#Lorcan/Connall

[froggybogwitch]

Here's a doodle for the day that I missed. I'm not even sure which prompt it was but im gonna use it to rep one of my very many sjm rarepairs. Connall and Lorcan? They were fucking pre-canon. They have so much in common. both overlooked, both truly devoted to maeve, absolute clown levels of emotional constipation, terrible tangle of feelings about Fenrys' role in their lives. They were fucking nasty. MESSY situationship vibes. A shituationship, if you will.

When lorcan betrayed aelin, he was protecting a whole lot more, and he lost a whole lot more, in the end.

@sjmprideweek

[scarlet742]

Mystery of Maasverse:

Where is Vaughan!!???

[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.

[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?

[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.

[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

[highladyofterrasen7]

I want a cadre pre-aelin book

Coz they’ll act like a bunch of immature children

[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.

[jayktoralldaylong]

The Six Cadre/Never Love An Anchor - Crane Wives.

Connall

On some level, I think I always understood. That a ship could never really love an anchor.

(Watching Fenrys shine leap and dance like the shining golden sun yet still held down by the chain that passes through Connall's chest to Maeve)

So, I did the only thing that I could

(Connall grips the chain)

and severed the rope to set you sailing from my harbor.

(Fenrys' howl of despair)

Fenrys

On some level, I think I always understood. That these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever.

(Always getting scolded by everyone for being too reckless, but Fenrys' low-key admiring Connall for always being levelheaded.)

And I tried to do the best that I could.

(Giving his all to protect Connall)

But try as I might, I couldn't bring myself to hold you.

Rowan

(Rowan watching Aelin but thinking of Lyria)

It's a secret I keep tucked inside my chest, with this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful.

There is love that doesn't have a place to rest.

(Aelin smiles at him and he turns away, ignoring the heartbreak in her eyes).

But it would have buried you if it had settled on your shoulders.

Gavriel

(Gavriel watching Aedion with pride)

There are times when I still wonder about you. You are someone I have loved, but never known.

(Aedion glares so Gavriel turns away sadly)

And you'll never see the reasons I had.

(Gavriel leaves dragging the chains of Maeve far away from Aedion).

For keeping my claws away when they were close enough to hurt you.

Lorcan

I am selfish, I am broken, I am cruel.

(Elide's eyes widen as she registers Lorcan sitting before her covered in blood)

I am all the things they might have said to you.

Do you ever think of me and my two hands?

(Lorcan's strong scarred hands of a killer)

And wonder why they never soothed your fevers?

(Lorcan still doing everything possible to protect Elide in the ways he can, carrying her, being her crutch, providing cycle pads)

And wonder why they never tied your shoes? And wonder why they never held you gently?

Vaughan

And wonder why they never had the chance to lose you?

(Vaughan, flies away into the horizon....free)

[shadowqueenjude]

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

[therealmissmagoo2]

Fenrys Moonbeam - The White Wolf of Doranelle, Ambassador of Terrasen - Throne of Glass series by Sarah J. Maas

Connall Moonbeam - The Black Wolf of Doranelle - Throne of Glass series by Sarah J. Maas

Fenrys & Connall - Twins

Tray File

[scarlet742]

Mysteries of Maasverse 2:

WHAT DID LORCAN DO !?

[acourtofquestions]

"Fenrys ... You know, I don't actually know your family name."

Fenrys threw a roguish wink at the queen.

"Moonbeam."

"It is not," Aelin hissed, choking on a laugh.

Fenrys laid a hand on his heart. "I am blood-sworn to you. Would I lie?"

Aelin gave Fenrys a vulgar gesture that set Hasar chuckling, and faced the royals.

[bookwxrmish]

Who in the Cadre™ has the biggest ass?

[wordsafterhours]

Songs About You - Chapter 15

Author's Note: Buckle up and enjoy this fluff fest. I worked so long on getting this chapter right and I think it still fell short. But I just love this time of year. Fall and Winter are my bread and butter, especially Christmas. I'd like to live in a Hallmark movie and make zero apologies for it. In the next few updates, we will be seeing more explanation onto what happen to her parents, more details on Arobynn's betrayal, and Gavriel and Aedion's exile from Aelin's life.

*Unedited update. I couldn't wait.

Triggers: I can't think of anything crazy that would need to be listed

Word Count: 9.8k (I haven't written college papers this long)

Masterlist

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Still quite bemused with herself, Aelin dawdled through getting dressed and making her way down the stairs. Several familiar voices deep in conversation reached her ears long before she found them in the foyer, digging through dusty boxes. 

“Does she have decorations for every occasion? I’m pretty sure I’ve looked through thirty boxes and only found one with Yulemas stuff,” complained Dorian. 

“Her family was big on celebrating any and everything. It was magical coming here as a kid. Trust me, the Yulemas decorations far outnumber anything here three to one,” Elide stated matter-of-factly.

The dark-haired male dramatically whined and started opening another box. Aelin decided to take pity on him, “The items in question are in the basement and carriage house.”

“Oh, hey there. I didn’t realize you’d come down.” Elide’s cheeks tinged pink with her admission, clearly flustered at having been caught unaware. 

The blonde said nothing, leaning casually against the wooden banister to her left, patiently waiting for anyone to divulge an explanation for the scene at hand. Elide dusted off her hands against her jeans and smiled tensely. “I’m sorry about last night. You were right to be upset and after you left, I was such a mess trying to figure out how I was going to apologize. A little birdy told me the house wasn’t decorated and I decided that it would be the best apology I could muster.” 

Her friend bounced anxiously up and down while she talked, a telltale sign of how unsure she was of herself right now. Aelin knew it had taken a lot for Elide to show up uninvited, especially given how last night had gone, and in taking such a bold move to decorate the house. Yulemas wasn’t the same since her parents passing and even less so after exiling the only family she had left. Each year, as December fell, she longed to pull out the boxes, to put up trees and wrap garlands around the columns, yet it never came to fruition.

Chaol had tried it to snap her out of it, but after one too many meltdowns, he’d just stopped. He’d always get her a gift and then head south to Adarlan, to spend it with his father, Dorian, and Dorian’s family. It was easier that way. No fake smiles, pretend happiness, or unwanted melancholy chasing away the holiday joy. 

If the very idea of this holiday hadn’t been artfully avoided, the decorations’ locations would be a forgotten memory, beyond her grasp. But her mind cruelly remembered what each and every box had, where it lived, and whose job it had been to put it up. Yulemas used to be the one thing worth waiting for as a kid. Not her birthday, summer, visits from Aedion, or traveling the continents—it was and had only ever been Yulemas. 

