#I need Lorcan to grovel like I need air | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cicada-bones · 4 years ago

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The Warrior and the Wildfire

Chapter 6: The Forgotten Child

Sorry about that last cliffhanger! (though I hope my speedy update will help! I start school again this week - so I knew I needed to get this out before my workload started to pile up again)

Please let me know what you think! I know im really bad about replying to comments, but I promise I love and appreciate every single one ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

word count: 6619

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As they entered, Aedion rose from his seat at the kitchen table. It seemed he had spent the past hour just sitting around, waiting for them. And stewing. However, now that he had finally removed his cloak, Rowan could actually get a good look at the young demi-Fae.

He was tall, over six feet, and surprisingly well-muscled. He wasn’t ambidextrous, but from the way he carried himself, it seemed as though his swordsmanship might be just as proficient off the left side as the right. And he had this certain…arrogance, a weight in his step and a glint in his eyes, that told Rowan he’d been winning his fights for perhaps a bit too long.

And those eyes, those Ashryver eyes – they were so like Aelin’s that Rowan almost felt they might even be twins. Along with that golden hair, the hard cheekbones, and those broad shoulders – Aelin and Aedion were two side of the same gold coin.

Though Rowan didn’t think he would’ve ever expected to discover that Aelin was the tamer side of that coin.

The second Rowan appeared at Aelin’s side, he felt Aedion’s gaze lock with his. And the challenge that burned in it had not dimmed one bit.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. But he felt sighing. With everything they were facing, with the King and the Valg and Arobynn and the keys and everything, the gods still had to go and foist another Fenrys on him?

Aedion’s eyes flicked over him, appraising. “You never bothered to tell me how handsome your faerie prince is, Aelin.”

She scowled, and a muscle in Rowan’s jaw pulsed. But before he could speak, Aedion was jutting his chin at him and saying, “Tomorrow morning, you and I are going to train on the roof. I want to know everything you know.”

Aelin clicked her tongue. “All I’ve heard from your mouth these past few days is Prince Rowan this and Prince Rowan that, and yet this is what you decide to say to him? No bowing and scraping?”

Aedion just sat back down, his smirk plastered to his face.

Yep, just like Fenrys.

“If Prince Rowan wants formalities, I can grovel, but he doesn’t look like someone who particularly cares.”

Well, if this was the game the young wolf wished to play, Rowan could certainly oblige him. So he made sure his face was carefully blank before he replied. “Whatever my queen wants.”

The scent of pepper and burnt wood was so strong Rowan could practically feel Aelin’s irritation. But still, he didn’t tear his eyes away from the young warrior-prince.

And Aedion just stared right back, stared as if he were used to everyone quickly looking away, stared as if this was the first time his power had been truly questioned in years. And it made Rowan realize that Aedion had actually expected that Rowan would yield to him. Without a fight.

If they were in Doranelle – or actually even if they were just outside, and not in this tiny wooden box where neither of them could escape Aelin’s watchful gaze – Rowan would make the demi-Fae pay for his insolence.

He wouldn’t kill him – no, just teach the warrior-prince a lesson he would be unlikely to forget.

It didn’t matter that Aedion was her family, didn’t matter that Aelin might care for her cousin more than she did for Rowan. Didn’t matter that she and Aedion had so much more history, or that they carried each other’s scents – Rowan was her bloodsworn. Her carranam.

Rowan was Aelin’s Second until she informed him otherwise. And Aedion would have to learn to accept that. Just as Rowan would accept whatever place Aelin decided that Aedion would take in her court. Even if that place was in her bed.

Rowan heard the brush of fabric as Aelin leaned against the sink, folding her arms tight against her chest. “If you’re going to have a pissing contest, can you at least do it on the roof?”

Once again, Rowan was the one to break their stare, turning to look at Aelin with his brows raised. Pissing contest?

She just frowned at him. Don’t kill my cousin, please.

“She says we’re no better than dogs,” Aedion said, filling the silence. “So I wouldn’t be surprised if she actually believes we’d piss on her furniture.”

But as he spoke, the warrior-prince’s scent wafted over Rowan, and this time, it was easy to smell Aelin on him. To pick the scent apart, note by note, and sense every emotion, every facet.

Rowan could taste the snow on him, the winds of Terrasen. Could taste the years of the sweat and blood of battle. Could even taste the Fae blood pumping through his veins – the wildness, and the magic. And then Rowan got that feeling again, that feeling of something familiar…something he just couldn’t quite place.

That familiar thing wasn’t Aelin after all. It was something else – someone else…

“Aedion needs a bath, too, I know,” Aelin said, noticing his strange concentration.. “He insisted on smoking a pipe at the taproom. He said it gave him an air of dignity.”

Rowan tilted his head to the side, sniffing at the air, only barely registering Aelin’s words.

Aedion realized that Rowan was scenting him, and he shifted in his seat, his face twisting into a concerned, inquisitive expression. A look that Rowan knew very well. It was an expression he had seen thousands of times before, in hundreds of planning sessions, war councils, or in casual conversations over a few drinks.

A look he had seen on Gavriel’s face. And the missing piece of that familiar scent fell into place.

The fur, the warmth – the young wolf in front of him was the son of the Lion.

The words came slow. “Your mothers were cousins, Prince, but who sired you?”

Aedion didn’t shift an inch. “Does it matter?”

“Do you know?” Rowan pressed.

Aedion shrugged. “She never told me – or anyone.”

Aelin was catching on far more quickly than her cousin. “I’m guessing you have some idea?” she hedged.

Rowan turned to look at her. “He doesn’t look familiar to you?”

“He looks like me.”

“Yes, but – ” Rowan sighed. “You met his father. A few weeks ago. Gavriel.”

Rowan thought he might be able to hear a pin drop – in the next town over.

Shock billowed through the room like clear smoke, and all three of them were completely, perfectly still. Rowan could practically hear the gears turning in Aelin’s mind as she worked through it, piecing it all together – the timelines, the heightened strength, the strange way Gavriel had acted while at Mistward –

“He asked me,” Aelin murmured. “He asked me how old I was, and seemed relieved when I said nineteen.”

Rowan only nodded. He remembered that time for himself, that time two decades earlier.

Rowan and Lorcan had been off, representing their Queen somewhere in the far East. In a court that had treated them well, but bored them to tears. Gavriel, however, had been in Varese. Where he had obviously met Aedion’s mother, and gotten her with child.

Then abandoned her, and never spoke of her again.

Aedion’s voice was hoarse as he finally spoke. “The Lion is my father?”

Rowan just nodded at the young general, at the son of his oldest friend. This would change everything.

“Does he know?”

“I bet seeing Aelin was the first time he wondered if he’d sired a child with your mother. He probably still doesn’t have any idea, unless that prompted him to start looking…”

As he spoke, for the first time, Rowan found himself considering his own history.

