#Chaol Westfall appreciation

[wild-karrde]

Happy Fandom Friday!

I have two art recommendations for the TOG and ACOTAR fandom. The first artwork does contain major spoilers for TOG: Tower of Dawn, just a heads up :)

The first artwork is this BEAUTIFUL piece of one of my top three book couples by @mellendraws. It’s so hard to find artwork of Yrene and Chaol and I fell in love the moment I saw this piece. Yrene is GLOWING (her hair, specifically, is sublime) and the way Chaol is braced over her makes me feel so many different things. Simply put: they’re stunning.

The second artwork is this GORGEOUS piece of my favorite-potential book couple by @/mftfernandez (insta). I adore the way Elain and Az are looking at one another—the softness in their gazes is everything. The yellow in the background, the detail to their hair, and the ethereal beauty of both of them is simply splendid.

Ahhhhhh ok ok so I've been meaning to get around to reading these series for a hot minute (ACOTAR is sitting on my coffee table, so it's closer to being read than others hahah), and this artwork is STUNNING even with me having no idea who the characters are yet (I'll forget the spoiler by the time I read the book). I love how different both of the styles are, but how tender both moments feel. These are BEAUTIFUL and THANK YOU FOR SENDING THEM IN ALLI!!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[morganwrites12672]

Request Info

Requests are currently: Open for bots only!

All you have to do is send me an ask with your request! I would appreciate if you could include what genre you want (angst, fluff, smut, etc) and anything else you want me to include! I do not write certain topics such as SA, rape, or incest.

Who I write for:

Dean Winchester (spn)

Sam Winchester (spn)

Frank Castle (mcu)

Matt Murdock (mcu)

Jameson Hawthorne (tig)

Grayson Hawthorne (tig)

Dean Redding (The Naturals)

Michael Townsend (The Naturals)

Evan Buckley (911)

Peeta Mellark (thg)

Finnick Odair (thg)

Peter Parker (mcu)

Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf)

Characters I ONLY make bots for:

Conrad Hawkins (The Resident)

Carmen Berzatto (The Bear)

Castiel (SPN)

Aaron Warner (Shatter Me)

Rowan Whitethorn (Throne of Glass)

Dorian Haviliard (Throne of Glass)

Chaol Westfall (Throne of Glass)

Mitch Rapp (American Assassin)

Zach Addy (Bones)

Jack Hodgins (Bones)

Tyler Owens (Twisters)

Tom Hanniger (My Bloody Valentine 2009)

Nash Whitmore (The Haunting)

J.J. Kinney (Land of Bad)

Shows/Movies I've seen:

Supernatural, Teen Wolf, The Resident (S2), The Good Doctor (S3), American Assassin, Stranger Things, The Bear (S1), The Hunger Games, Avengers, Daredevil, The Punisher

Feel free to request for anyone from a show I've seen!

[scorbleeo]

Book Chat: Tower of Dawn

Throne of Glass (Book 6) by Sarah J. Maas

Source: Google Images

Chaol Westfall has always defined himself by his unwavering loyalty, his strength, and his position as the Captain of the Guard. But all of that has changed since the glass castle shattered, since his men were slaughtered, since the King of Adarlan spared him from a killing blow, but left his body broken.

His only shot at recovery lies with the legendary healers of the Torre Cesme in Antica--the stronghold of the southern continent's mighty empire. And with war looming over Dorian and Aelin back home, their survival might lie with Chaol and Nesryn convincing its rulers to ally with them.

But what they discover in Antica will change them both--and be more vital to saving Erilea than they could have imagined.

ISBN: 9781681199221 (2018) | Source: Goodreads

Don't Skip This Book

Before I begin, Chaol ranks quite low in my list of heroes in the Throne of Glass series. For the longest time now, he annoys me. I don't actually hate him but I never understood why Maas liked him so much. You know what, I don't understand why anyone liked him as much as they did. Hated it when Celaena chose him over Dorian. Was extremely pissed off when Dorian pretty much sacrificed himself for him. And when Celaena made her return in I think Queen of Shadows(?), oh my god, Chaol's reaction to all that was so bullshit. This series went on and I found myself slowly loving all the heroes, then there's Chaol where he continued to piss me off as we went on. To say I was not looking forward to reading Tower of Dawn after seriously enjoying Empire of Storms is an understatement.

So, Tower of Dawn. I must admit, when I was into the first few chapters, I did not understand why couldn't this book be a novella as it was originally planned to be. Maas already did so much world building and reinforcing the foundations of this series, why did she suddenly in the second last book of this series, decide to bring in a whole new country, race, well...world? As I continued diving deeper into this book, I understood why this had to be a book itself. Should the world in Tower of Dawn be made aware earlier on in the series? Perhaps we could have done with more talks about Antica, the magical healers and definitely some sound on the Darghans or if not, the Rukhin???

Despite a bunch of new information being dumped onto me, Tower of Dawn was a pretty enjoyable read. The pacing was steadily fast, which I always appreciate. Though there was a whole lot of information dump, it was very easy to grasp what's new and what's going on with the new information. The newly added characters were hella easy to get acquainted with as well. You would think since we're already nearing the end of Throne of Glass, you wouldn't find a connection with a bunch with new characters but that would be inaccurate because Yrene or Sartaq? Hell, Hafiza, Hasar, Borte or even Falkan? I even found a connection with Shen and Kadja. Say what you like with Sarah J. Maas but she is extremely talented in creating some of the best side or minor characters that will leave you thinking about them despite their smaller roles.

I started this prefacing that Chaol's not a favourite but I find myself gravitating towards talking about his character development more than other characters in this book. As much as it was nice to finally understand just how broken Chaol is both mentally and physically, it does not justify him being an ass in the earlier books. However, I still very much appreciated seeing how guilty he was and how much shit he gave himself for everything that happened before. It helped me understand why he was the way he was although I will not let it slide that he annoys the hell out of me. The best thing Maas did for Chaol was make him Yrene's. Truly. And because this man literally survived two direct Valg attacks on his fragile human body, I will cut him some slack.

There. I think there is a group of readers out there that might consider skipping Tower of Dawn and heading straight to the final book. However, coming from someone who is not a Chaol fan, just read this book. It is, after all, not a novella or a companion novel. Tower of Dawn is an essential part of this series.

Rating: ★★★★☆

P.S.: This was such a small detail in Tower of Dawn but damn, I just love reading about Rowan from anyone's point of view except his freaking carranam. To everyone else, Rowan's this Fae that one should never pray on their worst enemies, like see, that Fae is one cool dude. Then in comes Aelin and he's just a simp, not that that's wrong but it's boring...

More on Sarah J. Maas's works here:

A Court of Frost and Starlight (A Court of Thorns and Roses, #3.5)

Empire of Storms (Throne of Glass, #5)

[ladybookstan]

Nestaq Appreciation✨

Synopsis: A post entirely dedicated to Sartaq and Nesryn, presenting the facts that show that these characters, this couple, deserve more recognition and love.

Those who "know me" know that I am the Captain of the Character Defense Squad. So far I have only made one other post like this, one in Appreciation to Viviane, if you want to see it, I'll leave it here.

And now I am focusing on Tog's most overlooked couple: Nestaq.

⚠️ Throne of Glass Series Spoiler Alert!!!

The basis of this post will be mainly Tower of Dawn, and a bit of Queen of Shadows, I haven't finished KoA yet (I'm on chapter 21) and Lord knows I won't finish that book any time soon. BUuUt, I won't try anymore. The TOG fandom literally sleeps when it comes to this couple and I'm like: 🤡HELLOOOOO🤡

This post is huge and I apologize in advance for any spelling mistakes or anything like that.

Let's start with Nesryn✨

Balruhn, where Nesryn’s own people had originally hailed, before curiosity and ambition drove her great-grandfather to drag his family over mountains and grasslands and deserts to the god-city in the arid north.

The Faliqs had long been tradesmen, and not of anything particularly fine. Just simple, good cloth and household spices. Her uncle still traded such things and, through various lucrative investments, had become a moderately wealthy man, his family now dwelling in a beautiful home within this very city. A definitive step up from a baker—the path her father had chosen upon leaving these shores. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 2)

A daughter of Adarlan (on her mother's side, Cybele) and a daughter of the Southern Continent (on her father's side, Sayed Faliq).

We meet her in Queen of Shadows, the fifth book in the series.

“I heard what happened this winter. That you went to the warehouse and killed so many of us. You slaughtered rebels - my friends.” That cool, calm mask didn’t so much as flinch. “And yet I’m now supposed to believe you were on our side all along. Forgive me if I’m not forthright with you.” — Nesryn Faliq to Aelin Galathinyus (Queen of Shadows chapter 6)

Nesryn Faliq is shown to be a quiet woman who prefers silence, intelligent and a guard in the city of Riftfort, she was one of the rebels who were working with Ren Allsbrook. We also find out that Chaol Westfall and she were once lovers and at that point retained something of a "friendship".

He’d needed it—the distraction and release—after Lithaen had left him for the charms of Roland Havilliard. Nesryn had just been bored, apparently. She’d never sought him out, never asked when she would see him again, so their encounters had always been initiated by him. A few months later, he hadn’t felt particularly bad when he’d gone to Endovier and stopped seeing her. He’d never told Dorian —or Aelin. And when he’d run into Nesryn three weeks ago at one of the rebel gatherings, she hadn’t seemed to be holding a grudge.

“You look like a man who got punched in the balls,” she said at last.

He cut a glare in her direction. And because he did indeed feel that way, because maybe he was again feeling a bit shattered and reckless, he told her what had happened. Who it had happened with. He trusted her, though. In the three weeks they’d been fighting and plotting and surviving together, he’d had no choice but to trust her. Ren had trusted her. — (Queen of Shadows chapter 7)

Regarding Nesryn and Chaol, from what I understand, the two were fine with what they had, but there came a point where Nesryn had feelings for Chaol that he didn't have for her. I'm not saying that Nesryn was crazy in love with him, but she was starting to fall in love, however, the feelings that Chaol had for her were trust, admiration, friendship and obviously, attraction. Just that. (Also, let's face it, we are talking about Nesryn Faliq, the woman is perfect). And he might even love her, but the kind of love that is more on the side of friendship.

Nesryn knew. She knew it hadn’t been mere interest that had prompted Chaol to ask her to talk to him last night, but guilt. She was fine with it, she told herself. She had been a replacement for not one, but two of the women in his life. A third one… She was fine with it... - (Tower of Dawn chapter 24)

And still in Queen of Shadows, Nesryn Faliq won my heart when she saved Lysandra's life and Dorian's life. Being the absurdly amazing Archer that she is.

The blade dipped as she (Aelin) decided, and— Impact slammed into her father ’s sword, knocking her off balance as Aedion shouted. The arrow ricocheted into the garden, hissing against the gravel as it landed. Nesryn was already approaching, another arrow drawn, pointed at Aedion.

“Strike the prince, and I’ll shoot the general.” - (Queen of Shadows chapter 19)

........................

Lysandra leaped. The closest guard fired a clean, spiraling shot right for her chest. She knew, with that leopard’s senses, that it would hit home. Yet Lysandra did not slow. She did not stop. For Evangeline. For her future. For her freedom. For the friends who had come for her. The bolt neared her heart. And was knocked from the air by an arrow.

Lysandra landed on the guard’s face and shredded it with her claws. There was only one sharpshooter with that sort of aim. Lysandra loosed a roar, and became a storm of death upon the guards nearest her while arrows rained on the rest. When Lysandra dared look, it was in time to see Nesryn Faliq draw another arrow atop the neighboring rooftop, flanked by her rebels, and fire it clean through the eye of the final guard between Lysandra and the castle.

“Go!” Nesryn shouted over the panicking crowd. - (Queen of Shadows chapter 75)

One thing that makes me admire Nesryn so much, besides the fact that she is a strong woman, is that even when she suffered a huge loss when she was 13, experienced prejudice throughout her childhood for her origins, suffered prejudice at work for being a woman, she didn't give up. She didn't stop fighting. Never. And if that is not an admirable story, I don't know what is.

“I wouldn’t?” A cold question. “You think that I don’t understand what’s at stake? I don’t care about your prince—not the way you do. I care about what he represents for the future of this kingdom, and for the future of people like my family. I won’t allow another immigrant purge to happen. I don’t ever want my sister ’s children coming home with broken noses again because of their foreign blood. You told me Dorian would fix the world, make it better. But if he’s gone, if we made the mistake today in keeping him alive, then I will find another way to attain that future. And another one after that, if I have to. I will keep getting back up, no matter how many times those butchers shove me down.”

He’d never heard so many words from her at once, had never… never even known she had a sister. Or that she was an aunt. Nesryn said, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stay the course, but also plot another one. Adapt.”

His mouth had gone dry. “Were you ever hurt? For your heritage?” Nesryn glanced toward the roaring hearth, her face like ice. “I became a city guard because not a single one of them came to my aid the day the other schoolchildren surrounded me with stones in their hands. Not one, even though they could hear my screaming.” She met his stare again. “Dorian Havilliard offers a better future, but the responsibility also lies with us. With how common people choose to act.” True—so true. - (Queen of Shadows chapter 22)

.................

“Adarlan is not as … open as the khaganate when it comes to embracing the role of women in the ranks of its guards or armies,” she admitted. “While I might be skilled, men usually were promoted. So I was left to rot on patrol duty at the walls or busy streets. Handling the underworld or nobility was left for more important guards. And ones whose families hailed from Adarlan.” Her sister had raged anytime it happened, but Nesryn had known that if she’d exploded to her superiors, if she’d challenged them … They were the sort of men who would tell her to be grateful to be admitted at all, then demand she turn in her sword and uniform. So she’d figured it was better to remain, to be passed over, not for mere pay, but for the fact that there were so few other guards like her, helping those who needed it most. It was for them she stayed on, kept her head down while lesser men were appointed. “Ah.” Another beat of quiet from the prince. “I’ve heard they were not so welcoming toward people from other lands.”

“To say the least.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

The huge loss that Nesryn has suffered:

Nesryn said quietly, “My mother died when I was thirteen.” She gazed up at the near-glowing Torre. “The old king … you know what he did to those with magic. To healers gifted with it. So there was no one who could save my mother from the wasting sickness that crept up on her. The healer we managed to find admitted to us that it was likely from a growth inside my mother’s breast. That she might have been able to cure her before magic vanished. Before it was forbidden.”

She had never told anyone outside of her family this story. Wasn’t sure why she was really telling him now, but she went on, “My father wanted to get her on a boat to sail here. Was desperate to. But war had broken out up and down our lands. Ships were conscripted into Adarlan’s service, and she was too sick to risk a land journey all the way down to Eyllwe to try to cross there. My father combed through every map, every trade route. By the time he found a merchant who would sail with them—just the two of them—to Antica … My mother was so sick she could not be moved. She would not have made it here, even if they’d gotten on the boat.” Sartaq watched her, face unreadable, while she spoke.

Nesryn slid her hands into her pockets. “So she stayed. And we were all there when she … when it was over.” That old grief wrapped around her, burning her eyes. “It took me a few years to feel right again,” she said after a moment. “Two years before I started noticing things like the sun on my face, or the taste of food —started enjoying them again. My father … he held us together. My sister and I. If he mourned, he did not let us see it. He filled our house with as much joy as he could.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 13)

...............

Yew, ash … She plucked up one of the yew bows, testing its weight, its flexibility and resistance. A solid, deadly weapon. Yet familiar. As familiar as an old friend. She had not picked up a bow until her mother’s death, and during those initial years of grief and numbness, the physical training, the concentration and strength required, had been a sanctuary, and a reprieve, and forge. She wondered if any of her old tutors had survived the attack on Rifthold. If any of their arrows had brought down wyverns. Or slowed them enough to save lives. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 30)

In Tower of Dawn we are shown what an interesting character Nesryn is, and like every SJM character, she has also experienced trauma and grief.

An excerpt that sums up Nesryn's personality for us:

Last night, talking with him (with Sartaq) at the party, even talking with him in the alley outside the Torre a few nights before that … She had not felt quiet or aloof or strange. She had not felt cold or distant. He’d done her an honor in giving her such attention, and in escorting her and Chaol back to their rooms. She did not mind company—quiet as she could be, she enjoyed being around others. But sometimes… - (Tower of Dawn chapter 24)

Something that fascinates me about Nesryn is her development in the series. In Queen of Shadows (and in the beginning of Tower of Dawn) it is as if she is in a cocoon. Closed off to the world and preventing anyone from seeing the beauty within. Because this is one of the best descriptions for Nesryn Faliq. Hard on the outside and sensitive on the inside.

Wind-seeker, her mother had once called her. Unable to keep still, always wandering where the wind calls you. Where shall it beckon you to journey one day, my rose? - (Tower of Dawn chapter 25)

The Modern Nesryn Faliq

Now, let's talk about her prince: Sartaq

We met him in Tower of Dawn, Sartaq is Khagan's second eldest son and the Commander of his father's ruk riders. The Rukhin.

The northern aerial cavalry of his people had long dwelled in the towering Tavan Mountains with their ruks: enormous birds, eagle-like in shape, large enough to carry off cattle and horses. Without the sheer bulk and destructive weight of the Ironteeth witches’ wyverns, but swift and nimble and clever as foxes. The perfect mounts for the legendary archers who flew them into battle.

Sartaq’s face was solemn, his broad shoulders thrown back. A man perhaps as ill at ease in his fine clothes as Chaol. She wondered if his ruk, Kadara, was perched on one of the palace’s thirty-six minarets, eyeing the cowering servants and guards, waiting impatiently for her master’s return. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 2)

Several excerpts about Sartaq and his personality

She yielded a blink. His brown skin was darker than the others’—perhaps from all that time in the skies and sunlight—his eyes a solid ebony. Depthless and unreadable. His black hair remained unbound save for a small braid that curved over the arch of his ear. The rest of his hair fell to just past his muscled chest, and swayed slightly as he gave what Nesryn could have sworn was a mocking incline of his head. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 2)

...................

