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nancys4gf · 2 years ago

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first choice | steve harrington

summary: all the best things in life are impossible to predict.

pairing: steve harrington x gender neutral reader

warnings: none

note: okay i know steve had already finished school when he and robin became friends but.. that's what fanfiction is about right?!?!!? also his 'no sequel could ever be better than the first movie' theory is not valid because he hasn't seen high school musical 2. anyways i hope you enjoy :D i really liked this one!

̟ ̇.˚︵‿୨♡୧‿︵˚.✩

“that’s a fancy way to say you don’t want to work with me, robin.”

“no, no!” she exclaimed, waving her hands frantically. “i do! i just think we should broaden our horizons. miss each other for a while, so we can come back stronger.”

steve rolled his eyes. “just say you want to pair up with someone who gets better grades.”

“no! well…” she gave a defeated sigh.

“i get it,” he raised his hands. “i’m not good enough for you.”

“you’re insufferable.” robin groaned, covering her face with her hands. “i promise we’ll do the next group project together.”

“yeah, yeah.” steve waved her off, and robin stood up, decided to find a new partner.

steve saw her as she approached vickie, taking a deep breath before tapping on her shoulder. he scoffed, shaking his head. sure. better grades.

he looked around, wondering who he could work with. ever since he had grown apart from his old crowd and started hanging out with robin, he didn’t really talk with lots of people at school.

besides, english wasn’t a subject he was exactly good at, so he needed someone who would balance it out. unfortunately, all the smart people had already paired up with other smart people, obviously.

he scanned the room again. this time, he saw you, immersed in a book with your headphones on. you immediately caught his interest. you were alone and didn’t look like you had a partner. plus, you were reading. surely you had to be smart.

he walked towards your desk, and cleared his throat. you slowly lifted your gaze, taking the headphones off your ears.

“hey, i’m steve,” he extended his hand awkwardly. you shook it, a confused expression on your face. “uh, would you like to be my partner?”

you looked around, wondering if he had mistaken you for someone else. but his insistent eyes gazed into yours, the question swimming in his brown irises. and before you knew it, you heard yourself accepting his offer.

— ❀ —

it was a warm, lovely spring afternoon. an afternoon you were spending at steve harrington’s house, sitting on the floor in his room.

you had to write an analysis on ‘the picture of dorian gray’, and you were currently outlining the essay while steve looked for the main themes in the book.

steve had put on some music you wouldn’t normally listen to, but you would take anything over the awkward, heavy silence.

“i’m confused.” you said suddenly, setting your book down.

steve looked up, his eyes wide and his hair messy from having run his hands through it.

“if you’re confused, then we might as well give up now.”

“not about this,” you gestured to the pile of books and papers lying on the floor. “about why you asked me to be your project partner.”

“oh,” he nodded. “well, my friend robin, do you know her? she’s in band–”

“i know who robin is.”

“right.” he paused. “basically, robin bailed on me. and you didn’t have a partner either, so i figured...”

“so i’m your second choice.” you stated.

“no!” he shook his head, even though you both knew it was true. you wouldn’t even be talking to each other if it wasn’t for this project. “i mean, kind of? but i did choose you.”

“it’s alright, harrington.” you chuckled, directing your attention towards the homework again. “you weren’t exactly my first choice, either.”

you weren’t looking at him anymore, and it was clear that the conversation had ended as soon as it had started. but steve kept his gaze fixed on you.

he noticed you were wearing mismatched socks, and that you used a purple pen, leaving your fingers stained with ink. you were moving your head and tapping your foot to the beat of the music. you hadn’t noticed this, of course. but steve had.

— ❀ —

“we got an a!” steve cried out, shoving the paper in your face.

“of course we did,” you grinned. “no one knows more about oscar wilde than us.”

“i think this calls for a celebration.” he declared. “what do you think?”

you crossed your arms over your chest. “what did you have in mind?”

“you know that diner near my house? we could go there. they make a sick strawberry milkshake.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, playing with the folded edges of your book.

“you know this was just a regular midterm project.” you said. “it’s not a big deal.”

“you’ve got to celebrate the small victories, right?” he insisted. “come on.”

and so, next saturday, you wondered how you had ended up here: standing outside a crowded diner, waiting for steve harrington of all people.

but before you could even consider the possibility of leaving, you saw him walking up to you, a huge grin on his face.

“you came.” he said, standing in front of you.

“well, when you agree to hang out with someone, you’re kind of supposed to show up.”

he laughed and motioned to open the diner door, making a gesture for you to go first.

you sat across from each other in a booth steve chose, and opened the menus.

“strawberry milkshake, you said?” you spoke, staring at the menu.

“yes. you have to get one. they use real strawberries. none of that artificial shit.”

“but what if i want to try the chocolate one?” you teased.

“then,” he gave you a sly smile. “we’ll share.”

“the milkshake move.” you smirked, closing the menu and placing your arms on the table. “classic.”

“no, no.” steve laughed. “this isn’t a date. if this was a date, i would have picked you up. i would be sitting next to you–”

“so you could put your arm around me.” you interrupted.

“exactly.” a smile crept across his face. “i would have gushed all about how pretty you look, and charmed you with my incomparable sense of humor. and then we’d end the night driving around and looking at the stars, or something.”

“the harrington date guide.” you stated entertainingly. steve only raised an eyebrow in response, a smirk dancing on his lips.

after you had ordered and gotten your food, steve leaned in, staring at you.

“tell me something about you.” he said, throwing a fry into his mouth.

“what do you want to know?”

“anything.”

you pondered for a moment, trying to find something about you that would be interesting enough to catch steve harrington’s interest.

“you read a lot, don’t you?”

you furrowed your eyebrows. “how do you know that?”

“you’re always reading at school.” he said obviously.

“right. yeah, i guess i do.”

“so, what are you reading right now?”

“a mystery murder book. you have to solve the murder along with the main character, a detective.” you immediately perked up, your excitement growing as you spoke. “but the thing is, since it’s narrated in third person, you know some things that the detective doesn't. and you can only hope that he makes the right choice. it’s amazing.”

steve was staring at you. suddenly feeling embarrassed, you shook your head. “sorry, you probably don't want to hear about this.”

“no, no, i do.” he urged, nodding his head, his hair moving up and down.

“yeah?”

he was grinning at you. a genuine, warm smile that made you feel as if your mystery books were the most interesting thing in the world. your shoulders relaxed, as you took a sip of the strawberry milkshake.

“so, do you know who the killer is?”

you chuckled. “i think i do, yeah.”

“do tell.”

— ❀ —

when you walked out of the dinner, the stars and the moon were already in the sky.

“wow,” steve observed. “i didn’t notice how late it was.”

“me neither.” you said, gaze fixed on the night sky.

the diner’s parking lot was almost deserted. if it hadn’t been because the waitress told you they were closing up, you and steve probably wouldn’t have left.

you put your hands in the pockets of your jean jacket, waiting for him to say something.

“so, uh, i had fun.” he said awkwardly, glancing at you.

“me too.”

he nodded his head, distractedly kicking a small rock.

“steve?”

he had turned towards you before his name was even fully out of your mouth. “yeah?”

“i don’t really…” you started. “want to go yet.”

steve’s entire face lightened up, shining even brighter than the stars.

“i was hoping you’d say something.”

“what should we do?” you said giddily, not being able to hide the way you were feeling. not wanting to, either.

“follow me.” he said, taking his car keys out of the back pocket of his jeans.

and you did exactly that, walking together with him towards his car. but when you got there, you stopped on your tracks and pressed your eyes shut.

“shit.”

“what?”

“my car. i can’t just leave it here.”

steve put his hands on the sides of his waist, looking deep in thought.

“we have two options.” he concluded. “we come back for it later, or we leave separately. depends on how much time you actually want to spend with me.”

you acted as if you had to think about it, your heart fluttering against your chest. finally, you broke into a smile, opening the passenger's seat door.

“let’s go.”

“i’m not saying the second movie is better, i’m just saying it’s better written.”

“no second movie is better than the first. ever.”

“oh, is that an actual hypothesis? you’ve got enough proof to back it up?”

“i just know i’m right.” steve shrugged and glanced at you, lying by his side. “when the third movie comes out, we should go see it.”

“none of your friends would want to go with you?” you joked, and steve stared at you.

“no,” he spoke softly. “you’d be my first choice.”

your heart skipped a beat, and you gazed at him. he was wearing a green sweater which made him almost disappear into the grass he was lying on. he had covered your legs with his jacket, claiming you’d be cold otherwise. you really weren't. but you let him do it anyway.

it was incredible, how you had been strangers only a few weeks ago. steve was so easy to talk to, and he complemented you so well that you almost felt as if you had known him for much longer.

“did i tell you how pretty you look?”

you snorted, and steve burst into laughter. his laugh broke through the quietness of the night, and even though the entirety of hawkins existed underneath the hill, in that moment, all that mattered was just you and him.

“i mean it!”

as warmth rose to your cheeks, you turned, staring up at the sky.

“stargazing.” you stated.

“stargazing.” he repeated, a smile creeping up on his face.

you didn’t notice, but he was staring at you with the same captivation you were looking at the stars with.

like all the best things in life, you never saw him coming.

#steve harrington #steve harrington au #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagines #stranger things au #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #joe keery #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #steve harrington x gender neutral reader #stranger things x gender neutral reader #robin buckley

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himluv · 2 years ago

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What Has Been Lost

A new chapter of Inevitable is up now!

The sounds of battle ended, the rubble of The Temple of Sacred Ashes settled and the dust dissipated. The Inquisition shouted to one another, desperate and fearful as they searched the ruins for their friends. But Solas had eyes only for the orb that lay shattered at his feet.

He knelt and cradled the broken pieces of Corypheus’s orb. His orb. His Foci, the container for his power during his Long Sleep. The power he required to unmake this world and restore the natural order of things. And it was destroyed.

How had he let this happen?

Soft footsteps approached him, hesitant. “Solas?” Riallan asked and her voice sent a wave of relief over him. She was alive. How could he feel such relief and such despair all at once?

“The orb…” his voice sounded rough and felt rougher still in his throat.

“Are you sure?” She asked. “We could take the pieces, try to…”

He closed his eyes against her words. Even still, after all the pain he’d wrought, she desperately wanted to help him. He gently placed the pieces back on the ground. “That would not recover what has been lost.”

She watched him, and despite the distance he’d forced between them these past few weeks, she saw him. Saw through to the spirit he was beneath it all. She always did.

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

So much more. More than he would ever tell her, no matter what he’d promised. After all they’d shared, what was one more promise broken? One more disappointment? He stood and stared down at the smashed remains of all his plans. He couldn’t look at her any longer. Not right now. Not anymore.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.” His voice shook, a betrayal he could not control. What should have been a swift and painless end for all of them would now have to be a long, drawn out event. Without the orb he would have to take alternate measures. Measures that would twist him even further from the Spirit he used to be. From the man he was when he’d been with her.

He could not let her see what he would become. He needed to leave, now. But Riallan stood before him with so much pain and concern in her eyes and he knew she deserved more than he could ever offer her.

But still, he must try.

“No matter what comes, I want you to know that what we had was real.” And it was true. The months he’d spent in her heart had been the happiest in his long life. She had restored him to the Spirit he’d been long before Mythal had summoned him. She’d shown him a life he’d never hoped to know, gave him a glimpse of all that could have been if he could only lay his burden down.

But he could not, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

Riallan watched him, analyzed him, stepped closer to him and opened her mouth to speak —

“Inquisitor?!” Cassandra shouted from the remains of the courtyard below them. “Are you alive?!” The fear in the Seeker’s voice tore Ria’s gaze away from him. She headed toward the stairs to alleviate her friend’s fear and Solas followed after her as if caught her in gravity. But when she started down the steps he stopped.

He let his eyes rove over her form one last time. He watched as her friends joined her, their relief obvious in their weary smiles. He consoled himself with the fact that she wouldn’t be alone. She was loved still and would be cared for in his absence. This was for the best, he told himself again and again. She would be surrounded by those who loved her, and he would be alone. Again. Like he always was.

He quashed the emotion climbing up his throat as he bore witness to her one last time. The exhaustion in her shoulders conflicted with the smile on her face as Dorian hugged her.

Solas turned away and left the Inquisitor and all they’d shared behind him. He refused to imagine her face when she realized he was gone. When she understood that he’d lied to her yet again. He told himself that her feelings were no longer his concern. Like so much else in his life, she would become a bittersweet memory when he could only afford to focus on the future.

And so he took his first steps on a path he’d never wanted to walk. It was the beginning of the end. He now walked the Dinan’shiral.

And it was for the best.

#solavellan #riallan lavellan #solas #dragon age inquisition #dai #fanfic #my writing

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snelbz · 4 years ago

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Light Up the Ice - 12

Summary: Aelin Galathynius has never really been into sports. Yes, she likes to keep in shape, and she works out, but watching people run up and down a field, trying to keep a leather ball away from each other? It’s always seemed a bit childish to her, and decidedly NOT a way for a grown adult to make a living.

Rowan Whitethorn has recently been drafted by the Terresen Staghorns, one of best teams in the EHL (Erilean Hockey League). And since he moved to Terresen from Wendlyn, it’s been hard for him to get more than 30 seconds alone from someone demanding a picture with him. Getting drafted straight out of college wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but he’s not complaining. Until he accidentally meets a girl. More specifically, until he accidentally meets his neighbor. She seems to have no idea who he is and for some reason, that’s refreshing. But will she still want to be with him once he shows her the truth?

Co-written with @tacmc.

A/N: No tag list tonight. This is the 3rd time I've tried to post this chapter and every single time, it's crashed before I can post or save. AKA I’m about to punch my computer and don’t want to push my luck anymore. Next chapter, I will be copying and pasting my old tag list, deleting the inactive blogs, and adding those who have asked. Enjoy!

It never failed to amaze Aelin how slow business got when the university took their breaks. It was only the second day of the University of Terrasen’s fall break and she’d already had enough spare time to reorganize the stock room, deep clean the kitchen and now, she was sitting at a table in the corner, staring at a print out of her menu.

She chewed on the end of her pen and then drew a line through another item. In the four years she’d had the café, she’d never changed a single menu item. It wasn’t that anyone was complaining about her food, but she was bored with it and wanted to add some new variety. She scribbled some notes in the margin of new recipes she wanted to try to replace the old ones, but the sound of the bell above the door distracted her. She was beaming before she even got out of her chair.

“Hey,” she said, approaching Rowan and Lorcan, pressing a kiss to the cheek of the former and keeping her distance from the former. “How was practice?”

“Good. Save for the fact that I’m still sitting on the bench,” Rowan said, sighing. “Coach said I can be on the ice from now on, as long as I’m still not running drills and agree to see the trainer every day.”

“That’s great,” she said, smiling. “You hungry?”

“Yes, please,” he replied, a lopsided grin on his face.

She headed for the cash register Elide had been sitting at a few moments before. She was now working on rolling silverware father down the counter, quietly humming along to the music that played in the café. “You want the grilled cheese and tomato soup again?”

“Please,” he said, smiling. He turned to his friend and asked, “You want the Reuben, Lor?”

Lorcan didn’t reply. He was staring back towards the door.

Back towards Elide.

“Lorcan?” Rowan said, again, finally getting his teammates’ attention.

“Reuben, yeah, sounds great,” he mumbled, pulling out his wallet.

“Lunch is on me,” Aelin said, eyeing him, not liking the way he turned back to glance at Elide.

She didn’t like the way Elide was sneaking glances at him either.

As she walked behind the counter, Aelin cleared her throat, making Elide jump, her fingers dropping the silverware in which she held. It clattered against the counter.

“Care to give me a hand?” Aelin asked.

Elide blinked. “It’s just two sandwiches-.”

“If the bell rings, you can come back out,” Aelin said, taking Elide by the wrist and dragging her back toward the kitchen. She called back to Rowan and Lorcan, “Make yourselves comfortable!”

Once in the kitchen, Aelin dropped Elide’s wrist and began with the sandwiches.

Elide watched her friend, her boss, skeptically. “Care to tell me what that was about?”

“You were practically drooling over him,” Aelin said, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Elide.

Elide’s cheeks darkened and she hurried around to the other side of the kitchen to get Rowan’s soup. “I was not.”

“You definitely were,” Aelin replied, turning and dropping the grilled cheese on top of the griddle. She may have put more cheese on than she would have for a regular customer and melty, delicious goodness dripped out the surface of the cooktop.

Elide was standing in the alley of the kitchen, looking back through the serving window at Aelin. “And…? So what if I was? He’s hot.”

Aelin fought the urge to roll her eyes. “He’s a hockey player, El. Rowan has told me about how he spends his away games.”

Elide was quiet as she put the soup in the window to stay warm as Aelin finished their sandwiches. If her friend and boss’s back hadn’t been facing her, she probably wouldn’t have had the courage to say, “Wow, Ace, be careful. Your hypocrisy is showing.”

She whirled, pointing a spatula at Elide. “That’s a completely different situation and you know it.”

Elide lifted a brow. “Do I?”

Aelin’s lips thinned. “Yes, you do. At least, you should. Rowan and I… it’s different.”

“If you would have known he was a hockey player, you would’ve never started seeing Rowan,” Elide went on, trying to hide both her frustration and amusement. “The fact that Lorcan plays hockey is all you can see when you look at him.”

Aelin scoffed. “Wrong. All I can see is his jackassery.”

“Jackassery?”

“It’s a word,” Aelin snapped, flipping over the sandwich on the griddle. “And, again, Rowan has told me about his post game activities when they’re on the road.”

“It doesn’t make a difference, I don’t know why you’re even upset about it,” Elide muttered, coming around to the salad station and popping a cucumber slice in her mouth. “He’s Lorcan Salvaterre. He’s the captain of the team. He dates bikini models and actresses. I’m just a broke college student. I’m just…me.”

Aelin’s eyes softened as she turned to one of her oldest friends. “That’s not true, Elide. You are a phenomenal, beautiful, smart woman, and anyone who doesn’t see that is blind. Including yourself.”

Elide’s cheeks darkened, slightly, as she tried to fight the smile growing. “I’m going to go finish my silverware. Holler if you need me.”

Aelin nodded and watched as she pushed through the swinging door to the dining room. She finished up the sandwiches before grabbing Rowan’s soup and carrying them out front.

While she and Elide had been in the kitchen, Fenrys had appeared, a fast food bag open in front of him. She chuckled as she sat down Rowan and Lorcan’s food. “You know I would have cooked for you.”

His mouth was full of a massive bite of hamburger, so Lorcan answered for him. “He also knows coach would kick his ass if he knew he was eating that. Yet he does it anyway.”

“It’s so good,” Fenrys said, his mouth still full, his manners shot. “What coach doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Rowan snorted. “Tell yourself that when you feel like shit once the grease sets in.”

Lorcan stared at his sandwich for a long moment. Then, he mumbled, “Thank you.”

Aelin blinked. Even Rowan looked nearly surprised.

“Did you just thank me?” Aelin asked, perfectly still.

Lorcan didn’t say anything else as he bit into his sandwich.

A few more people trickled in and Aelin got back to work, the shock of Lorcan’s almost-kindness still shocking her. The dinner rush, even though slower with the college campus dwindled, still kept her and Elide busy, and by the time eight rolled around, Aelin was ready to close up.

Rowan, Lorcan, and Fenrys remained at the corner table.

Elide came out of the kitchen, having grabbed her purse and coat from Aelin’s office. “I’m gonna head home, if there’s nothing else you need me to do.”

Aelin shook her head. “Nope, you’re all set. Have a good night.”

“You, too,” Elide said, smiling, and Aelin noticed that her eyes slid to the table again, before she turned and was out the door, heading around the building to the small lot behind the café.

As she approached the table, Lorcan was standing and shrugging his jacket on. “Thanks for dinner. It was good.”

Aelin was still stunned by his niceties earlier that his words barely registered. “You’re welcome, I’m glad you liked it. I guess I’ll keep it on the menu.”

“You heading out, man?” Fenrys asked, finishing off the large plate of fries he’d ordered after his burger and first order of fries was gone.

“Yeah. Got some stuff I gotta take care of.” He said nothing else, but headed for the door.

Turning towards Rowan, Aelin tried to keep her expression in check as she realized that he, too, was heading for the back lot. Rowan, not fooled by her attempts, held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not getting involved.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t like it.”

“Like what?” Fenrys asked, and Aelin rolled her eyes as she took his plate and headed towards the kitchen.

“I’ve gotta lock up,” she called out over her shoulder. “I’ll see you at home. I love you.”

“Love you, too, sweet cheeks!” Fenrys called out.

Even through the swinging door, Aelin heard Rowan smack him on the back of the head.

****************

Rowan skated around the ice.

He was bored shitless, not even in his hockey gear, but sweatpants and a hoodie. His hands were shoved into his pant pockets as he circled the rink, close to the sideboards. The constant blow of the whistle was the only thing keeping him awake.

He didn’t even bother asking if he could practice, even though he felt up to it. He already knew what the answer would be.

And yet, he longed for practice to last. When it was over, he’d have to make his way into the locker room for Maeve.

