#Wedding Hall Vaughan

[hazeltonmanor]

Celebrate Your Dream Day at Wedding Hall Vaughan

Wedding Hall Vaughan offers the perfect setting for your special day with elegant interiors and a warm, inviting atmosphere. Ideal for intimate ceremonies or grand celebrations, this venue provides flexible layouts, exceptional catering, and dedicated event services to make your wedding unforgettable. From stunning decor to personalized touches, Wedding Hall Vaughan ensures your big day is nothing short of perfection. For more details visit our website: www.hazeltonmanor.com

[lottiesnotebook]

Happy Friday! For your Luna Tabris, maybe "I'm drifting through the halls with the sunrise" from the Florence & the Machine prompts?

Happy Friday! I love this prompt, and also this song, but this kind of turned into a Luna-and-Shianni character study, so I hope you enjoy ghost stories and trauma recovery?

Shianni & Luna Tabris, implied rape/sexual assault, ghost stories, trauma recovery, the Tabris girls are badasses

@highwayphantoms | @dadrunkwriting

drifting through the halls with the sunrise

“How can you bear it?”

Shianni is always braced for the question — it comes whenever anyone new to the Alienage (and there are always newcomers now, since her cousin took the Arling and Alienage of Denerim, and laid at her feet like a cat with a mouse) — and now it only makes her a little angry, a little nauseous. It would be beautiful if the story of Luna’s wedding could be wiped from the world, if she could be seen as the woman she’s become and not the bruised and bleeding girl she was. She was younger, that day, than the girl asking the question now — and she is a girl, wide green eyes, curly brown hair that barely covers the tips of her ears, and a fidgety energy that reminds her a little of Soris, and she cannot bring herself to be angry at a child for asking questions about something that will hopefully never be more than a bedtime story to her.

But she can make her ask the question she’s so desperate to hear the answer to: “Bear what, exactly?”

She’s in the stillroom off the kitchen, relishing the task of hanging herbs to dry by the heat of the fire, taking down those that are already fragrant and crisp to be ground into medicines for the hospital she has made of what was once the Arl’s quarters. They are almost unrecognisable, stripped of their tapestries and their gilt, made clean and pure and useful rather than pretty, opulant rugs and great curtained beds sold off to buy practical cots and basins and ewers. Not the rug she remembers under her knees, though. That one she took out into the courtyard and burned, and she and Luna and the other girls from the wedding had gotten drunk and danced around the blaze as if it were some unholy idol, howling like wolves to the distant, uncaring moon that they lived, and that Vaughan was dead. She barely recognises the villa now.

She barely recognises the question that comes from the girl before her, twisting her hands anxiously in front of her: “Bear living here. I mean-” and here her voice lowers, because she’s still a child, whispering secrets she knows she ought not to tell the hahren, but of course, she cannot resist: “Everyone says it’s haunted.”

The question is so strange, so unlike the awful, innocent prying she’d expected, that Shianni cannot help but laugh. “Haunted? Who told you that?”

“No-one!” the girl says, quickly. She’s not a snitch then, which is a point in her favour, despite her obvious ignorance. “I mean- everyone talks about it, in secret.”

“What do they talk about?” Shianni focusses on the mortar and pestle, lets the world narrow to stone againt leaf against stone, until there is nothing the crunch and the grind and the girl’s quiet words. “Nobody tells me anything, these days, but I suppose that’s the price I pay for getting old and boring.”

“You’re not old!” the girl says, scandalised. “I mean- you’re the hahren, but you’re the youngest hahren I’ve ever met! And- everyone says the prettiest too.”

She blushes at that, which is endearing, but Shianni’s far more curious about what the elves of the Alienage young enough to remember Luna as a legend more than a woman say about that awful day.

“You’re sweet,” she says, “but that’s not going to get you out of telling me the story, I’m afraid.”

“It’s not a story, more a- rumour. I’m sure it isn’t true, really,” the girl replies, shaking her hair back behind her shoulder in a gesture that reminds her far too much of a younger Luna, and her heart aches for the girl who died so that the woman could live. “They say,” says, lowering her voice, “that the Arl before you took a bride on her wedding day, claimed the Lord’s Right for her maidenhead.”

It’s a romanticisation of that old horror, but Shianni does not question it, only nods for her assistant to continue: “They say that he killed her husband in front of her when he tried to resist, and carried her off to this house. But she had a knife beneath her wedding dress, and when he tried to climb atop her, she cut his throat, and the throats of every man who held a sword within the house, and then, as the dawn’s bloody light crept through the house, she drove the blade through her own heart rather than live with the staine of him on her skin. They say, even now, that she drifts through the halls at sunrise, the Bloody Bride of Denerim, a knife still in her hands, that- that if you so much as meet her eyes, she’ll stop your heart.”

It is, Shianni will admit, a fairly solid ghost story. The girl’s eyes are wide and wild with fear as she tells it, as though she expects at any moment Luna’s ghost to appear through the wall. Luna herself would love it, of course, but then, she’d always been ghoulish, even when they were girls. Shianni can’t help but love it a little too, because it’s proof, more than the passage of time, than the fading of bruises, that she’s no longer the brutalised girl Luna and Soris carried from this villa. That it’s unthinkable, to a child who knows her only as Hahren Shianni, Arl of Denerim, that she’d ever been anything else.

“Do you think,” she says, sweetly, “that a sweet girl like you would have anything to fear from a ghost like that?”

The girl blinks at her. “The story doesn’t say-”

“Stories miss a lot of the important details, or they wouldn’t be so exciting,” she interrupts, with a smile, “but I’ll tell you a secret about it, if you like.”

That gets the teenager’s attention — she straightens her spine, levels her shoulders, does her best to look responsible and grown-up in a way that makes Shianni feel suddenly ancient, and delighted to feel so old when, at this girl’s age, every day had felt like a struggle. “I won’t tell anyone,” she promises, with a sincerity that will likely be forgotten as soon as she is back with her friends, or her own cousins — Shianni remembers being seventeen far too well to hold this girl to an unreasonable standard of good behaviour.

“She did not die here, that girl. She cut her way out, bloody and bright as sunrise, and she had far more adventures than could fit even into this house.” It’s true for both of them — Luna killed an Archdemon, and Shianni has rebuilt this haunted house into a hospital, a school, a home for those who have been displaced by war or flood or sickness or shemlen cruelty. Both of them broke free of the Bloody Bride of Denerim, even if the story haunts them still. “And if any ghosts walk these halls, I’m not afraid of them.”

“Why not?”

Shianni smiles, all her teeth on display. “Because I know who put them there.”

[cbjustmusic]

Sarah Vaughan performing “They All Laughed”.

Previously posted: Rachael Price with Chris Thile and the Preservation Hall Jazz Band performing this song. __________________ They All Laughed Music composed by George Gershwin; Lyrics by Ira Gershwin

The odds were a hundred to one against me The world thought the heights were too high to climb But people from Missouri never incensed me Oh, I wasn't a bit concerned For from histry I had learned How many, many times the worm had turned They all laughed at Christopher Columbus When he said the world was round They all laughed when Edison recorded sound They all laughed at Wilbur and his brother When they said that man could fly They told marconi Wireless was a phony Its the same old cry They laughed at me wanting you Said I was reaching for the moon But oh, you came through Now they'll have to change their tune They all said we never could be happy They laughed at us and how! But ho, ho, ho! Whos got the last laugh now? They all laughed at Rockefeller center Now they're fighting to get in They all laughed at Whitney and his cotton gin They all laughed at Fulton and his steamboat Hershey and his chocolate bar Ford and his misery Kept the laughers busy That's how people are They laughed at me wanting you Said it would be, "hello, goodbye." But oh, you came through Now they're eating humble pie They all said wed never get together Darling, lets take a bow For ho, ho, ho! Whos got the last laugh? He, hee, hee! Lets at the past laugh Ha, ha, ha! Whos got the last laugh now? "

[namneetkush]

Hilton Garden Inn

The Hilton Garden Inn Toronto/Vaughan hotel is conveniently located in the heart of Vaughan at Highway 400 and Highway 7, minutes from Canada's Wonderland, Vaughan Mills Mall, Yuk Yuks, Dueling Pianos and several multiplex movie theatres. Our hotel is proud to be the only hotel in Vaughan with an 8,000 square foot banquet and conference center , Toscana Banquet Hall. where perfect weddings and memorable meetings happen.

KEY PLAYERS

1. Maintenance Staff: Handles repairs and maintenance of the hotel facilities to ensure a comfortable and safe environment for guests.

2. Event Coordinator: Plans and organizes events, conferences, and weddings held at the hotel.

3. Human Resources Manager: Oversees recruitment, training, and employee relations to ensure a skilled and motivated workforce.

4. Accounting Department: Manages financial transactions, payroll, and budgeting for the hotel.

VENUE

We're off Highway 7, four kilometers from Vaughan Mills Mall and LEGOLAND Discovery Centre, and 10 minutes from Reptilia Zoo. Kortright Centre for Conservation and Canada’s Wonderland are within 15 minutes, and Toronto Pearson International Airport can be reached in just 20 km. Enjoy our restaurant, 24-hour snack shop, indoor pool, and waterslide.

MEETING TYPES

Conferences are large gatherings where people come together to discuss and exchange information on a specific topic. They often include keynote speeches, panel discussions, presentations, and networking opportunities. They can be industry-specific or cover a wide range of topics

[hazeltonmanor]

Discover Exceptional Banquet Halls in Vaughan for Every Occasion

Explore the finest banquet halls in Vaughan, perfect for weddings, corporate events, and special celebrations. Our venues offer stunning architecture, versatile spaces, and top-notch amenities to ensure your event is a resounding success. With exceptional catering options and dedicated staff, you can customize every detail to create unforgettable memories for you and your guests. For more details visit our website: www.hazeltonmanor.com

[deartouya]

PART I. NARCISSUS: A NEW BEGINNING

✶ next part || series masterlist.

✶ summary: with your kingdom's lack of viable heir to the throne, crumbling alliances, and a war brewing in the south, your father seeks a union with the west, a kingdom rumored to be isolated but strong. despite your reservations, you're determined to make a good impression. to do what's best.

✶ pairing: (kinda)harpy royalty!keigo takami (hawks) x elven royalty!afab!reader (gn pronouns are used for the reader but the concept of the fic is fem coded)

✶ word count: 2.1k

✶ content: mentions of food/eating, arranged marriage but in the loosest sense, my attempt at developing a writing style, me spending too much time focusing on flower meanings that aren't important at all <3 part of @myherokatsuki 's a familiar face collab.

✶ title credit: "peace" by henry vaughan ( link to poem )

YOU HATE THIS. CERTAINTY. Your whole life has been plagued with it. One monotonous day void of choice after the other. You don't know why you expected your marriage to be any different, why you thought your father would grant you that mercy.

“You’ll be needed, today.” You pause at the words, forefinger and thumb pressing painfully into your utensils. It’s the way you’re always addressed—as an order.

“Why?”

It makes him uncomfortable, you notice, his eyes cast pointedly down and turning the ring on his finger, “I want you to meet someone.” 

The potato splits and you can feel yourself tighten—you knew that already. You’d heard the rumours—the union, one the nobles seemed to think warranted a celebration. You just wish he’d call it what it was. 

“You want me to marry someone.” You don’t want to be so resentful, but you can’t help it. The idea of a stranger encroaching on your life, another hand which is sure to force your life on course, angers you.

“The people tire of orders,” your father sighs and you feel him staring past you, “the court finds it in the kingdom's best interest to build a strong alliance with the west. I am… without a proper heir and my death would breed mutiny among the people.” It’s always that, what’s best. “The southern alliance is strong, stronger than we’ll ever be, and it’s in the kingdom's best interest to extend our loyalties.”

You want to scoff, but manage to keep yourself occupied by splitting the rest of your potatoes childishly. The quiet stretches.

“We’ll be hosting him for the season and I expect you to act civilly for the duration of the visit.” You remain silent once again which wrenches another worn sigh from the King, “I really am trying to go about this as amicably as possible, you know. You’ll be without the interruption or input of the court and I’ll be, in turn, visiting the West to make arrangements.” He finds your hand over the table, finding your eyes, “I just ask that you make a decision, one which will foster this alliance.”

That’s not what he means—you think. He means for you to accept the inevitable proposal, one you’re sure will be lackluster and expectant. You can only hope that he’s not unfortunate to look at.

“I understand. Should I be expecting him soon, then?”

You’re to expect him incredibly soon, you learn.

The gardens are beautiful, settled on the cusp of springs and the trees cloying with fruits. You much rather be hidden away between the rose bushes than sitting uncomfortably—incredibly overdressed—to meet the strange you’re expected to marry. You wonder if you’ll be able to pick what you’re wed in, the venue. Probably not.

You hate that you’re just a little bit excited. It’s muted, though, and mostly directed at being back in the summer palace. Your father, who has been exponentially happier than you, thought it best to combine both the prince’s arrival and his own departure.

The King had taken to pacing. He’d walked the floor of the entry hall so many times you’re starting to believe he’s working a whole in the marble. You would’ve thought he’d been awaiting the return of a lover. You wish he was.

You could tell when he arrived easily, your father hurrying to pull you from the plush cushion underneath you. 

It occurs that you have very little expectations of him. No one’d tell you much—his rank and family name—and you have very little to go on. Older, you expect, if he’s been deemed “marriable” and has yet to wed. The thought churns your stomach. 

He’s not.

You can tell he’s had the same learning as you. Your own stiff and purposeful mannerisms echoed on him—shoulders uncomfortably straight and hands practicably placed. His wings, one of the very few things you’d known about him, have suffered the same training. They’re tucked away neatly against his back and you can see the thought it takes to keep them still, crossed and off the floor, in his brow. 

His expression was more unpracticed, though, softer. Warmer. It was like he was always smiling, the ghost of dimples and eyes a little narrowed and you find yourself curious what he’d look like laughing. 

