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leiawritesstories · 3 years ago

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CHAPTER SIX: WHY IS THE RUM GONE?!

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: language, pissed Rowan, talk of alcohol, Aelin’s schemes

MASTERLIST

Enjoy!

the line “Why is the rum gone?!” belongs, ofc, to Captain Jack Sparrow

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“Cap?” Lorcan inquired, taking in the absolute thunderstorm on Rowan’s face when he returned to the ship.

“Make all preparations and get the hell underway,” Rowan grunted, signaling the crewmen into a flurry of motion. “We’re going after Galathynius.”

Lorcan followed him to the quarterdeck, standing by his side as the Doranelle rapidly hurried to finish restocking and a team of crewmen set up the capstan to winch in the anchor and gangplank.

“Faster!” Rowan yelled. “I said today, goddammit!”

“Cap,” Lorcan ventured, “it’s close to dark. I don’t want to ask, but…you sure?”

“Yes I’m fucking sure,” Rowan gritted out. “We’re leaving tonight. We have to, if we want to get anywhere close to Galathynius.”

“At the risk of getting fucking slapped, Galathynius had a rather damn good headwind; he could have taken any direction.”

“Shit!” Rowan swore, “Lor, you’re not supposed to be the rational one.”

“No, but I don’t want us going on the hunt underprepared,” Lorcan returned, shrugging.

“True.” Rowan’s eyes narrowed, plans shifting in his mind. “In that case, we’ll leave with the tide in the morning. Keep anchor!” he yelled, stopping the crew before they could start winching up the great iron anchor.

The Doranelle sailed out of Wendlyn early the next morning, the ebbing tide propelling them out of the harbor. By dusk, they had reached the open sea. Rowan sent Aedion up to the lookout perch.

“Any signs?”

Aedion put his spyglass to his eye and turned a full, slow circle, scanning every direction for any hint of the Terrasen. “Nothing, Captain!” he hollered down to the deck.

Rowan swore a filthy oath. “Hints? Any fucking indications which way Galathynius could have gone?”

“Give me a few minutes,” Aedion called. He twirled the magnifier on his glass, scanning the rippling waves again and again, checking every direction. “Right! I’m coming down,” he called shortly later. He swung nimbly down the ratlines until his bare feet landed on the deck.

“Talk to me, Ashryver.”

“Well, Captain, there’s not much, if I’m being completely honest. However, given the direction of the wind and the currents, Galathynius likely went south or east. Don’t know where the hell he’s heading, but that’s the probable weather pattern.” He tapped his fingers to the brim of his cap. “Captain.”

“Thank you, Ashryver.” Rowan grabbed his maps, flicking them open. “South or east, you said?”

“Aye, Captain.”

“South or east,” Rowan muttered, tracing his finger in that direction. “South, east…the Iron Isles?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, a familiar gesture of perplexity. “Maybe…maybe Fenharrow, too. That’s sort of to the south.” He rolled the charts back up. “Thank you, Ashryver.”

“No problem, Captain.” Well, at least he could warn Aelin where not to go.

Doranelle suspects you’re headed for the Iron Isles, possibly Fenharrow. We’re headed southeast, hoping to catch you unawares. Or something. Knowing you, though, you probably are headed in that direction, if only to prove your superior seamanship and lose us in the Iron Isles. Whitethorn grumpier than usual, probably because of Wendlyn. Keep your eyes sharp, cousin. -AA.

Aelin cackled at her cousin’s note, at the lovely image that popped into her head of her sly, cunning cousin very cleverly redirecting the Doranelle. He wasn’t wrong, she was headed in a southeasterly direction, a course set to skim through the outer ring of the Iron Isles. She was very familiar with that territory, it being Manon and Asterin’s homeland, and the two of them had spent many hours teaching her the ins and outs of the devious waters around their home islands. A skill that would no doubt prove very, very handy in pissing off one Rowan Whitethorn.

Served him right for believing Rolfe’s little rumors.

Keep heading for the Iron Isles. Heard tell that Terrasen was spotted sailing for that area. Perhaps a base is set up there?

Aelin snickered to herself as she dashed off that reply, slipped it into a message tube, and released the pigeon back towards the Doranelle. She had to keep her notes brief and detached, pretending to be some random merchant or passing ship who’d seen glimpses of the Terrasen, since if Aedion showed Whitethorn the messages she sent him, revealing herself would be damning.

That was where her talent for writing different hands came into play. Each of her missives was written in a different style, some of them elegant, some crude and sloppy, the writing itself varying from clear and graceful to smudged and barely legible. Oh, but this was all so fun.

“So where, exactly, are we going this time, Cap?” Elide strolled up to Aelin’s side.

“Towards the Iron Isles.”

“Why the hell are we going there?”

“Fun,” Aelin smirked. “For a little excursion.”

“Oh right, and might this excursion include, I don’t know, the possibility of the Doranelle spotting and maybe fucking shooting at us?”

“That’s where the fun is!”

Elide chuckled. “Ae, I really don’t know why I expected any different.”

“Aedion says the Doranelle is following, just as we hoped.”

“Oh goody,” Elide grinned. “How long until we hit the Isles?”

“A few days, maybe a week.”

“And how long until we teach those boys that the Isles don’t take kindly to intruders?”

“We’ll see,” Aelin grinned, her eyes sparking with delight. “We’ll see. Oh, and Elide?”

“Yeah?”

A feline smirk crawled onto Aelin’s face. “We’ll be making a quick stop to prepare the Orynth.”

Elide’s grin matched hers. “You got it, Cap!”

When Aelin had first taken command of a ship, she’d been all of eighteen years old and the ship was a rather small but rather nimble little craft with twelve guns and a Long Tom bow chaser. Rolfe had wanted to see what she could do with her own ship and crew, so he’d put her and a handful of people she’d worked and trained with onto that ship and sent them out to sea. He’d given no orders, no directions, nothing but “make me proud.” Classic Rolfe.

Within a few weeks, Aelin had the whole operation running like clockwork, her crew’s hungry eyes ever on the lookout for prey. They’d warmed up to her authority right quick after their first skirmish, where her expert commands and whip-quick reaction time had led them to kick the shit out of a Royal Navy ship, taking all its valuables and sending it to the bottom of the sea. During their six months of prowling, they’d claimed more than a dozen prizes, sending them all back to Rolfe to reap the reward. And a fine reward it had been. Aelin and her small crew went home after that little jaunt with gold weighing heavy in their pockets, the spoils of their plundering sweet indeed. Rolfe had been beyond pleased, even allowing her to continue captaining the ship.

That little ship was still Aelin’s, kept docked at one of the outer Iron Isles. She was named the Orynth, after Aelin’s birth city, and she was kept in running order if they ever needed her for a distraction. The Orynth was an exact, smaller-scale copy of the Terrasen, and during Aelin’s few years of captaining her own ships, she’d discovered the benefit of a good decoy. The Orynth had successfully drawn a good number of pursuers aside, allowing Aelin and the Terrasen to sneak around and blast the shit out of said pursuers. Because she looked exactly like Aelin’s ship--indeed, the difference was undetectable from a large enough distance--nobody suspected they had the wrong vessel.

If all went according to plan, neither would Whitethorn.

Aelin dropped Manon and a small crew off at the island, leaving her the plans and the route she should take to get the Doranelle good and lost in the maze that was the Iron Isles. Within a week or so, Whitethorn should be able to find his way out. There weren’t any settlers in the part of the Isles Aelin intended to have Manon lead him, so unless he was incompetent, he ought to be able to get back to the open ocean. Besides, he had Aedion, and although he wasn’t as experienced in the territory as Aelin was, Aeds knew his way around at least half of the Iron Isles.

“Keep me posted, Manon?”

“Of course, Cap.” Manon clasped her hand, grinning evilly. “He’ll think he’s got you, and then he won’t.”

“I’m counting on it,” Aelin laughed. “Good sailing.”

“Good sailing.” Manon descended the ladder into the waiting rowboat and pushed off. “See you in a week or so, Cap!”

Aelin waved as her Second Mate’s little boat disappeared, docking at the island and the crew making quick work of boarding the waiting Orynth and getting the rowboat aboard. The Terrasen sailed around the island, heading into the waters of the Iron Isles.

Oh, how she wished she could see the look on Whitethorn’s face when Manon, clever, devious Manon, led him around in circles and then vanished, as if she never existed.

Aboard the Doranelle, Rowan was pacing a track into the wooden planks of his deck. “What?!” he snapped, turning his harsh captain’s gaze on the quartermaster.

“Gone, Captain,” Emrys, the quartermaster, who kept careful track of the supplies and cooked a hell of a meal, repeated, his voice steady. “Fair vanished from the stores. Or maybe, it wasn’t restocked.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t the liquor be restocked?” Rowan grumbled. “We run on that shit, Emrys.”

“I know, Captain, and I wish I had an explanation. The best I can figure is it didn’t get restocked because…well…” His voice died out, embarrassed.

“Spit it out.”

“Because there was no supply in Wendlyn to restock it.”

“What.”

Emrys shuffled his feet, growing nervous under Rowan’s anger. “Well, Captain, it seems that the Terrasen didn’t just steal coins and trinkets. They took…well, they took the liquor. Or they locked it up somewhere.” He looked up, sheepish. “That’s my best guess, Captain.”

Rowan’s face went flat with fury. “Galathynius…” he growled.

“No, just me.” Lorcan bounded up to his side. “Christ, Cap, what the hell happened?”

“Terrasen might have taken or emptied or locked up our liquor on Wendlyn.”

Lorcan blinked. “So what, they swindled us out of a few barrels of wine or ale or some shit?”

“No, you ass, all of it. Wine, beer, ale, rum--”

“The rum?” Now Lorcan was getting it. “There’s no rum?”

“No.”

“Why is the rum gone?” Lorcan all but howled. “Need that shit to function, I do!”

“Hard to have any rum when there’s none to restock,” Emrys deadpanned. “If you’ll excuse me, Captain, I should go finish tallying up what stores we do have.” He left.

“Calm the fuck down, Lor,” Rowan hissed.

Lorcan huffed a sigh. “Fine. But no fucking rum?” His eyes narrowed. “Galathynius better not have taken it all, because if he did, I’m getting it the fuck back when we find him.”

Rowan snorted. “He wouldn’t take all the rum in Wendlyn, though. Emrys is right, it’s probably fucking locked up somewhere, just hidden so we couldn’t take any more.”

“Goddamn scheming Galathynius,” Lorcan grumbled, “thinks he’s got in a good hit with that.” Inwardly, though, he chuckled wryly, knowing he should have expected Captain Galathynius to pull something like that.