As the air cooled and the calendar marked December 1st, her mother was hiring local city folk and paying bonuses to landscapers to help put up all the decorations. It was a grand affair and the week before Yulemas, her parents would open their finished home for tours. Hot cocoa, cider, and sweet treats were offered. Carols would be sung, and she would play piano for their guests. Aelin lived for it. What she wouldn’t give for five minutes in one of those memories. 

A very sharp delivery of her name brought her out the reminiscent reverie. She took a startled step backward in attempt to gather her bearings. Elide was in arms distance now, looking concerned more than anything. “Are you okay?”

Was she? Simple answer: no. Would that be shared? Also, no. 

“Only trying to process all of you here, digging through my house.” She internally winced at the tone, knowing its harshness wasn’t deserved, but too aggrieved to cop to it. 

“I wish all my friends groveled like these two,” Fen casually declared between bites of toast. 

“Sharing my bed wasn’t enough, you’re eating my food, too?”

“I worked up an appetite,” he whined, dark eyes giving her a pleading look that would rival Fleetfoot’s. 

Graciously, no one chose to run with the blond’s comment, sparing her from further humiliation and or drawn-out explanation. At least the day was giving something back to her, small as it was. 

“Who else is here?” 

“We all are, well minus Lorcan. He’s being a pain in my ass, and we can leave it at that.” 

She gave a non-committal acknowledgement, staring too hard at one of the boxes Dorian had previously been looking through. If she granted them the okay to pull out the Yulemas decorations, could she bear it? Would the joy of it overshadow the grief that was picking her a part, one stitch popping at a time, threatening the remaining seams that were left. 

A presence came to rest behind her and she unconsciously gravitated back. His warmth radiated across her, momentarily chasing away the chill that had settled. Even as upset as she was with him, as betrayed as she felt—Rowan had become a much-needed life raft. 

He shouldn’t be. 

Couldn’t be.

But yet, he was. There were somethings this world knew that she didn’t, but what she did know, undoubtedly, down to her very marrow, was that Rowan Whitethorn had been the very thing missing from hers. “It’s okay to be scared and sad, Ace, but you have to stop limiting your happiness. Take it back. You deserve joy. Elide told me how much the season means to you and it’s almost over, but it doesn’t mean you can’t partake in it. We’re all here for you. Just say yes.” 

His appeal was low, warmed breath washing over the exposed column of her neck, words meant to only be heard by her. Resigned, her shoulders sagged as she nodded in wordless acquiescence. 

“This is going to be so exciting!” cheered Elide, clapping her hands together in paramount enthusiasm.

At least someone was thrilled. All Aelin could feel was a ten-pound leaded weight sitting in the pit of her stomach. It was cruel how emotions could rule, define, own. She’d do anything to turn it all off; to be cold and unfeeling, if only to get through this day. 

Her blue eyes stared intently, roving over every oak plank not covered by the foyer rug. One, two, three… one-hundred and fifty-one. All visible ones accounted for and the heaviness humanely lessened. She was alone, the sounds of her friends muffled, but it was clear they had wasted no time tackling the decorations. 

“Better?”

Her breath caught in surprise. Why Aelin had assumed she was truly alone was beyond her. If her thoughts hadn’t consumed her so, his presence would have been felt. A lie was forming on her tongue, but it tasted bitter, too bitter to bring to life. “Not really, but I think you already knew that.”

“Perhaps. Not that you give me benefit of the doubt often, but I don’t know everything.”

An unladylike snort sounded between them. Her eyes widened in embarrassment, and she hid her face. Rowan laughed loudly, chasing away her self-consciousness, and warming her to the core. It was such a beautiful sound, carefree and unbound. 

“I heard they found the sitting room decorations and some aged sheet music. Dorian said you play. Can you show me?”

“Gods what a gossip queen,” she muttered with rolled eyes. 

“I know I don’t know him well, but he doesn’t seem like a vault by any means.” 

“He would spill everyones’ secrets for a good romp in the sheets.” 

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Rowan acknowledged dryly. 

Expectance hung in the air as Aelin waffled between telling Rowan no or sucking it up and playing. She hadn’t played in years. The piano was surely out of tune, the ivory keys covered in a telltale dust film. It was a talent, a habit long forgotten, buried beneath a barrage of painful memories.

The feel of smooth keys beneath her fingers could never be forgotten and suddenly hers were itching to glide across them. To artfully construct notes into beautiful chords and drown out the world until only music remained. Nothing else mattered when she sat at the bench. Maybe, just maybe, that was what she needed. 

“Just one song.”

“Just one song,” he agreed. He sounded somewhat surprised, but Aelin wasn’t too sure since her back was still to him. 

She brushed around the foyer table and pushed apart the dark wood pocket doors, revealing a beautiful brown piano, nestled in the far corner, between a window and fireplace. Without much thought, Aelin raised the lid, and then sat down, flipping back the cover, revealing ivory and gold keys.

The piano had been a gift from her parents one Yulemas, after she’d shown promise with the instrument. It had been redone just for her; the traditional black keys replaced with gold. After the finished stretching her hands, she played a few notes to ascertain how out of tune it was. 

It wasn’t as much as the thought and a small, pleased smile turned the corners of her mouth upwards. Out of her periphery, she watched Rowan’s large frame settle into one of the chairs that faced the piano. Her hands slightly trembled, the gravity of the moments to come setting her nervous system haywire. 

Assuming proper position, Aelin moved to the edge of the bench with her back straight, arms out and relaxed in front of her. The opening chord notes tinkered through the air, harsher than they out to have been—her wrists were dropping. In the back of her mind, the severe chastisement of her former tutors reminded her that she wasn’t “grasping the keys”, thus her wrists were not lifting accordingly, the notes not soft.

Playing solely from memory, more than a few missteps occurred, but if Rowan noticed, he never gave it away. His green eyes were piercing, watching her with rapt attention. He could have been a stone statue if not for the occasional rise and fall of his shoulders.  

Moving to the next piece, her fingers glided across the keys, caressing them in near reverence, like one would caress a lover after long being separated. Tendrils of blond hair slipped forward, partially obscuring her view of the man sitting opposite her. The wisp of privacy came at the perfect time—the crescendo was up. 

Furiously, her fingers danced upon ivory and gold with precision, the familiar ache settling into her hands and shoulders. Uncertainty, grief, life—it ceased to exist as Aelin gave all of herself to the keys. It wasn’t until the last beautiful note filled the air with a resounding resonance that she let herself breathe. 

