#also yes dorian is that small
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:((( We here at the HOA are here to serve the community. How the community treats us:
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#why do i look massive#fae n i are the same size ingame#also yes dorian is that small#and bald#baldrian#dorian realm#Cobstone HOA
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THE POSSIBILITIES OF THE NEXT EPISODE ARE SENDING ME INTO ORBIT:
Veth & Braius - the horniest throw down of all time feat Sam (x2)
Caleb & Dorian - Caleb (Liam) telling Dorian to get his shit in gear and just TALK to Orym (also Liam)
Fearne & Jester - Ashley and Laura at their most powerful
Yasha & Beau & Fearne & Imogen & Laudna - the gayest thing ive ever seen
Fjord & Cad & Orym - 2 wildmother worshippers who see a small man with a vestige from the wildmother and adopt him immediately
Caleb & Ashton - “my husband said you have a beacon in your head” “yes sir”
Cad & Laudna - two spooky dead people a la the Spider-Man meme
Ashton & Beau - they will either hate each other or love each other
Dorian & Fjord - I truly believe they will match each others freak
Veth & Orym - Sam WILL give Orym (Liam) the shove to talk to Dorian because Sam is a shit-stirrer
Fjord & Imogen - southern to southern connection and then Laura breaks it by being jester and saying “fjord you’re doing the old accent again” and Travis’s nose starts bleeding
Yasha & Braius - black and white monochrome big baddies
Beau & Orym - fighter to fighter connection
Yasha & Orym - tough, angsty widows who found love in a (literal) hopeless place
Braius & Jester & Veth - “wait, why do you look so familiar?”
#I’m literally getting a nosebleed just thinking about it#I need it to be next week SO bad#critical role#critical role spoilers#bells hells#mighty nein#1k
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Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, oral (m receiving), choking, hair pulling, fluff.
It was an October evening. The sun had long since set, causing all the streetlights to go out. Now, the moonlight shining through the window was the only light you could use to continue reading your favorite book.
Accompanied by the sound of rain, you devoured the pages of The Picture of Dorian Gray. With a sigh, you turned the next page. You were getting close to the end, which made you even more sadder. Your weak spot was your attachment to books and some people.
Specifically to one person.
“Baby?“ Your boyfriend's voice caught your attention. You put the book on the bedside table and bit your lip at the sight of your boyfriend standing in only his lovely pink pajama pants. “Are you still reading?”
“Oh..“ you sighed softly, completely dazed.
"Whoa, you alright?" Colby looked down at you, concerned on his face, "Y/n."
You shake your head slightly, "Yeah." You stand up straight, "You just.." You found a more comfortable position, "Look so beautiful tonight"
“Only tonight?” he laughed brilliantly, moving closer to the bed. Then he lay down and took you in his arms, giving you a tender kiss on your forehead. You immediately forgot about the plot of the book that you were reading eagerly just moments ago.
You gently brushed his hair away and planted a kiss on his bare shoulder, only realizing you'd tickled him when you heard a small, muffled laugh come from the crook of your neck where Colby was resting his head.
During that quiet intimate moment the only sounds that could be heard in the room were your breaths and the sound of your kisses.
“Have I interrupted you in anything?“ he murmured dreamily, after a while.
“No, I was just reading.” You denied it immediately.
"I love you." He muttered as he gently pulled away from him, after some moments, and you cupped his face in your hands after tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “We can continue, if you want.”
“Continue what?” You raised an eyebrow.
“Reading your book.” He replied with embarrassment.
"My sweet, smart boy." You laughed before placing a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you too. And sure, we can continue reading my beloved Dorian Gray.”
“Oh.” He clutched his heart dramatically.
A smile appeared on your face. “Are you jealous because of a fictional character?”
He pretended to feel offended, making you laugh again. Just as he was about to answer, the loud sound of thunder interrupted him. You flinched unexpectedly.
Now he was the one laughing. You huffed in mock outrage.
“My little girl is afraid of thunderstorms?” He gently ran his fingers through your hair’s. “Let me take care of you properly, love.”
You nodded and tried not to smile too wide when you leaned in to kiss him.
You do a whole lot more than just kiss him, though. You open his mouth with your own and lick inside with a confident tongue. You take the breath from his lungs with little effort, leaving him more breathless than he has been all night.
“Wanna suck you off,” you murmured, slurred and muffled against his mouth.
Colby breathed out a laugh, one mixed with amusement and disbelief. “I rarely know this side of you, babe.” He told you, smoothing wide palms up and down your arms.
“Do you want a blowjob or not?”
“Well, yeah, but I—”
“Good,” you hummed with a smile before sinking to your knees in front of him. You unbuttoned his pants and free his half-hard cock from the confines of his pants. You tugged at the hem of his underwear until his heavy balls hang over the plaid fabric.
Finally you decided to have mercy on him as you flattened your tongue against his dick, deciding to follow the vein from his base to his tip. Colby let out a high-pitched whine followed by a "thank you", but you didn’t really care. Yes, it felt good for him, but this was also for your pleasure. You swirled your tongue around his leaking tip, tasting the salty essen.
“Jesus fucking christ— you’re so pretty, baby— fuck.” He tilted his head back, gripping the sheets. “Fuck, please baby. Don't stop.”
You smiled up at the wrecked man, the man begging for you to continue. You could feel the light pressure of his hand against your head trying to push you closer to his groin.
“Can I kiss you?” He surprised himself as the question had left his mouth.
“Please.” you whined with desperation, making Colby groan as his lips found yours in a frenzy.
Your fingers slowly trailed down, finally wrapping your dainty hand around the sheer girth and length that was Colby’s cock.
Another unashamed whimper fell from between his pretty lips.
“That feels good, baby?” You murmured into his mouth between the smacks that echoed off the walls.
“Fuck, yeah mhm, it does.” He rushed out awkwardly, making you giggle into the kiss.
You took him back into your mouth, but that time without mercy as you relaxed your throat, slowly moving down inch by delicious inch as you tried not to gag, his tip now bullying your uvula like his own personal punching bag.
You fucked his aching cock into your throat, bobbing your head up and down, over and over.
“I need your cock so bad Colby.” You moaned.
“Use me, please. J-just fuck, just use me pretty girl.” Colby whimpered.
“Yes, sir.” You whispered into his ear before placing a gentle kiss there. You turned around, hand grabbing onto his still hard cock, you lower yourself into his lap, pink tip already prodding at your hole as your back became flush with his chest, you lay your head back against his shoulder and burrowed it into his neck, both of you moaning in unison as you sink onto him, slowly.
He was so big it was like he was ripping you in half, but you welcomed the burn. The pleasure and pain of it all made your cunt drip even more, further creating less pain and a whole lot more pleasure.
“Shit, you’re so wet and so fucking warm, baby.” Colby huffed.
You wailed as your legs begin to shake, your cunt clenching around him as your nails digging into his thighs that continue to slap up into the backs of yours.
“Colby– I’m cumming, oh my god!” You sobbed, when the most intense pleasure was coursing through your body, turning you into a twitching mess.
“Fuck, me too baby, wher-” He didn’t even get to finish, before you were begging him to cum inside you. Of course he obliged, eyes rolling back into his head and cock throbbing as his heavy load shot deep inside you.
“Goddammit.” He whispered into your neck.
The intensity of the moment consumed you, as he poured every ounce of himself into you, leaving you both utterly spent and satisfied. You both were breathless and drenched in perspiration, your legs entwined with his.
The storm seemed to be going away, the quiet rumbling was barely audible. All of a sudden the street lights came back up. Colby chuckled and sighed.
“So, you still want to read that book of yours again?”
#colby brock#colby brock smut#colby brock fanfic#sam golbach x reader#sam golbach smut#sam and colby smut#colby brock x reader#sam and colby#colby brock fanfiction#hell week#colby brock x y/n#colby brock x you#colby brock fluff#sam golbach#colby brock imagine
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See, the Treviso vs Minrathous choice would be cool! It's a good choice on paper, but it's executed... not so great (the game's framing as "if you don't save this city it will have Political Consequences vs if you don't save that city All The Civilians Who Can't Flee Will Die because the whole water supply will get blighted" when you have to make your choice is kind of ass, as a baseline) and then it gets further undermined when the final battle is in Minrathous so the city gets fucked up and the venatori mostly take it over in the chaos anyway because Rook gets stuck in Fade jail for several weeks. It turns the decision into "do I want to blight one city or both?" on a second playthrough which does, indeed, have a 'morally right' answer.
And that's the problem with this 'complex and interesting moral question'. This is why people are unhappy with it. Because it completely fails to stick the landing.
See, this is nothing against you, but I knew I was going to get messages like this, even before I would have hit "post".
I'm not saying that either decision is "right". That's the point of it all, that there is no "right" answer, and arguments can be (and are, within the game) raised in favor of both. That's what it's supposed to be about, that from Rook's point of view (as a character, not your point of view, as the player), there are good, significant reasons to save both, but they can only aid one, because they are only one person. It's meant to make your character feel small, and to highlight the enormity of the foe that they are facing. Its purpose is to make Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain feel like they have all the tools to win the war, even when they lose a battle.
Now, ngl, I'm just going to straight up ignore the "oh Minrathous gets blighted in the endgame anyway so there's no point" line of reasoning altogether, because Rook has no way of knowing that. That's metagaming, and if that's the way you want to play your game, you're obviously welcome to do so, it's no skin off my back, do whatever you want forever... but characters in linear stories should, theoretically, only be capable of acting within the confines of their narrative. If we want to actually talk about the ramifications of certain decisions, it doesn't make sense to me to act as if a character should have the ability to make a decision based on information that they have no way of having. I don't think that's productive to the conversation.
(plus, I would argue that adding that as a potential regret, the knowledge that them dooming Treviso ultimately didn't accomplish nearly as much as they thought it would, is far more compelling from a character- and a storytelling point of view, than going into it all with the intention of making All The Right Choices, with Rook secure in the knowledge that at least they are going to be proven "right" by posterity. That does far less for me, personally. I think your Rook is allowed, even encouraged, to have complex, contradictory feelings about the decisions they make.)
Second of all, for three games now, we have been told that Tevinter and the constant, decades-long war they have been engaged in with the Qunari is the only thing that stands in the way of the Qunari expansion towards Orlais, Nevarra, the Marches- there is a reason the occupation starts in Rivain and Antiva, the coastal regions of the mainland furthest from the Imperium.
For two games, we have known that the Venatori (due to many of them being old money, old blood, powerful magisters) have infiltrated the highest ranks within the Magisterium, that they are cunning and dangerous and lying in wait, and that they pull the strings from many directions, with not much besides a handful of Magisters (Dorian and Maevaris included), the Shadow Dragons, and the Archon (who, if the Inquisitor kept Radonis in power, is not only an ally to the Inquisition, but also vocally opposed Corypheus, and, by proxy, the Venatori) to stand in their way.
Yes, there are always many civilian lives at stake. Yes, Treviso is devastated in the attack and its aftermath (physically to a much more extensive degree than Minrathous), and yes, the immediate threat of the dragon causes more obvious destruction there- blighting the canals, causing a staggering loss of life, all of these effects will stretch far into the future.
But in Minrathous, the dragon is not the focal point. It's a distraction.
In Minrathous, the dragon is there to create chaos, to rampage and destroy all it can in order to sow discord and divert protection away from the Archon's palace (notably the place with the cannons that it very well can't turn onto itself), so that the Venatori can break through the Archon's guard, and successfully pull off a bloody coup that then puts them unequivocally in control of the capital city of one of the most powerful and influential countries of Thedas: military, magic, power all together.
And while saving Minrathous at that moment doesn't result in the city being perfectly peaceful, all fine, great and dandy, the Archon still dies as a result of the attack, it does at least ensure that their defenses are not stretched too thin, fighting on two different fronts at the same time. As a consequence of that, it ensures that the Black Divine, one of the pivotal people standing in the way of the Venatori expansion, doesn't contract the Blight. It stops members of the abolitionist group that's known- and respected for standing up for the needs of the disenfranchised and oppressed from being openly decimated, and strung up in the streets like Christmas lights.
It stops the Venatori, who then have next to no one to oppose them, from doing damn near irreparable damage, and tossing all the political progress of the last decade into the nearest shitter to catapult Tevinter back to times when nobody bat an eye to the rich and powerful using people as furniture.
(And, though this is pure speculation, this can be disregarded, however fractured the Antaam is, however many of their forces they have diverted towards Rivain and Antiva, I don't think it's such a stretch of the imagination to say that it'll likely only take them time to realize that with their allies now in control of Minrathous, they have an open avenue through Tevinter to enter Orlais, seize Val Royeaux, seize the Marches city by city, and force the Blight-ravaged south to fight on two fronts at the same time.)
I don't think any of these are things that I'm pulling out of my ass, or something that Rook isn't made aware of. Neve doesn't hammer it home quite so clearly, she also doesn't have the gift of foresight, but in the blind panic that she is communicating in that moment, she does say that her primary concern is the Venatori coup, and the player has been introduced to the Shadow Dragons and told of their significance before that, even without the context that Inquisition, Trespasser, and the comics provide. We've met the Viper, we've met Maevaris, we've met Dorian- we've talked to all of them, and we know what they're up against.
It's not an easy decision, and it's not meant to be one, or one you're meant to think about as "well you're either siding with X and are right, or with Y and you're wrong". This is not the mage uprising, where the choice falls flat because one side's point of view is "no genocide good", and the other's is "church-sanctioned genocide good".
I think that this choice is a relatively early game decision that is meant to make you think about whether your Rook, right then and there within their arc in the story, is the kind of person who would do anything to save even one civilian life even if politically it's devastating, the kind of person to think about the big picture and consider all the political ramifications even if it means a sacrifice of lives- or, alternatively, the kind of person who would do anything for a place that they call home, even if it means dooming another and letting down their friend.
You say that it fails to stick the landing. But that's very easy to say if you are the one yanking the mat from under its feet.
#squirrel plays datv#fandom critical#i'm going to cut myself off here#but seriously it's so easy to say that it's black and white if you are playing as yourself and not roleplaying as a character in the story#for Rook; as they are in the story; there is no such thing as a second playthrough!#if we can't agree on the basic idea that the story is only real to the characters that exist within it; i don't think we can have#a productive conversation#dragon age#dragon age: the veilguard#dragon age the veilguard#yeah ill put the game tags on it why not#i apparently have a death wish no biggie#(editing to add i just realized i said “stew discord” instead of sowing it)#(my b i was hungry lol)
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I've seen a couple of people express that The Lords of Fortune don't really 'fit' into the game in the same way that the other factions do; they're a background for Taash but they themselves have very few reasons to actually be involved in the fight compared to say The Wardens or the Shadow Dragons. Similarly, the Rivan map feels really small and has comparatively few quests.
And my two cents is I think this is definitely a symptom of rewrites. in the art book it details their first plans for the game, and originally instead of the lighthouse we were going to have a base on a ship. And our advisors were going to be: Dorian because Tevinter, Morrigan because Mythal and Isabela who was the Captain of said ship.
Its interesting that these are the three legacy characters we get in game as it is. I reckon they were either very tied to this or got approval for these early on that stuck. So they had to find something for Isabela to do now that she was, effectively, not an advisor or captain of a ship but they still wanted her pirate vibes for the game.
I also think it's worth noting that Rivan would have more WAY more sense in a game where Cole had been a companion/central (as planned) and in a game where the sea actually WAS dangerous and had Ghilan'nain all over it. Originally to keep players from wandering off into the sea there were going to be horrid mermaid mobs; not to mention other spooky under the sea monsters.
So yes, I think them not feeling as properly integrated and their map being smaller was 100% the product of rewrites and the original way bigger plans for both Isabela, the ocean and spirits in general.
#datv#dragon age#veilguard spoilers#god the art book#i have real grief for the game that they originally planned#but this one is fine! just not as good#i just think so much makes sense when you read the art book and see how things were forced out
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Across the Universe-ch.5 (Fenrys x Reader)
Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terrasen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.
Warnings: violence, mentions of trauma, abuse, sexual tensioooon
See masterlist
Throughout her life so far, y/n has not met many humans. In fact, the only humans she ever met were the Archeron sisters. It was after the war against Hybern that, when Feyre, her high lady for whom y/n would once do anything for, began her diplomatic arrangements between humans and fae. That is when she would join Lucien and Jurian from time to time, and go to the mortal lands in order to negotiate, set new rules and mediate peace.
Which is why, as she stood in this hall now and saw 2 more humans apart from Elide and Lorcan, y/n was quite unsure and observative. From the corner of the room, she watched everyone hug, except for Lorcan of course because it seems like Elide is the only one who ever gets his nonstop clinging, and greet the new arrivals. It was also annoying how her eyes seemed to only look at the wolf who was looking as delicious as eve- Cauldron, y/n. Get yourself together and stop drooling after the most frustratingly arrogant male in existence.
Her eyes then took in the beautiful woman whose name was Yrene, if she remembered the servants words clearly. She had golden-brown skin and breathtaking curly hair with small specks of dark gold visible. Not to mention her slender frame and very generous other features that most probably drew both men and womens attention to her. This woman looked like a Godess of the Sun.
Y/n's attention then moved to the tall man-Chaol, apparently, beside her. His chestnut hair that is slightly long enough for some strands to reach his brow is what stands out to her first, followed by his copper-brown eyes. Apart from his height, he also seems very muscular. He would be considered quite handsome if not for the small frown on his face directed at y/n. That is when she realized that the room has gone completely silent as everyone is watching her. She swallowed her growing unease and said with a formal tone, "Y/n."
Yrene smiled as she came slightly closer, followed by Chaol who had one hand on his sword, "We heard quite a lot about you in Aelin's letter, Y/n. I am Yrene Westfall, it is so nice to finally meet you."
