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ardathksheyna · 1 year ago

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Yes, I'm Against Book Banning

Even when the author in question is a shitty, derivative literary hack.

So a few people in the Brainerd school district decided to get together and ban one of Maas' books on what is turning out to be spurious reasons. The Brainerd school board pushed back and rejected the resolution—which quite frankly, they should have. It's not the place of a few individuals to try and make a determination for other parents and their children on what they can or can not be allowed to read.

In this instance, though—when I first heard about the challenge, not gonna lie but I laughed my ass off. What I found hilarious is that someone actually felt threatened enough by this trash to try and get it banned from a school library. Kind of demonstrates how far we've fallen as a society if garbage literature is actually that threatening to some people. Although, the fact that Maas is a New York Times bestseller is probably another example of society's fall from grace.

That being said, picking up a book—even one as shitty as the above—does help expand a child's literary skills, especially if that child decides to grow up to be a writer. In fact, this is where crap literature comes in handy. It gives young, aspiring writers an example of what not to do. In this case, how to actually make your characters well-rounded by not following the example of Throne of Glass. I've heard people say that the series gets better after the first book, but as the writer, you need to be able to hook the reader on the first book. Don't expect your readers to wade through one or two books of drek to get to the good stuff.

It's also hard to delve into a book when you already want to beat the shit out of the ever-so-perfect-at-everything-she-does main character. Sorry, hate to put it like this but between the ages of sixteen and twenty (sometimes, even older), about the only thing a person is good at is being a fuck-up.

Aelin is supposed to be the world's "best assassin," yet is easily startled whenever someone comes up behind her. She even brags about how fast she can kill someone but doesn't do shit in the first book.

If you're a world-renown assassin, first off, you wouldn't be bragging about it, and second, your situational awareness should be top-notch.

Segway to Fate Grand Order, Okada Izo (who ironically enough, is an Assassin-class Servant) frequently brags about being the best swordsman but this is played off for comedic affect. It's pointed out to him that there's several swordsmen/women in Chaldea who are arguably better—Okita and [DATA LOST] (sorry, too soon?) just to name a few. Oryou even specifically names Musashi as one of them, while also calling Izo a dumbass in the same sentence if I remember correctly. Ryouma, Oryou, and Izo's interactions are among my most favorites in the game.

The point being made is that if your character is going to brag about being the best, it's better to play that off for comedic effect—like in Okada's example—than try to be serious about it.

Aelin comes off as a misogynist. While I hate the character, I think I understand what Maas was trying to get at. Aelin complains about how women will cut down other women for male attention and hates them for it. Sadly, that is the only thing I sympathize with (while simultaneously being disgusted by) Aelin about.

That's because as a female software engineer, I've been on the receiving end of women attempting to undercut me because they perceived me as a threat for male attention when I very obviously had no interest whatsoever in my male coworkers. I come to work for a pay-check, not a booty-call—honestly, remote working has been a godsend for me. It's funny because it was frequently these same women that harped on there not being enough women in tech. That is a rant for another time, though.

Now Back to the Subject At Hand

Anyway, Aelin never grows out of this in any way that I can discern. Of course, Aelin had already made herself so unlikable in my mind, that her good points were overshadowed by her bad ones.

As for hooking the reader on the first book—Maas isn't the only author to fail at that task. Even well-established writers make that mistake. I'm looking at Mercedes Lackey's most recent book, Gryphon of Light as an example.

Gryphon was slow to start and reused material wholesale from short stories published in the Valdemar anthologies years ago. If that wasn't bad enough, the way that the first book ended left such a bad feeling that I'm still in the air about whether or not I'm going to continue the series. Another reason I'm having a hard time justifying getting the second book is that while I'm happy that Lackey returned to present-day Valdemar, a lot of the character details were wrong and it bugged me. It literally felt like I was reading a badly written, out-of-character fanfic. Maybe she shouldn't have waited twenty-plus years to return to present-day Valdemar, but I'm also given to understand that she wanted a break from writing Valdemar books for a few years.

That being said, I'll still finish The Founding when the final book comes out at the end of this month.

On Maas' writing style. Not throwing shade at fanfic writers or Wattpad writers here because there are very good and very bad fanfic writers out there. I'll say that it's glaringly obvious that Maas never graduated beyond writing Mary Sue anime fanfics.

I'll also admit to having a more personal reason for disliking Maas and Throne of Glass. One of her characters seems to be a card-board cutout ripoff of a character I created for my webcomic, Silent Shadow. Yes, he has the same name as my boy but I could ignore that. However, the physical similarities were another matter—they are close enough that they made me uncomfortable. However, that's not to say that there aren't physical differences as well (skin- and eye-color, and facial tattoos) so maybe it's all a coincidence and I can get my head out of my ass about it?

It's one of the reasons why I started the process of making Rowan look more like an anime wolf-boy than a Rumiko Takahashi-inspired yokai—which is what he was originally. It was something that I wanted to do years ago to call out his Lycan background but I honestly lacked the skills. The discoveries I made about Blender and Daz Studio—SJM's hackery not withstanding—is what helped me make that push.

The end-result is I can't see Rowan without wolf-ears now, and I honestly like it that way :)

There's another challenge coming for me in the future—Rowan's Therian form. What will make that challenging is the armature. I've learned a bit about rigging digitigrade legs so we'll see how I can put that knowledge to use. I'll probably have to use new geometry because I don't think that the Hiro 3 mesh is up to that level of deformation.

That being said, it's actually had the benefit of forcing me to hash out the personalities of my characters so that they are well-rounded with flaws and trauma of their own that they either grow out of, or know enough about themselves that they can learn to to work around or keep those flaws under control.

So yes, even shitty literature has educational value, even if it's an example of how not to create your characters.

#books #book banning #literature #writing #sarah j maas

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elliepassmore · 1 year ago

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Fourth Wing review

4/5 stars Recommended if you like: high fantasy, dragons, competition, magic This book is good...but it's definitely not worth the hype. It's one of those books where I finished it and decided I'd read the second book just to see, but the more time that passes since I read the book, the more I feel kind of ambivalent about the series. Especially knowing it's going to be 5 books. There wasn't really enough meat to the book to make me want to hold on for the rest of the series. I also have absolutely 0 desire to try and wade through the absolute chaos being produced by bookstagram and booktok for this series. It's especially bothering me that people are buying up editions of the book in languages they can't even read just because it's pretty and they want all the possible pretty editions of the book they can get (something something hypermaterialistic consumerism). A lot of the elements/characters feel like the "can I copy your homework? / Sure, just make it a little different so that it doesn't look like you just copied it" meme. We have Xaden, a 'tanned' bad boy with swirling tattoos and shadow magic (Rhysand/Azriel/Dorian); the Riders Quadrants, where students wear all black and spar and do super dangerous stunts (Divergent); Violet, the weak underdog with brown and silver hair and (eventually) lightening powers (Mare); the room-destroying sex (Aelin + Rowan, among others); the mating bond (ACOTAR). I really could not get over the similarities here, and it continues throughout most of the book. Also, Violet felt very Wattpad-esque at times, and not in a good way, including the "tiny FMC/6ft+ MMC" trope. This book very much feels like the author looked into tropes and characters that were popular with readers and then included as much of that as possible in this book. That being said, the book is entertaining. If you shut out the ridiculousness of the above paragraph, then the book provides a good way to be entertained for a few hours. There's a lot of action and we do get a lot from the dragons later on in the book. This book also doesn't require you to think, so if you're just looking to enjoy the read and be entertained, this book is definitely a good one to go for, especially since the language used in the book is pretty modern. Violet is an interesting bird. She's obviously terrified of being in the Rider Quadrant, but at the same time is very determined to continue with it even before she grows to like it. Likewise, she doesn't want to draw attention to her disability, but she also does very little to compensate for it, even after she gets a dragon (girl, use a harness!). She's also willing to use subterfuge to weaken her opponents but isn't willing to kill. That being said, Violet is also very loyal to those she considers her friends and seems to care about people in general because she'll keep her friends', dragons', and even her semi-enemies' secrets, especially if it looks like revealing the secret would put someone in harm's way. I want to talk about Violet's disability. At first I thought it was brittle bone until Violet used the word "sublux." While it isn't used exclusively for Ehlers-Danlos (EDS), it is pretty indicative that that's what Violet has, especially when most of her complaints end up being about her joints and not her bones. The author herself apparently also has EDS, so that further adds to my guess that Violet has it too. They obviously don't have the words for it, so Violet doesn't get a subtype, but I'm guessing hEDS or cEDS. I'm glad to see it getting more rep, there have been a couple of books recently featuring it, and I like that it's in a fantasy book. However, I think it is somewhat of a mischaracterization to have that be the reason Violet is so weak. I, too, have EDS (hypermobile) and would not consider myself weak because of it. Sure, I have certain physical limitations, but I also know how to compensate for them and, while I'm somewhat out of shape now, have been physically strong in the past. So, yes, Violet having EDS does put her at a disadvantage, but I think her Scribe training and general lack of physical exertion for most of her life probably puts her at more of a disadvantage. Xaden comes across as an ass right off the bat. Yet, despite his threats and seeming intentions, he never actually makes a move to harm Violet. Despite the animosity, they're pretty much on the same side from the get-go and do have an insta-lust thing going on. Xaden is someone with a lot of secrets, some more deeply hidden than others, and he's constantly teetering on the brink of getting in trouble due to his father's actions. He has a bigger heart than he lets on, and while he remains snarky and somewhat gruff, it's also clear that he has a strong sense of what he believes in and is determined to follow through, even if it means risking his own life (and, I'm fairly certain, some other people's). Dain is Violet's childhood best friend and crush. He comes across well at first, and I liked seeing his and Violet's banter. However, in his desire to protect Violet, he quickly begins making decisions without telling her and pressuring her to do things contrary to her own desires. It's a shame how things ended up since I did like him in the early portion of the book. Violet also makes some new friends in the Rider Quadrant and they're very supportive. They have Violet's back and she has theirs, with their little group often saving each other's lives. Violet's friends also work with her to train and to help her compensate for her EDS, supporting her and her decisions throughout the book. Admittedly it does make a nice parallel to Dain, who refuses to see that Violet has grown and is determined to become a rider. The dragons are pretty good as well. It was kind of weird how they were depicted as these terrible, bloodthirsty creatures, but then as soon as Violet is bonded to Tairn and Adarna, we don't really see any of that. The nastiness of the dragons is shown early on in the book and a bit in the middle, but then in the latter portion of the book, nothing backs that up anymore. The dragons clearly have positive emotions and aren't so bloodthirsty as to kill anyone that moves, so their characterization was a bit dissonant. I did like Tairn and Adarna, though, and enjoyed seeing them and their interactions. Overall, this book is very, very similar to a lot of other popular books and it's definitely hard to overlook those similarities. But, if you're looking for an entertaining read with dragons, this is a good book for that. Definitely not worth the hype though.