And he was not prepared.

He’d felt her eyes on him since the moment he hit the ice, yet he hadn’t looked over at her once. Dorian was thankfully on the other end of the rink, so as he skated by at the beginning of practice, he was able to flag him down.

“Hey, man, how are you feeling?” Dorian asked, leaning on the half wall separating them.

“Much better, like it never happened,” he said, and the lie was barely there.

Dorian quirked an eyebrow and snorted. “Good try. You can’t practice today.”

“No, I get it, I understand that.” Roan cleared his throat. “But, uh, is there a different massage therapist I can see?”

Dorian blinked. “Did something happen with Maeve the other day? She didn’t mention anything-.”

“She’s my ex,” Rowan interrupted.

Dorian hesitated before nodding, slowly. “I see.”

“You can massage me,” Rowan said, quickly.

“As flattered as I am, I’m not a massage therapist,” Dorian chuckled. “I can talk to-.”

“No, don’t…tell anyone. If you don’t know of anyone, it’s fine,” Rowan said, the words rushing out of him.

“Look, I don’t know Maeve very well,” Dorian began, shaking his head. “But, she seems perfectly fine, alright? Has it been a while since you’ve been together?”

Rowan gave him a curt nod.

“Then give her a chance to be civil,” Dorian said, shrugging. “If she’s disrespectful, let me know. Otherwise, I have no reason to think she won’t do her job appropriately, and if she doesn’t, then you can leave.”

He sighed, nodding, and skated off.

He spent the next two hours dreading every minute that passed.

He heard Brello’s whistle blow and slowly glided across the ice, coming to a stop next to his line.

“Everyone was looking good today,” he said, looking at them one by one. “Take it easy tonight. The boys from Eyllwe aren’t going to go easy on us tomorrow night, especially since we’ll be in their territory. I want all of you in your best form.” He gestured to Rowan. “Whitethorn will be back on the ice next week.”

There were cheers and hollers from the team and Rowan couldn’t help but smirk as Lorcan shoved him.

Brello, to everyone’s surprise, smirked as well. “Hope you’ve enjoyed your time off, but relaxation time is over. You ready to go?”

“Aye, coach,” he replied, nodding.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

After a couple more announcements from the coaching staff, everyone was skating towards the locker rooms of the practice facility and Rowan felt like his nerves were going to snap.

He took his time removing his skates and grabbing his bag, before slowly walking down the hall leading to the training rooms. He was silently praying Dorian would be in his office, right off to the side of the therapy room, but he wasn’t.

There was only one room with a light on, and with a deep breath, he approached and knocked on the half-open door.

Maeve looked over her shoulder with a smile. “Come in, I’m ready for you.”

Rowan hesitated, but went in. Dorian was right. Maybe she had changed, maybe there was nothing to worry about.

Yet Rowan felt nauseous as he approached the blanket covered table.

“I’ll give you a minute to strip down and be back.” She left without another word, shutting the door behind her.

Rowan stared at the door before kicking off his shoes then lifting his shirt over his head. He only hesitated for a moment before kicking off his sweats and laying down on the table, pulling the blanket up to his waist.

A soft knock informed him of her approach, and he grunted to let her know he was ready.

When the door reopened, the lights suddenly dimmed and Rowan awkwardly shifted on the massage table.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Rowan was grinding his teeth as she worked on the muscle in his lower back that kept spasming when she said, “I have to say, I was surprised to see you the other day. Dorian hadn’t told me who I would be working on, but…” She paused and chuckled quietly, running her hands up his back.

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

When Rowan was drafted into the EHL, it had been a pretty big deal in his city, but more specifically, his university. He’d dropped out of school to accept the offer from the lower level team and climb his way to where he was. And everyone in Wendlyn knew.

There was no way Maeve didn’t know he was playing for Terrasen when she took the job.

He gave her a small nod and a quiet noise that said he was listening. She kept going, taking that as a sign he was interested in the conversation.

“I feel like it’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” she sighed. “Things ended so...abruptly. I’m glad to see your doing good.” Another chuckle. “Save for the injury, of course.”

It was so strange to hear another accent from Wendlyn that was still somewhat fresh. Lorcan, Gav and Fenrys, they’d been in Terrasen so long, the accent almost disappeared sometimes. But the lilt of her tone, the way she phrased certain words… It both soothed and unsettled Rowan.

“Don't you care to know how I’ve been?” She asked, her voice low. When Rowan didn’t reply, she continued on, anyway. “I’ve been pretty good. Got myself a little place in the city. A dog. Little chihuahua named Fiona.”

Rowan blinked. He was tempted to say that he hadn’t asked, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ve got some pretty wealthy clients, too,” she continued, continuing to work out that knot. “For the first time in ages, I’m secure, you know? Not just financially, just…secure.”

“Good to hear,” he replied, the words sounding more like a snarl through the pain, and she dug her knuckles into his back. The sound he made was halfway between a moan and a groan, he bit his lip to cut it off, but he noted the change in the way Maeve’s hands touched him.

Her touches became less like determined movements meant to heal and were more akin to petting, brushes along his side and a slow finger down his spine.

“And you?” She asked, pulling the blanket a bit lower on his back. He’d worn underwear for just that reason, not trusting her to not make an inappropriate move. “Are you living in Orynth?”

He cleared his throat and said, “Yep. Got an apartment down the road from the university.”

His answer was short and sweet. He wasn’t trying to invite more conversation.

“Not far from me then,” she replied, humming quietly.

Rowan’s shoulders tensed, but that just made her want to ease it away. His eyes closed and he remained quiet.

“What about your personal life?” Maeve asked, at last.

Rowan didn’t answer, he just took a deep breath.

“Not trying to pry,” Maeve said, at last. “Just trying to make conversation.”

“I’m in pain,” he said, gently, the lie coming out easy. “Not really in a mood to make conversation.”

He could have sworn he felt the temperature in the room drop several degrees.

Her answer was curt. “Sorry.”

She stayed quiet for the rest of the massage, and when she finished, she told him to get redressed and left, heading back out into the main training facility.

He emerged a few moments later, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his silver hair. He was already heading for the door, giving her a nod of thanks, when she spoke up.

“Rowan, wait.”

He hated hearing his name on her lips. His steps slowed and he turned around to look at her.

She hesitated slightly, but said, “I was going to go get dinner in a little bit. It’s been a while, I didn’t know if maybe you-.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mae,” he sighed. The familiar nickname slipped out before he had time to stop it. It caught him off guard. “I- I gotta get home. I’ll see you later.”

Rowan had grabbed his bag and was out the door before she had time to say another word

****************

Aelin was at the stove, stirring a pot of homemade marinara sauce and humming quietly along with the radio when Rowan unlocked the door to her apartment and came in. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at him before turning back to the cooktop. “Hey, you. How was practice?”

“My new massage therapist is my ex.”

The words came out in a rush and Rowan wasn’t even sure he consciously knew he had planned on saying them.

Aelin’s back stiffened and she set the wooden spoon on the trivet beside the stove. Silently, she turned and asked, “Your ex-girlfriend is giving you massages?”

Rowan closed his eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. “Before you say anything-.”

“Did this just start today?” she asked. Her tone held no judgement, only curiosity. However, there was a slight edge to her tone.

“She gave me the massage in my apartment-.”

Aelin held up a hand, and Rowan’s words instantly fell into silence.

Silence, where the room remained for far too long. “Aelin-.”

“Who is she?” Aelin asked, one brow raised. “I’ll kick her ass.”

“Her name is Maeve,” he said, making his way into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter. “She was my girlfriend in college. We dated for a couple of years, but… It didn’t end well. It became more about who I was in hockey, how I was playing, than it was about our relationship.”

“Maeve,” Aelin repeated, turning back to the stove. “Maeve, Maeve, Maeve… Hmm.”

Rowan was quiet, not exactly sure what to say.

“And you have to see her? You don’t have a choice?” She finally asked.

He shook his head. “Brello told me to get over my personal issues. I’m sure I can book a personal masseuse, but-.”

“No, your coach is right,” she sighed, stirring the pot, before putting the lid on and walking over to where Rowan stood. She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “I don’t like it, but… that isn’t really my call to make.”

Rowan let out a relieved breath. “I know, it’s not mine either. Maybe you can give me massages here to help?” He smirked and, finally, Aelin’s beautiful smile returned.

“We’ll see,” she chuckled, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Looks like I’ll just have to come to your games and make my presence known.”

“Make your presence known?” He crooned.

“I like to mark my territory,” Aelin breathed, her eyes bright.

“And I’m your territory?” Rowan grinned.

“Whether you like it or not,” Aelin said, laughing softly. “Yes, you are.”

“Hmmm,” Rowan said, narrowing his eyes. “I can’t say that I don’t like that.”

He leaned down and kissed her one more time before asking, “So you aren’t mad?”

She stepped away, back to the stove, and said, “No, I’m not mad.” She paused and pulled a few spices from the cupboard. “Do I like it? Of course not, but there’s not much we can do about it.”

“Once I finish up this round of therapy, I won’t need it again,” he promised. “No more fights, no more getting slammed into the boards. I won’t have to see her anymore.”

Aelin laughed as she turned back to him. “You can’t make that promise, who’s to say what could happen?”

Rowan cringed. “That’s true. No more fighting though, I mean that.”

Aelin nodded, and he could tell she believed him.

He took a step closer and brushed her hair back. “You look beautiful.”

Aelin’s lips quirked as she said, “Trying to kiss my ass to get back on my good side?”

“Maybe,” he muttered, and kissed her forehead, softly. “Is it working?”

“Hmmm,” Aelin began, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Not yet, keep trying.”

Rowan’s grin widened as he leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. “Now?”

Aelin sighed. “Getting there.”

“Only getting there, huh?” He breathed, his lips still brushing hers.

“I guess you’re going to have to step your game up,” Aelin cooed, slipping her hands down his back and into the waistband of his sweatpants.

Rowan’s grin was positively feline as he picked her up and carried her back into her bedroom.

Dinner was forgotten about for quite a while.

#lui #light up the ice #rowaelin hockey fic #snacmc #snelbz lui #snelbz tacmc collab #rowaelin #tog #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius

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rufousnmacska · 4 years ago

Text

Only You

A manorian arranged marriage fic from an anon request.

Thank you to @itach-i for beta reading and helping plot this out! ❤️

Previously, in Part One

PART TWO

Manon refused to look in the mirror. Giselle, a Blueblood serving as both sentinel and attendant on this trip, adjusted the drape of her dress then inserted more pins into her hair. She had successfully avoided wearing a dress at Aelin’s coronation, as well as her own. But for this event, she’d finally given in to Glennis’s appeals for formality. She told herself it was due to her grandmother’s surprisingly ruthless demands. But if a dagger were held to her throat, she might admit there was a small part of her that wanted to see Dorian’s expression at the sight of her in a dress. So, they’d packed two. While Manon had initially toyed with the idea of wearing all black to Dorian’s wedding, she knew she’d never go through with it. The black dress would be worn at tonight’s royal banquet while the more modest, light gray frock would be worn at the ceremony.

Glennis was supervising and when Giselle stepped back, they both nodded.

Manon turned away from her reflection. “You act as if the world will live or die upon my appearance tonight.”

Through a combination of luck and will, she’d managed to avoid seeing Dorian this morning when they arrived. When she was shown to her rooms, she hadn’t left them, indulging her cowardice just this once. Unfortunately, there was no way she could get out of tonight’s banquet.

“It just might,” Glennis mumbled.

Manon caught her eye and demanded, “What does that mean?” With a nod, she dismissed Giselle.

“I’ve learned Prince Fennick is here.” Glennis made no effort to hide the accusation in her voice.

“I’m surprised he was able to make the trip. I thought the seas were impassable this time of year.”

“I’ve been told he was very motivated.”

“What else have you been told?” she asked, walking around to pick up her traveling clothes that had been thrown about the room. Manon had kept the contents of Fennick’s letter a secret from Glennis, passing it off as an introduction to a possible trade alliance. On top of everything else, she didn’t want to deal with her grandmother’s nosiness. It had been easy to convince herself that he wouldn’t show up. All a mistake, she realized now, as she would have Glennis’s anger to manage along with the questions.

“He cornered Giselle and Lara earlier to ask about your attire for tonight. Among other things.”

Manon scowled in confusion, hiding her irritation that he’d approach her witches like that. “What? Why would he want to know that?”

“Why? So he can, and I am quoting him here, ‘dress accordingly.’”

“And what other things?”

“Lara said he was asking about our capitol. If there had been much rebuilding or if it was new construction. And what sort of trade we exported.”

Manon remembered how he’d framed his interest in terms of a mutually beneficial alliance between her kingdom and Doranelle. Those questions at least made sense to her. “We have nothing to hide,” she said dismissively. “Building a kingdom from ancient ruins, nothing to trade except grains and unrefined ore. I still don’t understand about the dress though,” she confessed.

“He wants to match. Apparently he’s decided to court you at the wedding of the man you love. And, apparently, you’re going to let him!” Glennis growled.

And this was why she’d not shown the letter to Glennis. A sudden rage consumed Manon and she hissed back, “Isn’t this what everyone wants? For me to move on and produce an heir for the Witch Kingdom? Why is it that when I consider doing exactly that, I’m made to feel like some sort of traitor? Dorian has accepted his future, grandmother. Shouldn’t I do the same?”

Glennis had no reply, only an immensely sad expression on her face. While she had never pushed Manon about an heir, almost everyone else on the council had, their efforts doubling upon the news that Dorian’s betrothal had left their queen alone.

Alone. She was well and truly alone now, she realized. Dorian was the only person who had known her Thirteen for their true selves. Petrah and the other witches, even Glennis, really only knew the masks her sisters had worn. Dorian had seen them at their most vulnerable, trained and fought with them, laughed with them. The sudden breaking of that connection left her breathless with pain.

And just like that, Manon’s anger disappeared. She fell into a chair and gazed out the window at the darkening sky. She could see the ocean from here, and she knew that Dorian’s rooms were only a few short flights above hers. So close. “Does anyone else know why he is here?”

“I don’t know,” Glennis said. “I believe he’s kept to his rooms for the most part. If he’s fool enough to speak about it in front of his host, then he deserves whatever happens to him.”

Manon huffed a laugh in agreement.

“I hate that this is happening,” Glennis said, her voice miserable. “I hate it!” Manon looked up to see tears in her grandmother’s eyes. “I’m sorry, dear. It’s not fair of me to add to your torment. I know you blame yourself, but you shouldn’t. His awful lords are to blame. Dorian had no choice.” After a long moment, she added, “If you want to move on with a fae prince, I won’t stop you.”

“Of course I don’t want to,” Manon said, fighting against the tears building in her own eyes. “I want to be with Dorian. I want him and no one else to father my witchling, to rule by my side. But that’s not possible. Not anymore. I waited too long to tell him that. That’s why I blame myself. I thought we’d have time, but I was wrong.” She lost the battle with her tears, letting them run down her cheeks.

Glennis rushed over to hug her, murmuring words of consolation that, while unable to change anything, still helped to soothe her. Eventually, Manon pulled away to clean her face.

For the first time in a long time, since those desperate final days of the war, Glennis looked ancient enough to match her age. It was the tears and sadness and regret. It made Manon wonder why her grandmother never spoke of her own mate. Had he been a love match? Or an arrangement that settled into a simple happiness that allowed them to become mates? If the latter, would that be enough for Manon?

With a courage and strength that she didn’t think she had, Manon stood and grasped Glennis’s hand. “Let’s go down. I want to get this over with as quickly as possible.”

***

Dorian’s nerves grew increasingly worse as more guests made their way through the receiving line. He had yet to see Manon. He hadn’t been surprised that she’d sequestered herself in her rooms all day, but that didn’t stop the disappointment from almost overwhelming him. Only Chaol’s insistence that it might cause a scene had kept him from visiting her. Now, the idea of introducing her to Eveline made him want to throw up. He knew he wasn’t making a very good impression on the guests. Luckily, Eveline was a talented conversationalist, taking some of the attention off his own shoulders.

The next person to approach gave Dorian a shock. A fae male stood before them, tall and silver-haired, handsomely dressed in black and gold. He was the spitting image of Rowan, if Rowan had long hair. At the expression on Dorian’s face, the male broke into a laugh.

“Your Majesty. Lady Frey,” he said, bowing gracefully. “I am Prince Fennick Whitethorn. Queen Sellene of Doranelle regrets not being able to attend, but she sends her dearest wishes for a long and happy union.” He then exchanged brief introductions with Chaol and Yrene, who shared in Dorian’s surprise at the resemblance.

“Thank you, your highness,” Dorian said. “We are close friends with your cousin Rowan. Sadly, he and Aelin were unable to attend.”

“Ah, that is sad. I haven’t seen him in years and had hoped to catch up.”

“How was your voyage here?” Eveline asked. “I'm relieved that you avoided the winter storms.”

“The sea travel was harrowing in spots. But nothing to prevent me from daring the journey.” At Eveline’s quizzical look, he grinned a bit sheepishly. “I grew up listening to my grandmother spin tales of fae meeting their mates at weddings. I’m afraid I’m a romantic at heart and when Sellene asked me to represent Doranelle, I could not pass up the opportunity.”

Eveline laughed. “Well, perhaps you will find them tonight. Though, I don’t think there are any other fae present.”

Not acknowledging the encroachment of a noble couple wishing he would move along, Fennick said, “Lucky for me, Lady, the fae mating bond has been known to happen with humans. I believe your king’s ancestors were such a pair, yes?” Before Dorian could reply, Fennick continued. “It is rare, but it happens. I’ve even heard tell of fae sharing mate bonds with witches.”

Maintaining a pleasant air, she said, “Ah, is that so? I’m afraid I’m rather ignorant on those matters.” With an eye to the rest of the line, she said, “Please enjoy yourself this evening.”

“Thank you,” he said with another quick bow. “I intend to.”

Dorian had stiffened, his fists clenched so tightly his skin was white at the knuckles. He gave the prince a dismissive nod, then watched as he mingled with the crowd that had formed at the entrance to the ballroom. He very clearly overheard Fennick ask someone if the Witch Queen had made her appearance yet. Yrene heard too, and Chaol had to grab her arm to keep her from going after the male.

The next guests passed by in a haze. Dorian smiled prettily and welcomed them. He could think of nothing but the arrogant fae male in search of a mate and was wondering if Fennick had been trying to goad him into some sort of confrontation. When a hand pinched his arm, he looked over to see Chaol, wearing a wild-eyed expression that screamed for him to focus.

He spun back around to find Manon standing before him.

Unable to stop himself, he just stared at her. It had been months since they’d last seen each other, let alone spoken. While Dorian had seen her in flying leathers and other basic clothes, had seen her in every state of undress, he’d never seen her wearing a dress. Until this moment, he’d thought she’d never looked more beautiful than when she’d had on one of his night shirts. How wrong he was.

The black dress hugged her body, flaring out at the hem and pooling on the floor. The low neckline would have been scandalous if not for the jewel-encrusted golden collar that wrapped around her neck and extended out to cap her shoulders. Though she did not have it on tonight, he knew the jewels matched those that blazed in the stars of crown. Her hair was twisted up, held in place by golden pins, a few silken strands hanging down around her face.

As the silence grew, and as others around them watched with eyes greedy for drama, Dorian swallowed, hoping he could remember words, any words, to get him through this moment.

But it was Eveline who spoke first. “Your Majesty, thank you for making the long journey to celebrate with us.” She curtsied to Manon, then smiled in greeting to Glennis and the witches standing behind their queen. “When I was in the stable yard earlier, I checked in on your wyverns to make sure they were comfortable. I confess I’d never seen one so close before. They are truly amazing.”

Manon dipped her head. “It is my great honor, Lady. And yes, our mounts have been well attended. I hope they were on their best behavior.”

“Oh yes,” Eveline said. “The smaller one seemed very gentle. One of the yard hands told me he loves flowers.” She gestured to the large bouquets decorating the hall. “I requested some be sent down to him.”

Almost imperceptibly, Manon’s eyes flared at the mention of Abraxos’s gentleness. As if his approval of Eveline meant something beyond his usual love of a pretty face and kind nature.

Eveline hesitated, looking between Dorian and Manon. “I hope that was acceptable. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

Manon smiled reassuringly and said, “No, you did not, Lady. I appreciate your attentiveness, and I’m sure Abraxos did too.” Turning to fully face Dorian, her eyes glittered in the light of the chandeliers. He searched her face, awestruck as always by her beauty, but now hoping to see some acknowledgment that this was as torturous for her as it was for him. With a steady voice, she said, “Congratulations, Your Majesty.”

I’m princeling to you, he wanted to say. Maybe that would break through the ice-cold mask Manon had donned. But instead, all he could manage was a pathetic, “Thank you.”

Manon waited for a moment, as if he might have more to say. But when nothing came, his mind reeling with everything he couldn’t speak aloud, she made her way towards an anxiously waiting Yrene. The healer ignored protocol and pulled Manon into a hug. Dorian watched them speak quietly together, until a strong hand squeezed his, drawing his attention away. He looked down to see Glennis smiling sadly. She’d become as much a grandmother to him as she was to Manon, and he realized suddenly that she would soon be taken out of his life too.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I don’t …” But he couldn’t finish. And Glennis wouldn’t let him anyway.

