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theladyofdeath · 3 years

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Heels {Rowaelin}

The prompt: walks in front of their crush in stripper heals and a short skirt because they want their attention

Rowan x Aelin os

Written with @snelbz

There was no way this could be a good idea.

Aelin was sitting on her bed, watching as Lysandra flicked through her closet. She had told her that tonight was the night and had recruited her to help her do what she considered nearly impossible.

She was going to get the attention of Rowan Whitethorn.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know she existed, it was quite the opposite. He was one of her friends, having met during orientation week their freshman year, and as their group grew, so did their friendship. But after three and a half years, she had very solidly gotten her stuck as just that: his friend.

“You’re wasting your time,” Aelin crooned, flipping through the timeline on her phone.

“Bullshit,” Lysandra muttered, flipping through the clothes in her closet. “You need to feel confident, Aelin. Rowan is obsessed with you, and you’re obsessed with him. This whole thing is ridiculous.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, but remained quiet.

“How about this?” Lysandra asked, pulling out a denim mini skirt and black halter cropped top. As Aelin was about to reply, Lysandra said, “Say nothing. Put it on.”

With a roll of her eyes, yet again, Aelin did as much. Once she had the skirt and top on, she looked in the mirror.

And she looked hot as hell.

“Shoes?” Aelin asked, despite herself.

“Oh, I have the perfect heels,” Lysandra said, fleeing from the room. She came back a moment later with a pair of black stilettos that were Aelin’s size.

Scoffing, Aelin held them up. “I’m going to break my neck.”

Lysandra snorted and flounced back into the bathroom where she continued to straighten her hair. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Fine,” Aelin amended. “I’m going to break my ankle.” She set the shoes on her bed and joined Lysandra in the bathroom to finish getting ready.

She let Lysandra curl her hair, but drew the line when she offered to do her makeup. They had very different styles when it came to that and while Lysandra looked drop dead gorgeous with her cat-eye liner and ruby red lips, Aelin would never be able to pull it off.

“Where is this party even at?” Lysandra asked, pulling her hair back into a stylish ponytail.

“Lorcan’s.” Aelin was trying to keep her hand steady as she applied the thin line of liquid eyeliner to her upper lid. “I think Elide convinced him to throw it.”

Lysandra snorted, applying her mascara. “Sounds right. Lorcan isn’t exactly the host-type.”

Aelin grinned, tossing her eyeliner in her makeup bag. “Alright, hurry up. I want to make my entrance.”

With a roll of her eyes, Lysandra took one last look in the mirror and declared herself ready and they were off.

Lorcan’s apartment was just on the edge of campus, so the two girls walked and earned the eager glances of many as they did so.

Aelin took it as a good sign.

“Will Aedion be here tonight?” Lysandra asked, shooting a glance over at Aelin.

She groaned. “Probably.” She still couldn’t believe that her roommate actually had the hots for her cousin. He was practically her brother and the thought of him in any sort of compromising position made her want to gag. “If you hook up with him tonight, please do it at his place. I can’t afford therapy on my barista’s salary.”

“Trust me,” Lysandra said, adjusting her ponytail as they approached the steps to Lorcan’s. “I plan on giving you complete privacy at the apartment tonight. And you better take advantage of it.”

Butterflies grew in the pit of Aelin’s stomach.

She planned to, hoped to, wanted to…but, she had to catch Rowan’s eye first - something that made her nerves go haywire.

Lysandra must have caught it, because they stopped outside of Lorcan’s door and Lysandra made Aelin face her.

“You look gorgeous,” she said, and brushed Aelin’s hair back. “He’d be an idiot not to come after you.”

That was the goal, after all. Aelin was not going to be the one doing the chasing. She wanted Rowan to see her, want her, not be able to take his eyes off of her. She knew he’d be here, the party was at his best friend’s apartment, knew that everyone from their friend group would show up. Yet she was absolutely fucking terrified he’d see her and have zero reaction.

She played it off with a joke though. Scoffing, she tossed her hair over a shoulder. “He’d better. I didn’t book an emergency appointment with my waxer for nothing.”

If Lysandra noticed the fake bravado — which she absolutely did, she and Aelin had become as close as sisters over the past three years — she didn’t call her out on it. Instead, she smirked, smacked Aelin on the ass, and said, “Then let’s go get your man.”

The music could be heard from a block away, and when they opened the front door, the apartment was already packed.

People definitely noticed them come in, though, including Elide who was running towards them, a drink in hand. “It’s about time you two showed up!”

“The host himself isn’t here to greet us?” Aelin mocked, giving Elide a hug.

Elide chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “He’s been out on the balcony for about a half hour, avoiding all human interaction.”

“Sounds about right,” Lysandra replied, rolling her eyes, but then she began looking around the spacious townhouse Lorcan and Elide shared. “You haven’t seen Aedion tonight, have you?”

Elide gave Aelin a knowing glance, but said, “Last I saw, he was playing beer pong with Fenrys. Don’t know who the poor bastards getting their asses handed to them were, but they’re probably still in the kitchen.”

Lysandra gave Aelin a wink. “Good luck.” And then she was gone, lost in the bodies dancing to the music.

Her part in tonight was done, to help Aelin get Rowan’s attention. It was all up to Aelin now, so Lysandra was free to find someone to occupy her own time. Even if the thought of who she’d be with made Aelin want to shudder.

Alone with Aelin, or as close to it as they could be, Elide let out a low whistle as she finally took in Aelin’s outfit. “I have a feeling that outfit isn’t just to impress me.”

“Does that mean you’re not impressed?” Aelin asked, pretending to pout.

Elide looped her arm through Aelin’s and led her to the bar. “I’m always impressed, but I don’t think you care so much about my opinion, do you?”

Aelin snorted as she began to look around, but Elide saved her the struggle.

“He’s on the patio with Lor,” Elide said, simply. “Don’t worry. I’ll drag his ass back in here soon and Rowan will follow.”

Elide poured them both a shot, which Aelin gladly took and even asked for another. But when Manon and Asterin Blackbeak showed up, she waved Elide off to go greet her friends, and leaned against the bar, debating on a third shot.

She wasn’t trying to get shitty tonight, just a little messy, but her nerves were beginning to grow again.

Just as she decided to say fuck it, and get another shot, and heard a whistle from behind her. She turned and found Dorian Havilliard staring at her legs.

Or maybe he was staring at her ass.

They had messed around her freshman year, when his dorm room was just down the hall from hers, but it had never been anything more than that between them, and they agreed that they were better as friends. It didn’t mean they didn’t have fun though.

She smirked as she tossed the glass back and set it down on the bar top, before turning to him. “See anything you like?”

“I see quite a few things I like,” he said, raising his drink in salute. “Then again, only a fourth of your skin is covered, so there’s a lot to look at.”

Aelin laughed, quietly, and clinked her empty shot glass against his full bottle. “Gotta show off what the gods gave me.”

“As you should,” he agreed with a wink. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Well, it is school, and I actually study,” Aelin said, turning to refill her shot glass.

Dorian had the audacity to look offended. “Hey, I study, too.”

Aelin laughed as she turned back around. “Reading a bunch of books that have nothing to do with any of your classes doesn’t count as studying, Dor.”

“But they’re so much more interesting,” he replied, chuckling as he thought of the boring curriculum he studied for his pre-law degree.

Aelin rolled her eyes as she tossed back the shot and set it behind the bar. Four shots was enough. She’d be fun, she’d be confident, but she wasn’t tipsy enough to make an ass of herself.

Yet.

“I assume all of this skin isn’t for me, so who are you trying to impress?” Dorian asked, and then added, with a wink, “Chaol?”

Huffing a laugh, Aelin shook her head. “Absolutely not. That ended in a disaster and I’m not inclined to repeat it.”

The sliding glass door opened and Aelin’s eyes snapped to the door, before she quickly turned away before Lorcan and Rowan stepped inside.

“Oh,” Dorian chuckled, softly. “Whitethorn then.”

It wasn’t a question.

He had moved imperceptibly closer and she knew how it would look to Rowan. For whatever reason, she decided she wanted him to be jealous she was talking to another guy.

Even if she had no idea whether or not he’d even noticed her.

“Is this who I am now?” Dorian asked, quietly, leaning into her ear, fully aware that it looked like he was coming onto her. “Your super hot wingman?”

Aelin snorted, and didn’t bother moving away. “My overly cocky wingman, maybe.”

Dorian huffed a laugh. “I still take it as a compliment.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be flirting up Manon instead of fake flirting with me?” Aelin whispered, quietly. She glanced at Rowan, who was filling up a red solo cup.

“I like to make Manon wait,” Dorian said, running a finger up Aelin’s forearm. “She gets jealous, too, and it makes things so much more exciting in the bedroom.”

“Thanks for the image, Dor,” Aelin said, pushing away the need to roll her eyes and flick him in the nose.

He and Manon weren’t exclusively in a relationship, but everyone knew they hooked up with each other, and only each other. But, again, totally not exclusive.

“Besides,” Dorian mused, his finger skimming Aelin’s arm. “She’s busy doing body shots with Asterin. I’ll enjoy her later.”

Aelin snorted, reaching behind the bar and pulling an ice cold beer from the open cooler. She handed it to him and he opened it for her, flicking the cap in the air as if it were a coin.

He let it fall to the bar top as he leaned in to whisper in her ear one last time. “Pretty sure that’s my cue.”

She followed his gaze across the room, and found Rowan looking at her. Watching her and Dorian both.

“Have fun,” he added, before sauntering off towards the kitchen.

Rowan watched Dorian walk away to the other side of the room where he sat to watch Aedion and Fenrys continue to dominate in beer pong.

When Rowan’s eyes trailed back to Aelin, she was already watching him, a slightly-forced mischievous smile on her lips.

On the inside, she felt like she was going to puke.

He made his way across the room, pausing in front of her and slipped his free hand into his pocket. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” she said, and she wasn’t sure why it sounded so breathless.

“I didn’t see you get here,” he said, taking a sip of his beer.

She did the same, fighting the urge to toss her hair over a shoulder. “You were outside.” She realized that told him she was keeping tabs on him and she quickly added. “I mean, Elide told me Lorcan was outside, so I assumed you had to be with him.”

He smirked. “Right. Well, I was. It’s a little crowded in here.” She nodded, but he went on. “However, seems like you didn’t mind when Havilliard was over here with you. Not too crowded for you, then, huh?”

Aelin slowly lifted a golden brow. If Rowan wanted to play, she would play. “Not crowded enough for someone to be blocking your view of me with Dorian, apparently.”

A light lit up Rowan’s green eyes as his jaw twitched, suppressing a grin. “I can always count on you to manipulate my words and their meaning, Galathynius.”

Aelin’s grin was wide. “Someone has to keep you in your place, Whitethorn.”

“And is that you?” He asked, voice low as he took a drink from his cup. “The person that’s going to keep me in my place?”

Aelin’s eyes glittered as she took another drink. It was always easy with Rowan. They could talk for hours, that witty banter, back and forth. But, that’s all that had ever happened between them: simple conversation.

From the way she caught him watching her legs as she took a drink, though, she thought tonight may just end up as she planned.

A hell of a lot more than simple conversation.

“Want to dance?” She asked.

His eyes slowly slid up her body to meet her gaze. “You know I don’t dance, Ace.”

She took a long, slow drink from her bottle. “Not even with me?”

“Not with anyone,” he said, crossing his arms and resting a hip against the bar.

It was a miracle no one had interrupted them, but the bulk of the drinks had been set up in the kitchen.

“That’s a shame,” Aelin sighed, finishing off her beer and tossing the empty bottle in the trash can. “I would love to dance, but I don’t have anyone to dance with.”

Rowan said, “I’m sure you can find someone, especially with how you’re dressed tonight.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “And how is that?”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look drop dead fucking sexy,” he replied, without missing a beat. “I just don’t get why.”

“What do you mean?” Aelin asked.

“Why try so hard?” He asked, head cocked to the side. “Who are you trying to impress?”

Cocky bastard. She could see it in his eyes, he knew what he was doing and she hated him for it.

Hated that she loved it, anyway.

“What need would I have to impress anyone?” Aelin asked, chin raised. “I think I’m naturally perfect in every way.”

Rowan chuckled. “Then you should’ve come in your sweatpants and a tank top.”

Aelin rose a brow.

Rowan shrugged. “I think that’s when you’re sexiest.”

With that, with his cup pressed to his lips, he turned and walked away.

Aelin blinked after him, not sure she was sure she heard him right. He made his way through the people and headed back to the door leading out onto the balcony, stopping to say something to Lorcan. He waved him off and then Rowan was slipping back outside, while Aelin just started after him.

She pushed her way through the crowd, which was easier said than done when you weren’t a six-foot-four giant who mildly scared the shit out of everyone by scowling at them, but she eventually made it to the door. Sliding it open, she stepped out into the balmy night air.

“You can’t say shit like that and then just disappear,” Aelin said, finding him exactly how she’d expected to.

Rowan was leaned against the wall, the sole of one booted foot pressed against it as well. A lit cigarette dangled from his fingers. She gave him shit about smoking all the time, but knew he only did it when he drank.

Or when he had something on his mind.

He held the cigarette out to her, but she gave him a look. “You know better than to offer me that.”

Rowan just grinned and put it back between his lips. “You’re missing the party.”

“What did you mean?” Aelin asked, standing opposite of him, leaning against the railing.

“When?” he asked, looking up at the sky.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rowan,” she snapped, and it got his attention.

Blowing a puff of smoke into the cool night air, he met her gaze and slowly shook his head. He gestured to her outfit, to the heels that were making her feet ache. “What is this?”

“They’re clothes,” she said. “For a party.”

“They’re Lysandra’s,” he replied, simply.

“I can’t wear my roommate’s clothes?” Aelin scoffed. “What the hell is wrong with you tonight-.”

“Why can’t you just admit that you’re just trying to impress someone?” he interrupted, watching her, that light in his eye fading. “You’ve never been not-confident a day in your life. Whoever it is that you’re trying to impress, he obviously isn’t worth it if it causes you to be someone you’re not.”

Aelin looked down at the cropped halter top, the skirt that hardly reached her thighs, the heels that she was certain would cause blisters. “This is someone I’m not?”

Rowan slowly shook his head. “Last time we went out, you wore that little golden slip dress….” He shook his head, reminiscing on the memory. “That was you. You wore sneakers and you were still barefoot halfway through the night, dancing on the patio. What you’re wearing now - yeah, you look gorgeous - but I can tell you’re not comfortable in it.”

“If I’m trying to get someone’s attention, maybe my usual isn’t best. Especially if it pushes me out of my comfort zone,” she snapped back, her hands on her hips. “And why is it such a problem if I’m trying to impress someone? Dorian was impressed.”

“Dorian doesn’t drool all over you like a dog in heat,” he replied. “He respects you, regardless of what you’re wearing, how much skin you’re showing off. But if you’re trying to impress some D bag who will only notice you if you’re dressed like that, you might want to reconsider.”

“And what if I was trying to impress you?” She asked, getting in his face, cigarette smoke and whiskey breath be damned. “What if I was trying to get your attention, Rowan?”

His jaw locked and his eyes searched hers, as if he was trying to find the underlying meaning in what she was saying, even if there wasn’t one.

“Then you’d be wasting your time,” he said, at last.

It felt like a knife had been shoved into Aelin’s ribs with every word that had come out of his mouth. Begging herself not to cry in front of him, she went to take a step away, but Rowan grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him.

Their chests were nearly touching, and his hand trailed from her wrist, into her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers.

He took the cigarette from his lips and said, “You’d be wasting your time because you impress me every time that I’m around you.”

“You never act like it,” she breathed, shaking her head. “You never do anything, and you’ve never tried to make a move. What the hell else was I supposed to do?”

He flicked the cigarette over the rail and let go of her hand, only to frame her face with both of his. “This.”

And then his lips were on hers, and Aelin didn’t care that she could taste residual smoke or stale beer. She knew she didn’t taste much better. All that mattered was that Rowan was kissing her and his hands were on her face and hers were tangled up in his shirt. His tongue slid against hers and she had to fight to stop the moan that threatened to slip out of her.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. “That,” he said, breathlessly. “That is what you should have done to get my attention.”

Aelin swallowed, harshly. “Do it again.”

Rowan didn’t have to be convinced. His hands slid down her back as he brought his mouth to hers, and he pulled her body uptight against his. They stayed out there for a long time, for hours, uninterrupted.

At one point, she saw Dorian come by and lock the balcony door, so everyone else would get the hint to stay the hell away.

Wingman of the year.

They stayed on the balcony, kissing and laughing and kissing some more, until the party wound down. Around two, Lorcan let them inside, and Aelin pulled Rowan out of the apartment and across campus to her own.

True to Lysandra’s word, she was nowhere to be found.

The second Aelin stepped into her apartment, she kicked off her heels and was swept into Rowan’s arms. He carried her into her bedroom, where he stripped her down, out of her roommate’s clothes.

Rowan Whitethorn saw all of her.

She had his full attention.

#rowaelin #rowan #aelin #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #prompts #collab #snacmc

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fireheartfaery · 3 years

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moonthalar headcanons

day 4: headcanons

of course I couldn't participate in a crackship week and not do one of my absolute fave cracks. when I first came up with the idea for these chaos beans all those many moons ago I didn't expect it to divulge into any direction past a quick discussion and some light hearted consideration. but after the valentine's day challenge I had this year (and the first moonthalar fic I ever wrote) they've been one of my bigger and most favored crackships. this is also very much due to Cass' encouragement and enthusiasm over them. anyway please enjoy <3

@sjmcrackshipweek

[image has alt text]

They braid each other's hair. Like often super often. It's therapeutic for both of them. And it calms Hunt down. Fenrys is more sensitive on his head so he doesn't let many people touch it. But he will curl up next to Hunt and guaranteed five seconds later fingers will be carding and twisting and plating.

They have matching tattooes. Two links from a chain, with one of the links breaking open. It means all sorts of things for them. The first being that they did and can break free from whatever shackles them.

They both adore sweatpants. But if they need to dress to the occasion holy shit do they go for it.

Fave times of day are 12-3am and Sunday mornings. They love the quiet. It's like they're in a bubble floating above the earth, untouched by the chaos of their realities

Fenrys can bake anything and Hunt takes full advantage of this.

Neither of them can cook for shit though. But Hunt is still better than Fenrys. There's been one too many pasta-sauce-on-the-ceiling-stains to let Fen in the kitchen by himself.

Hunt loves eating pancakes right off the pan. Fenrys will be whipping them up in the morning and Hunt is sitting there being fed as the spatula lifts it up.

They're so fucking indulgent of each other. Fenrys says he wants a specific type of shower gel and Hunt is purchasing fifty bottles of the stuff three seconds later.

Hunt wants dessert at the restaurant even though both of them know he's never gonna eat more than one bite and Fenrys orders the entire dessert menu and feeds him whatever he wants.

They just cannot deny each other. They've been denied everything from happiness to freedom to simple choice for so long.

It's not really about extremes. It's about knowing where they fall.

They're the tall couple :/ you know the ones that tower over literally everyone and it's actually just disrespectful you feel like you're talking to the clouds. But still Fenrys is the shorter one by nothing more than a hairs breadth and a tiny rise on the toes but still! Hunt lordes his extra millimeters over his boyfriend like a trophy.

It also makes getting top shelf stuff an absolute spectacle.

Hunt is always pressing himself up behind Fenrys whispering in his ear, "can't reach baby?" "Want me to get that my love?""Here let me help you mi corazoñ""you sure you're okay sweetheart?"

Speaking of, they use a frankly disturbing amount of petnames. Hunt speaks three languages and he knows like ten endearments in each of them. Fenrys positively melts at all of them.

His faves to call Hunt though is "baby" or "mi cielo". Just something about the way Hunt goes mindless when he hears it.

Hunt is scarrryyyyy organized. Like plans for everything he could possibly plan for organized. Like has different colours for different events on the calendar organized. Like needs three to five business days to change his schedule organized.

Fenrys on the other hand will wake up and decide he wants to go river rafting in the afternoon.

It's actually hilarious to their friends to see them argue about it. Hunt says he has three different things to do in the day and they all have to be done by 5pm and Fenrys says "I'm coming to pick you up at 1 for lunch I will drag you out of that building if I have to."

Smut headcanons cause why not:

Hunt fucking loves dirty talk. And Fenrys is very very good at it.

They're both switches but Hunt prefers to bottom and Fenrys doesn't have a problem with topping.