Then, Yrene nudged Chaol with her elbow as a sign to stop glaring and start talking. He cleared his throat and said, although still glaring and assesing her, and especially her wings "Chaol Westfall. Yrene's husband."
Y/N nodded in acknowledgment, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. It was also not helping that Lorcan's gaze was the harshest. He was staring with such intensity and anger that it was a surprise how she still had not melted away under his cruel gaze. "It's a pleasure to meet both of you," she replied diplomatically, trying to ignore the tension in Chaol's demeanor. She knew their arrival signaled an important moment in Aelin's plans, and if she wanted to find a way back home, she needed to navigate this encounter carefully.
Aelin stepped forward, once again breaking the silence that had settled over the room. "It is so good to have you both here again. Although, I am quite upset that Dorian did not come."
At that, Chaol turned back towards her and said, "Yes, he had some issues to solve in Morath regarding the growing number of rebels who were vandalising places as a sign of opposition to his rule. I offered to be the one to stay back while he came here but he insisted and told me to send his apologies."
Aelin nodded as Rowan stood beside his mate and put his arm around her waist. "Well, you two came a long way so have some rest and then we can discuss the matters at hand."
"Indeed, we have much to tell you."
Once Eva and Lysandra decided to lead the arrivals into the guest bedroom, y/n seperated from everyone as she went up to her room to begin finding a way to decipher this book. But, just when she put the book on the table, a knock came from the other side of the room.
When y/n opened it, Lorcan was on the other side. She did not have a chance to react before he stepped in, closed the door, and took y/n by her neck, pressing her into the cool wall. He was nose to nose with her as he snarled, showing his fangs before saying in a voice that made her feel awful things, "You can fool everyone else with your acts, but not me. I was an immortal once too so do not think for a minute that just because I am now a human, I am somehow weaker than you are. No, I have my eyes all on you and if I even get a whiff of something suspicious, something that poses as a threat to us, or most importantly, to my wife and children, I won't hesitate to end you right then and there. Are we clear?"
His hands, she remembered his hands when they were choking her.
Those hands that almost ended her life. Oh Mother, she did not die then, but she would die now.
No, no, NO, NO-
He then unwrapped his hand from around her throat as y/n held on to the wall while coughing and taking in large gulps of air. Forcing her mind and body back to reality.
I am y/n. I am 152 years old and I am free. I am safe. I am strong. I won't cower. I am a warrior.
She repeated her chants in her mind 2 more times before the blur was gone.
When she calmed down, she forced her face into cool indifference "If you think that by choking and threatening me I will be scared of you, you are utterly wrong. In fact, your utter childish behavior since my awakening has been nothing but hilarious and even if in the beginning I may have found it amusing, I am getting bored of your antics now. My only goal is to get home as soon as possible. I do not trust any of you just like you do not trust me and while it is so 'heroic' that you think of me as a villain you should save your family from, I have no interest in fighting you. Therefore, you either help us find a way to stop the danger that is surely heading your way and send me home, or you could fuck off from my presence because believe me Lorcan, this will be the last time you ever stand in my way or put a hand on me. Because if you do so again, I won't hesitate to end you and then pretend to be sad while patting Elide's back as she cries over your grave."
Lorcan only stared at her with an unreadable expression before saying, "Choose your moves carefully." and with that, he turned around and left.
She went towards the mirror and to absolutely no one's surprise, his large hand had left a huge, red and angry mark around her neck. Y/n sank to her knees as another flashback ran through her mind.
She was 18.
He had given her a good amount of money and sent her to fetch the new scabbard that the swordsmith had created for him. However, it was as if unfortune followed her everywhere she went as a group of 3 males' got in her way.
"Look! a whore to use." one of them said as the other two laughed.
"What use are you talking about? She is all bones and no meat. Disgusting. Would not suggest touching her, even with a ten foot pole."
At that, they all laughed even harder while she only watched with a fearful gaze, trying but failing to get out of their way.
"Give us all your money or you die."
At that, she said, "No, I do not have any money."
One of them grabbed her wrist as he said, "Liar."
The other two immediately put their hands on her as they searched for the pouch with the money, hidden in the breastpocket of her dress.
She tried fighting, tried stopping them but they were soldiers, training to be warriors while she was nothing. They would crash her under their foot with no remorse whatsoever.
The male holding her wrist noticed the pouch poking from within her clothes and immediately ripped the front of her dress apart, leaving her only in her undergown, as he grabbed the money.
Without saying a word, they pushed her to the ground and stepped on her stomach before laughing and walking away.
"Bitch"
"Useless females"
"Lets go spend it"
That was all she heard as y/n clutched her stomach and lay in the middle of the cold and empty ground.
When she came home, with no scabbard, a ripped dress and an aching stomach, he got up from his desk and came towards her as he asked, "What happened?"
"S-some males...they...they took the money before I could even reach the swordsmith. They rip-ripped open the, the-"
"You do not have the scabbard?"
Of course he would not care about what happened to her. He only cared about the sole fact that she 'disobeyed' his rule.
In the blink of an eye, he had her back pressed to the wall as he choked her with his big, disgusting and meaty fingers.
"You fool! I gave you clear orders to follow and what did you do instead? Whore around with some males and let them take MY money."
She could not breathe as her feeble attempts at pushing his hand away resulted in nothing.
She was drowning. She was dying. Her vision was getting blurry.
It is alright, darkness would claim her soon. Darkness would welcome her. She believed in the Mother but darkness was what felt more comfortable for her.
It was time.
When y/n open's her eyes again, she is still in the same position in front of the mirror.
As she looked at her neck, her anger at Lorcan started rising again. But more than that, her own emotions, her pity for her younger self took over.
She hated Lorcan even more for bringing up another buried memory. And this one wasn't even in her dream!
With a sigh, she went into the washroom to wash away not only her sweat from the training, but also the feel of Lorcan's hand and the bad memory. Even if it was just a flashback, she still felt dirty to the core.
After a long and relaxing bath, she picked out a turtleneck white dress that was not too tight but hugged her curves just right. After using some of the beauty products and styling her hair, she decided to go to the gardens to clear her mind.
To say that this garden was big would be an understatement. It was huge. When y/n passed by it in the morning, she did not carefully look at it since she was busy trying to rid herself of her nightmare and the stress. But now, as she stood at it's entrance and took the whole view in, she realized how ethereal it is.
Various forms of flowers, plants and trees were taking up every part of the garden. It was an explosion of colors, life and peace. Peace because this whole place was so comfortingly quiet that it made y/n feel so safe, she never wanted to get out.
As she walked, she came across a small, black gate with intricate designs on it and once she entered it, there was a small fountain in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by more greenery. Y/n's awe was written all over her face as she sat on the small space next to the fountain. The sound of water cascading from the marble openings, birds chirping and the smell of nature made her feel all energetic and content.
"Enjoying the calmness?"
She turned around to see Yrene enter the area. She was wearing an elegant long-sleeved creme colored dress with gold highlights at the bottom. Y/n smiled slightly before raising her head up, closing her eyes and soaking in the sun "It has been quite some time since I last was in a place this serene."
Yrene sat beside her as she said, "You mean, you do not have such places in your world?"
"So you are aware about me."
She smiled "Well, it is hard not to be after Aelin sent like 15 different letters while we were on the way, informing us, although in a coded way so no one else understands, about what you told them."
Y/n sighed as she said, "Great. Well, I know you also do not like me so just ask what you need to."
Yrene looked genuinely confused "I do not hate you. I do not hate on other women or females. I myself grew up surrounded by women and their influence so even if you are a stranger from a different world, I do not see you as a threat. In fact, I would love to hear more about where you come from."
Y/n reigned in her shock and scoffed "The males and men in here would disagree. Especially Fenrys and Lorcan."
Yrene put her hand on y/n's shoulder as she said in a soothing voice, "Men, males who cares? They are all the same."
Y/n smirked slightly while raising an eyebrow "And you say this while having a husband?"
Yrene blushed slightly, "Well, the way we met was...unusual. I despised him at first."
Y/n was shocked as her eyes became twice their normal size "Not a chance! He seems so protective over you, well not to say any husband shouldn't, but I would never guess you two were once enemies."
Yrene smiled as she sighed softly "Yes, well, let that be a story for another day. Besides, it seems like we are going to be here for a while. Aelin said there is another thing apart from you being here that also needs to urgently be addressed."
At that, y/n's mood soured as she remembered the book, "The book! I need to get it."
"Wha-"
"There you two are!" Lysandras voice boomed through the area as she came into view.
"Well hello to you too, Lysandra" Yrene got up as she hugged the brown haired female.
Lysandra turned to look at y/n as her eyes widened "Oh my! Y/n that dress looks absolutely perfect on you! and matched with those jewelries? You do have taste in clothing after all- Sorry that came out rude it is just I only saw you in pants and a shirt soooo...this is new." she finished her sentence with a sheepish smile.
Y/n returned her smile with a small but genuine laugh as she said "No reason to apologise. After all, you look rather ravishing yourself." And she did. Lysandras tight forest green, velvet dress not only flattered all her curves, but also brought out the feautures on her face.
Yrene smirked as she nudged Lysandra by her arm and said, "I bet that Aedion will manage to supress himself for maximum 5 minutes before dragging you somewhere to shag."
Lysandra blushed and smiled as she said, "Well thank you, thank you. We can continue this complement battle at dinner. Shall we?"
"You two go. I need to get the book since we will be discussing it."
Lysandra nodded as she hooked her elbow with Yrene and they left. Y/n, tired of walking, flapped her wings and shot into the air. Oh wow, it has been what? two days? since she last flew.
Today was tiring enough. First, Fenrys did not get any sleep at night because even after he calmed y/n down, he still stayed awake in case she goes back to her unfortunate state. Of course this also caused him to overthink a bunch of things about her. What was she seeing? Does she also have dark secrets? What is her past like? But anyways, moving on, then he again had this small moment with y/n in the training area where his body was about to betray his rational mind due to lust.
Then came Chaol and Yrene. After they got rest for a bit, Chaol joined him, Lorcan and Rowan in Rowan's office where he had to sign letters an do his other princely stuff. Honestly? Fenrys did not know or care because his mind drifted off to when Lorcan followed y/n earlier this afternoon. Of course Fenrys couln't follow them without Lorcan immediately finding out but knowing that he followed her for some reason brought a sour taste to his mouth. What if they are working together? Fenrys would not put it past Lorcan because even now after the war he still sometimes despises him. But then again, he has Elide and two sons now, not to mention how he is blood sworn to Aelin so he can not act out of line.
Then why did he follow her?
This question has been bugging him at the back of his mind for the past 2 hours as Fenrys sat in one of the chairs around a large table in the dining room. His quick visit to the borders in order to check on and give out new orders to to the soldiers and do some other official work left him drained of both energy and magic.
Fenrys looked around the room to distract himself from the sleep his body was begging for. Just like in any other room, the signature Terrasen green was present. The multiple large windows surrounding the room gave a perfect view of sunset while its green and silver gray drapes were gathered by the sides. There were small lounge chairs and one large couch in front of the window. There was no carpet on the floors as the polished wood shined under the light in the room.
"Are you sure she can be trusted?" Chaol's voice brought him back from daydreaming as he assesed his family members places. Chaol was sitting opposite to him with his wife by his side, right next to Chaol sat Lorcan and Elide. Next to Fenrys was Aedion and next to him were Lysandra and Eva.
At the opposite sides end, next to Yrene, sat Rowan while his mate sat at the head of the table. This once again left only one space empty, and would you look at that...it was right next to him. When y/n would come, he would have to endure her here, by his side. Oh Gods-
"Well, me and Yrene do like her now. I don't know about the rest of you." Lysandra said while Aedion kissed her on the cheek "If my wife trusts her, then I trust her."
Eva smiled as she said, "I certainly trust her! She did not look at me like most strangers do."
Rowan raised an eyebrow "And how do they look?"
"Like they pity me or like I am some deranged child just because of these" she points to the scars on her face.
The room erupts at that.
"Who do I have to kill?"
"Names. Give me names. Now."
"Eva, why did you not mention that before?"
"Let me pay a nice little visit to them sweetheart."
But all that chaos quickly died down as y/n entered the room. The second his gaze landed on her, Fenrys thought that Rowan sucked the air out of him because suddenly, he forgot how to breathe.
There was no word in the world that would describe her now. She was wearing a deep purple gown with a turtle neck that hugged her body like second skin and ended below her ankles, showing her shoes just a little. Her hair was styled in a way that highlighted her facial features. Not to mention her small but still eye catching purple and gold earings dangling from her ears.
He suddenly felt like the room was too small. Too tight. He was feeling and imagining things that he definetly should not be about a suspect. But how could he not? She looked absolutely delicious and Fenrys would be willing to cut out his kidneys if he could just touch her once.
She came and sat down next to him, although slightly hesitantly and that was when her addictive scent of jasmine and peaches hit his nose. He barely managed to hold back his groan. He was so turned on it was not a joke anymore. So much so that, just from the smell of her scent, he felt like cu-
Y/n put the book that was in her hands on the table as she said, "I am aware that we were meant to have dinner first, discuss this later, but the sooner the better. Aelin, would you do the honors?"
When y/n had gone upstairs to take the book, she could not stand the itchiness that suddenly overcame her. That was why she took off the dress, cursed on Lorcan for a good 5 minutes when she saw the state her neck was in, and changed into something more fitting for a formal dinner.
This decision may also have been slightly influenced by the fact that Fenrys would be there and he would see her.
When she entered the room, she saw how everyone looked at her. The females with support and respect, the males with suspicious or vary glances. For some reason, Lorcan was not glaring but just...looking. Well, that is an improvement at least.
But even under all those stares, it was only one pair of eyes that made her feel things she should not be feeling. Especially not towards someone like Fenrys.
But how could she not? The way he was staring at her like she was the only female in the world and he was a starved traveler looking for his meal. Not to mention how he himself looked so distracting with his hair let loose, forest green and black clothing that was brought together by his brown, leather belt and his black loose pants. Even all those layers failed to hide his perfect, muscular, broad body. And then when she sat next to him--although hesitantly because even with all the lust coursing through her veins, she knew he was still not someone she could ever trust let alone get close to--his arousal hit her like a large wave of water.
How she managed to stay calm and collected while going crazy inside was an absolute shock to y/n. But she managed and put the book on the table.
Aelin stood and said, "On the contrary, I wanted to share the news before dinner which is why the table is currently empty."
And that was then, that y/n realized the table was indeed empty of any meals.
"Y/n found a book that might have some beneficial information for us. When we looked inside, we found out that the Book of Breathings may be another form of Wyrdkey. But then, we could not read any more because the language changed to one that we do not understand. Lysandra found a small prophecy at the corner of the page which, y/n could you read?"
At that, y/n turned towards the book and read the prophecy. Once she was done, she looked up to see everyone, except Lysandra and Aelin, having different facial expressions.
Chaol cleared his throat and spoke first, "So, now what? How do we understand more if we can not decipher the language?"
By now, everyone was looking at the ancient writings on the book. Yrene, her fingers scamming the page, said with some sort of confidence, "Chaol, this is just like what we discovered about the Valg in Antica. At Hasar's birthday getaway. Look at the drawings. They seem similar no? I think...I think I might have a chance at solving this."
Apparently, everyone was thinking the same thing because Aedion looked at others puzzled faces and asked, "You...how? Do you know this language? I am so confused"
"No, I do not know the language but, my mother was a very smart woman. Not only a healer but also an extraordinary philologist. She had deciphered multiple texts and recipes for healing antidotes from some centuries ago. That was how she even managed to create new medicines and afford us a living."
Y/n's heart fluttered with hope. Finally, a chance, an opening to get home. To understand whatever may be coming for them.
The shock, intrigue and excitement was written over everyone's faces. Even Lorcan, whose eyes just went wide before he put his angry giant act back on.
It was Rowan who closed his slightly open mouth, raised a brow and asked, "So, you have been taught the skill?"
Yrene nodded, "Even though it was long ago, I still think I could atleast give it a try. Besides, 3 years ago when we were in Antica, the way me and Chaol discovered new and ancient information on valgs may have given me a slight reminder. If we are lucky, I will be able to atleast get more information in a couple of days."
Pride was written all over Chaol's face as he kissed his wife's cheek and then hugged her as he said, "I will be by your side, helping you. We did it once, we can do it again."
Everyone was smiling brightly with hope, Aelin and y/n, the brightest of them all "Thank you, Yrene. Whatever you need just tell me I will make sure you have it."
Elide, now also hugging Yrene, detached from her as she said, "We can search more in the meantime. Let us not waste another second."
As y/n nodded her head in agreement, she felt a smaller hand touch her arm. When she turned around, Eva was giving everyone, especially her, the big puppy eyes as she said- no begged, "Can I please please be included this time? I really want to help now. Pleaseeee."
Y/n felt this sudden need to hug the girl, but she said, not caring for whatever Lysandra or Aedion might say, "Of course you can Eva. How can anyone say no to you?"
She turned around to see Lysandra shaking her head but smiling as she said, "Alright."
Eva squealed as she jumped on y/n, squeezing the life out of her.
"What? No! it is dange-" Aedion's denial was cut off when Lysandra put her hand on his chest and said, "Love, she is helping us search for more information, not going into battle. I know how much you love her but please, bring down your protectiveness a notch."
"Bu-"
"Aedion."
He sighed but then hugged Lysandra to his chest and whispered something that made her turn bright red as she slapped his chest playfully.
"We shall start from tomorrow morning then." Aelin said, while ordering a servant to bring in the meals.
4 hours later and y/n was back in her room, getting ready for bed. The day was hot enough for her to opt for a loose silk nightgown that ended slightly above her knees.