Silence, the cliché type where you could hear a pin drop, settled heavily across the room. Rowan was still sitting there, wordless, jaw resting against a balled fist, watching her with an undecipherable gaze. Had she not played as well as she thought? Was he trying to find the words to critique it? Critique her? Vulnerability and anxiety came on swift wings, like thieves in the night, whisking away her joy.

His opinion should not matter, especially under the circumstances now encompassing their friendship, but it did. Rowan’s opinion perhaps mattered more than anyone’s and she hated he had that power over her. It was power she gave him, but the heart was a fickle, stubborn thing, particularly the one housed beneath her own twelve pairs of ribs. It did not adhere to the principles of logic, not now, not ever.

The statue broke from his confines, leaning forward, bracing both elbows on his knees, hands steepled. He remained quiet, his gaze still just as studious as it had been the entirety of her playing. If he didn’t say something, Aelin’s nerves were going to split apart. Vulnerability was making her it’s entire three course meal.

His warm timber reached her ears, and she stood in anticipation before he’d even said two words. He gave a faint laugh. “I think your piano needs tuning.” 

Six words have never been so defeating. The small kernel of joy that had roared to life instantly snuffed out, leaving as though it had never been there in the first place. The traitorous burn along her lower lids meant tears were welling up, preparing to fall down, like water from a broken dam. Aelin prayed to the gods for the floor to split open and swallow her whole; it would be a mercy compared to this. 

Angered, she roughly wiped away the moisture, pinning the silver-haired man with her gold and turquoise stare. “If you didn’t like it, you could have just lied to my face. It took every ounce of will I could muster to sit down and play for you and the only comment you can make is antagonistic? You can be a real godsdamned asshole sometimes, Ro.” 

His brow furrowed and he took a step back, hitting the chair causing it to squeak sharply in protest against the oak floor. There was just enough space for her to run by him and Aelin seized the opportunity. His warm hand encircled her left bicep, stopping her before she could get out of the sitting room completely. 

“Aelin, stop.” 

She fought against his hold, refusing to turn and face him. His pressure became a little firmer, not enough to hurt, but enough to cease almost all of the fight. Calloused fingers twirled the errant tendrils of hair along her face and neck, and as though he had done it a thousand times prior, he tucked the hair behind her ear, tracing the shell of her ear softly.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you. I didn’t know what to say. Everything that I was thinking just seemed so trivial and underwhelming. Inadequate.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“There are moments in life that define who you are. Moments that break and remake you all in the same breath. Moments that will be written on your bones for others to see long after you’re dead. Moments that you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you could revisit them because nothing will ever be as sweet.” 

He was whispering now, hushed, like he didn’t want any part of the world to hear him. Secrets and words were powerful currency. Both could be used at a moment’s notice to bring someone to their knees. Aelin had learned that with the death of her parents, Arobynn’s betrayal, Aedion’s strangled pleas as she shut the door on him. If you never gave words life or shared secrets—then they could never be used against you. 

“You can’t keep cutting my legs out from underneath me to protect yourself.”

“Aelin, that wasn’t my intention at all. I thought you’d call me on my bullshit with some line about how the piano wasn’t out of tune or something.” 

“I showed you my underbelly. I know you could tell I was nervous. Do you really think a joke was the appropriate response?”

He snorted. “Well, now I don’t.”

Exasperation zipped up her spine and she pulled hard against his hold. If he wanted to be a prick to someone, it wasn’t going to be her. Rowan adjusted his hold before slipping his other arm around her, holding her tight to his chest. She struggled but stopped when it became apparent he wasn’t going to let up. She didn’t have to see his handsome face to know he was wearing a smug smile as he rested his chin on her head. 

“I think that if I could bottle up that moment, I’d never know another sorrow for the rest of my life.”

The confession had been unexpected and brutally honest. The vulnerability in his words was profoundly tangible. A feeling all too familiar. The tension left her body as Aelin relaxed into him, taking time to process what he had said before she responded. Words, they mattered, and while he wasn’t hers, it felt like right now he was. In another life, she could turn to him and capture his lips with her own in a silent conveyance of how she felt. They were two faces of the same coin, different, beautiful apart, but whole together. 

But Hellas himself would have to drag that secret out of her. No acknowledgement meant no control. This life had enough influence on her; she couldn’t afford to give it anymore. So instead of saying and doing what she wanted, she offered him a small thank you that tasted rancid on her tongue. 

He continued to hold her; his strong arms wrapped comfortably tight. His shirt had moved up his arms a bit, showing off tanned skin, and the whorls of his tattoo. Later, she promised herself, she would ask him what it all said and meant. A handful of the words were known to her, but the archaic language had fallen out of favor years before her time. 

“Do you think we should help with the decorations?” his question vibrated across her back.

“Why should I help with my apology gift, defeats the purpose doesn’t it?”

“Always with the smart mouth,” he declared with a pinch to her side.

“It’s part of my charm.”

“I mean if that’s what you want to call it.”

“You know what, you get to put up the 26ft tree up outside. By yourself.” 

“You promise?”

He sounded too excited at the prospect. “Better yet, I’ll send Manon to help you.”

Rowan’s arms dropped from around her and he stepped into the doorway, wide-eyed.

“Snow leopard got your tongue?” Aelin’s smirk was threatening to split her face in two.

“I will take anyone else. She’s scary,” he fake whispered, looking over his shoulder while he said it.

“I know. I think it’ll be good for you.”

“I had another idea in mind.”

“Go on,” she encouraged.

“I was thinking you could help me. I won’t make you do any heavy lifting, and you can insult me the entire time.”

“It’s not enough. What else?”

“What else?” he said slightly taken aback. 

“Mhmm, what else?” She thoroughly enjoyed how panicked he looked as he wracked his brain to come up with something agreeable.

“I’ll bring you an entire chocolate hazelnut cake the next time I come by the shop.”

“But you’ve already brought me some before. Try again.”

He ran a hand through his hair, displacing some of the silver locks. Her eyes followed and it was then she knew what she wanted.

“You can let me braid your hair?”

He suspiciously sounded like he was choking before falling into a small coughing fit. Aelin had got him, satisfaction rolling through her.

“One time. This is a one-time deal because I fucked up a lot recently and I’d do just about anything to make you smile.

“Well, I chose wisely then. We better go drag tree out of the carriage house. And check on everyone else, because it’s too quiet and with Dorian around, that’s never a good thing.” 

