#beltane wildfire

[moon-floret]

Oh fuck ouch I dropped a match and now there's going to be a Beltane Wildfire everywhere ouch ouch hot hot hot.

Jokes aside, I've been so excited to show y'all this awesome collab w TheSection and I hope you all hate our MC as much as we do :^) Mind the tags!

[shyvioletcat]

AELIN WEEK: DAY ONE

~ Beltane ~

Happy Aelin week everyone! I know it’s late but that’s kinda my thing. I hope you enjoy this and don’t forget to check out @rowaelinscourt​ for more.

~~~~~

Aelin sat in front of her mirror, finishing up the minor touches to her hair and face. Lysandra had been helping her prepare for tonight—weaving braids through her golden hair, setting the crown atop them, applying cosmetics to her face. It had been months since Aelin had made a public appearance outside of council meetings and smaller responsibilities she could manage around the castle. The early months of pregnancy had taken its toll, and that was all too clear from the paleness of her face and the slight pinch to her features. Tonight she needed to look the part of a regal, resplendent Queen, and examining herself in the mirror she agreed that she looked the part. 

The near constant nausea and exhaustion had forced Aelin to slow down, become less involved, much to the delight of her fussing mate. He had always claimed that she did too much and she had needed to take a step back. But tonight… This was her night. Always had been. 

Beltane belonged to Aelin of the Wildfire. 

Satisfied with her appearance Aelin gave her reflection a smile and stood, smoothing out the swathes of fabric of the dress she had chosen for tonight. With light layers of reds and oranges, and gold thread woven throughout, she looked like a living flame herself. There were thin drapes of fabric that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. The neckline might have been more modest than she would have liked, but it was still elegant and was shown off by the hairstyle that kept all her hair off her neck to combat the early summer heat. At that moment Rowan stepped back into the bedroom, he had been doing gods knew what while she had readied herself. He was dressed in his finest too, his colours less ostentatious though, favouring greys and dark greens like he always did. It didn’t make him any less handsome. 

Rowan had been fiddling with his cuff as he walked into the room, that button or loose thread keeping his attention while Aelin waited for him to notice her. She knew he would appreciate the effort she had gone into her presentation tonight, it was all she could think about while Lysandra had fluttered around her. Once the excitement and joy over the pregnancy had somewhat faded, and the strain on her body had set in, Aelin had struggled to feel like herself. It had been weeks of feeling less than of who she desired to be and like a stranger in her own body. But in this moment she was an image of herself she could at least somewhat recognise. The part of her that delighted in teasing him had certainly reawakened and was waiting for the opportunity to see his reaction. Her impatience almost had her clearing her throat to get him to shift his attention.

“Fireheart, I—”

Aelin had rendered him speechless, after ten years she could still steal the air from his lungs without the need of the wind magic he favoured. Rowan’s assessing eyes ran over her, from head to toe, and Aelin watched as they softened. She had indeed caught his attention, noting how his gaze lingered on her middle.

“You and I both know that there is next to nothing there,” Aelin said, her hands running over her stomach.

She wasn’t showing, not yet. Besides a tightness on her stomach that Rowan had been the one to point out, Aelin didn’t visibly look pregnant. The dress however had been cut to accentuate what might be there. With the waistline set just under her bust and a split of darker fabric over the lighter with a small gathering in the centre, it made it look like there was more of swell than there was.  

“Aelin,” her name was said with a reverence. “You look beautiful.”

The smile that appeared on her face only ever came to her when she was with Rowan. There was an uncharacteristic shyness to it, something only he managed to bring out in her. 

“You would say that, our child had bewitched you,” Aelin said, a hand fiddling the dress at her shoulder. 

Rowan stalked towards her, not denying her words. When he reached her, he ran his hands all the way up her bare arms to cup her face. It was hard to miss the look of pure adoration he was giving her. 

“Can I kiss you, or do I have to wait until after your big moment?”

As much as she wanted it, Aelin knew that a kiss from her husband would ruin all Lysandra’s hard work. This kiss would have to be cautious—an attribute neither of them were known for. 

“You’ll have to wait, I’m afraid,” Aelin conceded. 

“I can wait,” Rowan assured her. He stepped back, but his touch lingered, now resting on her stomach. “I do love this dress.”

Aelin rested her hand over his, pushing it flatter against her. “I thought you might.”

There was sharp and precise knocking on their bedroom door, an announcement and a warning. It was a brave person who approached the royal bedroom without invitation. There were only a few daring enough to do so.

“It’s time,” Aedion called, and then he stepped through the door. “Oh good, you’re still dressed.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, picking up her skirts. “Your lady wife would be most upset if I ruined all her hard work.”

“She immediately had to wrangle Rue into a tense compliance, so you would be right,” Aedion explained, holding the door like he was ushering them out. Like if he did not they would stay in that room and find something else to do. It wouldn’t be the first time they would need a chaperone to keep them on task.

But not tonight, Aelin was more than committed to performing her queenly duty and didn’t need encouragement. She took Rowan’s hand and led the way through the castle. 

The Beltane festivities would take place in the courtyard at the base of the castle steps. The gates would be open and the people of the city could celebrate around the fires and alters that had been prepared. Aelin would address them and commence the festivities, using her magic to do so. They would also officially announce the pregnancy to her people, her country—to the world. The prospect was both exciting and mildly terrifying. Rumours had spread, of course, but without an official declaration they had been able to enjoy these early months or relative privacy. Aelin was not ignorant of possibilities the revelation of an heir might bring. Maeve’s words still often rang in her ears. 

More than that, the death of her parents still left scars. It had shown Aelin in the cruellest way that in their world no one was untouchable. And announcing their vulnerabilities might invite unwanted attention from the wrong people. What gave her comfort was not only her own powers, but the force and dedication of her inner court who would give anything to protect what was dear to them, as this child would be. Aelin shook her head to clear such thoughts, a night of celebration was no such time to dwell on something like this. 

“Aelin,” Rowan said softly, no doubt noticing the shift in her demeanour due to her dark thoughts. “Are you all right?” 

“Yes, Buzzard. I’m fine,” Aelin assured him, holding onto his arm to bring them closer together. “My mind just ran away from me, that’s all.”

“Are you sure? Because we can—”

Aelin’s laughter cut him off. “You would like nothing more that to hole ourselves up in our bedroom and ignore the world outside

Rowan gave her the barest hint of a smile. “You say that like it’s a bad idea.” 

“Not bad, just mistimed,” Aelin said. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

Aelin didn’t allow herself to see his reaction, because whether it was a smirk or a soft growl, it might just convince her to go back upstairs and follow through with his idea. And they were nearly at the front gates. Seeing her court gathered there brought a smile to Aelin’s face. Lysandra and Aedion were indeed trying to contain the whirlwind that was their son, and the Lochan family were in their own little huddle. Lorcan held their son, Korbin’s hand weaving through his father’s hair. Fenrys was there as well conversing with Evangeline, making her smile. This was Aelin’s family—they had been through all the hells imaginable and made it through to meet each other on the other side. By next Beltane there would be another member to join in the celebrations. 

That thought did have her turning to her mate as scenes of their tiny child playing around the firelight filled her mind. Rowan would hold their child safe in his arms, their faces aglow as he smiled at her. It was so clear, so attainable, it made Aelin giddy. Her hand rested on her stomach and the promise that lay there.

“Are we ready?” Aelin announced to the group.

“Are you?” Elide asked. “We only have to stand there and look pretty.”

“I was under the impression that our appealing features were the only reason you accepted us into this court, your Majesty,” Fenrys quipped. “Lorcan the exception of course.”

“We keep him around for his sense of humour, don’t we?” Aelin taunted. That was met it’s a single scowl and plenty of laughter. 

Aelin went to step through the doors, her court behind her, her mate by her side. It took one look at Rowan for him to know what she needed just a little and he lent down and pressed a careful kiss to her cheek. That was all the bolstering she needed as she pushed on the heavy wooden doors. 

Outside it was loud, voices of what might have been hundreds of people milling around the courtyard. Aelin would stand above them at the top of the stairs, a small pile of wood beside her to mimic the larger ones in the courtyard. When stepped forward into the view of everyone a cheer went through the crowd and she knew what they saw. The way her hands cradled her stomach accentuated it. 

“Good people of Orynth,” Aelin projected her voice as much as she could, to reach as many people as he could. “Tonight we celebrate Beltane, to bring blessing and luck to our harvests, to start the seasons anew. These fires will purify and bring life to our fair country. I invite you to place your offerings, seek the blessing you wish for in your heart, and I hope like mine, they come to fruition.” For Aelin this time in her life represented a conciliation of the old and the new, a new beginning. A fitting symbol for Beltane, especially how close fertility was associated with these festivities. Aelin glanced down at her stomach and Rowan took his place by her side. When she looked out to her people she was smiling. “And I am delighted to announce a bright light for our future. I am with child, Terrasen will have an heir and I promise to raise them to love, honour and respect according to what our fair country deserves. I hope that you will join me in celebrating this joyous announcement tonight.”

They’d take her fire back to their homes.

Rowan's hand tightened on her waist as the cheering got louder. Aelin’s own hand became wreathed in flame and it took half a thought to light the half a dozen bonfires. Shouts of excitement went up and warmth bloomed in her chest. These people would take her fire back to their homes, to warm their hearths and sustain them. It served as a promise that Aelin would provide for them as long as that was within her power. It felt so natural to turn into Rowan’s embrace and for him to pull her closer. And even though the city of Orynth looked on, he kissed her. The world fell away in that moment as the hopes for their future burned as bright as the flames below. 

~~~~~

They had retreated to an inner, more secluded courtyard for a private celebration. A large fire burned in the centre of it and there was a smaller one for jumping. After lighting both, Aelin had taken time to sit, eat and drink before she joined in the festivities. Rowan made sure she had everything she needed, his fussiness kicking in after she had confessed that she was hungry. She was full now and ready to join in the dancing. Searching for her chosen partner, she found that Rowan had the small boys over by the food table, one hanging from each arm. It was an endearing sight, and she’d let them play. 

Aelin left her seat and had barely made it three steps when Fenrys appeared in front of her, hand extended as he gave her a courtly bow. “Would you like to dance?”

Aelin returned the gesture with a short curtsy. “Indeed I would.”

Taking the fae male’s hand and the invitation, Aelin smiled. Fenrys spun her into the firelight, leading her through the steps of the dance. Almost immediately the dress became a nuisance and Aelin paused to regrettably and carefully singe off the last few inches of it so that the length wouldn’t hinder her movements. She had no desire to cut her evening short by tripping over or twisting her ankle. 

Fenrys was an excellent partner, and she was almost sorry to leave him when the dance changed and Aelin spun on. Aedion was a little less enthusiastic but she wouldn’t hold that against him. He was more warrior than courtier—always had been. So Aelin circled around the fire, her magic unwittingly reaching out to the flames and making them dance as well. It wasn’t until her feet started to hurt and she felt a little breathless that her mate appeared, intercepting her spin before she could meet whichever partner was next. He immediately slowed the tempo of her movements, bringing her in closer to support some of her weight.

“Rowan,” she chastised. 

“Fireheart, you’re going to trip going that fast,” he said softly, even though Aelin could feel the concern pounding through him.

Aelin held in her snort of laughter. “No one was going to let that happen. I even shortened my dress as a preventative measure.”

Rowan actually stepped back to inspect her work, satisfied it was enough he pulled her back into his space. “You’ll tire yourself out.”

“I deserve to. I’ve been cooped up too long,” Aelin bemoaned—still not admitting that the pace he’d set was exactly what she needed. “You fuss too much.”

“I know,” he added with sincere honesty and utterly shameless. 

“Dance with me, please,” Aelin asked.

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “I am dancing with you.”

“Really dance with me,” Aelin was nearly pleading. “And then I’ll sit down and rest for a while. I promise.”

“I’m powerless to deny you,” was his answer. 

The fiddles and the drums played a steady beat, guiding them through step by step. This time Aelin kept her partner, Rowan’s hand was on her waist and the other clasped her’s. Memories of their first Beltane together rose and Aelin wondered what might have happened if the burnout had not consumed her. Would Rowan have stayed or flown back to his room? Could she have convinced him to jump the fires with her? Or would he have left her to celebrate on her own? Aelin laughed to herself when she realised that might be the likeliest answer. He would have brooded the night away in the shadows while she spent her night by the warmth of the fire, then returned to her cold room. 

“What is so funny, love?” Rowan asked. 

“Just remembering how grumpy you were when we first met,” Aelin said, teasing her mate. “More than ten years and it still astounds me.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed playfully, any ire lost when his lips twisted upwards. “Was I to blame?”

“I suppose not,” Aelin agreed. 

“What else were you thinking about?” Rowan urged brushing his lips over her temple.

Aelin melted just that little more into him. “Hmm, just the past.”

“And?” He pressed. “Tell me?”

“I was thinking back to our first, and very eventful, Beltane,” Aelin confessed. “And I was wondering what might have happened if the burnout did not happen.”

“Oh, I see.” 

This time it was Aelin who slowed them down. “What would you have done?”

“I would have stayed,” Rowan said. 

Aelin started grinning. “Would you have danced with me?”

With all the utter seriousness only a three hundred year old immortal fae could muster Rowan said, “Absolutely not.”

Aelin’s laughter rang throughout the courtyard as Rowan spun her, the song ending just as she was enveloped in his arms again. They stood there even as another song started and Rowan cupped her face, kissing her sweetly. 