For over two hundred years, he’d traveled the world. Bedding without thought, without consequence. It was difficult for the Fae to conceive, that was true. But for all he knew, he had a child waiting for him out there somewhere.

Rowan had never felt more reckless and irresponsible than he did in that moment, looking at the child that Gavriel had left behind.

That kind, compassionate male, the leader who had tattooed the names of his fallen men on his own skin, had thoughtlessly abandoned his own son. If Gavriel had been capable of that, than what had Rowan been capable of? Cold, heartless male that he had been?

Aedion was just looking back at him. But this time, the stare was made of nothing – no fire, no challenge. It was empty. And Aelin seemed to be getting worried. She moved towards the table, her hand reaching out to brush her cousin’s. The touch soft, gentle.

Their eyes met, and Rowan couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that cut through him. “This changes nothing,” Aelin said, her expression open, and kind. “About who you are, what you mean to me. Nothing.”

There was a moment of silence while Aelin brushed her thumb over the back of Aedion’s hand, trying to give him what small comfort he could. It made Rowan’s heart ache.

Suddenly, she pivoted back to face him. “What does this mean where Maeve is concerned? Gavriel is bound through the blood oath, so would she have a claim on his offspring?”

“Like hell she does,” Aedion spat.

Rowan paused for a moment, considering. His voice was gentle when he spoke. “I don’t know. Even if she thought so, it would be an act of war to steal Aedion from you.”

“This information doesn’t leave this room,” Aelin said, calm and calculating. “It’s ultimately your choice, Aedion, whether to approach Gavriel. But we have enough enemies gathering around us as it is. I don’t need to start a war with Maeve.”

But she would. She would start a war for him, if he asked her to. Rowan could see it in her eyes. And he couldn’t help but wonder if she would do the same for him.

“It stays with us,” Aedion managed to choke out, his voice rough. Once again, the boy’s eyes met his - that challenge smoldering there once again.

But this most recent stand-off didn’t last particularly long.

Aelin clicked her tongue at them. “Stop doing that alpha-male nonsense. Once was enough.”

Rowan didn’t so much as blink. “I’m not doing anything,” he said, perhaps a little too innocently.

“Insufferable,” Aelin muttered, giving Rowan a playful shove. “Are you actually going to get into a pissing contest with every person we meet? Because if that’s the case, then it’ll take us an hour just to make it down one block of this city, and I doubt the residents will be particularly happy.”

Rowan finally turned away from Aedion, letting their stare break with a near-audible snap. He did Aedion the courtesy of pretending not to hear his quiet, relieved sigh.

Particularly as Aelin was truly getting annoyed with him. I thought I asked you to leave my cousin alone.

You just told me not to kill him, not that I had to leave him alone.

Aelin’s frown deepened as she crossed her arms, waiting.

Rowan pursed his lips. “It’ll take time to adjust to a new dynamic,” he admitted, somewhat reluctantly.

Aelin seemed almost shocked that he’d said even that much. Rowan grumbled at her.

Aedion, however, was riding a high. Rowan could hear the blood thrumming in his veins, and his muscles were stretched tight as a drum in that chair he was pretending to lounge in. “Aelin never said anything about sending for you.”

Rowan’s eyes slid back to the wolf’s, icy and intent. “Does she answer to you, General?”

Aelin just rolled her eyes, obviously deciding to treat the tension building between the two males as if it didn’t exist. “You know he didn’t mean it that way, so don’t pick a fight, you prick.”

Aedion stiffened, catching the insinuation beneath Aelin’s statement. And now Rowan had to hide a victorious smile.

If she was asking Rowan to stand down, then it was because she was worried that Rowan would hurt Aedion. Meant that she thought Aedion was the one who needed protecting, that Aedion was the lesser warrior.

But Aelin probably didn’t know that – and she had never been a bloodsworn warrior either. So no matter how loyal, no matter how caring or compassionate, she had no idea the lengths to which Rowan would go to keep her safe. No idea how solidly, how permanently, he stood behind her. Even on the smallest of things.

“I’m blood-sworn to you,” Rowan tried to explain, “Which means several things, one of which being that I don’t particularly care for the questioning of others, even your cousin.”

Before the words were even all the way out, Rowan knew that he had made a mistake.

Aelin had gone pale as a ghost, freezing in place. And Rowan found himself searching for his magic, reaching out to test shields that were no longer there, calling the winds towards him to sense for any unwelcome intruders. But he had no powers to call.

Instead, he scented the air, his mind straining to listen for even the smallest of noises. But there was nothing. Only the sound of Aedion’s ragged breathing.

The wolf was a man whose whole world had come falling about his ears. And he was looking at Aelin with more than just shock, more than just hurt. His eyes were filled with the pain of betrayal.

Of a betrayal so close, so unexpected, that it shattered the very air to pieces.

Rowan found himself preparing to leap in front of Aelin, preparing to rip into the young warrior-prince with everything he had if he made so much as one move towards his queen.

“What did he just say?” The boy’s words were excruciatingly soft.

Aelin squared her shoulders, her words clear and steady. “Rowan took the blood oath to me before I left Wendlyn.”

“You let him do what?”

Aelin raised up her hands, whether to soothe or protect, Rowan wasn’t sure. Nor did he have any idea why the hell Aelin had kept this a secret from her cousin. Though judging by this reaction, she might have simply been scared.

But perhaps…was Aelin ashamed of him?

But her voice didn’t shake. “As far as I knew, Aedion, you were loyally serving the king. As far as I knew, I was never going to see you again.”

“You let him take the blood oath to you?” Aedion was bellowing now, and it took all of Rowan’s self-control to keep from stepping between the two cousins, to keep from lunging at Aedion and knocking him to the floor.

Then, all of a sudden, Aedion was leaping towards the fireplace, his arms reaching towards the trinkets atop the mantelpiece.

But before his fingers got within an inch, Aelin had flung out a vicious finger and was advancing on him, Rowan following close behind. “You break one thing, you shatter just one of my possessions, and I will shove the shards down your rutting throat.”

Aedion spat at her feet, but didn’t move another inch towards the fireplace. “How dare you? How dare you let him take it?”

“I dare because it is my blood to give away; I dare because you did not exist for me then. Even if neither of you had taken it yet, I would still give it to him because he is my carranam, and he has earned my unquestioning loyalty!”

Rowan kept very still.

“And what about our unquestioning loyalty?” Aedion roared, “What have you done to earn that? What have you done to save our people since you’ve returned? Were you ever going to tell me about the blood oath, or was that just another of your many lies?”

Aelin snarled, vicious and intense. And from the look on Aedion’s face, Rowan could tell that he had forgotten she had Fae blood in her too. The idiot.