But when Hunt tops hollyyy fuck Fenrys honestly believes he could go blind his eyes roll so far back in his head

Also Fenrys has an oral kink

And Hunt has a degradation kink

They keep a list of kinks they've always wanted to try, things they've never wanted to try, and things they're hesitant to try but may at some point given the right space, thought, and time.

They've had a disgusting amount of semi public sex. Neither of them knew they were voyeuristic or exhibitionists until that very first time in Fenrys office.

Their hard limit is nothing out in the open. It's more the idea of getting caught than the actual getting caught part that turns them on.

When they first started dating they used to fuck like they hated each other but now they fuck like it's their sole purpose to ascend to new plains of existence

#hunt x fenrys #moonthalar #I still die at that ship name lmaoooo #fds headcanons #crackships keep fandom alive #hunt athalar #fenrys moonbeam #crackship appreciation week

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barbex · 3 years

Note

Hi Barbex! For the writing prompts, may I send 14. Baking? Any pairing you choose (although Fenris baking would be fun! Also may or may not result in inedible foodstuffs) thank you! <3

for @dadrunkwriting

Thank you for the prompt! My current obsession is fenders, so... that's what we're getting. and someone put terrible FEELINGS into my cocktail tonight. FEELINGS!

---

This should not be so difficult. Fenris looks at the recipe and at the bowl on the table and tries to find some similarity between the painted image on the page of the old tevinter recipe book he found in the kitchen and whatever that creation in the bowl is. The kitchen looks like a rage demon exploded in flour, butter, and several egg shells.

"Fenris?" Anders' voice calls from the door. "Sorry. The door was open and Hawke said I should find you here."

Fenris flinches, and he doesn't quite know why. Anders and him have found some understanding since they left Kirkwall and now, whenever he looks at him, something happens in his chest that he can't name. He looks around and embarrassment at the mess he's made has him blush, unnecessarily. Anders has seen him live in worse circumstances.

He lets out a breath and calls over his shoulder. "I'm in the kitchen."

Anders' steps come closer. "Hawke wanted me to tell you — whoah. What happened here?"

Fenris hangs his head and gestures to the open book on the table. "I was making a cake. Trying to."

Anders steps closer, looking at the drawing and then at the bowl. "Ehm, yeah." He presses a hand to his mouth and turns his face away.

"I know you're laughing at me," Fenris says. His voice has fallen in his usual gruff register, even though he doesn't mean to sound like he's angry.

In an instant, Anders' face turns serious. "Sorry. I shouldn't laugh, it's hardly funny that you never learned... nevermind."

Fenris misses Anders' smile the moment it's gone. When Anders smiles, his eyes glow golden and the little creases around his eyes look like rays of sunlight. But now he has that careful blank expression on again, where he tries not to show what he's thinking, a task that is nearly impossible for Anders.

Anders steps back, his hands clenching at his sides. "Well, Hawke just wanted me to check on you and — "

"Can you help me?" Fenris holds out his hand, almost pleadingly.

"Me? Well, yeah, I mean..." Anders hovers halfway turned towards the door as if he wants to make sure that he can run if he needs to. "I can try?"

"I would be grateful."

"Alright." A tiny smile returns to Anders' face and some of the tension flows out of Fenris' chest. Anders picks up the bowl and looks inside. "We could probably knead this into something but then the cake will be too dense and chewy. We should probably start over."

Fenris nods and takes the bowl from him, dumping the lumps into a bucket. He points at the box he carried home from the market. "There're more eggs and flour in there."

Anders grabs the bowl and cleans it. "I can't read tevene, you have to tell me what the recipe says."

Fenris picks up the paper and reads out loud. "Three eggs, four caleps of butter, two hundred shavett of sugar, three hundred shavett of flour, one hundred shavett of cocoa — "

"Wait, wait, one at a time. And what in the void are caleps and shavetts?"

"Tevinter measurements." Fenris holds up a tin cup. "This is a calep and for shavetts I'll use this scale." The scale is one of the few things he took from the mansion in Kirkwall when they left. In one glimpse of a memory, he sometimes sees his mother use one like that.

"Good, this is gonna work, I know it," Anders says with glee. He cracks three eggs into the bowl and stirs them quickly with a whisk, pressing the bowl at an angle to his stomach. "Now we whip these nice and foamy and you'll add the sugar."

Fenris weighs the sugar and then lets it fall slowly into the bowl as Anders keeps on whipping the cream. When all the sugar is mixed in, Anders sets the bowl back on the table and draws in a breath.

"Phew, I've forgotten how much work that is."

Fenris holds out his hand for the whisk. "Can I?"

"Of course." Anders hands him the whisk and shows him how to hold it and whip the cream without throwing it out of the bowl. After a few turns, he finds a good rhythm and watches the little foam bubbles rise in the cream as he whisks it.

"Look at you, already an expert," Anders says and shakes his head. "Well, it was good while it lasted."

Fenris stops. "What do you mean?"

Anders wipes his hair back and sighs. "Don't be mad but it was kind of refreshing to see that you weren't perfect at something for once."

"For once?"

Anders looks at the scale and squints at the inscriptions. "Well, yes. You know so many things, you speak several languages, you're terribly smart, you learned to read like in no time, not to mention your perfect body and all your abilities. You're fucking intimidating but at least you're not a good baker." He looks at the bowl Fenris is holding and shrugs. "At least you were until now."

Anders returns to the scale and looks at the counterweights. "Now, if this is one hundred, this must be two hundred. What did it say, how much flour do we need?"

Fenris still stares, the bowl in his hand forgotten. "I don't want to be intimidating."

"You're joking, right?" Anders straightens and looks him up and down. "Fuck, you're..." He closes his eyes for a moment and sighs. "I have to go."

"No!" Fenris slams the bowl on the table, it tips and the runny cream spills over. "Why? Why do you have to go?"

Anders stops at the door, a hand on the door frame and looks back at him. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" Fenris takes a step closer to Anders, and he doesn't fail to notice how the mage seems to make himself smaller. As if he's afraid.

"Like I'm someone... you like."

Fenris takes another step. "And if you are?"

Anders turns away and speaks so quietly that Fenris almost can't hear him. "I break everything I touch."

One last step takes him to Anders' side and he raises his hand, slowly, putting it on Anders' shoulder. "This is another thing I know nothing about." Fenris swallows, his mouth falling dry. "I don't know how to tell you that I want you near me, that I don't want us to fight, that I admire your passion, your kindness, that I feel safe with you."

Anders throws his head back, his eyes closed as he lets out a bitter laugh. "Maker, Fenris, you could have anybody."

"I don't want just anybody."

"Fenris." Finally, Anders turns and looks at Fenris. "You shouldn't want anything to do with me."

Closing the distance between them, Fenris lets his hand slide into the hair at Anders' neck, his other hand slipping behind his back. "I'm a free man, I decide what I want and who I want."

"Fenris," Anders pleads, staring at Fenris' lips.

"Anders," Fenris says, his lips almost touching Anders', their breath mixing between them. "I want you to touch me."

Anders lets out a sound like a pained cat and crashes his lips to Fenris'. He clings to him like a drowning man, kissing him like his life depends on it. At last, he pulls back, panting, pressing his forehead against Fenris'. "You..."

"Yes," Fenris says.

Anders puts his hand on Fenris' cheek, his thumb stroking him and he stares at him as if he can't believe that he's real. "We're not baking cake today, are we?"

Fenris shakes his head. "No, we're not."

#da drunk writing circle #dadrunkwriting #fenders #dragon age fanfiction #my writing

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aelin-queen-of-terrasen · 4 years

Note

Hi! I feel like we were robbed of a reunion between Aelin and Nox in KoA so could you write it, please?

Sorry for the delay, nonnie! Hope you'll like this! 💖

cinders : chapter one

post-koa rowaelin fanfic • fic masterlist • full masterlist

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Honor among thieves, Aelin remembered the phrase with wry amusement as she was kicked out of her seventh tavern that night. Thief or not, she had no qualms about her honor or the lack thereof, not when she was drunk out of her mind with not a copper in her pocket to spend.

All night, she'd cheated at cards, started four brawls and failed to pay for the ale she consumed at most establishments she'd graced with her presence. Come dawn, there would be no tavern left that she hadn't been banned from. Idly, she wondered what would happen if the barkeep found out he was kicking out adarlan's assassin—or the queen of terrasen, for that matter. He probably won't believe her, considering she looked worse than an average drunkard roaming the streets of orynth in middle of the night with a swollen eye and a busted lip. Her wrist hurt from where she'd fallen down and landed on it during one of the aforementioned brawls but she paid it no heed, already looking for another place she could waste her night away in.

Aelin steadied herself with the support of a nearby wall, head spinning and her knees buckled.

She pressed her cheek against the cool surface of the cemented wall, wondering how long she had before someone in her court would notice her absence and drag her back to the palace like she was an invalid in need of protection instead of mala's heir and the queen of one of the most prosperous kingdoms since the rebuilding finished months ago.

The scrape of boots behind her made her turn, hands already positioned in easy reach of the daggers hidden beneath her cloak.

"So this is how our queen passes her time now?" a familiar voice drawled out behind her, amusement in his tone.

That voice—her head spun as she tried to place it. Aelin turned towards him, the movement too fast for her inebriated state and nausea rose in her stomach. She squinted her eyes at the figure standing a few steps away, his own hood covering a better part of his face. The figure looked tall and lean, dressed like one of the common folk. Maybe she could outmaneuver him—

He threw his hood back and her heart stumbled. "Nox?" her voice was slurred, wonder and disbelief warring within her.

"You caught me," he said, voice filled with amusement. "When I imagined us meeting again, this is not what I had in mind."

Her eyebrows rose to her hairline. "You say that as if it was a sure thing we'd meet again."

"I had to. Do you know how awful it is to claim friendship with the saviour of Erilea and have them dismiss your words as a lie?" Nox said, sketching a mocking bow.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Her lips twitched up in amusement as she said, "I apologise for the inconvenience my popularity may have caused you."

Her head still spun, and she cautiously took a step forward, the moonlight illuminating her old friend's face completely. He looked just like she remembered, moderately handsome with those dark hair framing his face and a lean figure. He grinned, though there was something subdued about it now—some weight that hadn't been there before, no doubt a product of the war they'd all been a part of. When he said nothing, she added: "Lysandra told me she met you," Aelin said. "I tried to find you, after the war—but you'd vanished."

His grin widened into a wolfish one—too reminiscent of her beloved cousin's, "I helped drug the lords of terrasen—Lord Darrow would've sent me to the gallows." He stepped forward to provide support when she almost tripped over her own two feet.

Aelin let him wrap his arms around her, leaning into him. God, she'd missed the former thief and his troublesome grin, the friendship he'd offered her in a competition filled with enemies and a palace teeming with insincere people, the lighthearted air he carried with him.

"Lord Darrow needs to remove that stick shoved far up his ass," she said when she'd steadied herself again somewhat. "I tried to find you."

"I know. Thank you—for saving my life." Nox squeezed her shoulder gratefully. "You didn't have to warn me, you could've just let me stay but you didn't."

He pulled away when he smelled the ale on her breath and frowned. "You shouldn't be out here alone. I think we should take you home." Her stomach sank at the thought of the towering palace, images flashing inside her head one after another—a kitchen, low voices, blood on the bed, the healer's face, a figure clutching her abdomen in pain. Home. Home shouldn't be a place she'd be afraid of.

Her stomach churned at the thought of having to return. Aelin frowned. "I don't want to go back."

"I think you should," he said. "I saw two search parties roaming tonight."

She didn't dare look at his face, lest she might snap at him. He was yet another person who was so interested in telling her how to act. She wasn't an immature who needed instructions from others. "Fine, I should go," she conceded. "You could come with me, you know—there are a lot of open jobs around the palace—"

"I think I will," he nodded. "I don't think you should be out here alone, whatever prompted you to come here."

He looked at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. When none came, he shrugged but the offer hung in the silence between them until she answered, "It's not so simple." Then needing to change the topic of the conversation, asked, "Where have you been—back to the same former profession?" The world spun a little, and her vision grew blurrier. Her voice sounded like a garbled mess, even to her own ears. It was a wonder Nox could make sense of her words.

"And if I did? Not all of us are secret heirs to enslaved kingdoms with kick-ass powers," he grinned.

Aelin tried to answer him but her mouth wouldn't open, her eyelids felt so heavy, half drooped and her legs gave out beneath her. Nox, as if he hadn't noticed the real extent of her inebriated state before, shifted her so she was leaning on him for support but it was a struggle to keep her upright. The palace of Orynth was only streets away now when someone—one of the guards, perhaps?—shouted something, though she couldn't make out the words.

She looked up from her half-asleep state minutes later to the sound of a familar pattern of footsteps.

Nox stiffened, two daggers identical to the ones they'd practiced with in Rifthold sometimes in his hands.

"Relax," she told him, though the words were so slurred, she couldn't be sure he understood. "Lorcan is one of the bloodsworn of my court."

Said bloodsword had his own sword out, looking furious, if not somewhat tired, though the determination shone on his face—he looked like a man on a mission. He walked towards them, movements rigid as ever, every muscle in his body tensed. Nox sheathed his daggers, though he positioned himself in front of her. Aelin rolled her eyes, wondering why everyone she befriended acted had to be a protective bastard?

"Step away from her," said Lorcan through gritted teeth.

The thief of Perranth did no such thing and she barely refrained from another eye roll. Stubborn, overprotective mother hens. "Really, Lorcan, this is one of my friends. You can put your sword away; no one is about to murder me here, I think." Her bloodsworn didn't look so amused at her attempt at humor and this time, she didn't supress her eyeroll.

If Fenrys were here, he'd have teased Lorcan for being the overbearing mother hen Elide claimed he was. Lord Lorcan Lochan—the name was a constant source of amusement for her—may not like her, but he was loyal to his queen and diligent in his duties.

And Fenrys wasn't here—seperated from her for the first time since the two of them had escaped Doranelle months ago—he was looking over the preparation of the last few details of the peace treaties in Rifthold and helping Dorian settle into his position, assisting in the rebuilding efforts there. Elide and Lysandra were at their own estates, looking over their own territories. Her cousin had accompanied Lysandra to Carraverre with a promise to return as soon as she had a routine in place. And Rowan was the farthest—in a different continent, in the city which had caused her so much pain and suffering, Aelin was still haunted by it's memories.

So it was that Aelin was left to spend time with the least favourite member of her court—Lorcan.

She wondered when her mate would be back, wondered what he'd say if he'd found her here tonight instead, wondered if she could hide what she'd heard from him—how he'd react if he found out. He won't leave her, not him. He'd tell her servants' gossip was nothing to be worried about, he'd comfort her the best he could. But over the years, he'd realise how right they were and he wouldn't say a word of his disappointment—no, he loved her too much to hurt her like that. He'd come to resent her for it though, and then immortality won't seem like the blessing it does now.

Aelin's thoughts were steered away from the dark direction by Lorcan's words. "Been dallying with the commonfolk, have you?"

"Don't be an ass," she snapped at the implication. "He's a friend from Rifthold. I won't hurt my mate like that."

Lorcan had the good sense to look apologetic as he rubbed at his face. "I know you won't—I didn't mean to say it." It was as good an apology as she'd ever receive from him.

Poor Nox had turned pale at the sight of a tall, brooding fae but he said with all the nonchalance he could muster, he said, "I saw her outside one of the taverns I frequented and I recognized her. I offered to escort her back."

Lorcan extended his hand, and the scowl on his face made her decide she'd be better off not pissing him off more. He scanned her head to toe, jaw clenching at the sight of the bruises on her face. "You're hurt," he didn't wait for a confirmation. His fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly, "Right now, you'll come with me to the palace, you'll go to your room and you will sleep, like you should've been doing. Tomorrow, we'll talk about this."

His features were schooled into a cool mask of indifference. She almost snapped at being ordered to bed like a child but the concern in his voice made her reconsider her words. Still, she couldn't help it when the words escaped. "I'm not some petulant child," she said in quiet voice.

"You're certainly acting like one now," then his features softened a little. "Let's go home."

Neither said a word until Lorcan had escorted her into her chambers. At her behest, Nox was given a guest room to stay in (much to Lorcan's displeasure) while one of the healers from the royal wing tended to her. She wondered if it was this woman she'd heard talking with the cook, or if she'd even heard anyone at all. Maybe it was all some horrible nightmare she'd dreamed up? She wished it had been some nightmare—or if not, then at least that she hadn't heard the words at all and lived in blissful ignorance for however long she could.

He turned to leave and Aelin started, "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have—"

He snapped. "Tomorrow. We'll talk about this tomorrow. This—" he pointed towards the bruises—"is nothing to what could've happened if someone had recognised you. You have no idea what you risked!"

"I know what I risked and what could've happened," she bit back. "This isn't the first time I've wasted my night away in tavern after tavern." Her head hammered with pain at the volume of their words but she paid it no heed in her fury. He had no right to call her out; she didn't need his permission or someone else's. What did he care if come dawn, she was found dead in a ditch somewhere? He would be able to live with Elide and still be free of the blood oath. It could be no loss to him. "I'm under no obligation to answer to you," she said.

"I'm a part of your court. If you put yourself in danger, you will answer me," he said.

"I was in danger long before I took the throne. I can handle myself."

Lorcan had either noticed how drained she felt and decided to postpone the conversation or he saw no benefit in arguing with an unreasonable drunkard further because he nodded with a terse nod and an omnious: "We're not done here," and left her room, closing the door behind him softly. She wished he'd slammed the door shut instead, yelled at her or left her on the steps of the palace to the care of some maid—almost wished he'd drawn out his sword on her instead of leaving her alone to the silence of her chambers.

Involuntarily, she recalled the sudden, sharp pains in her abdomen last week. Her cycles had been a little irregular since the war but she hadn't given it much thought until she'd stumbled upon the two gossiping servants—those cursed words she wished she'd never heard. She had come back and tried to sleep, tried to discredit the rumours as speculation but those words had haunted her until she'd escaped her room for fresh air and found herself in a cheap tavern. Those horrible visions had flashed in front of her eyes until she was too intoxicated to remember her own name. Sleep offered no solace at all, and everytime she shut her eyes, she saw a stillborn child, a bed covered in blood, an empty cradle and she'd woken up covered in sweat and her breathing harsh, heart beating wildly against her ribcage.

The bruises on her face turned darker by the morning, but the salve she applied brought her some relief from the pain. Aelin left her chambers only when necessity called for it, the bruises cleverly hidden under her golden curls arranged tactically. The third meeting with the lords of all great houses was dreadfully boring. Lorcan's piercing gaze and Darrow's inquisitive look when she didn't greet them with her usual aplomb did nothing to ease her anticipation for her confrontation. He made no allusion to it as she attended to her duties, though she wasn't naive enough to hope he'd forget. Thus, it was with no surprise that she welcomed him into the sitting room of her private chambers that afternoon when she retreated for a small break. Indeed, he looked comically out of place in the ornate, colourful chamber with his black tunic he wore.

Lorcan's dark eyes upbraided her bruises, then satisfied with the healing progress, sat down and fell into silence. She didn't dare break it—he wanted to have this conversation. She was determined not to give up.

"We need to talk," he said when he realised she won't initiate the conversation.

"We do," she agreed to his surprise, until she added: "How is Nox?"

"Nox? Made drinking buddies with the thief, did you?" he asked. His lips curled in disdain—at her actions or her choice in friends, she couldn't tell.

"Dark hair, pretty face, smiles too much?" she asked. "I'd like you to find him a job 'round here. He has skills we could use, and I'd like to have more friendly companions here."

He looked tempted to retort, but stopped in time to recognise her attempt at distracting him. "I'll see to it. Now, will you tell me why you thought sneaking out of the palace, disappearing for hours and then showing up drunk and half passed-out, with a known local thief, bruised and battered was a good idea?" It didn't sound like a good idea when he said it like that, but she hadn't planned most of it, had she? Finding Nox had been a coincidence, and she hadn't foreseen running out of coins, getting kicked out of taverns or starting those brawls.

"I survived for years in much unsavory conditions than this," said she. "I don't need you to be an overprotective mother hen to me."

He arched an eyebrow. "So you want to be difficult about this?" he leaned back in his seat and relaxed his muscles, "I know you didn't just leave because you wanted to get drunk. Something happened, and you can choose to tell me now, or we can wait here until you confess. I have infinite patience and nothing better to do." She was tempted to walk away from this conversation, little good though it would do her. He pressed, "I'll wait for your answer right here, Aelin. If you want to—that is, if you think it'll help, I'll listen." And he looked so awkward, so uncomfortable, had Aelin looked up at him then, she would have been amused to see one of the most powerful fae warriors squirm in his seat, looking alarmed at whatever it was he saw in her face.