“Is that enough dancing for now?” Rowan asked. 

Aelin caught the underlying meaning of his words. I think it’s time to rest. And this time he may have been right.

“Yes, I think so.” She ignored the small look of triumph on Rowan’s face. 

Rowan led the way to the chairs on the edges of the gathering and then promptly left to get her a drink. In the meantime Ruben and Korbin ran up to her, their faces delighted and covered in soot. 

“And what can I do for you, little lords?” Aelin asked.

“We want to jump the fire!” Ruben said. “Can we? Can you?”

“Of course I can,” Aelin replied, resting a hand on each of their heads. “Are you ready?”

The two boys nodded, thrumming with excitement. Not too far away Aelin willed a fire to appear, small with heatless flames to keep the children safe. Korbin was first, taking a run up that did almost nothing to increase his height over the fire. Ruben wasn’t too far behind, whooping for joy as the flames tickled his feet. Over and over the two boys jumped, Aelin making the embers dance around them. 

Her power thrived, her joy and her magic becoming one in the same. The thing Aelin had once most feared was now celebrated and accepted. What she had fought for and dreamed of had come to be. The babe growing within her was part of that, and her greatest joy of all. 

“Aelin,” the sighing chastisement came from beside her and she knew she would see the long suffering face of her mate. 

She gave him a look of innocence. “Yes, dearest husband.”

“You said you would rest,” he told her.

“This little fire is nothing,” Aelin said with a twist of her hand that had the flame moving the same way. “How could I say no to them?”

Just then the two boys jumped at the same time, hand in hand. Rowan didn’t say anything more as he handed a drink over, his eyes lingering on the children. He was no doubt imagining what she did, a small silver-headed child between them, laughing as they too made the jump for good luck. 

“Just a little while longer, I promise,” Aelin said as she tugged on Rowan’s hand to bring him down into the seat beside her.

“Of course, Fireheart.” Rowan sat, the two of them happy to just observe for a while. 

In the end, it took the children being collected by their parents before Aelin let the flames go. Lady and Lord Lochan retired to their rooms for the evening. Aedion led his family back to the fire for another dance. For a while longer Aelin was content to stay where she was and just watch. The heat of the day was gone and the flames provided a comfortable warmth to her bared skin. Aelin’s hand dragged comfortingly over her stomach. The motion was soothing and was guiding her exhaustion to the surface. But she didn’t want to retire for the night, not just yet.

“One more dance?” Rowan had all but read her thoughts. 

Aelin just nodded, letting Rowan pull her from her seat. The music had slowed now, it was no longer the frenzied melodies that urged quick steps and reckless movements. Rowan spun her in a slow circle, but quick enough that the skirts of her dress fluttered about her feet. Aelin draped her arms around his neck, and his hands found a place low on her hips. 