She bowed, offering Eveline a kind smile as she said, “My congratulations, Lady.”

Eveline, gracious as ever, dipped her head in return and thanked Glennis for her well wishes.

And just like that, the witches were gone and there was some merchant family standing in front of him. Dorian’s senses were overloaded, and he simply ignored the next influx of guests, selfishly relying on Eveline to chat with them. He should have turned away, should have focused on his duties, but his eyes followed Manon towards the ballroom. Before she could enter, Fennick presented himself to her with another dignified bow, then extended his arm. Dorian couldn’t hear what they said as she accepted and he escorted Manon into the room. In fact, he could hear nothing at all.

Chaol appeared in front of him, mouthing something to Eveline, then pulled Dorian back down a hallway to a deserted storage closet. Dorian’s knees nearly buckled, and he fell against the wall. Covering his mouth and trusting the noise down the hall to drown it out, he let loose the scream he’d been holding in for months. Magic exploded through the room, leaving the walls and floor coated with a thick sheet of ice. The temperature dropped so low that Chaol’s lips and eyelashes frosted over. But his friend said nothing, just let him yell, let his magic overtake them until there was nothing left.

*****

Manon barely registered what was happening as she let the fae prince lead her into the ballroom. She knew he was speaking to her, but she only picked up pieces here and there, relegating the words to nonsense. Numbly, she turned back, searching for Dorian, but he was gone.

Her mind was caught on a moment ago when she’d been standing before him, drowning in the familiarity of his scent, his eyes, all of him. She was used to seeing him in formal clothing, but tonight, Dorian had outdone himself. In Adarlan red and embroidered with shimmering gold and silver wyverns, his jacket fit snugly across his broad shoulders, the back hem extending to his knees. It flattered his figure in such a way that he seemed taller, even more commanding than usual. His ebony hair had grown, curling at his ears and around his crown, a reminder of how long it had been since she’d seen him.

In a sparkling golden gown that complemented her dark hair and eyes, Eveline was lovely. As Manon had expected. What surprised her was the gratitude she felt for Eveline’s quick ability to relieve some of the tension. The truth was, if not for her, Manon and Dorian might still be standing there, entranced and speechless and desperate for each other’s presence.

“Your Majesty?” The fae was holding a chair out for her.

Manon spun around, shocked to find herself on the opposite side of the ballroom. She had no memory of getting here. Adarlan’s nobles and upper class shuffled around them, making a show of looking for their seats. But they were all watching her, some more brazenly than others. She stared back, forcing them to look away or bow their heads. With a tight smile, she thanked Fennick and sat down, her sentinels taking their positions along the wall behind her. He held out a chair for Glennis, who grumbled a thank you, then took the seat on Manon’s other side. Two couples claimed the remaining spots at their table and she could tell by their attire that they were foreign dignitaries. The older of the men introduced himself as the ambassador from Melisande and began speaking to Glennis, who looked both annoyed at the distraction and overjoyed at not having to converse with Fennick.

“I apologize,” Fennick said quietly. “This must be very difficult for you, Your Majesty.”

Manon blinked as she tried to imagine him calling her witchling. Never, came the shouted reply in her head. No one would ever call her that again. Yet another connection to a happier time that had been severed.

“I’ve lived through worse,” she said without thinking. It was true. And yet, also a lie. Losing her coven had been worse. But this was its own special misery. To lose Dorian now, after she’d begun to heal, after she’d chosen to live … this new wound cut long and deep, reopening all the old hurts from which she’d just started to recover.

Fennick was watching her carefully, no doubt unsure of how to respond. But he surprised her by saying, “Yes. They are legends in the fae lands. If not for the bravery of your witches, the world would have been destroyed. Sellene and Endymion speak highly of them. Truly, I am sorry for your loss.”

Manon attempted a smile, hoping that would be the end of it. People often didn’t know what to say when the topic of the Thirteen was broached. That Fennick said anything, let alone kind words, was a comfort. Yet she had no desire to discuss it further and add salt to her wounds.

In a cruel bit of luck, they were distracted by Dorian and Eveline entering the room. They made their way to a dais at the front of the crowd as everyone applauded. Pretending to clap, Manon tried in vain to focus on Chaol and Yrene, who’d already taken their seats at the head table. She felt Dorian’s eyes on her and for a brief instance, their gazes met. His smile was fake, she knew. But the recognition in his stare made her feel seen, known in a way that so few did.

When he saw who was next to her, his look turned almost feral. But then Eveline leaned close to say something to him and he turned away. The smile he gave his future queen appeared more genuine, enough so that its sincerity gave Manon pause. Quickly losing interest in the spectacle, she turned back to Fennick.

“You can’t have come all this way just to meet with me,” she said, holding her wine glass for a server to fill. She almost asked the man to leave the entire decanter at the table. She wasn’t one for drink, but tonight might be a perfect time to start.

“I can assure you, I did.”

“And why is that exactly?”

He laughed and leaned back in his chair. It was only then that she saw he’d actually matched his outfit to hers. She glanced back to Giselle and Lara. The witches had the good sense to look ashamed, but Manon wouldn’t punish them. Instead of anger, she was biting back a laugh. It was a decent attempt, but if Fennick thought she would be impressed by such things, he was an idiot. While she could appreciate the way Dorian dressed, it wasn’t a thing she noticed on anyone else.

“In my letter I mentioned having gone through a similar experience,” he said, gesturing to the dais with his glass before taking a sip. “I once loved a human. But it ended badly.” He didn’t volunteer more information, and though Manon was curious, she didn’t ask for more. “When Sellene got the invitation and seemed shocked by who the king had chosen to wed, I saw a possible kindred spirit in you. The more she told me about you, the more intrigued I became. Though, her description of your beauty was lacking to say the least.” With a flirtatious half smile, he added, “The fae are known for their otherworldly beauty, but I can officially say that witches,” he nodded to her, “have far surpassed my kind.”

Manon had to turn away to hide her laugh. People flirted with her all the time. But after so long with Dorian, she’d grown used to his playfulness and subtlety.

Mistaking it as shyness, Fennick went on. “You don’t believe me? Look around this room. They are here for a king’s wedding, yet all their eyes follow us.”

She considered telling him it had everything to do with the humans’ love of gossip and nothing to do with their looks, but he knew that. This was just a game, one she didn’t feel like playing no matter how entertaining it might be.

The ambassador’s assistant asked Fennick a question, thankfully taking his attention off her. Ignoring the conversation, she gazed up at the dais. Chaol and Yrene were seated to Dorian’s left and a sour looking man had appeared to Eveline’s right. She narrowed her eyes on Lord Frey. The way he held himself, looking down his nose and sneering at the guests, reminded her of the Blackbeak Matron. It made sense. They both possessed a cruel desire for power that left others at risk.

As if a light had been shone on it, she noticed that Eveline kept herself as far from her father as possible. Or was she just trying to get closer to Dorian? Manon didn’t think it was wishful thinking. The girl clearly hated her father, and justifiably so. For the first time, Manon considered that Eveline may not want this union either. She’d never blamed the girl outright, but she’d never spared any sympathy either. But even sympathy couldn’t quell her desire to be in Eveline’s place. Maybe not in front of this crowd. But by Dorian’s side? At this moment, Manon wanted nothing more. As she sank into the feeling, her favorite blue eyes found her.

A charge passed between them and it felt like the entire room had been emptied. A crazy urge almost took her, to get up and take his hand and just walk out. Leave everyone and everything behind. Others could rule their kingdoms. Clean up the mess they’d leave behind. Manon blinked and the noise and people surged back. Dorian was perched on the edge of his chair, as if he’d had the same vision of escape. But with the return to reality, that vision faded into darkness. Where she knew it belonged.

Fennick said something to her and she twisted in her chair. He was speaking animatedly to the ambassador, his assistant, and their wives, trying to pull Manon into the conversation. “We were just talking about wedding gifts. It’s difficult enough trying to get something for people who aren’t royalty. Whatever do you give a king and his queen?” he asked.

Manon held back a flinch at that description of Dorian and Eveline and glanced at the others. The women seemed to be too polite to point out the rudeness of Fennick’s topic.

Glennis wasn’t. “I would think it’s not proper to discuss such things,” she said, earning a nod of agreement from the ambassador’s wife.

Fennick laughed airily, failing to see Glennis’s nasty look. “It’s just in good fun. Doranelle is well known for our gold and metalcraft, so Sellene commissioned a music box that is embossed with the Havilliard crest. She thought it appropriate to send a gift representative of our wealth.” His face reddened, as though his queen’s arrogance was embarrassing.

The ambassador cleared his throat, ignoring his wife’s glare. “Melisande is well known for our textiles, so we gifted them an assortment of our finest silks.” As if wanting to be saved from his wife, he looked to Manon, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

She wasn’t going to reply at first. No amount of pleading from the ambassador could draw her into this. But then, despite the crone’s earlier disapproval, she saw the curiosity on Glennis’s face and found herself saying, “I’ve given them a book.”

With a contemptuous smirk, the assistant piped up and asked, “A book? Does it hold some sort of secret witch knowledge to make it suitable for a king?”

If she wasn’t still reeling from the moment she’d just shared with Dorian, Manon might have told him to go to hell. But this whole night had left her out of sorts. And besides, she would not be the cause of a scene. Glaring at the man, she said, “It’s called a memory book, the pages left blank for commemorating special events. Weddings. Births.” She waved her hand, dismissing the topic as much as the nausea that suddenly struck her.

While the men looked confused, as if an empty book were the worst gift in the world, the women smiled, agreeing it was a lovely idea. She found Fennick looking at her, his head tilted slightly, as if trying to decide between the two possibilities. Finally, he gave her a soft smile and said, “I’d not thought you the romantic type, Your Majesty. That is indeed a beautiful gift.”

Manon thanked him with a nod, sitting quietly as the others continued talking and studiously avoiding Glennis’s eyes on her. She’d had no idea what Manon had brought to give Dorian and Eveline. What would she think if Manon told her she’d left the name plate blank? She had not been able to bring herself to write Eveline’s name next to Dorian’s. A cowardly deed. Just as it had been a cowardly urge earlier to run from this night.

By the time dinner ended and the music was starting, she was silent and numb, burying herself in dark thoughts and wishing she had never come. Glennis had done her part in keeping the conversation at the table going, but once the last course was cleared, she excused herself to go speak to Yrene. When Fennick stood and offered his hand to dance, Manon just stared. He sat again, his smile fading and a concerned look in his eye. He’d tried to improve her mood during dinner but to no avail.

“Go dance, Fennick. I’m fine.”

“You’re the only one I want to dance with, Your Majesty.”

She sighed, but her mouth twitched upwards. “Just call me Manon.” She had no energy for maintaining airs.

As they sat and watched the dance floor fill, he said, “I was ready to give up my immortality for the woman I loved.” Manon turned towards him, her foul mood momentarily replaced by curiosity. “During Maeve’s reign I spent as much time as I could outside of Doranelle. I met her in Wendlyn. She was a seamstress, beautiful and kind.” He glanced at Manon, frowning. “I think I fell in love with her the instant our eyes met. There was this inexplicable connection. Fae can mate with humans, but it’s very rare. I thought that if I waited, the bond would snap into place and she would be my mate.”

Manon turned her attention back to the dancing. She hid her trembling hands under the table, remembering she had once thought the same thing about Dorian. Witches had mates, but not in the fae sense. The connection was not magical, it wasn’t something feral and uncontrollable. A witch chose her mate, their bond forged on love and respect. Nothing more. But, there was something more with Dorian. A tug towards him she’d felt when they’d met, a pull that she could never truly explain. Once, she’d almost asked Glennis if having two witch parents gave her more fae blood than most witches. But she’d talked herself out of it, eased by the thought that she and Dorian had time. And the knowledge that ultimately, it made no difference. She loved him either way.

Fennick laughed, a soft, humorless sound. “You can guess that she was not, in fact, my mate. When I spoke of giving up my immortality to be with her, she tried to talk me out of it.” Another laugh. “That raised my suspicions and I discovered she was in love with another man. A human.”

“You laugh about it,” Manon said. “How long ago was it?”

“Almost two hundred years ago. And yes, I laugh, but the pain of it still surprises me sometimes.”

She could understand that. In comparison, practically no time had passed for her, but she couldn’t imagine a future free of the pain of losing her coven. Despite his arrogance and formality, she could admit they did share some things in common.

They sat in silence again, watching the dancing. Her head was full of voices urging her to accept things, move on. Live. With a glance to the dais, where Dorian was staring at Eveline, Manon said, “I’m not a dancer. But perhaps this evening doesn’t need to have a miserable end.”

Fennick smiled, stood, and offered her his hand again.

She took it, and despite the voices she’d listened to, Manon felt like a traitor as he led her to the dance floor.

***

It had taken longer for Dorian to make himself presentable after his little explosion in the closet than it did to release his rage. Luckily, he had enough magic left to heal the burst blood vessels in his eyes. And warm Chaol, whose fingertips had taken on a purplish sheen from the cold. Neither Eveline nor Yrene said anything when they returned, and by that point, it was time for dinner.

Godsdamn this entire farce, Dorian silently yelled, plastering a grin on his face as they made their way to the dais and took their seats. He tried not to be obvious in his search for Manon, but he knew it was useless. When he saw her, his wild mind quieted, his breathing evened out. She always had that effect on him. Even in the midst of lovemaking, when it made no sense for her to do so, she somehow calmed him.

His eyes caught the site of Fennick sitting beside her and the calmness disappeared in a flash. Of course the bastard was there. Dorian had no right to be angry or jealous. He knew it. But that meant nothing when he saw the fae’s proximity to Manon. What little magic remained in his veins growled and he fought to stifle it.

Eveline leaned towards him then and said, “We could claim he was never invited and have him thrown out.”

As the dream of tossing Fennick on his ass played out in his head, Dorian couldn’t help but smile. “If you have yet to get a wedding gift for me, that would be perfect.”

Laughing, she replied, “Sadly, I already got you a gift. That is, if it arrives on time. But it’s one I think you will actually enjoy more.”

Desperate to keep his mind and eyes off Manon, he said lightly, “More than pummeling Fennick Whitethorn? I can’t imagine what it must be.”

Lord Frey sauntered over and took his seat on Eveline’s other side, effectively killing their conversation. Eveline stiffened, inching closer to Dorian. They both ignored the lord and the slight at taking his seat after the king. Chaol glared at the man and Yrene leaned forward to silently examine Dorian. He winked at her, and though she didn’t believe his playfulness, she was satisfied that he was not hurt by his magical outburst.

Eveline asked her about Josie, who was under the care of Chaol’s mother. As the two women talked, Dorian couldn’t help himself and watched Manon. She sat with her back to him, so he couldn’t see her reactions to Fennick’s ridiculous attempts at flirting. The male looked to be laying it on thick. He hoped that Manon might get offended and slap him. But instead she ducked her head away and smiled. His head told him it was fake, or an attempt to keep from laughing at the male. But his gut churned and soon, the possibility that she was enjoying it overtook any common sense he had left.

Forcing himself to look away, he couldn’t chase the thoughts from his mind. Did this fool actually think Manon could be his mate? And just like that, the notion dug itself into his brain, taking hold and refusing to let go.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now,” Chaol demanded.

Dorian turned, eyes still narrowed, jaw clenched. He sat his wine glass down before he shattered it.

“Oh, never mind. It’s written all over your face.”

“And if that were someone flirting with Yrene? You’d just pretend it wasn’t happening?”

Chaol sighed. “No. I’d punch him in the face.”

“Thank you!” Dorian said, feeling momentarily victorious.

“Hell, I’d gladly punch Fennick on your behalf. But Manon would be livid if I robbed her of the chance,” Chaol said.

Dorian thought the sight of Manon beating the fae to a pulp was much better than his earlier vision of doing it himself. Unfortunately, his hopes looked to be dashed. “That is not livid,” he said glumly, gesturing to where she sat talking to Fennick. Nodding his thanks to the server who filled his plate, he stared at the food, not bothering to reach for a utensil. His appetite had been absent for weeks and there was no chance it would return tonight.

He looked up to find golden eyes upon him. Dorian stopped breathing, and suddenly time and space felt infinite. Or, was that her eyes? Something flickered between them and he inched forward, as if he might jump up and flee with her. Escape this nonsense and the suffocation of their crowns. As quickly as the moment had taken him, it faded, leaving him about to push himself off his chair, ready to bolt.

Clearing his throat, he settled back into his seat, his gaze back on the food before him.

“If I may, Your Majesty,” Eveline said, dipping her spoon into her stew, “it might help to act as if you’re in a play.”

He gave her an apologetic look for what she had just witnessed. “A play? Is that how you survive court?”

“It is. Sometimes I pretend that I am part of some grand production, acting out a role.” She was smiling as she spoke, but Dorian couldn’t help but feel saddened by her confession. She must have noticed so she said, “It’s quite fun. Especially when I can play into people’s preconceived notions about me. Lady Thorn thinks me an idiot. But when I feign ignorance, she is the one who must always explain her snobbish jokes and insults until they are no longer funny. She is the one left looking a fool.”

Dorian laughed, clinked her glass with his and said, “Well done. I wish I could have witnessed that.”

Eveline eyed him, “That was well done too.”

“I wasn’t acting just now. I would truly love to see Lady Thorn taken down a peg or two. The woman is abominable.”

She laughed and they continued talking, sharing opinions about the worst of the nobility, excluding Lord Frey only because he was within hearing distance. Although Dorian barely ate, the courses passed by quickly. When the quartet that had played during dinner became a larger ensemble and started playing dance music, members of the crowd looked to Dorian and Eveline. But she begged off the attempt to have them open the dance floor, and Dorian waved for the guests to begin without them. He didn’t mind. Manon had never danced before, and he would rather sit out this part of the night too.

Lord Frey, having been ignored the entire night, stood and threw his napkin on the table. Before he made his exit, he bent between his daughter and Dorian and growled, “Do not think I am blind. If you dishonor my daughter any further by staring so lewdly at the witch, I may be inclined to take back my offer of peace.”

Without looking at Lord Frey, and with a surprisingly hostile note to her voice, Eveline said, “If you renege on this agreement, father, you might very well lose the support you barely manage to cling to.”

Dorian looked back and forth between them, annoyed when Lord Frey took his leave before he could put the noble in his place. To Eveline, he asked, “Are there weaknesses in his alliance that I should know about?”

She only smiled, looking blankly out over the ballroom. “I don’t know. I just wanted him to leave.”

He watched her for a moment, unsure what to think. He’d been somewhat charmed by her earlier stories of play acting at the expense of the other members of court. Was she doing that now? Or did her father have that much of an effect on her? He truly didn’t know.

A low, collective gasp drew him from his thoughts, and he looked out over the ballroom.

Once, when he was young, he’d fallen, running up a flight of stairs in the castle. He’d landed hard, striking his chest against the edge of the next step up. The blow left him gasping for air for what felt like hours, the shock and pain of it lingering even after he could breathe again.

That’s what he felt now. But he hadn’t fallen. It was the sight of Manon being led onto the dance floor by Fennick that knocked the breath from his lungs. He searched desperately for Chaol or Yrene, but they had disappeared. Eveline was watching him with concern, murmuring in shock at the sight of her own breath in the air. He was paralyzed, watching this nightmare unfold and unable to stop it. And finally, Chaol was there, blocking his view of the dance floor.

“Do you need to leave?” his friend asked, glancing at Eveline, who seemed to be in favor of the idea.

“No,” Dorian said, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes and try to make sense of what was happening. “No. I will stay.”

After a long moment, Chaol reluctantly walked away, coming around the table to take his seat in case he needed to get Dorian out of there.

But somehow, Dorian remained calm, his face a perfect mask with a winning smile and bright eyes as he and Eveline oversaw the rest of the evening. The only sign of his inner turmoil was the arm rest of his chair, which had been reduced to a pile of splinters on the floor.

He focused on anyone and anything but her, too terrified of what he might see if she came into view. Terrified to see her laughing, learning to dance in another’s arms. But it didn’t really matter. That first sight of her, held close by that smirking son of a bitch as he helped her with the foot movements … it was seared into his brain. When he closed his eyes, it was there, his imagination threatening to go wild.

He felt a light touch on his hand. Eveline said, “She has left. It’s safe now.”

Dorian stared at her, unable to speak, to even say thank you. And she deserved to be thanked for putting up with him this night. Again, he wondered who she really was. Certainly not a fool. But he’d been one to think she was simple and docile. It didn’t make him feel better. Only worse for dragging her into this mess.

“I believe I’ll retire now,” he said flatly.

“Yes, of course,” Eveline said, standing as he pulled her chair out. “It’s been a long evening. And we have a big day tomorrow.” It was spoken with her usual lovely smile, and loud enough for some guests mingling nearby to hear. They bowed to Dorian and Eveline as they stepped off the dais and made their way out of the ballroom.