“Go have your temper tantrum somewhere else.” Aelin said. “Don’t come back until you can act like a human being. Or half of one, at least.”

Aedion just swore at her, foul and filthy, and before Rowan could stop himself he was lunging towards Aedion, knocking aside the furniture hard enough to flip it over –

But then Aelin threw out her hand. Stopping him in his tracks.

Aedion looked at him and laughed, the sound brittle and cold. Then smiled at Rowan in that infuriating, overconfident way. A smile that had started a thousand brawls. A smile that Rowan had seen countless times on Lorcan’s, Fenrys’, and even his own, face.

So Rowan knew exactly what lay behind it. And he also knew exactly how he would strike Aedion down if the wolf pup decided to take it beyond just a smile.

Rowan carefully moved back to the chair, righted it, and sat down, casually as anything. But before Aedion could react, Aelin pointed at the door. “Get the hell out. I don’t want to see you again for a good while.”

Aedion didn’t hesitate before striding over to the front door and flinging it open so hard he nearly ripped it off its hinges. And then it shut behind him with a soft, very final, click.

Silence fell in the apartment as Aedion’s footsteps faded away down the stairs, until Aelin stood and walked into her bedroom, beginning to pace. She didn’t shut the door behind her, so Rowan figured it was alright for him to follow behind her.

After a moment’s consideration, he perched on the edge of the mattress, which was exactly as plush as he’d expected it to be. For long minutes, Aelin didn’t even acknowledge him.

She was turned inwards, her thoughts battling with each other, her scent a raging cloud of anxiety and anger and regret and fear. And Rowan wanted to pummel Aedion into the dirt for making her load any heavier.

His queen carried more burdens than anyone should have to, burdens heavy enough to curve the spine of even the most hardened warrior. Seeing her struggle like this – it was enough that Rowan had to physically force himself to keep from launching himself into the night after that arrogant warrior-prince.

He understood why Aedion was enraged, he really, really did. If Aelin had rejected him in such a way – he would have felt exactly the same. He probably would have felt worse. But never, not in a thousand lifetimes, would he have ever made that reaction her problem.

Rowan wondered if Aedion was always so hot-headed, so volatile, or if this reaction was because the circumstances were so extreme. He wondered if Aedion would make a good King.

Rowan decided to give the male the benefit of the doubt. He owed Aelin that much at the very least – after spending so many weeks thinking the worse of her, without any justification.

Even if that anger, that hatred, had mostly been a reaction to this inexplicable, undeniable feeling, this thing between them. Even then, in Varese, it had been there. And it had scared the shit out of him.

But still, Aelin had always been older than her years. Older and wiser. And by contrast, Aedion just seemed so young. Rowan was sure the male was experienced in war, and even in playing the role he had been forced into in Rifthold’s royal court. But at negotiating? Maneuvering? Compromise? Rallying enemy forces to their cause? Rowan was less sure.

But he had to admit, the wolf was indisputably powerful. The rage and aggression and power that had come off of him – Rowan didn’t think he’d seen its like from any other demi-Fae than Lorcan.

The boy had potential. Potential that Rowan would have to figure out how to harness, to use to their goals. To form the beginnings of Aelin’s royal court. For no matter any reservations Rowan might have about Aedion, it was clear that it would be the three of them who would form its backbone.

Still, Aelin hadn’t ceased her pacing. At this rate, she was in danger of wearing a track into the rug before the fireplace.

“If that’s any indication of what to expect from our court,” Rowan said at last, “then we’ll never have a dull moment.”

Aelin didn’t bother looking over at him, instead flinging out her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Don’t tease me right now.”

Rowan just waited, knowing she was gathering the words, hating that pain and sorrow and guilt on every line of her body. He’d sell his soul to the dark god to never have her look like that again.

Aelin scrubbed at her face, huffed a short sigh. “Every time I turn around,” she said, approaching the bed and leaning against the carved post, “I feel like I’m one wrong move or word away from leading them to ruin. People’s lives – your life – depend on me. There’s no room for error.”

Rowan could offer her nothing but the truth. “You will make mistakes. You will make decisions, and sometimes you will regret those choices. Sometimes there won’t be a right choice, just the best of several bad options. I don’t need to tell you that you can do this – you know you can. I wouldn’t have sworn the oath to you if I didn’t think you could.”

She sat down on the bed next to him, their thighs close enough to touch. This close, Rowan could see every single fleck of gold in her eyes. This close, it almost felt as though her scent enveloped him like a cloud of mist, like a second skin.

And at the moment, that scent was rife with tension and worry and guilt – like layers of sour spice and rotten fruit. But as the two of them sat together, all of that seemed to fade away, a veil being lifted, to reveal true scent beneath. It caressed him, soft as a bedroom whisper.

Aelin shook her head. “It was so much easier being alone.”

“I know,” he said, clamping down on the instinct to sling his arm around her shoulders and tuck her in close. Instead, he tried to focus on the sounds of the city around them, the light rattling of the windowpane in the wind, the patter of vermin in the streets below, the chirping of birds overhead.

One of the first things he’d wanted to do was survey the apartment, to make sure each and every piece of it was completely secure, to familiarize himself with the space. But then he had let himself be distracted, by Aelin, by Aedion – and so the apartment remained unsafe, and unfamiliar.

Rowan sighed at himself. It made him feel…helpless, to have to do everything the old-fashioned way. To not be able to handle things that had been so simple, so basic, with his magic. He felt off-balance. And at a time when being off-balance could be fatal to her.

The minutes ticked passed in quiet companionship.

“I said some appalling things to him,” Aelin said, eventually.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rowan responded, unable to help the growl. “He said some equally appalling things to you. Your tempers are evenly matched.”

She let out a breathy chuckle, her body finally relaxing into the mattress. “Tell me about the fortress – what it was like when you went back to help rebuild.”

So Rowan smiled as he told her about mining stone and remaking the wall, about working with a Malakai who no longer seemed remotely intimidated by him, about repairing the damage done to the base of the castle where the tunnel had lay hidden.

And when he spoke of training Luca, and of Emrys’ request, Aelin was punching him on the arm and scolding him for disappointing her friends like that. “Why didn’t you stay? Luca obviously needed your help!”

Rowan just shook his head, his face darkening. And here it was, the news he’d been avoiding all night. Not wanting to add yet another weight to the pile on her shoulders.

“Just say it,” she said, with a direct, unyielding sort of look. And Rowan wondered if she realized that for all she complained about his alpha nonsense, she was pureblooded alpha herself.

Rowan took a long breath. “Lorcan’s here.”

She straightened. “That’s why you came.”

Rowan nodded. “I caught his scent sneaking around near Mistward and tracked it to the coast, then onto a ship. I picked up his trail when I docked this evening.” Her face was pale, so he added, “I made sure to cover my tracks before hunting you down.”