"I'm sorry! I told you I am," she asserted. "I wish you'd leave me alone."

Lorcan didn't think she was apologising for sneaking out without telling him—hell, it seemed like she wasn't apologising to him at all. He didn't know what she meant. Maybe she didn't know either.

He awkwardly patted her arm in an effort to comfort her, though he failed miserably. He hadn't seen that haunted look in her eyes since that first month after she'd escaped that iron coffin. It had taken months of careful manuevering from Rowan to coax that light back into her eyes. He wondered what haunted her now, what bothered her so. How long would it take for her to recover should she break again—this woman who had accomplished the very impossible, turned the tide in many a war, who had defeated armies through sheer will alone? How many times could she break before it would be impossible to put her back together? He wished Rowan were here to console her—or even Fenrys or Aedion. They won't do such a lousy job at it and she certainly won't confide in him. He shouldn't have thought otherwise—

"Pardon me for the interruption, Your Majesty, Your Lordship," the maid said, "but you have visitors."

Lorcan was disinclined to allow Aelin to present herself to company now when she looked one word away from shattering but he knew better than to try to stop her. The wilful woman hardly ever listened to him though, and she was walking out of her chambers before he'd even risen from his seat. He grumbled under his breath, following after her until a sharp squeal erupted from her mouth.

Lorcan was running towards the throne room, already drawing out his sword. It was pure relief that greeted him when his eyes fell on the grinning visitor, his sharp canines gleaming under the sunlight filtering inside through the windows. He nodded in acknowledgement towards the fae warrior and he returned with a look of his own before a noisy storm of gold and green flew past him and slammed into the still awaiting arms of the warrior. A lesser male might have fallen from the force of the collision, but he wrapped his arms around her waist, as unwilling to leave her as she was.

"Welcome back, Your Majesty," Lorcan said wryly as the squeals of delight from his queen grew louder.

King-consort Rowan Whitethorn swept his mate into his arms. "Missed me so much, did you?" he chuckled.

"Understatement," she mumbled into his chest, pulling herself closer. "Tomorrow, I'll pass a decree that you're not allowed to leave me behind ever again."

Rowan mumbled promises to not go anywhere without her anytime soon. Without a care for everyone else in the room, his lips pressed hers with an incessant need, though he drew back when she winced. It was with no small amount of horror that Rowan looked at her, reallylooked at her, memorising every line on her face, the width of her grin and the delight suffused in her brilliant ashryver eyes and stopped short at the busted lip and the bruise around her eye, brushing it with a featherlight touch of his fingers.

Aelin stiffened, and he saw in her expression that she hadn't planned to inform about this misadventure of hers, whatever it was.

He shut his eyes, attempting to regain some measure of composure. "Explain," he demanded, a lethal calm seeping into his voice.

Rowan didn't miss the way his wife stiffened further at his voice, and he noticed her eyes. The emptiness in them was almost too much to bear, too painful a reminder of what she'd endured the previous year and he looked away, though his voice softened.

"Fireheart, what happened? Tell me," he urged in the softest tone he could manage, "Please?"

It was the last word he spoke—the one filled with so much concern, love and devotion that she failed to keep her tears at bay. It was a valiant attempt she made, to blink the traitorous evidence of her grief back into her eyes but then she looked at him again—her mate, her husband, her best friend.

She let Rowan pull her into another embrace; and then, Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius came undone in his arms.

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soooo new fic. hope y'all liked it!

tags: @little-crow-corvere @abookishfreak @louisleblancdiggory @courtofjurdan @queenofgreenbriar @clockworkgraystairs @julemmaes @mymultiversee @queen-of-glass @strangely-constructed-soul @mijaldraws @http-itsrebecca @aesthetics-11 @lord-douglas-the-third @flowersinvegas @aelinchocolatelover @faerie-queen-fireheart @sad-book-whore @hizqueen4life @the-gods-killer @booknerdproblems @annejulianneh111 @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @b00kworm @mysweetvillain @curlyredqueen06 @moondancer-204 @thesurielships @witchling-leonor @ladywitchling @amren-courtofdreams @ifinallygavein @jlinez @faequeenaelin @df3ndyr @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @superspiritfestival @xx-fiona-xx @stardelia @maastrash @miihlovesnoone @sanakapoor @maddymelv @rattlethestarsdarling @ireallyshouldsleeprn @morganofthewildfire

let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

#throne of glass #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #sarah j maas #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowaelin #rowaelin fluff #lorcan x elide #lysadieon #elorcan #manorian #kingdom of ash #tog fanfic #tog fanfiction #sjm #aelin-queen-of-terrasen

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abraxos-is-toothless · 4 years

Text

The Beauty That Is She

Part 3 is finally here!! Previous Updates Here:)

Before we get into this one, I want to say a quick thank you to those of you who have asked if I was alright and have been so, so patient for this update. I'm so sorry it's been so long, but this story was only meant to be a few chapters long and now, my ideas keep changing and there is so much I want to write for it. I can't thank you all enough for the kind words and the encouragement, I honestly didn't think people would enjoy this that much considering it's not one of the mains AND that I've paired him with an OC.

This one isn't my favourite but it is still important or you might get a little confused later on. The wedding/wedding night is in the editing process and I'm still deciding if it should be two small chapters or one big one!

Anyway, enough of my rambling and on with the show!

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It was the day before the wedding and Fenrys was terrified. Not because he didn't want this or he was having second thoughts, but because he was terrified Eva would say she didn't want this anymore, didn’t want him. But above all of that, he was terrified of the words about to come out of the trembling messenger boy’s mouth.

Rowan’s personal messenger, who had managed to secure his place when Rowan had found him trying to survive on the streets. His name, Fenrys remembered, was Kallias. He was just a year younger than Connall and abandoned by his family when he was spotted kissing one of the boys from the village. The family had up and moved not long after, the villagers saying they were too disgraced. Fenrys thought it was all fucking absurd. Your child was your child, regardless of who they chose to love and he would make sure his future children knew that too. The thought of those children, his and Eva’s, brought Fenrys back to Kallias.

“What is it, Kal?” The boy shifted on his feet and Fenrys heard the way he took several deep breaths before he spoke.

“The King wishes to see you out in the courtyard, My Lord.” He rolled his eyes at the title, trying to act as if those words weren’t scaring the fuck out of him.

“How many times have I told you not to call me that? It’s just Fenrys, kid.” Kallias nodded, but he still heard the muttered ‘yes, my lord’ before he turned to leave. Fenrys couldn’t help the way he tried to straighten his tunic and his hair before making his way to see Rowan. It’s not as if looking a bit cleaner would save him from the other male’s protectiveness. He understood though, because he would be the exact same way if his daughter was about to be married off. It would mean she was no longer his to protect, no longer his to care for. Although he would still do those things, every day, until his dying breath.

The halls of the castle were full of people bustling about, adding the last few touches of decorations here and there. Aelin could be heard before you even saw her, making sure everything was perfect. His Queen would like to think everything was done by her, but it was his Eva who led all of the wedding preparations. Fenrys was enraptured whilst watching Eva tell her mother exactly what she wanted, where it would all go and when it would happen. Aelin had tried to get her way only once, but Rowan had just given her a look, along with a light smile and she had kept silent and continued to make sure Eva wouldn’t have to worry about anything. He breathed deeply as he pushed through a large oak door and stepped out into the courtyard. Out of all of the places he’d seen, the places he’d lived, nowhere had ever felt like home as much as Terrasen did. Not even all of those years spent in Doranelle serving Maeve. Rowan wasn’t hard to find, all he had to do was follow the loud cursing and shouts of “You can get off of me now, Buzzard!”

When he reached them, he bit his lip trying not to laugh; lest he want to go a couple rounds with his Queen for making fun of her. Rowan had Aelin pinned to the ground, straddling her hips and a hand on each of her wrists, her blade knocked a few feet away. When Aelin noticed him, she twisted her head to look at him upside down, eyes narrowed. “What in the hell are you doing out here?” Rowan stood slowly, pulling his wife up beside him, placing a quick kiss to her temple.

“I sent for him,” he said, before Fenrys could even open his mouth. Aelin folded her arms across her chest and raised a brow.

“What could you possibly need him for? His wedding is tomorrow, he still has things to do.” He didn’t really have things to do, just to help set up tables outside for the festivities after the ceremony, but he thought his Queen might be trying to save his ass from Rowan’s ‘territorial fae bullshit’. Fenrys was grateful for the effort, though he doubted even she could save him.

“There’s something I want to show him. We’ll be back in time for when Lorcan and Elide get here, I promise.” Aelin stared at her husband for a few moments longer, having one of those silent conversations before she nodded, kissing Fenrys on the cheek before walking back to the castle, muttering about seeing if Connall wanted to read their newest book. Rowan looked to him when she was out of sight, an unreadable expression on his face before he said, “come and walk with me.” Not a question, nor a request, so he followed obediently as the silver haired man made his way to the tree line. They didn’t speak as they walked, the only sounds were of rabbits and birds that he wouldn’t know were there without his fae hearing, and the crunch of shrubbery underfoot. Studying the warrior a few paces in front of him, he noticed the male hadn’t actually brought any of his weapons with him. It made him feel better, knowing he wasn’t likely to get stabbed, but that didn’t mean Rowan couldn’t hurt him. There was no need for weapons considering how much power he had.

After what felt like hours in the silence, was merely a thirty minute walk to the hills within the grounds, but far behind the castle where Rowan halted them. “Where are we?” His King, his brother in arms, his friend looked at him with such softness in those stark green eyes; Fenrys couldn’t even find the will to look away.

“We’ll get to that, but first I have to say a few things.” He dipped his head for Rowan to go on. “When Aelin first told me she was carrying twins, I cried for hours. It was from overwhelming joy and excitement, but also from an underlying fear. Fae twins are rare, as you know, but childbirth for fae females is also a difficulty. I was so, so terrified something would go wrong, that I’d lose them, including Aelin and that it would be like Lyria all over again.” Fenrys pushed the thoughts from his mind, trying not to remember how cold and angry Rowan had once been. He knew that it would have been a lot worse this time, had the worst actually occurred. “But everything was fine. I watched as they grew, as they kicked their tiny little feet against my touch for the first time. And then suddenly, as if I had merely blinked, I was holding Evalin in my arms.” Images of the warm summer evening the twins were welcomed into the world bombarded him, and he could clearly see Rowan with a babe in each arm in his mind’s eye. It was a sight you simply couldn’t forget. “She may be grown up Fenrys, but she’s my little girl, as she always will be. But tomorrow, tomorrow she becomes yours to love, to cherish and protect and I’ll respect that of course I will, but she’ll never stop being my sweet little princess who used to whack me with wooden swords and put flowers in my hair.” There was a dampness to his cheeks and he realised with a start, as he brought his hand to his face, that he’d started crying somewhere along the way.

“Of course she’s yours Rowan. That will never change, but just so you know, I’ll spend every day of my life trying to be worthy of her, to be worthy of being loved by her.” It was true, he didn’t deserve someone such as Eva, but he’d do everything in his power to prove himself to her. Rowan brought him into a back-clapping hug and he could do nothing but return it.

“I know boyo, I know, I’m just feeling a bit emotional is all and Aelin probably would have told me I was being ridiculous. Also,” he pulled away and smiled wickedly, “even if you do fuck this up somehow, I think I would be lower down on your list of concerns.” Rowan started walking again, pushing between the low-hanging branches of two old willow trees.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I think Con would beat me to you. He may be younger than Lin and Mia, but he’s fiercely protective when it comes to his sisters.” The miniature version of Rowan Whitehorn was a hellion naturally, but it was worse when something had happened to the twins. Fenrys had seen a little bit of that protection show the day the mating bond had settled.

“Speaking of, have you noticed Con has been spending a lot of time with Kallias lately? I’ve found them together a few times in the library, though Connall usually catches me from the corner of his eye and darts away. Poor Kal is always left confused and I think a little hurt.” There was a low chuckle from Rowan, his head shaking.

“I’ve seen them. I’ve known about my son’s preference for males for years, but I think he’s scared to tell us. I think they might even get a little shock of their own in a couple of years, honestly.” Interesting. “Aelin is desperate to call him out on it, but I’ve told her this is something he needs to sort out within himself first. He’ll tell us when he’s ready, though I hope it’s soon, because all I want is for him to be who he wants.” He was about to retort when Rowan halted them abruptly, nodding his head to the right of them. When he turned in that direction, his breath caught a little in his throat. There, in amongst the trees, was a small little yellow cottage. It was dark inside and Fenrys could smell the stale scent of pine and snow, indicating Rowan had been he but not recently.

“Rowan?”

The male in question dug into one of the pockets on his breeches, and pulled a small, silver key that glinted in the few rays of sunlight that shone through the canopy. “I started building this when Aelin told me she was with child, and then started another one after she had announced it would be twins. I knew that when they were all grown up, my children would want to leave and live independently, to be their own person. I also knew it would be hard for us to let them out of our sight, so I wanted to give them somewhere that they were far enough away from us, but somewhere I knew they would be safe, protected.” He pressed the key into the palm of Fenrys’ hand and folded his fingers over it. The metal was cool in his palm, barely weighing anything at all. “You and Evalin don’t have to live here of course, but I wanted her to know there was a place for her to start this new adventure with you.”

“I don’t know what to say.” There were things Fenrys knew he should say, but the words got stuck in his throat.

“There’s no need to say anything.” Rowan’s eyes were lined with silver as he ran his eyes over the place he’d created for his child. It wasn’t hard to imagine being here with Eva, it wasn’t hard at all.

“You said you started another when you knew it was going to be twins, did you start another when Aelin told you about Connall?” His friend wiped at his eyes quickly before nodding in confirmation.

“Yes. Mia’s is to the west of here, barely any distance from here at all and closer to the lake. I built Con’s to the east side of the castle, actually. There’s a small cavern close to it that has a hot spring inside, which I thought would be good for practicing.”

The two of them stayed out there for a little while longer, occasionally letting a content silence between them, or talking about all sorts of topics and reminiscing on the past. Soon enough, they were on the move again, reaching the castle just in time for Elide and Lorcan’s arrival, Aelin waiting for them with a glare. It was possible that they were a little behind when they said they’d be back. Fenrys tried to greet his friend’s as they arrived, little ones in tow, but Rowan stopped him with a hand to his shoulder, telling him to go and rest because he had a big day tomorrow. He let out a breath and agreed, walking back to his room without stopping to say hello to anyone.

When he was washed and settled into bed, Fenrys let the darkness take him into the land of dreams with a smile on his face.

Tomorrow, he was getting married.

--------

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#throne of glass #tog #fenrys moonbeam #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #fenrys x original #tog fic #throne of glass series #original characters #connall #my fic #my writing #haz writes

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seasonofthewicth · 3 years

Text

A Groovy Kind of Love - Epilogue

AN: It’s here... THE END!!! I’m almost sad to finish this fic off but I have absolutely loved writing it. Thank you so much to everyone who reblogged/commented/sent asks or spoke to me about this fic it means so much to me and I really appreciate you!!

warning: adult content ahead

previous chapter - masterlist - ao3

~1 year later~

“You need to rip the band-aid right off.”

Rowan could barely hold in his sigh at Lorcan’s pronouncement. He shared a look with Aedion who looked as baffled as Rowan felt.

“What the fuck?” Aedion shook his head. “This is not the kind of thing you just ‘rip off’.”

“How do you have a girlfriend?” Fenrys’ bewildered voice came from Rowan’s side.

Lorcan shrugged, unbothered by each of their reactions. “Don’t mess around. Just ask her, simple. Then it’s done.”

“Gods, above,” Rowan muttered.

“I should never have asked you three, I should have gone to Aelin. Or even Dorian.” Aedion sighed before clasping his hands in front of himself. “Okay, serious suggestions only.”

“That was a serious suggestion.” Lorcan said, not attempting to hide his indignation.

Aedion ignored him. “Fenrys go.”

The golden haired male took a moment to consider, barely holding back from stroking his chin as he considered the prompt. Of all of them, Fenrys had been in a relationship for the shortest amount of time, he and Dorian had only declared their relationship a few months earlier, even though Rowan knew things had been brewing for far longer.

It was strange to think that all four of them were in committed relationships, especially as they all still lived in what had been the bachelor pad of their first apartment together.

Rowan would never admit it out loud, but he felt sentimental to the old loft, even with it’s broken window and ever leaking shower. The draughty exposed brick would always remind him of the parkour phase Aedion and Fenrys had gone through not long after they had moved in. They had taken every opportunity they could to throw themselves around the loft without any kind of skill and they had only stopped after their neighbour complained of unexplained banging noises.

The red stain on the hardwood floor, now covered by a blue bean bag chair, would always remind him of the time Aedion had brought home a girl who had–for reasons still unknown to Rowan–thrown a bottle of red wine at his head. None of them had bothered to clean the stain, in fact Lorcan had posed for a photo with it and Fenrys had framed it on their refrigerator where it had stayed for years.

His main memory of their loft however, would always be their front door. The slab of wood, with it’s peeling grey paint and the lock that often stuck shut unless it was jiggled just so, would always remind him of Aelin. Rowan knew he wore a ridiculously soft smile at the thought, but he would always be grateful for the loft for bringing him to Aelin. Or more accurately, for bringing Aelin to him.

He swallowed the sly smirk that threatened at the memory of the time he had taken her against the door. She had wrapped her long legs around his waist as he had pounded into her and her nails had clawed his back as she had moaned in his ear. He had buried his teeth into her neck, savouring the salty and sweet taste of her skin on his tongue. He hadn’t been able to leave the loft without getting semi-hard for weeks.

“What are your first memories of Lysandra?” Fenrys asked eventually, somehow pulling Rowan’s thoughts from Aelin. It was a difficult task, even over a year into their relationship Rowan was still completely enamoured. “If you want to go big you could do something to do with that, girls love sappy shit.”

Rowan smiled as Lorcan nodded solemnly, finally appearing to take Aedion’s request for help seriously. His best friend seemed to consider the suggestion, crossing his arms over his broad chest and surveying the three of them where they sat before him.

“That could work.” He said slowly.

“Great.” Fenrys grinned. “We need to brainstorm. What are your big moments with Lysandra? Like when did you and Lys first meet?”

Aedion shrugged again. “I knew of her for years through Aelin but I only remember meeting her properly when Aelin moved in.”

Fenrys’ enthusiasm was rapidly gaining momentum. “Right, and any special memories from then? Any big gestures you could make as a throwback?”

Aedion’s eyes widened before a burst of laughter sprung from his lips. Rowan shared a look with Lorcan who shrugged.

“I told her I’d marry her then,” Aedion said, shaking his head and running a hand through his shoulder length hair.

“What?” Rowan barked his disbelief.

“You’re not serious.” Even Fenrys seemed bewildered.

Aedion only laughed again. “I said ‘girl, imma marry you’.”

Rowan groaned as he lifted a hand to cup his forehead before dragging it down over his eyes.

“You’re no better than him.” Fenrys said with a shake of his head as he gestured to Lorcan who did nothing but smirk back at him.

Aedion flipped him off. “I don’t come close to his level of inadequacy, at least I can actively take steps towards relationship milestones. Have you even brought up moving in with Elide to her yet?”

Lorcan scowled, before muttering, “don’t change the subject.”

Aedion took a sharp intake of breath, reading himself to speak, and Rowan dragged his hand away from his eyes. There wasn’t time to let those two get into it.

“Not to in any way agree with Lorcan but I think he could have a point,” He said quickly. “You love her and want to marry her, tell her that. Down on one knee with the ring, I doubt she’d say no.”

Rowan knew his words were the truth. He had known Aedion for a decade now and he had never seen his best friend as smitten as he was with Lysandra, nor had he seen him so secure. Aedion and Lysandra played off each other, she settled him and he excited her.

Rowan knew Lysandra would say yes but he understood Aedion’s need to over-prepare. While it was standard for Aedion to mull over the details, his mind was one for strategy and weighing-up the risks and it was part of what made him so good at his job, and Rowan knew that while this wasn’t a risk, it was important to his friend to get it right.

Proposing to Aelin was a thought that had drifted around the edges of Rowan’s mind for a while. From the start Rowan had known Aelin was it for him and he knew he wanted to marry her at some point in the future but the pressure of how to do it right, the way to make it right for Aelin was a task he knew he’d work hard on.