They walked to her rooms in silence, Dorian remembering all those times he’d asked Manon to dance, and Eveline likely thinking of what was to come the next day. He said goodnight and turned away before she closed her door. As he began the long climb up the stairs of his tower, his feet felt heavy, shackled with regret. When he reached the floor where Manon was staying, he stopped. The guards behind him stepped back, giving him leave to walk down this hallway instead of his own. But her sentinels were nowhere in sight, leaving Dorian to imagine where she might be. With a head full of useless wishing and his chest somehow both empty and aching, he continued to trudge up the steps to his rooms.

*****

With Glennis having already retired to her room next door, Manon bid her sentinels goodnight, leaving them outside in the hall. Fennick had insisted on walking her to her rooms, choosing a circuitous route that ensured they’d have more time together. He’d spoken of everything from stories of his travels to gossip about his extended family. She’d reacted when necessary, secretly reliving the way Dorian had looked when she’d stepped onto the dance floor.

Dorian had asked her to dance with him at the official events she attended in Rifthold. But she’d not had the training he did. And to expose herself like that in front of so many people had been too frightening. After that, Dorian never pushed, and he offered to teach her in private. But the promise of lessons had gone unfulfilled. They always seemed to find other uses for their precious time alone.

She couldn’t explain what happened tonight. Perhaps it was pity for Fennick. Or a desire to stop wallowing in her own. The instant she started walking to the dance floor, before seeing Dorian’s reaction that felt like a punch to her gut, she knew it was a mistake. But it would have drawn more eyes if she’d returned to the table. So instead, she let Fennick take her in his arms and spin her around a bit. He laughed when she stepped on his feet and tried to keep her up there for another round. On the verge of letting her iron teeth snick free, Manon had glared at him until he knew not to press her any further.

And now, after a round-about journey to her rooms, she was finally alone.

She tugged the pins from her hair and tossed them on a table. Unclasping the golden collar of her dress, she shrugged out of it and threw on a long, wool shirt. Despite the roaring fire, the room felt cold. And despite her fatigue, Manon knew she wouldn’t sleep. After staring out the doors to the balcony for a while, she caught the shine of moonlight on dark feathers. It took only a small flick of her hand to unlatch the handle. Before she could reconsider, she walked away, leaving what might happen next to fate.

Minutes later, from the other side of the room, she heard the door softly close. Her heart suddenly racing, she turned to find Dorian. He too had changed out of his formal clothes, and without the jacket, she could see he’d lost weight. They stared, taking all the time to drink each other in that they weren’t granted earlier. For as fast as her heart was beating, she heard his pounding faster. It made her love being a witch, this ability to sense the way his body reacted to her. There was never fear from him, never a look in his eyes that marked her as a monster.

She took a step towards him right as he said, “You danced with him.”

Manon flinched, the last word hitting her like a slap to the face.

Dorian’s face crumpled and he turned away, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “I just …” His voice caught, turning into a rough whisper. “I always thought I’d be the one to teach you how to dance.”

“You don’t get to be upset,” Manon said, trying to swallow her anger.

Spinning around, he yelled, all pretense of calm gone. “I don’t?! I don’t get to be angry that the one thing in my life I freely chose has been taken from me? The one thing I vowed to never do has been forced upon me?”

Manon tensed, expecting her guards to rush in at any moment. When they didn’t come, she realized he’d shielded them with his magic. Free to yell, she did it too. “You chose to take responsibility for your throne. No one forced you to do that. You could have walked away, abdicated and left this country for someone else to rule.” It was utterly ridiculous, and she didn’t mean a word of it, but it let her vent, let her throw something back in his face.

“What happened to ‘you’ve never given up on your people and you won’t now’? Or was that just another excuse to leave? Like my mortality or our kingdoms’ need for heirs? You didn’t even fight for us! You just told me to marry her and left. And now you’re dancing with someone else!”

She snarled, unwilling to hold back. “And you’re marrying someone else! What did you do to stop this? You act as if you exhausted every alternative, but you didn’t. The wedding invitations were practically written up and sent out the day after I left.”

“Because I didn’t want my friends to witness this circus!” He pointed to the cold night outside the doors. “That’s why I rushed it. To have it in winter so no one could come!”

Manon blinked, then covered her face with her hands and started to laugh. And then, Dorian was laughing. The release of screaming at each other felt good. Even if the words held some pieces of truth, they knew each other well enough to know how tiny and insignificant those pieces were. They knew that in this situation, faced with war or an unhappy future apart, there was no choice for either of them. As their laughter died down, they were left standing and staring at each other again.

Dorian took a step towards her, his face open to her as it had never been. “The moment I truly understood what my life would become, that it wouldn’t be my life at all, I was six years old. I didn’t cry or complain. I accepted it. Accepted the tutors and the training and the beatings. When I was fourteen and my mother began parading girls in front of me, persuading me to select one as a wife … I wasn’t strong enough then to stand up to my father, but I could resist her. I made a promise to myself that I would only marry for love. Nothing would keep me from it. Not my mother’s manipulations or my father’s cruelty. Not the weight of my crown. And even when I fell in love, even when my crown and his cruelty took those loves away, I held on to that vow, knowing that whatever else I gave up for Adarlan, I might at least be with someone I loved. A queen who loved me, who would erase every nightmare, help me battle every hardship. A queen who would stand beside me. That queen is you. It’s only ever been you.”

That was where Manon wished to be. Beside him, offering her strength and taking his when she needed it. Trusting him as she’d trusted no other. Saving him and letting him save her. Just as they’d always done. Dorian was everything she wanted and needed in a friend and lover.

“Seeing you with him tonight, I couldn’t stand it. I know I have no right to feel that way. You don’t belong to me. But I belong to you. No matter what happens tomorrow, I am yours, and always will be.”

Manon closed her eyes, not knowing what to say and trying to keep the tears at bay. He was right. About all of it. She’d let herself fall into that same trap these past two years. That instead of being forced to have an heir with some random ally, she might have a choice in the matter. And her choice had already been made. From that moment she’d dragged Asterin along to Rifthold, hellbent on warning his friends that Dorian had not succumbed to the valg within him.

Yes, he was right. But what did it change?

***

“It was hard for me to see you with her,” she said, her eyes boring into him, as if searching for a sign that he wasn’t as miserable as he claimed. “Laughing and talking together.”

When she started to walk away, Dorian reached for her arm, turning her to face him. Instinctively, she pushed back, taking a fistful of his shirt to hold him in place. But he kept walking, slowly forcing her backwards, closing the distance between them until she was stopped by the wall behind her. Dorian boxed her in, his hands flat on the wall, barely an inch from her shoulders, their faces almost as close. He did not touch her, knowing that if he did, all his meager control would be lost, and he’d fall to his knees and beg. Her chest rose and fell with each jagged breath, their eyes locked like magnets.

“I hated the way you looked at her,” Manon rasped. “I hated dancing with him.”

Dorian’s fingers twitched and suddenly, he had a handful of her hair. Manon’s gaze dipped to his lips and with that single look, that soft tug of hair, the wall they’d tried to hold up between them collapsed. Still grasping his shirt, she pulled him to her. When their lips touched, they both sighed, as if arriving home after a long journey.

The kiss was like a fire ignited within them. One of his hands dropped and grabbed her hip, pulling her to him. His other hand shifted and wrapped around her neck, his thumb running along her jaw. Manon groaned and took his bottom lip between her teeth. Hitching a leg up around his hip, she drew him closer. All Dorian’s senses flashed on and the only thing he was aware of was her.

Everything, he had missed everything about her. The way her hair felt like the purest silk, the way her gold eyes darkened with desire, the sounds she made when he took her in his arms. And though he was losing himself in this kiss, he knew that more than any of those things, he’d missed simply being near her, talking to her, confessing his deepest thoughts to her. Manon was the only one he could do those things with.

“I missed you witchling. So much,” he whispered roughly against her mouth. “I love you.”

He felt the ghost of a smile as she said, “I love you too, princeling.”

His whole body shuddered at the sound of that word from her lips. Hearing it, holding her, everything about this moment reinforced that feeling of calm and rightness. Of home.

They’d never said it before, substituting that word with others, or with actions. Manon had changed so much since he’d first met her, learning to open herself to new feelings and experiences without losing any of her hard edges and steel. But he’d always assumed she was afraid to say it, to give all of herself in that way. So he’d been patient, keeping the word bottled up until the right moment. That overdependence on time had kept them from declaring their love for one another. Until now.

A tear had escaped her eye and he brushed it away with his finger. Desperate for more, for all of her, he leaned down to kiss her again, but she covered his mouth with a trembling hand.

“You can’t be here,” Manon said. “I love you but …” She pushed him back this time and walked quickly away. “You are right. And I want nothing more than to be the one to fulfill that vow you once made. But you’ve sworn an oath to your people, and tomorrow, you will uphold it.”

Devastated to have their perfect moment shattered by the harshness of reality, Dorian didn’t follow her. She was only a few feet away and it felt like an ocean, the distance filled with an empty cold that left him numb to the bone.

Tomorrow he would keep his oath to Adarlan, forsaking his vow to himself.

The sight of her in the arms of another had tested him in ways he’d never imagined. What then, if one day she married the fae prince? Had a witchling with him? The thoughts cleaved his heart anew, and again, he was surprised to find anything left to break. This brief reprieve with her had restored it, only for it to fall apart. Dorian wondered when that damaged part of him would finally give way and disappear altogether. What shell would be left in its place? What kind of king would he be without a heart with which to love?

For all the evil he’d committed, even his father had felt love enough to bestow his own name upon his son, to hide Dorian’s magic from Erawan for as long as he could. A familiar doubt crept out of the shadows and into his head, crowing about how much weaker he was than his father. He knew he was acting like a fool, as overly dramatic as any fairy tale he’d grown up reading. But logic held no power against the depthless dark overtaking him.

Manon still had her back to him. Her shaky breaths were barely audible, but he felt her misery as sharply as he felt his own. Fighting every urge to go to her, comfort her, and in turn comfort himself, Dorian walked past her to the balcony door. He paused for one moment, watching her reflection in the glass. But when she didn’t look up, he unlatched the door and walked outside.

A second later, Dorian was a raven, flying into the frigid night. He didn’t go back to his rooms yet, choosing instead to soar higher for a while. The bite of the air at this altitude didn’t penetrate his thick feathers, so he let himself go up and up and up, leaving the world and thoughts of tomorrow behind.

To be continued...

***

Thanks for reading! You can find my writing master list here or on AO3.

It’s been a while since I’ve written and I’m not sure who all is still out there. So if I missed you, or you’d like to be tagged/removed for parts two and three, let me know.

@itach-i @bookishwitchling @manontrashbeak @awesomelena555 @jimetg98 @over300books

#manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #yrene westfall #chaol westfall #glennis crochan #manorian fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #my writing #anon ask #only you

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julemmaes · 4 years ago

Note

would you consider writing pt 2 for he really loves her?

PLEASE?

My Love For You - part two

Rowan Whitethorn x Aelin Galathynius modern au

part one (He Truly Loves Her)

A/N: this thing got me out of a writing slump and I'll never be grateful enough for you, whoever you are. I fucking love you. I know I have a shit ton of other things to write and I promised a lot of stuff to other people as well, but I do what I can do, so bear with me and be patient:))

Word count: 4,054

Rowan had rushed out of the house as soon as Fenrys had told him that Aelin had run off in tears, his stomach already in turmoil. He'd gone round the front garden and the pool, checking the outhouse and every wretched corner of the huge house, but he hadn't been able to find the girl anywhere.

He could feel his heart beating in his chest at an absurd speed and he knew it wasn't because he was running or because of the alcohol he'd consumed - although it wasn't an insignificant amount. Nor was it because Lyria had just freed him from chains he didn't even know were shrinking him.

Go for it, Rowan, it was nice while it lasted, but you're not mine anymore. And you haven't been since she came into your life, whether you realised it or not.

The words, spoken with such sincerity as to shock him, couldn't have been more true and he could hear them echoing every time he spotted a blonde mane in the crowd.

"Fuck." he cursed, stopping near the entrance to the house and running a hand through his hair. He took his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and checked his texts. Nothing.

He dialed Aelin's number, continuing to run his eyes over the people around him, and when the sound of the voice mail went off, it made him curse again. He called twice more before realising she wasn't going to answer.

He'd fucked everything up, he knew it.

A gag rose in his throat and he shoved it back down with a disgusted grimace and resumed his search, asking around if anyone had seen a blonde girl with eyes so impossibly blue and a bright red dress. Everyone shook their heads in displeasure.

Aedion had been on the verge of killing him when he'd approached him to ask where his cousin was, and when Fenrys had also stepped up threateningly, he'd realised he'd made a big mistake. And that whatever had happened to Aelin, it was definitely his fault.

He hadn't realised that he'd kept his gaze fixed on Aelin the whole time he'd been dancing with his ex until he'd been distracted by something the girl had said to him and the next second, when he'd returned his gaze to where he knew it would be what was now his most loyal friend, Aelin had disappeared.

He'd looked for her at the bar Dorian had had set up near the stairs to the upper floors, on the dance floor, outside the windows overlooking the pool, but he hadn't seen her anywhere and had stopped with his heart in his throat. Lyria had been just as shaken to see him in that state.

Aelin had been drunk off her ass the last time he'd seen her and all he'd been able to think about in that moment was that she might be in some corner puking her guts out while her body rejected the sheer quantities of alcohol she'd ingested. He knew she couldn't handle her booze well and the idea of her feeling sick made his heart clench in his chest.

He called himself stupid, thinking about how obvious every reaction his body had had. How everything good that had happened in his life over the last few months had been closely linked to Aelin.

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, and someone bumped into him, causing him to stagger forward. He spun around, ready to scream in the face of whoever had pushed him, but it was Lorcan who stood before him, a hard, tense expression that Rowan had rarely seen on the other man's face.

He was pissed as hell.

"Lorcan-" he began, intending to ask to borrow his phone, but his friend raised a hand and he froze.

Elide appeared shortly after, laying a hand on her boyfriend's arm and smiled sadly at Rowan, "Do you need a ride?" she asked faintly.

Rowan opened his mouth to ask what had happened, but quickly realised that they knew. However they found out, the couple in front of him knew about the shitshow that was going down. He had started shaking his head, ready to say that he couldn't go home until he found Aelin, but he didn't have time to speak that Lorcan did it for him.

"You should sleep it off. You're so drunk you can hardly stand and you're in absolutely no condition to talk to her." he said, clenching his jaw, "I'll take you home and tomorrow, after you've cleaned the fuck up and cleared your head, you can decide what to do."

Elide glared at him, elbowing him lightly in the side, "What my grumpy boyfriend is trying to say is that we'll give you a ride home, where you'll sober up and when you're not in danger of vomiting at every word, then you can try calling Ae. You've done enough for tonight and she probably needs some time alone."

Rowan's eyes widened, remaining silent at Elide's steady voice. He had spoken to her earlier and she had been as drunk as he was. Lorcan didn't even look at him as he passed him and headed for their car, shaking his head and muttering about how incredibly daft he'd been.

Elide tried to smile at him to reassure him somehow, but he didn't feel any kind of relief.

He needed to talk to Aelin, but they were right. He was in no condition to talk to his friend- to whatever Aelin was to him at that moment. And he knew perfectly well that she hadn't been either, at least not when she'd left the house.

The car ride was exhausting and so long that Rowan wondered where they were actually taking him, and when the car stopped at yet another red light, he lifted his head up from the window, rubbing his eyes. "How do I fix this?"

Elide looked over his shoulder, "It's not about fixing things, Ro. You just have to tell the truth."

Lorcan nodded beside her, clasping his hands around the steering wheel, "Aelin may not be my favourite person and I know you had an agreement that whatever happened between you wasn't true, but I think she forgot that at some point, just as I was convinced you had forgotten it too, until tonight." he said in a harsh voice. He looked at him through the mirror, "Why were you dancing with Lyria?"

Rowan didn't know how to answer, so he didn't.

Elide sighed, placing a hand on Lorcan's thigh, and the rest of the ride passed in silence as he remembered all the times Aelin and he had been alone and she had done that exact same thing. He huffed, shaking his head. What a fool he had been.

He thanked his friends, getting out of the car and staggering to the entrance of his building and turned to wave at them again, letting them know that he had managed to open the door. He climbed the stairs with considerable difficulty and only began to hear distinctive, broken sounds when he reached the fourth flight of stairs.

The higher he climbed, the clearer the sound became and the haze of confusion that clouded his mind slowly cleared up more and more with each step. When he reached his floor, his mind fully cleared to the figure of Aelin slumped against his door, her body repeatedly shaken by the sobs of a desperate cry.

Rowan felt his lungs constrict to the point where he could no longer catch his breath. He took a step forward towards her, stopping with one hand on the railing at a safe distance, because he knew that if he got too close, nothing would stop him from clutching her to his chest and taking her into the house with him.

She looked so small on the surely frozen tiles.

"Aelin." he whispered and hoped the despair in his voice wasn't too obvious.

Her head snapped up and the sight of her face contracted into a grimace of pain almost brought him to his knees. She cried harder, bringing her hands up to cover her face, and Rowan was terrified that something else had happened in the time he had been at the party looking for her.

He'd seen her cry before, in the months they'd been so close that they'd shared more than he'd ever shared with anyone else, but never like this. Never with such... hopelessness.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, perhaps in a slightly too surly tone, because she winced. But it wasn't anger, what he was feeling, it was pure terror that the reason Aelin was in that state was all about him.

She shook her head, folding her legs beneath her and rising from the ground. She bent down to pick up her bag and when she pulled herself up again, she faltered slightly, giving away how drunk she actually was. She shook her head, bringing her hands to her hair, "Sorry- I'm sorry, I'll go now," she sobbed. She didn't look at his face. "I don't know why I came." Rowan couldn't help but feel worse when she added, "I'm leaving, sorry."

Her voice broke again on the last words as more tears flowed down her cheeks and when Aelin walked past him, there was shock on his face.

"Aelin." he called to her again, his voice so faint he struggled to hear himself. She froze in her tracks, her arm brushing against his, and lifted her head to look at him, holding her breath.

She raised her golden-blue eyes to his and Rowan swallowed, feeling himself dying inside at the gruesome sight. It was his fault. The reason for her make-up being ruined like that. The way her breathing was laboured and her body trembled from the cold. It was his fault that Aelin was there now, suffering and crying.

His eyes fell on her lips instinctively, as they had done for the last four months in which they had lied to the world. In which they had lied to themselves.

He knew exactly what he would feel if he brushed her lips with his, if he ran his thumb over that pink mouth. He had learned to know every inch of those perfect lips. He'd learned to love them as if his life depended on it.

He'd just been too stupid to realize it himself.

"Come in." he told her plainly, extending a tentative hand towards hers. The moment his fingers brushed against hers, Aelin tensed and he withdrew his hand, not wanting to frighten her.

It was as if he were dealing with a wounded animal.

And though he had learned to read every expression on Aelin's face, now he could only tell how terrified she was, not knowing if that fear was directed at him or something else.

He grimaced when she didn't answer and closed his eyes, turning his head towards the door of his flat, ready to hear her walk away, but he felt her hand tighten around his pinky finger and he turned his head towards her. She had stopped crying and seemed to be holding her breath again, just as he was doing now.

He felt a rush through his body as her fingers tightened even more around his.

He looked down at that small gesture and felt his heart explode in his chest.

He smiled weakly at her and pulled her towards the front of the house, praying to every god in existence that she didn't let go.

The first time Rowan had held her hand, Aelin had complained about how big his was, and the second time Rowan had offered her only his little finger, big enough compared to her tiny ones, so that she could cling to him holding only that single finger.

They entered the house in silence, both of them still dulled by what had just happened and the alcohol and Rowan let her follow him around the house as he turned on the lights and made sure the heating was on for the night.

The cold in his flat could be nasty.

Not that he should have warned her, Aelin had slept there so many times with him that she knew better than anyone.

He sighed, finally looking at her and wondering how they had gotten to that point.

Looking at her swollen, red eyes, her cheeks still wet from crying and her complexion so pale she looked sick, he made a decision.

He closed his eyes, leaning his back against the wall behind him, and Aelin took a step forward, almost completely adhering to his body with her own. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, as if he was exhausted. "We should sleep." he murmured, "Talk about," he moved a hand in mid-air, "whatever this is tomorrow. We're both drunk and I'm not going to-"

"You're right." she interrupted him and her voice was scratchy, still weakened from crying, "We should sleep."

Rowan slowly opened his eyes and smiled at her amidst the alcohol, the exhaustion.

Aelin tried to return the smile, but seemed to remember something suddenly and pulled away from him, letting go of his finger and moving two steps away. She averted her gaze and swallowed loudly, "I'll sleep on the couch, just let me get my pajamas and then I'll leave you alone."

Her pajamas. Yes, because Aelin had a drawer of her own in this flat. And she had a toothbrush that belonged to her in the bathroom and a bathrobe and some fucking tampons.

God, he'd been so stupid.

They were already together and he'd been the only one who hadn't been aware of it really.

Then her words caught up with him.

He furrowed his brow, "You're not sleeping on the couch."