Clever, she was.

~~~~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed or if tags don’t work!

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@cretaceous-therapod

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@fireheartwhitethorn4ever

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#my writing #pirate au #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #fly the black flag

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queen-of-lightning-and-fire · 7 years ago

Conversation

Incorrect Quote #21

Maeve: So what now Aelin Galathynius? Are we to be two immortals locked in an epic battle until Judgment Day and the trumpets sound?

Aelin: Or you could surrender

#incorrect quotes #pirates of the caribbean #pirates of the carribean dead mans chest #captain jack sparrow #captain barbossa #aelin ashryver galathynius #maeve #queen of the fae #aelin ashryver #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #sarah j maas

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inklingofinspiration · 3 years ago

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Fandoms and Characters I Write For

Maze Runner; Thomas, Newt, Minho, Brenda, Aris, Sonya, Harriet.

Star Wars; Han Solo, Leia Skywalker, Rei, Obi-wan Kenobi.

Umbrella Academy; Luther Hargreeves [periodically], Diego Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves (both Sparrow Academy and Umbrella), Five Hargreeves, Viktor Hargreeves, Allison Hargreeves, Lila, Klaus Hargreeves, Jayme Hargreeves.

Criminal Minds; Spencer Reid, JJ, Morgan, Aaron Hotchner.

Harry Potter; Fred and George Weasley, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Cedric Diggory, Draco Malfoy.

Avatar; Sokka, Zuko, Aang, Toph, Katara, Korra, Asami.

Throne of Glass; Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, Dorian Havilliard, Manon, Elide Lochan, Lysandra.

Demon Slayer; Shinobu Kochou, Zenitsu Agatsuma, Tanjirou Kamadou, Inosuke, Giyuu Tomioka, etc.

Lord of the Rings; Legolas, Aaragorn, Merry, Pippin, Frodo, Elrond, Thranduil, Tauriel, Boromir.

Attack on Titan; Levi Ackerman, Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackerman, Armin Arlert, Hange Zoe, Jean Kirstein, Ymir, Historia Reiss.

Six of Crows; Kaz Brekker, Inej, Jesper, Nina.

My Hero Academia; Mina Ashido, Kyoka Jirou, Izuku Midoriya, Shotou Todoroki, Tomura Shigaraki, Shinsou Hitoshi, Neito Monoma, Hanta Sero, Denki Kaminari.

Genshin Impact; Zhongli, Kazuha, Shenhe, Xiao, Venti, Raidne Ei, Yae Miko, Xingqiu, Gorou, Mona, Klee [strictly platonic], Qiqi [strictly platonic], Diona [strictly platonic], Keqing, Ganyu, Ningguang, Chongyun, Beidou, Yanfei, Xiangling, Scaramouche, etc.

Supernatural; Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Jack Kline.

{Will be updated}

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mrspettyferr · 3 years ago

Note

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime, books, movies or tv series)? Thanks....

Oh boy that is reallllly hard lol. I cheated and did 10 male and female. And even then, I tried to name the first ten that came to mind because its so tough!

Male: Prince Zuko, Harry Potter, Steve Rogers, Kylo Ren, the Darkling, Jack Sparrow, Indiana Jones, Rowan Whitethorn, Han Solo, and Tony Stark.

Female: Daenerys Targaryen, Manon Blackbeak, Kate Daniels, Rose Hathaway, Elizabeth Swann, Toph, Hermione Granger, Cersei Lannister, and Villanelle.

Heros and villains both I guess lol.

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oohnoniall · 3 years ago

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Hawk & Sparrow [Rowan Whitethorn x OC] - Chapter 3

WARNINGS; Fantasy violence, cursing, Mirima doesn’t have self-control and that leads to her burning out a Lot, Rowan avoiding his feelings, Mirima having no idea about her feelings, there’s a lot of feelings being avoided, power dynamics in the relationship.

Prologue.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Her body ached, her mind ached. While she had not done anything as horrible as burnout, Fenrys had put her through her paces. She had never known how hard just keeping her control could be. She had never realized just how badly she suffered from control issues. Rowan had told her time and time again that she needed to control herself. But she hadn't realized how hard it was actually going to be.

She trudged into the kitchens, slumping onto a stool that sat just before the fire. Normally, Emrys sat there but he was at the countertop, forming some type of dough that had what appeared to be raisins in it.

"Hard day?" The older man questioned, his eyebrow quirked up slightly.

Mirima scowled slightly as she slipped a dagger from her belt and a whetstone from her pocket. "It didn't seem to be until this morning," she admitted as she dragged the blade along the stone.

"Rowan goes easy on you," Emrys teased her, causing her scowl to deepen. "I haven't seen you this exhausted in twenty years."

"I'm used to Rowan's tactics," she sat down the dagger once she was certain the point was sharp enough. She took care of her blades ritualistically most of the time. Sharpening the blades calmed her, oiling them helped ease her mind. Normally it was saved for a pre-bed ritual, but the night before she had crawled into her bed and fallen into a hard and heavy sleep. She hadn't dreamt. Instead, she had been blissfully at peace. For once in her life, she had not been aware of the dangers surrounding her. She had been aware of the pillow beneath her and the blanket on top of her.

It had been peace she didn't know she craved.

"Of course," Emrys' eyes twinkled as he looked away from her. Mirima knew he meant well. But it was hard to know that he was well aware that she cursed Whitethorn's name half the time and still assumed Rowan was kind to her.

The man had made it abundantly clear that he didn't want her there. He had told her time and time again that she was not ready for any of this. Mirima wanted to prove him wrong. She wanted nothing more than to be welcomed into the cadre. Although, at this point, she was unsure if it was because of her own dreams or if it was just to spite Rowan Whitethorn. Anyone with half a brain would know that spiting him was unwise. The man was more of a monster than anything. It was one of the reasons that Mirima admired him.

Even if she didn't admit that fact to anyone.

"I am! He's been putting me through Hellas and back since I got here," she nearly snarled as she began to peel the potatoes for breakfast. She wasn't normally on breakfast duties, but she had figured it would be best to help out. At least while she was complaining to Emrys.

"Have I?" His voice caused her spine to straighten, her grip on the dagger tightening just slightly. "Considering you're still here, I haven't done a good enough job."

Mirima looked up then, her eyes catching Rowan's long white hair before anything else. Her throat felt dry, her stomach knotted up as she glanced once at the expression on his face. He looked as though he was either amused or furious. With Rowan, it was hard to tell the difference. Especially when it came to her and her training. She knew that he didn't want her there. She knew that he thought she wasn't good enough.

That or he really hated the cadre. She couldn't actually tell.

"I thought you'd be gone for a week," Mirima stated, her tone casual despite the racing of her heart. At least her training had taught her how to keep her composure.

"I never said how long I'd be away," he stated as he leaned casually against the wall. Rowan never looked casual. Something was off. Mirima did not know what it was or what it potentially could be, but she was determined to figure it out. If she didn't it was likely to drive her mad.

"You're normally away for a week," she shrugged her shoulders, turning her gaze back to the potato in her hand. She focused on how the skin felt gritty underneath her calloused fingers. She focused on the way the blade slid across the potato, the slight bit of force it took to begin the initial peeling process. How it felt to focus on something other than Rowan Whitethorn and the stare that always made her feel somewhat nervous. "I assumed that it would be the same."

"We have something to discuss," Rowan said before she could ramble about his usual schedule. "In private."

She knew his meaning. She wiped her dagger off on her breeches before she stood, sliding it back into its sheath in a graceful movement. "I'll be back by dinner. Tell Luca to stop taking the good jobs," she said cheerfully to Emrys. Neither man would be allowed to know how nervous she was.

Rowan had met with Maeve. He had told her he would be. He had also said he'd be away three days but had barely been gone two. Maybe she had been declared unworthy. Maybe Maeve had given up on her. Or maybe it had nothing to do with that whatsoever. This could be something completely different, she just had to trust him.

Easier said than done.

Mirima followed Rowan up the steps and towards his quarters. She had been a fair amount of times. He would patch her up in his rooms, often snapping at her for whichever stupid choice she had made. She had been allowed to watch as he tattooed Gavriel once. She had been silent the entire time, her eyes never left his hands.

His rooms were grander than anyone else's. She wondered if it was because he was a Prince or if it was all to do with the fact that he was part of the cadre. With his dark, wooden furniture and his grand fireplace, it felt cold. Uninviting. Rowan clearly hated Mistward. He had never made it into his home, unlike Mirima.

She had turned the fortress into her own personal safe haven. She had spent so many years there that she would have gone mad if she had not. There was no reason for her to feel cold, alone. Not when the forests sang with the early morning sunlight. Not when she could smell the sea whenever a fresh breeze blew through the fort, always making her ache with need. The need to control it, to harness it. To be part of it. She knew there was a lake hidden somewhere nearby, she had been able to sense it from the moment she had stepped onto the grounds. Yet, she'd never had the time nor opportunity to go off and search for it.

Rowan was not fond of letting Mirima near large bodies of water. He seemed to believe it would be the quickest route to a burnout. Mirima thought he was too cynical. The water was part of her. As much as the air was part of him.

She stood in front of his desk while he took up space in front of the fireplace. The fire crackled, albeit not merrily, spreading slight warmth through the cold room.

"What did you want to discuss?" Mirima's voice came out softer than she had expected it to. She hated sounding small around him. Hated that he might see her as someone meek, vulnerable. She knew that she was a warrior. Someone who would one day stand beside him in battle. She couldn't let him see her as anything else. It would risk the only future she could see for herself.

"I didn't speak to Maeve about you," he didn't look at her as she spoke. Despite his words, she did not feel relieved. "I didn't have the opportunity to."

"What happened, Ro?" Normally, he would have glared at the use of the familiarity. He would have told her how inappropriate it was. When he still didn't look at her she realized just how horrible things must be. Rowan never missed a chance to show his disapproval.

"We'll have a visitor during our training sessions," the words seemed forced. She could practically taste the tension in the air.

Mirima worried her lower lip as she took a cautious step toward him. "What do you mean? Is Fenrys going to stick around for a bit?"

"No," his voice was clipped. At least that was normal. He wasn't dying or sick. Mirima hated to think that he would never get to see her successes. She didn't know why she wanted his approval, why she aimed to please him in some fashion. Maybe it was just because then she would know she had done it. She'd beaten the odds and become the member of the cadre she had always wanted to be.

"Tell me," she rested her hand on his shoulder. He flinched away, causing her to drop her hand. It felt as though a shock had gone up her arm from the brief second her fingertips had brushed against his neck. But that was stupid. It was probably just her being far too familiar with her trainer.

"Maeve wanted me to train another girl."

"For the cadre?" Mirima's eyes grew hard as Rowan finally turned to face her. There was something in his eyes. Something that dulled the forest green to a grassy color. She wondered what that emotion was but found that she did not care. Anger coursed through her body. It burned too brightly and too quickly for her to care about whatever Rowan Whitethorn was feeling.

"Hellas, Mirima, no," Rowan snapped at her. The anger that had flared so brightly quickly calmed. "I wouldn't train another damned soul for the position you want. You'd gut them than me. No, this is just a little demi-fae who never got control over their magic."

"Who can't control their magic?" Mirima did not see the irony in her own question. She had always assumed her own control issues were rare. She had no idea where they stemmed from, just that no one else in her village had ever had trouble doing what they wanted with their magic. Neither had anyone else in Doranelle.

"Someone who's afraid of it," Rowan stated bluntly.

Mirima gave him a mock glare. She wasn't sure if he was completely wrong about that. It brought forth a question that she had never had to ask herself before. Was she frightened of her magic? Did she know what to do with it? She thought she did. She thought that it was as much a part of herself as breathing. But could there be something deeper? Rowan had never brought up this idea before. It was enough to temper her tongue, to make her sit and think for a moment.

"I'm not afraid," she stated after thinking for a few moments. She didn't know if she was telling him the truth or not. But it felt like it. She felt as though she would know if she truly was afraid of the power that lived within her.

"You're not afraid of anything," Rowan sounded as though this were not a compliment. "You'd sooner get yourself killed than listen to reason. That isn't bravery, Mirima. That's foolishness."

His words stung her more than she cared to admit. Is that why he didn't want her fighting alongside him? He thought her nothing more than the village fool? Perhaps it made sense. Mirima had lived her entire life in the same small village. She had been stifled there but that didn't mean she had belonged elsewhere. Maybe she was just a foolish girl from Varnsway. Maybe that was all she would ever be.

"Tell me about my new friend," she moved then, sitting on top of his desk as though it were her own. Rowan seemed not to notice, too lost in his thoughts as he stared at the mantle above the fireplace. "Will I have to play nicely?"

"Maeve will kill you if you drown her," he said bluntly. "Besides, Terrasen would be left without a queen."

That caught Mirima's attention. Her spine straightened, her eyes turning into the blue of a crystal sea. "So it's true then? Aelin did survive the massacre?"

"It stays between the two of us," Rowan warned as he finally looked away from the mantle. Upon seeing her on the desk, one of his brows twitched slightly.

"Why?" Even as she asked, she realized that it would be safer for the woman. "I mean, wouldn't she be better off with a guard surrounding her at all times? I'll volunteer for a shift."

"Mirima," he snarled, causing a slight smile to cross her features. "She'd be in more danger if anyone knew. Adarlan is after her. If they manage to kill her, you know they'll have some advantage over Wendlyn. It'll break their spirits."

"Which means we're next." One didn't have to be a military strategist to understand the risk the wrath of Adarlan. Mirima was not afraid of anything, Rowan had not been wrong about that, but the idea of bending the knee to the tyrant of Adarlan.

"You'll help me train her. You know what it's like to be uncontrollable. Help her get used to life here," he looked older. His eyes darker than she had ever seen him, lines beside his eyes showing his half-century of life. She wanted to make things easier for him. She wanted to give him a moment's reprieve. But she couldn't. Mirima knew that they needed to keep some sort of wall between them.

Even if she gave him nicknames.

"Ro," she picked at her fingernails, "are you certain that's a good idea? I could drown her. Or you. Or I could accidentally kill her during swordplay or something."

"I trust you."

He'd never said that to her before. Rowan had never made her feel as though she could do anything she wanted. Half the time, he was trying to get her to abandon her dreams. Half the time, it felt as though he wished he could snap her neck and be done with her. Having his trust was something that she had never dreamed of. She had always thought that he would turn his back on her the second he was done training her.

Maybe there was hope for them yet. Maybe Mirima would be able to prove herself to him through this whole damned thing. Or maybe it would just ruin whatever trust she had managed to build. Maybe she would never truly be able to live up to her expectations of herself. But that was okay. Rowan trusted her and that was all that mattered.

At least for now. Mirima knew she still had a very long way to go when it came to proving herself.

"So what's our plan?" She looked him in the eyes, ignoring the way her stomach knotted when the forest green met hers. It had happened every single time her eyes met his. Thirty years, thirty long years of feeling something odd whenever he looked at her. It was no wonder she tried to force that away, to tell him jokes when she shouldn't and to make light of things when she was terrified.

"I don't know yet," Rowan admitted as he stepped over to her. His steps were light, never making a single sound. She wondered how often he had prowled around, silent and always listening. How many times had he caught her talking about him with Luca and Emrys? How often had he heard her curse his name?

Despite both of them having the heightened senses of a Fae, Rowan had always been more of a predator. For years, he had been walking that line by himself. He had been alone with only the bloodlust and the killing that Maeve had made him do. Mirima saw it as glory, despite not knowing the truth of any of it. It was Rowan's business. She knew better than to ask him about any of it.

She would take the stories told by others over the haunted look in his eyes whenever he pinned her any day. She didn't want to relive her own moments of glory. She supposed it would be the same for him.

"Rowan Whitethorn not knowing something?" Mirima teased, a gleam in her eyes as she looked up at him. Her head tilted back, blonde locks cascading down her back in a waterfall while a playful smirk found a home upon her lips. "Now that is something I never thought I'd see."

"When will you learn how to talk to a superior?" His brows furrowed slightly as he looked down at her. She had to ignore the overwhelming scent of pine and snow that clung to him.

She hated that stupid scent. Hated how she dreamed of it at night, how she felt both enraged and comforted by it. None of it made sense to her. Nothing about Rowan Whitethorn would ever make sense to her. He was horrible and kind, the worst and the best. He was everything to her and nothing all at once.

It was a miracle she had managed to keep his name out of her letters to her parents.

"When will you learn that I'm not inferior to you?" Mirima turned her head away from him, wanting to break free from his gaze and that disgusting scent.

"No one said you were," his fingers twitched. She wondered briefly if he wanted to run his fingers through his hair or strangle her. Either option seemed reasonable. "But you can't hope to make it any further if you don't listen to your commanding officer. They're not all as friendly as me."

"Or Fenrys," Mirima interrupted.

"I heard that he made you nearly flood our practice space," he snorted. "That doesn't seem as friendly."

"So I'm not great at breathing exercises," she shrugged her shoulders. "I still managed to go without burning out." She was surprised that Fenrys had not told Rowan of her disappearing act. She would have been made to run laps until she vomited, would have been reprimanded hundreds of times had she done the same to Rowan. He would never have let her just walk away. Perhaps Fenrys had taken pity on her, perhaps he had seen something that Rowan did not.

That or she had looked as though she were on the verge of burning out.

"Don't joke about that," his voice hardened as he stared down at her. She looked back at him, hating the way he stared at her as though she was nothing more than a piece of glass. "Your burnouts are serious. If you die on my watch, I ..."

Mirima didn't want to know what he would do. She didn't particularly care either.

"I am not going to die, Rowan. I know myself better than any of you seem to realize," she crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking more like a petulant child than she realized.

"You're not invincible, Mirima. You never will be," he told her, looking down at her with a gaze that she could not comprehend. Rowan Whitethorn gave her several incomprehensible looks. She often wondered if he hated her based on those looks, wondered if he even knew the fire that blazed in his forest.

She doubted it. Rowan was too busy with his own problems to worry about how he looked at her. That wasn't something either of them thought about. It was always about training, always about Rowan teaching her everything she needed in order to be part of the cadre. Part of everything.

"I'm capable though," she breathed softly, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll help you train her. Just ... Just don't let my training fall to the wayside. I expect to be in the cadre by the end of the year."

Mirima shoved herself off of the desk, brushing against him as she did so. Rowan quickly backed away, his spine stiff and his gaze hardening to one she knew so well. She began to leave. Her gait smooth and steady unlike the pounding of her heart.

"You'll never be ready," he called after her. "Lorcan would eat you alive just from your recklessness."

"Then I guess you'll have to enjoy the show," Mirima stated without ever looking back at him.

She kept up appearances as she headed back out of Mistward, a smile on her lips and a gleam in her eyes that normally meant trouble. If Rowan thought she was nothing compared to this would-be-queen she would just have to prove him wrong.

She slid a dagger out from the sheath on her thigh, twirling it between her fingers as she headed deep in the forest. If Rowan was giving up on her, she would train herself.

Hellas save them.

#rowan whitethorn #rowan x oc #rowan whitethorn x oc #rowan is running out of patience #mirima floros #mirima is trying #rowan x mirima #mirima doesn't believe in feelings #celeana sardothien #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass oc #soulmate #mates #mate au #I ship them no one else does but I do and that’s what matters #are they soulmates or are they both just depressed #cadre

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theladyofdeath · 4 years ago

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In the Bleak Midwinter {13}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

Summary: 2 years after Arobynn Hammel is killed by Rowan Whitethorn, Maeve has returned from Eyllwe with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Rowan is getting married, Lorcan is a father, and Lysandra is finally ready to give her heart away. There’s been peace in The Cadre’s Orynth for 2 years, but peace never lasts.

A/N: (:

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

Links & masterlists:

Fanfic Masterlist

Ask me

The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG}

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

It was a traditional gypsy funeral, honoring their people, their heritage.

Connall was placed in a wagon, surrounded by his favorite earthly possessions, and set on fire.

The others watched, still amazed that it was happening. Connall shouldn’t have been one to go. He was too loyal, too pure.

It made no sense.

Another cruel twist of fate.

As the wagon and all inside turned to ash, becoming one with the land, Fenrys found himself wondering what Connall would come back as, in his next life.

Twins are unique in the sense that they are different people, of course, yet they’re two halves of the same heart, the same soul. Could he move on, Connall, in the afterlife, and come back as a sparrow or a mountain cat or a wolf if Fenrys was not there to be reincarnated alongside him? Would he be sent to some otherworldly waiting room until Fenrys took his departure from the earth, from his current life?

How could one twin move on when the other doesn’t?

Half of Fenrys' soul had been ripped away from him, from the world, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Fenrys just wanted to know what truly happened after death, where his brother was, and if he would ever see him again.

Because the thought of anything less had his heart shattering into a million pieces.

Over and over and over again.