The wings, a notorious staple in his kingdom, were all the more impressive to someone who’d never seen them before. Wide and a deep red. They looked soft—buttery, like the petals of roses—and they glinted under the candles. 

His attendant, you assume, stepped forward with a curt smile, “it’s an honor to introduce his Excellency, Takami Keigo, Prince of the Western Kingdoms.” He, Keigo, squirms halfway through the title, the rich red of his feathers twitching minutely. 

The King smiles, nodding into a bow, “it’s a pleasure to be hosting your Highness.” His eyes cut to you and you follow him into a bow quickly, blood rushing to your ears.

Keigo squirms more, attempting to hide it behind a wide and easy smile, “please, the honor is mine. There’s no need for such formality.” His voice is soft, quieter than you would’ve expected but nice.

Sharp eyes meet your own and his smile softens a little. He approaches you slowly, as if you were something skittish, and offers a hand, “If I may?”

Your own hand slides into his and his thumb rubs over the bumps of your knuckles, “It’s nice to finally meet you.” He seems genuine this close, smile smaller and eyes heavy.

You hum slowly, returning his introduction. He repeats the name against the back of your hand, lips smoothing into a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, too, your highness.” He deflates at the use of his title before he straightens himself before you.

You see very little of Keigo before the ball—purposefully, you assume. He dines with you, keeping himself politely sat an arms-length away and easily carrying conversation with your father. 

It'd be easier if he wasn’t so… him. If he was rude or was unpleasant, it'd give you a reason to hate him. A reason for his disinterest. But he wasn't. He was kind and polite and seemed to get along with everyone in the palace. You hated it.

He joined you in the gardens afterwards. You’d hoped he would, deep down. There was a twisting part of you that wanted him to like you, to find your company pleasing. So you were all the more pleased that he did, “you’re too quiet, unless you were trying to sneak up on me.”

He laughed, warm and bright but still… calculated. “It wasn’t my intention—may I?” He tucks in next to you when you nod. His hands lace together and you notice they’re different, too. His nails are much darker than your own and sharp, thicker you think. “Do you like flowers?” You snort and Keigo’s chin knocks against his collarbones.

“Sorry—yes, I do like flowers.” You could notice a lot about him this close. His hair, duller in the dark, seems sinfully soft and feathery where it’s curled around his ears. The skin of his nose and cheeks, which seemed nearly inhumanly smooth and warm, was dotted in freckles. “Narcissus’ are my favorite.”

His eyes, thickly framed by dark markings and heavy lashes, crinkle into a smile, “they’re lovely, like little trumpets.” 

You think he’s gotten closer since he first joined you, warmth rolling off of him and seeping into your very bones. You shrink back, just a little, and smile, “and what about you?” He makes a soft little hm which sends another wave of warmth through you. “What’s your favorite flower?”

“Oh! Honeysuckle,” he replies, cheeks dimpling into another smile, “simple flowers.” 

He’d insisted on escorting you back inside, as well as insist that you call him, “Keigo—formality makes me itch.”

Your father’s departure was due soon and so the expectation of marriage weighed heavier as the banquet was planned around you. You were glad it would be small, only the King and his advisors, very few nobles you’d have to perform for. 

The dressings you’re expected to wear are laid out for you. Soft and velveteen fabrics covered in little details. They’ve dressed you to match him.

Your only mercy was that the event wasn’t being seen as formal. You wouldn’t need to suffer through each noble's introductions or present yourself. It was for Keigo and your father.

Keigo is, predictably, swarmed when you finally make your way into the hall. The carefulness is back, hands kept tucked away at his sides and a bright smile on his face, coaxing himself through easy laughs. 

Something odd overtakes his face when your eyes meet—something new. The bridge of his nose warms and his eyes round at the corners. It’s strange, like something you’d only ever seen carved in marble or in the portraits lining the corridors. 

You barely have the chance to look over your shoulder, sure he’s staring past you, before he’s in front of you. His hands find your forearms when you jump, smiling widely, “got ya.”

Keigo’s grin only widens when you huff, “you didn’t startle me.”

“Aww, it looked like I did, sweetheart.” You school yourself, refusing to let the earnestness of his voice sway you. But, still you don’t shy away from the hand that finds your chin, “you look good.”

You scoff softly as your own hand curls around his wrist, “you look nice, too.” 

You regret the compliment as he falls into an open smirk, thumb swiping over your cheek as the other clutches the fabric covering his sternum, “aww dove, you flatter me.” 

“I take it back.”

“Too late! You’ve already made me swoon, I’m afraid.” 

Your retaliation is interrupted by the swell of music, warm and slow. Keigo’s eyes brighten before he turns to face you fully. He wants to dance. You scramble for an excuse, something to worm your way out of his grasp so you can hide behind the banquet table and occupy your time with rolls.

But he catches your hands before you can try.

“Do you trust me?” No. Not really, but you let your hand meet his nonetheless. Because you could—trust him. He moves you easily, hands adjusting your wrist before falling to rest, wide and warm, against the small of your back. “You’re the only person I know here, sweetheart.”

You ignore the warmth of the nickname, undeserved, and your brows pinch as you let him guide, feet moving easily to echo his own. He’s concentrating on his feet, letting his wings move minutely behind him. The steps were easy, made even more so by Keigo’s hands. “Not well,” you answer as you let him guide you in a spin. 

Keigo huffs, eyes narrowing minutely, “no, but I’d like to.”

“I mean, you have to,” your voice is airy, teasing, but he knows you meant it. His brows pinch together as another swell of music sends you away from, only the tips of your fingers touching as you rotate. “I imagine my father has pushed for us to ‘know each other’, right?”

Keigo’s quiet and you can see him thinking, turning softly in the circle. He’s pretty, classically so. He’s neater today than he was in the gardens, hair arrayed in more purposeful curls and fingers banded in gold rings which press cooly into your skin. He huffs again, seeming to have found something in your face.

“That’s not what I meant,” he sounds exasperated, taking advantage of the music to pull you into him. “I mean you’re the only one I know here—the only one I hold any loyalties for.” Another spin brings you closer, chest against his own. “We might have to get to know one another, but I’d like to be the place your loyalties lie, as well.” 

You’re separated shortly, then pressed right back against him.

“I don’t want you to force yourself to be around me, I want you to choose to.” His eyes were soft, sickeningly so and focused solely on you. You’re beginning to feel a little like he’d pried open your chest. “I want you to be able to trust me—to want me, if you’re willing.”

He pulls you even closer as the music slows, cheek sliding against your temple and his heart beating against your sternum. You can feel the stutter in his breath, the way his hand twitches nervously against your back.

“Keigo,” he seems to brighten at the use of his name, feathers ruffling behind him, and he tilts himself towards you. “I… I do want to get to know you, without the obligations of my father.”

His wings flutter and the earnestness bleeds from his eyes into his voice, "that's all I ask."

[theladyofdeath]

Bar Fight Wedding {Fensterin}

Happy birthday, @the-regal-warrior! This Fenrys x Asterin fluff is for you. I hope your day was as lovely and fabulous as you are. Love you tons.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Fenrys looked in the rearview mirror of his old, beat up truck and sighed. There was no way he was hiding his swollen, split lip from his fiance.

It wasn’t that he had done anything too crazy. At least, not too crazy for a bachelor party. 

He blamed it on his friends.

They were the ones who had planned the entire evening, considering Fenrys was getting married in a week. Asterin’s girls weren’t taking her out until the night before the wedding, but, thinking that Rowan, Lorcan, Vaughan, Gavriel, and Connall would take Fenrys to do something stupid that involved ridiculous amounts of alcohol, Asterin had asked them to make their big boy’s night out at least a week before the wedding.

She had been right, of course.

It was a good move.

Considering it was nearly four in the morning and Fenrys looked like he got hit by a truck, there was no way he could get married the next day.

Hopefully, in the next week, Fenrys would no longer look like he’d gotten in a fight with a grizzly bear.

Which he nearly had been. At least, that’s what it felt like. 

At least he wasn’t drunk, though.

He’d had a few drinks, but kept himself in check, which is more than he could say for some of his friends.

Rowan would be getting his ass kicked when he got home, without a doubt. He looked ridiculous. He'd gotten so drunk that he’d lost his shirt at some point during the night and went home without it, and only one shoe. 

That part was Fenrys, though.

He had stolen Rowan’s other shoe while he was knocked out cold in the back seat and hid it, just because it amused him greatly. 

Lorcan was the worst, though. 

He hadn’t even made it out of the bar before he had passed out, and the others had to lug him to the car. Gavriel had brought him home, and he had sent out a text not long ago that read, Elide laughed so hard that she started to cry. I think it was the sharpie mustache that got her.

Another reason why Fenrys was happy his wedding was still a week away - Lorcan’s sharpie mustache, courtesy of Vaughan, would not have looked good in the pictures. 

As for Fenrys’ swollen, split-lip and bruised cheekbone, alcohol had nothing to do with it.

No, his idiot friends had taken him to an ax-throwing bar. Which, he thought, would be fun as hell. He’d never been, had always wanted to go, and was pumped as he walked through the doors. 

Until his friends entered him in an ax throwing contest.

Until he won, and the second runner up, who was a little drunk himself, decided that he did not like to lose.

Which is how Fenrys ended up getting into a fight, in a bar that also involved axes.

He supposed it could’ve gone worse.

At least he didn’t get an ax thrown at him. 

Fenrys looked back in the rearview mirror and shook his head. “Maybe she’ll be asleep,” he muttered, turned off the light in his truck, and hopped out, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible. After walking up the drive, he unlocked the front door, and took his time closing it with a quiet click. 

He paused, waited to see if he heard anything, and continued on. All of the lights were off, and even the television in their bedroom was off, too, it seemed. Fenrys walked up the stairs and down to the end of the hall, where their bedroom door was cracked.

He peeked inside and swore under his breath.

Asterin’s head jerked up, but Fenrys was backing away, across the hall, into the bathroom.

“Fen?” she called.

“Hey!” he said, shutting himself inside of the bathroom. He flipped on the lights and cringed. He looked even worse in the full light.

On top of his swollen, split lip and bruised cheekbone, there was a cut on his eyebrow and his eye was slightly swollen. Considering his entire head hurt like shit, it had been difficult to tell where all the pain had been coming from. 

Now, he looked even worse than he had thought. 

He pulled a washcloth out of the cabinet and got it wet before wiping down his face. It did no good.

“I thought you’d be sleeping,” Fenrys said, through the door.

“Couldn’t sleep until I knew you were home safe,” she said. “Reading.”

Fenrys made a muffled sound of understanding. “Why don’t you turn off the lights and I’ll be there in a second?”

There was a pause. “Did you just tell me to turn off the lights?”

“Yeah, we’re going to bed, lights off,” he said, turning off the bathroom lights before opening the door.

Asterin was not turning off the lights. Instead, she was sitting in the middle of their bed, her eyes on Fenrys as he crossed the threshold. Her arms were crossed, and the lamp by her bed was very much still on.

Fenrys cleared his throat. “Time for bed?”

“Come closer,” she said.

“I’m tired-.”

“Into the light, Fen,” she said, her pointer finger up, motioning him forward.

Fenrys pursed his lips. “Is that my shirt?”

Asterin looked down at the old t-shirt she wore. “Pretty sure this is our shir- wait, you’re changing the subject. Into the light.”

With a sigh, Fenrys stepped forward. As soon as he came into the light, Asterin’s eyes widened. “What the hell?”

“There was a….bar fight.” He mumbled the last two words, and Asterin’s brows rose.

“Sorry,” she said. “What was that?

“I got into a bar fight,” he said, plopping onto the bed. “They brought me to an ax bar, I won a tournament, some sore loser jackass was pissed that he lost and picked a fight. I...stood up for myself.” 

Asterin blinked. “Fenrys. We get married in six days-.”

“It’ll heal before then,” he interrupted. 

“You look like you got trampled by a herd of angry hyenas!” 

Fenrys blinked. “Hyenas? That was the best you could come up with?”

“They’re vicious,” Asterin snapped. “Haven’t you ever watched The Lion King?”

“Yeah, I have, and I’m pretty sure Mufasa’s death didn’t happen because he was trampled by hyenas,” Fenrys shot back. 

Asterin was rubbing her temples. “Be serious, Fenrys, you look-.”

“Handsome?” he finished.

“Like shit,” Asterin said. “Handsome, but like shit.”

“It’s not that big of a deal-.”

“You got in a bar fight,” Asterin said, shaking her head. “Fen, our wedding pictures are going to be all we have from our wedding-.”

“And they’re going to look incredible,” Fenrys promised, tugging on the hem of her shirt - his shirt - until she was straddling his waist. He pulled her down on top of him and kissed her, softly. He tried not to wince, thanks to his split lip, but held onto control until Asterin pulled back. “What’re you really worried about?”

“What do you mean?” Asterin asked, quietly. “Fenrys, you got into a bar fight-.”

“And I’m fine,” he said, chuckling. “You’re awake at almost four in the morning a week before our wedding.” He nodded to her nightstand. “That’s your wedding planner. You’re freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” she protested.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Fenrys asked, suddenly alarmed.

“What?” she asked, taken aback. “No! No, I just...there’s so much left to do, yet, and so little time. And now you look like a human punching bag.”

“I’ll heal.”

“Your lip is bleeding, Fen,” she said, sighing. 

With a groan, Fenrys rolled them over, and he was suddenly on top. “I’m fine,” he promised. “I know the wedding is a lot to handle, but it’s almost done with.”

Asterin snorted. “It’s almost done with? How romantic.”

“You know what I mean,” Fenrys said, kissing her nose. “Why don’t we sneak down to the courthouse tomorrow and forget about the wedding?”

It was a joke, and Asterin knew that, but a small smile appeared on her lips. “Okay.”

Fenrys stilled. “Sorry, what?”

“Let’s do it,” Asterin said. “You, me, and the courthouse. Let’s do it.”