He knew Aelin would say yes even if he asked her over a mouthful of food at their kitchen counter but he also knew that she was a princess at heart with a taste for finery and he wanted to spoil her. It was a luxury in itself for Rowan that he could. Since taking over the bar, even with the large loan he had taken out, his bank account had a healthy level of cushioning that he loved using to take Aelin for weekends away or to fancy restaurants.

There was a savings account that he and Aelin threw money into every month for whenever they felt ready to move out of the loft, but there was also a separate savings account that Aelin was unaware of that Rowan was saving for something shiny.

“Thanks,” Aedion said, shaking himself somewhat. Rowan nodded, amused at the level of detail and reassurance Aedion appeared to need.

“You need to relax,” Fenrys’ chimed in, voicing Rowan’s thoughts aloud. “You’re overthinking it.”

“He’s right.” Rowan swallowed. “Just tell her the truth. Tell her you love her, how much you want to spend the rest of your life with her and how much she makes you smile every day. Tell her how you want to be eighty and still holding her hand, or how you hate the thought of going a single day without her.”

“Gods,” Fenrys scoffed as Lorcan snickered. “You’re making me want to marry you.”

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “You’re welcome to take notes.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need to.”

“Really? Not thinking of getting down on one knee for Dorian?”

Fenrys smirked. “I get on my knees for Dorian plenty, but no.”

“Why not?” Rowan asked, ignoring the comment and daring to bite, knowing he’d likely regret it.

“He’ll be the one proposing to me,” Fenrys explained as if it were obvious.

Rowan laughed, Aedion and Lorcan’s laughter echoing his own.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” Fenrys turned to Lorcan. “Your proposal skills need some serious work.”

Lorcan shrugged, unfazed as ever. “Maybe I’ll let Elide propose to me too.”

Rowan snickered at the image of the tiny woman on one knee before his giant of a friend. He sobered when he paused to consider it, Elide probably was the kind of woman who could propose to Lorcan, she had him wrapped completely around her little finger.

“I can see it.”

“She takes what she wants, it’s hot.”

Rowan laughed again. “You could take her name too, Lorcan Lochan has a good ring to it.”

Fenrys’ howl of laughter from his side brought a grin to Rowan’s lips as he looked to his friend who’s eyes darkened at the ribbing.

“Lorcan Lochan,” Aedion repeated through a laugh. “Please, I’d pay money to see it.”

Rowan smiled as his friends continued their teasing and his mind wandered through the possibilities. Aelin had a number of surnames already but he quite liked the sound of Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius.

“You are not allowed to move in here.”

The panic in Lysandra’s green eyes as she hurtled around the corner was almost comical.

“Why not? What’s wrong?” She demanded.

Aelin ran a thoughtful finger along the sleek, oak mantelpiece admiring each of the twisting lines running through the wood. To the side of the fireplace sat a tall window, letting in plenty of warm daylight that reflected off the shining hardwood floors and crept into each of the corners of the large room. The archway Lysandra stood under led to the open plan kitchen-diner with it’s sleek marble countertops and extended dining table that could seat their whole group of friends.

“If you move in here I’ll be too jealous.”

Lysandra slumped in relief, leaning a shoulder against the archway as she smiled. “He’s done well.”

“I didn’t know Aedion had this in him,” Aelin said with a snort and Lysandra waved a hand.

“He has spent months putting it together,” her friend admitted and Aelin smirked.

“How much did he let you choose?”

Lysandra winced. “It was fifty-fifty.”

Aelin waited.

“Forty-sixty.”

Aelin only cocked her head as she waited a moment longer.

“I won’t go any lower than thirty-five. And I picked the paint for the bathroom walls.”

Aelin’s poker face cracked at her friend’s admission. She knew her cousin wanted their house to be perfect but he had taken his attention to detail to the extreme. The number of interior design magazines that were littering the coffee table in the loft was well into double figures and Aelin had been dragged on multiple trips to a number of shops to offer her opinion on almost identical shades of paint and patterned wallpapers. Lysandra had been content to sit back and let her boyfriend take the reins, confident that Aedion would choose well.

He had. The house was beautiful, and the dedication her cousin had offered was obvious. Each room had a multitude of tiny details that revealed the love Aedion had poured into the house, in the kitchen it was the large window that overlooked their garden, offering a glance at the wildlife that flocked to the numerous native plants Aedion had selected. In the living room it was the stuffed bookshelves, housing almost anything from Aedion’s old college textbooks to Lysandra’s abundance of romance novels.

Aelin’s favourite was the study her cousin had decorated for Lysandra to house her newly developed modelling agency. Lysandra had chosen more recently to take a step away from posing in front of the camera and had opted to manage a small group of models. The office was bright and welcoming, with splashes of soft green accents that suited Lysandra. The office sat next door to a room that was carefully neutral, but Aelin knew it wouldn’t take much work for it to be converted into a nursery.

Aelin took another glance around the living room they stood in, Aedion had truly curated a home. She could see herself and Rowan curled up on the loveseat in the corner with Aedion on the armchair by the fire and Lysandra perched in his lap. She could hear the sounds of Fenrys rummaging through their fridge as Lorcan barked orders from his space on the sofa.

Aelin was going to miss having them all under one roof, even if it meant her and Rowan having the loft to themselves. But she knew that as quiet as the loft would feel without the others, she was excited to make the space their own. And to get some much awaited privacy.

Lysandra watched her with knowing eyes as she surveyed the space. “You’ll all be welcome any time to come and visit.”

Lysandra plopped down onto the plush couch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she settled into the pliant cushions. Aelin took the seat opposite, throwing her feet onto the footstool set carefully in front of the sofa.

“Just make sure your doors are locked at night, I think Fenrys could take your open door policy a little too liberally.”

Lysandra shook her head. “I’m not sure Aedion would mind, he’ll pretend he won’t but he’ll miss having the guys around. He’ll give them all a key.”

“What about me?” Aelin gasped, pressing a dramatic hand to her chest. Lysandra rolled her eyes as she settled further into their couch, it was an agreement that didn’t need to be stated that Aelin would get her own key to the new house. “I’m glad you’re not living with Blackbeak anymore.”

Lysandra’s eyes stayed shut as she laughed. “She’s really not that bad. You’d know if you ever bothered to get to know her the entire time I lived with her.”

“Lys, she’s awful. She’d strut about as if she was the queen or something whenever I came around. Making sly comments to… I don’t know,” Aelin waved a hand, searching for the words. “Assert her dominance or something.”

Lysandra cracked her eyes open to level Aelin with an unimpressed stare. “And you wouldn’t?”

Aelin shrugged, whatever displays she and Manon had put on were in the past. Hopefully she’d never have to see the scarily beautiful woman again. “I’m your best friend, I don’t need to try and posture.”

Lysandra grinned. “And yet you do anyway.”

Aelin stuck her tongue out at her friend, knowing the comment was too true to justify a middle finger. Her phone buzzed in her lap, signifying the text Aelin had been waiting for.

I’m 5 minutes away.

Aelin fought to keep her face neutral as she tucked the phone back into the pocket of her jeans and stood from her comfortable seat on the couch.

“You’re leaving?”

Aelin nodded, “Rowan just texted, he needs help with something at the bar.” A lie. “Meet us there later after the delivery has come?”

A serious invitation hidden within a number of half truths.

Lysandra dipped her head in a nod as Aelin swept to the front door, calling out her parting words as she did.

Once out the front door she allowed her smile to break through and it widened again as she spotted her cousin walking up the path in front of her. Aedion wore a shirt, and his golden hair was carefully styled. He was practically vibrating with excitement as he approached her.

“Good luck,” she whispered, not wanting to ruin the surprise.

“I don’t need it.” Aedion flashed an easy grin before wrapping one arm easily around her. “Thanks, Ae.”

Aelin drew back soon after. “Don’t make us wait too long to see you guys.”

Aedion only smirked.

“Gross,” Aelin couldn’t help screwing her eyes shut before turning away to make her exit. She flashed her cousin a final thumbs up as she got into her car and headed to where she knew she would find her boyfriend.

—

Rowan hadn’t changed much when he had taken over the bar, but what he had changed made it even more enjoyable. The first thing he had done was replace the ancient jukebox in the corner, he had replaced the jukebox with one that didn’t need to be turned off and on again every fifteen songs and had updated some of the music in its catalogue.

Each of their loft-mates had been allowed to offer suggestions for the updated library and Rowan had criticised every single one, his own music taste leaned into older rock songs Aelin had never heard, but the choices had all made their way in there anyway.

All apart from Lysandra’s only half-joking suggestion of a best-of-boy-bands compilation. That suggestion had received a hard no.

One of Lorcan’s choices, some alternative track with lots of drums, was playing as she made her way to the small office in the back corner of the bar. She nodded at the bartender who nodded back with a soft smile. He was a young man called Luca and he had been recommended by Malakai upon his exit. Aelin liked him, he was young and sweet but competent enough to make a mean drink.

She pushed through the door to the office and smiled as she took in the sight of her boyfriend. Even just the sight of him made her smile, and he smiled back as he dropped the papers he held.

Aelin flopped into Rowan’s lap, looping her arms around his neck as he leant in to kiss her. Even the softest brush of his lips against her own loosened every muscle in her body.

“Hey,” he murmured against her lips, unable to resist pressing another kiss to them.

“Hi.”

“Missed you.”

Rowan shared comments like that with a regularity that made her heart squeeze. Each one brought a kernel of warmth to her chest.

“You saw me this morning.”

“And?” His gaze was unwavering, and his sincerity made Aelin bite her lip.

“Everything all set for Aedion and Lysandra?” He asked smoothly.

“I left just as he arrived,” Aelin confirmed.

Rowan ran a gentle hand up and down her side as he spoke. “I’ll be relieved when it’s over and he’s finally asked her. I can’t give any more thought to the best way to propose to Lysandra.”

Aelin snorted as she pressed a kiss to his temple. She loved that her friends and family were all so intertwined. “He’s nervous, give him a break.”

“Why?” Rowan asked. “She’ll obviously say yes.”

Aelin cocked an eyebrow. “And you wouldn’t be nervous if you were proposing to the love of your life?”

Rowan shrugged. “Nope. I’m sure she’ll be very lovely and not at all scary. I’d have no doubt in my mind she’d say yes.”

She pinched the skin of his bicep and he hissed a laugh through his teeth.

“I can go if you need to find someone sweet.”

Aelin made to move off his lap but his hands tightened around her. “Don’t you dare.”

He skimmed his nose around her hairline, brushing the gentlest of kisses to her ear. A soft gasp crossed her lips at the sensation. Aelin leaned into the warmth of his hands at her hips and the touch of his lips at her neck as she turned to survey his desk.

“Working hard?” She asked playfully and Rowan buried his face in her neck and groaned. She ignored the heat that stirred in her at the sound and laughed as she petted his hair. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Invoicing is the worst. I have no idea how Malakai did it all on his own for so long, I don’t know how I haven’t made a catastrophic error yet.” Her boyfriend’s eyes widened. “Would I know if I had?”

Aelin laughed. Rowan worked hard and Aelin was confident he was handling the management of the bar well even if Rowan himself wasn’t. Financially there were no problems, the re-branding that had taken place after Rowan had assumed ownership had managed to attract a number of new regulars as well as large numbers of casual visitors that kept the bar easily filled with patrons.

One night, not long after Rowan had signed the papers giving him majority ownership, Fenrys had suggested a weekly karaoke night. The idea had started out as a joke until Elide had brought her tiny karaoke machine one evening and the bar had ended up packed with people cheering others on, so much so that Rowan had invested in a proper system and every Thursday hosted a karaoke night.

“Anything I can do to make it easier?” Aelin asked, scratching her nails against Rowan’s scalp.

He groaned again at the sensation and this time it was harder to ignore the heat stirring in her core. He looked up to her, his fingers curling more tightly around her hips, as his tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip.

“Do you know anything about accounting?”

Aelin laughed again.

“Absolutely not, but I know a lot about relieving stress.” She shifted where she sat in his lap, making sure to grind her backside against his groin. “And I have many techniques that I know are effective in releasing pressure.”

Rowan let out a deep, throaty sound at her words, pulling her hips down as he leant in to kiss her neck.

The start of their relationship had been a blur of passion. About a month into their relationship Aedion had attempted an intervention when he had walked in on them in a state of undress for the third time in a week, and Aelin loved that it hadn’t faded. She wanted Rowan every single time she was so much as in the same room as him, and even when she wasn’t.

Aelin tugged at the silver strands of Rowan’s hair as he trailed hot, wet kisses down her throat. She gasped as he scraped his teeth down across her jawline to nip lightly at her pulse point. She shifted impatiently in his lap and tugged his face up by his hair to press her lips to his.

His tongue caressed her lower lip and she eagerly opened to let him lick into her mouth. Each stroke of his tongue set her skin on fire and it wasn’t long until she was writhing in his lap.

“We don’t have long until the others are due.” Rowan slid his face back down to her neck, unable to draw his lips away from her skin.

“We have enough time if we’re quick.” Aelin heard the desperation in her voice, and Rowan did too if the way he rocked her across his lap was any indication.

“I don’t want to rush,” He said, his voice a low growl in his throat. “I want to take my time with you.”

“And you can.” Aelin pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Later. First let me be quick with you.”

Aelin stood off his lap and Rowan moaned his disappointment until she leaned back in to caress her hand over the bulge in his jeans. His head rolled back as his eyes fluttered shut and his hips jerked into her hand.

Aelin loved having Rowan at her mercy like this, usually he was the one who liked to take his time and watch her fall apart under his teeth and tongue until she was shaking and gasping his name, but Aelin loved to take care of him too.

She slid to her knees between his thighs and ran her hands up the thick muscles she felt straining against the desire to take her. She knew they didn’t have long so she wasted no time before unzipping his jeans and sliding a hand beneath.

Rowan’s head fell backwards against the back of his chair as her hand dipped into his boxers. Aelin bit her lip at the feeling of him, already hard and heavy in her hand. She gave a few pumps of her hand, enjoying the catch in his throat as she did, before tugging him out of his trousers.

Aelin trailed her hand along the length before wrapping her hand tighter and twisting slightly the way she knew he liked, enjoying the way his hips jerked off the chair slightly. She pressed her free hand to his hip, holding him in place as she leaned in to run her tongue up from his base to tip. At the first touch of her tongue his hips jerked forward and his hand slid into her hair.

“Easy,” She chided with a wicked smile. Aelin loved the way he reacted to her, the slightest touch would have him solid beneath her and kissing her forcefully the way she liked.

Rowan brushed his free hand along her cheek, before tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear.

“Beautiful,” He murmured, his voice low and thick with arousal. Aelin smiled up at him as she worked her hand again, and she let her gaze fall to where she held him, enjoying the contrast of her red nail polish against his skin.

He let out a curse under his breath as she leant in to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along his considerable length. His hand twisted more securely into her hair as she took him fully into her mouth, using her hand to work the base. He didn’t force her head, which she appreciated, but she loved the feeling of his hand holding her to him as she moved.

Aelin felt her eyes flutter shut, she loved doing this for Rowan, it made her feel sexy and the sounds he made were hotter than anything.

“Fuck,” He hissed. “You look so good like that.”

Aelin moaned, breathing in deeply through her nose as she bobbed her head. She loved how vocal Rowan was, how he would curse her name and anything he could think of as she worked her mouth around him.

She pulled back to press her tongue right under the tip, the way she knew sent him wild, and she was rewarded with a sharp thrust of his hips. She looked up to him finding his deep green eyes blown with lust as she swallowed around him. She read the question in his eyes and nodded as best as she could.

Rowan let out a groan. “Gods, I love you.”

His thumb trailed the corner of her lips as they stretched around him before sliding to join his other in her hair. Aelin moaned as he began to fuck her mouth, lifting his hips in a torturously slow rhythm that had Aelin grinding her hips against the air.

His pace increased as his hands twisted more tightly into her hair. Aelin moaned around his cock and he hissed a breath at the sensation. She slid her free hand down into her own jeans, matching her own strokes with Rowan’s thrusts and it wasn’t long until she felt her own climax building.

“Aelin,” Rowan cursed. “Oh, fuck.”

His eyes screwed shut tightly as his hips stuttered, Aelin moaned her permission as she stroked herself even faster. She was close, and the pulling of her hair combined with the hard thrusts into her mouth, timed perfectly with her own fingers, sent her quickly to a climax. Rowan’s hips jerked as he groaned, his head tipping to the side as he gasped her name.

“Gods.” His chest heaved as his jaw strained. “Fuck, Aelin I-I’m close.”

Aelin met his gaze and offered a shallow dip of her chin. Rowan clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes shut, each muscle in his powerful body straining beneath the touch of her tongue.

He spilled into her mouth with a groan, and Aelin swallowed around him, allowing her tongue to coax him along. He gave a few final shallow thrusts as he settled back into his chair, his eyes blinking open slowly to meet her own.

Aelin slid her hand out of her trousers as she drew her lips off him. She tucked his still half-hard cock back into his jeans and stood to press her lips to his, revelling in the blissed out expression on his handsome face. She crawled back onto his lap as his breathing evened out.

Finally, he blinked his eyes open and brought her hand to his lips to press a kiss to her fingers.

“You’re phenomenal, thank you,” He said, his voice still breathy. “But you did my job for me.”

Aelin smiled at the disappointed tone in his voice before she pressed her lips to his once more. “You can make it up to me later.”

He cocked a brow in a way that she knew meant he wanted to splay her out on this desk and taste her the way she had tasted him, but at that moment her phone chose to buzz. The second signal of the day.

“We have to go,” She said, beginning to slide off his lap. “We have a pair of fiancés to congratulate.”

Rowan grinned, a crooked flash of his teeth. “How long, do you think, until he asks me to be his best man?”

“I think he’ll ask Lorcan.”

“Right,” He grinned. “And Manon Blackbeak will be Lysandra’s maid of honour I assume.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little bit funny.”

“I think you’d prefer me being the maid of honour to your best man, much more than Manon. If it’s Manon your night won’t end up like today.”

He cocked a brow.

“You know, it’s tradition for the best man and maid of honour to hook-up in the bathroom and Manon would bite your dick off before she blew you.”

The fear in Rowan’s eyes drew a cackle from her chest.

“Don’t worry,” She patted his cheek with a hand before fully rising to her feet. “I’d protect you from the evil witch.”

Rowan smiled as she pulled him to his feet.

“And then I’d definitely blow you in the bathroom.”

“You’re filthy.”

“You love it.”

Rowan nodded, a sincere light in his eyes. “I do.”

He slung his arm around her shoulders as they made their way out into the main part of the bar to discover their friends already gathered in a booth. Lysandra sat in the center as Elide examined the sparkling diamond now gracing her left hand, Lorcan frowned at the same ring and Aelin barely managed to conceal her snort at the sight. She was sure Lorcan would get there someday, but she’d enjoy his discomfort in the meantime.

Aelin snuck out from under Rowan’s arm to throw her own around Aedion and Lysandra, unintelligibly cooing her congratulations and excitement. It was almost hard to believe sometimes, that her cousin and her best friend were together and now getting married.

“Nice of you to join us,” Fenrys snarked as she released her friend and collapsed onto Rowan’s lap. Aelin flipped him off, despite the wide grin she wore.

“We were barely late, we had things to finish off.”

Aedion winced as Lysandra and Fenrys cackled. Rowan hid his smile in her shoulder but she could feel his body shaking with laughter beneath her.

“Tell us more about these things you were finishing off Aelin.” Elide had a wicked glint in her eye.

“Please don’t.” Aedion sounded pained and even Lorcan grinned.

The booth was filled with her friends and roommates and Aelin wasn’t complaining as Rowan slung his arm around her waist, holding her tightly to his chest. Aelin pressed both of her palms to the table as she surveyed the group.

“I propose a toast,” she said. “To the happy couple.”

She made a gesture to Luca who flashed her a thumbs up and immediately made to collect enough glasses for the group.

“On the house I hope,” Lorcan quipped as Luca brought over a couple of bottles of champagne.

“When do any of you pay for drinks in here?” Rowan questioned as the group laughed.

Aelin leaned back into Rowan and lifted her glass in a toast. The sounds of her friends bickering wasn’t enough to damper the happiness she felt for Aedion and Lysandra, and the old Phil Collins song playing on the jukebox only added to the contentment she felt sitting in Rowan’s lap surrounded by her friends.