Hopefully, Yrene manages to find something more. Tomorrow, she will join Aelin at whatever she is planning to do in order to get more information. She has to quickly find her way home. In all honesty, she could not care less for whatever troubles may be coming their way because this is not her world and Aelin is not her queen. Let them deal with their own problems. All she needs is to get back ho-
Y/n nearly fell down and kissed the floor when she felt something slip beneath her feet. She cursed quietly and looked down to see one of the large square floorboards slightly crooked. When she leaned down to touch it, it moved, sliding away and revealing a set of stone stairs, leadin downwards. She could not see anything beyond the first 4 steps as it was complete and utter darkness.
Should she go down and see what it holds? Does Aelin know that there is something like this in her palace? Are there more of these passages? No. Her curiosity always got her into trouble and now she most definetly did not need to follow it. Whatever is down below, it does not look neither safe nor promising.
No. She most definetly did not want to go down there. Even if her heart was beating furiously and her body and even mind was begging her to go and explore.
Hesitantly, she got up and closed the passageway. She could pretend like this never happened and that she has no idea something like this even exists in the first place.
However, she could not go to sleep now with all this new curiosity and energy thrumming in her veins. Without even thinking, she left the room in just her nightgown and slippers. To go where? she had absolutely no idea. Maybe she could go back and sit in her balcony? She did not get the chance to do so yet and look at the vie-
Her inner monologue shut down the second she opened the door to her room only to see Fenrys just entering his. At the sound, he turned around and looked at her face. Or at what he could see from the darkness. Then his gaze fell upon her exposed shoulders and the upper part of her breasts due to the low cut of the nightgown. His gaze turned even darker as he went even further down and saw her exposed legs. She thanked the darkness of the room, only the moon slightly illuminating her body but hiding her face, scars and most importantly, her neck, that is still as horrible as it was in the morning, from his deadly gaze. Hopefully he was far away enough and the hall was dark enough to not see her scars. She would most definetly make Lorcan pay for this. She would also have to go and ask Isolde for some kind of a healing cream to apply. Discreetly, of course.
His gaze came back to her face, as he closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, clenched and unclenched his fists, exhaled and finally, opened them again as he calmly asked, "Where are you going?"
For some reason, she felt nervous under his gaze and found herself fidling with the edge of her nightgown as she replied surprisingly cooly, "Out. Get some fresh air."
His gaze narrowed "In...that?"
Well, he was right it would be foolish to walk around with this much skin exposed, not to mention the ugly mark on her neck. But, y/n would rather cut out her eye than admit someone like Fenrys is right. So, she looked at him arrogantly "And? I can do whatever I like."
"There are male servants here."
"Well, might as well give them a show."
The second she said that, he was right in front of her in an instant. So close that y/n could feel his chest slightly touching hers, causing goosebumps to arise all over her body. She could only see the outlines of his face and even that was enough to make her feel squirmy. She only hoped he can not see below her head.
"You are not going anywhere in that."
Y/n smirked "Why? Are you jealous?"
He also gave her a cruel smirk as he said, "I would rather get eaten by a Wyvern than ever feel jealous over you. It is simply that your current state is not helping your 'innocent' image. Leaving your room late at night? Hmm I wonder where do you go. Maybe to conspire somethings just like you were sent here to do by your High Lord or whatever?"
At that, all the girlish feelings she felt for him at that moment, melted away, leaving only anger and disgust. This was the Fenrys she should always excpect when it comes to her.
"How can you even entertain such an idiotic thought? Believe me neither my ex High Lord nor I are so bored that we need to cross worlds and start trouble in a foreign place."
"You are right. Because, after all, you do seem like a coward. Or at the very least someone who has no meaning in their life."
"W-what?! Of course...of course I have a purpose! I am a warrior, a respected persona in my world."
"And? those are all titles, images you put on. Even in this world you are a coward."
"What even makes you say that?"
"I saw it from the second I winnowed you here. You put up this brave act that no one scares you but believe me, I know that is all a nice little lie. In fact, you are useless. You are of no help here. You think that just because my family is softening towards you that you are one of us?" He chuckles at that and then continues "You will never fit in. I see you for what you are. An annoying brat who thinks the world revolves around her. So I say this one last time. Find your way out of here and leave as soon as possible. You are an extra headache I can not tolerate." with that, he turned around and went into his room, shutting his door and leaving her shattered in the middle of the dark hall. That bastard! He did not even give her time to respond.
She should not feel this way. She has heard much worse throughout her lifetime. He is just jealous that she is making peace with his family. Besides, who does he think he is? A nobody. His words should not hold any value to her because he is an uncultured caveman- or cavemale who is and will always be below her. She will find a way and go to her world and be happy again and and...and forget him and...all of his cruel words that...felt like 5 different sharp knifes being stabbed into her chest.
What was this pain? She is not a coward. How can he so easily judge her without even knowing her? This pain felt too real. Not even Azriels words hurt this much.
But she did not cry. She stopped crying that the day she killed him in the forest. And so, as she stared at his closed door, she knew what to do.
Y/N ran back to her room, furiously slamming the door shut behind her. She paced for a few moments, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within her chest. After waiting for what felt like an eternity to ensure no one would disturb her, she moved swiftly near her bed where a loose floorboard awaited her touch. With practiced hands, she pried it open, revealing the passageway.
Before she descended, she retrieved the large sharp needle she had been carrying with herself for the past few days, along with a small lamp that emitted a soft, comforting light. Tucking these essentials securely into the folds of her cloak, Y/N steeled herself for what lay ahead and descended the narrow stairs that led into the depths below.
How many stairs were there? It seemed endless, the damp smell growing stronger with each step she took. The walls around her were slick with moisture, echoing faint drips of water that added to the oppressive atmosphere. Y/N's grip tightened on the needle, her knuckles turning white as she navigated the dimly lit passage. She tucked her wings as close to her as possible.
The air grew colder as she descended further, the silence broken only by the sound of her own footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Shadows flickered ominously, playing tricks on her weary mind. Despite the discomfort and the ominous surroundings, Y/N pressed on, driven by a determination fueled by both fear and necessity.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of descending into the bowels of the earth, Y/N reached a small landing. In front of her, was some sort of a large circular entryway that was made out of earth and rock.
She slowly got closer to it while also inspecting the area. There was nothing else but this entryway before her. The rest of the space was made out of rock. When she reached it, the touched her hand on to it but...how do you get through this thing?
She knew this was a circular door of some sorts because there were cracks around it. But how does one even move a thing so large and heavy?
As Y/N stood before the large entryway, carved from earth and rock, she couldn't help but marvel at its craftsmanship and wonder about its purpose. The door, if it could be called that, seemed seamlessly integrated into the natural stone surroundings, its surface adorned with intricate runes and symbols that glowed faintly in response to her touch.
She traced her fingers along the cracks that outlined the circular shape, feeling the cool, smooth texture of the ancient stone beneath her fingertips. The door appeared solid and formidable, its size and weight suggesting it would require tremendous force to move.
Taking a step back, Y/N surveyed the area around her. The chamber was quiet, save for the faint echoes of her own breathing. The walls were smooth and unyielding, offering no clues as to how the door might be opened. She glanced down at the large sharp needle she had brought with her, contemplating its use.
With a deep breath, Y/N approached the door once more, this time examining the runes and symbols more closely. They seemed to pulse with a subtle energy, responding to her presence in ways she couldn't quite understand. She recalled stories of ancient magic and hidden passages, wondering if this door held the key to unlocking secrets long forgotten.
As she pondered her next move, a soft rumbling sound echoed through the chamber, causing her to startle. The ground beneath her feet trembled slightly, and she realized with a mix of awe and trepidation that the door was responding to her presence.
A low, melodic hum filled the air as the runes on the door shimmered brighter. Y/N took a cautious step back as the massive stone panels of the door began to shift, grinding against each other with ancient mechanisms coming to life. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the circular entryway began to slide.
Heart racing with anticipation, Y/N watched in awe as the door moved, revealing a narrow opening beyond. The air around her seemed to crackle with magic, a tangible presence that beckoned her forward.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, the door came to a stop, revealing another narrow and dark passage. She sighed, but surged forward as she went through the door into the darkness beyond.
After about 10 minutes, she came to a clearing and dear Mother....this place...whatever it was....was gorgeous. It was a huge opening but what made it so breathtaking were the millions of glowing crystals. The ground, the floor and the walls were all covered in luminescent crystals of all colors, and shapes, each it seemed, with a unique magical property. Some crystals glow softly, illuminating the way, while others emit melodies that resonate through the air.
There were little waterfalls that created small, narrow lakes passing through the crystals. There was even a medium sized pond that was glowing, maybe it also had crystals underneath. When she turned around, it looked as if she came out of a mountains cave.
This place was gorgeous! Did anyone else know of it? She did not know but what she did know was that y/n needed to explore further. She stepped on the ground and the crystals did not even hurt her feet.
There were large ones, tall ones, so tall that she could see her whole body on it. The calming sounds coming from them made her feel so relaxed. Did this place offer some kind of healing properties? Because y/n surely forgot all her mixed emotions and pain the second she landed here. The air was also so fresh and clean and yet, it also carried a maicel scent with it.
As she walked, she came across another small passage but this one was illuminated by thousands of tiny glowing, white crystals. She followed the light to see what this road held.
As she walked through the illuminated passage of glowing crystals, Y/n's curiosity mingled with a growing sense of unease. The ethereal light seemed to lead her forward, drawing her deeper into the unknown. Each step echoed softly against the crystal-lined walls, creating an eerie yet mesmerizing atmosphere.
Finally, the passage opened into a small clearing bathed in a gentle, radiant glow. Y/n blinked, trying to make sense of what lay before her. There, amidst the soft luminescence, stood a mirror unlike any she had ever seen.
Wait. Was this thing like the Ouroboros? The Mirror of Beginnings and Endings? Does this also show you your true self or something like that? What if it shows you your future?
Well it must do something special since it is hidden here.
However, she was not expecting what happened after she came closer to the mirror.
Y/n fell to her knees in shock.
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Power Couple
CHAPTER 12 - Revelations I am incorporating my headcanon for the Aether Core connection. It’s NOT lore accurate - as far as we know.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/3a366430ee1660cb9bcd7d5fde9015e3/42a92afe6e90bc85-6e/s400x600/18f49d65946dc98302aa04467c852d0450071679.jpg)
You’ve been staying at the house on the hill for the past few days. You and Sylus have indulged in every fantasy you can think of. You’ve recreated your dream of being eaten out on the dining room table. Recreated his dream of throat fucking you by the pool. You secretly pray the chef never finds out Sylus bent you over the kitchen counter, the sink, the stove, the fridge… Basically his entire workspace.
You both handled work from home, opting to join conference calls from the pool or private office. You were careful not to discuss confidential information when Sylus was around. You knew if Dorian found out you were talking shop with Sylus in the room he would never forgive you.
When you weren’t tongue deep in each other, you and Sylus talked about the bond you seem to share. He explained the situation at the gallery and Chen’s possible “client.” He also explains the Aether Core. He had an Aether protocore fragment implanted into his eye when he was young. He had no say in the matter and no parents to fight for him.
“The connection we share, the Aether fragment, you have one too.” He places a hand over your heart. You feel that similar warmth.
“I don’t remember...” You cover his hand with your own. He wraps his other hand around your waist. The warm water in the tub has cooled, but you don’t want to get out, not yet. You feel his breath on your neck, his body firm against your back. Sitting between his legs as he presses kisses to your shoulders and neck as he explains.
“Do you want to know?” You lean your head back on his chest.
“Maybe? Yes… Tell me.”
Sylus takes a deep breath. You can tell this story will be hard for him to tell. You pull his hand from your chest and interlace your fingers with his. Giving his hand a squeeze, he sighs.
“We were in the same laboratory. My surgery was experimental. No one expected me to survive. So when I did, they didn’t waste any time putting your fragment in. Our rooms were next to each other. The walls were thin, so we’d sit and talk for hours. Well, when they weren’t running tests or experiments on one of us. We grew up together. We kept each other sane all those years. If you came back from tests crying, I’d sing to you. You’d be laughing in no time. And… if I woke up from a nightmare, you’d read to me until I fell asleep.”
Sylus tightened his grip around you. You could feel his heartbeat quickening against your back. You rub small circles on his arm, his grip loosening slightly.
“On your 18th birthday, I... aha, 'gently convinced' a nurse to let me into your room. It was the first time we were truly alone. No nurses hovering or doctors forcing us to practice controlling our Aether energy by resonating. Or…” His voice trailed off. Your heart broke listening to him.
“Did you make me a cake?” You heard him let out a breathy laugh.
“Sort of. I could finally pick up things with my energy so… I stole cookies out of the vending machine down the hall. Couldn’t steal a candle though, but you still made a wish. You wished we could be free. And I made you a promise, that I would find a way for you to be free. I don’t remember much else from that night. Besides just holding you. And trying to figure a way out.”
“And did you?”
You finally turn slightly to look at him. He avoids your gaze. You lift his chin so his eyes meet yours. And your heart nearly stopped when you saw his red eyes were glazed over, tears threatening to spill out.
“I did.”
The rest of this story can be told later, you were desperate to see him smile again. You quickly change the direction of the conversation.
“What happens if we find another Aether core or fragment? How does that help us?”
He presses your back lightly urging you to stand. He wraps his arm around you, helping you out of the bathtub. He takes a towel and starts drying you off gently. You raise your arms and turn in a circle for him, he chuckles. When you face him his smile has returned.
“Well, it might strengthen our connection. Stabilize it. May change our evol or strengthen it.” You grab the new towel off the rack and he holds onto your hips as you dry him off.
“So was the protocore at the auction…”
“It was a decoy. I have people testing it now. It was strange, the energy it gave off... It drained me. If it hadn’t been broken, I don’t like to think about what could have happened.” He leans in and starts placing kisses to your neck, you’ve stopped trying to dry him at this point leaning into his kisses.
“So we keep searching. We’re in this together, okay?” He cups your face in his hands.
“Okay.”
He takes the towel from your hands and tosses it on the counter. His hands slowly reach around you to grab your ass, he pulls you to him, his erection pressing against your stomach.
“Don’t you have a meeting in an hour?” Your voice is gruff as his hands squeeze.
“That’s more than enough time to fuck you senseless.” You let your head tip backwards, his lips pressing against your jaw. Your arms wrap around his neck.
“Promises. Promises.”
He laughs, moving swiftly to pick you up and place you on the bathroom counter. He captures your lips with his. He presses your shoulders back to the mirror, you shift your ass forward and relax into the position. He pulls away from your lips bringing them down your neck, to your collarbone and over your breasts. He places a gentle kiss to your nipple before he takes the bud between his teeth, biting lightly. You grab onto the back of his neck.
“Sy!”
You feel him smile against your skin before his lips continue down your body. He kneels with his head between your thighs. He drapes your legs over his shoulders and looks up at you with the slyest of grins. You’re about to give him an earful, but he sinks his face into you. His tongue pressing directly into your pussy with no hesitation, his nose pressed against your clit. Your eyes roll back and you gasp.
He speeds up his movements, rubbing his nose against your clit faster and faster. His tongue thrusts and swirls inside you, savoring every ounce of your arousal. He wastes no time, he has a meeting to get to after all.
Ding Ding
Sylus’s phone chimes on the other side of the room where your discarded clothes are. Sylus swears under his breath before rising to his feet, his chin and nose coated in your wetness. You let out a small whimper.
“I’m sorry kitten, there’s an emergency apparently.” He strides over to his jacket. And as frustrated as you are, you enjoy this view of his ass. Sylus retrieves his phone from his jacket pocket.
“What?” His voice is cold.
The need for friction between your legs is nearly impossible to ignore. So, you decide not to ignore it. Your fingers find your clit and you start to trace circles, being more rough than usual, you stare at Sylus letting your desires fuel the speed. You moan quietly, but Sylus still hears you. He turns and looks at you, eyes wide as he realizes what you’re doing.
“No no, I’m still here. Did he say why he wants to attend?” His voice is strained. Keeping it professional while watching you play with yourself is proving to be very challenging.
You spread yourself open as your middle finger glides over your opening. Your long strokes gather your arousal. You finally push your finger into your pussy, feeling how wet you are pushes you to move your fingers faster against your clit. Your breathing is erratic and your legs twitch slightly, but your eyes are locked on Sylus. And from the look on his face, he looks as if he’s about to cum from just watching you. You slide another finger inside and a deep growl escapes your throat.
“I’m on my way.” Sylus says and hangs up quickly, dropping his phone on the clothes pile.
He crosses the bathroom in a blink and places his hand over yours, putting more pressure against your clit. He buries his face into your neck and nibbles at the soft skin under your jaw. Stars cross your vision as you near your release.
“Sy… I need to cum…”
Sylus pulls your hand away and reaches down to place his leaking tip at your entrance. He rubs himself against your clit.
“Say please.” Sylus whispers. His hand reaches up to wrap around your neck. As his grip tightens and your breath hitches, you wrap your legs around him.
“You’re the worst…” You mutter between gasps. Sylus pulls back and tries to move away from you. You throw your arms around him and dig your nails into his back.
“No no no… please please Sy… please…” Your words rushed and desperate.
Sylus smirks before pushing into you, hard. Pleasure mixes with pain, as he starts to thrust into you rapidly. Your head presses back into the mirror and Sylus grunts at every thrust, feeling his hips slam against yours, a symphony of wet slaps fill the space around you.
Ding ding
Sylus’ phone chimes again. Frustrated moans leave both you and Sylus’ mouth. Sylus’ pace never falters. He tucks his hands under your knees and pulls them upwards, placing your feet flat on the counter. He wraps his forearms around your thighs, using them as anchors. With your legs pushed closer to you, Sylus is able to dive deeper. Slamming against your deepest sweet spots.