Aelin still didn’t say anything, just processing. Adjusting. Recalculating.

His former commander would certainly require some recalculation. He could prove completely disastrous. Rowan really needed to make sure the apartment was secure, as soon as possible.

When she remained silent, Rowan continued. “He doesn’t know you well enough to immediately pick up your scent. I’d bet good money that he got on that boat just to drag me here so I’d lead him to you.”

Aelin swore with creative colorfulness. “Maeve probably thinks we’ll also lead him right to the third Wyrdkey. Do you think she gave him the order to put us down – either to get the key, or afterward?”

“Maybe.” The thought was enough to shoot icy rage through him. “I won’t let that happen.”

Her mouth quirked to the side. “You think I could take him?”

“If you had your magic, possibly.”

Irritation rippled in her eyes – enough so that he knew something else nagged at her. “But without magic, in your human form…You’d be dead before you could draw your sword.”

“He’s that good.”

Rowan gave her a slow nod.

She looked him over with an assassin’s eye. “Could you take him?”

“It’d be so destructive, I wouldn’t risk it. You remember what I told you about Sollemere.” Aelin’s face tightened, remembering, even as the thought of having to destroy Lorcan clanged through him. If it ever came to that, Rowan would know things were truly desperate.

Rowan sighed, shoving those worries aside. They were pointless. “Without our magic, it’s hard to call who’d win. It would depend on who wanted it more.” Once, Rowan might have let him win, let Lorcan end him just to put a stop to his own miserable life, but now… “Lorcan makes a move against you, and he dies.”

Aelin didn’t blink at the violence that laced every word. Another part of him – a part that had been knotted from the moment she left – uncoiled like some wild animal stretching out before a fire.

Aelin cocked her head. “Any idea where he’d hide?”

“None. I’ll start hunting him tomorrow.”

“No,” she said. “Lorcan will easily find us without you hunting him. But if he expects me to lead him to the third key so he can bring it back to Maeve, then maybe …” He could almost see the wheels turning in her head. She let out a hum. “I’ll think about that tomorrow. Do you think Maeve wants the key merely to keep me from using it, or to use it herself?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Both, then.” Aelin sighed. “The question is, will she try to use us to hunt down the other two keys, or does she have another one of your cadre out searching for them now?”

“Let’s hope she hasn’t sent anyone else.”

“If Gavriel knew that Aedion is his son…” She glanced toward the bedroom door, guilt and pain flickering on her lovely features. “Would he follow Maeve, even if it meant hurting or killing Aedion in the process? Is her control over him that strong?”

“Gavriel …” He’d seen the warrior with lovers over the centuries, and seen him leave them at Maeve’s order. But he’d also been the only male of his cadre who had stopped that night to help Aelin against the Valg.

“Don’t answer now,” Aelin cut in with a yawn. “We should go to bed.”

Rowan immediately tensed, and as casually as he could, he asked, “Where should I sleep?”

She patted the bed behind them. “Just like old times.”

Rowan clenched his jaw. He’d been bracing himself for this all night – for weeks now. “It’s not like the fortress, where no one thinks twice about it.”

“And what if I want you to stay in here with me?” Aelin’s eyes bore into a him, a completely different kind of challenge than the one set by Aedion. But one equally fraught. And one that burned far hotter.

Carefully, Rowan said, “Then I’ll stay. On the couch. But you need to be clear to the others about what my staying in here means.” There were so many lines that needed to be held.

Aelin was off-limits – completely off-limits, for about a dozen different reasons. The stupidest possible thing he could do would be to give in now, to let that desperate, craving part of himself win out so easily. She wasn’t his to claim.

Aelin only shrugged, irreverent as always. “Then I’ll issue a royal decree about my honorable intentions toward you over breakfast.”

Rowan snorted. And though he didn’t want to, he said, “And – the captain.”

“What about him?” she said, a little too sharply.

“Just consider how he might interpret things.”

“Why?”

She’d done an excellent job of not really mentioning him. But there was enough anger, enough pain in that one word, that Rowan couldn’t back down. “Tell me what happened.”

Aelin didn’t meet his eyes. “He said what occurred here – to my friends, to him and Dorian, while I was away in Wendlyn – that it was my fault. And that I was a monster.”

For a moment, blinding, blistering wrath shot through him. And all he wanted to do was to reach out to her, to brush her hand. To cradle her face.

Rowan stayed frozen in place.

She still wasn’t looking at him as she said, “Do you think – ”

“Never,” he said. “Never, Aelin.”

At last she looked up at him, her eyes as old and tired as her throne. Looking nothing like a girl of nineteen.

“If you’re a monster, I’m a monster,” Rowan said, smiling at her gently, but making sure that his fangs glinted in the candlelight.

She let out a rough laugh, close enough that her breath warmed his face. “Just sleep in the bed,” she said. “I don’t feel like digging up bedding for the couch.”

Maybe it was the laugh, or the silver lining her eyes, but he said, “Fine.”

He was such stupid fool when it came to her. He made himself add, “But it sends a message, Aelin.”

She lifted her brows in a way that usually meant fire was going to start flickering – but none came. Both of them were trapped in their bodies, stranded without magic. He’d adapt; he’d endure.

“Oh?” she purred, and he braced himself for the tempest. “And what message does it send? That I’m a whore? As if what I do in the privacy of my own room, with my body, is anyone’s concern.”

“You think I don’t agree?” His temper slipped its leash. No one else had ever been able to get under his skin so fast, so deep. “But things are different now, Aelin. You’re a queen of the realm. We have to consider how it looks, what impact it might have on our relationships with people who find it to be improper. Explaining that it’s for your safety – ”

“Oh, please. My safety? You think Lorcan or the king or whoever the hell else has it in for me is going to slither through the window in the middle of the night? I can protect myself, you know.”

“Gods above, I know you can.” He’d never been in doubt of that.

Her nostrils flared. “This is one of the stupidest fights we’ve ever had. All thanks to your idiocy, I might add.” She stalked toward her closet, her hips swishing as if to accentuate every word as she snapped, “Just get in bed.”

He tried his best to keep his eyes from following them, and failed completely. Then loosed a tight breath as she and those hips vanished into the closet.

How he would survive the weeks to come holed up in this apartment, he had no idea. What with the antagonistic warrior-prince on one hand, and the irresistible queen on the other – the Fae in this house were far too used to getting their own way.

And the month apart had only seemed to increase his attraction to Aelin. The idea of sleeping at her side, his skin inches from hers – all the blood in his body seemed to rush through him, burning as it went.

This was going to be agony.

Rowan stood from the bed, heading to the bathroom to see if washing his face and readying for bed might make him see sense. The cold water helped, but only barely.