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llyncooljones · 2 years ago

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peace in the noise - rowaelin month day fourteen.

ao3 || masterlist || rowaelin month ‘22 masterlist

prompt: CANON WEEK: what if... nothing bad ever happened, and they met organically. pain-free, just vibes set in the 'canon' universe.

word count: 1229

trigger warnings: language, alcohol.

tag list: @rowaelinscourt @live-the-fangirl-life @rowaelinismyotp @fireheartwhitethorn4ever @elentiyawhitethorn @rowanaelinn @autumnbabylon @leiawritesstories @backtobl4ck

a bar in varese, the evening.

Aelin was turning thirty.

Three, zero.

It was pretty fucking insignificant, people she knew were turning nine-hundred and thirty this year. But, having been brought with the knowledge that she might not settle, that she might not live past eighty-five, had made her more appreciative of her years.

So, whilst to most fae she knew or had ever known in the past, turning thirty would be insignificant, to her it felt important, to her it felt weighted—heavier than twenty-nine had been.

And she felt a little bit crazy for it, especially given the fact that she had settled, and she was going to live to see eighty-five (if the battlefield allowed for that to happen).

She should have been home, tucked up on a sofa with her parents, her friends, and her cousins. She should have been in the castle, enjoying the oversized chocolate hazelnut cake her parents had made for her. She should have been married, she should have had children, and she should have been more like her mother. She should have been a lot of things. But she wasn’t.

She wasn’t, and that was the crux of it all.

It was why, two weeks ago she had left a note saying she would be on holiday for the foreseeable future, and that should anyone need to contact her, she would be arriving in Varese, two weeks from that date (today), and that they could talk to her then.

And now, she was regaining her land legs, having spent the last fourteen days on a boat. She had a bag with not much in it, but that had been dumped in the tiny room she was renting, and now she was sweating herself silly walking through the streets.

Varese was so much hotter than Orynth had ever been, and was still and stagnant compared to the wild, vicious waters she had been sailing over, and living on, for the past two weeks. She felt ridiculous in her loose-fitting clothes, with her hair toppled together on her head to keep it off her hot neck, leather sandals on her feet that left her toes on display.

Left them in the open to be trodden on—which they had been, several times. Too many times.

Dusk had just descended, and the nightlife was beginning. People were already unsteady on their feet, and Aelin had already found herself wading through a crowd watching two rather large fae males fighting.

The red tile rooves—she wondered if it was terracotta, or if they could paint rooves in a city like this—provided a glow that she hadn’t seen in Terrasen, lights were reflected off metal finishing and mirrors, and the white walls of the houses and establishments she wandered past.

She was waiting until she found a quieter street, a darker street, a street she would never normally be allowed to walk down. Because surviving a war meant that she was obviously incapable of keeping herself safe. But Aelin did not, and never once had, pretend to understand how her mother’s mind worked (in mysterious ways), she just liked (in fact, to live her own life).

Hence the drastic measures.

Her ears twitched at every sound, and every movement had her eyes following, each time a person was pushed into her, or brushed her skin as they hurried past—her skin tightening, and her mind throbbed with the urge to punch them.

Healthy, it was not. But Aelin, it most certainly was.

With her senses having taken all they possibly could, ignoring the need for somewhere down a dark and deserted street she would never normally be allowed down, she darted into the doorway of the nearest bar.

The walls were white, or as close to white as they could be given the fact it was a bar and drinks got spilt and stains got left. The bar was blonde wood, which was shined and sanded, smooth to her delicate, explorative touch. She picked her fingertips up, rubbed them together, and blew on them.

Found no dust.

She took a seat, and she cursed her mother for creating this clean freak.

With her head cradled between two hands, she couldn’t imagine she was the kind of person that frequented a bar like this. But when she looked around and found people talking quietly, subtle piano music playing over the speakers, and too many open chairs to call this place busy, she found that she happened to be their target audience, no matter who that might be.

“Rough day?”

Aelin startled, looked up to find green eyes peering down at her from his place behind the bar. He held a cloth in one hand, and a jug in the other. He had on simple clothes, those you would normally find on a barkeep.

But Aelin couldn’t help but notice the warrior’s tattoos that featured all across his body, trailing up his arm, along his fingers, and across the backs of his hands. He had symbols drawn on his face, markings that displayed his rank, his wars, and his kills.

They were the markings of an ancient warrior. The exact collection belonged only to six men to ever exist, the elite. They were rumoured to have dispersed years ago, never to be seen together again. But here Aelin was, staring her history books right in the face, wondering if he could tell her war stories, wondering if he had any tips and tricks to prevent nightmares from waking her up.

She couldn’t stop, once her mind had started. Wondered which one he was. There was the hawk—Rowan Whitehorn. There was also the dark—Lorcan Salvaterre. The white wolf—Fenrys Moonbeam. The black wolf—Connall Moonbeam. The lion—Gavriel, but Aelin couldn’t recall his last name. and finally, the osprey—Vaughan, again, whose name she couldn’t remember.

The Cadre.

That was what her books liked to call them, and Aelin had liked the term. She and her cousin, Aedion, had spent much of their shared childhood playing like warriors. Stealing moves from the history books, using them on each other. Until Aelin’s mother had deemed it inappropriate and had stopped it from happening.

“Such a rough day that you’ve lost your hearing?” he asked again, becoming impatient in the time she was thinking.

“No. Not all.” She let out a harsh laugh, that maybe said today was a rough day, “it’s the best damned day I’ve had in fifteen years. Just a little over the crowds, I’m not quite used to the noise of this many people without the noise of war, accompanying.”

“It can be rough, but for now, I can offer you a drink, and my company. I’m Rowan, the owner.” His voice slid over her skin like honey, soft and silky, sticky as though it would never leave.

Aelin was glad when he said his name. he had always been her favourite; she had loved his bravery. Wondered whether his wind, his ice, would be enough her calm her fire, and be enough o encourage it.

She was glad, when he placed a drink in front of her, his own dangling from his fingers.

As they talked, telling stories, reminiscing about days gone by, and sharing war stories—each worse than the one before—Aelin was glad she had walked into the bar.

#rowaelinscourt #rowaelin month 2022 #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #tog #my fic #throne of glass #tog fic #my writing #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #llyncooljones' writing

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leiawritesstories · 2 years ago

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yes hello could you please bless us with more of the pact to get married au please 🙏🤲

i suppose i could whip up a little something......

@backtobl4ck

~~~~~~~~

One Week Later

"Ro!" Aelin giggled, head thrown back. "Gods, everyone must think something awful happened!"

Rowan grinned, ducking in to kiss her exposed neck. "Let them dream up their crack theories, love. I could use the time away."

"Fair enough," she snorted. "I want you all to myself now, all the time."

"Happy to oblige." He scooped her into his arms, ignoring her shriek of giddy fake protest as he strode down to the water's edge and waded in, swinging her down so her feet splashed up waves in the surf.

"Buzzard!" she squealed, clinging to him. "It's cold, goddammit!"

"It's the ocean, Fireheart," he laughed, beaming at her. "Did you expect it to be like a pool?"

She flicked his nose. "Smartass."

"You love it."

"I love you."

His pine eyes went wide, his hold on her waist slacking. "You...you love me?"

Seven days since they were married, and neither of them had yet voiced the three little words that hung between them, the three little words that meant the entire world.

"I love you," Aelin repeated, cupping her hands around his face, the chill of the surf crashing against her legs forgotten as she stared into his handsome face.

Rowan choked on something suspiciously like a sob, tears welling in his eyes. "God, I love you too, Aelin. I love you too."

And there they stood for gods knew how long, lost in each other as the tide ebbed around them.

~~~

#my writing #answered prompt #pact to get married au #idiots in love #rowaelin

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years ago

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A Starlit Swim

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Skinny Dipping Oneshot

Aelin shows Rowan to a lovely, secluded spot.

Written for Rowaelin Month 2021. Day 14: Skinny Dipping

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Warnings: Language, Lightest NSFW

1547 words

*******

“Shh!” Aelin hissed through a giggle, too loudly to be an actual reprimand.

Rowan snorted and kept a firm grip on his girlfriend’s hand as she pulled him through the woods towards what she insisted was a nice secluded spot.