~~~

Three weeks after they laid Connall to rest, Rowan sat in his office, smoking a cigarette.

It was a quiet afternoon. It was the universal nap hour - Lucy, a disgruntled Lorcan, a cranky Natalia, and a pregnant Aelin.

Aedion and Lysandra had been holed up all day, Gavriel still spent most of his time hiding from Natalia, and Vaughan was still healing. Fenrys kept himself distant - reading and drinking and staring up at the moon.

It left Rowan to have a little bit of alone time during the day, even though he didn’t really like it. He used to hate being around people, but now he had to keep around them to make sure they were safe.

Although he felt like he was doing a shitty job at that.

Elide.

Connall.

The next person would be Maeve.

A part of him longed for the life he used to have. Before the estate and all that came along with it. Perhaps if he was still the little nobody from the west side of Orynth that only did the little jobs, Maeve wouldn’t think he was worth the time of day.

Everyone would be safe.

Elide and Connall would still be alive.

Rowan wouldn’t constantly be sitting on the edge of his seat, waiting for something, anything to go wrong and hating himself for all the negative thoughts and constant anxiety, but he just couldn’t help it.

And with Maeve being silent for three weeks, it only had Rowan even more paranoid.

She was waiting to strike.

He knew it.

But he just didn’t know how.

All he knew was that when she would come, he would be fucking ready.

~~~~~

Lorcan laid awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he would ever see the inside of his own home again. He didn’t mind the estate, and it was nice to be surrounded by so many people after the loss of Elide, but he missed his own bed, the bed that he shared with her. With an ache in his chest, he looked over at the small portrait that sat on his bedside table.

Gods, she was beautiful.

As she usually did when he was alone and was thinking about her, she appeared to him. This time, she wore an evening gown of dark blue with long, dangling diamond earrings and white gloves that went up past her elbows.

“Hello, my love,” she sang.

Lorcan didn’t say anything. He just stared at her, breathed her in, memorizing the image before she disappeared, once more.

Elide strolled around the room before meeting him where he laid on his bed. Her fingers brushed down his cheek, but he didn’t feel it, he never fucking felt it.

“Do you see Connall there?” Lorcan whispered, once she resumed her walk around the bedroom. “Wherever it is that you are?”

Elide stopped, slowly turned to where Lorcan laid and cocked her head to the side. “Connall?”

“He’s dead,” Lorcan breathed. He had told her that, though, when he saw her last. He knew he had.

“Am I dead?” she responded, her smile soft. “Why are we talking of such morbid things, my love? I came to talk about us.”

Lorcan told himself to look away from her, to look away from the figment of his imagination that was his wife, but he couldn’t. He needed to drink in her beauty, dwell in it, for just a little while.

“What about us?” he whispered, unable to help himself.

“How I love you, of course,” she said. “How I wish you were here with me.”

He shook his head, slowly. No, it was he who wished she was there with him, not the other way around. Lorcan didn’t wish for death.

At least he told himself as much.

He couldn’t.

Wouldn’t.

And yet, the ghost of his late wife held out her hand. “It doesn’t hurt. It’s so easy, so soft. Just follow the light, and it will be peaceful.”

For a moment, he truly thought his wife was holding out her hand to him, as if he could simply take her slender, pale fingers into his and he would be carried away, from one life to the next.

The life where Elide waited.

But she wasn’t.

The tips of her fingers were mere inches away from the bedside table, where his revolver sat, metal glistening in the bright light streaming through the window.

The light.

Lorcan hadn’t realized he was crying until he said, his voice soft and broken, “I love you.”

“Then come to me,” she begged.

“You’re a ghost,” he whispered.

“I am whatever you want me to be,” she promised. “Our love remains, even with this distance between us. Imagine how lovely it would be without such distance.”

It took every ounce of his being, but Lorcan closed his eyes and wept in the silence of the estate.