Rowan gestured towards the foyer, allowing her the chance to head first into the chaos. 

Surprisingly, most of the upstairs had been decorated and the bannisters had been wrapped in garlands. When Rowan and Aelin had surveyed everyones’ work, both shared a look of guilt at not having helped. Connall and Vaughn had moved the big boxes for them and hadn’t been seen since. Rowan asked if they needed any other heavy lifting done, but Lys, Manon, and Elide waved them off. 

Taking the back set of stairs down, they wandered into the kitchen, to find Vaughn flipping through several cookbooks laid out on the counters, writing things down on a scratch paper. “Do you have a zester?” he asked without looking up.

“I should, in one of those drawers. What are you doing?” 

“Well, someone has to make Yulemas Eve dinner, Aelin,” he replied like it should have been glaringly obvious.

“I normally just have takeout and pretend the day doesn’t exist,” she admitted quietly. 

“Aelin?”

“Yeah, Con?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way but get out of the kitchen.” 

She questioningly looked up at Rowan and mouthed, “Was it something I said?” 

He jerked his head towards the back door and out they went. “He takes food very seriously. He loves to cook for everyone, and he eats pretty clean. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat takeout. He’ll eat at restaurants but spends twenty minutes picking apart the menu before eating. Its rather cumbersome.”

“So, it was something I said,” she chuckled. 

“Can you two shut up or go somewhere else?” a displeased, muffled voice asked. Both turned and noted Dorian happily smothered beneath two dogs on the porch swing. Rowan had brought Elliot. She smiled to herself—it was sweet he loved his dog the way she loved Fleetfoot.

“I thought you were helping with decorations, not sleeping your highness.”

“I was in the way and Fen said I was too whiny. Besides, Lorcan showed up looking angry and pushed me off the ladder. I wasn’t going to get into it with that guy. He’d eat me for breakfast or use me as snow leopard bait.” 

“And to think you’re supposed to be taking over running Adarlan.” 

“Well, when I take it over, I can order someone to deal with unpleasantries like that man. Or manual labor. You know I was built to supervise.” 

People told Aelin she was dramatic, which she was. But somehow, she knew they’d find another adjective to describe her antics if they had to put up with Dorian. He was lovable, fiercely loyal, fun, a good listener, but nauseatingly theatrical without much effort or thought. 

“If you change your mind and get tired of lying with the dogs, we’ll be out front putting up the tree.” Rowan looked like he was ready to bite through his lip to keep from laughing. 

It took twenty minutes for them to pull out all the tree boxes from the carriage house and drag them into the front yard. Lorcan and Fen had offered to help but Rowan had politely declined, letting them know if they were needed, he’d get them.

Aelin could tell Rowan was really trying to make up for last night. He’d followed each direction she’d given him to the T and done so without terrorizing her in the process. He didn’t even laugh when she tripped over an errant tree root poking out of the ground and knocked over several boxes, spilling shiny ornaments everywhere. 

The tree was halfway done, and she was fluffing the faux branches, waiting for him to return with ladders so they could put the rest up. Once it was put together, they could plug it in, and see what lights needed replacement before deciding on ornament placement. Her mom had always taken ornaments seriously and hung them all herself. It took hours sometimes because she’d take several breaks to step back and look, moving the glass balls accordingly until they were perfect. 

Inside, there was a Christmas tree for every room except the bathrooms and kitchen. All differed in size or style, each with their own set of dedicated ornaments. Each Yulemas, Rhoe had gotten both her and her mom a new ornament to be hung on the tree of their choosing. Some were wooden, others blown glass, and on occasion, metal. It had been years, but pain ferociously nipped at the heels of nostalgia made it feel like this was the first Yulemas without them. 

In a way it was. The holidays that had been celebrated with Aedion, Gavriel, and Arobynn, had been spent at the latter’s house. It was easier that way. She thought that Arobynn had been doing her a kindness but really it was just to ensure he could keep an eye on everyone. If all ends of the knot were in your hand, nothing could unravel, providing all the reassurance you needed. 

Not wanting to be melancholy when Rowan came back, she sidelined her thoughts, returning back to fluffing the branches, doing her best to fill in any bare spots. It was tedious, often cramping her hands, but there was comfort in monotonous activity.  Most of it was done, but one particular branch was proving to be a hindrance. A few colorful words escaped as she tipped forward, catching a mouthful of synthetic tree.

“Are you trying to tip the whole thing over?” he asked playfully.

“If that what it takes to get that last branch fluffed, then yes,” she replied stubbornly looking over her shoulder at him.

He tipped his head back, a full-bodied and carefree laugh sounding from him. He looked like the picture she’d been admiring on the bar wall—young and happy. She could only watch him, a smile of her own forming. Rowan was handsome; the most striking man she’d ever seen but nothing compared to this, and Aelin vowed to never let this memory go. He continued to laugh as he walked up and reached above her, righting the troublesome branch. 

“Is that better?”

“Yes. If you could have been a minute sooner, I wouldn’t have taken branches to the face.” 

“If my defense, the appropriate ladder was in the back of the carriage house, buried under stuff. And it’s heavy. I also stopped to talk to the guys.”

“Uh huh. I just hear excuses.” 

A loud squeal escaped her as Rowan’s strong arms picked up and tipped her upside down while tickling her ribs. “Excuses, huh?” 

“Ye—.” She tried to speak but he continued his assault, making it too hard to answer. 

“What was that? I can understand you. Words, Aelin. Use your words.” 

Every time she tried to talk; he tickled her again. Her stomach hurt from laughing and her head felt heavy from being upside down. If she was lucky, he was ticklish, too. She grabbed above his knee and squeezed—he jerked and almost dropped her. 

She screamed in half in delight, half in panic. Was tickling him back worth the possibility of being dropped? It wasn’t that far to the ground, but it was far enough. Tickling him won out and she latched onto his knee, squeezing it. 

“Hey, stop that!”

“You started it.” 

“Don’t make me drop you.”

“I trust you not to.” She smiled deviously. He wouldn’t drop her now, not after she’d said that. The likelihood of him dropping her before was minute, but added reassurance wasn’t bad. She hadn’t counted on him starting to spin. His grip tightened and he spun and spun and spun. Her head was swimming when he stopped. He seemed completely unphased.

Aelin was about to tease him some more when she felt the familiar vibration of a phone. Hers was inside, which meant it was Rowan’s. As though she weighed nothing more than a feather, he continued to brace her body against his with one arm and used his newly freed one to dig in his pocket. His body stiffened as he looked at the screen. Flipping her upright, he set her down and took two steps back, answering the phone. 