“I’ve heard the stories.”

“Even in Adarlan?” He lifted a brow. A warrior and a charmer. A dangerous combination, though she could not recall any mention of a spouse. Indeed, no ring marked his finger.

“Even in Adarlan,” Nesryn said, though she did not mention that the average person on the street might not know such tales. But in her house hold… Oh, yes. The Winged Prince, they called him.

.................

“I was twelve when my father brought us all to the mountain aerie. And when I snuck away and climbed onto the captain’s own ruk, soaring into the skies and requiring them to chase me down … My father told me that if I had splattered on the rocks, I would have deserved to die for my stupidity. As punishment, he ordered me to live amongst the rukhin until I could prove I wasn’t a complete fool—a lifetime, he suggested.”

.................

“Thankfully, I did not die of stupidity, and instead came to love the riding, their lifestyle. They gave me hell because I was a prince, but I proved my mettle soon enough. Kadara hatched when I was fifteen, and I raised her myself. I have had no other mount since.” Pride and affection brightened those onyx eyes. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 6)

..................

“Only Fae blades could remain this sharp after a thousand years,” said Sartaq, setting down the knife he’d been inspecting. “Likely forged by the Fae smiths in Asterion, to the east of Doranelle—perhaps even before the first of the demon wars.”

A prince who had studied not only his own empire’s history, but that of many others. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 33)

....................

Nesryn smiled. Charmer. Beneath that unfailingly sure exterior, Sartaq was certainly a shameless flirt. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

................

Borte had insisted that if she, as Houlun’s heir, was to stay, then Sartaq, as the khagan’s potential successor, should remain as well.

To that, Sartaq had merely stalked off into the interior hallways of Altun, saying that if being his father’s successor meant sitting idly by while others fought for him, then his siblings could have the damn crown. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 41)

In order to understand Sartaq further, it is important to know what situation he was in, more precisely, how the Khaganate works. Is something complicated, because in brief, a Khagan has to kill his siblings and their descendants if they might pose any danger or resistance to the Khagan rule. Example: If a Khagan has three siblings, none of whom have had children, all of whom swear loyalty and submission to him, the Khagan may decide to keep them alive, but the three siblings and their companions will be sterilized. Thus making it impossible for anyone to stand up against Khagan.

Unlike Adarlan or Terrasen, inheritance of the empire was decided by the khagan—not by birth order or gender. Having as many children as possible to provide him or her with a wide pool to choose from made that choice only somewhat easier. And rivalry amongst the royal children… It was practically a blood sport. All designed to prove to their parent who was the strongest, the wisest, the most suited to rule.

The khagan was required by law to have a sealed document locked away in an unmarked, hidden trove—a document that listed his or her Heir, should death sweep upon them before it could be formally announced. It could be altered at any time, but it was designed to avoid the one thing the khaganate had lived in fear of since that first khagan had patched together the kingdoms and territories of this continent: collapse. Not from outside forces, but from war within. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 1)

And Sartaq's opinion about it:

Sartaq shrugged. “Kadara is my family. The rukhin, they are my family. My bloodline, though… It’s hard to love one another, when we will one day contend with each other. Love cannot exist without trust.” He smiled at his ruk. “I trust Kadara with my life. I would die for her, and she for me. Can I say the same of my siblings? My own parents?”

“It’s a shame,” Nesryn admitted. “At least I have her,” he said of the ruk. “And my riders. Pity my siblings, who have none of those blessings.”

He was a good man. The prince… he was a good man. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 24)

In fact, Borte and Houlun are more Sartaq's sister and mother than his blood family. Their relationship is quite beautiful. (Borte and Houlun are Sartaq's hearth-sister and hearth-mother).

The Modern Sartaq

Now, finally, let's talk about the couple!!!!

One of the things that makes me love Nestaq so much is that Sartaq is Nesryn's first and biggest fan. He encourages, supports, and admires his woman without reservation.

Nestaq is made up of a wonderful, independent woman, and a perfect man who is not intimidated by his woman's power and doesn't need to do anything over-the-top to make it clear that he is totally a fan of hers.

And I love the fact that from the beginning it was written in the stars, sea and earth that Nesryn and Sartaq had to be together.

Nestaq Moments:

First flight together in Kadara and, as a bonus, we can see that it was already decided: Nesryn was the perfect woman for Sartaq; she loves the Southern Continent and pay attention to how she describes this flight with the prince. (She will make an amazing Grand Empress, get this).

Nesryn had watched the sunrise from the skies. She’d found Prince Sartaq waiting in his aerie in the hour before dawn. The minaret was open to the elements at its uppermost level, and behind the leather-clad prince … Nesryn had braced a hand on the archway to the stairwell, still breathless from the climb.

Kadara was beautiful. Each of the ruk’s golden feathers shone like burnished metal, the white of her breast bright as fresh snow. And her gold eyes had sized Nesryn up immediately. Before Sartaq even turned from where he’d been buckling on the saddle across her broad back. “Captain Faliq,” the prince had said by way of greeting. “You’re up early.” Casual words for any listening ears. “The storm last night kept me from sleep. I hope I am not disturbing you.”

“On the contrary.” In the dim light, his mouth quirked in a smile. “I was about to go for a ride—to let this fat hog hunt for her breakfast for once.” Kadara puffed her feathers in indignation, clicking her enormous beak—fully capable of taking a man’s head off in one snip. No wonder Princess Hasar remained wary of the bird. Sartaq chuckled, patting her feathers. “Care to join?”

.................

“I am not particularly skilled with heights, but it would be my honor, Prince.”

..................

Sartaq had buckled and harnessed them both into the saddle, triple-checking the leather straps. Then he clicked his tongue once, and— Nesryn knew it wasn’t polite to squeeze a prince’s arms so hard the bone was likely to break. But she did so anyway as Kadara spread her shining golden wings and leaped out. Leaped down. Her stomach shot straight up her throat. Her eyes watered and blurred. Wind tore at her, trying to rip her from that saddle, and she clenched with her thighs so tightly they ached, while she gripped Sartaq’s arms, holding the reins, so hard he chuckled in her ear. But the pale buildings of Antica loomed up, near-blue in the early dawn, rushing to meet them as Kadara dove and dove, a star falling from the heavens— Then flared those wings wide and shot upward. Nesryn was glad she had forgone breakfast. For surely it would have come spewing out of her mouth at what the motion did to her stomach.

Within the span of a few beats, Kadara banked right—toward the horizon just turning pink. The sprawl of Antica spread before them, smaller and smaller as they rose into the skies. Until it was no more than a cobblestoned road beneath them, spreading into every direction. Until she could spy the olive groves and wheat fields just outside the city. The country estates and small towns speckled about. The rippling dunes of the northern desert to her left. The sparkling, snaking band of rivers turning golden in the rising sun that crested over the mountains to her right. Sartaq did not speak. Did not point out landmarks. Not even the pale line of the Sister-Road that ran toward the southern horizon. No, in the rising light, he let Kadara have her head. The ruk took them floating higher still, the air turning crisp—the awakening blue sky brightening with each mighty flap of her wings.

Open. So open. Not at all like the endless sea, the tedious waves and cramped ship. This was… this was breath. This was… She could not look fast enough, drink it all in. How small everything was, how lovely and pristine. A land claimed by a conquering nation, yet loved and nurtured. Her land. Her home. (Ana's Note: You're going to be the Grand Empress there, girl, you just don't know it yet😏)

The sun and the scrub and the undulating grasslands that beckoned in the distance. The lush jungles and rice fields to the west; the pale sand dunes of the desert to the northeast. More than she could see in a lifetime—farther than Kadara could fly in a single day. An entire world, this land. The entire world contained here. She could not understand why her father had left. Why he had stayed, when such darkness had crept into Adarlan. Why he had kept them in that festering city where she so rarely looked up at the sky, or felt a breeze that did not reek of the briny Avery or the rubbish rotting in the streets.

“You are quiet,” the prince said, and it was more question than statement. Nesryn admitted in Halha, “I don’t have words to describe it.” She felt Sartaq smile near her shoulder. “That was what I felt—that first ride. And every ride since.”

“I understand why you stayed at the camp those years ago. Why you are eager to return.” A beat of quiet. “Am I so easy to read?”

“How could you not wish to return?”

“Some consider my father’s palace to be the finest in the world.”

“It is.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 12)

This conversation took place during their first flight and I think it was very important for the outcome of the story itself.

“And are you? Willing to hear us out?” Sartaq didn’t answer for a long moment, only the screaming wind filling the quiet. “I would listen. To you and Lord Westfall. I would hear what you know, what has happened to you both. I do not hold as much sway with my father as others, but he knows the ruk riders are loyal to me.”

“I thought—”

“That I was his favorite?” A low, bitter laugh. “I perhaps stand a chance at being named Heir, but the khagan does not select his Heir based on whom he loves best. Even so, that particular honor goes to Duva and Kashin.” Sweet-faced Duva, she could understand, but—“Kashin?”

“He is loyal to my father to a fault. He has never schemed, never backstabbed. I’ve done it—plotted and maneuvered against them all to get what I want. But Kashin... He may command the land armies and the horse-lords, he may be brutal when required, but with my father, he is guileless. There has never been a more loving or loyal son. When our father dies… I worry. What the others will do to Kashin if he does not submit, or worse: what his death will do to Kashin himself.” She dared ask, “What would you do to him?” Destroy him, if he will not swear fealty?

“It remains to be seen what sort of threat or alliance he could pose. Only Duva and Arghun are married, and Arghun has yet to sire offspring. Though Kashin, if he has his way, would likely sweep that young healer off her feet.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 12)

Nesryn agrees to go with Sartaq to the Tavan mountains (where the rukhin live). And anyone who has read Tower of Dawn will remember that the time Nesryn spent with them was very good. I will try to make a compilation of all the times Nesryn felt at home in Eridun.

His face remained neutral, even as he added, “I’m sure your family will have my head for offering, but … would you like to accompany me?” Yes, she wanted to breathe. But she made herself ask, “For how long?” For time was not on her side. Their side. And to hunt for answers while so many threats gathered close… “A few weeks. No more than three. I like to keep the riders in line, and if I go absent for too long, they pull at the leash. So the journey will serve two purposes, I suppose.”

“I—I would need to discuss. With Lord Westfall.” She’d promised him as much last night. That they’d consider this precise path, weighing the pitfalls and benefits. They were still a team in that regard, still served under the same banner. Sartaq nodded solemnly, as if he could read everything on her face. “Of course. Though I leave soon.” She then heard it—the grunt of servants coming up the aerie stairs. Bringing supplies.

“You leave now,” Nesryn clarified as she noted the spear leaning against the far wall near the supply racks. His sulde. The russet horsehair tied beneath the blade drifted in the wind weaving through the aerie, the dark wood shaft polished and smooth. Sartaq’s onyx eyes seemed to darken further as he strode to his sulde, weighing the spirit-banner in his hands before resting it beside him, the wood thunking on the stone floor. “I…” It was the first she’d seen him stumble for words.

“You weren’t going to say good-bye?” She had no right to make such demands, expect such things, tentative allies or no. But Sartaq leaned his sulde against the wall again and began braiding back his black hair. “After last night’s party, I had thought you would be … preoccupied.”

With Chaol. Her brows rose. “All day?” The prince gave her a roguish smile, finishing off his long braid and picking up his spear once more. “I certainly would take all day.”

..............

Sartaq was still watching, his face carefully neutral as the last of the servants bowed and vanished. His sulde had been strapped just below the saddle, within easy reach should the prince need it, its reddish horsehairs trailing in the wind. Trailing southward. Toward that distant, wild land of the Tavan Mountains. Beckoning, as all spirit-banners did, toward an unknown horizon. Beckoning to claim whatever waited there. Nesryn said quietly, “Yes.”

The prince blinked. “I will go with you,” she clarified. A small smile tugged on his mouth. “Good.”

.............

She found Sartaq atop Kadara, waiting for her. The prince extended a callused hand to help her up into the saddle. She didn’t hesitate as she took his hand, his strong fingers wrapping around hers, and let him pull her into the saddle before him. He strapped and buckled them in, checked all of it thrice. But he reined in Kadara when she would have soared out of the minaret. Sartaq whispered in Nesryn’s ear, “I was praying to the Eternal Sky and all thirty-six gods that you’d say yes.” She smiled, even if he couldn’t see it.

“So was I,” Nesryn breathed, and they leaped into the skies. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 24)

OK, I HAVE NO DESCRIPTION FOR THAT MOMENT. “So don’t be surprised if there’s now a story or two about you already finding its way across the world.”

“And what are the tales they tell about you, Nesryn Faliq?” She chewed on the salted pork. “No one has any stories about me.” It didn’t bother her. Fame, notoriety … She valued other things more, she supposed.

“Not even the story about the arrow that saved a shape-shifter���s life? The impossible shot fired from a rooftop?” She snapped her head toward him. Sartaq only swigged from his water with a look that said, I told you my spies were good.

.............

“Neith’s Arrow,” Sartaq said after uncounted minutes, leaning back against the rock. Nesryn dragged her gaze from the stars to find his face limned in moonlight, silver dancing along the pure onyx of his braid. He rested his forearms on his knees. “That’s what my spies called you, what I called you until you arrived. Neith’s Arrow.” The Goddess of Archery—and the Hunt, originally hailing from an ancient sand-swept kingdom to the west, now enfolded into the khaganate’s vast pantheon. A corner of his mouth tugged upward. “So don’t be surprised if there’s now a story or two about you already finding its way across the world.”

Nesryn observed him for a long moment, the howling mountain wind blending with Kadara’s snoring. She’d always excelled at archery, took pride in her unmatched aim, but she had not learned because she coveted renown. She’d done it because she enjoyed it, because it gave her a direction to aim that wind-seeking inclination. And yet …

Sartaq cleared away the last of the food and did a quick check that the campsite was secure before heading off between the boulders himself. With only those foreign stars to witness, Nesryn smiled. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 25)

That conversation...... Without words. Nestaq is the serious couple that knows how to be hilarious.

“Were you ever—”

“It’s not worth talking about.” Not when she could sometimes still feel that rock as it collided with her head, hear the taunts of those children. She swallowed and added, “Your Highness.” A low laugh. “So my title makes an appearance again.” But he didn’t press further. He only said, “I’m going to beg you not to call me Prince or Your Highness around the other riders.”

“You’re going to beg me, or you are?” His arms tightened around her in mock warning. “It took me years to get them to stop asking if I needed my silk slippers or servants to brush my hair.” Nesryn chuckled. “Amongst them, I am simply Sartaq.” He added, “Or Captain.”

“Captain?”

“Another thing you and I have in common, it seems.” Shameless flirt indeed. “But you rule all six ruk clans. They answer to you.”

“They do, and when we all gather, I am Prince. But amongst my family’s own clan, the Eridun, I captain their forces. And obey the word of my hearth-mother.” He squeezed her again for emphasis. “Which I’d advise you doing as well, if you don’t want to be stripped and tied to a cliff face in the middle of a storm.”

“Holy gods.”

“Indeed.”

“Did she—”

“Yes. And as you said, it’s not worth talking about.” But Nesryn chuckled again, surprised to find her face aching from smiling so often these past few minutes. “I appreciate the warning, Captain.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

"Emissary or bride?" “Sartaq never brings such pretty ladies home—from Adarlan or Antica. Be careful walking around the cliff edges, Captain Faliq, or some of the girls here might give you a shove.” Borte, you are of my clan, girl.

A faint gleam of approval entered Borte’s dark eyes just before the girl jerked her chin toward Nesryn. “A Balruhni woman in the leathers of a rukhin. Now, there’s a sight.” Sartaq didn’t answer. He only glanced in Nesryn’s direction. An invitation. And challenge. So Nesryn slipped her hands into the pockets of her close-fitting pants and sauntered to the prince’s side. “Will it be improved if I tell you I caught Sartaq filing his nails this morning?”

Borte stared at Nesryn, blinking once. Then she tipped back her head and howled. Sartaq threw an approving yet beleaguered glance in Nesryn’s direction before saying, “Meet my hearth-sister, Borte. Granddaughter and heir of my hearth-mother, Houlun.” He reached between them to tug one of Borte’s braids. She batted his hand away. “Borte, meet Captain Nesryn Faliq.” He paused for a breath, then added, “Of the Royal Guard of Adarlan.” Silence. Borte’s arched dark brows rose. An aging man in rukhin leathers pressed forward. “But what is more unusual: that a Balruhni woman is their captain, or that a captain of Adarlan has ventured so far?” Borte waved the man off. “Always the idle chatter and questions with you,” she scolded him. And to Nesryn’s shock, the man winced and shut his mouth. “The real question is...” A sly grin at Sartaq. “Does she come as emissary or bride?” Any attempt at a steady, cool, calm appearance vanished as Nesryn gaped at the girl. Right as Sartaq snapped, “Borte.”

Borte gave a downright wicked grin. “Sartaq never brings such pretty ladies home—from Adarlan or Antica. Be careful walking around the cliff edges, Captain Faliq, or some of the girls here might give you a shove.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

I didn't know whether to smile or scream.

Sartaq’s smile grew. “Perhaps we could also do a bit of archery practice.” He looked her over with a frankness that made her shift in her seat. “I’m certainly keen to match myself against Neith’s Arrow, and I’m sure the young warriors are, too.” Nesryn pushed back her own plate, brows lifting. “They’ve heard of me?” Sartaq grinned. “I might have told a story or two the last time I came here. Why do you think there were so many people gathered when we arrived? They certainly don’t usually bother to drag themselves here to see me.” “But Borte seemed like she’d never—”

“Does Borte seem like a person who gives anyone an easy time?” Something deeper in her warmed. “No. But how could they have known I was coming?” His answering grin was the portrait of princely arrogance. “Because I sent word a day before that you were likely to join me.” Nesryn gaped at him, unable to maintain that mask of calm. Rising, Sartaq scooped up their plates. “I told you that I was praying you’d join me, Nesryn Faliq. If I’d shown up empty-handed, Borte would have never let me hear the end of it.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

"They didn’t mention that you’re beautiful." huh huh!!

