moved in, dominating your mouth quickly with his rough kisses as he gripped the back of your head with one hand and your waist with the other. He pulled you as close in as he could as you gripped his shoulders, you may not be a virgin, but you were certainly inexperienced compared to the man who was centuries older than you.

He guided you onto your back on the mattress, your legs spread as the wound themselves around his thighs. His hands started wandering slightly as you kissed, one smoothing over your stomach as he felt the silky material of your nightgown.

“Fuck darling, do you have any idea how crazy this drove me when you cleaned me up that night? Wanted to bend you over the table and take you at once.” You whined, trailing your teeth over his neck before latching onto the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “You probably would’ve let me as well, looking at me with those innocent doe eyes that were just begging for me to fuck you.”

“Wanted it so badly,” you admitted.

“What did you want? No need to be shy around me baby girl,” he moved down your body, resting his face on your stomach and gazing up at you.

“Wanted you to fuck me,” you said, voice quiet and shy.

“Good girl,” he praised, “And what do you want me to do now?”

He trailed a hand under your nightgown, tugging on the band of your underwear slightly until you lifted your hips – allowing him to pull off the lacy pink fabric. He smiled at them in his hand and pocketed them as you giggled, looking away.

“You’re gross,” you whined, and he tutted.

“Don’t avoid the question.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you repeated quietly, and he shook his head, a disappointed look on his face making you worry.

“Before that, maybe while I’m down here?” he egged you on and you felt your pussy clench as you realised what he meant.

“Isn’t that… dirty?” you asked, nervous.

Fenrys frowned and kissed below your belly button as he pulled your nightgown up. “Not at all baby, there’s plenty of dirty things I want to do to you but that’s not one of them.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Fenrys eyes lit up.

“Oh baby I’m sure, I’ve been dreaming about this.” His words the only warning you received before he dived headfirst into your pussy.

He licked a long stripe from your tight hole to your clit, sucking there for a few seconds but not staying too long as he became acquainted with you. His hands started exploring too as your own tangled themselves in the long golden locks he had piled into a rough bun on top of his head. You tugged and pulled at them as he hoisted your legs over his shoulders and pushed his tongue inside of you, his nose nudging your clit with every thrust.

You felt your climax build embarrassingly quickly with the talent of the man between your thighs and you tried to tug his hair in warning, legs shaking as you felt pressure build in your lower abdomen.

“Fenrys,” you managed to moan out, “I’m going to cum if you don’t stop that.”

You felt his smirk against your cunt as he pulled away just enough to slide a finger into you, “And why would that make me stop?”

His lips attached viciously to your clit as you cried out, his finger rubbing against the spongey spot that always made you see stars until your pretty legs clamped around his head and you cried out his name, muffling yourself with your hand to avoid waking up your parents. The muffled cries were music to Fenrys ears, but he instantly started planning where he could take you that would allow you to scream as loudly as you wanted.

As you came down he crawled up to meet you, kissing you so you could taste some of the sweetness on his tongue. You fought to keep up between panting breaths but had to pull away – gazing up at him with unbridled love as you stroked your thumbs down the twin scars on his face.

“You taste so sweet princess,” he praised, watching with a smile as you melted under the words. “Later, I’m going to eat you out until you have no feeling in your legs, but right now I need to fuck you.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” you giggled, and he playfully bit down on your neck before sitting up and pulling his clothes off. You followed suit, pulling your nightgown over your head, and sheepishly covering yourself until he – dressed in nothing but his boxers – grabbed your hands and pulled them over your head.

You squeaked as he admired your naked body openly, his free hand trailing down the curve of your waist before he dove into your breasts, biting roughly on your nipple and grinning when you squeaked.

“Fenrys!” you squealed batting him away, but he looked up at you with dark eyes.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this away from me,” he growled low under his breath, “All mine now at least. No one else is ever going to get to see you like this.”

You felt your arousal rear its head once again at his possessiveness as he gripped your waist and pulled you, so you were completely beneath him. His large frame covered your own and you reached a hand – which now appeared dwarfed next to him – to smooth over his chest, marvelling at the bronze skin that covered extensive muscle and tone.

You dared to let a hand venture downwards while he was distracted groping your chest and swearing lowly under his breath. You cupped his impressive bulge and felt your eyes practically bug out as you realised just how large he was, palming him lightly.

You looked up and met his gaze, “Can I?”

“Another night sweet girl,” you pouted, and he kissed it away, whispering against your lips, “right now, I need to fuck you, or I might explode.”

“That’s fine then I guess,” you were still pouting, but he laughed.

“Trust me, I’ll make it far more than fine.” He let you push his underwear down, his hard length bobbing up and hitting his toned stomach as you gulped slightly. It appeared even bigger now you were seeing it instead of just feeling it and Fenrys sensed your worry.

“Just focus on me darling,” he smiled, “I’ll take care of you, we can go slow okay?”

He frowned when you shook your head at him, “Don’t want you to go slow,” you whispered, and he tilted his head.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his control hanging on by a thread as you spread your legs further, inviting him into the slice of heaven between your thighs, your hole glistening and begging to be filled. “I’ll split you in half, you’re only little compared.”

“I want you to,” you reached to guide him to your hole, “I want you to split me in half.”

He grinned at you, reaching down for a kiss before he started pushing in. Your nails scarped down his back as he entered you, breathy moans releasing as you bit down on his neck to avoid getting too loud.

“Want me to split you in half huh?” he asked, “Want me to fill you up to? Mark you up? Stake my claim, make sure everybody knows you’re mine now?”

You whined in reply as he started thrusting, hips bruising your own every time he bottomed out with an obscene wet noise from your arousal.

“Oh, you like that?” he was a smug as a cat, “Want me to make you a mummy? Fill you up and keep you home, all for me to have whenever I like.”

He felt you clench around him and grinned, “Make a wife out of you, get you down the aisle and all.”

You mewled underneath him before grinning, “Maybe buy me a drink first.”

He slapped your ass and grinned at you, “I guess I could do that.”

His thrusts resumed their roughness as he muttered praise under his breath, just how you had imagined in your dreams, feel so good around me sweetness, so tight. My perfect girl likes it when I fuck her rough huh? So fucked out you can’t even speak, just a dumb baby for me to use now.

You felt you second orgasm of the night rise in you and pulled Fenrys in for a rough, dirty kiss, your tongue invading his mouth as you came undone – gripping him impossibly tight. But instead of stopping he simply kept fucking you through your orgasm, pushing you into another until he was satisfied.

His thrusts didn’t cease regardless of the blood you were probably drawing on the back of his shoulder, regardless of your cries of overstimulation into his hungry mouth. He reached one hand to grasp your throat, willing your mouth open with his thumb and spitting into it, watching you with a smile.

“Now that’s my dirty girl, swallow for me.” You obeyed his order, with a breathless smile. He watched, groaning as he approached his own release, thrusts becoming sloppy as he pushed you to your fourth orgasm of the night with his own.

“You going to let me fill you up baby?” he asked, and you nodded quickly, “Beg.” He commanded.

“Please, please Fenrys want it so bad. Need to feel you, need to, need it more than oxygen,” your voice was unrecognisable to your own ears. “Need you to make me cum and fill me up, make me all yours.”

That pushed him over the edge as he bottomed out within you with a groan, his thumb going to circle your clit – instantly sending you following over the edge as you muffled your moans in each other’s necks.

You stayed in that position what could’ve been minutes or days until Fenrys pulled out as you whined feeling empty minus his seed trickling out of your abused hole. He disappeared before you for a couple seconds, returning with a clean shirt and warm wash cloth which he used to clean you up. He then pulled on his own underwear and the shirt over your head before pulling you safe and warm into his strong arms.

“Wait, what if mum or dad come in?” you asked, panic rising despite the sheer comfort you felt in his arms.

“Oh they already know,” he said making you whip your head up, “What did you think Aedion just wanted a friendly chat?”

“I just thought he’d tell you to back off,” you muttered, and he reached to stroke your hair back off your face.

“Well he did, so I went straight to your mother, told her I loved you and asked for her blessing,” you laughed, amazed at his planning.

“My mother before my father?” you asked, “not very traditional.”

“Have you met your mum, if I had gone to anyone before her she’d kill me,” you laughed loudly again, burying yourself in his chest.

“I guess you’re right there.” You conceded, sleep slurring your words as you felt Fenrys press a kiss to your head.

“Sleep, we’ll discuss it more in the morning.” He muttered and you smiled, content in his arms.

#throne of glass #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x reader x dorian #fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acowar #acofs #acosf

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celestialend · 2 years

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Hi guys, so I’m just writing this to see if people would be interested in commissioning one shots? I can write gwynriel, nessian, elorcan, rowaelin, malide

And i can even write some y/n x luke hemmings too

#gwynriel #elorcan #malide #rowaelin #nessian #acosf #acotar #tog #luke hemmings #5sos

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pjoandaftg · 5 years

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Fenrys x reader

You first meet Fenrys when your interviewing to become the new princess’s (rowaelins child) tutor.

You only see him for a brief second.

Don’t even talk to each other but your intrigued by the mysterious White Wolf of Doranelle.

You don’t see him for 3 months that is until you get the job.

You move into the castle only 2 rooms away from the princess which also happens to be only down the hall from Fenrys’s room.

At first you only see him in passing and you only exchange polite hellos.

That is until he walks in on you training one day.

You had been working there for nearly 6 years now.

You don’t hear him walk in and don’t realize he’s watching you until you finish and hear a clap from the doorway.

You turn around and Fenrys is leaning against the doorway.

“Impressive”

You just shrug your shoulders.

He gives you some notes on your technique and you take it all on board.

From then on the two of ye train together once a week.

These weekly training sessions slowly turn into daily training sessions.

The two of ye quickly start becoming close friend.

Soon enough it’s strange to see the two of ye apart.

Although the two of you are thick as thieves you are both extremely competitive.

Everything becomes a competition.

like EVERYTHING.

One time when ye were fighting (training) it went on for 4 hours because neither of ye would stand to let the other win.

Soon enough you start to see Fenrys differently.

In training you are getting distracted every time he comes close.

Or by how his body looks.

Soon enough you miss every moment he’s not there beside you.

Even when your with the princess (who is now 14)

When Aelin asks Fenrys to travel to another kingdom to deliver a message his 3 weeks trip turns into 8 months.

Every day he’s gone and doesn’t contact you grow more and more anxious.

When you ask Aelin what happens she just tells you that he can handle himself.

Although Aelin gets worried as well and sends Lorcan and Aedion to find him.

And the when Lorcan shows up with him unconscious and all bloody and bruised you nearly lose your shit with worry.

He is out for almost 3 weeks.

Every spare moment you have is spent by his bedside.

When he finally wakes up your in the middle of a lesson with the princess.

Aelin walks in and tells you he’s awake.

You immediately get up and run to his room

When you run in he’s sitting up pulling on a shirt.

You see him grimace in pain and the blue and black bruises on his stomach.

You rush over to his bedside and sit beside him.

He looks at you and you look at him

“Hey” he whispers

You smile at him with silver lining your eyes and choke out a laugh

“Hey”

You don’t realize your crying until he cups you cheek with his strong hand and wipes away the tear with his thumb

“What’s wrong”

His voice is full of concern

“I thought you were dead Fen. 8 months. You were gone 8 months and then Lorcan and Aedion bring you back looking like that ... and ... what happened?”

Fenrys held your gaze

“It’s a long story”

You snort

“I’ve got time”

Then the two of you lean back on the bed while he explains everything.

It isn’t until you leave his room late at night and crawl into your own bed that you realize what you feel

You are completely in love with Fenrys

For the next few days you avoid Fenrys as much as possible

When one night you go to the pantry for a late night snack Fenrys is there

You see him before he does and go to sneak back out when he lifts his head and notices you

“I knew it your avoiding me”

“No i”m not”

Both your voices rise now

“Yes you are why? If it’s something I did or said.....”

“No you did nothing wrong”

“Then what is it”

“I.......”

You can’t get the words out.

You cat tell him the true reason because you fear he doesn’t feel the same and you don’t want to ruin your friendship.

“I can’t” you say

You go to walk out when Fenrys grabs your wrist and gently pulls you towards him

Your so close now you can feel his heartbeat

And it’s beating at the same pace as yours if not faster

He moves his hands to cup your face and leans in

His lips meet yours and they’re soft.