Aelin looked at him surprised. She opened her mouth and closed it and then opened it again and Rowan wanted to tease her about how she looked like a fish, but the words she spoke blocked him.

"But Lyria..."

He gritted his teeth, "Lyria is not the woman standing in my living room right now." he said icily. Then he pulled away from the wall, bringing his hands to Aelin's hips, and she sighed at that touch. Rowan leaned over her, pressing his forehead against hers, "If the only reason you don't want to sleep in my bed is because of her, then I don't want to hear your bullshit." he whispered against her lips. "If you don't want to sleep with me because of me, because you can't be around me, then take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch, but I'm not," he trembled, "I'm not going to leave you alone. I'm not going to sleep in another room while you're here in my house if the only thing blocking you is Lyria," he concluded breathlessly, as if saying those words had worn him out even more.

He opened his eyes and his green collided with her gold.

Aelin nodded slightly, letting their lips brush together, "Alright."

Rowan kissed her softly, sighing in relief when she pressed into him, making parts of her body cling that he hadn't touched since Lyria had spoken to him again a few weeks before. When they broke away, his hand stayed on her hip until she pulled away from him to get ready for bed, and Rowan tried desperately not to stare at her as she slipped off the tight little red dress that - thinking about it now - had certainly done nothing to protect her from the freezing cold of Rifthold. She must have been freezing to death out there waiting for him.

She slipped into her pajamas quickly and when they were both under the covers, Aelin gave her back to him, letting him wrap his arms around her and hold her to his chest, cradling her so that sleep could take her easily.

***

Rowan awoke to the sound of someone throwing up in his bathroom.

And his phone buzzing incessantly on the nightstand.

He opened his eyes, grunting in pain as a twinge hit him in the head, but he reached for the phone, answering it without seeing who the sender was, "Hello?" he mumbled into the microphone.

"Rowan." exclaimed Lorcan in a voice too loud for his liking, "Have you seen Aelin? Has she called you, texted you, anything, since last night?" the panic in his voice was palpable and Rowan snapped to his seat as a feeling of sheer terror spread in his stomach.

He looked down at the blankets beside him, unmade in a way that meant only someone else had been sleeping with him. He suddenly remembered Aelin on his doorstep, crying as if someone had just crushed her world. The way he had kissed her before embracing her in her sleep.

He couldn't have imagined that. He couldn't have-

The sound of the toilet being flushed caught his attention.

He stood up quickly and his head spun so badly he had to lean against the wall to keep from tumbling.

"Rowan? You there?" asked Lorcan more urgently.

He looked out over the bathroom, catching sight of Aelin's mass of blonde hair as she leaned over the toilet.

He wanted to ask her if she was okay, but he needed to answer his friend so he could get rid of him and talk to her as soon as possible, make sure everything was all right.

"She's here."

Lorcan breathed a sigh of relief and then cursed, "Fuck, tell her never to do anything like that again." then Rowan heard him telling Elide that Aelin was okay and was at his place and the string of insults aimed at the blonde in front of him that came out of the other girl's mouth made him suspect that they had been looking for her for a long time. His suspicions were confirmed almost immediately, "Lysandra woke up this morning and found her bed empty. Couldn't reach her in any way. We've been looking for her for an hour now." he took a deep breath, "I'm glad she's there with you. Have you two talked yet?"

Rowan didn't answer, "I'll talk to you later." and hung up, not waiting for Lorcan to bid him bye in turn.

Aelin gagged again and he grimaced, crouching down beside her on the floor and gathering her hair into a fist, "Hey baby, how are you?"

She grunted, without lifting her head from the toilet, "Like someone's pulling my guts out of my throat."

Rowan chuckled, stroking her back with a warm hand. He shifted his gaze from her to the clock on the wall, seeing that it was past nine. "How long have you been like this?"

"An hour, probably," she murmured, stopping when another gag rose in her throat. She sighed when nothing came out but spat anyway, "How do you feel?"

He smiled, yawning and rubbing a hand over his eyes, "Like someone who can handle a hangover."

She chuckled, eyeing him sideways, "Asshole." she muttered.

Rowan could finally see her face and the smile died on his lips. He knew the glint from the tears in her eyes was from the vomit, but he couldn't stop his mind when it showed him images from the night before.

"How are you?" he asked again, meaning something completely different from what he had asked only mere seconds before. And maybe he'd used a different tone, maybe he'd made a different face, because Aelin's face also transformed and became more serious.

She stared into his eyes, biting the inside of her cheek, "I am." she replied, shrugging.

Rowan inhaled sharply through his nose, "Aelin."

"Rowan." she said. She raised her eyebrows, as if to ask him to continue.

Start, he mentally corrected himself. He owed her an explanation.

The hand on the small of her back slid to the floor and she seemed to regret the lack of that contact, but he couldn't bring himself to touch her at that moment. The hand in her hair let lose as well.

He didn't look away though, as he said, "I'm sorry, about last night."

Aelin didn't react in any way, giving him a sign to continue.

"I shouldn't have even looked at her, Lyria. I had you next to me and I don't know if it was out of habit or because I thought she was the one I wanted, but I went to her and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for using you all this time without realising what I was actually doing to you," he said, forcing himself not to look away. Her eyes betrayed nothing. "I know we had an agreement and I did nothing but stick to it, as you did, but I should have realized it was becoming something else when you stopped talking about Sam, when you started calling me more often to go out alone with me." he sucked in a breath, bringing a hand to his chest, "I'm sorry for all the nights before last night and for all the times I believed it wasn't real. For making you believe it wasn't real."

Aelin made a sound like a wounded animal, "What wasn't real?"

"My love for you," Rowan said, looking her straight in the eye.

She pulled herself up to sit up straighter and her jaw twitched, but he saw something shine in her gaze.

"I love you, Aelin, and I'm sorry I didn't realize it sooner," he murmured, laying a hand on her thigh. She shifted her eyes to where he was touching her, before returning them to his face. "You came into my life out of nowhere and turned it upside down and then slowly you came in here and started leaving your things behind and in the meantime you were also getting into my heart and I didn't-" he had to stop himself because the emotion threatened to become too much. Aelin smiled at him and her eyes became even shinier. "I didn't realize it until Lyria asked me who I was looking for and I asked her what she meant and she told me that she had stopped talking over a minute before, but I had been too lost looking for someone in the crowd to even realize it. Because I was too lost looking for you."

A tear slid down Aelin's cheek and her hand rested on his, but she remained silent.

"I don't know when I stopped pretending, but I know it had been a lot sooner than I can even realize, and I'm sorry if I'm a stupid idiot and it took me too long and a near alcoholic coma before I realized how much I fucking love you, but... I love you, Aelin." he whispered the last part, breathing out a laugh, as if even he couldn't believe his words.

Aelin chuckled through tears and looked around, "God, I never thought we would confess our love on the floor of your bathroom."

Rowan stiffened, becoming all serious all of a sudden, "Our love?"

Aelin wrinkled her forehead, "I love you, Rowan, and if you haven't figured it out yet, you're probably dumber than I thought." she smiled, leaning towards him.

Rowan opened his mouth in surprise, but didn't have time to say anything as Aelin's mouth was on his and he moaned at the first swipe of her tongue against his, closing his eyes. And he wouldn't have even noticed it at that moment, the bad taste of that first real kiss, if Aelin hadn't pulled away from him suddenly, bringing a hand to her mouth and exclaiming, "Oh my God, our first kiss as a real couple tasted like vomit."

And her face was so disgusted that Rowan couldn't help but laugh, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him until she was sitting on his lap and he didn't care if Aelin tasted like vomit right then. He wouldn't have cared if she tasted like vomit for the rest of their lives, if it meant he could see that smile that now glowed on her face every morning when he woke up.

tog tag list (if you wanna be removed or added dm me or send me an ask)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @ladywitchling @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @anne-reads @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @firebirdofscythia @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @miserablemusings @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @thewayshedreamed @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp @tothestarswholistentodreamers

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowaelinn modern au #tog fic #angst #hurt comfort

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saphirered · 3 years ago

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Was wondering if I could request a Dorian x Rogue Reader where the reader’s never really taken part in any sort of pageant event before and needs some guidance from the party’s resident performer? Love your writing by the way! Have a great day!

Thank you and I hope you like this one too. Have a nice day! 😘

Everyone’s picking out outfits, talking about the pageant and having fun doing so. Orym and Fy’ra have gotten out of participating in the pageant but you weren’t as lucky. Wether it’s because Opal is very convincing, you’re easily tempted, the prospects of a shiny crown or Dorian’s persuasion, you don’t know. Might just be all of the above but you’re apparently in now and will be participating and find yourself playing the part of dress up doll for Opal who’s put you in a grand total of twenty-seven outfits varying from big voluminous dresses to nice suits, some of which including some impractical but pretty armour.

Awkwardly you leave the dressing room. This dress she’s put you in is so poofy you can’t even lower your arms to your sides as the sheer volume of tule keeps them at an angle. You’re pretty sure you look about as comfortable as you feel. The only good part about this humongous ballgown is there’s loads of places to hide weapons and stuff you could possibly lift from people’s pockets among the yards upon yards of fabric. Opal is fawning over you, pulling at the fabric flouncing it up to adjust the layers. Dorian notices your feelings about this twenty-eighth outfit and steps in to save you from the pageant expert.

“Maybe not this one? It doesn’t really do much for their figure, wouldn’t you agree?” Opal taps her lips at Dorian’s suggestion. The genasi has a point. The majority of your features get lost in the garment and no amount of accessorising can fix that. She scrunches her brow and nods. You let out a breath of relief hoping to be done with this. Not like you mind shopping but dressing up in this many outfits is exhausting and you can’t wait to be done. Why can’t you just pick a random one off the rack and call it a day? Lesson of the day; never go pageant shopping with a pageant girl. You’ll be at this for hours.

“Yeah. Too much volume. Maybe we should go back to something more formfitting. I think I saw a couple of outfits that would work much better.” Opal’s words make your breath hitch and you keep in a groan at the mention of more things to try on as the girl scurries off to find the things she saw and you’re left with Dorian. Turning to him as you finish staring after Opal and praying to the gods these new outfits she’s looking for would just spontaneously combust before they made their way back to you, you grab the genasi by the cloak, both hands clutching on tightly.

“Save me, Dorian. Please have mercy and save me from this hell.” You beg. Dorian presses his lips together tightly as to not let the laughter escape. He’ll have to admit it’s very funny to see you so completely and utterly out of your element but he also feels for you.

“I reckon we have about ten minutes before Opal returns. Only way to stop her is finds something you like and suits you well. Blow her away with whatever you find. As long as you look as uncomfortable as you feel, She’ll keep coming with the outfits.” Dorian’s right nothing will satisfy Opal as much as you feeling as comfortable and pretty as they know you are, regardless of you admitting it or not. The problem is, you don’t even know where to start looking. This shop, it’s all just a needle in a haystack for you.

“You have to help me find something and quickly! I don’t think I can take another hoop skirt or waistcoat. I might just faint.” Dorian clasps your hands over his and releases your grasp on his cloak. He offers you a confident smile that somewhat eases your fears of the intimidating woman on fashion spree. Dorian pulls you along to the racks, using one hand to browse while holding yours tightly clasped in the other giving it a soft squeeze whenever you look over your shoulder and around to find Opal and her growing heap of clothes.

“So we’ve eliminated any big skirts and traditional suits. How do you feel about something fitted and flowy?” Dorian brushes his fingers over the shoulder of a smocked shirt. You stare down at the poofy mess you’re still stuck in like a butterfly in a net.

“Uhhh, as far away from any ballgowns as we can get please. I don’t mind a bit of a cinch.” You say as Dorian picks up something akin to a corset with set in with decorative chainmail pieces. He holds it up to your body, purses his lips and puts it back not the rack. Not really your style. You need something fierce and practical, something that shows off your features just right but won’t be wearing you and will still make you feel comfortable in your own skin.

Then he spots it. This will look perfect on you. A dark navy blue fitted top with a deep v-neck nearly down to the bellybutton, and fitted sleeves. The matching leather pants also are fitted and somewhat resemble what you normally wear, though these are much less weathered. Over this all goes a very long trained chiffon robe rhinestoned like the night’s sky held together by an ornate silver clasp at the waist. When Dorian pulls it from the rack and holds it up to you you don’t know wether to fear or feel relieved at the look he gives you. Before you know it you’re being rushed back to the dressing room. Dorian helps you out of the monstrosity of the gown you’re in and leaves you to change into the new outfit as he distracts Opal long enough before she can return with the pile she’s gathered.

You never doubted Dorian to have style but this takes it to a whole new level. This is perfect. It fits in all the right places and whatever he said about it showing when you feel uncomfortable in a garment, it’s true as when you see yourself in the mirror that fully disappears and instead you feel confident. It may not have any protective properties like your usual armour does but it sure feels like you could take on the world right now. You’re badass, beautiful and confident.

When you step out of the dressing room you can already see Dorian mid argument with Opal who wanted to barge in, arms filled with clothes of all kind and the shop assistant being with whatever she couldn’t carry, huffing and puffing under the weight of it all. Their attention turns to you. Dorian’s attention turns to you and he doesn’t know how but you take his breath away. You look absolutely stunning. You look like a deity from the stars themselves, the energy you radiate does you justice and if he ever even had an ounce of doubt (he never did) it only shows your natural beauty more than ever.

“Oh. My. Gods.” Opal exclaims as she drops all the fabric in her arms rushing over to you, inspecting your new outfit, gushing about how it fits and how you should style your hair, maybe do some makeup to match the ‘star-effect’ of the robe for cohesion. You can’t even keep up anymore but let her ramble on. She tells the assistant you’d found your outfit and the assistant exasperatedly begins picking up the pile she dropped to put back on the racks. No more fittings for you. Opal’s satisfied and you’re safe. You offer Dorian a look of gratitude and he winks back, not daring to interrupt the fashion tyrant dressed in pink.

——————

Backstage before your turns in the pageant you get a moment alone with Dorian as the two of you watch the other candidates. You’re panicking as Dorian pulls up your hair, adding a comb to keep it in place and add some flare. You have no idea where he got it nor dare you ask right now, just thankful he’s been doing what he can to ease your nerves. This is not your thing. Prancing around like some trick pony is not your thing. You stick to the shadows, at most mingle with society using honeyed words to get what you need or want but this is a whole new world and you feel as if your skills are useless in this environment.

“You’re going to be okay. All you have to do is answer the question. It doesn’t take much more than a charming answer to persuade the judges. No different than persuading a shopkeeper to give you a better deal.” Dorian adjusts the comb before removing his hands and taking a step back to inspect his work. He taps your shoulder and has you turn around. It doesn't take a genius to see you’re nervous and the jitters are clear through your bouncing leg as you sit staring up at him, panic in your eyes and breathing hitching high in your chest visible through your partially exposed collarbones.

“Yeah but getting a better price on potions doesn’t have a crowd a few hundred large to witness it. What if I say something wrong? What if they don’t like me?” Dorian kneels in front of you, stroking your cheek and hand on your shoulder.

“Deep breath.” You do as you feel his thumb run across your cheek, the gesture alone calms your nerves a little bit and pulls you back to this world. You nod to signal you’re good.

“This is no different that the real world. If you say something wrong, own it. Make them think it’s intentional. There’s very few things you could say that you couldn’t own or turn into something funny.” Dorian assures you. You place a hand over his on your cheek and press a kiss to his wrist as a thank you as he continues.

“As for them not liking you, I don’t see how the couldn’t instantly be mesmerised. You are gorgeous, intelligent, resourceful. If they don’t eat you up and admire you for who you are they don’t deserve you.” The next candidate is called to the stage and both of you know you’ll be up soon. You’re glad Dorian’s pep talk is working and you can feel the affection from him. If only he knew how much it means to you to have him here. Then again, you’ve told him plenty of times how amazing he is.

“Why are they walking all weirdly getting on stage?” You raise an eyebrow as the next candidate places one foot directly in front of the other, walking on their tiptoes more than their full feet.

“Watch the hips.” You do as Dorian says and you can see their hips swaying as they walk adding just a little bit more flare to that strut. You have to say, it kinda looks good. Maybe you should give it a try?

“Could you, I don’t know teach me? I know how to sway hips but this, this goes beyond me.” You gesture to the candidate stopping at Ruby to answer the question. Dorian looks a little taken aback but rises to his feet pulling you with him. He never thought he’d ever be teaching anyone how to walk the walk and is pretty sure he’ll get some weird looks from the others but he doesn’t really care if it makes you happy and more confident about this whole pageant. He puts his hands on your hips as you stand facing each other but keeps a bit of a distance between he two of you so you can still take the steps as you would on your own.

“Okay, so first things first. You want to keep your steps on the same line. See it like walking on a narrow ledge or a tightrope. You want to stick to balancing on your toes and keep a bounce in your knees. Don’t lock them too much. Light on your feet.” Dorian guides you forward as he steps backwards with you guiding you along, tapping whatever hip is swaying next. Your movement is a bit rigid at first but before you know it you’re doing it and Dorian steps away to let you strut without his help. You’re a natural. He gives pointers as you turn but you have the walk down in no time.

Then your name is called. The panic returns for a second but is overshadowed by your newfound confidence. You look the part, you got the act down so act the part too. Confidently you strut down to Dorian, give him a seductive look as you stroke his cheek following his jawline. He’s gotta say, he likes this look on you but can see the glee break through your seduction.

“What would I have done without my handsome hero in blue?” You smile and give him a kiss.

“Still be stuck in that dressing room with Opal probably? You look stunning. Go show them exactly what you’re made of.” Dorian encourages you, a hue of purple spreading lightly across his cheeks as he watches for any witnesses to your moment. Holding on to his cheek as long as you can stepping backwards you offer him one last wink and blowing him a kiss before you turn and strut onto the stage ready to play. Who knew pageants could be fun after all.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #exu x reader #exandria unlimited x reader #dorian x reader #dorian storm x reader #critical role #critrole #exu #exandria unlimited

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writtenonreceipts · 4 years ago

Text

Thank-you for 100+ followers! Here’s a little thank-you fic, I so appreciate the the support. ~5.7k words. Rowaelin.

Sometime Around Midnight

Three years ago when he would have a day off, Rowan found himself hiking in the mountains. Two years ago when he would have a day off, Rowan found himself pacing the hospital halls.

Currently when he would have a day off, Rowan found himself at work.

He no longer knew what a day off actually looked like and that was fine with him.

“What are you doing here?”

Rowan looked up to see his longtime friend and co-bar owner, Fenrys come in from the storage room. He had a clipboard in hand, his gold-blond hair hanging in long, loose curls around his shoulders.

“Working,” Rowan replied. He wiped down the metal table before him where he’d accidentally upended an entire tub of maraschino cherry juice. Thankfully there’d been no actual cherries left so there wasn’t much lost there, but the mess was still annoying.

“Go home, Rowan,” Fenrys said. He jabbed the clipboard his direction as he came behind the bar and examined the on the floor stock. “You haven’t taken a day off in two years.”

“Not true, last week you and Lorcan forced me to go camping,” Rowan said.

“Forced being the choice word of that sentence,” Fenrys replied. He leaned back against the bar and examined his friend. “C’mon man, she wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Rowan slapped the cleaning rag down on the counter and scowled. “I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

It didn’t take much else for Fenrys to surrender. But Rowan could see the mixed look of anger and disappointment in his friend's eyes. It was easy enough to ignore when one of the regulars came in and ordered his drink.

Rowan poured the man his whiskey, neat, and went back to cleaning up behind the bar. It was only eleven in the morning and it was already proving to be a miserable day. Especially given the fact that Rowan was haunted by that damn piano with it’s strange cadence. And even though Rowan knew next to nothing about classical music there was something about the way that the chords were struck that told Rowan someone one was sacrificing their heart and soul to whatever god might be listening.

And Rowan found himself wishing that he could be the one to say that he was there.

Not long after that, Lorcan came in for the start of his shift. It was a strange time, but he was taking classes at the local community college and the later afternoon and evening shifts worked best for his schedule. Not that Rowan minded working around his friend’s schedule. It was what he did. What they all did for each other.

With his ever-present scowl Lorcan shuffled behind the bar and pulled his shoulder length hair back into a bun. He greeted Rowan with a grunt and started on making sure there were plenty of clean glasses to be prepared for the rest of the night.

“You could go home man,” Lorcan said quietly as he leaned against the bar. “You’ve been working non-stop all week.”

All week. All year.

It all rolled together in one fat miserable existence.

Rowan merely shrugged. “Nah. I can’t leave you here alone.”

“It’s a Tuesday,” Lorcan said. He rolled his eyes. “What’d’ya thinks going to happen?”

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But if Rowan went home all he would do is stare at his phone, the tv, the wall. He didn’t sleep much anymore despite how exhausted he was. Besides, Rowan didn’t want to owe Lorcan anything.

“Shut up and go wipe down tables,” Rowan growled. He leaned down and grabbed a bowl of limes from a mini-fridge beneath the bar. He had a feeling they would need them at some point that night.

And hours later, he was right.