“Pick a mark,” Nesryn told Borte. The woman smirked. “Neck, heart, head.” She pointed to each of the three dummies, a different mark for each one. Wind rattled them, the aim and strength needed to hit each utterly different. Borte knew it—all the warriors here did. Nesryn lifted an arm behind her head, dragging her fingers along the fletching, the feathers rippling against her skin as she scanned the three targets. Listened to the murmur of the winds racing past Rokhal, that wild summons she heard echoed in her own heart. Wind-seeker, her mother had called her. One after another, Nesryn withdrew an arrow and fired.

Again, and again, and again.

Again, and again, and again.

Again, and again, and again.

And when she finished, only the howling wind answered—the wind of Torke, the Roarer. Every training ring had stopped. Staring at what she’d done. Instead of three arrows distributed amongst the three dummies, she’d fired nine. Three rows of perfectly aligned shots on each: heart, neck, and head. Not an inch of difference. Even with the singing winds. Sartaq was grinning when she turned to him, his long braid drifting behind him, as if it were a sulde itself. But Borte elbowed past him, and breathed to Nesryn, “Show me.”

...................

But then Sartaq said, “You’re a good teacher.”

“Thank you.” It was all she could think to say. He’d kept close to her side while she walked the others through her various positions and techniques, but had said little. A leader who did not need to constantly be filling the air with talking and boasting. He blew out a breath, shoulders loosening. “And I’m relieved to see that the reality lives up to the legend.” Nesryn chuckled, grateful to be back on safer ground. “You had doubts?” They reached the landing that would take them to the great hall. Sartaq let her fall into step beside him. “The reports left out some key information. It made me doubt their accuracy.” It was the sly gleam in his eye that made Nesryn angle her head. “What, exactly, did they fail to mention?” They reached the great hall, empty save for a cloaked figure just barely visible on the other side of the fire pit—and someone sitting beside her.

But Sartaq turned to her, examining her from head to toe and back again. There was little that he missed. “They didn’t mention that you’re beautiful.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 30)

Nesryn saving Sartaq's life.

“Don’t.” He gave her an incredulous look over his shoulder. Nesryn kept her own face like stone. “Your ej said these towers were laid with traps. Just because we have yet to see one does not mean they are not still here.” She pointed with her arrow toward the open archway to the levels belowground. “We keep quiet, tread carefully. I go first.” To hell with being the rearguard, if he was prone to plunging into danger. The prince’s eyes flared, but she didn’t let him object. “I faced some of the horrors of Morath this spring and summer. I know how to mark them—and where to strike.” Sartaq looked her over again. “You really should have been promoted.” Nesryn smiled, releasing his muscled bicep. Wincing as she realized the liberties she’d taken by grabbing him, touching a prince without permission—

“Two captains, remember?” he said, noting the cringe she failed to hide. Indeed. Nesryn inclined her head and stepped in front of him—and into the archway of the stairs leading below. Her arm strained as she pulled the bowstring taut, scanning the darkness immediately beyond the stairwell entrance. When nothing leaped out, she slackened the bow, placed her arrow back in the quiver, and plucked up a handful of rocks from the ground, shards and chips from the felled blocks of stone around them. A step behind, Sartaq did the same, filling his pockets with them. Listening carefully, Nesryn rolled one of the rocks down the spiral stairs, letting it bounce and crack and— A faint click, and Nesryn hurled herself back, slamming into Sartaq and sending them both sprawling to the ground. A thud sounded within the stairwell below, then another. In the quiet that followed, her heavy breathing the only sound, she listened again. “Hidden bolts,” she observed, wincing as she found Sartaq’s face mere inches away. His eyes were upon the stairwell, even as he kept a hand on her back, the other angling his long knife toward the archway.

“Seems I owe you my life, Captain,” Sartaq said, and Nesryn quickly peeled back, offering a hand to help him rise. He clasped it, his hand warm around hers as she hauled him to his feet. “Don’t worry,” Nesryn said drily. “I won’t tell Borte.” She plucked up another handful of rocks and sent them rolling and scattering down the gloom of the stairs. A few more clicks and thumps—then silence. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 33)

Sartaq saving Nesryn's life.

Click. Nesryn was so focused on the wall ahead that she didn’t consider where the click had come from. Not in front, but below. One heartbeat, she was crouched on a step. The next, it had slid away beneath her feet, a black pit yawning open beneath— Strong hands wrapped around her shoulder, her collar, a blade clattering on stone— Nesryn scrabbled for the lip of the nearest stair as Sartaq held her, grunting at her weight, his long knife tumbling into the blackness beneath. Metal hit metal. Bounced off it again and again, the clanking filling the stairwell. Spikes. Likely a field of metal spikes—

Sartaq hauled her up, and her nails cracked on stone as she grappled for purchase on the smooth step. But then she was up, half sprawled on the stairs between Sartaq’s legs, both of them panting as they peered to the gap beyond. “I think we’re even,” Nesryn said, fighting and failing to master her shaking. The prince clasped her shoulder, while his other hand brushed down the back of her head. A comforting, casual touch. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 33)

We know who's in command in the relationship

Nesryn caught him before he could eat dirt, and snapped at Sartaq, “If you don’t get him bandages and supplies right now, I’ll give you a wound to match.” The prince blinked at her, mouth falling open. Then he whistled through his teeth, sharp and swift, while he strode for Kadara, his steps clipped. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 35)

This is more how Nesryn felt among the rukhin than a Nestaq moment. I'm going to kind of open a giant parenthesis to leave this here.

She’d never seen anything so great and unforgiving, so vast and beautiful. And even though she was as insignificant as a mayfly compared with the size of the mountains around them, some piece of her felt keenly a part of it, born from it. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 30)

................

It was the warm welcome that still surprised her. The smiles of the rukhin who asked, some shyly, some boldly, for demonstrations with her bow and arrow. But for all she showed them, she, too, learned. Went soaring with Sartaq through the mountain passes, the prince calling out targets and Nesryn striking them, learning how to fire into the wind, as the wind. He even let her ride Kadara alone—just once, and enough for her to again wonder how they let four-year-olds do it, but … she’d never felt so unleashed. So unburdened and unbridled and yet settled in herself.

So they went, clan to clan, hearth to hearth. Sartaq checking up on the riders and their training, stopping to visit new babes and ailing old folk. Nesryn remained his shadow—or tried to. Anytime she lingered a step back, Sartaq nudged her forward. Anytime there was a task to be done with the others, he asked her to do it. The washing-up after a meal, the returning of arrows from target practice, the cleaning-out of the ruk droppings from halls and nests. The last task, at least, the prince joined her in. No matter his rank, no matter his status as captain, he did every chore without a word of complaint. No one was above work, he told her when she’d asked one night. And whether she was scraping crusted droppings from the ground or teaching young warriors how to string a bow, something restless in her had settled.

She could no longer picture it—the quiet meetings at the palace in Rifthold where she had given solemn guards their orders and then parted ways amongst marble floors and finery. Could not remember the city barracks, where she’d lurked in the back of a crowded room, gotten her orders, and then stood on a street corner for hours, watching people buy and eat and argue and walk about. Another lifetime, another world. Here in the deep mountains, breathing in the crisp air, seated around the fire pit to hear Houlun narrate tales of rukhin and the horse-lords, tales of the first khagan and his beloved wife, whom Borte had been named after… She could not remember that life before. And did not want to go back to it. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 37)

“Another tale to spread of Neith’s Arrow.” I didn't cry here. And beautiful, smart, excellent archer, and sings well. Nesryn Faliq, the complete package.

“But I can sing for you.” Silence. Houlun set down her whetstone. “A song would be appreciated.” A scowl at Borte and Sartaq. “Since neither of my children can carry a tune to save their lives.” Borte rolled her eyes at her hearth-mother, but Sartaq bowed his head in apology, a crooked grin now on his mouth. Nesryn smiled, even as her heart pounded at her bold offer. She’d never really performed for anyone, but this … It was not performing, as much as it was sharing. She listened to the wind whispering outside the cave mouth for a long moment, the others falling quiet.

“This is a song of Adarlan,” she said at last. “From the foothills north of Rifthold, where my mother was born.” An old, familiar ache filled her chest. “She used to sing this to me—before she died.” A glimmer of sympathy in Houlun’s steely gaze. But Nesryn glanced to Borte as she spoke, finding the young woman’s face unusually soft—staring at Nesryn as if she had not seen her before. Nesryn gave her a small, subtle nod. It is a weight we both bear. Borte offered a small, quiet smile in return. Nesryn listened to the wind again. Let herself drift back to her pretty little bedroom in Rifthold, let herself feel her mother’s silken hands stroking her face, her hair. She had been so taken with her father’s stories of his far-off homeland, of the ruks and horse-lords, that she had rarely asked for anything about Adarlan itself, despite being a child of both lands.

And this song of her mother’s … One of the few stories she had, in the form she loved best. Of her homeland in better days. And she wanted to share it with them—that glimpse into what her land might again become. Nesryn cleared her throat. Took a bracing breath. And then she opened her mouth and sang. The crackle of the fire her only drum, Nesryn’s voice filled the Mountain-Hall of Altun, wending through the ancient pillars, bouncing off the carved rock. She had the sense of Sartaq going very still, had the sense that there was nothing hard or laughing on his face. But she focused on the song, on those long-ago words, that story of distant winters and speckles of blood on snow; that story of mothers and their daughters, how they loved and fought and tended to each other.

Her voice soared and fell, bold and graceful as a ruk, and Nesryn could have sworn that even the howling winds paused to listen. And when she finished, a gilded, high note of the spring sun breaking across cold lands, when silence and the crackling fire filled the world once more… Borte was crying. Silent tears streaming down her pretty face. Houlun’s hand was tightly wrapped around her granddaughter’s, the whetstone set aside. A wound still healing—for both of them.

And perhaps Sartaq, too—for grief limned his face. Grief, and awe, and perhaps something infinitely more tender as he said, “Another tale to spread of Neith’s Arrow.”

She ducked her head again, accepting the praise of the others with a smile. Falkan clapped as best he could manage and called for another song. Nesryn, to her surprise, obliged them. A merry, bright mountain song her father had taught her, of rushing streams amid blooming fields of wildflowers. But even as the night moved on, as Nesryn sang in that beautiful mountain-hall, she felt Sartaq’s stare. Different from any he’d given before. And though she told herself she should, Nesryn did not look away. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 37)

I can't be the only person who is passionate about the conversations Nestaq has in the sky.

Nesryn chewed her lip. “Why—why is it that you haven’t married?” She’d never had the nerve to ask. Though she’d certainly found herself wondering it during these weeks. Sartaq’s hands flexed on the reins before he answered. “I’ve been too busy. And the women who have been presented as potential brides… They were not for me.”She had no right to pry, but she asked, “Why?” (Ana's Note: because them were not you, duh.)

“Because whenever I showed them Kadara, they either cowered, or pretended to be interested in her, or asked just how much time I’d be spending away.”

“Hoping for frequent absences, or because they’d miss you?” Sartaq chuckled. “I couldn’t tell. The question itself felt like enough of a leash that I knew they were not for me.”

“So your father allows you to wed where you will?” Dangerous, strange territory. She waited for him to tease her about it, but Sartaq fell quiet. “Yes. Even Duva’s arranged marriage … She was all for it. Said she didn’t want to have to sort through a court of snakes to find one good man and still pray he hadn’t deceived her. I wonder if there’s something to be said for it. She lucked out, anyway—quiet as he is, her husband adores her. I saw his face the moment they met. Saw hers, too. Relief, and … something more.” And what would become of them—of their child—if another Heir were chosen for the throne? Nesryn asked carefully, “Why not end this tradition of competing with each other?” Sartaq was silent for a long minute. “Perhaps one day, whoever takes the throne will end it. Love their siblings more than they honor the tradition. I like to believe we have moved past who we were centuries ago—when the empire was still fledgling. But perhaps now, these years of relative peace, perhaps this is the dangerous time.” He shrugged, his body shifting against hers. “Perhaps war will sort the matter of succession for us.” And maybe it was because they were so high above the world, because that dim land swept ever closer, but Nesryn asked, “There is nothing that would keep you from war if it called, then?”

“You sound as if you are reconsidering this goal of yours to drag us into the north.” She stiffened. “I will admit that these weeks here … It was easier before to ask for your aid. When the rukhin were a nameless, faceless legion. When I did not know their names, their families. When I did not know Houlun, or Borte. Or that Borte is betrothed.” A low laugh at that. Borte had refused—outright refused—to answer Nesryn’s questions about Yeran. She said it wasn’t even worth talking about. “I’m sure Borte would be glad to go to war, if only to compete with Yeran for glory on the battlefield.”

“A true love match, then.” Sartaq smiled at her ear. “You have no idea.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 41)

It was all too intense here, damn spiders, Kadara hurt, Nesryn and Sartaq almost dying, the confession... And no, I didn't cry. Again. You realize how important Kadara is to the Sartaq.

Sartaq pivoted them, his body a solid wall around hers as Nesryn realized where the sky was, where the pass floor was— He roared as they struck the shale, as he kept her atop him, taking the full brunt of the impact.

.................

“Not broken,” he rasped. “Not broken.” It was more to himself than her. But Nesryn managed to keep her fingers steady as she freed the buckles. The thick riding leathers had saved his life, saved his skin from being flayed off his bones. He’d taken the impact for her, moved her so that he’d hit it first— She clawed at the shale covering his shoulders and his upper arms, sharp rock cutting into her fingers. The leather strap at the end of her braid had come free in the impact, and her hair now fell about her face, half blocking her view of the forest behind and rock around them. “Get up,” she panted. “Get up.” He took a breath, blinking furiously. “Get up,” she begged him. Shale shifted ahead, and a low, pained cry echoed off the rock. Sartaq snapped upright. “Kadara—”

................

The mighty ruk tried and failed to rise. “FLY,” Sartaq bellowed. Slowly, so slowly the ruk lumbered to her legs, her scraped beak dragging through the loose rock. She wasn’t going to make it. Wasn’t going to get airborne in time. For just beyond the web-shrouded tree line… Shadows writhed. Scuttled closer. Nesryn sheathed her sword and drew her bow, arrow shaking as she aimed it toward the rock the hatchling had been hauled behind, then the trees a hundred yards off.

“Go, Kadara,” Sartaq begged. “Get up!” The bird was barely in shape to fly, let alone carry riders— Rock clacked and skittered behind her. From the labyrinth of rock within the pass. Trapped. They were trapped— Falkan shifted in her pocket, trying to wriggle free. Nesryn covered him with her forearm, pressing hard. “Not yet,” she breathed. “Not yet.” His powers were not Lysandra’s. He had tried and failed to shift into a ruk this week. But the large wolf was as big as he could manage. Anything larger was beyond his magic.

“Kadara—” The first of the spiders broke from the tree line. As black and sleek as her fallen sister. Nesryn let her arrow fly. The spider fell back, screaming—an unholy sound that shook the rocks as that arrow sank into an eye. Nesryn instantly had another arrow drawn, backing toward Kadara, who was just now beginning to flap her wings— The ruk stumbled. Sartaq screamed, “FLY!”

Wind stirred Nesryn’s hair, sending shards of shale skittering. The ground rumbled behind, but Nesryn did not dare take her eyes off the second spider that emerged from the trees. She fired again, the song of her arrow drowned out by the flap of Kadara’s wings. A heavy, pained beat, but it held steady— Nesryn glanced behind for a breath. Just one, just to see Kadara bobbing and waving, fighting for every wing beat upward through the narrow pass, blood and shale dripping from her. Right as a kharankui emerged from one of the shadows of the rocks high up the peak, legs bending as if it would leap upon the ruk’s back— Nesryn fired, a second arrow on its tail. Sartaq’s. Both found their marks. One through an eye, the other through the open mouth of the spider. It shrieked, tumbling down from its perch. Kadara swung wide to dodge it, narrowly avoiding the jagged face of the peak. The spider’s splat thudded through the maze of rock ahead. But then Kadara was up, into the gray sky, flapping like hell. Sartaq whirled toward Nesryn just as she looked back at the pine forest. To where half a dozen kharankui now emerged, hissing. Blood coated the prince, his every breath ragged, but he managed to grab Nesryn’s arm and breathe, “Run.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 42)

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Nesryn just pushed onward, the pass becoming a fraction wider, counting her breaths. They were likely some of her last— Thinking that way helped no one and nothing. She’d stared down death this summer, when that wave of glass had come crashing toward her. Had stared it down, and been saved. Perhaps she would be lucky again, too. Sartaq stumbled out behind her, breathing hard. Water. They desperately needed water—and bandages for his wounds. If the spiders did not find them, then the lack of water in the arid pass might very well kill them first. Long before any help arrived from the Eridun rukhin. Nesryn forced one step in front of another, the path narrowing again, the rock as tight as a vise. She twisted sideways, edging through, her swords scraping. Sartaq grunted, then let out a pained curse. “I’m stuck.”

She found him indeed wedged behind her, the bulk of his broad chest and shoulders pinned. He shoved himself forward, blood leaking from his wounds as he pushed and pulled. “Stop,” she ordered. “Stop—wriggle back out if you can.” There was no other way through and nothing to climb over, but if they removed his weapons— His dark eyes met hers. She saw the words forming. You keep going.

“Sartaq,” she breathed. They heard it then. Claws clicking on stone. Skittering along. Many of them. Too many. Coming from behind, closing in. Nesryn grabbed the prince’s hand, tugging. “Push,” she panted. “Push.” He grunted in pain, the veins in his neck bulging as he tried to squeeze through, his boots scraping on the loose rock— Nesryn dug her own feet in, gritting her teeth as she hauled him forward. Click, click, click—

“Harder,” she gasped. Sartaq angled his head, shoving against the rock that held him.