“I repeat....,” Fenrys began. “What?”

She took his face into her hands and shook her head, slowly. “I’m so stressed about this wedding, Fen. Let’s get married, have the perfect day doing whatever the hell we want, and the wedding will just be for...everyone else. All pressure is off of us.” 

Fenrys watched her for a long moment before saying, “You’re serious.”

She nodded. “I’ve never been more serious in my entire life.”

He pursed his lips. “But, look at my face, I don’t know if the photographer at the courthouse will approve-.”

She nudged him in the shoulder and laughed. “Shut up.”

Fenrys’ grin was contagious. “You tell me when and where I can make you my wife, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

Asterin’s eyes softened as she leaned up and met Fenrys’ lips with her own. 

The next morning, they would go down to the courthouse, only telling their closest of friends - even though half of Fenrys’ would be hungover as shit.

Manon would take the photos of the entire event, with Asterin in a little white sundress and Fenrys with his busted lip and swollen eye.

Even so, it would be the most magical and memorable day of their entire lives. 

The day that they finally became man and wife. 

With absolutely no stress at all. 

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Sneaking Around | Epilogue

Aelin was going to be in so much trouble.

She was supposed to be in the room where the prep for her wedding was taking place. Despite this, she had somehow ended up in the groom’s room with the skirt of her wedding dress pulled up around her waist. And the groom himself with his pants pulled down, fucking her mercilessly. Yep, her friends were going to kill her.

“Oh, Rowan, don’t stop. Oh gods. Fucking hell.”

Rowan chuckled as he pounded into her against the wall. “I think we’re supposed to be quiet. Wouldn’t want anyone to know the groom saw the bride before the wedding.”

Aelin moaned. “Oh fuck, Ro, I’m so close. Release blasted through her. She had to bury her face in Rowan’s shoulder to muffle her moans.

He barely suppressed a groan as he came, spilling himself into her. Two years of dating and still neither could get enough.

Rowan pulled out of Aelin and disposed of the condom. He buttoned his pants as Aelin dropped her dress.

“Where are my panties?” Aelin asked. “Shit, do you see them, Ro?”

They looked around the room, to no avail. Rowan chuckled. “Looks like you’ll have to go without.”

Aelin scowled. “I am not getting married without underwear. Damn, I’m so late. They’re supposed to be doing my hair and makeup by now.”

“Just go. No one will know you’re not wearing underwear, and it will save me the trouble of taking them off later.” He was smirking.

Aelin punched him in the arm, hard. To his credit, he didn’t wince. “I fucking hate you.”

“So you tell me every day.” Rowan grinned.

Aelin frowned. “Ugh.” Then she ran out of the room, heels clicking on the tile, praying her friends wouldn’t notice the suspicious amount of time she’d been gone.

“Aelin, where have you been?” Lysandra hissed when she entered the bridal chamber. “I thought you were going to the bathroom.” So much for not noticing.

Ansel frowned. “Oh, honey, are you getting cold feet?”

“No, no,” Aelin said. “I just got lost.” She gestured vaguely.

Lys and Ansel were helping her get ready (or they had been anyway) and Fenrys was lounging in a chair, observing. He had claimed this room smelled nicer, leaving Rowan alone. Aelin just hadn’t been able to resist.

“How do you get lost in this place? The bathrooms are right across the hall.” Lys was frowning now too.

“Exactly,” Aelin declared. “And I didn’t know that, and ended up circling the whole building before I found it. Tragic, really.”

Fenrys snorted and Aelin shot him a glare. “Something to say, Moonbeam?”

He just grinned and looked her up and down, taking in her ruffled dress and flushed cheeks. “Not at all, darlin’.” Aelin scowled.

Lysandra sighed. “You couldn’t keep your clothes on for the rest of the day? Pathetic.”

Aelin glared hatefully at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just do my hair, please.”

Ansel snorted this time. “What are we, your maids?”

“I said please.”

Lysandra interjected. “Alright, we can shame her later. It’s time to get a move on.”

-

Aelin was properly beautified by the time she needed to walk down the aisle. Barely, though.

Aedion was charged with walking with her, their parents being dead and unable to give her away.

They were having a very small wedding. Other than Aedion, neither of the two had any living family and they didn’t want a bunch of people they barely knew witnessing this moment (or upping the cost of the buffet table). Aelin also didn’t want to slowly march down the aisle behind three of her friends like a parade, she claimed. She also hadn’t wanted to chose between her friends which would be bridesmaids. Therefore, she had none. Aelin had a knack for breaking traditions. And so Lys, Ansel, Fenrys, Manon, Elide, Gavriel, Connall, and Vaughan were all seated now. Lorcan was standing next to Rowan at the altar as best man.

Aelin strutted down the aisle, Aedion at her heels hissing to slow down. Finally, he gave up and seated himself, Aelin tossing a wink his way.

“Work that runway, girl,” Manon catcalled. Aelin smirked at her when she reached the altar next to Rowan, who was chuckling. Lorcan just snorted.

The priest started droning on about how they would be there for each other forever, but Aelin tuned him out and stared into Rowan’s eyes. They had decided against writing vows because they both knew what they meant to each other and told the other often enough. Also, Aelin didn’t want to try to put all the emotions she felt around him into words, all the love and happiness.

Rowan smirked at Aelin, probably recalling the fact that she was unclothed beneath her dress. She grinned back at him.

Someone cleared their throat. The priest. Aelin turned her head and let out a “Hm?”

“I said, Miss Galathynius, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

Aelin said, “Oh, sorry, yeah. I mean, I do.” Snickers arose from their small audience. Yep, she was never going to live that down. She glanced back at Rowan, whose smirk had widened. Aelin scowled at him.

The priest repeated his words to Rowan, who said, “I do.” Damned bastard. He had been zoned out and staring at her too; why couldn’t the priest have asked him first?

The priest then declared they may kiss. Aelin immediately stepped forward, grabbed Rowan by the lapels, and pulled him in for a searing kiss. His hands found her waist, drawing out a couple of wolf-whistles from their friends. Aelin let go with one hand to flip them off without breaking the kiss.

After a minute, Aelin pulled back, grinning. Rowan smiled warmly at her. And just like that, they were married.

-

Rowan led Aelin to their apartment. It used to be his, but Aelin had moved in a while ago, drawing out a fuss from Ansel. As a peace offering, Aelin had coerced Fenrys to move in with Ansel. Perhaps not the best way to make a relationship more serious, but whatever.

They had the night together before leaving for their honeymoon the next morning. They were going to Switzerland for their honeymoon. They both agreed it was a beautiful place to stay. Fenrys had been especially supportive of the decision, claiming they could bring him some cheese. Aelin would have to check if that was legal.

Now, though, the newlyweds made it to the door. Aelin walked in after Rowan, kicking it closed behind her. “What should we do now, husband?” Aelin asked sweetly.

Rowan grinned back at her. He roughly pushed her against the door, pinning her hands beside her. “We should probably just go to sleep, wife. It’s been a long day, after all.”

Aelin smirked. “Good idea.” Neither of them moved. “Do you know what it’s like walking around in a breathable dress and no panties? I felt every draft.”

Rowan burst into laughter. “I’m so terribly sorry.” He pressed his lips to her neck, sucking gently. Rowan’s knee came up, parting her legs, then pressing into her center.

Aelin moaned, her head tipping back against the door. Rowan adjusted his knee and the mesh-like fabric under her dress caught on certain areas. “Oh,” Aelin moaned. “Oh fuck.” She was writhing now, squirming under his touch.

Rowan growled. “You’re mine.”

Aelin let out a gutteral groan. “And you’re mine.”

He slid his hands down to Aelin’s thighs and wrapped her legs around his waist. Rowan carried her to their bedroom, Aelin pressing her center against him all the while, desperate for the pressure.

Rowan set Aelin down gently, despite the ravenous gleam in his eyes, and stepped back to admire her.

Aelin lifted a hand to her dress, about to pull it off, when Rowan surged forward and grabbed her hand. “No. I’m going to fuck you in that dress. In that beautiful wedding dress.”

Aelin moaned. “Please. Please hurry. I need you.”

Rowan unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants, Aelin watching intently.

His hard length sprung out and Aelin couldn’t tear her eyes away as Rowan stepped forward and grabbed her hips.

“I love you so much, Aelin. You don’t even know how much.”

She smirked. “I like to think I have some idea.” Aelin grabbed him and pulled him down on top of her. Rowan quickly balanced himself and didn’t waste another second before entering her.

They both let out twin groans. Aelin bucked her hips, trying to pull him in deeper, muttering something about needing more.

Rowan snarled and pulled out almost all the way before slamming into her. Aelin moaned loudly. “Oh. Oh, Rowan, harder.”

He didn’t hold back after that. Rowan pounded into her relentlessly, leaving Aelin unable to take a single breath.

Afterward, lying in a tangle of limbs, Aelin couldn’t help but think how lucky she was. For the earth-shattering sex, yes, but also for the love. The happiness. The days spent together filled with intimacy and romance, joy and laughter. Aelin was very lucky indeed.

[hazeltonmanor]

Host Your Perfect Event at Events Hall Vaughan

Events Hall Vaughan is the ideal venue for weddings, corporate functions, and special celebrations. With its modern design, spacious interiors, and flexible layout options, the hall offers a versatile setting for any event. Enjoy premium amenities, professional event planning, and customizable catering options to make your occasion truly memorable. Whether you're hosting a grand wedding or an intimate gathering, Events Hall Vaughan provides a beautiful backdrop for unforgettable moments. For more details visit our website: www.hazeltonmanor.com

[parkviewmanor]

Visit one of our exquisite wedding banquet venues in Vaughan to experience the height of elegance and romance. Our locations, which are tucked away in breath-taking settings, exude a classic attractiveness and elegant elegance that creates a magical atmosphere for your big day. Our halls can handle small-scale get-togethers or lavish festivities that are customized to your preferences thanks to their seamless integration of current conveniences and historic aesthetics. Perfectly crafted interiors with opulent embellishments offer the ideal setting for exchanging vows and making lifelong memories. Our devoted team of experts is committed to planning a flawless event and makes sure that every last detail is carefully put into place. With the help of our excellent banquet halls in Vaughan, you may realize your wedding dreams. Visit our website at https://www.parkviewmanor.ca for more details.

[calipersandtongs]

Blightgate Custom Content List

Below is a list of custom content used in the Blightgate neighbourhood. I tested it without the downloaded stuff and you can probably get away without downloading the skins, hair and eyes since it will replace them with defaults and it also removes some of the cars and replaces some of them with Maxis cars but I would recommend downloading all the lots mentioned from modthesims especially the occupied ones and community lots, as they look very odd without some of the necessary custom content.

De Clare family:

Cars:

2009 Ferrari California:

https://modthesims.info/d/606984/fp-s-2009-ferrari-california.html

FP's 2018 Lamborghini Huracan Performante: https://modthesims.info/d/608868/2018-lamborghini-huracan-performante.html

Original undecorated house: https://modthesims.info/d/268922/quot-the-whitmore-quot-georgian-influence-no-cc.html

Shadow family:

Cars:

Fp’s 2018 labrogine hurrican performante:

https://modthesims.info/d/608868/2018-lamborghini-huracan-performante.html

2009 ferrari california: https://modthesims.info/d/606984/fp-s-2009-ferrari-california.html

Fresh prince 1997 land rover discovery: https://modthesims.info/d/312788/1997-land-rover-discovery.html

Angel's hair: https://davinaojeda.tumblr.com/post/180063833070/newsea-j226-lingering-converted-to-ts2-its-been-a

Chen family:

Skintone (included with Sim here):

https://modthesims.info/d/514938/suka.html

eyes (Rich black by Enayla found in Golden Grace skintone file here): https://modthesims.info/d/128180/opaline-and-golden-grace-skintones.html

Abbie's hair (B-Fly 134): https://hemfbg.tumblr.com/post/166901168830/b-fly-86-download-3t2-by-martini-simgaroops

Blightgate church and cemetery:

https://modthesims.info/d/52992/old-wedding-cathedral-my-very-first-lot-yay-d.html

Seer family:

Laurence's hair:

https://modthesims.info/d/75187/jeanette-hair-for-male.html

Ito family:

Eyes (Rich black by Enayla found in Golden Grace skintone file here):

https://modthesims.info/d/128180/opaline-and-golden-grace-skintones.html

House: https://modthesims.info/d/634488/milky-way-street.html

Ainsworth family (Evelyn):

Hair (Nightcrawler Coco simgaroop recolour + mesh):

https://chocolatemilkbag.tumblr.com/post/171958463031/here-are-6-hairs-simgarooped-i-really-like-all-of

Nightcrawler's sims resource page: https://www.thesimsresource.com/artists/Nightcrawler_Sims/

Nyoni family (Imara):

hair (stealthic high life dreads):

https://enjoyingmypain.tumblr.com/post/149075299272/hello-again-some-more-hairs-for-you-all-please

Eyes (Rich black by Enayla found in Golden Grace skintone file here): https://modthesims.info/d/128180/opaline-and-golden-grace-skintones.html

House: https://modthesims.info/d/377967/the-veronaville-tudors-tudor-no-1-no-cc.html

Blightgate Inn:

https://modthesims.info/d/205042/holly-cottage.html

Nyoni family (Enzi):

Eyes (Rich black by Enayla found in Golden Grace skintone file here):

https://modthesims.info/d/128180/opaline-and-golden-grace-skintones.html

Tucker family:

hair (coolsims 92): https://hemfbg.tumblr.com/post/166901056310/newsea-capriccio-download-simgaroops-colours

house: https://modthesims.info/d/641692/island-houses-with-garden-interior-no-cc.html

Squatters (Shadow/Brooks/Starling) household:

Fae Brook's hair (newsea hello dreads):

https://enjoyingmypain.tumblr.com/post/149075299272/hello-again-some-more-hairs-for-you-all-please

Sylvan family:

House:

https://modthesims.info/d/260318/the-elwood.html

Antique table phone: https://modthesims.info/download.php?t=199565

Celeste's hair (Newsea Summer Flavour): https://hemfbg.tumblr.com/post/168914882995

Serafine's hair: https://entropy-sims.tumblr.com/post/190899605222/wings-tz0210-4to2-i-dont-like-convert-wingssimss

Hazel's hair (Newsea Night Bloom): https://hemfbg.tumblr.com/day/2019/05/31

Paisley Household:

Sophie Wei's eyes(Rich black by Enayla found in Golden Grace skintone file here):

https://modthesims.info/d/128180/opaline-and-golden-grace-skintones.html

Sophie Wei's skintone (included with Sim here): https://modthesims.info/d/514938/suka.html

Ainsworth family (Edwin + Arthur):

Edwin's hair:

https://www.coolsims.net/index.php/downloads/hairstyles/sims-2/77-hair-70

Vaughan family:

Leanne's hair:

https://modthesims.info/d/427745/nouk-long-wavy-hair-for-ladies-of-all-ages.html

Oakley family:

Willow's hair (Nightcrawler Icon simgaroop recolour + mesh can be downloaded here):

https://chocolatemilkbag.tumblr.com/post/171958463031/here-are-6-hairs-simgarooped-i-really-like-all-of

Nightcrawler's sims resource page: https://www.thesimsresource.com/artists/Nightcrawler_Sims/

Emily's hair mesh (LeahLillith Jen): https://chocolatemilkbag.tumblr.com/post/171958463031/here-are-6-hairs-simgarooped-i-really-like-all-of

Emily's hair recolour by hemfbg: https://hemfbg.tumblr.com/post/172028107805/the-other-day-chocolatemilkbag-retextured-these

Leah Lilith's Sims resource page: https://www.thesimsresource.com/members/Leah_Lillith/

Holly and Heather's hair: https://modthesims.info/d/427745/nouk-long-wavy-hair-for-ladies-of-all-ages.html

Hadley's hair (Newsea Capriccio): https://hemfbg.tumblr.com/post/166901056310/newsea-capriccio-download-simgaroops-colours

House: https://modthesims.info/d/209211/wood-peak-lake.html

Cars: https://modthesims.info/d/279552/2005-hummer-h2-sut.html

Ainsworth family (Elliot, Lysander and Madelyn):

Madelyn's hair (Poppet Myos 14 recolour):

https://poppet-sims.tumblr.com/post/89065905498

Madelyn's hair mesh: https://blog.daum.net/saublog/64?category=2655942

Richard's family:

Eshani’s hair:

https://davinaojeda.tumblr.com/post/180063833070/newsea-j226-lingering-converted-to-ts2-its-been-a

Eshani and Arya's eyes (Rich black by Enayla. Part of Golden Grace skin tone file): https://modthesims.info/d/128180/opaline-and-golden-grace-skintones.html

Arya’s hair (B-fly 93): https://hemfbg.tumblr.com/post/166901184545/b-fly-93-download-3t2-by-martini-simgaroops

Nyoni family (Eli):

Eyes  (Rich black by Enayla. Part of Golden Grace skin tone file):

https://modthesims.info/d/128180/opaline-and-golden-grace-skintones.html

Thomas/Wilson family:

Lana, Verity and Samuel's eyes (Rich black by Enayla found in Golden Grace skintone file here):

https://modthesims.info/d/128180/opaline-and-golden-grace-skintones.html

Ricky's hair (non default version): https://modthesims.info/d/559715/wild-cornrows-default-custom.html

Lana's hair: https://modthesims.info/d/202771/nouk-dark-lady-braids-braids-hairdo-for-ladies-of-all-ages.html

Friends Household

Amos' eyes (Rich black by Enayla. Part of Golden Grace skin tone file):

https://modthesims.info/d/128180/opaline-and-golden-grace-skintones.html

Amos' hair: https://blackswan-finds.tumblr.com/post/183280478206/4t2-gp07-natural-dreadlocks-also-known-as-i-need

Enid's hair (Skysims 149): https://poppet-sims.tumblr.com/post/89065905498

Lynsey's hair (newsea Papaya): https://poppet-sims.tumblr.com/post/89065905498

Empty custom lots:

https://modthesims.info/d/411619/spanish-splendor.html

https://modthesims.info/d/411869/simple-elegance.html

https://modthesims.info/d/131248/gothic-piles-the-arboretum.html

https://modthesims.info/d/220118/havisham-hall-ruins.html

https://modthesims.info/d/176607/simaroth-s-sanctuary.html

https://modthesims.info/d/454571/silver-stone-trace-a-spacious-five-bedroom-and-five-baths-house-no-cc.html

[thorne93]

The Softest Fire (Part 19)

Prompt: Rosaline Vaughan had it all: fame, money, power, glory, a high status job. Until, one day, she woke up, and realized something was missing from her life.

Word Count: 5018

Warnings: trauma/ptsd

Notes: First Fantastic Beast fic! I could NOT have done this at all without @arrow-guy. They have created a counterpart to this fic, writing it from Nora Vaughan’s perspective (Rosaline’s cousin/adopted sister). Fic aesthetic done by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​.

Nora and I got ready together like old times. Sharing a vanity, laughing and falling all over each other as loud music played in the room. I let my hair fall down in nice finger waves over one side of my face. I wore striking makeup of a stark black liner and deep dark red lips. My dress was adorned with sparkles, colored in plum that went all the way to the floor. Matte stripes pulled upward, flattering my curves perfectly. The straps were medium sized, highlighting my delicate perfectly rounded shoulders. I had dark silver silk gloves coming all the way up to my biceps, matching my sterling silver necklaces and earrings. 

By the time Nora and I were done, we looked like movie stars. 

An hour before the ceremony, a knock came to Nora’s front door. I told her I would answer it while she put on her finishing touches. I raced down the stairs and pulled open the door.

“It’s about time you men got--”

When I opened the door, my eyes fell on two dashing men. Theseus stood tall in an eye catching tuxedo.

“Theseus, you look absolutely incredible,” I gushed.

“You’re looking sparkly as ever, Rosaline,” he complimented.

“Well thank you.” 

Once he stepped inside, I could properly stare at Newt who wore a black tuxedo. His hair was gelled and styled to lay on the side, rather than wild as usual. 

“Newt, you… A tux?” I questioned, a curious smile growing on my face.

“I know it’s not my usual style but Theseus insisted I treat myself to something.” 

“I think you look wonderful. It really suits you.”

“You think so?” he asked, a bit bashful.

I took my gloved hand and lifted his chin.

“Hey, I know so. You have no reason to feel insecure.” 

He nodded his head and as he did so, his gaze fell onto my body. 

“Rosaline… You… The dre-dress. You’re… uh…” he stammered, unable to find the words. 

“Do you like it?” I tried, hoping that would help him. 

He bobbed his head eagerly. “Yes, very much. It brings out your eyes. It reminds me of the scales on an occamy.”

“But an occamy is blue,” I retorted.

“But their scales are shiny, brilliant hues and you, when I look at you…” His eyes softened on my form and I couldn’t help but blush. 

“Yes?” I prompted. 

“I see the beauty of nature reflected in you,” he finally finished, bringing his gaze back up to mine. Our eyes held the gaze for a long moment and I could feel myself being pulled to him before suddenly I heard Nora’s voice right behind us on the stairs.

“Well why else would I wear a dress, Theseus?” she quipped rhetorically.

I whipped around to face them and Theseus was ahead of Nora, smirking. 

“Are we ready to go?” Nora questioned and all of us nodded. We linked arms and apparated to the wedding venue.

Weddings always astounded me, from their sheer beauty to the romance. This one was no exception. A dark stone mansion stood sheathed in ivy scaling its walls, even appearing to grow inside. Round balconies jutted out from all sides and levels of the building. The four of us walked up to a man checking names on a list. We handed him our invitations and he bowed his head while wishing us a good time. 

We found our way to an exquisite hall that was made to look more like the outdoors than in. Moss covered the ground, flowered bloomed around chairs, pillars, and tables, ivy crawled up the walls. 

“Quite the naturist isn’t she?” I wondered aloud.

“Mmm, yes,” Theseus responded, his eyes going over everything. 

We had over half an hour before the ceremony so we mingled a bit with other guests. When time grew near the ceremony to start, we took our seats and began to talk amongst ourselves. Before long Jeanette made her way down the aisle in a stunning white dress. Not one I would’ve picked but for her, it seemed absolutely perfect. 

As I watched them take their vows a sudden pang hit my heart. A pang that reminded me I would probably never have that, and the closest I got to it was with a lying murderer who tricked me. My eyes stole a glance at Newt who was staring forward. 

What I wouldn’t give to turn back the clock, to go back even as far back as Hogwarts. I would’ve asked him out then. I would’ve talked to Leta, perhaps become her friend and convinced her to do the right thing. I would’ve helped Newt with his creatures instead of years in a cold, unwavering environment. 

But I didn’t have a time turner, even if I did it wouldn’t be enough for me to right the wrongs I’d done to so many people. I thought I was protecting myself by not letting myself get close to anyone, but I was being selfish. 

I should’ve been more like Nora, where no one is a stranger, and everyone loves her. But I couldn’t imagine living through the pain of losing a loved one again. I thought it would be easier if I never got close to anyone, but it turns out, it was a lot harder to stay isolated.

I guess being a frigid witch helped in that department. 

I wasn’t warm because I didn’t want people to underestimate me. I wasn’t overtly kind because I didn’t want people to take advantage of me. I didn’t show or share my emotions because they could be used against me. I wasn’t friendly because I saw what friendship did to Newt and Leta and countless others growing up. It’s all heartache waiting to happen. 

But as I watched these two people fall madly in love again at the altar, I couldn’t help but think that all the pain, the strife, the heartache, is worth it, just to have people in your life you can count on. People who will be there for your bad days and your good. People who will lift you up when you’ve fallen, and stand beside you proudly as you win. 

People like... well people like I knew. Theseus didn’t have to let me have a room at the Ministry. Hell, they could’ve thrown me into Azkaban and threw away the key. Nora didn’t have to hunt me down. Dumbledore didn’t have to help undo the curse on me, or alert Nora, he could’ve easily gone to the Ministry and had me arrested. Newt didn’t have to forgive me or be so kind to me after all I had put him through. 

Which made me realize just how truly he must love me. I knew Tina was still around, still waiting for him, and yet, he chose me, even without me saying I chose him. He didn’t choose Tina for a consolation prize or to replace me. He held out, he wasn’t with her, because he didn’t love her. 

He’s a truly remarkable man, much like his brother, and I almost squandered it away. Most women would kill for a man as loyal, kind, brave, and smart as him. I only prayed that one day I could earn enough of his love to perhaps stand at an altar with him. 

He must’ve caught my staring because he turned to me and squeezed my hand with a smile. I returned the gesture. 

“What is it?” he whispered with a bemused look on his face.

“You’re just absolutely wonderful, that’s all,” I breathed. 

His gaze dropped as a slight laugh escaped him. 

The ceremony wrapped up and the bride and groom escaped to an unknown location while the guests were dismissed to the reception.

“That was lovely,” I remarked as we walked along. 

“It was rather pretty. Were you tearing up, cousin?” Nora teased with an elbow nudge. 

I merely laughed, dropping my head to nod. 

“Shall we make our way to our seats to eat?” Theseus asked. 

“Yes, please. I’m famished,” Newt all but begged, making me laugh as I put my arm around him. 

We walked through the amazing building out into a garden in the back that had a gazebo. Flowers were blooming and blossoming everywhere, greenery of all kind covered the ground and flowerbeds, save for a dance floor under a tent.

The meal was served, along with watching the couple dance their first dance, then when it was done, guests were welcomed onto the dance floor. 

Newt turned to me. “Rosaline, would you care to dance?”

For a split second, I wasn’t sure. I wanted to, of course, but it worried me. Finally, I said, “I would love to.” 

I took his hand and right behind us Theseus and Nora followed. We joined about fifteen other couples on the dance floor. The music was soft, slow, the perfect kind to just sway to. Newt took me in his arms and we began dancing little circles as I watched my cousin. 

They were awfully close. Theseus planted a soft kiss on Nora’s head just as she rested her head on his shoulder and they swayed. At another point, he kissed her cheek and she lit up like a Christmas tree.

Newt looked at me and I gestured with my chin towards the two of them. “How long has that been going on?” 

“A couple months, maybe? It's hard to tell, they've been spending so much time together it's all blurred together for me.”

I nodded, falling silent. I’d missed quite a lot in my absence. Those two were dating, Newt hired a replacement for me, Tina had all but moved to London…

“Things change faster than we expect, don’t they?” he asked a bit more quietly.

“Yes, they do,” I hummed with a frown. 

Newt peered at me a moment, we danced a little while longer before he said, “Rosaline?” 

I glanced up at him.

“I know you hate yourself. I know you think you caused people pain and deep down that's who you are.”

My mouth screwed to the side as I chewed my lip. “Newt, I--”

“Just listen, please?” he requested softly, but earnestly.

After a moment, I nodded. 

“But I know you, Rosaline, and that day at Hogwarts, you could've killed us. You know the unforgivable curses, yet you didn't use a single one. Deep inside, past all of Grindelwald’s spells and manipulations, you couldn't kill us. You're powerful enough to have killed us easily, and you didn't." 

“So you think just because I could and I didn’t I’m somehow a saint?” I scoffed slightly as we still swayed.

“I think your heart, no matter what circumstances you’re in, will always guide you. You’re a lot softer than you let on, or that you believe.” 

My eyes slowly slid over to meet his gaze and we held our stares for a moment, the tension suddenly thick between us. I’d wanted a moment like this for all of my life. My heart raced as my breathing halted. Before I knew it, we were slowly getting closer to each other and then--

Our lips touched. They were so soft and his were actually a little cold, but I didn’t mind one bit. As soon as he went to deepen the kiss though, a flash of stark blonde hair and heterochromia lit up behind my eyelids. The sensation reminded me greatly of Grindelwald. 