They did little more than sway to the music, foreheads pressed together. For just a little while longer Aelin wanted to bask in the warmth of the firelight and the perfection that this moment held.

~~~~

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Aelin Week May 1st: Beltane

@rowaelinscourt

Based on this quote:

“As a child, she had run rampant through the field before the gates of Orynth, the thousand bonfires burning like the lights of the invading army that would too soon be encamped around the white city. It was her night, her mother had said—a night when a fire-bearing girl had nothing to fear, no powers to hide. Aelin Fireheart, people had whispered as she bounded past, embers streaming from her like ribbons, Aedion and a few of her more lethal court members training as indulgent guards. Aelin of the Wildfire.”

—Heir of Fire, pg. 355

Aelin Week Masterlist

Rowaelin Tag List: @aelin-bitch-queen @autumnbabylon @charlizeed @evolving-dreamer @feysand-loml @flora-shadowshine @gracie-rosee @infernoqueen19 @julemmaes @leiawritesstories @lemonade-coolattas @live-the-fangirl-life @midsizewitch @morganofthewildfire @mybloodrunsblue @nehemikkele @realbookloverproblems @rhysandswingspan @rowaelinismyotp @rowanaelinn @sexy-dumpster-fire @sleeping-and-books @story-scribbler @swankii-art-teacher @the-lonelybarricade @thenerdandfandoms @yesdreamblog

[myarlert]

Taco Bell for Bells? Very fitting haha! I hope you've had a good weekend <3 I went to a fire festival for Beltane and it was super fun even despite the cold and rainy weather. Are you doing anything to usher in the new season?

-E 🕊

preparing for the heat and wildfires 😭🫡

[saedii-gilwraeth-simp]

20 to 20: 2021 Holiday Special - Day 13 (TDC)

Second one today for catch up. This one is less sad than this morning’s, promise

Waiting for a Miracle

Arsinoe was not an envious person, and she was secure enough to not get jealous, but she also hated being left behind to fade into the background. Which is notably how she feels most of the time when she is with her siblings.

Her sisters are kind and gorgeous and powerful and perfect.

And Arsinoe was none of those things.

She had never had a gift flourish. She couldn’t summon wildfires and cyclones, nor could make entire fields of flowers bloom in seconds. She wasn’t even immune to the potions her mother ingested and she wasn’t able to naturally fall into healing. And noting made her more aware of that than Beltane, where what felt like the entirety of Fennbirn (and some Mainlanders as well) flocked to watch her mother and sister’s perform insane feats.

And it was Arsinoe’s sixteenth Beltane, which means she couldn’t feign sickness as she had in previous years.

She was fully ready to have an absolutely miserable time. Because when she wasn’t being overlooked, she was cast pitying looks and empty reassurances that “one day your gift would come” which was absolute bullshit and everyone knew it, but as a Queen, she was only allowed to smile and accept the empty promises.

But it’s fine, she’s fine. She just tries to be gracious and support her sisters, which was still kind of fun. Or at least, her sisters are kind enough to make it fun.

Her mother is convinced this year will be different, but it makes no difference, Arsinoe still has to go, suitors still have to vie for the hands of the three queens (which Arsinoe was so overjoyed at the idea of) and Beltane goers still had to pretend they respected her when both sides of the conversation knew that was not even a possibility at this point.

Yeah, she was done hoping.

~

The first night of Beltane came and Arsinoe and her sister were presented to the arriving Mainland suitors. They all climbed the cliffside to come and bow in front of the young Queens. After the fifth suitor bowed in front of both her sisters but her, Kat’s hand, hidden by the skirts of her dress, wraps around Arsinoe’s. Arsinoe squeezes back tight.

The final suitor of thirteen finally comes up the cliffside and at this point Arsinoe is rightfully enraged and hurt. She may not need validation from men, but Goddess she was embarrassed to not have a single person bow to her, as if she wasn’t worth the respect that her sisters held, as if she wasn’t just as much of a contributor to her community.

But the suitor climbed the cliffside and awkwardly ran a hand through his sand coloured hair, as if he felt just as awkward in this situation. He watches the three of them for a beat before walking along the grass.

He bows only for her and her heart stops for a beat in time with the crowd gasping. The suitor looks up and shoots her a grin and a wink and she can’t control the one side of her mouth that tilts up for the first time that night as he moves on and her and her sisters are let down from their stage.

Mirabella wraps an arm around her shoulder and Kat’s arm came to rest at her waist and the world felt for the first time, wide open for her.

[louiseleblancdiggory]

can you do some rowaelin content based on invisible string by Taylor? pretty please

I love TS!!! Invisible String is so pretty and I had the perfect idea for it immediately. The whole bracelet thing was a real thing where I grew up, so it was nice to write about it. Enjoy!

Invisible string

--

May 1993

Aelin didn’t believe in love at first sight, but the first time she saw Rowan Whitethorn, she wanted to.

She had barely turned fifteen, just two days before, when she saw him for the first time. Then, she didn’t know his name, his age or anything about him, but she wanted to.

She was sitting down on a shaded spot on the green grass. Lysandra and Elide had dragged her to the park in the morning to watch the early Beltane commemorations. Every year on Beltane day, the kids were provided a series of games and prizes in the Centennial Park, and at night the adults would come, light up the fires and dance until the sun shone in the sky once more. Aelin loved Beltane, it was her holiday. Her family used to joke that it made sense that a girl that had so much wildfire inside of her had been born so close to Beltane.

Her spot in the grass gave her a direct view into the yogurt shop on the other side of the park. And there, standing in a ridiculous pink-and-blue apron and white hat, was the silver headed guy she couldn’t stop staring.

“You know who’s the guy working at Emrys’s?” She nudged Lysandra with her elbow, and her friend sat up and looked to where Aelin was jerking her chin.

“The silver headed?” Lys asked, her nose scrunching up. “Rowan Whitethorn. He’s in your cousin’s class, turning seventeen in a few months, I think.”

“Hum.”

“Oh, no. I know that look. Whitethorn is bad news, Ace. Stay away from him.” Lys warned and Elide nodded from where she was laying down.

She nodded vaguely, but her eyes didn’t leave Rowan. Even for his age, he was already tall and toned. His teal shirt was rolled back at the sleeves to reveal a tattoo sneaking up his arm from his wrist. He was completely serious, not smiling at one costumer and seeming infinitely bored.

Rowan Whitethorn looked like bad news, and Aelin was attracted to it like a moth to the flame.

However, she didn’t go up to him. At that time, as much daring as she was, she still possessed that teenage natural shyness, and talking to a boy two years older than her who looked like he wanted to smash everyone’s skulls wasn’t really her area of expertise. She watched him every now and then, though. The morning ended, giving away to a hot afternoon. At some point, a few kids started running around with buckets, giving away little strings to everyone.

“It grants you a wish.” The little boy told her when he stopped by her tree. “You tie it around your wrist and when it falls down naturally, you can make a wish and it comes true.”

“Oh, really?” Elide, always the nicest one of their trio, asked sounding genuinely interested.

“Yes. Anything you wish becomes true. Sometimes it falls after days, sometimes it takes years, my daddy told me. But it falls eventually and you get a wish.” The boy sounded extremely excited. Aelin guesses that being eight and going around giving magical strings did that to a kid.

“I’ll take one, then. Who doesn’t want a wish, right?” Elide said and the little boy nodded eagerly, handing her a purple string.

“I’ll take one too, of course.” Lysandra smiled, receiving a green string and tying it around her ankle.

When the little boy turned to Aelin, she grinned at him. “I wouldn’t waste the opportunity of having a wish come true, would I?”

The boy smiled back at her, giving her the only gold string inside his bucket. He was running off to the next group of people before she could even thank him. She laughed under her breath, starting to tie it around her wrist. As she gave it the final knot, she looked back at the yogurt shop. Rowan had, surprisingly, also accepted a string from a little girl. He gave her a little smile as he knelt near her, and when she sauntered off, his eyes roamed around the park, stopping on her.

Aelin thought she was mistaken, that in no way in hell he was staring at her, but as Rowan finished tying his string, he raised his wrist and winked.

Aelin could only stare at the equally golden string on his wrist.

———————————

October 1996

Rowan was celebrating his twentieth birthday just the way he planned: getting drunk.

He and his friends had been planning this trip to Los Angeles for months now, and they had ditched a whole week in the university to do it . It was completely worth it, though. They had spent the last three days doing fucking nothing other than drinking and playing some shitty videogame. Rowan had watched Fenrys flirt with every woman that talked to him, watched Lorcan and Aedion scowling and Connall and Vaughan acting like the loving couple they always were.

Things were normal and they were good.

“Man, how the fuck did you find this restaurant?” Fenrys muttered, taking a sip of his beer. Rowan had to agree, the pub’s entrance was almost unnoticeable, and if it wasn’t for Aedion, they would have never found it.

The food was great, the drinks were great and whoever was in charge of the playlist had impeccable taste. Rowan couldn’t think of a better place to spend his birthday.

Aedion scoffed, putting his phone down. “I didn’t find shit. My cousin has been to LA a thousand times and pestered me about coming here. She said, and I quote, that it was her favorite pub in LA, that the food was divine, the beer didn’t taste like piss and, even if the two latter statements weren’t true, the amazing music makes up for it.”

“You are Aelin’s cousin!” The waitress exclaimed, a heavy Scottish accent making the words roll out of her tongue. She must have heard what Aedion was saying when she was walking back to their table to ask if they wanted anything else. “You have her face, and I’ve heard her say those words every time she visited us. Lovely girl, wicked smart, too. Tricked poor Rolfe into letting her buy beer at the age of seventeen! We all though she was twenty two until she was tipsy enough to reveal the truth.”

Aedion grinned. “Sounds exactly like my cousin.”

The waitress laughed out loud, looking at the rest of them. For some reason, her eyes stopped at Rowan. “Beautiful girl, isn’t she? Gets prettier every time she comes by. Looks like one of those American singers.”

He smiled politely at her, but didn’t answer. Rowan had never spoken to Aedion’s cousin. Actually, he had only seen her once.

Rowan looked down at the worn string on his wrist. All his friends had lost theirs already, but Rowan’s was still standing strong. He didn’t believe in any of that bullshit, but he had to admit he had grown fond of the soft scrapping the string gave him. The mention of Aelin and the vision of the golden string only helped him remember the only time he had seen her. It had been Beltane little over three years ago, he was just sixteen and working with yogurt because he really needed the money.

He would have never wore a blue-and-pink apron otherwise.

The day was terribly hot, and Rowan hated interacting with people. Hated small talk and it looked like every person that came by decided that they didn’t want only yogurt, but also a five minute talk with him.

Absolute fucking torture.

When the kids had come around with the strings, it was the first time Rowan wasn’t pissed at the need to talk to someone. The kid had been lovely; a little girl explaining how he would be granted a wish if he wore the string and let it fall naturally. She grabbed the only golden one inside her bucket, running away as Rowan tied it on his wrist.

He looked around mindlessly, but his gaze stopped on a golden haired woman looking at him. Being so far away, Rowan couldn’t identify who she was exactly, but there was something familiar about her. And even from afar he knew that the girl was drop dead gorgeous.

And then he noticed the golden string on her wrist. If it was any other color it might have been something he would have missed it, but the golden thing caught in the light and shined, just like the one on his own wrist. Rowan never understood why he did it, but he raised his wrist to how her his string and winked at her.

Later he discovered why she had looked familiar. She was his best friend’s cousin.

“Ace does get prettier every year.” Fenrys’s voice rang, taking Rowan out of his memories. “Much to the dismay of anyone who has to deal with her ego.”

Vaughan laughed at that. He and Fenrys were the only ones besides Aedion who had any contact with Aelin.

Still staring at the golden string, Rowan almost opened his mouth to ask Aedion for her number. He didn’t know why, the thought had come all too sudden to his head, and he bit his tongue to stop the words.

He didn’t know Aelin one bit, and just ask for her number after a waitress said she was beautiful sounded like a way to pick a fight with Aedion who was extremely protective of his younger cousin.

No, Rowan thought, better to just leave things as they are.

——————————————

New Year’s Eve 1999

Aelin never thought she would be spending New Year’s Eve in a dive bar with her friends and her cousin’s friends.

Usually for end of the year celebrations, her parents would organize a gala or some shit that would force Aelin to wear a boring dress. This year, however, her parents decided to go travel to Europe and spend two weeks there.

And because of that Aelin was wearing a mini red dress, extremely high stilettos, listening to obnoxiously bad music in a small dive bar as she and her group drank beer of questionable quality.

It was fucking great.

She toyed with the dull string on her wrist, the thing probably just hours or days from snapping. After almost seven years, it was about time. She had thought about simply cutting it before, but could never go through with it. It had become a friendly bracelet, one she twisted when nervous or distracted. It had been in all her photos since the age of fifteen, and it would be strange when it fell.

“So I wasn’t the only one who didn’t get their wish yet.” A man’s voice came from behind her, and Aelin turned around to stare at her teenage crush.

Rowan had been attractive at sixteen, but now at twenty three he was straight up hot. He had grown even more, his body looking just as defined. Even with the heels, Aelin tipped her back a little to look at him.

They had never talked, never even looked at each other after that Beltane celebration. Every now and then Aelin would consider asking Vaughan or Fenrys for Rowan’s number, but that would have been strange. She had even once looked him up on social medias after a nasty break up with a man named Chaol. Rowan had no idea who she was, but a small part of Aelin would never be able to forget him.

He had been the crush of her teenage years, even if they had never interacted.

“I’m almost.” She said, raising her wrist the same way he had years ago. “Never thought I would enter the two thousands with this thing still on my wrist.”

“Looks like the golden ones are really lasting.” He showed her his wrist, an equally worn golden string laying there. “I’m Rowan.”

“Aedion told me about you. I’m Aelin.” She extended a hand, and he grabbed it with a smile on his face.

“Aedion has told me about you, too.”

“I tremble just from thinking about exactly what Aedion has told you.” She shivered and he laughed. He didn’t look like the angry teenager she had fallen for in secret, but like an easy going man that she would have no problems talking to.

Oh no. We are not going back to our fifteen years old crush. We have grown out of that.

“Want to go to the bar grab a drink?” He asked.

“Sure.”

Fucking idiot.

Aelin almost told her brain to shut up out loud.

“So, what have you been doing? Still with the whole yogurt shit?”

He smiled at her as they walked to the bar. “Fortunately have left those days behind. Most miserable job I have ever had.”

“The blue-and-pink apron and fake smile really did it for you, though.”

He laughed out loud and Aelin smiled, sitting on a stool.

“Was I that memorable, Galathynius? You saw me only once.”

And at that moment, a doubt she had for the past years had been answered. He had seen her that day, and the wink had probably been to her too.

“The sight was ridiculous enough that I could never forget, Whitethorn.” Her grin became wider. “And the little white hat on your hair was the cherry on top.”

Rowan was trying to scowl, but Aelin saw how he had to bite the inside of his cheeks to refrain from laughing. The moment he opened his mouth to reply, Fenrys threw his arm around her shoulders, taking all attention to him.

