#Connall Moonbeam

[scarlet742]

Mystery of Maasverse:

Where is Vaughan!!???

[ennawrite]

POV: you wake up as a twin in the maasverse

(seriously, though, what is up with her and giving every single pair of twins a crazy traumatic life?😭)

[azrielsbxtch]

𝓕𝓮𝓷𝓻𝔂𝓼 & 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝔂 @𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓼𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓯𝓲𝓮𝓵𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓘𝓖

[i-only-see-daylight]

Rowan: Do you have a bobby pin? 

Lorcan: Yeah. *searches in his hair*  Lorcan: Oh, no, wait. I’m not a nine-year-old girl.

Fenrys: Really? Then why do ya throw like one?

[acourtofquestions]

THRONE OF GLASS SERIES SPOILERS

While Aelin losing her powers is sad; primarily because she loved her powers and spent a long time without them, then fighting for them back, and accepting herself with it. And also they’re cool… but so is she (regardless :-)

It’s important to remember she never needed them. Not in this sense at least.

She carries the same power level of Heir of Fire, where she makes shields and daggers of flame, and can hold her own against Skin-walkers & terrors. Then in combination with Rowan as her Carranam she pushes past burn-out & wipes the Mistward slate clean of the Valg Generals; something she still maintains, only now imbued along with her own Cadre.

In the following book, these things remain, as Queen of Shadows sees her once again without magic, or fae form (meaning she’s more powerful now in a post-KoA world then she was than). It reminds us again, that she is more than capable of acting without them (and frankly kicking-ass; she takes out a lot of Valg with nothing but her wit & skill).

As she had for the prior three books: she got through all of those on her own, without fae strength, without firepower, she became “The Assassin of Adarlan” she won as the “King’s Champion” that alone was just her, without even a team or an army at her back. Or arguably one of the bigger strengths she gains; something worth fighting for.

And, as Kingdom of Ash takes time to show: she makes it through half the battles without her power at all. Anielle was greatly overpowered by her & the cadre, and not a lick of flame touched that battlefield. Only did it announce itself to save them from the dam (not from the fighting). Along with another demonstration/reminder that she began breaking out of the iron coffin without her power, that was pure fae strength alone (of which she maintains).

And in all of that she did keep the piece dearest to her: her mother’s magic, her droplet of water, of Mab, of healing. One that can grow over a thousand years, as Rowan said (albeit jokingly but truthfully). …And a gift of Mala, flame much like that of Essar… and now without the fear it once carried for her of “having no end”. Besides, her truest power always rested in Fireheart — a name not of power, but of her; her strength, her will, her intelligence. Herself. That was what mattered. And matters going forward.

Especially in this new world, where that plot was needed: without it, you would have an unchecked power-scale, in a reset world, with no villains to fight, no gods ruling, only her & Dorian with their powers at those levels without need; when the world desperately needed a reset so it didn’t collapse in a single battle between such sources. … And even more importantly you would miss the “Heroes Journey” of losing everything, of prices paid that are not all fixed (sad as it is; it is a price, no refunds). And more than anything, you would lose the arc; Aelin paid the price (and while I do not believe she had some debt due, that she owed Terrasen; because again SHE WAS EIGHT AND KIDNAPPED BY AN ASSASSIN… what was she supposed to do? But now any of those that were argued are gone… perhaps she needed that herself more than anyone else).

And while I know this led to frustration for some that “the hero” did not defeat “the villain” in the end… I’d beg to differ, and think it was important to the arc going forward: starting with the fact that Aelin had nothing to prove in it. Whether it be with her sword of flame & the assistance of her Carranam/Cadre (which did not make her weak or “dependent” on men; no this was strength in working together with her friends), or with her fists & nothing more, or with a gods’ arsenal of flame & power & starlight, the truth stays the same; we all knew her strength & capability. But her soul; her heart of fire (that we knew), had yet to live without that weight (of the world, of fate, of the power & sacrifice) all solely on her shoulders. To trust them in carrying that with her, for her, together. And to be fully be a part of the team that she assembled (somewhat accidentally) but threads pulled nonetheless. Aelin did not accomplish it alone, for she had never needed to. And for the first time that is shown. And she was not alone, never to be again. … Making it a huge breakthrough for all of them.

Because this was not a story of a singular hero… or even villain. It was rather complex in the latter to begin with. So this was crucial, especially for her character to have grown; to have asked for help, to allow it. And even the contrast to have The Assassin not be the one to deal the final blows; because that is not all she is, (will be, or has ever been). Nor was this her fight, not anymore. It had been so many people’s fights both before and after it was hers… from Elena’s, to the elder King Dorian’s, Marion’s, Josefin’s, even Sam’s… because they & that fight had led them all here. Them; the original trio of Chaol (his new-found wife), Dorian (his power another catalyst & hero), and Aelin (fully embraced in her name and story. And to the many they found through themselves; Yrene (as aforementioned), Manon, Lysandra, Elide, etc.

And because Erawan was not her death to take — if anything, it was Dorian’s. He needed it. It belonged to the threads & the lost children of it: it was Elide’s for her mother who died by the Assassin of Erawan to save Aelin to bring them here, it was Yrene’s for her mother Josefin who died to save her daughter from a fate Erawan set into motion & sent Yrene running into to unwittingly stop him, it was a team; Lysandra, Nesryn, all of them. From old to new. Those who came before. And those who will follow after (including the child Yrene is fighting for in these moments, just as their mothers had). Teams that can build a better world going forward (beyond this war), and set them up to bring the many broken countries together (now the leaders of Adarlan, Rifthold, Anielle, the Ferian Gap, Terrasen, Orynth, Perranth, the Wastes, the Southern Continent (all the way down to the Healers of the Torre & connections to Ellywe & the Far of Doranelle). — And one that they paid for together… They all carried a price too: Dorian whose power also got downgraded in check for the same reason as Aelin’s (though not to the same extent), Yrene who broke her oath to never take a life to save the lives of many others (& while the Valg King debatably didn’t break an oath as “life” within the Valg is very messy to begin with) she still gave an awful lot for it (& did it with help once again), Elide who faced it brave as her mother. As I said, this was theirs. — Dorian whose father was not the true villain yet would be remembered & forgotten as such, Dorian who needed to know, Dorian the King his country needed & his father had fought for, his father who was as forgotten & twisted & fallen as that very place. Yrene, who had been led here, who had followed the sound of where she was needed and braved it over & over, just as the Towers women had for centuries; it was their closure. Elide… who in combination with the latter represented the love that fought from day one, that did not yield, that gave their lives to spare their children all in hopes for a better world (knowing they would not live to see it; they paid that price). And in doing so, it repeated, every player on the board; another mother giving it all to build a better world for her child’s future, a son of King Dorian; of Gavin & Elena, who remembered their names, a daughter who was brave & unafraid as Aelin and mother that had taught them both that (Marion). The first children of the fallen, and the last to fall.

And when it came to Maeve; it was equal. It was Rowans, for Lyria, for his child, for all she had done to them; to Aelin, to his brothers, to him. Lorcan, for every dark, twisted misery he endured for her. Fenrys�� the one Aelin offered the final blows too because after centuries of not knowing freedom, of losing everyone (much like herself) she knew he had felt it just as much as she had. And of course, Aelin, for Rowan, for Fenrys, for her Cadre, for the Lion, for Aedion, for her mother, for herself. And with their help, all together, even without power, they could do it; together only the arc does not end there, no, it is met with mercy within her end, facing it & rising above it.

In consensus: Aelin is still incredibly powerful. As is her court. This is a new world, a reset to the scale. This is a book with consequences, and those will always ache. But there is more than just that ache. Because this arc is beyond a hero and villain; it is a story of love, of friends, of family, of mercy, of kindness, of fighting & living & going on. And that will always hold magic. Regardless of if she is a firebringer, or human… regardless of who beat who in the end… they did; together; as who they are.

& For me, while hard to process in some pieces & sad, I actually think this was the only way to do it properly. Not some “epic failure of the hero not defeating” the “main villain”, but an inevitable arc of character growth that could not come without that teamwork & passing of things to fully flesh out the storyline. And as one that is true to the fact, it is full of many heroes.

Such as The Thirteen, who broke the curse, (and our hearts)… and while I wish they had not or at least Asterin had survived; even Manon said it earlier, the Matron was Asterin’s, for her, for all of them, for every Witchling that came before and would come after. The Thirteen (who were meant to save Manon) & to save the world; who defied every rule by how they loved, and lived… and who died as one. In a way, that was a well-written story, not a “cry points” death of senseless heartbreak (overwhelming, yes, but not a last-minute script change of insanity), nor was it one to (unfortunately) receive a reversal; because it was such a powerful moment to lead to the better end of broken curses & saved worlds… and I don’t know how the story would’ve gone otherwise… None of these moments were solely their own. Nor were they simple. This is how you do it in a story, one with many points of view and plots, and where “yes”: Aelin is “the hero” but she is not the entire story. … Or at least it’s what I’m pondering right now, lol.