“Aelin,” he shot his free hand out to steady her waist as she stumbled over a fallen branch, before righting herself and sending a quick smile over her shoulder. “Aelin, I didn’t say anything. That was all you.”

She either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore his point as she kept leading him down a path that only she was aware of.

The soccer team at Terrasen University had just won the championships, and as a Co-Captain, Rowan was very much to thank for that. He and the team set up a bonfire down by one of the lakes to celebrate. But what originally started as the team, their significant others, and friends, soon devolved into a full-on rager the moment some idiot posted a video on Instagram. Now, the entire lake and woods a couple of miles outside campus were crawling with excited, drunk college kids who were all celebrating the victory.

Rowan had been happy standing by the large fire with Aelin leaning into him, her back pressed to his chest with his arms looped her waist and his chin resting on her head. Lorcan and Elide were next to them, standing similarly, although Elide had to stand on one of the logs in order for Lorcan’s chin to reach her hair. Fenrys danced around handing out more drinks to everybody, while Lysandra and Aedion were somewhere in the group of people dancing by the speakers. Rowan had spotted more of his teammates around and recognized a couple of faces of people from classes in the hordes of partygoers, but he was perfectly content being with his small group of friends by the fire.

Until Aelin tugged his arm, urging him to lower his head so she could whisper into his ear. She’d said she knew of a hidden spot a little further into the woods, and that they should sneak off while everyone else was distracted. He almost argued, saying he was fine right where they were, but then she turned in his arms and kissed him in a way that had every coherent thought flying out of his head. He could only grin and nod as she pulled away satisfied and grabbed his hand.

So, now, Rowan was following Aelin as she maneuvered through the trees to this supposedly special spot.

They’d walked far enough that Rowan could no longer hear the music or voices from the party.

“Aelin, where are we going?” He hissed as he nearly tripped over another tree branch.

Aelin only giggled and shushed him again. A moment later she told him, in a horrifically bad haunting accent, “I’m luring you into the woods to kill you. No one will find your body.” Her laughter decimated the fake threat.

Rolling his eyes, Rowan snickered, “Nah, you like me too much to kill me.”

She looked back, almost tripping again as she winked, “I guess.” He caught her lip twitch as she unsuccessfully fought a smile.

“You guess?” he grumbled.

Aelin stopped abruptly and Rowan nearly sent them crashing to the ground before he stopped moving. She turned to face him and the next thing he knew, she was kissing the living daylights out of him. Rowan reacted instantly, the slight haze from a couple beers making him feel even lighter. Aelin pulled away before they got too carried away and ended up rolling in the leaves and dirt.

“Okay, maybe I do like you too much to kill you.”

Rowan laughed and Aelin grinned before spinning around and resuming her mission of pulling him through the woods to wherever she was imagining.

“Seriously, Fireheart,” he asked again as the trees slowly thinned out around them. “Where are we going?”

Instead of answering, Aelin’s giggling filled the air again.

Rowan chuckled under his breath; this was three-drink Aelin escorting him, then. It hadn’t taken Rowan long to notice Aelin’s varying drunk personalities. One-drink Aelin was affectionately named The Megaphone, the buzz of alcohol making her yell and shout. Two-drink Aelin, The Instigator, believed her purpose in life was encourage their friends to act on their ridiculous, sometimes insane, plans. Three-drink Aelin, this Aelin, was The Giggler because for whatever reason she found everything absolutely hilarious.

Rowan was also familiar with four-drink Aelin: The Horndog, who wouldn’t be dissuaded by a party full of people when she’d straddle his lap and practically jump him right there on the spot. Or, five-drink Aelin: The Francophone who gave up all use of their language and spoke solely in French. He wasn’t sure what six-drink Aelin was like—none of their friends were—but once, Rowan had witnessed seven-drink Aelin, forever deemed The Queen, because she’d insisted everyone call her Your Majesty and Queen Galathynius (Lorcan had quickly dubbed her Fire Breathing Bitch Queen much to her utter delight) and, just Rowan: Milady.

Aelin giggled again as she swayed trying to duck beneath a branch and Rowan gripped her hand tighter as he reached above her to push the leaves aside. It took him a second to take in what he was looking at. Aelin had led him to the edge of a small lake hidden within the forest. The sky was visible through the small openings between branches that stretched across the width of the lake, allowing Rowan to see the stars that were normally invisible by the lights of the city.

“How…” he trailed off, facing Aelin again to see her watching him with a rare, tentative expression.

“What do you think?” She asked hopefully.

Rowan stepped closer to her, pulling her into his arms. “Its beautiful, Fireheart. How did you ever find this place?”

She smirked and giggled again. “Magic.”

He raised a brow, amused, and waited.

Aelin sighed dramatically and tipped her head back, “Fine, Buzzard, if you want the boring answer it’s that I was out on a run one day and got distracted and lost and accidentally stumbled onto this place. It doesn’t look like anyone else comes here. Not that I’ve noticed, anyway.”

Rowan’s grip tightened around her waist, pulling her against him and grinning at her breathless gasp. Leaning down so his nose brushed her ear, he asked, “No one?”

She pulled back and flashed him a wicked grin. “Nope. You know what that means right?”

When all Rowan did was return her grin, she slipped out of his arms and stepped closer to the edge of the water. Aelin held his gaze, winking again, and she slowly lifted her shirt and tossed it aside.

Rowan crossed his arms, leaning against a nearby tree and smirked, content to watch the show his girlfriend was giving him. His gaze never left hers as she reached down to unbutton her jeans before rolling those down and throwing them into the pile with her shirt.

When she was standing there in just her underwear and bra she paused, raising a brow at Rowan.

“Well are you going to join me, Buzzard? Or are you just going to watch?” Her smirk told him there was only one right answer.

He slowly stalked towards her, his eyes darkening as she bit her lip while she watched him. When they were almost chest to chest, he gripped the back of his collar and pulled his shirt over his head, smirking at the way Aelin eyes roamed across his bare chest.

Once his pants were off, he grabbed her hand and made to lead her towards the water. Aelin followed without hesitation, only stopping once her feet hit the water.

“What?” Rowan asked, wading into the pleasantly warm lake and raising an eyebrow at his girlfriend still standing on the bank. “I thought you wanted to swim.”

She smirked, her eyes glinting in the reflected starlight. “Not exactly.”

Before he could ask what she meant, Aelin’s hand flew behind her to unclasp her bra, quickly pulling it off before slipping her underwear down her and throwing them into their growing pile of clothes.

Rowan practically growled as Aelin strutted into the water without a shred of clothing. Before she even reached him, Aelin watched as Rowan tossed his sopping wet briefs across the water and heard them land with a slap on the dry rocks.

When she got close enough, Rowan’s hand wrapped around her wrist and then her waist to pull her body flush with his. Aelin wove her wet fingers through his hair and wrapped her legs around his waist as their lips came together in a fierce kiss.

After a few minutes they pulled away, breathing heavily, and savoring the feeling of swollen lips and the other’s arms wrapped around them.

“Have you ever been skinny dipping before?” Aelin asked coyly, looking at Rowan through her eyelashes.

He ran a broad hand down her back, “Can’t say I have.”

She grinned, already having known his answer. “Then allow me to show you how fun it can be.”

By the time Aelin and Rowan meandered out of the woods, the hazy light of morning was just peeking through the trees.

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @surielandiareendgame @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @moodymelanist @angelic-voice-1997 @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog @the-regal-warrior @rowanaelinn @thestoriesyoutell @autumnbabylon @sunflowermoonshinewrites @maastrash

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin month #aelin #Rowan #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #aelin and rowan #rowan and aelin #aelin galathynius x rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin fic #rowaelin Oneshot #skinny dipping #throne of glass #tog

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brainrotcharacters · 3 months ago

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wade is simultaneously the sort of partner that'd hype logan up as he's making his way through a killing field, but also bombastic side eye him that his body count is rising farther compared to deadpool's in real time

#he is both “GO WOLVIE GO” and “NOT ON MY FUCKING WATCH YOU CUNT”#he's never been happier #vanessa comes a close second. of course.#wolverine is deadpool's mirror #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #wolverine #deadpool 3 #logan howlett #wade wilson #poolverine #deadclaws #deadpool 2024 #i keep tellin ya people. they're rowaelin #rowan and aelin galathynius

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silvernesta · 3 years ago

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VALKYRIE THEORY

This is a long theory that me and @the-bookish-valkyrie came up with and proceeded to talk about till 3am. It will probably have two parts... we shall see.

The Valkyries were an elite of female warriors who served the God of War/Death Odin. He sent them to the battlefields to choose the fate of the fallen warriors.

Warriors who died in battle ended up in two different places: some joined the Goddess Freyja in her heavenly realm of Fólkvangr and the others joined Valhalla which is Odin’s afterlife hall.

In “A Court Of Silver Flames” fate and the Mother are mentioned multiple times:

When talking about Nesta’s Made weapons

“That sword shall be known by history.” Her eyes darkened as she looked at the great sword, her words echoing. “It remains to be seen whether it shall be known for good or evil.”

Cassian shook off the shiver that slithered down his spine, as if fate itself heard her words and shuddered

Nesta talking about combining the Valkyrie/Illyrian technique

Nesta smirked. “If we are to be Valkyries born again,” she said, “maybe we should combine the Illyrian and Valkyrie techniques.”

She’d meant it in jest, but the words rumbled through the space, as if she’d spoken some great truth, something that made fate sit up.

When Gwyn is about to cut the ribbon

Gwyn whispered, “I am the rock against which the surf crashes.” Nesta straightened at the words, as if they were a prayer and a summons. Gwyn lifted the blade. “Nothing can break me.”

