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writtenonreceipts · 2 months ago

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Rowaelin Month Day Twelve: Forbidden Love @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // AO3 Link // Part One

Inspired mostly by Leverage but also White Collar

Summary: She’s a thief with only one thing on her mind: finish the job and move on. When she’s asked to break into Terrasen’s Museum of Art, Celaena has her doubts. Mostly because she’d much rather be grifting her way across Europe. But when she learns what needs stealing? Well…her schedule clears right up. Enter the client, a pain in her ass.

.*.*.*.*.

The Too Far Gone Job (Part Two)

Rowan Whitethorn knew well the world of art.

He knew the ins and outs, the odds and ends. He knew the facts and the tidbits, he knew the styles, he knew the people. He knew everything there was to know. Which was how he knew that Celaena Sardothein would double cross him.

Or…he should have known.

He stared at the empty black bag in one hand and the fake necklace in the other. A dozen different curses ran through his head, each uglier than the last, when his cell phone rang. Maeve Donovan. Hell.

Overhead, a streetlamp illuminated the car where he sat, a few tendrils of light catching the necklace. It was an excellent fake; he couldn’t deny that. The real gold and the synthetic gems were so exquisitely cut that he could have been dupped entirely if he hadn’t seen the one blemish.

For a moment, he wondered if he should ignore the call. That would only give him more grief in the long run. He swallowed back his temper (barely) and answered.

“What?”

“Rowan,” Maeve crooned on the other line. “Why haven’t you given me my necklace?”

He knew that tone in her voice; it was the one that was too kind and too sweet in the way she drew out her words.

“Because I don’t have it,” he said, squeezing the satin bag in his fist.

Maeve was silent. Rowan couldn’t hear anything except the low static that came from a burner phone.

“Explain.”

“It would seem that Celaena Sardothein double crossed me,” Rowan explained. “Made an excellent replica of the Eye and gave that to me.”

“And you couldn’t tell the difference?” Maeve’s voice was near deadly. It made Rowan glad he was nowhere near her.

Rowan grit his teeth and tossed the fake necklace and bag aside. “No.”

“Oh, Rowan,” Maeve sighed. “You used to be better than this. Sidetracked these days? Letting a pretty face distract you?”

“No.” He was going to break something. “I looked at the item and found it to be satisfactory. Who ever created the replica did an exceptional job.”

Maeve scoffed and Rowan heard her shift. It sounded like she poured herself a glass of wine.

“So you’re telling me, that you, a specialist in retrieving anything known to man, hires out a woman who tricks him because he cannot tell the difference of the real item?”

Put like that, he sounded like he had no notion of success.

Useless, he thought he heard her mutter. Strange, she usually made sure all of her insults were explicitly heard.

“You’ll need to kill her and get my necklace back,” Maeve said.

Somewhere beyond the call, Rowan heard wailing sirens. It was on his end. He’d put enough distance between him and the museum and was sitting in an unmarked sedan in a busier part of town so no one would think him as out of place. The response time from the police had been quick, which surprised him. He’d barely managed to get out of the museum before he’d realized what was really going on.

Of course he’d been at the museum keeping an eye on everything. He didn’t trust someone like Celaena Sardothein. Known grifter with a too many names to keep track of—she was a creature unlike anything Rowan had encountered before. It was why he’d insisted on having a comm for himself.

It didn’t help that she was beautiful. Even with the faux red hair that washed her out. But she was tall with a lean build and determined look in her eyes. She was confidence embodied. She had to be, given the work she did. Each time she changed her name she wove a different story. She’d talked men out of millions, he was sure. But he’d done the same thing. He’d taken artifacts, items, manuscripts, and blueprints from their rightful owner to give to whoever had the

“I don’t kill anymore,” he said. He hadn’t been that person in two years, not after…

“You will.” Maeve’s voice dropped into a dark promise. “You will because I told you to get the job done and instead you let that girl best you. I trained you better than this. Now, are you going to do what I ask, or will I need to have Cairn clean up your messes?”

Rowan’s blood chilled at the thought of Cairn anywhere near Celaena. He knew his own past was a bloody, horrific mess but Cairn? Cairn was a monster of the cruelest sort.

“I’ll get your necklace back,” Rowan assured her, “by the end of the month.”

Another long-suffering sigh from Maeve. “The end of the month. Or you’ll wish you’d never betrayed me before.”

The line went dead before Rowan could respond. Cursing, he flung his phone on the passenger seat and punched the steering wheel for good measure. He was pissed. Not just at Maeve but at himself too. How had he let himself be tricked by Celaena? How had he gotten into this mess? Being a lackey for Maeve and forced to follow her every edict had never been his intention.

Once, he’d been an eighteen-year-old kid, desperate to make a difference. He’d joined the army and finished a full tour before being approached by someone to transport a few cargo boxes back to the states. And thus began his decent to hell.

Usually, it was vases or art pieces he found for his clients. Sometimes it was baseball cards or signed memorabilia. And then when he’d fallen in with Maeve, it turned to killing. Ten years of his life had been bloody and cruel. He’d inflicted far more damage than he could ever atone for. Not that he deserved it. Especially not he did what Maeve asked of him.

He cursed again, for good measure, and started the car. He’d get that necklace back. One way or another.

.*.*.

MESSAGE TO UNKNOWN NUMBER

>>You have something that belongs to me.

<<Do I?

>>Necklace. I want what I paid you for. No one gets away with lying to me.

<<And yet…it took you three days to track me down. Getting slow in your old age, eh buzzard?

Rowan stared at his phone and the teasing words she’s sent. He wasn’t old. He was barely even thirty. He was in the prime of his damned life. Old.

>>Graystone Pub. 30 mins.

He sent the text and leaned back in his chair. He knew she wouldn’t respond just as he knew she would be there.

Pushing away from his kitchen table, he went to stand at the windows that overlooked the city. All things considered his apartment was modest. Two bedrooms, two baths, a full kitchen and living area. Sure, it was modernized with excellent heating and cooling, hardwood, chrome finishings, state of the art appliances. Alright, it wasn’t really modest, but he could be in a mansion surrounded by acreage and ducks. That sounded miserable.

He had nothing interesting in his apartment. No art and no paraphernalia that indicated anything he did. The only thing that indicated any sort of personality was the floor to ceiling bookshelf of history books he owned and collected. And the watch his father had given him on his eighteenth birthday.

There was nothing else that really mattered to him, he supposed. He’d cut himself free of all of that. It was the only way to survive in his line of work.

Drowning in the memories wouldn’t solve any of his problems nor would it get him that necklace back.

He turned away from the windows as he adjusted the collar of his button up. He had a thief to meet and didn’t want to be caught off guard. He knew enough about Celaena Sardothein to know she was one of the best grifters in the world. She could steal just about anything and could do so with little more than a smile and flip of her hair. Even though she’d been seen by hundreds, seen on cameras, even been detained once in Prague—she’d never actually been caught.

All of the research he’d done on her hadn’t amounted to anything. Nothing other than four of her (many) identities and where not to find her.

The walk to the bar wasn’t long at all. It was just on the corner of his building and often served as a place Rowan could go to forget his woes. And, not that he’d told anyone, it was the same bar his father had used to frequent. Which of course meant nothing at all.

Walking into the bar felt like coming home, strange as it was. After his mother’s death, Rowan’s father brought him here at least once a week. Only occasionally would Owen Whitethorn get drunk enough that Rowan had to lead him home (a different place than where Rowan currently lived). Usually, the bartender would let Rowan eat a giant vat of curly fries while trying to help Owen sober up. And if he wasn’t eating fries, Rowan was learning how to lie like a thief. He’d sit in on poker games that ran long into the night. He’d watch his father con men out of their fancy watches and stacks of money. He’d watch family friends run the Game Delay on basketball games running on a ten second delay.

In the end, Rowan was never meant to become a good man. He was doomed to repeat history.

He was going to head to the far booth, away from anything and anyone else in the bar, only to come up short at the sight of a woman perched on one of the barstools. Her blonde hair tumbled in loose waves down her back, golden skin glowing in the lights. She wore a black dress that clung to her curves and stopping at her mid-thigh. The heels she wore could have been more a weapon than a shoe given how high and sharp they were.

It took him just a heartbeat to realize who it was.

“Glad you too you’re somewhat capable of following instructions,” Rowan said as he slipped into the seat beside her.

Celaena didn’t look up, too absorbed by that giant stack of pancakes before her. Rowan frowned at the sight. The bar didn’t serve pancakes.

“You don’t serve pancakes,” Rowan said as Brullo returned from the kitchen.

The bear of a man only shrugged. “She asked.”

“Delicious,” Celaena assured him. She upended a bottle of syrup over the pancakes. “Truly, you are a master.”

The words were so sincere that even Rowan had a hard time determining if she were trying to run a con on the older man. But Brullo wasn’t the type to fall into that trap.

“Black coffee, Rowan?” Brullo asked, already reaching for the pot.

“Fine,” he replied.

Neither he, nor Celaena said anything for a while, even after Rowan’s coffee was delivered. She continued to demolish the pancakes while he could only watch in admitted fascination. Really, given everything he’d researched about her, this certainly hadn’t been a part of his collected dossier.

“You gonna talk or just stare at me?” She licked syrup from her fork and examined him. “As good as these pancakes are, I didn’t really want to come all the way out here.”

Rowan rolled his eyes and took a long sip of his coffee. “Where is the Eye of Elena?”

She stared at him with a perfectly blank expression. Not even her gold rimmed eyes glimmered at his words.

“The Eye?”

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” he all but growled, “you gave me a fake.”

She shrugged one shoulder delicately. “I’m surprised you’re surprised. I am a thief Rowan. We both are.”

“I’m nothing like you.”

Her tongue dartled out to lick up a stray bit of sugar from her lips, her eyes never leaving his. “No, of course not.”

The condescension in her voice made his skin prickle and a flush creep across his neck. There was something different about the way she held herself. In any other situation, he would have said she was exactly like Maeve only in a lighter shade. But where Maeve was cold and cruel, Celaena held onto warmth.

“I paid you for a service that you didn’t deliver on,” Rowan said. He slid the plate of pancakes away from her when she tried to go in for another bite. She scowled at him. “I want that necklace. My client wants that necklace.”

She set the fork down with a clatter. “Who’s your client?”

“None of your business.”

“I generally like knowing who I’m getting into bed with,” she said in a deadpan. But Rowan wasn’t fool enough to miss the nearly indiscernible twitch in her lips.

“I have more than enough on you to turn you over to the feds,” Rowan said. He didn’t need to play this game with a woman like her. Hell, she was a decade younger than him. No…she had to be at least twenty-three, maybe twenty-four based on a potential foster care hit he’d found.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” She smiled at him, charming and free, as though they were on a date. “But, see, I’ve never killed anyone. You have. I think murder is just a little more serious.”

He almost wanted her to try and get him arrested. That would be entertaining.

“The necklace,” he said, because that was the most important thing he needed from her. And then…then he needed to make sure Maeve never heard her name again.

For the first time in knowing her, Rowan saw a flash of uncertainty in her eyes. It vanished before he could read it properly, but it was there nonetheless.

“You don’t have it anymore, do you?” Rowan asked. Anger rose in his chest and he clenched one fist in his lap, needing to release his coffee mug else it might break from his grip.

“I know where it is,” Celaena said. She didn’t look at him, only reached for her own coffee that Brullo brought by.

“That’s not the same thing,” Rowan said.

“It’s safe,” she replied, nearly cutting off his response.

“Well, I need it.” He bit the words out, feeling as though he was choking on them. “And my money back while we’re at it. Or I will get the feds involved. And Interpol. I hear you pissed off some European country last year? Stole a royal seal? I’m sure they’d be delighted to know Elide Lochan isn’t dead either.”

Her lips pursed before she took another sip of coffee, eyes drifting wistfully to the pancakes.

“I can get you the necklace,” she said. Her voice went incredibly soft, nearly pained. “Not the money back, but I’ll get you the necklace. Just…Elide has to stay dead.”

He wasn’t a complete bastard; besides, he knew exactly what Elide Lochan was running from. Or, more accurately: who. But he wouldn’t let Celaena know he was that soft.

He sneered down at her. “Fine. Where is it?”

“Not close. But close enough.” She turned toward him, spine straightening. “I’ll need your help on another project, though.”

Rowan could have strangled her right there. “What are you talking about?”

“I can get you the necklace after I acquire this other item,” she explained, tone just as clipped as his. “This other item is just as valuable to my client as the necklace and it may be an adequate trade.”

“Who has the necklace? I can just go directly to the source.” He didn’t want, didn’t need, to play this game.

“You can’t do that,” Celaena said. She leaned toward him for the first time since he’d sat down. The first time she’d willingly acknowledged him, really.

It took all his effort not to lean across Brullo’s bar and snag a bottle of gin.

“And why not?”

She blinked, considering her words. “Because.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “You always lie this bad?”

“No. I’m not—It’s not—Shut up.” She shut her mouth firmly as she glared at him. A bit of color rose on her cheeks which surprised Rowan more than anything. Of everything he knew about her—she didn’t let her emotions get the better of her.

“My client isn’t important,” Celaena said, “not to you.”

“You already sold it, didn’t you?” He didn’t trust her, not even in the slightest. She was a con-woman in her own right and she would have him running circles around the entire globe if it meant keeping her secrets.

Celaena tapped manicured nails on the bar top. She didn’t answer immediately. Which was fine by Rowan, she could take her time to spin whatever other lies she wanted to. Silence never bothered him anyways. In fact, it was where you learned the most about people. Like the fact that the blonde of her hair was natural, her skin had that warm glow like she was perfectly sun-kissed, or that she held herself with perfect poise—as though she’d been trained to do so.

“All you need to know is that the necklace is safe and when we get this item you can have it back,” she said.

Without being able to see the real necklace, Rowan wasn’t convinced she had any idea where the necklace was. He was going to be led on a wild chase around the city for no reason. He should just kill her now, like Maeve told him to.

He remembered the last time he’d killed. Two years ago in Moscow. The job didn’t go the way he’d wanted, they often never did, but that job…no one was supposed to die. But he’d been cornered and the easiest thing to do was pull the trigger.

“Fine,” Rowan relented. He couldn’t keep going in circles with this woman. And if agreeing to help her would get him closer to the necklace, he’d take it. “What are we stealing?”

.*.

Celaena wasn’t sure what possessed her to bring Rowan to her actual apartment. She had two other safehouses in the city, both a lot closer than this. And yet…she couldn’t bring herself to do it. So, here they were in the apartment that was a near perfect copy of the floor model when she’d first toured the place. The couch was a dull gray color made of the scratchiest material known to man. The kitchen had simple faux marble counters and the appliances blended in almost seamlessly.

There was nothing personal here. Not even the books she’d collected over the years. That pained her more than anything. She had boxes of them: the classics, the romance novels, the strange divergent genres that she’d never originally have read. Books had always been her solace in a world that beat relentlessly down on her.

It was technically why she never really thought of this place as home, either. Without her books it was just another residence. Once day she’d start bringing her things over. One day.

Now, she just had to figure out a way to keep Rowan Whitethorn away from the Eye of Elena.

Two days after their meeting at Brullo’s, Celaena had Rowan come to her place to go over their plans for another heist. She knew exactly what needed to happen. She’d been planning on stealing this object for ages anyways but had needed a partner. A male partner.

“Whitethorn,” Celaena said when she answered the door. He stood outside the door with his hands stuffed in his pockets and disinterest lining his features. “Come in.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” he said. “You could just give me the necklace and be done with it.”

Celaena rolled her eyes. “Where would the fun in that be?”

She let the door slam shut behind him and crossed the apartment to the cheap, foldable card table she used. A portable chalkboard stood beside it, pinned with various photos and string to connect items together. It was what she did every time she had a major heist to plan.

Rowan went to the display and looked everything ever. A deep scowl etched his features as he stood there. He’d taken his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest. It was as though he were in deep study of something far more important than a planned heist. Though, for people like them, nothing was more important that a heist.