You kiss him back and move your hands to run them through his blond hair that you love

His hands moves down your back leaving tingles everywhere he touches.

The kiss deapens quickly and it soon becomes hot and heavy

You open your mouth for him and his tongue explores your mouth

He hoist you up onto the counter so he can kiss you better

(Btw your like 3/4 of a head smaller than him)

When he finally pulls back both of you are breathing deeply.

“So why were you avoiding me”

You look at him and put your hand on his cheek

You place a quick kiss to his lips and whisper

“Because I love you Fenrys Moonbeam and I didn’t think you felt the same and it killed me”

Fenrys looked at you

“Well there was no need for that because I love you too Y/N”

You lean in to kiss him but stop just before your lips collide and whisper

“I think we should move this to the bedroom”

You feel his smile grow and jump off the countertop.

Fenrys looks at you as you take his hand in yours and drag him out of the pantry and up to the bedroom.

#fenrys #tog hc #fenrys hc #fenrys x reader #tog #throne of glass #fenrys imagine

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chase-galathynius · 7 years

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A-Z tag post

I was tagged by @all-the-world-is-verse-to-me thank you!!

A // Age: 20

B // Biggest Fear: To have no motivation or purpose, also, I hate sharks and the ocean scares me lol

C // Current Time: 1:04 pm

D // Drink You Last Had: Water

E // Every Day Starts With: Deciding what the hell I’m gonna do today, I’m on holiday...Otherwise I’d go to college.

F // Favourite Song: I always say Radioactive by Imagine Dragons coz that’s the only song that I still love since the very first time I heard it years ago.

G // Ghosts: Yeah

H // Hometown: Buenos Aires, Argentina.

I // In Love With: All my fictional characters, I love them so much, I’m not gonna write them all, sorry.

J // Jealous Of: People who know exactly what they want to do in their life, what they want to study etc.

K // Killed Someone: I don’t think so.

L // Last Time You Cried: Reading Empire of Storms count? I don’t remember the last time I cried because of real life things

M // Middle Name: Agustina, and it’s the one I use.

N // Number Of Siblings: I have two sisters and a brother, I’m the youngest one.

O // One Wish: To stop being so indecisive

P // Person Last Texted: My friend

Q // Questions You’re Always Asked: When are you going to start the gym?

R // Reasons To Smile: Friends, books, music, family and all that stuff

S // Song Last Sang: Dunno

T // Time You Woke Up: 11 am

U // Underwear Colour: Black

V // Vacation Destination: Dream trip? Norway or any of the northern coutries in Europe

W // Worst Habit: Procrastination and indecision.

X // X-rays You’ve Had: Amm hand X-rays a few times

Y // Your Favourite Food: Sushi

Z // Zodiac Sign: Gemini

I tag @agent-alex-danvers @a-court-of-rowaelin @micmac21 and whoever wants to do the tag

#tag

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hremes · 7 years

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tagged by @aelin (oopssss this took me a while to do BUT i actually remembered and i think it’s a step in the right direction)

rules: copy this post into a new text post, remove my answers and put in yours, and when you are done tag up to 10 people and also tag the person who tagged you… and most importantly, have fun!

a - age: 16 b - biggest fear: heights c - current time: 4:28 p.m. d - drink you last had: water e - every day starts with: updating my countdown blog (if i remember oops) f - favorite song: anything imagine dragons or halsey tbh g - ghosts, are they real: logically no, but if i just watched a show about them then yes h - hometown: chicago i - in love with: myself j - jealous of: feyre k - killed someone: nope l - last time you cried: idk maybe a couple of weeks ago?? m - middle name: payton :) n - number of siblings: one o - one wish: to rid the world of fascism p - person you last called/texted: @retourneralamer q - questions you’re always asked: “are you being sarcastic?” (yes) “would you ever cut your hair?” (yes, lmao i have) r - reasons to smile: the WOMEN’S MARCH YESTERDAY I MEAN. also dogs and animals in general and books and food and friends and i could go on s - song last sang: don’t wanna know--maroon 5 (it’s what’s playing on my ipod right now and i sing along to everythinggg) t - time you woke up: like 11 a.m. it was really bad u - underwear color: blue v - vacation destination: HAWAI’I w - worst habit: procrastination (honestly i should be writing an essay right now) x - x-rays you’ve had: one for when i broke my foot...i think that’s it? y - your favorite food: nutella z - zodiac sign: taurus

i tag @highfaerys, @rowaelin-is-endgame, @fuckyeahazriel, @readingbetweenworlds, @aelin-firebreathingbitchqueen, and anyone else who wants to do it!!

#thank you shelby!!! i love being tagged in things even if i suck at doing them on time #tag game

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throneofsapphics · 3 months

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old faces, part 9

Rowaelin x f!Reader

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

Warnings: brief mentions of difficult pregnancy/birth, drinking, mentions of death

Word Count: ~5.8k

A/N: sorry this one took so long!

series masterlist

Rowan looked for Aelin on instinct, wondering if she’d seen the same thing. On the other side of the ballroom, there was no inclination that she saw a thing. Should he tell her? Maybe.

A thousand emotions flooded through him; jealousy, hurt, betrayal, confusion, all surpassed by the desire to storm out of there and drag you far, far away from her. At least he had enough self-control to reign himself in. You were well within your rights to … be with whoever you wanted, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Aelin met his eyes. What is it?

A brief shake of his head, and she frowned - her expression telling him they’d be talking about it later, but dropped it. There’s a time and a place, and now certainly isn’t it.

Still, he couldn’t stop his own mind from wandering. Where the hell do they go from here?

He knows better than to think you were doing this to get their attention, but part of him wished you were. At least he’d know then that you wanted them. If anything, you were doing it to put some space between the three of you.

Was he going to fight for you this time? Did you want him to? Rowan was a tad ashamed he didn’t know the answer.

You ran a finger over your lips. They were bruised but not from who you really wanted.

You did this. Took the small blossom of hope, and crushed it. The small spark of happiness terrified you enough you had to destroy it. You didn’t belong to them, and you knew that, but any chances of it repeating itself were gone. It would’ve ended in flames anyway. This was you protecting yourself.

The more you played with the thought in your mind, letting it repeat itself until the words sounded strange, the less you believed it.

Maybe everyone would hate you, and maybe you’d deserve it. Space. You needed to put distance between yourself and the others. It was for the better, of course. Maybe Rowan and Aelin would never speak to you again beyond what was necessary. Sure, it would hurt, but less than having your heart ripped out.

Coward.

Pressing your forehead against the stone, steadying your breathing, you tried to get the word out of your mind, tried to clear your head of any thoughts. It didn’t work.

Running your hands over the gauzy fabric of your dress, you straightened it enough to look presentable. Rolling your shoulders, twisting your neck until you felt a rather satisfying pop, you put one foot in front of the other, the only goal making it to your rooms. At least Ceri was spending the night with Evangeline.

Hopefully nobody would comment on your early exit. You didn’t care. Right now, you needed to get the hell away from there, drink some water, and sleep this off. What are the odds you could avoid this for the next week? Part of you tried to convince yourself you were making a big deal out of something inconsequential, and that they might not have noticed. Sleep came easier than it should’ve, but you took the small win where you could.

A small buzzing sound woke you, and you darted upright in bed, eyes alert and scanning. You relaxed at the hauntingly familiar magic, before memories of the previous night woke you and you tensed again, every muscle locking and on alert.

It’s too damn early for this.

Glancing at the window, the sun had just begun to peak over the horizon.

Swinging your legs over, feet hitting the soft carpet, you snatched a robe and wrapped it around yourself. Despite springtime, an early chill still set in. The sounds of fire crackling hit you, the small wave of magic comforting of all things. Breathing in through your nose, out through your mouth, you strided for the door, hoping your posture portrayed some semblance of confidence.

“You’re up awfully early,” you commented. Aelin groaned, sprawled out over your couch, arm covering her eyes as if the faint light pained her. Rowan leaned against the wall next to the fireplace. He was tense, she was relaxed. One of them knew.

Tea. Tea first.

Wordlessly, you blew past them towards the small stove and kettle, busying your hands. Three mugs.

Minutes later, you handed one to Aelin, an appreciative smile crossing her face, before her nostrils flared.

“I thought I saw you dancing with a witch,” she huffed. There was nothing … accusatory in her voice. You forced a smile onto your face.

“Your eyes are still working.”

“More than dance.”

You might kill Rowan later. Aelin’s head tilted, gaze darting from you to Rowan, but you took a few steps away, hands clenching the mug, chin tilting up, focusing on the male, eyes glittering with defiance.

A shrug of your shoulders, and you took your place at your favorite armchair.

The flash of anger in Rowan’s eyes amused you. He came here for a fight, but he wouldn’t get one out of you. Had he spied on you last night? Followed you out to the garden?

Despite the drunken turmoil raging in your mind last night, your head had cleared and you knew a few things; you’d done nothing wrong, and you didn’t answer to them.

Aelin straightened, “what do you mean more?”

She looked at you for an answer. On one side, you could let them make their own assumptions, or you could tell them what happened in plain words. You didn’t get the chance.

In a blink, Rowan was in front of you, his hands gripping your forearms, mug clattering to the floor. One hand twined in the back of your hair, tugging your lips to his. His kiss is brutal - claiming, consuming, and territorial. The last thought sealed it for you.

You don’t belong to anyone,’ Fenrys’s words popped into your mind, and you ignored the irony of thinking about him when Rowan’s lips are on your own. Shoving his chest, you managed to push yourself a few steps back, he didn’t budge one inch.

“What is your problem?” Your breathing was heavy, lips already bruised.

“You’re my problem.”

“Oh,” you rolled your eyes, ignoring the faint buzzing in your ears, “that’s what every female wants to hear.”

His hand gripped your arm again, “what do you want to hear?” A brief pause, and his mouth opened as if he was going to say something else, but the door flung open.

“Thought I might find you in here,” Lysandra chirps and strolls into the room - either oblivious to the situation, or purposefully ignoring it. Rowan took a step back, eyes still narrowed on you. “The girls are still asleep,” Lysandra continued, striding for the couch Aelin was currently occupying, shoving her friends' legs aside and ignoring the snarl that might’ve sent a rational person running. “Did I miss something?” False innocence laced her voice.

When Rowan and Aelin slipped into one of their silent conversations, she shot a wink your way. Because she knew what happened? Or because she’d caught you in a rather … compromising position?

A hiss. You blinked. Halle was winding between your legs - hissing at Rowan. The male broke eye contact with Aelin, glancing at the cat with a stony expression. Hackles still risen, she didn’t back down.

This was too much. Not now, you couldn’t do this now. Standing abruptly, you threw some excuse out before retreating to your bedroom, ignoring the eyes digging into your back. Fur brushed against your calf, and you thanked the Gods for bringing this little creature into your life. It was a strange connection, but you knew she had your back.

“What the hell happened?” Lysandra asked.

Aelin stopped glaring at Rowan long enough to look at her best friend. The shifter raised one brow, and she looked back to her mate.

“What do we tell her?”

“It’s none of her business.” It really isn’t, but she needs someone who’s not him to talk about this with. “Tell her what you want,” Rowan’s eyes conveyed an air of exasperation.

“It’s weird when you do that,” Lysandra commented.

“And you sound like my cousin,” Aelin snapped back, finally breaking her connection with Rowan.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

Aelin huffed and stood, linking her arm through Lysandra’s and dragging the woman with her. Looking over her shoulder, Rowan was staring at your bedroom door.

“Rowan, I’m sure you’re needed somewhere,” she called. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t, but this is the last place he needs to be right now. The three of you need time, and Aelin needs to wake up enough to figure out what the hell happened between last night and the last few minutes. Barely audible footsteps sounded behind them, Rowan slipping out the door right after.

As it shut, magic slammed and barricaded behind her. Dropping Lysandra’s arm, she pivoted to gaze at the door. Locked out. There’s no way she’d get in without your explicit permission - that or one of them tearing down the shields, and gods know how long that could take. Her throat bobbed, and Rowan was glaring at the nearly imperceptible shimmer.

Lysandra’s warm hand closed around her own, “we need to talk,” and led her back to her rooms. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rowan head towards a window.