It was near closing time, one in the morning, and a woman with golden hair twisted into an intricate braid atop her head stumbled in. She slid into a barstool with easy grace and immediately ordered an entire bottle of tequila.

Rowan stared at her.

She was beautiful, there was no mistaking it. With her large, golden blue eyes, full lips, and sexy black dress that dipped into a sinfully low v--Rowan had a hard time looking away from her.

“You do know we’re closing soon, right?” he asked even as he lined up a few shot glasses.

“Shut up and pour,” she said.

Rowan was never usually one to take orders from someone else, particularly when that someone was out looking to get blackout drunk. And yet, when she stared at him with those sharp eyes and hard tilt of the chin, he decided that listening to her might not be a bad thing. So, he poured.

The woman slammed back two shots before snatching the bowl of limes he’d cut earlier. Without even hesitating, she began sucking the slices dry.

“Feel better?” he asked.

She flipped him off and grabbed a third shot. She didn’t seem at all affected by the tequila which in and of itself was a phenomenal feat. But Rowan recognized the drinking and the behavior for what it was. She was trying to forget.

One o’clock in the morning in the middle of the week and she was ready to lose herself to anything and everything.

“Riddle me this barkeep,” the woman said as she twirled one of the shot glasses between her fingers. “Why do men make promises they have no intention of keeping?”

Rowan watched her, somewhat concerned.

She truly seemed far to put together for a bar like this, a neighborhood like this. Far too attractive to be alone, even pontificating on the idea of being alone. And yet, as she downed another shot and sucked on another lime--Rowan had a feeling that this was who the woman really was. Confident and self-assured.

He poured her a glass of water just to be safe.

She scowled and glared at the offending drink.

“I do know how to handle my liquor,” she said. She gave him a pointed glare.

“Whatever you say, Princess,” he replied with a growl. “I’d just rather not spend half my night cleaning up after you.”

“You are a cranky old buzzard,” she said. Her full lips jutted out in a scowl and Rowan had a hard time tearing his gaze from them.

He needed to focus on something else. “Buzzard?”

“Your shirt,” she said pointing with a lime rind. “Those look like hawks. And hawks are assholes that pick and mother-hen everything. Buzzard.”

Looking down at his shirt, Rowan frowned. Indeed, the button up had birds in the design, but he didn’t think it was that noticeable. Or at least not enough to comment on. Even for a woman who most certainly was well on her way to getting wasted.

She grinned at his silence and plucked a cherry from behind the counter. Watching him, the woman ate the cherry and kept the stem between her fingers.

“But I really would like to know,” she said, “why make promises that you don’t keep?”

Rowan shook his head. Maybe he should just let her drink herself to oblivion. It would make it easier to call a cab for her. And he had a rule not to get involved in these deep philosophical-like talks. They never served anyone well.

“It’s probably just me,” she said, so quietly Rowan almost missed it.

But her phone buzzed from where she set it beside her. She glanced at it, laughed loudly, and shoved it away.

“Maybe I should try celibacy for a while,” the woman said. She stole another cherry and sighed. “Because this dating thing is not working very well.”

Rowan waited until she’d gulped down half the glass of water before pouring her another shot.

“You don’t talk much do you?” the woman asked.

Rowan noticed then the distinct tint of her eyes. Gold rimmed with blue. Or blue rimmed with gold. One of the two. Whichever it was it was distinct enough that Rowan had a much harder time looking away this time.

“I try not to mingle with the crazy.”

She gave an affronted huff.

“Or the emotionally distressed.”

A snort. She dropped the cherry stems into one of the shot glasses. “Cranky old buzzard.”

“I’m not old,” Rowan said.

She laughed at him, a triumphant sort of gleam in her eyes.

Rowan wished he’d carded her just to prove a point. But he recognized her now, at least partially. She’d come in once before months ago with someone that could have been her brother. Lorcan had carded back then. He carded everyone mostly so he could have a greater opportunity of throwing someone out.

The last time she was here this doom and gloom cloud raging over her had been absent. All she’d been was carefree.

She finished her water and nodded to the tequila.

“I think you’ve had enough,” he said, “besides, I should be finishing closing.”

Rolling her eyes, the woman picked up her phone--a call flashed on the screen and whoever it was had her grinning broadly.

“Dorian!” she cried into the phone with a happy lilt to her voice.

She was definitely drunk.

Rowan grabbed the dirty glasses he’d poured her and collected the lime rinds and cherry stems.

“Where the hell are you?” A voice demanded on the other line. Loud and on speaker. The woman made no effort to take it off speaker.

“Ugh, you’re too loud, asshole,” the woman groused. She tried to snag the unattended tequila, but Rowan managed to slide it out of her grasp. It earned him a pout, but he didn’t really care.

“Where are you?” the man on the other end repeated.

“The Cadre.”

A loud, very crude curse sounded. “Are you trying to get alcohol poisoning? This is how you get alcohol poisoning.”

“Buzz kill,” the woman sang into the phone. She grinned at Rowan. “You should come get me. It’s way past the bartender’s bedtime.”

She hung up the phone without waiting for a response.

“You know,” she said, “this place is so close to my apartment. But I never come here.”

“You must live in a crappy part of town,” Rowan said before he could stop himself. But she didn’t seem to be at all offended. In fact she laughed.

“If only you knew,” she laughed. Her demeanor turned serious and for a moment, Rowan thought that she might say something more profound, something that would help him better understand her. Because there was something entirely different about her. And not just the confident way she held herself or overtook a room. But something.

It wasn’t long after that when the door to the bar opened and a young man entered. He was tall with thick black hair and a lean build. He held himself well though and the well-tailored suit only helped exude more confidence. Or perhaps it was the woman at his side. She was shorter, lean, and had long bone white hair that curled in loose waves. Her golden eyes examined the bar with amusement.

“Dorian!”

Slipping out of her stool, Rowan’s once companion, ran over to the man with surprising agility for how much she’d been drinking the past hour.

“Are you kidding me?” Dorian groaned as he caught the woman. “I thought you were with Sam.”

“Nope,” the woman popped the “p” with a loud smack of her lips and giggled. “But I found another broody man to keep me company instead.”

The woman cast a bright, beaming look over her shoulder to Rowan. And in all honesty, he didn’t know what to make of it.

The man, Dorian cursed, and passed the tipsy blonde over to his companion who rolled her eyes and said something softly to the other woman.

Dorian approached the bar and pulled out his wallet and handed Rowan several bills. More than enough to cover the drinks and a tip.

Rowan glanced at Dorian more than ready to tell him off for whatever statement he wanted to make in front of the women.

“Thanks for letting her in,” Dorian said, his voice soft. There was such sincerity in his words, that Rowan accepted the cash without realizing what he was doing. “And making sure she was safe.”

Rowan shrugged. “I was about to call a cab.”

“Still,” Dorian said. He knocked his fist on the bar and backed away. “You’re a hopeless drunk Galathynis.”

“It fits, seeing as how I have a hopeless fiancé,” the blonde replied. She paused. “Ex-fiancé.”

The doors of the bar shut behind them as they left and Rowan followed after making sure to lock up. It had been a long night and he had no idea what to make of the woman who’d just left.

Once on a dare, Rowan shaved his head. He’d been drunk when he actually did the deed because being sober for the event was not an option. His fiancée had asked him to shave his head for her. No. That was a lie. She would have never asked him to do that for her. But he knew he should have. She would have loved it.

Two years after, Rowan still kept his head shaved.

If pestered about it, Rowan would just say it was easier and more manageable this way. Anything to get out of mentioning Lyria. Anything to get out of thinking back on her.

When he saw the woman from the bar next it was at the bar. At a decent hour this time.

Well as decent as the hours could be for a grunge bar such as The Cadre.

It was nearing ten o’clock on a weekend and all the usuals were there. Rowan expected it to be another regular night without anything exciting happening.

But then he spotted the woman with golden hair and distracting eyes come in. She was alone, again. But this time she wasn’t in a black dress with her hair perfectly braided in that crown along the top of her head. Tonight, she wore black leggings and a long flannel shirt over a white t-shirt. Her blonde hair hung in loose curls down her back.

And again—damn him—Rowan about found himself speechless. It wasn’t something he was used to. Not since Lyria.

“Well, if it isn’t the Buzzard,” crooned the blonde as she sidled up to the bar.

“Are you going to drink me out of tequila again?” Rowan asked warily.

She flashed him a grin. Yes. She probably would.

Because Rowan had learned a long time ago how to read that grin. Ferocious and cold. The kind of grin that would take no prisoners and show no mercy.

As she ordered her drink, Rowan quickly became distracted by the late-night rush. A college game had just finished up and post-drinking was required. Not to mention it was the middle of the summer and everyone seemed desperate for escape. Even to a place like the Cadre.

And still, all through the night, Rowan found his gaze wandering to the end of the bar where the woman had set up. She spent her time nursing a drink, taking shots, and declining any offers to join anyone.

“You’ve been staring at that woman all night,” Lorcan said, coming up beside Rowan. The broad-shouldered man edged a palette of clean glasses onto the bar and began putting them away.

Rowan grunted and looked distinctly away from her. He threw a towel on his shoulder and sidled past his friend to grab a new bottle of vodka from a shelf behind him. Lorcan rolled his eyes but said nothing. Nothing until the woman changed seats and came to an open space near the center of the bar.

She leaned against the bar and examined both men.

“Well you both seem to be enjoying your night,” she said dryly.

“It’s a Saturday with a bar of grumpy old bastards,” Rowan replied. Lorcan snorted back a laugh. Whether in agreement or making a statement, Rowan wasn’t sure. Either way, he’d make sure to punch his friend later.

“Then you’re right among friends,” the woman said. She looked so serious as she said it that Rowan almost missed the sarcasm lacing her words.

It was Lorcan who laughed first and helped himself to a tequila shot before pouring one for the blonde. She offered him a silent toast and downed the drink.

“I’ll get you another drink in a minute,” Rowan told her. He still had to finish a few orders for another table of some ass-hat executives at a table near the back corner.

“Okay,” she said.

And then she was swiping cherries. Again. Perhaps it was Rowan’s fault for leaving the container up on the bar. Rowan narrowed his eyes at her. She smiled; her lips stained with that saccharine syrup.

She said nothing else, but leaned against the bar with nonchalance and yet her eyes seemed glazed over as she watched people slowly filter out. It wasn’t that late, barely past midnight and a Thursday. Yet as the hype simmered out from the baseball game, the bar still remained busy.

As she nursed her second drink--despite the gleam in her eyes at the start of the night, she’d paced herself very well—the woman finally accepted a glass of water.

“I do not need any food,” she told him after he’d asked again. Her lip curled a moment. “Unless you have cake.”

“Cake?”

“Cake.”

Rowan stared at her. She puckered her lips.

“No,” he said slowly, “no cake.”

“Then no food.”

“You’re just going to sit here and drink all night?” Rowan asked.

“I’m in good company.” She turned those brilliant eyes on him and for a moment Rowan felt as though he were staring through the universe as it collapsed in on him and he were left bereft in that unknown sea.

And then she blinked.

“Besides, it’s not like there’s anyone waiting up for me.” She threw a cherry stem down on the bar with a scowled. “Sorry, I’m sure you love hearing about everyone else’s problems.”

Rowan shrugged indifferently, even as she leaned forward on her elbows to watch as he shook drinks for a couple a few spaces down.

“You’re the perfect bartender,” she declared, “you don’t talk, you’re surly, and that whole brooding bastard look is working really well. And I could say anything and not even faze you, couldn’t I?”

“Nothing surprises me anymore,” Rowan said. He delivered the drinks as he finished them and returned to find her with more swiped cherries while texting someone.

She quirked an eyebrow at him before finishing the last of her drink. She slipped out of her stool with much more ease that he would have expected.

“I wonder if you have it worse or better than the rest of us,” she said, smiling around a cherry stem.

And that image of her imprinted its self in Rowans mind long after she left.

Maybe, Aelin realized, she had an addiction. The kind that made no sense. The kind that gripped her with nothing more than coincidences and overthinking. One that didn’t even require her to consume anything other than the sight of one person.

And she did not like it.

She didn’t even know the bartenders name. All she knew was that he worked practically all the time at the rundown bar down the street from her apartment. It made sense that she’d never been there before. Sam didn’t really like the bar scene after all. Said it was just too much. And Aelin had known that. Hadn’t really minded it because they had other ways of spending time together.

But that damn bar was like a stain on her mind. It would not leave her alone.

So yet again she found herself there.

Too late or too early, she didn’t know which. What she did know was that she probably shouldn’t have gone to the bar. It wasn’t anything more than the fact that she really should be sleeping. Or pounding down Lysandra’s door demanding a last-minute slumber party and not taking no for an answer.

But here she was instead.

When he looked up and found her entering the bar, he gave her a trademark scowl. Aelin told herself that there was softness to his eyes. No brief flicker of joy. Just a scowl. Because she was a pain in the ass.

His silvery blonde hair was styled to stay out of his eyes and Aelin found herself desirous to run her fingers through it and see it messed up from it’s usual grace. He wore jeans and a non-descript black shirt. The style, combined with the lighting of the bar made his green eyes all the more vibrant.

“If you’re here to swipe cherries you can leave now,” he said.

“Just as cheery as ever, eh Buzzard?” she said.

He gave her a glass of water and left her alone for a few minutes. It wasn’t much longer until he came back and began slicing limes.

Aelin watched him work in silence. Despite his large hands he handled the knife deftly and cut perfect slices. Aline was tempted to ask him how he’d learned to handle a knife, but figured he’d make her drink more water.

“Can I get a real drink now?” she asked.

“No.”

She scowled at him. “Why not?”

“It’s nearly two in the morning.”

“So?”

He looked up and stared at her. His pine green eyes were unreadable pools.

Whatever he saw in her was enough for him to grab a glass and a bottle of whiskey. He set the items before her silently.

Of course, as soon as she got what she wanted she didn’t want it.

Again.

Aelin stared at the amber liquid in the carefully cut glass jar.

“Do you think we have multiple shots at happiness?” she asked.

The man grunted.

“You’re as interesting as your friend.”

“I’m not having a conversation with a drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” Aelin said defensively.

“You’re in a bar at three in the morning,” he replied, “besides, I don’t do soul searching conversations.”

“Oh of course,” Aelin said, “because that would mean actually connecting with someone. I forgot; men don’t do that.”

He scowled at her. “I barely know you. Besides, I make it a general rule not to cross the bar like that.”

Aelin ran a finger over the rim of the empty glass, eyes still set on him.

“I’m hardly a stranger, I’m here often enough,” she said.

“And yet I don’t know your name,” he said. He tilted his head just barely to the side and Aelin found that the angle exposed his collar bone. Black ink swirled along his tanned skin. She thought she recognized some of the symbols as Celt or some sort, but then he shifted again and her view was lost. Which was highly disappointing. He had nice skin.

“You already act like you do,” she said, finger still gliding over the glass cup. “Princess.”

He snorted, unconvinced and rolled his eyes. Aelin found herself grinning. She didn’t know what it was, but she liked being able to make him break that stoic wall of his.

“Aelin,” she said finally. “My name’s Aelin.”

He blinked those glorious pine eyes at her. When he said nothing, Aelin wondered if he would go back to ignoring her or whatever it was he did.

“Rowan,” he murmured, eyes still fixed on her.

“Hello, Rowan,” she said, “now tell me. What is your understanding of finding happiness?”

For reasons that she could not explain, Aelin found herself returning time and time again. She pried information from Rowan like she was trying to pull lies from a faerie. Impossible.

But how she tried.

She learned his last name was Whitethorn. His tattoos were in fact Celt. He co-owned the bar with a friend. All of his friends worked at the bar at one point or another, one night or another. He didn’t tell her what the tattoos meant—though Aelin had an idea of who they were about. Based mostly on what Rowan didn’t say and how easily he avoided certain conversations.

She learned other things too. He was left-handed. He had a dimple on one cheek. There was a freckle on his ear. He knew the words to most of the 80’s songs that blared on the speakers. He had secrets. He wanted to believe in happiness for one.

And she wanted to know more.

“You jumped out of a two-story window?” She asked in disbelief one night

Throughout the summer when she wasn’t at work or handing out with her friends, this was where she was. Far more often than she wanted to admit. Especially the fact that being here around him made Aelin feel...safe. And far better than that first night she had stumbled across this place.

“You would have done the same thing,” Rowan said. His eyes were far too wide that Aelin couldn’t stop laughing despite the somewhat serious nature of his story. “I’m pretty sure my Aunt has murdered someone before.”

“So you thought it was a good idea to break into her house?” Aelin sputtered. Tears of mirth were brimming in her eyes as she stared at him.

“I really didn’t want to streak through the college quad,” Rowan said with a grimace. “It was below freezing that night.”

Cackling loudly, Aelin took a slow sip of her plain orange juice. It was ten in the morning and she wasn’t needed in work until after noon. Oh the joys of a damned internship. It was better than the old place, but certainly not as reliable.

“Your turn,” Rowan said, pulling away from the bar as he grabbed a clean rag to give a general wipe down to everything. “Stupidest thing you’ve ever done?”

Aelin hummed. “I don’t know…”

He pointed a finger at her. “We had a deal.”

“Well when you put it that way,” Aelin drawled, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. “I accidentally started a brush fire out behind my house.”

“Now the question is if this happened years ago or last night,” Rowan mused.

“Buzzard,” she said.

“Fireheart,” he replied.

She rolled her eyes at him as her phone buzzed with a text and her boss's name popped up on the screen. Aelin sighed, knowing just what it would say. “Well, as much as I enjoy telling you all my darkest secrets, they need me to go in early.”

“Told you the plain orange juice was the better idea,” Rowan said.

“A lot less fun,” she muttered and dug a few bills from her purse. She met his eyes and smiled. “I’ll see you later.”

Her heart fluttered when he smiled, briefly, back.

When Rowan realized that Aelin was probably destined to never leave him alone, he resigned himself to that fact.

Really it wouldn’t be bad.

Not with her smile. Her laugh. Not with the insistence she had that he and Lorcan add chocolate cake to the bar menu or make the bar pet friendly. Not bad at all when she would come simply to talk. Simply to sit. Simply to be.

Until one night she came in, far too close to closing. It was too the point that Rowan had been about to lock up that she came up to the doors, reaching for the handle. They stared at each other for far too long before Rowan let her in.

He said nothing as she made her way behind the bar and grabbed the vodka and went to her usual stool. He said nothing as she took a swing, cursed, and drank again.

Despite everything that he knew about her--she was ambidextrous, her parents were dead, she loved playing the piano, she couldn’t her tongue--despite all of this he had never seen her like this.

This was different from that first night she came tumbling into his life, nearly six months ago now.

“I should be getting married,” she said after a third drink.

She set the vodka down heavily and leaned her head against the bar and sighed heavily. Slowly, Rowan came to sit beside her. The first time really that he had done so. They usually spent their time separated by the bar with enough distance that he could keep his emotions at bay.

Now, Rowan was far too close to her. He could smell the lotion she used, smell the night on her, see tears in her eyes when she finally looked up.

“Or, I would already be married,” she amended. “Married and on my way to Mexico, though I wanted to go to Ireland. I’ve never been and I think I have family still out there, but going to Mexico would be cheaper and warmer. But Ireland has the ocean too, and history, and…well it’s different. Apparently too different.”

Her words stilled as her chest heaved from everything that came tumbling out in too quick in procession like a piano solo that raged out of control and now that she’s finally caught up to herself, she doesn’t know where to go.

So she looked at him.

“He broke off the engagement without really telling me why, other than it was too soon and too much and everything else he could think of.”

The tears rolled slowly down her cheeks and she looked away from him, out over the empty bar with its scuffed floor and mismatching furniture. There was a bulb out over head that cast them in semi-shadows, enough that things feel quieter and gentler.

Rowan waited as she collected her words, her thoughts. He waited and remembered all the questions she’d asked him in the past about broken promises and happiness and everything in between. He wished he’d answered her sooner.

“Aelin,” he began slowly.

“Was I not worth it?” She whispered. Her words were aimed at the empty space. At the nothingness of the bar that reminded Rowan of how long the nights could get. “Was I not worth the fear and change of it all?”

Between the wondering of how they came to this and the wondering why she trusted him with her fragile words, Rowan was convinced he would do something entirely too stupid for words.

But when her gaze returned to his, Rowan found he didn’t care.

So he reached out, cupping her cheek with one of his hands. He could feel her tears on his skin and could feel how her chin trembled with restrained sobs.

“I thought, I thought,” she said. Her voice was ragged, abused and the words fused together. It was enough to make Rowan lean forward, enough for him to lean his forehead against hers.

They sat that way for a long time. Long enough for Aelin to get a hold of her staggered breathing and reign in her thundering heart.

Rowan remained silent not wanting to disturb the silence that settled around them. He ran his thumb across her cheek, catching all the tears that fell from her eyes. Aelin didn’t reply immediately. She merely closed her eyes and learned further into his touch. The soft sigh that left her lips was almost Rowan’s undoing. How long had it been? Only a few months and he was already enthralled by her and the way she had held herself together for so long.

“Aelin.”