“You want to steal from Henry Havilliard?” Rowan asked without looking at her. “The most secure man in the Eastern United States? You want to steal a piece of the Eyllwe Tapestry from Dorian Havilliard?”

“It’s not his,” Celaena said. She came up beside him, mimicking his stance. “Nor is the necklace your clients.” She raised her chin to meet his gaze. “The tapestry belongs to the crown of Ellywe and we can return it to them. Havilliard hasn’t even announced his ownership of it because it has to clear an authentication test. We swap out the real for a fake and he gets outed as the biggest liar in the country and everyone is happy. Simple.”

His green eyes bore into her.

“Simple?”

“Simple.”

“What you’re wanting to do,” Rowan began. He paused and fixed her with a look of mixed confusion. “You’re telling me the person who has the necklace would be happy to trade for that tapestry. The only person willing to do that—”

“It doesn’t matter who it is,” Celaena interrupted. “What matters is that this plan is fool proof. Now take a look at what I have on the board and tell me if I’m missing anything.”

She didn’t want to betray her friend by telling Rowan Whitethorn of all people she was willing to hire out a thief to try and return her family’s history to her. Nehemia didn’t deserve that. She just deserved this one thing going right.

Rowan’s scowl somehow deepened.

“You should try smiling more,” she told him. “You won’t look so scary.”

“Mala above.” He took a step away from her. “So this plan—we’re acting as buyers for something else entirely, this Rembrandt, but instead we’re going to nab the tapestry…how exactly?”

“That’s where things get a little tricky,” Celaena admitted. She pointed out Havilliard’s timetable and the real planning began.

Over the course of three days, she and Rowan worked together to perfect the original plan she’d laid out. Much to her satisfaction, Rowan didn’t point out any glaring issues or blatant oversights on her part. Rather, he offered his own insights and experiences to build the plan up stronger than what it had been.

It was strange, to have him so close at hand. Strange to be working with someone who wasn’t Elide. Strange to trust. Not that she trusted him. Far from it, in fact. But perhaps she could get there. Not trust, exactly, but a mutual understanding.

They had another full week before Havilliard would put his full collection on display at a personal gala for him and his company. A full week to make sure everything was in place and would go through exactly as it needed to. And after that, Celaena would never have to see Rowan Whitethorn again.

Bright and early on the fourth day, Rowan returned, knocking because Celaena would not give him a key. Even though she’d have to burn this place to the ground once the job was over, she was not giving him a key.

He came into the apartment with his arms full of pastries from her favorite bakery and plenty of coffee to see them through the rest of the week by the looks of it.

“You don’t know my coffee order,” she said with a frown.

“Whatever has the most sugar,” he replied easily. “And then some. Preferably if it has hazelnut in it, too.”

“How d’you know that?” She asked.

Rowan set the array of items out on the table. He passed her one of the coffees and shrugged. “I know things.”

A shiver touched her spine that she fought hard to ignore. “You don’t know things. You could have guessed that.”

She did after all keep hazelnut truffles lying about all over the apartment so she could have easy access to them whenever a craving hit.

“Celaena’s not your real name,” Rowan said. When he met her gaze, there was something dark lingering there. Dark and heated that she would only describe as hunger. Which couldn’t be right. Even if she read people for a living, even if it was what she was best at—she had to be reading him wrong.

“Of course it’s not,” she said, desperately trying to hide the strain there. “Any good thief doesn’t use their real name. I wouldn’t expect Rowan to be your real name.”

“And if it is?” he asked, slowly raising his coffee to his lips for a sip.

Celaena swallowed. She could feel her heartrate elevate and her skin flush. From that fact he could actually know her real name. It was impossible really, but it could be a possibility all the same. She honestly didn’t know if there was anybody left who knew her real name. Maybe…but they could very well be dead.

And if Rowan did know her real name…it wouldn’t bode well.

They didn’t trust each other after all, hardly tolerated the other. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let him know her real name.

No one stuck around long enough to know her anyways, everyone always left. They chose to leave. So she did what she needed to protect herself. And she would start by not getting chummy with Whitethorn.

“You don’t know my real name,” she said, just to assure herself of the fact.

“I might.”

“But you don’t.”

He took another low sip of his drink. “Whatever you say.”

And then he turned back to their plans.

Celaena’s breath stuck in her throat as she waited for her body to relax and her over active heart to calm down. Because even as her head made a perfectly reasonable plan, her heart continued to flutter. Eventually the useless organ would catch up to reality, then she might actually know peace.

She finally took a gulp of her coffee, cursing silently when the perfect taste hit her tongue.

.*.*.

Celaena was eight when she first met Arobynn Hammel. Her last set of foster parents had just returned her to the group home insisting she was a menace and unadoptable. She hadn’t minded the words. Her real family was going to come and find her after all. They were the only thing that mattered to her.

It didn’t matter if her birth parents were dead, she had other family. She could remember them. Clearly. And no stranger could convince her otherwise.

Arobynn Hammel tried his best, though.

She’d been eight and he took her home telling her she would have a new name. She would have a place to sleep and food to eat. And she would be grateful. She would be grateful because she could be stuck in the group home sleeping in dirty clothes, eating half rotted meals, without any hope of any good in the world.

She would be grateful even when he hit her. Grateful even when he called her names. Grateful even when he forced her to learn things, do things, she’d never wanted to do before.

Though, in a sad, strange twist of fate, Celaena was grateful.

Who could she be other than a lie?

It was all she was good for, so she may as well take advantage of what she knew. What she’d been forced to learn.

It was still a ways out before the job was about to go down and she had a little down time. Celaena used it as an excuse to run through her usual routine while prepping a job. Plenty of hazelnut chocolate, red Gatorade, gummy worms (for Elide), and carrots. The carrots were the only way to guarantee Elide would leave her alone for longer than an hour. Celaena wasn’t known for her healthy eating habits.

She took a seat at her computer desk. The space was clean thanks to Elide and Celaena knew better than to disrupt that. There were three screens lined up neatly for the best display. One ran through a series of security cameras, another running a facial recognition, and the third had an online auction site pulled up.

The security cameras kept Celaena informed of Havilliards movements at the venue they’d be hitting. Already, she had a keen idea of how security would work and what to expect with decorations and item placement. Nothing popped up on the facial recognition program aside from the usual expectations. The only person she was truly concerned in seeing was Damon Perrington. He was a known gun for hire with a rap sheet that could have rivaled Celaena’s. She’d known Henry Havilliard was in cahoots with Perrington but it still felt like a jump scare seeing his face all the same.

Celaena clicked through another facial program she was running. For the last three months, it showed nothing. Not that she was surprised, but she’d made the foolish decision to hope. She just wanted a glimpse, just a taste of the past. With how big a name, a person, she was looking for, she’d expected something more.

She minimized the auction site and pulled up another dossier Elide compiled for her. The start of the file was simple; a few childhood photos, school reports. And then when the boy on file turned eighteen everything changed. He became a ghost, a memory of faded snow.

Rowan Whitethorn was a curious creature and nothing she found gave her a clear picture of who he really was.

All she could figure out for certain was that he was intimately familiar with violence and death.

She pulled up a picture of him from last year, right after he’d swiped a painting she’d been after. She still hadn’t forgiven him for that. She wasn’t used to being beaten out on a target. Especially not the way he’d beaten her.

Popping a truffle in her mouth, Celaena scanned his file. Again. Nothing new stuck out to her. Ever since partnering with Rowan on this new job, she’d done everything to learn more about him. Elide had put in plenty of overtime too. But Rowan was proving to be just as elusive as her.

She knew she shouldn’t be as intrigued by him as she was. Knew that she shouldn’t trust him. Just because she couldn’t dig up anything about his past didn’t mean there was nothing to know. There were rumors of who he worked with. His little Cadre, his crew, had been known for many terrible things. If she turned him to the Feds, there would be no plea deal to keep him alive long. Any of them.

Everyone had a story. Just like her, something or someone had changed Rowan. She knew though, that she couldn’t get close. He was most certainly going to kill her the second he had the chance. But she would be ready. She always was.

.*.

Rowan stared at his Caller ID as dread iced over his chest. It was of course, the one person he didn’t want to talk to. The one person who any mention of made him sick to his stomach. Perhaps that should worry him more than it actually did.

Maeve Donovan continued to flash across his screen.

Though, if he were honest, he’d never been happy under her employment. Maybe for the first month when he’d been caught up in the thrill of it all, the newness of it. Back when it felt like he’d had something to live for.

“Maeve.” He answered the phone as he always did: clipped and pissed.

“Is she dead yet?” Maeve’s cool voice asked.

“No.”

“And why not?”

Rowan’s jaw flexed as he stared out his kitchen window. It looked over the city and even on a foggy morning like this, he could still make out the other buildings and see just enough of the streets to know that traffic, for once, had died down.

“I still need the necklace,” he replied. He’d learned long ago how to cover his anger. To dispel it with a simple breath, a careful meditation.

“Rowan, it’s been two weeks,” Maeve said. Something clinked on her side of the call and Rowan wouldn’t be surprised if she were already pouring herself a glass of wine.

“And she doesn’t trust me,” he said. He turned away from the window, returning to his empty apartment. “That necklace is the one thing she thinks she can use as leverage over me and I need to let her keep thinking that.”

He didn’t like the way the words left his own lips. Didn’t like how easily they came. But they were true. Celaena wanted to manipulate him, it was who she was, and lauding that necklace over him was the only way she knew how. He could let her think she was winning whatever little game they were playing. It was how he could manipulate her.

Granted, Rowan’s means of manipulation often erred on the side of coercion and physical violence. He doubted the likes of Celaena Sardothein would react very well to that. She could probably kick his ass, or at least try.

“If you aren’t going to try and make progress—”

“There’s a plan in place,” Rowan said. He wasn’t going to tell her the entire plan, even if Maeve was his boss (his client?), he needed some separation between her and this job. “And I’ll make sure it goes as planned.”

“She’s a rat, Rowan, you can’t trust anything she says or does.” Maeve spoke clearly, distinct in that way she always did. “The sooner you kill her the better.”

“Noted.”

He ended the call.

Thirty minutes later he was at Celaena’s with a round of coffee and fruit. He’d been slowly trying to get to eat something that at least resembled health. It hadn’t been going well.

When she answered the door, it was with her hair piled in a messy bun atop her head and she wore a simple pair of leggings and a sweater. Rowan was struck by it—the sheer simplicity of it when he’d seen so many photos and videos of her wearing the most elaborate outfits, putting on grandiose performances. Now she simply seemed…Celeana.

But…that wasn’t even her. This wasn’t even her. Was it?

“Please tell me that’s chocolate,” she said by way of greeting.

“Fruit,” he said. He pushed past her into the apartment that had gotten to be too familiar. “It’s good for you.”

“Gross.” She grunted as he pressed the Tupperware into her arms.

Rowan rolled his eyes, going straight to the planning board. Only a few things had changed over the week. Celaena was too stubborn than to admit she was wrong and Rowan wasn’t going to let her get away with doing whatever she wanted.

“You still think the Cuban Sandwich is the best route to go?” he asked.

“Well I’m not doing the Vegas Wake-Up Call.” She at least went through the motions of looking at the cut-up apples and strawberries before setting them aside for her coffee.

“I didn’t say it had to be the Vegas Wake-Up Call exactly,” Rowan tried to argue, but that was the thing about Celaena—she was never wrong.

She must have downed at least half of the coffee before she set it aside. Those gold rimmed eyes of hers bore into him. He’d thought that maybe over the last two weeks they’d formed at least some sort of a friendship or even a comradery between thieves. He should have known that it wouldn’t happen. Celaena kept herself guarded more than anyone Rowan knew. She could adopt a new personality at the drop of a hat, become an entirely new person. And, strange as it was, he wondered if it were possible to know the real her. He also wondered he wanted to.

“Well then you can be the one to flirt with Henry Havilliard and I’ll eat all the crab cakes I can find.” She smiled brilliantly.

Insufferable woman. “Well then, what would you suggest?”

As it would turn out, those would be his famous last words.

It shouldn’t have surprised him how much work she put into a job. Given all that she’d done since she started grifting—Celaena was a capable thief. A true mastermind in how she drew a plot together.

Being raised by Arobynn Hammel certainly had given her a leg up as a thief.

That bit of information was the only solid piece of information he had about Celaena. Taken in at a young age with her entire real identity all but destroyed. All Rowan could do was make assumptions about her.

Found wandering the woods in a nightgown and taken to a local foster home—Celaena became a terror to anyone who took her in. All except Hammel. The thought made Rowan a bit sick to his stomach.

Hammel was perhaps the greatest thief in the world. He was ruthless, cold, and unforgiving. He took and took and took without a second glance. Raising a prodigy like Celaena was probably something akin to his life’s work—a true testament to what he was truly capable of.

“Why are you looking at me?” Celaena asked.

Her back was to him as she pinned something to the blackboard set up with all their job details.

“I’m not,” he said.

She scoffed and glanced over her shoulder. “Please, don’t insult me. I know when someone’s watching me.”

Rowan shrugged. “Just curious, I guess.”

“About?”

“You. How do you become a thief everyone knows…and doesn’t know at the same time?” The question surprised him as much as it did her. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much in learning about her. Not when, no matter his feelings on the matter, she’d be dead in a few short weeks.

“How do you become a mercenary?” she replied.

Mercenary. It was far too kind a word for what he was.

Celaena smiled when he said nothing. “See? We’re made into this, aren’t we? Forced to become a little pawn for someone else.” Her mouth twisted into a sneer. “Can you honestly tell me you set out to become the hand of Mala? Killing and killing and killing some more? Or did someone tell you to?�� That it was all you would ever be good for?”

She grabbed for the coffee sitting on the edge of the table. Finding it empty she went to her desk drawers and grabbed a bag of chocolates.

“It’s the great test of Nature verses Nurture with us,” she continued. “Would we have ended up this way even if our lives had been different?”

It was an interesting question to consider, Rowan had to admit. Though…he was convinced that no matter what he would have ended up right where he was.

“You think you’d still be here?” he asked, “ready to steal a priceless artifact and put it all on the line?”

“Yes.” She looked away, her mind clearly running down a rabbit hole of thoughts.

Rowan wasn’t thinking clearly then because he had the distinct impression that he should comfort her. It was a ludicrous thought. He didn’t do comfort. Really, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d hugged someone. (Fenrys and his penchant for tackling didn’t count). But it seemed like something one would to.

A hug.

A touch.

An indication of…something.

He wasn’t sure what, exactly he wanted to offer. What he could. Comradery? Friendship? That was sure to get his head bitten off. The mere intimacy of any sort of offer was foreign to him. Not to mention he would be killing her in a few weeks’ time. And he knew better than to get close to his targets.

All the same, he wondered what she would do if he tried reaching out to touch her. To tuck that stray strand of hair behind her ear, trail his finger along her jaw to the scar along her chin. It was an even worse idea than trusting her to give him the Eye of Elena at the end of all this.

“I was doomed from the start,” Celaena said. She tossed the remaining chocolate aside. “May as well make the most of it.”

.*.