The conversation with Lysandra left her … reeling. In honesty, Aelin didn’t know what to think of the situation. Blindsided, yes, but was it really a betrayal If you weren’t with them? You were well in your rights to fuck whoever you wanted, but she still felt a bit hurt, maybe like she wasn’t enough.

Aelin hadn’t dealt with this kind of insecurity ever, or at least since she can remember.

Combined with Rowan’s little show, and your reaction, this was a mess, and that’s what she was trying to avoid. She didn’t like to admit it, but Rowan knew you better, he’d have an idea of what the hell that was about - if it was anything - once he had time to calm down. Then again … you hadn’t exactly reacted well to him. She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the golden strands. This was not how she thought her morning would go.

The timing was inconvenient. Glancing at the clock, it was nearly noon. Tomorrow morning, negotiations and meetings would start, and there certainly wouldn’t be any time to discuss this or figure out where they stood with you throughout the week.

Rowan’s magic hit her a second before the door swung open. She didn’t need to look at him to know he was still pissed. Sure enough, pine green eyes were filled with ire. Sitting next to her, he braced his forearms on his thighs, gaze fixed on the wall ahead of them.

“Are we going to talk about it?” She studied his profile. Clenched jaw, narrowed eyes, chest rising and falling at a too perfect rhythm.

“She’s a coward.”

That, she didn’t expect.

“Explain,” Aelin prompted. He looked at her, as if to eyes saying ‘isn’t it obvious?’, she ignored and waited for him to speak.

“She’s scared.”

The clipped answers weren’t going to cut it this time. “Actually explain it,” she didn’t bother keeping the annoyance out of her voice.

“She’s scared of getting close again. Too damn independent and stubborn to admit she actually wants us.”

“I want it,” you admitted to Fenrys, “but it’s not going to end well. I can’t put myself through that.”

“You haven’t actually tried,” he was trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice, and you appreciated the effort - even if it fell flat.

As if he knew you were brooding, he’d shown up and banged on your bedroom door until you came out.

Pausing for a moment, you replayed the events of the previous night in your head.

‘Remember to have fun. Remember you don’t belong to anyone,’ Fenrys looped his arm through yours.

“I should blame this on you,” you jabbed an elbow into his side. His shoulders rose and fell. “You’re the one who’s trying to stir something up.”

A half smirk on his face, but you knew he wouldn’t actually admit it - not yet. Out of character for the asshole, he was waiting for you to keep speaking.

“Is it immature if I avoid them until the week is over?” You finally asked.

“Maybe,” a trace of amusement found its way into his voice.

“He told me I'm his problem,” you huffed. A problem is the last thing you wanted to be.

“It’s not the way you think,” Fenrys snorted. This morning, all Rowan did was make it obvious he either wants you or thinks he has some kind of claim over you. Aelin … you weren’t really certain where she stood, or if she actually knew what happened last night. You assumed she does by now. Assumed that Rowan’s relayed the events in the worst possible way. It had been a few hours, you took the time to try and compose yourself, to calm your racing mind - it didn’t work well, and Fenrys showed up to get the full scoop from last night. To your surprise, he hadn’t known anything, but you were in the mood to talk so you’d relayed the whole story.

He, Evangeline, and Ceri were currently the only people your wards allowed through without your approval.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to explain?” He followed up.

“No. You’ll do it anyway.”

A small buzzing sound told you someone was nearby. Jasmine and lemon verbena hit a moment later. Alone. Just Aelin.

There wasn’t any point in trying to keep her out, and you bent the magic enough to let her through. There was no hesitation as the door swung open and she strode through. Like she would’ve on any other day. Like you hadn’t just shut them out for the first time in months. Not that you were searching for one, definitely not.

One pointed look from her, and Fenrys left, sending a wince your way. That should’ve been enough of a warning sign. She settled on a chair across from you, looking every bit a Queen. Halle jumped up from your lap, crouching in front of your feet instead, tail swishing back and forth, hitting your ankles with each pass. Effectively, she’d put herself between the two of you. A barrier. It unnerved you, that your cat thought they might be some kind of threat. Aelin glanced at her, holding the cat’s gaze for a moment, before her eyes returned to you.

“Is this a joke to you?”

“Excuse me,” you straightened, spine stiffening.

“The way we feel about you. We’ve made it obvious. Tell me now if it is, I don’t like being made a fool.” There was a coldness in her, a sharpness in her tone you hadn’t heard directed at you.

The easy thing to do would be to cow, to bend, to appease, but you were sick of doing that.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” you kept a quiet confidence in your voice, somehow meeting her eyes.

“Is this some kind of test?” You’d always been good at reading people, and those years of observation came through. Aelin was hurt, yes, but there was a tinge of insecurity.

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

Honesty, honesty, honesty, you chanted in your mind.

“This won’t end well,” you swallowed, “and I can’t put myself through that.”

A harsh laugh. “You haven’t even tried. We haven’t tried,” Aelin ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it. “Maybe Rowan’s right about you being a coward.”

This time, you laughed - the sound harsh to your ears. Not a laugh of joy - of disbelief. She’d been paying attention to Rowan, then. Figuring out exactly what words would get a reaction out of you, would light a fire under your ass. Halle hadn’t reacted, and maybe it made you insane but you knew you were still safe somehow - that even your cat was still weighing the situation.

“I prefer to call it self-preservation,” you said coolly, even as anger rose in you. Her eyes flashed, mouth turning up at one corner, gone before you could fully register it. She knew what was brewing in you, even as you tried to hide it.

“Why are you fighting it?”

Aelin was good. Her questions and words threw you off, darting in different directions and testing different angels. A dormant part of you stirred, thrilled at the challenge.

“It’s not that easy.”

“We want you, you want us,” she countered. “That’s pretty simple to me.”

You shook your head.

“Is it what others think?” Aelin prompted, her expression told you she’d have choice words or flames for anyone who tried to judge.

“It’s not,” you admitted. She watched expectantly, waiting for you to explain.

In that moment, you realized something crucial. Aelin was fighting for you.

Embarrassingly, you burst into fucking tears.

Just as Aelin thought you might finally explain what the hell was going through your mind, just as she saw the cracks form, you started crying and they crumbled.

Without thinking, she instantly rose, making her way across the room, one eye on your cat. When she wasn’t attacked, she pressed herself against your side, arms wrapping around your shoulders and tugging you into her. Halle padded off, and maybe she needed more caffeine, because she could’ve sworn the cat disappeared into the shadows.

Was it something she said? The ‘coward’ comment was a bit harsh, and not entirely true, but she didn’t think that was it. These didn’t seem like tears of rage or sadness. Not knowing set her on edge, and all she wanted was to start pestering you for answers, but a semblance of awareness kept her mouth shut, and kept her arms around you. Right now, even with the mess, you were leaning into her, trusting her, letting yourself get whatever release this was, and she’d take it.

One arm around your shoulders, your head buried into her side, fingers running through your hair, she waited until the tears subsided, and then a while longer before speaking.

“What was that about?”

You hesitated, and she watched you weigh your answer.. She’d know if you were lying, and mentally begged for you to tell her the truth.

“I could be wrong,” you kept your voice barely above a whisper, “but it seems like you’re fighting for me.”

Her hand stilled, before she moved enough to see your face. Tears still staining your face, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, she’d never seen you look this vulnerable. “Of course I am.”

In that moment, Aelin realized something crucial. Rowan hadn’t fought for you, and whether you knew it or not it was still stuck in your subconscious, still keeping you from diving into this. This wasn’t simple, not at all, but she doubted she could get the two of you to come to a consensus by the end of the day. A truce. There needed to be some kind of middle ground, or mutual understanding - something to keep everything at bay for now.

“It’s not simple,” Aelin said, feeling more than hearing you stifle laughter. Ignoring the satisfaction currently rolling off you in waves, she continued “We want you, you want us,” you stiffened, but didn’t pull away. “There’s not enough time to figure this out today.” She ran her thumb back and forth over your shoulder, the fabric thin enough she felt the heat of your skin.

“There’s not,” you replied, slowly.

“What if we leave it at that, and promise to talk about it after the week is over?”

You were quiet, long enough she began to doubt herself. Gods, you might be the only person who could drag out this kind of uncertainty in her and she might start cursing you for it.

“Alright … just keep the territorial fae bullshit at bay.”

A genuine laugh came right from her chest. That second portion was definitely intended to reach Rowan’s ears, and she’d take great pleasure in relaying the message word for word. Messenger. Not a role she’d take on permanently, but she’d do it for now to keep the peace. Based on this morning’s interaction, Aelin got the sense it was better for you and Rowan to wait until after the week’s over to talk any of this through.

Arrangements had already been made for Ceri to stay in the castle throughout the week. You’d refused, and were grateful for it. Space was good, even if you’d come to some kind of understanding with Aelin. After the week, you wouldn’t just roll over on your belly for them. Nothing would bloom overnight, you’d take the time and test if it might actually work, and trust your gut. The three of you were immortal, time was plentiful

Rowan’s reaction - even if it was hot, even if you’d replayed the moment in your mind a few times, still pissed you off. The two of you needed time to cool your heads, to breathe, and Aelin had picked up on that. Ideally, it would’ve been just two or three days, but circumstances prevented that. Hopefully, your advisor role would keep you busy enough throughout the week to keep your mind off of them, or at least to provide a bit of distraction. Gods know you need that right now for your sanity..

You’d already told Ceri you’d see her tomorrow, and she’d gone off with Aelin and Rowan for ‘royal duties.’ You didn’t envy her.

Hands braced on your balcony, you saw the city bustling with excitement. After mid-day, several members of the foreign delegations took to the streets, and markets were in full bloom to sell their wares. You wondered if any of your items would make it into foreign hands. Shaking the thought, you debated whether or not you’d actually make the walk through the city.

The last thing you wanted right now was to run into anyone you might know from your past, and although you hadn’t spotted anyone last night, you’d been regretfully distracted.

Taking a few back passages, you made your way to a shadowed corner on the first floor before shifting. This was a risk on its own, especially if you ran into anyone from the southern continent, but, you’d move quicker this way.

Stretching, you tested out the form. It had been a while since you’d shifted. Maybe a week or two. Feline senses were sharper, emotions were clear and simple, and you embraced it.

Blending into the shadows, not a soul recognized you as you made your way through the city. Thanks to the strange magic, the normal half hour walk - likely closer to three quarters an hour with the crowd, took about ten minutes. You spent the rest of the day touching up on notes, rearranging your books, and mentally running through questions you might be asked, before falling into an uneasy sleep.

Day one, you were summoned twice.

Day two, the Court predicted you’d be called in several times - so you’d shown up at the castle to wait around. Better than making the walk back and forth. Sure enough, you were called into several that day, speaking to so many people your mind was frazzled by the end, and after a glass of wine you fell into an easy sleep.

Day three, you only came around midday to check in on Ceri, but an old face caught up with you.

“Y/n,” a gentle but firm voice called as you attempted to retreat down the hall. It was … familiar.

Pasting an ease-going smile on your face, you turned back to see Yrene Towers - now Yrene Westfall.

“Hello,” you called - the smile turning genuine. You wondered if she remembered you, and part of you hoped she didn’t. She’d delivered your child after all, and that had been traumatic enough to keep you from ever getting pregnant again. Fae births were notoriously difficult, and you were no exception.

Her husband was a few feet behind, eyeing you warily, as she closed the distance.

“You’re doing well,” she paused a few feet ahead. She did remember.

“Much thanks to you,” you admitted.

“I was quite junior back then,” her mouth turned up at the corner, and she cleared her throat. “I met your … cat, the other day.”

It was a lot of effort to keep yourself still, to keep your reactions schooled pleasant. “Halle.”

She smiled. “How did she end up here?”

Of course she’d know Halle was part baast-cat, and be curious about it. They rarely ever left the Torre library, as far as you knew, or mixed with other cats.

“She showed up one day.” The truth sounded quite ridiculous coming from your lips. Her brows rose. “It surprised me.”

She nodded, more to herself. At least she believed you.

“How do you find Terrasen?”

“I love it here, even with the weather.”

A laugh left her, and you found yourself smiling. You’d seen the healer several times when she still lived in Antica, and she was always kind. If you guessed correctly, you’d arrived around the same time.

“Years later, even Adarlan feels freezing.”

“Compared to Antica, everywhere is.”