“My two favorite people.”

“You’re drunk.” Aelin deadpanned as Rowan sighed.

“It is my happiest state of mind, my dear.” He booped her nose. “I’m so glad the two of you started talking by yourselves. I thought I would need to introduce you guys.”

Aelin knew she would regret it immediately, but she asked anyways. “Why would you bother, wolfie?”

“Well,” he started, suddenly trying to act serious. Aelin had to bite her lower lip at the impatient look on Rowan’s face. When he looked at her, his eyes were almost pleading.

As if I could stop him now. She mouthed to him.

Wishful thinking, Galathynius. He mouthed back.

“Three years ago I thought it would finally happen, you know?” Fenrys continued, oblivious to Rowan and Aelin’s silent conversation. “Me and Vaughan always thought the two of you would get along. Same music taste, same movie taste, and bla bla bla… Three years ago,” hiccup. “Three years ago I thought Rowan was finally going to ask Aedion for your number after Aed said that you had been the one to choose the pub Rowan had loved. But he didn’t.”

Fenrys turned to Rowan, scowling deeply. Rowan’s ears were red, his cheeks slightly pink.

“And Aed was a prick and didn’t offer it himself.” Fenrys looked genuinely pissed. “And then tonight I learn from Lysandra about Aelin’s teenage cru—“

“Ok!” She said a little loudly, her own cheeks on flames. She tried not to look at Rowan, hoping Fenrys’s drunk words had been misinterpreted. “It’s two minutes for midnight, Fenrys. Go find someone else to make the last minutes of the century miserable.”

As if he hadn’t been about to drop one of her biggest secrets and embarrassments, Fenrys simply gave her a peck on the cheek and walked away.

She stared at his back, not wanting to look at Rowan.

“What was that, Ace? I didn’t catch it right. Teenage what?” He asked, but by the tone of his voice Aelin knew that he knew exactly what Fenrys was talking about.

She was going to kill Fenrys. And then Lysandra for telling him. And the Aedion for buying Lysandra the alcohol that made her tell him.

“I was young.” She said through clenched teeth. Her cheeks were burning.

When she turned back to him, he had a grin on his mouth.

“You liked me?” He sounded dopey.

“Fuck off.”

He laughed loudly, almost doubling over. Gosh, she wanted to open a hole on the ground and never see civilization again.

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the heartbreaker, had a crush on me?” A little bit of laughter was still on his voice, the smile still big on his face. “I’m flattered. Honestly.”

“Please, please shut the fuck up. And never talk about it again.” She pleaded, looking at the big clock on the bar. One minute for 2000. She was going to spend the last minute in the century dying of embarrassment. “Gosh, I want to kill you right now. And Fenrys, and Lys. Anyone with the information.”

“I remember when I heard that you had made Archer Finn cry when you broke up with him.” Rowan said as if she hadn’t said a word. “And you were head over heels for me.”

“I wasn’t head over heels for you, you insufferable bastard.” She grunted, crossing her arms and standing up. “And Fenrys said you were going to ask for my number three years ago, so stop gloating about me liking you.”

“I was.”

“I know you were gloating, I fucking heard you.” She raised her chin, looking at the clock again. Thirty seconds.

“I was going to ask for your number, I mean.” He explained, still smiling. Aelin didn’t know what to answer at that, so she only stared at him. He sounded so much more comfortable talking about it than she was. “You think these things accept me getting my wish before they fall?”

“What?”

Twenty seconds.

“Like, I get my wish now and when it falls I don’t wish for anything.”

Fifteen seconds.

“I don’t know?” Aelin replied. “I’m not really an expert on fake strings’ magic.”

Ten seconds. Everyone started the countdown.

“Well, let’s pretend then that it was an invisible string.”

Nine, eight, seven…

“Huh?”

“An invisible string. It broke right now and I get a wish.”

Six, five, four..

“An invisible string?”

“Yeah.” He smiled at her, and she instinctively smiled back at him.

They just stared at each other during the next two seconds, and when everyone screamed “one”, Rowan put his hands on Aelin hips and dragged her forward, placing her in between his legs as he bent down and pressed his lips to hers.

Aelin sighed, putting her arms around his shoulders and kissing him back. Rowan’s mouth was soft and warm against hers, and Aelin could feel his smile against her lips. She smiled too, and he took the opportunity to shove his tongue inside of her mouth, deepening the kiss. One of his hands went to the back of her head, holding her in place was his lips moved on hers, as his tongue moved against hers.

“Happy New Century, Galathynius.” Rowan murmured against her mouth, the screams around them sounding muffled by his voice.

“Happy New Century, Whitethorn.” She murmured back, smiling against his mouth as they kissed, not caring for anyone else, or anything else, as they focused on each other during the first minutes of the new century.

——————————————

December 2008

“And she had the biggest crush on me when she was fifteen.” Rowan whispered.

“Rowan Whitethorn, I swear to the gods that if you are telling them I liked you when I was younger, I’ll become a widow today!” His wife’s voice rang from the kitchen, and Rowan fake winced.

His kids only laughed at their parents, bright and happily.

Aelin’s golden head popped out of the kitchen, showing him her tongue. Rowan only winked at her, the same way he had when she had been fifteen. Her face morphed into a soft smile, and she came to them. Aelin sat on his lap, turning to their kids. Rowan pulled her back against her chest, putting his nose on the crook of her neck and breathing in.

He had been wrong eight years ago. The invisible string between them hadn’t snapped.

His wish did come true, though.

Tags:

@abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass

[observandaexterna]

Dracarys

[jaskierswolf]

You Set My Heart Ablaze pt 20/25

Previous

Warnings: Wildfires, training scenarios involving mentions of smoke inhalation, and other general firefighter stuff? (probably not accurate)

_______________________

The last week since Parents’ Evening had been relatively peaceful considering.

Yennefer had stayed with them for the weekend in the spare room before heading back to Cidaris. Vesemir had even let Geralt swap his weekends shifts to an on-call one. He couldn’t switch off properly and he wouldn’t be paid as much for the time but it did mean he could stay home with Ciri and Yen unless the team got called out to an incident which was bad enough to require all of them, or there were multiple jobs called in at one time. The majority of their days were spent training and maintaining equipment after all. The calls were hard and somedays it felt like they spent more time in the fire engine than the station but if Geralt really broke down his day, most of the day was spent making sure they were on the top of their game, working as a team and at peak physical fitness.

The only sticky moment had been on Saturday lunchtime when Yen had been out with Istredd. Naturally that had been when Vesemir had called Geralt to assign him to a job. Ciri had spent an hour hanging out in Vesemir’s office whilst Geralt went with Renfri to a block of flats where a small child had locked his parents out of the flat. Luckily there was a window left open and Geralt had climbed up using the fire engine’s ladder and swung though the window. He’d managed to open the door from inside the flat and no permanent damage was done. The parents had been incredibly embarrassed, but Geralt could hardly blame them. Ciri was a handful at the age of seven. This kid’s parents had two children under the age of five, it was like a tornado had hit their house.

By time he’d returned to the fire station Ciri had been running around the yard with Lambert, practising some of the drills Vesemir liked to run. Geralt watched the pair of them run the drills a few times before yelling a few corrections in his best Vesemir voice. Lambert tripped and fell which made Ciri laugh excitably before she ran over to Geralt.

She proudly announced that she would be a firefighter when she was older.

Geralt had felt strangely content in that moment. He’d had a similar moment when he was a little bit older than Ciri with Vesemir. Ciri may not be his biological daughter but in the short few months that she had lived with him she had become his family, there was no denying it. She still had Calanthe’s fierce stubbornness, and Pavetta’s endless love for the world, but now there was something of Geralt and his family in her too.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out whilst stirring the pasta sauce idly. He was making a large pot load so he could freeze some to use during the week for lunch and dinner for the pair of them. Yennefer had scolded him for the lack of fresh food in Ciri’s diet, he decided that a fuck load of tomatoes in the pasta sauce counted. There was even some chopped onion and garlic in there for good luck.

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling fondly when he noticed the string of emojis that Jaskier had changed his name to in Geralt’s phone.

J — Boooooooooooored xxx

Geralt rolled his eyes.

G — I haven’t had my weekly email yet.

They weren’t due out until tomorrow but Geralt knew that Jaskier had a habit of procrastinating and not writing them until the last minute. He smirked as he watched the dots wave at the bottom of the screen.

J— That doesn’t help my boredom dearest xxx

Geralt laughed, he could just picture the adorable pout on Jaskier’s lips.

G — That’s too bad.

J — Geralt!

— You’re no fun!

— We’re breaking up.

Geralt rolled his eyes and dipped a tea spoon into the pasta sauce to taste it. He grimaced. Something wasn’t right, more salt maybe?

G — Ok.

He swiped the salt from the counter and added some to the pot whilst he waited patiently as the dots appeared and disappeared at the bottom of the screen. Eventually Jaskier must have given up because his phone started ringing. He laughed as he swiped to pick up the call.

“Geralt!!” Jaskier whined.

Geralt looked around. Ciri was still upstairs in her room, he could hear the tell tale sound of things crashing about which meant she was probably trying to spar with her soft toys.

“My heart is broken, Jask.” He said sarcastically. “I’m not sure I’ll ever recover.”

“Darling, dearest of hearts, light of my life.” Jaskier cooed.

“Hmm?”

“Will you be my boyfriend?” Jaskier asked sweetly as if they’d never had this discussion before.

Geralt smirked. “I thought you wanted to break up?”

“Bollocks to that.” Jaskier stated firmly. “I am an artist Geralt! We are prone to exaggeration.”

“Hmm.”

“So?” Jaskier asked quietly.

“For the hundredth time, yes.” Geralt chuckled.

They had agreed that they were officially dating by the middle of the first week of the Beltane Holidays. Of course, Jaskier had a tendency to fake break up with him whenever there was a minor inconvenience in his life, such as being bored.

Geralt never believed him. It was hard to believe someone was seriously breaking up with you when they were curled up in your lap and sucking hickeys into your neck.

“I’ll make it up to you!” Jaskier trilled happily.

“I’ll add it to the list of IOUs.” Geralt rolled his eyes as he turned down the heat on the sauce. It was starting to boil too ferociously.

“I miss you.” Jaskier added with a sigh.

“Yeah.” Geralt agreed.

It had been difficult since school had started back. They hadn’t been able to see each since the first week of the holidays, not properly. There had been longing glances across the playground and the occasionally brushing of fingers if Geralt bought Jaskier and Triss a coffee on the way to work. The most they had interacted in person was Parents’ Evening and even then they had been on their best behaviour.

It was hard.

After a week of learning how to be in each other’s space and enjoying the freedom of being able to love each other freely, they were suddenly playing these roles of distant friends, if that.

He’d wanted to reach under the table to take Jaskier’s hand, just to be able to hold him but they were being watched. He noticed a woman at the back of the room surveying the whole event, not to mention Yennefer had been right there. Jaskier had later told him that the woman had been one Philippa Eilhart, one of the board members and one of the prime threats to Jaskier’s job should she discover their relationship.

Luckily Yennefer had sworn not to tell anyone, not even Triss or Istredd. They couldn’t risk it, not with the way rumours spread through the staffroom.

“Not long til summer now.” Jaskier sighed wistfully.

“No.” He agreed with a sigh of his own.

“It’s already half term next week.” Jaskier’s voice audibly brightened up. “I always forget how fast the last term goes. Spring term is fucking long!”

“Longer days, shorter terms.” Geralt hummed thoughtfully.

“And then you can be my boyfriend for real!” He heard a faint clap of hands. “Oh my darling, I cannot wait!”

“DAD!” Ciri bellowed from upstairs and he heard the thundering of feet as she raced from her room.

She would fall at the bottom step running like that. She always did.

“Shit! I have to go.” Geralt hung up on Jaskier and flew from the kitchen just in time to catch Ciri in his arms. Jaskier would no doubt berate him for it later but he didn’t mind, it was just another excuse to talk to Jaskier. “Cirilla, how many times have I told you not to run on the stairs?” He chided his daughter.

She huffed and crossed her arms in front of her. “I’m hungry!”

“It’s almost ready.” He assured her. “That doesn’t matter though if you break something falling down the stairs.”

“I’ll be more careful next time!” She insisted.

She wouldn’t be more careful next time. She never was.

He placed a kiss on top of her head and placed her back on the floor. “Ok, Cub. Can you help set the table?”

She nodded.

“Ten minutes, alright? Don’t forget to wash your hands.”

“Yes, Dad.” Ciri rolled her eyes.

“Watch the attitude, Ciri.” He warned gently and ruffled her hair.

She stuck her tongue out at him so naturally he stuck his tongue out right back at her.

She giggled happily and hugged him tightly before running back into the kitchen. He followed her with a fond smile and grabbed the bag of pasta from the cupboard.

___________________________________

Jaskier had rung Geralt up later that evening just as Geralt was getting ready for bed. They’d stayed on the phone for hours, eventually they had run out of things to say but it didn’t matter, they stayed on the phone just listening to each other as they did their own things. Geralt occasionally read out passages of his book that he thought was interesting, in turn Jaskier would stop scribbling in his notebook and ask Geralt what he thought of a lyric.

Eventually Jaskier had begun to snore like a pig on the other end of the line, which Geralt knew meant he was sleeping on his back. He never snored when he slept on his side, well not in the week they’d spent together.

When Geralt’s alarm went off the next day he was not ready for it. He hit snooze three times before Ciri came bundling into his room already fully dressed. Her hair was still loose around her shoulder and falling in front of her sparkling green eyes.

“Dad! Get up!” She bounced on the bed and he groaned.

“Two minutes.” He grumbled.

“I’ll call Mum!” Ciri sang happily.

“Shit, fuck. I mean. Ciri, no. Not a word to Yen.” Geralt rolled onto his back and Ciri clambered onto his chest to hug him.

“Does that mean I can’t tell her that you swore?” Ciri teased.

“Yes!” He sighed and petted Ciri’s long hair.

“Can I have extra cake for dinner?” She bargained.

“And breakfast tomorrow.” He agreed, knowing that Eskel had offered to take her to the zoo on Saturday.

“Yes!” She cheered and leapt off the bed. “Come on! We’re going to be late!”

“Alright alright. We’re stopping for coffee though.” He muttered.

If he was exhausted then Jaskier surely would be too. The teacher wasn’t good in the mornings on an ordinary day let alone when they’d been up half the night talking.

He got ready for work in record time and then help Ciri braid her hair before they bundled into the truck ready for school. They barely had time for his coffee stop but the queue was short so Geralt took the gamble and ran in to order three drinks, one black coffee for him, Jaskier’s preferred cinnamon covered caramel latte and a chai latte for Triss. Triss didn’t question her sudden inclusion on Geralt’s coffee run, but he’d agreed with Jaskier that he needed to show he wasn’t just favouring Ciri’s teacher and Triss was the best option as a cover.

He had to run with Ciri through the schoolyard, the coffee carrier in one hand and Ciri’s hand in the other. He swore under his breath when he noticed that it wasn’t Jaskier in the playground ushering everyone inside. He hurried Ciri along with the other kids and slipped through the doors to see Triss in reception.

“Geralt?” Triss asked, her hair was loose today, tumbling down past her shoulder in tight dark caramel curls. She was wearing a soft moss green sleeveless dress, and Geralt thought she looked a little like a tree fairy. Triss was undeniably beautiful, no wonder Eskel was so taken by her.