[alice-bad-thoughts]

I just realized a very funny and strange thing. If Gavriel were a mortal sin, he would probably be Lust. Lorcan would be Wrath. Connal would be Pride, Rowan would be Sloth and Fenrys would be Gluttony. I’m done. Move on, sleep easy, but don’t forget this shit.

[leiawritesstories]

PART EIGHT: AUGUST

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: oh god swearing, scheming, angst, implied/referenced smut, mentions of grief, short depiction of a funeral, more scheming, Maeve, and angst (xoxo, Frederick)

all the thanks to @house-of-galathynius & @mariaofdoranelle for being the best betas ever <3

enjoy ;) i'm so sorry

Masterlist

Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fenrys’s memorial was held on a brilliantly sunny, warm morning in early August. The sky was clear, pure cerulean, not a single wisp of cloud scuffling across its expanse, a mockingly cheerful backdrop for the somber group of people gathered in the cemetery. It was almost as if Fenrys Moonbeam, ever one to flash his blindingly bright grin in the wrong situations, had sent an especially bright day as a last vestige of himself. 

Standing rigid and stoic-faced in his full Terrasen Special Forces dress uniform, Rowan was flanked by Gavriel, also in full uniform, on his right and Aelin, in a simple black dress and heels, on his left. Her slender fingers were linked closely with his, her simple touch and her steady presence lending him the strength he desperately needed to hold himself together. For the moment, his theories were suspended, and they were just Rowan and Aelin, just two people mourning the loss of a dear friend. 

When he’d found out about Fen… Rowan barely had clear memories from that night, but he did remember one thing—Aelin. Her voice on the other end of his phone, holding him together. He’d raced to the Gal Inc lab complex after receiving a call from one of the lab’s security guards, and he’d stormed through that building, the room tilting and blurring the moment he stepped inside, caught a lungful of that sharp, scorching chemical scent, saw the ruined form on the ground, and known he was too late. 

His call to Aelin was one of pure desperation, and she was the only way he’d made it home. 

Gav lifted his chin slightly, and Rowan gently loosened his fingers from Aelin’s grasp and stepped up beside his commander. Beside the simple bronze urn. On Aelin’s other side, Aedion Ashryver linked his arm through hers, the cousins acting as each other’s support. 

“We thank Lieutenant Fenrys Alastair Moonbeam for his service, and we commend his soul to the Afterlife.” Gav pronounced the words solemnly, his voice only slightly wavering, and he and Rowan carefully, reverently, lifted the urn into its open mausoleum. Rowan held his salute until Gav had placed the headstone, then stepped back to Aelin’s side. 

The gentle squeeze of her hand spoke louder than any words. I am here. I am with you. 

As the small group of people began to disperse, Rowan lingered, taking a quiet moment to lay his gloved hand on the headstone and silently scream. Dammit, Moonbeam, it was never supposed to be you! 

“It’s already quieter,” Aelin murmured, coming to stand next to him. 

Rowan nodded, throat bobbing thickly. “I’ll never get used to it.” 

“I know.” She leant into his side, her unspoken sorrow recognizing his grief. “I love you, Rowan, you know.” 

“I love you too.” He slipped his arm around her waist, partially for comfort and partially for support as they walked away from the mausoleum, the bright summer sun beaming down upon the stone and tile. 

~

“Can I ask you something, love?” Rowan wasn’t even the smallest bit ashamed to admit he was laying on his girlfriend’s comfortable couch wearing sweats and an old t-shirt, his head in her lap, her fingers running soothingly through his cropped hair. 

“Anything.” Aelin brushed her touch down the slope of his cheekbone, thumb stroking his jaw. 

“How do…how did you know Fen?” 

She swallowed, her eyes going distant for a moment. “Gav introduced us; you know how my dear uncle likes to meddle in my love life.” She chuckled. “Fenrys was…the first TSF man that I felt like I could be myself with, you know? He wasn’t a stiff-backed soldier, and he wasn’t lecherous, just flirty.” 

“He was good at that,” Rowan agreed. 

“Granted, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen Fenrys—probably not since my company’s Christmas party, and Gav was busy parading men in front of me for most of that event.” A soft, sad smile curled the corners of her lips. “He could always make me laugh.” 

“Fen made everyone laugh.” Rowan sat up, moving so he could pull Aelin into his lap and wrap his arms around her. “Gav complained about it, but he was never going to stop it.” 

Aelin relaxed into Rowan’s embrace, the tension that normally lined her spine loosening, allowing her to sink into his warmth. She didn’t say anything else, but the soul-deep compassion he saw in her turquoise gaze burrowed into his heart, warming the coldness of grief. He kissed the top of her head gently, softly, and ran his open hands up and down her back. 

She didn’t know how much time passed there, in comfortable silence, before she spoke again. “Will you write him into your tattoos?” 

“Of course.” Rowan had told Aelin the story of his tattoos a few months ago, on a balmy spring evening when the two of them were sprawled in each other’s arms sans clothing. He gave her the stories behind the symbols, the meaning behind the ink he wore on his skin. In return, she told him about the dragon on her back, the piece a work of bold, fearless, unconquerable power, the image of a leader who was unafraid to spew fire if necessary. Her tattoo was a unique piece; she and her artist had worked on designing it for months before she got the tattoo done. 

“Good.” She traced the fluid script on his chest. “He…no one should die so young.” She knew her words hinted at something beyond the friendship she’d mentioned, but she also knew she couldn’t just brush off Rowan’s questions. She had known Fenrys, and she’d been close with him. Celaena had been close with him. 

She only hoped that Rowan wouldn’t discover Fenrys and Celaena’s ties for a long, long time. 

~

Connall Moonbeam stood opposite the Queen of the Night and willed his expression to remain unruffled despite the gaping hole in his heart. 

“Does it truly not concern you at all, ma’am, that my brother died?” He kept his question as neutral as possible, aiming his concern not at his brother, but at the coldhearted woman who’d sent Fenrys to his death. 

Maeve hummed noncommittally. “There are certain risks involved with infiltrating a highly secure, tightly guarded space, particularly when that space is owned by a criminal who is jealous of her silly little tech. Fenrys knew and accepted those risks.” 

Con gritted his teeth. “Certain risks? We had planned that he would be able to bypass all of the known traps, even the final one.” 

“Clearly, that final security measure was altered. Sardothien most likely anticipated that there would be attempts made to steal her inventions.” Maeve fixed her icy violet gaze onto Con. “As it stands, we know that there is a trap rigged within the storage compartment itself, so that will need to be disabled when we return to the labs to take what we came for.” 

“Do you think it will be a simple task?” You can’t kill her yet, he told himself. Not. Yet. 

She shrugged. “Perhaps. But perhaps not. Sardothien is young, but she is not inexperienced.” 

“Obviously.” Con put more sarcasm into that word than he’d intended. 

Maeve arched one dark brow. “Connall, do you require some time alone? To plan, perhaps?” Her question seemed polite, but ice underlaid it. 

“I believe I do, ma’am. Forgive me.” He dipped his head, and when she dismissed him, he left her office, quietly closing the door behind himself, and strode down the hallways to his small, simple, blessedly private room. He gave himself exactly five minutes to silently rage before he pulled his burner phone from his jacket pocket and dialed Celaena Sardothien. 

She picked up almost immediately. “Con?” 

“Boss.” He didn’t bother trying to mask the pain in his voice. “She’s going to stage another break-in at the labs. It’s barely been two weeks since my—since Fen—since my brother was buried.” Although his room was soundproof, he was careful to keep his words just vague enough for anyone who might be listening to assume he was speaking about Sardothien. Everyone knew the Boss was Maeve’s next target, so it made sense for her men to be discussing her schemes. 

“I know.” Celaena’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle, nothing like the Boss’s typical commanding tone. “What’s she changing?” 

“She thinks she can disarm the trap that…the bomb rigged in the storage compartment.” 

“First of all,” Celaena drawled, “it’s not a bomb. I’m not a goddamn brute. Secondly, what do you want to do to counteract her plans?” 

“Boss?” Con was confused. 

She sighed. “Con, you’re thinking of a way to stop Maeve, aren’t you?” 

“Never a day when I don’t think about driving my knife through her throat.” 

“Alright. So, what do you think you can do—reasonably and subtly, because Maeve isn’t going to be easy to assassinate. Trust me. I’ve been scheming about how to do that for years.” 

“Well, there’s always controlled doses of non-lethal poisons. You know, things that gradually weaken a victim but aren’t deadly. It’s the kind of thing that’s usually used when you’re trying to get the victim to a point where they’re easy to kill.” Con was half thinking out loud, but the plan took shape as he spoke. 

“Do you have access to that kind of poison?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” Celaena paused, and Con swore he could hear the Boss’s thoughts whirring. “Get her weak enough that you can easily tranquilize her and bring her to the river warehouse. I’ll let you do the honors there, if you want.” 