You fell into easy conversation, reminiscence. It didn’t draw any homesickness for you. Maybe a desire to visit again, but not to move back there. Should it have? That was a question to ponder later. The longer the conversation went on, the more discomfort settled in you. The questions and direction turned more personal. Not too invasive, or rude by social standards, but you’d always been a particularly private person for a reason.

Footsteps, quiet your company didn’t notice, and your eyes flicked behind her, finding Aedion striding up the corridor, and he met your eyes, a brief nod.

“Y/n,” he called as he got closer. “You’re wanted.”

Teeth tugged at your bottom lip, fighting back a snarky remark. “It was good to see you,” you told her, nodding towards Chaol, and stepped around them, Aedion falling into step beside you.

“Wanted by who?” You waited until you were out of human hearing range.

“By many, I'm sure.” He grinned at your glare. “You just looked like you needed a rescue.”

Chuckling, you ran your hand down your face, relieved there wasn’t actually anyone requesting you, and grateful he’d shown up. “Thank you.”

“Everything alright?”

“Just a lot of questions,” you muttered.

Aedion snorted, “I thought you’d be used to that by now,” and ignored the jab of your elbow. Yes, you’d been grilled during every meeting, but that was different. Actually, you’d enjoyed it - sharing your knowledge. Personal questions were different.

Voices came, speaking Halha, nearly rounding the corner - several paces down but they’d see you in moments. Gods, that’s the last thing you need.

Aedion grabbed the crook of your elbow, shoving the two of you through a door you hadn’t seen, right into a servants passage. A hand over your mouth muffled your own squeak of surprise. He jerked his head, and you followed him - cobwebs in some of the corners. Apparently this one hadn’t been used in quite some time.

“I know this castle well,” he said, taking a left. “Not many use this passage anymore. Or know it exists.” Based on the thick layer of dust, it had probably been a few years since anyone walked through here. “I trust you to keep the secret,” a half-smile sent your way, over his shoulder.

It didn’t come out quite like a threat, maybe more of a warning. Not many know of it, and he’d like to keep it that way.

“I’ll keep it to myself,” you promised, but knew you’d be back to explore through them another time. Nothing about the promise said you couldn’t go back.

“I’m ready for this week to be over,” Aedion admitted, holding the door open for you, exiting close to one of the private gardens, right near the back of the castle.

“So am I,” you added absentmindedly. Not really, you really weren’t. The end of this week meant you’d be facing a different type of meeting - one you were still wholly unprepared for, despite writing lists of the things you want to say. The hardest part would be sticking to your boundaries, but with the help of your lists and maybe some liquid courage you could do it.

The week was nearly over before you knew it, the second to last day arrived and everything went too smoothly, and you felt like you were constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“May I speak with you?” A male with soft brown eyes, tanned skin, and light hair asked politely.

“Of course,” you tried not to grimace, the morning hadn’t gotten off to a great start. This was your job, after all, to answer any kind of questions that might pop up. He tilted his head to the side, motioning towards a more secluded area - a garden. Against better judgment, you followed. Once you were partially obscured from view, he stopped. Too hidden. The hair on the back of your neck rose.

He shifted from one foot to the other, glancing up at the sky. Annoyed, you pursed your lips - ready to ask what the fuck he wanted (you’d spilt your tea this morning and not had time to make another cup), but his mouth opened.

“You are quite difficult to find,” his smile wasn’t genuine, nor was the statement entirely true.

“I’m always here,” you countered, not bothering to hide the snappish tone You’ve been ‘on-call’ this entire week.

“Well, to find alone,” he corrected, both hands up in a placating gesture, “not in a creepy way, I promise.”

Bullshit. You’d bet gold he hoped that was a reassuring or disarming smile. His nostrils flared when you didn’t reply to him, didn’t assure him you found it perfectly normal - you didn’t, and placating a male wasn’t on your to-do list for the day.

“There’s an artifact we’re looking to track down, we could use your expertise.”

This quickly treaded into dangerous territory, and he had a glint in his eyes. The male was Akkadian, a nation that used to ally closely with Maeve. The fact that they had a delegation here, told you they weren’t a large threat to Terrasen, but everything about this situation felt wrong.

Every warning sense inside of you flared, telling you you shouldn’t be alone with him, shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t entertain this. Your magic subtly tested the area, and felt no-one familiar nearby. Fuck. You were capable on your own, but a likely centuries old Fae warrior was before you.

“I’m afraid that’s not in my skill set,” you said, “but I’d be happy to guide you towards some resources.”

“I thought it was in your blood,” his mouth curved into a half-smile - like he thought he’d trapped you somehow.“ I’d recognize one of you anywhere.”

Like an actor slipping into a role, you let puzzlement fill your features, “I beg your pardon?”

He pinned a look with you, like you were being annoyingly obtuse. He wasn’t wrong, but you wouldn’t let him get away with vague statements or threats.

“One of your ancestors' creations,” the way he said the word stiffened your spine, “is in circulation, causing some problems.”

“Consequences can pass through time and generations,” he said quietly, poking at the fire. “If someone seeks you out, asks you to find or create something, treat it with caution.” The words seemed to pain him. “Not all will have bad intentions, but even the best intentions can be skewed by greed.” He reached into his pack, flipping a dagger so the hilt faced you, and pressed it into your palm. You felt the magic immediately, and your jaw dropped. The runes and wyrdmarks were intricate. “Here’s a new lesson,” you perked up. “Take that, make it so only you can use it properly.”

“Thank you,” it was a gift - really, that he trusted you with the object.

“If you find another,” a creased but strong hand gripped yours tightly, you fought back a wince. “Promise me you’ll destroy it.”

Gripping the hilt tightly, feeling the magic flow again, a shiver ran down your spine and you swore an oath you would. Relief flooded his features.

Blinking back to the present, he had an expectant look on his face. Instinct told you he wanted this personally. If it was a state matter, there would’ve been others here to discuss it. Sure, you’d like more details, to ask more probing questions, but that would give you away. Right now, he was looking for confirmation and you couldn’t give that. A small thread tugged at you, a female voice whispering in your ear, leave.

“I don’t know what you’re speaking of,” not a lie - you really didn’t, “but as I said, I’d be happy to guide you towards some resources.” His lip curled back, but you didn’t give him a chance to reply. “I’m expected,” your voice was confident and firm. “Let me know if you’d like me to put some notes together.”

You stepped around him, striding as quickly as you could without running. Maybe you’d taken him by surprise, because several seconds passed before you heard footsteps following.

Taking a sharp turn, you shifted and melted into the shadows.

Weaving through corridors, you found no peace until you had eyes on Ceri, finding Halle already curled next to her, eyes alert. The clock struck noon, and you watched a few more seconds - taking notes of the guards in presence, the sense of danger and panic ebbing away, before heading to the meeting you were now late for.

Vastly out of character, you’d shown up a few minutes after the intended starting time. Others were late, of course, but as long as he’d known you you’d always been early. Face pale and drawn, Rowan knew something was wrong. Scanning you, there weren’t any physical injuries. You were avoiding his gaze, not that you’d done much looking at each other throughout the week, but now it felt especially pointed.

Someone drew you into conversation, and he watched as a mask slid into place, few others would notice something was actually wrong. He nearly snarled at Fenrys when he tapped his shoulder, but the other male jerked his head towards the meeting room. At least you’d be in this one, where he could keep a discreet eye on you.

“Make sure y/n doesn’t leave after, something’s wrong,” he told Fenrys under his breath, an order.

The male stiffened next to him, and nodded. He watched onyx eyes trail over to you, before narrowing. You two had an easy-going friendship, and Rowan knew Fenrys was protective over you, just as you were over him. He hated it, but Fenrys was the best person to find out what’s actually wrong.

taglist: @holb32 @fussel9913 @moonlightttfae @cassianswh0reeee, @reidishh, @shanias-world @fightmedraco @goldenmagnolias @hannzoaks @jennamelinda12 @daughterofthemoons-stuff

#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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throneofsapphics · 4 months

Note

i know we’ve all been requesting so much poly rowaelin lately but i was thinking of a drabble with rowan spanking reader and aelin holding her down and wiping her tears 🤓

if/when you have time and feel like writing this, of course 💕

stay still

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: Aelin helps you stay still.

Warnings: spanking, light dacryphillia, nsfw, smut, d/s dynamics, implied subspace - this really is pure smut, no plot. minors dni!

A/N: I’ve been trying to write this for a few days but I kept sweating every time I thought about it, but now I'm drinking wine from the bottle so here we go! thank you for the request <3

Your leg kicked up involuntarily to try and cover your ass. Rowan seemed to delight in shoving it back down, in pushing you closer to submission with each strike. The next one hit right where your ass met your thighs, and your legs close together, hands flying back to try and cover yourself.

A snarl comes from him, pressing into you, pants rough against your raw skin, your hands now pinned to your back as his body folded over you. “I thought you said you could stay still,” his voice is in your ear, breath warming your neck.

A whimper is your only response. You had said that, and trying to defend yourself would only make it worse. Rowan snorted, his hand gripping your hair, arching your head back at an uncomfortable angle. “You know what to say if you’re done.”

Safeword. You shook your head, you wanted the pain - wanted the pleasure that came with it, wanted anything he would give you. The door opened, but he kept your head at an angle you couldn’t see. You didn’t need to see to know who it was, her presence and the scent of jasmine and lemon verbena gave it away. Besides, Rowan wouldn’t let anyone but Aelin in here during this … at least you thought so. Maybe if you pissed him off enough he would shove you down in front of everyone and spank your ass raw. That idea thrilled and terrified you, but he was possessive enough it would never happen.

Rowan’s grip released, but a smaller hand wrapped around your chin, tilting you to meet Aelin’s eyes.

“Can’t stay still?” She purred. They must’ve had one of their silent conversations.

Words were too difficult, especially with Rowan slowly running his hand over your ass, deceptively gentle, so you shook your head as best you could.

She hummed, dropping you. Your cheek hit the comforter, and you had a few seconds to breathe, still keeping your eyes on her.

A wicked grin appeared on her face as your forearms crossed parallel over your back, one of Aelin’s hands pinning them in place - shoving you further into the bed, her other hand running through your hair. “Will you stay still for me? Be good?” She asked softly. The look on her face told you she wanted words, and you dragged them up the best you could.

“I’ll try.”

No more false promises.

“At least you’re honest,” she clicked her tongue, looking away from you.

Gods, you’d almost forgotten about Rowan.

Crack.

A half sob left you. He was hitting harder, and kept changing his rhythm - sometimes hitting the same place twice, others alternating, slowing to lull you into false security. You knew what he was waiting for, for the final proof of your submission - tears.

“You’re doing so well,” Aelin cooed, pushing away the strands of hair starting to stick to your face.

Crack.

You finally screamed, tears flooding in earnest, burying your head into the comforter, face rubbing against the soft fabric. Rowan’s hand gripped your hair brutally, forcing you to look at Aelin.

Her eyes were soft as she brushed the tears away with her thumb, gasps still leaving you. Pushing her thumb between your tips, instinctively you parted, tongue swirling around, sucking eagerly.

“Perfect, love,” she pulled her hand away, and glanced behind you. At Rowan. He released gently this time, Aelin’s hand left the small of your back - but you didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Your legs were shaking, your entire body shaking as you tried to center yourself.

Whimpering, you were tugged up the bed, raw skin rubbing against the fabric of Aelin’s pants as she held you close to her chest. You were keenly aware of the wet pooling between your legs, of the coil starting to build inside of you, and her hand trailed down your body as you pressed closer to her, twisting you bury your face in her chest. A small laugh, and you jerked as her fingers brushed against your core, gathering your arousal. The touch was gone as soon as it came, and you lifted your head just enough to see her extending her fingers to Rowan. His eyes on you as he took them in his mouth, tasting you on her.

Something like satisfaction in his eyes, that the pain he gave you turned into that. “I think she’s earned her reward.”

There wasn’t time to think further, no time to even throw out a thanks as Aelin’s skilled fingers found your center, slipping inside you as the heel of her palm ground into your clit. Rowan’s lips swallowed your moan, his canines tugging at your bottom lip as Aelin set a leisurely pace. You could taste yourself on him, he consumed you fully - his hand cupping your jaw to tilt you to the perfect angle for him.