He passed her the chai latte. “Delivery, got one for Mr Pankratz too. Would you mind?”

Triss rolled her eyes. “Thanks Geralt. You’re too sweet.”

“Thought it might help get you through the last day before half term.” He lied with a shrug.

“Thank you.” Triss smiled. “I’ll make sure he gets it. He looked exhausted this morning, you must be psychic.”

Geralt hummed nonchalantly.

“I’m late. See you around Triss.” Geralt grunted before turning back towards the playground.

“Say hi to Esk for me!” She called after him.

He laughed softly. “I will.”

Eskel blushed brighter than the sun when Geralt passed on the message which delighted the wolf pack. Eskel and Triss’s budding romance was the current hot topic of conversation in the fire station which Geralt was relieved by, it meant that there were less eyes and him and Jask, and the less attention they had the better. At least until the school broke up for summer.

Another popular topic was the way Lambert had started insisting on joining the cats whenever they were called up to help or when they came in for training days, in particular he enjoyed to pair up with Aiden, a dashing blond firefighter and one of the more experienced on-call fighters. Aiden was looking to move to a full-time position, he’d quit his day job as an engineer a few months ago and was looking for a change.

Geralt frowned.

How the fuck did he know all that?

He groaned when he realised that it was like a repeat of when Ciri had just started school and all his team mates knew everything about Jaskier.

Fuck.

He should probably buy them all a round of drinks to make up for it.

“Geralt!” Vesemir snapped. “Quit your dawdling and get up the ladder, do you want the dummy to burn to death?”

He swore and checked his breathing apparatus before clambering up the ladder double time to make up for his daydreaming. The training building was filled with fake smoke to simulate a real fire so it was hard to see. He’d wasted too much time on the ground and the building was almost completely full of smoke.

He cursed and squinted around the room until he located the dummy.

He made a dash, minding the gaps in the floor and ducking under low obstacles. If he hadn’t run through this building countless times already he probably would have hit his head due to the bad visibility. He pulled the dummy up over his shoulder and ran back for the window.

But he was too late. Vesemir’s voice crackled in his ear through the radio. “Death by smoke inhalation, White Wolf. What will you tell their family?”

He cursed and made his way back down the ladder.

When his feet touched the ground with a heavy thud he found Lambert and smirking at him. He had his helmet under his arm and braces around his knees.

“Maybe next time we should call the dummy Jaskier.” Lambert teased.

Geralt threw the dummy at Lambert and pulled off his own helmet and mask. “I’ve got a better idea, let’s call him Aiden and send Lambert in.”

“Fuck off.” Lambert growled and lowered into a fighting stance. Geralt mirrored him, they hadn’t sparred in a while and he was looking forward to showing the younger man who was boss.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, wolf.” Geralt challenged.

“Oh I can finish it!”

Lambert lunged forward and Geralt grinned. He stepped to the side and Lambert went flying to the ground. Lambert made that mistake every time, always too eager, too aggressive. Geralt pulled off his jacket and dumped it on the ground next to his helmet. It was too heavy to spar in, especially when Lambert wasn’t equally laden.

Lambert had pulled himself off the ground ready for a second attack by the time Geralt was finished. He jumped onto Geralt’s back and wrapped his arms around his neck. Geralt growled as he felt the pressure on his throat. It wasn’t enough to cut off his air supply, this was a friendly spar after all, but it was enough to surprise him.

“Get off!” He gasped and tried to shake Lambert off. “You’ve spent too much time with the cats.” He grumbled.

“It’s effective though.” Lambert laughed but his glee was short-lived as Geralt threw him to the ground. Lambert cursed as he rolled to break his fall.

“Not as much as you think.” Geralt shot back.

They tussled back and forth for a few more minutes before Geralt managed to pin Lambert to the floor. The prick refused to yield though and Geralt rolled his eyes as he counted down in his head, waiting for the inevitable holler.

“ENOUGH!” Vesemir roared and they broke apart.

“Sorry Chief.” Geralt smirked and reached out to help pull Lambert up off the floor.

“Sorry Chief.” Lambert echoed as he dusted off his trousers.

“If you want to spar, use the gym. I don’t want any injuries because you decided to wrestle on tarmac. I thought I’d trained you better than that.” Vesemir grumbled. “Geralt you’re on the lunch run. Lambert, laundry.”

Lambert yelled. “Oi! How come he gets lunch and I get laundry!”

Vesemir raised an eyebrow at Lambert and crossed his arms. “Because, wolf, you should have yielded but you are a stubborn ass. It’s your turn up the ladder. Eskel’s finished with the reset. Get your gear on and I’ll start the clock. Hopefully Aiden will have better luck than Jaskier.”

“Vesemir.” Geralt groaned with his head in his hands.

“Should name the fucking dummy Triss and see how my idiot brother likes it.” Lambert grumbled pulling on his jacket and buckling his helmet under his chin.

“Enough of your moaning, wolf.” Vesemir snapped. “Are you ready?”

Lambert wasn’t ready.

Vesemir didn’t care.

“Go!” He clicked the stopwatch and Geralt heard the whirring of the smoke machine click on.

“Fuck!” Lambert shouted and lunged for the ladder.

_________________________

Geralt’s lunch break was cut short. The alarms began to ring out in the station and the wolf pack mobilised with a collective groan. It was always just when they started lunch. Sandwiches were thrown haphazardly back into the fridge and then ran to find out what the job was and who was going.

Vesemir was waiting for them in the few minutes it took for them to get their gear on. His face was sombre which was never a good start to briefing.

“Wild fire out on the heaths.” He grumbled passing Geralt the print out of the details. “The farmland is nearby, if that lights up then it will have devastating results for everyone. Get out fast. All of you. It’s going to be a long evening, the bears will meet you there at the end of your shift and I’ve already called the cats for back up.”

“Yes, Chief.” They chorussed.

“Renfri with me in one engine. Lambert and Eskel, take the other one.” Geralt barked and they were off.

They saw the smoke from a distant and Geralt swore. The pillars of thick black smoke billowing into the sky was never a good sign.

“That’s a lot of smoke.” Renfri murmured as they pulled into the road nearest the fire.

The police were already there, cordoning off the area to keep members of public away from the fire. It always astounded Geralt how many people ran straight to the barrier to try and catch a glimpse of the raging fire. He wondered how many of them would run into the flames if the tape wasn’t there to stop them.

It was a long and tiring shift battling the flames in the heathland. He was dripping with sweat underneath his suit by the time the bears turned up. Both teams worked together for about half an hour as they managed the handover. The cats and the wolves both limped away from the fire as dusk was settling over Posada.

He pulled his helmet off as they approached the cars that the bears had arrived in.

“Geralt!” He heard a familiar voice and he turned around so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash.

Jaskier was standing by the tape with a paper bag in one hand and Geralt’s thermos in another. Geralt had forgotten that he’d given it to the teacher way back in October during their trip to the school.

“Ger-Bear?” Renfri asked with a smirk.

“You go. I’ll be alright.” He nodded and walked over to Jaskier.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Lambert cackled as he slung his arm around Aiden and headed to the cars.

Geralt rolled his eyes and flipped Lambert off. He couldn’t do much else in front of the watching public and journalists.

“Jaskier.” He greeted the teacher with a weary smile. “What are you doing here?”

Jaskier passed him the paper bag and Geralt peered inside. There was a ham and cheese pastry sat at the bottom of the bag. He looked back at Jaskier in shock. The man’s eyes were sparkling blue in the moonlight, he looked beautiful like he was the spirit of the moon that had chosen to walk the Continent.

Jaskier shrugged. “I saw the news. They said you’d been on the scene since lunchtime. I thought you might be hungry, oh and here.” Jaskier passed the thermos. “I’ve been meaning to give this back.” He added sheepishly.

“Bit late for coffee.” Geralt noted.

Jaskier laughed melodically. “Which is why it’s not coffee.” He tossed his fringe out of his eyes with a flick of his head. “Go on, have a taste.”

Geralt flicked the lid and sniffed the drink. “Chamomile?” He asked.

Jaskier put his hands on his hips. “Oh I forgot about your freakish sense of smell.”

Geralt scoffed. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Jaskier squeezed his shoulder. “I wanted to. I was worried about you.”

Geralt smiled fondly at his boyfriend before reaching into the bag and splitting the pastry in half. He handed half to Jaskier who tried to protest.

“Oh no.” He waved his hands and pushed Geralt’s offering back at him. “I bought that for you.”

“You poison it?” Geralt asked with a tired laugh.

Jaskier gaped and grasped his chest with his hand. “Geralt, how dare you insinuate such a thing?”

“How long have you been waiting for me, Jask?” Geralt raised an eyebrow at the brunet who shuffled awkwardly under his gaze.

“An hour, maybe two but that’s not the point!” Jaskier pouted.

Geralt pushed half the pastry into Jaskier’s hands, enjoying the excuse to be close to him again. “Eat, Jaskier.” He insisted.

Jaskier huffed a sigh but took the pastry. “You drive a hard bargain, Geralt.” He noted around mouthfuls of pastry. The crumbs fell over his bright red coat and Geralt rolled his eyes, Jaskier was a messier eater than Ciri.

Geralt laughed. “You have a lift home?”

Jaskier shook his head and bit his lip, looking far too guilty as Geralt watched his own lift drive away behind Jaskier. “I got the bus.”

Geralt sighed heavily. “You could have said something before I let them leave without me.”

“Hey now!” Jaskier pouted. “I never offered you a lift home.”

“No, you just lured me over with food and tea.” Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah well, couldn’t exactly lure you over with kisses and cuddles now could I.” Jaskier muttered almost unintelligibly under his breath.

Geralt was barely able to resist pulling Jaskier into a hug and resting his chin on his head but there were too many people. It probably looked strange enough if anyone here recognised them from the school. Not many teachers were friends with the parents, but Geralt calmed himself in the knowledge that Jaskier’s friendship group and his were starting to overlap pretty heavily. Geralt was friends with Yennefer, Yennefer was friends with Triss and Is, Jaskier was friends with Triss, Triss was dating Eskel and Eskel obviously worked with Geralt. There was no denying that Jaskier would now be part of his life regardless of how he felt about the teacher.

“Add them to the IOU.” Geralt murmured back.

Jaskier laughed and bumped his shoulder against Geralt’s. “Wonderful plan, my dear.”

“I’ll call Vesemir. See if I can get us a lift.” Geralt suggested.

“He wouldn’t mind?” Jaskier asked with a lick of his lips.

Geralt huffed a laugh. “I never said that but I don’t think the bus runs this late.”

“I could call a taxi?” Jaskier suggested with a twinkle in his eyes and he squeezed Geralt’s arm gently. “I got you stuck here, and I was going to call one anyway so we might as well share?”

Geralt hummed in agreement and decided it was a good time to eat his half of the pastry. His stomach rumbled appreciatively at the first bite. He hadn’t realised how fucking hungry he’d been. Maybe Jaskier was right in trying to refuse his half. He scoffed down the pastry in a couple of bites. It was cold now but the cheese had definitely been melted at some point it tasted like heaven. He’d only managed to eat a couple of energy bars since breakfast after their lunch had been interrupted by the alarms.

Jaskier noticed Geralt’s delight with a smirk and pulled out a second screwed up bag from his pockets. “See I knew it!” He laughed. “Eat up, White Wolf.”

Inside the second bag was a very squished bacon and lettuce roll, homemade by the looks of it.

“Has this been in your pocket the whole time?” Geralt asked as he sniffed the roll. It didn’t smell funny which was a good sign.

“Nope!” Jaskier grinned. “I just knew you would try to be chivalrous so I hid this when I saw you coming over.”

Geralt wanted to kiss him.

Instead he munched happily on the extra food as Jaskier set about calling them a taxi back into town.

Geralt cleared his throat when he was done eating to get the teacher’s attention. They were standing side by side watching the road but not quite touching and he longed to reach across and take Jaskier’s hand. Jaskier, who had been chattering about his day at school, went silent and looked back at him.

Geralt scowled as he tried to find away to put his feelings into words that Jaskier, and only Jaskier would understand, but he didn’t have Jaskier’s poetic talent and skill with words.

He sighed. “Three things.” He mumbled. “You, Ciri, my family.”

Jaskier gasped quietly and brushed their fingers together for barely a second. “Oh dear heart, I know.”

Geralt smiled fondly as he looked up at the stars. It had been a long and exhausting shift but suddenly the world seemed to be alright. _________

Next

[andthisiswitchcraft]

🌸BELTANE☀️ begins today and lasts thru tomorrow.

Beltane is hands down my favorite sabbat to celebrate.

Beltane means “Godly fire”

It’s position on the wheel of the year marks the peak of spring and the dawning of summer.

Depending on how you celebrate and worship, Beltane celebrates the union of the god and goddess that created the earth and humans as we know it. For others, it represents the nourishing fertile energy on the earth right now. (Northern hemisphere) where flowers are in bloom, animals and insects are at their peak of makin babies, and life is flourishing.

However you celebrate, and whoever you worship, one thing is true, Beltane celebrates LIFE. Earth energy is at its peak, sexual energy is burning everywhere.

The Goddess at her peak fullness, the purest manifestation of growth and renewal.

Many traditional festivities include cleansing fires, hand fasting, “going a’maying” (I’ll get to that 😉 ) feasts, wish box and egg charms, baking for family and community.

What’s going a’maying? Glad you asked!

This was a thing for newlyweds or couples wishing to conceive children, going off into the woods, having sex and collecting various herbs and twigs and berries to adorn the home with to welcome fertility and abundance in the home.

Now, since I doubt most of you will be holding traditional celebrations of walking your cattle thru smoke and going to crowded bonfire parties- I’ll go over some modern ways to celebrate this holy day!

- divination with yourself and your spirit team reflecting on your goals. All sabbats hold strong spiritual energy and Beltane is one of the strongest days to connect with spirits.

- S E X!!! Sex with your lover(s) or yourself. Today is the absolute best day Sex Magick manifesting abundance, growth, BABIES**, wealth, prosperity. Today’s key element is primal energy and sexuality is one of the most primordial energies we have as humans.

- gardening! Assuming your agricultural zone is free from risk of freeze- go plant your shit today. I’ll be gardening all weekend getting my food forest ready for the grow season here in the valley of Oregon. A great task to include your kids with and teach them about growing your foods and herbs, what today is all about (the G rated version)

- baking and cooking and starting medicines.

Bake and cook offerings for your deities and your family. Make treats to share with others. Another great task to include with your children.

- cleaning and resetting your altar spaces.

- set up than ancestral altar and leave a plate for the spirits who protect you.

- leave offerings for the elemental spirits around you.

- make a wish box! Much like a “spell jar” or talisman, a wish box is a lucky charm we create today to reflect what our goals and wishes are for the coming year. Include a petition, herbs and berries and rocks, whatever tickles your fancy and keep this box on your altar or in your room as a physical reminder of the goals you are working for. Another great option for kid inclusion for today.

- make a fire! Safely of course- don’t start a wildfire. Let the smoke cleanse you.

Whatever you do today, I hope you enjoy the energy that is here this week. Beltane offers us the energetic support to achieve what we truly need and desire in this earthly realm. Life can be so hard and trying, and often defeating. Take time today to switch up your mindset from a scarcity mindset to an abundant mindset and give thanks for the good and the beauty the earth provides to us.