“Fuck-in he-hell…” Sylus mutters against your chest.
Ding
Now it’s your phone ringing. Your fingernails dig into Sylus forearms, forcing Sylus to pull back and you pull him into a kiss, trapping him against you. His pace becomes more erratic and you feel every twitch of his cock as he unloads into you. Your release is not far behind, you break away from him and scream his name. Sylus holds onto your thighs, rocking your forward, working both of you through the peak of your joined climaxes.
Ding
Your phone rings again. Sylus finally pulls out, he places a gentle kiss on your forehead.
“I’ve got to get to this meeting, jackass arrived early and brought a special guest. I’ll bring back dinner, okay?” You nod and kiss him before he leaves to get dressed.
You hop off the counter and shuffle to your clothes to grab your phone. You place a towel on the vanity chair before sitting down. You finally open your messages.
(Dorian) Call me. (Dorian) It’s urgent.
You press the call button and it rings only one time before Dorian picks up.
“You need to come to the office.” Dorian’s voice is cold and bitter.
“What’s going on?” You try to mentally prepare for Dorian’s latest tirade.
“Sylus has been lying to you.” You roll your eyes.
“Dorian, you’ve been suspicious since-” Dorian cuts you off.
“Onychinus is behind Ridgeway Liquors burning down.”
“What?”
“Sylus is Oni.”
Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human
When your slow burn story is too slow burn, so you do 2 spicy chapters back to back... maybe 3... Smile.
#love and deepspace#sylus (love and deepspace)#lads sylus#lnds sylus#angst and fluff#love and deepspace sylus#alternate universe#slow burn#minor violence#eventual smut#sylus smut#sylus x reader#l&ds sylus#sylus x mc#sylus#sylus lads#sylus x y/n#sylus x you#mafia trope#qin che#sylus qin
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a moment
*** i just NEED to fill in the blanks w them I need all the moments I need a single crumb of tension that even they can't feel until it's too late***
She sighs as she sees him hunched over the desk again. He lifts his head slowly at her huff and raises an eyebrow at her. Neither say anything, just stare until his gaze breaks away.
“Yes, Inquisitor?”
“It’s early, did you even sleep?” She leans against the wall, already knowing the answer. He smiles softly and looks back down at the papers scattered across the desk. Disorganized as his thoughts.
“Time got away from me, it seems.” He smirks when she tuts at him. “Do you keep track of all our sleeping patterns? Or is mine particularly interesting to you?”
“I try to keep some track of all of you, best I can.” She shakes her head. “We’re heading out for the day, come on.”
“Out? Out where?” He doesn’t move from his seat. She huffs impatiently.
“I thought we could use a break.” She gestures for him to follow her. He glances at her, then back at the documents. Then back at her, and he can’t say no when she’s looking at him, he can’t say much of anything. He stands slowly, straightens the papers, and follows her out.
He sits under the shade at the small cafe they ended up at, nearly scowling, watching Cole chase Sera, his hat clutched tightly in her hand, she races away from him, laughing wickedly. Dorian and Bull stand off towards the shops, also watching the two run around. He doesn’t have eyes on the others. He rubs his forehead, the music playing next door is too loud, too flat. He looks over to Aurya, sitting quietly at the table next to him, not paying any mind to anyone, really.
“Inquisitor-”
“Aurya,” she looks up from her writing, “it’s just Aurya.” She smiles. He looks away.
“Why are we here?”
“Why not?”
“You said it was urgent.”
“And to some people, it might be, yes.” She stares out at the people walking past, whispering and looking at Sera prancing around. “It’s just nice to be away for a while, don’t you think?” She glances at him, their eyes meet. He casts his gaze down to the table, picking up his half empty cup and taking a small sip.
“What I was working on was important.”
“This is important too, Solas.” She gets up and nods her head towards the docks. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“I- alright,” he stands up to follow her, no one paying much attention to them as they leave. He follows her down the alley, squinting against the harsh sun. They walk slowly along the water, watching the ships off in the distance, the other patrons barely acknowledging their existence.
He watches her as they walk. Watches the sun light up her dark hair, he can see the freckles on her face, the small lines around her eyes as she squints. She glances towards him and smiles again, always a smile. He looks out towards the water again, enjoying the distance from the noise.
“This is nice,” she says finally, “just being out here with no responsibility. We don’t have to be out here as the Inquisition. Just Aurya,” she looks at him, “and just Solas.” He glances quickly in acknowledgement.
“True, a small respite can be good.” They stand and face the water. “It’s best we don’t spend all day here, there’s much we still need to be working on.” His response is flat, he’s aching to go back to Skyhold. He looks at her as she huffs at him.
“You could’ve stayed, then,” she doesn’t look at him, just keeps watching ships. “I just thought maybe you’d like a break too.”
“I rarely need a break, Inquisi–” he pauses as she shoots him a look. “I don’t need a break, Aurya, I’m fine to continue my work.”
“You should’ve said so, then. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?”
“I don’t want to take you away from anything against your will.” She laughs, “I just thought this was a nice idea. Why didn’t you say no?” She’s covering her eyes from the sun now, looking at him, waiting for an answer. He doesn’t look at her, he can’t say much of anything when she’s looking at him.
“The more time I spend with you,” he starts, now turning to face her, moving just a bit closer to her, he continues, “I’m finding it harder to refuse you.” He notices her eyes widen slightly at his answer, and she doesn’t ask him to elaborate. They both turn back towards the water to watch the ships.
#solas#solavellan#solas x female lavellan#dragon age inquisition#fanfiction#solas x inquisitor#dragon age inquistor#solas dragon age#dragon age
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Thanks for Thinking of Solavellan
I’ve been seeing a lot of posts directed at Solavellans by kind, caring people who want to make sure we temper our expectations. After 10 years of being treated like dirt by the fandom, it’s so nice to have so many people take an interest in us, to the point of compassionately telling us that we aren’t going to get much content, as sad as that may be. I can’t speak for all Solavellans but I wanted to let everyone know why they don’t have to worry about me at least:
We are grown ups
We are adults, well versed in managing our expectations. In fact, most of us hold down jobs, take care of our families and live our lives. Are we excited that our Inquisitors will be in the game? Of course. Do we expect them to be the central character? Of course not. We understand that Rook is the star of the show. We are busy planning our Rooks and deciding which romances to pursue. We are trying to decide what class and faction to play just like everyone else. Are we excited about what we know about Solas so far? Yes. If Dorian is announced to be in the game, as seems likely, I’m sure people will be equally excited and talking about what they hope to see.
We know Solavellan content will not be the focus
See above but also, we are used to having less content. We have the least amount of romance content in DAI. In Trespasser everyone got to talk to their Lis throughout the game. We had a 15-minute conversation at the end. Most players got a resolution to their romances. Like all Inquisitors, our Lavellans are kind of in limbo where Solas is concerned. The fact that we are making Inquisitors in the character creator tells me that all Inquisitors will have at least one confrontation with Solas and Rook will probably be part of that. Those will differ depending on whether you want to stop him at all costs, redeem him or want to redeem him and romanced him. This was done in Trespasser. If they can find the time and money to put three paths of 15-minute conversation in a ten-hour game, they can do the same for a 70-hour game. That’s not a lot of content but it is sure to be impactful and we will be happy with it.
We are no different in voicing our hopes than anyone else
I have seen plenty of posts where people that romanced Dorian want to have a tender moment between their Inquisitors and him. I fully support their hopes. I want that to happen for them. Other hopes expressed are the return of Cullen, the return of the Hero of Fereldan, Fenris and Merril cameos, etc. All are expressed in terms of “I hope” or “I will riot if it doesn’t happen.” To be honest, I feel sad for those poor souls because no one is telling them to temper their expectations. Does the fandom not care about their health and well-being? We are expressing our hopes and wishes. Do we think we will get all of it? Of course not. We are, as I said before, adults.
We Think We Will Rescue Solas
Honestly? We hope we can be a part of that, but it is just hope. It is more likely that Rook will break him out of prison. Maybe the Inquisitor will get to help – the way Hawk and the Warden Companion did in DAI – but if not, there will probably be some sort of confrontation. Rook may ask the Inquisitor’s opinion about Solas and the answer will depend on the Inquisitor’s relationship with Solas but that may be all.
We have too many unrealistic expectation
Please don’t think that we expect everything we want to happen to be in the game. We are aware that a lot of our hopes are not going to be realized. To be honest, we are already surprised that some of those hopes are figuring in the game. Keep in mind that for 10 years we thought our only interaction with him would be to make sure he didn’t die alone. We recognize we are a small group and so does BioWare. Yes, we have indulged our brain rot and obsession with art and fiction but that’s just us. We don’t expect it to show up in the game. If it does, we will be excited. If it doesn’t, we will shrug our shoulders and go back to drawing and writing.
We are talking amongst ourselves
We are talking to other Solavellans. Solavellan has become a tight-knit community over the years because of what we’ve had to put up with. Anders fans can probably relate. We are not talking to the DA community at large. Most of us don’t interact with the larger DA community because of everything that has been said over the years. We talk to and support each other. If you aren’t a Solavellan, feel free to scroll past our posts or even block us if you think we are too loud or annoying. You won’t hurt our feelings.
I’m sure other Solavellans can add to this or mention things I’ve forgotten. Again, don’t worry about us. We will be fine.
#solas#dragon age#solavellan#dai#solasmance#fen'harel#solas dragon age#solas dread wolf#dai solas#datv spoilers#da the veilguard spoilers#datv#da the veilguard#da theories
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Headcanon time!
Thinking of my Lavellan learning when Cullen's birthday (or name-day I think) is during their little chess game before they enter a relationship
She keeps the info tucked away for later until a bit before In What Pride Had Wrought, where she realizes Cullen's birthday is coming up and wants to do something for him
So, the plan-
- Ask Cassandra if it's possible for her to take over Cullen's duties for a day (she's reluctant, but Lavellan begs, and she can't say no to being part of a romantic gesture, so she agrees, but she makes Lavellan promise to tell her all the details the day after)
- Ask Josephine and Leliana if they don't need Cullen for the day and if they're okay with Cassandra running the show instead (They give the okay and Leliana has her scouts inform Cullen's men)
- Ask the main cook if they can whip up some classic Ferelden meals, desserts, any other foods she knows Cullen likes, etc, for which they will be compensated for working outside their hours (she's very grateful, pays them way more sovereigns than she probably should've)
- Stands at Josephine's door for 5 minutes afraid to knock on the door, finally does, Josephine invites her in, and it takes Lavellan a few moments of blushing and hyping herself up to ask if Josie knows any places that may sell good wine or...lingerie. Josephine tells Leliana and Vivienne (mostly for advice on good stores, but also because of that sweet sweet gossip), Vivienne tells Dorian, Dorian tells Iron Bull, and guess what, they're all going with her on her secret shopping trip and giving Cullen funny looks when he asks why they're all going with Lavellan just to buy cheese
- I think she would have already been using her magic to help dull pain when he has headaches, but she'd be researching a lot more possible ways her magic could help with any negative effects just in case
- Buys a transportable chess set (those nifty ones that fold and hold the pieces), commissions a very nice Ferelden looking sword (with a mabari face as a hilt) from Harritt, and, after badgering Cullen about how, yes, don't deny it, you absolutely do use hair products, which ones specifically do you use, she buys a bunch of hair care stuff, because as much as she adores his curls, she knows how particular he is about it
The day comes and she doesn't sleep with how nervous she is over getting everything just right
She's learned Cullen's schedule by heart at this point, so about an hour before he usually wakes up, she gets ready (wearing a quite well-fitting dress) knocks on his door and he invites her in
She gives him the hair care as his first gift and sits on the bed as she watches him do his hair and generally just get ready for the day. When he makes the small remark at how even on his birthday, he's working, she oh so subtly tells him "Well, actually..."
She smiles at his disbelief, and when he starts stressing over all the reports he needs to finish writing or instructions he needs to give Cassandra on what to do, Lavellan calms him down and tells him that Skyhold will still be here when he gets back and she made sure that he doesn't have to worry about anything today, giving him the sword as his next gift
They travel to the same lake where he gave her the lucky coin and have a picnic full of food freshly prepared by the cook. They walk, talk, maybe even swim, she gives him the chess set, and they leave again for Skyhold, arriving just when it gets dark
She takes him to her room, gives him one last present, and then she immediately falls asleep because Creators is she tired. That lack of sleep got to her eventually.
Cullen just holds her in his arms, running his fingers through her hair, and thanks her, whispering that an entire day spent with her was the best gift he could've asked for
#i feel like Cullen is definitely the type of person who forgets its his birthday#dragon age#dragon age inquisition#dai#cullenmance#cullen x lavellan#dai cullen#cullen dragon age#cullen x inquisitor#cullen rutherford#the only blonde man that has any hold over me#probably#vivienne and dorian got into a fight about good lingerie btw#iron bull is the expert tho#josephine montilyet#leliana dragon age#dorian pavus#iron bull dragon age#cassandra dragon age#going back to my roots
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imo the Grand Demon of Loathing is going to hit them all with reasons they hate (or could hate) themselves already:
Dorian's is all the reasons he was in the closet, all the reasons he was overshadowed by Cyrus, all the people he failed to be good enough to help (all the reasons someone he might love would not want him)
Imogen is her father's disgust, Liliana's choosing power over love for her daughter, Imogen's hypocrisy of also wanting power for personal gratification and lying to her friends (and herself) about it, her deep deep desire to be normal and the knowledge that she was a freak instead, her inability to save Laudna and her own doom to be alone (and deserve it)
Ashton's their many many failures, the times when they should they could rise above others and proved how pathetically they fall instead, it's FCG's death and the Nobodies' departure and parents who didn't care about them enough to reject power -- and their inevitable same fate, and all the reasons they deserved to be left behind
Orym's is being just a small little guy, just a toy soldier in front of a monumental horror, his inability to save people, and his inability to stick to his own better principles when those he loved most would have wanted him to (the ways he is letting down their memory and dragging down his friends now), and possibly his Fey doom to be alone and shackled forever, because he's just not as powerful, not as strong, not as good as they were or as he tells himself he is
Fearne's is her dark side again, her flightiness and selfishness, all the times she was a ditzy fool in the face of the grave seriousness of the world, all the times she made terrible choices and others paid for it (all the people who were glad they left her)
And perhaps most of all
Laudna's is already out there—all the negging Delilah has done to isolate and control her; it's the way she is powerless and her friends are special, it's that she always drags everyone down and they deserve to be free of her, it's that she is not fun-scary but just a rotten mistake and it would be better if she let herself go and stopped pretending to be worth saving
= Dominox has to be about preying and drawing on the ways that people shrink when they believe they DESERVE the worst of what they get. It's about pure Loathing and "insecurity"—it's the howl of the Abyss.
Fun!
[p.s. I do think Chet's beats coulda been more powerful if Matt had had another week to think of them. Like yes I guess Chet is haunted by accidentally killing people but he has been pretty resilient about that prospect. What he hasn't been so casual about is hurting his friends. It's why he chewed Ashton out so bad after the first Shard incident. It's why he peacocks so hard to all the higher-ups they meet. He doesn't want to be discounted and he really doesn't want to lose another family. I think if he gets Dommed again, it would also have to be about that.)
#spoilers#speculation#critical role#c3e97#c3e98#dominox#the grand demon of loathing#oh sure#bells hells#campaign 3#imogen temult#dorian storm#Laudna#Orym#fearne calloway#ashton greymoore#chetney pock o'pea#aeor is for lovers#........ and eldritch horrors the likes of which the world has tried to erase#it's all fun and games#until it is too late#BRING ME SAM#HE WOULD CRUSH THIS#my theories
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DAI x BG3 matchups I need to see. I’m not good at writing crossovers nor am I clever at all. This is very much non-exhaustive and very much not the end point of these characters’ potential interactions with each other.
Karlach + Sera + Iron Bull
The absolute chaos. The absolute CHAOS. A powerhouse. Putting aside Karlach’s demon heritage aside, she and Iron Bull tossing back tankards and swapping war stories as vets that have been dealt shitty hands but continue to chug along despite it. Karlach and Sera connecting over growing up mainly on the streets and having soft spots for little ragamuffins. Plus they all talk about women’s tits a lot. I feel Sera would find Karlach sexy and funny.
Wyll + Cole
Like Solas and Varric, Wyll would take to Cole because he recognizes Cole’s desire to help others, even if his methods are a bit unorthodox. He would recognize Cole’s soul as gentle and kind, and his efforts to atone for the murders he committed in the Tower as proof of his humanity. He will join the Uncle-Dad Duo and complete the Uncle-Dad Trio. Cole would gravitate toward Wyll’s goodness in turn, and probably tell Wyll that him making a contract wasn’t foolish because in the end he saved a city, and if that was his desire, then he committed no sin in doing so.
Solas + Astarion
The messiest shit can only occur, and my messy bitch self wants to see it. Watch as Solas’s upright and stiff demeanor utterly bores Astarion. Watch as Astarion’s selfishness, penchant for violence, and casual disregard for the well-being of others utterly pisses Solas the fuck off. Watch as Astarion yawns or interrupts Solas’s lectures with a “yes, yes, we get it” or the most dramatic eyeroll and overwrought “ugh”. Watch as Solas and Astarion immediately sniff each other out as liars and schemers from first jump and hold each other at a distance, the tension spiking at random moments early in them knowing each other where the other prods at their falsehoods. Watch as Astarion is dumbfounded by Solas expressing his condolences to Astarion upon learning of Astarion’s enslavement to his master, because how could a man who holds such reproach for him still manage to feel pity? ‘It is not pity, but compassion, which you are at liberty to reject. That is your right as a free man, just as it is my right to feel it.’