Involuntarily, I put my hands against his chest and shoved him away. When I opened my eyes, I remembered it was Newt I was kissing, not Grindelwald. He looked hurt, panicked, and confused. My face was nearly a mirror image. My expression had gone from horror, to guilt, to sorrow.

Everyone on the dancefloor was looking at us and I didn’t say a word as I fled the area. Running into the building, I found a darkened corridor to try and slow my breathing. But the breathing just got worse as a sob built in my chest. 

My first kiss with Newt and I ruined it by shoving him away. I slapped my gloved hand against the wall, the other one covering my face before I turned around and leaned against it.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Nora’s voice suddenly sounded beside me.

I shook my head, afraid to speak. She patted my shoulders. 

“What’s the matter? What happened?” 

“I… Newt and I kissed, but it only reminded me of Grindelwald so I shoved him away. I didn’t even know what was happening. Everything was fine but then all I could think about was Grindelwald��s hands all over me and…”

Nora peered at me, understanding in her eyes.

I took a deep breath, the tears finally stopping now that she was here. “Nora, I haven’t told anyone this but I’d like you to know.”

“What is it?” 

“Grindelwald… he… was my first.” 

At first, Nora was silent before I turned to see what was written on her face. I couldn’t quite tell, actually, other than some far off look. “Nora?”

She shook her head to look at me. “Rosaline, I’m so sorry.”

“Me too,” I breathed, straightening up. “I wished that was one of the memories that got washed away with the curse.” I put the heels of my hands on my forehead. 

Nora seemed to be thinking before she suddenly said, “It doesn’t have to count as your first time, if you don’t want it to.”

I scoffed, wiping my face. “How is that possible? It happened. He took my…” I couldn’t even say it. 

“Easy. You don’t give him that power.”

“You make it sound so easy,” I breathed. 

“It is… Would you like to go home and talk about it?” 

For a moment, I wanted to answer yes. But then I thought of my date, the one man I’d ever truly loved, standing on the dancefloor, having no idea what he did wong, when he did nothing wrong to begin with. That thought, made me decide against it.

“No. Not right now. Later though? I really need to go see how Newt is.” 

She bobbed her head in understanding as she walked with me back to the festivities. On our way, two men walking by stopped and looked at us. 

“Aren’t you that bird that was with Grindelwald?” the older looking one asked. 

I stiffened at his name and Nora grabbed my hand for support.

“Why, yes, I think you are! You worked for the Ministry, even ran for Minister.” He eyed me up and down. At first I thought he might say something nice like it was good to have me back or ask how I was doing. I didn’t expect the next words out of his mouth. “You are one low-life piece of trash, you know that?” he snarled. “It’s because of you the wizarding world is in shambles. Everyone knew they couldn’t trust Grindelwald, but one of our own. Someone as upstanding as you used to be joining him is just a travesty. You are everything that is wrong in this world. Corrupt--”

“That’s just about enough from you, sir!” Nora barked, interjecting. “My sister was bewitched. She didn’t join him willingly.” 

“Not the way I hear it. If she was bewitched, why did she agree to marry him? Sounds like her thirst for power never really stopped.” 

“I want nothing to do with that man, nor did I ever,” I stated firmly. 

“You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” he scoffed as he started to walk on. 

In an instant, I reeled my hand back and slugged him in the jaw, sending him to the floor. The other man looked at me in astonishment, along with Nora. 

“That might teach you to open your mouth on subjects you know nothing about!” I spat, pointing down. With my blood still boiling, I stormed off and found Newt standing to the side of the dance floor.

“Is everything alri--” Newt began.

“We’re going home,” I informed quickly, grabbing his hand. “Nora, I’m going back to your place. You don’t have to join me immediately.” Then we apparated away.

Once we were in my room in Nora’s flat, I sat on the bed, gathering my breath. 

“Rosaline, what’s… Did I do something wrong? I thought…” 

I looked up. “Newt, you did nothing wrong.” I stood and began to pace. “You did everything absolutely right. It’s just… when we kissed, I couldn’t help but be reminded of Grindelwald and I guess I snapped and panicked and I thought it was you and… And I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that kind of response.”

“Well are you alright?” 

I shook my head, waving him off. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Grindelwald and I were very… close,” I said, my voice cracking as my throat tightened. “It may take me some time to get over the horrible memories that I associate with romance. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it… It’ll just take time.” 

“That’s fine. Rosaline, I’ll wait as long as I need to. I’ve waited years, what’s a few more weeks or months?” 

A soft smile touched me as I stepped forward and took his hands in mine. 

“Truly remarkable,” I whispered before I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I had a wonderful time today with you, despite everything. I even got to punch a man. That felt oddly refreshing.” 

He laughed as his eyebrows shot up. “You punched a man?” 

“He was saying awful things about me being from the Ministry and being with Grindelwald…” I shook my head. “That’ll teach him to speak out of turn.”

“I’d say it would, yes.” 

We grinned at each other a long moment before we heard the arrival of Nora and Theseus in the hallway. 

“If you don’t mind, I need to speak with Nora about something.”

“Of course.”

He backed away a step to apparate but then he stopped and asked, “would you come by my flat tomorrow? I’d like to have afternoon tea with you.”

“I’d love to.” 

With this, he smiled, nodded, waved, and apparated. As soon as he was gone, I poked my head out into the hallway. I waited to see if they were talking. They were, they were actually whispering.

“Am I interrupting?” 

The two of them jumped and pulled away slightly. 

“Uh, no. Are you alright?” Theseus asked. I bobbed my head. “Good. Well… I’ll leave you two to the rest of your evening. Have a good night.” He leaned down and quickly kissed Nora’s cheek before apparating back to his own flat. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, looking supportive. “If you aren’t ready…” 

“I’ll never be ready, but I’m not about to let it take me over.” 

She nodded in agreement as I held my door open, inviting her into my room where I once again sat on the bed. 

“So... how did it happen?” she asked once she got in the room and the door closed. 

“I… Honestly I don’t even know. We just started… dating? He treated me like a queen, doing everything for me, before I knew it, we were going on dates and he was kissing me goodnight. Next thing I know, he’s inviting me to move my things into his room. We stayed in bed together a few nights then one day he was in a really good mood and…” 

Nora nodded. “You know, the whole virginity thing… it isn’t the end all be all. If you felt it wasn’t what you wanted your first time to be, then it doesn’t have to be.” 

“But I was physically with him, Nora.” 

“So? You wanna know about my first time?” she asked as she plopped down next to me. 

“You had a first time?” I accused, turning to her. “How did I--Wait, was it Theseus?” 

A soft, amused expression took her over. “No, but I’m glad you think that.” 

“If not Theseus, then who?” 

“It was actually a girl at Hogwarts… She was a year ahead of me.”

“Let me guess, Slytherin?” I teased.

“Actually a Gryffindor.” 

“No kidding?” I mused. “How? Why?”

“We were friends. Good friends. We actually took each other to the Winter ball, as friends, at first, but there was something there…”

“So… what happened?” I wondered, curious. 

“We eventually made our way to the astronomy tower. It was disastrous, let me tell you,” she said with a laugh, putting her hand on my knee as she leaned towards me.

“It sounds kind of magical, and cute.”

“Cute would be one word for it. Neither of us had any clue what we were doing, but that’s the point when it comes to your first time. If everyone knew what they were doing, it wouldn’t be any fun.” 

“I’m not so sure mine was fun,” I muttered. “I feel so… dirty. I’ve had to live with this memory every day since I ‘woke up’. I have to look at Newt and relive it. If we ever got to that point, I’d have to tell him who I gave myself to.”

“Oh, Rosaline, you give yourself who you give yourself to. The whole concept of virginity is something men made up to make them feel special.”

“Really?” 

“Somewhat. If it feels special to you, then it is. But don’t let what happened to you damper what might happen with Newt.” 

“Speaking of what might happen… Have you and Theseus….?” I questioned.

“Had sex?” 

I blushed at her words, but nodded.

“No, I don't think we're quite ready for that yet. just being physically close is enough or us right now.”

“That’s really nice,” I mused, beaming softly. “I’m glad you two have found your way to each other.” 

“Me too. It’s incredible right now.” 

After a moment of chewing my lip, I asked her, “Uh, Nora?”

“Hmm?” 

“During my… time… with Grindelwald… I would feel this… odd sensation.”

“Pain?” 

“No, no,” I stated, shaking my head, blushing. “This is embarrassing.”

“Nothing is embarrassing. Go on and ask,” she encouraged. 

“When we were together, I would feel this build up then a sudden… rush? Sometimes it would blind me when it happened and I got really tired afterward. Was I having a panic attack or what was that?” I wondered. 

She threw her head back, laughing. “No, that wasn’t an attack. It’s a good thing. It’s called an orgasm.” 

“Orgasm?” I frowned at her. 

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Did you...Have you had one of those?”

“I had one my first time, with that girl in the tower. I’ve had a few by myself. They feel good, if you know what’s going on.” 

I slowly nodded. “I definitely didn’t.” 

“So you want to though, one day with Newt?” 

“One day? Nora, I’d like to do it right now,” I admitted. “I just can’t because society dictates that we must kiss at this time, then move to the next step. I’ve loved him for a long time and I’ve thought about him physically for years.”

She got a coy look on her face. “Well look at you. I never knew you were so scandalous,” she joked as she peered at me. 

“Oh come off it. You know what I mean. With as long as I’ve loved him, of course it’s natural for me to want his touch like that immediately. I just… Between the flashbacks of Grindelwald, Newt being socially awkward, and society deeming it unfit, what choice do I have?” 

She nodded her head side to side in thought. “You could always entertain the idea… yourself.”

“Myself?”

“Yes, it’s quite easy to recreate an orgasm on your own.” 

I frowned. “Why would I want to do that?” 

“To relieve stress, darling. You want Newt and right now you can’t have him. But on your own, you trust yourself, no one to please, no one to bother you. It’s just you and yourself, making you happy.” 

My gaze narrowed on the floor as I listened. 

“And that’s… okay?”

“Circe’s tits, yes, it’s okay. Why wouldn’t it be?”

I shrugged. “Don’t you have to reserve those kinds of things for your partner?” 

She shook her head, scoffing. “No. You aren’t there to make someone else feel good, even if it’s Newt. I love the kid, but you aren’t just something for him to use. You have urges too, Little Rose.” She reached up and pinched my cheek, making me laugh. 

“How do you even do that?” 

She thought for a moment. “All I’ll say is let your hand travel south, think of Newt, and see how it goes.” 

“Oh, Nora, that’s so… You aren’t serious, are you?”

“Deadly,” she said with a mischievous grin and chuckle. “What’s the worst that could happen? You think of Newt while fireworks go off in your head? Isn’t that what usually happens?” she teased. 

I bobbed my head and agreed with her. 

“On a more serious note,” she said after our giggles and smiles faded, “what are you going to do about Newt. Not the sex, but in general. You aren’t working with him, you can’t kiss him without repercussion, so do you want to move forward?” 

My body toppled backwards. 

“Of course I want to move forward. That’s all I’ve wanted for five years now.” 

“But?” 

“But what if he rejects me?”

“On what grounds?” she asked, laying beside me as she propped her head on her hand, staring down at me. 

“Anything. I’m not… I’m not like you, Nora. You’re warm, funny, brave, smart. It’s easy to see why Theseus fell for you.”

“And Newt fell for you,” she reminded.

“But what if he fell for the assistant? The quiet girl who sat with his creatures. Not the girl who ran off with the bad guy and committed crimes.” 

“You’re still the same person, you’re just a bit wiser now with a past you didn’t ask for, that’s all.”

I turned slightly more towards her. “You know, he said that he knew I had the power to kill you all, and didn’t. So that’s how he knew I was still good despite everything.” 

“He isn’t wrong,” she agreed.

“No, he isn’t. Grindelwald told me to end you all that day at Hogwarts, and I didn’t. Something made me stop.”

“It’s that heart, that heart that Newt fell for.” 

I sighed. “What if I’m not good enough though? He fell for Tina once, what’s not to say he won’t do it again? Perhaps with someone else.” 

Her gaze dropped before she spoke. ���I think I should tell you something.”

“What is it?” 

“The only reason he even looked twice at Tina was because you spouted off some nonsense about not wanting to let people in. About how it would only end in heartbreak.”

“That’s because it’s true,” I snapped.

“Do you still feel that way?”

“Yes.” 

“So why move forward with Newt?”

“He’s my only exception,” I whispered before looking at her. Her face was one of admonishment, making me laugh. “Don’t give me that look. I… I still worry it’ll only end with us being hurt.”

“Sounds like a wonderful way to go through life. Ignoring all possibility of happiness, for the potential to get hurt. Sound plan, Rosaline.” 

“Mock me if you want, but we both know it’s true. Look at Theseus and Newt. They loved Leta and for what? So she could break Newt’s heart and die in front of Theseus.” 

When she said nothing, I continued. 

“Or you? How long did you watch Theseus and wish you had him? Or me and Newt, I watched him with Tina with yearning eyes.” 

“Yes, but maybe if you actually opened up and thawed that heart of yours, you might be surprised at what you find.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Real, unconditional, true love.” 

“Is that what you’ve done with Theseus? Trusted him entirely? Given yourself to him?”

“Yes,” she said confidently.

“And you aren’t worried?”

“About heartbreak?” She shook her head. “Have you ever heard the expression, ‘Tis better to have loved and lost, than to never loved at all?” 

“Yes, but--”

“Then you know, that even if heartache were to swoop in, that you’d still have your memories of you and Newt. that those memories would burn brighter and better, than any dull ache that might occur.” 

“You truly believe that?”