Goddesses: flower goddesses, fertility goddesses, hunt and cattle goddesses, fire goddesses, maiden mother and crone goddesses, love goddesses.

Gods: love gods, sexual gods, gods of the hunt, gods of fire, gods of the sun, gods of the forest and fatherhood.

Colors: pink, red, yellow, silver, green, white and brown.

Flowers and herbs: hawthorn, juniper, frankincense, ylang ylang, lilac, jasmine, neroli, copal.

Tell me folks, what are you doing today and tomorrow?

Kittee

[booknerdproblems]

Immortals Chapter 12

Hello lovely peoples! I am so sorry this took me so long to update, all my studying caught up with me. On that note,  starting now updates may be a little erratic due to my mental health really taking a downhill the past couple of weeks.

Anyways, here is the next chapter. The ending fought me a little, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Here is the link to my masterlist, with the links to the rest of the chapters!

TW: N/A

“She was fury, she was wrath, she was vengence.”

-Lysandra, Queen of Shadows

“What’s your favourite colour?” Aelin’s voice reached him from across the clearing, where she was seated on a hollowed out log, basking in the sunlight. 

It was Beltane, and Aelin and Rowan had been sparring all morning, and were taking a moment to recuperate before heading back to the whirlwind of the fortress and the party this evening. Rowan had no idea whether Aelin was planning to attend the festivities, but he was going to go, if only for alcohol. 

“Buzzard!” Gods, he was pissed that nickname had stuck.

“What.”

“Favourite colour.” She demanded.

“Green. Yours?”

“Red.”

Rowan hummed in acknowledgment, sitting down next to her and closing his eyes against the glare of the sun once more. 

After a couple of minutes of his own thoughts, he opened his eyes again, only to see Aelin winding a ribbon of flame through her fingers. He sent an ice-kissed breeze to coax at the flames, and Aelin smiled softly as their magic began to twine. 

Snowflakes began to whirl gently around them, and embers started to dance among the fallen leaves and he sat closer to Aelin, their legs almost brushing. He looked to his left, Aelin’s head tilted upwards, a serene smile on her face as she enjoyed the feel of their magics playing. 

“Aelin.” Rowan whispered.

“Mmmm?”

“Do you trust me?” Her eyes opened at the question, her features becoming more alert as she looked at him.

His eyes darted over her face, wondering if just maybe, maybe, his wild shot in the dark was correct.

She nodded slowly, looking slightly wary as he drew the dagger from his side. Rowan locked eyes with her as he drew the blade across his palm, the tang of his blood making her nostrils flare slightly. As he reached for her hand, understanding dawned upon her face as she realised his intentions. He carefully, carefully, made an identical cut across her palm, ignoring the way the scent of her blood set him on edge.

Lacing their fingers together, he gazed into her eyes once more for confirmation as their palms met. 

Fire and ice and wind and embers. Ash and snow and air and smoke. Light and cold and breeze and heat. Rowan heard a small gasp come from Aelin as his magic barrelled into hers, and he pressed their foreheads together as their magics met in a whirlwind of power. It was an out-of-body experience, it was unlike everything he’d ever known, and oh gods, the feel of her. The smoke and ash and embers. The churning pit of flame inside of her went on forever, and his magic, the thing that had people trembling at their cores, was nothing, nothing, compared to the endless heat inside of her. Inside of this beautiful, wildfire female. A storm made flesh. A wicked, wonderful storm. A goddess in a mortal body. Her power, a behemoth prowling beneath her skin. He’d felt it, felt it that first night in Doranelle, when she’d loosened the leash a fraction, and even that was nothing- nothing compared to this.

Carranam

The word echoed between them, a confirmation of what he’d only suspected. Gods above, they were carranam. A bond so rare, so sought after it was second only to the mating bond. A bond between equals, between friends. Not soulmates, not as revered and holy as mates, but- Gods, to think, he could share power with this… queen. Wildfire touched with insanity. 

Useful on a battlefield, from a warriors standpoint.

Dangerous, should Maeve find out. So, so dangerous. Rowan would be handing a tool of unparalleled destruction to her on a silver platter. He’d have to handle this so, so delicately. And Aelin was a queen. And he was blood sworn to another. 

Their hands parted, and Rowan felt the loss of her power like a blow to the face. He met her eyes, wide with shock and exhilaration.

“So.” Aelin started.

“Yeah.” He breathed, smiling at her.

She grinned at him, a lovely smile, wide and unrestrained. “Carranam.” 

“Carranam.” He confirmed.

-x-

Rowan had combed his hair, washed his face and put on his least dirty tunic. He was ready to head down to the festivities, but he and Aelin were going to go down together, and she was still holed up in the bathroom, getting ready. He was sharpening one of his knives, the rhythmic noise calming him, still reeling from the afternoon’s events. After they’d parted, he and Aelin had headed back to the fortress, splitting off to help with the preparations. Him, to help with the decorations, Aelin, to help (eat) the food prep in the kitchens. 

The door on the other end of the room opened, and Aelin walked out. She wore thick dark blue pants, clinging tightly to her long legs, with polished, black boots reaching up to her knees. A dark green tunic, embroidered with silver, hugged her lithe body. Her eyes had been illuminated with cosmetics, and her lips painted a dark brown, her skin flawless. Comfortable, simple, classy. Beautiful. 

Aelin smiled at his staring, and he quickly recovered, standing and offering her his arm.

“Look at you, buzzard, all gentlemanly.” She grinned, taking his arm.

“I did have court training, you realise.”

“Could have fooled me.” She said with a wink.

A couple of minutes later, they’d reached the party, set in a wide, barren valley, the shouts of merry revelers music on the ears. People leaped over two low bonfires at either end of the gathering, and demi-fae were gathered around a great bonfire in the centre, reaching high enough that Rowan had to crane his neck to see the tip of the flames. A table laden with platters of savoury meals and sweet delicacies was over the other end, and it was no surprise that Aelin immediately made a beeline for the table, weaving through the dancers swaying to the lilting music. That female ate enough for three fully-grown males.

He followed her over to the table, grabbing a savoury pastry and chewing on it, turning to face the revelry. Aelin came up beside him, wordlessly passing him a mug of ale.  He sipped it, glancing at Aelin’s pile of food and smirking slightly. 

For a while, they just stood, side by side, watching the party. At least until Aelin hissed at him-

“Stop making that face.”

“What face?”

“With you glowering at everyone, nobody will ask me to dance.”

“I’m not glowering.” As he said it, he caught a growl in his throat aimed at a male who’d looked a little too long at her.

“Yes, yes you are.”

“I’m not stopping you from dancing, Princess.”

“Fine.” He glanced over at her annoyed tone, to find her draining her mug of ale, giving him a spiteful look, before slipping to the crowd of dancing bodies.

Rowan tried to follow her with his eyes, but the crowd was so dense, he only caught glimpses of golden hair or a flash of sparks here and there. He turned to monitor the jumpers, the bonfires burning low enough for the demi-fae to leap over. He’d never quite understood the tradition, often seemed stupid or childish. It was supposed to honour the gods, to pray for a good harvest. And after Lyria died, he’d stopped praying to any of the gods. They were long gone.

For a while, he just stared at the flames, mesmerised, lost in his won thoughts. He stared for so long his eyes started to ache. 

His ears picked up a bright, lilting laughter, and he turned as Aelin stumbled out of the crowd, flushed and sweaty. All of a sudden, it was too much. The noise of the crowd, the scents, the fire, the laughter and smiles. 

Aelin latched onto his arm, giggling hysterically. He could smell the ale wafting off her breath, and he wrinkled his nose in displeasure. She grabbed the mug from his hands, raising it to her lips and draining it. 

He shook her off, and she seemed unabashed by his rejection, waving her hand as if trying to cool down.

He sent a cooling breeze her way, and she moaned. The sound sent a rush of arousal through him, and he felt his skin tighten. The tilt of her neck, the way her back arched ever so slightly, the parting of her lips-

She grinned at him, slightly manically, and he raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Why don’t you dance, buzzard?” Her words were slightly slurred, and he rolled his eyes, irritated. 

“I don’t enjoy dancing.”

“It’s so fun!” Aelin clapped her hands in enthusiasm, her blue eyes shining, “you’ve got plenty of women admirers, buzzard.”

“Not interested,” he replied. Indeed, he’d had several men and women alike approach him, but he’d always declined politely. Rowan started to feel too many eyes upon him, too many bodies pressed in a too tight space. His breathing became slightly uneven.

“You’ve got plenty of men admirers too, if you want to dance with-”

“I don’t want to dance, Aelin.” He cut her off sharply. A slight tremor shook through him.

“Grumpy, grumpy.” She poked his cheek, right over his tattoo, and he growled back her, 

“Aelin. Gods. Stop. Just stop. I don’t want to dance, I don’t want to drink, I don’t want to chat or gossip or whatever the FUCK it is that you want to do. Just leave. Me. Alone. I don’t care what you think, or who you are, or what you think of my dancing habits. I. Don’t. Care. Got it?” His volume had increased towards the end, and a couple of party-goers around them had stopped to stare. 

Aelin had flinched back slightly, hurt flickering across her face and echoing in her eyes.

He snarled once, and when she didn’t move, he stormed off, heading in the direction of the fortress.

-x-

Rowan was already in bed when Aelin returned, several hours later, but he remained on his side, his eyes closed and forcing his breathing to remain deep and even. 

She quietly went about her business, quietly enough to suggest she’d sobered up. She didn’t try to talk, to wake him up, to demand he give an explanation for what an ass he’d been. She just softly prepared for bed, as if trying not to disturb him, and somehow, it was almost worse than if she’d shouted at him. He’d been an idiot, but everything in that moment had suddenly become so overwhelming and he’d gotten a rush of panic and adrenaline. He’d apologise tomorrow, give himself time to sleep it off.

Aelin slipped on another of those absurd nightgowns, before washing her face and blowing out the candles before easing herself into the bed next to him.

‘Tomorrow’, was his last thought before he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

 Tags: @bookworm232020​ @brandyovereager​ @sanakapoor​ @faerie-queen-fireheart​ @alyx801​ @kendallambrosio​ @tottenhamboys20​

Let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from my tag list! 

[nalgenewhore]

Elide was absentmindedly doodling in the margins of her textbook, not paying a single iota of attention to her teacher.

There was nothing wrong with this specific class, but when the sun was shining outside and later, she would be going out with her friends for Beltane… moral philosophy couldn’t hold a candle to it. Her phone lit up on the desk beside her and she glanced at it, seeing a text from her boyfriend waiting there before the screen faded to black. Elide bit her cheek to stop her smile and carefully unlocked her phone, one eye on her teacher, who was still droning on and on and on. She read what he’d sent, her brows furrowing.

>>be ready in five

Rolling her eyes, her freshly done nails clicked across the screen as she answered him.

<<im in class dumbass

<<what in the gods names are you on about???

He answered her quickly but clarified nothing.

>>just be ready

Elide shook her head and sighed, determined to pay attention for the last fifteen minutes. Her eyes glazed and her mind wandered, what was that boy planning?

Not two minutes later, the class phone rang and her teacher paused, answering and speaking in hushed tones. Elide straightened in her seat when she glanced over at her and hung up. “Miss Lochan, the headmaster needs to see you in his office and he would like you to bring all your things.”

Just then, her phone buzzed and she looked down at it, biting her tongue to stop the grin that threatened to take over her lips.

>>come on get your cute ass out here

>>your carriage awaits milady

Elide hastily gathered her things and shoved them in her tote bag, winking wickedly at Aelin and Borte, sitting across the class from her. Her cousin gave her a thumbs up and the brunette beside her smirked as she said goodbye and speed-walked to the side entrance, avoiding the office completely. The moment she burst through the doors, she saw Lorcan leaning against the vintage Mustang convertible he’d worked all summer to buy and then fix. He had, at some point during the drive to the Kingsflame Preparatory School for Young Women from Staghorn House for Boys, discarded his sweater and his tie was loosened around his neck, his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

“Hi,” he called out, narrowing his eyes as he tilted his head to the side, the glare of the sun hitting him in full force. “You gonna come on over or just lollygag? We don’t got all day, smalls.”

A coy laugh tumbled from her lips and she walked down the short staircase in measured, calculated steps, watching the way he drank in the sight of her legs and the swing of her hips before he dragged his onyx eyes up her body, his jaw feathering. When she reached him, he pulled her towards him, laughter bubbling from her throat as he leaned down and kissed her. He spun them and lifted her onto the hood of the car, one hand drifting up from her waist to hold her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Lorcan slid his tongue into her mouth to lazily tangle it with hers, his other hand sliding down to the back of her thigh and then up her school skirt, gripping her ass.

Elide wrapped an arm around his neck, smiling against his lips and humming when he pulled away to mark them down her jaw and dropped the hand he had on her chin to her thigh. She let her head fall back, coming closer and closer to losing control. The sound she made when his tongue dragged across her skin was interrupted by the sound of doors slammed open and the jeers of her classmates.

“Miss Lochan!” Swearing, Lorcan broke away from her and lifted her off the hood, dropping her and her book bag into her seat through the open roof before as he sprinted to the driver’s side and literally hopped in, gunning the engine. Elide was cackling, Aelin and Borte’s cheers louder than anyone else. “Miss Lochan, come back here! Your parents will be hearing of this!”

With a roar, the car peeled away from the curb and down the street, her teacher’s cries of protest drowned out as she turned on the radio, turning it all the way up and raising her arms, the wind whipping through her hair as she howled. Lorcan looked over at her, a full-blown smile forcing its way on his lips, “I love you, Lochan.”

Elide scrunched her nose at him and leaned over the centre console to kiss his cheek, “In every world and every lifetime, Salvaterre. You’re never getting rid of me.”

“Good.”

“But, Dad-“

“No buts,” Cal said, his voice stern and frown intimidating to anyone that wasn’t his wife or daughter. “This is the third time this semester we’ve gotten a call like this, you are not allowed out tonight.” He had half a mind to forbid his daughter from seeing that boy again, but he didn’t want to incur her and her mother’s eternal wrath.

Elide looked distraught and pleaded with him, making her eyes wide and sticking out her bottom lip. It was a tried and true way of getting him to crack, “Dad, come on, it was just philosophy! And it’s Beltane! It’s cruel to have school on a holiday.” She looked to her mother, who was watching with an amused light in her eyes, her daughter a spitting image of her. “Mama, please? He’s already here and waiting for me! I haven’t seen him all week.” She had, in fact, snuck out every night to see him but what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them, right?

Cal opened his mouth to say something but his wife cut in before he could, “Of course, darling. Have fun and say hi to your cousin for me, please.” Elide leapt up and hugged her mother, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Thank you, Mama,” she said, walking to her father and kissing his cheek as well, “Bye, Dad.” She was practically skipping out of his office and downstairs.

“Bye, Elide, don’t be late!” he called out as Marion said, “Text me if you’re spending the night somewhere and make good choices!”

Glaring at his wife, Cal stood and walked to the window, hearing the front door slam shut downstairs. Marion just laughed and wrapped an arm around him, fitting herself under his arm. “Oh, come on, honey.”