Eaves dropping was extremely rude, but he was still so close—it was hard not to hear every word of the exchange between them. His silver brow furrowed the longer the conversation continued, and he was intermittently pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Lyria was clearly upset that he hadn’t answered her previously calls or called her back. Then she brought up how he wasn’t “here”. Aelin didn’t know where “here” was, but she did know it wasn’t hanging out with his friends.

“I’m not going to do this with you right now. You’re jumping down my throat and I understand you’re upset, but this isn’t how I want to spend my holiday. I love you and I’m sorry I had a prior commitment. You knew this when you asked me last week.”

Prior commitment? The decorating was last minute, she knew from Elide’s tenuous confession and pleading this morning. So, what had Rowan given up to be here? The mother of his child was currently ripping him a new one, he’d ignored several phone calls, and still, he was in here, instead of doing whatever he was supposed to be doing. 

She startled when he said her name. She had missed him hanging up with Lyria. His guarded green gaze met hers and held steady. He was waiting for to ask him what was going on. Most of it didn’t need to be asked about because she heard it, but against her better judgement, she had to ask two questions.

“Where were you supposed to be and why aren’t you with her?”

His angular jaw tensed just enough to let her know he was uncomfortable with what she had asked of him. His left hand clenched into a fist, the tanned skin of his forearm flexing the tattooed whorls. “I’m not with her because I didn’t want to be.” 

“But she’s having your baby. And it’s Yulemas tomorrow.”

“Thank you for that astute observation, Aelin.” 

“I just don’t understand,” she said plainly. Quietly. 

“I was supposed to go to Doranelle early this morning, on a red eye, but I didn’t. She’s mad because I wouldn’t cancel it to go spend the holiday with her and her parents. I’ve spent every Yulemas with my cousins since my parents died.” She knew he’d lost his parents, but he’d never stated is so plainly. Truly, he had said more about himself in those three sentences as he had in as many months of friendship. 

“Did you tell her you didn’t go?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“And she’s livid you still didn’t go to her parents.” It should have been a question, but she said it as a statement instead. It was evident from the tense exchange just how upset the dark-haired woman was about his lack of attendance.

“Correct.”

It was apparent that any further explication on the subject was going to be like pulling teeth. 

“Did you miss your plane?”

“No,” he answered flat and succinct. 

“Did they ask you not to come?”

“Of course not. They were very upset when I called this morning and said I wasn’t coming.” 

“Why didn’t you go?” she pushed. It was unfair he always knew what was going on in her head, soliciting more than what she wanted to comfortably give. She didn’t regret trying to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

“Don’t ask me that Aelin.”

While the please wasn’t audible, she knew it was implied, as was the reason he didn’t go.

Her.

His green eyes were still upon her, narrowing slightly, as he anticipated her next move. She wanted to call him on his unsaid truth. To prod and prod and prod until one of them snapped, the consequences be damned. But she didn’t. He’d shown her the smallest glimpse inside his walls. If her inquisition backfired, he’d never let her in again. 

Trust took an irrational amount of time to foster and create but could be forced to ruination in seconds. She would not bring their friendship to the battlefield today. As hard as it was to sit on her hands, it was exactly what she did.

“I think if we don’t hurry up with the tree, it’ll be dark, and we’ll have missed Connall’s cooking.”

Rowan visibly relaxed, like one of the Staghorns had been lifted off his shoulders. “You’re probably right. Fenrys and Lorcan won’t hesitate to eat our food if we’re not there when Con deems its dinner time.” 

The rest of the tree took around an hour to put together, Rowan of course doing all the heavy lifting, and much to his chagrin, some branch fluffing while Aelin directed him from the ground. After she had almost fallen off the ladder reaching to fix one of them, he had refused to let her back on, using his body to block her. She was secretly glad; it gave her a chance to watch him unencumbered. His muscled frame, despite being large, moved with graceful ease, keeping him steady 20 plus feet in the air. 

Aelin had only seen a small glimpse of the finished decorations and was itching to get up from the dinner table to look, but her friends kept sending judgmental looks her way. Rowan had thought it would be more special to plug in the lights outside once dinner was over, so they could ring in Yulemas as a family—she’d been pouting ever since. The need for instant gratification was on the forefront of her brain. 

Now that the decorations were up and finished, the joy she used to feel before her parents’ loss was coming to life, soon to be a roaring fire. Connall had said he was putting the finishing touches on several dishes and waiting for dessert to finish, before dinner would start. It felt like later would never come.

“Would you quit bouncing your leg like a little kid who has to pee?” Lys quietly said into her ear. 

“I’m starving and no one will let me look at the decorations.” 

“Yes because you got out voted and we’re doing it all together. Not any one person has seen it all.”

“Quit scolding me like a child,” whined Aelin, tipping her head back against the chair. On her left, out of the corner of her eye, she could see Rowan’s mouth tip up in a lopsided grin as his gaze flicked away from Fenrys to her. Her pain was the night’s entertainment.

“You’re acting like a toddler right now,” Lysandra tried to sound stern but ended up laughing.

“Lysssssssss.”

“This is why you were an only child. Elide was she this insufferable growing up?”

“Worse. Between her and Aedion, it was constant ego, theatrics, and bad decisions. I’m pretty sure it’s why I ended up being an only child. My mom had to put up with them and then come home to me. I asked for a brother once and she started bringing me to play with them… I didn’t want one after that.” 

“It wasn’t that bad, Elide,” Aelin declared indignantly.

The dark-haired woman remained silent, but raised a disbelieving eyebrow and stared her down. Aedion and Aelin had been menaces to her parents, Elide’s mother Marion, and Gavriel, but Elide had been their partner in crime too many times to count. Aelin would let the rest of the table believe Elide the angel she appeared to be, for now. 

“Aelin, why don’t you go decorate the tree in your bedroom? I left a box with your name on it sitting on the bed. It was full of ornaments,” chimed in Manon as she walked in from the kitchen, a newly poured glass of red wine in hand.

“You found my tree?”

Manon snorted, the wine almost sloshing over the side of her glass when she did so. “It was hard to miss. Giant scrawl was all over the two boxes declaring it was your tree and the decorations that went with it. You guys really love Yulemas in this house.”

“Yeah we did,” she agreed, renewed nostalgia setting in. A heavy hand landed on her bouncing leg, giving her knee a brief, reassuring squeeze. Her blue eyes flicked over to Rowan’s, and he inclined his head towards the door, motioning for her to go.