Her eyes fluttered open and Rowan was convinced she could have petrified him with that gaze. The tears that lingered there only enhanced the gold rimming her pupils.

For a moment, Rowan thought he had overstepped his bounds, had done something she wasn’t comfortable with. Hell, he was just a bartender. Did she even consider him to be a friend? She probably didn’t even reciprocate the feelings that he had been developing for her. He made to pull away when she snatched a hand up to hold his hand in place where it still rested against her cheek.

Rowan’s heart stuttered in his chest at the movement and continued to stutter the longer they remained there. He wet his lips before speaking, knowing full well that it could potentially be a terrible idea. She’d never talked about that first night she came in. Never explained much about her ex-fiance or why they’d split up. And Rowan never pried. Mostly because he didn’t feel like it was his place.

“You’re worth all of it. All of it and more.”

He watched as the words sunk in, as she slowly blinked.

“You barely know me,” she whispered.

“I know enough,” he answered honestly. “You have a heart of fire. You’re strong. Confident. Unforgettable.”

Still clutching his hand, Aelin turned away from him, gnawing on her bottom lip. When she looked back at him, Rowan could see uncertainty in her eyes. The same uncertainty he felt in his own chest.

Rowan leaned forward, drawing closer to Aelin. They were separated by mere centimeters. All it would take was for Aelin to tilt her chin up and capture his lips with her own.

The uncertainty that had been in her eyes was wiped away with determination and she rose up to meet him with a firm press of her lips. Rowan could still taste the vodka lingering on her mouth as she opened to him.

Her hands immediately went to his hair, pulling through the strands. The touch sent a shiver of pleasure through him as his own hand wandered down her waist. They didn’t break contact as they rose from their seats and in a fluid motion, Rowan lifted Aelin onto the bar top.

Aelin arched into him as Rowan explored the planes of her skin with his mouth. There was something electrifying about this woman, about being so near her, kissing her. And he would be perfectly willing to spend the rest of his life doing this.

When they finally broke apart, both out of breath, they touched foreheads and merely stared into each other’s eyes.

Until Aelin hummed, fingers threading through his hair again.

“You know, you should at least buy me a drink first, Buzzard,” she said.

Rowan chuckled lowly. “Whatever you say, Fireheart.”

thanks for reading dears! my ask box is always open. I’m probably going to try and bust out some holiday drabbles for the next two weeks then move on to my other updates.

tags: @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire @aelinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @bamchickawowow@ladywitchling @ireallyshouldsleeprn @courtofjurdan

#aelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin au #rowaelin #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #appreciation fanfic #thank-you #aelin and rowan

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thoughtsaboutshows · 4 years ago

Note

hi thereeee can i get “You are the last thing on my mind when I go to sleep. And the the first thought when I wake up.”

Finally getting around to the prompts I still have (just like 4 months late)

This is in a post Part 4 world where Sabrina dies but Nick does not. Trust me...

“You are the last thing on my mind when I go to sleep. And the the first thought when I wake up.”

Nick didn’t hide his surprise when he placed his hands on the door of Gehenna Station and it opened. He’d expected it to burn with refusal as he was no longer a student at the Academy. Or because he hadn’t considered himself a member of the Order of Hecate in a long time. Nick hadn’t been able to bring himself to stay there after Sabrina had died on that sacrificial altar. The statue of her that stood in the Great Hall was too much for him to bear. He’d almost rather the one of Blackwood’s take it’s place, instead of the constant reminder that Sabrina was no longer there. When it became clear the memorial wasn’t going anywhere and neither were the memories of her he found around every single corner or in every crevice of Greendale, Nick was gone. He was through seeing her brave face in the music room, her in a black dress in Dorian’s, and her seated at tables in the cafeteria. He told Prudence by way of letter that he was going, but not where, as he didn’t even know what his destination would end up being. He just knew he had to get out of Greendale and away from the place where he’d learned to love but then lost the one who taught him.

Nick had taken the last seventeen years to travel around the world, visiting different covens and learning different ways of magic. He catalogued his journey after taking a page out of Edward Spellman’s book and writing journals of his own. The first few years after Sabrina died had been spent in a haze, not a drug induced one as he’d sworn them off after she saved him, but a cloud followed him around all the same. Prudence pulled him out of the Sea of Sorrows when he’d attempted to join Sabrina in the thick of his grief. But she’d been able to knock some sense into him and he kicked his butt in gear eventually, knowing Sabrina would want him to have a happy life.

He didn’t know if a happy life was possible without her, but he was alive and he was trying. And that was enough for now.

It was Prudence who’d pulled him from the Sea years ago and it was Prudence who’d convinced him to come back to Greendale now. He’d sworn he’d never set foot in that sleepy town again and just the mere thought of walking through the woods without Sabrina’s hand in his caused him physical pain. But there he was, not needing a hand of glory, opening the door to the Academy.

It was Halloween and the Coven was gearing up for their new Holiday, as it did every year since Sabrina’s death. They honored her sacrifice with a ceremony and some of her favorite things: horror movies and blueberry pancakes. Nick could never bring himself to attend, but Prudence had guilted him into coming this year. It was the 17th Anniversary of the Defeat of the Void.

“No, Pru. It’s the 17th Anniversary of Sabrina’s death.” Nick had corrected her over the witch’s mirror. “It’s morbid and depressing and I want no part of it.”

“You need to come, Nicky.” Prudence had said with an intensity he didn’t understand, but would later figure it was because she saw more than people knew.

Nick walked in circles around the main hall, eyeing the statue of his dead girlfriend with flowers at her feet. He never thought girlfriend was an accurate title for what she was to him. All things considered, they weren’t even together for all that long. But she still made a greater impact on his life than anyone else he’d ever met or would meet. He felt her love even now, seventeen years since he’d kissed her last, and he loved her back with his whole self. No. Girlfriend wasn’t the right word at all.

“Mr. Scratch.” The firm and familiar voice of Zelda Spellman called out to him. He felt the hairs on his back stand up and suddenly he was eighteen again. And Zelda was berating him and Sabrina for sneaking out another ceremony to makeout in the library. But her tone wasn’t punishing and when Nick spun around he saw her face wasn’t either. Instead he could swear he saw a tear daring to fall out of the corner of her eye. Almost as if she’d missed him. “You came.”

“Uh, yeah.” Nick forced out and cleared his throat. “Prudence said I should.”

“Well, we’re glad to have you.” Zelda nodded and took a puff of her cigarette. Some things never change. “Everyone will be delighted to see you, and well...she’d be happy you’re with us.”

“She’d probably yell at me for skipping all these years.” Nick chuckled at the thought of his stubborn Sabrina.

“She’d probably yell at all of us for creating a Holiday in her name.” Zelda pointed out and Nick laughed softly. That was definitely true. Sabrina would find this whole thing vain and over the top, but she deserved it. She’d saved the world far too many times for Nick’s liking, and blamed the world every day for not saving her. “Very well, come with me.”

Zelda bid Nick to follow her into the next room where the rest of the Coven were seated. There were many he didn’t recognize, but Hilda and Ambrose approached him immediately. Hilda hugged him tighter than he’d ever been held and Ambrose shook his head, sharing a knowing smile and head nod. Prudence and Agatha had saved him a seat and he bounced his leg up and down during the whole ceremony, until Prudence hexed him to get him to stop. He was wildly uncomfortable and unnerved, and decided the whole coming back to Greendale thing had been a colossal mistake. His heart ached just as it did seventeen years ago and the wound was still fresh. He didn’t think it would ever heal, never scar, it’d be gaping for however many centuries he had left. Because even though life without her was worse than Hell. He’d still live, because she’d never gotten the chance.

Nick stormed out of the ceremony and rushed off to go anywhere else. Ambrose called out for him and made to follow, but Prudence stopped him with a brush on his arm. Nick needed to be alone for this.

Nick didn’t realize he’d ended up in the Sanctum until he got there. He was in a secluded corner, one with a plush couch and a fireplace. He’d come here on instinct as it was a place he and Sabrina would often retreat too, whether they were doing research or just stealing a moment for themselves.

He didn’t know how long he was there but it proved to be helpful and started to calm him down. His hands brushed all the books and he picked at a few, flipping through the pages. He started a fire at some point, planning on hiding away in this corner for a while. At least until the dumb ceremony was over.

Nick was engrossed in a book on ritual history when he felt the heat in the air change. A breeze blew a curl from his forehead but he didn’t think much of it, still too focused on his book.

“Nick. Nicholas.” He heard her voice before he saw her, and he was sure his mind was playing tricks on him, as there was no way in Heaven that he could be hearing her soft tone right now. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, hoping whatever dream he was in would be over. It would be too hard to hear or see her and then have to let her go again when he woke up. But she spoke again. “Nick.”

He looked up that time and Sabrina was there, at least what appeared to be her. But it startled him and he sprung to his feet and moved behind a chair, spooked at whatever witch or spirit was playing a cruel joke.

“It’s okay.” She held out her hands to show that she meant no harm. “Nick, you don’t have to be afraid.”

The woman in front of him looked exactly as she did seventeen years ago. She was in the black skirt and red sweater her aunts had picked for her burial, and Nick swore he could smell her vanilla lotion that Hilda had made sure she wore for the funeral. His senses were overtaking him and his heart yearned for her to be real, but his head was screaming at him that she wasn’t.

“This is impossible.” Nick finally found his words. They came out edgy and rough, like he hadn’t spoken for years. “Sabrina died seventeen years ago.”

She walked slowly towards him, continuing to hold out her hands. He didn’t move but he eyed her carefully, ready to banish whatever demon she turned out to be. When she got close enough she reached for his hands and when they touched, she didn’t pass through like he’d expected her too. Instead he felt a rush of electricity that seemed to wake up his entire body. It was like her touch was rebooting his entire system, and he could finally see.

She brought his hands to her face, encouraging him to touch her, brush her cheeks like he used to do. When he did his fingers were met with the softest skin, porcelain white, just like Sabrina’s had been.

“Is it really you?” Nick choked out, tears creeping down his face and matching the ones running down hers.

“It is.” She breathed out as she turned and kissed his palm, repeating the words she’d said when he’d come back fresh from Hell. “It is me.”

Nick knew it then that it was truly Sabrina who stood before him. He didn’t think any spirit, or demon, or witch playing a trick on him could get the glint in her eyes that perfect. Nor would they be able to concoct the smile she was giving him now, the one she saved for him, and only Nick’s eyes had ever seen.

It was her. She was home.

“Spellman…”. Nick said before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to him, staggering backwards by the force of her essentially jumping into his arms. He welcomed the weight of her as she clung around his neck and pressed her nose into it, grasping at those curls she had missed so much.

She pulled her face from his neck only enough to look up at him, brush her nose against his, and wipe away the tears that had started to fall more freely from his eyes. He could hardly handle it anymore then. He had to kiss her. Sabrina sighed into it when he kissed her, moving her hands from his hair to his chest and grabbing his shirt collar to pull him even closer. He let her in willingly when she deepened it, and Nick moaned in contentment at the fact that seventeen years dead hadn’t stolen her knack for being in charge.

It could have been hours that he held onto her and kissed her before they slowly pulled apart. He didn’t stop touching her though, brushing his hands across her back and into her soft curls. The way she breathed out his name, in that perfect whisper of hers, further cemented the fact that she was here.

“How?...”. Nick asked as he sniffled. Tears were flowing freely now, but he’d never been afraid to cry in front of her. “How are you here? For how long are you here?”

She saw his worried brow and smoothed it out with her fingers. She smiled at him again, one with the promise of a future. Of forever.

“I’m back, Nick.” She brushed the runaway curl off his forehead that was still there after all these years. “For good.”

“How, Spellman?” Nick grabbed her hand and led her to the couch, pulling her to sit next to him. She immediately folded herself into his arms, wanting to touch him as much as possible.

“Hecate brought me back.” Sabrina explained as she played with the lines on Nick’s hand. “She said in order for the sacrifice to be complete, to give myself completely over to the void so you could trap it, I had to remain dead in the sweet hereafter for the number of years I was alive.”

“Seventeen years.” Nick filled in and she nodded.

“After seventeen years she could bring me back. Today, on my birthday. If I wanted to.”

“And I assume you wanted to?” Nick said with a smirk as he shook his scrunched nose at her. She giggled and leaned forward, placing a single, tender kiss on his lips, nodding in response to his question.

As he leaned into it with a clear intention to kiss her deeper and pull her on top of him she pulled away quickly. Her brown eyes went wide and she put her hands to her mouth as if she had said the wrong thing.

“Oh my Hecate.” She said as she gasped.

“What?” Nick panicked, trying to scoot closer to her. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t kiss you.” Sabrina said like it was obvious, and Nick’s face twisted in confusion. “What if you’re with someone. I can’t just kiss you assuming that you’re single. I’m so sorry-”

He shut her up the best way he knew how, with his lips against hers. He bit her bottom lip for good measure, drawing a moan that made him chuckle.

“Spellman, how could you ever think there could be anyone else.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

“Really?” She asked, hiding her smile as tears trickled down her cheek.

“Yes.” Nick implored. “Sabrina from the moment I met you, despite everything, one thing has remained true. You are the last thing on my mind when I go to sleep. And my first thought when I wake up.”

“I thought about you too.” Sabrina admitted as she shrugged. “I thought about this moment when I could finally come back. I’ve been counting down the days ever since I got there and found out I’d return someday.”

“I missed you so much, Sabrina.” Nick told her. “Living without you was-I can’t-It’s-” She shut him up with a finger on his lips and a soft smile.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now. And I missed you too.”

“What did your family say?” Nick asked as he pulled her to him, laying down on the couch with her snuggled on top of him. He knew they’d have a lot to catch up on, his last seventeen years, her time in the Sweet Hereafter. But now he just wanted her in his arms. The hard conversations could come later.

“Nick you were the first person I came to see.” She said as she lifted her head to kiss his forehead. She thought he may have shuddered at the gesture, just as he had at Lupercalia. “How could you not be?”

“Mmmm.” Nick said in response as she snuggled closer and he kissed the top of her head. “Wanna go see them?”

“In a minute. I just wanna be in your arms.” Sabrina spoke to his neck as she kissed him there, breathing in the smell of him. Another thing that hadn’t changed.

“You got it, babe.” He felt her smile at the nickname as he pulled her even closer. His heart felt full for the first time in a long time and he decided he didn’t care if he never got up again.

“I love you, Nick.” Sabrina told him as she closed her eyes, knowing that this time when she opened them she would still be there on a couch with Nick by a roaring fire. Nick’s heart nearly stopped at the words he never thought he’d hear again. But the love of his life was there with him again, and the centuries he thought were stolen from them were given back. It was the most perfect gift.

“I love you too, Sabrina.” He kissed her forehead again before settling into a comfortable silence. “I will forever.”

As they both drifted off to a near slumber, Prudence’s words rang in his ears.

“You need to come, Nicky.”

He was damned glad he did.

#nabrina #fic prompts #nabrina prompts #post part 4 #tiny part 4 fix it #nicholas scratch #sabrina spellman #the one where nick doesn't die

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purplebass · 4 years ago

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Jesse Blackthorn and Matthew Fairchild Analysis

Upon reading this title, I’m sure you’re asking yourself what do Matthew Fairchild and Jesse Blackthorn have in common for me to analyze them together? More than things in common, I’d rather say that these two characters have opposite goals and mindsets and that their fate may be linked. You’ll see why.

tw mentions of suicide, tw mentions of death, tw mentions of depression, tw mentions of alcohol abuse

Spoilers for the first two chapters of COI

Jesse Blackthorn is a ghost. Before turning into a ghost, we know that his life was quite sheltered, with his mother never letting him receive his first mark until the day he died. Tatiana also didn’t let him see his living parents. Sort of a voluntary isolation, so to speak, even though I’m sure Jesse wants to interact with his cousins and uncles and aunts but the current situation prevents him from doing so. His mother has been very protective of him and still is, and from what we’ve seen, she seems to truly care about him.

Jesse is technically dead. In the Major Arcana cards, he is death. He represents the dark because he can only come out at night, and the underworld because he is dead but he’s lingering in the world of the living. His status is also stated in his surname: Black. Black as night. Black as the dark. Black as death. Even though, when it comes to Shadowhunters, the color of death is white, like the color of ghosts in the collective imagination. Jesse has black hair and fair complexion, which may also indicate the coexistence of life and death in his character, since he’s in between life and death.

Jesse’s death was accidental. We still don’t know the circumstances, and we will probably find some bits in Chain of Iron. If given the possibility, Jesse would want to be alive, but not if who revives him (let’s suppose it’s Lucie with necromancy and because of her power) has to pay the consequences for such a forbidden action in the shadow world. Jesse is resigned that is how his “life” is going to be until his spirit won’t be able to appear to Lucie, Grace and Tatiana anymore. He’s already vanishing, and it’s possible he would not be able to materialize anymore because his existence is linked to his body and his last breath which he gave to James.

If we want to see Jesse as an historical romance stereotype, he is the honest wise gentleman. [For example, Mr. Bingley in Pride and Prejudice].

Matthew Fairchild is described as a lively person who parties hard and has a lot of friends, but we see that he is not truly happy nor he shows his true face to anyone. He is a mystery. Matthew is depressed. He hides his pain behind smiles and apparent life energy. He is always in motion, always doing something. Unlike Jesse, Matthew was born in a very prominent family which never lived far from the other shadowhunters because of his mother’s Charlotte role as a Consul. We know that Charlotte loves Matthew, but her duties as a Consul kept her far from her son, thus Matthew grew up alone and is quite independent.

Matthew is alive. Very much alive. For now. But we know that he is dead inside, because of his depression. Otherwise, he wouldn’t need alcohol to help him get through the day. His status here is also expressed in his part of his surname: Fair. His hair is fair. We can’t describe light as fair, but we can say that Matthew, in opposition to Jesse, surely represents the light.

Matthew may definitely hint at light in opposition to Jesse’s dark (hair, surname, status), but he is anything but. Matthew is The Fool in the Major Arcana cards. The fool is a free spirit, which Matthew is, but it’s also defined as someone whose job is to make others enjoy themselves. He is a jester, but is he happy? Definitely not, and we’ve said this already.

If we want to see Matthew as an historical romance stereotype, he is the libertine. [For example, Mr. Wickham in Pride and Prejudice].

We know that in regards to Jesse’s situation, both Lucie, Grace and Tatiana want to resurrect him. Tatiana has been doing it for years, but without success. And in the first chapter of COI, we see that Lucie and Grace are trying with chemicals and science, but aren’t getting anywhere either. The only one who may be able to do this is Lucie, due to her power or to her possible alliance with a greater demon (maybe her grandfather Belial, maybe Lilith).

If Jesse comes back to life, someone is surely dying, because you can’t get a life without paying something in return - usually, it’s a life for a life. Not necessarily as a sacrifice for Jesse to be revived. The person dying may be coincidentally dying at the same moment Jesse is brought back. I’m not believing he won’t be brought back to life, because I’m sure the TDA Blackthorns are Lucie and Jesse’s descendants. The Blackthorn line wouldn’t exist if Jesse hadn’t lived.

And here I’m hinting more of a metaphorical death, which involves Matthew.

Why him? And why metaphorical death?

CC has said that someone is going to become a downworlder, and everyone is thinking it will be Matthew. I think that too. He would be dying, technically, but he wouldn’t. He would turn in a vampire, who are very much dead but also very much alive. They are immortal, can go out at night because they don’t tolerate the sun, much like what Jesse’s essence can do as a ghost.

Matthew also appreciates Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Grey. Dorian makes a deal to never get old and he’s basically immortal until he stabs his portrait and dies. Despite his suicidal tendencies, Matthew wouldn’t want to live like this. But it would be a sort of law of retaliation: he has an alcohol problem. He is a slave for alcohol. He uses alcohol to survive. Up to now, he hasn’t been able to drop alcohol yet (it’s not easy at all). As a vampire, he would also be a slave for blood for life as well, since vampires need it to survive.

Does this make any sense for you, how Jesse and Matthew’s storylines are paralleled?

Feel free to contact me if you want to discuss this! Hope you enjoyed my theory. 🌼

#tsc #tlh #jesse blackthorn #matthew fairchild #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc theories #tweety.writes #chain of iron #Tweety.txt

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tarasylnin-lavellan · 4 years ago

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Justice's Flight

okay so here is the third episode in the justice arc featuring the half qunari half elf Harel from @w-h-4-t much love lethalan

Taras feet thudded as she ran, heart dead in her chest. You knew better her mind called, you knew how this would end. Foolish child you knew, she gritted her teeth against the painful thoughts. She used everything in the Vir Tanadhal. She ran along stones, swung from branches to break up her track, and forded every stream. She had to ensure that no one could find her, not ever.