When he returned to the bedroom, Aelin was still in the closet, changing. So Rowan gingerly moved over the plush mattress and slid between the silken sheets. The cloth was filled with her scent – and Rowan couldn’t lie to himself and say that he didn’t love it, being wrapped up in her scent.

Another minute passed, and then Aelin emerged, a smirk on her face, and –

Rowan jolted upright, the bed groaning. “What in hell is that?”

Aelin didn’t pause or look over, but he could feel her satisfaction at his outburst. Instead of deigning to answer the question, she just walked into the bathroom, casual as anything.

Rowan barely heard the sound of the tap turning on, the splash of water as she washed her face. He could barely hear anything over the pounding of his heart.

He tried his best to think of something, anything else. But he couldn’t. That image was burned into his mind like a brand.

Aelin had changed into a delicate pink lace nightgown. There were no sleeves, only thin straps that rested atop her shoulders, while the torturous hemline grazed just below her collarbones, the lace trim fluttering slightly as she walked. And through the thin material, Rowan thought he could just see the shapes of her nipples poking through, right at the peaks of her breasts.

But all of that was nothing, nothing, to the rest of the dress. The nightgown fell over the planes of her stomach, pulling in at her waist and highlighting all of her beautiful curves. And coming to an end right beneath her hips, only barely covering her ass and leaving the entire expanse of her long, muscled legs, completely bare.

Rowan was speechless.

When she returned, her face freshly washed, Rowan finally managed to find his voice. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You forgot the bottom part.”

Aelin ignored him, instead walking about the bedroom and blowing out the candles, one by one by one. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“There is no bottom part,” she said, flinging back the covers on her side. “It’s starting to get so hot, and I hate sweating when I sleep. Plus, you’re practically a furnace. So it’s either this or I sleep naked. You can sleep in the bathtub if you have a problem with it.”

Rowan growled, more frustrated than she would ever know. “You’ve made your point.”

“Hmm.” She slid into bed beside him, making sure to keep a careful distance between them. Something that Rowan vaguely remembered wanting, but for the life of him he couldn’t come up with a single reason why.

His very skin ached with need. The need to reach out, to close the space between their two bodies, to feel her skin beneath his hands, to rip that nightgown to shreds –

Rowan breathed, concentrating on slowly freezing his body in place, locking his muscles tight. He wasn’t a rutting child. And he had some gods-damned self-control.

Aelin settled into bed beside him, and for a long moment, the only sounds in the bedroom were the rustling of fabric on skin. She settled with her back to him, the sharp points of her shoulders poking through the skin, those long, ragged scars prominently on display.

The tattoos he had painstakingly inked only a month before had already started to fade in places, making a few of the characters difficult to read. Likely because it had been into scar tissue. He had to actively stop himself from tracing their shapes, from skimming his fingers over the soft expanse of her back…

Rowan’s voice was carefully blank as he said, “I need to fill in the ink a bit more in a few places.”

Aelin turned to face him, her pupils widening in the dark, “What?” she asked, confusedly. As she turned, her breasts spilled out onto the sheets, pressing together under the weight of her arm.

Rowan looked up at the ceiling.

“Your tattoo,” he said. “There are a few spots I need to fill in at some point.”

“Fine,” she said, and Rowan couldn’t be sure, but he almost thought he caught a hint of disappointment in her tone.

Another moment passed in silence, and almost against his will, Rowan found himself saying, “I’ve never seen – clothing like that.”

She rolled back over to face him again, her eyes lit up with a playful delight. “You mean to tell me the females in Doranelle don’t have scandalous nightclothes? Or anywhere else in the world?”

Before he could think twice, Rowan was speaking, “My encounters with other females usually didn’t involve parading around in nightclothes.”

“And what clothes did they involve?”

“Usually, none at all.” He knew he was being reckless, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Aelin clicked her tongue at him. “Having had the utter delight of meeting Remelle this spring, I have a hard time believing she didn’t subject you to clothing parades.”

Rowan turned his face back towards the ceiling, this time because of the image of that repulsive, conniving female. His thoughts couldn’t have been farther from the memory of the time he’d spent with her. “We’re not talking about this.”

Aelin chuckled, the movement making the lace on her collarbones shake slightly. If every night was going to be like this…

“Are all your nightclothes like that?” Rowan asked tentatively.

“So curious about my negligees, Prince. Whatever would the others say? Maybe you should issue a decree to clarify.”

Rowan growled, and Aelin answered through a wide grin. “Yes, I have more, don’t worry. If Lorcan is going to murder me in my sleep, I might as well look good.”

“Vain until the bitter end.”

But Aelin would not relent. “Is there a specific color you’d like me to wear? If I’m going to scandalize you, I should at least do it in something you like.”

“You’re a menace.”

And Aelin laughed, and the sound of that laugh was worth the pain of a thousand nightgowns. Was worth the entire month apart.

And before he knew what he was doing, Rowan said, “Gold. Not yellow – real, metallic gold.”

“You’re out of luck,” she murmured into her pillow. “I would never own anything so ostentatious.”

And through all of his frustration, Rowan was smiling at her.

Soon, Aelin had fallen into a deep sleep, her bare shoulders falling and rising with each breath, the tiniest whine escaping through her nose.

And yet thirty minutes later, Rowan was still awake, forcibly staring up at the ceiling as he tried to calm the roaring in his blood by sheer force of will. A roaring that was steadily shredding through his self-control.

Shit.

He was in such deep, unending shit.

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#warrior and the wildfire #watw #rowaelin #rowaelin ff #rowan pov #queen of shadows

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nalgenewhore · 5 years ago

Text

The sun was beginning to beat down on his shoulders as he trained Terrasen’s army as the queen’s newly appointed general.

Lorcan’s gaze was harsh and scrutinizing as he watched his most elite group like a hawk, another very familiar hawk on the battlements of the castle of Perranth. Lorcan’s voice was not loud or demanding, but his men could still hear him perfectly as he corrected the position of one male or doled out advice to the young soldiers.

He was in the middle of a demonstration when a tiny body slammed into his legs and he looked down to see a head of riotously wavy hair, as dark as a starless night, that belonged to his daughter, Stella Luna. In a flash, Rowan was next to him and scooping her up, carrying her out of harm’s way and the reach of Lorcan’s hatchet, its edge gleaming. Lorcan nodded gratefully and continued showing the soldiers what to do and then finally, they began their exercises and he could turn to Stella Luna.

The eighteen-month old had tears welling in her eyes as she snuggled into Rowan’s chest, sniffling at her father’s seemingly brisk dismissal. Lorcan felt remorse at having her swept away while he was using his weapons and he took her from his brother, holding her close and rocking her little frame back and forth, back and forth. “I’m sorry, love, it was dangerous and that’s why Uncle Ro had to hold you away.” She was quick to dry her eyes and smile, the tips of her canines poking through her pink gums, and she was squirming to be let down. Lorcan set her on the ground and she busied herself by playing with the dirt in her reach before she started crawling to her highchair, which had magically appeared next to them.