~~~

Lorcan was the last one into the dining room, but Rowan didn’t chastise him for being five minutes late. Instead, he looked around the table at the Cadre and flicked the ash from his cigarette.

He wasn’t sure where to begin, he never was. A greeting seemed pointless on normal days, during normal times, but now, when tensions were high, greetings seemed offensive.

What was the point of small talk when loved ones had died and their world was dissolving into chaos?

“People are getting nervous.” Rowan began, after another long drag from his cigarette. Gavriel nodded, slowly, while Vaughan watched Fenrys, wearily, as the young lad sat slumped in his chair, cap pulled down far over his eyes. Aedion was there, too, sitting next to Lorcan, who was playing with his lighter.

When it was clear that no one would be asking any questions, Rowan continued. “We’ve disappeared for two months, and people are starting to ask questions. So, I suggest we host a charity event. Here.”

The room went silent.

Then, it was Lorcan who said, “Don’t fucking act like you care about the people of Orynth. You’re trying to set a fucking trap for Maeve.”

Rowan remained silent at the head of the table.

Lorcan scoffed as he shook his head. “You’re insane. You would willingly be letting her into-.”

“The event guests will come by invitation only,” Rowan interrupted, tired of the protests even though they’d just begun. “The only people inside would have passed through a security checkpoint. Everyone inside will remain safe. We haven’t left this house in three weeks, which is why I assume Maeve has been silent. If we host an event, people will be here, cars and carriages, and Maeve can slip onto the lands with her men, waiting for one of us to step outdoors, no doubt. But Rhoe and his men,” Rowan said, nodding toward Aedion, “will be hunting them down, one by one, already hiding before Maeve’s men step onto the land. Ready. That way, we kill them off, while also keeping our image in the public eye.”

“The public eye?” Lorcan’s hostility continued.

“Yes,” Rowan spat, through gritted teeth. “Like it or not, the people of Orynth have given us our success within the last few years. We lose their interest, their trust, and we will be nothing once again.”

“And where has it gotten us?” Lorcan asked, shaking his head as he stared at the long, sleek cherrywood table. “Rich and lonely.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “The event will take place next Friday. I’ve already sent out invitations. We’ll auction shit off, all proceeds will go to the new library building.”

He slipped his cigarette between his lips and pushed back his chair before rising to his feet. As he began his exit, Lorcan said, “What’s the point of these fucking meetings if you’re just going to decide shit on your own?”