She weaved out of the room and out the front dining room entrance, ending up at stairs closet to her room. Halfway up, a second set of footfalls joined in hers, and without turning, she knew it was Rowan. The outside tree and being present today, had been apology enough, but if he wanted to watch her agonize over perfect placement for her tree, then she’d let him.

The box on her bed was open, ratty cardboard flaps revealing some of her most prized possessions. Twenty-one years of her life could be found in this box. Every year, her father would present her mother and her with handpicked ornaments. It was tradition to open them on Yulemas Eve and then hang them on the tree at midnight.

Manon had set the tree to the right of her fireplace. It stood tall and naked in front of her bookshelf. Eagerly, she stuck her hand into the box of brightly colored tissue paper, pulling out a wrapped ball. Instant tears welled in her eyes as she unwrapped it. A flaming red heart sat nestled in her hand. It had been the last one her father had gotten for her and the most meaningful Yulemas gift she’d ever received. 

A silent tear rolled down her cheek, dripping onto the tissue paper, darkening it. Another one followed. She knew it was in here but hadn’t expected it to be the very first one out of the box. She could feel his presence heavy at her side, probably wondering she was looking at her hands like they held the world. 

She sniffed, her runny nose making very unlady like noises, “My dad got my mom and I handmade ones every year. We’d open them the night before Yulemas and hang them on the tree at midnight, signifying the start of our favorite day of the year. This one, it was the last one he got me before they died.”

“Aelin, it’s beautiful.” 

“It’s what they used to call me. Fireheart.” 

“Very fitting.” 

“Not anymore. I don’t even know that girl.”

“I do,” he said quietly before slipping it from her hands and hanging it on a branch towards the top. 

Aelin wanted to argue with him, to tell him that the girl she used to be was just as dead as her parents. She had been a force, burning brightly—unapologetically herself. There wasn’t a mountain she couldn’t conquer. She had been someone who never needed anyone, who didn’t cry at the drop of a hat, and had never doubted herself. 

Now, she was nothing but a field of ash, burned and unrecognizable. 

He held out his hand, waiting for her to hand him another, and she did methodically until the box was empty. It was stunning, each placed just right. The tree could have been in a magazine, reminding her of the days when Evalin had spent hours adorning the trees to the same standard. 

Rowan’s tall frame dropped to the floor, and he plugged in the tree, illuminating the room. The heart at the top had been strategically placed, backlit by a bulb, giving the illusion it was actually burning. He leaned into her legs, his head resting against her hip as they stared at the tree. 

“Sometimes, we all just need a little light.” The statement was weighted and required no elaboration, clearly a nod to her earlier confession. She dropped her hand to his head, idly running her fingers through the loose, silver strands. He had taken his hair out of its bun earlier, in anticipation of her braiding it, but they had never gotten around to it. It would have to be done at a later date; he would not get off scot-free. 

“Dinner!” a cacophony of loud voices rang out from somewhere beyond the walls of her bedroom. Hastily, the pair separated, several feet of distance now between them. Shame felt heavy in the pit of her stomach as she stared at Rowan, who was conveniently looking at books on the shelf nearest him.

It might not have been the embrace of lovers, but the moment had been just as intimate, if not more. He was spoken for, a father-in-the-making, and situations like this, shouldn’t be happening. Aelin was to Rowan as a moth was to a flame—inexplicably drawn, despite the promise of a tragic outcome. 

Moving forward, she would have to religiously remind herself that traipsing the fine line between friends and something more was not in the best interest of anyone involved. Too many cards were in play, and she did not yet possess a winning hand. With one last look, she strolled out of the room and rushed down the stairs, eagerly returning to her earlier seat.

Elide gave her a questioning look when she sat down alone. She shrugged her shoulders, reaching for whatever dish was closest to her. Later, one of her friends would corner her, demanding answers about her quality time spent with the silver-haired male. They were all a bunch of gossips, yet, if she shoe were on the other foot, she’d be acting the same. Secrets were the glue that helped bind friendships together. 

Con had out done himself. The table was laden with various dishes from one side to the other. There was no way she was going to be able to try it all. She plopped a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes on the white and gold plate in front her and then followed it with carved pieces of turkey. A basket of rolls was making its way around but was rudely intercepted by Rowan’s big hand as he swiped one before sitting down. 

“Looks like that was the last one, Aelin,” shared Dorian with a sympathetic look. He set the empty basket down and all she could do was stare at it, letting out a loud and dramatic sigh. 

“There’s another batch baking. The rolls always go first,” called Con from the opposite end. It didn’t make it better. She had wanted one now. Instant gratification and all.

“Here,” he said warmly, his tattooed hand placing half a roll onto her plate. Melted butter glistened on the top and her ire softened, just slightly, at his gesture. Her turquoise eyes followed his hand’s retreat, a tingling, heavy sensation forming low in her stomach when he licked the butter from his fingers. Her thighs clenched together, a poor attempt at quelling the wayward response her body was having to such an innocuous act.   

The gods were testing her. As if last night’s conversation or today’s Yulemas decorating had not been enough, now they were dangling a hot, hot man who she couldn’t touch right in front of her. Perhaps, she should attend Temple and pray to Kiva for atonement or to Lumas’, whose birthday was tomorrow… he was the God of Love afterall. 

“I think we should go around and say one thing we’re grateful for or that we hope happens in the next year. Seems more fun than the traditional grace said at Holidays,” suggested Vaughn. 

“Oh, I love this!” Dorian declared excitedly, dropping his napkin into his lap, and sitting up straight. His blue eyes were sparkling. “I’m grateful I’m spending this holiday with great friends.”

“That is so lame,” Manon declared dryly. Her unnaturally yellow eyes were pinned on Dorian, daring him refute her.

“It may be lame, but it’s true. I usually spend today and Yulemas with my family and Chaol. It’s nice to do something different with people who don’t tell me how much of a screw up I am. Or who don’t rant incessantly about mutual friends.” His gaze flicked to Aelin’s when he said the last part; apology was etched into his face.

“Well, we’re honored to be the better choice,” Fenrys said, raising his glass to Dorian before tipping it back. “I’m grateful for the beautiful life I get to live, and I hope this next year continues to bring good things to me and my.” Collective nods and smiles spread around the table. 

“I’m grateful that Vaughn finally asked me out,” declared Conall with a grin so wide, it crinkled his eyes so much they almost looked shut. Vaughn leaned over, placing a sweet but chaste kiss against his lips. 