“Believe me,” Con all but growled, “there is nothing I want more. She sent my brother to die.” 

“Understood.” Papers rustled on Celaena’s end of the call. “Keep me posted, yeah?” 

“Of course.” Click. The call ended. 

Con took a deep, controlled breath, tucked his phone back in his pocket, and strolled out of his room, heading for the storage rooms. Maeve’s men were used to seeing him in that part of the building, since most of his work required supplies, so nobody batted an eye when he walked in. It only took a few minutes to find a bottle of the stuff he needed, and he plucked it off the shelf and tucked it into his sleeve. 

It would probably take at least another two months, but Maeve would fall. 

He owed that debt to his brother. 

~

Aelin snapped her laptop closed with a frustrated huff and ran her hands through her loose braid. Gods. Only halfway through August, and she felt like she was being run ragged. She had a seller up her ass for a shipment that was one day delayed, her PR team kept asking when she was going to give that interview she’d promised to the Orynth Morning Show, Orynth PD and the TSF kept wanting to talk to her, and as if work wasn’t enough, she had a Boss crisis to deal with. 

Because some asshole had gone and leaked Fenrys’s apartment to PD. 

There were two security cameras at the Boss’s apartment, one at the front and the other at the back window, and Aelin got notified anytime one of the cameras picked up some suspicious activity. She had checked the camera feed two days ago and found, for lack of a better term, a shitload of cops crawling around the building. They were there for Fen’s apartment, but…she was only one floor below. 

It was enough to make her already-bad insomnia worse. 

Breaking through Aelin’s drifting thoughts, Elide knocked three times on Aelin’s office door and stuck her head in. “Hey.” 

“Hey, Ells.” Aelin snapped herself back into work mode. “Is someone here?” 

“You could say that,” Elide grumbled. “Some TSF grouch says he’s supposed to meet with you.” 

Aelin raised a brow. “How about I come out to the main office and chat?” 

“Sure.” Elide walked with Aelin out to the more open main area, where there was indeed a grouchy, scowling, massively tall man wearing a TSF jacket slouched against Elide’s desk. 

He raised his dark brows into an expression of utter indifference. “Is this conversation going to happen in front of just anyone?” 

Elide’s dark eyes narrowed into a sharp glare. “I work for Aelin.” 

“You her cute little secretary?” Aelin could have sworn some kind of amusement crinkled the soldier’s face. 

“Chief Operations Officer, actually. Gal Inc. couldn’t run without me.” She spoke lightly, but Aelin sensed some inexplicable kind of…tension…between the two. 

“Mhmm. And I’m the god of the sun,” the soldier deadpanned. 

“You’re just another disposable soldier, Salvaterre,” Elide returned, almost viciously. Salvaterre. That would make him Rowan’s captain…Lorcan. 

Lorcan Salvaterre bristled. “I’m a ranking officer of the TSF.” 

“And if you die on duty, you’ll be just another plaque in the ground,” Elide said sweetly. “Isn’t that what you just said about your supposed TSF brother?” She fixed Lorcan with the stare she used when she was bending investors to her will. 

“Ummm…” To Aelin’s concealed shock, Lorcan actually blushed, stumbling for words, scratching the back of his neck. “In hindsight, that was callous of me.” 

“You could say that.” Dismissively, Elide turned back to her computer. “Oh, Aelin is here. You said something about a meeting?” 

Lorcan stood sharply up and, instinctively, saluted. “Salvaterre here.” 

“The consummate soldier.” Aelin smothered her laughter. “I wasn’t aware I had any kind of meeting scheduled with the TSF today, Captain.” 

“You can call me Lorcan,” he muttered. “And, uh, Whitethorn sent me.” 

“He didn’t tell me anything.” 

“My god—” Lorcan grumbled under his breath. “I can show you the text if you want, but he didn’t tell me shit either. Just ‘go ask if Galathynius knows anything about Fen’s apartment.’ Fuck if I know what he meant by that.” 

“You might want to remember that you’re in public,” Elide interjected, critiquing Lorcan’s uncensored language. 

He scoffed. “I’m a soldier, Li, like you so astutely observed. Soldiers cuss.” 

Salvaterre has a nickname for Elide?! Aelin forcibly tamped down her questions. “I’m afraid I have no idea what on earth my boyfriend meant, either. I’m sorry.” 

“I knew you were going to say that. Screw Whitethorn for making me do this.” Lorcan frowned, which seemed to be his usual expression. “Alright, if that’s it, I don’t need to be here.” He turned on his heel with a soldier’s precision and strode out of the office, trying to mask the brief, intense glance he threw at Elide as he left. Clearly, Rowan hadn’t told him how observant Aelin could be. 

When he was out of sight, Aelin braced her hands on Elide’s desk and stared at the petite brunette until she turned around, her face carefully blank. “So how long have you two been fucking?” 

Elide flushed bright pink. “Aelin!” She swatted the taller woman. “That’s none of your business.” 

“Not at work, maybe.” Aelin grinned, eagerly drumming her fingers on the desk. “You know I’m going to bother you until I get details, right?” 

“And you’ll get all the details you want when we go out on Friday.” Elide composed herself and flashed a smug little smirk at Aelin. “I’ll only tell you one thing.” 

“Gimme.” 

Elide’s smirk turned wicked. “Last Monday, I worked remotely because I couldn’t walk.” 

“Ells!” Aelin gasped, almost stunned speechless. “Actually, no. I can’t judge.” 

“You sure as hell can’t.” Elide winked as she turned back to her computer. “It’s always the broody, grumpy ones.” 

“Dear god.” Aelin laughed as she walked back to her office. Elide and Salvaterre—she definitely hadn’t seen that coming. 

But the more she thought about it…the more she dreaded what could happen. 

~

Rowan hated the industrial district. 

It didn’t have anything to do with class politics or some bullshit superiority complex, but more with the eerie feeling of being watched he had every time he was in that district. There was also the little fact that one of his recurrent nightmares featured a memory from a training mission gone horribly wrong in this district, but that wasn’t something he intended to address. Typically, when the TSF or Orynth PD had a call for an investigation site down in the industrial sprawl of southeast Orynth, he would dispatch a team and tell them to bring back their report, but he couldn’t push this scene onto anyone else. 

He had to go to Fen’s stakeout apartment in person. 

The creaky, probably mildewing door groaned as Rowan pulled it open and walked into the simple, shitty, one-bedroom apartment that Fenrys had lived in while he worked for Sardothien. There wasn’t much in the place—a dark green couch and a pair of mismatched side tables in the living room, an old, worn dining table with three chairs, some random dishes in the cupboards, a bed with plain gray sheets and an offensively bright pink comforter that was purely Fenrys’s style, a nightstand with two drawers. Rowan was hesitant to open those drawers, knowing too well what Fen always bragged he kept in his room, but to his relief, there wasn’t much in the nightstand. The only things he found were some newspapers, a few knives, one stray bullet casing, and two cheap burner cell phones. 

Two?

He shrugged, assuming Fen had bought another one for backup, pocketed both phones, and left the room. The kitchen, living room, and bathroom were already cleared out thanks to the team, and he tipped his head towards the bedroom, indicating that it was ready for cleanup. 

When the team left the apartment, Rowan had to let Luca be the one to lock the door. He couldn’t bear to see the emptiness, the blank space, the visible mark of absence. Fen’s phones felt like hundred-pound weights in his pocket as he climbed into his SUV and drove away, leaving the industrial district no more than a gritty smear in his rearview mirror. 

Back at his PD office, Rowan placed the cheap prepaid phones on his desk, turning each one over in his hands before he set them down and just stared, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do next. The investigator in him wanted to immediately search through the phones, the soldier in him wanted to just give the phones to Gav and be done with it, and the part of him that was Fen’s friend wanted to lock away all the evidence in a titanium box and bury the key. He dreaded what could happen, what would happen, when he eventually had to turn on the phone and hear Fen’s voicemail. 

As a TSF soldier, Rowan was no stranger to death. Grief, though—that one was new. 

His own phone buzzed, stealing his attention. He picked it up to find an incoming call from Lorcan Salvaterre. Groaning, he answered. 

“What.” 

“Am I supposed to thank you for sending me on some bullshit-ass trip?” Lorcan sounded at least mildly irritated. 

“Don’t see how a legitimate question was bullshit, but sure. You’re welcome.” 

“Fuck off,” Lorcan grumbled. “As for your answer, Galathynius doesn’t—”

“Her name is Aelin,” Rowan snapped. 

On the other end of the call, Lorcan snickered. “Aww, is pretty boy lieutenant a little sensitive about his girlfriend?” 

Rowan was about ten seconds away from punching his captain in the nose. “I don’t give a shit how superior you are to me, jackass, I’ll still kick your ass if you disrespect the woman I love.” 

“Well, turn me over and fuck me raw,” Lorcan drawled. “Whitethorn’s in love. We should check the temperature in hell.” 