Rowan froze and the room went silent, once more. With his hands shoved into his pockets, the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, Rowan turned to meet Lorcan’s hard gaze. In a quiet, cool, steady voice, Rowan said, “So you’ll be ready.”

~~~

When Aedion made it back into his bedroom, Lysandra was out on the balcony, her elbows leaned onto the railing as her dark hair blew in the cool breeze. He met her there, standing beside her, his elbow brushing hers.

“How’d it go?” Lysandra asked. As always, she was invited to the meeting, should have been there, according to Rowan, but she needed a break from the negativity.

Aedion didn’t blame her.

He didn’t answer her question, though, only reached across the short distance between them and took her hand into his.

“I’ll let you know after I process the information.”

Lysandra huffed a humorless laugh and nodded, squeezing his hand as she did so. “Fair enough.”

He snuck a glance at her, at the way the sunlight hit her emerald eyes just right, making them glitter, shine, captivating him. She was so incredibly beautiful, so perfectly lovely, and she didn’t even know it. Aedion had been in love with her for so long, since he was no more than just a child. It had taken him years to gain her love in return, years that he waited patiently for, years that he would wait patiently for all over again.

“You’re staring,” she said, although her eyes never left the vast landscape beyond.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I am.”

“Why?” she asked, humored, finally turning to meet his gaze.

“Because you’re nice to look at.” Aedion grinned as Lysandra snorted. “And, because I love you.”

Lysandra’s smile faded away as she turned her gaze back to the distant hills. “Something happened in the meeting, didn’t it?”

Aedion didn’t answer. He didn’t want to talk about the meeting, didn’t want to talk about Rowan’s plan, didn’t want to think about any of it. All he wanted to think about was the incredible woman before him.

So he took her hand and tugged, and when she slowly turned to look at him, Aedion’s smile had vanished.

“What is it?” she whispered. “Aedion, you’re scaring me-.”

“Marry me,” he breathed.

Lysandra sucked in a breath, hesitating.

“I know I’ve said it a million times before,” he began, shaking his head, “but this time, I’m asking. I love you, and I have always loved you, and with all this...shit going on, Lysandra, I just…” His words trailed off, and he didn’t know how to make sense of all that he was feeling, so he just stopped trying, and repeated, “Marry me. Please.”

He hadn’t realized he’d begun to cry until Lysandra reached up with trembling fingers to wipe his tears away. Her fingers trailed down his cheek, her thumb brushing his bottom lip.

“You mean it?” she asked, green eyes shining.

“Yeah,” he breathed, then laughed because he had no idea how she could possibly think he didn’t mean it. “All I want is to be your husband. All I’ve ever wanted was to be your husband.”

A slow tear rolled down her cheek. “Why do I feel like you’re only asking me this because you fear that you’ll die?”

Aedion let out a long, slow breath. “If you marry me, Lys, I promise to endure whatever hell comes my way so that we may have a long, happy life together. Alright?”

It was a promise he knew he couldn’t make. She knew it, too, because those tears flowed freely, but she only nodded, and closed her eyes as her forehead met his. “Then marry me now, Aedion Ashryver. If that’s what will protect you, marry me now.”

Their lips met in a slow, deep, tender kiss. Aedion could only hope that they could marry soon, and that such a marriage full of so much love would be enough to protect him.

To protect them both.

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

@mariamuses @garnet-29 @writer-reader-traveller @rowaelin-cressworth @space-buns-arsinoe @negativenesta @empress-ofbloodshed @the-regal-warrior @starseternalnighttriumphant @westofmoon @sammyjojaaaa @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @carbconnoisseur @acer6437 @lorcansalvatearupmyheart @cool-ish-nerd @mynewdreamwasyou @mourning-razorlust @thespiritualrider @rowaelinforeverworld @didsomeonesayviolin @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks @queen-of-glass @the-dark-swan @http-itsrebecca @holdingon-21@babycardan @tswaney17 @mollycateoc @chemicha @bat-wing-rhys @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thespiritualrider @luna-the-little @morebooks-pls @shyvioletcat @hermajestyanna @a97girl @stardustsroses @queenofthemoon22 @alifletcher2012 @awkward-avocado-s @faerie-queen-fireheart @cwheart @lovemollywho @emilyrose111294 @nerdperson524 @sleeping-and-books @cursebreaker29 @flora-and-fae @feyrethedarklady @the-dark-swan @rowaelinforeverworld @sjmsstuff @januarystears @mis-lil-red @acourtofmoonlight @rowaelinforeverworld @courtofmaasdestruction @jjellybean @thewayshedreamed @wind-drinker @aelin-rowan-whitehorn @starseternalnighttriumphant @hurema @http-itsrebecca @lorcansalvatearupmyheart @cityofchelsea16 @januarystears @iliketoasterstrudels @lightitup-bryce @yikesitsmaddie @feyrethedarklady @i-love-all-books @keshavomit @sleeping-and-books @scarznstars @http-itsrebecca @cat5313 @moondancer-204 @booklover242 @belamoonbeam @they-call-me-cuatro @b00kworm @mu-si-ca-l @thegayerpotato @abraxos-is-toothless @keshavomit @musicdreamer003 @superspiritfestival @sailorsassley @mymultiversee @alxanxah @viviaannvu123 @mysweetvillain @theghostlyharrypooperfan @highqueenofelfhame @shyvioletcat @maastrash @the-third-me @rinad307

#tacmc itbmw #the cadre #fanfic #fanfiction #lysaedion #rowaelin #elorcan #sjm #period au #PB au

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lady-boa · 5 years ago

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Witchy Translations

Old witchy names for herbs/roots in their modern names.

*Warning: A good chunk of these are poisonous*

Adders Fork- Adders tongue Adders tongue- Dogstooth Violet Ass's Foot or Bull's Foot - Coltsfoot Bat Flower - Tacca Bat's Wings - Holly Bat's Wool- Moss Bear's Foot- Lady's Mantle Beggar's Buttons -Burdock Beggar's Tick- Cockhold Bird's Eye- Germander Speedwell Bird's Foot- Fenugreek Black Maidenhair- Black Spleenwort Black Sampson- Echinacea Black Snake Root- Black Cohosh Blind Eyes- Poppy Blood- Elder Sap or another tree sap Blood from a Head- Lupine Blood from a Shoulder- Bear's Breeches Blood of Ares- Purslane Blood of Kronos- Cedar Blood of Hephaistos- Wormwood Blood of Hestia- Chamomile Blood of a Goose- Mulberry Tree's Milk Blood of a Titan- Wild Lettuce Blood of an Eye- Tamarisk Gall Blood Leather- Reindeer Moss/Rock Tripe/Caribou Lichen Bloodroot- Tormentil Bloodwort- Yarrow Bloody Butcher- Valerian Bloody Finger- Foxglove Bone of an Ibis- Buckthorn Brains- Congealed Gum from a Cherry Tree Bread and Cheese Tree- Hawthorne. Whitethorn, Hazels Broom- Gorse Bull's Blood or Seed of Horus- Horehound Bull's Foot- Coltsfoot Burning Bush- Fraxinella, White Dittany Butcher's Broom- Irish Tops Buttons- Tansy Calf's Snout- Snapdragon Candelmas Maiden- Snowdrop Capon's Tail- Valerian Cat's Foot- Canada Snake Root and/or Ground Ivy Cheeses- Marsh Mallow Cherry Pie- Heliotrope Chocolate Flower- Wild Geranium Church Steeples- Agrimony Clear-Eye- Clary Sage Click- Goosegrass Clot- Great Mullein Corpse Candles- Mullein Corpse Plant- Indian Pipe Courtesy- Summer Wind Crocodile Dung- Black Earth Crow Corn- Ague Root Crow Foot- Wild Geranium Crowdy Kit- Figwort Crown for a King- Wormwood Cuckoo's Bread- Common Plantain Cucumber Tree- Magnolia Cuddy's Lungs- Great Mullein Dead Man Ash- Mandrake root poppet Death Angel- Agaric Death Flower- Yarrow Devil's Apple- Datura Devils Dung- Asafoetida Devil's Eye- Henbane, Periwinkle Devil's Flower- Bachelor's Buttons Devil's Guts- Dodder Devil's Milk- Celandine Devil's Nettle- Yarrow Devil's Oatmeal- Parsley Devil's Plaything- Yarrow Dew of the Sea- Rosemary Dog Fennel- Anthemis Dog Grass- Agropyrum Dog's Mouth- Snap Dragon Dog`s Tail- Cynosurus Dog's Tongue- Conoglossum Officinale Dog`s Tooth Violet- Erythronium Dove's Foot- Wild Geranium Dragon Wort- Bistort Dragon Bushes- Toadflax Dragon's Blood- Calamus Dragon's Scales- Bistort Leaves Duck's Foot- May Apple Eagle- Wild Garlic Ear of an Ass- Comfrey Ear of a Goat- St. John's Wort Earth Smoke- Fumitory Elf leaf- Lavender, Rosemary Elf's Wort (Elfwort)- Elecampane Enchanter's Plant- Vervain Englishman's Foot- Common Plantain Erba Santa Maria- Spearmint Everlasting Friendship- Goosegrass Eye of the Day- Common Daisy Eye of Newt- Wild Mustard Seed Eye of the Star- Horehound Eye Root- Goldenseal Eyes- Aster, Daisy, Eyebright Fairies Eggs- Molukka Fairie's Finger- Foxglove Fairies Horses- Ragwort Fairy Bells- Sorrel, Wood Fairy Cup- Cowslip Fairy Smoke- Indian Pipe Fat from a Head- Spurge Felon Herb- Mugwort Filwort- Centory or Feverwort Five Fingers- Cinquefoil Flesh and Blood- Tormentil Fox's Clote- Burdock Frog bit- Hydrocharis Frog fruit- Phyla Frog Orchid- Coeloglossum Frog's Foot- Bulbous Buttercup Frog`s Lettuce- Groenlandia From the Belly- Earth-apple From the Foot- Houseleek From the Loins- Chamomile Gazel's Hooves- Quickset, Albespyne Goat's Foot- Ash Weed Goat's Leaf- Honeysuckle God's Hair- Hart's Tongue Fern Golden Star- Avens Gosling Wing- Goosegrass Graveyard Dust- Mullein Great Ox-eye - Ox-eye Daisy Hag's Taper- Great Mullein Hagthorn- Hawthorn Hairs of a Baboon- Dill Seed Hair- Maidenhair Fern Hair of Venus- Maidenhair Fern Hare's Beard- Great Mullein Hare's Foot- Avens Hawk's Heart- Heart of Wormwood Heart- Walnut Heart of Osmund- Royal Fern Herb of Grace- Vervain Hind's Tongue- Hart's Tongue Fern Holy Herb- Yerba Santa Holy Rope- Hemp Agrimony Hook and Arm- Yerba Santa Horse Hoof- Coltsfoot Horse Tongue- Hart's Tongue Fern Hundred Eyes- Periwinkle Indian Dye- Goldenseal Innocence- Bluets Jacob's Staff- Great Mullein Jew's Ear- Fungus on Elder or Elm John's Bread- Carob Joy of the Mountain- Marjoram Jupiter's Foot- Houseleek Jupiter's Staff- Great Mullein

King's Crown- Black Haw

Knight's Milfoil- Yarrow

Kronos' Blood- Cedar King's Crown Black Haw Knight's Milfoil- Yarrow Lad's Love- Southernwood Lady's Glove- Foxglove Lady's Mantle- Nine Hooks Lady's Meat- May Flower blossom Lady's Slipper- American Valerian Lady's Tresses- Spira Root Lamb's Ears- Betony Lion's Ear- Motherwort Lion's Hairs- Turnip leaves Lion's Tooth- Dandelion aka Priest's Crown Lizard's Tail- Breast Weed Little Dragon- Tarragon Love in Idleness- Pansy Love Leaves- Burdock Love Lies Bleeding- Amaranth or Anemone Love Man- Goosegrass Love Parsley- Lovage Love Root- Orris Root Man's Bile- Turnip Sap Man's Health- Ginseng Maiden's Hair- Maidenhair Fern Maiden's Ruin- Southernwood Master of the Woods- Woodruff May- Black Haw May Lily- Lily of the Valley May Rose- Black Haw Maypops- Passion Flower Mistress of the Night- Tuberose Mother's Heart- Shepheard's Purse Mouse's Ear- Hawk Weed Mouse's Tail- Common Stonecrop Mutton Chops- Goosegrass Newt`s Tail- Saururus Nose Bleed- Yarrow Old-Maid's-Nightcap- Wild Geranium Old Man- Mugwort Old Man's Flannel- Great Mullein Old Man's Pepper- Yarrow Old Woman- Wormwood Oliver- Olive Organ Tea- Pennyroyal Paddock Pipes- Horsetail Pantagruelian- Marijuana Password- Primrose Peter's Staff- Great Mullein Pig's Tail- Leopard's Bane Poor Man's Treacle- Garlic Poor Man- Weatherglass Pimpernel Priest's Crown- Dandelion leaves Pucha-pat- Patchouli Queen of the Meadow- Meadowsweet Queen of the Meadow Root- Gravelroot Queen of the Night- Vanilla Cactus Queen's Delight- Silverleaf Queen's Root- Stilengia Rabbit's Foot- Field Clover Ram's Head- American Valerian Red Cockscomb- Amaranth Ring-o-Bells- Bluebells Robin-Run-in-the-Grass- Goosegrass Scaldhead- Blackberry See Bright- Clary Sage Semen of Ammon- Houseleek Semen of Ares- Clover Semen of Helios- White Hellebore Semen of Herakles- Mustard-rocket Semen of Hermes- Dill Semen of Hephaistos- Fleabane Seed of Horus- Horehound Serpent's Tongue- Adder's Tongue Seven Barks- Hydrangea Seven Year's Love- Yarrow Shameface- Wild Geranium Shepherd's Heart- Shepherd's Purse Silver Bells- Black Haw Skin of a Man- Fern Skull- Skullcap Mushroom Snake's Blood- Hematite Stone Snake's Friend- Indian Paintbrush Snake's Head- Balmony Snake's Milk- Blooming Splurge Snake's Tongue- Adder's Tongue Fern Snake/ Snakeweed- Bistort Snow Drop- Bulbous Violet Soapwort- Comfrey or Daisy Sorcerer's Violet- Periwinkle Sparrow's Tongue- Knotweed Spider Lily- Spiderwort Squirrel's Ear- White Plantain St. John's Herb- Hemp Agrimony (This is not St. John's Wort) St. John's Plant- Mugwort Stag's Horn- Club Moss Star Flower- Borage Star of the Earth- Avens Starweed- Chickweed Sweethearts- Goosegrass Swine's Snout- Dandelion Leaves Tanner's Bark- Common Oak Tarragon- Mugwort Tartar Root- Ginseng Tears of a Baboon- Dill Juice Titan's Blood- Wild Lettuce Thor's Helper- Rowan Thousand Weed- Yarrow Thunder Plant- House Leek Toad- Toadflax Toe Of Frog- Bulbous Buttercup Leaves Tongue of dog- Hound's Tongue Tooth or Teeth- Pinecone(s) Torches- Great Mullein Tree of Heaven- Chinese Sumach Unicorn's Horn- False Unicorn Unicorn Root- Ague Root Wax Dolls- Fumitory Weazel Snout- Yellow Dead Nettles/Yellow Archangel Weed- Ox-Eye Daisy White- Ox-eye Daisy White Man's Foot- Common Plantain White Wood- White Cinnamon Witch Bells- Foxglove Witch Herb- Mugwort Witch's Asprin- White Willow/Willow Bark Witch's Brier- Brier Hips Witch's Hair- Dodder Witch's Thimble- Datura Witchbane- Rowan Wolf Claw- Club Moss Wolf Foot- Bugle Weed Wolf's Hat- Wolfsbane Wolf's Milk- Euphorbia Worms- Gnarled, thin roots of a local tree

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queenoffantasy · 7 years ago

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Question Tag

Rules: always post the rules. Answer the questions given to you and write 10 questions of your own. Tag 10 people.

I’m really excited about this! (yay involvement!) Thank you for tagging me and asking the cool questions!

Questions from @iwouldtrusthagridwithmylife

My questions to answer:

1. Three favorite books- Queen of Shadows by Sarah J. Maas, The Winner’s Curse by Marie Rutkoski, and The Wrath and The Dawn by Renee Ahdieh (So hard to choose and ever changing)

2. Which song you can listen and never get tired of it? Satisfied by Lin Manuel Miranda

3. If you like Harry Potter, which one is your house? Ravenclaw

4. Fantasy or Sci fiction? FANTASY (aka queen of fantasy)

5. Do you like LOTR? If so which one its your favourite character? I watched the movies years ago, but didn’t enjoy them and don’t remember them so I’ll say Elizabeth Swan from Pirates of the Caribbean