“I have to. Love is a risk, it’s a challenge, it’s fucking scary. But it’s worth it. Without Theseus I’m not sure how I would’ve gotten through this whole mess with you. Love can make you incredibly weak, but it can also make you incredibly strong and resilient.” 

I let her words sink into me, and I listened, wrapping my head around them. Agreeing with her. 

“Yes, but what if my sins, my demons of my past push him away?” I whispered, tears threatening.

She wrapped an arm around me. “They won’t, not if you don’t let them. You once told me to just go all in, even with Theseus engaged.”

“Well, yes that was because I wanted you to be with him. I felt you deserved him more than Leta.”

“I think you’re forgetting who you are, and who you are to Newt. Just let all of this go, and be with him. He wants you, and you want him, that’s all there really is to it.”

“You think so?” 

She took her finger tip and bopped my nose ever so gently. “I know so. Who here is older and wiser?” 

“You’re certainly older, I can see it in your gray hair,” I teased.

“You little demon!” she said before going in to tickle me. “Take it back!” 

“Never!” I boasted, laughing. 

‘I’ll tell Newt about your wild fantasies!” she threatened with laughter in her eyes.

“Okay! Okay! I take it back!” I said, surrendering. 

For the rest of the evening, the two of us lied on the bed, talking mainly girl talk. She filled me in on the bookstore. I filled her in on what my thoughts were for a future job. It really felt like old times and that is exactly what the doctor ordered.

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

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[theladyofdeath]

In the Bleak Midwinter {1}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

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

A/N: At last! Enjoy the tragedy that is about to unfold...

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

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

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The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG} 

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

2 years later…

The wedding had been a peaceful event. Small, just family and close friends. The ceremony was held in a beautiful chapel with stained-glass windows and pews sturdy enough to last the last century. Rowan had waited at the end of the aisle while his bride was escorted to him by her father. 

Aelin was beautiful.

They’d had a hard time planning the perfect wedding- mostly when it came to the guest list. But at last, two years later, they had come to a plan that they agreed on, and all was well.

Well enough, anyway.

Business, both legal and not, had skyrocketed in the past two years. Rowan and Aelin now lived in a massive house just outside of the city. They got a dog, per Aelin’s request, even though Rowan had never been one for pets. Fleetfoot seemed good enough, though. At least she never chewed anything up or shit on the carpet.

As for their enemies, there had only been little squabbles over the past couple years. After Arobynn’s death, the entirety of Orynth belonged to the Cadre, with no doubt from the citizens within. Everywhere Rowan went, people knew his name, knew his reputation, knew who he was and what he did. Not that anyone could prove it. Any of it. The cops still stayed off his back, although he owed a lot of that to those in uniform that he paid to keep quiet. 

He had only recently received news from an enemy that caused true concern, but he had kept it to himself. He wanted to keep the peace...if only for a little while longer.

It had been a while since Rowan had seen his new wife, he realized, after they had returned to their home for a reception to celebrate their marriage. People were everywhere, and his men were on guard around the room - socializing, drinking, but staying alert, per his request. Rowan’s eyes scanned the room as he made his way to the far wall and up the grand staircase and down the hall, to where the master bedroom sat behind a closed set of thick double doors.

He pushed the door open and found Aelin sitting in front of her vanity, fixing her lipstick. Rowan closed the doors and leaned back against them, arms crossed, as he watched.

Aelin met his gaze through her reflection in the mirror.

When she said nothing, Rowan sighed, “Must I ask why you’re up here instead of floating through the ballroom like the social butterfly that you are?” 

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Needed a moment.”

Rowan reeled in the urge to roll his eyes, too. “I know you, Aelin. So please tell me what’s really going on instead of tiptoeing around the issue, for the gods sake.”

Aelin slowly set down her pale, pink lipstick and straightened her back. “I feel you regret marrying me.”

Rowan blinked, shoulders tensing. “We just fucking said our vows an hour ago, what the hell are you talking about?” 

He knew he should approach the subject with caution, and as Aelin’s eyes grew misty, he knew he had to do some damage control - and fast. 

After pushing himself off of the doors, he approached his new wife and knelt before her, resting his hands on her knees as she sat before him on the vanity’s golden stool.

But before he could speak, Aelin said, “You’ve been acting strange lately, Ro, don’t think that I haven’t noticed. I thought you were simply nervous for the wedding, for being in front of all of those people at the ceremony, considering you have to be vulnerable in stating your vows, and let’s be honest, vulnerability isn’t your strong suit.” Rowan snorted, but Aelin went on, “But, now I’m not so sure. I fear you will grow to regret me, regret us, and it has already begun.”

Rowan sighed, closing his eyes for a moment to collect his emotions. Yelling at her, telling her how ridiculous she sounded, would not help matters, not at all. 

Once he opened his eyes, he said, simply, “It’s just your hormones, that’s all.”

Aelin’s eyes had dried and were replaced with hellfire.

Nope, not the right thing to say, at all.

“I just mean,” Rowan said, quickly, placing his hands lovingly over Aelin’s stomach, “that...well….you’re….a little more emotional lately, you know?”

“Fuck off,” she muttered, pushing his hands away. “You blame everything on my hormones. Tell me that one more fucking time, Rowan Whitethorn, and I’m cutting your balls off in your sleep.”

Rowan blinked, as Aelin stood and walked to the other side of the room. She threw open the wardrobe and shuffled through it, even though she wouldn’t be changing her clothes.

“Are we really going to fight on our wedding day?” Rowan asked, standing to his feet. “We have a house full of guests downstairs, Aelin.”

“I don’t care,” she snapped.

“You are such a pain in the ass,” Rowan mumbled.

“Yeah, I am. And you’re a jackass.” She kept her back to him. “I demand to know what’s going on, Rowan.”

He opened his mouth for a snappy retort, but quickly shut it. It wasn’t worth the argument. Not today.

“It’s not you, okay?” Rowan said, sighing, running his hands down his face. “I don’t regret you, Aelin, and honestly, I don’t know how you could even think such a fucking stupid thing. Alright? I love you. I put a fucking kid inside of you. And I love that thing, too.”

Aelin paused her rummaging through the wardrobe and turned around, slowly. “Could you please not refer to our child as a fucking kid or that thing?” 

Rowan’s eyes closed. “You’re asking a lot of me here, A.”

They had yet to tell anyone that Aelin was expecting. It was still early and she had yet to noticeably show. 

Her heels clicked across the hardwood floor, and when Rowan opened his eyes, she was standing in front of him, gold-rimmed eyes still filled with worry. “What’s going on, Ro?”

He sucked in his bottom lip and turned away but Aelin took his chin and forced him to meet her gaze, once more. 

“It’s business,” he said, at last.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Not a good enough one,” she protested.

“Let’s go back downstairs and enjoy the day,” Rowan said, “and later tonight, I’ll fill you in.”

Aelin stared at him for a moment. “It’s just business?”

“It’s just business,” he promised, and took her face into his hands as he kissed her, softly.

Aelin chuckled as she reached up to wipe away the lipstick that had transferred to his lips from hers. “Okay,” she breathed. “Fine. But tell your band of dipshits that they better keep themselves in line tonight. Lysandra says that Fenrys plans to start a fighting ring out back by the end of the night, and if he does that, I will personally kill him myself.” 

“Alright,” Rowan muttered, although Lysandra had told him that, too, and he had thought nothing of it. “I’ll take care of it.”

~~~~~

Gavriel was nearly the last one to make it into the kitchen. The others were there, all who was missing was Rowan himself, who had announced that there would be a meeting in five minutes and if any of them were missing he’d have their balls.

Gavriel leaned back against the wall between Aedion and Vaughan, who offered him a cigarette. Fenrys and Connall were there, too, sitting on the counter top. And then there was Lorcan, nearly about to fall asleep where he stood. Apparently the little one was going through an “I don’t want to sleep” phase - again. Chaol, Dorian, and Ren were talking about something amongst themselves. From what Gavriel could gather, it had something to do with a woman. Judging by the annoyed look in his eyes and the pink tips of his ears, Gavriel assumed that they were trying to set Ren up with one of the guests upstairs. 

After the uniting of Rowan and Aelin, Rhoe and his men became secondary members of the Cadre. They were all family now, after all - at least, that’s what they were told.

By the time Rowan padded down the stairs and into the kitchen, dodging busy waiters as they carried appetizers and champagne upstairs, the room was filled with smoke. 

Rowan didn’t say a word as he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit the tip. He took a long drag before he said, “Today is my wedding day. Which means that it’s an important day for my wife, and since it’s such an important day for my wife, I expect none of you will do anything to ruin it. In short, if you think it will embarrass Aelin, don’t do it.” He stood in the middle of them all, slowly turning, making sure to meet each of their gazes. He stopped when he faced Fenrys. “No fucking fighting.” He pointed from Fenrys, to Connall. “No fucking fighting.”

The twins held their hands up in surrender, as if they had no idea what Rowan was talking about. Beside Gavriel, Vaughan snorted. 

“No fighting. No snow, no drugs,” Rowan went on, emphasizing the word drugs as he looked at Chaol, Dorian, and Ren. “No fucking in public places, gods, no one wants to see that, if you’re taking a woman, please do it upstairs, in one of the guest rooms and lock the fucking door. We don’t need a repeat of...well, any of the times we’ve caught Dorian and Manon in one of their many compromising positions.” Dorian just grinned as Rowan added, “And try not to get shitfaced. Please. Have a drink, but keep your fucking wits.”

“I know you said no drugs,” Fenrys said, raising his hand like he was a fucking schoolboy. “But Lor really looks like he could use a pick-me-up right about now.”

Rowan turned around to find Lorcan, eyes closed, breathing even, as he leaned up against the wall. He slowly walked toward the tall, broad-framed male, and patted his cheek with a little too much force.

Lorcan’s eyes shot open, exhaustion lingering in those onyx eyes. “Hmm?”

“Are you listening?” Rowan asked, cigarette between his teeth.

Lorcan yawned, and nodded. “Yeah. No-No fucking fighting.”

“Right,” Rowan confirmed, then turned around to the rest of them. “No. Fucking. Fighting!”

Rowan turned to leave, cigarette between his teeth. A waiter came around the corner and bumped into Rowan’s shoulder. Gavriel shook his head as Rowan shoved the waiter out of the way and headed out of sight.

“He seems tense,” Aedion muttered.

“He’s always tense,” Gavriel agreed. “Get a few drinks in him. He’ll be fine.”

“Get a few drinks in him then he’ll be the first one fighting,” Connall grinned.

Vaughan chuckled. 

“When’s an appropriate time to leave?” Lorcan asked. “I need sleep.”

“How come you’re so exhausted?” Gavriel asked. “Your wife is upstairs floating around the room like a woman on a mission.”

“That’s because all we’ve seen since the baby’s been born is you miserable lot,” Lorcan muttered. “She’s excited to be around other people, pleasant people.” 

Gavriel laughed as he followed Aedion out of the kitchen and up the servant’s stairs. Things had been going well between the two of them in the two years that had passed. They met for drinks once a week, but often ran into each other and talked for a while in the days in between. 

“Plan to stay for a while?” Aedion asked, walking beside his father.

“I don’t have a choice,” Gavriel said. “Especially if Fen and Connall are going to fight, which they are, no matter what Rowan says. By the end of the night, they’ll be taking bets.”

Aedion laughed, quietly. “Sounds right.”

They fell into the ballroom, at last, and Gavriel watched Aedion’s eyes light up when he spotted Lysandra on the opposite side.

“Go,” Gavriel encouraged, when it was obvious Aedion wanted to walk away.

He never asked how it was going between the two of them, never wanted to push. He knew that the young couple was in love, but that Lysandra’s past still weighed on her heavily. 

Because of that, it seemed like the two simply remained friends.

As much as two people could be friends when they’re in love with one another, anyway. 

Gavriel couldn’t help but watch as Aedion asked Lysandra for her hand and led her onto the dancefloor. He spun her around, joy lighting up his eyes as Lysandra tilted her head back and laughed. 

Then Rowan and Aelin entered the crowd, that little smile that Rowan reserved just for his bride plastered on his face. He deserved it, after all the kid had endured. Although Gavriel supposed Rowan was not a kid, not anymore.

He hadn’t been for a long while.

At least he had Aelin to make him happy.

Gavriel had noticed his shift in the recent weeks, though. He was more tense, more anxious. Something was happening, but Gavriel wasn’t sure what - none of them were. 

And Gavriel knew better than to pressure him about it. 

~~~~~

“I can’t believe you made me leave in the middle of dancing.”

Lorcan sighed. It was the fifth time Elide had said that on their drive home. In reality, Lorcan didn’t make her do anything. She had found him sleeping with a glass of whiskey in his hand at a table in the corner and asked if he needed to go home. 

He mumbled a yes, and they were off.

Of course, now he was the bad guy.

“Blame your daughter,” Lorcan said, opening the front door. “She’s the one that doesn’t let me sleep.” 

Elide shut the door behind them and locked it. The nanny was sitting in the den, sipping from a glass of vodka. Lorcan and the nanny had a love/hate relationship. She spoke a language that Lorcan didn’t understand, but everything she said to him was laced with anger. Elide was fluent, though, and communicated easily with Natalia, who obviously liked Elide a lot more than Lorcan.

He couldn’t complain, though. Any nanny who came to work for him and never asked questions was one he had to hold onto.

Even if she did constantly watch Lorcan with those narrowed, angry green eyes.

Elide asked Natalia a question, and she replied but the only word Lorcan knew was Lucielle. 

He thudded up the stairs, Elide close behind him.

“I assume Lucy was good?” Lorcan murmured.

“Yes,” Elide confirmed, “and Natalia says your tie is silly.”

Lorcan looked down at his tie with a frown. “I like this tie. Cranky old woman.”

She pinched his ass with a quiet giggle. “I know.”

They both made their way into the nursery to check on their one year old. She was sound asleep in her crib, her black, curly hair wild atop her white sheets. Lorcan snorted, shaking his head. 