“We have that meeting in an hour,” said Rowan, the grimace on his face twin to Lorcan’s. They had little taste for meeting or ‘courtly bullshit’ as they so eloquently put it.

“What’s this one about?” Lorcan asked, both surveying the males training and watching Stella Luna, who was looking up at a cloud.

Rowan grunted, “Something about the trading needs of Perranth.”

“Baldor.”

Lord Baldor was one of the noblemen who lived in the city and was not quiet nor subtle about his disdain for the ‘crippled girl with dirty blood’ ruling the second largest city in Terrasen or the ‘half-feral half-breed warrior’ she married. He hadn’t dared to speak ill of their daughter, had gone pale and sickly-so the day that he had dared to speak her name with the tinges of disgust and Elide had stood, her hands on the table as she spoke, her voice low and dangerous, her court around her promising a slow death to the man who dared insult the heir of Perranth, “Speak ill of my daughter and your future Lady and I promise you, you will live to regret it. Say one word of maleficence about her, and what I allow my court to do to you will seem like a blessing once they’re done and it’s my turn to play. We still do not forget when you let Vernon lock me in that tower and did nothing.”

Rowan’s voice brought him back to the present, “Exactly.” Their lips curled in disgust and resignation and so they turned back to the drill they were overseeing. Rowan called for a break and the males were quick to shed layers under the warming sun or drink water or find someplace to relieve themselves.

Something caught his eye and he turned to see his extremely pregnant mate standing next to the queen, one hand on her lower back and one absently rubbing the top of her bump. Lorcan was unable to stop the smile at the sight of her. Elide was due any day now and Aelin had insisted on being here for her sister during the birth, still not able to forgive herself for missing Stella Luna’s by five minutes. Lorcan scoffed, “Your wife is more overbearing than me, Ro.”

Rowan chuckled and smiled softly at his mate, his eyes glinting with sadness. He and Aelin hadn’t had any luck conceiving and Lorcan knew how much his queen’s heartbreak at not being able to carry a child bore on Rowan. “She’s excited, that’s all.”

“Mm-hmm.” The soldiers had gotten back in their places, standing at attention when Aelin sauntered up, a certain heir of Perranth on her hip.

“Well, well, well, what have we got here, boys?” She turned to the squadron, “At ease, soldiers.” Aelin still did not enjoy when people groveled to her, no matter how confident she was. The males smiled as they relaxed and waited for further instructions. “Do you mind?” she asked Lorcan, indicating if she could commandeer his training and he shook his head, graciously giving her the go-ahead.

Soon, the air around them was charged with the clashing of swords and soft grunts of males who weren’t fast enough to avoid getting hit. After one particularly nasty tumble, Stella Luna burst into laughter, clapping her hands as she giggled and Aelin cracked a smile, pressing her nose to the baby’s cheek, her skin so soft and smooth. “You are a little meanie, did you know that, my love?”

Stella Luna smiled like she was in agreement and she squirmed to be let down, her hands in the queen’s as she carefully stepped over to her chair, holding herself up on one of its legs. Lorcan called a stop, ready to switch the activity.

“Sir,” called one of the soldiers, directed at Lorcan. “The female infant is playing with the training contraption, if you don’t mind, I would like to go first.” This was Lorcan’s least favourite of all the soldiers he had, always too cocky and too confident, with a general disdain for those he viewed to be inferior, like females and children, those he thought to be weak.

Rowan and Aelin muffled their snorts as Lorcan rose a brow, “Oh, you volunteer, hmm?” He was ready to knock down the male in question by a peg or two. He turned to Stella Luna, crouching down in front of her and letting her wrap her hand around one of his fingers. “Baby, what’s this?” he asked her, tapping the tray of her highchair.

“Chair!” she responded, squealing in delight when Lorcan stood and lifted her up, holding her upside down with a grip on one of her ankles. “Is chair, Papa, chair, chair, chair, chair,” she continued her litany of the word ‘chair’, but she couldn’t quite get the exact pronunciation, so it came out more like the beginning of the word ‘share’. Lorcan grinned and turned her back upwards, placing her down in her seat.

The soldiers laughed as the one male went beet-red and scowled at Stella Luna, who snarled at him, her baby canines on display, her brows furrowed and her eyes angry. “My chair.” She slammed her fists on the tray, growling at the soldier who had the audacity to smirk at her. The glares Rowan and Aelin sent his way quickly deterred him from angering the young heir.

Lorcan dropped a kiss on her head, “That’s my girl.”

@myfeyrelady @the-regal-warrior @kandasboi @schmlip-scribble @highqueenofelfhame @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @city-of-fae @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17

#elorcan #elidexlorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #stella luna salvaterre lochan #isa writes #nalgenewhore

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escapingtheconstrictingboxes · 7 years ago

Note

"Why are you acting like this?" "I'm not acting like anything." for Elorcan if you're accepting prompts, please?

Hello, my dear nonnie. I’m aware you requested this more than a month ago but I finally finished this and I hope you like it! I’m not sure if you will even read it but if you do, thank you so much! The prompt was amazing and I’m happy with what I wrote.

Sidenote: I have a strong headcanon that whenever Elide gets mad, she swears like hell. Possibly more than what I wrote.

Another note to all the people: My inbox is open so you can send in requests. Just be aware that it might be a while till I respond to them but I am determined to answer them.

Lorcan found himself opening the door with an annoyingly loud creak. He cursed himself mentally for not being quieter and closed the door silently, walking past the hallway only to see Elide sitting in a large chair, fuming at him. This was not going to go well. Her arms were crossed and there was a furious expression on her face as her jaw clenched.

“ I’m sorry,” Lorcan said immediately.

“ Sorry doesn’t cut it, Lorcan! You don’t lie to me these many goddamn times,” she yelled at him, her hands curled into fists and at her sides as she stood up. “ Do you know how worried I get when I wake up in the middle of the night and you’re still not at home? You know how scared I get when I don’t see you until early in the morning? I’m tired of dealing with your bullshit!” She marched up to him and slapped him. Hard. Lorcan stood where he was but lifted a hand to feel the stinging on his face. He was suddenly yanked down by the collar to meet her fiery eyes as she growled, “ You tell me where you go at night and we stop arguing right now.”

“ I can’t, Elide,” Lorcan replied as he tried to reach out for Elide, who only shook her head and stepped away. He wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready for her to run away from him the moment he told her. He didn’t want to lose her.

“ Like hell you can’t tell me!” Elide yelled back, pushing at his chest. “ I moved into this apartment two months ago for us. Don’t you dare throw away our relationship for the sake of keeping your stupid secrets!”

“ I’m not throwing away our relationship, Elide!” Lorcan said, his voice growing higher as his anger rose.