In the best case scenario, Astarion calms down eventually, teasing Solas but still treating him like that friend of a friend that you grudgingly admit is useful. I think a part of Astarion would find Solas’s penchant dislike of him funny.
Vivienne + Astarion + Dorian
We are all doomed. The haughtiness will be scarcely contained. Dorian and Astarion are definitely flirting. Fucking? Not sure. But definitely flirting and enjoying killing bad guys, playfully arguing over wine, snickering over Solas’s shabby dress.
Shadowheart + Leliana
Tools forged to serve a religious order? Check. Crisis of faith? Check. Subterfuge preferred? Check.
Lae’zel + Cassandra
Soldiers recognizing soldiers. 🫡 ‘Why are the men around me so annoying.’
Minsc & Boo + Cole
Cole might be able to understand Boo! If not his speech, then his little hamster feelings. Minsc might be wary of Cole for the information that he manages to glean from Minsc’s head, but his unquestioned understanding of Boo would probably smooth that bump in the road, right?
Solas + Gale
A friend remarked that Gale would remind Solas too much of himself (prideful, ambitious) and thus they would not get along. There is that. I think that Gale would get a small smile out of Solas every now and then with his quips, because Solas himself is clearly a fan of banter; Gale would provide more of the energy in the same way Dorian does with his and Solas’s more civil banters. Gale and Solas also both hold a great measure of respect and adoration for magic as a force, an element, a piece of entirety that is beautiful for its own existence. Not simply just what magic can do for them as wielders of magic, but what it is and how it does so much to enhance a person’s understanding and interaction with the world, as precious as sight or sound.
Minthara + Iron Bull
Oh she will have him cowed in a goddamn minute. Oh man. Oh no. ‘Yes ma’am’, ‘no ma’am’.
Minthara + Cassandra
Oh this would be so interesting. Disciplined, serious bulwarks with little time for silly little men—Minthara would share Cassandra’s frustration and lack of amusement with Varric, though Cassandra would consider her suggestions to maim him.
Solas + Halsin + Iron Bull
I see potential here. Iron Bull and Solas already have a dynamic of Iron Bull’s “I have a pretty good idea of who you are, and it’s a liar” toward Solas, while Solas grudgingly respects Iron Bull’s strength and mental acumen in the same way you would respect a very intelligent bear—do not draw attention more than necessary, but stand tall lest it smell fear. Halsin feels like a softer Iron Bull, a mediation between the two. Like Iron Bull, his stature and build belies a thoughtful and sharp mind. Like Solas, he sees everything as connected, feeding into the other as part of a system, and would too feel a sense of loss at magic and mundane being so dramatically split as it is in Thedas—an aberration against what is natural. Also like Iron Bull, he’s frank with his sexuality. I’m certain the two would swap stories over booze. The trio would be arguably the three most mature and experienced in a room in any given situation. Not only that, but Halsin is far more actively in touch with his heart and honest with his feelings than Solas or Iron Bull. The latter two very much care about their loved ones, but with Solas it is under the surface and with Iron Bull it’s mixed up in cultural trappings of romance not being a “thing” in his culture, and thus both struggle with their feelings. Halsin however is very much in touch. There is next to nothing obstructing what his head and heart wants. He listens to his heart and he follows it. Solas and Iron Bull could learn a thing or two from him, tbh
Also I feel like Iron Bull, Halsin, and even Solas have a bit of a brat tamer streak in them so there’s that
Also Astarion would outright reject the notion of drinking Cullen’s blood cuz it smells like battery acid.
#bg3#DA:I#shadowheart#gale#astarion#wyll#lae’zel#halsin#minthara#solas#vivienne#cassandra#varric#iron bull#dorian#sera#karlach#DAI#minsc
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The Catch
This is sort of a prologue to 'An Artists Eye'. It uses the same way of meeting/Élise and Bellec are still alive, but reading the previous fic is not necessary! This is supposed to be after the game (but obviously a different ending), it more so came out as a completly different timeline- what the hell it's fiction anyway
Arno offers to show you around the hidden assassin base below Cafe Theatre. He also offers a risky sexual time in a small, curtain-drawn study in the archives.
Warnings/Tags: Google translated French, GN reader (no descriptions listed), oral sex/blowjob, risky sex, getting caught, probably ooc Axeman but IDK anything about him (he 'flirts' with you).
Word Count: 3.4k (rounded up)
AO3 LINK: Here
Enjoy.
---
Arno Dorian was a man of many suits. He drank like a monster, risked his life daily in more ways than one, and fought like a madman. But, he was an attentive lover. Caring and somewhat good-natured when it came to you.
You were wary of Arno's regular disappearances and injuries once you started dating him, perhaps a little more worried than a normal partner would be. You weren't sure if his gambling was getting him into fistfights or if he got into one too many scraps with local drunks, but you could never recall a time when he didn't come back to you unharmed.
At first, you’d thought him a thief or maybe a smuggler. To your surprise, he was neither (or both) but an assassin. You laughed at him then, giving him a look of disbelief, but when he stayed stone-faced, your look of humor soon turned into panic.
“Arno,” you had said, “you cannot be serious. An assassin?” He gave you a slight smirk that you can still picture perfectly today and took your hands in his. “Yes, an assassin. I’ve been one since I was twenty-two.” He said it so plainly that there was no other truth besides that- a killer. You weren’t scared, though, and perhaps you should have been. You trusted him not to get himself captured or, worse, killed.
Despite your trust, he did come home wounded quite often. The unexplained injuries suddenly made a lot more sense, especially the stab and slash marks from a sword--and, god forbid, a bullet hole once in a blue moon. While you weren’t thrilled about becoming skilled at suturing your lover, you got exceptionally good at it. In return, Arno affectionately called you ‘mon infirmière.’
My nurse.
“Arno,” you sighed nervously while threading a needle. “You know that you’re supposed to stick them with your sword, not be stuck by their sword, right?” He laughed and winced after, fists clenching at the two-centimeter-deep slash wound on his right side. “Oui, mon amour, I’m well aware. Sometimes, it’s a bit difficult while fighting three people at the same time.” You side-eye him then, tutting. “I have you, though, mon infirmière. You are much more gentler than Elise and not as scrutinizing.”
You also missed him a lot, even when he was right beside you. The constant fear that he might one day leave and never come back haunted you. Every time he returned in the dead of the night, you couldn't help but feel a surge of relief. You would thank him, your voice barely audible as he quietly removed his boots, careful not to disturb your sleep.
It’s been six months since you’ve started dating Arno. Your worry decreased dramatically during that time. Partially because the longest missions Arno’s been on are only a few days to a week at most, partially because he’d always spend a day or two before that mission with you doing things he’d know would quell your stress. This time, though, he’d be traveling to Toulouse for three weeks: six hundred and seventy-eight kilometers, a day and a half carriage ride away.
Arno was going to leave in two days, and he had been spending time with you in between the preparations. You sat in a chair by the fire, scribbling around your sketchbook. Arno was gone—probably below Cafe Theatre or in the study—the only thing keeping you company was the gentle crackling of the flames and the songbirds chirping outside in the terrace garden. Summer was coming to its final stretch and starting to transition into fall. Leaves were turning into gorgeous shades of red and orange, the temperature just warm enough to leave without a coat, and the apple trees were blooming to make the perfect apple cider.
A beautiful time of growth and change, and you’d be experiencing it with mostly Elise and your best friend (not that you had anything against Elise or your best friend; you did love them, but something about fall was so romantic).
“Mon amour,” a disembodied voice said, “what are you drawing?” His hands rested on your shoulders, squeezing lovingly before he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “Eurasian jays,” you replied, moving your gaze from the crisp paper to your lover. He stole a chaste kiss and looked at your page of elegantly drawn birds. Arno recognized them as the bird that stole a piece of your bread a few months back, a smile drawing to his face.
Arno sighed through his nose. “How are you?” he asked, his voice ever more soothing at this peaceful moment. “Alright. How is your work going? Are you still leaving in two days?” His slight noise had confirmed, although he did not speak, and he moved one of his hands down, carefully taking your sketchpad away and setting it down on the table next to the chair.
“I have something that might put your mind at ease during my mission,” Arno said softly. “The Council has permitted you to visit our headquarters. You can meet my mentor and our fellow assassins. While you can't go there alone, I thought it might comfort you to see where I spend my time.”
“Are you sure?” you asked, quickly taking his hand as he helped you stand.
“I wouldn’t suggest it if I weren’t certain,” he replied, reassuringly smiling. “There aren’t many people there right now, maybe my mentor or a few friends. We could go now if you’d like?” You chewed your lip briefly, pretending to ponder before nodding. “Alright, let’s go.”
Arno led you down the familiar hallways of Cafe Theatre, but this time, he stopped at a spot you had never taken much notice of before. With an odd-looking key that you’ve never seen before slotted into the lock, the dark wooden door swung open with a quiet groan. Inside was a dimly lit staircase that descended into a stone hallway with a red rug lining the middle. “This way,” he said, taking your hand as he guided you into the dimly lit corridor.
The passage trailed downward, the air growing cooler and damper as you descended. The walls were lined with old, worn stone, and the faint scent of old books and earth made up the air. Arno walked with the confidence of a man who’d traversed these halls too many times to count, his gloved fingertips brushing against the bricks while his arm that didn’t wield the blade held your hand.
Eventually, you arrived at the bottom of the staircase. The hallway was much grander than you had seen from the top of the stairs--curtains framing big paintings of what you assumed were important figures in the assassin world, numerous pedestals holding silver or iron statues, and a large red tapestry with a white emblem on it hanging from the tall ceilings, the Creed’s sigil. The room was illuminated by torches mounted on the walls, casting a warm, flickering glow that danced over Arno’s face and shadowed a beautiful gleam on him.
Once the hallway ended, there was a room containing a long table surrounded by haphazardly pushed-in chairs. On all four sides of the room was another hallway, but the one in front of you led into a vast room resembling a courtroom. It was no less magnificent than the hallways—possibly a little more—such as the oak table covered in various maps and documents and the walls lined with weapons and other neatly organized tools of the trade.
Arno turns to you with a gentle smile, speaking in a tone that feels a little too loud for the setting, “This is where I spend much of my time when I’m not with you. It’s not much, but it’s home.”
You took in your surroundings with a deep breath. There was a strange comfort, as well as uncertainty and awe, seeing where Arno lived most of his life. You had talked about seeing the creed’s hideout when you first found out about his position, and honestly, what you saw now was not what you envisioned in your mind. When you think of Assassin, you think of torturing and other dark things. While you were sure it did happen, there was no hint of it here.
True to his word, there weren’t many people in the hideout. In fact, there wasn’t a soul around. “Is it normal for there not to be people?” You ask, looking at Arno as he wraps an arm around your waist. “No. Usually, there are many people, but most of us are out on missions, and the council is out on a meeting with-” “Arno!”
“Axeman, mon ami!”
You turned your head to the right to see a man walking towards you, an axe strapped on his back. You rolled your eyes playfully at the ‘clever’ name of his friend. Axeman slapped his hand on Arno’s shoulder in a hello, his brown eyes meeting yours. “And half of us thought you made them up,” he jests, sticking his hand out for you to take and gently kissing the back of your hand. “How could I make someone so great up?” Arno smiles, and his arm briefly squeezes you closer.
Axeman chuckles while running a hand through his pushed-back brown hair. “As much as I’d like to stay and chat with your lovely partner, I do have a mission to get to.” He gives you a small smile and Arno a playful smack again, turning to walk the way you came in. “Bellec’s around, so be on your best behavior.”
Once his buddy left, your lover turned to you, giving you a frisky smirk. “Let me give you a tour,” Arno grabbed your hand again with a slight squeeze and led you deeper into the underground hideout, his hand warm even through the worn leather glove. “This way,” Arno said, pulling you to the left hallway. This passage was thinner than the others and dimly lit by candelabras placed every five feet, occasional carvings etched into the stone walls between large pillars. Large wooden doors started after the fourth pillar, and Arno took you to the second one on the right side, swinging open the heavy door and nodding you inside.
“This is the main training room.” He gestured with a flourish, letting you step inside and look around. The space was huge, with mats covering the floor. Wooden dummies and targets lined two of the four walls, some riddled with throwing knives and arrows, some looking so broken it was just remembrance of rough training. Three assassins were sparring, one sitting down to the side drinking water and two practicing their knife skills.
“Care for a quick lesson?” He teased, knowing full well that you weren’t one for battling people, instead gnats or annoying flies that buzzed around. “Maybe later,” you replied with a grin, “What’s next?”
He followed you out and closed the door behind him, leading you across the hall into the next door. “Here is the armory.” The room opened to reveal wooden walls lined with weapons of every kind: swords, daggers, pistols, rifles, smoke bombs, bomb bombs, and, of course, things to maintain the hidden blade. Each was meticulously maintained and ready for action. “Most of us have our preferred weapons, so this is mainly for recruits or people who have lost a weapon. Pick any weapon, and it’ll have a story,” Arno said, following you inside.
His fingers brushed an ornate-looking sword, the beautiful engraving on the blade glinting in the candlelight. You reached out, touching a dagger with an intricate hilt next to the sword Arno was looking at. “What about this one?”
“Ah, that belonged to Thomas de Carneillon, an assassin in the 13th and 14th century,” Arno explained, “he tried to steal a sword of Eden, the same one that killed Germaine.” He gives you an inquisitive look and lets you wander around the round room, watching as you observe the weapons with a curiosity that makes his stomach twinge in an absurd kind of attractiveness.
Once you circle the room and return to Arno, he offers his hand again and leads you out of the room and deeper into the hallway. “You’ll love this,” he assures, motioning towards the end of the hallway where a huge arch opened up to a library. “This is the south archive,” he said, smiling at your giddy smile.
It smelled like old parchment, ink, and worn leather-bound books, a scent that engrained itself in your brain. Shelves upon shelves of ancient tomes, scrolls, and books lined the walls, going up to the ceiling where a giant metal chandelier hung. Maroon velvet curtains lined the arch, and when you slipped into the library, you didn’t notice Arno tugging the golden rope that held them back. The drapes made a soft noise as they closed, dimming the room just the slightest bit, and Arno watched as your fingers trailed over the spines of the books.
“It’s beautiful,” you murmured. “You said that this is the South archive?” Arno hummed a ‘yes,’ coming up behind you as you pulled one of the smaller books off the shelf. He wrapped his arms around your hips and kissed your temple, scanning the book you opened. “This library isn’t the biggest one here, but this one is always empty, perfect for us.”
Arno watched the trail of your fingertips against the worn paper, gentle like your fingers when you trail them over Arno’s back. His eyes followed your hand as you turned the page, forefinger and thumb pinching the page like when you pinch your nipple while he’s fingering you. He should not be turned on right now.
“Arno,” you said, head turning to look at your lover behind you. His eyes caught yours, your pretty eyes that always glistened right before you orgasmed, and right then, he made up his mind. Before you could speak again, Arno had pressed his lips against your soft ones, maybe just a little too roughly, the leather of the book in your hands creaking with how hard you gripped it.
His hand grabbed the book from your hands and placed it back on the shelf with a little bit of struggle. Nipping your bottom lip, Arno’s hands gripped your hips and slipped his tongue inside your mouth. He tasted like wine and something sweet--something him-- and god, you’d be lying if it wasn’t intoxicating for the both of you. When you did pull away, a slim bridge of saliva connected your lips and snapped when he licked his. You were suddenly very aware of the predicament you’ve gotten yourself into--his erection pressed into your behind and his needy hands wandering your body.
“We’re in the base,” you un-needily whispered, sucking in a small breath as his lips moved to your jaw and pressed a kiss just behind your jawbone. “Oui, but we are alone. No one is near us, and we’ll be quiet.” You shakily breathed as he continued to kiss along the side of your neck and fuck; if the thought of risk didn’t set a throbbing between your legs, you weren’t sure what did.
With an enthusiastic nod, Arno grabbed your hand and pulled you to one of the curtain-drawn study rooms off to the side. As he did with the entrance to the archive, Arno pulled the rope holding the drapes back off and dropped it to the floor. The ambient candlelight under the curtains, the only light in the ‘private’ study room, set a surprisingly intimate aura as Arno’s hand cups the side of your face and kisses you again. This one was headier, making your mind swim as his other hand grabbed your butt, pushing your hips into his.
Your hands that had been resting on his shoulders slipped down his chest and to his belt, one palming his obvious arousal and the other fiddling with the belt buckle. He groaned into your mouth, hips chasing your hand as you moved it up to help undo the buckle. His hands joined yours in a messy struggle, and once his belt was undone, you immediately sank to your knees.
Arno swore--a short, breathy ‘merde’ that sent every single ounce of blood that was in your brain rushing south, and with that blood came a fleeting thought of how easy it was to get you to suck him off in a place with people. It wasn’t the first time that you had sexual interactions in a public place--far from it--but it was the first time that you’d be on the giving end.
His hand came to rest on the back of your head as your fingers unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down with his undergarments just to free his cock. Even in the darkness, you could tell that he was fully hard, your hand that didn’t rest on his hip coming to stroke him teasingly slow. Your thumb swiped over his tip that dribbled precum, and his hips twitched with a soft groan that was nothing short of heavenly.
You softly pressed your lips against his head and trailed them down his shaft, letting your spit dribble against his heated skin and slicking him up with your hand. His quiet groans and the schlick of your hand made up the space--an erotic opera--and finally, your lips slipped around his tip and gently sucked. “Dieu, fuck, don’t stop,” Arno groaned, hips rocking in time with the drawls and push of your head. After enough saliva drips from your mouth and down his cock you took him deeper in just so the head of his cock was resting against the back of your tongue.