“What a fine morsel, our guest,” hissed a soft female voice. “So large he cannot even fit through the passage. How we shall feast.” Nesryn heaved and heaved, her grip treacherously slippery with sweat and blood from both of them, but she clamped onto his wrist hard enough that she felt bones shift beneath—

“Go,” he whispered, straining to push through. “You run.” Falkan was shifting in her pocket, trying to emerge. But with the rock pressing on her chest, the passage was too tight for even him to poke out his head—

“A pretty pair,” that female continued. “How her hair shines like a moonless night. We shall take you both back to our home, our honored guests.” A sob clawed its way up Nesryn’s throat. “Please,” she begged, scanning the rock high above them, the lip into the upper reaches of the narrow pass, the curving horns of the peaks, tugging and tugging on Sartaq’s arm. “Please,” she begged them, begged anyone.

But Sartaq’s face went calm. So calm. He stopped pushing, stopped trying to haul himself forward. Nesryn shook her head, pulling on his arm. He did not move. Not an inch. His dark eyes met hers. There was no fear in them. Sartaq said to her, clear and steady, “I heard the spies’ stories of you. The fearless Balruhni woman in Adarlan’s empire. Neith’s Arrow. And I knew…” Nesryn sobbed, tugging and tugging. (Ana's Note: here I was almost creating a new ocean with so many tears)

Sartaq smiled at her—gently. Sweetly. In a way she had not yet seen. “I loved you before I ever set eyes on you,” he said. “Please,” Nesryn wept. Sartaq’s hand tightened on hers. “I wish we’d had time.” A hiss behind him, a rising bulk of shining black— Then the prince was gone. Ripped from her hands.

As if he had never been. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 47)

Coming out of hell at last.

Another cry split the night, one she’d learned as well as her own voice. And there was Kadara, sailing hard for them, two other ruks in her wake. Sartaq let out what might have been a sob as one of the other ruks broke away, diving to where Borte swept and lunged and shattered through the kharankui ranks.

..............

Borte was not done. A light sparked atop her ruk. A flaming arrow. Borte fired it high into the sky. A signal, Nesryn realized as countless wings filled the air around them. And as Borte’s arrow landed atop a web, flame erupting, hundreds of lights kindled in the sky. Ruk riders. Each bearing a flaming arrow. Each now pointing downward. Like a rain of shooting stars, the arrows fell upon the darkness of Dagul. Landed on web and tree. And caught fire. One after another after another.

Until the night was lit up, until smoke streamed, mingling with the rising screams from the peaks and wood. The ruks veered northward, Nesryn shaking as she clung to the talons holding her. Across the way, Sartaq met her gaze, his now-shoulder-length hair rippling in the wind. With the flames below, it made the wounds to his face, his hands, his neck all the more gruesome. His skin was wan, his lips pale, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and relief. And yet…

Sartaq smiled, barely a curve of his mouth. The words the prince had confessed drifted on the wind between them. She could not take her eyes from him. Could not look away. So Nesryn smiled back.

And below and behind them, long into the night, the Dagul Fells burned. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 51)

She loves him, yes. No one can tell me otherwise. Look at this relationship. Look how they interact. Only one thing: perfection.

When Nesryn faced Sartaq, it was in time to see him sway. She lunged, her aching body protesting as she caught the prince around the middle. Someone shouted for a healer, but Sartaq got his legs beneath him, even as he kept his arms about her. Nesryn found herself disinclined to remove her own arms from his waist. Sartaq stared down at her, that soft, sweet smile on his mouth again. “You saved me.”

“It seemed a sorry end for the tales of the Winged Prince,” she replied, frowning at the gash in his leg. “You should be sitting—” Across the hall, light flashed, people cried out… and then the spider was gone. Replaced by a man, covered in slashing cuts and blood. When Nesryn looked back, Sartaq’s gaze was on her face. Her throat closed up, her mouth pressing into a trembling line as she realized that they were here. They were here, and alive, and she had never known such true terror and despair as she had in those moments when he had been hauled away.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his mouth over the tears that escaped. He said against her skin, “Whatever would they say about Neith’s Arrow then?” Nesryn laughed despite herself, despite what had happened, and wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she dared, resting her head against his chest. Sartaq just wordlessly stroked her hair and held her right back.

...............

Nesryn had slept the entirety of the day before. Not in her room, but curled in bed beside the prince now standing with her before the assembled group. They had both been patched up and bathed, and though Sartaq had not so much as kissed her… Nesryn had not objected when he led her by the hand and limped into his bedroom. So they had slept. And when they had awoken, when their wounds had been rebandaged, they’d emerged to find the hall full of riders. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 57)

In this scene, I really see them as the future Khagan and future Grand Empress. And together, leading, the two do not complete each other, they overflow each other.

All eyes shifted between them, some warm and welcoming, some worried, some hard. Sartaq said to the group gathered, “The kharankui have stirred again.” Murmurs and shifting rustled through the hall. “And though the threat was dealt with bravely and fiercely by the Berlad clan, the spiders will likely return again. They have heard a dark call through the world. And they are poised to answer it.” Nesryn stepped forward. Lifted her chin. And though the words filled her with dread, speaking them here felt as natural as breathing. “We learned many things in the Pass of Dagul,” Nesryn said, voice ringing out across the pillars and stones of the hall. “Things that will change the war in the north. And change this world.” Every eye was on her now. Houlun nodded from her spot near Borte, who smiled in encouragement. Yeran sat nearby, half watching his betrothed. Sartaq’s fingers brushed hers. Once—in urging. And promise.

“We do not face an army of men in the northern continent,” Nesryn went on. “But of demons. And if we do not rise to meet this threat, if we do not rise to meet it as one people, of all lands… Then we will find our doom instead.” So she told them. The full history. Of Erawan. And Maeve. She did not mention the quest for the keys, but by the time she was done, the hall was astir as clans whispered to one another.

“I leave this choice to you,” Sartaq said, voice unfaltering. “The horrors in the Dagul Fells are only the start. I will pass no judgment, should you choose to remain. But all who fly with me, we soar under the khagan’s banner. We shall leave you to debate amongst yourselves.” And with that, taking Nesryn by the hand, Sartaq led her from the hall, Falkan falling into step behind them. Borte and Houlun remained, as heads of the Eridun clan. Nesryn knew how they would side, that they would fly north, but the others… - (Tower of Dawn chapter 57)

Back to Antica. Finally, Nesryn and Chaol are resolved. The Rukhin ready to go to war. Sartaq ready to marry.

“I know,” Sartaq said quietly. The prince turned to Nesryn, and as she held his stare … Chaol saw it. The glimmer between them. A bond, new and trembling. But there it was, right along with the cuts and wounds they both bore. “I know,” Sartaq said again, his fingers brushing Nesryn’s.

Nesryn met Chaol’s eyes then. She smiled softly at him, glancing to where Yrene now asked Hafiza about whether she could stand. He’d never seen Nesryn appear so … settled. So quietly happy. Chaol swallowed. I’m sorry, he said silently. Nesryn shook her head as Sartaq scooped his sister into his arms with a grunt, the prince balancing his weight on his good leg. I think I did just fine.

Chaol smiled. Then I am happy for you.

................

Nesryn wiped away her tears as Chaol closed the distance between them and embraced her tightly. “Thank you,” he said in Nesryn’s ear. She squeezed him back. “Thank you—for bringing me here. To all of this.” To the prince who now looked at Nesryn with a quiet, burning sort of emotion. She added, “We have many things to tell you.” Chaol nodded. “And we you.”

They pulled apart, and Yrene approached—throwing her arms around Nesryn as well. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 64)

And honestly, I love the fact that Nesryn and Yrene get along. There are people who wanted the two to hate each other and I'm like: people, why?

This is not a Nestaq moment either, it is a point about Nesryn and Salkhi, which in a way, Sartaq was the one who gave it a little push to happen.

“That one over there,” the prince said at last, pointing to a reddish-brown ruk sitting by the opposite wall. She’d seen the ruk often���mostly noting that he was alone, never visited by a rider, unlike some of the others. “His rider died a few months back. Clutched at his chest in a meal and died. The rider was old, but the ruk …” Sartaq smiled sadly at the bird. “He’s young—not yet four.”

“What happens to the ones whose riders die?”

“We offer them freedom. Some fly off to the wilds. Some remain.” Sartaq crossed his arms. “He remained.”

“Do they ever get new riders?”

“Some do. If they accept them. It is the ruk’s choice.” Nesryn heard the invitation in his voice. Read it in the prince’s eyes. Her throat tightened. “Our three weeks are up.”

“Indeed they are.” She faced the prince fully, tilting her head back to see his face. “We need more time.”

“So what did you say?”A simple question. But she’d taken hours to figure out how to word her letter to Chaol, then given it to Sartaq’s fastest messenger. “I asked for another three weeks.” He angled his head, watching her with that unrelenting intensity. “A great deal can happen in three weeks.” Nesryn made herself keep her shoulders squared, chin high. “Even so, at the end of it, I must return to Antica.” Sartaq nodded, though something like disappointment guttered his eyes. “Then I suppose the ruk in the aerie will have to wait for another rider to come along.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 37)

......................

Nesryn murmured to the bird, guiding him toward the Runni Quarter while they flew on a salt-kissed breeze as fast as his wings could carry them. She had claimed him upon leaving the Eridun aerie.

Had gone right to the nests, where he had still waited for a rider who would never return, and looked deep into his golden eyes. Had told him that her name was Nesryn Faliq, and she was daughter of Sayed and Cybele Faliq, and that she would be his rider, if he would have her. She wondered if the ruk, whose late rider had called him Salkhi, had known the burning in her eyes had not been from the roaring wind as he’d bowed his head to her. Then she’d flown him, Salkhi keeping pace with Kadara at the head of the host as the rukhin sailed northward. Raced to Antica. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 66)

I SIMPLY HAVE NO WORDS. I am completely in love with the Sartaq (with all due respect, Nesryn). And guys, here's a big Appreciation to Nesryn's family too. I love them. Her father, her sister, her nephews and nieces, her uncle and aunt, her cousins....... What a people..... They are one of the funniest families I have ever seen in my life.

How Sartaq found her two hours later, Nesryn didn’t know. Though she supposed a ruk sitting in the street of a fancy quarter of Antica was sure to cause a stir. And be easy to spot. She had wept and laughed and held her family for untold minutes, right in the middle of the street, Salkhi looking on. And when her uncle and aunt had called them in to at least cry over a good cup of tea, her family had told her of their adventures. The wild seas they had sailed, the enemies their ship had dodged on their voyage here. But they had made it—and here they would stay while the war raged, her father said, to the nods of her uncle and aunt. When she emerged from the house gates at last, her father claiming the honor of escorting Nesryn to Salkhi—after he’d shooed off her sister to go manage that circus of children—Nesryn had halted so quickly her father had nearly slammed into her.

Because standing beside Salkhi was Sartaq, a half smile on his face. And on the other side of Salkhi… Kadara patiently waited, the two ruks a proud pair indeed. Her father’s eyes widened, as if recognizing the ruk before the prince. But then her father bowed. Deeply. Nesryn had told her family—in moderate detail—what had befallen her amongst the rukhin. Her sister and aunt had glared at her when the various children began to declare that they, too, would be ruk riders. And then took off through the house, shrieking and flapping their arms, leaping off furniture with wild abandon.

She expected Sartaq to wait to be approached, but the prince spotted her father and strode forward. Then reached out and clasped his hand. “I heard Captain Faliq’s family had at last arrived safely,” Sartaq said by way of greeting. “I thought I’d come to welcome you myself.” (Ana's Note: meeting his father-in-law 😏😌)

Something swelled in her chest to the point of pain as Sartaq inclined his head to her father. Sayed Faliq looked like he might very well keel over dead, either from the gesture of respect or Kadara’s mere presence behind them. Indeed, several small heads now popped behind his legs, scanning the prince, then the ruks, and then—

“KADARA!”

Her aunt and uncle’s youngest child—no more than four—screamed the ruk’s name loud enough that anyone in the city who didn’t know the bird was on this street was now well aware. Sartaq laughed as the children shoved past Nesryn’s father, racing for the golden bird. Her sister was on their heels, warning springing from her lips— Until Kadara lowered herself to the ground, Salkhi following suit. The children halted, reverence stealing over them as they reached out tentative hands toward the two ruks and stroked them gently. Nesryn’s sister sighed with relief. Then realized who stood before Nesryn and their father. Delara went red. She patted her dress, as if it would somehow cover the fresh food stains courtesy of her youngest. Then she slowly backed into the house, bowing as she went.

Sartaq laughed as she vanished—but not before Delara gave Nesryn a sharp look that said, Oh, you are so smitten it’s not even a laughing matter.

Nesryn gave her sister a vulgar gesture behind her back that their father chose not to see. Her father was saying to Sartaq, “I apologize if my grandchildren, nieces, and nephews take some liberties with your ruk, Prince.” But Sartaq smiled broadly—a brighter grin than any she’d seen him give before. “Kadara pretends to be a noble mount, but she’s more of a mother hen than anything.” Kadara puffed her feathers, earning squeals of delight from the children. Nesryn’s father squeezed her shoulder before he said to the prince, “I think I’ll go keep them from trying to fly off on her.”

And then they were alone. In the street. Outside her uncle’s house. All of Antica now gawking at them. Sartaq did not seem to notice. Certainly not as he said, “Walk with me?” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 66)

The end is only the beginning. One of my favorite scenes, I literally screamed with happiness.

They headed toward the quiet, clean alley behind her uncle’s house, walking in silence for a few steps. Until Sartaq said, “I spoke to my father.” And she wondered, then, if this meeting was not to be a good one. If the army they had brought was to be ordered back to its aeries. Or if the prince, the life she saw for herself in those beautiful mountains… if perhaps the reality of that, too, had found them. For he was a prince. And for all that she loved her family, for all that they made her so proud, there was not one noble drop of blood in their lineage. Her father shaking Sartaq’s hand was the closest any Faliq had ever come to royalty. Nesryn managed to say, “Oh?”

“We… discussed things.” Her chest sank at the careful words. “I see.”

Sartaq stopped, the sandy alley humming with the buzzing bees in the jasmine that climbed the walls of the bordering courtyards. The one behind them: the back, private courtyard belonging to her family. She wished she could slither over the wall and hide within. Rather than hear this. But Nesryn made herself meet the prince’s eyes. Saw him scanning her face.

“I told him,” Sartaq said at last, “that I planned to lead the rukhin against Erawan, with or without his consent.” Worse. This was getting worse and worse. She wished his face weren’t so damn unreadable. Sartaq took a breath. “He asked me why.”

“I hope you told him that the fate of the world might depend upon it.”

Sartaq chuckled. “I did. But I also told him that the woman I love now plans to head into war. And I intend to follow her.” (Ana's Note: SARTAQ, YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH YOU TOUCH MY HEART, WHAT A MAN)

She didn’t let the words sink in. Didn’t let herself believe any of it, until he’d finished. “He told me that you are common-born. That a would-be Heir of the khagan needs to wed a princess, or a lady, or someone with lands and alliances to offer.” Her throat closed up. She tried to shut out the sound, the words. Didn’t want to hear the rest.

But Sartaq took her hand. “I told him if that was what it took to be chosen as Heir, I didn’t want it. And I walked out.” (Ana's Note: oh my Holy God)

Nesryn sucked in a breath. “Are you insane?” (Ana's Note: Yes, friend, for you)

Sartaq smiled faintly. “I certainly hope not, for the sake of this empire.” He tugged her closer, until their bodies were nearly touching. “Because my father appointed me Heir before I could walk out of the room.” (Ana's Note: I collapsed.)

Nesryn left her body. Could only manage to breathe. And when she tried to bow, Sartaq gripped her shoulders tightly. Stopped her before her head could even lower. “Never from you,” he said quietly. Heir—he’d been made Heir. To all this. This land she loved, this land she still wished to explore so much it ached. Sartaq lifted a hand to cup her cheek, his calluses scraping against her skin. “We fly to war. Much is uncertain ahead. Save for this.” He brushed his mouth against hers. “Save for what I feel for you. No demon army, no dark queen or king, will change that.” Nesryn shook, letting the words sink in. “I—Sartaq, you are Heir—” He pulled back to study her again. “We will go to war, Nesryn Faliq. And when we shatter Erawan and his armies, when the darkness is at last banished from this world … Then you and I will fly back here. Together.” He kissed her again—a bare caress of his mouth. “And so we shall remain for the rest of our days.”

She heard the offer, the promise. The world he laid at her feet. She trembled at it. What he so freely gave. Not the empire and crown, but … the life. His heart.

Nesryn wondered if he knew her heart had been his from that very first ride atop Kadara.

Sartaq smiled as if to say yes, he had. So she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. It was tentative, and soft, and full of wonder, that kiss. He tasted like the wind, like a mountain spring. He tasted like home. Nesryn clasped his face in her hands as she pulled back. “To war, Sartaq,” she breathed, memorizing every line of his face. “And then we’ll see what comes after.”

Sartaq gave her a knowing, cocky grin. As if he’d fully decided what would come after and nothing she could say would ever convince him otherwise. And from the courtyard just a wall away, her sister shouted, loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, “I told you, Father! (😂😂😂😂😂)

This is another giant parenthesis to let you know that Sartaq deserves appreciation, yes.

“My sulde still blows northward. Who knows what I may find on the road ahead? Especially now that Sartaq has the burden of being Heir, and I’m free to do as I please.” The city had been in an uproar about it. Celebrating, debating—it still raged on. What the other royal siblings thought, Yrene did not know, but… there was peace in Kashin’s eyes. And in the eyes of the others, when Yrene had seen them. And part of her indeed wondered if Sartaq had struck some unspoken agreement that went beyond Never Duva. To perhaps even Never Us.