#rowaelin #rowaelin month #rowan x aelin #lets go steal an au

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firehcart · 5 months ago

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𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 + 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒. — this list will continue to be added to pending what media i consume / what muses follow me. generally i will be happy to add to this list even if your verse is not written on here, so please don't hesitate to reach out. the only verses i will not write in include aging down/up characters, and hp.

note for general fantasy verses : unless there is a specific verse plotted, i am happy to mostly prescribe to a canon where our own continents/countries co-exist within the same world for crossovers and alliances.

modern.

born into a very wealthy family, aelin's upbringing was blessed, with her parents joint CEOs of a company responsible for vast technological developments ( terrasen inc. ). at eight years old she witnesses her parents murdered via a hit arranged by her biological aunt maeve, who stood to inherit the company until aelin turned eighteen years old. barely managing to escape with her own life, she was rendered homeless and on the streets until she was found by arobynn hamel, who had made a shelter for homeless children under the guise of a gentle heart. over time, he used this influence over the children to encourage them to commit crimes on his behalf - first small scale thievery, and eventually training them to murder.

continuing in this life until reaching teenage years, falling in love with one of the other boys living there ( sam cortland ), aelin and sam had tentatively plotted to run away when ordered on one last mission where sam did not survive. aelin was found by police with his corpse and arrested for his murder, presumably set up by arobynn.

most plots in this verse will begin after aelin's release from jail one year later, when new evidence proved her innocence - she is living in a luxurious apartment purchased with her earnings from her crimes, and struggling to reintegrate into society. note, in this verse, her primary name is celaena sardothien.

a court of thorns and roses.

this verse exists in two forms - parallel worlds, where we embrace the canon of aelin falling through worlds and interacting with this world as an au one to her own ( which requires some sort of crossover basis plotting ), or neighbouring continents. in the latter, efforts to maintain political peace and a tentative alliance would see either aelin travelling to the night court, or members of the night court travelling to terrasen as emissary. this verse would be post koa.

crescent city.

essentially runs off the same premise as modern verse in relation to her childhood and being offered shelter by arobynn hamel, with the notable exception that aelin is half-fae and works as a bounty hunter post her time in prison, and is very much equipped to slaughter.

note: this verse was heavily au plotted with @stareternyl in a world where feyre was aelin's roommate. taking the drop with aelin as both enforcer and anchor to bring feyre back.

a song of ice and fire.

born and inherited from one of the original families in old valyria, who fled after the doom, aelin was orphaned at a young age after her parents were murdered and her home ransacked. found by the faceless men within the free city of braavos, aelin was trained within their arts of assassination. after freeing a large amount of slaves within essos out of sympathy, whilst she had been tasked a high scale murder, the faceless man cast her out - she was promptly captured and forced into the fighting pits in meereen. note, in this verse, she has no dragon affinity despite her valyrian background, only a particular potency for fire.

house of the dragon.

much like her asoiaf verse, aelin was born and inherited from an old valyrian bloodline, but her parents were murdered when she was only a child. taken to be sold to the highest bidder, aelin made her escape and found her way to the faceless men, to be trained within their arts and make a name for herself. making a name for herself within westeros ( living within kings landing ), she becomes one of the most sought after assassins in the city.

fourth wing.

gryphon bonded, aelin agrees to go undercover within basgiath to provide intel on a base level to the other side. deliberately falling under the radar and unable to bond a dragon, she is "forced" to repeat her first year, using whatever opportunity she can to feed information back to the other side. displays a rare and powerful gift from her gryphon, one not witnessed by the other fliers before - fire proficiency, usually reserved for dragons and their riders.

bridgerton.

orphaned at a young age, aelin has been raised as the ward of the wealthy arobynn hamel, a man well known to offer his home to orphaned women in exchange for the financial benefit of marrying them into wealthy and powerful families when they come of age. finally of age for the marriage mart, new to the ton after their relocation from northern ireland, aelin is desperate to find a good match before arobynn decides to propose to her himself.

dungeons & dragons / bg3.

coming.

#verses #v. acotar au. » a court of ash and fire. «#v. modern au. » she was a weapon ; and weapons do not weep. «#v. crescent city au. » death was her curse and her gift. «#v. asoiaf au. » glory and gore go hand in hand. «#v. hotd au. » fire is such strange power. «#v. bridgerton au. » the brighter a lady shines ; the faster she may burn. «#v. dungeons and dragons au. » a girl who is both death and the maiden. «

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scarlethoodie · 7 years ago

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Celaena Sardothien with some funky lighting ✨

#just finished the 3rd book #and I can't stop haha #except to draw of course #celaena sardothien #throne of glass #heir of fire #queen of shadows #ToG #acotar #sarah j maas #aelin ashryver #Terrasen #assasin #my drawing #throne of glass art

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thegreyj · 2 years ago

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Excuse me, but that's not my name

I hinted at this on my masterlist, and now finally publishing it. I wrote it like almost two years ago, but I thought I should try posting some of my older stuff too!

This is just a random high school reunion AU oneshot from my collection, I hope you enjoy!

CW: fluff, humor, mentions of bullying

Word count: 3,4k

Excuse me, but that's not my name

Closing the front door behind her, Aelin kicked off her heels and dropped her keys on the bowl next to the pile of mail Rowan had picked up earlier when he had gotten home. A quick glance at the stack was almost an automatic reaction, which usually didn’t stir any interest in the woman’s head. Today, however, there was something that stood out from the generic white letters. A light blue envelope with “Aelin Ashryver Galathynius” written with neat letters on it.

Must be from someone back when I wasn’t married, Aelin thought. She did add Rowan’s last name to that seemingly neverending name of hers. Plus, she was very particular that all her names were used and to get a letter without one name just felt wrong. Someone might think it funny or even stupid to get so many feelings over a mere name, but for Aelin, her name was her story – an important story too, of how she grew up to be the confident woman she is today. She wasn’t like that always, no, Aelin used to be a laughingstock back in high school. It got to a point where she first dropped her ‘Ashryver’ name, then tried changing her name entirely to ‘Celaena Sardothien’. Thank gods she didn’t go through that officially.

“Did you see the letter that came for you in the mail?” Aelin’s musings were interrupted by the voice belonging to the man of her dreams, her husband.

“Yeah, didn’t open it yet though,” Aelin responded, picking up the envelope finally and trotted towards Rowan’s voice. He was laying on the sofa, reading a book with his glasses perched on his nose. Aelin almost drooled at the sight – she really did win the lottery when she got Rowan as her husband. Six foot four tall, solid muscle, striking tattoos against his slightly tanned skin, the most gorgeous pine green eyes and silver hair. And the accent. Oh, so good. Despite Rowan having lived in Terrasen for so long, he still hadn’t lost the lilt from his voice.

“Done daydreaming about me, love?” Rowan chuckled as he caught Aelin staring. She blushed slightly, then regained her bearings and just grinned at the man still laying on the sofa.

“Well, I can’t help that you look so damn sexy the way you hold that book, and the glasses on your nose… Gods, I might just ravish you for dinner instead of the takeout I brought.”

This made Rowan grin just as brightly as his wife did, and his eyes took on a predatory gaze. He set the book down gently, rose from the sofa and slowly walked towards Aelin, almost like a hunter trying to reach its prey. When he was right in front of the gold-haired woman, he could hear her small, sharp intake of breath, like she was anticipating something unexpecting. Which was the reality of their life. Neither ever knew what the other was about to do, so all the possible scenarios from Rowan throwing her to his shoulder and running to the bedroom, to him stripping the clothes off her and having the dinner off her body went through her mind. Probably all scenarios, except for what actually happened next.

Rowan reached his hand slowly towards Aelin and quickly snatched the letter from her hands. He then ran from their living room, giggling. Giggling. Her giant hunk of a husband giggled while stealing a letter from her. Aelin joined the giggles and ran after him. She found him perched at the end of their bed, opening the letter.

“Hey, what happened to not opening anyone else’s mail?” Aelin tried to sound upset but ended up laughing. She wasn’t actually mad about the fact that Rowan was opening a letter addressed to her. They fully trusted each other, so this was not unusual with the two of them.

“I have to check who the secret admirer is sending letters to my wife,” Rowan simply responded, still with that silly grin on his face. “So, I can then find them and show them you’re taken. They left out the name I gave you, this is outrageous!”

“Opening a mere letter helps you with your machismo, Whitethorn? Alright, be my guest then,” the woman kept up their light banter. “But no, really, I haven’t the faintest idea who this is from, so open it up. I want to find out who dares to write me a letter without actually putting my full name to the front.”

By now, the folded paper had been pulled from the light blue envelope, and Rowan began reading the letter out loud. With his special commentary of course.

“Dear Aelin – who dares call you dear in a letter, unless they are your family?” Rowan gruntled but began again. “Dear Aelin, I hope this letter finds you well – what is this, the 19th century? Finds you well, sure. I have been tasked to form a group and contact them in order to start the preparations. A sort of special operations team, if I may say so. Seriously, whoever wrote this is living some sort of a fairytale. Who writes like this anymore? I remembered you participating in similar tasks back in high school – oh so a high school friend then – and thought you would be a perfect addition to our team. It has now been nearly 10 years since our graduation from high school, and we are organising the reunion. Oh, it’s your reunion soon,” Rowan stopped reading for a bit and looked at Aelin, who did not look very happy with the thought of seeing her peers from high school.

“As I mentioned, I was tasked with forming a group to organise this reunion and would very much like for you to be a part of the team. Please respond to me as soon as possible. I have enclosed both my email and my phone number at the bottom of this letter. Kind regards, Kaltain Rompier. Well, love, it seems you are asked to organise your reunion,” Rowan chuckled at the fire blazing from his wife’s eyes.

“No. Absolutely not. I hated them then, I still hate them now. Kaltain Rompier was a bitch who bullied me back then and I’m sure this is just her attempt to bully me more somehow,” Aelin crossed her arms and looked like a sulking toddler, which just made Rowan laugh.

“Love. Love, listen to me. I get how bad high school was for-,” Rowan was interrupted by the fiery woman in front of him.

“How could you get that, mister popular star athlete who every girl wanted to date, and all the guys wanted to befriend? How could you get how fucking bad the entire experience was for me?” Aelin was on the offense now. Rowan raised his hands in defense, trying to show his wife he was on her side.

“Alright, I can’t fully get that, but I know you and I understand you, and I can imagine based off of what you’ve told me. But if you back out now, you’re just letting them win. What a better way to show off the new, absolutely stunning, confident version of you, than to beat them at their own game?”

Rowan did have a point. A tiny point, but a point, nonetheless. Aelin could help with the organising of the event, then participate in the event and just show off her amazing, successful life. She hugged Rowan, thanking him for bringing her back from her insecurities again. It wasn’t often Aelin fell to the old version of herself, but sometimes the bullied girl showed her emotions through the cracks of the confident, grown-up armor. Thankfully Rowan loved and knew how to handle all versions of Aelin, which made life easier nowadays.

It was now almost three months later, Aelin having done a lot of the organising from the comforts of her home, such as booking the venue and listing the names and addresses of their peers. The other three, including Kaltain, did more of the hands-on preparations, which meant Aelin did not have to meet up with them face to face. She did call them a few times to clarify things and to assist them on choosing the color schemes and similar things.

The event was happening tonight. Aelin had spent the entire morning being pampered to lower her stress levels, and then spending time on the phone handling last minute preparations to increase her stress levels right back up. Rowan was going to be her plus one, and he knew better than to be on her way today of all days. Instead, he had gotten dressed when it was necessary, and was now wearing his tailored three-piece tuxedo while waiting for his wife.

Aelin was finally ready, wearing a dress Rowan had bought for his wife. A black, skin-tight dress with an open back and some thin, golden chains holding the dress up and together, almost highlighting the dragon tattoo on her back. She had pulled most of her hair up, leaving just a few strands down, and very little makeup to enhance her natural beauty. She wasn’t wearing any other jewelry except for the wedding and engagement rings from Rowan, and a thin bangle on her wrist which Rowan had gotten her on her 25th birthday. It had “Fireheart” engraved on it.

“Wow, love. You look… breathtaking,” Rowan said as he stood up, with a smooth motion closing the button on his jacket and offering Aelin her coat.

“Thanks, buzzard. You look delicious,” Aelin winked. It seems that a lot of the stress from before was now gone, or at least more hidden. Rowan chuckled at her comment.

“Shall we?”

At the venue, the two of them separated with a kiss. Rowan told her he’d go find their table while Aelin was asked by one of the venue managers to handle some very last-minute detail, which apparently only Aelin could do, or at least that’s what that Rompier lady had told the manager. Aelin was slightly pissed that she couldn’t simply enjoy her evening as she had planned, or at least try to, but she handled the issue with speed and grace, and then finally began her walk towards the room. Many people were whispering, trying to figure out who she was. Aelin had changed quite a bit since high school, when she had been a shy music geek who almost everyone made fun of.

Rowan was facing similar whispers, most of them wondering how the hell he had ended up on this particular reunion, seeing as his 10-year-reunion had been three years prior. He had been a senior when they had been freshmen, and he had been the biggest star athlete of their school back then. Everyone still remembered him, as he had set some records which, still to this day, were undefeated. Simply smiling at anyone greeting him, but not staying for a chat, he found their table right in at the front of the stage. “Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and date”. Again, they had forgotten a part of her name, which made him frown. He didn’t mind being simply Aelin’s date tonight, no need to steal her thunder. He was proudly showing Aelin off today, since he had the most beautiful woman at his side – as he always did, if you asked his opinion.

Aelin finally made it to the room, but she wasn’t about to mingle. Instead, she quickly spotted the silver head of her husband, seated at one of the small tables at the front. Many women in the room were staring at him in adoration, which brought almost an evil smile to Aelin’s face. They could look all they wanted, but they most certainly could not touch.

“If everyone would please be seated, so we may begin with the speeches before dinner. Dinner tonight will be served buffet-style, so everyone will be collecting their own food when the time is upon,” Kaltain had found her way to the stage by now and her screechy voice was annoying Aelin already, before the event had even time to officially begin. She did manage to sneak to sit beside Rowan as everyone else was distracted trying to find their seats. Once everyone was seated, Kaltain picked up the microphone once again.

“First of all, I would like to offer a very warm welcome to all tonight. I’m so happy to see each and every one of you here on this special evening. I am absolutely certain we will all be enjoying the event as we reach back to our fondest years to reminisce, look back to the predictions made at the end of our senior year and maybe see some of them come true too,” Kaltain had a bitchy smirk on her face. Or maybe the bitchy face was a norm for her. Aelin certainly thought so.

“We have quite a few speeches prepared, so let’s start with those. First of all, I’d like to call to the stage our beloved principal, Murtaugh Allsbrook!” Kaltain began applauding as the old man began his trek to the stage. As the principal opened his mouth to give his speech, Rowan turned slightly towards Aelin and whispered in her ear.

“That old bag is still the principal? I thought he’d be dead by now,” Rowan tried to lighten up his wife with a joke. Aelin snickered quietly, so it was working. He made funny comments about all the people giving speeches, whether his comments were true or not, at least he had managed to make Aelin’s mood a bit brighter. When the numbingly boring, but mandatory speeches were finally over, Rowan told Aelin to stay still as he would get their meals. He knew precisely what Aelin would want to eat, and he was happy to do a small act of pampering for his wife. Aelin thanked him with a kiss and went scrolling through her phone.

Rowan found his way to the buffet line and realised his mistake. Staying still in the line opened up opportunities for the others to engage him in conversation, and he didn’t want to be too rude, as this was supposed to be Aelin’s night.

“Rowan Whitethorn! Thought I recognised you,” came a screeching voice behind him as a hand touched his arm. A hand which did not belong to his wife, but to one Kaltain Rompier.

“Yes, indeed it is I,” Rowan replied with uninterest and tried to unsuccessfully shrug her hand off.

“How have you been all these years? You still look just as good as you did back in high school. I used to have the biggest crush on you back then,” Kaltain giggled trying to flirt. “You can’t still be single, not with those looks.”

“Oh, no. Happily married thank you very much. Here as my wife’s plus one,” he finally managed to get rid of the hand as he grabbed two plates and began collecting food on them.

“Hahaha, of course,” Kaltain giggled again. “And just who might your wife be? Do I know her? Of course, I know her since she is here, hahaha.”

Luckily someone came by to talk to Kaltain, so Rowan could escape that horrid woman and finish the plates for him and Aelin. He was walking back to their table, when he noticed someone trying to flirt with Aelin, but looking like they got turned down. The other person had turned away by the time Rowan reached the table, setting down the food in front of the bottomless pit he called his wife.

“Ooooh you got everything I wanted, thank you buzzard!” Rowan just smiled and began eating his salmon as he watched the incredible woman beside her wolf down the entire plate of pasta and fried things.