“What,” Cal said, his voice gruff. He didn’t dislike Lorcan, but… no one was quite good enough for Elide in his eyes. The romantic in him melted a bit as they watched Elide launch herself into his arms and he caught her, their faces filled with an emotion that felt too intimate for them to witness. “I don’t like that boy.”

“Leave them be,” chided Marion, knocking her forehead against his jaw, “you daughter just so happens to be in love with that boy. And Lorcan is just as in love with her. They’re happy.”

He sighed, knowing he had been defeated once more. “So they are.”

@mythicaitt @kandasboi @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @city-of-fae @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere

[moon-floret]

Playing with tumblr fire by bringing you all Beltane Wildfire 2 ! Demeter has some time to herself while waiting for her Goddess.

[yangxiaolonging]

Iokheaira: Part 1

(Hark, a Vagrant! #328)

It was going to take the continuation of my favorite fic of all time to revitalize my love of STRQ. we in it now boiz

Go read Iokheaira!!! If you haven’t read the original fic Akrasaia go read that too! @romanimp​ and @theivorytowercrumbles (sorry, for some reason I can’t @ you, Ivory :C )

It’s got everything: bloodthirsty fairies, swords, gay rwbies, sharp teeth, claws, creative application of the seelie court, and courtly intrigue. I even recommend this fic to my friends who’ve never been in to RWBY just because this is just such solid writing and I would kill for an original universe series by the Bear Senate.

ANYWAYS PART 1 LETS GET NASTY

this is a wonderfully long chapter so I’m going to at least try to keep this vaguely succinct 

It starts with the trash bird twins and I’m in love. We never get to see Qrow and Raven as a team in the show, just them being the bitter husks left behind by bad decisions and tragedy. Raven and Qrow were a Team since they were children and seeing them fight together and banter is nice, even if it’s Branwen quality interactions.

Qrow held up the mask, his fingers hooked around the first cusp of bone. It had always looked like a pair of bird's wings to Raven's eye, each skeletal layer flaring outward, yet wholly joined to itself. The red paint marking it was in dire need of repair, but the helmet beneath had survived untold generations, passed through the Wild Hunt with each death of the wearer.

aaaahhhh

Through a veil of bone, everything looked like prey.

aaaaAAHHH

Raven used the edge of her sword to pry it from the snow, spying polished links of gold woven together with feathers of black glass looped between the chain. She carefully transferred the bracelet into her gloved hand, looking for any sign of decay, but it merely seemed to be part of a matched set absent its twin.

AAAAAHHHH

"A trophy." Raven remarked, although the gallows humor didn't lift the pressure now crushing its way through her chest. "Maybe I should give it to the girl she left behind."

AAAAAAAHHHH

And if I hadn’t thought I was fucked to begin with, I sure knew then. It’s always delicious piecing together bits and scraps of information given between two different sources in the same canon. The liberties Roman and Ivory take with existing lore is always so good.  (listen. read akrasaia if you haven’t. do it. do it now. i linked it at the top of the post.)

Poor Amber gets wanged in every universe she’s put in. RIP. 

I love how despite the Wild Hunt being sort of the gray area between the Courts, Raven has always been a very intense and black and white person. 

Pushing at her knees, Raven stood. When she spoke she raised her voice somewhat so that those other members of the Hunt could hear. “Corruption is the Hunt’s prerogative. The Courts are none of our concern.”

Qrow rolled his eyes in reply. “Oh, sure. And if you just so happen to do their dirty work along the way, all’s the better.”

Behind the mask, Raven’s eyes flashed, and she rounded on him. “If I had wanted to kill the King's daughter before his own Court in royal assembly, I would have had every right!”

With a laugh, Qrow shook his head, hands on hips, his enormous scythe slung across his back. “See -- that’s just your problem. With you, it’s always the word of the law, never the spirit.”

Raven scoffed. She rested her hand upon the pommel of her sword at her hip. “The spirit of the law is for humans and philosophers. It means nothing, and you know it.”

At that, Raven paused, holding the mask between her hands. The Hunt, the casteless, the nameless, forsaken of the Courts, those who walk between worlds, those who slay transgressors from the path of nature by removing themselves from the cycle, entire.

:’))))) I love her sfm.......

Shout out to Cythera “how much can I fuck with this terrifying dark haired woman” Adel. 

Dropping to her knees, the fae shrugged the stag to the ground in order to lay it at Raven’s feet. For a moment she remained there, gathering her strength before using the stag’s antlers to push herself upright once more. The two stood close enough that Raven could cleave a sword through her heart without a second thought. Releasing a long, suppressed breath, Raven finally uncurled her fist from her sword, but her stance remained tense, on edge. Defiance reigned in the fae’s eyes, and for a brief moment Raven felt unmasked before her.

Cinder is too gay and too powerful and that’s the theme of all seelie au writing. 

In a smooth motion, Raven stepped over the stag, moving close and lowering her voice. “It would seem I know you after all.”

...

Dipping her fingers into a pouch strung along the belt at her waist, Raven retrieved the chain’s twin and held it up for Cinder to see.

Amber eyes widened. Cinder’s hand darted up to snatch the trinket from Raven’s grasp, but she pulled her own hand back with a finger raised in warning. Lip curling in a snarl, Cinder hissed, “That belongs to me.”

“Is that so?” Raven cocked her head. “The way I see it, a prey’s trophy belongs to no one but the hunter.”

Cinder’s face went through a range of emotions, shifting from dawning horror, to sorrow, to flinty resolve, then settling on an ardent fury.

Raven hummed a contemplative note at the back of her throat. “Ah, yes. I can see the resemblance, now.”

I know for a Fact that Ivory is waging a shadow campaign to make everyone ship Cinder/Raven. (spoilers: they succeeded and I ship it)

Anyways, time to jump into the most wonderful time of the year: Beltane.

"Who says that it's my first?" The girl was riled now, and hastened her step so she could dart in front of Raven, walking backwards across the bridge like it was no trouble at all. "I won't run if you bare your teeth, stranger."

The hint of amusement Raven took from the exchange twisted into a darker hunger, and she shuddered with it. Swift as a shadow, she pinned the other faerie to the side of the bridge, nearly bowing her over the rail that guarded the edge. Her mask was a mere centimeter from the girl's face, close enough for the next shocked, ragged breath to warm the outline of painted bone.

"Tell me your name," Raven growled.

"V-Vernal," she choked back, fear outpacing the need in her veins as the strength pinning her in place became apparent.

"Vernal," Raven repeated, rolling the name over her tongue like a bite of fresh meat, "Go find some beautiful girl who looks at you like the sun and stars. Come near me again and I'll eat you to the marrow."

me: 

With the sun soon to fall, Summer had surrendered her regalia to the chest at the foot of her bed, crown and cloak locked away in a bed of red velvet. Without them, her black dress was a dark column in the center of the room, severed only by the pale, waxen lacing woven beneath Summer's ribs. If not for the centuries she had already ruled, Raven would scarcely be able to guess the Queen's age, for those who sat upon the rosewood throne were unburdened by time, immune to the withering whisper of the seasons that followed.

THERE SHE IS IT IS HER IT IS MY DARLING IT IS MY QUEEN SOUND THE TRUMPETS ITS MY GIRL ITS SUMMER

Summer Rose took One look at Raven and immediately decided she needed to fuck her/fuck with her in any way possible and if that doesn’t make her a national treasure and hero I don’t know what does.

I’m already copy-pasting huge chunks of text so I’ll spare everyone me just showing the entire Summer/Raven interaction save for this bc in this house we ship Nevermore and tasty tasty writing.

"May I offer a parting gift, then?" The distance they shared was closed with one careful step, and Summer's dress was a whisper of cloth away from making the two of them touch. "To ease your travel."

She hungered. It felt like such a primal, animal admission, that something as simple as touch could render her a beast. Raven nodded before she could stop herself, and bit back a sound when Summer's fingers slipped beneath the edge of her mask, drawing it up and away. Her eyes recoiled from the light, their red long lost to pulsing black, but then Summer's hands were cupping her jaw, drawing her down to a warm and yielding mouth.

The kiss stung like a brand, searing through Raven's body until she was forced to pull away, her restraint twisted taut to one singular, quivering thread. One more touch, even Summer's breath against her skin, and it would snap.

"Blessed Beltane, your majesty," Raven gasped, then pulled her mask back down as if it would strip her of temptation.

It was back in the dancing circle that she spied Glynda, locked in arms with Taiyang, a prince known more for who he bedded than his bloodline. Summerborn he was, but clearly not to the Grand Seneschal's taste, for Glynda suddenly shoved him back so hard that he had to break his fall on emerald-streaked marble.

It’s okay Taiyang, you’re a good good boy. 

...he welcomed her, he welcomed everything.

There’s something so sad about the closing scene. Raven is a wildfire, her story is always of her trying and eventually failing to keep her destruction minimal. She doesn’t need a semblance of bad luck to be a harbinger of misfortune. 

[sailleengladelling]

“The wild woman runs feral through the trees, carrying with her treasures of fern, rock and root.

She who is connected to every stream and branch. She who is woven of shadow, myth and truth. She who beats the drum of magic and mystery.

She is the fire that burns away the old world, destroying the cage that once held tight.

She is the cosmic womb that gives birth to the path ahead, a vibrant tapestry of ancient wisdom and holy medicine.

She brings with her a call to action to reclaim, rekindle and renew our spirits, our hearts and our connection to the Earth.

She brings with her wings of freedom and hands back to us the strings of our destiny.

She is the Priestess

Dancing around the Beltane flames.

She is the healer woman

Who knows the ancient names.

She is the Sorceress

Embracing intuitive sight.

She is the wild warrior

Howling in the Full Moon light.

Daring to love the wild woman is no light task, for she is the firebrand with passion consuming her soul.

There is no taming her. There is only running with her through valleys and fields.

The ocean tides are her blood and the wolf howls deep in her spirit. Her bones are rooted deep in the soil.

There is no cutting her from the foundations of the Earth.

To walk the moss covered paths of her heart exploring every leaf of this lush hidden forest is to glimpse the secrets of the Universe.

To be one with her is to dive deep into the unknown, moving past the shallows and submerging completely in her sacred seas.

Embracing the wild woman is an alchemy of wildfire and cosmic mystery, breathing life back into once stale lungs.

There is no way back once you begin to walk her shores and worship upon the her divine altar.

She is both compass and tempest, beacon and storm.

Within the arms of the wild woman, all things are transformed.”

~C.Ara Campbell~

[mayhemories]

Braids & War Paint (Part 5)

Notes On:

Part 1: / Part 2: / Part 3: / Part 4: 

Aelin’s laboured breaths and thundering footfalls were a rhythmic beat in the fog filled castle grounds. Guards saluted as she ran past, Fleetfoot yapping and running alongside her. 

Now the spring rains had stopped and Terrasen began their preparations for summer, Aelin had found herself unleashing all her energy into running the length of the grounds each morning. She took a sharp left turn into the main courtyard junction just as her counterpart came jogging out of the rose garden gate, his long strides causing him to reach Aelin’s side from across the courtyard in mere seconds. 

“You’re quicker than I anticipated.” Rowan said breathily. The two of them had been running alternate courses over the past day or two, always managing to meet in the junction at the same time. They run the last leg together. Usually the last section of their course was filled with taunts and competitions that never get resolved. 

“I’m full of surprises.” Aelin quipped as they slowed to a walk. The training field was busy with soldiers that Aedion and Lysandra had been watching. Galan seemed to take a liking to the male Ashryver cousin better, Aelin only knew it was because Aedion gave him the warmer welcome. But nonetheless, Galan, the eldest out of the three Ashryver descendants followed Aedion around like a lost puppy. 

Aelin drew a blunt training sword from a pile and gestured for Rowan to follow. 

“Care for a spar, Prince?” Aelin asked, gripping the hilt of the training sword. Rowan’s laugh sent shivers down her spine, her smile reached her eyes as she watched the old stubborn face pull a sword too. 

“Be prepared to swallow defeat.” Rowan said charmingly in the accent of his. Aelin was intrigued by the way he inspected the blunt blade.

“I think you underestimate me.” Aelin smirked at the challenge in his eyes.

They walked out into the field until they found an empty space big enough. If the Prince of the Four Winds and the Light-Bringer were to duel there needed to be enough safe space for the onlookers they would ultimately attract. 

The sun was directly above head, her presence was a welcomed one by the people of Terrasen.

“How long have they been going at it?” Rhoe Galathynius asked his general and nephew, Aedion Ashryver. Aedion shook his head and laughed, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. A small wind torrent pushed against a wall of blue flame, sparks flew, though both barriers held. Grunts, snarls and taunts could be heard from the palace gates. The tell-tale sign of fae bullshit.

“They abandoned swords half an hour ago.” Aedion answered. Rhoe was surprised they even started with weapons, even a blind man could see that no one would win with metal. The pair were too equally skilled it would’ve gone to an instantaneous stand still. It was that moment that Aelin sent a small ball of flame at his highness of Doneralle, which blocked it just as quick as Aelin attacked. They were the mirror image of each other, the opposite sides of the same coin. Rhoe shook his head in disbelief. 

Their attacks were getting so vibrant and intense that Rhoe could see the pissing contest from the throne room windows. Although, Rhoe knew how deep his daughter’s power went, how she learned what burnout did when she was younger, how she screamed when she experienced her first burnout, that she would be absolutely fine, that her power was so strong it was nearly limitless. He just couldn’t help but be concerned. Although, the whole Prince Rowan situation was something else. Evalin was very worried about the developing attachment Aelin was creating with Maeve’s high ranking official but Rhoe could see what his wife, his daughter and Rowan Whitethorn could not. 

Even though Rhoe’s blood had been diluted of any Fae, he still felt a connection to his heritage, he still taught himself about everything Orynth’s great library could offer. He knew a carranam bond when he saw one.

Rowan’s wind tried to smother his daughter’s flames that had now turned into a golden hue, instead Aelin used the battering gale forced winds to her advantage, like she had been taught and fuelled her flames with them. 

The Whitethorn Prince had impressive power too. Rhoe stood a fair few yards away from their standoff and his fawn coloured hair flew about, Lysandra was shielding her eyes as she walked closer to the duelling fae, her shouts were swallowed by the crack of Aelin’s wildfire.  

Rhoe Galathynius laughed as he bent down to the ground and began to draw the pattern. the wyrdmark of magic suspension. Their magic died down as the mark glowed brighter until they came to a complete halt. Rhoe stood to his full height and walked to the staring contest between his daughter and the forgien prince. They stood like Evalin and he did once, nose to nose, chests heaving, eyes locked. Rhoe smiled, his contests with Evalin were always with words and wit, never brute and grit. 

Rhoe laced an arm around his daughter, her eyes snapping to his as he did so. He placed his other hand on Rowan Whitethorn’s shoulder, his eyes filled with the realisation Rhoe had a few moments prior. 

“I think we should all go get cleaned up for lunch, yes?” Rhoe said smiling, not in the slightest mad at the singed grass underfoot. 

“And then she just there her sword down and started attacking the poor man!” Aedion exclaimed, the whole luncheon table laughed at his recount of Aelin and Rowan’s contest. They had agreed that neither of them won. 