“Fucking gods,” Rowan sighed, exasperated. “Yes. I’m in love. Tell me what you and Aelin talked about and then stop wasting my goddamn time.” 

“Fine, fine.” Lorcan snickered some more. “Aelin and I talked for about sixty seconds, fuck you very much for making me ask her that stupid fucking question. I asked if she knew anything about Fen’s apartment, she told me she didn’t fuckin’ know what I was talking about, and her body language and expression and everything else checked out for her telling the truth. So I apologized for you being a dick and making me bother her, and then I left.” 

Rowan grunted in frustration. “Yeah, I believe her too. There’s part of me that wants to keep pushing that suspicion, but I literally have nothing that proves any kind of link. She just mentioned that she sort of knew Fen, once, and I gotta cover my bases.” 

“Makes sense. You could’ve told me that before I had to haul ass over to Gal Inc and bullshit my way past half the staff just to see Aelin Galathynius for two minutes, though.” Lorcan was clearly disgruntled. 

“Where’d the fun be in that?” It was Rowan’s turn to snicker; he rarely got to push Lorcan’s buttons, and the few times he could give the man who was technically his superior a mundane task, he did it with glee. 

“Fucker,” Lorcan grunted. “I’ll kick your damn ass at the gym for that.” 

“And here I thought you had plans and couldn’t work out today. At least, not with me.” Rowan smirked. He had two hundred dollars riding on Lorcan’s “plans” being with a woman, though the tight-lipped asshole would never admit it outright. 

“Turns out my plans are late enough to make the gym. See you there, asshole.” Lorcan hung up. 

Rowan chuckled. There was really nothing like riling up an old friend to get his head off of things that he didn’t want to think about. Speaking of that…he reluctantly picked up one of Fen’s phones and pressed the side button, turning on the small screen. He knew the passcode, so he tapped it in and found the home screen fairly simple, with only a handful of basic apps. The list of contacts was brief and basic. 

Whitethorn. Him, as planned. 

Salvaterre. As a backup contact. 

Help Center. An auto-programmed number for the phone company. 

Boss. That was…surprisingly simple. Rowan’s finger twitched, but there was one more contact. 

Ma’am. That was…confusing. If Sardothien was Boss, why was she also Ma’am? Some kind of ploy to distract anyone who swiped the phone? Some nonexistent fake contact? 

His gut pointed towards the contact called Boss, since he knew from the few times he’d talked to Fen that Sardothien went by “Boss” among her circle of crooks. Hell, Fen had even called her “Boss,” no doubt to keep his cover intact. 

Before he could talk himself out of it, Rowan tapped Boss. The phone rang, five times, before there was a click and a male voice answered. 

“Who’s this?” 

“I need the Boss.” Rowan pitched his voice down to a rasp, his mind whirling in circles as he tried to identify why the fuck a man was answering for Sardothien and why the fuck his voice sounded familiar. 

Computer keys clacked faintly in the background. “Boss can’t talk right now.” 

“Why not?” 

“Boss can’t talk right now,” the man reiterated. “Keep trying.” He hung up. 

That last suggestion sounded distinctly like a threat, mildly voiced but wrapped in something sinister that promised, I will hunt you down and kill you. Rowan shuddered a bit just thinking about it. 

But why was there a man on the other end of that call? 

He sighed, shaking his head sharply. Because Sardothien is a goddamn crime boss, you fucking idiot. Of course she doesn’t answer her phone without security measures. That made sense, except for a few things. First, according to Fen’s info, Sardothien trusted him enough that she would have probably answered the call herself if she’d seen his name. Second, there was something oddly familiar about the other man’s voice, something Rowan couldn’t place. And that bothered the hell out of him. Third, he still hadn’t looked at the other phone. 

Something told him he might have better luck with the other burner. 

He turned on the second phone, which was a near-identical copy of the first, entered the passcode, and opened the contacts. This one was an exact replica of the first contact list, except for one thing. 

Con. 

Fen’s twin brother. 

Fen’s twin brother, who had last been seen over two years ago when he left for the Eastern Continent on what was supposed to be his last deployment with the Terrasen Navy SEAL team. Connall Moonbeam had been declared missing in action eight months after his deployment, and Rowan’s heart broke a little more just seeing Con’s name in Fen’s burner phone. It was a small but infinitely loud reminder of the man Fenrys had been—ever optimistic, always masking his darker emotions beneath a cloud of sunny laughter. 

Before he could drift farther into memories, Rowan pushed away from that contact and tapped on the one called Boss. Once again, the phone rang multiple times before the same man answered and the same conversation happened. Nothing more than Boss can’t talk right now before the guy hung up. 

Something was off. 

And Rowan would get to the damn bottom of it. 

~

“Boss.” The second Aelin picked up, Nox was talking. “He called.” 

“How many times?” As soon as she’d found out that Orynth PD and the TSF had gone through Fen’s apartment, Aelin had given Nox her Boss phone while she was at work. It was less risky for him to answer that phone than for her to accidentally pick up a TSF or PD call at a time when she couldn’t hide behind her Boss disguise. 

“Twice.” Nox was uncharacteristically quiet, no sounds of him working in the background. “Once from each number.” They both knew who he was. Rowan. 

Aelin took a controlled breath. “So he’s been to the apartment.” 

“Yeah, the cops came through on the 21st. I watched the footage.” 

“I wonder why it took them so long to get to the apartment,” Aelin mused, thinking aloud. “Normally, there would be cops crawling around within hours.” 

“I dunno. But Boss?” Nox sounded concerned. 

“Yeah?” 

He huffed a sigh. “I know you aren’t gonna like this, but please, please don’t answer any calls from Fen. I had your Boss phone earlier, so I answered both of them, but if and when Fen tries to call you again, don’t answer. It’s the cops, not him.” 

“I know.” Aelin closed her eyes. “I…thanks for taking those calls when they came, Owens.” 

“No problem, Boss.” Nox resumed typing on his keyboard. “Call me if he starts spamming you, yeah?” 

“Of course.” She hung up. 

If Fen calls, you can’t answer. 

It’s. Not. Him. 

The warning trickled through her blood like ice, cold and heavy. In her mind, Aelin knew that Fenrys couldn’t call her—she might see his name on her screen, but it would never again be Fenrys Moonbeam on the other side. In her heart, though, she still held a tiny spark of hope. There was always the slight chance that Connall could pick up one of the phones and call her. Yes, he had his own burner, but she knew how badly he wanted to collect Fen’s things, and he wasn’t afraid to get onto the wrong side of the law if it meant that he could bring his twin’s possessions home. 

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Connall called, his name lighting up her Boss phone. She answered, but she let him speak first. 

“It’s started.” As always, Con didn’t waste words. 

“What’s the timeline you’re anticipating?” Relieved that it was actually Connall—maybe it made her paranoid, but she was beginning to feel the investigation clamp down around Boss Sardothien—Aelin kicked herself into work mode. 

Con grunted. “Seven, eight weeks. Ideally six to seven weeks, but I don’t know if she’ll have built up any immunity as a protective measure.” 

“True.” Aelin drummed her fingers against the windowsill of her shitty Boss apartment. “I’d be surprised if she hadn’t, but then again, we can’t discount her massive fucking ego.” 

“Huh?” 

She’d forgotten that Connall didn’t know too much about Maeve’s past. “She was Hamel’s lover for years. You can’t do that without an ego the size of the goddamn sun.” 

“Well, shit.” Con hummed softly, probably scheming. “That explains why she pretty much just sits in her plush little seat all day, convinced that nobody can come and get her when she’s so far elevated above the rabble.” 

“Accurate description,” Aelin chuckled. “Right. I trust you, Con. Update me if anything significant happens, yeah?” 

“Sure, Boss. Will do.” Con hung up. 

Aelin sighed, tucking away the Boss phone. She turned back to the window and stared out over the Orynth skyline, murky as it was from the constant clouds of vapors that the warehouses and factories down in this district churned out. To tell the truth, she was counting down the days before she could stop having to live in this shitbox apartment, but she had to keep it for Celaena’s purposes. 

She’d give just about anything to move all of her shit out and erase Celaena’s presence from the crappy building, but there would be too many questions. Also, this place was conveniently close to the docks and the industrial sector of Orynth, both of which were key to her less-than-legal business. 

And nobody cared if she walked out of the building with a gun on her hip. 

Still…the ghosts that now clung to this building weighed down upon Aelin like a suit of iron, intangible but oppressively present. Now that the cops were done crawling all over the damn place, she felt safe enough to stay at the apartment occasionally, but she was triple-checking the locks and the security measures to make sure she didn’t have any unwanted guests. As much as she would enjoy shocking the fuck out of the cops and the TSF, she really didn’t care for the idea of being arrested, so she kept herself carefully cloaked behind her favorite armor: shadows and secrecy. 

Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her thoughts. She plucked it from her pocket, glanced at the screen, and did a double take, staring. 

Moon Moon.

Fen’s contact lit up the screen. 