Dinner was now over and there were some videos shown that took people right back down the memory lane. Rowan spotted Aelin’s picture a few times. She was so different now; no wonder people didn’t recognise her. In high school she used to wear overly large clothing, her hair was dyed to a darker colour and puberty hadn’t been kind to her either. But even in the pictures, Rowan found Aelin to be beautiful. Her eyes were the one thing that had not changed, and even back then her eyes showed Aelin’s soul if you knew where to look. She looked to be in peace while playing the instruments in the pictures.

One thing in particular made Rowan frown. As they were showing the yearbook pictures behind on the big screen, there were “most likely to” slogans written underneath a lot of the names. Most likely to be successful, most likely to be married with kids, most likely to be a celebrity and so on. But the thing written under Aelin’s picture did finally make him realise how bad high school had been for his wife. Most likely to die a virgin. These slogans were submitted by others, in good jest, but this had to have been pure malice. He now knew why Aelin had never shown her yearbook to him. He grabbed Aelin’s hand in a comforting gesture – to him or to Aelin, he did not know.

As the evening went by, so did the “fun” games too. The most successful of the games was a back down the memory lane trivia quiz – even Rowan had somehow ended up in a question there despite being a few years older. They also hosted a photo booth, which Aelin and Rowan took advantage of to take some... more promiscuous pictures, as well as some cute ones. Neither of the couple wanted to mingle a lot with others, so they just stuck with each other, flirting and joking together. A few of the people who’d been in the music program with Aelin had come by to exchange a few words. Quite a few ladies tried to come by to chat Rowan up, who just responded to them by kissing Aelin on the cheek or the neck, or even occasionally a full-blown kiss on the lips to deter any of the annoying women.

When the mingling was dying down a bit, Kaltain – the self-appointed hostess – decided to finally wrap up the evening.

“Hello again everyone. I hope you have enjoyed the evening tonight; I know I have. We have had quite a few surprises here tonight and some not-so-surprising things come out as well. I would like to thank every single one of you for coming tonight, it wouldn’t have been a success without you all. Now that we have had the pleasure of reminiscing the good old days and had some fun, I’d like to thank a few special people tonight,” Kaltain began her speech.

“Yours truly, I, Kaltain Rompier, was tasked with bringing together the team to organise this whole shindig, and we did a magnificent job even if I say so myself. I’d like to thank my team next. Nox Owens, you did an amazing job with the decorations. Would you please stand up so everyone may applaud you?”

The man in question rose from his seat and had a small grin on his face. Everyone in the room clapped their hands in appreciation.

“I know I could not have done this without Yrene Westfall’s incredible assistance – you knew her as Yrene Towers back in high school. She sent out all the invitations and made sure our dinner tonight was as tasty as it was!”

It was Yrene’s turn to get up for the applause. Her long curls flowed down her back and her brown skin was glowing – probably due to the very visible reason. She was pregnant. And apparently, she is married one of the class heartthrobs too - Chaol.

“Last but not least, bringing to the table her incredible skills at acquiring people’s personal information, as well as choosing and booking our gorgeous venue, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius!”

As Aelin rose from her seat, silence fell upon the room. No one had expected the gorgeous blonde at Rowan Whitethorn’s arm to be the Aelin they knew from high school.

“Um, excuse me, but that’s not my name. At least not my full name. I’d appreciate my actual name used, which is Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius. Oh, and I most certainly will not die a virgin,” Aelin said that with so much conviction and confidence, you could literally picture her dropping the microphone. Rowan simply grinned from his seat, taking her hand and kissing it. Someone started applauding at the back, and the others joined in. Aelin simply stood and enjoyed the attention. For the first time in her life, she enjoyed the attention by her high school peers.

Aelin 1 – high school 0.

#rowaelin fic #rowaelin #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #tog fic #tog fanfic #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #my writing #rowaelin oneshot

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ladybookstan · 3 years ago

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I didn't know I had the capacity to cry so much. Until I got to those scenes. If anyone looks for me, tell them I'm trying to rehydrate.

Heir of Fire - Chapter 54

Her parents argued the first two nights at the manor, and Lady Marion kept her company, reading to her, brushing her hair, telling her stories of her home in Perranth. Marion had been a laundress in the palace from her childhood. But when Evalin arrived, they had become friends—mostly because the princess had stained her new husband’s favorite shirt with ink and wanted to get it cleaned before he noticed.

Evalin soon made Marion her lady-in-waiting, and then Lord Lochan had returned from a rotation on the southern border. Handsome Cal Lochan, who somehow became the dirtiest man in the castle and constantly needed Marion’s advice on how to remove various stains. Who one day asked a bastard-born servant to be his wife—and not just wife, but Lady of Perranth, the second-largest territory in Terrasen. Two years later, she had borne him Elide, heir of Perranth.

..........

“Aelin,” Marion whispered, and small, strong hands found her face, forcing her to look at the white-as-snow features, the bloodred lips. “Aelin, listen to me.” Though Marion was breathing quickly, her voice was even. “You are going to run for the river. Do you remember the way to the footbridge?” The narrow rope and wood bridge across the ravine and the rushing River Florine below. She nodded.

“Good girl. Make for the bridge, and cross it. Do you remember the empty farm down the road? Find a place to hide there—and do not come out, do not let yourself be seen by anyone except someone you recognize. Not even if they say they’re a friend. Wait for the court—they will find you.” She was shaking again. But Marion gripped her shoulders. “I am going to buy you what time I can, Aelin. No matter what you hear, no matter what you see, don’t look back, and don’t stop until you find a place to hide.” She shook her head, silent tears finding their way out at last. The front door groaned—a quick movement.

Lady Marion reached for the dagger in her boot. It glinted in the dim light.

“When I say run, you run, Aelin. Do you understand?” She didn’t want to, not at all, but she nodded.

Lady Marion brushed a kiss to her brow. “Tell my Elide…” Her voice broke.

“Tell my Elide that I love her very much.”

.........

That.

That moment Lady Marion had chosen a desperate hope for her kingdom over herself, over her husband and the daughter who would wait and wait for a return that would never come.

..........

There was a scrape and crunch of shoes, then a small, smooth hand slid toward her. But it was not Chaol or Sam or Nehemia who lay across from her, watching her with those sad turquoise eyes.

Her cheek against the moss, the young princess she had been—Aelin Galathynius—reached a hand for her. “Get up,” she said softly.

Celaena shook her head.

Aelin strained for her, bridging that rift in the foundation of the world.

“Get up.” A promise—a promise for a better life, a better world.

The Valg princes paused.

She had wasted her life, wasted Marion’s sacrifice. Those slaves had been butchered because she had failed—because she had not been there in time.

“Get up,” someone said beyond the young princess. Sam. Sam, standing just beyond where she could see, smiling faintly.

“Get up,” said another voice—a woman’s. Nehemia.

“Get up.” Two voices together—her mother and father, faces grave but eyes bright. Her uncle was beside them, the crown of Terrasen on his silver hair. “Get up,” he told her gently.

One by one, like shadows emerging from the mist, they appeared. The faces of the people she had loved with her heart of wildfire.

And then there was Lady Marion, smiling beside her husband. “Get up,” she whispered, her voice full of that hope for the world, and for the daughter she would never seen again.

#i love lady marion so muchhh #Elide's mother is wonderful i love her #aelin galathynius #nehemia you will always be in my heart.... forever #nehemia ytger #sam cortland #rhoe and evalin galathynius #orlon galathynius #lord and lady of perranth #throne of glass series #ana reading heir of fire #heir of fire #terrasen #sarah j mass

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longsightmyth · 3 years ago

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Ok so im reading empire of storms rn, and it's really something that's been getting my goat since forever: that people keep referring to Aelin as the queen, when she's not even reclaimed her throne or set foot upon her land. "Heir to the throne"? Yeah! "Princess"? Sure! But "queen"...? For a random girl who hasn't been crowned yet and has just been running around completing side quests?

She's not a queen at all, so it's a weird choice of words and kind of cancels the fact that she will be, well, crowned queen in the end. Since she already is one apparently. Oh god

Yeah it's odd. Like I would think that maybe Terrasen's customs involve the crown going immediately to the next ruler and just having a party afterwards... except that it's canon that they can be impeached (removed? Barred from inheritance?) by a council of lords, who proceeded to do just that with Celaena.

I can only assume this is the black jewels influence, where being a Queen is an intrinsic and inborn caste as well as the name of a position.

#myth rags on throne of glass #myth rags on the black jewels

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imaginedhaven · 4 years ago

Text

Rules of Engagement: Chapter Eighteen

Link to Masterpost

Based on the pacing of events, it looks like my previous guess still holds: two more chapters and an epilogue remain.

Enjoy!

~*~*~

The next day, Rowan looked on with amusement as Aelin met with Lorcan. She had already spoken with Aedion, of course, and her cousin had spent an exceedingly long time venting his frustrations regarding the other demi-Fae.

He hadn’t mentioned his father at all, but Rowan had known it would be a bad idea to press him on the subject, especially in front of Aelin. He would talk about it when he was ready.

As Lorcan snarled wordlessly, Rowan turned his attention back to the conversation at hand. “See, it’s funny,” Aelin was saying, one finger touching her chin in a dramatic parody of thought. “If I recall correctly, the throne of Doranelle is matrilineal, is it not? Which means you can’t possibly be in charge here, and therefore would be unfit to cast judgment on me.”

Rowan bit back a laugh in favor of adopting an expression that he hoped looked suitably stern. Lorcan, on the other hand, had no such problems. “As you murdered our previous queen, you don’t get a say in how you are judged,” he snarled.

“The creature I destroyed was neither Fae nor your true queen.” Aelin was carefully inspecting the nails on her left hand. “You should be thanking me, really.”

It was exactly the wrong thing to say to Lorcan, though Aelin couldn’t have possibly known that. Perhaps it was time to intercede. “Aelin…”

Lorcan’s frosty glare became fixed on him instead. “Yes, Whitethorn, by all means get your bitch-queen in line.”

Rowan growled at his former commander, but Aelin only laughed. “Oh, I like that. But it’s missing something. Something… fiery.” As she said it she called one of her flames into existence, and it danced over her fingertips before she allowed it to vanish in a puff of smoke.

Most men would have missed the cold calculation in her gaze when she looked at Lorcan once more, a look borrowed straight from her persona as Celaena—or perhaps this was a part of herself she had been allowed and even encouraged to express as Celaena. Rowan recognized it, however, with a tightening in the pit of his stomach and a surge of arousal’s warmth.

Shit, it had been a bad idea to bed Aelin so soon before they would have to be reasonable and professional adults. He should have known, should have remembered that the usual Fae possessiveness immediately after taking a new lover was so much worse when it was your mate. What was usually three or so days of irritation at the presence of almost anyone else became absolutely unbearable when the union meant more.

Nothing had prepared him for anything about Aelin, however, so he supposed this should be no different.

When he finally remembered himself, Lorcan was staring at the hand that had commanded those flames with a blend of fear and anger. “You fire-breathing bitch,” he hissed.

Aelin smirked. “There it is. Fire-breathing bitch-queen. Rowan, we’ll have to write that down somewhere, add it to my list of titles or something.”

“I’m glad you’re so amused,” Rowan grumbled.

Rowan was not at all amused. It was bad enough that Lorcan was anywhere near Aelin right now. The fact that he was antagonizing her only made it worse. If this continued for much longer… well. He would just have to hope that it didn’t.

“Someone has to make up for you two. Is it a Fae thing, to be so utterly joyless? Or is it just the two of you?” She smiled at him, and the rest of the room faded away as he remembered the way she had smiled that very morning, the way she had laughed into the pillows and then moaned as he’d entered her from behind—

Shit. He had to focus, or they would never get out of this room and Lorcan would probably kill both of them before blinding himself. He wasn’t exactly known for forgiveness, or for restraint.

Thankfully, Aelin didn’t seem to require a response, for she was already speaking again. “Now. As the direct descendant of Mab, I’d like to officially renounce any claim I may have to your throne. But I can only do that in the presence of the descendant of Mora, who would rightfully inherit Maeve’s crown. She didn’t wear a crown, though, did she?”

“Why should I allow you to meet with her?” Lorcan asked, seething with barely-restrained anger. “You waltzed in here and murdered Maeve with little proof and no hesitation.”

“You weren’t actually present for that, were you?” she asked. “So you wouldn’t actually know what I did or did not do or say. Which means you’re speculating, which means you’re letting your own emotions get in the way of the truth.”

Rowan winced. Aelin truly had a knack for saying exactly the wrong thing; Lorcan’s devotion to his dark queen had been as fierce and passionate as any love, though it had been as dark and twisted as Maeve herself. Maeve, in turn, had taken delight in spurning him at every turn, but that hadn’t stopped Lorcan from wishing things had been different, or from taking on more and more daring and dubious tasks in some twisted attempt to prove himself to her.

As he’d expected, Lorcan snarled at that, baring his canines to her. What he had not expected, but should have, was the strength of his own reaction.

One of his blades found itself embedded in the table between them as a frosty wind began to blow through the room. “This ends now,” he growled as Lorcan threw up a shield made of his own dark power.

“Och, you’ll have to forgive Rowan for being such an overbearing buzzard,” Aelin said to Lorcan, though Rowan didn’t miss her affectionate gaze in his own direction. “Although I hear all Fae males are like that, so perhaps you’d understand better than I do.”

Lorcan, meanwhile, had turned his glare in Rowan’s direction. “Tell me, were you warming her bed while you were still sworn to Maeve, or did you take her before the dust had settled in that throne room?”

Before Rowan could do anything more than snarl in reply, a cocoon of fire melted through Lorcan’s shield. “I’ll have to ask you to leave Rowan out of this,” Aelin said, all amusement gone from her voice. “I’d say this is between you and me, but it truly isn’t. It’s between me and Mora’s heir, whoever that may be. I’ll give you a day to produce her.”

In the blink of an eye, the fire disappeared, and Aelin stalked out of the room. Rowan followed without a second glance at his former commander.

~*~*~

It turned out that Mora’s heir was one of Rowan’s many distant cousins, and Aelin immediately sent him out to find her. Not only did it give her the opportunity to talk to Aedion in relative peace, but it also meant that they would be able to return to Terrasen that much faster.

Aelin sighed. For all that Doranelle was a beautiful city, she missed the mountains and forests that she called home. It seemed Aedion did as well, for he had been all too eager to begin packing what little he had brought with him. She suspected there was more to it than simple longing to see his mate again, but if there was something that had gone wrong Aedion wasn’t talking about it.

Perhaps she would be able to wrangle the truth out of him on the journey home.

As she watched a white-tailed hawk and a golden eagle circle over the palace together she adjusted the leather of her jerkin, wishing once more that she had thought to bring some finer clothes. She would make do with what she had, of course, but meeting the next Queen of Doranelle in riding leathers seemed… incorrect, somehow. She could only hope Rowan’s cousin would understand.

Gods, and that was a whole other thing to be nervous about. This was the first of Rowan’s family she was to meet, and it was all because she had killed the previous queen. What a terrible way to introduce herself to her mate’s family. There was nothing to be done for it, though, except to hope that she would believe Aelin’s story with the evidence she could give.

As if he could sense that she needed the encouragement—and he probably could, given their bond—the hawk swooped down from the skies, landing as delicately as he could on her shoulder. She smiled as he began to run his beak through her carefully braided hair. “Och, you. Don’t you pull any of that out,” she muttered.

Rowan only clicked his beak and took off from her shoulder, shifting midair to land by her side. As their eyes met, beneath the lust that quickly rose to the surface she could see he was trying to reassure her. You’re worrying too much. You’ve made it this far.

Aelin took a deep breath, doing her best to calm her nerves. As she did, the eagle still circling above them landed across the courtyard from where she and Rowan stood, shifting into the form of a Fae female.

It was easy to tell from just a passing glance that she and Rowan were related, the long silver hair and pine-green eyes proclaiming their shared lineage. She stood about as tall as Aelin did, and while her smile was pleasant her eyes were calculating, taking Aelin’s measure just as Aelin was doing to her. She wore a simple pale dress, which Aelin noted with relief given her own lack of clothing options, and twin braids framed her face but the remainder of her long silvery hair was allowed to flow loosely down her back.