“Goodnight, my love,” he whispered, brushing that hair back from her forehead, careful not to wake her.

“Come on,” Elide whispered. “Let her sleep.”

They left the nursery and stumbled down the hall into the master bedroom. Elide shut the door as Lorcan crashed onto their bed.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled.

“That’s all I get?” Elide crooned. “I thought we could work on baby number two tonight.”

Lorcan barked a laugh as he put his hands behind his head. Elide started unlacing his boots. “You want two kids waking us up at the crack of dawn?” 

“Why not?” Elide asked, taking off his socks before crawling on top of his body and straddling his waist. 

“Lucy is perfect,” Lorcan mumbled, his hands finding her thighs and lifting up the hem of her skirt so that his fingers could brush her warm skin, just above the garters. “But give me another year before we are blessed with another...angel.”

Elide laughed breathlessly as she leaned down and pressed her lips against her husband’s. “Very well.”

Lorcan yawned. “Fuck me, though. I’ll pull out. Maybe.”

Elide snorted. “How romantic.”

“I’m incredibly romantic,” Lorcan agreed, closing his eyes.

Elide started undoing his belt, but by the time she had his trousers unbuttoned, he was already snoring.

~~~~~

Rowan had left Aelin with the guests that remained, the dancing still going strong, as he snuck out of the back of the house.

Against his wishes, two grown men were fighting near the stables, Fenrys and Connall taking bets. Gavriel and Vaughan both looked curiously at Rowan as he approached.

“Couldn’t stay away?” Gavriel asked.

Rowan pulled the cigarette out from between his teeth. “They don’t listen, do they.”

Vaughan just shook his head.

“Leave them be,” Rowan said, looking away. “I need you two to come with me. Now.”

No one asked questions.

They loaded up into the car and drove to the edge of town, where the old railroad tracks ended. 

Vaughan began to slow down as they approached, upon seeing the black car that sat by the tracks, the lights off.

“What’s going on?” Gavriel asked, quietly.

“Pretend like you already know,” Rowan said, tossing his cigarette onto the gravel as Vaughan put the car in park. Rowan got out, Vaughan and Gavriel at his back. They stood in the middle of the two cars and, a moment later, the car closest to the tracks opened and a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out in a long, black coat and a neat fedora.

Rowan stilled. “Who the fuck are you?”

The man said nothing. He couldn’t have been much older than Rowan, but the look in his blue eyes was unsettling. He recognized him from somewhere, but Rowan couldn’t place him. 

Without a word, the man held up a sealed envelope.

“Not going to talk?” Rowan asked, blinking. “Makes you look shady.”

The man didn’t budge.

He simply held the letter out.

“Very well,” Rowan sighed. He nodded to Vaughan, who stepped forward and snatched the letter out of the man’s hand.

Without another word, the man fell back into the backseat of the car, and they sped off.

Once they were out of sight, Gavriel turned to Rowan. “Is this where we get an explanation?”

Rowan took the envelope from Vaughan and lit a match after breaking the seal and pulling out the letter. He read over it in the ignited light, the other two watching him quietly, curiously. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, then lit the corner of the letter and watched it go up in flames.

“Rowan,” Gavriel growled, neither he nor Vaughan moved from their spots as Rowan turned to get back into the car.

Rowan stopped and sighed as he turned to meet his friends, his family, his Cadre. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he said, “Maeve is back.” Rowan shrugged, turning his back to them to finish the distance to the car. “And she’s pissed.”

He loaded himself into the driver’s seat as Vaughan and Gavriel looked down at the letter on the ground, where the black hand was burning into nothingness and floating away in the night. 

~~~~~~

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[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 69 - Denerim

Chapter Rating: Teen Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Action/Adventure, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Fereldan Culture and Customs, Fereldans, Demisexuality, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read on AO3

--

Twenty-third day of Wintermarch, 9:33 Dragon

Spring flowers bloomed along the western road to Denerim, but the column of riders and infantry that approached was no proud company in parade shine. They were bedraggled and muddy from weeks of fighting along the coast, tired from the day’s march, and while Rosslyn and Alistair straightened in their saddles as they waited at the gate to be let in, they had to roll their shoulders beneath their armour and hide yawns behind their hands. The decapitated heads of traitors watched them sightlessly from hooks set into the walls above them, many of them fresh enough to still be recognisable despite the depredations of the crows. Mother Berit wasn’t among the number, perhaps saved by her Chantry connections, but Bann Loren was, and next to him a younger man with blond hair and a crude green sunburst painted onto his forehead.

“That was Vaughan Kendells,” Rosslyn said, noticing the direction of Alistair’s gaze. “I can’t say I’m sorry.”

He glanced at her, remembering what she had told him, and the lift of Tabris’ chin as she spoke of her escape from the city. “Me neither.”

Before she could do more than smile at the reply, the gate opened and an officer waved them through. The market-day traffic was thinner than it had been the last time Alistair had visited capital, and he saw more beggars on the streets, but those who stopped to watch them pass did so with open, curious gazes instead of the harried suspicion that had met them in Amaranthine. On impulse, he nudged his horse closer to Rosslyn and held out his hand. Gaze soft, she took it and linked their fingers together as she had in Uldred’s dream, only this time they bumped knees, and there was a smudge of dirt under her eye, and all of his bones ached from days on the road to tell him it was real. People cheered, and it made her blush.

Her smile still lingered when they reached the palace gates and dismounted to hand off care of the army to the officers, and their horses to the grooms that had appeared from a side arch as if by magic. In the momentary confusion, he stepped close to her so he could distract himself from their formal welcome by brushing away the smear on her cheek.

The last time he had been brought to the palace, as part of Teagan’s entourage, he had been all but smuggled in under a helmet to hide his resemblance to the various portraits of Theirin ancestors hung in almost every room; there hadn’t been two flanking rows of guards waiting at attention as they walked up the steps, nor an announcement by a herald. Rosslyn’s titles outnumbered his, and it gave them a moment to pause before they were ushered through.

“Relax,” she told him. “You’re not heading to an execution.”

He only pouted. “This is just as bad as Summerday.”

“Is it really?” she asked, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Well. Maybe some things are better.”

He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at the wry look she tilted at him, but before he could say anything else, the doors to the great hall swung open to reveal not just Cailan and Anora sitting on their thrones on the dais, but also Rosslyn’s grandparents, straight-backed and magnificent in their finery.

“So here ye are,” the Storm Giant boomed. “At last! We were starting to worry ye’d upped and run off with her.”

Anora shot him a peeved glance. “Your Highness, my Lady Cousland, be welcome in our hall.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Rosslyn replied as she sank into a graceful bow.

“I trust your journey was not too eventful?”

“Given your track record, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a slew of rescued damsels left in your wake,” Cailan interrupted. He was frowning, and a bitter, sullen note coloured his voice. “Perhaps you stopped by Soldier’s Peak to rid it of all its ghosts?”

“Not quite,” Alistair supplied, with a careful glance to the woman beside him.

The king seemed to shake himself out of his bad humour. “A jest, of course. It’s good to see you both unharmed.”

Rosslyn adjusted her stance, folding her arms behind her back as if she were delivering a report from the field. “Bann Esmerelle of Amaranthine proved difficult to convince of her allegiances, Your Majesty. We are sorry for the delay.”

“We are glad of your safe arrival, of course – especially given the happy tidings you bring with you,” Anora said easily, without looking at her husband. “My congratulations to you both.”

“Indeed.” Lady Lileas, who until that point had merely watched proceedings unfold before her like an augur scrying bones, swept forward and pulled her granddaughter into a hug. “It’s good to see you, mo chridhe. And as for you,” she added, turning to Alistair with a stare that made him shrink away like a mouse, “You bested An Sgòrnan Aigeinn. I am satisfied.”

“Uh…”

“Can we be away now?” the Storm Giant interrupted with impatience. “My oald joints are starting to creak like a mizzen in a hoolie.”

“You’re not staying in the palace?” Alistair asked.

Lady Lileas smiled. “My grandson has kindly granted us use of his estate while we see to the preparations for your wedding, and we are still Rosslyn’s guardians.” Her expression darkened. “That swine left it in a terrible state. His death was well deserved. Come, granddaughter, you must wish to change out of armour, and there is much to discuss.”

A frown creased Rosslyn’s forehead. “It’s almost dark already and we’ve been travelling since dawn. I’m sure Their Majesties would not begrudge their hospitality – any discussion can wait until tomorrow.”

“You are not staying here,” her grandmother replied, as if the suggestion were absurd.

“I’m Commander-in-Chief of the army,” she pointed out. “I’m needed to plan the spring advance – the war isn’t over yet.”

“You are also not married yet.”

“This is because…?” Her eyes flew wide. “What do you think will happen? It’s not like we haven’t –” Faltering, her gaze flashed to Alistair and skittered away again as crimson bloomed across her cheeks. “We’ve been together on the road for weeks, what difference does it make now?”

“This is how things are done in the joining of two houses.” Lady Lileas drew herself up. “You know this.”

Behind his wife, the Storm Giant cleared his throat and said something in Clayne that Alistair failed to catch, but instead of lifting Rosslyn’s expression it only served to set her mouth in a line of petulant defeat. It was adorable.

“My things will need to be forwarded,” she said. “And I’ll require a schedule for meetings with the army’s officers and outfitters.”

“It will be done,” Cailan told her, having watched the whole exchange from behind steepled fingers. “And the sooner you get married, the sooner we can move your things back, eh?”

With nothing left to say, and a last helpless glance back at Alistair, Rosslyn was chivvied from the hall less like a war hero and more like a child caught shirking lessons, taking their plans for a quiet, shared evening with her and leaving him to wonder at just how quickly their fortunes had been turned around. Anora and Cailan’s gazes itched on the back of his neck, and he only barely remembered to turn to ask their leave before running after her. The clanking of his armour echoed ahead of him, and he found them already waiting just inside the entrance hall at the top of the steps. The looks being levelled at him were not favourable.

“Uh – can I have a moment to speak to my betrothed?” The word still sparked on his tongue. He doubted he would get used to it before he was calling her his wife instead, but thinking about that too closely made him dizzy. “In private?” he added, as he slipped his hand into Rosslyn’s.

The Storm Giant nudged his wife with his elbow. “Ach, go on.”

The clan leader of the Mac Eanraig pursed her lips at him, but it didn’t quite hide the twitch of her amusement. “We will wait in the carriage.”

He didn’t dare breathe until Rosslyn’s grandparents had reached the bottom of the steps, and then, spying an unobtrusive side door leading off the hall, he tugged on their joined fingers and pulled her after him with only the thinnest veneer of patience. The door swung open easily onto a small room lit by a single arrow slit, and the latch clicked back into place behind them an instant before he dropped her hand so he could take her face instead. She giggled as her forehead pressed against his.

“What is this place?”

“A storeroom – something – I don’t care,” he answered. “How long do you think it will be before they come looking for us?”

Gently, she shook her head and nudged a kiss against his lips. “Nowhere near long enough for all these layers of armour, my love.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he purred.

“I’m sure.”

One gloved finger traced the line of her jaw. “I told you we should have stayed in bed this morning.”

“Soon, we’ll be able to stay in bed every morning,” she reminded him.

“In our bed.” His breath stuttered.

“No sneaking away back to separate rooms.”

“Then…” He steadied himself and found her hand again. “This is just another reason why Guardian can’t come fast enough. How am I going to last without you for so long?”

She laughed, lightly pushing him away so she could get to the door again. “I’m not disappearing off the face of Thedas, and it’s only a few weeks. We’ll see each other every day – we’ve been through worse.”

“I’ll dream of you,” he promised.

“My grandmother would be scandalised.” She pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth as she turned to leave. “Everything will be fine.”

--

It was not fine.

Aside from the wedding plans – fabrics and food and guest invitations and the small feud that erupted between Anora and Rosslyn’s grandmother because of it – they were kept ridiculously busy organising for the march south, and assisting in the city’s rebuilding efforts. They saw each other only in snatches for daily meetings, and barely exchanged two words that were not about policy or supplies. In addition to the schedule, Rosslyn had to drag herself across the city every morning to oversee the army’s drills, which meant most moments she had to herself during the day were spent trying to catch up on sleep.

To keep himself from missing her too much, Alistair took on oversight of the alienage. Nobody else seemed to care about the damage done to the elves, and while Cailan indulged him, or perhaps lacked interest, many of the other nobles already in attendance for Wintersend muttered that he was wasting both time and money on a worthless cause. They quieted after he pointed out that having to contend with an uprising would only add to the strain being faced by all of them, but having to appeal to their self-interest left a bad taste in his mouth.

Anora, at least, offered support for his efforts. As the time went by and Cailan’s preoccupation with finding Loghain took up more and more of his thoughts, the day-to-day politics of the palace fell to her. For this reason, relations with her continued to be fraught, especially in regards to military matters. She didn’t like people stepping on her toes. She didn’t stand for breaks with decorum, either, but she was fair and even-handed in her judgements, and for the sake of peace, Alistair tried his best to follow her lead and stay out of her way.

The only bright spots in all the blandness of days passing too slowly came in the notes he and Rosslyn managed to smuggle to each other during meetings and meals, the only times they got to touch, or even stand next to each other. She had passed the first to him in a chance encounter in one of the corridors, a brief press into his hand and she left with just the flash of her smirk tossed over her shoulder, and a glance down to where a neatly folded square of paper sat in his palm. Before anyone could call him away, he had slipped into a nearby empty room and pored over the lines, just a few sentences written in her elegant hand, but more than she had been able to say to him since they had arrived in Denerim.

I’ll not trust any messengers this time save our own hands, my love, and the time cannot come soon enough when I get to hold yours. When I get to be alone with you. When I can fall asleep beside you once more and never again worry about how long it will be until we must part. I love you.

He passed her his reply with the salt cellar at dinner.

I love you too. I wake up thinking of you. I miss curling around your body and waking you with kisses, even if your hair so often gets caught in the middle. I miss the sound of your voice and the brightness of your eyes. I’d write poetry about them, but you haven’t married me yet and I don’t want to risk it.