Bonus: An excerpt of Nestaq in Kingdom of Ash.

A soft spot—her ruk had developed a soft spot and an undimming admiration for Sartaq’s mount. Though Nesryn supposed the same could be said about her and the ruk’s rider. Nesryn tore her eyes from the swirling gray clouds and glanced to the rider at her left. His shorn hair had grown out—barely. Just enough to be braided back against the wind. Sensing her attention, the Heir to the khaganate signaled, All is well? Nesryn blushed despite the cold, but signaled back, her numbed fingers clumsy over the symbols. All clear.

A blushing schoolgirl. That’s what she became around the prince, no matter the fact that they’d been sharing a bed these weeks, or what he’d promised for their future.

To rule beside him. As the future empress of the khaganate.

It was absurd, of course. The idea of her dressed like his mother, in those sweeping, beautiful robes and grand headdresses… No, she was better suited to the rukhin leathers, to the weight of steel, not jewels. She’d said as much to Sartaq. Many times. He’d laughed her off. Had said she might walk around the palace naked if she wished. What she wore or didn’t wear wouldn’t bother him in the least. But it was still a ridiculous notion. One the prince seemed to think was the only course for their future. He’d staked his crown on it, had told his father that if being prince meant not being with her, then he’d walk away from the throne. The khagan had offered him the title of Heir instead. - (Kingdom of Ash chapter 6)

And this shouts out Nesryn as Grand Empress!!!!!!!!

Sorry, Nesryn, but I've lived to see you in a dress like this.

It was great to make this post about that amazing couple, it was great to reread some of their scenes, and most of all, it's amazing to be able to bring this Appreciation to Nesryn and Sartaq. These two strong, interesting, brave characters, who have known pain and loss, but have not become victimized or angry at the world. Sartaq and Nesryn made a difference in Throne of Glass, yes. And Tower of Dawn is one of the best books I have ever read in my entire life.

Seeing Nesryn smiling more, even feeling her face hurt from laughing so hard.... That was priceless.

Nestaq is the couple that has respect, admiration, trust and equality as the basis for their relationship. At all times Sartaq treated Nesryn as an equal, always showed the admiration he felt for her, never underestimated her or put her aside, on the contrary, Sartaq took Nesryn ahead of all the clans of the rukhin, and made it clear to his father that she was worth more to him than the crown of one of the largest empires in the world.

Nestaq will always have a special place in my heart.

✧*。Wind-Seeker and her Winged Prince✧*。

✧*。The Commander of the rukhin, the future Khagan and his Neith's Arrow✧*。

Thank you for reading this far, you are welcome to add more, just don't forget to be respectful!!!

[positivewitch]

Dorian Havilliard Week - Day 1 Fav friendship

“He looked at his friend, perhaps for the last time, and said what he had always known, from the moment they'd met, when he'd understood that the prince was his brother in soul. “I love you.”

@dorianhavilliardweek

[urbisie]

"The real question is..." A sly grin at Sartaq. "Does she come as emissary or bride?"

Borte appreciation post

[acourtofquestions]

Thank you Chaol for once again another male character trope being broken in Throne of Glass by clearly stating: “I don’t want you to think I’m agreeing to keep it secret because I’m ashamed in any way.”

[raahosh]

MY ONE SHOTS AND FANFICS

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Here are my Imagines organized, easier for you and me to find. Welcome to my blog. You’ll find here the craziest ideas that came from the back of my or other people's mind.

I hope you guys enjoy and if you want to request something feel free to give me some ideas of what or who to write, your ideas are very welcomed and appreciated. You can use the ask button somewhere on my account or dm me with your idea if you feel more comfortable.

Here are some books/animes I’ve read/watched and people I may write about because I know their personalities and stuff. I’ll be upgrading since I’m going to read more.

───── A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES

Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Morrigan, Feyre Archeron, Nesta Archeron, and Elain Archeron.

───── THRONE OF GLASS

Dorian Havilliard, and Chaol Westfall.

───── SERPENT AND DOVES

Reid Diggory, and Louise Le Blanc. (As a couple or just separately)

───── CARAVAL

Scarlett Dragna, and Julian Santos. (As a couple or just separately)

───── ADDICTED/CALLOWAY SISTER SERIES

Loren Hale, Connor Cobalt, and Ryke Meadows.

───── THE LAST OF US

Joel Miller.

───── JUJUTSU KAISEN

Satoru Gojo, Toji Fushiguro, and Choso Kamo.

STORIES I'VE ALREADY

Stories I’ve already written.

───── A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES

Headcannon with the Bat Boys.

How they’re in bed.

Cassian One Shots.

Mornings.

Training.

Not mates.

Mor One Shots.

Preparing to meet the Inner Circle.

Azriel One Shots.

After mission sex (18+)

Regret.

Mornings with him.

Rhysand One Shots.

Relationship with Tamlin’s daughter.

Lucien Vanserra.

Braiding his hair.

───── SIX OF CROWS

Kaz Brekker One Shots.

Bruised.

Seriously injured.

Kaz’s first kiss.

───── THRONE OF GLASS

Chaol Westfall One Shots.

I love you.

───── THE LAST OF US

Joel Miller One Shots.

I was supposed to take care of you.

Biggest desire.

───── ADDICTED/CALLOWAY SISTERS SERIES

Loren Hale One Shots.

Showering Together.

───── CARAVAL

Scarlian One Shots.

Scarlett's first time.

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I’m trying to improve my reading list to expand the amount of characters I write about. Thank you, so much for your attention. See you, bye.

Prompts Link

[tomtenadia]

Thicker than blood - 8

Here we go with another chapter.

CW: murder, dead bodies and blood.

At the scream they both jumped down the parapet and followed the shouts and the scent of blood. The scene was not very far and once they got there they saw a woman kneeling beside the body of a blonde victim.

Rowan looked at her and recognised the face.

“Is this the woman who was all over you a while ago? The one you brushed off with the gay lie?”

Rowan nodded.

Aelin kneeled against the friend in shock while Rowan called his unit.

“What’s your name?”

“Frances.”

“Do you know her?”

The dark-haired woman nodded “she is my friend. She disappeared for almost a week and then I was leaving the club tonight, I turned the corner and I found her body.” Aelin hugged the woman who started sobbing hard while pushing down her instincts. She smelled of alcohol and her neck was close to her mouth. She smelled so good.

Aelin pulled back abruptly with the excuse that she had to have a look at the body.

Police arrived within minutes and started to push people away, but Rowan took over as soon as he came back from his call.

“Agent Whitethorn, paranormal unit.”

“Well, agent, this is a human we have here so not your turf.”

Rowan growled and Aelin walked to him. She knew the cop. Chaol was a jumped up arsehole and one of those humans who did not like vampires.

“Westfall, go back eating doughnuts.”

“Sardothien, why don’t you go back and play fake doctor in your morgue?”

Aelin almost jumped at him but Rowan grabbed her and shook his head.

A cop woman had taken the distressed friend away and Aelin kneeled beside the corpse.

“Stay away from that body, this is a crime scene.”

“And I am a ME. She will end up on my table anyway.”

Rowan kneeled at her side and Aelin asked the paramedic for a pair of gloves.

“Rowan…” she pointed at the arm and they saw the same marks of the other victims. 

“She is very pale.”

Aelin chuckled “that is normal, you idiot.” Aelin did some tests “she has been dead for at least four hours, rigor mortis is progressing already,” she explained “also, she did not die here.”

Rowan stared at her in shock.

“See her position?”

He nodded.

“After death the muscles relax. When rigor sets in the muscles contracts due to ATP loss. It usually starts around two hours after death. This woman’s rigor mortis is not that advanced yet. So yeah probably four hours.”

“What about the being moved thing?”

“The position could not have been maintained with regular muscle activity because of gravity.  Meaning she died somewhere else and was dumped here.”

Aelin was conducting a few more tests when voices reached her “Stay away from that body.”

She turned and saw a giant of a man with dark hair followed by three more men.

“This is a crime scene.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He glared at her. 

“Celaena, he is my boss. Lorcan Salvaterre.”

So that was Lorcan, eh?

“Did you touch the body? Move it?”

Aelin stood and faced him head on “I am not stupid, Salvaterre. I have not touched it, I know forensics needs to take pictures, and I have gloves, you moron.”

Rowan’s mouth fell open. No one had ever called or spoken to Lorcan like that.

“Who are you?”

“Celaena Sardothien, ME at your service. Not my first rodeo.” At his back she noticed the blond young man bend his hands in a heart shape and she almost laughed. The other two stared at her in disbelief.

Lorcan grabbed Rowan and walked away and Aelin remained with the other two agents.

“Marry me…” said the blonde guy “I am Fenrys.”

She stopped. Fenrys, the man with the twin in a deviation centre. Fuck. Fuck.

Aelin extended her hand “Celaena.”

“Do you realise you are the first person who had the guts to call Lorcan a moron?”

She laughed “believe me I was verging towards asshole, but I gave him the benefit of the first time.”

“You are still my hero.”

“These are Vaughan and Gavriel, by the way.” She shook hand with all of them and then excused herself and joined Rowan and his boss. Something that Lorcan did not appreciate.

“This is police business.”

“Yes, and soon you will be banging at my door asking for the result of the autopsy.”

“And why would I do that? The woman has been drained. Rogue vampire.”

Aelin rolled her eyes “Whitethorn, you tell him, I fear I might use far too many swear words and hurt his ego.”

Rowan explained his boss all of his theory and the possible link with three murders.

“You boys keep chatting. I am taking a ride with the coroner and go to the morgue and start working.”

Lorcan ordered her to have the autopsy on his desk by morning and Aelin replied with a middle finger.

“Can we trust her?”

“She is good at her job.”

Lorcan raised an eyebrow “Go to the morgue and stay there until you have the report.”

Rowan gave him a mocking bow “yes, my lord and master.”

*

Once at the morgue Aelin got ready to work again. She tied her hair in a high pony tail and wore all of her gear. The friend had talked to the police and confirmed the name of the victim was Remelle La Fleur, 32. According to the friend she had disappeared a week before, something else she had in common with Lyria and Kaltain.

Aelin took pictures of the marks on her arm that matched the other two bodies.

Same clean cuts that in this woman’s case were far lees healed. Much fresher. 

Then she smelled her and the same scent hit her. This time she had managed to get an almost fresh victim and hoped to be able to collect more info compared to Kaltain who had been dead for too long already.

Aelin was examining the hand when she spotted something under her fingernail. With practiced skill she started removing whatever it was when Rowan entered the room.

“Oh good you just started.”

“Most people would be disgusted.”

He took a seat un a high stool at the other side and looked at her working.

“Remelle has fought. I found something under her nails.”

“Any idea what it is?”

“Not until I ran tests.”

He stood in silence and watched as Aelin slowly opened up the woman’s chest.

“She has the same chemical scent.”

Aelin went to extract blood from the femoral artery and then proceeded with some urine samples.

As she analysed the body she took notes and Rowan was fascinated by how methodical she was. Aelin had always appeared to him as chaotic but while at work she was a complete different person. It was intriguing.

“Damn it.”

“What?”

“Her liver damage is far more extensive than the two previous victims. It’s strange because it looks like they disappeared for the same length of time. Do you think it’s kidnapping?”

“I have no idea.”

“It can’t be for organs because they have them all. But the three of them were all drained. Human blood bags?”

Rowan flinched.

“It happened. Dorian told me he was dragged in a club were humans were paid handsomely to have vampires to feed on them.”

“Interesting friends you have there.”

“He fled as soon as he realised what it was. Dorian is a cinnamon roll.”

“We know the club in this case. They all had been to the Vaults.” He explained pointing at the stamp on the woman’s hand.

“Maybe we should go and have a look.”

Rowan shook his head “it’s a very exclusive club. You only enter by invite.”

Aelin swore as she weighed the liver.

“Any chance that Dorian has a friend who can let us in?”

She laughed “Dorian is a very upstanding citizen now, he even converted to synthetic blood.”

Rowan did not miss how she flinched at the admission.

It took Aelin over two hours to finish the autopsy and at the end Rowan noticed her exhaustion and her sweating. He had not missed her panic when she hugged the human. 

“I should take you home.”

Aelin shook her head “No…”

He walked closer and brushed her damp hair away from her face “you are having withdrawal symptoms.”

“I haven’t…” she struggled to speak “I haven’t touched spiked blood in a week.”

“I know,” he held her “but I saw you with the human.”

Rowan easily lifted her in his arms and grabbed the folder with her report.

He finally convinced her to give him her address after she told him she had bags of blood in the fridge.

Once in the flat he switched on the lights and walked to the living room. Her house was modern with a very personal touch. He gasped when he saw a hockey club attached to the wall and an autographed t-shirt in a frame.

“You like hockey?”

“Like a religion,” she managed with difficulty.

He smiled and took her to the bedroom. He looked around and found her pj on top of the pillow.

He walked out while she changed and went to get her blood. The fridge had a few bags in. He took one and poured it in a glass. They were all A positive. He had forgotten how the different blood types tasted.

In a drawer he found a hard plastic straw with an umbrella. He added it to the glass for a classy touch and went back to her.

Aelin was on the floor and had been sick. Fuck.

“Hey, I got you” Rowan placed the glass on the nightstand and grabbed her in his arms and ran to the bathroom. She was burning up.

In a panic he opened the shower on the cold setting and placed her underneath. He removed his trousers and t-shirt and in just his boxers he joined her and pulled his mate to his chest.

“You tried to quit cold turkey…”

Aelin nodded weakly.

“But without feeding regularly.”

He knew something was wrong the moment he saw her earlier on. She looked gaunt and her eyes were dull.

She kept shaking and folded over once more with cramps. It had only been a week and it was about to get worse.

He pushed her face in the crook of his neck “drink from me, please.”

She shook her head.

“Aelin, this will help so much.”

“Not fair.” She whispered.

His hand cupped her cheek “I can live with that.”

He felt her kiss his neck gently and he pushed her closer in an invitation. She hesitated so Rowan closed the water and lifted her again, grabbed a towel placing it around her shoulder. Then ran to her bedroom and grabbed some clean clothes.

“I brought you a dry pyjama.”

Rowan turned away and let her change.

“I am all decent,” she called in a broken voice.

Rowan walked to the bedroom and pushed her down in bed and lay at her side and pulled her closer.

“Much better and romantic right?”

Aelin let out a weak chuckle and resumed her position with her face in the crook of his neck. Her hand landed on his chest and brushed his skin, tracing the tattoo on his pec, chest and arm. The man was stunning.

“If we do this there’s no coming back.”

He kissed her head “If we don’t, I am scared for you.”

Aelin sighed and contemplated what she was about to do. She was committing to him forever, not even knowing if they had a chance. They did nothing but fight, but somehow they had a connection. 

A kiss where his pulse was stronger and inhaled his scent of pine and snow. He smelled like home. Like the woods she loved so much. 

Rowan started humming and held her stronger “restaurant is open, go eat.” Aelin chuckled then her fangs started to brush his neck and he groaned in pleasure.

Then she did it. Her fangs pierced his neck and as soon as the blood hit her mouth she felt a deep energy hit her. His blood warming her body and somehow dispelling the darkness that had taken root a long time ago. Her hands roamed his chest and other feeling started to arise. Then Rowan bit her too and as he did, something powerful bound them together. Their souls entwining in an immortal promise, with every passing minute. Aelin detached and tried to find his mouth and kissed him. Rowan rolled over her and deepened the kiss as his hands started to rover her frame. His body was on fire with passion “are you okay?”

“Kiss me again, Whitethorn.”

And he did, devouring her mouth like a starved man. And then the passion finally exploded and their bodies close together for the final claiming and as they joined in flesh they drank from each other again until their souls became one.

*

Aelin lay sprawled on his chest kissing it softly while his hand brushed her hair gently. 

“Do you feel better?”

She nodded eagerly “no more cramps or crazy cravings.”

He laughed and pulled her on top of him “I told you it would work.”

She sat up straddling him “Rowan, we are married now,” he did not miss the panic in her voice.

His hands landed on her hips with a soft touch “nothing has to change. You can keep your life and your flat. I am here when you need me but nothing has to change.”

She caressed his face “Maybe we can start slowly. You can take me out.”

He pulled her back down, their naked bodies brushing against each other “Whatever you feel okay with.”

She snuggled against him “stay here tonight?”

Rowan grabbed the blanket and pulled it on top of them both “Sleep now.”

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @acreativelydifferentlove @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98 @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love​ @theywillnotsingforme​ @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water​ @goddess-aelin​

[for-sorscha]

Chaol Appreciation Post (we need more of these)

-utterly human in the midst of all this magic madness -does his job well while maintaining friendships and professionalism -instinct is to protect Dorian -has been Dorians companion and friend through the good, bad and lonely times -makes Celeana’s freedom mean something -gives Celeana the will to keep fighting ^I mean the whole “get up” scene in general -kills Cain in order to save Celeana (and suffers from minor PTSD from it if I remember correctly) -the ring, I mean c'mon -is not scared to stand up to his father -is not scared to stand up to THE KING -is not scared to protect his friends -was ready to die to protect his friends -has a strategic, intelligent mind which helps Aelin in QoS -is trusting (of Nesyrn) -one of the only people who protected and believed in Dorian while he was under the Valg’s power -like seriously Dorian would probs be dead rn -stays rational throughout -becomes a rebel and throws away his titles then goes on to help people (including Aelin despite their strained relationship) -stays strong despite being belittled, bullied and undermined by other characters -puts up w Aelin -is willing to gain allies for Aelin on top of worrying about his paralysis -is overall one of the most misunderstood yet realistic characters who deserves less hate and more support

Sorry for grammar mistakes and whatnot, it’s really late and I’m just salty cuz I really like Chaol and he has a lot of character and morale and potential, yet he still gets so much hate. Also I’m really hoping him and Nesyrn have a good friendship (which they deserve) other than a forced relationship…

[rowanaelinn]

Kinktober - Day Four (Sir Kink)

Aelin was kneeling on the cold floor, sitting on her heels. Her hands were resting on her knees, palms facing the ceiling. Her gaze had been fixed on the floor for what felt like hours, but she didn’t feel anything else than excitement as she was waiting for him.