Cassian’s throat tightened, and even from across the ring, he could see Nesta’s eyes gleaming with pride and pain.

Emerie said, “Nothing can break us.”

The world seemed to pause at the words. As if it had been following one path and now branched off in another direction. In a hundred years, a thousand, this moment would still be etched in his mind. That he would tell his children, his grandchildren, Right then and there. That was when it all changed.

Azriel went wholly still, as if he, too, had felt the shift. As if he, too, were aware that far larger forces peered into that training ring as Gwyn moved.

When Nesta goes to the prison

She had the creeping feeling she’d been brought here.

Not by the Cauldron or the Mother or the Harp. By something vaster. Something that stretched into the stars carved all around them.

It’s cool light hands guided her wrists as she picked up the Harp

When Nesta is about to leave the prison

[...]The words tumbled out as Nesta waded back through the ward-heavy cavern, feeling that center spot, the star at its heart, like a physical presence at her back. Those vast, light hands seemed to pull at her, trying to make her return, but she ignored them, [...]

When Nesta is giving back her powers to the cauldron

Yet Cassian could have sworn a luminescent, gentle hand prevented the light from leaving her body altogether.

And the whole bracelet thing

Emerie shuddered. “The Mother watched over us.”

Nesta could have sworn the charms on their bracelets let out a soft, singing hum at that.

I think that The Mother is trying to form her own elite of female warriors (Instead of them being Odin/Koschei’s army) and she could have possibly been the first Valkyrie. She knows what she is doing

Now let’s look at this beautiful map:

There is a place on the continent called Vallahan and I can’t help but notice it’s similarities with Valhalla, which is one of the places where the Valkyries take fallen warriors to.

Vallahan was mentioned in ACOWAR while discussing who the King of Hybern was allied with: “Our army is ten times that, girl,” Brannagh sneered. “And twice that number if you count our allies in Vallahan, Montesere, and Rask.”

And in ACOSF: “Tell me what happened in Vallahan.” The ancient, mountainous Fae territory across the northern sea had been stirring since before the war with Hybern, and had been both enemy and ally to Prythian in different historical eras. What role Vallahan’s hot-tempered king and proud people would play in this new world of theirs was yet to be decided, [...]

I don’t think Sarah took inspiration from the Valkyries only, but also from the Amazons of Themyscira. Their fighting style (The shields, spears, arrows) are very similar.

Not only that, but the Amazons were mostly priestesses who worshipped the moon goddess Artemis (There was also a temple dedicated to her, and this reminds me of Sangravah which location remains unknown).

Artemis was the inspiration for the Goddess Deanna in TOG. Aelin’s eyes shone like silver flames when she was possessed by her and her fire was described as being the cold of the stars (reminds you of someone?). Artemis is also associated with the three faced goddess.

Now, the prison lays on a little island and given its connection to Nesta, I think that’s where the Valkyrie are going to train in the future. Not necessarily will it be an 8th court but a place for the priestesses to feel safe... talking about feeling safe, remember when Gwyn spoke about the glamoured windows?

“We have windows, in our dormitories.” At Nesta’s confused expression, she clarified, “They’re glamoured from sight on the mountainside. Only the High Lord knows about them, since they’re his spells. And you now, I suppose.”

Guess what else is invisible to outsiders? Themyscira.

Not only there was a spell that made sure that people outside the island couldn’t see it, but only women lived there.

Now, guess who used to live near the prison? The pagasi (who are also linked to the Valkyrie.)

BONUS: in the DCEU Diana is the daughter of Zeus and her destiny was to kill the god of war...

#a court of silver flames #acosf #nesta archeron #acotar #nesta #gwyneth berdara #gwyn #emerie #emerie of illyria #azriel #cassian #gwynriel #nessian #theory time: valkyrie #dusk court #8th court

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confused-as-all-hell · 4 years ago

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Rowan Whitethorn

“You collect scars because you want proof that you are paying for whatever sins you've committed. And I know this because I've been doing the same damn thing for two hundred years. Tell me, do you think you will go to some blessed Afterworld, or do you expect a burning hell? You're hoping for hell--because how could you face them in the Afterworld? Better to suffer, to be damned for eternity.”

Rowan Whitethorn, arrogant and powerful and fierce. The Fae Warrior, Prince of Doranelle, King of Terrasen. A male who had held death in his arms, who loved a queen without her crown, who had a laugh like midsummer thunder.

He was by no account perfect. His love was scarce, his warmth thinner still. His tongue was edged in steel. His temper is rivaled by none.

Rowan has his faults, but the primary source of his hatred is his appearance. People pick on him for being white and for being muscular, as if being either of the two is awful. I understand how several white characters might spark frustration, but (I say this as a woman of colour, myself) that is a fucking bullshit reason to hate him. He did not rummage through a box and draw out the label reading “white.” This is how Sarah J Maas chose to write him.

Rowan might have a more muscular build than average, but that’s literally the entire point. We are shown he trains and works out strenuously, as well as eats certain food to keep himself fit. He is careful with himself, and genuinely puts in the necessary work to retain his muscle. He is a trained warrior that has lived for hundreds of years, of course he’s going to have accumulated strength. Do not attempt to dissuade me on this topic, as I know from personal experience the effects of working out.

Yes, he is out of the ordinary in terms of his looks. Silver hair, green eyes, skin made tan by the sun. But he is always described as handsome from Aelin’s point of view, and have none of you ever been in love? Your boyfriend or girlfriend or significant other is always staggeringly attractive through your lenses. His face is never written as angelic or perfect, however, and Rowan is thought of as extraordinary but not impossible.

Allow male characters to be stunning without detesting them for it, as you would females. I have too often seen people (the same people who praise Nesta or Gwyn for being beautiful) write long-ass posts on why Rowan just isn’t realistic. Maybe it isn’t. But if you opened a fantasy novel expecting realism, I will find myself amused. Rowan is fae, for fuck’s sake. Sarah J Maas wrote them to be attractive.

Another point of speculation is Rowan’s initial dislike of Aelin. He is thought of as abusive, which I will blatantly disagree with.

When Aelin first arrived in Mistward, she and Rowan were not friends. They were not associates. They were two grief-stricken, trauma-ridden characters with awful coping methods and no hope to be seen. Over time, they began to work together, and that begrudging respect blossomed into friendship.

Did they detest one another? Yeah, they did.

And then they realized the full extent of their comments, how wrong they were to be so awful, and they made their peace with it. The point of that dislike was to give them both character arcs, to show they grew from the furious, miserable, bleeding shells of themselves.

They grew from that pain.

Hatred became acceptance, acceptance became respect, respect became friendship, friendship became love. They did not love each other instantly, nor should they have. It was slow, and they learned from the mistakes they made, they apologized for them.

Their romantic relationship (nor platonic) was never toxic. It was always mutual communication and understanding and “I will be here for you, but I will not dive in to fix all your problems.” It was concern and support and admiration. It was “I will sit with you, and I will light my lamps to banish the dark.”

Does Rowan worry after Aelin often? Yes, of course.

But have none of you ever been in love? During times of strife, of terror, you’re always calling in to make sure they’re okay, they’ve dealt the day’s cards. Rowan worried after Aelin, but he never, ever suppressed her. He allowed her to go about on her daily business, he just wished he could accompany for the more dangerous activities. It was not coddling or stifling her, it was wishing for her safety.

Let Rowan worry over his best friend (now wife) without being detested for it.

Had my own best friend put herself in danger, I would have her head for it. I don’t know who told you only friends can worry over your safety, but they lied. Rowan is entitled to being angry at Aelin when she leaves in the dead of night and comes back drenched in blood.

If it was Aedion who was furious, would you have such a problem with this?

For fuck’s sake, a significant other is just your bestest friend who loves you romantically rather than platonically.

Rowan proves time and time again he will always stand beside Aelin; when he pleaded for his cousins’ aid in the war, when he was prepared to give his life for her during QoS, when he was always, always, always there to lend a hand.

He extended a hand... but she was always the one to take it.

He was respectful and courteous of her every boundary, and she his. They never waded too deep into each other’s pasts, never pried or tried to lift that barricade. They gave each other space, understanding.

Yes, I heard you, they didn’t have the best start. But the point of character arcs is to start in a bad place and haul oneself out. It wouldn’t have worked if Rowan was this sweet, gentle, warm character from the very beginning who kissed Aelin’s ass.

Rowan’s wife and unborn child had died, and he was forced to shoulder that burden alone. He was forced to deal with his war trauma alone. He was made into a monster, and he felt he deserved nothing less.

Rowan acted harshly towards Aelin because a few of her comments were triggering and insensitive towards his trauma, and if we can find it in ourselves to forgive Nesta Archeron (who I love very much, don’t attack me) we can forgive him for dealing badly with his issues.

Just because he is a male, and he doesn’t cry or scream or outwardly show his hurt, we have seen from his part of view that he loved Lyria, and Aelin is so different from her, but he loves them both and his guilt is awful.

His being protective over Aelin is a product of his trauma. He left his wife alone, and she was promptly murdered, alongside his unborn son or daughter. Don’t you think it still frightens him to leave Aelin be, especially in their current war state? Even still, I can think of around two occasions where he was protective, and not one more.

What I’m trying to say is, Rowan is allowed to be flawed and PTSD-ridden and hurting.

What I’m trying to say is, he can make mistakes and fuck up from time to time.

What I’m trying to say is, he is worthy of love all the same.