6. Forest or Beach? Beach as long as the water is warm!

7. What was the last movie you watch? The Queen

8. Romance or mistery books? Romance

9. If you could travel right now to anywhere where would you go? England

10. Favourite character from Game of Thrones? *scared voice* don’t make me choose!! Either Sir Davos, Daenerys, Jon, Jamie, or Cersei?

My Questions to Ask:

1. What is the book you are reading currently?

2. What was the last movie to book adaptation you saw?

3. What is the last museum you visited?

4. Blanket or Snuggie?

5. What do you snack on while reading?

6. Who would you rather rule Westeros, Littlefinger or Varys?

7. If one book series could be extended by just one book, which series would you choose?

8. One animal to be the President of the U.S.?

9. Favorite HGTV show?

10. Captain Jack Sparrow or Will Turner?

I tag: @readinglikewildfire @aelin-and-feyre @azrielsiphons @my-name-is-fireheart @wingsofanillyrian @nessiansmut @feysandsmut @aelinsassryvergalathynius @rutting-whitethorn @empireofpainandfeels

#question tag #iwouldtrusthagridwithmylife #all the things #pirates of the caribbean #game of thrones #fantasy

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feymaids · 8 years ago

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Got Tagged

@kissingroot thanks my dude!

Nickname : Soap (given to me by @missingy)

★Star Sign : Taurus

★Height : A whopping 5′7

★Time Right now : 6:18pm

★Favorite Music Artist(s) : Oh geez....

Kings of Leon, Panic at the Disco, Bear Hands, Tegan and Sara, Sia, Florence and the Machine, Joesph, Crowded House, Broods, Neon Trees, The Weeknd, Glass Animals, Twenty One Pilots, Ariana Grande, Hayley Kiyoko, Shura, Saint Motel, Walk the Moon, Bad Suns, Mumford and Sons, The 1975, JPSNGRLS, One Republic, Nicki MInaj, ROSA, Young the Giant, Highly Suspect, The Lonely Island, Ninja Sex Party, Regina Spektor, Biffy Clyro, Sleeping at Last, The Sundays, Mystery Skulls, Barenaked Ladies, M83, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Sugarcubes, Frou Frou, Marina and the Diamonds, Amy Winehouse, Imagine Dragons, The Wombats, The Vaccines, Bombay Bicycle Club, Coldplay, Great Good Fine OK, The Temper Trap, CHVRCHES, Duran Duran, Stevie Nicks, The B52s, Of Monsters and Men

just to name a few.

★Song Stuck in Your head: Death Of A Bachelor by Panic At The Disco

★Last Movie Watched : La La Land

★Last tv Show Watched : I just started watching Outlander

★What Are You Wearing Right Now : A pair of jeans, harry potter socks, and a Brooklyn T-Shirt that has pretty pink flowers on it that I got for Christmas from my Cousin.

★When Did You Create Your Blog : 2014, so three years ago.

★What Kind of Stuff Do You Post : Lots of text posts, Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Throne of Glass, A Court of Thorns and Roses, Harry Potter, Disney, Current World Issues, Bisexual Pride stuff.

★Do You Have Any Other Blogs : yep

★Do You Get Asks Regularly : Not too often but enough to make me happy

★Why Did You Choose Your URL : It hit me like a bolt of lightening. It means nothing.

★Gender : Fair Lass

★Hogwarts House : Hufflepuff!

★Pokemon Team : I don’t play Pokemon :(

★Favorite Color : BLUuuUU

★Average Hours of Sleep : Around 5 hours on school nights and 8-10 on weekends.

★Lucky Numbers : 3 is my lucky number

★Favorite Characters : Oh God here we go again:

Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Lupin, Dumbledor (Harry Potter) , Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, Dorain Havilliard, Chaol Westfall, Manon Blackbeak (Throne of Glass). Amren, Rhysand, Elaine, Feyre, Cassian, Lucien (A Court of Thorns and Roses) Varric, Fenris, Isabela, Merrill, Alistair, Morrigan, Zevran, Lelianna, Sten, oghren Cassandra, Hawke, Sera, Vivienne, Josephine, Iron Bull, Krem, Carver, Bethany, Sebastian, Cullen (Dragon Age) Percy Jackson (Percy Jackson Duh) Kaz Breker, Nina Zenik, Mattius Helvar, Inej Ghafa (Six of Crows) Sophie (Howl’s Movie Castle) Chihiro (Spirited Away) (Every Character from Fullmetal Alchemist) (Every single character from Avatar the Last Airbender) Simon and Baz (Carry on by Rainbow Rowell) Death, Max (The Book Thief) Samwise Gamgee, Gollum/Smeagol, Gandalf, Eowyn, Tauriel, Legolas, Faramir. (Lord of the Rings) Captain Jack Sparrow, Elizabeth (Pirates of the Caribbean) Darcy, Elzabeth, Jane (Pride and Prejudice) Hana (Wolf Children) Makoto Konno (The Girl who leapt Through Time)

There’s more but I can’t.

★How Many Blankets Do You Sleep With : Two

★Dream Job : A concept artist or a screenwriter would be amazing!

I’ll Tag, and

@lebrowniee @missingy @catbuses-and-dragonscales @lotsoflove115 @justjessiehere @waltzingbears @itscoldasfuckhere

Anyone else who wants to do it please feel welcome to!

#personal #tags

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oohnoniall · 3 years ago

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Hawk & Sparrow [Rowan Whitethorn x OC] - Chapter 2

Prologue.

Chapter 1

A crooked smile stretched on his lips. She could see his sharp canine teeth, see the feral look in his eyes as he peered down at her. There was a bite of cold steel against the tender flesh of her neck. She could feel it digging into her pulse point. The coppery tang of blood in the air.

"I was right," his voice was a whisper. "You weren't good enough. You've never been good enough."

"Rowan," she hated the pleading tone in her voice. Hated the way her eyes burned with tears that she refused to shed.

His forest green eyes peered into hers, a look of malice and something else. She hated it, hated to know that Rowan was looking at her with anything other than his normal cool indifference. This wasn't her Rowan. Not the man who had pushed her and pushed her but a monster that she didn't know.

"Goodbye Mirima."

There was a hot stinging sensation at her throat, his hands on her shoulders like when she was burning out. He shoved her and she fell. Over and over, falling down into the darkest abyss. One that she couldn't see the bottom of.

It was then that she realized what else had been in Rowan's eyes when she had pleaded with him. When he had killed her.

Joy.

Mirima shot up from her bed, gasping for breath as her left hand went to her throat. Nothing. No blood. She wasn't falling off the edge of something. She was still alive. Still in Doranelle, waiting for her one and only opportunity.

The nightmares had been happening more often. She hadn't spoken to Rowan about them. Hadn't wanted to bother him with how useless they were. He would have been too concerned or acted like they were another reason to keep her out of the cadre. He wouldn't have been kind or understanding. Hardass Whitethorn would have been annoyed. Yet, for some reason, the knowledge had calmed her. She didn't feel as though she had to say anything about her problems.

His training was harsh enough that she often forgot whatever was bothering her besides what muscle hurt the worst.

How was she going to deal with any of it while he was away? She had never had to train with someone else. Never had to think about how someone's training might differ from Rowan's.

She had met Fenyrs in passing but that didn't mean she knew him. She thought he was funny and much kinder than Rowan, which wasn't saying much, but she doubted his training would be anything like what she was used to. There was a high chance that he wouldn't know how ... Prone she was to overdoing things. What if Rowan had left that key information out?

Mirima tried not to focus on her anxieties as she readied herself for the day. Her hands were shaking as she brushed out the white blonde of her hair. Her eyes focused on the scar on her left arm as she slid her tunic on, counting each breath as she stared at it. One of the ways Rowan had tried to teach her control. One of the ways that had only worked to calm her mind and not her magic.

She would end up dying by her magic. It would drown her, it would take her under and never release her from its grasp. She didn't mind that. If she was going to die she wanted it to be from her lack of control rather than an enemies' sword. If only so she knew she wasn't a completely hopeless fighter.

She swallowed once, letting it take all of her worries into the pit of her stomach. Another technique of Rowan's that had never actually done more than making her feel stupid. She sometimes wondered if all his techniques were just ways to make her look like a fool.

Mirima slipped a few knives into her belt before making her way out of her bedroom. Her head held high, a haughty smirk on her lips. Everyone in Mistward was used to seeing her as the cocky would-be-warrior. There had never been a reason to let anyone see her differently.

The morning sun had yet to rise over the hills. The clearing that was normally used for her training was flooded with the grey light of early dawn. Before the world changed and turned into something beautiful, something better. The grass was dewy and wet, the world looked as though it had been reborn that morning.

Mirima loved being out there before anyone else. She loved it when she could breathe in the fresh air and not worry about it being polluted by other people yet. Everything felt fresh, clear. She could clear her mind for once. Let go of everything that bothered her. She didn't worry about not being part of the cadre when she was focused on how beautiful the morning looked, how she wanted nothing more than to just be present.

She took one of the knives from her belt, flipping it once in her hand. It was a perfect weight. She could balance it on the tip of her fingers. Rowan had given it to her years ago, on a birthday. One that he'd actually remembered.

The blade itself was made of steel and was almost as long as her forearm, just lacking an inch and a half. The hilt was the most stunning feature. Gold and onyx entwined to create small flowers with tiny rubies making up the center of each. Rowan had said nothing when he gave it to her but she liked to think that it had just reminded him of her in some way. Wishful thinking but Mirima didn't care.

She had to be making some impression on Rowan.

She gripped the knife, her hold mimicking the one Rowan had been trying to drill into her head for years. He often grew frustrated with the way she would go back to what felt natural, showing her just how wrong she was with a sharp tap on her wrist. At that point, she was certain that she was fucking it up if only to see the annoyance in his eyes. She liked that look on him. When he regretted ever giving Mirima a chance when he debated throwing her in a lake because of her mouth.

It was better than when he was fully angry with her.

Her body moved in the fluid motions that Rowan had taught her. Her eyes closing, her knife another part of her arm, her breaths even, the world right for once in her life. Her thoughts were no longer cluttered, just going through Rowan's instructions in her mind had been enough to calm her. She'd never tell him so. He would have been proud of himself or annoyed with her.

Up. Down. Guard your left. Right. Dodge. Roll. Again.

She heard his voice in her head almost as though he was standing right beside her. She relished the feeling, the sensation of knowing that she was doing something right. Something that she would do every single day of her life when she was in the cadre. She would have to thank him one day.

It just wouldn't be any time soon.

A low whistle brought her back to reality. She did not know how long he had been watching but she knew he had seen enough. Mirima straightened her spine, a smug look painted on her face as she turned on her heel.

Fenrys was more handsome than Rowan had ever dreamed of being. His hair was pulled up, with two strands falling pleasantly into his face. His skin was dark and he was slight of build, but the muscles on his arms were well-defined and she could imagine them in the middle of a killing field. While Rowan's face was covered with his tattoo, Fenrys' was mostly clear, his eyes sparkled with mischief and he looked as though he was part of an inside joke with himself.

Mirima hated how much she wanted to impress him. Hated how fun he seemed to be with just that one look.

"I don't see why I'm here," he stated as he peeled himself off of the tree he had been leaning against. "Rowan's got you training on your own already."

A slight blush crossed Mirima's cheeks at this. "Actually, he doesn't know how early I start my day. I didn't think he'd like knowing just how much I tend to ... overexert myself."

"Trust me, Rowan already knows everything that you do," Fenrys stated as he stepped towards her. His eyes trailed from the top of her head to her feet. He was scrutinizing everything that had ever made Mirima. She tried not to think if he was impressed by what he saw or if he was certain that she was useless. A waste of his and Rowan's time. She often feared that they would all see her as a fraud. As someone who would never be welcomed into their ranks. "Rowan's told us all about you. How quick you are to anger, how you refuse to listen to him and go home. He said you've had more burnouts than anyone he's ever met before.

"I know that he thinks you're reckless and that you don't have any sense of self-preservation," Fenrys walked around her, his eyes never once leaving her, as he spoke. There was a tension in him that she didn't expect. "I'm sure that he's found every single weakness of yours and used it against you at this point. Am I correct?"

She bristled at the accusation, her spine straighter than what should have been possible. "He has. Multiple times, in very different ways."

Something sparked in his eyes, something that she had seen once before. When she had looked in her mother's eyes before she had left to deal with the raiders all those years before. It was a mixture of pride and determination. Mirima had never been sure what it meant. She still wasn't.

"Good," Fenrys stopped circling her. "That tells me you don't scare easily. If you can handle quality time with Whitethorn, you're bound to be something. Perhaps not a fit for the cadre, but something we need."

Need. That one word brought forth a strong feeling of hope in her breast. She had never been told that she was needed before. Not for anything that mattered. Doranelle would need her. Maeve would need her. Hellas, even Rowan would need her if what Fenrys said was true. She was going to be exactly what they needed, who they would look up to. Mirima would be the hero that would be in all the stories. She'd show everyone just what a woman could do.

