#got a little emotional drawing this. Last time I drew these two Fireheart was so little

[lilacs-stash]

“You think Spottedleaf would've cured them all by now”

Even though Yellowfang isn't in this book as much as the last I still really love her development in it.

[sassyhobbits]

rowaelin with their first child and they get into that stranger anxiety phase and cry with everyone except when they're in their mothers arms and it's exhausting but also adorable but rowan sometimes feels like a bad dad because his kid doesn't want to be held by him so aelin has to reassure him and then some day this phase is finally over - prompt 😢🥺

ok i adored writing this one. dad rowan is so much fun to work with. i hope everyone enjoys!!

~~~

In his over 300 years, Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius had been awoken by many different things. Whether it was a call to battle while sleeping in a war tent, a summons from his queen late at night, or a lover trying unsuccessfully to disappear quietly before dawn. Yet, none of these manners of waking up had filled him with as much dread as he felt currently.

He was woken in the middle of the night by a shrill shriek coming from the room that adjoined the one he shared with Aelin. In the recent months, what had once been a leisure room had been converted to a nursery for their new baby girl.

It took three years after Aelin’s coronation before they decided to start trying to have a child. It took another year before they were successful. Rowan counted his blessings. He had seen plenty of Fae couples take decades before they finally conceived.

Eliora was four months old now, which meant four months of troubled sleep for both him and his mate.

Rowan was instantly on alert at the sound of his daughter’s cries. He knew that they were no more than a normal babe’s troubles, but his instincts made him tense anyways. He quickly sat up, looking down at his wife quickly to see if she had woken up. Luckily, she still slept, likely beyond exhausted from the mix of raising a child and ruling a kingdom. If Rowan was successful, she wouldn’t have to wake up at all.

He got out of bed and swiftly stepped into the nursery, coming before Eliora’s crib. Her tiny face was pinched up in dainty outrage, small limbs flailing as she cried. Rowan took a deep breath, sending a prayer up to the gods more out of habit than faith at this point, and picked his daughter from the crib. Hopefully, this would be the time he could get her to stop crying.

The little princess shrieked and protested whenever she was in anyone’s arms besides her mother’s. Rowan’s included.

“I’ve got you, my little light,” Rowan whispered to his daughter, cradling her tiny body to his bare chest and lowering himself onto the rocking chair they kept beside her crib. “Everything’s alright.”

Despite his soothing words, Eliora still continued to cry. It broke Rowan’s heart to hear, broke it even more to know that nothing he did could seem to calm her down.

“Please stop crying, love,” Rowan pleaded, threading his fingers through the fine, silvery-blonde hair growing on his daughter’s head. “Your mother is so tired and needs her sleep.”

Unfortunately, even begging didn’t seem to work.

Over the sounds of Eliora’s cries, he heard the door hinges creek, and the sound of bare feet scuffing over stone. Rowan glanced over, finding Aelin walking towards him. Exhaustion weighed down her beautiful face, but her eyes were still full of fondness at the sight of the two of them.

Rowan looked to her apologetically before his face crumpled in defeat. “I can’t get her to stop crying. I’m so sorry, Fireheart.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, love,” she whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his hair. “Give her to me.”

Rowan handed the squirming bundle of blankets to his wife. Aelin situated their daughter in her arms before she lowered herself on Rowan’s lap, allowing him to wrap his arms around her waist, press a kiss to her shoulder, and begin to rock them.

Quickly, Eliora’s cries began to fade away. Her face unscrewed, looking at Aelin with those wide, Ashryver eyes that she had.

Aelin began to sing a low, Terrasenian lullaby as he continued to rock the three of them. It never ceased to amaze him how good she was with their daughter, how quickly she was able to sooth her temper. He only wished that he could do the same, that Eliora would look at him the same way she looked at Aelin and not scream and scream and scream.

Rowan’s heart was full of love as he watched Eliora’s eyes begin to droop shut at the soothing rocking motion and the sound of her mother’s voice. It wasn’t long before she was once again asleep, the night perfectly silent.

Rowan helped Aelin stand, keeping a hand against her back as she brought their daughter back to her crib and laid her down. Perfect. She truly was perfect.

A gentle hand on his arm drew his attention away from the slumbering babe. Aelin nodded her head towards their room and Rowan dutifully followed, shutting the door quietly behind them.

“I’m sorry, Fireheart,” Rowan said again, drawing Aelin into his arms and kissing her forehead. “I know you’re exhausted.”

“No more so than you.”

Rowan could only sigh, pressing his lips together tightly. His emotions were troubled, and he should have known that Aelin was going to notice. She leaned back slightly, peering up at his face.

“I know what you’re thinking, Rowan, and you’re wrong,” she said matter-of-factly.

Rowan wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t help but ask, “What am I doing wrong?”

He had faced many challenges over his years. Wars and battles and tortures. He had survived them all and came out victorious. And yet, the thing that brought him to his knees, was the fact that he couldn’t bring comfort to his own daughter when she needed it. A baby had finally defeated him.

“You know you’re not doing anything wrong,” Aelin said firmly. “The nurses said this happens sometimes. It’s not your fault.”

Rowan had heard this what felt like a thousand times. It did little to soothe his troubles.

Rowan was good at many things. He was a warrior and a general, had stepped confidently into the role of king consort. His hands could kill and heal and build, but they couldn’t get Eliora to stop crying. He couldn’t help but feel that, perhaps, being a father… wasn’t something that he was made for.