Rowan stepped forward then, linking his fingers with Aelin’s to pull her along as well. “Aelin, this is Sellene Whitethorn, my cousin and heir of Mora. Sellene, this is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, heir of Mab, crown princess of Terrasen… and my mate.” His tone turned wondering at the end, like he still couldn’t quite believe it, and at the sound she could’ve sworn her heart skipped a beat.

Sellene smiled at her then, gesturing toward a path. “Why don’t you walk with me? It would seem that we have much to discuss, given what Rowan has told me.”

“We do indeed. I must say I wish we had met under better circumstances.”

Sellene’s eyes glimmered with barely-concealed amusement. “From what I hear, you freed us all from a most despicable creature. I would think there could be no better circumstance.”

Aelin turned to stare at Rowan, who was looking innocently at a nearby tree. “So Rowan has already informed you of why he was sent to find you, then.”

“Of course he did,” she replied. “I was hardly going to leave my home with no explanation.”

“I suppose that’s fair. Truthfully, I’m grateful you’re willing to speak with me.”

“Rowan tells me I am to be the Fae Queen of the East now. I would like to begin by obtaining the truth of our previous queen’s death for myself, that I may fairly judge the situation.” Sellene approached her then, offering an arm which Aelin took. “There is a lovely pavilion near here, overlooking one of the many rivers that form our city. We can speak there without interruption.”

“That sounds wonderful. I haven’t had much opportunity to take in the views for which your city is famous during my stay,” she admitted.

“Of course you haven’t. It seems my cousin has been keeping you busy,” Sellene grinned, eyes knowing.

Aelin fought valiantly against the blush that was rising in her cheeks, and only partially succeeded. “I—”

“We all understand what it is like to be newly mated, Aelin. You need not fear judgment from me,” the older female interrupted. “Now, come. Let us decide our futures together, as our ancestors the Sister-Queens once did.”

Aelin nodded her agreement, and together they began to walk along the path, Rowan following close behind until Sellene twisted her fingers and a shield of hard air appeared at their backs. “My dear cousin, I’m afraid I must ask you to part from your mate for a little while. She will return to you shortly.”

Rather than simply leave, Rowan looked to Aelin. Before he could ask her for instructions, though, she waved him off. “Go on, buzzard. Shoo. I’ll meet you back at your rooms.”

Rowan shook his head before shifting and taking flight, flying so close to Aelin’s head that she ducked and laughed before entering the palace through a window.

Sellene smiled as she looked on, before once more leading Aelin down the path on which they were standing. “Now, tell me everything,” she demanded, and Aelin began to speak.

~*~*~

Lorcan was already waiting for Rowan when he re-entered the palace, and he bit back a grimace when he noticed the other warrior’s presence. “She’s with Sellene now. They stopped me from following before they could say anything substantial.”

Lorcan growled. “And you listened to them?”

“I bound myself to Aelin with a blood oath,” Rowan retorted. “I cannot disobey, as you well know.” It wasn’t strictly true for this specific situation; Aelin had not made her request a true command under the oath, and he had felt no compulsion. Lorcan didn’t need to know that, however.

“Speaking of your decisions regarding her,” Lorcan began with a sneer. Rowan couldn’t restrain the snarl that left him in response, even if he had bothered to try. However, that didn’t halt his former companion. “Did you come here intending to betray Maeve, or was that simply an additional perk for you?”

“Aelin told me nothing of her plans, knowing I would be compelled to stop her if I knew. I followed because of Maeve’s orders to remain close in proximity to Aelin, and because I believed a meeting between the two of them was a terrible risk.”

Lorcan scowled, glancing out over the grounds as if he would be able to hear them if he could only find them. “So you followed this girl while she came to murder our queen. And then you swore yourself to her. Now you’re bedding her, and allowing her access to our future queen completely alone. When are you going to come to your senses?”

“I began to come to my senses when I learned Aelin and I were carranam,” he snapped, “and when I realized that was something Maeve would never allow, given her unique brand of cruelty. Even if you discount the fact that she wasn’t Fae—”

“Which we cannot prove,” Lorcan hissed.

Rowan growled. “Even if you choose not to see that, you must see that she had much to answer for. We may have all chosen her oath, but many of us had little other choice. Unless you were going to have a better life than most of the demi-Fae who were allowed into the city, Maeve’s oath was your best chance to prove yourself. We all know how she entrapped the Moonbeam twins. Gods know why Gavriel or Vaughan swore the oath.”

“And you think your new tyrant will be so much better?”

“Aelin has never once forced a command on me,” he admitted. “And her oath… it feels different. Warm. Like a gentle tug rather than claws raking down the base of my skull.”

Lorcan scoffed. “Romantic foolishness.”

“Perhaps.”

Lorcan scowled, glancing out of the window once more. “She could be doing anything right now. I don’t like it.”

“She said she would be formally renouncing any claim she may have to Maeve’s throne, granting Sellene uncontested rights as Mora’s heir. We don’t have any reason to doubt that.”

“Speak for yourself. I have every reason to doubt that.”

A sudden thought struck Rowan. “Tell me, do you intend to swear yourself to Sellene if she asks?”

Lorcan turned to face him again. “Do you think she will?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I know she didn’t approve of the way Maeve used the oath, but I don’t know if that means she’ll abandon the practice altogether.”

His former companion sighed. “There’s too much we don’t know about this. None of us expected Maeve to require an heir. Sellene is completely untrained.”

“Not completely untrained,” Rowan countered. “Unseasoned, yes. She could use sound advice as she settles into her duties.”

“And you think we are the ones who can give her that,” Lorcan frowned.

“Who better? We had a… unique insight into the way Maeve ran Doranelle. You and the others can provide stability as we navigate this change.”

“And what of you?”

Rowan smiled. “I doubt Sellene will want me to linger for long, bound to another queen as I am. I suppose I’ll be going back to Terrasen before long.”

A swirl of ice around a twisting flame startled them both into looking out of the window once more, Lorcan growling at the sight. “I told you she couldn’t be trusted!”

“They’re not fighting,” Rowan said distantly. “Can’t you feel it in the magic? It’s… playful.”

Lorcan stared at him as though he had grown a second head. “Magic is magic. I thought you were better than that.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Rowan frowned. It was certainly not something he would’ve thought or said before…

Before the bond.

“It’s the bond,” he realized. “I wasn’t feeling their magic, but Aelin’s intentions.”

Lorcan sniffed. “Even more foolish and less provable.”

The swirling ice and flame exploded into embers that danced with snow in a dazzling display, and Rowan smiled. “That is not how offensive magic behaves. They’re testing each other, perhaps. But they’re not attempting any harm.”

Soon enough, the two future queens proved Rowan’s point for him by reappearing once more along the path they had taken. They were laughing together, and Sellene had crowned Aelin in ice while flames danced around Sellene’s head. “See? They both seem unharmed,” he pointed out.

Lorcan glanced down at them and then sneered. “So your bitch-queen has ensnared yet another Whitethorn—”

Rowan had had quite enough of Lorcan talking that way about Aelin, and before he could fully realize what he was doing a band of ice was pinning Lorcan to the nearest wall. “Do not speak of her that way in front of me,” he snarled. “You don’t have to like her. Beyond the next several days, it’s doubtful you will have to even see her again.”

Lorcan’s own dark power emerged, and the ice shattered. “Don’t condescend to me when you bound yourself to her.”

“And given the choice, I would choose her every time,” he snapped. “You are not required to approve of it, and I know far better than to ask for your blessing. But I will not tolerate you speaking that way about her.”

Rowan didn’t give Lorcan any further chance to reply. Instead, he shifted and flew out of the window, darting back into the palace closer to his rooms. After all, Aelin had said she would meet him there, and as far as he was concerned they still had several days’ worth of celebrating their newfound freedom from Maeve to catch up on.

~*~*~

Sellene’s coronation as Fae Queen of the East was a simple affair, and a few short days later she personally escorted them to the nearest port city. While Maeve had never left the city of Doranelle, Sellene felt it was important to get to know the Fae she now ruled over, and had told Aelin that this would be only the first stop on a tour through the lands.

Finally they reached the sea, and Aelin took a moment to watch the sunlight glimmer on the waves.

“You wouldn’t be hesitating now, would you? We’re finally on our way home.” Aedion’s eyes were fixed on the ship that awaited them when she turned to look at him.

“I know we are,” Aelin replied. “But there’s one more thing I need to do before we can leave, cousin.”

“And you’re only just now telling me this?”

“Yes,” she said with a pointed glance in the direction of a certain white-tailed hawk circling above them.

Rowan had spent most of the days traveling in flight with his cousin, a hawk and an eagle ever scouting ahead, screeching to each other with the joy that must come with soaring on the breeze. In the evenings he returned to her side, holding her as though he never wished to let her go and kissing her as though she was his entire world.

On a small handful of nights they had crept away from the camps and joined together again, and Aelin still felt a small thrill simply from thinking about every soft noise she’d pulled from his lips. It had been a risk, certainly, to press him against a tree and sink to her knees before him, and the entire time she’d worried just a little about getting caught. But his reactions had been so very worth all of the risk.

All of that joy they had found in each other over the past few days would only make this next step harder, however.

They made their way down to the docks, and Aelin turned to face Sellene once more. “Thank you for your hospitality these past days,” she said.

Sellene smiled. “The world is to have two Sister-Queens once more. I would prefer that we remain on good terms, and that together we may rule over the Fae as one. As our ancestors did before us.”

“I would like that,” Aelin agreed.

“Once you are crowned, Doranelle will recognize you as the Faerie Queen of the West, overseeing the Fae of Erilea as we rule the Fae of this continent,” Sellene declared, green eyes gleaming with determination. “Write to me when you are approved, and I’ll ensure it is done as quickly as we can.”

“I will,” she promised.

Rowan landed beside her and shifted then, his arm finding its way around her waist as it so often did. Sellene smiled at the two of them. “Are you ready?”

Aelin nodded her reply. “It will be as we discussed. Rowan?”

He turned to face her in confusion, and with a twinge of regret she reached into herself for the oath that tethered him to her, giving it a gentle tug. “You are to remain here with Sellene,” she said, watching his eyes widen in surprise. “She needs assistance with ensuring a smooth transition of power, and you will be invaluable to her for that purpose. When she deems your tasks to be done, then you may return to me.”

Anger flared in his eyes, then. “Did it not occur to you to ask me?”

Aelin smiled, though there was no joy in it. “Would you have accepted it as necessary to be parted from me, even just for a few weeks?”

Rowan’s scowl told her he knew perfectly well she was correct, but that he was upset with her regardless. “Is it necessary?”

“I’m afraid it is. Without you it will take months rather than weeks for Sellene to assume her throne. I cannot spare even a few more weeks. You know I’ve been away from Terrasen too long. Besides, there is something there that I must do without your presence.”

And what is it that you cannot possibly do in my presence? his eyes demanded.

I must meet with the lords of Terrasen.

Pine-green eyes suddenly widened with understanding. “You’re going back for your crown.”

“I am,” she replied.

Rowan finally nodded. I wish you had told me sooner. I understand why you’re doing this alone, but I would have liked to bid you farewell properly.

Aelin bit her lip. Had I given you advance warning, you would have convinced me to allow you to return to Terrasen with me.

I would certainly have tried. I doubt I would have met with success.

I am honored by your impression of my determination, but I assure you I would have been sorely tempted. Especially if your argument had consisted of your face between my thighs.

Rowan spluttered then, ears turning pink, and Aelin grinned.

“Disgusting,” Aedion chuckled in the distance.

“You’ll be just as bad as soon as we get home, if not worse, cousin,” Aelin retorted, her eyes never leaving Rowan’s.

Finally, he pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her brow. Before she could do more than reach to wrap her arms around him as well, he was already gone, shifting and flying in a circle around them. He landed on her shoulder briefly, brushing her cheek with the tip of his wing, before screeching and flying off, his cousin shifting to join him.

Aelin winced. It appeared he hadn’t quite forgiven her yet, if he was willing to screech at full volume directly into her ear. She hoped that she would be able to make it up to him soon.

Aedion laughed. “You really do have a knack for irritating those around you.”

“It’s my greatest charm,” she grinned, though her gaze stayed fixed on the hawk flying beside a golden eagle until they disappeared from view. “Now, let’s go home.”

And as she and her cousin turned to the ship that would bear them across the sea, Aelin took a deep breath and began to walk forward.

She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and she had a crown to win. She would not be afraid.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer

#haven writes #rules of engagement #rowaelin

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cicada-bones · 4 years ago

Text

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 4: Departure

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

The princess turned swiftly around, her right hand already hidden within the folds of her heavy cloak, clutching the dagger concealed within. She was completely still as she evaluated him, her eyes wide with shock. Rowan almost grinned at the sight.

The princess had probably never seen a fully-fledged Fae before; it had been a decade since magic had been eradicated and the burnings began that had driven all the western Fae from sight of Adarlanian soldiers. The very few that survived lived far from civilization, or were trapped in animal form to roam in the wilderness. Regardless, there was no possible way that she had ever seen anyone like him before.

Rowan was the most powerful pure-blooded Fae male living. He did not revel in the fact, did not lord it over other Fae – but it was a reality of his existence, one that he had grappled with for most of his life. Still, he couldn’t help but enjoy the educational experience he was providing the princess.

The street had gone absolutely silent, the mad beggar woman now huddled in her alcove, pressed against a teetering pile of rubbish, whimpering in fear. The other street urchins shrank back, retreating into secluded doorways and fleeing into the sunny street beyond.

The scent of fear radiated from the princess in waves, but she didn’t let it control her the way so many did. The girl was obviously intimately familiar with the emotion, trained to disregard it and act rationally.

The princess’ eyes roved over him, passing by his silver hair and settling on his tattoo. Rowan ceased his advance, pausing in a dusty patch of sunlight while she studied the whorls of black ink. The markings stretched down the left side of his face and neck, continuing below the pale surcoat and cloak he wore, all the way down his left arm to his wrist. They were in the old language of the Fae – and from the uncomprehending look on the girl’s face, were unintelligible to her.

A small measure of relief stole through him at the realization. Rowan didn’t want her to know any more about him than she needed to.

As Rowan paused, he scanned the rest of the street carefully. It was now nearly empty – its shadowy occupants immediately dispersed by the power radiating from him. There were only a few in the world who would meet the challenge in Rowan’s eyes, and none of that small group were currently in the street before him.

The girl still hadn’t moved, had made no attempt to flee – either back up the drainpipe to the roof or down a side street. She appeared to be contemplating, calculating her next move.

She had skillfully appraised him, marking his weapons, both those hidden beneath his clothing and those that were exposed, including the sword strapped across his back and the vicious knives at his sides, as well as his other advantages, his elongated canines, height, broad shoulders, corded muscle, and overwhelming bulk.

But the girl evaluated him in a way Rowan was unfamiliar with. Normally, the aggression and cold hostility he emanated sent people to their knees, or had them running in the opposite direction. Sometimes, through the fear, Rowan could even scent varying shades of jealousy or desire. Without exception, people reacted to him with how they thought they could use him, could possess him and his power.

But this girl was blank, empty. The fear he had scented earlier had faded and was replaced with…nothing. She was cold, and hard. Emotionless.

But now that the fear was gone, Rowan could finally get an untarnished trace of her scent. It wafted over to him on a warm breeze, carrying much stronger hints of her power than earlier – her flames brought to the surface by stress.

Rowan nearly flinched.

She smelled horrific. Her scent was almost entirely obscured by the vile stench of an unwashed human body. Rowan could taste the layers of blood, sweat, and grime on her as if they were real, tangible things. He could almost see the musk wrapped around her, like a disgusting veil of fog.

But underneath that haze, Rowan could detect her true scent, the smell of her essence, her very identity.

It was bright and sharp, biting almost. It stuck in his throat uncomfortably. Within it, he could scent the faintest hint of a north wind, of evergreen and ice – of her homeland. That scent was baked into her blood, her very bones. It marked her as who and what she was – a princess of Terrasen.