When his footsteps resonated down the hallway, her heart raced and so did her mind at the thought of everything that could happen tonight.

She heard him turn the doorknob and when he opened the door, she heard his breath catch at the sight of her, covered only in red lace underwear. She knew if she had heard it, it was only because he wanted her to. Rowan had always been controlling in a good way, everything that happened around him was under his control. She was happy he let her know he appreciated her.

“Hello, Fireheart.” He said, shoes stopping in front of her before he took her chin between two fingers, forcing her to look at him from under her lashes. “You can speak.”

“Hello, sir.” It had been his only rule when they started all this, they were never to say the other’s name when they were in a sexual context. Aelin hated this rule, she wanted to scream his name when he made her come, but she respected his choice. Especially when it was the only way for her to have him.

They couldn’t be together, they knew it. Both of their families were rivals and had hated each other for what felt like forever. Rowan and Aelin had been taught from birth they had to hate each other, but something might have been broken in them because they didn’t listen to this rule anymore.

The other reason why Aelin and Rowan had no future outside of this pleasure room, other than their family who could make actual war on each other if they were to learn about them, was Aelin’s husband. Chaol Westfall.

It was a subject Rowan and Aelin never spoke about, even less in this room. In their safe place.

“Have you been good for me this week?”

Aelin nodded, blushing when she thought about the homework he gave her the last time they saw each other. She had to make herself come once a day, thinking about Rowan. Rowan’s smile was smug. “Good girl.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Everyone would be surprised to see Aelin this way, everyone but Rowan. He hadn’t judged her when she had confided in him loving to be submissive, and he had never looked at her another way outside of the bedroom.

He knew he considered her a real threat when he was with his family, and considered her an enemy even if she wasn’t really. Not to him.

Aelin wanted to tell him something, but she wasn’t allowed to speak so she used that special bond they had with each other, her eyes telling him she had something to say.

“Go ahead.”

“He’s away for a week.” She informed him, both of them knowing who he was, delight showing in Rowan’s eyes.

“Are you sure?” She only nodded in answer, Rowan’s smirk just kept going. “Then I’m going to mark you, baby.”

Her heart missed a few beats at this, she couldn’t hold back her smile. They both loved marking the other, him more than her, but because of a certain someone, they could never do it. “Go on the bed. On your hands and knees.”

Aelin obeyed, sticking her bottom out so Rowan could have the perfect view. The mattress dipped when he came next to her, his hands roaming over her back, her thighs, her ass. She loved it when he touched her, loved her when it was like he felt entitled to her body.

When his hands slipped past the hem of her panties, dragging them down her legs, she had to bit her lip not to beg him to fuck her right now. He would soon enough since they could only spare an hour today. It wasn’t a lot, but that’s all they could afford. There were things all the money in the world couldn’t buy.

She felt Rowan take off his shirt and come up behind her, his chest covering her back as he kissed her neck, awakening her body. She hummed as he nipped at her ear, his hot breath tickling her skin. “You look so pretty this way, baby.”

“I know,” she answered, smugness in her voice, earning a small chuckle from him. But before she could react, he spanked her. She knew why and she had done it on purpose.

“What were you saying?”

“I meant, Thank you, Sir.”

“Better,” he murmured in her ear, kissing her just below before he left her cold on the bed, waiting for him to do something.

She didn’t have to wait long, her body crashed on the bed as he licked her, tearing a loud moan out of her lips. Rowan chuckled, taking her hips in hands to reposition her, her hips in the air. She figured she wouldn't have the strength to stand on her arms so she stayed in the same position.

Slowly, the tip of his tongue came teasing her clit then her entrance, licking everything in between. She didn’t try to stay quiet, knowing Rowan loved hearing her noises. One of his fingers slipped into her as he sucked on her clit, her head turning so she could try to watch him no matter how much the angle made it uncomfortable.

“Please,” She begged but didn’t know what for as he slipped a second finger in her, curling them just the right way to find that spot that made her see stars.

“You want me to fuck you?” He teased her, knowing full down well the answer.

“Please, Sir. I need you in me.”

At this, all the control Rowan had snapped. He stood, taking a condom from his pocket before taking off his pants and undershorts at the same time, standing naked in front of her. If she had more time, if her core didn’t ache for him, she would have taken him in her mouth, would have teased him the way she knew he loved, but that’s not what they both wanted right now.

He stroked himself a little as he watched her, then put the condom on and got back on the bed. “Is it okay?” He asked as he did every time. No matter if she had told him it would always be okay, he needed to ask.

“Please, sir.” He pushed into her in one thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

She cried out at the fullness, her walls pulsing around him as she tried to adjust. His hands shot to her hips, squeezing her as he moaned, too.

“Fuck,” he swore as he started moving, encouraging by the small movements of her hips.

Soon enough, he was thrusting erratically into her, his body covering hers as he kissed everywhere he could. Her neck, her shoulder, her cheek.

She turned her head as much as she could and finally, for the first time of the night, their lips joined. The kiss was dirty and messy, their tongue playing together as he slipped a hand between her body and the mattress, his fingers finding her clit and pinching it.

“Oh, fuck,” she whined on his mouth, he let out a deep chuckle at this.

“You know what to do,” he told her, speeding his movements and biting at her neck, letting his mark.

“Sir, please,” she cried, hiding her face into the pillow because she was maybe getting too loud. “Please, can I come?” Even if her sounds were muffed, he heard her. She had to ask this every time or she would come, and if she did without permission she would get punished. Maybe sometimes she came without asking for it on purpose, just because seeing Rowan angry and having his way with her was just that hot.

“Come for me, Fireheart,” he said and his voice snapped something into her. She wasn’t aware of anything else than the pure pleasure taking over her body.

Minutes or hours after, Aelin’s hips fell on the mattress, out of breath. Rowan pulled out of her and kissed every inch of her spine, making her smile. He turned her around, bending for a deep kiss. “You were magnificent,” he murmured on her swollen lips, earning the kind of smiles only he saw.

He went into the bathroom and came back with a warm wet cloth, cleaning her up as he kissed all of her body, kissing the claiming marks he had left on her neck. She liked this part as much as the actual sex, the part where they both showed each other how much they loved the other.

When he was done, he fell on the bed next to her and she curled on his side. He turned on his side to cuddle her. “I love you,” she whispered even if it was just the two of them. Their love had always been her most precious secret and she could keep treated it that way.

He took her chin between two fingers and laid a slow and tender kiss on her lips. “I love you. To whatever end.”

—————

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[ninamorozova]

We love & appreciate Chaol Westfall and Lucien Vanserra in this blog

[charincharge]

I Don’t Want To Wait, nineteen

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

Based on the prompts:

Walking in on Lyria/Rowan in a compromising position

How the hell are you two friends? We’re not. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

Aelin sighed as she scrolled through her texts. Putting Lorcan and Lysandra on the same group text had turned out to be her own undoing. Together, they were a tag team that she had not been prepared for, bouncing ideas back and forth with a never-ending list of potential suitors.

She rolled her eyes as Lysandra’s latest text came through.

WE HAVE A HOMECOMING DANCE CONTENDER!

Lorcan’s text came quickly after.

Don’t spoil it. I want to see her face in person when we tell her.

Monsters. Both of them. It seemed that something they could both agree on was wanting to be Aelin’s wingman, and it had bonded the two faster than Aelin could have predicted.

Because apparently Aelin was too picky. When the first names started rolling in, all Aelin could think was all of the reasons why they wouldn’t be a good match for her. She looked at the unanswered notification on her phone, not clicking into the text from Rowan, but reading the words clearly.

Will I see you at Homecoming?

She didn’t know why she was having such a hard time replying to it. The answer was yes. She would be there, of course. But she was nervous that if she told him that, she’d inevitably have to make plans to meet up. And she definitely didn’t want to hang out with him and Lyria on the cheerleader’s big night.

Homecoming was a huge affair at Orynth High – a full weekend extravaganza with a pep rally around a bonfire, followed by the game and a dance on Saturday night. And of course, Lorcan would be hosting a giant after party. Aelin had always loved Homecoming. She and Rowan had always gone out to dinner before the pep rally and heckled the game from the sidelines, then Aelin would force him to come to the dance, mocking the way he’d grump about going but inevitably have a good time. It was one of her favorite school traditions, but this year she was dreading it. She knew it wasn’t going to be anything like the last two Homecomings.

Coffee Cat in 30? Lysandra asked, interrupting her train of thought, and Aelin chuckled when Lorcan sent back a thumbs up immediately.

She supposed she had nothing better to do today. It certainly beat staring at Rowan’s unanswered text.

Thirty minutes later, Aelin was shocked to find her friends packed into the corner couch section of Manon’s favorite coffee spot. She hadn’t anticipated them all being there, but sure enough, Lysandra, Elide, Manon and Lorcan were all there, drinks in hand, whispering softly. Manon sat as far away from Lorcan as possible, her golden eyes narrowed as she greeted Aelin with a stiff smile. Aelin had gathered the two had bad blood, but hadn’t been able to suss out where it came from.

Lysandra patted the seat next to her and handed her a hazelnut coffee. Aelin moaned appreciatively as she took a sip.

“Okay, hit me.”

The group looked at each other conspiratorially before Lysandra beamed. “Chaol Westfall.”

“No,” Aelin responded automatically.

Lysandra held up her hand with a frown. “Hear us out! You’ve turned down at least ten other guys, and this one is a really good option!”

“He’s my lab partner!” Aelin insisted. “I’m not willing to tank my Physics grade for a handful of dates that will inevitably end poorly.”

Manon scoffed loudly. “Defeatist,” she said at the same time Lorcan said, “Cynic.”

They briefly made eye contact and looked away quickly again. Aelin could feel her lips purse in curiosity. But she wasn’t able to ask what was on her mind because Elide did it for her. “Why aren’t you two friends?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Manon laughed, her head tipping back wildly. “Because we’re mortal enemies,” she said with a wry smile at her girlfriend.

Elide looked between the pair, so starkly different in appearance – one pale and white haired, the other dark skinned and dark haired – and shrugged. “Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, right?”

Lorcan raised a dark brow in Elide’s direction and smiled in a way that Aelin had never seen before. It made her strangely nervous. And if the vice grip Manon was keeping on Elide’s hand was any indication, she felt similarly.

“Back to Chaol,” Lysandra quipped, and Aelin could feel herself slouch over, annoyed. They really weren’t going to let this one go. “He’s smart. You know that because you are lab partners. He’s so polite. You already know he’s a good dancer. Remember your birthday party?”

Aelin nodded, though the memory of dancing with Chaol seemed like lifetimes ago, not mere months.

“I think he’s a super solid option,” Elide chimed in.

Aelin sighed. “And what if I ask him and he says no?”

Lorcan held up a finger. “We have a backup choice. Obviously.” Aelin held her breath, waiting for the other name to drop. “Fenrys Moonbeam.”

“What?” Aelin replied, confused. “No. He’s on the lacrosse team with Rowan.” The rest of the group stared at her, as if her comment meant anything. “I don’t want anything I do to eventually make its way to locker room talk!” she explained, her frustration with her friends rising by the minute.

“Stop shooting every suggestion down!” Manon huffed, clearly just as annoyed with Aelin.

“What are we shooting down?” Rowan’s voice called from behind the group, and Aelin jumped as she felt his hand touch her shoulder. She glanced over her shoulder at the tall boy, hovering over the back of the couch and watched as he removed his hand from her quickly, shoving it back into his pocket as he glanced at the group of friends.

“We’re trying to come up with a boyfriend for Aelin,” Lorcan explained, all too aware of the grenade he’d just launched. Aelin glared at him.

“Oh?” Rowan replied, his eyebrows shooting up into his forehead. Aelin wished she could stand up and push it back down.

“But she’s being a total naysayer,” Lysandra frowned.

“Good,” Rowan said, exhaling quickly, causing Aelin to frown at him. What does that mean? She asked him silently, and he backed off immediately. “I just mean, no one at school is nearly good enough for you.”

There was a pregnant pause of silence while Aelin struggled to find something to say in response to him, but she couldn’t think of a single thing, other that – what about you? Are you good enough? She shook the thought from her head.

“I still vote Chaol,” Lorcan chimed in, causing Aelin to sigh again.

“If I ask Chaol to Homecoming, will you all leave me alone?” she asked. She wasn’t surprised in the least to see four matching grins staring back at her. “Though, I still don’t think he’s going to say yes,” she added.

Rowan coughed lightly behind her, and she looked over her shoulder again as he cleared his throat. “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” he said, his eyes suddenly trained on the floor, his sneaker tapping lightly.

“What are you even doing here?” Aelin asked, feeling annoyed with his response, until he blanched and then she just felt like a dick for snapping.

“Sometimes Maeve sends me to do competition recon,” he said with a shrug. “So I guess I should…” He pointed in the direction of the coffee counter. “But I’ll see you at Homecoming.” His voice was soft as it addressed her, and Aelin could feel her stomach clench slightly. She nodded, waving goodbye as he made his way to the front of the line.

“Awkwardddd,” Lorcan sang, and Aelin glared at him again. Lorcan held up his hands, laughing. “What? I knew he had a new girlfriend, but I didn’t realize you two had broken up.”

Aelin felt her eyes narrow at the oafish boy on the opposite couch as the group burst out laughing, at her expense, per usual. “You all suck.”    

She sighed at the expectant faces looking her way. “So, Chaol?” she asked, still unsure about it.

“Chaol,” they replied in unison, spurring another round of giggles. Aelin was so annoyed, she barely even noticed Rowan glance over his shoulder at the laughing group before exiting the coffee shop quietly.

. . .

It turned out everyone’s assessment had been correct. Despite it only being a few days warning, Chaol had enthusiastically accepted Aelin’s invite to the dance. He also asked if she’d want to go to the pep rally together, completely surprising her. Not particularly ready for a one-on-one date, she suggested he join her group of friends, which he was more than happy to do.

Aelin stared at her sweatshirt and jeans and wondered if she should dress up more for a date, but she shook it off. It was going to be freezing cold at the pep rally and game, and she wasn’t exactly trying too hard to impress the boy who had seen her strung out in science labs most days.

She was just finishing lining her eyes with dark liner when the doorbell rang. She tried to run downstairs and beat her dad, but Rhoe opened the door with a small smirk. “Hello?” he said to the brunette boy on the other side of the door.

Chaol was also wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, and Aelin breathed a sigh of relief that they both seemed to be on the same page. She bounded up to the door, pushing her dad out of the way as she made her way out of the house.

Rhoe cleared his throat. “Aelin, aren’t you going to introduce me?” he asked, and she could see the laughter in his blue eyes as she tried to sneak away.

“Dad, this is Chaol. Chaol, this is my dad.”

Chaol stuck out his hand stiffly, and Rhoe smiled as he took the boy’s hand in his. “Mr. Galathynius. It’s so nice to meet you officially. My name is Chaol Westfall,” he began all too politely. “Thank you for letting me take Aelin out tonight,” he said, and Aelin’s cheeks burned with a furious blush at her dad’s widening smile.

“You are most welcome,” Rhoe replied sarcastically, and Aelin wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She could already tell this date wasn’t going to go well if Chaol thought Rhoe let Aelin do anything.

“Shall we?” Chaol asked, extending his arm to Aelin, and she took it, looking back at her dad as Chaol opened the passenger door to his small sedan.

It was weird to be so, handled? Aelin was so used to being independent that it was strange to have someone opening and closing doors for her. It was not her usual. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. But she knew she needed to just relax and give Chaol a fair shot. At least, that’s what her friends would say.

The drive to school was short, but awkward. Chaol tried to fill the silence with questions about her week, but the pair had seen each other every day that week during class, and it felt like there wasn’t really that much to say.

Luckily, they’d decided to meet up with Lysandra and Wes for the pep rally, and Aelin was grateful that they’d saved them spots beside them. She greeted her friends with hugs, but she paused when she saw Rowan on the other side of Wes. She hadn’t anticipated him being a part of their group tonight. She didn’t know why. It hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“H-hey?” she said. His reply was overwhelmed by a massive wave of cheers as Principal Havilliard lit the bonfire, which came blazing to life in front of them. It immediately warmed Aelin, sending a small shiver down her spine.

“Are you cold?” Chaol asked, his chestnut eyes filled with concern. “I have an extra jacket in my car I can grab for you.”

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” Aelin replied. He nodded happily and watched as the pep rally started, but Aelin couldn’t focus at all. Her eyes kept sliding to the side where Rowan’s bright hair peeked out over Wes’s head. It seemed like he was getting even taller every day.

She felt this strange pressure, this weird tension settling around her shoulders, tugging her towards Rowan. She was so focused on him that she startled, surprised, as Chaol slid his hand into hers, linking their fingers.

She looked over, but Chaol wasn’t looking at her at all. He was listening to Principal Havilliard welcome everyone to the rally with a small smile on his lips. Aelin exhaled as she squeezed his hand back. It wasn’t exactly comfortable or natural, but she was giving this a chance.

She felt her heart pound as the cheerleaders ran out in front of the fire, starting their routine. Lyria settled in the front row and Aelin swallowed thickly as she watched her warm brown eyes seek out Rowan in the audience. Aelin refuse to look at Rowan’s face as he watched her. Instead, Aelin focused on the dancing girls in front of her. She watched with a wildly beating pulse as their green and gold uniforms flounced with every move. It was almost indecent.

At the end of the routine, Lyria broke form and skipped into the crowd, making her way straight to Rowan. And Aelin could feel the pressure on her hand increase as Lyria grabbed Rowan by the neck and pulled him in for a large kiss. Too large for public, if Aelin was honest.