It broke his heart to think. He remembered how excited he was when they found out Aelin was finally pregnant, how they cried and kissed and clung to each other, whispering about the future. He had been ecstatic, but also terrified. He knew Aedion, who had welcomed his own son into the world a year before Aelin got pregnant, had felt the same before he was born. But, Aedion hadn’t had the troubles Rowan did. He had stepped into fatherhood gracefully, and his son loved him immensely.

“Hey,” Aelin said, a bit snappily. She put her hand on Rowan’s cheek and urged him to look at her. In those eyes was a familiar fire. “Stop that. I know what’s going through your head. You’re a wonderful father.”

Rowan sighed and hung his head, pressing Aelin’s hand more firmly against his cheek. “How can I be a good father if I have no idea what I’m doing?”

“Do you think I’m a bad mother?”

“What? Of course not.”

“Well, I don’t know what I’m doing either,” Aelin said. “Neither did Aedion or Lysandra. No new parent has any idea what they’re doing. It’s part of the job.”

She made it sound so easy. Aelin had always had a knack for that.

“I wonder if there’s some secret behind it,” Rowan mused as Aelin tucked herself back into his chest and wrapped her arms around his torso.

He felt his wife shrug. “I don’t know… but if there was, I think it would be to love them. To support them. To do everything in our power to make sure they’re happy.”

“I love Eliora more than life. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

“I know, love.” Aelin rolled on the tips of her toes and brushed a soft kiss against Rowan’s mouth. “Now, all you need to do is have patience.”

He chuckled. “Look at you. Who would have ever guessed that Aelin Galathynius would be lecturing me on patience.”

Her grin was a slash of white in the dark. “I’ve been told I’m wise beyond my years.”

“Who the hell has ever told you that?”

“People. Now, will you come back to bed with me?”

“Of course, Fireheart.”

They climbed back under the covers, pressing their bodies close. Aelin fell back asleep almost comically quickly. Rowan wasn’t far behind, holding his wife tightly throughout the night.

…

Another month went by and little changed. Both Rowan and his wife were getting little sleep during the night, leading to some groggy mornings. He had seen Aelin taking short naps at her desk or dozing off when an advisor spoke for too long. She would, of course, deny it if Rowan ever brought it up, so he wisely stayed silent.

Eliora still abhorred being held by anyone except Aelin. The fact that it wasn’t just him brought Rowan a bit of solace. His daughter cried when held by Lysandra or Fenrys or Elide. She had a particularly nasty meltdown last time Lorcan had held her.

“I know, sweet girl,” Aelin had murmured, taking Eliora from Lorcan. “I wouldn’t want to be that close to him either.”

Still, Eliora’s reactions didn’t deter Rowan from trying to hold and soothe her, though he had not yet been victorious. Patience, Aelin had said. It was easier said than done.

The sun had set below the Staghorns hours ago. Eliora was asleep in the nursery, Aelin was treating herself to a long soak in the tub, and Rowan sat in one of the plush armchairs they kept in their room, sharpening and polishing some of his blades.

It was an easy practice to get lost in. The simple, repetitive movements were a welcome distraction. A good way to cool down before bed.

However, his hands froze when he heard a tiny whimper sound from the nursery that quickly morphed into a shrill cry. Eliora.

Rowan placed his blades down on the low table before him, pushing to his feet and quickly striding into the nursery.

Eliora was wiggling as she wailed. Rowan wished he could read her mind so he knew exactly what was bothering her and how he could help. But, all he could do was take a deep, bracing breath and scoop his daughter into his arms.

“What’s wrong, little light?” Rowan whispered, carrying her over to the rocking chair. “What is it?”

Eliora’s only response was to continue crying.

Rowan sighed, wondering how much longer he had before Aelin got out of the bath and came in to calm Eliora down. He had seen Aelin do it countless times. She would take Eliora into her arms, smile down at her, start to whisper nonsense or sing a low lullaby. She made it seem so easy.

“Everything’s alright, Eliora,” Rowan murmured, switching to the Old Language. “I’ve got you. I’ll never let anything happen to you, little love.”

And then, something amazing happened.

Slowly, Eliora’s cries began to fade away to a whimper and then, to nothing at all. Rowan held his breath, worrying that one wrong move would put her back into a fit of hysterics. His daughter slowly opened her eyes and peered up at him.

Rowan smiled down at her. “You’re just as lovely as your mother. Just as stubborn, too.”

And then, as if she understood his little joke, Eliora flashed him a gummy smile. The shift in expression floored him. She had never given him a smile before.

Rowan felt his throat tighten and his eyes begin to burn, but he smiled back at the tears welled up. A tiny laugh escaped his throat. Finally, finally, he had done it.

Eliora’s chubby arms reached up. Rowan held out a finger, letting her wrap a tiny hand around it. He always forgot just how small she was.

“I love you more than you could possibly know, Eliora.”

He was too distracted by his daughter and the little grip she had on his finger to notice that Aelin had entered the nursery until she was almost upon them. Rowan looked up at his wife, knowing that his eyes were still watery and there were likely tear tracks streaking down his cheeks. Regardless, he beamed.

“It would seem, once again, that I was right,” Aelin said with a triumphant smirk.

“As you often are, my love.”

She laughed and dropped a kiss to his forehead before draping her arms over his shoulders, leaning over and watching their daughter, who was studying them with wide eyes. Once again, Eliora smiled. Rowan would never tire of the sight.

“She looks like you when she smiles,” Aelin mused.

“You think?”

She nodded slowly, reaching out and running her knuckles along the smooth curve of Eliora’s cheek. “I still can’t believe she’s ours. She’s just so… perfect.”

“Like her mother.”

Aelin snorted. “Kiss ass.”

“Maybe a little.”

They faded into silence, simply standing there, wrapped up in their little, blossoming family. They stood there until Eliora’s eyes fluttered shut once more and she drifted off into a peaceful sleep. One she enjoyed for the entirety of the night.

Rowan didn’t know what he had done to deserve such bliss, but he knew it must have been something good.