Arno moved both of his hands to the side of your head and gently held you in place, his thumbs stroking over your cheekbones, and he began to thrust into your mouth. At first, his thrusts were shallow, but as your hands came to his thighs once again, Arno gave a chuckle and picked up his pace. You slid your tongue against the underside of him, and he let out a groan, one that was a little too loud. “Good job, mon amour, good job…”
No matter how many times you took him in any way, there was never a time where he failed to make you so painfully aroused.
“Suck,” Arno said, stopping his movements rather deep inside the constrictive heat of your throat and petting your head. And just like he said, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked. His head thudded against the wall he had his back rested on, and, oh, that groan. Primal and needy and wanting in every sinful way known to man. “S'il vous plaît, continuez, putain, juste comme ça. Tu me prends si bien- si bien, fuck!”
His fingers threaded through your hair and gripped the strands, holding them tight as he rocked against your mouth. Arno was so, so close, you just needed to suck a little harder and-
“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, ARNO?!”
You immediately pull off of Arno, who seems equally surprised but, strangely enough, not embarrassed. You wiped the back of your mouth with your hand and turned around, face mortified at the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway. He shook his head and turned around, letting the curtain fall behind him, and you could still tell he was outside due to the shadow from under the drapes. Arno haphazardly tucked himself back into his pants and offered you a hand up off the ground. When he pulled you up, you gave him a look, one that said Arno, are you fucking kidding me? but all he did was chuckle and step out of the study.
“Désolé, Bellec.” Your lover said, utterly unphased by the fact you had just been caught in a very precarious and intimate moment, and you heard a sigh from not Arno. “You never fail to amaze me, pisspot,” The man- Bellec- laughed.
You stood in the study for a good fifteen minutes with your face aflame, too embarrassed to even walk out of the hideout.
Thankfully the second meeting with Bellec was not when you were sucking Arno off and instead over wine (that doesn’t mean you weren’t a hot-faced mess with an embarrassed smile on your face throughout the whole thing, though).
#arno dorian x reader#arno dorian#arno dorian smut#assassins creed x reader#ac unity#ac unity x reaer
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oh btw - veilguard is slightly sexist imo. Like, it's not some insane amount of sexism, just small things that I look at and am like "oof."
idk, for example how one of our companions is quite an old man, which is great, but all female companions are obviously young women - something that probably wouldn't have happened if Gaider was in charge, because he understood the appeal of older women (f..flemeth) but well, here we are.
(just to be clear - I am aware that in the older installments on the other hand we can complain about Wynne being 48. Just... not what I'm talking about. But yes, it was shitty.)
The chest size also gets me - I'm not saying we should have the option to give our characters bonkers (such a funny word, idk), but it is quite small, compared to the bulge size (xd). Talk about sexualization, but having bigger breasts is not sexualization - it's just female body ffs. We should have the option to have both smaller and bigger breasts, because it gives off a vibe of these old memes, that'd link having more conventionally feminine body to being stupid or smth. If the CC wasn't as detailed as it is, I wouldn't have this problem, but since only here we have no variety... We go from sexualizing female body to acting as if having a body was sexualization - so when i saw people defending it, as if having breasts is something bad? get a grip.
Like, again, I'm not saying the game is super sexist on purpose, of course it's not. But they did make some strange decisions here, they were probably not even aware of - and these are small things, but oof.
edit: someone in the comments correctly pointed out that while varric and dorian designs are much older (although dorian is an abomination tbh) Morri and Isa did not age in the slightest XD
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Scars of Flames and Wind | Chapter 4
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Chap 3
A Dark!Rowaelin x afab!Reader
(Temporary) Summary: Aelin and Y/N shared a deep bond since childhood, growing up together in the royal courts of Terrasen as their innocent crushes hinted at a future romance. However, the invasion of Adarlan shattered their world. Aelin was forced to become Celaena, while Y/N stayed behind, joining the rebellion and becoming their most lethal spy, never ceasing to look for the princess. That is until she accidentally meets with a famous assassin who’s eyes she knows for so long.
Warnings: Not proof read. yn (I guess) I changed one thing or two for the sake of the plot. Set on Crown of Midnight.
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Chapter 4 l As time goes by; part two
The night was sultry, heavy with the intense scent of saltwater, and the stars twinkled with the same intensity as the curiosity hidden behind the masks covering the faces of everyone at the party. The ballroom was radiant, illuminated by golden chandeliers and adorned with velvet tapestries, creating an atmosphere that exuded glamour and power. A masquerade ball, the traditional Litha celebration—and I was right at its center, playing yet another role none of them would suspect.
I confess that a part of me was thrilled when Aedion told me about the ball. Deep down, I missed the dresses, the adornments, the delicacies, and the chocolates served. Even with the plan in mind, I allowed myself a small moment of indulgence. I was wrapped in a light, flowing ball gown made of a soft green fabric, like summer leaves, with silver details that shimmered in the light, like sunlight reflecting on water.
The bodice was delicate, with silver threads woven into subtle patterns, while the skirt flowed in soft layers that moved gracefully, reminiscent of the warm summer breeze. The lightness of the dress, contrasted with the richness of the silver, made me look like an ethereal vision—a tree swaying gently in the wind. Wearing an intricate mask that concealed my eyes and hid my identity, I made sure to appear as a noble, not only to blend in with the other lavishly dressed guests but also because it was Aedion’s money, not mine. An early birthday gift, he had said.
Although the king knew there was indeed someone infiltrating his court, none of the guests knew who or what I was—not even Prince Dorian or Chaol, the captain of the guard. They saw me only as another noble guest, someone dedicated to gossiping about the court's latest scandals, and the king had never seen me without the mask. But, in truth, I was there to spread more than just gossip.
The music played softly in the background, blending with the murmur of conversations and muffled laughter. I spent the entire evening gliding among groups of guests, dropping subtle words, like poison, about a possible coup within the court and the need for someone as ruthless as the king to lead the crown's protection.
“Did you know assassins still attack the kingdom?” My voice was soft as I responded to a middle-aged nobleman with brown hair, but loud enough to catch the attention of a few curious faces. “Those who care nothing for the king or the court draw closer to our homes every day—perhaps even to our circles. And who will stop them if we don’t have someone capable of doing what must be done?”
His voice, though calm, carried a note of skepticism. “Yes, yes, assassins might still be at large,” he replied, nodding with a forced smile, “but at what cost, my dear? Do we truly want the kingdom protected by someone so... ruthless? Sure, having someone like that on our side might solve what needs solving, but shouldn’t we rely on our own forces? Or are you suggesting we depend on someone of equal ruthlessness to safeguard our crown?”
With an overly sweet smile but a firm gaze, I replied in a soft yet challenging tone, “And since when do we draw the line between justice and tyranny?”
My eyes met Dorian’s from across the room, where he stood in a corner surrounded by women laughing and chatting as he drank, clearly letting himself be swept up in the party's energy. Captain Chaol stood beside him, as always, more serious—a stone amidst a sea of frivolity.
Dorian let out a sarcastic laugh, his eyes gleaming with a familiar cynicism. “Ah, yes, everything is under control. As my father always says, ‘Why worry about what happens outside the palace walls?’ Of course, the problem is he never knew where to stop. To him, control means crushing anyone who dares question him. So yes, it’s all... an exaggeration.”
I couldn’t suppress a faint smile tinged with disdain. The prince, with all his carefree energy, thought he could hide behind a glass of wine and the laughter of women as if nothing mattered. But I knew what he really thought about the court—deep down, he wanted more than just to be the libertine everyone saw.
“Exaggeration, Your Highness?” My voice was soft, but irony dripped from every word. “I don’t know... Perhaps you’re right. The court is entirely free of danger. And who needs an assassin to protect the throne?” I grew bolder, stepping closer to him, my eyes glinting from behind the mask as I spoke low enough for only him to hear. “But if you truly want to earn your father’s approval, perhaps you should start by choosing the best among the nobles here. The court needs more than a prince who hides behind parties and wine.”
Dorian’s smile faltered for a moment, his gaze sharpening. He didn’t like being challenged, and despite being drunk, the provocation hit its mark. “You don’t understand my position. It’s not about being the best or the worst. It’s not about earning my father’s approval.”
“Of course not,” I countered, my voice softening but carrying a hidden edge. “If that were the case, you wouldn’t be so unconcerned with what happens outside these walls. But the truth is, you’re not the man the court needs. You’re just another distraction—or at least that’s how you’ve chosen to appear.”
Dorian seemed to steady himself but couldn’t find the words to reply. The silence stretched between us, and that’s when I decided to deliver the final blow.
“But who knows... if you choose to be braver, to care a little more about who’s in control, perhaps you could finally prove yourself useful for something other than being an indolent prince. It’s frustrating to see such a brilliant mind, someone who knows what’s truly right, waste away in alcohol and debauchery.” My voice dropped to an almost seductive tone. “And if you truly want to be taken seriously by your father, you should choose the best champion for this kingdom.”
The prince, still visibly irritated, cast a sharp look in my direction but couldn’t muster a retort. I knew he was beginning to realize that perhaps something more complex was brewing beneath the surface of this court.
Chaol, who had been silently observing until then, finally moved, placing a firm hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “Don’t waste your time on provocations, Your Highness. It’s not worth it.”
I stepped back, still smiling. “You’re right, Captain. But sometimes, what’s worth it is what keeps us on our toes.”
Chaol shot me a sharp glance, and I returned my most innocent smile. I knew that tonight, I had taken another step in the right direction—that the prince—heavens prove me right, as clever as Sorscha claims he is—would carry my words with him. I turned back to the group I had been mingling with, satisfied with our exchange. After all, it wasn’t just about manipulating the prince. It was about finding the court's weaknesses and using them to my advantage.
I could still feel the weight of the lord’s murder on my shoulders—the memory of his fallen body etched in my mind, along with the entire throne room conversation, where the lord's head lay at his feet on the day of my departure. The king had agreed to Aedion’s proposal of having an assassin as a champion, sending me back to The Bane and ordering me to head for Suria, the coastal city of Terrasen. The disgust and hatred still churned inside me, knowing firsthand how my cousin was treated—no longer a mere pet—and realizing that because of that wretched king, we had lost everything and were forced to work in the shadows.
But the plan was working, no matter how crazy or bizarre it seemed. It was madness to follow the advice of a specter that appeared in dreams. I knew I had been losing my sanity for a long time, but full-on insanity wasn’t part of the plan. Not when the rebellion was gaining ground. Not when my own steps were becoming steadier, even if they barely dulled the bitterness. Sam’s death, Arobynn’s actions with Rouke—it all pushed me to the brink of madness. But war was a dangerous tide, and I needed to be sharper. Revenge was no longer an option—not until the rebellion was stronger. Not until she came back to me.
The apartment was silent, save for the soft scratch of Ren’s pen on paper. He was engrossed in the rebellion's information, pouring over reports from groups scattered across Adarlan. I allowed myself to observe him, elbows propped on the table, absentmindedly playing with the sun-and-moon pendants on my necklace. The sunlight from the window illuminated his brown eyes and slightly longer-than-usual black hair, hiding the scar on his face as if the world outside didn’t exist. I couldn’t deny it—he was a handsome man. His upright posture and striking features were hard to ignore. The kind of beauty that drew attention effortlessly.
Ren finished writing and looked at me, a lighter expression on his face, as if everything had already been resolved. He raised his eyes to meet mine, breaking me out of my thoughts. His crooked smile made my stomach twist—a sensation I should have learned to ignore by now.
"You’re overthinking, Y/N. You’ll start smoking from your head soon." He stretched in his chair, arms above his head, as if it had been ages since we’d last seen each other. He always knew when I was far away in my thoughts.
I let out a light laugh and rolled my eyes. “Idiot... you know I can’t help it,” I said calmly, resting my head on the coffee table. Ren leaned closer to me, his face near mine, propping himself up on his forearm, creating a tension between us.
He leaned slightly forward, his eyes gleaming in that familiar way. "But you can’t deny that a bit of... fun helps, right?"
I looked at him and shook my head with a tired sigh. "Ren... that’s not happening again," I said in a slow, warning tone.
Once. Just once, two autumns ago, and it was enough for him to get the wrong idea. He was a good man, and I was sure almost no one would have questioned it if we’d become a couple. It was stupid—I was angry that Celaena had chosen Sam, that she’d left the Guild for him... and when I got to the apartment that night, Ren was there. We drank cheap wine to forget everything happening that autumn, and... a morning of hangovers and regret followed.
He chuckled softly, as if he found me amusing. “You never give yourself a break, do you?”
"Not for a second."
He raised his eyebrows. "Well, I’ll have to find another way to distract you, then."
I knew he was trying to ease the tension, but I didn’t have time for it. My mind was elsewhere. I took a deep breath, avoiding his gaze.
"What’s on your mind, Y/N?" Ren asked, clearly curious.
I ignored his question, standing up from the table and walking to the couch where his backpack lay open, papers and trinkets spilling out. "Travel bags should be cleaned out, you know?" I said sarcastically, completely changing the subject. He stuck his tongue out at me as I rummaged through the bag deliberately. A coarse envelope bearing a tax seal fell to the floor. I frowned, picking it up. "You haven’t read Sorscha’s letter yet?"
"No, I wanted to read it with you," Ren said, still focused on the papers in front of him. "With the competition going on, she’s had more access to the palace as a healer. She’s getting crucial information... and, well, you and Aedion are the masterminds behind all of this."
I walked back to the coffee table and sat down. "Thanks, but if you pile one more responsibility on me, I’m going to explode," I said lightly as I opened the letter and began reading silently. Her handwriting, usually simple, now felt like a punch in the gut. My heart chilled as I read:
"Things are stirring in the palace. The atmosphere is tense, and rumors are flying faster than the wind. Cain is undoubtedly the court’s favorite. His strength and presence make him nearly unbeatable, but there’s something about Lilian that’s drawing attention. Though many see her as just a jewel thief, the truth is, she’s far more cunning than anyone imagines. Be cautious with her. At the ball, I saw a mysterious blonde woman in white and blue, dancing with Prince Dorian. She danced with him longer than any other woman that night, raising many questions. There’s talk that this woman might be the competitor. If it’s her... we need to find out if she’s one of ours."
Lilian. The name cut like a sharp blade. I knew exactly who she was. No one but Aedion and I knew the truth. Reading those words—those observations about her—seeing that she was close to the prince, dancing with Dorian, three times... My stomach twisted, and anger began to simmer.
It wasn’t about her dancing with him. It was about what it meant. The woman I loved more than anything else, in someone else’s arms. Again. I should have been relieved and happy knowing she was alive, advancing in the tournament, and would soon be free. But how could I fight for that?
The letter went on. The atmosphere around the competition was strange. Sorscha mentioned that some competitors were vanishing, disappearing outside the challenges. Giant footprints had been found, and everything was being cleaned up before the court could see. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human. Whatever it was, it was disrupting the competition and the participants, with no plausible explanation.
And I wanted to focus on that. I wanted to focus on what mattered, on what I was supposed to do. But all my mind wanted was to think of her with the little prince. Because deep down, I knew it wasn’t just a dance. It was always more.
I closed the letter with trembling fingers, the weight of anger and frustration consuming me. Ren didn’t know any of this. He didn’t know what it meant to me, what this competition truly meant. He didn’t know what had happened between us in the past, and I couldn’t tell him. Not now. Not without risking everything.
I put the letter aside, my anger growing colder and quieter with each passing second. It was all that was left—to contain it. There was nothing else to do but move forward.
"I’ve made good progress with Archer’s group," I said, my voice controlled, monotone, as if everything was normal. "The negotiations with Nehemia are more solid now. The princess has agreed to help us."
Ren smiled, clearly relieved. "Really? That’s great! Things are becoming more concrete, and—"
I stopped listening, lost in my thoughts again. Yes, more concrete. But for me, everything was still broken.
It felt familiar... the moonlight, the scent of cedar and cold wind... a familiar dream. This time, denser and more realistic than ever. The touch of the thick vegetation of the ancient Oakwald Forest as I walked toward the largest tree in sight. The thick trunk seemed almost alive, pulsing with an ancient energy. And once again, she was there. The luminous woman with long white hair, her face still shrouded in mist. I could feel her gaze fixed on me, as if she were waiting for something.
"YN Monserrat..." The woman's voice was deep and soft, like the echo of something ancient, but also filled with urgency.
I frowned, the rarely used surname feeling strange and stirring a feeling I couldn’t quite name, almost like remorse. Not that I despised my heritage, but I had always been regarded as an Ashryver. Before she could say anything else, I interrupted her with an impatient tone.
"I did what you asked," I said, my voice hard, my chest tight. "Even though all of this seemed insane, and I didn’t know if it was true. But I did it. She’s alive and progressing further in the tournament every day."
The woman didn’t flinch. "I know. And yes, this is real, YN. More real than you can imagine..." she said in a remorseful tone, stepping closer. The light around her figure grew. "What you’ve done was necessary. Now, what matters is that you learn the Wyrd language. To understand what’s happening. To understand the creatures being brought to this castle."
I was stunned. "What? Creatures...?" I automatically thought of the rumors of beasts in the castles, which made me even more uneasy. "What… Who are you to tell me what to do? To know all this?" My tone was a mix of anger and distrust. "More riddles and mysteries again..."
The woman was silent for a moment, as if carefully choosing her words. Then she spoke with the calmness of someone who knew far more than they revealed.
"They are Wyrd creatures, formed by one of the two stones the King possesses. They’ve started emerging from the shadows, brought to life by this force—ancient and powerful beyond what you can imagine. They are not human, though some may appear to be... and they’re being sent to hunt."
Her voice darkened as if the weight of the truth bore down on her. "And all of this ties into why you’re here. You’re in the middle of a dangerous game, YN. That’s why you must learn the Wyrd language, to protect yourself and to protect—"
I felt my anger explode like an earthquake. "Protect? You made me throw her to the wolves! It was supposed to save her, you told me she’d be safe, and now you’re telling me there’s a threat in there? That I have to learn a language I’ve never heard of? And here I am, the idiot listening to a specter in a dream!" I laughed bitterly. "I swear, if anything happens to her... specter or not, I will destroy you."