“Please please please,” each word slipped into the other, mumbled against his lips like a prayer.

“Go on.”

Three harsh thrusts, and you were clenching around her - your entire body exploding, thrown over a cliff, head thrown back in something between a moan and a scream, maybe their names, you didn’t know.

Then you were falling, half present as your mind slowly crept back to the present. Underwater, voices muffled around you. All you felt was content, safe.

Minutes or hours later, cradled between two bodies, your head felt clear again.

“Hello,” you mumbled, looking up through half-lidded eyes at Rowan, Aelin curled behind you, snoring softly. You made a mental note to make fun of her for that later.

“Hello, love,” his thumb brushed across your cheekbone. Had he been watching you the entire time? “Good to have you back,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, before tugging you - away from Aelin and into him. A disgruntled grunt behind you, followed by a snarl - you were oddly pleased that woke her up.

Exhaustion hit you, and even with their bickering and mini-territory war, you fell asleep against him.

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

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throneofsapphics · 4 months

Text

old faces series masterlist

poly!Rowaelin x f!Reader

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

Series Warnings: drinking, death, grief, violence, injuries, incest jokes, flashbacks/ptsd, mentions of pregnancy/birth

one // two // three // four // five // six // seven // eight // nine // ten // eleven // twelve // thirteen // fourteen // fifteen

if you want to be added to the taglist you can comment under any part/this post or send me an ask/message :)

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

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throneofsapphics · 2 months

Text

old faces, part 10

Rowaelin x f!Reader

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

Warnings: mentions of drinking, panic attack, references to death, child labor

Word Count: ~4.5k

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

series masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it matter?”

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

‘Exactly’, was your mistake.

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

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

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

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

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

“Right where we are,” he corrected.

“I’m not that scared.”

“So you admit you’re scared?”

“Oh fuck off,” you snapped at him.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s safer for me to be at home.”

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

“Don’t fucking underestimate me.”

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

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

“It’s common sense, not coddling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want?”

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

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

“Andal said you were.”

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

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

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

“Oh he speaks,” you teased.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Advice that cannot wait until tomorrow?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One, you’d be able to tell.

Two, it felt like an insult to your intelligence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

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

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

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

Sounds like bullshit, Aelin thought, but kept listening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not your -”

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

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

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

“Getting revenge?” Rowan raised a brow.

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

“Sensing can be taught,” you replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How will that tell you what they want?”

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

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

taglist: @holb32 @fussel9913 @moonlightttfae @cassianswh0reeee, @reidishh, @shanias-world @fightmedraco @goldenmagnolias @hannzoaks @jennamelinda12 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @acourtofbatboydreams @lennyhhh @prrius-tylersapphire @aelinrhys @theworthlessqueen @anxious-study

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throneofsapphics · 5 months

Text

old faces, part seven

Rowaelin x f!Reader

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

Warnings: mentions of death, drinking, flashbacks/ptsd

Word Count: ~6k

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

series masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aelin gave you an incredulous look.

“She’s never met a dog.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you … talk to her?”

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

Rowan rolled his eyes, you knew what he meant.

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

“Why would I spill our secrets to you?”

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

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

“When was the last time you shifted?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A track? Music?

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

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

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

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

The music was from Antica - he knew that much.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh absolutely. We should do it again.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just pointing out the obvious.”

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

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

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

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

“Who … who will be there?”

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

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

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

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

“I asked about the ball.”

Rowan swore lightly under his breath.

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

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

“I should go,” you murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s better,” he teased. “Why?”

“Bad memories.”

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

The only similarities were the ball.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head.

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

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

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

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

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

“Safe,” another said. Female.

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

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

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

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

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

“When your parents died?” Aelin asked quietly.

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

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

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

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

“How are you going to explain my presence?”

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

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

They actually value your opinion, you reminded yourself.

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

“I swear it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go on, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ve had plenty of those.”

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

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

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

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

“One,” She grinned at you.

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

“Three.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neither did everyone gathered around them.

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

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

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

“Are you certain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why?

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe I will.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-what do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Easier said than done.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Definitely not.

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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throneofsapphics · 5 months

Text

old faces, part four

Rowaelin x f!Reader

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

Warnings: drinking, mentions of death and injuries

Word Count: ~6.4k

A/N: sorry this took longer than expected! I appreciate all of your support so much <3

series masterlist

There had been a few … discussions over who would greet them. Eventually, they decided Rowan and Aelin would meet them first - and the rest of the court the next day at breakfast. Evangeline made the most logical argument - that they would completely overwhelm them. Lorcan added they were stuck with Fenrys’s company for weeks and might already be approaching their limit.

Rowan had a feeling you and Fenrys got along just fine, you certainly seemed to be back in Antica. An uncomfortable but familiar emotion surged in him. Jealousy? Jealousy that Fenrys got to spend that much time with his daughter, not that he spent that time with you, he convinced himself.

The carriage rolled up, the doors swung open. Fenrys first, followed by Reya, you, Ani, and finally Ceri. Who hid behind you again, just like the first time they’d met. Rowan tried not to frown, he knew it would take time for her to warm up.

“You can say hello, if you’d like,” you murmured quietly, hair falling so it shielded half of your face. Were you shy all of the sudden? Ceri took another step forward, stopping a few feet in front of you. She looked back at you, you sent an encouraging nod her way. She paused, shifted her body to the side, and grabbed Ani’s hand - dragging her friend with her.

Rowan’s mouth curved in amusement as they both paused in front of them. Then, he realized he had no fucking idea what to do.

Aelin crouched down, arms opened, and the two looked at each other - some kind of silent communication passing through, before they both launched themselves at his Queen. Her laughter echoed through the courtyard, arms wrapping around the two of them.

Rowan watched them for a moment, Aelin asking them about their trip - the two of them chattering about this and that, about a new card game, something about ‘self-defense’ lessons, etc.

But, you were quiet, and Fenrys … Fenrys looked like he was about to deliver bad news. You’d turned slightly away from him, hair shielding half of your face and your focus on Aelin and the girls was pointed. Avoiding looking at him.

“You’re early,” Rowan finally said as Aelin rose.

“It’s because of the bad man,” Ani said - before Ceri could shush her.

Bad man. Bad man. Bad man.

Rowan saw red, crouching to look over Ceri - no injuries, scars, bruises, anything to show something’s amiss. His daughter leaned towards him, cupping her hands around her mouth. “It’s mum that was hurt,” she whispered pointed towards you, in what she probably thought was a discreet way, “not me, but he’s dead now and it healed.”

“Thank you,” Rowan forced a smile onto his face, clamped down harshly on his anger.

“I think we have things to talk about,” Aelin said, voice calm and steady.

“We do.” Fenrys said, you nodding in agreement.

“I know the perfect guide for you,” Aelin smiled warmly at the two girls, and Reya. It was obvious this conversation needed to be between the four of them, and Reya seemed relieved to be excluded. Aelin led them back, stopping just before the entrance hall before disappearing.

Minutes later, she returned - Evangeline in tow. Aelin murmured a few instructions to her, referencing the specific wing and rooms for your group, and they took off.

“Are you going to tell me what the hell happened?” Rowan directed at Fenrys.

You cut in, “it didn’t involve him.” Your cheeks flushed as you found yourself the center of attention - but you kept going. “We went to the park, on our way back I noticed something off - shoved the three of them behind the wards, and kept the attacker away long enough for an archer to shoot him. A mortal magic wielder.”

Kept them at bay. Against a mortal, you should’ve been able to kill them within the first minute. “You were trying to get answers from him.” Rowan observed, not asked, but you confirmed that with a nod. Fenrys laid a comforting hand on your shoulder, and from the corner of his vision, he saw Aelin’s eyes narrow.

“The archer killed him before I could.”

As a nervous habit, one hand brushed your hair away, tucking it behind your ear - you froze, palm over your cheek, white rings around your eyes.

“They’ll see it eventually,” Fenrys said quietly, squeezing your shoulder.

Aelin was bristling next to him, and he wasn’t much better. See what?

Slowly, so gods-damned slowly, your hand lowered down to your side. A nasty looking scar sliced across your cheek. It looked painful, and for it to scar like that …

“The cut wasn’t bad, but the blade was iron and enchanted. Not a curse, just to leave a mark,” you tugged your bottom teeth between your lips, debating your next words. “I think it’s obvious, the knife wasn’t meant for me. We left the next night.”

“If there’s any updates, they’ll send word.” Fenrys added.

“How did it happen?” Somehow, he managed to keep his voice and words steady. Someone tried to kill his daughter. Aelin’s warm hand against his shoulder kept him anchored, kept him steady. Tried to kill you, his … the mother of his child didn’t feel right. A friend, he settled on for now. Tried to kill his friend, and succeeded in injuring her.

As you explained the story, his temper flared. He wanted to ask how you could be so stupid, how you could put the two … four of you at danger like that, but Fenrys was glaring at him and he held his tongue.

“You’ll need to see a healer and get that checked,” was all he could manage.

“We,” Aelin emphasized, squeezing his shoulder, “are glad you both are safe.”

“Thank you,” the words were soft before your eyes narrowed, a subtle bite edging into your tone, “I don’t need a healer, it’s fine.”

“It wasn’t a suggestion.”

“For fucks sake,” Fenrys muttered, “I’ll take you to the healers, let them poke a bit, and it’ll shut him up.” Rowan’s eyes promised vengeance, and Fenrys ignored him. You were biting back a laugh, which he supposed was a good thing, considering the news you’d just dropped.

“We’ll go tomorrow,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into your side. The way you looked at him - completely friendly and platonic, but an ugly feeling surged in his stomach. They should be the friends that were there for you. “Unless your majesty and highness have an objection,” the male challenged him.

“No objections,” Aelin glanced down at her nails - a tactic she uses to divert frustration, “but we’ll be meeting the rest of our court for a late breakfast,” she looked up at you, a wicked amusement gleaming in those eyes, “I imagine it will be interesting.”

“Should I be nervous?” your tongue darted out to lick your bottom lip, Aelin’s watched the movement, but she caught herself and met your eyes instead. Rowan noted that little moment, something to think on later.

“I think you’ll be nervous no matter what I say.”

A huff, but you agreed, and Fenrys carted you off towards your rooms. He knew exactly what you’d be seeing - a suite, complete with a bathing room, bedroom, sitting area, and breakfast table, connected to a small hall - two bedrooms with private baths on either side, perfect for Ceri and Ani, and straight across the hall was Reya’s suite, identical to yours.

Aelin took the time to hunt through the castle for the perfect set of rooms for the three of you, and decided on these.

The two girls couldn’t leave without having to go through one of your rooms, and they’d made sure the hinges on the doors all squeaked loudly. Rowan was proud of how much thought they’d put into it, and part of him hoped you would be too.

He shouldn’t care that much about your opinion or approval. You shouldn’t be taking up this much of his mind, shouldn’t be echoing in his thoughts like this.

Rowan and Aelin had thought of everything, down to the extra loud doors, the twin desks stocked with paper and various colored pencils and paints, the snacks in the small cabinets, the layout of the rooms … you’d walked in to Reya and Evangeline, a teenage woman maybe seven or eight years older than your daughter, you guessed. But … she was already sitting next to them, another piece of paper out to draw, making encouraging comments to each of them.

“They’re getting along well,” Reya leaned back on the loveseat, a glass of wine already in hand. “I was kicked out of the drawing circle.”

“You don’t look too upset over it,” you took your cloak off, carefully slinging it over the back of a chair.

The trunks were stacked against an opposite wall, backpacks balanced on top of them.

“I told them not to put anything away,” Reya followed your gaze, “I figured you’d want to do it yourself. I know I do.”

“Thank you,” you collapsed into the couch next to her. Putting things away felt a bit … permanent. Would you? They’d promised you could explore different parts of Terrasen, but had never given you a timeline.

Couch cushions rustled, glass clanked, and a hefty serving of wine was pushed into your hand. For the first time since you’d seen Rowan again, you let yourself relax.

Aelin watched as Rowan paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, wearing down the carpet. She liked that carpet. His fists clenched, on and off. It had been ten minutes of letting him stew in silence, and she was done with it.

“They’re safe,” she emphasized, “and here, with us.” Evangeline had reported back that they all seemed in good spirits, and the two girls were heading to bed as she left.