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creampuffqueen · 4 years ago

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Deep in the Heart of Texas - Four

a/n: Hey y’all! I am so sorry this took so long to get out! This chapter really fought me for some reason, but I think I finally got it to where I like it, so here it is! Currently I’m on vacation, and sadly, our WiFi went down yesterday and hasn’t come back. So I’m posting this by jumping on my personal hotspot for a second, then getting off. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy! Likes, reblogs, and comments are most appreciated <3

Summary: Aelin Galathynius is ready for the best summer of her life. She’s home from college for the summer, and so are all of her friends. Even her cousin is on a break from the military. Everything is set up to be perfect. Until… her mother decides to let the son of an old family friend stay with them while he grieves the loss of a loved one. And Aelin is not going to let a party pooper ruin her summer.

Rowan Whitethorn has just suffered the biggest loss of his life: the death of his long-time girlfriend, Lyria. His family is sick of him moping around his tiny New York apartment, so they ship him down south for the summer. The last thing Rowan wants is to spend his vacation in Nowhereville, Texas, but he has little choice. Not to mention, the only people his age seem to hate him. How on earth is he going to survive 3 months of this?

“Hey, you!” Lys greets her as Aelin pulls into the driveway of her best friend’s house. Aelin lives on some land, but Lysandra is the one who owns land. She has several horses, cows, chickens, and some goats hanging around. Not enough to make money, just to have some fresh milk and eggs at home.

“I meant to be here earlier, but my mom made me drop off Rowan at the Terrasen Motel.” Aelin sighs.

“Why, are y’all getting rid of him?”

Aelin groans, opening up the passenger side door to let Fleetfoot out. “If only. No, the bastard has some friends in town, and asked me to take him over.”

“Well, are they at least hot? That’s the most important part.” Lysandra laughs as she and Aelin walk through the yard and towards the pasture, where the horses are.

“I dunno. I high tailed it out of there before he even stepped out of the truck.”

Lysandra is easy to be around, the kind of person you can just tell anything to. As much as Aelin loves her other friends, right now is about the time Elide, Yrene, and Nehemia would be chastising her, telling her to be kind and remember her manners.

But not Lysandra.

The two of them, Fleetfoot on their heels, walk arm-in-arm out to the pasture, smiling even as the oppressive heat grows worse. With the Ennars’ land being near a forest, the horses have access to both trees and a pond, though Lys has water buckets still hanging on the fence near the gate anyway.

Fleetfoot, clearly scenting the horses, is bouncing around excitedly, pink tongue lolling out as she dances from paw to paw. When Lys opens the gate, the golden dog sprints away in a flash, running to greet the large beasts roaming around the pasture.

“ I haven’t ridden Quince in a while, so I’ll take her out today. You can choose whoever you want.”

They find Quince standing in the shade of an oak tree, her dark tail lazily swatting at flies and mosquitoes. Standing with her is Poppy, the pale brown mare drinking from the pond.

“Hey, girlies.” Aelin coos, stroking Poppy’s nose. “Wanna go for a ride?”

“C’mon, you two.” Lys coaxes the two horses forward, Fleetfoot darting between them when she clicks her tongue. “We’re gonna go for a ride. And after we’ll brush you and give you some nice apples and oats. Does that sound good?”

They slowly lead the horses towards the barn to get them tacked up, both of them moving nearly on muscle memory as they talk the entire time.

“My mother is trying to include Rowan in everything we do.” Aelin complains. “What are we going to do with him if we go to the beach or something?”

“I mean,” Lysandra shrugs, “while I’m sure he’s a prick, he is very attractive. I wouldn’t mind having him on the beach. Maybe he’d take his shirt off.”

Aelin just groans loudly, a halfhearted attempt to get the image out of her brain, where he was just woken up, silver hair messy-

The horse snorts beside her face, dragging her away from the thought.

“Whatever, Lys. Let’s go riding.”

Both girls mount the horses and ride them out of the barn. The Texas sun is burning high, and while she’s only been outside for a bit, Aelin is already sweating like a pig. She can’t wait to be in the cover of the trees.

Fleetfoot trots alongside the horses happily, keeping pace while they head towards the riding trail around Lys’s house.

At least beneath the trees it’s a bit cooler, though no less humid. But the trail is wide enough for both horses to walk side by side, and it’s just the kind of calm Aelin needs after pissing off her mother.

Poppy is sturdy beneath her, and the horse doesn’t lean off the path to nibble at the overgrown vegetation. She just keeps moving forward.

“You know,” Lysandra starts, and from her tone of voice Aelin already knows what’s coming. “I still don’t really understand what you have against this Rowan guy. I mean-”

Aelin cuts off her friend with a loud groan. “Don’t start. He’s an asshole, that’s what I have against him.”

“How do you really know he’s an asshole, though? He’s only been here a few days.”

The blonde woman rolls her eyes. “First off, he insulted the town-”

“Well in that case, screw him.” Lys giggles. Aelin reaches over, leaning off the side of her horse, just to punch her in the arm.

“He just is, Lys. If you met him you’d know.”

Her friend doesn’t comment on the Rowan situation any more, instead pulling her horse slightly ahead to forge onward.

“You know,” Aelin mimics, a mischievous grin appearing on her features. “I noticed that you looked pretty cozy with Aedion at the barbecue last week.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lysandra says primly, though there’s no hiding the blush that rises to her face. Already flushed from the heat, her entire face turns tomato-red.

Aelin just smirks. “Okay, if that’s what you say. I just thought you might be interested in the fact that he got a new girlfriend-”

“Oh, shut up.” Now it’s Lys’s turn to punch her. Below them, Fleetfoot woofs loudly, paws crunching on the dry grass as she pads along behind the horses. “You can’t fool me, Aelin Ashryver. That man is about as hopeless with women as you are at hiding your underage drinking.”

“Like you weren’t drinking right along with me!” Aelin protests.

“Yes, but at least I was hiding it.”

The two women dissolve into friendly squabbling as they continue on, the path eventually emerging from the trees and right back into the pasture.

Poppy is getting slightly restless, and Aelin can feel the mare’s desperation to run. It is only fair, she supposes.

When Aelin locks eyes with Lysandra, they both instantly get the same idea.

Race you.

With a quick kick to Poppy’s sides, the brown horse instantly breaks into a gallop, tearing across the pasture with joy. Quince is right on their heels, and poor Fleetfoot is left in the dust.

There isn’t any wind, but Aelin’s hair is still blowing behind her, whipping free from its braids. Poppy tosses her head and her mane, and Aelin can’t help the wild cry of joy that escapes her throat, the sound carrying over the whole pasture. Lysandra whoops as well, both of them lost in the enchantment of running on horseback.

The horses can’t keep up the fast pace forever, and eventually Quince and Poppy slow down, and Aelin gifts her mare with plenty of praise and kisses as she dismounts.

“Good girl, Poppy.” She coos. “Let’s go get you some water, you good, good girl.”

They find Fleetfoot wading in the water, drinking alongside a few other horses. Poppy and Quince drink their fill while Aelin and Lys had back to the barn to get a few treats before untacking them.

Leading the horses away from the water is easier said than done, as both of them are reluctant to leave the pond. Eventually, with the help of many horse treats, they manage to get both of them to the barn to untack them.

It’s about 3 o’clock, and the sun is dipping ever so slightly. Of course, it won’t get dark until about 8, but at least the sun is mildly less intense.

“I still have a while until I have to be home.” Aelin tells her friend. “I don’t know what Mom’s cooking for dinner, but it’s important enough she wants me home for it.”

“If she’s making fried chicken tell her to prepare enough for me, too.” Lys grins. “God, I wish I could live off of just your mom’s fried chicken.”

Aelin rolls her eyes. “Don’t we all.”

“Well, if you don’t have to be home yet…” Lysandra’s grin turns devious. “I do have a few projects I could use some help on.”

When Lysandra hands her the rake and points her towards the horse stalls, Aelin just sighs.