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen

@maybekindasortaace

@slytheringalathynius

@http-itsrebecca

@morganofthewildfire

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

@fictional-horan

@dressedindustandshadows

@sleeping-and-books

@perseusannabeth

@ireallyshouldsleeprn

@superspiritfestival

@spyofthenightcourt

@jlinez

@queen-of-glass

@booknerdproblems

@sjmships

@elriel4life

@bamchickawowow

@woollycat22

@claralady

@SHINYA-HIIRAGI

@fangirlprincess09

@darlinminds

@thenerdandfandoms

@danibutterr

@inthecityair

@autophobiaxx

@imaginedhaven

@endlessdaydream - I’m having an issue with this tag not sure why :(

@rowaelinismyotp

Thank you!

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #throne of glass #rowaelin fic #i'm going to miss this fic so much #it took me so long to post this because it means its done #thank you to everyone who ever let me know their thoughts about it #i love you #fingers crossed the tags work today #please let me know if they dont

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knittingdreams · 4 years

Text

Fireheart - Chapter 19

I’m back with another chapter! YAY!

I know, I have no agenda to upload this whatsoever, I’m just trying to get it all up and I still have like 15 more chapters to catch up on D:

For more chapters, head to Ao3! I started updating there earlier on, so there’s way more chapters to indulge in!

For the Masterlist, click the word masterlist, no, no, not this one, the one at the start! Okay, just any Masterlist. All chapters up to this one are in there! n_n

New chapter alert & tiny one-human-tag-party: @tillyrubes10

(If you want to be added to the tag party whenever a new chapter is up, just sing along... I mean, let me know.)

CHAPTER 19

Move On

Rowan didn’t understand why he had to be the one hiding with the girl. Fenrys had always been the one somehow in charge of the flat. As if being the oldest gave him an advantage in that sense. Not like you can be older than your twin, but Fenrys always prided himself in the fact that he was born two minutes before Connall. And Rowan didn’t have much discussion in the matter, he was three years younger than his flatmates after all. He didn’t normally mind it, he had always been mature for his age, and often thought he was even more mature than the twins combined. Even if Fenrys was 25 already, he still acted like he was 18 most of the time.

“A message for us?” His friend was saying in the lounge.

Rowan closed the door shut. He wanted to listen to the conversation, but he was also aware of the girl standing behind him, and the fact that she probably shouldn’t hear any kind of message coming from Maeve.

“You can have a seat if you want,” he told her as he pointed to the bed.

“Who’s that at the door?” The girl asked in a whisper and surprised him by actually taking a seat as he suggested. She left her duffel bag next to the bed, and sat down, crossing one leg on top of the other.

“Just someone from work.”

“From the fights, you mean?”

“Yes, from the fights. That’s not all we do, you know? We act as security in other venues as well.”

Why was he giving her that kind of information? He shook his head, feeling stupid for saying more than what has needed.

“But that guy at the door, he works at the fights, right?”

“So curious all of a sudden.”

The girl bit her lip, and then shrugged theatrically.

“I’m stuck here, I thought I might as well just spark up some conversation.” She leaned against the headboard, looking bored.

“He works for our boss.” He explained against his better judgment. “Not necessarily at the fights, he’s more like… the kid that runs errands and delivers messages, the bottom of the chain if you know what I mean.” Damn, this girl was good at getting his tongue to loosen up.

“He sounds young,” she said, leaning sideways onto an elbow. She was wearing leather tights and a long-sleeved cream top with a low neckline, and Rowan got a glimpse of her flat stomach as she leaned farther back.

“He’s probably about your age,” he replied, knowing that the information was meaningless. Looking away towards the door, he peeked out again. He could still hear Fenrys talking in the lounge, so he closed the door and leaned against it. The atmosphere in the room was awkward. He had been so rude for no reason with the girl earlier and could feel how she was trying to analyze him now; which was annoying him.

“Can I ask you a question?” She shuffled back, sitting back against the headboard and resting a hand gently over her side. She looked a bit pale again, her lips faintly pink, and Rowan almost asked if she was feeling okay before deciding against it. The image of the girl sitting on his bed was unsettling him, no woman had been in that bed after… after.

“You can ask, I don’t guarantee I’ll reply.” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for whatever was about to come his way. Anything was better than the memories trying to creep upon him.

“Have you been working at the fights for long? I know this tournament has been popular for years, or so I’ve heard.”

Easy enough question. “Just for a few years.”

“And Fenrys and Connall?”

“About the same, but that’s not my question to answer.”

“And… How old are you? If that might be a question for you to answer. I mean, you look a bit old...” She shrugged, and he almost felt like punching her for it. Old? Please, he wasn’t that much older than her! Not like he would ever punch a woman anyway.

“I’ll answer your question if you answer one first, this is not a fair game otherwise.”

She seemed to think it over, playing with the edge of her top and pouting her lips before she looked back up at him.

“Okay, I’ll give you just one answer.” She smirked at him, and he realized he had so many questions he wanted to ask.

But no, he did not care. It didn’t matter that she was the youngest female fighter he had seen at the tournament. Or that she was the best fighter he had watched in that place. Nor did it matter that she had survived being beaten up by those thugs and was now acting as if nothing had even happened. It didn’t matter that she was pretending she wasn’t in pain when Rowan could see how she kept clutching her side and clenching her teeth whenever she moved. How she couldn’t find a comfortable position and kept shuffling around on the bed.

“What’s your name?” He asked finally, the question slipping off his lips without his mind’s consent. “I can’t get myself to call you Fireheart, it sounds stupid,” he added when he saw her scowl.

She narrowed her eyes, and her lips pursed to one side. “You ask complicated questions.”

“It’s just a name, and you know ours. You know where we live, you know so much about us already. What are you so scared of? What are you hiding?” He regretted the questions as soon as he said them. He didn’t care, it didn’t matter. He could keep calling her girl, but for some reason, not even having a name was annoying him. After all, she did know who they all were and where they lived, they were at a clear disadvantage. They had all put themselves in danger to host her at their house, the least she could do, was give them a name. After a moment that was almost too long, the girl nodded and smiled up at him. It was a little twisted smile, and it kind of suited her.

“I guess you have a point.” She paused for a moment, and Rowan thought she wasn’t going to tell him after all. “You can call me Celaena.”

Celaena… It was a weird feeling, but he thought the name didn’t suit her, like it wasn’t what he was expecting.

“Just so you know, I always keep my word... I’m 22.”

At that moment, a knock sounded on the door and Rowan turned around fast, opening the door only an inch and moving his body to occupy the gap so whoever was at the door couldn’t see inside the room.

“Just me,” Fenrys said from the other side, smirking from ear to ear.

Rowan stepped back and opened the door fully. “What did he want?” He asked cautiously.

“Nothing too important, he was just delivering a message. Connall has gone back to work with him, and I’ll have to pull an all-nighter, so I might head to bed and sleep for a few hours.” He leaned to the side, looking at Celaena now standing by the bed. “I guess I’ll see you at the next round of fights.”

“You will. I’m not on for another two weeks though, but I guess I’ll see you then. Thanks for everything Fenrys.”

“You’re welcome, Fireheart.”

Celaena chuckled, grabbed her duffel bag, and took a step towards the door. “You can call me Celaena today, or if we ever ran into each other outside of that dungeon.”

Rowan scoffed while Fenrys’ laughed brightly at the joke. It shouldn’t be funny, that place did feel like a dungeon to him. After all, he was a prisoner of his life choices and was trapped there until his sentence was over.

Celaena walked the few steps left towards the door and squeezed past Fenrys onto the hallway. “Don’t mind me, I’ll see myself out.”

“Your keys are on the little table by the front door,” Fenrys called after her, “and your bike is in the garage down on the lower level... Maybe Rowan could show you where it is.”

“I’m sure I can find it on my own.”

Rowan stepped into the hallway as he remembered how Fenrys had explained she had passed out right after leaving the alley. “Do you even know how to get back to your place from here?”

“How hard can it be? Rifthold is pretty easy to navigate. How far are we from the gymnasium where the fights take place?”

“Ten minutes from here to the Fossa.” He replied. “That’s what we call it.”

“Easy, thanks again.”

Celaena finished walking down the hall and into the lounge, and Rowan found himself taking another step forward.

“Thinking about following her?” Fenrys asked in a hushed tone as he watched her walk away.

“What?”

“Come on mate, I’ve known you for years, and I can tell when something’s cooking in that brain of yours. You don’t trust her. You think she might bring us trouble somehow. Are you thinking about following her to see where she goes?”

“No, I…” Was he? He was puzzled, there was something about Celaena that just didn’t make sense to him. “No, I’m not. I’m done with this. She’s gone, and we can go back to our normal lives, move on. She can keep fighting, do her thing, and we’ll do our jobs. We will go to work, make money, pay back our debts, and be out as soon as we can. We’ll follow the plan.”

Fenrys nodded, but there was a twisted smirk on his face that wouldn’t leave him. “As you say.”

“Fenrys, tell me you haven’t fallen for the girl. Please, she’s like, 8 years younger than you!”

“What? No! Don’t be stupid, she seems more like... I don’t know… A little sister,” he said dreamily. “I always wanted a little sister.”

Rowan grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. “Listen to me, she is not your sister. She is not your problem to worry about, okay? We don’t need to get ourselves in deeper shit, let the girl be.” He shook Fenrys lightly, tightening his grip. “You are not her guardian, okay? You already did more than enough.”

Fenrys pushed Rowan with a palm against his chest, shaking his head as he turned around and started heading towards his bedroom. “Don’t you worry mate, everything will be alright.”

As Fenrys closed his bedroom door, Rowan ran a hand through his long hair and let out a loud sigh. He loved his mate like a brother, but sometimes he wished Fenrys would give fewer shits. His interest in Celaena was going to get them in trouble if he didn’t drop the subject.

He couldn’t wait to be out of it all, for their debts to be paid so they could finally be out of the lifestyle they were living.

Rowan walked towards the window in the back of his room and looked down to the street. Only a few seconds later, a black motorbike sped out of the garage, Celaena’s blond hair dancing in the wind behind her as she accelerated towards the city center.

One less thing to worry about.

After talking with Fenrys earlier on, he was mostly convinced that Cain wasn’t going to be stupid enough to say or do anything at the fights; the matter was most likely resolved. Cain was a vengeful prick, but they didn’t think he would go after Celaena or any of them outside of the Fossa again, not if he knew what was best for him. Fenrys, Connall, and Rowan were known to be a tight team, and Cain had been around for long enough to know that if he messed with one of them, he’d be messing with all three.

Rowan slumped on his bed, looking up at the roof and trying to ease his mind, to convince himself that he was right. He was hoping that by the end of the tournament, he would have made enough money to pay most of his debt. Maybe one more tournament after that one, and he could finally be free of Lyria’s legacy.

#fireheart #chapter nineteen #tog fanfic #throne of glass fandom #tog fandom #fan fiction #aelin #rowan #rowaelin #fenrys #connall #lorcan salvaterre

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creampuffqueen · 4 years

Text

Deep in the Heart of Texas - Four

a/n: Hey y’all! I am so sorry this took so long to get out! This chapter really fought me for some reason, but I think I finally got it to where I like it, so here it is! Currently I’m on vacation, and sadly, our WiFi went down yesterday and hasn’t come back. So I’m posting this by jumping on my personal hotspot for a second, then getting off. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy! Likes, reblogs, and comments are most appreciated <3

Summary: Aelin Galathynius is ready for the best summer of her life. She’s home from college for the summer, and so are all of her friends. Even her cousin is on a break from the military. Everything is set up to be perfect. Until… her mother decides to let the son of an old family friend stay with them while he grieves the loss of a loved one. And Aelin is not going to let a party pooper ruin her summer.

Rowan Whitethorn has just suffered the biggest loss of his life: the death of his long-time girlfriend, Lyria. His family is sick of him moping around his tiny New York apartment, so they ship him down south for the summer. The last thing Rowan wants is to spend his vacation in Nowhereville, Texas, but he has little choice. Not to mention, the only people his age seem to hate him. How on earth is he going to survive 3 months of this?

“Hey, you!” Lys greets her as Aelin pulls into the driveway of her best friend’s house. Aelin lives on some land, but Lysandra is the one who owns land. She has several horses, cows, chickens, and some goats hanging around. Not enough to make money, just to have some fresh milk and eggs at home.

“I meant to be here earlier, but my mom made me drop off Rowan at the Terrasen Motel.” Aelin sighs.

“Why, are y’all getting rid of him?”

Aelin groans, opening up the passenger side door to let Fleetfoot out. “If only. No, the bastard has some friends in town, and asked me to take him over.”

“Well, are they at least hot? That’s the most important part.” Lysandra laughs as she and Aelin walk through the yard and towards the pasture, where the horses are.

“I dunno. I high tailed it out of there before he even stepped out of the truck.”

Lysandra is easy to be around, the kind of person you can just tell anything to. As much as Aelin loves her other friends, right now is about the time Elide, Yrene, and Nehemia would be chastising her, telling her to be kind and remember her manners.

But not Lysandra.

The two of them, Fleetfoot on their heels, walk arm-in-arm out to the pasture, smiling even as the oppressive heat grows worse. With the Ennars’ land being near a forest, the horses have access to both trees and a pond, though Lys has water buckets still hanging on the fence near the gate anyway.

Fleetfoot, clearly scenting the horses, is bouncing around excitedly, pink tongue lolling out as she dances from paw to paw. When Lys opens the gate, the golden dog sprints away in a flash, running to greet the large beasts roaming around the pasture.

“ I haven’t ridden Quince in a while, so I’ll take her out today. You can choose whoever you want.”

They find Quince standing in the shade of an oak tree, her dark tail lazily swatting at flies and mosquitoes. Standing with her is Poppy, the pale brown mare drinking from the pond.

“Hey, girlies.” Aelin coos, stroking Poppy’s nose. “Wanna go for a ride?”

“C’mon, you two.” Lys coaxes the two horses forward, Fleetfoot darting between them when she clicks her tongue. “We’re gonna go for a ride. And after we’ll brush you and give you some nice apples and oats. Does that sound good?”

They slowly lead the horses towards the barn to get them tacked up, both of them moving nearly on muscle memory as they talk the entire time.

“My mother is trying to include Rowan in everything we do.” Aelin complains. “What are we going to do with him if we go to the beach or something?”

“I mean,” Lysandra shrugs, “while I’m sure he’s a prick, he is very attractive. I wouldn’t mind having him on the beach. Maybe he’d take his shirt off.”

Aelin just groans loudly, a halfhearted attempt to get the image out of her brain, where he was just woken up, silver hair messy-

The horse snorts beside her face, dragging her away from the thought.

“Whatever, Lys. Let’s go riding.”

Both girls mount the horses and ride them out of the barn. The Texas sun is burning high, and while she’s only been outside for a bit, Aelin is already sweating like a pig. She can’t wait to be in the cover of the trees.

Fleetfoot trots alongside the horses happily, keeping pace while they head towards the riding trail around Lys’s house.

At least beneath the trees it’s a bit cooler, though no less humid. But the trail is wide enough for both horses to walk side by side, and it’s just the kind of calm Aelin needs after pissing off her mother.

Poppy is sturdy beneath her, and the horse doesn’t lean off the path to nibble at the overgrown vegetation. She just keeps moving forward.

“You know,” Lysandra starts, and from her tone of voice Aelin already knows what’s coming. “I still don’t really understand what you have against this Rowan guy. I mean-”

Aelin cuts off her friend with a loud groan. “Don’t start. He’s an asshole, that’s what I have against him.”

“How do you really know he’s an asshole, though? He’s only been here a few days.”

The blonde woman rolls her eyes. “First off, he insulted the town-”

“Well in that case, screw him.” Lys giggles. Aelin reaches over, leaning off the side of her horse, just to punch her in the arm.

“He just is, Lys. If you met him you’d know.”

Her friend doesn’t comment on the Rowan situation any more, instead pulling her horse slightly ahead to forge onward.

“You know,” Aelin mimics, a mischievous grin appearing on her features. “I noticed that you looked pretty cozy with Aedion at the barbecue last week.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lysandra says primly, though there’s no hiding the blush that rises to her face. Already flushed from the heat, her entire face turns tomato-red.

Aelin just smirks. “Okay, if that’s what you say. I just thought you might be interested in the fact that he got a new girlfriend-”

“Oh, shut up.” Now it’s Lys’s turn to punch her. Below them, Fleetfoot woofs loudly, paws crunching on the dry grass as she pads along behind the horses. “You can’t fool me, Aelin Ashryver. That man is about as hopeless with women as you are at hiding your underage drinking.”

“Like you weren’t drinking right along with me!” Aelin protests.

“Yes, but at least I was hiding it.”

The two women dissolve into friendly squabbling as they continue on, the path eventually emerging from the trees and right back into the pasture.

Poppy is getting slightly restless, and Aelin can feel the mare’s desperation to run. It is only fair, she supposes.

When Aelin locks eyes with Lysandra, they both instantly get the same idea.

Race you.

With a quick kick to Poppy’s sides, the brown horse instantly breaks into a gallop, tearing across the pasture with joy. Quince is right on their heels, and poor Fleetfoot is left in the dust.

There isn’t any wind, but Aelin’s hair is still blowing behind her, whipping free from its braids. Poppy tosses her head and her mane, and Aelin can’t help the wild cry of joy that escapes her throat, the sound carrying over the whole pasture. Lysandra whoops as well, both of them lost in the enchantment of running on horseback.

The horses can’t keep up the fast pace forever, and eventually Quince and Poppy slow down, and Aelin gifts her mare with plenty of praise and kisses as she dismounts.

“Good girl, Poppy.” She coos. “Let’s go get you some water, you good, good girl.”

They find Fleetfoot wading in the water, drinking alongside a few other horses. Poppy and Quince drink their fill while Aelin and Lys had back to the barn to get a few treats before untacking them.

Leading the horses away from the water is easier said than done, as both of them are reluctant to leave the pond. Eventually, with the help of many horse treats, they manage to get both of them to the barn to untack them.

It’s about 3 o’clock, and the sun is dipping ever so slightly. Of course, it won’t get dark until about 8, but at least the sun is mildly less intense.

“I still have a while until I have to be home.” Aelin tells her friend. “I don’t know what Mom’s cooking for dinner, but it’s important enough she wants me home for it.”

“If she’s making fried chicken tell her to prepare enough for me, too.” Lys grins. “God, I wish I could live off of just your mom’s fried chicken.”

Aelin rolls her eyes. “Don’t we all.”

“Well, if you don’t have to be home yet…” Lysandra’s grin turns devious. “I do have a few projects I could use some help on.”

When Lysandra hands her the rake and points her towards the horse stalls, Aelin just sighs.