Aelin’s finger quivered, itching to accept the call, but she forced her better judgment to win out and stopped herself. The screen went dark, only to start buzzing again only a minute later. 

Interesting. 

Once again, she refused to answer, instead waiting until the screen went dark before slipping down the short hallway into the bedroom and grabbing her custom-made leather mask from the nightstand. She wore it out anytime she went on a mission as Boss, and the filter built into the material disguised her voice, twisting it into a throaty rasp. 

As she’d expected, Moon Moon’s incoming call lit up her screen yet another time. She let it ring until it was almost at its limit, then swiped left to answer. 

There was a tense, drawn-out beat of silence. 

Then, the voice on the other end shattered the quiet. “Boss?” 

Fuck. 

It was Rowan. 

Aelin forced her scrambling wits back into place. “You’re not Moon Moon,” she rasped, the filter twisting her voice into gravel. 

“He’s dead.” That was Investigator Rowan, cold and blunt. 

She could be just as cold-hearted. “I know.” 

Predictably, Rowan took the next logical step. “Who killed him?” 

Aelin let the pause drag out, weighing whether to outright tell Rowan the truth or to simply leave him in silence as would fit the personality of Celaena Sardothien. 

“Who. Killed. Him?” Rowan repeated the question, his voice tight and hard. 

“Maeve.” Aelin’s response was short, blunt, and devoid of feeling. 

She hung up and scrubbed the call from her burner phone. 

Took a screwdriver and a heavy-duty plastic bag out of the drawer, pried the back off the phone, scratched up its inner parts, threw it into the bag, and beat the handle of the screwdriver into it until it was a wrecked pile of plastic, glass, and tiny circuit splinters. 

Then she changed into her Sardothien suit, secured her mask and hood, laced up her boots, strapped her pack across her back, and slipped soundlessly out the window, locking it tightly behind her. In minutes, she was no more than another shadow fading into the summer night. 

~

The recording was all of thirty seconds long, but it was all that Rowan had to work with, and for some reason, there was a tiny voice in the back of his head telling him that this was it. This was the piece he’d been missing. This call would be the key he needed to unlock the mystery of the Shadow Assassin. 

Rowan shuffled through reports as he waited for the software to do its job. He was running a program that was commonly used in PD, a fairly straightforward piece of work that could reverse voice filters placed on calls. It had helped him and many others catch all sorts of criminals in the past, and he had no doubt that it would reveal the true voice of whoever the fuck he’d spoke to last night. Her voice was familiar, striking some kind of chord in his mind, and he’d been turning over the possibilities ever since he’d grabbed the recording of that call. 

I know. Her cold, cruel response to the news of Fen’s death was…not what Rowan had expected. Then again, he hadn’t been expecting the Boss to answer, either, and look where that had got him. But that tone, that raspy drawl…why did he know it? 

He ran a few other phrases through his mind, a trick he had learned would often trigger voice recognition in his memory. Boss, murder, I know, take care of it, don’t move—

“Don’t move.” Something clicked faintly, the first tumbler of a combination lock. Threats, then…where had he heard that voice give threats? 

Move, and your next breath will be in the afterlife. The words slammed back into him with icy, steel-sharp recognition. The threat that the Boss had murmured to him when she’d caught him at her warehouse, knives to his throat and his…well…

Rowan’s computer pinged, indicating that the program was finished. Although the results were probably useless, since he’d just made the connection between the voice on the phone and the voice of the Boss, Celane Sardothien, one and the same. He turned back to the reports, his mind somewhat more settled, and managed to get through a good portion of them before he needed a few minutes to clear his head. He tapped on the file from the voice-filter reversal program, thinking he’d get a simple confirmation of what he’d already pieced together. 

The voice that spilled from his speakers froze his blood solid. 

“You’re not Moon Moon.” And then, coldly, “I know.” And finally, after he’d asked who killed Fen—twice—her answer. “Maeve.” 

He knew that voice. 

Knew it as intimately as he knew his own hand in the shower. 

Knew the soft throatiness of the laugh that so often accompanied that voice. 

Knew the caress of that voice as well as the caress of its speaker’s hands. 

It was Aelin. 

The world around him abruptly went utterly silent.

Rowan had been right—this call was the missing piece he needed in order to lay out the scattered puzzle of Celaena Sardothien. And he had also been horribly, horribly wrong—the revealed voice was not the unfamiliar rasp of a stranger, but the intimately familiar song of a lover. 

Celaena Sardothien wasn’t in league with Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. She wasn’t blackmailing the CEO like Rowan had theorized. No—Celaena Sardothien was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. She had the whole of Orynth, the whole of the goddamn world, duped into believing that the CEO and the criminal were two different people. Part of Rowan was awestruck by the sheer impossible intricacy of her scheming. The other part of him, the investigative part, the part of him that was focused only on capturing the Shadow Assassin, was completely and utterly shattered.

Aelin—Celaena—owned every jagged edge of his heart. And she had been murdering her way through Orynth while he fell in love with her. 

The breath escaped Rowan’s lungs in a fractured rush. Fuck, even his heartbeat and his breathing knew Aelin, knew the impossibly calming effect she had on his ragged nerves. Had she really stood by his side at Fen’s memorial, black-clad and teary-eyed, holding his hand and keeping him together? Had she really been mourning, or was it all a ruse? Had she duped him along with the rest of Orynth? 

Did her I-love-you’s mean anything, or were they part of her schemes as well?

Pieces dropped into place before Rowan’s eyes as he stared blankly into space, torn between the investigative desire to bury himself in the case and the sheer force of his heart cracking into a thousand porcelain shards at his feet. Aelin was Celaena; Aelin is Celaena. Which meant that not only was she behind a horrifically impressive string of murders, but also that there was a distinct possibility that her company and her lab were involved in her nefarious business. That would make sense, since the lab was the site of Fen’s death, and the cause had been some kind of booby trap. 

Abruptly, Rowan laughed, the sound harsh and caustic. After eight months, he had his concrete proof, everything he needed to bring the Shadow Assassin down. But knowing who she was…

In his ten years in the TSF, Rowan Whitethorn had never once doubted his ability to capture a criminal. All he needed was a name, a gun, and his wits. 

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius—Celaena Sardothien—had shattered his confidence. 