There had been warrior queens and lost princesses but there had never been someone that other girls could look up to. All her life, Mirima had heard tales of men gaining glory and victory. They saved damsels, fought wars in the name of what was true and just. Queen Maeve had always celebrated those men while ignoring the women who could do the exact same. She knew that she could be just as good as any of those men. She could rise up from the bottom and show just who a girl could be.

It was the only thing she'd ever wanted.

"However," Fenrys brought her back down to the world with just one word. "We do need to work on your control. Burning out in the middle of a battle will do you no good. We can't have our sister dying on her first outing."

He grinned at her. Not the feral dangerous grin that she had come to associate with Rowan. It was kind, bright even. Something that made her feel as though she were at home. She wondered what Rowan would say if she told him that she preferred Fenrys' smile. It was perhaps better to keep that conversation in her head.

"How do we do that?"

"Stand in the middle of the clearing," Fenrys instructed her, heading back to his tree. He sat down at the base of it, still and unblinking as though he were just another part of the forest that surrounded them. "I don't want you to do anything. Just stand there and listen. Take in every wingbeat of every insect, every beat of your heart. I want you to try and focus on your heartbeats while you're doing this. Slow, steady. You should be able to make yourself still."

Mirima looked at him for a moment. What in the hell did any of that mean? It sounded like nonsense. Focusing her heartbeats? Slowing them down? How was any of that supposed to help her with her control issues?

While she did question the whole thing, she knew better than to question her trainer. If he told Rowan, she was certain to have a punishment of some sort. Probably laps. Rowan knew how she hated them. She took a deep breath through her nose, disregarding her thoughts of Rowan Whitethorn and the laps he could potentially make her run.

Her eyes fluttered to a close. Every part of her body felt as though this was wrong. She shouldn't have just been standing there. She could have been working on her swordplay. She could have been working on the footwork that she was supposed to be learning. Listening for the bees that were fat with the pollen from the summer flowers was not something she had wanted to do. Why should she care about any of this? She was a warrior, not a farmer.

"Don't think negatively," his voice seemed to float through the air to her. "I can feel it from here. Just relax your mind and do as I've told you."

Mirima did not answer him, knowing it was not what he wanted. She focused on the sound of the wind in the trees. The way the leaves gently rustled together, the branches making a soft creaking noise that she normally wouldn't have noticed. She could hear the sea. So far away, yet always calling to her. The waves crashing along the shoreline. Pebbles scratching against each other when the water moved them. Sand turning to mush, the cry of a seabird. Mirima craved being there, craved feeling the water on her bare feet. Not a day went by that she didn't crave the ocean.

Her fingers twitched, her knife falling to the ground beside her. The water rushing in her ears and making it hard to hear the insects busying lazily by her head or the trees swaying gently in the breeze. Her heartbeat followed the motion of the waves. She could feel it slowing to match the lazy tide of the early morning. It was not an uncomfortable feeling but one that she welcomed.

She had often felt as though her home was the sea. The ocean breathed life into her. She had been blessed with the gift of water and yet, she still didn't know how to control it. Perhaps it was because one could not control water. The sea did not like to be tamed. Just as Mirima hated for anyone to try and control her. It had been so hard to learn to listen to Rowan. To learn to do as she was told. She still hadn't learned that lesson.

A voice spoke softly from somewhere. Her name, softly as though it was poetry. Rowan's face flashed briefly in her mind before being drowned out by another crashing wave.

Her fingers twitched once more. Something cold crept through the leather of her boots, touching her toes.

None of it mattered though. All that mattered was the way the sea was calling to her. The currents dancing for her and her alone. She wanted to be in the middle of it all. She could control the ocean. She could feel it in her bones. She ached to use the power that was deep inside of her. It was as though she could not breathe unless she was in the water, as if her lungs craved water instead of oxygen.

"Mirima," that voice again. Persistent this time. Repeating her name again and again. "Mirima."

"Rowan," she breathed out as a hand grasped her arm. It was not tight enough to be Rowan. It was loose, as though they were afraid of touching her.

"Mirima, come out of it." The voice didn't match Rowan's. Didn't match the person she had put all of her trust in.

It was too much effort to open her eyes, to break her connection to the sea. But she did it.

Fenrys stood in front of her, his hands on her arms and his face more amused than concerned. Her feet were freezing, the breeze smelled differently. The sky had begun to lighten, pink marking the sky in the place of the grey that had filled the valley just a few minutes before. Had it only been minutes? She felt as though she had been there for days.

Slowly, she glanced down to see what was causing her feet to be so cold. Water had seeped up from the ground, a few inches covering the ground that surrounded her. Mirima had no clue how she had done it without thinking. She had no idea what she had done.

Maybe Fenrys was right about something. Maybe his techniques just worked better than Rowan's.

"Well, you weren't supposed to do that," he said, one of his brows quirked upwards. "But I can't say I'm surprised. Maybe next time Rowan makes you do something stupid, you'll be able to channel it."

Mirima rolled her eyes, her arms crossing in front of her chest. "Rowan's training isn't stupid."

"You're making shields of water, aren't you?"

"Yes. But that's integral to keeping control!" Mirima protested. Fenrys only shook his head.

"We don't use our abilities as shields. Well, Lorcan does on occasion but Lorcan's also the worst," he stated as he led her away from the drenched grounds. "Rowan's trying to prepare you for something but I doubt it's the cadre. He has your interests in mind, don't think otherwise." She watched as he grabbed a low-hanging tree branch and hauled himself up. "But that doesn't mean he's going to actually help you get what you want. No one should strive to be one of us."

"What is with the two of you?" Mirima demanded as she hoisted herself to sit on the branch beside him. "It's like neither of you can deal with the idea that a woman can be just as good as you."

"This has nothing to do with your gender. You've got more fight inside of you than most soldiers I know," Fenrys stated as he looked at her. His expression was too full of pity for her to stand. "You could do so much better than all of this."

"No, I can't," Mirima stared out at the clearing, watching as the water drained away slowly. "My gender has everything to do with this. When they see me, they see a woman who should be at home. Having children and mending socks. They don't see a warrior. They don't see me."

He looked at her then, looked at her as though she was something other than a woman sitting beside him on a tree branch. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Mirima had never felt exposed before. Rowan certainly had never looked at her as though she were anything. Fenrys was making her quite anxious, scared that he would run back to the others and tell them all about the woman who assumed she was good enough to be welcomed into their ranks. She doubted any of them would find it within them to want her after her show.

"I should go," she cleared her throat as she moved to drop down from the tree. Mirima landed on the balls of her feet, the squelching sound revealing that the ground had turned to mud. "Kitchen duties."

Mirima did not wait to be released from her training. She turned on her heel and headed back to the fort. She spent the entire walk thinking over everything that Fenrys had seen, everything that he had heard. She was mortified. Speaking like that in front of Rowan was one thing. But Fenrys? That was another. She knew better than to speak her mind around her superiors. She knew better than to leave before her training was over. Yet she had done both. She'd never live this down. She'd just proven that she would never be the type of person they welcomed into their ranks. Fenrys had said they didn't want her.

What was the point of continuing to fight? What was the point of trying to be someone she wasn't? Would Rowan even notice if she was gone when he came back? She doubted it. He'd probably use her absence as an excuse to return home.

As the would-be-warrior walked away from him, Fenrys watched her closely. Even with the sting of humiliation, she never let her shoulders droop. Her hand remained on the hilt of her blade. Her head was held high, no one would ever be able to tell that she was spending her day questioning herself and her choices.

"I see you."

#rowan whitethorn #rowan x oc #rowan whitethorn x oc #rowan is running out of patience #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass oc #mirima floros #mirima is trying #soulmate #are they soulmates or are they both just depressed #fenrys moonbeam

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oohnoniall · 3 years ago

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Hawk & Sparrow [Rowan Whitethorn x OC] - Chapter One.

Prologue.

"Guard your left," his voice drilled into her very soul. Harsh, brutal, beautiful.

Thirty years. Thirty miserable years of Rowan Whitethorn telling her that she wasn't good enough. Her control would never be what it should. She didn't have focus, didn't have the drive. He'd been trying to make her give up and go home since the day she had arrived.

All it had ever done was make Mirima go harder. She was stronger than she had been that day Maeve had found her. She didn't wobble when she used her power, didn't rely on surprise to vanquish her enemies. She couldn't surprise Rowan Whitethorn if she tried.

Her blade came up to block his, guarding her left side as he had told her.

"Really, Whitethorn," she breathed out, sweat coating her brow. "You can't come up with something more imaginative? 'Guard your left'. Where's the drama? I'm missing out!"

Rowan swung his blade towards her neck, Mirima quickly brought hers up to block it. She grinned at him, a feral thing with both of her elongated canines showing.

"Focus, Mirima." Rowan growled out, blocking her as she took the opportunity to attack his right side. "You keep that mouth and you'll lead an entire legion to their deaths."

"Just because some of us can fight and compose poetry doesn't mean we're less focused," Mirima thought about pouting but figured that would send the wrong message.

A soft yelp did leave her lips as she jumped over his left leg. He was quick to use her jump to point his blade at the base of her throat.

"Dead."

Rowan lowered his blade, sheathing it as he stared straight at her. Her chest heaved, soft pants leaving her. Rowan never let up, never gave her a moment of peace. It was something that she had needed.

Mistward was different than Varnsway in every sense of the word. The quiet town was nothing like the fort. Messy, loud, full of those who couldn't wait to get to Doranelle or those who never would. She was one of those who needed to be trained first. Maeve did not need a hurricane set loose upon her city.

But she was close. So close that she could taste it on the breeze. That elusive spot on the cadre would be hers. She would stand side-by-side with some of the greatest warriors that history had ever known. She would laugh with Fenrys, Gavriel would teach her how to heal. Rowan would be less of a stick in her ass.

Not to mention getting to fight beside Lorcan Salvaterre. That thought kept her up late into the night, often filling her with shameless giggles that she struggled to keep hidden from Rowan during training the next morning.

"You fight dirty," Mirima told him as she wiped the sweat from her brow. "You and I both know that I could've won had you not been a jackass."

"The enemy will use whatever advantage they can," Rowan's voice was nearly dead as she wiped at the small dot of blood that had bloomed on her throat. "There is no such thing as fighting dirty on the killing field."

"Oh so if I bite someone I will be seen as a hero?" Mirima's grin spread across her lips, lighting her face as though it had been hit by the first rays of summer.

Rowan's scowl made the tattoo on his face scrunch in an awkward way. She knew better than to laugh. "No, you'll be put down."

"You speak as though I'm an animal."

"If you go around biting people," Rowan shrugged just slightly as he looked at her. "You might be seen as one."

"Don't be an ass, Whitethorn. It doesn't suit you," Mirima shot him a wink as she stretched out her arms. It didn't matter how many times she and Rowan worked, swordplay always made her sore. She was better with daggers and knives, better with her magic. Maybe a bow if she didn't have another choice.

"Get back in position," Rowan sighed, pulling his white hair up into what could only be described as a messy bun. Mirima had learned the hard way not to tease him about it. Not unless she wanted to run until Luca was holding her hair while she vomited for the rest of the night. She shuddered at the mere thought.

"How long are we going today?" Mirima questioned as she moved to get into their normal fighting stance. They worked more on hand-to-hand than they did on swordplay. If she could learn to control her breathing and her body, Rowan thought she'd be able to control the storm inside of her.

"Another hour. I have business in Wendlyn."

Rowan normally did not tell her so much. It made her curiosity flare.

"You're not coming." He stated before she ever had a chance to open her mouth. "Now bring up your shield."

"Rowan..." Mirima swallowed uncomfortably as she looked at him. "I ... I can't keep it up."

"That's why it's called training, Mirima." The sardonic tone in his voice made her bristle. "Bring it up. I won't ask you again."