There could be no doubt.

But that tiny hint of northern wind, of her lineage, was almost completely overshadowed by the roiling tempest that thundered through her veins. Now that he was so close, it was undeniable. The petulant child had been given the power of a god, and it writhed in her bones, unwillingly constrained by her small frame. The door between them was locked fast, and the wildfire wanted out. And yet she refused to use it, turned away from it.

Even now, with the cold arrogance in her eyes and the iron bars enclosing her magic, the princess’ scent spoke of heat and spark and burning embers. They whispered to him, nudging at his icy wind.

Discomfort and a blistering wrath pulsed through him.

He hated this girl, hated her more than he would have thought possible. She was wild and completely untamed – a force of nature. A storm to be weathered. No discipline, no control, and not a shred of compassion. A killer.

She shifted position slightly, erring to the defensive. Rowan almost chuckled again.

He wished the girl would strike out, attack him with all the force her human form could muster. It would give him something to do with the fury steadily slicing through his self-control. Give him an outlet for the aggression pumping its way through his blood. He would eviscerate her, and then he could move on – go back to Doranelle and his queen, and face whatever punishment she would have in store for him.

This girl was a killer, and Rowan was an executioner of killers.

But instead of striking, all the tension in the girl’s limbs suddenly leaked out, and was replaced by a sly grace as she sauntered towards him. “Well met my friend,” she purred. “Well met indeed.”

Rowan remained completely still, impassive. Though taken slightly aback by the quick shift from aggression to easy familiarity, he was unsurprised by her change in tactics. She was Celaena Sardothien, the princess turned assassin, and she knew that verbal thrusts were just as effective as physical ones.

So did Rowan. He had dwelt in the center of Maeve’s court for too long not to have become familiar with that kind of warfare. And he detested it. From the princess’ arrogant lips, it infuriated him even more.

The girl paused a few feet before him, staring directly into his eyes – hers swimming with a wicked delight. “What a lovely surprise.” Her voice lilted in all the right places. “I thought we were to meet at the city walls.”

Even if she didn’t know exactly who he was, she had at least deduced who had sent him, and why. She had to know that there was no escaping the coming encounter. Perhaps that was why she was so relaxed – Maeve had said that the girl wanted to meet with her. The princess wasn’t just playing along; she was getting exactly what she sought – an audience with the Queen of the Fae.

Although giving the girl what she wanted aggravated Rowan to no end, he looked directly back into her sneering face anyways, and said, “Let’s go,” infusing his voice with as much indifference as he could.

Before the princess could give him some irreverent retort, Rowan turned and stalked down the sunlit street, avoiding the eyes of the vagrants currently regarding him with intense levels of fear and wonder. He listened carefully for the sound of the princess’ booted feet on the path behind him, relaxing slightly when she began to follow – although a fleeting hint of disappointment passed through him at her easy acquiescence.

Rowan led her through the city, down wandering paths and alleyways, trying to keep as much out of sight as possible. To his relief, the girl never raised any objection, verbal or otherwise, and instead just closely followed him into the northwest section of the city, where Fenrys had promised to leave a pair of horses for him.

Rowan hated traveling in Fae form, and it looked like he had signed up for a good deal of it. People stared as he walked past, pausing their working and walking and shopping to investigate the massive Fae warrior in their midst. Occasionally, flashes of recognition would spread on the faces of the onlookers, and he knew that it would soon be no secret that Rowan Whitethorn was in Varese, leading a strange, filthy girl through the capital.

They entered a small square, the princess lagging behind even though Rowan had slowed his pace to a crawl to accommodate her mortal form. It was adjacent to the apartment, and now held two sorry mares tied before a trough, waiting for them.

Rowan sighed imperceptibly. Fenrys just had to get his retribution for being asked to run Rowan’s errands.

He mounted the larger of the two beasts, while the princess stuffed her small satchel in the saddlebags of the other mare. Rowan began to turn the horse to lead it out of the square when the princess spoke. “I’ve known a few brooding warrior-types in my day, but I think you might be the broodiest of them all.”

Rowan whipped his head to face her. The girl’s tone hadn’t lost any of that infuriating insolence, but it wasn’t really the insult he was reacting to. They were surrounded by a great many interested ears, and if the princess let anything slip of more importance…

She continued, drawling, “Oh, hello. I think you know who I am, so I won’t bother introducing myself. But before I’m carted off to gods-know-where, I’d like to know who you are.”

His lips thinned. How had this girl survived so long? Instead of using violence to let out his fury, like he wanted to, Rowan glared at the many eavesdroppers loitering at the edges of the square – daring any of them to challenge him. They quickly dispersed.

Once he could no longer sense anyone within hearing range, he said evenly, “You’ve gathered enough about me at this point to have learned what you need to know.”

“Fair enough. But what am I to call you?” She gripped the saddle but didn’t mount it.

Rowan’s lips slipped into a frown. He supposed it wouldn’t do any harm to give the girl his name, though it pained him to give the arrogant brat any leverage over him. The less she knew about him, the less she could use against him.

“Rowan.”

She didn’t even blink. Either she had much more self-control than he suspected, which was highly doubtful, or she didn’t recognize the name.

“Well, Rowan – ” The princess’ tone was now bordering on open belligerence. Rowan felt his control beginning to slip as his eyes narrowed, warning of coming violence. She continued anyway. “Dare I ask where we’re going?”

The girl clearly had no regard for her own safety. Rowan had to actively suppress the fury coursing through him as he replied, “I’m taking you where you’ve been summoned.”

She kept silent this time, though he’d expected her to ask where the hell that was, instead mounting her mare and following him out of the square and onto the streets beyond. They slowly approached the entry gates, and the city guards merely waved them through, recognizing him as one of Maeve’s blood sworn and backing away in fear and respect.

Rowan grimaced. Why did it have to be this girl who challenged him, who met his hostility with an equal measure of her own?

Anger still pounded through him, undiminished by the heavy silence that now spread between them. The primal part of him ached to resolve the contest between them, to force the female to concede. It was strange to feel so when the pair of them were so outmatched. Rowan was unused to being challenged by other Fae, even his fellow blood-sworn had yielded to his power without much question. Except for Fenrys – that male constantly challenged him. But their contests lacked heat, Fenrys never actually expected to win.

But this female, this girl, had met the aggression in his eyes with her own arrogance, and had not backed down. She was so used to winning that the thought of losing never seemed to enter into her head.

Though she had lived as an assassin in the slums of Adarlan’s capital for most of her life, she was royalty – through and through.

Rowan let the cool, clean wind coming off the mountains breeze through his lungs, flushing out the last of the noxious city air and calming the pounding of his blood. They were several long days away from Mistward, and it seemed that Rowan would need every bit of his self-control to make it there without snapping.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

#WatE repost

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blackhavilliard · 5 years ago

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Modern Manorian AU - Royals Magazine - Feature: Dorian Havilliard

And Dorian’s feaure is finally here! Hope you all enjoy it. Manon’s feature is coming afterwards and I’m soooo excited for that ;D

Includes full interview under the cut. Read on AO3 here.

Tagging: @rufousnmacska, @heir2chaos and @gimmedafood (to say thank you for your comment!) Let me know if you want to be included or you can also subscribe on AO3 too :)

In the midst of a geopolitical crisis that had threatened the existence of the realm of Erilea stood a young king bent, broken but unbowed as he raced against time to thwart the enemy that has long kept his father's kingdom and now his own in its shadows. Now, years after the passing of the storm, King Dorian Havilliard II finds himself in reflection of the years lost and the years found as he governs Adarlan in stride.

Since the first appearance of the then heir apparent on the tabloids of the Rifthold Journal in a splendid attire fit for the handsome royal, it was a lascivious rumour of the young prince’s escapades inside the glass palace that permanently marked Dorian as that of an aristocratic hedonist whose existence lived off the extravagance and luxuries of the wealthy, knowing that he could absolutely get away with it.

While Dorian played the game of pomp and distraction amongst celebrity A-listers, prime ministers, and the one percent, a sinister plot by political conspirators had slowly been brewing – the overthrow of the Havilliard bloodline that has governed Adarlan for a thousand generations.

In the highest tower of Rifthold Palace is where Dorian prefers to spend his time perched on a deep-red velvet armchair sipping on a cold glass of what looked to be a fruity beverage as he pores over the latest fiction novel – a pleasure he shares with his dear friend, Queen Aelin of Terrasen. Their shared bookshelf, The Royal Fleetfoot Bookclub (named after Aelin’s beloved golden retriever, a present from the king one Yulemas) is Erilea’s most popular Book Club. And decidedly so.

Dorian’s misplaced faith on his father, then King Dorian Havilliard I, had been his constant companion after his untimely death that led to Dorian’s premature appointment as sovereign. But as the war raged on between the countries of Erilea, the formalities accustomed to a monarch were lost, which ultimately led to Dorian’s displacement from Adarlan. The young king was lost, angry, and untethered as he navigated the political landscape alongside his powerful friends: Queen Aelin of Terrasen, Lord Rowan of Doranelle, Queen Manon of the Wastes, and his closest friend and confidante, Lord Westfall, whom he sent as an envoy to the Khaganate in the Southern Continent. Dorian became known as The King Without a Crown.

Dorian ushers me to a leathered couch next to an occasional table where he pours a cup of brewed tea. He asks if I’d be interested in something stronger and I decline. He winks, a promise of our eventual liquored celebration after the successful sit-down.

King Dorian is charming, refined and a proud intellectual with a taste of an epicurean. Delegates from all over Erilea would comment on the king’s graceful charisma as he fulfilled his role of a sovereign in all its stringent social specifications. It’s as if the dark years of his early adulthood never existed when you’re in his presence. Dorian is adored by the masses and the politicians alike, and it isn’t hard to see why.

While we share a few niceties – he’s become quite a dear friend over the years – you can’t miss the way his sapphire eyes would steal longing glances out the open balcony. One can observe that it overlooks Rifthold Palace’s private airstrip, and soon everything makes more sense.

King Dorian’s wife Queen Manon Blackbeak rules from her kingdom in the Western Wastes, a two-hour plane ride from the Adarlan capital. After settling into their roles as respective monarchs of their kingdoms, the pair continued their relationship, much to delight of the common people, who were far too enamoured by their relationship for it to be considered healthy. No surprises there though. They’re really that pairing that’s pretty much straight out of a YA fantasy novel with their unbelievable good looks, seemingly opposite yet highly complementary personalities and the kind of sexual tension you could only dream of.

Nonetheless, despite the distance and their responsibilities, no one can deny just how smitten the king is of his wife. He assures me, in his usual playful charm, that she’s most likely missing him more than he is. I laugh. Even he doesn’t believe his own lie.

He makes himself comfortable, draping his suit jacket on the back of his armchair as he settles down and shows off his polished Derbys almost as if he’d like to take them off.

LYSANDRA: Should we both take our shoes off? I think we should both take our shoes off.

DORIAN: I thought you’d never ask!

LYSANDRA: I may not be born royal, Your Majesty, but I do know when someone just wants to let loose.

DORIAN: Gods, I want to let loose all the time. Do you think they’ll conspire against me if I do?

LYSANDRA: Judging from your friends in all the high and right places, I’d say there’s a higher chance of Aelin breathing ice than that happening. And even if they tried, I’m sure no one would get past Manon Blackbeak’s wrath.

DORIAN: She’s terrifying, isn’t she?

LYSANDRA: You don’t sound scared of the fact.

DORIAN: Are you scared of your husband, Lady Lysandra?

LYSANDRA: He’s a soft little mushy bear.

DORIAN: Exactly my description of Manon.

LYSANDRA: I really have to ask – for me, for Rowan and for your rabid fans. How did you convince the High Queen of the Witches to get married? Was it ever in the books for you two?

DORIAN: It wasn’t so much as my convincing her as her convincing me.

LYSANDRA: Oh, please.

DORIAN: You’d be surprised to know that she asked me to marry her first. Of course, it was all political expedience at that time coupled with a reasonable amount of care and affection.

LYSANDRA: And you said no?

DORIAN: Not technically.

LYSANDRA: So… technically yes?

DORIAN: I was drunk on self-loathing. I didn’t think I deserved her.

LYSANDRA: Doesn’t love usually overcome these sorts of things?

DORIAN: To some extent. We were at the climax of the war and we both needed to make important decisions for ourselves, for both our kingdoms and for the future we desperately wanted to have. It wasn’t the right time.

LYSANDRA: But you wanted to say yes to her, didn’t you?

DORIAN: Desperately.

LYSANDRA: If it helps, I was really rooting for you both.

DORIAN: So was I.

LYSANDRA: You know, I admit this is quite a treat being your very own interrogator.

DORIAN: Our plans to make Aelin jealous are succeeding.

LYSANDRA: Oh, she'll definitely be furious.

DORIAN: I've always admired her fiery rage. Despite it being extremely dangerous to those unfortunate enough to be close in range.

LYSANDRA: I've had my share of that.

DORIAN: I think we all have.

LYSANDRA: Tell us about Adarlan's relations with Terrasen. Even better, tell us about yours and Queen Aelin's.

DORIAN: It's tabloid worthy.

LYSANDRA: I'm not saying I've read all about it...

DORIAN: I met Celaena first before I met Aelin. And in some ways Aelin also met some counterpart of myself all those years ago. We were young and generally when you’re that young, you’re also that stupid.

LYSANDRA: But isn't it just a perfect time to make mistakes?

DORIAN: Not for a prince. Though, I did not care at that time. Sometimes I still think I don’t. But you want to know about Aelin. One thing, you see her more than I do, and I admit, it does break my heart.

LYSANDRA: Technology helps though, doesn’t it? I can’t remember how many times I’ve interrupted one of your virtual repartees.

DORIAN: She can get quite heated in our discussions. Especially if she has to wait a year or more for the next instalment of a book series.

LYSANDRA: What makes the great King Dorian Havilliard furiously out of element?

DORIAN: The monarchy.

LYSANDRA: Do you ever think back on the good old days?

DORIAN: Mm.

LYSANDRA: What did that consist of for you?

DORIAN: Well, I don’t know if I could really call it the good old days. As heir, I wasted away on frivolity and debauchery. Chaol once remarked on my depravity, and I could have resented him if it hadn’t opened my eyes to the truth.

LYSANDRA: Well, that’s an insight. I noticed the construction of the new palace has been coming along nicely.

DORIAN: It is.

LYSANDRA: The Glass Palace once stood as a symbol of Adarlan’s wealth and power. Now, you’ve opted to modernise the construction except for the addition of the thirteen towers.

DORIAN: The Rifthold Journal has been nagging me about their meaning since the blueprints were made public. They’re relentless.

LYSANDRA: I don’t want to be that friend but I’m dying to know…thirteen? Really?

DORIAN: You caught me.

LYSANDRA: Gods, I knew it. Rowan will have a fit.

DORIAN: As much as I’d like to take credit for being a Royal Romeo (but feel free to use that from now on), they each symbolise an iteration of hope, love and life. Every single one of them deserves their own monument.

LYSANDRA: What a beautiful gesture, Your Majesty. And it’s true. I will never forget them.

DORIAN: Sobering thought for a Yulemas special, isn’t it?

LYSANDRA: More like a winter exclusive, so we’re good there. But speaking of, I do have a serious bone to pick with you, Your Majesty.

DORIAN: Don’t tell me it’s the time I coerced you and Aedion to go on that Giant Swing when we were in Terrasen, is it? If I remembered correctly, you really enjoyed that.

LYSANDRA: We almost died!

DORIAN: And that makes it more exciting, doesn’t it?

LYSANDRA: You’d be surprised at how many people who don’t think of near-death experiences as something exciting.

DORIAN: [laughs] Am I that cruel?

LYSANDRA: Remember that snow leopard bobble head I once gifted you for Yulemas? Remind me again what you did to it, Your Majesty?

DORIAN: It was godsdamned terrifying, Lysandra. Why are the eyes glowing? Why are they glowing green!

LYSANDRA: That was the whole point of Bad Yulemas!