In every possible way. 

~~~

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[highqueenofelfhame]

rowaelin // 5.3k words // ciwyw mastlist // playlist // masterlist

It had been a frustrating day to begin with. After failing to sleep for more than a collective two hours the night before, Rowan had tried to carry on with his day like he would any other Sunday. The conversation with Aelin, and more importantly her response, pounding with every slap of his shoes against the treadmill. Not even a full leg-day workout could dispel the dreadful, anxious energy brewing at the forefront of his mind. 

Lorcan had showed up at the house early in the afternoon and chewed his ass out for the red card. He was fully in Team Captain mode for the full lecture, barely letting Rowan get a word in edgewise. At some point he gave up on defending himself and let Lorcan get his rant out. Once he was finished, he’d flopped onto Rowan’s couch and gestured vaguely with his hands.

“Alright. Your turn. Talk about it.”

“I already told you I was sor–” He’d started, hands bracing his knees as he debated groveling on his knees for Lorcan to let up. It had been a long enough weekend and he couldn’t handle another half hour. Sure, he deserved being called a stupid, selfish bastard, but he was tired. There wasn’t much left for him to say other than he was sorry, and he’d already done that multiple times.

“I’m not talking about the match. The girl. Something’s bothering you, so talk. The other idiots aren’t here to give you shit about it.” The man had a point. Without everyone else there to make subtle digs, it was easier for him to nod his head and dive headfirst into the clusterfuck of a situation he was in with Aelin. 

To his credit, Lorcan listened to every word until it was all laying before them like a jigsaw puzzle. The pieces were hard to put together because there were about a million of them, all tiny, and several of them were missing entirely. Rowan couldn’t find the corners and didn’t know which way was up or down. Lorcan listened anyway. The migraine that had been coming on for the last few hours hit in full force when Lorcan compared it all to a fucking onion. 

“Give her space. Give her time. The shit with Lyria is a lot to unpack on its own. Add into it that you’ve found yourself in a similar, however different, situation with Aelin… it would be a lot for anyone. It’s an onion, mate. Shit has fucking layers to it.” Rowan had given him a flat look that caused Lorcan to raise his hands in front of his chest. “I’m just saying. Might also be a lesson to check the expirations on those rubbers before you use them, too. Twice in one lifetime? You are one unlucky bastard.”

“You’re not helping,” Rowan glowered, eyes narrowed into little slits. Even if it was good advice, it didn’t do him a lick of good at this point. So much for not getting any shit about this.

“What brand did you use? I need to avoid those fuckers like the plague.”

“Lorcan,” Rowan sighed exasperatedly, all ten fingers raking through his hair until it was a mess of tangles. 

“Just give her the space she asked for, Ro. She told you what to do. So do it.”

“It’s hard to give her space when I just want to be with her all the time,” he finally admitted, slumping back against the sofa. The position did nothing to help the throbbing in his head, but he didn’t move. 

“I really need to meet this woman if she has you, of all people, wound so tight you look like you’re about to explode,” Lorcan said with the shake of his head. “Do you think she’s worth all the trouble?” 

Rowan didn’t have to think about it. The answer was a huge, resounding yes. She was worth fighting for. He said as much and Lorcan nodded, eyes focused on the empty fireplace. 

“For what it’s worth… I’ve never seen you as happy as you are when you talk about her. Don’t get me wrong, until she cuts you a break and gives you a real chance, she’s on my shit-list. But she makes you happy. I’ve never seen you this way about a woman and I think… I think she pulls out the best parts of you.” Lorcan’s confession made Rowan’s chest feel a little tight. “Except for when she’s the reason you’re so pissed off you get carded.”

They had both shared a quiet laugh at that, then spent the rest of the evening sipping beer and watching the major sports channels for highlights of the other games that happened over the weekend. 

Hours later, Rowan truly was about to explode. Sleep was already hard to find despite scouring every drawer and pocket in his brain. When his phone pinged, hope had swelled that it was Aelin. As much as he loved to see her smiling face lighting up his phone, it was not what he had in mind. 

Rowan Whitethorn liked to think of himself as a man with self control and reason. Amongst his teammates he was known for being level-headed, someone that thought things through and didn’t jump the gun. To his core, he always had been those things– until he met Aelin Galathynius, and he was unraveling quicker than a dropped spool of thread. 

You know, the one that rolled under the bed and there was no hope of getting it back unless you kept pulling on the string. The spool would re-emerge from the shadows once the thread was in a mess of a knot at your feet and there was absolutely no hope of getting it wrapped back around its little home neatly. In fact, you might even scrap the whole thing and throw it in the garbage because the reward didn’t outweigh the tedious task at hand. 

Rowan felt like that unraveled spool of thread as he stared at his phone screen at two in the morning, the simple plastic phone case groaning under the pressure of his white-knuckled grip. The edges of his vision were hazy because he hadn’t blinked a single time since he saw the picture that Fenrys sent him. 

Mala fucking help him, he was going to murder his teammate. A brutal, bloody murder. Rowan had never been so sure that he was going to end up in fucking jail. 

Aelin was radiant– something that had been missing from her the last time he saw her. The woman in the picture was exactly the woman that had ripped his heart from his chest before he even knew what was happening. The more muted version he’d had over the weekend still held his throbbing, bleeding heart. But the woman beaming in the photo was the one who stole it in the first place. 

Her hair was down, the golden waves cascading over her shoulders and out of frame. With rose-kissed cheeks and plump, sensual lips spread wide in one of the smiles she used to give him, she was devastating. A little tipsy from his afternoon with Lorcan, Rowan had to physically restrain himself from tracing the shape of her mouth with his fingers. Gods, when did he become such a sap?

The first photo was just her. A tiny cocktail straw was between her teeth, eyes closed from the force of her smile. Her eyelashes seemed to graze the top of her cheeks they were so long. Because of the angle of the photo, taken from a lower, upturned angle, one of the golden lightbulbs gave her a halo. It was fitting, because she was a fucking angel. 

>> She’s even more beautiful in person. 

Rowan knew that. He was well aware of how fucking beautiful she was. But why did Fenrys know that? Why was he discovering the truth of it at two in the godsdamn morning? 

>> What the fuck? 

<< I mean, if you’re not going to, she should get it from somewhere. You haven’t had sex in her bed yet, have you?

>> Fenrys I swear to the fucking gods if you touch her I’m not responsible for what happens to your face.

The picture that followed made him want to throw his phone across the room and hope it shattered into a million pieces he couldn’t put back together. Someone across the table had taken it, probably Connall if he had to guess. Aelin’s arm was around Fenrys’s neck and they were cheek to cheek with matching smiles. Mischief was wild in Fen’s eyes while Aelin just looked… happy. 

And then he noticed, just at the edge of the picture, how low on her hip his godsdamn hand was and he thought he was going to lose his mind. Yep. He was definitely going to be arrested for homicide in a few hours. The mugshot would be in every newspaper in the country, across the world, and he didn’t care. 

>> She’s just wearing minty lip balm. My face will be nothing but hydrated and tasty.

<< You motherfucker

>> Well… not yet 😉

And then Fenrys stopped replying. 

The self-control and level-headedness he had once prided himself in was nowhere to be seen. He tried to pull on the thread of his sanity, to tell himself it didn’t matter, that all of this was fine. Yet every time he looked back at the screen, every muscle and tendon in his body was so taught it felt as though one movement would have them all in ribbons. 

Rowan hadn’t ever had a relationship where he felt the need to protect as much as he did with Aelin. Maybe it was partially because of the baby, but a roaring silence filled his head at the thought of her with another man, least of all Fenrys fucking Moonbeam. If Fenrys respected any kind of friendship code, he wouldn’t even act like he was thinking about toeing that line. 

It felt stupid. They were barely dating and only knew the tip of the iceberg with each other. Still, there was something so different with her. For the first time in almost a decade, he had let his guard down. There were no mile high cement walls around his heart with nowhere to grasp to climb up and over. He was just Rowan, an unopened book with unexplored pages begging to be read.  

It was highly unlikely that he was the only person that found himself inexplicably drawn to her. She was sweeter and more intoxicating than any drug, than any brand of alcohol money could buy.  Aelin Galathynius had the energy of someone that you just wanted to taste once, because once she was gone you wouldn’t experience anything like her ever again. Coming so close to losing her, Rowan was keenly aware of that fact, and he wasn’t sure how he would ever move on if they didn’t really give themselves the chance to explore it. They were opposite ends of two very strong magnets. It was impossible that she didn’t feel that, too. 

Rowan Whitethorn didn’t open up to just anybody. He didn’t let people in. Aelin wasn’t just a fluke. He was absolutely sure of it. 

The thoughts wouldn’t stop chattering through his brain. Words flashed behind his closed eyelids a thousand miles a minute, leaving nothing but explosions of stars and colors where he tried to rub them away. Every time he looked at his phone, the desire to get in his car and drive to Aelin’s grew stronger and stronger. It was becoming an itch that he couldn’t he couldn’t ignore, and once the sun finally started to peek in through his blinds, he was rolling out of bed and nearly running to shower and change clothes. 

By the time eight rolled around, he had forced a small bowl of cereal down his throat and downed what was probably too many cups of coffee. By eight-fifteen, Rowan was in his car and speeding toward the highway to Varese with something that belonged to Aelin sitting in his front seat. 

~*~

Rowan felt… Well, he felt insane. 

Not for the first time, he was asking himself what the fuck he was doing as he knocked on the door to Aelin’s apartment. At several red lights through the city, he debated going home. Halfway up the staircase, he had paused and gone down three steps, only to turn around and march right back up and to her door. The echoing of his fist on the wood had him hesitating once again, wondering if he should just get in his car and go home. He had no clue what he was doing here, besides just needing to see her and make sure that both she and the baby were okay, regardless of her late night activities. 

That’s what he was telling himself, anyway. 