Lyria smiled as she pressed her lips against Rowan’s again before making her way back to the group of cheerleaders, who giggled wildly at her. Despite the fire raging in front of her face, Aelin felt completely frozen. She didn’t even process the rest of the rally, ignoring the rest of the cheers and cries, until Chaol tugged at her hand.

“You ready to go?” he asked, and Aelin nodded, still in a bit of a daze.

They were silent again on the ride home, and Aelin could feel her mood souring as they pulled into her driveway. Tonight was supposed to be fun, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Rowan long enough to give Chaol the time of day. She felt awful.

Biting her lip, she decided to do something drastic. Just to get Rowan out of her head.

“So,” Chaol began as he put his car into park, but Aelin ignored him and leaned over the console and kissed him. Her hands went to his hair, tugging the dark hair as tightly as she could to her face.

If Chaol was surprised, he barely showed it, his lips moving beneath hers, responding surely and confidently. His lips were rough and chapped and dry, and their lips seemed to mash against each other uncomfortably, instead of fitting together. The lack of chemistry was so evident, that Aelin wasn’t even offended when Chaol pulled away, wiping his mouth. What a disaster.

“Umm…” Her eyes fell to her lap as she chuckled softly. “Sorry.”

She was trying to figure out a way to let Chaol down easily. It was so clear there was no romantic spark between the two when Chaol started laughing loudly. She looked back up, his brown eyes warm with laughter as he smiled at her. He pushed a strand of her pink hair behind her ear and clasped his hand on her shoulder.

“That was…” He laughed again. “Oh gods.” He looked at her with apologetic eyes, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. “We’re still friends, right?”

At least they were on the same page. She nodded, laughter bubbling up in her chest, too. She supposed this is why she needed to start dating. To see who she actually connected with. It turned out Chaol was not that person.

“Do you still want to go to the dance together tomorrow?” he asked. “I’m still game,” he said, reassuring her.

“As friends?” Aelin said, and Chaol smiled widely.

“As friends,” he said.

Aelin couldn’t stop laughing as she made her way out of the car, getting her phone out to update the group text on their candidate.

Chaol = DUD. I’ve never had such a bad kiss.

She nearly dropped her phone as Rowan texted back. LOL.

Another text quickly followed. Sorry, don’t mean to laugh. I’m very sorry to hear that.

Aelin practically smacked her face with her hand as she groaned and all caps texted back in a flurry. THAT TEXT WAS FOR LYS, NOT YOU. UGHHHHH.

He didn’t reply again, and so Aelin put her phone away as she got ready for bed. She knew she should text the group chat for real, but she was too keyed up, thinking about Rowan. It’d been so long since his name lit up her phone, she forgot the electric jolt that ran through her spine when it happened.  

And though she knew she shouldn’t have been thinking about him, she couldn’t help but run her hand between her legs, imagining what it’d be like to kiss him instead. She had a feeling that Rowan’s lips would be soft, and she wondered if their mouths would fit together perfectly. She didn’t let herself think too hard about how quickly she brought herself to release thinking of him, succumbing to sleep quickly after.

. . .

“Do you want a drink?” Chaol asked, slightly breathless, as the fast song morphed into a too-sexy R&B hit for their dance comfort.

Aelin nodded, tugging at the neckline of her dark green dress. Her dad had surprised her with it, and she couldn’t even begin to express how good she felt in it. It was the perfect length, hitting just above her knee with a soft flounce, and the neckline was tightly fitted slight sweetheart, held up by two thin spaghetti straps. It was perfect. And despite being at the dance with just a friend, she still felt remarkably beautiful. It was a strange but delightful feeling.

After their short drink break, Chaol and Aelin returned to the dance floor. She’d forgotten how much Chaol loved to dance – in that respect, her friends had chosen wisely. She ignored their pointed looks all night, though, content to just have fun with Chaol. Which, strangely, she was. Having fun. In fact, she was having so much fun that she barely even noticed when Rowan and Lyria entered the dance, hand in hand. Instead, she refocused on Chaol, her limbs flailing as she tried to keep up with the boy in front of her.  

As the succession of dance songs morphed into a slower beat, Aelin anticipated Chaol taking them off the floor again, but instead, he stepped closer and hovered his hand over her waist, his eyebrow raised in question. They stared at each other for an awkward moment, wondering if this was somehow breaching the friend agreement they’d come to, but Aelin figured slow dancing with a friend was totally fine. In fact, they’d done it before.

She nodded, and he smiled, stepping closer as he slid his hand around her back, pulling her close. They swayed to the music, Chaol leading her around in circles, taking back out his ballroom dance skills and showing them off.

“I forgot what a good dancer you are,” she said, looking up at him with a coy smile. He grinned outright, spinning her under his arm and pulling her back in time with the music, never falling out of step. Aelin’s skirt flared around her knees, and she couldn’t help but tilt her head back and laugh at the sensation. It felt so good to release her worries, just for a little bit.

“My mom will be so pleased to hear that,” he said with a soft chuckle.

Aelin found herself laughing, tripping over her own feet as she tried to keep up with him, causing Chaol to snort.

“You, on the other hand…”

Aelin pretended to be offended, a pronounced frown on her lips, her brow furrowed as she chastised him. “Hey! I am extremely graceful.”

As if on cue, she tripped over her foot again, falling into Chaol’s chest with a soft thump. Both laughing, wide smiles on their faces, Chaol managed to save her fall by spinning it into a low dip.

When the dance came to a close, Aelin looked around to see a small circle of people had formed around them, applauding wildly. Chaol stepped aside and pointed to Aelin, who curtseyed as a soft blush colored her cheeks.

When the circle cleared, Aelin caught a glance of a slumped over figure on the bleachers, sitting alone, dark green eyes marred by a furrowed brow and pronounced scowl on his face. Rowan did always hate a school dance. Her heartbeat picked up as she stared at him, looking dapper in his dark grey suit. How many times had she danced with him at a school dance? It felt so odd to her to see him so far away, annoyed and alone. Her eyes flitted across the floor, looking for Lyria. She was with her usual gaggle of friends, completely unfazed by her lonely boyfriend sitting in the corner.

Aelin warred with herself, wanting to go over and say hello to him, but also knowing that she shouldn’t do that. She was just about to look away when his green eyes lifted and met hers across the room. She waved briefly, hesitant and unsure in her small gesture, but it was met with such a contented grin that she couldn’t bring herself to regret doing it.

She was about to take a step toward him when Lysandra came rushing up to her in a whirl, her arm hooking around Aelin’s and spinning her in the opposite direction.

“Come on, it’s time to head to Lorcan’s,” she said. “This party’s getting stale.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, but laughed regardless. She knew what her friend was doing. Keeping her away from Rowan. She couldn’t be trusted, left to her own devices.

Aelin looked over to Chaol, figuring she should extend the invite to him, too. “Do you want to come?” she asked, and she felt her stomach sink slightly as Chaol shook his head.

“No offense, that’s just not really my scene.”

“No offense taken,” she said quickly.

“I can drive you there, though, if you need a ride?” he offered, and Aelin was once again thrown off by how polite he was.

Lysandra smiled and wrapped her arm around Aelin’s shoulders, squeezing them tightly. “Aren’t you just the sweetest? Nah, we’ve got her.”

“Thanks, though,” Aelin said sincerely. She was grateful for Chaol’s company. With his distraction, she’d been able to keep her mind off of Rowan in a way she hadn’t before. Maybe her friends were right. She should be less of a cynic and defeatist. She could find someone. It wouldn’t be Rowan, and it definitely wouldn’t be Chaol, but, it’d be someone.

. . .

At Lorcan’s the party was already raging, the rest of them far behind the drunken students who’d left the dance early to go in search of free beer and better music.

“Babesss,” Lorcan slurred, his dark eyes unfocused as he sipped at some gross-smelling green concoction. “You’re finally here!”

He looked at Lysandra with a raised brow. “How’d it go?”

Lysandra sighed and placed her hands on her hips. “Well, she’s here alone, so I guess you were right.”

Lorcan snorted loudly. “Sorry, but I told you. The Goody Two Shoes wasn’t going to cut it.”

Lysandra handed Lorcan a twenty-dollar bill, and Aelin gaped.

“You know, I am standing right here,” she said, completely annoyed that her friends were betting on her love life.

“What?” Lorcan laughed, slinging his arms around the two girls and leading them into the kitchen. He dunked two cups into a trash bag and pulled out neon green liquid.

“What is this?” Aelin asked, sniffing the concoction dubiously.

Lorcan laughed. “You don’t want to know.”

Aelin took a tiny sip and shuddered at the sickly sweet taste of apples and some sour liquor she was sure was potent as anything.

“Just… drink it slow,” Lorcan said with a pointed brow in Aelin’s direction.

“Rude,” Aelin laughed. “I’ve learned!”

“She has,” Lysandra assured Lorcan, who couldn’t resist grinning at the two girls.

“In that case…” He paused dramatically. “Who wants to play beer pong?”

Both girls cheered exuberantly, causing Aelin to smile. If she’d told herself that she’d be part of Lorcan’s inner circle, personally invited to play beer pong with him and his friends, she would not have believed it. Things had really changed since her first Lorcan Salvaterre party.

As they approached the beer pong table, though, she was hit with a wave of déjà vu as the Moonbeam twins welcomed her with matching grins. It was almost an exact replica of the night she had made the decision to kiss Rowan. Only instead of Rowan at her side, now it was Lorcan. Something about that made her feel strange and unsettled. She looked around, as if Rowan would magically appear at her side out of thin air, but he was nowhere to be found among the throngs of drunk upperclassmen.

Fenrys cocked his head at her approach and threw a tanned arm around her shoulders. “Aelin Galathynius, as I live and breathe.”

“Fen,” Connall said in a low, warning tone.

“What? I’m just welcoming a beautiful girl to our table.” Fenrys winked at Aelin, bringing a soft blush to her cheeks under his attentions.

“Babe, are you blushing?” Lorcan laughed, poking at her reddened cheek.

“No!” Aelin said, swatting his hand away. “It’s this disgusting drink,” she said, but she couldn’t help but let her eyes slide back to Fenrys. Despite her insistence that she shouldn’t get involved with someone on the lacrosse team, there was no denying that Fenrys was incredibly attractive. And he had called her beautiful. It felt nice.

Fenry’s winked again as he caught her eye, and she was sure her face was flaming as the rest of the table burst into laughter. He let his arm fall from her shoulder to the small of her back, rubbing it softly as he took his first shot.  

“Come on, partner,” he said, nudging her hip with his and sinking his first shot, much to Lorcan’s chagrin. “Sorry Con,” he said, shooting a sly smile at his twin, who simply flicked him off as he skulked away into the party.

As they played, Aelin could feel herself loosening up. Lysandra and Lorcan were predictably a power team, sinking every single shot flawlessly. And with each cup of beer Fenrys drank, he got a little looser himself, his hand grazing her arm, her back, her side, pushing her hair behind her ear with small little teasing motions.

It was different than being touched by Rowan. It didn’t have that same shock to her system, jolting her awake, but it was still electric, just at a much lower voltage.

And even though they’d lost three games to Lorcan and Lysandra, Aelin was feeling on top of the world. The green drink coursing through her system had taken its toll, making her feel light and floaty and warm all over.

“Again?” Lorcan asked, stacking the cups back into a pyramid, but Aelin shook her head.

“Oh,” Fenrys said, his shoulders sagging with disappointment at Aelin’s decision to stop playing. It made her feel invulnerable.

“I was thinking maybe we could do something else instead?” Aelin said, flipping her hair over her shoulder, causing the boy to snap his dark eyes in her direction.

“Yeah?” he asked, stepping closer to her, his body suddenly mere inches away from hers. Aelin leaned over on her toes and whispered in his ear, her voice low and gravelly from alcohol.

“Wanna go upstairs and makeout?” she asked, her heart pounding at how brazen she was being, but there was something about Fenrys’s confident smile and flirty touches that reassured her in her pursuits.

A wicked smile curled across Fenrys’s lips as his eyes gleamed. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Aelin grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the stairs as Lysandra and Lorcan whooped and hollered behind them. Aelin ignored them, focusing on the feel of Fen’s hand delicately twined with hers.

At the top of the stairs, Fenrys’s control snapped, and Aelin found herself pushed up against the hallway wall with his mouth on top of hers. His lips tasted like stale beer with just a faint hint of the sticky sweet apple drink, and she found that she didn’t mind it at all. She wrapped her hands in his curly hair as his hands slid across the silky fabric of her dress, palms greedy to touch every cloth-covered inch he could. Warmth spread across each spot he touched, and she leaned into him.

She hummed as his mouth opened, his tongue sliding against hers roughly as her head hit the wall with a loud thump.

“Ow,” she laughed as they stumbled their way down the hall, teeth clinking against each other as they fell against each other again and again. Fenry’s reached out, trying each door they reached, but each and every one was locked.

“Get a room!” a booming voice called behind them.

“We’re trying,” she giggled, breathing heavily as Fenry’s moved his mouth down her neck with sloppy kisses. “Oh…” she moaned as Fenrys’s teeth scraped against the sensitive skin behind her ear. That was different. Good different.

They stumbled to the very end of the hall, Fenrys attacking her lips again as he reached behind her and turned the last door in the hallway. It turned in his grasp, and Aelin couldn’t help but moan appreciatively as Fen pressed his entire body against hers, leading them into the darkened room.

“Uhh, occupied!” a low strained voice came from the darkness, and Aelin froze, feeling like she’d been doused with a bucket of cold water.

“Rowan?” she squeaked out, refusing to look over her shoulder at whatever was going on in the bedroom behind her for fear that it might kill her.

“Aelin?!” he sputtered back, and Aelin could feel her entire body tense at the sound of rustling fabric and people moving around.

“Fenrys,” Fen said, causing Aelin to bark out a loud laugh.

“Lyria,” the girl deadpanned. Aelin’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, removing any of Fen’s attempt at levity.

“Sorry, Whitethorn,” Fenrys apologized, pulling Aelin by the waist, closer to him. “As you were…” he continued, backing up out of the room and into the brightly lit hallway. Aelin blinked several times, but all she could see was images of Rowan and Lyria, tangled in sheets, spurred on by her wildest imagination.

Fenrys leaned in to kiss Aelin again, but she was still frozen, heart pounding loudly against her ribs, so hard that it almost hurt.

He sighed loudly and gave her a reassuring smile as he took a step back. “Mood killed, huh?”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, shaking her head, willing herself to hear anything other than Rowan’s breathy tone coming from a darkened room at a party. She hated how upset she felt, how she felt like she was suffocating at the idea of him sleeping with Lyria, if that’s what they were doing. Given the circumstances, it seemed likely. Aelin swallowed back a wave of nausea.

But Fenrys refused her apology, pushing her hair behind her ear as she struggled to catch her breath. “I kind of figured.” He paused, looking at her seriously. “It’s okay,” Fenrys said with too warm a smile for how much of an asshole Aelin felt like. She covered her face, completely horrified.

“I’m gonna…” Aelin ducked under Fenry’s arm and headed toward the stairs, needing some fresh air. Luckily, Fenrys didn’t make a big deal about it at all, meandering downstairs with her and rejoining another game of beer pong as Aelin snuck into the cold night.

She wrapped her arms around her bare shoulders, sinking onto a chair on Lorcan’s front porch. She stared into the distance, willing her nausea to subside as she breathed slowly. So deep in concentration, she barely even heard anyone take the seat next to her until he began speaking.

“So, I guess you got that kiss after all…”

“Rowan…” she whined. “Can we not?” She bit her lip. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

He frowned, pausing ominously.

“Do you hate me?” he asked quietly.  

“What?” Aelin asked, startled by the question. “No, of course not.”

He shrugged, his dress shirt open and rumpled, his tie long gone. “It feels like you do.” He paused.

She wanted to snap at him, unload all her hurt on him, but she paused when she took in his face. She’d never seen him look so tired, so sad. “No, I don’t hate you,” Aelin said, giving him a soft smile and earning a small smile in return.

He exhaled a long, steady breath, and leaned back in the chair, letting the rocking chair sway back and forth as he pondered his next words.

“But you don’t want to be my friend anymore,” Rowan said suddenly. Aelin opened her mouth to protest, but Rowan barreled forward, his tone urgent. “No, you don’t. I’m not that dumb, Ace. You straight up told me. It just… sucks. Because you’re my best friend, but…” He took a deep breath. “I’m not yours anymore.”

“Ro…” Aelin said, her heart tugging, wanting to comfort the boy in front of her, but completely unsure of what to say.

“No,” he repeated. “Please let me finish.” Aelin nodded, biting her lip, forcibly preventing herself from interrupting what he so clearly needed to get out. “I was so excited when I got that text from you last night. I thought, maybe you’d decided you wanted to be friends again, and then to hear it was a mistake…” He laughed sadly. “Gods, I felt like such an idiot. You’ve always been my person.” His words came more rapidly as he got more worked up. “And you decided all of this without me, and I don’t understand. Like, telling me I didn’t need to pick you up from school anymore.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated, but Aelin couldn’t really process what he was saying.

“I just figured you wanted time alone with your girlfriend…”

He practically growled as he sighed. “Why would you assume that without asking me? I only gave her a ride the first morning because she asked if I would. I’ve been driving alone to school for weeks,” he said.

“Really?” Aelin asked, confused.

“And I know I’m going to sound like a complete tool when I say that it hurt my feelings, but… that really hurt my feelings.” Aelin opened her mouth again to say something, but nothing came out. She didn’t think she’d ever heard Rowan be so forthcoming about his feelings. He was more the type of person to hold his feelings in forever.

“I didn’t know,” Aelin whispered.

Rowan scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, you didn’t ask. You just bailed.”

Then it was Aelin’s turn to frown. “It’s not like you tried to reach out!” she snapped, and she could see the hurt turn into anger as Rowan raised his voice again.