DORIAN: Manon fished it out of the trash anyway. She has it on my side of the bed at the Wastes. Should I be concerned with this friendship?

LYSANDRA: You and Aedion are lucky bastards, Your Majesty.

DORIAN: Touché

Lysandra Ennar is the Lady of Caraverre and the editor for ROYALS magazine.

MANON: I don't think this will go well.

DORIAN: You think? I really had to charm my way to do this, you know.

MANON: You charm your way out of everything.

DORIAN: And into things too.

MANON: Your favourite past time.

DORIAN: Are you angry? Here, let me compliment you.

MANON: Dorian...

DORIAN: Witchling.

A sneak peek of the Royals Spring Issue featuring Queen Manon Blackbeak and interviewd by King Dorian Havilliard.

#manorian #manon and dorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #manorian fanfic #manorian fic #manorian modern au #manorian mag au

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ae-neon · 2 years ago

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Reading Throne of Glass (23-25)

Recap:

Kaltain Rompier is risking using Duke Perrington as a stepping stone to get to Dorian

Celaena grows closer to Dorian, Chaol and Nehemia. She also saves Nox Owen's life.

Chapter 23

Celaena has a nightmare she's back in Endovier, it's pretty well written.

The whip fell, slicing into bone, reverberating through her body, making everything collapse and explode in agony, shifting her body into a graveyard, a dead- Celaena’s eyes flew open. She panted. “Are you . . . ,” someone said beside her, and she jerked. Where was she? “It was a dream,” said Chaol. (...) She was sweating, and the sweat on her back felt uncomfortably like blood.(...) “Celaena. It was a dream,” the Captain of the Guard said again. “You were screaming.” He gave her a shaky smile. “I thought you were being murdered.”

Poor girl.

"It’s Samhuinn." Sarah...

“Of course. And will you be summoning the dead to you this haunted night or lighting a bonfire with your companions?” (Celaena) “I don’t partake in such superstitious nonsense.” (Chaol)

You live in a world with faeries and witches??

Celaena always adds insane amounts of sugar to her breakfast. I don't understand sweet breakfasts in the first place, but is this something to keep in mind? Is this gonna be relevant? Why is it always mentioned? If it's not gonna matter it should have been edited out.

The last Test had been javelin throwing on horseback, and a spot on her wrist was still tender. so we skipped another Test apparently.

As a writer I totally understand why SJM didn't do a POV per chapter, if actually really difficult, but it still feels a bit weird to just switch over outta nowhere.

Dorian has just come out of a temple service which his mother - the Queen of Ardalan, Georgina Havilliard - used as an opportunity to try to point out some more eligible ladies to marry.

He’d spent the entire service trying not to scream at the top of his lungs. He's apparently very frustrated by this.

He bumps into Celaena and she's with Nehemia and Chaol. Core 4 moment.

Personally, I just like having 4 main characters, even in my own work.

The politics between Ardalan and Eyllwe is a little confusing. Perrington is suggesting keeping Nehemia in Rifthold and sending more troops to squash the rebels but Nehemia's own father sent her there, clearly he's willing to work with Ardalan

Now, standing before her, Dorian quickly looked away from the princess. If he were anyone but the Crown Prince, he would warn her.

I need the fics y'all. This is such a nicely complicated dynamic. Is it problematic? Yes but so is the canon

Nehemia: I don't really like Dorian, or Chaol, or anyone here, except you

Celaena: you're so cool, you're the best

He looked handsome today. It was in the way his hair met his golden skin—in the tiny gaps between the strands, in the way it fell across his brow. sorry I literally don't understand what this means, like I cannot picture it

“As my friend, you should either bring me along, or keep me company.” “Friend?” he asked. She blushed. “Well, ‘scowling escort’ is a better description. Or ‘reluctant acquaintance,’ if you prefer.” To her surprise, he smiled.

Cute. Chaol's side of the love scale stacking once again

Nehemia wants Celaena to teach her the language but let's think about this:

Nehemia is a princess

Eyllwe, Ardalan, Terrasen are on the same continent, all on the same coast and bordering each other

Clearly the people of Terrasen and Ardalan speak the same language

Why wouldn't the people of Eyllwe speak that same language because they're black?

Like even if they had their own language and odd one out culture why wouldn't the Princess and others have been taught that language from birth

ESPECIALLY when Ardalan is the new superpower and has been for 10 years.

Nehemia would definitely know this language

Cain was kneeling by the creepy clock tower.

Nehemia tells Celaena the marks by the tower are called Wyrdmarks and part of an ancient religion. She wants Celaena to forget about them/leave them alone.

After Nehemia seems suspicious of Celaena they agree to teach each other their languages.

Chapter 24

It's midnight and Celaena is bored in her room while most people are at the feast.

There have been hints of drafts and smells in her room even when the windows and doors were closed. Now she sees a tapestry with a silver haired woman on it swaying slightly. She finds a hidden door in the wall.

She smartly puts a chair in the secret door so it doesn't close on her and ties some yarn to it so she can follow it back. Idk about tying the yarn to the chair because then you could accidentally pull the chair into the passage.

Celaena follows the passage and eventually ends up at an old abandoned escape route to the sea and she's like "HA! I'm outta here"

She knew that she could easily escape, and that it would be foolish to do so. The king would find her, somehow. And Chaol would be disgraced and relieved of his position. And Princess Nehemia would be left alone with moronic company, and, well . . . Celaena straightened, her chin rising. She would not run from them as a common criminal. She would face them—face the king—and earn her freedom the honorable way.

Suuuuuure, I guess...

She follows another tunnel and ends up in a small tunnel overlooking the hall where the feast is happening.

She sees Chaol, a few other competitors.

The other Champions were allowed to attend, and she wasn’t? (...) —even the pimply-faced Pelor sat near Chaol! A half-rate boy assassin! Not too much on my boy Pelor, miss Sardothien

The Chaoleana stack: moments, character development, sparring, her remembering his brother's name etc

The Dorlaena stack: she wants to kiss him

Lol jk, but her moments with Chaol are definitely stronger so far

Celaena thinks Chaol is leaving the feast to come to her room so she runs all the way back and dives into bed.

Dorian comes to Celaena's room around 2 am but the scenes with Celaena happened around midnight so it's possible Chaol did come to her room and we just didn't see it.

Lmao maybe not, Chaol shows up and drags Dorian away.

It's interesting - if a bit creepy - to see their different thoughts as they look at sleeping Celaena. Dorian sees the girl under the assassin. Chaol sees the assassin under the girl.

Chaol gives Celaena a ring from the party says they were given out, that most of the women would probably give them to their servants. But the ring is silver?????? SARAH JANET ARE YOU INSANE???

---

Still sitting at a nice middle ground

#ae reads throne of glass #throne of glass #sjm critical #anti tog #just in case

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pintofteaforthesoul · 5 years ago