In the ten agonizing seconds it took for him to head footsteps from inside her apartment, he almost turned and bolted. Rowan was well aware that he was being a territorial fool. Evidently there was no reasoning with that very stupid and very irrational part of his brain, even as the clicking and sliding of locks had him wondering how quickly he could make it down a flight of stairs without being caught. 

“Oh,” came her surprised voice, wide eyes and raised brows to match. It was his very favorite version of Aelin that opened the door. All of her golden hair was in a messy knot on the top of her head, a few pieces framing her face. Much to his satisfaction, he realized she was wearing the shirt he’d told her she could keep a few days prior. A pair of little black shorts peeked out from the hem, and the long expanse of her bare legs had him almost forgetting why he was there in the first place. “What are you doing here?”

Her voice brought his eyes back to her face. There was no evidence of the makeup she’d had on the night before and though he could tell by looking at her that she was exhausted, he could also see that she had at least a few hours of good sleep. The skin around her eyes was a little puffy and a few lines were tattooed on her cheeks from her pillow or the blanket. 

“Did I wake you up?”

“No, no. I’ve been awake for like half an hour. Just haven't gotten to dragging myself out of bed yet since I’m not going to the office today.” Right. It was Monday. In his hazy stupor, Rowan had entirely forgotten that she should have been going to work.

“Are you too sick today?” Rowan was immediately on edge, searching her face and body for any sign of what would keep her from working. There was no point– she was downright glowing today. A healthy blush heated her cheeks and he could almost make out the small smattering of freckles across her nose from where he stood across the threshold. 

“No,” she said simply. “I feel really good today, actually. You didn’t answer me. What are you doing here, Rowan?”

“You forgot your toothbrush at my house,” he said lamely, patting at his pockets. Fuck. “It was purple? I left it in my car.”

“I did leave it at your house because that’s the one you bought for me to keep there.” There was laughter in her words as she spoke, like she was bringing up an inside joke they’d made. Mirth danced in her brilliant turquoise eyes despite her face contorting with confusion as she asked again, her tone softer this time, “What are you doing here, Rowan?”

What a loaded fucking question. He sure as hell didn’t know. How many times on the way here had he asked himself the same thing? 

He didn’t have to answer it directly, though, because he realized her shower was running down the hall. Before he could stop himself he blurted, “Is that Fenrys?” 

“Fen– what?” There was so much disbelief in her voice, but she started laughing. “You drove all the way up here to see if Fenrys spent the night with me?” 

Rowan wasn’t sure if the laughter was a good thing or a bad thing. It was impossible to tell if she was laughing at him for being so stupid he thought he had any right to know about her private life when he wasn’t around, or if she was laughing because the idea was so stupid and he had nothing to be worried about. He was inclined to think it was the former, because even though Fenrys liked to rile him up, he didn’t know if he would push Rowan quite so hard.

“Hey, bub? You hungry?” A voice, one that was distinctly not Fenrys’s shouted from the bathroom. In that one, tiny pet name, Rowan’s entire heart sank through the floor. If he looked down, he was sure he would be standing in a puddle of his own blood. The world had gone very quiet, his fingers suddenly freezing as he stuffed them into his pockets.

“Yes,” she called back, her eyes not leaving Rowan’s face.

Aelin was seeing someone else. It wasn’t a thought that had ever occurred to him until those texts from Fenrys, but now it was glaringly obvious. She had already said once that their relationship wasn’t supposed to turn into anything serious. Had she been seeing other men the whole time? It wasn’t like they’d ever talked about being exclusive in any shape or form. They had plenty of time away from each other. He never would have known. It couldn’t even be considered cheating. 

“Rowan,” she said, bottom lip tucked between her teeth to swallow her smile.

“I’ll… I’m sorry. I’ll let you get back to the guy in the shower,” he half-mumbled, crossing his arms to hide his shaking hands. 

And then she was well and truly laughing. It was a bright, melodious sound that under any other circumstance, he would have loved to pull out of her, to bottle up and get drunk on it whenever he pleased.. But right here, right now? Rowan was fucking gutted, and she was giggling like he’d said the funniest thing in the world. 

Rowan had just turned to start walking away when she collected herself enough to say, “You mean my cousin?” 

Time stopped. His blood was pumping in reverse to turn back the clock, to take everything he’d just said and wipe it from existence. Even his movements felt slower as he looked at her, fire licking up his neck and covering his face. The tips of his ears would be nearly purple and if he walked out into the humid air, his body would be steaming. She could probably feel the heat of his body from where she stood in the doorway. 

Rowan had never been so fucking embarrassed in his entire life. 

“Yeah, I– I am so sorry. I’ll talk to you later,” he grumbled, turning on his heel to make his swift exit and go die in peace. Recovery wasn’t an option. There was absolutely no coming back from this. 

~*~

The plan with Fenrys had either gloriously backfired, or he put much more into the prank than expected. She made a mental note to text him about that later, but there wasn’t time for that now. 

Aelin stepped through the door and caught Rowan’s hand before he was too far away. He felt feverish, like his immune system was trying to burn out the embarrassment before it could settle too much. It took a lot of tugging but he stopped trying to escape her presence. His footsteps were heavy on the old wood floors as she dragged him back toward her apartment.

“I really just want to go,” he told her, tattooed fingers sliding through his hair. It was down for once, not braided or tied out of his face. 

“Look at me.” But he wouldn’t. Green eyes stayed glued to a spot well above her head, looking at anything but her. Yes, it had been funny that he thought that Aedion was a random hookup. But the devastation on his face had done nothing but wreck her in return. The laughter was partially an involuntary response to an awkward situation, but also because it was cute that he was so worried about it. Rowan had absolutely nothing to be worried about. 

“Aelin–” The more she reached for him, the more he leaned away. He took one step back and she took one forward, refusing to let him leave while so upset. Aelin reached up, her cool hands resting on his warm cheeks as she gently guided his face to look at her. Before he could protest or slip further from her grasp, she rocked up onto her tiptoes and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his lips. All ten of his fingers were shaking when they came to rest on her hips and it broke her heart. 

“Take a breath,” she whispered, sliding her hands down his neck and over his chest. Rowan’s eyes were still closed as he rested his warm forehead against her own, but he obeyed. “Fenrys was just fucking with you. Clearly he took it way too far and I am so sorry. We will most definitely be having words about that.” 

Before he could respond, from the depths of her apartment Aedion once again shouted for her and Rowan’s hands flexed on her hips. Aelin sighed and grabbed his hands, walking backwards with him until they were inside. Her fingertips were able to reach around him to push the door shut, sealing him inside with her. 

“Aedion, can you shut the fuck up and come out here and talk to me like a normal person? You’re freaking out my boyfriend and he’s been through enough for today.” Aedion’s hurried footsteps down the hall and the click of his door shutting was the only response she was given, likely to hurry and dress for their sudden company. 

Rowan looked inclined to agree with her sentiments, but didn’t say anything as she walked to the kitchen to get him some water. There was something off about him, and not just because of the trauma Fenrys had inflicted on him, nor the embarrassment that still stained his cheeks. He seemed almost… dim. All of the energy he’d had mere moments ago was vanishing before her eyes. His posture was a deflated balloon hovering inches from the ground a week after the party. 

“Are you hungry?” She asked, taking his hand and guiding him to the couch. Rowan shrugged as she nudged for him to sit in the corner while she curled onto the middle cushion beside him, her legs leaning against his thigh. If anything, she hoped it would ground him from the hell he’d been dragged through in the last few hours. “When was the last time you slept?”

Rowan exhaled, his cheeks puffing out with the gust of air. Dark circles haunted the skin beneath his eyes, which were bloodshot, making the green of them all the more piercing. Aelin frowned at his lack of response, tugging on his sleeve until he looked at her. 

“The fact that it’s taking you so long to figure it out tells me enough.” As though they couldn’t help themselves, despite her telling him she needed space, her traitorous fingers reached out and brushed his hair out of his eyes. 

“It’s been a few days,” He admitted, attempting to rub the tiredness away with his thumb and forefinger. “And my head is fucking killing me.”

“Let’s eat some breakfast and then we can nap, yeah? I’d tuck you in right now but I’m starving and I think you probably need to eat a bit, too.” 

A crease appeared between his eyebrows, lips pursing into a line as he looked over at her and said, “Is that… okay? You said you wanted space. I’m not exactly giving it to you by showing up like this.” 

“Considering I’ve barely been awake for an hour and could already use a nap, I’m going to go with yes. Besides, I do want you to meet Aedion while he’s here.” Thank the gods, his lips quirked into a small smile. Relief fluttered through her chest. She had never been so happy to see somebody smile at her before. 

Just as he opened his mouth to respond, however, Aedion’s door opened and he appeared in the archway to the hall. Aelin looked over at her cousin with a look that threatened violence if he tried the man beside her even a little too hard. Much to her surprise, Aedion gave a short nod before walking closer to the couch.

“Aedion, meet Rowan. Rowan, this is Aedion.” Aelin was a little surprised that Rowan mustered the muscle power to stand and shake hands. “Rowan is very tired so save the groveling for later, please.”

“I think you should be telling him to save my ass-kicking for later,” Rowan amended, sitting back on the couch. Aelin grinned as he looked over at her. “I can assume you told him what I’ve done.” 

“And that you’re very sorry,” she added sweetly, but her glance at Aedion was sharp as a dagger. Though his mouth had opened, likely to throw his own little quip into the sparring ring, it shut immediately.

“We’ll talk about it another time,” Aedion said simply, dropping onto the sofa beside Aelin with enough force that she bounced. She scowled at him, her hand immediately going to cover her stomach. “What are we eating?” 

Half an hour later they had brunch delivered to the apartment, the three of them sitting knee to knee on the couch. The sofa in question had been chosen for the luxurious aesthetic it provided, but she made a mental note to look at sectionals. There was no way she could have any other visitors with only this and the overstuffed chair in the corner for seating. 