Forget Rowan Whitethorn ruining her summer, her best friend has decided to aid in her misery by making her muck out the stable.

~~~~

After pretty much getting kicked to the curb from Aelin’s truck, Rowan is in a pretty foul mood. And it’s only worsened when the attendant at the front desk attempts to make small talk.

“You’re not from around here, are ya?” The man says, though it is friendly. Despite that, Rowan is pissed off at the world, and he barely gives more than one-word answers until he spots a familiar golden head down the hallway.

“Rowan!” Fenrys shouts, nearly crashing into him in his excitement. Lorcan rounds the corner, a lot more calmly than their friend.

“Hey.” Rowan sighs. “Glad you two could actually make it down.”

“Okay, I don’t care what either of you two grumps say, this place is awesome.” Fenrys laughs. “Everyone is so friendly, and the food is great, and-”

“And it’s fucking hot.” Lorcan groans.

“Okay, maybe it’s kind of hot-” Fenrys continues, but Rowan interrupts him.

“Goddamn, it is hot. And humid. How is any place allowed to be both this hot and this wet at the same time?”

“We’re actually just emerging from a drought.” The attendant pipes in helpfully.

“Let’s go eat.” Lorcan says, ignoring the man. “I’m starving.”

If the attendant is put out by the dismissal, he clearly doesn’t show it, because he keeps talking. “Y’all should head on down to Banjali. Ytger Hospitality has some of the best food in the county.”

“Yeah, let’s do that!” Fenrys is far too excited and has far too much energy for Rowan to handle, but then again, when is anybody energetic enough to deal with him?

“Whatever.” Lorcan shrugs.

They all pile into the small rental car that Fenrys got at the airport, Rowan being forced to sit in the backseat yet again. Fenrys, sitting shotgun, is scrolling through his phone as he attempts to locate the restaurant the attendant told them about.

In all honesty, Rowan would rather pick up fast food and be done with it. He doesn’t know if he has the mental strength to be out in public for an extended period of time.

But Fenrys is unstoppable. “Every review for the restaurant is at least four stars! It has a 4.5 average! I bet it’s going to be so good!”

Neither Lorcan nor Rowan comment much until Lorcan pulls into the parking lot. The restaurant is large, with a massive banner saying “Ytger Hospitality” hung over the entrance.

Fenrys all but sprints inside, only held back by Rowan grabbing his arm.

Inside almost feels… homey. The way it’s decorated, the design, the music playing in the background. It feels like Rowan just walked into his aunt’s house for Thanksgiving. Smells like it, too.

“Hello! How many in your party?” Rowan almost does a double take, looking over at the host.

It’s a boy, no more than thirteen years old.

“Uh- is that legal?” Lorcan snorts, taking in the form of the kid.

“My family owns this restaurant, mister. It’s family owned, family run. We all work here. My older sister waits tables, and my younger brother helps wash dishes. How many in your party?”

“Er�� three.” Rowan manages. He’s never been to a restaurant where the kids are working. Is it considered child labor if it’s your own children doing it?

All three of them are ever so slightly disgruntled as the kid leads them to their table in the corner. He leaves them with menus and silverware, and hardly spares them another passing glance.

It isn’t long before a waitress comes over, a young woman with long black hair and dark skin.

“Can I get y’all something to drink? I’m Nehemia, I’ll be your waitress today.”

One glance at Fenrys and Rowan has to hold back a groan. The golden-haired man is one step away from looking like the heart-eyes emoji. The woman either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, instead observing them with a quiet grace.

“Just a water.” Rowan tells her. Lorcan agrees and orders his own, while Fenrys just… stares.

“Um… I’ll have the, uh, iced tea?” Fenrys manages to make it sound more like a question.

“Sweet or unsweet?” Nehemia asks.

“Er… sweet. Please.”

The waitress nods, tucking the pen behind her ear after writing down their drink orders. When she turns around, Rowan nearly has to snap Fenrys’s jaw shut.

“What the hell, man.” Lorcan hisses. “You see one pretty girl and forget how to speak?”

“She’s not just pretty, she’s gorgeous.” Fenrys sighs. “Holy shit. I have never seen a more beautiful person in my life.”

“Except for you, I’m assuming?” Rowan snorts.

Fenrys shakes his head. “No. Even my ethereal beauty can’t compete with her.”

“Damn. You’ve literally just met her.” Rowan continues. “Anyway, what does it matter? You two aren’t going to be here for long anyway, so there’s no point in starting a relationship.”

Now Fenrys is looking at him like he wants to commit murder.

“Anyway,” Lorcan says pointedly, “we should look at the menus. I’m starving.”

Rowan browses, but he isn’t incredibly hungry anyway. Fenrys and Lorcan chatter among each other, pointing out what sounds good, but all Rowan can do is look out the window.

“Are y’all ready to order or do you need a few more minutes?” The drawling accent of the waitress pulls him from his slight stupor, and he looks away from the sight outside.

“I’m ready.” Lorcan offers. “I’ll take the fried catfish.”

“You get two sides with that.” Nehemia tells him.

“Alright, then I’ll have… green beans and mashed potatoes.”

She turns to him next, and Rowan orders a simple cheeseburger with french fries. Then she goes to Fenrys.

“In your opinion, what’s the best thing here?” He croons. It’s clear flirtation, and both Rowan and Lorcan visibly cringe. The waitress, however, doesn’t seem too affected.

“Chicken fried steak.” She says without hesitation. “With mashed potatoes and fried okra on the side.”

Jesus Christ, Rowan thinks, why is everything fried here?

“I’ll have that.” Fenrys says with a grin. The waitress finishes writing everything down, then heads over to the next table.

All Lorcan and Rowan can do is shake their heads.

~~~~

The food was good. Delicious, actually, and Rowan is more stuffed than he’s ever been in his life as they make their way back to the car. All three of them collapse into their seats, groaning.

“I’m never going to need to eat again.” Lorcan mumbles.

“I should have stopped eating.” Fenrys laments. “But I just couldn’t.”

Rowan can’t even muster up enough energy to reply. The heat, the food, all of it combined made him want to go to sleep and never wake up.

“Just take me back, please.” He finally manages to say.

“Sure thing.” Lorcan buckles his seatbelt and puts the car in drive, pulling smoothly out of the parking lot.

None of the men speak on the way back to the Galathynius house, save for Rowan giving mediocre directions. Eventually, they pull up in the driveway, and Fenrys lets out a low whistle.

“Damn, Rowan. Living the high life, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.” Rowan sighs.

“See you around, man.” Lorcan says, ignoring Fenrys.

Rowan pulls his bloated self out of the car, walking up to the front door. Evalin gave him a copy of the keys the other night, but right before he lets himself in, the lady of the house herself beats him to it.

“Rowan, you’re back!” She says in that cheerful voice. She glances over to the car parked in the driveway, where, through the windshield, Rowan can see Lorcan on his phone.

“Are those your friends? Where are they staying?”

“Terrasen Motel.” Rowan tells her. “They’re only staying for-”

“Oh, they can’t stay there!” Evalin laments. “We have lots of room, they can stay with us! That motel should have closed years ago, honestly.”

“Er-”

Evalin doesn’t stop. “It’s not a problem, Rowan. We love having company, they can stay as long as they need.”

At the risk of seeming rude or ungrateful or anything else in the eyes of his host, Rowan pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Fenrys and Lorcan.

Rowan: Hey, Evalin is offering you guys a place to stay while you’re here. You don’t have to accept, really.

Before he can send another text, telling them not to respond, Fenrys’s reply nearly buzzes his phone out of his hand.

Fenrys: WOULD WE EVER?! HELL YES

Sweet Jesus.

All Rowan can think about, as Lorcan and Fenrys speed off to get their things, is that if Aelin hates him now, she’s certainly going to despise him after this.