It became a game between them, this sly exchange of notes, each one a tiny rebellion at the strictures of propriety, a private conversation when no privacy was allowed.  

My hair would not get so wild if a certain someone didn’t take such delight in tangling it the night before. In case you start to worry, that was not a complaint. I miss your voice as well, and your hands, and what both can do to me, although one benefit of distance is that I get to admire my future husband from afar without him noticing. Your footwork showed great improvement when you were sparring today, though you still drop your elbow too far when you block.

~

You enjoy making me blush, don’t you? Perhaps I can return the favour, Wife-To-Be. There was a moment in the gardens yesterday where you were wandering among the shrubbery with no idea that I was stuck only a floor above you, listening to Brantis drone on about the advantages of a trade deal Cailan has already agreed to. My attention may have wandered, and my hand was nothing but a thrall to the vision before me. I’m sure you can guess the subject.

~

I will treasure this likeness, my love, if I am allowed to keep it? I ought to admonish you for not paying more attention to Brantis, given how hard he tries, but I find I do not have the heart. The expression you captured here, is this truly how I look? Rest assured that I am blushing profusely, though I made the mistake of opening your offering for the first time while in the same room as my brother. Fergus seems to have taken it upon himself to stuff a year’s worth of insufferable brotherly affection into a few short weeks, though in hindsight I should not have told him your note included a sketch. He also says if we want to keep these messages secret, you ought to do better containing your grin in the exchanges. I told him to boil his head.

~

I am glad you like the sketch. It’s yours. I might never do you justice, but maybe in the future we’re to have together, I might practice? You looked tired when I saw you today (yesterday, by the time you read this), and you cannot tell me Wintersend isn’t preying on your mind. I know you too well. I cannot tell you how to feel, but please remember that I love you. So much.

As the holiday approached, Rosslyn’s sombre mood grew more pronounced, and she withdrew into herself. In the palace, the time was marked for celebration, and the festival spirit was upheld by an army of harried servants made busy decorating and preparing guest rooms for the visiting nobles – but it had also been a year since the sack of Highever, since Fergus and Rosslyn had marched away to war and returned to find a ruin. Alistair did what he could to bolster her spirits, but short of slipping his night guard and breaking into the Cousland estate like a common thief, there was little remedy for the nightmares she refused to admit were plaguing her again.

On the morning of the feast he spent an extra hour in the lists, trying to beat out his nerves on practice dummies. The usual meetings had been put on hold for the day, which meant he wouldn’t see her until she arrived with the rest of the guests just before sundown. It would be their first public appearance as a couple, the only one before the wedding, and that meant extra fuss in his attire lest the assembled nobility find him lacking either as a prince or as a prospective husband. Besides, he wanted his betrothed to be impressed.

While he bathed, Marten lay out the same rust-red doublet he had worn for Summerday, with the addition of the mantle made for the voyage to the Storm Islands, and the bracers Rosslyn herself had given him to meet her grandfather. He traced his fingers over the embossed leather as his valet fussed with his collar, remembering. He had almost kissed her after she helped him put them on the first time. Looking back, at what came later, he was glad he hadn’t but he wondered if she knew. Even during the darkest part of his time in Orzammar, he had worn the gift, too stubborn and too hopeful to give them up, and now he couldn’t stop smiling, and the day when he would become her husband rose barely a week away on the horizon, a lighthouse guiding all his thoughts to safe harbour.

“You’re all set, Your Highness,” Marten pronounced, bushing an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulders.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Alistair fiddled with a sleeve.

“You know her better than me, milord,” the valet pointed out. “I wouldn’t dare presume her taste in outfits.”  

“Right.”

Marten licked his lips. “No one’s in doubt that she loves you, but if you stand up here all night worrying – well, that’ll hardly do you any good, now will it? I’ve done the best I can for you.”

“And you have my eternal gratitude for it,” he replied.

With one last glance in the long mirror, and a deep breath to steady himself, Alistair nodded and left the room. When he reached the door to the king’s chambers further along the corridor, it was a maid who answered his knock, and she told him both Cailan and Anora were still indisposed. Then she shut the door again with a decisive click, before he could say anything else. He shifted on the balls of his feet. The light outside the window was fading from the brightness of late afternoon, which meant a good number of the guests should have arrived. He didn’t want to lurk in the hallway, awkward and bumbling and gossip-fodder for any servants who happened to catch a glance of him in all his worried finery, but he also didn’t want to make a nuisance of himself in the hall – Isolde had always sneered that he got under people’s feet, and however much he tried to block it out, the contemptuous echo of her in his mind remained persistent.

But Rosslyn would arrive soon, if she wasn’t already waiting for him. He could make small talk pretending to oversee the final preparations for the feast until she arrived, and then, he reasoned to himself as he walked, he could talk to her. He could spend the whole night talking to her, and nobody would be able to stop him. Maybe he could sneak her away, to some shady corner where he could hold her hand, and run his fingers through her hair, and kiss her. His thoughts wandered far enough in imagining it that his foot slipped on the first step of the landing and he only saved himself from tumbling all the way to the bottom of the stairs by snatching his hand out for the banister.

“Ow,” he grumbled, massaging his shoulder. “I really hope nobody saw that.”

Allers, the royal guard stationed in an alcove a little way away, made no response to his suspicious glare.

“Alistair?”

His face heated. It was Rosslyn. She stood at the base of the stairs with one hand on the banister and the other lifting the hem of her gown to keep it out of the way of her feet, frozen in the act of rushing up to meet him.

“Huh?”

She was in deep blue damask, the folds of the sleeves and the low, broad dip of the neckline richly embroidered, the fabric outlining the curve of her waist. Her hair fell in a thick black curtain down her back, braided and pinned with the aurum laurel wreath she had worn in the Storm Islands – and around her neck, bare on her pale skin for all to see, his amulet hanging at the end of a delicate silverite chain.

“You fell,” she said.

“I –” He swallowed. “Only for you, dear lady.”

She rolled her eyes, but waited as he skipped down the stairs to meet her, and smiled when he caught her hand to press his lips to the knuckles. Close to, the elegance of her dress didn’t quite hide the slump of her shoulders, nor the brittle fatigue that tightened the corners of her mouth.

“You’re early,” he murmured, still holding her fingers.

She shrugged. “There wasn’t much left to do at the estate, and I wanted to see you.”

“I’ve wanted to see you, too.” He leaned forward. “And I’ve wanted…”

Before he could finish the thought, she reached up and pressed a halting finger against his lips. “I had to drag Fergus with me.”

Fergus. Of course. He followed the tilt of Rosslyn’s head to where her brother stood not even that far away, with one eyebrow raised and his arms folded across his chest, the very picture of a concerned guardian who had just caught someone nefarious swooping down on his charge. Alistair, preoccupied with other things, had completely failed to notice him.

“Ah – um. Your Lordship! You’re looking well.”

“Your Highness,” Fergus answered mildly. “Please, do carry on with my sister. It’s not like our grandmother is in the next room, wondering where we’ve snuck off to.”

“You could go and stall her if you like,” Rosslyn suggested, and when her brother only returned her a flat look, she frowned. “Please, Ferg? I did it for you – for weeks.”

“Only because I bribed you,” he retorted, but his face softened. “Fine, I’m going. But don’t do anything too outrageous.”

“I think that means you’re not allowed to spirit me away to somewhere nobody can find us,” she huffed as he ducked through the door, already looping her arms around Alistair’s neck.

His hands found her waist. “Damn, that’s my plan foiled, then. Please tell me I can kiss you, at least?”

“You may,” she giggled.

“Good.”

His heart thundered more than it should for such a simple brush of lips, but before he could sink too far into the feeling, he pulled away so he could see her expression. Her eyes were still closed, her head turned into his palm like a flower angling its petals towards the sun.

“How are you?” he asked.

A sigh, and her eyes fluttered open to focus on his chin. “It… hasn’t been a good day. I’ve tried to keep myself busy, but it hasn’t really worked. It’s been a whole year, and yet all I’ve been able to think is that they should be here. That it’s –”

“Not your fault,” he interrupted firmly. “I wish I could have been with you – I mean, not that I don’t every day, but today especially, I wish I could’ve been there to make it easier.”

“I had your notes,” she reminded him with a weak smile. “That kept the worst of it at bay.”

He grinned. “Did it now? In that case, I’ll feel a little better giving you this.” With the flourish of a showman, he reached into the end of his sleeve and pulled out a folded square of paper. “For later,” he explained. “When you don’t have an audience. There’s words in it that I hope are reassuring, but also – since you liked the last sketch so much, I thought as a distraction…”

Their fingers brushed as she took the note from him. The blush rising in her cheeks chased away the wan tone of her skin, and for a moment Alistair allowed his mind to linger over all the other scandalous ways he might prompt such a reaction.

She smirked at him. “If it needs to be so private, I had best keep it safe.”

Before he could ask her what she meant, she folded it once more and with nimble fingers slipped it down the front of her dress. Alistair stared. She smoothed her hands over the silk to make sure nothing poked out where it shouldn’t, unconcerned. It was a perfunctory gesture, businesslike, and yet far too thorough to be innocent.

“Are you alright?” she asked sweetly, once she was finally satisfied that everything lay in its proper place.

He managed a strangled sort of noise. “Nothing a long soak in Lake Calenhad wouldn’t cure.” When he caught her expression, falling from a smirk into true concern, he shook his head and pulled her closer, until they were standing hip to hip. “I’ll manage. And don’t think I won’t get you back for that little performance.”

“You started it.”

“You like tormenting me.”

She laughed at that, and darted a quick kiss against his mouth that he was too slow to return. “Shouldn’t you be going to greet your guests?” she asked. “Where is the king?”

“Applying the finishing touches, I think.” He cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell on Cailan or his moods, not with Rosslyn in his arms. “We should be safe from disgrace, in any case. One is only late if one arrives after royalty, after all.”

“You are royalty, my love,” she murmured, smiling wider as he waggled his eyebrows.

“And soon you will be, too.” The reminder stole his breath. “Uh… shall we?”

The eyes of every guest turned to look at them as he appeared in the doorway with Rosslyn on his arm, but for once, he didn’t mind the attention, or the wave of movement that swept through the room as people bowed to him in greeting. Her grandparents stood in one corner with Fergus, given their own deference as foreign dignitaries, and while the back of his neck heated under their knowing gaze, there were enough distractions elsewhere to keep him from too much embarrassment.

He even managed to avoid glancing lower than Rosslyn’s collarbones. Mostly.

“Aye, and don’t they make a handsome couple?” Bann Ferrenly preened once he caught them into his orbit. “I predicted this, you know. I said to my dear Raina, ‘We can’t have these two in such close quarters without them falling for each other. Mark my words,’ I said, ‘There’s much to admire in him, and he would be a fool not to see the quality of such a lady!’”

“Of course,” Bann Aldubard agreed stiffly. “Who could have predicted otherwise?”

At the other side of their circle, Arlessa Élodie of South Reach laid a delicate hand on Rosslyn’s arm. “I, for one, am glad that this war has not been all tragedy – we must move forward, must we not?”

When Cailan and Anora eventually joined the gathering, even Bann Ferrenly was almost out of anecdotes, so it was a relief to follow the line of torches the servants had lit in the darkened gardens, to where a troupe of mummers had set up a stage in front of an open-fronted pavilion furnished with a long table that was already groaning with food. As the nobility were directed to their seats, the troupe master welcomed them and announced a performance of Dane and the Werewolves. At first, Alistair kept his eye on his brother and the carafe of wine placed by his elbow, but though Cailan looked tired, he was dressed in fresh clothes and his hair had been brushed and braided, and he was minding Anora’s voice in his ear.

Rosslyn slipped her hand into his. In the distraction offered by the players she had nudged her chair close enough to his to press against him to the knee. They could do little more under so many watchful eyes, but with every moment counting time down to the wedding, still so many days away, it was enough.

“To us?” she suggested when the servers had filled their goblets and everyone else was preoccupied with the strut of the warpainted hero onto the stage.

He touched his cup to hers and leaned across with a kiss. “To spending our lives together,” he agreed.

--

It was only the following morning that he spotted the note she must have slipped inside his tunic. He picked it off the middle of his bedroom floor with his head still ringing from his hangover, his thoughts whirling about the one he had given her, whether she had opened it yet, what she thought of it, if the ink had smudged against her breasts after spending so many hours pressed to her skin. Perhaps going beyond words into illustrations was a step too far, and even now she was marching through Denerim’s streets to out him as a lecher and declare there wouldn’t be a marriage after all. If it were so, at least he’d have one last message from her to remember her by.

Today I cannot help but think about the past, but the weight sits less heavy on my shoulders knowing my future lies with you. We have fought through so much, together and apart, and it is strange to think how I ever managed without you. What if we had never met, or if our paths had crossed in some other way? Would I still miss waking up without you? Would you miss me?

His worry vanished. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pressed the paper to his lips, wishing it could be her instead, that he could put his arms around her and drive out all her doubt.

He was at his desk and finishing his reply before he had even changed out of his smallclothes.

I would miss you. I do miss you. There is an empty space in the bed and the pillows don’t smell like you. You make me better, and make me want to be better. If someone could knock me out so I can wake up on the morning of our wedding without having to endure the torture of not being able to hold you, I would be very grateful.

~

My love, if you lie unconscious, who will distract me with such delightful correspondence? Who will smile at me as you do? And what if whoever it is hits you too hard on the head and kills you? No, it cannot be risked. You must continue to suffer, as I assure you I do as well, but only for a little while longer.

~

For you, perhaps I might make it three days, and believe me, I am counting every moment until you become my wife. I cannot wait to be your husband. I love you.

~

Two days, my love. I can barely eat for nerves.

~

I haven’t slept – can’t until I have you in my arms again. I’ll see you tomorrow.