“ Aren’t you?” She asked, bitterly laughing, “ You don’t fucking lie to me, Lorcan. You do not come into this goddamn apartment night after night and hide things from me. Why are you acting like this?” She growled at him out of anger and despair.

“ I’m not acting like anything,” he replied and took a step towards her.

“ Don’t you fucking dare come close to me,” she snarled at him, taking several steps back from him. “ I don’t want to touch a liar,” she spat at him.

Lorcan could feel his anger rising as he growled back at her, “ I’m sorry, Elide. What more do you want me to do? Would grovelling at your feet help?”

“ Tell me the truth!” she yelled back at him, flinging her arms up in the air.

“ I can’t!” He roared back, the leash on his anger loosening by the second.

“ Why not? What you so afraid of?” She asked back and Lorcan could feel himself snap in that second.

He growled, truly growled, and he could feel his claws and canines extending as he grabbed her in a speed incomprehensible by a mortal and pushed her against the wall, hoisting her up high enough that she reflexively wrapped her legs around his waist.

“ I don’t want to lose you,” he said in a loud voice, still filled with rage. He froze when he noticed Elide’s shocked expression and the weight of what he had just done filtered through his mind.

“ You have canines,” Elide murmured as if in a trance as her gaze lingered on his open mouth. He stayed still as her gaze moved from his mouth to the rest of his face, noticing the thin layer of fur on his face. He didn’t dare breathe when her small hand came to hold his cheek gently. “ You’re a werewolf,” she said suddenly and Lorcan could almost imagine a light bulb going off above her head. Slowly, he nodded and dipped his head to look into her eyes.

“ You’re not scared?” He asked, adjusting her slightly in his arms and Elide only wrapped her arms around his neck, not at all minding the position they were in.

“ You’re such an idiot,” she murmured, the rage in her voice dying down. She leaned up to capture his lips for a soft kiss.

“ How are you not terrified of me?” Lorcan asked in bewilderment, pulling away almost immediately.

“ Lorcan, do you know who the Blackbeaks are? Who the Crochans are?” She asked slowly. He paused for a moment, remembering some vague details about witch covens being in the area.

“ Witches?” He guessed, frowning as he tried to figure out what she was trying to say. How did she even know who they were?

“ And who do you think I work for?” She asked, a hand running through his hair as if to soothe him.

“ Some woman called Manon?” He responded, leaning in further so that she have access to more of his hair.

“ Do you know who she is?” Elide then asked and then smiled when Lorcan shook his head, “ Manon Blackbeak ring a bell? Technically the leader of the Crochans too?”

Lorcan stared at her with wider eyes, his head tilting slightly as he tried to process her words. “ So what you’re telling me is that you work for a witch. And not just any witch. But one who’s potentially the leader of the Crochans?” Everybody in the supernatural world knew who the witch clans were. What the witches were.

“ Yes,” Elide replied firmly, her fingers twirling a piece of Lorcan’s hair as she kept her eyes on his chest, “ So really, Lorcan, you’ve been an idiot the whole time.”

Gods. He couldn’t believe it. Right here was the most amazing woman he could ever meet. “ You really don’t mind being with a werewolf?” He asked a final time, searching her face for any insecurity.

She rolled her eyes and said, “ Lorcan, I love you. I don’t see why being a werewolf would change anything.”

He shrugged, dropping his head further, “ My instincts,” he then said as an explanation, referring to their current position. Elide wouldn’t be pressed against the wall if it weren’t for his exploding anger.

“ I, for one, enjoy being here like this,” she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes and tightened her legs around him, “ Besides, I’ve dealt with worse. Manon and I went to collect venom the other day. I got to knock the vampire out,” she said a little more proudly than Lorcan would have expected.

He couldn’t help but rest his head on her shoulder and chuckle, “ Of course you did.”

“ But you will have to control your emotions, Lor. Werewolves can get extremely violent,” she explained.

Lorcan huffed and rolled his eyes, “ I know, Elide. I’ve been one all my life. It’s why I was late tonight.”

“ Spending time with your pack?” She asked casually, her fingers now tracing the featured of his face.

He nodded. “ I’m sorry. For the lying. For the sneaking out. For all of it. I should have trusted you.”

“ It’s okay. I lied to you too,” she said softly, “ I didn’t tell you who Manon was. Who I was. What I do for a living. Forgive me?”

Lorcan let out a laugh, his canines then brushing against her skin as he lightly kissed her neck. He was the one who needed the forgiveness and here she was… “ Gods, I love you,” he then growled possessively, kissing his way up her jaw.

“ I love you too,” Elide murmured back pulling his face up to kiss him properly.

They stayed like that for a while, trying to express each emotion through their kiss. Elide pushed him away suddenly, making him freeze once more. She placed her hand on his still chest and frowned up at him, “ Were you purring? I swear you were.”

Lorcan laughed once more and pulled her back in for another long kiss, “ It’s the equivalent of it,” he explained and the rumbling in his chest restarted. Elide grinned up at him, satisfied.

Lorcan smiled down at her and carried her away to the bedroom, happy. He felt lighter than he had ever felt in the past year. Elide was his. He was hers. There was nothing that could change that.

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modernbookfae · 8 years ago

Note

"I don't regret this and I never will."- for Elorcan please and thank you :)

My heart aches for these two and how they will come to terms with what happened on the beach! So without further ado here is the fic~!

A war cry bellowed over the sounds of metal clashing andscreams of pain. Lorcan strode through the carnage. Blood dripping from hisbroadsword as sweat ran down his muddied face.

Without hesitation he cut down valgs, wyverns and any enemythat dared entered his path. Hellas’s power coursed through him – death andthought and destruction. A dark warrior who thrived on the dark gift. That waswhat Lorcan was.

A wild smile danced on his lips as he let current of powerrise to its potential.

He crouched low and avoided needle-sharp teeth andflesh-shredding claws before cleaving the head off the beast that dared to facehim. In the distance he saw flames and wind answer the call to their wielders.Aelin and Rowan had once again found each other.

Lorcan had not time to celebrate for his friend finding hiswife – his mate. Not when there was a war to be won.

In the midst of his killings Lorcan had lost track of theone thing he had vowed to protect no matter how this battle turned. It wasn’tuntil he heard a familiar scream that Lorcan’s heart plunged in fear. Somethinghe rarely felt, but his panic propelled him to bound over the fallen bodies ofboth human, fae and monsters alike with blinding speed.

“Not her,” Lorcan whispered to the air that reeked ofdecaying flesh and smoke. “Anyone, but her.”

“LORCAN!” Elide cried out. Her tone pushing Lorcan togreater lengths to find her.

He would always findher. That was what he promised.

He followed her scent until he leapt several yards away fromwhere she was held captive. In the hands of his previous queen. Maeve.