And he doesn’t know why, but he just can’t stand the thought of her being more upset with him than she already is.

~~~~

Nehemia: Aelin, your mans just came to the restaurant

Aelin: You asshole, how do you even know what he looks like?

Nehemia: Well, first of all, he was clearly a yankee, and second of all, with a last name like Whitethorn, of course he’d have white hair.

Aelin: Your logic is lacking but I’ll give it to you anyway. He’s an asshole, isn’t he?

Nehemia: Yeah, he didn’t say please and thank you when ordering, so I’ve decided he’s actually the devil.

The sarcasm is clear, even through the phone, and Aelin can’t hold back her laugh. She really should be heading home, but right now she’s parked in front of Lysandra’s house, with Fleetfoot nearly on her lap, still panting from the heat.

Aelin: Hey, do you want to come over? We can eat ice cream in my bed and gossip loud enough that Mr. Asshole Yankee can hear us down the hall

Nehemia: Well, I was gonna say no, but after you said the word gossip it changed my answer.

Aelin: Alright, just come over whenever. I’m heading back from Lys’s right now.

The drive home is short, and since she hasn’t heard a word from Rowan or anyone else telling her to pick him up, she passes right by the Terrasen Motel without a second glance.

Something is different when Aelin pulls up to her house. There’s another car parked in the driveway. However, her mother always has someone over to drink sweet tea with, so it’s no matter.

That is, of course, until someone opens up the front door. Aelin isn’t even out of the truck yet, but she can clearly see that the two people in the entryway aren’t the usual demographic for her mother’s gossip sessions.

Two young men, one with dark hair and one with gold, hurry down the stairs to the car. And following them?

Rowan. It’s Rowan Whitethorn who is following them as they open up the trunk of the car and take out their suitcases.

Aelin is seeing red. It’s one thing for Rowan to stay with them. After all, he was invited. But for him to invite his own friends?

But before Aelin can pop a blood vessel, the golden haired man comes over to the truck and raps on the window, a bright grin on his features. Skeptically, Aelin rolls the window down.

“Hi!” He says, far too enthusiastically for her liking. “Fenrys Moonbeam.” He gives her his hand to shake, which Aelin does reluctantly.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” He smiles.

“And I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you.” She responds.

He laughs at that. “Well, you’ll have to get to know me, then. Your mother was really kind to offer us a place to stay.”

Well, Aelin supposes, if her mother offered, she really can’t be mad. And this Fenrys character seems decent enough.

She finally gets out of the car, letting Fleetfoot out as well so the dog can sniff the new arrivals. Rowan doesn’t say anything, though Fenrys leans down to coo over the dog.

Nehemia’s car comes rumbling down the street, the other woman parking on the already crowded driveway. Fleetfoot runs over to her just as the other woman hops out.

“Hey Aelin! Who’s all this?” Nehemia strides up to embrace her friend, and Aelin gladly accepts the hug.

“My mother is creating a hotel, apparently.” She chuckles.

But her friend isn’t listening. Nehemia’s interest is entirely taken by the golden man in front of her.

“Um… hello, again.” Fenrys says sheepishly.

Aelin looks between them frantically, at Fenrys, at Nehemia.

“Do y’all know each other?”

----

a/n: Well, well, well... drama. Some other random southern america facts- yes, people do usually let their kids work in family owned restaurants! I know a girl who’s family owns an awesome Mexican restaurant, and when you go there both she and her younger brother are working. So yeah, having Nehemia’s little brothers work, since the restaurant is family owned, isn’t that unusual down here! And also, yes, everything is fried. Everything.

Tag List: Comment to be added or removed!

@http-itsrebecca

@rowaelinforeverworld

@whyyoumakemesadstahp

@queen-of-glass

@the-dark-swan

@faerie-queen-fireheart

#throne of glass #tog #sarah j maas #tog au #deep in the heart of texas #dithot #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #nehemia ytger #fenrys moonbeam #lorcan salvaterre #galathynius family #southern au

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sarah-bae-maas · 5 years ago

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Rowaelin AU! chapter three

AU! where the valg wars never happened, but Rowan and Aelin still stumble upon each other anyway

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Ao3 Masterlist

***

“I’m going to murder him.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’ll wait until training is over; he’ll be at his most exhausted and he’ll never see it coming.”

“He will see it coming. Not that it matters, we don’t murder our friends.”

“Elide! He is not my friend!”

“He’s mine, I actually quite like him.”

“That’s because he hasn’t been kicking your ass every day for the last week.”

“Well get good enough that you can kick his ass back, problem solved.”

____

Lorcan hadn’t explored much of the castle. He mostly kept to himself, a habit long engrained in him since childhood. Besides, he didn’t really feel like interacting with pointy nosed courtesans and their offspring. He walked around at night, but mostly to wayward taverns with wayward women, Rowan sulking at his side. The male was as annoying as ever, if not more so. Aelin always left him in a grump, and it was near insufferable. Oh no! How hard it must be on the poor baby to want one of the most powerful women to ever have lived! And for her to lust after him so badly any fae with have a brain cell could smell it! They were lucky Gavriel wasn’t here, or he’d have Rowan removed from court.

And where Rowan went, unfortunately Lorcan followed.

Lorcan took a rare moment to himself in the library. It was late at night, the clicking of cicadas a lullaby as he listened to them from the window. He had been eavesdropping on the princess and Gavriel’s son, but they were woefully boring. He had decided to stay once they left, kicking off his shoes and settling in next to a window so high and grand that all of Orynth was on display – much like the palaces you’d find in Doranelle. He didn’t want to read, he just wanted a break.

He was tired. So, so tired.

The sound of light footsteps interrupted him, and he stood up, readying himself to dodge them if need be. His ears pricked, and he walked until he could follow the sound, and the person, as they walked between aisles. He was as quiet as a shadow and peeked in the gap in the shelves to spy on his intruder.

It was a fair woman, probably in her mid-twenties, dark hair tied up messily on her head. She was wearing a red silk robe, half undone as she flurried through the shelves, a navy nightgown peeking through. He had on fur slippers, and she was scanning the shelves and picking up indiscernible titles. Lorcan had never seen her before, but she matched the description Rowan gave for the princess’s closet friend – Elide. This mightn’t be her, but it sure seemed like it.

Lorcan did know one thing as he watched her.

His heart, the moment he set eyes on her, started to beat erratically, and his soul begged to be near her. It was if a God had picked the string of his essence, and wrapped it around this woman, tying him to her. It was a feeling he’d never had before, and wouldn’t ever have again.

Lorcan knew that this woman, whoever she was, was his mate.

___

Elide balked at the man in front of her, stunned by his proposition. There she had been, minding her own damn business, when out of nowhere some sentry had begged her to take him to bed with her. She was sure he meant to be seductive, but she was a bloody lady and would be treated as such.

She shooed him and his hair that was way too blonde away, watching him flee into the morning sun as she continued her walk to the market. Usually she did this every morning with Aelin, but her friend had been too preoccupied lately to come. Elide wasn’t mad, she understood that Aelin’s training was the priority, she was just lonely. She had Ren and Aedion, but both were so busy that she barely saw them either. She just had be content on her lonesome.

She wove through the streets until she made it to the market, where she started moseying along. Baffled by the interaction with the sentry, she let herself be distracted by things she wouldn’t normally be. The flowers particularly caught her eye, but she had to regrettably leave them where they were. She had little personal funds, using most of her money to travel the continent, and she had to live frugally if she were to see as much of this world as she wanted to. All she bought were the small list of items given to her by various palace stuff – herbs, fresh bread, candles, and so on. Nothing for herself, not even the lovely orchids she wanted.

The market smelt like sugar and fresh bread, loose stones jutting into her feet even with her shoes on. She felt odd the more she walked; the back of her neck tingled, and she found herself reaching for it to see if a bug was trying to make a home there. There was nothing, and when she turned all she saw were people milling around as she was. Maybe she was getting sick, she did have a restless night’s sleep – not even her walk to the library and enthusiastic browsing was enough to wear her out. There was something in her blood though that sang, a message saying no physical ailment was what was making her feel this way.

She quickened her pace, but the feeling didn’t subside. Deciding she could forego the rest of her items until she had company, she decided to walk in the direction of the castle. She went a round-about way, suddenly paranoid that she was being followed. But that was ludicrous, surely.

She was in such a rush, that she slammed her basket into a building as she rounded its corner. Saying a word that would make her mother balk, she leant down to pick everything up when a hand joined hers. Her body jolted and she flinched back, looking into dark eyes that were level with her own.

It was a man; his hair, brown and shoulder length, was tucked behind gently curved ears. His face showed the hint of scars, but all were faded with time. His hand, which has just grazed her own, was somehow both rough and incredibly soft. He was dressed in rich silks, and if Elide was to guess, she’d say he wasn’t from Terrasen.

“You dropped this,” he said, gently placing her items into her basket.

“Um, yes, I did.” She noted his beauty, thinking that he couldn’t possibly be real. Maybe she’d also bumped her head and was hallucinating.

“Are you alright? You look dazed, my lady.”

My lady. Be still her beating heart.

“I’m fine, just-” she looked around her, there were a few vendors that had seen her tumble and were snickering, but otherwise no sign of anything nefarious. “Just frazzled.”

“Ah, well we can’t have a frazzled woman exerting herself.” He picked up the basket for her and offered his arm to help her stand. She squeaked as realised his height. He towered over her, his figure not looming but instead like a sea wall – sturdy in an age of constant thrashing.

She gladly took his arm, thrilled by the new turn of events.

“May I escort you somewhere?”

She swallowed, trying not to seem to eager or to burst out you may escort me to your bedroom please and thank you. “The castle, if you’d like. And my name is Elide. Elide Lochan. Elide Lochan of Perranth.”

He tilted his head, his lips hinting at a smile. “I’m actually staying there myself, Elide Lochan of Perranth, what are the chances that we’ve never met?”

She clicked her tongue. “You are? Why?”

“Yes, I’m the, uh, advisor to Prince Rowan Whitethorn.”

“Oh, you must be Lorcan! I’m Aelin’s handmaiden, I can’t believe we’ve never ran into each other.” Elide tightened her hands around his forearm as he guided them to the castle, her heavy basket being effortlessly held in his other. When Aelin had described Lorcan, she had envisioned a brute of man. Rather, she had never seen one so courteous in her life. “Advising Rowan, what does that entail?” she asked, curious as to how she hadn’t seen him at dinner or with Rowan when she’d accompanied Aelin to her training.

“Rowan’s life can be fraught in his profession; my job is to help wade him through any rough waters he might encounter. I’ve been doing it for decades.”

“Did you meet as children?”

“No,” he said, his voice making her spine shiver. “I’m a couple hundred years older than Rowan. We met when he was about forty.”

If Rowan was around the three hundred Aelin claimed him to be, that would make Lorcan, what? Five hundred?

A fae of that age…

Would have lots of experience, know exactly where everything with the female body was.

“Are you also royal?”

Lorcan looked down at her, his head casting a shadow over her face. “I – Yes, I am.”

“Is that how you met Rowan, you ran in the same circles?”

Lorcan paused, looking tentative. “Yes, of course I did. My mother was… my mother was Rowan’s tutor. She was a prestigious scholar.”

Elide noticed his change in tense. “Was?”

“She faded with my father. She was nearly a thousand years old and had me towards the end of her life.”

Elide tilted her head. “But if Rowan is two hundred years younger than you, and she had you at the end of her life, how could she have been his tutor?”

Lorcan coughed. “Well… when you’re fae with such a long life, the last two hundred really is the end. Like a human in their eighties.”

Elide conceded, that made sense.