Forget Rowan Whitethorn ruining her summer, her best friend has decided to aid in her misery by making her muck out the stable.

~~~~

After pretty much getting kicked to the curb from Aelin’s truck, Rowan is in a pretty foul mood. And it’s only worsened when the attendant at the front desk attempts to make small talk.

“You’re not from around here, are ya?” The man says, though it is friendly. Despite that, Rowan is pissed off at the world, and he barely gives more than one-word answers until he spots a familiar golden head down the hallway.

“Rowan!” Fenrys shouts, nearly crashing into him in his excitement. Lorcan rounds the corner, a lot more calmly than their friend.

“Hey.” Rowan sighs. “Glad you two could actually make it down.”

“Okay, I don’t care what either of you two grumps say, this place is awesome.” Fenrys laughs. “Everyone is so friendly, and the food is great, and-”

“And it’s fucking hot.” Lorcan groans.

“Okay, maybe it’s kind of hot-” Fenrys continues, but Rowan interrupts him.

“Goddamn, it is hot. And humid. How is any place allowed to be both this hot and this wet at the same time?”

“We’re actually just emerging from a drought.” The attendant pipes in helpfully.

“Let’s go eat.” Lorcan says, ignoring the man. “I’m starving.”

If the attendant is put out by the dismissal, he clearly doesn’t show it, because he keeps talking. “Y’all should head on down to Banjali. Ytger Hospitality has some of the best food in the county.”

“Yeah, let’s do that!” Fenrys is far too excited and has far too much energy for Rowan to handle, but then again, when is anybody energetic enough to deal with him?

“Whatever.” Lorcan shrugs.

They all pile into the small rental car that Fenrys got at the airport, Rowan being forced to sit in the backseat yet again. Fenrys, sitting shotgun, is scrolling through his phone as he attempts to locate the restaurant the attendant told them about.

In all honesty, Rowan would rather pick up fast food and be done with it. He doesn’t know if he has the mental strength to be out in public for an extended period of time.

But Fenrys is unstoppable. “Every review for the restaurant is at least four stars! It has a 4.5 average! I bet it’s going to be so good!”

Neither Lorcan nor Rowan comment much until Lorcan pulls into the parking lot. The restaurant is large, with a massive banner saying “Ytger Hospitality” hung over the entrance.

Fenrys all but sprints inside, only held back by Rowan grabbing his arm.

Inside almost feels… homey. The way it’s decorated, the design, the music playing in the background. It feels like Rowan just walked into his aunt’s house for Thanksgiving. Smells like it, too.

“Hello! How many in your party?” Rowan almost does a double take, looking over at the host.

It’s a boy, no more than thirteen years old.

“Uh- is that legal?” Lorcan snorts, taking in the form of the kid.

“My family owns this restaurant, mister. It’s family owned, family run. We all work here. My older sister waits tables, and my younger brother helps wash dishes. How many in your party?”

“Er… three.” Rowan manages. He’s never been to a restaurant where the kids are working. Is it considered child labor if it’s your own children doing it?

All three of them are ever so slightly disgruntled as the kid leads them to their table in the corner. He leaves them with menus and silverware, and hardly spares them another passing glance.

It isn’t long before a waitress comes over, a young woman with long black hair and dark skin.

“Can I get y’all something to drink? I’m Nehemia, I’ll be your waitress today.”

One glance at Fenrys and Rowan has to hold back a groan. The golden-haired man is one step away from looking like the heart-eyes emoji. The woman either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, instead observing them with a quiet grace.

“Just a water.” Rowan tells her. Lorcan agrees and orders his own, while Fenrys just… stares.

“Um… I’ll have the, uh, iced tea?” Fenrys manages to make it sound more like a question.

“Sweet or unsweet?” Nehemia asks.

“Er… sweet. Please.”

The waitress nods, tucking the pen behind her ear after writing down their drink orders. When she turns around, Rowan nearly has to snap Fenrys’s jaw shut.

“What the hell, man.” Lorcan hisses. “You see one pretty girl and forget how to speak?”

“She’s not just pretty, she’s gorgeous.” Fenrys sighs. “Holy shit. I have never seen a more beautiful person in my life.”

“Except for you, I’m assuming?” Rowan snorts.

Fenrys shakes his head. “No. Even my ethereal beauty can’t compete with her.”

“Damn. You’ve literally just met her.” Rowan continues. “Anyway, what does it matter? You two aren’t going to be here for long anyway, so there’s no point in starting a relationship.”

Now Fenrys is looking at him like he wants to commit murder.

“Anyway,” Lorcan says pointedly, “we should look at the menus. I’m starving.”

Rowan browses, but he isn’t incredibly hungry anyway. Fenrys and Lorcan chatter among each other, pointing out what sounds good, but all Rowan can do is look out the window.

“Are y’all ready to order or do you need a few more minutes?” The drawling accent of the waitress pulls him from his slight stupor, and he looks away from the sight outside.

“I’m ready.” Lorcan offers. “I’ll take the fried catfish.”

“You get two sides with that.” Nehemia tells him.

“Alright, then I’ll have… green beans and mashed potatoes.”

She turns to him next, and Rowan orders a simple cheeseburger with french fries. Then she goes to Fenrys.

“In your opinion, what’s the best thing here?” He croons. It’s clear flirtation, and both Rowan and Lorcan visibly cringe. The waitress, however, doesn’t seem too affected.

“Chicken fried steak.” She says without hesitation. “With mashed potatoes and fried okra on the side.”

Jesus Christ, Rowan thinks, why is everything fried here?

“I’ll have that.” Fenrys says with a grin. The waitress finishes writing everything down, then heads over to the next table.

All Lorcan and Rowan can do is shake their heads.

~~~~

The food was good. Delicious, actually, and Rowan is more stuffed than he’s ever been in his life as they make their way back to the car. All three of them collapse into their seats, groaning.

“I’m never going to need to eat again.” Lorcan mumbles.

“I should have stopped eating.” Fenrys laments. “But I just couldn’t.”

Rowan can’t even muster up enough energy to reply. The heat, the food, all of it combined made him want to go to sleep and never wake up.

“Just take me back, please.” He finally manages to say.

“Sure thing.” Lorcan buckles his seatbelt and puts the car in drive, pulling smoothly out of the parking lot.

None of the men speak on the way back to the Galathynius house, save for Rowan giving mediocre directions. Eventually, they pull up in the driveway, and Fenrys lets out a low whistle.

“Damn, Rowan. Living the high life, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.” Rowan sighs.

“See you around, man.” Lorcan says, ignoring Fenrys.

Rowan pulls his bloated self out of the car, walking up to the front door. Evalin gave him a copy of the keys the other night, but right before he lets himself in, the lady of the house herself beats him to it.

“Rowan, you’re back!” She says in that cheerful voice. She glances over to the car parked in the driveway, where, through the windshield, Rowan can see Lorcan on his phone.

“Are those your friends? Where are they staying?”

“Terrasen Motel.” Rowan tells her. “They’re only staying for-”

“Oh, they can’t stay there!” Evalin laments. “We have lots of room, they can stay with us! That motel should have closed years ago, honestly.”

“Er-”

Evalin doesn’t stop. “It’s not a problem, Rowan. We love having company, they can stay as long as they need.”

At the risk of seeming rude or ungrateful or anything else in the eyes of his host, Rowan pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Fenrys and Lorcan.

Rowan: Hey, Evalin is offering you guys a place to stay while you’re here. You don’t have to accept, really.

Before he can send another text, telling them not to respond, Fenrys’s reply nearly buzzes his phone out of his hand.

Fenrys: WOULD WE EVER?! HELL YES

Sweet Jesus.

All Rowan can think about, as Lorcan and Fenrys speed off to get their things, is that if Aelin hates him now, she’s certainly going to despise him after this.