Though he said a few things here and there, most of the conversation was Aelin and Aedion’s casual banter. While they did talk a little bit about the game he was carded in and what he expected for the rest of the season, as the conversation went on Rowan seemed to keep drawing further and further into himself. His broad shoulders were caved in and that wrinkle between his eyebrows got deeper and deeper. It looked like it was taking an astronomical amount of effort to keep his eyes open.

When they finished, Aelin and Rowan settled back against the couch while Aedion cleaned everything up. She had intended to just check a few emails before getting Rowan to bed, but he dozed comically fast. The email was half-read when she locked her phone and contemplated the best way to wake him gently. 

“This is the man that got the first red-card of his career for being so fucking pissed on Friday?” Aedion asked incredulously. 

“So it would seem.”

“You’ve never seen him play–” But Aelin cut him off with a shake of her head.

“I have. I watched the game until he got kicked out and then drove to Doranelle.”

“Before that,” his hand cut through the air, dismissing her. Aelin gave him a flat look before looking back at the man snoozing beside her. “He’s a demon, Aelin. When he’s on the field every move is calculated and with purpose. His face is always harsh and his body is always locked and loaded for the next play. Yet here he is, falling asleep on your couch with his mouth open. He might start drooling.” Aedion put his hands on his knees and leaned forward to get a closer look. 

Aelin grinned, eyes cutting back to Aedion. She couldn’t help it. “Be nice, he’s getting old.”

She knew it was true. Ever since uncovering the truth about his job, she had spent an embarrassing amount of time watching highlight videos of his career online. Every photo she saw that was snapped mid-match, his face was all hard lines and angles like he was in the middle of a battlefield fighting for his life. On the soccer pitch, he looked like a warrior that had been honed for battle. Here, on her couch asleep,  he just looked like Rowan. The real Rowan, and she was pretty sure not many people saw this side of him. 

“He looks younger like this,” he observed, eyes squinting as if he could see the soccer persona in his face if he tried hard enough. It was nowhere to be seen, though.

“Probably because he isn’t awake to frown at me.”

“Yeah, no way this is the same guy that fought his way to a red-card before halftime,” Aedion concluded. Aelin snorted, her hand flying to her mouth to muffle the sound. Rowan didn’t so much as twitch. 

“I’m pretty sure he almost cried when he heard you yell at me from the bathroom. He thought…” Involuntary giggles bubbled through her chest and out of her mouth, “He thought you were a hookup from last night.”

“That’s gross.” Aedion’s lips were downturned as he straightened, arms folding across his chest. “He almost cried?”

“That’s where it gets not-so- funny. Whatever Fenrys said to him really fucked him up.” She sighed then, reaching to trace his cheekbone with her fingertip. Rowan did stir then, eyes blinking rapidly as he took in a brute of a man staring down at him curiously and the feeling of Aelin’s skin on his. “Come on. Let’s go take a nap.”

In the most adorable protest of the century, Rowan started grumbling incoherently in the old language. Aelin smiled, only catching a few words here and there that equated to him insisting he wasn’t tired and they could nap later. His eyes betrayed him. They were heavy, blinking slowly and trying to roll back in his head. 

“This is one argument you sure as hell aren’t going to win.” Aelin pulled him to his feet and guided him to her room. When she plopped him onto the edge of the bed his protesting started up again. 

“What’s in it for me?” Sleepy, bleary eyes looked up at her as he refused to lay down. Aelin was standing between his legs with her hands on his shoulders, an eyebrow cocked to silently tell him he was being ridiculous.

“Besides sleeping for the first time in a couple days?” Rowan nodded, his fingertips grazing up her thighs and settling on her hips. She laughed, pushing his hair behind his ears. They would definitely be talking about his sleepless nights later.  “What do you want?”

“A kiss, please.” His response was so immediate it made her heart play hopscotch in her chest. Sleepy Rowan might just be her favorite thing in the entire world. Not even cotton candy could make her feel so light and sweet. 

“Okay, deal,” Aelin leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead. Rowan swore in the old language but laid flat on his back and let her pull the blankets over his body. 

“Should have been more specific,” he mumbled, pulling on her hand until she crawled over him to the other side of the bed and nestled into the sheets beside him. She let him pull her close until they were pressed flush together. A weight she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying fell from her shoulders,  replaced by his arms around her body. Aelin didn’t pull away but snuggled into him as much as she could, her face against his chest as she deeply inhaled the scent that was so completely Rowan. The scent that was home. 

“You should have,” she agreed, but Rowan was already asleep.

@elentiyawhitethornn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp  @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn  @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme  @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294  @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @backtobl4ck @shyvioletcat @bellasbookboyfriends @icantfindmychashma

[whatreallyhappenedinbudapest]

"Far up the hill, as if they had come racing down from the mountains and had not stopped for food or water or sleep, were a towering man, a massive bird, and three of the largest predators she had ever seen.

Five in all.

Answering their friend's desperate call for aid."

if this doesn't have you screaming and kicking your feet and throwing the book across the room I don't know what will.

[highladyofterrasen7]

I want a cadre pre-aelin book

Coz they’ll act like a bunch of immature children

[jayktoralldaylong]

I don't think I'm ever going to get over Connall Moonbeam. I have tried and I have kept failing. It makes it especially worse that there's such few edits of him or fanart of him. It's like he never existed, like he was never even there, Fenrys' shadow even in death.

He hated his life so much. His only desire was to be more. Then that horrid selfish desire ended up with both he and his brother trapped in hell and he had to watch as Fenrys was stripped of all the things that made him bright and shiny over and over again, and maybe hate himself. Hate himself for being the reason that Fenrys' always suffer. For being the anchor that keeps Fenrys from ever sailing away from Maeve. Cause Fenrys would rather die than serve Maeve, but he won't let himself die because that would mean abandoning Connall.

I'm never getting over wondering if Connall ever knew how much Fenrys loved him and that just completely breaks my heart. Everyone always calls Fenrys brash, reckless, wild, like he's something annoying they have to put up with, unlike levelheaded Connall. Fenrys admired all the parts that Connall hated of himself. Fenrys was so proud, he'd boast of his brother, was protective of his brother, admired that Connall could do all the things that he couldn't do. He was so proud of his brother and proud of himself, and he thought if they ever escaped Maeve they would leave together, because Fenrys still dreamed of freedom even after Maeve tore him apart again and again. Connall must hage admired Fenrys' firey drive but also worried for him so much. Worried every time Fenrys provoked Maeve and he ended up in punishment. "I told you to behave" he basically says. And with the way his hands were shaking, with how Maeve said she wanted to cleanse her court, you just KNOW Fenrys was the one ordered to be executed so Connall gave his heroic reckless brother one final gift.

My Roman empire is Maeve stealing away Connall's last words. He couldn't speak at all with the pride he actually has for his brother, the relief that Fenrys has found a queen who would love him and beg for him. He couldn't even tell his brother he loved him, instead admitting the childish hate he still stored in his heart because of course Connall hated Fenrys, in the way siblings hate each other. In the way you hate someone who's better than you in every way but still desperately want them to success. And Fenrys watching his brother hit the ground without being able to speak, to beg, to mourn, to say anything. Fenrys getting forced to service Maeve with his brother's body right beside him, defiling Connall even in death. That Fenrys has no idea what they did with his brother's body. That Fenrys thought he'd get to see that black face mirroring his own face for a long long time. Those wise eyes, that mouth that was not so quick to smile. His brother, his reason, his heart, his comfort, the only one able to understand him completely, Maeve took him away.

Now when Fenrys opens his eyes there is no Connall nearby that understands his secret messages, right down to his small barks. No one who gets what he's trying to say even when he's not saying it. No one but Aelin, and thank God for Aelin because Fenrys keeps losing the people who truly cared. It would make him feel what was the use of being amazing and brave and heroic when he can't protect the things he truly wants to protect.

Fenrys lost his second half and could say and do nothing about it. No secret messages, no secret smiles. A silence so loud every time he jerks out of a nightmare and doesn't see a black wolf nearby, or a dark Fae with his face who understands his heart. And Connall, gone like a whisper of wind. Who even stops to think of him? Who remembers him? He didn't even fight in the war, no one will sing for him. And Connall understood this, when Fenrys was the only one to return with Maeve. Understood they had found a Queen worthy of serving, and of course Fenrys had found that queen first. Fenrys' Queen, the Queen Fenrys deserved while he (Connall) was stuck with Maeve. So he died with Maeve, to set Fenrys free. So that never again would Fenrys break free of Maeve and ever look back. He accepted being a whisper, being a memory that would live only in Fenrys heart.

Nameless is Aelin's name. Erased is Connall's. Erased with barely a legacy. Erased. Erased. Erased. Fenrys' precious brother. The one he sacrificed his freedom for. The one he'd do anything for. His one Achilles heel. Erased.

I hate Maeve. Maeve erased his twin brother.

[shadowqueenjude]

Y’all is SJM ever going to write the cadre members’ backstories or should I just write them myself?

[scarlet742]

Mysteries of Maasverse 2:

WHAT DID LORCAN DO !?

[summerbummin]

Thinking about Fenrys and Connall’s birthday and how broken Fenrys will feel on his first birthday without his twin

[bookwxrmish]

Who in the Cadre™ has the biggest ass?

[acourtofquestions]

Maeve: *pointing between Fenrys & Connall* You two remind me of me and my sisters… We used to fight all the time… Mora would say I’m brainwashing her, I’d accuse them of trying to let my demon-ex-husband in to kidnap me, Mab would accuse me of trying to stab her… ya know sister stuff? *laughs*

Connall: *just nod along*

Maeve: Trust me, if I wanted to stab her, that skank be stabbed.

Fenrys: *mouths at camera* oh my gods, did she kill her?👀