“She has a scar,” he ran one hand through his hair, his eyes meeting hers; and it’s my fault.

“We all have scars,” Aelin tried to keep her voice gentle, “and it takes two to make a baby.”

He pinned her with a look that said; that’s not the point. Aelin scented Fenrys, and seconds later she heard a knock on the door. Holding her hand up to Rowan, him freezing in place, she opened it herself, mouthing over her shoulder; be nice.

He shut the door behind him, and leaned back against it, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Go on, ask your questions.”

“What did you see?” Aelin spilled the words out before Rowan could.

“Not much,” he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest. “She was trying to subdue him - as you know, the archer across the street killed him instead. There was an enchanted blade - iron, with some marks carved into the handle. She destroyed it.”

“Was he one of the men watching?” One of the lurkers that hung around her house for several days.

Surprisingly, Fenrys shook his head.

“We don’t know anything else,” his onyx eyes shifted from her, over to Rowan, “dead men can’t talk,” he deadpanned.

Gods, the last thing she needs is the two of them getting into it tonight. Fenrys made a quick exit, promising he’d bring you by the healers before breakfast. Then, he and Evangeline would bring you down to meet everyone.

Rowan, however, was still tearing a hole in the fucking carpet, and she tried a different tactic. “What would y/n say, if she saw you like this?”

He paused, slowly turning his head to meet her; like he was looking for some kind of trick or trap. There was none, she was just trying to get his head out of his ass. Not seeing one, he finally answered, “I don’t know anymore.”

The healers weren’t concerned, didn’t sense any kind of malignant magic or poison, and only confirmed what she already knew; a blade designed to leave a scar, and that’s it. She was still seething at Rowan’s ‘not a suggestion.’ Overprotective Fae bullshit. He had no claim to her, no need to protect her. The little nasty voice in the back of her mind told her it’s only because she’s the mother of his child, just as he was the father of hers. Co-parents, that would be the extent of their ‘relationship,’ anything else might complicate things - and she doesn’t want to give anyone a reason to think she might end up as a homewrecker.

Reya linked one arm through hers, your daughters ahead of you - each holding on to one of Evangeline’s hands, periodically looking over their shoulders to make sure the two of you were still present. Not that you could go anywhere, trapped between Fenrys and Reya.

Steadying your breathing, you followed through the oak doors into an informal, thank the gods, dining room. Large windows showed a beautiful view of the city, the table already stacked with food, and what must be the rest of her court.

Ceri had retreated, half hiding behind you now, Ani doing the same to your right.

“It’s alright,” you kept your voice low, “they’re the new friends Fenrys told you about.”

“All horrible things, I’m sure,” the female with an ever changing scent. A shifter. Lady Lysandra.

Fenrys made an exaggerated ‘shh’ noise, drawing a giggle from Ceri, who stepped out from behind you. Evangeline swooped in to take over introductions for the girls, everything happened almost in a blur around you as you shook hands - told preemptively not to bow or curtsey, and ended up seated at the table.

You watched as your daughter shedded her shy skin, quickly chattering about anything and everything, answering every question shot her away, returning with one of her own.

Aedion was studying you carefully, and you felt almost like you were put on display. Some kind of relic from the past, dragged up to Terrasen, and you couldn’t tell if your presence was entirely welcome or not. Last night, Evangeline said they’d only found out about you that morning, meaning less than half a day to come to terms with your existence - and Ceri’s.

“So you’re from Wendlyn,” he finally said.

“I am,” you sipped your tea.

“Why did you go to the Southern Continent?”

Glancing towards your daughter - currently caught up in conversation with Rowan, you noticed Fenrys pinning Aedion with a nasty look. It seemed to say; you know why. You were grateful he was there, without him your nerves might’ve already gotten the best of you.

“It was not safe to be there. My mother was from Antica, and for honesty’s sake, there’s few places where our kind are well received. You traced a finger over the curves of your pointed ears, “I couldn’t hide my heritage, neither could she.”

“Were you ever going to tell him?”

Lysandra, quite obviously, jabbed her elbow into his side. There was something else here … more personal.

Fenrys had said; “Aedion’s father is … was Gavriel. Like you, his mother kept it a secret for his sake.”

“I won’t lie to you, I wasn’t sure. I told her that her father’s a Fae warrior and Royal, when she asked, but she never pressed for his name. If she did, I would’ve told her.” Silver hair flashed in your peripherals, and you were aware she was listening in now. “I believe our paths would’ve crossed at some point.”

Aedion seemed satisfied by your answer, and stopped that line of questioning. The pointed stare from Aelin might have helped as well, because he shot a sheepish look your way, before asking more pleasant questions. It didn’t bother you, you were a stranger, and it’s natural they'd want to assess if you were a threat to their country or Queen. With your daughter, you’d undoubtedly do the same thing. Still, the idea that you would have to prove yourself turned your stomach.

Everyone kept glancing between your daughter and Rowan, and seeing the two side by side - again, re-iterated just how alike they looked. At first, every look at the silver tufts of hair, the deep green eyes, had been a reminder of him, but over the years the two separated. Sure, you still thought of their resemblance, once in a while, but he’d slipped to the back of your mind, your entire world existing outside of him, two circles far away from each other. Until a few weeks ago.

Everything will be different. Your fingers tapped against your thighs. A better world.

As long as Ceri was happy, you could find happiness too.

Rowan quickly learned what his daughter was like. Wild was the best way to describe her. Either the best or the worst combination of him and his mother.

The first time he spotted her at the top of a tree, he panicked.

“Ceri, come down,” he pleaded.

“It’s nice up here,” she countered, and sat her ass down, obviously intending to stay a while.

“She’ll come down when she’s ready,” a soft voice murmured, the scent of roses flooding the area. Roses … without your voice - he might not have recognized it, you’d always chosen Lilacs for perfume, soap, anything. He’d been distracted enough by his daughter balancing on a precarious branch, he didn’t hear your approach.

“Is this … common?”

“You get used to it,” you walked up to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, a good twelve inches of space between you. “Evangeline is waiting, she brought you and Ani chocolates.”

Leaves shuffled, a few branches creaked - Rowan winced and tensed - but Ceri was down from the tree in less than a minute, sprinting back towards where Evangeline waited, looking thoroughly amused.

Everyone seemed to be amused at how his daughter shot his heart rate to dangerous levels.

Three weeks passed, and you grew more and more on edge. Eager to leave Orynth, to see somewhere else in Terrasen. Everyone seemed to watch you. Eyes on you at all times, everyone who passed you in the hall. Their eyes lit up as they saw Ceri, only to narrow slightly as they crossed over to you holding her hand.

A stranger, who looked nothing like the small girl a carbon copy of the King.

A year and a half passed, and you were still in Terrasen. Everyone else was thriving, and although you didn’t quite feel at home yet, you were getting there.

The entire court, and the country really, had been more than welcoming - but, you made sure to put a certain distance between you and the King and Queen, keeping it exactly as you’d intended - co-parenting. You and your daughter’s every move was watched, although she didn’t seem to mind or notice, it kept you hyper-aware and a bit paranoid.

The mother of King Rowan’s daughter.

That’s what you’d been reduced to. Being her mother was an honor, of course, but you lost a sense of your identity. Reya, sliding more under the radar, helped you sell your goods - that way you knew they weren’t buying just because of who your daughter was. Because of who managed to stick a babe in you.

Your entire group decided to stay in Terrasen, but Rowan barely saw you throughout the last two years.

For fucks sake, Fenrys saw more of you than he did, and it shouldn’t have bothered him this much. You’d been friends of sorts eight years ago - not long considering an immortal lifespan, but now it felt like you were barely a step up from strangers, like you both didn’t share one of the most important people in your lives.

“Why is she so distant?” Aelin asked Lysandra, and Rowan started paying attention to their conversation. The two were inhaling impressive amounts of chocolates and wine, lounging in their sitting room. They’d chosen to live in Caraverre, and the shifter definitely boasted, lightheartedly, about it once in a while. If he had his way, which rarely happens anymore, he’d have both of you here in Orynth.

“You haven’t put that together yet?” Lysandra purred, tipping her glass back as Aelin scowled.

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t be asking you.”

Lysandra faked exasperation, letting out a long exhale. “Even in Caraverre, there’s always eyes on her. She’s very careful of how it can be perceived, if she gets too close to either of you.”

“She’s staying away to keep her reputation clean?” Rowan cut in.

“And yours,” she ran her finger around the rim of the glass, “but maybe that’ll change some, now that she has someone to herself.”

His teeth clenched and Lysandra’s head tilted - but Aelin had tensed next to her. “Who is it, Lys?”

“None of my business,” she smirked, enjoying that she had some kind of knowledge Aelin, and he, wanted.

“You make everything your business.” Rowan cut in.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself? She’ll be here next week, won’t she?”

“If someone’s going to be around my daughter, I should know of it.” Rowan knew, even if he wouldn’t admit it, that it wasn’t really about that. He trusted your judgment, trusted that you wouldn’t let anyone dangerous around her. Still, he wanted to be a part of your life. Wanted to know these kinds of things about you, and wanted to spend more than twenty minutes with you twice a month.

“I doubt it’s permanent,” Lysandra laughed and dodged the pillow Aelin tossed her way.

“Maybe I should visit more often.” Aelin mused, “If I go to her, alone, it might not be as … reputation damaging.”

Aelin spit the last two words out like she didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of her reputation, of her being friends with you.

Rowan wanted to know why you cared.

He didn’t get a chance to. You avoided being alone with him as much as possible, rarely giving him an opening to ask any sort of questions like that. When he managed to lead the conversation in that direction, you deflected with such ease that by the time he realized it was off topic, you were gone. Aelin visited you on her own, but apparently you either deflected or shut down when she brought it up, and his wife gave up on that - not wanting to push you away further.

Something was wrong, and Aelin knew because Ceri was quiet, and she certainly hadn’t inherited her father’s distaste for words.

Rowan caved first, putting his spoon down. “What is it?”

She huffed and copied his movement. “My mum’s sad. She thinks she’s good at hiding it, but I can tell.”

“Why is she sad?” Aelin asked gently.

Her lips pursed together, debating telling them something. “Aunt Reya and Ani are probably leaving soon.” Aelin met Rowan’s gaze, that was news to him as well. Probably, meaning they were probably waiting to tell anyone until it’s official. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but I thought you should know.”

“We can keep the secret,” Rowan assured her, “how do you feel … about that?”

The way she stabbed the piece of fruit told Aelin enough about how she felt. “I’m mad, and mum says it’s fine to be angry, but to try and be happy for them too. Ani’s grandmother wants them to come home, and she always complains about the snow.”

Ceri switched to a recounting of her latest ghost-leopard sighting. She was obsessed with them. “And her partner is going to take her -”

“Partner?” Rowan cut in before he could stop himself.

Ceri rolled her eyes, “yes, mum’s partner, is taking her -”

Rowan stiffened next to her, fist clenching around his glass, and Aelin stomped on his foot, dragging him back to the present.

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t know,” her green eyes narrowed.

“Have you met them?” She tried to ask as casually as possible.

“No,” her nose scrunched up.

“Your mum told you?”

Mischief shone in her eyes, “I heard her conversation with Aunt Reya.”

More likely she feigned sleep and snuck out of bed. Rowan had taught her how to redirect her scent, and she’s putting it to good use. Aelin stomped on Rowan’s foot again - at the smug look on his face.

He caught her gaze, he’s not good enough for her.

We don’t know who he is.

Maybe Fenrys does.

We shouldn’t interfere … but Aelin wants to, and it makes no damn sense to her.

“Who’s y/n’s partner?” Rowan asked Fenrys - bluntly.

The male smirked, leaning back in his chair and interlacing his hands behind his head. “Who says it’s not me?”

Rowan snarled, and Fenrys barked out a laugh. “I’m not, relax. We’re just friends”

“But you know who he is?” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. Fenrys looked far too amused at this.

“I know who she is.”

He’d forgotten that particular detail. “And what’s her name?”

“I’m not the one you should be asking. Besides, I doubt it’ll last. None of the others have.”

“Others?”

“If you asked her these things, she’d tell you.”

“I didn’t ask for your advice,” he growled, tempted to kick him out.