And he doesn’t know why, but he just can’t stand the thought of her being more upset with him than she already is.

~~~~

Nehemia: Aelin, your mans just came to the restaurant

Aelin: You asshole, how do you even know what he looks like?

Nehemia: Well, first of all, he was clearly a yankee, and second of all, with a last name like Whitethorn, of course he’d have white hair.

Aelin: Your logic is lacking but I’ll give it to you anyway. He’s an asshole, isn’t he?

Nehemia: Yeah, he didn’t say please and thank you when ordering, so I’ve decided he’s actually the devil.

The sarcasm is clear, even through the phone, and Aelin can’t hold back her laugh. She really should be heading home, but right now she’s parked in front of Lysandra’s house, with Fleetfoot nearly on her lap, still panting from the heat.

Aelin: Hey, do you want to come over? We can eat ice cream in my bed and gossip loud enough that Mr. Asshole Yankee can hear us down the hall

Nehemia: Well, I was gonna say no, but after you said the word gossip it changed my answer.

Aelin: Alright, just come over whenever. I’m heading back from Lys’s right now.

The drive home is short, and since she hasn’t heard a word from Rowan or anyone else telling her to pick him up, she passes right by the Terrasen Motel without a second glance.

Something is different when Aelin pulls up to her house. There’s another car parked in the driveway. However, her mother always has someone over to drink sweet tea with, so it’s no matter.

That is, of course, until someone opens up the front door. Aelin isn’t even out of the truck yet, but she can clearly see that the two people in the entryway aren’t the usual demographic for her mother’s gossip sessions.

Two young men, one with dark hair and one with gold, hurry down the stairs to the car. And following them?

Rowan. It’s Rowan Whitethorn who is following them as they open up the trunk of the car and take out their suitcases.

Aelin is seeing red. It’s one thing for Rowan to stay with them. After all, he was invited. But for him to invite his own friends?

But before Aelin can pop a blood vessel, the golden haired man comes over to the truck and raps on the window, a bright grin on his features. Skeptically, Aelin rolls the window down.

“Hi!” He says, far too enthusiastically for her liking. “Fenrys Moonbeam.” He gives her his hand to shake, which Aelin does reluctantly.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” He smiles.

“And I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you.” She responds.

He laughs at that. “Well, you’ll have to get to know me, then. Your mother was really kind to offer us a place to stay.”

Well, Aelin supposes, if her mother offered, she really can’t be mad. And this Fenrys character seems decent enough.

She finally gets out of the car, letting Fleetfoot out as well so the dog can sniff the new arrivals. Rowan doesn’t say anything, though Fenrys leans down to coo over the dog.

Nehemia’s car comes rumbling down the street, the other woman parking on the already crowded driveway. Fleetfoot runs over to her just as the other woman hops out.

“Hey Aelin! Who’s all this?” Nehemia strides up to embrace her friend, and Aelin gladly accepts the hug.

“My mother is creating a hotel, apparently.” She chuckles.

But her friend isn’t listening. Nehemia’s interest is entirely taken by the golden man in front of her.

“Um… hello, again.” Fenrys says sheepishly.

Aelin looks between them frantically, at Fenrys, at Nehemia.

“Do y’all know each other?”

----

a/n: Well, well, well... drama. Some other random southern america facts- yes, people do usually let their kids work in family owned restaurants! I know a girl who’s family owns an awesome Mexican restaurant, and when you go there both she and her younger brother are working. So yeah, having Nehemia’s little brothers work, since the restaurant is family owned, isn’t that unusual down here! And also, yes, everything is fried. Everything.

Tag List: Comment to be added or removed!

@http-itsrebecca

@rowaelinforeverworld

@whyyoumakemesadstahp

@queen-of-glass

@the-dark-swan

@faerie-queen-fireheart

#throne of glass #tog #sarah j maas #tog au #deep in the heart of texas #dithot #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #nehemia ytger #fenrys moonbeam #lorcan salvaterre #galathynius family #southern au

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booknerdproblems · 4 years

Text

Immortals Chapter 7

Hello lovely people! I am sorry for the later-than-usual update, my week has been seriously hectic. It’s involved medical collapses, panic attacks and sleepovers. Due to this, this chapter is 100% my least favourite, and it’s unedited. I do, however, have the chapter after this written, so I will not be late with the next update!

TW: minor swearing

Here is a link to my main masterlist, where the all chapters for this fic can be found.

“Good,” said Asterin, “we’re immortals. Things should change, and often, or they’ll get boring” The next time Rowan saw Aelin Galathynius was two days later, in the throne room of Maeve’s stone palace. He was giving his report alongside Lorcan when she swept into the room and walked right up to Maeve. Without even a hint of a bow, she announced she was to visit Mistward, one Doranelle’s demi-fae outposts the other side of the Cambrian Mountains. Rowan liked Mistward, the people were down-to-earth and friendly, if a little intimidated by him. At least they weren’t snivelling nobility.

Apparently, her mother had spent some time there in her youth, fighting for demi-fae rights, and Aelin wished to visit the fortress she had heard much about. It seemed Evalin Ashryver had never had the chance to go back before her untimely death last year.

The Lord of Allsbrook and Lady Lysandra were to remain in Doranelle, and Aelin had set up meetings with Maeve’s foreign trade advisor for her entourage, and they were going to meet whilst she attended to her personal business.

Maeve had then promptly ordered Rowan to go with her to Mistward, to which Aelin had waved off, not needing an escort.

“I must insist. I can’t let my favourite niece wander the forest alone now, can I?” Maeve had replied with a snake’s smile. Rowan had no idea what Maeve’s ulterior motives were, but wasn’t about to ask any time soon.

Fenrys was on his way to Varese, so would accompany them for the first part of the journey. Rowan was deeply looking forward to this journey, it would be the best fucking highlight of his life. Two equally arrogant, swaggering fae who were currently in the business of bedding each other at every turn. Truly, Rowan couldn’t wait.

Rowan hadn’t been able to look Fenrys in the eye for two days after The Incident, until he finally got over himself and confronted the male about it. Fenrys had chuckled, clapped him on the shoulder, winked, and walked off without a word. So, Rowan thought it went well enough. It had been a sharp slap in the face, a reminder that he was a broken, centuries-old warrior, blood sworn to another queen. It had reminded him of what the tattoo covering his left side stood for. The shame he’d carry until his last breath. And Aelin, she was a young queen, a dreamer who was good for her people and the world. She was a gift to the world, even if she was arrogant and swaggering and slightly disrespectful. Gods, he couldn’t stand her contradictions. One moment she was kind and compassionate, helping a Doranelle youngling, and making his head spin, the next she was arrogant and rude addressing his queen and still making his head spin.

-x-

Waiting on one of Doranelle’s many bridges, Rowan traced the route in his head. He went through the comforting, familiar motions of securing his weapons and checking his food and water rations whilst he waited for Fenrys and the queen. Unsurprisingly, they were late.

A quarter of an hour later, Rowan spotted them in the distance. The queen was carrying a pack with a bedroll, for the two day trek to Mistward. He wondered how she would react to sleeping exposed to the elements, she was royalty afterall.

Fenrys’ blonde hair was up in a bun, a dark green tunic clinging to his body, complementing his bronze skin.

Once they’d reached him, he simply nodded in approval and turned toward the mountains, leading the way.

-x-

Two and a half hours later, Fenrys at last broke the silence that enveloped the three.

“So, are you going to be okay with sleeping out in the wild like this?” He addressed Aelin.

“Aw, are you worried about me?” Aelin’s tone was teasing.

Fenrys scowled, “Well, have you ever slept outdoors before?”

“Of course I’ve slept outdoors, who do you think I am?”

“Uh, the- Queen of Terrasen?”

“Fair point.” Aelin conceded, “But yes, I’ve slept on a bedroll before. Every summer, as the winter’s in Terrasen are too cold, me and my cousin Aedion do a three day hiking trip in the Staghorns, hunting and drinking ourselves half to death.”

Fenrys laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Reminds me of Connall and myself.”

“Yes well, Aedion is practically my brother anyways.”

“He’s bloodsworn to you, is he not?” Rowan cut in, curiosity getting the better of him.

“He is, swore it at my coronation last year.” Aelin looked surprised at his question.

“And he was okay with you both out in the wild without a guard?” Rowan’s tone was slightly judgemental, and Aelin frowned.

“Aedion knows better than to try and keep me locked up, I’d just break out and kill him myself.” Her voice was filled with fondness as she spoke of her bloodsworn.

“Couldn’t you just order him too through the blood oath?” Fenrys asked.

“Why the fuck would I do that? It’d take the fun out of everything.”

“He is your bloodsworn, though, so surely he has to do as you say?”

Aelin stumbled, looking toward Fenrys.

“Aedion is not some slave I order to do my bidding,” her voice was razor-sharp, “swearing the blood oath is a promise of respect and loyalty, not blind devotion. The orders I give him are his to do as he pleases, and should he wish to be free of his oath, he may do so at his earliest convenience. I neither can, nor do I even want to have people forced to serve me, and anyone who chooses to indeed follow me is valued and respected as their own individual within my court.”

Fenrys was looking at Aelin with a new sort of respect, and perhaps a hint of longing behind his eyes. Not longing for her, but for what position she could offer him in life. Indeed, Rowan’s own image of the young queen was constantly evolving, and her declaration had him smiling a little. He could imagine her court in the future, a band of nobility and commoners, standing strong against any threat to their immortal queen. Happy to serve, free to do as they please. A court to change the world. Dreamers, the lot of them.

She truly was the opposite of Maeve.

Nobody had spoken, but Aelin gave them a little smirk, and said,

“Anyway, nobody in their right mind could get past them.” She gestured to the surrounding forest, and Rowan sucked in a sharp breath at what he now noticed.

“The Little Folk,” Fenrys breathed from behind him.

Small figures, dryads and imps and pixies, all dancing through the trees silently.

Come to greet the Heir of Brannon. Perhaps they wondered after their kin in Terrasen, maybe had come to honour her Ashryver lineage or greet her as a descendant of Mab. Rowan had only caught glimpses of them in the past, they rarely ever revealed themselves. But here they were, murmuring to the Queen of Terrasen. And she… Aelin was whispering back.

Rowan had never heard of people talking to the Little Folk, but here was Aelin Galathynius, murmuring to them as if they were old friends.

She was speaking so softly, even Rowan’s sharp Fae ears had trouble hearing them. A winding ribbon of flame was dancing among them and the Little Folk suddenly receded, chattering amongst themselves. Looking back, Rowan started as he saw the Queen of Terrasen. A purple and blue flower crown sat upon her golden hair, and a delicate bracelet of acorns, daisies and thistles was upon her wrist. She was smiling softly, and Rowan’s breath was momentarily knocked from him.

Her eyes held a warm, content glow and embers seemed to light up her irises. Her golden hair was floating in the wind, and a truly happy smile sat upon her lips. Her cheeks held a light blush and in that moment, she looked truly beautiful.

Shaking it off, he looked at Fenrys and immediately glowered. The male’s eyes were on his and his eyebrows were raised as if to say ‘really?’ and his eyes had an amused, knowing gleam.

Turning back to the route, Rowan’s scowl remained for the rest of the afternoon, glaring at all the trees as if they’d personally offended him.

-x-

As they’d stopped for the night, Rowan had appreciated the queen’s quick, efficient way of setting up camp.

He did, however, hear her grumbling to Fenrys as she laid down on her bedroll for the night, set up next to but an appropriate distance away from the other male’s.

“Just because I’m used to these conditions, doesn’t mean I have to like them.” She was whining as Rowan rolled his eyes.

A pause then, “Rowan Whitethorn I can hear your eyes rolling right now.”

“Sure you can, Princess.” Rowan replied.

“I can!” Aelin protested, “and I’m serious. I would kill for a hot bath and one of my silk nightgowns right now.”

Fenrys whispered something in her pointed ear that made the temperature spike and earned him a punch to the arm.

Rowan rolled his eyes again so hard it hurt his brain, before rolling over and closing his eyes.

-x-

Waking with a jolt the next morning, Rowan found Aelin already awake, in her human form, whilst Fenrys was still snoring on the other side of mossy clearing.

“Morning,” he grunted.

Aelin just grumbled, raking her hands through her hair, wincing as her fingers caught on the tangles.

“Not a morning person?” Rowan chuckled as she levelled a glare at him.

Rowan just walked over to wake Fenrys up, telling Aelin to start packing up.

-x-

An hour later, Fenrys had pulled Aelin into a quick hug, murmuring goodbye as he separated for the way to Varese.

He saluted Rowan, receiving a roll of pine-green eyes in his response, before vanishing into nothing, leaving Rowan and Aelin in the middle of Wendlyn’s forests, staring at each other.

Rowan broke first, raking his hand through ruffled silver hair and sighing.

“Mistward is twenty miles away. I’m not in the mood to spend the next eight hours walking. Shift, and let's go. We’re running.” He gave her a feral grin, canines exposed.

Aelin narrowed her eyes at the commanding tone, but started to braid her waist-length hair at the base of her head. Rowan secured his pack as a flash of light indicated her shifting. Gods, she really was gorgeous. And her beauty was heightened in her Fae form, her ears delicately pointed and canines lengthened. She moved with ethereal grace, and everything seemed to revolve around her. Too bad he could barely stand her, even if he’d felt a… shift, in their relationship since they sparred. Since he’d felt their magic dancing around each other. Since he’d begun to see her as more of an… equal.

He didn’t exactly know where he stood with the young Queen of Terrasen, sometimes she acted like his mortal enemy, sometimes she just seemed like an overly-excitable acquaintance with mild pestering tendencies.

Aelin finished tying her braid, bracing her hands on her hips and smirking at him, arrogance back in full swing. Rowan nodded once at her, and took off.

He raced through the trees, dodging boulders and leaping fallen logs as the world blurred around him. The forest was so alive, all the plants and animals coming together to create its own kind of magic, a circle of life and death and rebirth. The wind whipped through his hair, and his arms pumped harder as he sprinted, a thin sheen of sweat starting to break out upon his skin.

Rowan looked sideways, and spotted a blur of gold through the trees a little way away from him. Aelin met his gaze, and grinned at him in the pure, unbridled joy that came with pushing your Fae body to the limits. The scents and tastes of the world around him were so exhilarating, and he felt nothing could compare to the feeling. He smiled back at the young demi-fae, and felt, almost, less alone. Maybe, just maybe, a friendship could be possible between the two. For the first time in a long, long while, Rowan felt… hopeful. Like he could look forward to tomorrow.

Tags: @bookworm232020 @brandyovereager @kendallambrosio @alyx801

I hope those are the right tags! Let me know if you would like to be tagged.

#aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #fanfic #fanfiction #throne of glass #sarah j maas #sjm #aelin and rowan #rowan x aelin #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin of the wildfire #aelin fireheart #immortals #chapter 7

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cicada-bones · 4 years

Text

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 2: Hunting

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Rowan soared out, over the turrets and bridges, and towards that faint pulse of dark power he could still sense within the palace.

He shifted and landed lightly on the pads of his feet in a small interior courtyard with a central fountain, then turned quickly down the hall to his left and pushed open a plain stone door that sat halfway down the passage. Inside, he was greeted by a bare space that held only an immaculate bed, a cold fireplace, and a wooden desk at which sat a tall, dark, brooding figure facing away from him, studying a worn piece of paper.

“Whitethorn,” Lorcan said without turning to look at him. “What in rutting hell do you want.”

It had been nearly a year since Rowan had seen the male, and yet there was no greeting, no warmth from him. Not that Rowan expected anything else.

In earlier years, when he had first encountered Lorcan, Rowan had pitied the male. Had wondered what had happened, what had been taken from him as a child on the streets of Doranelle, for him to be this way.

Now…he no longer needed to.

Rowan and Lorcan were the same. Two sides of one coin, black granite and solid ice. Perfect killing tools. A match made in hell.

Exactly where Lorcan got his magic – straight from the fiery pits of hell. Blessed by Hellas, god of death, Lorcan’s power was that of will – of death and thought and destruction. Perhaps that was why he was so attracted to a queen who collected the wills of others as if they were her own.

When Rowan did not reply, Lorcan turned around, revealing features hewn from granite and piercing onyx eyes. “What.”

Rowan hesitated slightly, unsure how to ask the questions he harbored. Lorcan would not take well to questioning their queen. “I assume you know why I was called back from the east.”

“I didn’t even know you were in the east. But yes, I know why you were called to Doranelle. What of it.” The words were blank and empty, and Lorcan’s features barely moved from their cruel cast as they escaped his mouth.

Rowan’s voice was hardly any warmer. “Why.”

Lorcan finally seemed to actually see Rowan. “Gavriel is in the north, Vaughan off with another garrison on the other side of the world. Fenrys is already in Varese, and Connall is upstairs somewhere doing gods know what, and isn’t allowed to leave.” Lorcan’s voice was hard.

“I have been called to the fleet, heading south along the coast and then east through the southern inlets, to send aid to the Erriagti people. I’m set to leave in the next few days, but I should be back before the end of the season. I do not have time for other errands, and you are the next in line.”

Rowan pursed his lips slightly. “There’s still something different about this one. It feels almost as though Maeve is…hiding something.”

Lorcan’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “What are you insinuating.”

He sighed. “Nothing specifically. This just feels – off.”

“I assumed it was a roundabout method of punishing Fenrys. He’s been pulling at the leash even more than usual lately.”

That explanation didn’t sit well with Rowan, for some reason. “She didn’t reveal anything to you indicating why she wants the girl so badly?”

“I’m sure you remember tell of her power.”

Rowan’s silence was answer enough.

“Well then, there’s your answer.”

Rowan clenched his jaw. “She really seeks to recruit?”

“So it seems.”

“A fire gift for the Queen of the Rivers.” Rowan’s statement was wry, almost skeptical.

Lorcan narrowed his eyes again. “And why would you say that?”

“Maeve built this city of stone and water. She fears fire.” Rowan was almost surprised at his daring for voicing these thoughts aloud. “Why would she covet it so?”

Lorcan’s words were merciless. “Perhaps, all those millennia ago, if our queen had acquired Brannon, we would not watch over a kingdom but instead an empire.”

“So she seeks to conquer.”

“I do not know, Rowan. And frankly I don’t understand where this sudden desire to question our queen’s motives is coming from.”

Rowan didn’t know either.

So he moved on. “What do you know of the girl? I was in the north, fighting in that useless excuse for a war, but you were here when she came to light.”

Lorcan sighed. “She’s demi-Fae. As far as I remember she had shifting abilities – human and Fae forms. Rare, but not unheard of. We don’t know how well trained she is in her powers.”

“So they could be formidable.”

“They could be. Another reason for Maeve sending you.”

Rowan turned his head and narrowed his eyes slightly, considering. Magic had been absent from the western continent for nearly a decade, meaning that the princess wouldn’t have been able to train her powers in her homeland. But her master, Arobynn Hamel, could easily have sent her to a foreign nation to do so.

“And what about as the assassin.”

“Not much had been known about Celaena Sardothien, other than that she was a col-blooded killer. Ruthless and arrogant. Rumors were rampant, and if our queen could divine fact from fiction, she isn’t sharing.”

“But obviously proficient?” Rowan pushed.

“At least against mortals.”

“But she isn’t fully mortal.”

“No she is not. And we do not know if the assassin’s guild trained her in her Fae form.”

As Fae, the princess’ speed and strength would rival even theirs. But only if she had been trained to use it. Rowan’s blood thrilled. “This could be quite the fight.”

Lorcan’s answering smile was brutal. “I’ve never known you to shy from a challenge, Whitethorn. Don’t disappoint me now.”

Rowan’s grin was small and cold as he responded. “And what about you? What are you going to face in the southeast?”

“A royal has turned, and the people have revolted against him, burning wherever they go. Maeve sends aid to the foolish king, setting the price of winning his kingdom back for him that he must lay much of his authority at her feet.” Lorcan grimaced. “At least its more interesting than an errand run to Varese.”

“We’ll see.” Rowan goaded, even though he knew Lorcan was probably right. The princess would likely be as much a pain in his ass as Fenrys was. All royals were the same – spoiled, selfish, and entirely useless. Especially the powerful ones.

Lorcan just huffed a laugh. “Sure. We’ll see.”

“Who knows. Maybe the princess will be so completely useless that Maeve disposes of her the moment they meet at Mistward, and I’ll be able to join you in the southeast.”

Lorcan’s brow furrowed slightly. “Mistward? The western outpost?”

Rowan nodded.

“Maeve is leaving Doranelle?”

“Yes.”

Lorcan’s lips tightened as he turned his head to face the wall. Their queen did not leave her city lightly. Rowan hadn’t been wrong, something had shifted. This meeting was more than just a formality.

Lorcan turned back to face him, and they reached an understanding.

The male’s eyes were dark. “Regardless, your mission remains the same. Go, collect the princess, and leave the future to the oracles.”

Rowan just nodded, and left.

···

The dawn sun stretched its comforting hand out to brush Rowan’s feathers. He hadn’t bothered to transform back into his Fae form to sleep, choosing instead to perch on a convenient branch until morning.

The trip would normally take him three days. Now, with Fenrys waiting for him in Varese already, he’d hoped to half that. So he’d flown through the previous day, pushing his body to its limit. But he hadn’t had even a moment to rest while in Doranelle, meaning he couldn’t move as quickly as he wished. No matter how it irked him, he’d had to sleep last night.

Rowan opened his eyes quickly, jerked from sleep by the sudden warmth while his nightmares slowly faded, the familiar images leeching from behind his eyelids. He sat on the oaken bough, waiting for the screams to dissipate. Lyria.

Rowan sighed into Mala’s embrace. The sun goddess had always favored him, and now she seemed to smile lightly upon his skin, a promise of some kind. Tomorrow, he would reach Varese, and begin the hunt.

Rowan let out a screech of anticipation. He could be walking into the fight of his life, and his blood thrilled to the challenge.

Aelin Galathynius very well could be a considerable threat, one trained in both Fae combat and fire magic. Whose power at nine years of age had people across the world worried about their borders and their futures.

Even in Doranelle they had feared that the princess would one day take her magic beyond Terrasen's borders and across the sea to the city of water and stone. Where she might be powerful enough to pose a threat. But then the world had twisted, and Terrasen fell, like so many other kingdoms in the west this past decade, and Terrasen’s heir was no more. Or so he had thought.

Now the princess was nearing her second decade. She was still young, but a child no more. And her power will only have grown with the passing years. Then, somehow she had come into the service of Adarlan’s King, the man who had overthrown her country, who had murdered her family. And she was in Wendlyn to kill for him.

The princess of Terrasen had abandoned her nation and become a killer. Had become Adarlan’s assassin, Celaena Sardothien.

Even on the other side of the world, rumors of that girl had reached him. She would disappear for a time, and then violently resurface, carnage and destruction in her wake. Rowan had never paid much attention to the stories, rejecting them as fanciful tales. But now he wished he’d paid them more heed.

The girl was obviously proficient in combat. Just the fact that he had heard of her, had noted her existence, attested to that. Even if her strength as a mortal couldn’t hold a candle to any well-trained Fae. But would he be facing her as a mortal?

As it always did before a test, his blood spiked with adrenaline. But this time, the eagerness was tinged with something else. A thought he couldn’t contain. Particularly as the date, the dreaded anniversary, loomed over him like a guillotine blade.

Perhaps today he would see her again.

Rowan violently battered at the hope that yawned its tiny head with the unwelcome thought, a futile attempt to strike away the agony that followed surely after. Lyria.

He shook himself, shuttering the pain away behind walls of ice, and took off into the light of the rising sun.

As Rowan flew, he calculated.

His quarry was a princess of Terrasen, descendant of Brannon and gifted with his fire magic. Once Rowan was in close proximity to her, he would probably be able to sense her power just as he did with any magic wielder. But from a distance, he wasn’t familiar enough with her to sense a gods-damned thing.

Her scent could possibly mark her as Terrasen royalty, but she had spent so many years as another person, in foreign nation, that he couldn’t rely on it alone to track her down. Her scent might not have any traces of Terrasen left.

She would most likely have an Adarlanian accent, or perhaps a Terrasen one. But then again, she had been trained as a spy and assassin, she could be adept at disguising her accent, as well as her distinctive appearance.

But the spy’s information had been predicated upon the princess’s golden hair and turquoise-and-gold eyes; meaning Rowan could be assured that at least within the last week the princess had retained those features.

He couldn’t easily ask around after her either. With the name Aelin Galathynius, or Celaena Sardothien for that matter, she wouldn’t provide any names that would be recognizable at bars or inns. He had to rely on description alone.

There was also the chance that she had found sanctuary with her relatives, the Ashryvers, and he would have to spirit her away under the noses of royal guards.

This was proving to be even more of a challenge than he had originally supposed. From a distance, he would be forced to use that which she could not easily change about herself. Namely, her eyes, her age, and the feeling of her power.

···

The day waxed into night, the miles dissolving beneath his wings. Then the sun rose once more, bringing with it the promise of contest.

Where to look for a princess in the city of Varese? Rowan mused.

The city’s sprawl came into view beneath the clouds, a hilly expanse of red terracotta tiles and white stucco walls. The sun had fully risen now, and was baking the city streets and its many colors into a white-bright haze. In the evenings, the streets would glow golden, falling into lovely streaks of yellow and orange. But during the day, the capital scorched and blistered under Mala’s heavy gaze.

The vegetation that survived the sun’s glare was hardy and tough, but still a dark and vibrant green, contrasting well with warm tones of the capital. Outside the city walls, the evergreens gathered into a thick forest that spread towards the distant mountains and the city of rivers hidden among them.

The buildings were all piled on top of each other, climbing onto each other’s shoulders and resting on each other’s backs, a pile of limbs. It was haphazard and chaotic, a mess of noise and color and scent.

A perfect hiding place.

He swooped down low, heading past the centrally located palace and towards the northwest section of the city, making sure to avoid the gazes of keen-eyed castle guards. Varese was a city of magic, housing a substantial Fae population in addition to the many Fae nomads that regularly came through the city. The palace guards would know how to recognize a Fae in animal form, and he had no desire to be spotted and stopped.

The northwestern part of Varese was the oldest part of the city, and underneath all of the carelessly stacked additions you can still find the original ancient courtyard that the capital city was built around. It now housed a small market that teemed with magical trinkets, potions, fortune tellers, spells and tools, as well as gifted street performers and defected mercenaries that now traded their powers for a few coins.

This district held the highest concentration of Fae, and unsurprisingly, it was the area of the city Rowan was most familiar with.

He remained in hawk form, soaring high above the market stalls and avoiding any watchful eyes. In his Fae body, his presence would be noted wherever he went. He was too powerful, too recognizable, and far too memorable.

Rowan swooped down a familiar alley and towards a secluded doorway. Without hesitation, he soared through the open curtain and transformed, moving to sit on a plain wooden chair. The space was painfully small and almost entirely bare, the consequence of so much time traveling.

The apartment was one of many spread throughout Wendlyn, all inconspicuous, tiny, and sparse. Kept by Maeve’s blood-sworn warriors as outposts, ready to be used whenever needed.

Rowan could feel a familiar presence in the only room adjoining the main space.

Good, he was here.

Rowan let out a grunt of annoyance. There was no way that his presence hadn’t already been sensed. He was being ignored. But before he could break down the door and pull the male out by his teeth, it opened and Fenrys lurched out, a wild look in his eye and a short dagger in his hands.

Rowan snorted, his eyebrows raising. Or maybe not.

“Pleasant sleep?” Rowan asked, his voice laced with derision.

Fenrys only grunted, and sat in the only other available chair. The male was disheveled; there were heavy bags under his dark eyes, his golden curls were matted, and his bronze skin was ashen. Rowan had obviously just woken him after a late night.

Rowan’s jaw tightened. At least the male was where he was supposed to be – even if he hadn’t actually achieved anything other than debauchery in the days since his arrival.