Mirima stared at him for a moment before she gave a very subtle nod of her head. She took a deep breath, held it for a count of seven, and then exhaled for the same count. Slowly, water began to come up from the ground, forming what looked like an old wooden shield in front of her.

The moment the shield had been created, Rowan came at her. He used his full force, never slowing as he brought his fists toward her body. The shield was supposed to be a way to anticipate his movements. She would block where she thought he was going. If the shield worked as it should, his fists or his feet would be repelled.

Most of the time, the shield was not solid enough for it to work.

Mirima wore her bruises like battle scars. In some odd way, she was proud that she had survived each day of her training sessions with Rowan. Not many people would. She knew his techniques were brutal. That he would not stop until she was crying out for an end, or when he had to leave her.

Rowan brought his knee up towards her sternum, Mirima blocked him with the shield of water. It held. He was knocked back a few feet.

The smirk on his face told her that it was just the beginning. A wise woman would have fled in the other direction. Mirima was not a wise woman.

"Come on, Whitethorn," she challenged with that feral grin. "Stop going easy on me."

The challenge in the words brought a snarl from Rowan. She loved to make him angry, to see that animal nature come out of him during training. It meant she was a threat. Or at least that she was annoying. He rushed forward, lunging for her left side.

She brought the shield down, ready to block his attack.

He feinted, jabbing his fist into her right underneath her rib cage. Her breath left her lungs, the pain bringing tears to her eyes.

"Don't get cocky, Floros," he smirked at her. She wondered what it would be like when she one day wiped that smirk off of his face.

Droplets of water fell from the shield, more began to run down her arm. She breathed in again, holding it and letting it go, praying that the shield would come back together.

It didn't. One good hit and she was done for. One good hit and everything came crumbling.

"I'm not cocky," she stated as the shield began to lose its solid form. She brought the water down on Rowan's head, watching as it exploded into a tiny rainstorm. "I'm good."

Rowan scowled at her, water running down his face and soaking his hair. "How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?"

"Twenty-eight? Not counting the first time." Mirima crossed her arms in front of her chest, moving to rest against the stump of a tree that one of her floods had broken. The flood had happened less than a month ago. The meadow was only just starting to go back to normal.

"Mirima," Rowan warned, his glare should have been enough to dry him off. "You need to begin taking this seriously. I'm meeting with Maeve in two days. Should she ask about your progress, I won't be able to tell her anything good."

With just the word 'Maeve', Rowan could get Mirima to sober. She stilled, her arms falling to her side. Her eyes focused on him, on the water that was slowly dripping from his hair. She did not think about her own failings. How she could not control the hurricane that lived within her heart, nor how she could barely keep up during their drills in swordplay.

She was getting better. But it was not good enough. Not yet.

She had a long way to go before she ever became cadre worthy. She knew that, yet she would not accept it.

"Can we go again?" Mirima asked, taking a few deep breaths to still her mind as he had taught her years before. She still remembered that first lesson.

Rowan had been ruthless. He had put her through her paces, made her reach her limits and exceed them over and over again. She had thought about giving up that day, had thought that he was right. She wasn't cut out for this. She was nothing more than a girl in over her head. But she had stayed. She had done her damned best to prove him wrong every step of the way.

She still felt like a girl who was in over her head.

"No," Rowan shook his head, causing Mirima to scowl at him. "I need to leave. You'll be working with Fenyrs for the next few days. If he tells me you've given him any of the hellas you give me, you'll be running until your legs give out."

"What happens if I give him a different type of hellas?" Mirima knew she shouldn't have said the words the second they came out of her mouth. She didn't like the look that crossed Rowan's face. Any trace of the handsome Fae prince was gone. Instead he looked like the killer she had always known him to be.

"Then you'll wish Maeve never found you."

He turned his back to her, disappearing in the blink of an eye. Mirima watched the horizon for half an hour, just trying to keep from following after him. She knew for a fact that she would get in even more trouble if she followed after him.

It had been a difficult lesson to learn. Mirima had trouble when she didn't know what was happening. It made her anxious, made her want to claw out of her own skin and release the hurricane that was constantly building inside of her. Rowan had made her shift time and time again to relieve the tension when he had learned of her restlessness.

Mirima still found it hard to stay still and silent. She found it hard to not rush after him when she wasn't allowed to. It took all of her resilience to keep herself from fleeing Mistward. That and the knowledge he would send her right back to Varnsway if she did.

"Mirima," Luca's voice pulled her from her thoughts. She hadn't noticed that she had walked back to the fort, her feet having listened to Rowan when her head had not.

"Hmm?" One of her brows cocked, her suntanned face looking over at the curly-haired boy.

"Emrys is about to lose it," he warned with a grin. "You're late for kitchen duties."

"I am never late, Luca." Mirima scoffed, praying that he could not see the way she wanted to rush from the fort itself. Ride the winds and find Rowan before he did something stupid that might get himself killed. She knew he could keep himself safe but she didn't trust him to.

How would she get into the cadre without him?

Luca laughed brightly, taking Mirima by the arm and leading her towards the kitchens. It was a fairly normal occurrence. Since he had arrived, the pair had gotten close, mainly by making fun of Rowan Whitethorn at every turn. There was only so much scowling that they could handle.

It was a miracle more people hadn't realized how easy it was to joke about Rowan in the silence of Mistward.

The fort offered a sense of comfort to those inside of its walls. Even the restless souls of would-be soldiers could find solace in the stone building. Mistward was more of a home to her than Varnsway had ever been.

There were times when she missed the sea breeze, the scent of the salt on the air. When she missed sparing with her father, laughing merrily whenever she managed to block a blow or land one of her own. She missed climbing to the tops of the highest trees, watching as ships sailed into the harbors. But that had never been the type of life that she had wanted.

Solitary. Confined. Alone.

Mirima couldn't stand being alone.

"There you are," Emrys' voice was warm, friendly even. She always felt more at ease in the kitchens. It was better than dealing with aggressive Demi-Fae males when she was cleaning rooms. "Do I need to speak to Whitethorn about keeping you too late?"

"Whitethorn isn't going to be a thorn in our side," Mirima smirked as she washed her hands. "He's run off to Wendlyn for some mysterious reason."

"I bet Maeve is finally declaring war," Luca piped up from his spot at the pantry. He was gathering the ingredients for dinner, whistling softly to himself as he did.

"She can't!" Mirima cried out as she wiped her hands on a tea towel. "I haven't been let in yet. How can she hope to win a war without her greatest warrior?"

"Oh yes, Mirima Floros the conquering hero," Luca stuck his tongue out, laying the ingredients down on the countertop.

Mirima took up a position at the counter, taking a knife out of the great wooden block that Emrys' mate had carved for him. She twirled it between her fingers for a moment, a wordless threat to the young male who stood across from her.

"No one else could dare keep Whitethorn in check," she thought too much of herself. Anyone who listened to a word she said could tell. "We all know that I'm the only one who keeps him from growing stagnant."

"Of course you are," it was Emrys who spoke this time. A smile crossed his features, making him appear like a kind grandfather from a mortal tale. "Little Bird, you would do well to remember that he's moved mountains. You're still struggling to move stones."

It was Mirima's turn to stick her tongue out. Emrys laughed, filling the room with a vibrancy that she was sure would be a shade of the brightest yellow.

"My shield is getting better each day and my swordplay is coming along," it wasn't. She was trying but Rowan was faster, stronger. She didn't have time to block and plot out his next move. She was certain he was trying to avoid her getting to that point.

"You'll get there in time," Emrys assured her, stirring a pot filled with what smelled like Mirima's favorite stew. "You just need to be patient. Maeve will see you when the time comes."

But Maeve had seen her. She had known what Mirima could do from the moment she had sat at her bedside. She was certain that was the only reason why Rowan had even been assigned to train her. A dream would come crashing down as soon as he returned from Doranelle. The hurricane had not been tamed. Doranelle would drown if Mirima ever stepped foot in the city.

Her stomach hurt at the thought.

She said nothing to Emrys or Luca about her thoughts. She hadn't said a word about her feelings to Rowan either. She knew he would tell her it was a sign to give up. To make things easier on herself and go home, never to see his tattooed face again. She dreaded Rowan telling her that it was worthless. She dreaded knowing that there would be a time when Rowan lost faith in her.

She just hoped it happened after she lost faith in herself.

"Fuck," she cursed under her breath as she sliced her finger with the knife. Ruby red droplets of blood landed on the countertop, avoiding the vegetables by inches. She sucked the finger into her mouth, wincing at the coppery tang. She never should have been thinking about anything other than the knife in her hand. Rowan would have yelled at her for twenty minutes all the while patching up her finger.

Rowan had a habit of making sure she regretted her mistakes while also taking care of whatever wounds she sustained. There had been many nights where he had sponged her forehead with cold water while reprimanding her for going too far. She wouldn't say she enjoyed those days, but they weren't the worst of her life.

"Careful," was all Luca said. It was a far cry from what Rowan would have done. It almost made her miss him.

The three finished cooking without any more injuries. She was able to eat quickly, wash up her dishes, and disappear into her bedroom.

The room was on the third floor, high enough that she could see the horizon without too much obstruction. It was fairly basic. The same furniture that had been there when she had arrived. A single bed with a threadbare quilt that her mother had made for her, a washstand with porcelain basin and chipped pitcher, and a single oak wood desk that was now strewn with letters from home. A tapestry of Varnsway was hung above the window, blocking it so the sunrise did not wake her after a burnout. Different knives hung on the wall by her bed. Several had come from Rowan after good training days. Others were presents she had received during Yulemas celebrations.

The room did not appear inviting, just basic. Bare. Almost cold.

Mirima thought it was perfect. It kept her from falling into a comfortable lifestyle. She was ready to leave at a second's notice, ready to run out and fight whoever she needed to.

She doubted she would ever want a stationary life. She had always dreamed of something ... More. Something grand. The cadre was her way to grand.

Mirima sat on the cold stone floor, a sharp intake of breath at the feeling of the stone against her legs. The chill seeped through the worn leather of her pants. She would have to get rid of them at some point, but not yet. Not now. She'd wait until they had holes or one of the legs had fallen off at the knee.

Soft breaths left the woman's throat, her legs crossing in front of her while her eyes fluttered to a gentle close. Breathing helped her to clear her mind, helped her to calm the storm that was warring inside of her. Even if it was not always the best method. She needed a chance to reflect on the day. On what she was going to do in the morning to prove herself.

Mirima knew that proving herself would be more than a flashy shield made of water. It would be more than fabulous swordplay and witty banter. She did not quite know what it would take to be who Maeve wanted. To be who Rowan wanted. But she would find it at some point. She had to. Mirima did not know who she was. She did not know what she believed in, or if she believed in anything at all.

All she had ever known was that she felt alive when she was using her magic. When she was in the midst of a fight it felt as though her blood was singing. She had always known that she was supposed to be a soldier. Someone who lived their life chasing that thrill, that singing of blood.

The closest she had ever been to a real battle was those raiders thirty years before. She didn't know if she had killed them. She didn't know if she had even stopped them. But that was the most alive she'd ever felt. Protecting the only home she'd ever known. Being the person she was certain she had to be. Mirima was still chasing that high again. She was chasing the feeling of being someone other than just a girl with magic that was too powerful. She wanted to be someone to look up to. Even if she knew it was a ridiculous goal.

As Mirima opened her eyes, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. Fenrys had arrived at Mistward, his scent clear on the air. Tomorrow was a day of proving herself all over again. She was ready for it.

#throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #mirima floros #mirima is trying #rowan whitethorn #rowan x oc #rowan whitethorn x oc #rowan is running out of patience #throne of glass oc #cadre #fenrys moonbeam

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