The woman looked at me in silence, her eyes brimming with something I couldn’t identify. As if my words had wounded her more deeply than any physical blow. Good.
"Someone will come to you. Someone who knows more and can guide you. This person also knows you," she replied, her voice heavy with emotion, her silhouette becoming more transparent.
"What? Wait!"
I woke with a start, sweating in my bed, hearing Ren’s soft snores from the bunk above me. The sun was beginning to rise, casting a faint glow through the small window. Before I could process that damn dream, I noticed something unusual by the window. A letter lay on the sill—a strange sight, considering I was on the fourth floor of the old, decrepit building where we lived.
Cautiously, I approached, my suspicion fed by the sense that something wasn’t right. If someone knew we were here, knew what we were... I exhaled in relief when I saw the rebel group's code. I opened the letter and couldn’t hide my surprise. A direct message from Nehemia, written in our rebellion codes.
What the woman had said... It was about her. The princess. I had never felt so much anger in my life. How many people was that ghost dragging into this sordid game? I couldn’t understand why Terrasen or Celaena would be a common interest—or why I had to be the link.
Without wasting time, I grabbed paper and pen. Sitting at the makeshift dining table, I gripped the pen tightly, writing a quick response, suggesting a safer method, and describing how it could work.
I walked silently through the dark and forgotten corridors of the ancient stone castle beneath the imposing glass castle above. The worn, ancient stone walls seemed to swallow every sound of my footsteps. Disguised in simple servant's clothing—a tattered skirt and plain linen blouse that drew little attention—I kept my face exposed but my gaze downcast, avoiding eye contact with anyone passing by. I took every opportunity to move through the most neglected corridors, remaining unseen.
In those secret, desolate halls, I overheard conversations that never made it into Sorscha’s reports. Whispers slipped out unintentionally, rumors tossed into the air. They seemed trivial, but somehow, they cut deeper than I cared to admit.
On one of these walks, as I passed through a narrow corridor, I caught muffled voices coming from a group of servants. I quickly positioned myself beneath an air duct in the ceiling, where golden light seeped through, and strained to catch their words. A young woman’s voice, sharp with irritation, echoed faintly.
“I don’t know what Duke Perrington wants from me anymore,” she grumbled, her voice laced with frustration. “That old man is just making things harder for me. And worse than these damned headaches is Prince Dorian avoiding me more and more, always chasing after that Liliana.”
There was a sneer in her tone, a bitterness that went beyond annoyance—she sounded utterly disillusioned. “If only he knew... Hurry up, I need my opiates, or I’ll lose it!”
My brows furrowed as my breathing quickened. The mention of Duke Perrington made my skin crawl. He wasn’t making much progress impressing the King with Cain, his tournament contender, and now he seemed to be targeting a young noblewoman to secure his influence. Disgusting. But something else nagged at me. The mention of Liliana didn’t escape my notice. If the Duke knew... if he discovered who she truly was...
Anxiety settled in my chest like a lead weight, but I had to keep moving. The echoes of my footsteps faded into the cold stone as a peculiar sound caught my attention. Near one of the air ducts that fed into the quarters and offices, a man’s voice carried low and intense, each word heavy with purpose. He seemed to be speaking to himself, his thoughts too significant to keep silent.
“In Morath, the experiment is succeeding. It’s only a matter of time before she accepts the offer... Yes, there will be enough for the next step.”
The word "Morath" made me freeze. I’d never heard it before, but the tone of his voice, filled with anticipation and cold detachment, sent a shiver down my spine. She? Who was he referring to? What—or who—was he preparing for?
The sense of something much larger, darker than the specter ever hinted at, began to close in around me. But I couldn’t linger. A pause hung in the air, followed by a faint, deranged murmur.
“The next one will be more efficient...” His voice dragged, as if he spoke of something—or someone—with distant cruelty. The words carried the weight of a sentence, and I could almost imagine the disdain in his tone. Was he talking about a creature? A weapon? The feeling was that of a beast waiting to be unleashed.
I wanted to stay, to understand more, but instinct warned me otherwise. I continued walking, letting the conversation fade behind me. The words still echoed in my mind, their weight impossible to ignore.
When I finally reached the meeting point—a remote, long-forgotten grove—the memory of those words still hammered in my head. I took a deep breath, trying to push them aside. The soft moonlight illuminated Nehemia’s figure as she stood near the stones where we often sat to study, waiting for me. She always seemed so serene, as if she viewed the world from a perspective I couldn’t reach.
She looked at me as I approached, her smile gentle but tinged with that knowing gaze I had come to recognize. She knew something was weighing on me, but, as always, she didn’t pry. Nehemia was like that—silent, never imposing her questions.
“Good evening, YN,” she said, her voice sweet but laced with a quiet respect.
“Good evening, Nehemia,” I replied, managing a faint smile.
She gave a small nod and led me to the stones, carrying scrolls and a few pencils. Our meetings were always like this—calm, as if the world around us faded for a moment. Random days, no rush, no pressure.
At first, the process was difficult—the words of the Wyrd tongue unraveled slowly in my mind. But as weeks passed and I balanced my studies with the information she shared about the tournament’s final stages, I felt myself growing more adept at reading. Pronunciation, however, was another disaster entirely. At least it provided some laughter between us.
“Let’s start by reciting ancient words,” she said, already picking up a pencil and preparing to teach me what I needed to understand the Wyrd tongue.
There was a mutual understanding growing silently between us. Neither of us needed to speak of what had brought us here. We didn’t have to reinforce the obvious. She knew I was grappling with something inexplicable. I, in turn, recognized the depth in her calmness and patience.
We both understood the stakes, though we avoided speaking of them—how close the final stages of the tournament were.
And for now, that was enough.
Author's note: I'm alive! First of all, thank you for your patience, it was quite of hectic and unkind three moths but we're great for life learning things. I'm trying write as much as possible so I could just leave it schedule to post but yeah. I can't wait for you guys to read the rest of it!
Taglist:
@throneofsapphics @acourtofbatboydreams
#throne of glass x y/n#aelin x reader#aelin x y/n#poly!rowaelin x y/n#tog fic#sjm books#aelin x you#poly!rowaelin x reader#rowaelin#rowaelin fanfiction#rowaelin x you#rowaelin x reader#rowaelin fic#rowan whitethorn x reader
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Part 1: Velaris
Co-Written with @mariaofdoranelle
Of Hearts and Heists Masterlist
Read on AO3
Word count: 5.8k
Warnings: swearing, grumpy Rowan, icky paparazzi, blink and you miss it angsty hints oops
A/N: @mariaofdoranelle and i are so excited about this story!!! we're also kind of busy lol so this might be very randomly updated, but we're still so excited to share it with you!!
Enjoy!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Four Months Earlier
Aelin blinked awake at the soft tap on her shoulder, brushing the bleariness from her eyes. She touched a button on the side of her headphones, turning off the noise-canceling feature, and moved one of the cups off of her ear, looking inquisitively up at the uniformed flight attendant standing politely beside her reclined seat.
“We are preparing for descent, Ms. Galathynius,” the lady said softly. “I’ll need to bring your seat upright. Would you like to stay here or move into another part of the cabin?”
“I can move, thank you.” Swinging her sleepy legs over the side of the makeshift bed, she got up, picked up her small bag and the media report her publicist left while Aelin was asleep, then moved to the other half of the private plane’s cabin. Comfortable beige leather chairs sat in clusters of four around a few tables, and she crossed over to the one where a dark-haired man around her own age was sprawled in one of the chairs, snoring softly.
He didn’t budge when she sat down opposite him, propped her chin on her hands, and stared directly into his closed eyes. Time to work, then.
She flipped open the folder that held Elide’s report. On the first page, she’d left a Post-it note with the reminder that Aelin would meet her new bodyguard. She didn’t know anything about him, except he was highly recommended and flew from Wendlyn to temporarily replace Chaol while he was on paternity leave.
Post-it aside, Aelin knew what was inside Elide’s media report even before she opened it: a reminder of the next season of her show among a whole bunch of speculation about her love life. She wasn’t masochistic enough to Google herself and see what was being said about her, hence why her publicist always curated a sum up of what was currently being said about her, with a few headlines and hit tweets so she could have an idea of potential subjects for the next round of interviews.
And this week’s media report? Just a big are-they-or-aren’t-they.
Because if producers invite Aelin and Dorian to co-star together, it’s obviously because they’re in a romantic relationship, it wouldn’t have to do with both of them being hard-working stars who have chemistry on screen, get along with each other and the rest of the crew off-screen, and also happen to not arrive late or throw tantrums on set.
It was another several minutes before he stirred, and Aelin prepared for it, putting her work off to stare at him with crazy eyes as he pushed the silk sleep mask off of his eyes—to her delight, he gave a little shriek.
“Holy shit, Aelin!”
She snickered. “Morning, princess. Have a good beauty sleep?”
Dorian Havilliard pushed his hair away from his face with a sniff. “Since you’re clearly so invested in my well-being, yes. I did.”
“Aww, Dor, you know how easy it is to scare you.” She caught the pencil he threw at her head. “You would have been scared when you woke up anyway, since we’ll be halfway around the world.”
“That doesn’t scare me.” He settled his headphones around his neck. “We’ve both been in this game too long to be freaked out by a little time change, right?”
“Right.” Aelin turned her attention to the notes on her phone. “Are we ready for tonight?” Her publicist had left her a lengthy list of instructions for that night’s launch of the teaser trailer for the new season of “Queen of Glass,” the hit Netflix series that Aelin and Dorian starred in.
Dorian grumbled under his breath. “I guess. Wish we didn’t have to jump straight into press, but that’s just how it worked out this time.” Normally, when going to an event for their current project, they would arrive at their first stop and have a day or two to settle in, adjust to the time change, and prepare for the upcoming interviews, but their last few weeks of filming had gone later than expected, and they hadn’t been able to leave until the day before the trailer launch.
“I know, you wanted to be able to see the sights—the landmarks, the river, the art, the men.” Aelin laughed at the guilty flush that crept up Dorian’s face. “It’s okay, you know—I have a thing for Velarian men too, I’d never judge you for it.”
He smirked. “We can leave that to dear old Dad.”
She barked out a sharp laugh. “It’s too bad he won’t be at this event, because you could give him all the heart attacks.”
“About that…”
Aelin arched one eyebrow. “Why do I sense that you’re about to ask me for one of your big favors again, Dor?”
“I have a big favor to ask,” Dorian crooned, right on cue, snickering.
She sighed in pretend reluctance. “What is it?”
“Weshouldpretendtobedating.” The words spilled out of him in a single, breathless rush. He took a big gulp of breath and tried again, his fingers tapping erratically on the top of the table. “We should pretend to be dating when we give interviews.”
“Dor, sweetheart…” Her confusion grew. “Why the hell are you saying that?”
“I have a whole entire explanation that I should’ve given first, but of fuckin’ course I had to go and spill the conclusion.” He took a long drink from his water bottle. “You know how much of an asshole my dad gets when he’s stressed out during campaigns.”
Aelin nodded. “Oh, I’m very aware of Asshat-in-Chief Havilliard.”
Actually, his dad was an asshole every day of every year and managed to get worse around the elections, but Dorian was so used to the toxicity and verbal abuse that he saw it as ‘normal’.
Dorian snickered. “Well, before we left on this trip, he decided to grant me the immense favor of a two-minute phone call, and he told me quite bluntly that if I ‘do anything to screw over his campaign,’ he’d go the extra mile to ‘unscrew it’—that was a direct quote, by the way, and you know…”
“I do,” Aelin said, softening now. Havilliard Sr. was the perfect example of how dangerous it could be to hand that much power in the hands of a jackass like him. The possibilities of what he could do to his son were endless—publicly cut him off, forbid him from seeing his mother and little brother, even sink his career with a few phone calls to high-profile executives from his golf club—and the worst thing, he had no qualms about dangling this over his own son’s head when convenient. “Sounds just like the kind of shit he would say,” Aelin agreed. “What do you need?”
“The next thing he told me—as if it wasn’t already clear—was that if I’m too indiscreet, he’ll consider that me screwing over his campaign. So, I just need to keep him off my ass, get one hell of a solid alibi, you know? And I didn’t have any good ideas until I told Lys about Dad’s phone call.” He took another deep breath. “I’m not trying to shift the blame here—”
“You definitely are, but I’ll ignore it,” Aelin teased. “Go on.”
“Lys suggested that we pretend to be dating for this press tour, potentially starting as early as this event. If we’re seen in a ‘relationship,’ then all the paparazzi and tabloids will assume that we’ve been hiding it for a while, and they’ll go fucking insane trying to dig up all the little hints. They’ll get so consumed with our fake love story that they won’t pay any attention to the stuff we don’t want them to see. Plus, it will get even more engagement for the season premiere.”
“Don’t I know that,” Aelin muttered. She tapped her nails thoughtfully on the edge of the table, thinking over Dorian’s proposal. “I want to ask for time to think about it, but…Lys is right. Damn, it’s like she knows things about this.”
Dorian chuckled. “Almost like it’s her job, right?”
“Who would’ve guessed?” Aelin laughed. “It’s a hell of an idea, Dor. Do you think we can actually pull it off?”
“My beloved Elentiya,” Dorian intoned, quoting his lines from the season they had just finished filming. “My heart and soul are yours.”
“You’re such a drama queen,” she teased. “Okay. We just have a lot to plan and discuss, but… I’ll do it.”
While she hated to indirectly support Dorian’s dad, she’d do just about anything to protect her friend.
“Thank you,” he said with a soft, grateful look—completely serious for once—and reached over to squeeze her hands.
The plane touched down as they spoke, the slight jolt of the landing causing the luggage in the overhead compartments to rattle softly. The pilot’s voice crackled to life over the speaker a moment later. “Welcome to Velaris! The local time is 14:25. We will likely be taxiing for ten to fifteen minutes, so please sit comfortably until we’ve reached our gate at the private flight terminal.”
“Looks like we’ll have a few hours before the trailer launch,” Aelin remarked, glancing at her smart watch.
“At least enough time to prepare while we sit in hair and makeup,” Dorian said, somewhat cynically.
She wiggled her brows at him. “We both know your favorite part of being a famous film star is getting your hair done every day, you little diva.”
“Guilty as charged.” He combed his fingers through his dark waves.
The plane finally pulled into a gate and stopped, its engines rumbling down to silence as the jet bridge connected to the plane’s doors. Aelin stood up, stretching her arms above her head and wincing a little at the stiffness in her hips from eleven hours on a plane. Even the comfort of the private jet didn’t relieve the physical strain of such long travel days.
She fished out her pair of sunglasses from her purse, but before she could descend the jet’s stairs, her assistant Manon was already talking to a man on the floor.
A man? Aelin wasn’t sure. He was the size of a French-door refrigerator, and he was probably strong enough to lift one, too. Pale blond hair, sunglasses, black ink peeking out his collar and sleeves contrasting with that Wendlyn tan.
“Darling, is our relationship open?” Dorian slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to get a better look.
”Why?” she said in a teasing tone. “Last one to ride the bodyguard is a rotten egg?”
Manon, who was standing on the jet bridge, had her back to them, but she turned to give them one of her scary glares. Dorian immediately straightened, and it was only then that Aelin realized that they were both blocking the airplane door to gawk at the bodyguard.
Both hurried to descend the stairs, but Aelin went directly to her assistant—and new bodyguard—while Dorian went to Lys, probably to tell his publicist about their conversation.
The bodyguard took off his sunglasses, exposing a set of pine-green eyes. Gods, he just kept getting more attractive.
She was in such deep shit.
“Aelin,” Manon said crisply when she was within reach. “I want you to meet the personal security officer that’ll work with us while Chaol’s out.”
He gave nothing but a curt nod, his face a blank mask.
“I’m Aelin,” she offered.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Galathynius.”
“Do you have a name, or should I just snap my fingers at you?” She couldn’t resist a teasing grin, or the analytical up-and-down stare, watching as his jaw clenched.
“Whitethorn. Rowan Whitethorn.”
Rowan Whitethorn—stern, blazing green eyes, muscles for days, and tattoos that made her wonder how far they went. They curled down to the fingertips of his right hand and up part of his neck, only highlighting his…god, he was hot. An annoyed scowl crossed his stupidly handsome face. So far, his personality was the only unattractive thing about him, and his grumpy ass would stick out like a sore thumb among her team’s friendly environment.
”We treat each other on a first-name basis on my team, are you okay with this?”
He nodded. “Of course, ma’am.”
His automatic, almost robotic reply brought a slow smirk to her lips. “Let’s practice, then. Call me Aelin.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, barely concealing his irritation, and kept strong eye contact as he said, “Very well, Aelin.”
“And I’m Dorian,” the annoying pain in her ass she called a best friend and co-star cut in.
Aelin sighed. “He’s—“
”The boyfriend,” he interrupted again, this time sliding his hands around her waist. “A very possessive one, too.”
“Dorian,” Aelin sighed. “We agreed not to tell people yet!”
The incorrigible man shrugged. “I think it’s best that our security team knows, right?” She rolled her eyes. He continued, “Though I do think it’s a big insult that you don’t think I can protect you myself—I was killing zombies at 16, for Mala’s sake.”
“You and I both know the zombies were CGI-ed, Dori.”
Rowan huffed under his breath. “If the two of you are done, we have a schedule to keep. We need to get to the car.”