They chatted idly as they walked, Elide hanging onto his every word as he escorted her back to her chambers. They drew eyes as they walked through the halls of the castle, but Elide barely spared them a thought as she engaged with Lorcan. His well-spoken-ness impressed her as much as his biceps, and she found herself doing what she did whenever a nice, attractive male made eye contact with her.

She made very inappropriate and convoluted fantasies up about them in her mind.

He walked with her throughout the castle, the pricky feeling from the market fully disappeared. She dropped off all the items she had bought, and somehow managed to not jump Lorcan’s bones. They only stopped as the bells rang noon, and Lorcan regretfully had to excuse himself to join Rowan.

“I wish I could stay longer, but Rowan is testy at the best of times.” He glanced away anxiously, biting his lip.

Oh Gods, she also wanted to bite his lip.

“That’s fine, I’m sure I can manage the rest of the day without you.” Her faux confidence was spurred by trying to give him the impression that she was a strong, independent woman. Which she was, she just needed him to definitely know that.

He bowed to her slightly, his smile returning. “Until I see you again, Lady Elide.”

He turned and walked away. He was nearly out of hearing distance when Elide yelled, “I leave for the market at eight!” She had no idea if he’d even garner that she was inviting him to join her, but either way, she knew she’d see him again.

#rowaelin #elorcan #throne of glass #tog #koa #kingdom of ash #fanfic #sjm

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thehobbycollector · 4 years ago

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The Seer & The Wolf - Ch. 8

Author’s note: I originally said Fenrys was 18yrs older than Kestra, because I can’t math. He’s 12yrs older than her.

It took a week for Rowan to schedule a visit to the City Guard. With all the rebuilding, and council meetings about the rebuilding, it had taken some finagling to find a day and time when his whole court was available. But he’d managed it. They left the castle, Aedion leading the way toward the city barracks, Rowan beside him. Lysandra and Aelin were a few steps behind, chatting about something, while Fenrys padded at their side. As they wove through the streets, giggling children dared each other to get close enough to touch the large wolf.

“This feels like an ambush,” Aedion growled at him, softly.

“It’s not an ambush,” Rowan responded. “We are simply going to show our support of the Captain of the Guard.”

“All of us. Without warning.” Aedion gave Rowan a pointed look.

Rowan’s lips twitched, but he said, “If it was an ambush, I would have called Lorcan and Elide back from Perranth.”

“That is not reassuring,” grumbled Aedion. From behind them, Lysandra spoke up.

“Why do we need to show support for the Captain of the Guard?”

“Some of her men have been spreading anti-Fae sentiments around the city,” Aedion said quietly, taking her hand as she moved up next to him.

“And she hasn’t shut them down?” demanded Aelin.

“Kes, has been unofficially managing the Guard since the siege,” Aedion explained, since Rowan apparently hadn’t. “Certain disciplinary actions are… ill advised for anyone who hasn’t been appointed Captain by the proper authorities.”

“Why haven’t we handled this before now?”

“Because, despite the few malcontents, she’s kept the Guard running so smoothly that we didn’t know,” Rowan admitted. Aelin glanced at him, seeing that he was kicking himself for letting something potentially dangerous fall through the cracks.

“That’s impressive,” Lysandra said.

“Comes from years of keeping kids in line,” Aedion muttered. Aelin glanced at him in question as they stepped into the training-yard but looked around instead of asking what he meant by that.

A handful of young guards were standing around on the packed earth. They looked like they had been in the middle of a morning training session, but all them were tense and silent, watching an open door in the building to her right. An angry male voice drifted out of it, and she realized the guards were listening to an argument. Or a dressing down, since only the male’s voice could be heard. Her court lingered in the entrance of the training-yard, listening and simmering. The filthy string of slurs and insults coming from the door was enough to blister even Aelin’s ears.

After a few moments, a girl, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen noticed the courts presence. Her eyes widened and then she was moving toward the open door. She stuck her head inside and Aelin heard her say, “We have company.”

Kestra had known they were coming. She had spent the week since her visit to the castle keeping busy and ignoring the queasy feeling she experienced every time she thought about what she had told Aedion Ashryver. She felt guilty about implying that her avoidance of the castle had been because she was afraid of the Fae warriors in the court. She had never feared them. Her fear stemmed from what would happen if their oath to Maeve forced them to reveal her existence. Or at least it had, when Maeve was alive. Now, though… she knew what she was afraid of. She was just having a hard time admitting it to herself.

After everything she had been through, it seemed utterly ridiculous that she should be scared of reuniting with the last shred of family she had. And it was all because of that damned mating bond. If she hadn’t known it was there, she would have ecstatically thrown herself at Fenrys two months ago. But instead, she had avoided him. Caught between the longing to see him and her absolute refusal to let anyone, including herself, put another leash on him.

So, she had thrown herself into her work and her training. Letting her physical exhaustion every night pull her into a sleep so deep the visions couldn’t reach her. Until this morning. She had gotten back from a dawn run along the river to find Wade waiting in her office. A vision had flickered before her eyes as she stepped through the door. She’d slumped into her chair, the portrait of an easy target and, leaving the door open, had let him rant. Each word out of his mouth was another foot of rope, that he was unknowingly hanging himself with.

Kestra stood, moved around her desk, and stepped into the sunshine beyond Cassidy. She pushed her nerves down and looked toward the barracks entrance. She almost laughed at what she saw. The Queen and her court were standing just inside the training-yard, looking thunderous. Then the Queen blinked. Once. Twice.

“Kestra?”

Kestra bowed at the waist, “Your Majesty.” She had barely straightened when Aelin’s arms wrapped around her.

Kestra returned Aelin’s embrace as she tried to keep her grip on reality. She knew Wade was behind her, gaping as the Queen hugged her. There was a flash of light, then she was seeing the training-yard from the wrong angle, reeling in shock. And inside of her, that single thread of silk thickened into a thin chain. She blinked as Aelin pulled away, settling back into her own body. Unsure of what she would see if she looked to where the court was standing, she focused on the Queen before her.

“Welcome home,” she said with a smile.

Aelin opened her mouth to reply, then whirled to her cousin, demanding, “Why didn’t you tell me Kestra was running the guard?!” The turn of her body gave Kestra a direct line of sight to where the court stood, and her eyes locked with Fenrys’s. He was rigid, his eyes wide, twin scars down his face standing out against his bloodless skin. Kestra stilled, unable to breathe. Then Aelin squeezed her hand, and she blinked, realizing the conversation had continued around her.

She looked back at the Queen. “What?”

“I said, that if you want it, you are officially the Captain of the City Guard.” Aelin jerked her chin over her shoulder, “Rowan has the decree in his pocket.”

Holding Aelin’s gaze, refusing to look anywhere else, Kestra took a deep breath. As she let it out, she put aside everything except what she was about to do.

She tossed an order over her shoulder, “Emmet get the others.” As he disappeared into the mess hall, Payden following him, Kestra eyed Wade, still standing in the door to her office. He had managed to control himself enough to close his mouth, though his eyes were dark with anger. She crossed her arms and studied him silently, waiting for Emmet to return with Rayden and Torc. When he did, she noted two more guards following. Good. Five against one made for a better show.

“You’ve wanted a shot at me for a while now,” she said to Wade. “So, here’s your chance. Before I accept the offer of Captain, I’ll let you and your friends fight me for it. If you win, I’ll walk away from the Guard.” She felt a flicker of concern from the other end of the bond and ignored it.

A feral glint entered Wade’s eye as he silently moved into position in the center of the yard.

“Didn’t you once beat six demi-Fae while blindfolded?” Aelin murmured from her side. Kestra slid her eyes toward the Queen.

“Where did you hear that story?” Something green flashed in the sun and she looked down to the silk sash that had been tied around Aelin’s waist – whch she was now holding out. Kestra looked back up to find Aelin smirking.

“Show off a little,” was all she said. Kestra swallowed a laugh and accepted the offering. Aelin went to join the rest of her court where they had spread out against the walls of the barracks buildings. Kestra moved farther into the center of the training-yard, then turned to the watching royals.

“Your Highness, the rules if you would.”

Whitethorn leaned his shoulders against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, as irreverent as his Queen. “Any weapon of choice. You’re out when blood is drawn over either the heart or the throat. Do remember that this fight is not to the death.”

Kestra nodded once to him. She tied the sash around her eyes while her back was still to her opponents, then held her hands out to Cassidy, who deposited a fighting knife into each. As she got into position, dropping into both a fighting stance and her magic, she sent a message down the bond.

***

Fenrys was having trouble breathing.

He didn’t know where to look first. To the guards standing around the yard, most of them looking younger than Aelin, all of them grinning in savage delight. To Aelin and Aedion, twin expressions of smug satisfaction on their faces. Or to his long, lost adopted sister preparing to fight five men out for her blood, blindfolded.

His sister… who was his mate. What the rutting hell.

Even after a hundred years, he had recognized her the moment she stepped out of that doorway. He’d never thought to again see the way the sun lit up the honey and violet shades of her hair. Or the way her grey eyes sparked silver when she was up to something, as they had just done when she looked at Aelin.

Kestra had been the first wild-thing he had ever loved. Six years after he and Connall had left their family estate, Fenrys had been sent to the south-east of Doranelle to put down a rogue Fae. He had been in the area of his family’s lands, so he had stopped at home on his way back to the City of Rivers. Only for his mother to inform him that Kestra had disappeared three years prior. He had been devastated.

Fenrys shifted where he had taken a spot against the doorway she had come out of, and looked inside, while Rowan explained the contest about to happen. Inside was an office. The previous captain’s office, he realized. As he surveyed the desk strewn with schedules and messages, he breathed in through his nose, pulling her scent into his lungs. He was expecting the sunshine and spring grass. But there was another scent mixed with them, something more mature, like freshly-oiled leather. He whipped his head back to the training-yard to look at her. He knew that scent; had come across it all over the world. It had driven him nearly out of his mind, trying to figure out why it was familiar.

Kestra had moved into position, the blindfold in place, her only weapons a pair of fighting knives. He started as he realized that all five men had grabbed a sword. As she shifted her balance onto her toes, he felt the mating bond quiver as she said, I’m trying to concentrate.

She didn’t seem as shocked at the bond as he was. In fact, when she had first seen him, she hadn’t looked surprised at all. Just… uncertain. Fenrys set aside what that might mean as Rowan said, “Begin,” and Kestra exploded into motion.

She moved like a whirlwind. Staying one step ahead of her five opponents, yet not getting close enough to mark them. He recognized fighting styles from at least four different kingdoms, as well as several of his mother’s signature moves, each blending seamlessly into the next. After a minute, she slowed a fraction, allowing her opponents to get closer, but still keeping half a step ahead of them. Another minute went by, and she slowed again. When the fight passed into its third minute, she started marking the men. It was over in seconds. Each of her five opponents had a scratch on their throat, leaking blood.

He had never seen anyone fight like that. He guessed that, with a hundred years of practice, Aelin might come close.

Kestra was reaching up to pull the blindfold off, her back to the defeated guards, when Fenrys saw one of them lunge toward her. He grabbed his magic and jumped, appearing in front of him. Fenrys disarmed him with one hand, the other wrapping around the man’s throat as he snarled in his face.

#fanfic #sjm fandom #fenrys #throne of glass

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