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Fenrys’s Mate OC, Nyssa

Not that anyone asked for it, but it’s an idea i’ve been bouncing around in my head for forever so here it is: Fenrys’s Mate- Nyssa.

~~~

Rowan and Lyria’s child survived thanks to Maeve having the tribe that killed Lyria take her. (200 years prior to ToG)

Their daughters name is Nyssa.

She was raised by the tribemen until she was tent, keep under constant watch by the leader and being groomed to be his bride.

When she was 10, Maeve sent Lorcan and Gavriel to wipe out the tribe before Rowan would have a chance to- to keep Nyssa’s identity hidden.

Lorcan and Gavriel make quick work of the main tribe but it is Lorcan who discovers Nyssa- being held by the Tribe Leader with a knife to her throat.

Even then, Lorcan recognized the fire in Nyssa’s eyes and related it to Rowan.

Unbeknownst to the Tribe Leader, Nyssa carried a knife and stabbed him in the thigh with it. Free from his hold, she hunkered down while Lorcan made the killing shot.

With Rowan still away from Doranelle Gavriel and Lorcan brought Nyssa back to Maeve where she swore Lorcan and Gavriel to secrecy. She gave the task to Lorcan to train Nyssa into a warrior.

Maeve cast them from Doranelle on a “secret” mission and Nyssa grew up with Lorcan as her father.

Nyssa is the spitting image of Lyria except for her green eyes and keeps her dark hair short and curly. As a child she was small and grew up to be lithe but short. She has the barest of tipped Fae ears and smells of sweet grapes and fresh lavender (exactly like her mom). Nyssa has the ability to shift into a small calico house cat, something Maeve detests because its mostly useless in battle, and has more raw magic than any other Fae despite not knowing how to use it very well (Lorcan trained her as best he could but there were just some things he couldn’t teach).

Lorcan and Nyssa spent 30 years together before Lorcan was called back to deal with a war. While the Cadre were away for nearly a decade, Nyssa spent more time in Doranelle and became close with Connall despite his blood oath to Maeve and being forced to be her lover.

Connall believed Nyssa to be his mate and told Maeve, to which she laughed.

Nyssa believed she was to take the blood oath and finally meet her true father when they returned, but Maeve sent her on another task- her first one alone.

When Rowan returned to Doranelle, he could not figure out why Lyria’s scent was there and almost went off the rails again due to renewed grief. Those of the Cadre who knew about Nyssa and sworn to secrecy were bursting at the seams to tell him- all except Lorcan who views Nyssa as his own daughter.

Nyssa is gone for a few years but called back to Doranelle when an invasion becomes imminent. Maeve instructs her to only stay in her feline form as to not gain the notice of Rowan- with the off-hand promise that if she cooperates of her own free will for long enough, Maeve will grant her the blood oath and permission to meet Rowan.

To stop that invasion, Maeve sends Nyssa into enemy lines as a prostitute to seduce the leader of the army and slaughter him. In Maeve’s words, Nyssa does “magnificently”. This disgusts Lorcan, but he says nothing as he is still in love with Maeve.

Nyssa grows to hate Rowan, as Maeve tells her the whispers of what happened to Lyria and how it is all Rowan’s fault. She fully accepts that she never wants to meet him.

A couple decades pass as Nyssa acting as Maeve’s infiltrator, with no further mention of Nyssa swearing the blood oath, until the whisper comes that a powerful child will soon be born on Erilea (about 100 years before ToG).

Knowing the Cadre will be too suspicious, Maeve sends Nyssa- making her swear a blood promise to bring whatever child this is to her in Doranelle. Nyssa gladly accepts under the condition that should she return successful that she will be granted the blood oath. Maeve is begrudgingly vague and sends Nyssa off.

Nyssa travels to Erilea in search of this powerful child and finds utterly nothing, moving from kingdom to kingdom with little direction but mostly staying south.

During her travels, Nyssa meet Manon and they have a casual fling whenever they run across each other. Manon likes Nyssa’s stubborn and fiery spirit- and her tongue.

Fifty years into her task, Nyssa is ready to give up when she crosses the border into Terrasen. Some power tells her to remain, so Nyssa makes her way to capital where she meets Orlon.

Orlon guesses who she is and why she’s there, but is kind to her. Nyssa tells him of her story and her task to Maeve. Orlon knows it is inevitable and gives her a place in his court to wait.

Nyssa finds happiness like she has never known in Terrasen, but especially after Aelin is born. Orlon offers a blood promise to Nyssa of his own- to protect Aelin from any who should harm her. Nyssa takes it, eager to repay the kindness Orlon has showed her over the past 30 years in his court.

Nyssa takes her cat form in Aelin’s house and becomes known to the young princess as KitKat.

After the King of Adarlan’s visit and Aelin and her parents are forced back to their home outside of Orynth, Nyssa (as KitKat) is forgotten at the palace. She is not able to make it in time to save Aelin’s parents or the princess who finds herself in a river.

Nyssa vows to find Aelin again no matter what it takes, but she is trapped as KitKat after magic falls.

It takes 2 years for Nyssa to trace Aelin back to The Assassin’s Keep in Rifthold. Aelin, now Celaena, is adored at finding a calico cat that reminds her so much of KitKat. And thus names her “new cat” Snickers (not after the candy bar, but after the sound she thinks Nyssa makes)

Nyssa watches over Aelin as Snickers, never letting the girl out of her sight for long, until Celaena and Sam Cortland go to Skull’s Bay.

After the wrecking of the city, Nyssa is found by Rolfe who identifies her as Aelin’s beloved cat. Thinking to have something over the assassin, Rolfe keeps Nyssa- completely unaware of the Fae girl.

Nyssa, as Snickers, gains the favor of everyone in Skull’s Bay while trying to figure out a plan to escape. She soon learns that not long after Celaena left, she was sent off to Endovier.

Nyssa is distraught at the news, knowing she is useless in her current form and now stuck in Skull’s Bay.

Nyssa hears everything of Rolfe’s business, since he believes her to be just a cat. After hearing that Aelin is alive, she bides her time until the young Queen settles in one spot- set on returning to her side even in her useless feline form. When magic is once again released, Nyssa begins to formulate a plan as to how to reach Aelin.

Cut to the events of Empire of Storms. Nyssa is shocked when some of the Cadre appear in Skull’s Bay. Fearing the wrath of Maeve for breaking her blood promise to bring Aelin to her, Nyssa hides any way she can.

When Rowan appears, it takes all of Nyssa’s self-control to not reveal herself- still hating him for what happened to Lyria. But she knows that if Rowan is here then Aelin will follow.

Indeed after Aelin shows up, Nyssa bides her time for the best moment to reveal herself.

Unfortunately, Gavriel catches her scent and he and Fenrys track her down as a cat.

Fenrys, as a wolf, carries Nyssa, as a cat, in his mouth to where Aelin has set up shop in the inn. Fenrys drops Nyssa in a chair but she does not shift.

Aelin is delighted to see Snickers again, but Rowan stops her from approaching- his face twisting at Nyssa’s scent.

Rowan orders Nyssa to reveal herself while Fenrys and Gavriel take up their places at the door, Aedion off to the side. Aelin tells Rowan to shove it, not believing that her childhood pet could be a Fae in disguise but Rowan just has his eyes on Nyssa.

Nyssa shifts, not once looking at Rowan (whose breath catches when he sees her) and addresses Aelin.

Aelin is shocked, but not terribly surprised by the reveal- piecing together that Snickers and KitKat are one and the same.

After a little coaxing, Nyssa tells her story, barely flicking eyes to Rowan except when she describes being taken by the Tribesmen. Rowan grows paler over the course of the story. Fenrys, not having met Nyssa before now, calls out how poetic the moment is (since Gavriel had just found out about Aedion).

Aelin asks about the blood promise to Maeve, but Nyssa swears that it is gone because she already broke it and thus poses no threat. Rowan tries to talk to Nyssa, to which she replies nastily and flippant.

Taking advantage of being in human form again and that it’s late, Nyssa stalks off- taking Fenrys with her to both piss off her dad and to give her a place to sleep for the night.

Unbeknownst to them, Nyssa and Fenrys are mates. It’s why she and Connall had had such a close relationship but never took that next step.

Nyssa and Fenrys have a very loud night together. Rowan talks to Aelin about being horrified and she helps him through it.

Nyssa grows close to Lysandra and Aelin again, but not Aedion as she hates the way he treats Gavriel. Aedion calls her a hypocrite since he believes her to be acting the same towards Rowan. Nyssa tells him to fuck off and shouts that at least Aedion had gotten the chance to know his mother before she died.

Nyssa helps in the Battle at Skull’s Bay, delighting in the fact that Dorian also has raw magic. They learn off of one another.

When Manon appears in the sky, both Nyssa and Dorian are the ones to save her though Nyssa is reluctant to explain her relationship to the witch.

Nyssa, in feline form, guards Manon day and night while also discovering more of her relationship with Fenrys.

Nyssa and Rowan have a scene on the deck of the boat, where she screams at him for abandoning Lyria. It cause Rowan’s grief to surge and Nyssa chokes down the rest of her anger after realizing just how deeply Rowan cared for her and Lyria. Rowan vows that had he known of her existence he would’ve fought to the ends of the Earth to find her. Nyssa does not reveal that it was Lorcan who raised her despite Rowan’s repeatedly asking which member of the cadre it was.

When Manon wakes to full consciousness, she is relieved to find Nyssa there. At some point they have a small scene where they tease Fenrys who was on guard duty at the time by Manon pleasing Nyssa. Fenrys gets territorial and calls for a shift change, taking Nyssa back to his cabin to stake his claim on her. They still have no idea that they’re mates.

Despite knowing each other for nearly a century, Manon and Nyssa have no deep feelings for one another and Nyssa is not surprised when Manon takes a liking to Dorian. She jokes with Manon that it must be the raw magic Nyssa and Dorian have in common that makes them so irresistible. Manon brushes it off.

After that point, Nyssa is only with Fenrys.

When they trek into the stone marshes, Nyssa goes along. But when the ilken attack, Nyssa senses Lorcan’s presence and throws all of her magic into bolstering his shield.

When Lorcan appears, and Gavriel and Fenrys disappear, Nyssa tries to go for him. Much to Rowan’s horror, she addresses him as her father.

Fenrys and Gavriel attack and Nyssa is physically restrained by Aedion, much to her great displeasure and rage. Nyssa screams for Fenrys to stop. Elide gets hurt by Fenrys, Lorcan puts the shield over them both and the talking ensues.

When the battle resumes, Nyssa uses the last of her magic to blast Aedion back and races toward Lorcan. She jumps in front of Fenrys without fully knowing that he’ll stop before hurting his mate.

Lorcan rages at Nyssa to get away, which prompts Rowan to step in and declare Lorcan and Elide under Aelin’s protection.

Lorcan greets Nyssa by grabbing her hair and growling that if she ever tries that again, he’ll kill her himself. Nyssa nearly cries with relief and Lorcan embraces her tightly. Rowan addresses Lorcan stiffly and they all make their way back to shore.

Before they move, Nyssa draws her blade to Aedion’s neck and threatens that if he ever holds her back again that he’s dead.

Nyssa joyfully fills Lorcan and Elide in on her adventures, already reading the mating bond between Lorcan and Elide. She ignores Fenrys entirely. Elide loves Nyssa immediately.

Rowan and Lorcan have a discussion about Nyssa when they return to the boats, filling in the side of the story Nyssa could not. Rowan is displeased, but ultimately understands.

Fenrys tries to talk to Nyssa but she slaps him.

After the arrival of Maeve’s armada, Nyssa is one of the guards put on Elide. She accepts the order from Lorcan without question, vowing to protect the girl with her life.

When Maeve comes to take Elide, Nyssa manages to kill two of the guards before being grappled. Maeve is displeased to see her and Nyssa is horrified to see the Dark Queen in person again. Maeve simply states that they’ll have to talk later and calls Fenrys and Gavriel to her side.

Knowing it will be too late once they do, Nyssa makes an attempt to get to Elide. She slices the guard’s throat who has her and makes a running leap, but Fenrys appears and grapples her now. At the same time, Lorcan now has Elide. Maeve gives the order for them to all freeze and not run away.

Maeve reveals all about Aelin and Rowan and Nyssa cries in disbelief, now understanding that Maeve hadn’t sent her to Erilea because she was the least suspicious option but because Maeve delighted in knowing that Lyria’s daughter would be the one to protect Rowan’s true mate.

Nyssa attempts to fight out of Fenrys’s grip, to which Maeve instructs Fenrys to bite his mate- to claim her. Because of the blood vow, he does. Maeve tells Nyssa how disappointed she is and that they will discuss later about the punishment for breaking her promise. Maeve uses her darkness to render Nyssa unconscious, much to the horror of both Fenrys and Lorcan.

Nyssa is not conscious through Aelin’s lashings by Cairn and Fenrys is ordered to take her aboard the ship.

When they arrive back in Doranelle, Maeve has Nyssa beaten while she still has no magic- making both Connall and Fenrys watch.

Maeve delights in revealing that Fenrys and Nyssa are mates and Connall grows angry, still having believed that it was him. It’s another thing he holds against Fenrys.

Maeve ponders Nyssa’s usefulness as a tie between the twins and makes a show of deciding who Nyssa will be with. Nyssa is exhausted and broken, her wounds healing slowly.

Maeve reveals that this isn’t the full punishment for breaking the promise and Connall offers himself up to take the punishment in Nyssa’s stead.

Maeve merely laughs and states that she has a better idea. She uses the blood oath to make Fenrys hold Nyssa down while Connall carves into her back with his magic- the world Oathbreaker in the Old Language over and over again down Nyssa’s spine. Both brothers are horrified, but have no other choice and the word is branded into Nyssa.

Only then, Maeve reveals that the punishment has been paid and gives Nyssa the chance again to swear fealty- finally offering her the blood oath because her Cadre’s numbers have dwindled with the loss of both Gavriel and Lorcan. She also tells Nyssa that should she accept, Nyssa will have the choice of whose bed she will take- Connall or Fenrys.

Nyssa, seeing no other choice, takes the blood oath to Maeve, but uses the last remnant of her magic to burn the blood away before it can enter her system.

Going back on her word, Maeve uses her magic to twist Nyssa’s mind- making her believe Connall to be her true mate despite the blood oath. When Maeve then offers up the choice between them and Nyssa chooses Connall. Fenrys is practically a statue at this point. Maeve then orders the couple to make love every dusk and every dawn, the blood oath taking effect on Connall but Nyssa knows if she is to refuse then she would reveal what she’d done.

Maeve then considers how entertaining it would be to make Fenrys watch the couple, but reconsiders and orders him to stay in wolf form to watch over their new “guest”.

>to be continued after I read more of KoA<

#fenrys #fenrys moonbeam #rowan #rowan whitethorn #aelin #rowaelin #throne of glass #tog #empire of storms #lorcan salvaterre #elide lochan #OC #mate #connall #maeve

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elliepassmore · 5 years ago

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Tower of Dawn Review

5/5 stars Recommended for people who like: fantasy, magic, desert fantasy, multiple POVs, healers, Chaol Westfall, court intrigue, thriller I really like this one, but I will also readily admit that this is the creepiest book in the series. ToG had the creep/thriller aspect with the Ridderak and Cain, and CoM sort of touched on the side of thriller without actually diving in, but Tower goes further in than even ToG did. I like it, even the thriller aspect, but it’s definitely creepy. I can’t tell how I feel about Chaol for the first half of the book. He’s definitely still going strong on his end-of-QoS vibe, and he seems to have forgiven a lot of what he was angry about in that book, but he also still hasn’t let go of things—such as his loyalty and obedience—as much as he had in HoF. For starters, though, it’s nice to see Chaol return to being the kind of playful snappy he was in CoM, I’d forgotten how funny he could be. So, I really liked how jokey Chaol was in this one, and I liked his handling of the royal family, going so far as to scheme his way into a meeting with the khagan. I still felt that Chaol was a bit…condescending throughout the book, though he once again got better about it at the end of the book. I did really like being in Chaol’s head in this one, though. After reading this, I feel like he wasn’t really present in QoS as much as he was in the other books. Like, he was there and narrating, but he didn’t feel there. Seeing in his head in this one makes a lot of things suddenly make a lot more sense, and we even get an explanation for his previous blind obedience. Yes, admittedly, some of it was him being willfully ignorant, but more of it was him giving up certain privileges to knowledge in order to protect Dorian. Chaol’s journey with his injury was interesting. I’m not really a fan of how ableist he was being, but I can also acknowledge that shedding that ableism off was a crucial part of his journey and that we probably aren’t supposed to like it. Chaol needed to realize for himself that just because he couldn’t move his legs didn’t mean he was less than or couldn’t still contribute to the coming fight. His realization comes from the healing process, which has three different parts. One part is the physical healing that Yrene does to repair the damage to his spinal cord. Another part is the metaphysical/psychological healing that both he and Yrene have to participate in, and this is the part that really makes me understand him and how he sees things better. And then there’s the part that involves seeing things from the outside and realizing no one really looks down on him, and that his injury does not remove him from the prospect of fighting against Erawen. Chaol’s journey is a different version of Celaena’s story in HoF. They are both struggling with similar emotions, both wanting to be rid of them and ignore them, and both come to realize that ignoring them and being rid of their negative emotions and memories won’t solve anything. Same general arc, different people, different situation, different story, but a way to show many sides of the same issue. I love Nesryn’s side of things in this one. She’s a fun narrator, partly because she’s so excited to be in her home city, but also because she’s got a very relaxed vibe that none of the other characters really have. She’s worried and tense about certain things, but she definitely handles it better than a lot of the other characters in this series. Nesryn ends up with the rukhin riders and Sartaq for most of the book, and I would probably kill for a whole separate book just about the rukhin riders, Sartaq and Kadara, and Nesryn and Salkhi. Nesryn’s journey is one away from Adarlan. She loves the country, is willing to fight for it and the innocent people there, but spending time in the Southern Continent, exploring its reaches, has her slowly switching over. Nesryn’s main development in this one, I think, is deciding where she calls home. Regardless of where it is, she’s going to fight against Erawen, but I think a part of her needs that identity settled when we first come into this book, and her development centers around that. The world and culture there is so different from those seen in the rest of the book, and the prospect of people who live in mountain homes and ride the wind on the backs of giant birds is pretty awesome. Nesryn’s main goal is to find information to help defeat Erawen and to convince Sartaq to lend his aerial legions to the cause. Of course, things never really go to plan and Nesryn ends up venturing beyond the rukhin riders’ homes and seeing Stygian Spiders, which are called the khalankui in the Southern Continent, as well as visiting some thousand-year-old ruins, so a pretty wide range of places all in one go. It’s interesting to see a new land from the POV of someone who hails from that land. We didn’t really get to see that with Rowan and Wendlyn, since Rowan barely narrated that book, but Nesryn is one of the main narrators in this one, and she’s spent most of her life in Adarlan, so we get to see a mix of someone who loves that land, who sees it as her own, but is also an outsider and is still, to an extent, getting introduced to the land. I think it’s an interesting way to introduce a new land, and Maas sort of did it with Terrasen in EoS, except the group in that book didn’t stay long enough to really get as good a feel of the land as we do in this one. I also think it’s a nice break from either a character has lived in land forever and has exactly zero reason to give us exposition, or a character is 100% new to the land/situation. Yrene is a new character if you haven’t read Blade. A healer from the Torre Cesme, she takes no one’s shit, not even Chaol’s. Actually, since her mother was burned alive by Adarlanian soldiers when she was 11, that makes her particularly unwilling to put up with Chaol’s shit. She hates Adarlanians the same way Aedion does, the same way all those other children of fallen kingdoms do. But she’s a healer and so she helps Chaol with his injury and unwittingly gets dragged into things. Based on who the Big Bad is in this one, though, I wonder if she wouldn’t’ve been dragged into things anyway. Yrene’s journey is for herself and for the rest of the world. She’s ready to go to the northern continent and heal people injured in the fight against Erawen, but she still has that simmering rage in her that started when her mother died. Her internal journey and arc is about repairing the hole her mother’s death made and cooling that rage until she realizes no one group is ever homogenous in its beliefs and actions. She’s healing and realizing this as she heals Chaol, which requires research. Unfortunately, her research sparks the interest of the Big Bad in this story, and that’s when the external struggle begins. Yrene has to contend with healing Chaol, healing herself, hunting for answers, and being hunted herself. Yrene has a connection to nearly everyone in the story. She’s a healer from the Torre, she’s actively healing Chaol, but she’s also a friend of the royals who rule over the Southern Continent. Yrene wants to help as many people as possible, and yet she also befriends royals and ends up in court schemes. One of the princes, Kashin, has a romantic interest in her, though she turned him down, and is protective over her. One of the princesses, Hasar, is Yrene’s friend and asks her to occasionally spy for her. It’s a complicated situation, and it goes to show the delicate precipice Yrene balances on. Hasar is the eldest princess, second oldest of the royal kids, and a nasty piece of work. She’s fiercely protective of the ones that are hers and over her country, but that just means she’s ruthless and cunning in other areas. She has no issue manipulating Chaol, Yrene, Nesryn, and others to get what she wants. This manipulation even includes backing Chaol into a corner where he has to swear Aelin would never do anything like burn Ellwye’s coast…which Chaol being Chaol can’t answer with a definitive ‘she’d never.’ Other stuff includes her using Yrene as a spy or threatening to block the Narrow Sea between the continents to prevent passage. I can’t tell if I like her or not, but I appreciate her character. Maas does a good job of depicting her as someone who cares deeply and will do anything to protect those she cares about. As a plus, Hasar is an openly gay, main side character, which is definite improvement for these books re: representation (I know we had Emrys and Malakai, but neither were ‘main side characters,’ nor were they together as much as Hasar and her lover, Renia, are). Sartaq, a rukhin rider and one of the princes, is another main side character. He spends most of the book with Nesryn in the mountains. I liked his character, he had a healthy dose of protective, relaxed, and funny rolled into one. I also liked the concept of his family in the palace being different than his hearth-family, or the family he has with the riders, and that the latter is far more relaxed and less vicious than the other. Sartaq wants to fly north, wants to do the right thing, but he also doesn’t want to go into it blind, which is part of the reason they end up seeking the Stygian Spiders to begin with. He’s definitely one of my favorite side characters in this book. That being said, it’s also pretty obvious that he’s mostly around to serve as a new love interest for Nesryn and to introduce the world of the rukhin riders…which is fine, but it would’ve been nice if he’d had a little more of his own development in the book. Hafiza is the Healer on High for the Torre, and she’s essentially Yrene’s adoptive mother. She teaches Yrene and helps guide her, but she also loves Yrene and genuinely wants her to succeed and stay safe. Like a mother, she even expresses disappointment when she feels Yrene is going against something she feels would strengthen Yrene. She was another funny character with a pretty dry sense of humor that I can definitely appreciate. I can’t entirely remember, but I hope we get to see more of her in KoA. Other side characters include Shen, a guard who lost part of his arm and had to have it replaced and is one of Chaol’s catalysts that makes him realize that if his wheelchair is a prison, then it’s a self-imposed one. The Khagan is someone we don’t see a lot of but holds a shit ton of sway over everything. Arghun is one of the princes and definitely the worst of the siblings, and he has no qualms undermining Chaol, Nesryn, and even Yrene at every turn. Kashin, who has already been mentioned, is really the one who gets Yrene researching, as he thinks there are already Valg in the Southern Continent. Below Sartaq, he’s my favorite prince simply because he’s open to what Chaol and Nesryn are saying, and he remains respectful to Yrene despite her rejection of him. Duva, is the now-youngest princess and doesn’t get a lot of page-time, but seems sweet enough. And then there’s Falkan, a shapeshifter from the northern continent who lost 20 years of his life to the Stygian Spiders. If he sounds familiar, he should, Celaena met him in Blade as well. In terms of the romance in the book….umm. When a character like Yrene, who hates Adarlan and Adarlanians, is going to end up with a character like Chaol, who is not only Adarlanian but an Adarlanian lord and ex-Captain of the Guard, there needs to be more build-up. They’re cute and sweet together, but the two (??) months that they got to know each other were not enough to overcome all of that enough to start a romance, in my opinion. It probably would’ve been better for them to get together in KoA, following a similar timeline to Celaena and Chaol, or even Aelin and Rowan. I like them together, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think it should’ve happened in this book. Nesryn and Sartaq make more sense to me, especially since they had a more obvious chemistry between the two of them. They complement each other really well in terms of attitude and respect for one another’s abilities—it will never not be funny to me when Nesryn blocks Sartaq from doing something and he gives her ‘an incredulous face’ or whatever. Despite their chemistry and the fact they liked each other, even if not romantically, from the get-go, Nesryn suggested they survive the war first and then see what happens. Obviously they’re going to get together, but at least the pretense of waiting a little longer is there….even if this is the couple I wanted to see formalize it in this book. Overall, good plot, characters, and world-building. The romance leaves something to be desired, but I think the rest of what happens and is revealed in the book more than make up for it…especially what’s revealed. The heartbreaking end chapter I could’ve done without, mostly because I had to then wait a year for KoA, but whatever.

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