“Too bad, you got it anyway. Tell your daughter to stop eavesdropping if you don’t want to know.” That’s the problem, he does want to know. Fenrys know’s that too, but he’s just being a bastard for his own amusement. “And Rowan?” He stood, heading towards the door.

“What?”

“Neither you or Aelin have a claim to her.” Rowan opened his mouth, as if to protest but … he doesn’t have a claim to her, not now. “Until you do, let her live her life.”

The door shut behind him. You or Aelin. Until you do. The bedroom door swung open, revealing Aelin, a towel wrapped across her chest.

“You heard everything?”

“I did.”

“If you like mum, why aren’t you with her?” Ceri questioned. Fenrys’s fork dropped, clattering onto his plate as he shot an incredulous look at Rowan.

“We like her as a friend,” Rowan clarified.

“Aren’t friends supposed to stay with each other?”

Fenrys and Aedion were barely holding back laughter, and Rowan looked to Aelin, she could handle this question.

Coward, she said.

“Lysandra and I are friends, and we live just as far apart as your mother does.”

“But Evangeline says only special friends make babies,” she pointed her fork at Rowan, “that’s different.”

The other males gave up holding back their laughter, getting a scowl from the little hellion. Aelin watched Rowan’s cheeks flush as he tried to figure out how to answer this. Your turn, she said.

He was saved as Ceri launched two grapes towards Aedion and Fenrys, using a bit of wind to make sure they hit their targets; “We’ve talked about this. No throwing food at the table.” Still, he admired the two small splatters on each of their foreheads, “but your aim is getting better.”

“You never answered my question.”

Rowan was not prepared for this. Centuries couldn’t have prepared him for this, but he prayed his answer would be enough. “We are not … special friends anymore.”

She looked ready to ask why, but returned to her food instead. He finally felt like he could breathe again. Someone needs to make a book on how to deal with this.

Aelin was excited, both you and Ceri would be arriving soon, and she was hoping to convince you to stay at least overnight. They had about a fifty percent success rate with convincing you to stay in Orynth at least a bit longer. Since your friend left, it became more frequent. Plus, considering the massive snowstorm looming, Aelin would raise her odds.

“If I leave now, I should miss most of it,” she knew you were looking at the clock behind her, your teeth were worrying your bottom lip. Even you were doubting it.

“Or you’ll be stranded in the snow,” Rowan countered, arms crossing over his chest, head tilting to the side.

“I can handle myself.”

“Not if you freeze to death.”

“Just stay,” Ceri groaned, tugging on your sleeve. “She’s not there anyway.”

Who is she?

“And why is that?” You raised a brow, and your daughter shrugged her shoulders, but didn’t quite look apologetic.

“Because they-I didn't like her.”

“You never met her.”

“I didn’t have to,” Ceri’s wicked grin sent a shiver down her spine. Aelin recognized the look on her face, she’d seen it all too frequently in her husband. You sighed, but abandoned the argument, instead watching as she ran off, spotting some of her friends down the hall. A long time ago, they gave up trying to get her to stop running in the castle.

“What did she do?” Aelin forced amusement on her face.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “One day she showed up at my door - while Ceri was at school, told me it wasn’t going to work, and Ceri came home looking very pleased with herself.”

“How long were you together?” Aelin linked an arm through yours.

“A few months,” you hummed, admitting, “It wouldn’t have worked long term.”

You’d been here for three days, trapped by the storm. The longest amount of time since you’d arrived in Terrasen, and the most at peace you’d felt. It should be the opposite, really, considering how much effort you’ve put into avoiding Rowan specifically, but their company was enjoyable and put you at ease. Aelin made herself difficult to avoid. She developed a habit of randomly showing up on your doorstep, for book exchanges or to ‘get a break from him.’

Aelin let you borrow some clothes, considering you hadn’t planned to spend the night, and convinced you to let her braid your hair.

“You’re not horrible at it,” Ceri informed Aelin and you winced.

“Not horrible?” Aelin smiled at her, taking the ‘compliment’ with ease. “Last time you said I was doing great.”

“I said you were doing better.”

“Then who’s the best at it?” You teased, already knowing the answer.

“Evangeline.”

Now, it was just the four of you in a small hearth room - a fire roaring in the corner, an oak table filled with warm and heavy food, three pints of ale and one hot chocolate.

“I want to move here,” Ceri announced at the table.

Gods, maybe she could’ve mentioned you to this before - not in front of them as well, backing you right into a corner. Eyes shuttering closed, you let out of a slow breath, giving yourself a few seconds before opening them again.

“We can talk about it,” you promised her, sending an apologetic look to Rowan and Aelin. But they … they seemed excited about it. It makes sense they’d want Ceri closer. A few years ago, you told yourself you’d go where she wanted. If she wants to be here … there’s not much holding you to Caraverre really. Not much holding you anywhere, besides your daughter. That haunting sense of loneliness crept back into you.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“It’s a big change,” Rowan swept in, “something we can talk about later.”

“I want my whole family together.”

Family.

It was impossible to miss the excitement in Rowan’s eyes, the same one echoed in Aelin and Ceri’s. In everyone but yours. Yours were filled with trepidation and concern.

“Quit worrying so much,” Reya told you, in the days before her departure. “You’ll make yourself miserable.”

“Are you moving to Orynth?” Aelin asked later that night, convincing you to share a bottle of wine with her. Rowan was in the corner, reading some kind of report, but his eyes stopped moving, head tilted slightly to listen in to the conversation.

“Ceri wants to,” one finger absentmindedly ran over your scar, “wants both of us to.” For a bit, you thought she may have worded it wrong - that she just wanted to reverse the roles and live primarily with Rowan. But, she’d insisted both of you come here.

“There’s not a chance she’d move without you,” Aelin plucked your empty glass out of your hands, filling both of yours halfway.

“Thank you,” your fingers brushed as she handed it to you, and you could’ve sworn she lingered for a second. It’s the wine. Blinking heavily to bring yourself into focus, you admitted, “I’m glad,” and hoped they’d interpret your flush on the cheeks as alcohol-induced.

“We’ll be glad to have you here,” she countered.

“We’ll have to start looking at homes.”

“Live in the castle,” Rowan said from his corner, papers now resting on his thighs.

There it was, the demanding tone. If he thought he could bark an order and bring her to heel, he didn’t know her as well as you thought he did. Then again … he’d changed, and so had you.

You shook your head, “It’s not a good idea.”

“Why?” Aelin was facing you now, legs curled up under her. To give yourself time to think, you took another drink.

“We all know how it’ll -”

“I don’t care how it looks,” Rowan cut you off, “you’re the only one who does,” he added - a tad gentler.

“I like to keep a low profile.”

“You like to hide,” he countered, “we haven’t kept Ceri a secret.”

“There’s a difference between just our daughter, and both of us living here.”

“What will it take for you to stop being a damn coward? To stop hiding?”

“Rowan,” Aelin warned, her voice sharp.

Tense silence filled the room, but Rowan didn’t seem to regret his words - not one bit, and that incensed you further.

“I’m not a coward,” you snarled, chest tightening, cheeks turning red. Oh, he knew the right words to light a fire under your ass. To push you into enough anger to get a reaction. Calm was your default. Always calm, always composed, always steady. The current of anger and resentment, the feelings you buried so deep inside, threatened to sweep you under.

“Rowan,” Aelin snarled, louder, as his mouth opened. His jaw slammed back shut, giving you a chance to get the rest of your words out. In. Count to four. Out. Count to four.

“There’s a good reason for my fear,” your voice shook, despite your best efforts, hand trailing over the scar again. “Hiding has saved me more often than not.”

Aelin’s brow furrowed, but Rowan’s eyes flashed in recognition.

The top of a hill, crouched in a tree, the magic your mother bent - the wards last minute designed to keep you out, to keep you away from them. Away from the slaughter. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get past them, but couldn’t convince yourself to run away either. Instead, you watched as the soldiers fell, watched and hid.

A warm hand squeezed your shoulder, and you jerked, lower back hitting the arm of the couch, “sorry,” you murmured, still half in a daze, trying to shake the memory away. Turquoise and gold eyes peered at you with concern, her hand slowly retreating, body posture pointedly relaxed and unthreatening.

“Aelin doesn’t know,” Rowan cleared his throat. You’d spilled that story to him one night, both of you plied with a good amount of liquor. It surprised you he hadn’t shared that with her. “It’s not my story to tell,” he added, reading the look on your face.

“It is safer for the two of you to live here.” Aelin said quietly. Maybe it was unintentional, but she played the right card. Swallowing a bit of discomfort for safety is a sacrifice you could make. Maybe free yourself too, to stop worrying so much. If they didn’t care about public perception, you had no reason to.

“If you still care about how it looks,” Aelin continued, ignoring the look Rowan tried to pin her with, “think of it this way; people will be happier to see a family together, considering how many were torn apart.”

You could see exactly how she made a great queen. A few phrases from her changed your mindset enough you were on the verge of agreeing, but you made them wait in a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. But … you weren’t ready to let go of it, not just yet.

“Do you really think it’s that unsafe? For us to live outside of the castle?” Unintentionally, you were drawn to the three kingsflame preserved on the mantle. Beautiful small red and orange flowers, encased in crystal. Selfish, a nasty voice in your head crooned at you, they’re trying to help.

Rowan didn’t detect any kind of accusation in your question. The short answer would be no. He didn’t believe Orynth was unsafe in general, but he didn’t … trust anyone with you or Ceri’s safety. Any chance, even infinitesimal, was too much of a risk to him.

When the silence dragged on, you stiffened, “or is it me, that you don’t trust to keep us safe?”

“We trust you,” Aelin rushed, thankfully without hesitation, sensing the anger creeping back in, and Rowan nodded his agreement. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen you truly angry, and a small part of him liked poking these reactions out of you. To do something most others couldn’t, to break the careful calm you’ve built over the years. It was there when he knew you, but now it was nearly unflappable. Still, he didn’t want to do that if it would hurt you.

He thought about if he’d answered “no” to your question. He does believe in you, but if he’d said that … you might have lost the confidence you’d built in your work, and trust in yourself. Real wards and protective enchantments were difficult to come by, and rumors of your work reached Orynth - under a false name, but he knew exactly who it was.

You glanced down at your lap, tapping your fingers against your leg. Either deep in thought, or nervous.

“I don’t know if it would be good for her, spending all of her time here. She doesn’t want to be a princess.”

Rowan had heard that before, from his daughter, what felt like hundreds of times by now.

“I’m aware,” he deadpanned, watching the corners of your mouth turn up.

“I’ll speak to Ceri, before we make any decisions.” Aelin couldn’t hide the relief on her face, neither could he. Now, just to get his daughter on their side. At the hint of challenge in your eyes, he had a suspicion that might be more difficult than he expected.

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

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throneofsapphics · 5 months

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old faces, part five

Rowaelin x f!Reader

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

Warnings: drinking, mentions of death, incest jokes

Word Count: ~5.8k

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

series masterlist

“Only princesses live in castles all the time.”

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

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

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

“Do we have to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what happened to the rest of her coven.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you remember the page?”

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

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

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

“Wyverns?” you choked.

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

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

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

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

“Exactly. Silence is agreement”

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

“I’m assuming you heard our conversation.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

“Fenrys said we could have dessert first.”

“I did not,” the male immediately countered.

“You did,” Ceri shot back.

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

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

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

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

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

“When is murder allowed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It's too big.”

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

“But you don’t like it here.”

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

“Fine doesn’t mean good.”

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

Ceri nodded, “I know.”

“Would you like me to tell your father?”

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

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

“I’m going to wait,”

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

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

“Can you keep a secret?”

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

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

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

“That’s what I said.”

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

“Whatever she wants.”

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

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

“But if it was?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m vaguely insulted.”

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

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

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

“They serve alcohol for a reason.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aelin frowned, he didn’t pass.

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

“Your tolerance is shit,” Fenrys commented.

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

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

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

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

“At least my tolerance hasn’t changed.”

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

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

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

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

“Child,” you pointed out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll write myself a note.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh gods,” that was Aelin.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m a great cuddler,” you said, just to see if they would react.

“You kick,” Rowan countered.

“I do not,” you insisted.

“How would you know?” Aelin decided to cut in, “you’re sleeping.”

“I’ll find out tonight,” Fenrys added cheerily.