Though Rowan knew that she was starting to get frustrated before her father put a cap on it. 

He ate quietly, his thoughts about the carranam bond had taken all his focus. His carranam, Rowan Whitethorn’s carranam was the heir of Terrasen. From what Rowan could piece together Aelin had no idea. Though, Rhoe seemed to at least suspect something. What was Rowan expecting, as someone as educated as Rhoe Galathynius would be able to smell a bond like that from a mile away. 

“Aelin, Dorian will be arriving tonight.” Princess Evalin said nonchalantly, Aelin’s eyes lit up at the comment. Rowan ignored the green pang in his chest and put together the puzzle pieces. ‘Dorian’ would be none other than the Crown Prince of Adarlan, the one who surprised the whole continent when his raw power was revealed, how the power he had somehow obtained from his ancestor Gavin. Aelin had mentioned to Rowan that she was quite close friends with the Crown Prince. 

Rowan looked towards Galan, noted how his facial features tightened when the heir of Adarlan was mentioned, Wendlyn and Adarlan’s relations had been…rocky for sometime now. 

“What is he arriving to attend?” Galan asked, his voice tight. At his question Aelin’s mother gave the princess a dirty look from across the table, Rowan tried to hide the quirk of his lip at Aelin’s eye roll. Of course she hide information from the clingy cousin. 

“The Beltane Ball. Terrasen holds one each year for all nobility of Erilea.” Evalin explained, Rowan almost choked and chucked his own dirty glance at Aelin. Rowan hated dancing. Rowan hated dancing more than he hated Fenrys’ sense of humour. 

“Oh.” Was all the heir of Varesee could muster. 

“Dorian always comes a day early to spend time with Aelin.” Rhoe chipped in, his fork pointing accusingly at Aelin before he muttered: “If he offers you another dog you won’t take it.” 

While the table laughed Rowan wondered if Aelin liked dancing. 

Aelin sat in the drawing room, new book in hand. Her and Rowan had found a quiet spot near the window, as she read Rowan finished more letters, apparently these were letters to the Demi-Fae of Mistward, Rowan was wishing them a happy Beltane. The sun had been and gone, the other stars were out. 

Aelin was waiting for Dorian, Chaol, Nesryn and Sorcha. Mainly, she was waiting to hear what Dorian thought of Rowan. 

It was dead silent in the drawing room, besides the comforting cracks from the fire in the stone fireplace. Aelin had been waiting in her nightgown and robe, her book that she was ‘reading’ long forgotten. Her eyes were in a constant battle of watching out the window for the Adarlan procession and watching Rowan’s slight frown when he concentrated.

The latter always seemed to win. 

She could tell their was something on his mind, something big enough to cause his s’ to be slightly wonky and make him place comma’s in unnecessary spots. Something was big enough to stop him from looking at her, even when her nightwear was silk. Aelin gathered it must have been a big issue if someone wasn’t focused on her beauty. 

He only looked at her when the sound of horses and carriages could be heard. The sign of the Adarlan procession. 

“Come on!” Aelin squealed, grabbing Rowan by the wrist Aelin ran to the palace doors, dragging Rowan behind her. 

They ran down a flight of stairs, turned left into the torch lit grand foyer of the castle of Orynth. 

“Aelin!” Dorian smiled, his eyes tight with tiredness. Aelin dropped Rowan’s wrist as she hugged her friend. She said her brief hello to Chaol before giving Nesryn Faliq a hug. Nesryn had been training as a solider when Aelin visited Dorian last year, the best archer Aelin had ever seen and with that compliment they became friends. Sorcha on the other hand was Dorian’s personal healer, they had become close friends when Dorian had injured his hands trying to tame his raw power. In turn, Aelin had become friends with Sorcha because Dorian was. 

“I’m so glad you all could make it.” Aelin said, she saw Dorian’s eyes leave her and look over her shoulder where Rowan was leaning against the wall. 

“Who’s your friend?” Dorian asked, the Adarlan guests all looked at Rowan at once. Something territorial flared up in Aelin when she saw Nesryn and Sorcha take him in. Aelin blamed that territorial feeling for what she said next:

“This is my Carranam, Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doneralle.” Aelin thought Rowan would be shocked or taken aback, but he pushed off the wall and draped a casual arm over Aelin’s shoulder. He extended his hand to Dorian. 

“A pleasure to meet you.” 

It had been hours since Rowan was in the foyer with Aelin and the Adarlan nobility. He laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep, all the memories flashed across his mind at once, Aelin’s body in the rose coloured night gown, her smile, her intensity, the way she introduced him to the Crown Prince.

She had known that they were Carranam and was happy about it. He couldn’t believe the way she introduced him. 

Rowan was more than three hundred years old. He shouldn’t be having butterfly’s in his stomach thinking about the Crown Princess of Terrasen. He shouldn’t be so careless. He shouldn’t be territorial over someone like Aelin. He shouldn’t be thinking about her legs or the swells of her breasts.  A body was just a body, but Aelin’s body… that was different. 

He was too old to be lost in her light. He shouldn’t be fumbling blind. 

But he was and Rowan Whitethorn wasn’t going to change a single thing about the situation. 

AN: This part was written for: @2-bookmaster-2 @aelin-and-feyre @illyriangoddess @rowanismybae @sparkleywonderful @cassiancalore @igniscorde7112 @illyrian-high-lord @daughterxofxnight @bigsis227 @crazybookladythings and @gcarroll

Thank you all for the love and support :) 

As always, if you have fic requests, prompts, ideas, questions or just wanna chat, drop me an ask or leave something in my inbox. 

Much love and many thanks,

-El. 

[lethalcrown]

Brannon of the Wildfire and Mala Fire-Bringer

So, I was re-reading empire of storms for the, idk, 7500 gazillionth time(spoiler alert, btw) and just getting so weepy at the witch mirror scene with Brannon and Elena, b/c it’s gotta be so hard for the sort of honorable, devoted, and protective Fae male that we all know Brannon would be to lose his mate, lose Athril(though I think that happened a while before), and then have what he considered to be his burden cast off on some unknowing descendant of his. Anyway, I just kind of needed to write some plotless fluff in which Brannon is being King of Terrasen happily mated to Mala who gets to totally terrify the court of Terrasen, Erawan hasn’t come back to bite them yet, and his biggest concern is if his precious daughter is ever gonna dump that Havilliard loser. Any feedback would be much appreciated, and I’ll totally continue this if people like it. I just think he deserves a little happiness, b/c we all know what sort of happiness he got in cannon. Enjoy!

“You scared away all the servants again.”

Brannon leaned against the chiseled stone doorway, his tone laced with amusement. For all that he was imposing, broad and muscled, armored and armed even in his finer clothes, his eyes were warm and expression soft as he beheld his mate sitting before her vanity.

Mala exhaled a frustrated huff of air and threw her hands up, spinning on her stool to face him. “They hover, and fuss, and look at me as if I’m about to smite them at any given moment.” She lowered her hands back to her hair, continuing to work on weaving it into the intricate crown festooned with kingsflame blossoms. “Anyway, I don’t need them. I’m perfectly capable of doing my own hair and clothes.”

He tilted his head to her, his long, loose red-gold hair brushing past his shoulders. “Well, I can’t argue with you there.” A smile curved across his lips as he took in her stunning appearance.

The flowers in her hair emphasized the brighter natural colors – red, orange, and gold – while contrasting with the darker sable and ebony streaks. She wore no cosmetics, as any would have detracted from that radiant, otherworldly allure that emanated from her. Her angular, proud features and large eyes of dancing, living blue wildfire with gold and red flecks swimming in them were captivating and wild.

And her dress was a true masterpiece, although Brannon supposed many of his court would think it scandalous. Sewn from a thin, gossamer, dark red fabric, the gown was practically sleeveless and strapless, with only small bands of fabric gathered around her upper arms to hold it up. There were long vertical oval cutouts on either side of her waist, revealing expanses of her glowing toffee-bronze skin that he longed to brush his fingers over. Strands of golden beads were strung side to side across the openings. A gilded leather belt, intricately tooled into complex Terrasen knots, emphasized her slim waist, and her belt buckle, earrings, and pendants were all fine golden suns.

Mala met his eyes and smiled almost shyly, softly. Even after so long in the mortal world, with him, she was uncertain in situations with less familiar individuals. Not that anyone would ever have guessed it from her haughty, confrontational manner that was her most common mask. There were few who even saw past that, only Brannon, their children, and their closest friends. And these shy smiles were his and his alone.

She stood, and went to dig shoes out from under the dresser, where they often ended up after being kicked aside. “Remind me again what we’re supposed to be doing tonight?”

Brannon rolled his eyes at her. “It’s Beltane, sweetheart. Bonfires and dancing and music and food.” At the wicked glimmer he caught in her eye, he amended his first statement. “Controlled bonfires, love. We cannot torch our courtiers, no matter how much you feel they may deserve it at the time.”

Mala huffed an annoyed breath, sounding almost petulant as she slipped on the gilded leather sandals. “It’s not my fault, the way they look at me. You’d think it was unusual, to be a god reborn in a mortal form.”

“Not mortal to them,” Brannon corrected, reaching out to clasp her delicate yet tough hand and run a calloused finger over the fine golden ring that adorned it. His other hand raised to the side of her face, brushing over Mala’s silken hair and tracing that delicate point before pulling her into an embrace. “To them, blind as they are, you are one of the Fae. As immortal and glorious as I am to them, as you are even now to me.”

Her eyes half closed, she gave a rumbling hum of pleasure at their physical contact, the noise resonating through the both of them. He bent his head to her throat, nipping and tracing her flawless skin with his pointed canines. Mala tipped her head back, purring throatily at the contact, and Brannon loosed a deep, guttural growl in response.

He was certain they would have been there far longer, and been much later than he’d intended, were it not for the pounding on the door to their chamber, pulling them out of the haze they’d fallen into. So quickly and easily, gods, would the intensity ever lessen between them?

“Father, I swear if you’re doing anything in there, stop it immediately!” The demand caused Mala to pull half away from him reluctantly, softly snarling at the interruption.

“Come in!” Brannon called back, leaving the space between them, but not relinquishing his hold on her arm.

The door opened and Zhaelr stepped in, obviously prepared to cover his eyes should there be anything less than appropriate going on. Obvious relief crossed his face at the almost decent space between Brannon and Mala, although his brows rose at her attire. “Gods above, mother, do you make it your personal goal to scandalize everyone who crosses your path tonight?”

She halfheartedly hissed at him. “I do as I please.”

“A thoroughly undiplomatic attitude,” Zhaelr commented. “Honestly, I don’t know where I got my civilized attitudes and negotiation skills from, as both of you have your intensely politically useless points.”

“I’m assuming you came to fetch us because we were going to be late?” Brannon queried, not bothering to correct his son’s quip. Neither he nor Mala were known for being mild or agreeable, and their political sense combined was certainly far less than Zhaelr’s. Brannon actually considered it a small miracle that they weren’t at war more often, considering that his upbringing had certainly not prepared him for ruling a court and Mala tended towards the incinerate first, negotiate later side of things.

Zhaelr grimaced. “I came to fetch you early enough so you wouldn’t have time to get into anything that would make you late.” He spoke through gritted teeth, trying his best to delicately address the fact that Mala and Brannon were notorious for showing up to any event that required finery very late, if at all.

“Well, I applaud your devotion to protocol, even if I do wish you hadn’t shown up,” Brannon inclined his head to Zhaelr as he headed for the door. Zhaelr looked almost sick at that comment, glaring at Mala as she smirked at him and followed Brannon to the door. He followed them reluctantly out into the halls.

“So as an official protocol advisor,” Mala said with a wicked grin on her face, “what, precisely, is expected of us this Beltane?”

Zhaelr glared at her, his flaming blue eyes sparking with gold and red, identical to her own. “Well, you know what event this is, which is more than I even expected from you.”

“Any important guests tonight?” Brannon cut in before she could quip back, earning him a sharp look from his mate. But Zhaelr and Mala could bicker for hours. Zhaelr was far milder than either of his parents, despite bearing the gift of fire, his mother’s eyes, and his father’s hair, but Mala did so love to antagonize him upon occasion, particularly as he had interrupted them earlier.

Zhaelr straightened and turned his gaze back to Brannon. “There’s an envoy from Melisande who got here yesterday. They were nervous and strained—an effect that you two seem to have on far too many people—but we are at peace with them. And the Eyllwe Queen arrived this morning-,”

“Oh, her,” Mala purred. “I like her.”

Brannon smiled at that. The fierce warrior-queen Navayha was good friends with both of them, but was also one of the few females Mala considered her friends. “Anyone else?”

“Rhalyn should be coming, but he hasn’t arrived yet from his cabin.” Zhaelr’s eyes flashed with that mix of affection and annoyance that was always present when he spoke of his older brother, Brannon and Mala’s firstborn child. With his father’s brandy eyes and sable hair that came from his mother, Rhalyn out of all their children was the most like Brannon at heart. He had immense fire magic, and his wild temper, passion, and good humor combined made him both a fearsome warrior, and a prince beloved by Terrasen. He had mated five years ago, to a male who had fled from Maeve’s court, a powerful water-wielder and healer. Orozir’s gentleness and compassion tempered the mighty warrior’s fiery spirit. Brannon was pleased that his son had found such a mate, had found such love, and had immediately accepted the young male into his family and inner circle.

“They’ll get here in time,” Brannon said.

Zhaelr snorted at that. “Not on time, I’m sure. They’re even worse than you, from the perspective of punctuality.” He eyed his father, his expression faltering into a slightly more nervous state.

Brannon frowned. “So who else is coming? Who could possibly make you nervous?”

“I’m nervous of you, not him.” Zhaelr locked eyes with him. “Because Elena invited her Havilliard prince. Gavin Havilliard is here.”

Brannon stopped dead in his tracks, Mala beside him, an involuntary guttural growl rumbling in his chest, his elongated canines bared at the thought. That damned prince that his daughter was so enamored with…

“And this is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Zhaelr said, eyeing his father as Brannon struggled to regain his self-control. “But I figured it would be even worse to not tell you, and have you do something stupid enough to cause not only a war we do not need with Adarlan, but an irreparable rift with El. Such as incinerating him. Or tearing him limb from limb with your bare hands.”

“In other words, such things as a father is entitled to do when his daughter becomes interested in a male.” Brannon pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on.

If he was not allowed to incinerate this Gavin, it would be a long night.

So, that’s what I have so far. If anyone is interested, please let me know. It was really fun to write, as I’ve always found myself really fascinated by the tiny, tiny bits we get about Brannon, or Athril, or Mala. I’ve thought a lot about writing something about Brannon and Athril’s friendship, or the beginning of Mala and Brannon’s relationship, so if anyone is interested in anything like that, I might write something along those lines.

All the original characters are my own invention. If you recognize it, it belongs to Sarah j Maas. Sorry about the names of the OCs. I literally make up names by coming up with something that I think sounds cool and putting in a few of what I personally think of as the Uniquifying letters. (generally y, h, k, z, or x)

Thank you so much for reading. Any feedback is greatly appreciated, as it’s been a while since I’ve written any fanfiction at all, and I haven’t done any yet in the Throne of Glass series.