Harel and Cole found the track of the Great stag easily enough and took off after Tara. Soon enough they found the site of the "ambush" and stopped. Cole breathed "scattering scared flighty yet flightless fleeing, falling." Harel looked over at the slight young man "mmm that sounds like.... well Tara's very stony. Scared? Ok maybe that is her." Coles eyes widened "mamae I am sorry mamae I....void blackened hate, glass scraping, I don't want to be the beast again, obsidian shards-" Harel cut him off promptly grabbing the boy "hey breathe, boots on the ground, air in your lungs we're trying to find her, breathe you're okay you're here. Cole looked up with his watery eyes at harel "she hurts so much, sharp glass tearing, she is drowning in the dark." His eyes filled with tears at the soul wrenching agony he could feel. Harel stared at the staged site "shems might fall for this one, but in the clan we called it Falon'din's faint. Stage an attack so the pursuer looses interest in your trail. Harel turned and saw the tears on Cole's face "hey, we're going to find, we will light the darkness okay? we wont let her drown. I wont let you drown either, we are going to be okay.

"Clawing creeping darkness....there" he pointed a trembling hand to the southwest. There was nothing to show her passage but Harel had expected that. Any clanfam worth a damn would know how to evade capture. "She really doesn't want to be found" Cole whispered, Harel nodded studying the area. "really does.... I mean I'm pretty good at tracking from when the clan would leave me behind but.... she really wiped herself off the map." "Swiftly spinning, thunder rumbles in the clouds even when it wants to be a flame." Cole stood wanting to help needing to help, Harel muttered pacing the clearing. "Where is she, were would she go," Cole stared at the sky "Move like brother, think like father, faster, go faster safety in seeking danger." Harel stopped at the words "do....wait....do you think you can follow the feeling? trail off the fear like you do?" "find the hurt?" Harel nodded "uh...yes... like feel out the pain like you do and keep following it till we find her?" Cole looked to the southwest "I can try....but it might make me disappear she is hurting so much..." Harel looked that way too "so long as one of us finds her, she gave up everything for that fucking bastard." Harel's eyes glowed a faint green at her words. "But we are not going to let her go, are we Cole?" Cole's eyes grew haunted "bright in the darkness wearing its skin loosely-" "FOCUS! Follow! we wont let anything happen to her, not again never again. You said she was going that way?" Cole nodded. "Then that is where we will go," a soft trumpeting noise cut her off. The inquisitors white hart trotted into the clearing shaking his head in grief huffing. "Oh you poor sweet thing, Tara left you all alone" she patted the beasts snout "its okay we are here now." Cole looked at the massive white stag "he... he saw her flee, saw her go there beyond the trees past there fleeing with the sun." Harel's eyes opened wide in sudden panic "she, she is heading for the arbor wilds SHITE its gunna get her killed DEAD." Harel felt the fear seizing her heart, "OH MYTHALS FUCKING BREAST BAND that place is deadly!" she shook Cole by the shoulders "she cant survive there! Tara is strong but the wilds will eat her alive!" Cole looked up at the bigger woman "death with purpose, safety in silence... I think that is her plan." "Well her plan is fuckin STUPID. We need to get to her before she gets anymore bright ideas! She is not going to sacrifice herself for some dumbass Templar idiot. We are going to bring her back and if he wants to play mage killer then I'll" a deep dangerous growl rumbled in her chest "I will bring it down on him, he wont hurt her... ever."

Harel swung onto the harts back and pulled Cole up behind her. His soft voice accompanying the thud of the hooves "knotted, gnarled, gnawing, the pain of knowing, of being seen, sheltering inside my heart, oh Mythal what if I kill again. Charred bodies.... burning hate... but now I know the faces, everyone I love, everyone I protect crushed like ash. A new templar an old dance, I cannot let it end the same have to stop have to run. The screams the hiss of burning flesh in armor, Mamae! she is cold so cold. Its safer to run let them think me lost, Dorian will know I cannot lie to him. Harel's heart was heavy as stone listening to the pain that tore at her friend. "She's got so much pain and she just keeps adding more, I don't know how she is still going Cole."

"The lion and the serpent bind me to the light, breaking away old walls and hurt. New love in true forms swirling like honey in his tea, eyes of amber look at me with kindness, I cannot let go but I must for them."

"The serpent will know she cannot keep this from him, he sees her and loves her anyway. He will look in the book eventually, but she will be too far gone by then. The lion roars and she runs to save him from her blood in his mouth. The lion tests his chains, roaring as the whip cuts into him but this is for his own good, his fangs start to show as the links break, to break her would break him.

"I am a weapon I have no right to love him, and now he hurts and its all my fault. Soon the hunt will begin again just as before, The Templars will hunt me and I will flee."

Harel looked into the darkness of the trees as Cole whispered all Tara's fear and hurts to her. The weight grows on her shoulders and she thinks of the horrible pain of being so alone; of finally finding people who love her only to have the spirit she was forced to be bound to rip all of it away. We'll change her mind, Dorian knows, he will do anything to stop her being hunted."

"The serpent raises his head fearless, fangs glinting but never poised to bite. He curls around her defensive and defying he know the pain of being hated. The hurt of betrayal for things that you were born with, he understands and draws up to the lion without fear.....Dorian yelled alot." Harel huffed a laugh "of course he did, and that is good, especially if it was at that blockheaded idiot Commander. I cannot believe we keep such ignorant people ar-" "pain, mistrust, I give them my all and the keep forcing me down. the magic, is dangerous; the chantry mother licks her thumb before turning the page, magic is dangerous. I saw the suffering it causes in the circle in Kirkwall, and here. Magic is dangerous but I want so badly to trust, crushed like a flower beneath hooves. She used me! She let me think she was....normal I still love her how can I still love her."

"He still loves her? okay.....maybe he's not as ignorant as I thought.... Sylaise, I hope to fuck Dorian gets him to calm down before we find her." "His hurt touches hers" Cole's voice was quiet and sad. "The scent of sweet mint and rain, I feel myself slipping away but it is there oakmoss and mint, twisting, tantalizing and terribly apart. What have I done! I didn't even give her a chance! I will may never see her again!"

Harel's hands tightened on the reins as the hart navigated a rock "good the fear will make him remorseful, its better that he remains beating himself up for what he did until we get her. He will never hurt her again after this...never again."

Cole sucked in a breath as he caught the agony around Tara again "sharp shards of hate, like the spines of a dragon, raising like hackles, glowing with darkness and smoke. Her heart cannot break like this, it will break her the darkness will find her take her." Harel swallowed heavily "lets say we cant get to her quick enough, what is she going to.... become"

"A pale mask, the queen she refused to be, the mask hides only darkness, edges, and hate. The crystals she fears tear her apart, dark and sharpened wings singing a discordant song. Groping in the darkness, Mamae's cooling body. I am losing myself, falling into the nothing."

Harel shuddered at the thought of her friend giving in and turning into vengeance. "Mythal grant us time to get to her.

Tara couldn't run anymore, she was utterly exhausted from the trauma and the flight from skyhold. She collapsed to her side under a tree. She tried to summon magic to blunt the pain turn off the nerves, but she was too exhausted for that kind of focus. The darkness of unconsciousness claimed her.

"Her mind is quieter she is sleeping!" Cole told harel. "Good, we need to double time it then, before she takes off again." Cole watched the shadows of the trees, "quiet like a drop of water in a pond, undisturbed, no wolves or shadows just soft darkness. She will not be moving any time soon." Harel pushed the stag just a bit faster "damn gotta her give credit though, she can haul ass when she want to if Dorian hadn't found that note so quickly we have never caught up." The pair rode till dawn "darkness pooling but not silent, she is awake.... and close."

blue white eyes glowed faintly in the shadow of a great tree, a deep melodic voice growled "You are not the hounds I was expecting..."

okay my lovelies there will either be a really long episode or two more depending on how much my sad artist brain can take go check out @w-h-4-t she has alot of great writing and is fantastic at Cole's dialog

#tarasyl'nin #lavellan #justice arc #part three #tara's backstory #dragon age inquisition #dragon age #cullavellan #cullen rutherford #my oc #@w-h-4-t #discord dialogs #cole is a sweet bean and I love him #harel

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kayliemusing · 3 years ago

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42: top 3s

1: Top 3 ice cream flavors - classic vanilla, birthday cake/birthday batter, bubblegum

2: Top 3 Disney Movies - Mulan, Onward, Soul (but this changes frequently lol)

3: Top 3 vacation destinations - I've never been outside of my home country so I'll say my top 3 DREAM destinations: NYC, Hawaii, a random countryside in either France or the UK

4: Top 3 places to shop - Dynamite, Sephora, Winners/Homesense

5: Top 3 subjects of study/classes to take - English/anything creative writing related, Interior Decorating/Design, Communications?

6: Top 3 make up products - YSL Touche Eclat Foundation, literally any Mac Lipstick but it has to be matte, & Fenty Beauty contour stick

7: Top 3 music artists - Taylor Swift - Of Monsters and Men - The Lumineers

8: Top 3 spices/herbs - Cinnamon - Nutmeg (literally tastes like autumn) - Paprika

9: Top 3 drinks - Diet Coke - Hot Chocolate - Vanilla Bean Frappe

10: Top 3 apps to use - Instagram - Pinterest -iBooks

11: Top 3 months of the year - May, October, December

12: Top 3 clothing items - My black/white turtle neck, high waisted jeans, plaid blazer

13: Top 3 binge perfect tv shows - Bones, Supernatural, Brooklyn Nine Nine

14: Top 3 romantic dates - (I've never been on a date but if I had, it would be this) Evening walk, late night drive, late night coffee date (tbh anything at night feels romantic)

15: Top 3 kinds of flower - Water lilies, cherry blossoms, roses

16: Top 3 christmas movies - A Christmas Carol (2009), Home Alone, The Polar Express

17: Top 3 OTPs - Nesta and Cassian from ACOTAR series by SJM, Manon and Dorian from Throne of Glass series by SJM, Casteel and Poppy from From Blood and Ash series by JLM.

18: Top 3 quotes to describe your life - "I write not to find, but to leave" by Scherezade Siobhan - "I want to be myself again. I want to be six. I want to stop knowing everything I know" by Catherynne M. Valente - "The truth is, I pretend to be a cynic, but I am really a dreamer who is terrified of wanting something she may never get" by Joanna Hoffman.

19: Top 3 characteristics you love about yourself - my kindness bc it's not surface level kindness, but actually something deeply rooted within me - my resilience even tho sometimes it doesn't feel like resilience - my loyalty bc it is a hard as steel kind of loyalty

20: Top 3 kinds of candy - Maltesers, Kit kats, smarties

21: Top 3 ways to exercise/ be active - Walking, dancing, mowing the lawn/shoveling the sidewalk

22: Top 3 spirit animals - wolf, hummingbird, tiger (i googled it bc i didn't know and i was scared it was a joke but)

23: Top 3 petnames - I like 'lovebug', 'love', 'sweetheart'

24: Top 3 books read outside of school - The Hating Game by Sally Thorne, A Court of Silver Flames by Sarah J Maas but viewers discretion is advised, Crush by Richard Siken

25: Top 3 most used websites - Youtube, Tumblr, Pinterest

26: Top 3 people you last texted - my mom, my bestie megan, and my sister bc they're the only people i text...

27: Top 3 hashtags you use - the only time i use hashtags is if i'm trying to promote some of my writing so I'll usually use writingcommunity, writersonig, poetryonig lol

28: Top 3 instagram accounts you follow - Trista Mateer, Griefmother, obviously taylor swift

29: Top 3 guilty pleasures - buzzfeed quizzes, early 2000s music, romance novels

30: Top 3 summer activities - Going to the zoo, long evening walks, campfires and s'mores

31: Top 3 things to draw/doodle - hearts, flowers, random swirls bc it's the only thing i can doodle...

32: Top 3 aesthetics - cityscape aesthetic, autumn aesthetic, rustic aesthetic

33: Top 3 things you'd buy if you gained three million dollars - a new car, a condo, another cat

34: Top 3 ways to treat yourself - facial, a large bag of maltesers, buying the makeup i really want but have been putting off

35: Top 3 celebrity crushes - Evan Peters, Matthew Daddario, henry cavill

36: Top 3 books from your childhood - Love You Forever by Robert Munsch, The Big Friendly Giant by Roald Dahl, and Madeline by Ludwig Bemelmens

37: Top 3 accents to hear - Australian, super poshy british accent, new zealand accent

38: Top 3 scents - Fresh rain, vanilla, sweet cinnamon pumpkin from bath and body works

39: Top 3 "Friends" quotes - "WE WERE ON A BREAK" -Ross, "Guess things were just going too well for me" -also ross, and "it's so exhausting waiting for death" - phoebe

40: Top 3 cupcake flavors - tbh I haven't tried that many cupcakes so your typical vanilla, chocolate, and Pink Lady Cupcake from Babycakes Cupcakery

41: Top 3 fruits - Pomegranates, Strawberries, Raspberries

42: Top 3 places you've had amazing pizza from - Pizzahut, Dominos, Pizza73

43: Top 3 sports teams to watch - i don't

44: Top 3 crayola colors - uh, i guess red, purple, and pink??

45: Top 3 things you hope to accomplish in college - Certificates/Degrees in Copyediting and Creative Writing, and I think simply just deeper critical thinking skills when it comes to writing and books

46: Top 3 fanfictions you've read - I read more books than fanfics, I've read a couple on tumblr but don't remember the names sorry :/

47: Top 3 people you miss right now - my dad, my best friend bc she's in vancouver, taylor swift bc she's not on tumblr anymore rip

48: Top 3 fears - Failure, Loss, not achieving anything in life/not reaching my full potential

49: Top 3 favorite literary devices - Foreshadowing is always god tier, cliffhangers although evil i love those too, symbolism

50: Top 3 pet peeves - People dragging their shoes on the floor when they walk, when you tell someone your fav hobby/music artist/interest and they immediately go 'oh I hate X!', and people who go 'you're so quiet!!!' but in a way that draws in more attention and/or makes me feel more uncomfortable like i would literally rather die

51: Top 3 physical things you find attractive - Hands, nice hair, defined jawlines

52: Top 3 bad habits - Nailbiting, picking at my blemishes oops, lip biting

53: Top 3 pets you've had/wish to have - Cats bc they complete me, I've always wanted a Samoyed, and I've always wanted a turtle

54: Top 3 types of foreign food - Chicken Chow Mein, deep fried shrimp, japanese chicken wings

55: Top 3 things you want to say to someone in your lifetime - 'I quit', 'I love you', 'you changed my life'

56: Top 3 dog breeds - Samoyed, german shepherds, collies

57: Top 3 cheesy romance movies - You've Got Mail, How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days, 10 Things I Hate About You

58: Top 3 languages you speak/wish to speak - French, Sign, and maybe Japanese?

59: Top 3 series (book, movie, television) - The Cruel Prince series by Holly Black, A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas (but literally only for Cassian and Nesta), From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L Armentrout

60: Top 3 pizza toppings - Mushrooms, alfredo sauce, pineapple

61: Top 3 youtubers you're subscribed to - Game Grumps, Charlotte Dobre, Megan Batoon

62: Top 3 tattoo / piercing ideas - I want to get a tattoo on my wrist of the last thing my dad ever wrote me, a hummingbird tattoo right next to it, and then a cross on my index finger

63: Top 3 awards you want to win - National Book Awards, Nobel Prize, and maybe even Goodreads Choice Awards lol

64: Top 3 emojis - Laugh/Crying emoji, the please sir emoji that kinda gives off those puss n boots eyes, and the stars emoji

65: Top 3 cars you dream of owning - 1970s Chev Impala, tbh a cute little Hyundai Venue, and maaaaybe the 1964 ferarri 250 gt luso (idk if that name was totally right but i had to do tons of googling to find it. i don't know a lot about cars and i don't really have a top 3 lol)

66: Top 3 authors - Right now I'm really into Sarah J Maas, Sally Thorne, and Holly Black maybe?

67: Top 3 historical figures - Jesus, Anne Frank, Vincent Van Gogh

68: Top 3 baby names - Ryder, Leila, Gracie

69: Top 3 DIYs - Candles, refurnishing old furniture (i.e. my mom and i painted our wooden garbage can), and really just any type of autumn diy

70: Top 3 smoothie combos/flavors - Strawberry/Banana, Mango, Strawberry-Mango

71: Top 3 songs of this month - Happier Than Ever by Billie Eilish, Biblical by Calum Scott, and Visiting Hours by Ed Sheeran

72: Top 3 questions of this post you want to be asked - I did them all bc I made it a survey instead of an ask meme ;)

73: Top 3 villains - Regina/The Evil Queen from Once Upon a Time, Cruella De Vil, and Moriarty from Sherlock

74: Top 3 Cities you want to see - Montreal, NYC, Vancouver (honorable mention: LA)

75: Top 3 recipes you want to try - different kind of salad and/or burger bowls, Stuffed bell peppers, and homemade lemon loaf

76: Top 3 dream jobs - Bestselling author, the person who runs a companies social media accounts, youtuber/blogger

77: Top 3 lucky items - tbh don't have one

78: Top 3 traditions you have - Christmas Eve Service and if I don't go to that at least incorporating reading the christmas story on christmas day or eve, idk if this counts as tradition but going to the corn maze every fall, and whenever it's easter/christmas/thanksgiving we always have a big meal w/ family

79: Top 3 things you miss about being a kid - reckless abandon, dreaming about growing up with hopefulness and no dashed hopes, experiencing holidays like halloween and christmas as a kid

80: Top 3 harry potter characters - I've never read or watched Harry Potter rip (ok well i saw the first and second (and maybe third?) movie in the sixth grade I think) but I think I really liked Hermoine, Harry obviously and Dobby

81: Top 3 lies you were told - i don't have 3, but this one has a story but basically when my sister and i were in elementary school my sister got hit by a car and so the insurance thing was that she would recieve 10k when she was 18 and as a child i thought that was unfair so my dad told me that my sister had to split it with me when we were 18 lmao obviously that didn't happen (i think i realized that wasn't true in middle school)

82: Top 3 pictures in your camera roll right now - Pictures of my cat, one of my sister in a hilarious filter, and a picture of my rocking my TS merch

83: Top 3 turn ons - Kindness, defined jawline, easy going

84: Top 3 turn offs - arrogance, unkempt, super loud and obnoxious

85: Top 3 magazines/news papers/ journals to read - I don't read much of those so I'll tell you some sites I love for writing purpose's: there's Wellstoried, justwriterlythings, springhole.net (which is filled with generators if you're stuck and also tons of infomation and advice)

86: Top 3 things you wish you had known earlier - that toad in Mario Party was wearing a mushroom hat and that it is actually not his head, that immaculate means 'clean' before i misused that word like several times over the years, and that the one turn i always take on my way to work where i thought everyone didn't know how to drive was actually bc i didn't have the right of way rip me

87: Top 3 spongebob episodes - the one episode where spongebob and patrick find a ghost ship, that one episode where they form a bikini bottom band and perform it at a football game in a little fish tank, and the one episode where squidward has his first snowball fight

88: Top 3 places to be in the world - I'd love to be in NYC, Montreal, or Hawaii

89: Top 3 things you'd do differently - I would not have applied for RDC, similarly I should have just paid the 500 dollars to the one certificate program I wanted to do instead of overthinking it, and I wish I wouldn't have ended a friendship the way I did

90: Top 3 TV shows from your childhood - Spongebob Squarepants, That's So Raven, and Hannah Montana

91: Top 3 meals you love - Turkey Burgers, Chilli, and Instant Pot Chicken Tortilla Soup

92: Top 3 kinds of tea - i don't drink tea

93: Top 3 embarrassing moments - one time in sixth grade I tripped and fell right on my face in front of my crush, this other time like a couple years ago i opened the door to my car and only realized much too late while i was staring at this random family that it was not my car, and when i went to the gas station to get gas and couldn't get my gas lid on my car opened and this guy had to help me which was already embarrassing enough but then the gas pump wouldn't work so i had to go inside to pay just to realize i forgot my wallet and had to shamefully walk back to my car and then run back inside the convenience store and then pay and then walk back to my car and finally fill my tank.

94: Top 3 holidays to celebrate - Christmas, Halloween, Thanksgiving

95: Top 3 things to do in the rain - have an existential crisis, pretend you're in a music video, walk through puddles like you're six again

96: Top 3 things to do in the snow - Sledding, Build a snowman, shovel it even tho you don't want to

97: Top 3 items you can't leave the house w/o - phone, keys, wallet

98: Top 3 movies you'd like to see - Jurassic World 3, Hotel Transylvania: Transformania bc i'm a child, and the animation of the addams family

99: Top 3 art mediums - Writing fiction/poetry, painting, music

100: Top 3 museums you've been to - Royal Tyrell Museum, Canadian History one in edmonton lol, and heritage park in calgary

101: Top 3 school memories - Middle school dances when the popular kids would grind to the song "Low" which was always an interesting experience, in the twelfth grade at winter formal when we all shouted "SHUT UP AND DANCE!" at the same time when they played Shut Up and Dance, and the day i left

102: Top 3 things you don't/Won't miss - School, my sisters ex, 2016 bc she was a rough year yikes

103: Top 3 pick up lines - "My name is Will. God's Will.", "I'd like to take you to the movies but they don't like you bring your own snacks", "are you from tennessee bc you're the only 10 i see"

104: Top 3 sports to watch - none of them

105: Top 3 taylor swift songs - all too well - exile - coney island

#survey

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