You could’ve sworn you heard a low growl or two, but you’d already reached the door, fumbling with the handle. You’d put too much of your weight on the door, because as soon as it opened - you went careening towards the floor. Fenrys tried to catch you, only to fall as well, alcohol throwing off his center of balance.

At least the carpet was soft, you rolled over onto your back, running your hands over it. It was comfortable.

“I might sleep here,” you sighed, eyes half lidded. Rowan and Aelin stood in the doorway, amused at the two of you, and you shot a bright grin their way.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.” Rowan, the bastard, needs to stop trying to give you orders.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you muttered, turning over on your side and tucking one arm beneath your head. Fenrys mirrored your movements, the two of you facing each other.

A long suffering sigh, from Rowan you thought, and gentle hands were pulling you up to your feet. You swayed back and forth, Aelin holding you steady with a faint smile on her face.

From the corner of your eye, Rowan was tugging Fenrys up, not quite as gently.

“Be nice to my friend,” you slurred. Aelin was biting her lip to hold back a laugh, and she was grateful Ceri decided to have a sleepover in another wing of the castle. Otherwise, she’d be wide awake right now and witnessing this mess.

“Hear that Rowan, the lady says be nice to me.”

Rowan released Fenrys, and the male stumbled back a few steps. She kept her grip on you as you tried to lunge for him. The last thing they need is to drag both of you off the floor again. Without realizing, her arms had wrapped around your shoulders, holding you back in place. When Fenrys caught himself, one hand on the arm of the couch, you sighed in relief, and melted back into her.

“Time for bed,” Aelin shifted so her arm wrapped around your shoulders instead, leading you off towards the room. Grabbing some night clothes, she offered them to you, trying to shuffle you off towards the bathroom.

“I think I’ll sleep naked,” you announced.

“As much as I’d enjoy the view, it’s still a bit cold out,” you wouldn’t remember this in the morning, but she’d remember how your cheeks flushed.

Rowan and Aelin left, only as you fell asleep, alone in your bed - Fenrys already snoring on the couch.

The end of the visit came all too quickly, and for the first time you found yourself looking forward to your return to Orynth. Looking forward to searching for a house on the outskirts of the city. Yes, you didn’t particularly look forward to staying in the castle in the meantime, but you couldn’t deny the city had it’s charm. Rowan and Aelin’s reassurances unlocked something in you. Not a desire to step into the public eye, but to stop avoiding it. If anything happened, you weren’t alone this time. Accepting help wasn’t a weakness.

Ceri waved as you set off, just around sunrise. In around two or so weeks, you’d be heading back to Orynth.

Your daughter, however, was currently pouting because you couldn’t ride horseback in this weather, and she didn’t like the carriages. She was mollified by the few books Aelin let her borrow from the Library of Orynth. You had a feeling she just hadn’t informed the librarians they’d be leaving the city.

Tilting your head, you caught part of the title; dragons. “What are you reading?”

Thankfully, she didn’t look annoyed at your question. Instead, her eyes lit up as she lifted her head. “About last dragons, besides Wyverns,” she flipped the book around to point at a page. A sketch of mountains, you squint your eyes, made of glass with a few dragons circling overhead, one breathing fire into them. You looked further at the book, it was old, by the color of the pages, but well preserved. Maybe with magic. Was this one of the few books that survived the initial siege of Orynth?

“They lived in the Kyzultum Desert. But they were all killed in a war eight centuries ago.” Kyzultum, a desert on the southern continent, far south from Antica. You’d never visited, but always wanted to, to see the glass mountains. “They made mountains out of glass. The book says it’s just speculation, but soldiers from Doranelle hunted the dragons to extinction.”

A small pain in your heart, for creatures hunted just for their power or because someone viewed them as a threat. Soldiers from Doranelle. You would bet gold marks on who exactly sent that order.

“Why did they kill them? The book doesn’t say.”

“Probably from fear.”

She hummed. “Do you think dragon eggs could survive this long?”

“I don’t know,” but Gods, if Ceri set her mind to it - she’d find out. And if they could … you started thinking of ways to discourage your daughter from hunting for Dragons. Maybe you’d have to lean on her father for that one. “Giving up on Wyverns already?”

She scowled at you, drawing a small laugh before she returned to her book.

Rowan was in a pissy mood, and Aelin knew exactly why. Ceri waited until the last night to announce her ‘decision,’ leaving all of them on edge. Then said she wanted to live on the outskirts of Orynth, with a small cottage, a garden, chickens, and a wyvern. Considering how you scowled at Rowan, she knew who you blamed for that idea. Still, they weren’t quite out of time. The two of you would return in around a month, permitting you could sell your house in that amount of time, and still stay in the castle while looking for another home.

“Y/n didn’t try to sway her decision,” she commented - although Rowan already knew that. You’d decided to stay perfectly neutral. It’s smart, not wanting to get into an argument like that. After all, she’d chosen the same path. “Besides, Ceri might change her mind later.”

“Right,” he cleared his throat.

“So,” Aelin leaned back in her chair, “Wyverns?”

“She asked for a story about them,” he groused.

“What did you tell her?”

“What I know of Abraxos.” As far as Wyvern’s go, Manon’s mount is the exception, and Rowan might’ve given the wrong impression when it comes to the beasts.

Aelin laughed, “I can’t wait to tell Manon. Already a bedtime story.” She didn’t know if the Witch Queen would be offended or amused. Ceri hadn’t met any of their friends from other Kingdoms, not yet. It would come one day, especially with the move. Would you want to meet them as well? SHe hoped so.

The little hellion’s presence made Aelin realize she wasn’t quite ready to have more children around. It would come one day, but faced with immortality there was plenty of time. Besides, maybe it was a bit selfish or strange, but she wanted to spend time with Ceri as she grew up, and wanted Rowan to as well. He’d missed out on seven years.

Aelin always knew he’d be a good father, but seeing it with her own eyes only cemented that. Plus, the rest of the court and castle got to witness a softer side of him.

“Had y/n already settled when you met her?”

“No.”

Gods, going through all of that with a small child. She had hers a few years ago, and it … sucked to say the least. The only plus being some of her magic returned, not quite to what it was before, but still much more significant.

Rowan had turned back to his book. Another question had lingered in the back of her mind, “What is her magic?” He marked his page, setting it to the side.

“She has an affinity for raw materials, imbuing them with magic. As far as I know, it’s unique to her bloodline.”

“What else could it do? Besides what she sells.” Protective wards, enchantments, all impressive.

“I never asked.” The dagger. Enchanted to leave a mark. Fenrys said she’d paled when she saw it. If it’s unique to her bloodline … maybe the attack wasn’t only meant for Ceri. “What are you thinking?” Rowan interrupted her train of thought.

“You said it’s unique to her bloodline,” Rowan nodded. “The dagger,” he stiffened but she kept going, “she recognized exactly what it was. Why use a dagger specifically meant to leave a mark? Why make a dagger like that?”

“It’s possible her ancestors made it,” he started, “daggers and knives like that could be intended for different rituals. Using it could’ve been ignorance - or a coincidence.”

Aelin’s mouth tightened. That was a bit too strange to believe. “You know that’s bullshit.”

“Sartaq hasn’t sent word of anything, there’s not much we can do from over here.” But, Rowan did look unsettled.

“Could anyone else have made it?”

“She’s better suited to answer that question.” A month from now. Aelin wasn’t particularly patient on a good day, but she’d remember this. “Don’t be surprised if she wants to leave it in the past.”

“What happened to her parents?”

Rowan didn’t look like he wanted to answer, but she felt like she needed to know. Like it was relevant. He told her the entire story, not sparing any of the more gruesome details. She read the words in his eyes; I didn’t tell you. If you ever decided to tell her, she’d act surprised. A stone settled in her stomach. You hadn’t just been hiding from Maeve.

“Then Lorcan hunted the rest of them down.”

“Who was it, the ones who attacked them?”

“The last armies of a Kingdom who particularly hated Fae, destroyed on Maeve’s orders.” And her father participated, that much she could put together. “It’s in the past, Aelin,” there was a hint of warning in his tone. To drop it.

She nodded absentmindedly. If she could find a way to be subtle about it, she’d keep looking into it.

“Leaving already?” One of your neighbors questioned, after you finished showing the house to a young couple - the woman currently at least a few months pregnant, and glowing. You nodded, watching them disappear. “Where to?”

“To Orynth,” you turned to look at her. A friendly older woman, living a few doors down, who’d greeted you the day after you moved in with a basket of cookies. This neighbor happened to be the mother of the son, currently linking arms with his wife, trudging through the snow. It was a given you’d sell the house to them, if they ended up wanting it.

“We’ll miss you here, and your little one.”

“We’ll miss you too,” you murmured, rubbing your arms to stave off the chill. “Want to come in?” It felt right to offer.

“I’d love to,” her face lit up. Ceri was due back from school in a few hours, and now big enough to walk on her own, although always with a group of other kids. It was a close little community, on the outskirts of the city, and you really did like it here even if it was a bit … boring. Maybe that’s part of the reason Ceri wanted to move to Orynth.

The two of you settled in front of the fire, hands warmed by mugs of tea, and you listened to her talk. Her husband - killed by Adarlanian soldiers, her three children - who went to fight in General Ashryver’s legion, the bane, only two returning at the end of the war.

“Something happier now,” she waved her hand. “What about your family?”

“It’s just me and Ceri now,” you forced a smile. She gave you a sympathetic look, and although you knew she meant no harm - you wanted to wipe it right off her face.

“Her father?” There’s the catch. She knew damn well who her father is, the entire town does, and you shot her a look to tell her that. She had the grace to look a bit sheepish, giving a small shrug of her shoulders. “Can’t help the curiosity,”

‘Yes you can,’ you wanted to say, but reminded yourself she’d been nothing but kind - and still is, but probably wanted to get in all of the questions she’d been dying to ask before you left. You were aware anything you said now would make its way through everyone else living here.

“We’re on good terms,” you said firmly.

“How did you meet?”

“We knew a few of the same people.” Actually, you’d met at a bar - but she had no business knowing that. An ache started to form between your brows. A few hours passed, conversation thankfully diverting from Ceri’s heritage and into more neutral topics. You found yourself enjoying the company.

“It takes a strong woman - or female, to raise a child on her own,” a brief haunted look passed through her eyes, and you offered her a tight smile. Her situation had been different, Terrasen being under occupation by Adarlan and all. She blinked a few times, letting out a long breath. “I’m making some meat pies this afternoon, I’ll bring one by.”

“Thank you,” she stood, and you led the way out the door, walking her down towards her gate.

Ceri was currently coming down the street, accompanied by a few friends, holding … something in her arms, bundled tightly. When she saw you, she sped up her pace, now almost-running down the street.

“Look, look,” she said, shifting her arms just enough for you to see what she was holding. A little head peaked up, yellow eyes, then a meow. “She was all alone, I couldn’t find her mother,” Ceri looked up at you with pleading eyes. You ran a gloved hand over the kitten’s back, getting a small purr in reply. Orange. It was rare to find an orange female cat.

“Let’s get her out of the cold,” a squeal of excitement, and she raced off towards the door.

The two of you bathed her in warm water, and the weird little thing liked it.

“Are you sure you want to keep her?” You asked, but even if she said no you’d probably insist. One hour, and you were already in love. Sure enough, you were hissed at. Twice.

“You can be friends with her,” Ceri said, sitting as close to the fire as she could get, the kitten wrapped up in a towel, sound asleep. She was talking about your animal form. A Baast Cat, not a housecat.

“I’m sure we’ll get along,” you smiled, taking up a seat next to her. That little head poked up again, meowing, before crawling out of the towel. Ceri let her go, choosing to take her mug of hot chocolate from you instead. Carefully, the kitten crawled over onto your lap, small claws digging in. “What should we name her?”

“Wyvern.” A hiss. Not Wyvern, apparently. Ceri rolled her eyes. She tried out a few different names, but none of them were approved. You’d already noted she was very intelligent, even for a cat, and looked up at you like you were supposed to know the answer.

“Halle?” you offered, as a half-assed guess. Surprisingly, a small purr came from her, and you ran your fingers through her fluffy fur, watching as she promptly fell back asleep. Like she was waiting for the conversation to be over.

“Halle’s coming to Orynth with us.”

“Of course.” You couldn’t leave the newest member of your family behind.

taglist: @fussel9913 @moonlightttfae

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

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