“My traitorous dark warrior has arrived. How have youenjoyed your time being free of the blood oath?” Maeve said with ease. Even asher fingers held a dagger to Elide’s throat.

When Lorcan didn’t answer with anything but a glare Meavesimply tsked in disappointment. “I figured you – a demi fae – would steer clearaway from human females. Let alone one that is crippled and holds no beautycompared to your previous lovers.”

Lorcan continued shooting Maeve with a hateful stare thatwould have sent most warriors on their knees in fear of his wrath.

“Have you nothing to say?” Maeve asked. “Perhaps the pitifulfemale would like to speak.” Maeve dug the blade deep enough that a smalltrickle of blood streamed down her throat.

Elide was silent, but her dark eyes looked at Lorcan. Buther eyes spoke loud enough for Lorcan to understand that she needed him. Elidewas no match for Maeve, but Lorcan could at least help her escape from thequeen’s clutches.

But Lorcan couldn’t move. His whole body was frozen.

“I should kill you now Lorcan,” Maeve mused. “The severedblood oath has probably made you terribly miserable. Killing you would be amercy wouldn’t it?”

Against Lorcan’s will he nodded his head. Elide’s eyeswidened in terror.

“Leave him alone,” Elide snarled. Meave’s blade cut deeperinto her throat in warning.

Dirt and blood mixed on Elide’s face from the fights she hadpreviously been in. Her mangled ankle barely supported her body as she trembledfrom exhaustion. But Elide would still go down fighting until her dying breath.

“Tell me Lorcan,” Maeve eyed him disdainfully. “Do you wantto live?”

Lorcan said nothing. His voice wouldn’t rise at all due towhatever magic Maeve held against him. His blade hung uselessly at his side ashe scowled at the Queen of Doranelle.

“He does want to live,” Elide said quickly. “Lorcan’s lifeis not one to be tossed away at your whim.” Elide spat the last part out.

Lorcan winced. Why didn’t he force Elide to stay off thebattlefield? Sure she would have loathed him for it, but at least that meantshe was away from danger. He wished that she was safe in Perranth. Herhome…where she belonged.

Maeve raised a brow at the human in her grasp. “You havequit the tongue don’t you? Notmany humans would dare speak to me in such a tone… for that I will spare him onyour ill-placed passionate words on this dishonorable warrior…but you little human” Meave ran the bladehigher on Elide’s neck. “If Lorcan does not wish your life to be spared thenyou shall die.”

Elide looked to Lorcan with eyes full of hope that it almostbrought him to his knees. He tried to speak and to his horror no words left hismouth.

In that instant the hope in Elide’s eyes cracked. Andshattered when Lorcan couldn’t say the words he desperately wanted her to hear.

Elide I want you tolive. I want us to live together. In Perranth. Forever.

“Will you not beg me to save her Lorcan?Like you groveled on your knees and pleaded with me to keep you as one of myblood oath warriors?” Maeve smiled faintly. Taking in the internal agony thatLorcan fought from within.

“Lorcan?” Elide’s voice was raw with unshed tears. Her paleface that previously was filled with unrelenting rage to fight shifted intodisbelief and finally despair.

“Lorcan please,” Elide said louder even as the blade beganto cut into her throat.

Lorcan could smell her blood just as clearly as he couldsmell the emotions that radiated from Elide.

“Nothing?” Maeve said. “Then let this be a lesson Lorcan.Those that are gifted by the God of violent deaths – Hellas himself – thenthose you hold closest to your heart shall face violent ends.”

The blade flashed in one quick motion followed by a spray ofblood. Elide’s life poured from her wound. One that did not mean a quick death,but instead one that would be drawn out.

Darkness pushed Lorcan forward with a roar. He dropped tothe ground and cradled Elide to his chest. His leather armor became soaked inher blood within seconds. He pressed his scarred hand to the wound. Yet redseeped between his fingers no matter how much pressure he used.

“Elide stay with me,” Lorcan begged. “Please don’t leave.”

Elide choked and her cough brought up blood. The ruby color contrasted darkly with her pale lips.

“You…betrayed me…again…” Elide brokenly said.

“No! I love you Elide. I swear it.” Tears rolled downLorcan’s cheeks.

“Your promises,” Elide wetly coughed. Words barelyunderstandable. “Are worth nothing to me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Lorcan held her gently. “I workedevery day to earn your trust back after Aelin was taken. I love you so much andyou said you loved me as we walked onto this battlefield together.”

With her final breath Elide looked directly intoLorcan’s eyes. N warmth could be found in her stare. “I hate you.”

And Elide Lochan’s heart ceased to beat in the midst of warbeing held by a fae whose soul had died with his mate’s last words. A mate shedidn’t even know she was.

Lorcan must have been screaming. He fought off the handsthat wrapped around him.

Please not Elide. Hellas could take anyone else, but not Elide.

Elide who he loved.

Elide who was his mate.

Elide who –

“Lorcan!”

Lorcan jolted awake and his eyes registered darkness. Butthis was not Hellas’s darkness coming to claim him. No this was night thatcloaked the room.

“Lorcan?” A gentle hand reached for his bare arm that waswithout braces that usually held hidden knives. It was then that he realized hewore no armor. Only a blanket covered his chest save for the small hand thatmade it’s home above his pounding heartbeat.

His eyes followed that hand until he was met with the sightof Elide. She was nestled against his body in a nightdress and her eyes blinkeddrowsily from being awoken suddenly.

“Elide?” Lorcan reached for her shakily. Afraid that thismoment would shatter.

“Was it a bad dream?” Elide asked.

Lorcan swallowed. “Yes.” His hand hovered above her cheek.He knew that his nightmare had been a fabrication of his mind. It had beenyears since the war. He and Elide were married now. Living in Perranth no less.

What if she had chosen someone else instead of him? Shewouldn’t have suffered through seeing him betray her Aelin and her court toMaeve on that beach. Wouldn’t have known what a damn mess of a fae he was andthat he had no right being in this bed beside her. Elide, the light to hisdarkness, deserved better.

Elide blinked and clearly heard the thoughts through themating bond. Her fingers interlaced with Lorcan’s hesitant hand. She broughthis knuckles to her soft lips.

“I don’t regret this and never will,” she whispered acrosshis jagged scars. “I love you Lorcan. And I would do it all again – the goodand the bad �� if it meant being with you.”

Lorcan eased his other hand to Elide’s cheek and gentlyraised her face toward his. Slowly he kissed those lips that knew just what tosay when he needed them most.

“I love you Elide.” He said into her lips.

“I know,” Elide smiled and deepened the kiss. Earning apleased growl from her mate.

#elorcan #elide and lorcan #lorcan and elide #elide x lorcan #lorcan x elide #empire of storms #throne of glass #elorcan fic

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