“Because you didn’t want me to!” he growled. “And… you seemed… fine.” He laughed sadly. “And I am so not fine.”

Aelin breathed steadily. “You think I’m fine…?” she laughed with no humor.

“Yeah!” he cried, exasperated. “You have all these friends, and I’m the loser with no other friends but you. Lys, Elide, Wes… they only invited me around because of you,” he laughed sadly. “And, I keep waiting for you to reach back out to me – I don’t want to force you to be friends with me when you clearly didn’t want that, but you never do.” He sighed loudly. “And without you, I don’t have anyone.”

Aelin whispered. “I don’t think your girlfriend would agree with that.” She scrunched her nose.

“Don’t tell me this is about Lyria, because you’ve been acting weird long since before she came around,” he huffed, and Aelin threw up her arms, annoyed with the boy in front of her who clearly didn’t understand anything.

“Maybe there’s just an expiration date on boy girl friendships,” she sighed, and she watched as Rowan’s cheeks grew red.

“Stop,” he stuttered. “That’s bullshit.” He breathed. “You put an expiration on it, not me.”

“Really?” she scoffed. “I put an expiration on us? Ro, we don’t talk about anything anymore. I just walked in on you having sex with your girlfriend!” she exploded. “I didn’t even know you were having sex anymore. Because we can’t talk about that stuff! Because it’s weird, okay? You freaked out when I hugged you, for fuck’s sake. Don’t tell me I put an expiration on our friendship because I didn’t.”

Aelin felt her heart pound with every staccato word that exited her mouth. She felt flames on the sides of her face, burning her up as she finally told Rowan how she felt.

“I…” He shook his head. “Lyria got accepted into a college prep program at the OU. If she decides to go, she’ll be gone all of November and December, and we’d be in a long distance relationship,” he said, causing Aelin’s heart to pick up pace again. Lyria was leaving? “That’s what we were talking about upstairs,” he said. “We weren’t, um… doing anything. We haven’t even done anything other than kiss.”

Aelin hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that, and she breathed easily as the knot in her chest unfurled at Rowan’s intense stare. She hated how much better she felt. It stung and soothed her simultaneously.

“A college program?” Aelin asked.

“Yeah,” Rowan ran his hand through his hair.

“Huh,” Aelin replied, unsure of what else to say. Rowan seemed to sense it, and she couldn’t help but crack a smile. “What? She just doesn’t seem that into her studies.”

“I knew you didn’t like her!” Rowan laughed. Aelin wanted to defend herself, but she shrugged instead. She didn’t feel like getting into how the very opposite was actually the truth.

“It’s okay,” he laughed. “I’m not Fenrys’s biggest fan at the moment.”

“Rowan…” Aelin sighed. She didn’t really want to talk about this with him. She hadn’t anticipated him seeing it. She’d wanted time to process it all. But it seemed like he wasn’t going to give her that.

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know you don’t want to be my friend right now.” She watched as he scratched the back of his. “And you can go back to hating me tomorrow, I promise. But, can we just pretend tonight? For a little bit?”

She nodded, unable to deny him her friendship. The truth was, she’d missed it, too.

And so she unleashed. Aelin found herself rambling about the last month of her life, telling Rowan about how she started cooking with Maeve, how much she loved it, and her long walks home. He apologized, not realizing that Aelin had decided to walk instead of find another ride. But Aelin waved him off, instead telling him her favorite recipes and how much she’d learned just from being in the kitchen and being a part of prep. She went on and on about how she ended up becoming friends with Manon, and the weird group of friends that had formed in Rowan’s absence. She even told him about the terrible kiss with Chaol and how she’d decided to kiss someone tonight to make up for it. He laughed heartily at her description of her bad kiss, sighing loudly as he wiped the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes away.

“You deserve a good kiss,” he said, rocking himself back and forth again, the movement starting to hypnotize Aelin as she watched.

“Well, Fenrys delivered,” Aelin said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Gross,” he muttered.

“Rude!”

He laughed as she changed the topic, telling him about her tough classes, and he immediately picked up on it, following suit and talking about his own.

Talking to Rowan was like riding a bike. A really comfortable bike. He laughed in all the right spots, and by the time they were finished catching up on Aelin’s life, she felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

He offered to drive her home, and Aelin stupidly accepted, both of them singing happily as he played her Game Day Mix that she’d made for him all those months ago. As she looked over at him, she could feel her breath catch.

Gods, she missed him. She missed everything about him. And it hurt all over again.

She was like an addict who had easily relapsed. She couldn’t believe how careless she’d been. She thought she could have him just a tiny bit, but she was too stuck on him still. She’d taken a giant step forward with Chaol and Fenrys and then immediately retreated, letting Rowan back into her heart. Who was she kidding? He’d never left her heart. She’d just gotten better at ignoring that persistent tug, always pulling her to him.

As they turned onto Aelin’s street, they fell into a hushed silence. One that was so strangely comfortable that she almost forgot he was there until he spoke up again.

“I guess we’re done pretending,” he said, rubbing his hands against his knees as he parked in her driveway, and Aelin nodded.

“I just want us to still tell each other the big things, even if you don’t want to do the stuff in between.” He paused. “Like, if you decide to date Fenrys, can you tell me?”

“I’ll see what I can do about that,” she replied softly, and he nodded again. “I don’t hate you,” she said, feeling the need to reassure him.

“Okay,” he said, relieved.

“I promise if I ever hate you, you will not have to wonder,” she sassed, and she laughed as Rowan shoved her shoulder, sparks flying up her arm at the brief moment of contact.

Aelin exited the car with a small wave and took a deep, steadying breath as he drove off into the night. Yes, she had relapsed. But, she’d also kissed two boys in two nights. She clearly just needed to push herself a little further.

She fell asleep that night, wondering who the next boy on her list would be.

~*~

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@salma-mohammed54

[futuregws]

Throne of glass rant

I just started reading queen of shadows recently and so far all I have to say is fuck Chaol Westfall, I'm so mad at him not even kidding and he was one of my favorite characters but my Aelin loving heart did not appreciate all the shit he told her

[sassyhobbits]

ohhh could we have a “why are you awake right now” part two? 😍🙏

pt 1

enjoy!!!!

~~~

Rowan hadn’t been sleeping for nearly long enough when he awoke to the thud of someone banging their fist impatiently on his front door.

He really didn’t want to get out of bed. For some reason, it was extra comfortable and warm this morning. When he finally deigned to open his eyes, Rowan realized why.

Aelin was curled into his bare chest, his arms wrapped around her, holding the woman close. The events from the previous night rushed back to him. Maybe it made him a selfish prick, but he couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to have her back.

The knocking came again, harder this time. Rowan reined in a groan, carefully detangling himself from Aelin, not wanting to disturb her peaceful rest. He slipped quietly from the room, cursing under his breath as the banging came again. Who the fuck had the audacity to be so demanding this early in the morning?

The answer to his question became obvious when Rowan threw open the door with an irritable “What?” and found Chaol Westfall standing outside his front door.

Chaol looked as though he had seen better days. His chestnut hair was messy, dark shadows under his eyes suggesting a night of little sleep, and his usually clean-shaven face had a hint of scruff.

“Where is she?” Chaol demanded, forgoing any greetings or even apologies for disturbing him. He looked over Rowan’s shoulder towards the couch, as if she would be sleeping there, before looking back at him. Chaol’s jaw clenched when he took in Rowan’s bare chest. He knew how it must have looked to him. Yet, he didn’t care. Not anymore.

Rowan knew who he was referring to, but he crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly. This was the man who had hurtled insults at Aelin the night before. “Where is who?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Rowan,” Chaol ground out. “She still shares her location with me. I know Aelin is here.”

“Regardless if she’s here or not, I don’t think she wants to talk to you.”

“It’s none of your fucking business. She’s my girlfriend.”

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “Funny. She said you two broke up last night.”

“It was just an argument. I just need to see her.”

“Go home, Chaol. If she wants to talk to you, she will.”

Chaol opened his mouth as if to spit something nasty out, but faltered when the sound of a door opening came from behind him. Rowan looked over his shoulder and found Aelin stepping out of his room, eyes widening as she noted who he was speaking with.

“Chaol,” Aelin breathed. “What are you doing here?”

Rowan knew that this situation was looking worse and worse. Opening the door without a shirt, Aelin wandering out of his room so casually. Chaol was clenching his jaw so hard that he could have been on the verge of breaking a tooth.

“I wanted to talk, Aelin,” Chaol bit out.

“Oh,” said Aelin simply. “Uh, alright then.”

She padded down the hall, brushing by Rowan. He managed to catch her eye as she lingered in the threshold, raising a questioning brow. Are you sure? I can kick him out. Just give the word.

She gave an almost unperceivable shake of her hand, brushing her hand on his arm. It’s alright. I can handle this.

Rowan knew Chaol saw the tiny exchange and the casual touch. Chaol had always seemed uncomfortable when he and Aelin had touched casually, had those little conversations through their eyes. They had tried to keep it to a minimum when Chaol was around, but Rowan found he didn’t really care what he thought anymore.

Rowan reluctantly stepped back inside, shutting the door to give them so privacy. He had been fully intending to head back to his room, not wanting to eavesdrop, but the first words that came out of Chaol’s mouth stopped him in his tracks.

“You didn’t wait long, did you?” he asked, voice dripping in venom.

Rowan froze, understanding the insinuation.

“Excuse me?” Aelin said back slowly, in a way Rowan knew promised violence. He could practically see her crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly.

“We have one argument and you go right to him. To his bed.”

“First of all, it wasn’t an argument. You broke up with me. Second, because you ended things with me, what I do after is none of your concern.”

Chaol released a bark of bitter laughter. “I should have known.”

“Known what?”

“That no matter what I did, you would never pick me. You’d always pick him.”

Rowan sucked down a sharp breath. He shouldn’t be listening, but he couldn’t get himself to walk away.

“Chaol-”

“No, Aelin,” he snapped, cutting her off. “Part of me probably always knew, but I hoped that I was wrong, that I could do something to get you to care for me the same way I care for you. But it had been a lost cause. Because you never loved me. You love Rowan, you have since we started dating.”

Rowan could have sworn time stopped in that moment. He barely dared to breathe, waiting for Aelin to speak up, to deny the accusation, to say he was being paranoid.

But she was silent.

Rowan knew that was an answer within itself.

…

Having Chaol turn up to Rowan’s apartment this morning had been an unpleasant surprise to begin with. The conversation they were having wasn’t doing much to change that.

Aelin had no defense against his last accusation. Because Chaol was right, even if she had hoped he wasn’t. She had been in love with Rowan for longer than she wanted to admit, but had been so frightened of losing his friendship, she had never said anything. When she had met Chaol, she saw it as an opportunity to finally move past those feelings she held for Rowan. That had probably doomed them from the start.

When Aelin stayed silent, Chaol took a step forward. “How long were you planning on stringing me along, Aelin? Until Rowan finally made a move? Was I just a distraction until then?”

“No, Chaol. Gods, no. What kind of person do you think I am?”

“I honestly don’t even know. I don’t think I ever did.”

Aelin wasn’t sure why, but his words hurt. He was acting as if their entire relationship was based on nothing. She had cared for him, and she still did. Just… not in the way he cared for her.

A tense silence blanketed them. Aelin knew she should look him in the eye, but couldn’t get herself to. She hugged herself tightly, staring down at her bare feet.

“Did you fuck him?” Chaol eventually asked.

Aelin flinched, looking at him incredulously. “Are you serious? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know, Aelin!” he shouted. “I just really don’t know anymore! Are you even sorry? The least bit guilty?”

In that moment, she could have said yes and apologized. But then she would be lying. And she didn’t give a damn about Chaol’s feelings right now. Aelin only straightened, holding her head higher, before saying. “No. I’m not.”

Chaol scoffed bitterly. “You’re such a bitch.”

“Yeah. I know.”

He shook his head, eyes filled with fury. “I swear to the gods, Aelin… one day-”

Whatever vileness was about to spill out of his mouth stopped when the door opened. Aelin was prepared to snap, thinking it was Rowan coming to defend her when she already told him she could handle it, but her words withered on the tip of her tongue at the sight of Lorcan Salvaterre lurking in the doorway.

Lorcan had been living with Rowan for a while now. He was an unpleasant man, and Aelin delighted in antagonizing him. They had a relationship built on hurtling cheap insults at one another, but kept it cordial beside that. On top of being Rowan’s roommate, he was dating one of Aelin’s closest friends, Elide. They didn’t maim each other for their sakes.

Lorcan’s face was stormy, extremely pissed off. Normally, that expression was directed towards Aelin, but today, it was for Chaol.

“It’s my day off,” Lorcan said lowly. “And I’d like to sleep in without you being an ass towards Galathynius so loudly. I’d appreciate it if you left.”

Chaol ground his teeth, but relented. It seemed he was just as tired of this useless argument as she was. He turned his gaze towards her once more. It was cold, like they were stranger. He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned.

“Goodbye, Aelin,” Chaol said before stalking off.

There was a sort of finality to his voice that told Aelin there would be no coming back.

She released a long breath, unfurling her fists and looking towards Lorcan.

“I’m sorry we woke you,” Aelin said earnestly.

Lorcan shrugged. “It’s not your fault. You two done with?”

“Yeah. I suppose we are.”

“Good,” Lorcan grunted. “I never liked him anyway.”

“You don’t like anyone.”

“Exactly.”

Despite everything that had just happened, that the wounds from Chaol’s words still stung, Aelin snorted out a tiny laugh. Even if she and Lorcan always gave each other shit, they tended to stick up for one another when anyone else was giving them shit.

“Well,” Lorcan sighed, glancing back inside. Aelin followed his gaze, finding Rowan standing there. Her stomach dropped, realizing he must have heard everything. “I’m going to go back to sleep. You two can… talk, I guess.”

Aelin gave a stiff nod, allowing Lorcan to close the door behind her. He didn’t say anything else before heading back to his room and quickly shutting himself in, leaving her alone with Rowan in the living room. Aelin had never felt nervous in front of Rowan before until now. Her hands opened and closed a few times, wondering what to say.

“How much did you hear?” she managed to croak out.

Rowan’s lips were tight. “Everything.”

Aelin nodded, finding it hard to look Rowan in the eye. Gods, if Chaol had fucked up her friendship with Rowan, she would murder him. Bastard.

“Was it true?” Rowan asked, taking a step closer. “What he said?”

Aelin heart was pounding in her chest, body flushed with fear. She managed to look him in the eye. “Yeah… yeah, it was.” She bit her lip hard. “I- uh… you’re my best friend, Rowan but you’re more than that. And if you don’t feel the same, I understand. And I understand if you need space after all of that.”

He didn’t say anything. The silence was killer. Aelin’s eyes flickered down to her feet again, feeling her eyes burn. She felt vulnerable, and she hated feeling vulnerable.

She heard Rowan take a few long strides forward until he was before her. His fingers nudged her chin, tilting her face upwards to look at him again. Aelin was always struck stupid by how handsome he was, how comforting the familiar planes of his face were to her. His green eyes held hers, refusing to back down.

“You love me?” Rowan whispered, so soft that Aelin nearly didn’t hear him.

Aelin swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes. I do.”

The air between them was electric, setting her skin on fire. Aelin wasn’t even sure she was breathing as Rowan slowly leaned forward and closed the distance between them, brushing his lips against her softly. It was nothing more than a whisper of a kiss, but it destroyed and remade her nonetheless. Aelin’s eyes fluttered shut, leaning closer to Rowan and his warmth as he cupped her face gently.

Rowan pulled back, her lips still tingling from his kiss. Aelin peeled her eyes open as Rowan rested his forehead against hers.

“I love you too, Aelin.”

Her heart jumped, a shaking smile finding its way to her lips. “Yeah?”

Rowan nodded, his eyes alight with joy. “Yeah. I really do.”

Aelin released a tiny, disbelieving laugh, feeling her eyes well with tears. She lunged forward, wrapping her arms around the back of Rowan’s neck as he pulled her close, face buried in her hair. Never in a million years did she think that her feelings would be returned.

She didn’t know how long they stood there, wrapped up in one another. Aelin would have been fine remaining like that for the rest of eternity, but weariness caught up with her. The late night combined with the early morning argument had taken a toll on her.

“Ro?”

“Hm?”

“Can we go back to bed for a bit?”

“Of course, Fireheart.”

He slipped his hand into hers, walking them back towards the bedroom. Aelin happily crawled back into the bed, snuggling back under the comforter. Rowan slid in next to her, not hesitated to pull her tight into his side. Aelin relished his warmth, his pine and snow scent, the feeling of his strong arms around her. She could get used to this.

Aelin fell back asleep with a smile on her face.

[national-sorscha-fanpage]

i should be taking tumblr more seriously but unfortunately i'm not very well-versed on throne of glass at the moment since I've been on holiday for around 4 weeks. but like here's some of my favourite tog characters that aren't sorscha because fun fact i like other characters!!

nesryn faliq- a bad b. i love. a queen. 10/10, even after sjm gave her a repetitive romance arc with sartaq (but tbh i loved it) she remained her own independent person w/o relying on him like he's her only life force.

nehemia ytger- i feel like if there's one character the throne of glass fandom can agree on (other than dorian) is nehemia. i love her sm, she's so selfless and smart and brave and heroic. the most important character in the series and i will argue with you about that.

elide- though she's more of a 6/10 than a 9/10 i appreciate what sjm tried to do with her. she wanted a character to be smart in other ways, and while it kind of worked, i picked up on this more from character dialogue than her actual actions. i love what she stands for and her attitude with lorcan ESPECIALLY (manon x elide canon tho).

CHAOL MF WESTFALL- idk lmao every character in the series is either immortal or has special powers and my guy stayed on top with his determination, loyalty, and love alone. stan chaol for clear skin.

MAYBE THERE'S MORE BUT IDK A LOT OF TOG CHARACTERS ARE JUST SO BLAND SORRYYYYYYYY