The private terminal was mostly quiet, but years of being in the spotlight made her extra attuned to the amount of possible eyes that could be watching. Dorian fell into step beside her as they walked through the terminal, exiting into bright summer sunlight. A black SUV with tinted windows waited beside the curb, and as they came out of the terminal, a man in dark gray pants and a long-sleeved gray shirt, dark shades covering his eyes and a clear coil of wire trailing from the earpiece in his left ear, stepped out of the car and opened the side door. Like most of the security personnel Aelin had met in her years of having a security detail, he was fairly nondescript—averagely tall and physically fit with closely cropped brown hair and a bland, forgettable face.
She left her suitcase for the guard to put into the back of the car and climbed in with Dorian, exhaling deeply at the comfort of the plush seats. “Damn, I could fall asleep so fast.”
“Don’t even think about it.” Seated in one of the seats opposite Aelin and Dorian’s row, Elide handed Aelin a steaming paper cup. “We have shit to talk about, Ae.” The petite woman had been Aelin’s publicist for five years and her close friend since childhood, and she was fearsome in front of the press.
“You are the best,” Aelin breathed, taking a sip of the double espresso in the cup.
Elide’s lips twitched into a little smile. “We’ll see how you feel about that when I’m done telling you about tonight’s event.” She glanced down at her tablet. “Dorian texted me earlier that he’d talked to you about the strategy?”
“You mean Lys’s brilliant, crackpot scheme to break the internet?”
Next to Elide, Lysandra raised one perfectly threaded eyebrow. “Lady, I know you didn’t just insult my brilliance.”
“I would never,” Aelin crooned innocently.
Dorian snorted. “You would.”
“Traitor.” She poked him in the ribs.
Lys clapped her hands. “Class is now in session. Pay attention, you two.” She and Elide shared a look. “So, Dorian told both of us that he talked to you, Aelin. Have you made up your mind about the dating plan?”
“Yes.” Aelin sipped her espresso. “I’m in.”
“Good.” Lysandra tapped something on her tablet. “We don’t think you should jump straight into it tonight, mostly because the timing isn’t great and we don’t expect you to be able to pull off a fake hard launch after traveling for most of the day. So here’s what we were thinking: when you make your red carpet appearance, just act normal. Be the two best friends that everyone knows you are.”
“But if you want to stay a little closer together, maybe stay side by side for all the photos and have multiple hugs, that wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Elide added. “The idea is that you give the press a subtle hint of what’s going to happen. Make them start to wonder if there’s anything more than friendship between the leading actors. That way, when you do launch your fake relationship, they’ll sprint back to the photos from tonight and put them up everywhere as proof that everyone missed.”
Dorian nodded slowly. “I know I say this about once a day, but you are truly a genius, Lysandra.”
“I know.” The publicist smirked. “Any questions?”
“When do you want us to do the big reveal?” Aelin asked.
Elide shrugged. “We can talk about it after the event tonight. You have a couple of free days after the trailer launch, so I was thinking that when you two go out exploring the city, you could make a point of holding hands or whatever so that people can catch those moments and start freaking out over your relationship.”
“That sounds like you’re going to stage some photos,” Aelin commented.
“Maybe I am.” Elide winked. “You should be expecting it by now, Ae.”
“I really should,” Aelin chuckled.
Dorian tilted his head to the side. “Hypothetically, what if we dropped a big hint during the screening of the trailer?”
Lys narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by ‘big hint,’ Dor?”
He shrugged. “I dunno, like a kiss?”
“What part of not today did you not understand?” Lysandra sighed, but she noticed that Dorian was holding back laughter. “Are you…did you do that just to play me?”
“Maybe.” He snickered.
“You’re a little shit,” she laughed. “I swear, one of these days I’m going to drop you, and you’ll be running around in circles trying to figure things out.”
He shot her an angelic smile. “Lys darling, you’re the best publicist in the world.”
“I know.”
The car slowed to a stop at the back entrance of a five-story sandstone building, its walls broken with elegant arches of sparkling glass and columned balconies that were often the site of romantic photoshoots. The River Mansion, a two-century-old hotel that had been remodeled to modernize its facilities while preserving its historic architecture, was possibly one of the most beautiful buildings in Velaris. Aelin had stayed there twice before, and each time, she had loved it.
Their gray-clad security guard opened the door, and the four of them climbed out of the car, Aelin falling into step next to Dorian with the two publicists and Manon in front of them as they walked in the back entrance of the hotel. Rowan was a couple of steps ahead, and he held the door open for them like a gentleman, even though he was a grump. Inside, her feet practically sank into the plush blue carpet, but she barely had time to admire the tasteful art adorning the walls as Lys and Elide led them up to their rooms.
In Aelin’s room, a small army of stylists had already set up shop, and she barely had time to have a proper bath before being whisked into a chair. Elide ran through her whole list of instructions for what to expect at the event as Aelin’s makeup artist and hair stylist worked their magic, transforming her from travel-tired to glowing. The puffiness under her eyes vanished beneath a layer of expertly applied concealer, and a sharp wing of black eyeliner flicked out from the corner of each eye.
“You’re a wonder, Rin.” Aelin checked her reflection in the mirror. “I’ll never know how you do this kind of magic.”
“It’s called makeup,” Asterin Blackbeak laughed. She’d been Aelin’s makeup artist for just over a year, and she was magical with an eyeshadow palette.
“Ruin my fun, why don’t you?” Aelin winked at Asterin. She got up from the chair and went over to get dressed, returning once her form-fitting red silk gown was laced up her back, the slit up one leg allowing her freedom to move in the fitted skirts. Her stylist took the wide rollers out of her hair, letting it tumble down her back in a spill of glamorous waves.
“You guys are the best,” she gushed to her team, blowing them air kisses so Asterin didn’t scream at her for messing up her makeup.
Elide tapped one stiletto heel on the floor. “We’ve got to go, Ae.”
With a final wave to her team, Aelin followed Elide out the door and down the hallway to the elevator. They rode down to the lobby, and the steel doors smoothly opened to reveal the usual handful of paparazzi that followed anywhere the Queen of Action Movies went. Aelin smothered a grimace and ducked her lead like she’d been trained to do, dodging as many camera flashes as possible as Elide led her towards the private side door. She caught a relieved breath as they exited.
“You’re late,” Rowan muttered as she climbed into the car, its windows darkly tinted for privacy. “According to the schedule, we should have left ten minutes ago.”
She shot him a glare. “One of the things you need to understand about providing security for a film actress, Rowan, is that we rarely keep to a predetermined schedule.”
“Too busy taking fucking pictures,” he grumbled.
“Too busy avoiding cameras, not that you would know.” She yanked the door shut, silently fuming at the audacity of that man. It was hard to tell if he didn’t have previous experience with celebrities, or if he was just an ass.
It was too bad his ridiculous attractiveness didn’t match his behavior, because if it did, Mala knows the things she’d do to him.
The screening of the trailer and the endless stream of red carpet photos went by in a blur of camera flashes and a pasted-on smile, and by the time she had a minute to breathe, Aelin was walking into Rita’s, a club that she and many of her actor peers liked, arm in arm with Dorian. They entered through a side door, a private entrance that led directly into the lounge space, allowing them to avoid most of the greedy paparazzi.
Inside, the floor was already full of people in their best “Queen of Glass”-inspired costumes, with the only exception the black-clad security personnel who stood at intervals around the perimeter of the lounge. Aelin herself wore a dress inspired by one of her costumes from the first season of the show—a form-fitting black minidress with a dragon embroidered in gold thread climbing up the back, its jaw opened wide and its tail curling around one hip. She wore gold jewelry to complement the dress, and her lipstick was flame red and smudge-proof.
“Looking stunning as always,” Dorian said, appearing out of nowhere with a drink in each hand. He wore a white shirt with cobalt-blue embroidery and black leather pants, the shirt open to reveal half his chest, and a fake knife was tucked into his belt.
She grinned at him. “Thanks, Dor.” Accepting one of the drinks, she took a sip. “Shit, that’s delicious!”
“Fenrys is bartending.”
“Makes sense.” She winked at him. “So you’ll be spending as much time as possible at the bar, right?”
“Shut up.” His face flushed pink, and he elbowed her in the side.
She laughed, poking him affectionately in the ribs. “You know I won’t tell a soul about your little crush on the bartender.”
“Two hours.” Rowan’s curt voice cut through Aelin’s good mood.
She scoffed. “Lighten up, Whitethorn. Rita’s is secure, as you can tell from the guards everywhere, and I’m not some teenager who snuck out of Mommy and Daddy’s house. I’ll let you know when I want to leave.”
He scowled, and she silently cursed her panties for dampening at the sight. “You can’t be hungover at tomorrow’s events, Aelin.” He glanced at Dorian, who had a drink in each hand. “Neither of you can.”
“Good thing I don’t plan on drinking more than this, then.” She tugged Dorian into the crowd, leaving Rowan behind.
That tight-strung asshole was going to ruin her fucking life.
Sensing her grouchiness, Dorian tugged her towards the side of the room. “Want to go do the photo booth?” He gave her his best big puppy eyes. “Lys and Elide said we should, but also, it would be fun.”
“Why are you right?” she sighed, shaking the tension from her limbs. “I’m sorry, Dor, talking to that asshat is taking all of my patience.”
“Too bad he’s so damn hot,” Dorian added, wiggling his eyebrows.
She rolled her eyes. “I would’ve climbed him like a tree until he opened that stupid mouth of his and started poking his nose in my schedule.”
He’s been part of the team for less than a day. What did he know about Aelin’s drinking and partying habits? Or Dorian’s, for that matter.
“Fair.” He led her through the crowd, stopping every other minute to talk to some of the guests, that brilliant smile of his flashing as he posed for casual photos. She grinned right along with him, throwing herself into the joy that meeting her fans always brought her, and they eventually joined the line for the photo booth.
Rowan cleared his throat beside them, and there went Aelin’s blood pressure again. He folded his arms across his chest, glaring at her and Dorian. “You two decided it’s a good idea to go inside an unrestricted booth where I can’t see you?”
“It’s only closed off by a curtain, and it’s inside a secure location. Plus, your guard dogs probably sniffed it down already.” She glared back at him.
He refused to move. “It’s not approved, princess.”
“Oh, for the gods’ sake.” Dorian brushed past Rowan, tugging Aelin with him into the photo booth. “It’ll take a minute, and you can stand outside with your stopwatch if it makes you less angsty.” He winked at the stoic, brooding man and pulled the curtain shut.
Aelin huffed as she sat down on the small plastic bench. “Thanks. I don’t know why he’s being so ridiculous; I’ve only known him for eight hours.” She watched as Dorian tapped on the screen opposite them, picking a random handful of poses, and laughed when he flopped down next to her and threw his arm around her shoulders. “What happened to platonic co-stars?”
He snickered, grinning big at the camera as it flashed. “Hey, we’ve got to make it look good for all the big bad cameras, right?”
“Damn right!” She jumped into his lap, giggling, as the camera flashed a second time, and they scrambled into two more poses, a tangle of hilarity, until the camera counted down for the last time and he took her face in his hands and plopped a dramatic kiss on her lips as the bright flash exploded in the small booth.
Dorian positioned his hands just the way she liked it, without covering her face for the camera. Knowing how messy things could get off-set, it relieved her that he was thinking about how the kissing picture would look rather than the picture itself. Aelin would be lying if she said every stage kiss with Dorian had been this mechanic, but the short-lived crush she had on him at the initial stages of their first movie together quickly faded away when she realized she was into the character, not the actor.
And this? Right now, kissing Dorian was work, one piece of the narrative that belongs to Aelin’s favorite and longest-lasting character—her public persona.
Of course, Rowan chose that moment to shove his head through the curtain.
“Time’s—ah, fuck.” He jerked backwards as suddenly as he’d broken into the booth and awkwardly cleared his throat. “Uh, time’s up.”
“I think that’s the most un-grumpy I’ve seen him so far,” Dorian whispered into Aelin’s ear, making her snort a laugh and smack him in the shoulder as she collected the two printed photo strips.
“You’re a little shit,” she chuckled. She pushed aside the curtain and stepped out of the booth, immediately sidling up to Rowan’s side with a wide, innocent smile on her face. “Sorry to scandalize you, big guy.”
He mumbled something inaudible under his breath. “I’ve seen worse, princess.”
Aelin turned to leave, but she didn’t sense him following her, so something critical must’ve happened. She half-turned, raising an eyebrow at his parted lips and a look so intense it inflamed her skin with his poorly-concealed irritation. “Something the matter?”
“What are you wearing?” For the first time that night, he got a proper look at her dress in all its glory, and of course it wasn’t of his liking.
Aelin spinned like an overly excited girl about her dress just to annoy him. “One of my favorite designers made it—do you know the label Maison Sellene? She’s incredible, and she got the dragon design from one of the set designers’ sketches.”
Rowan’s eyes burned like dragonfire. “It suits you, princess.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Stop calling me that. I told you, my team is on a first-name basis with each other.”
“Fine, Aelin.” Oh gods, his pronunciation of her name made her shiver. Dorian came back with drinks, and of course he glared at the one she took. “I thought you weren’t drinking?”
Locking her eyes on his, she took a long sip of it. “It’s nonalcoholic.” He looked skeptical, so she pushed the glass to his lips. “If you don’t believe me, Rowan, try it for yourself.”
He accepted the drink as if she had poisoned it before handing it to him, sniffed it and squinted his eyes at her, trying to decide if the juice and soda water smell was real or just a deceit for his nose. “Fine,” Rowan said as he handed it back to her, the short word sounding awfully close to a grunt.
She huffed an impatient sigh and once again turned to leave, heading towards the cluster of women gesturing wildly for her to come dance with them. But she’d barely gone more than a few steps when Dorian hooked his arm through hers and pulled her to the dance floor with him, and she laughed as she looped her arms around his neck. “Are you trying to give Lys high blood pressure?”
“I would never,” he snickered, winking widely. “Just thought this would be fun.”
“We’ll see how you feel about that when someone posts a photo of us dancing this close on their Instagram story and the whole internet goes insane.”
“My kind of fun.” He dipped her backwards, and when he pulled her up, both of them giggling, he swept her into his and planted a stage kiss on her lips.
Just in time for multiple phone cameras to click.
She chuckled and pushed him away playfully. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, ok? It’ll only take me a few minutes.” She wove her way across the room, only stopping a few times to chat with people, and she sighed with relief when she noticed that there wasn’t a line outside the ladies’ bathroom.
Once again, an arm banded around her waist.
This time, though, that arm hauled her to the side, and the door of the janitor’s closet slammed shut behind Aelin as the man all but yanked her into the small, empty, slightly dusty space.
She was firing Rowan so hard today.
Aelin slapped his hand out of her mouth and spun around before he could react, quickly hitting his groin with her knee. The man groaned, and she used the little time she had to grab a spray bottle—for temporary blindness if necessary—and turn on the feeble light to see who her assaulter was.
Imagine Aelin’s surprise when she found out that her attacker was Mr. Safety himself.
Still bent due to the damage to his crotch, Rowan wheezed. “Where did you learn these moves, princess?”
Arms folded across her chest, she shot him a glare. “What the hell, Whitethorn? You almost gave me a heart attack! What’re you doing?!”
Rowan’s hand curled loosely in front of his groin, as if anticipating another blow. “I got an alert that there’s an unauthorized person in the room, and my first priority is keeping you safe from potential threats.”
“What about Dorian?” She snapped. “Is he in less danger than me because he’s a man or something?”
Her bodyguard opened his mouth to retort, then closed it. “He…has his own security team…”
Aelin raised a brow. “And you’re in contact with his team? Keeping track of him? Because there’s a potential threat, or so you say.” Every single word was deeply sarcastic.
“Of course.” Rowan pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed her the screen. Several notifications were stacked up on the screen, notifications of a potential unauthorized guest in the room and brief updates about Aelin’s and Dorian’s safety.
Some of her irritation faded away. “Fine. You might have given me at least a tiny bit of warning before you grabbed me, though.”
His jaw clenched. “There’s not always going to be time for me to warn you, princess. The least you could do is understand that.”
The maleness of that statement, the entitlement of his tone brought her irritation right back. “Remind me again who is employing whom? Your responsibility is my safety, as you’ve said a thousand times. Well, that includes you giving me notice so I don’t think I’m being fucking kidnapped!” Her voice cracked on the final word.
And damn him, he noticed the crack in her demeanor.
His stance relaxed, and concern crossed his face. “Did that happen before, Aelin?”
Aelin’s throat felt too tight as she swallowed scattered flashbacks from a lifetime ago. As always, she forced them all back into their locked box.
“Didn’t you read my file, Whitethorn?” Aelin knew she was being harsh, but it was a necessary measure. “You should know the answer already.”
Both of them knew that file back to back, and she knew his question went beyond that. Rowan gave her a wary look, reading her deflection far too well, but the last thing she needed was his overprotective ass deciding she was fragile.
His phone pinged, saving her from any response he might have made. He glanced at the screen and sighed softly. “There wasn’t a threat, just someone who forgot their invitation. You can go back out.”
“About time,” she mumbled. Before he could say anything, do anything else, she pushed open the door and went back to the party, her heels snapping angrily on the floor. He stayed a good distance behind her, trailing her back to the party, and faded into the edge of the crowd, but she felt his eyes on her.
She shook off the weight of his gaze, plastering a gleaming smile back onto her face. She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the Queen of Action Movies.
She wouldn’t let her bodyguard distract her.
~~~
TAGS: lmk if you want to be added or removed! maria and i are combining taglists for this fic so you can let her know too :)
@live-the-fangirl-life
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@elentiyawhitethorn
@mariaofdoranelle
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#my writing#leia and maria write stories#of hearts and heists#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#dorian havilliard#manon blackbeak#elide lochan#lysandra ennar#rowaelin#eventually rowaelin eheheh#throne of glass#throne of glass fanfic#throne of glass au#rowaelin fanfic#rowaelin au
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