“Me too, you’re the best part of my day.” 

“Can we save some of the sweet for dessert? My teeth are rotting out just looking at you two.” 

“She has to eat children for breakfast,” Dorian whispered, looking slightly frightened. 

“I heard that,” Manon replied drolly. She took a large sip of wine from her glass, keeping the raven-haired male pinned with her glare. Aelin found it too amusing how much the woman liked to torture Dorian. He always acted as though at any second he was going to be disemboweled by her hands. Honestly, that seemed a little messy… she seemed the type to just snap someone’s neck and step over the body, unbothered. 

“I’m grateful for the success of The Thirteenth.” 

Lys coughed pointedly. Manon sighed, “I’m grateful for my friends. I guess you all are pretty cool.” 

“Glad we rank somewhere in your life,” Lys laughed. “I’m grateful for Fleetfoot and I hope that by this time next year, I have something like Connall and Vaughn.” Despite being a top figure in the modeling world and successful in her own right, Lysandra had struggled in the romance department. It seemed to Aelin that most guys just saw a pretty face and became disinterested when they learned she actually had brains to accompany the beauty. 

“I’m not doing this,” Lorcan vowed stone-faced.

“Yes you are,” argued Elide. Her dark eyes fiercely meeting his. A silent conversation passed between the pair, ending with the large, brooding male’s shoulders sagging in defeat. 

“I’m grateful for my brothers and for ‘Lide.” He didn’t smile at his admission. In fact, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here at the dinner table.

Elide rested her head against Lorcan’s arm, smiling to herself. The appeal of their relationship was lost on Aelin. Lorcan seemed about as fun as running naked through thorn bushes or fighting a Ghost Leopard with only your bare hands. 

“I’m grateful I twisted my ankle. I’ve never been glad to be clumsy until this year.” 

There it was. Aelin had never actually asked Elide how she’d found Lorcan.  Obviously, there were more details, but it seemed the angry man had a penchant for damsels in distress. 

The table looked expectedly at her and Rowan, waiting for one of them to go. The food they’d plated was likely cold and the rolls were probably burning. It was worth it though, to hear all the sappy things that holidays brought to light. 

“I’m fortunate to have irreplaceable friends and a proclivity for quality literature.” He didn’t bother to look at anyone else, his stormy green gaze focused on her. The conviction of his admission sent her heart skittering. A pink flush colored her cheeks, partly because it felt like he was stripping her bare and because there was an audience to his veil remark. The aforementioned line was growing finer by the minute. 

Eager to redirect the focus of the table back to the task at hand, she didn’t acknowledge him. “I’m most grateful that I don’t have to sit alone at rock bottom. And for the grace you have all shown me as I try to find myself, again and again. Thank you for being the kindling that keeps my fire going.” 

“Here, here,” cheered Fenrys loudly, his smile infectious. Aelin felt an answering one spread wide across her face. “Now let’s eat because there’s a whole lot of lights waiting for us.” 

And eat they did; what started as a daunting amount of food, hardly seemed like it was going to be enough at the end. Aelin hadn’t kept company with men who could eat like that since her cousin and uncle. Every single one of them was fit, with hardly any body fat to their name, and likely their insatiable appetite stemmed from their active lifestyles. Dorian, for as high maintenance as he was, worked out several times a week. He blamed it on having an “image” to uphold. 

Aelin was so uncomfortable, bloated like a fat tick, that she did not even have room to eat the chocolate hazelnut croissants sitting in front of her. Connall had found the recipe starred with a note declaring “Aelin’s favorite”. She’d probably have a good cry later after everyone left whilst eating one in the dark. Maybe if she was feeling terribly masochistic, she’d open the book, and run her fingers over the words written down. Would she feel the echoes of a mother’s love in the indented script? Would there be greasy fingerprints staining the pages? Would she hear the laughing chastisement of her dad as reminded her she had to wait for them to cool? What ghosts would creep in the dead of night?

“If I don’t walk around and digest this food, I’m simply going to perish right here.” Dorian was splayed out in his chair, looking pitiful, eyes pinched shut.

“Then get up. Your decomposing corpse will stain my floors.”

“Rude. You’d just let me rot right there?” he asked exasperated now staring at the floor. 

Aelin shrugged, unabashed. “You’re too heavy for me to move.”

His eyes grew wide, hand flying to his chest in horror. “I know you did not just call me fat.” 

“If you weren’t so vain, you wouldn’t have taken it like that.”

“That’s rich, the pot calling the kettle black.” 

She laughed loudly, amusement sinking in. “I never said I wasn’t vain. Besides my dead body would be easier to move.”

“Again, with the fat jokes.”

“What cheerful Yulemas conversation: rotting bodies,” deadpanned Lorcan.  

“You two are such children,” Lysandra observed. It sounded like she was trying to reprimand them, but the entertained look on her face said otherwise. 

“He started it.”

“Aelin, stop,” Elide begged, dragging out the ‘p’ dramatically.

Huffing, she rolled her eyes, and closed her mouth, the rebuttal sadly dying on her tongue. 

“Well, it’s almost midnight, so we better hurry through, so we can make it outside to plug the tree in when it’s officially midnight. Let the tour commence,” Elide sing-songed, clapping her hands together. One at a time, they filed out of the living room, through the kitchen, and into the living room. Both Fleetfoot and Eliot were asleep under the large Christmas tree that occupied one corner. The tree was decorated in only white ornaments, the clear lights slowly fading in and out, casting a warm glow throughout the room. It was so cliché, but perfect, nonetheless.

The exited the living room and made it back to the back stairs, the banister wrapped in frosted pine garlands with red bows. A small Christmas tree was nestled between the bathroom and closet doors. They followed Elide up the stairs, poking their heads in the decorated upstairs rooms, enjoying how each tree had its own theme. 

Manon had decorated the front porch balcony, a beautiful tree in the middle, wreaths hung from the windows, and garlands with bright red, velvet bows decorated the columns. The downstairs porch carried the same décor, sans the tree. Both trees in the formal sitting room and piano room could be seen from the windows—perks of having 6ft windows in all the rooms. 

They headed down the front set of stairs and took a moment to look closer at the trees in the sitting and piano room. The fireplaces were decorated with pine garlands with candied fruit slices strung along them instead of bows. It smelled liked mulled cider with a citrusy note. Aelin couldn’t have asked for a better group of friends. She knew that Elide had been the mastermind behind the decorations and today. After all, she’d really been the only one around to know how it used to be, to know how much care Evalin had put into the whole craft. 

Her eyes burned with unsaid emotion. Today had been exactly what she had needed. These decorations, these friends, these new memories… they helped lessen the ache that had griped her heart mercilessly tight for almost a decade. Grief had been holding her head under water for so long, it was difficult to know how to come up for air. 

Her ribcage expanded as she pulled in a deep breath and then exhaling, enjoying how it didn’t quite feel so heavy anymore to do so. “Thank you. It seems so paltry a gesture compared to this—,” she gestured to their surroundings, “but it’s the best way I know how right now.”

“Seeing your eyes light up has been all the thanks I needed. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you look like that,” Lys replied, slipping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She relaxed her head against her friend, enjoying the peaceful silence that had befallen them. 

“Hate to ruin the moment, but its 11:58, and there’s a tree that needs lighting.” Thank the gods Connall was paying attention. 

Hastily, they bounded out the front door, off the porch, and out into the yard. The unlit tree towered high into the night, the top barely visible. They stood together, merriment and anticipation freely flowing. The tree flickered to life with an audible buzzing sound. Aelin squinted, her eyes attempting to adjust to the bright radiance. Her and Rowan had done an amazing job. The ornaments were visible, some almost looking like they were lit themselves, the bulbs glowing against them.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed or even if it was. Truthfully, it felt like time was standing still—the moment felt infinite as they stood there, heads craned back, eyes wide with wonder. Yulemas, was a god’s birthday, but it was also a day of celebration and togetherness. A day for unbridled joy. An unspoken agreement with the universe that worries and troubles didn’t matter. No bad things could happen because just for one day, the gods hit pause on it all.

“Happy Yulemas.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aelin was wrapped in her favorite blanket, sitting on the porch, still basking in the tree’s light. She had missed its presence more than she had known and now that it was up, the idea of leaving it to sleep, caused an ache in her chest. All of her friends, except one, had left hours ago. She didn’t know the exact time, but it late, the horizon staring to lighten just barely, signaling dawn wasn’t too far off. 

It was supposed to snow, but the sky was clear, not a whisp of clouds in the sky. The air was heavy and still though, the smell of frost tickling her nose. Having a white Yulemas would be wonderous, especially with the house done up in spectacular fashion. It had been years since Orynth had been graced by snow on Lumas’ birthday.

“I have something for you.” His sleepy voice startled her. When she had last looked at him, he had been sleeping peacefully, Elliot curled into his side on the wooden bench. 

Her gaze flicked over to him, noting that while she had been staring off, wishing for snow, he had sat up, folded his blanket, and pulled back his hair into a bun. She really needed to work on her observation skills, if only for self-preservation. 

“It’s in the truck,” he said as he stood and extended a hand to her. 

As content as she was wrapped up like a burrito, she uncurled herself, and slipped her hand into his. It was warm and calloused and much larger than her own. He didn’t let go even when she was to her feet and Aelin knew she should pull her hand back, but she didn’t. For just five minutes, it would be okay to pretend that there was nothing wrong with holding his hand. No lines were being blurred or crossed or ignored. He was just a guy and she was just a girl.

Elliot faithfully trotted behind them, stuck to Rowan like glue. Her own dog, had refused to come outside, choosing to lay in front of the fire. Fleetfoot was spoiled and it showed. They did say people often picked dogs like themselves. 

Rowan opened the driver side door and dug around, only dropping her hand when he had to lean further across the bench seat. He stepped out of the door, allowing for Elliot to jump up into the truck—which caused her to deflate a little inside because it meant he was leaving. She wasn’t sure if she was dreading finally being alone or dreading him leaving. 

He shut the door and leaned back against it. Holding is hand up between them, a small brown box with a gold bow sat on his open palm. When she didn’t immediately grab it, he stepped closer, their bodies almost touching. If she took even half a step, angled her head just so, their lips would be flush, and that was the only thing running through her brain. 

When he spoke, his breath warmed her lips, “Are you going to open it, or do you have x-ray vision and haven’t told me?”

Embarrassment and shame coursed through her veins. Kissing him was the absolute last thing she should be contemplating. Her hand quickly relieved him of the package, and she took a step back, opening it. Reaching in, she hooked a green ribbon with her finger and pulled up. 

Fleetfoot. A dog had been carved out of wood, collar, and everything, and stained to appear just like her own. 

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed quietly. A tear streaked down her right cheek. 

Before she even registered him move, his hand was cupping her jaw, and he was swiping away the tear with his thumb. A small amount of pressure applied forced her to look at him. He stared intently at her, and she suddenly didn’t know how to breathe.  

“I carved it from a piece of wood I cut that day you were at my house. I almost took my thumb off a few times. It was hard to get her just right.”

“It seems like it would be hard to whittle something with so much detail.”

Rowan opened his mouth a few times but said nothing. He seemed to be struggling internally with himself, his brow furrowing quite noticeably for it being so dark and hard to see features in any great detail. Frustrated with his silence, she huffed, “What?”

“When you told me about your Yulemas tradition earlier in your bedroom, I thought to myself how fortuitous it was that I had spent weeks on this thing for you. Out of all the things, I’d carved you something to be hung on a tree.” His hand slowly down her neck, his words barely above a whisper. The drag of his hot hand against her cooled flesh sent shivers down her spine, straight to core.  Aelin’s self-control was fraying like a worn rope, soon too many fibers would break, and it would snap all together, ending with her doing something incredibly rash. 

Sucking in a ragged breath, she dropped her gaze, and counted to ten, a pitiful attempt to ground her thoughts. His hand remained against her neck, the tip of his thumb grazing the straight plane of her jawbone. She wondered if he could feel her pulse racing or the flushed heat of her skin against his open palm. 

“I love my gift, Ro. I’ll hang it on my tree when I go inside.” 

He suddenly pulled her close without hesitation, the end of her promise muffled by his muscled chest. Pine and snow deliciously filled her nose she tucked her face in a little tighter. She could feel his hands playing with the tips of her hair and the unmistakable press of lips against the crown of her head. 

“Happy Yulemas, Fireheart.” 

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Tag list:

@lunadorned @theresyourfireandblood @backtobl4ck @leiawritesstories @morganofthewildfire @rowaelinismyotp @jorjy-jo @theresyourfireandblood @numbers-colors-fashion @swankii-art-teacher @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart  @stardelia @astra-ad-mare

[ur-average-farp]

i guess it is kind of equal

maeve: i love all of the cadre equally! *earlier that day* maeve: i don't care for lorcan, rowan, fenrys, or connall