But Fenrys just frowned back at his icy glare. “Took you long enough.” His words were muddled with sleep and leftover drink.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed still further. Barely anyone in the world would dare to speak to him like that. Unluckily for Rowan, Fenrys was one of those very few. “Have you done anything other than drink yourself to death since you got here?”

“No. And I promise, I did it just to annoy you.”

Rowan blinked, while his muscles tensed.

“Now now Rowan don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m not that stupid.” Fenrys’ grin was wicked, his eyes bright enough to set the apartment on fire.

Rowan just sighed, leashing his anger and dredging up that well of patience hidden beneath it. It wasn’t particularly deep. This time of year, early spring, was always the hardest for Rowan. He wished he could just leave, could fly into the waiting winds and rage at the waning sun. Instead he was trapped here with this male and his infuriating mouth.

Fenrys spoke up. “I’ve been here nearly a week now. I wasn’t expecting you so soon – you must have hauled ass from Doranelle.”

Rowan just grunted.

“I’ve spent the past three days and nights almost entirely in the palace. Galan Ashryver, the crown prince, is honorable – he will be a benevolent ruler. He spends most of his days in council, or with his army. Adarlanian forces venture closer every day – threatening outright war. And he’s become a blockade runner.”

Fenrys grinned at that, his eyes warm with respect for the young prince. Rowan nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“The people love him for it. Maeve will probably have a hard time with him in the coming years – he’s intractable. Stubborn. And righteous to a fault. The king however is different story – you’re familiar with him, I’m sure.”

Rowan grimaced.

Fenrys cursed. “Bastard. Can’t shine his shoes without checking in with at least three advisors, and even then, he’d probably still avoid going through with it. Her majesty has wrapped him utterly around her finger. There is no way that he is knowingly hiding Aelin Galathynius under Maeve’s nose, absolutely none. And with the princess’s eyes and age…she’d probably be discovered within days if she tried to infiltrate the court.”

Rowan agreed with the assessment. “But?”

“But there’s a chance that Galan Ashryver is hiding her. A small one, but still a chance.”

Rowan nodded again.

“His patterns are very regular – and much of the time he is in company. He only rarely has time alone, and even more rarely is he out of the palace grounds. Their security is fairly tight – enough so that even Adarlan’s Assassin couldn’t easily slip through.”

“The princess was ordered to assassinate the Ashryvers – ”

“Yes,” Fenrys interrupted, causing Rowan’s frown to deepen, “and that is why my focus these past few days has been on the palace, and not on tracking the girl down.”

“And?” Rowan spoke through his teeth.

“Nothing.”

“No threats, no attacks, no one scouting them out?”

“Absolutely nothing. I’ve mentioned the possibility of a threat to his guards, and they are planning on upping his security. Not that the assassin is likely to get a shot at him before we track her down.”

“Not that that is going to prove an easy task.”

Fenrys’ eyes glinted. “You doubt our ability to overpower a teenage princess?”

Rowan scowled. “I am cautious when that teenage princess has a power great enough to attract the attention of our queen, and of nations across the world.”

“Oh Rowan, what a worrier you are turning into in your old age.”

Rowan’s anger pulled on its leash. He sighed. “That wasn’t what I meant anyways. The girl has every reason to stay out of sight, and as an assassin, she must have been trained to disguise her appearance. She could prove very difficult to track down.”

Fenrys frowned, and nodded.

Rowan shifted in his seat. “What did Maeve tell you before you left?”

Fenrys cocked his head, his eyes dancing once again. “What? Are you thinking I may have received more information than you, oh-great-immortal-warrior?

“Just tell me.”

The male relented. “Only the princess’ description, her purpose in Varese, and her identity as both Celaena and Aelin.” Fenrys’ eyes darkened slightly. “Maeve also said that she was sending for you, and you were to collect the girl and ferry her back. I was ordered to stay away from her, which I’m sure was intended as a punishment. Instead I have to stay in Varese to ensure that the Ashryver prince doesn’t get any ideas about attacking Adarlan before Maeve decides it’s necessary.”

“From what you said, that might also prove a challenge.”

Fenrys nodded. “You know how these royals are – still upset about Maeve ignoring Terrasen’s call for aid all those years ago. Slow to trust. Just got back from a long night of ingratiating.”

“If that’s what you call it.” He eyed the undergarments strewn through the apartment.

Fenrys grinned wickedly. “Nothing wrong with enjoying a few nights of freedom.”

Rowan’s lips tightened slightly. No matter how infuriating the male was, Rowan still sympathized with Fenrys. He bore the brunt of Maeve’s attentions, shielding his twin from her. Fenrys was still young by Fae standards, but the twin wolves had still served Maeve for nearly a century. And all that time, Fenrys protected his brother from Maeve.

Fenrys hadn’t sworn to Maeve out of devotion, or desire for power, or even out of desperation as Rowan had. He had sworn out of his love for his brother, and his need to protect him.

Maybe as a result of that, out of all of them Fenrys chafed the most under Maeve’s rule. He never betrayed her, never undermined her, but he was the only one of Maeve's blood-sworn who perhaps truly regretted taking the blood oath.

But it didn’t matter – now that it was done, he would serve for the rest of his life or die in dishonor. There were no other options.

Rowan shook himself from those pointless thoughts. “How long will you be here?”

“Her majesty bade me stay till the end of the month.”

“Good.” Rowan paused. “Well you'd better not have any other plans for your day – we’re going hunting.”

Rowan waited for a rebuttal, but none came. Fenrys was just nodding his agreement, a wicked light gleaming in his eyes. “Getting worn-out, old man? Need some assistance on your little chase?”

Rowan growled as the words cut through him. He pushed the fury away through sheer force of will, snarling, “You know why I asked.”

Fenrys grinned wide. “What, the ancient, all-powerful warrior needs my help interrogating barmaids?”

“You’re less conspicuous than I am.”

“Friendlier, you mean.”

“A bigger pain in the ass.”

“Better at flirting with the barmaids though.” Fenrys laughed outright, ducking to avoid Rowan’s swipe at his left cheekbone. “Don’t worry Rowan, I’ll ask around for your missing princess.”

Rowan closed his eyes briefly, strangling the fury that threatened to break through his icy walls.

“Aww I’ve got you all hot and bothered now – care for cool drink little birdie?”

Rowan’s nostrils flared warningly. If he could manage to avoid slaughtering Fenrys, this male would put him in the ground one day.

Fenrys just laughed again, letting go for the time being. “I’ll start by checking the tabernas in the old parts of the city, see if anyone’s spotted someone that fits her description. Maybe she’s more comfortable around other Fae. Then I’ll check the slums. Easiest place to hide in a city of this size.”

Rowan nodded.

“You?”

“I’ll scout from above.”

“I knew you’d be useful someday.”

···

The day passed slowly, dully.

The rhythms of the capital had not changed since Rowan had last visited, and were unlikely to change for centuries to come. It was peaceful, and the city guards were calm, collected, and reliable. There were no threats to be uncovered, no spies lining the rooftops or assassins in the shadows. Nor was there any scent, any hint, of wildfire.

The fight he had anticipated, had almost longed for, did not materialize.

Still, Rowan catalogued every unusual figure that passed below, marking every person that could conceivably fit the princess’s description, and many others besides. Even so, there were not many.

When dark fell and the streets began to empty, Rowan returned to the apartment to meet with Fenrys.

He stewed in silence, forced to wait for the male to reappear. The walls of the apartment were close, confining. He was claustrophobic in the tiny space. Even so, the anxiety was less to do with the apartment and more to do with the thoughts trapped inside his head. He couldn’t get away from them, had no escape. The date loomed over him, a clock running out in his head, an anvil waiting to drop.

Even after all these centuries, his grief was still the weight of the world on his back.

The burden of his anguish and his guilt, his endless shame, had not lessened by one single drop. He could still feel the rough wood of the shovel between his fingers, still taste the copper of her blood on his lips. Could still sense the heat of the mountain home burning before his eyes.

And the images rent him through just as thoroughly as they had that first day.

He longed to move, to escape, to allow the wind and moonlight to coat his body in ice until he no longer had to breathe – no longer had to think. Until his very bones were made of ice. But he couldn’t, so he sat and waited. Not for his brother to walk through the door, bearing news of the princess they sought, but for the foe who would finally best him, and send him back to his love.

It was late into the night when Fenrys finally reappeared.

The moon was full, and a soft white light illuminated the space through the open window. Pale blue curtains ruffled as the front door clicked open and shut.

Fenrys moved through the room efficiently, grabbing a dirty bottle of some amber liquid and collapsing into the chair opposite Rowan. He took a long draught, then handed the bottle over to Rowan, who drank without hesitation.

“So I asked around.”

“Hmm.”

“And I’m not sure how reliable the information I managed to get is.”

Rowan grunted.

“It’s not that people were unwilling to talk – its more that the description we have to give is so sketchy. In Varese, Ashryver eyes are common enough, even when paired with golden hair and aristocratic features.”

“Bastards.”

“Yep. It seems that over the years the Ashryvers have managed to spread their line pretty far throughout the city.”

“So, nothing.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Rowan waited.

“I managed to find a few possibilities. All new to the city, all young women, traveling alone, matching the description. One is staying in a wayhouse in a southern section of the city, arrived three nights ago. I visited her earlier this evening.”

“And?”

“Beautiful. Great taste in furniture. But unless your princess is planning on marrying a merchant’s son and eloping to Fenharrow anytime soon, she’s not your girl.”

Rowan raised his eyebrows.

“I take it no dice.”

“Just keep talking.”

“Another was just passing through, heading for a ship to the southern continent. I managed to catch her before she left. Not her. Great flirt though.”

Rowan frowned at the cocky male.

“There were a few others, all shaky matches, not really worth checking up on unless we get desperate. And the last one was a bit of a mystery. Apparently, there’s been a young woman showing up each night in tabernas around the western edge of the city to gamble. Always keeps her face covered.”

“Hmm.”

“Yeah. I ended up talking to a few guards and barkeeps, and last night a city guard finally got a good look. She’s young – at the latest in her mid-twenties, with light hair and the right eyes. Stood out to him – she’s quite pretty apparently, but the man didn’t want to pursue any of his bosses’ cousins.”

Rowan frowned.

“She’s a shit gambler though, plays dice all night and ends up robbing back what she loses. Started a few big fights the past couple nights. The guards are looking for her, but she doesn’t seem to have an address in the city, and she isn’t renting a room anywhere. She’s a ghost.”

Rowan’s lips twitched.

"Doesn’t sound much like royalty – but since she’s successfully hidden from Adarlan’s soldiers on her own all these years, I wouldn’t put anything past her.”

“Any leads?”

“Nope. Whoever she is, she’s good at hiding her tracks. But I can give you the names and locations of the bars she’s been spotted at the past few nights.”

Rowan nodded as Fenrys relayed the information, then asked, “Would you purchase a couple of horses for me in the market tomorrow? Whether or not this girl is the princess, once I do find her I don’t want to let her out of my sight. I’m going to need a way out of the city, and I would prefer it not to be on my feet.”

Fenrys frowned, but agreed, and Rowan nodded his thanks.

Then the male’s eyes seemed to shift, and he hesitated for a moment, considering something. His lips pursed, brow furrowed. Worried. Rowan found himself automatically tensing in response.

Fenrys shook his head as he said, “Why this girl Rowan? I was in Doranelle, with nothing to do. The girl is powerful, yes, but she is young. And mortal. Any of us could probably take her. But Maeve still took you from another assignment and asked you to collect her.”

Rowan turned to look out the window.

“And now she’s going to leave Doranelle to meet with her. Leave Doranelle. I don’t think she’s done that this century. Why?”

“I don’t know.” Rowan’s voice was hard.

Fenrys frowned and nodded, parsing his real meaning from the non-answer.

Something had shifted.

Change was on the horizon. Aelin Galathynius had reappeared, the lost princess found. And their queen was intent on acquiring her. War was stirring in the west, coming ever closer to their shores. Adarlan was poised to attack, had even schemed to murder royalty, a risky and underhanded ploy. The chess pieces were moving.

The two males said a quiet farewell, Fenrys still lost in thought.

Rowan took off into the darkness, the wind tearing at his feathers.

···

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#WatE repost

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sasskarian · 4 years

Note

I know you're not exactly a DA blog anymore... But... I just finished DA2 for the very first time and, and. I got myself Inquisition with all DLCs. I need to know what happens. I want the poor baby Cullen to be happy :(

Nonnie, I am still at my heart very much a DA blog (and Mass Effect; I just tend to smear new obsessions everywhere. Like finger painting). I curate my experience as much as I can due to the fandom being shit, but my love for DA is strong and steady.

The best thing I can say is, play through the game and DLCs. (Tho suggested order is Jaws > Descent > Trespasser) I promise you, Cullen has the option of being happy. I wouldn’t write about it if I didn’t see those paths, and at least some of them are canon.

I know what you mean, tho. Cullen is, to some of my friends’ dismay, near and dear to my heart. He’s my canon quiz’s romance, for many reasons. The truth is, I struggle with the fandoms’ interpretations of him and was just talking about this with my DA/FO/ME bestie @asaara-writes the other day. I think a lot of Cullen’s trauma is easily missed or overlooked in favor of louder plots (like Fenris’s, who doesn’t get hated on nearly so much for his hatred and distrust of mages, or Anders who hates Templars and is lauded for it. If I see another ANDERS WAS RIGHT banner, I’m gonna overclock somebody’s capacitors)

(Pardon me, I’ll throw this under a cut because wall of text, but I have some got-damn Opinions on Cullen and how the fandom treats him)

But for me, I’m neither in the “Cullen is poor bab who never did anything wrong uwu” or the “Cullen is a horrible bastard and should be set afire” camp. I walk a more moderate line, and here’s why:

I have a Cullen.

My fiance, he’s... so much like Cullen that it breaks my heart. Military vet, disillusioned with his desire to do good in the world and the realities of corruption and power abuse. Substance abuse issues, and recovery from addiction. Said some bad things/had bad opinions when he was younger due to abuse by certain groups of people, and has since reformed and is trying to continue changing. Abuse survivor. Blood on his hands from his career. Trying his best to find his way in a world that he doesn’t understand. So I see the similarities, and I live with the reality of what that kind of history and life is like.

Cullen was a fresh-faced 18 year old in the Kinloch Circle (however old his in-game image looks, he was canon 18-20). Which, by canon, was one of the less problematic, more lenient Circles (though you have to have Mage origin to find that stuff out). I don’t think he’d been a Templar long at that point. And he joined the Templars out of a desire to do good in the world. His examples of Templar behavior were those stationed in a small village, who had more leniency and less lawkeeping duties. Honnleath was tiny, and quiet. I’m going on assumption here, on my own history of small towns vs larger cities, that there wasn’t much evidence of power hunger and abuse an eight year old would notice.

Note that he remains kind and even remorseful at some of his duties (for instance, having to attend Harrowings) even under a hateful man like Greagoir.

When Uldred takes over the Circle and kills everyone, Cullen is the last left. He watches possessed mages and demons run wild in his home, killing and torturing his friends. If you’re a mage origin, he talks about how the demons used his feelings and affection for you, inappropriate though they were, to torment him. It’s implied through dialogue that at least some of those demons sexually abused him.

Yes, in his panic and fresh trauma, he begs the Warden to kill any mages found left in the Circle. I wonder why. Tumblr at large acts like the only way for PTSD and trauma to be exhibited is through cowering and nightmares, but it’s well known among people who have PTSD (including myself) that outrage, hair trigger tempers, and anger issues are as common as crying jags and insomnia.

After the resolution of Broken Circle, Cullen is reassigned to Kirkwall. Arguably, this is the worst possible Circle he could have been sent to in the entirety of the goddamn world. Not only is Kirkwall famous for increased blood mage activity (both due to history and also due to Templar behavior), which is one of his trauma-groups, but Meredith hates mages, and rules over them with an iron fist. She is fucking crazy, and whether her past makes her a sympathetic villain or not (ymmv), she downright encouraged the abuse of mages and as she loses her mind, we see her start accusing everyone of blood magic.

Canon states that there are Templars in Kirkwall who sexually abuse mages, who torture them, and who kill them at will, and these are never dealt with. Meredith has no desire to change the way the Gallows is run, and it’s said or implied that before her reign as the overseer, the Gallows-- while still not great-- was not this bad.

So, freshly traumatized and young Templar is sent to the worst possible place in Thedas, under the command of a crazed mage hater, surrounded by the very thing that will trigger him nigh constantly. I see a lot of the fandom say “well why didn’t he quit/leave?” And I wonder if those fans understand what indoctrination can do. Specifically, military indoctrination. You’re told that the ranks are your home, your family, the only ones who can or will ever understand you. You’re told this for so long that it becomes a life raft. It becomes your world truth. That’s the nature of emotional abuse that fosters codependency: it literally reshapes your world.

Added to that, Templars are controlled by the Chantry through lyrium, an addictive drug that quitting is difficult and surviving the withdrawal of is often fatal. (that’s another rant entirely that can be summed up as tl;dr fuck the fucking Chantry)

The Templars were the only thing he knew. After that kind of soul-shaking trauma, do you leave behind everything you ever knew? (Remember, he was 13 when he joined into this kind of brainwashing.) No. You cleave to what you can, to what keeps you getting through the day.

Cullen spent a further ten years in Kirkwall, watching the city fall apart under Qunari, blood magic, and Meredith’s increasing insanity. There was no reprieve for his PTSD: everywhere he turned, there was Something. And yet, we hear in Inquisition (depending on player choices, ofc) Samson say that Cullen tried to continue to be kind. He didn’t abuse mages, he tried to protect them where and how he could.

[Samson: He arrived after the trouble at the ferelden circle. Cullen jumped at his shadow in those days, always on the watch for abominations and demons. Did right by the mages, though, never played rough with them. Not like Meredith.]

Was it limited? Yes. Was it hampered by circumstance? Yes. Should he have tried harder? Yes.

But he still tried.

Does he say regrettable things? Yes. Does he regret those things later? Yes.

I had a friend, who I am no longer friends with for various reasons, tell me that “If Cullen was a good person, he wouldn’t need a redemption arc.” And... no, No, that’s not how redemption arcs work. Everyone does problematic things. Everyone who grows up brainwashed has to unlearn shit, and atone for shit.

Cullen still struggles with mages. He still has a deep fear of them. Partly this is the Templar in him talking, partly this is trauma. And, here’s where we break from canon and go deep into psychology land: I think partly because he’s projecting. Cullen cannot imagine forgiveness for what he’s done. I wonder if part of him fears mages because he expects-- perhaps even some part of him desires-- retribution from them for his actions and past.

And there’s things that have been retconned or that were misleading in previous games. For example, the rumor that Cullen escaped after Broken Circle and went on a mage murdering spree. That was nothing but a rumor, but the fandom levies it against him as if it happened.

But if Cullen “hated” mages, you wouldn’t be able to romance him as a mage. And honestly, that mage romance in DAI? Is one of the sweetest, most tender things I’ve seen in DA. As a mage, you can choose to help him past his fears, help him with his lyrium addiction. Help him grow as a person, and watch as he becomes a better person. As he learns that mages are more than their magic, and that Templars are so often wrong and awful in their treatment of them.

I find Cullen to be well written. And believable as hell. The portrayal of him-- from the mood swings, to the trauma, to the shaky but steadying growth-- feels real, and I can back that up with my fiance’s own similar path.

So. To wrap up because hoooooo, Opinions, play through the game. There’s a lot of gems there. <3

#cullen rutherford #fandom critical #dragon age #anti-cullen #cullen critical #i have a lot of Opinions on this #also no i'm not taking opinions on this #my real life experience applied to fandom is more important to me than being yelled at for liking a character i find relatable af #Anonymous #food for thought #food for thot

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abraxos-is-toothless · 4 years

Note

Congrats on 300! That's really amazing! Well done! Not surprised though, because your writing is super amazing! I especially love your undercover AU for ToG! My prompt is: "Really? Are you sure?" for Rowaelin, or alternatively another ToG ship, please?

I went with Rowaelin because, I’m trash for them. I’ve accepted that. Also thank you so, so much, I’m glad you like it. I really hope I did this prompt justice for you <3 Using my Undercover taglist here too.

---------

Rowan’s day had been rough, to say the least. It was also a Monday so, it was just a given, really.

First off, Aelin had been sick for, well, he didn’t know how many mornings in a row it was now, he’d lost count. He hated not being able to help her when she was sick; not knowing what to do, but she kept telling him she was fine. Clearly she wasn’t fine or he wouldn’t be holding her hair back every morning. Aelin had promised him today before he’d left for work that she’d get it checked out, just to be sure. He had wanted to stay home, to go with her, to be there for her just in case it was something bad. His wonderful wife had just told him he was an overbearing buzzard and ‘to got the fuck to work’. There was no arguing with her, well he could try but, there would be no winning. And so he had relented, giving her a quick kiss to the forehead and telling her he loved her and dashing out the door before he was late.

And then he’d gotten to work.

He and Lorcan owned a Private Investigator firm, mainly specialising in missing persons cases. They usually found odd trails that the police couldn’t and if it was something solid, they passed on the information. Sometimes they were lucky and other times, not so much. Fenrys and Connall were in the building when he walked in and Rowan couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. He had a new assistant, she was slim, tall, blonde and pretty he guessed. To be quite honest, ever since Aelin had walked into his life, other women weren’t even noticeable. He only saw her, only ever thought of her. Every time he hired someone new, the twins were over at the firm in an instant, fighting to win them over. Unless it was one of the times Rowan’s assistant was a male, then it was an easy win for Connall.

“Can I help you two imbeciles, or are you just here to fawn over the latest recruit. If that’s the case, which I know it is, then please leave. Or, better yet, go up a floor and bother Lorcan.”

Fenrys simply laughed and shook his head, his hair swinging with the motion from where he’d tied it back, “But the ladies love me Ro, I mean, what’s not to love?”

Connall snorted, and then smirked when his brother turned to glare at him. “I’m the better looking twin Fen, we all know it.”

He was not about to deal with a fucking pissing match today. He sighed, deciding to get rid of them as quickly as possible, hoping it would give him the peace and quiet he needed to actually work. “Connall, Lorcan actually has someone new up there with him too.”

“Ooo, really?” The smug bastard perked up at that and Fenrys looked at him with suspicion, most likely knowing where this was going. “Yeah. Dark haired, dark eyes, glasses and he’s shorter than you. Very much your type. You didn’t see him the other week because he hides behind the filing cabinets when you come in, blushing like a schoolgirl.”

As suspected, Con moved like lightning, not even bothering to wait for an elevator and taking the stairs. He made a beeline for his office, pushing the door open as fast as he could, but just as he was closing it, a foot slipped into the little gap and he wanted nothing more than to murder Fenrys just then.

“Come on Rowan, you just set my brother up, you could at least help me out too. I thought I was your favourite?” He shoved himself through the door, walking over to sit in front of Rowan’s desk and kicking his feet up. Not that it lasted, especially when he was pushed out of the chair and onto the floor. Rowan laughed as the golden haired man rubbed his ass, staring up at him with a pout.

“You’ll do well to remember, boyo, that without me, you’d have never pushed yourself to even talk to a girl. Also my new assistant is very much off of the market.”

He sat down in his newly vacated chair and pulled out his laptop. His newest case was a woman who’d come in about two weeks ago, saying her husband had been kidnapped. She was in hysterics as she’d told him the story, saying the police wouldn’t help, and so Rowan had said he’d do what he could. He went over everything the woman had given him and then followed on from there. Phone numbers, addresses and different picture sightings. Turned out that her husband had not in fact been kidnapped but had run off with another, much younger woman. He’d known for a few days now and was currently trying to figure out how to tell his client in the easiest way possible.

Rowan was broken from his thoughts when a certain pest spoke from across the room. For fucks sake, why hadn’t he left yet?

“How’s my best bud doing Rowan?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking, now leave.”

“Har har. Ace knows I’d choose her over you, she’s so much more fun, hence why we’re besties.”

Rowan flipped him off, still not looking up from his laptop screen as he replied, “Aelin is sick.”

He flinched when Fen shouted, gripping onto the side of his desk from the sudden outburst. “What do you mean she’s sick? She’s never sick!”

“Keep your fucking voice down, fucking Christ. She keeps throwing up in the mornings but I keep getting told that she’s ‘fine’. Clearly, she is not fine.”

“Oh. Oh.” Rowan watched his face turn from worried confusion into some sedated happy smile. What the fuck did he mean ‘oh’?

“What do you mean ‘Oh’? I have no idea what’s wrong with her so you possibly can’t, and stop smiling. Aelin’s sickness is not something to smile about.”

His idiot friend tipped his head back and laughed, a deep rumbling laugh and Rowan wanted nothing more than to throttle him. When he finally stopped and met Rowan’s gaze again, he seemed to realise that Rowan still hadn’t understood what was so funny. “Wait. You really don’t get it do you? How can you-”

The sound of Rowan’s phone ringing cut the man off and he was pissed off at the interruption, until he saw that it was Aelin calling him. His wife never called when he was at work, not unless he’d asked her to when he had a few minutes spare. He was pressing the answer button within seconds, heart beating wildly in his chest. “Aelin sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, I just need you to come home.”

If nothing was wrong then why did she need him to come back? It had only been a few hours since he’d left the house.

“Alright, I’m coming. Are you sure nothing is wrong?”

“Yes Buzzard, I promise. I’ll see you soon.”

He’d packed up as fast as he could, telling Fenrys that they’d talk later and to go and check that his twin wasn’t fucking the newbie in one of the bathrooms.

That was how he’d ended up here, bursting through the door of their newly purchased home. It was big of course, Aelin would have nothing less, but the interior was simple and modern. Quite tame for his very extravagant wife.

“Aelin, baby, I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!”

He ran through the halls, not even taking his shoes off which he would most certainly get reprimanded for later, and spotted his wife sitting at the bar eating a plate of pickles with a dip that looked like...peanut butter?

“You’re sick, why on earth are you eating that? Let’s get you back to bed.” His wife groaned and rolled her eyes, standing from her stool to walk over and grab a brown paper bag from the counter. She took slow steps towards him while nibbling on her lower lip, looking up at him shyly from under her lashes.

“I have a present for you.” Rowan stared at the brown bag in confusion, eyebrows furrowed as he tentatively took it from her hands. He didn’t open it yet, though he desperately wanted to.

“You made me come home because you wanted to give me a present? Couldn’t this have waited until later.” She shook her head, a giddy expression on her face.

“No, it couldn’t. Now come on, open it.”

He gave an exasperated sigh, almost forgetting he’d married a woman who had a talent for theatrics. When he opened the bag, it had some sort of fabric inside of it, which confused him even more. Reaching in, he pulled it out carefully, before dropping the bag and unfolding it. It was a baby vest and on it were the words ‘World’s Greatest Daddy’ with a sort of blurry black and white image printed onto the fabric just below. Holy fucking gods.

“Fireheart...really? Are you sure?” When he looked back at her, her eyes were lined with silver, and she nodded at him. He let out a shocked laugh before looking at the picture on the vest more closely. Now that he was concentrating, he could see the outline of a tiny foot and then a tiny head. No not just-

“Is that two heads? Two babies. We’re having twins?” Aelin let the tears flow freely now and nodded again and he laughed, scooping her up in his arms and spinning, relishing the sound of her delighted giggles. When Rowan set her back onto her feet, he dropped to his knees, leaving his face directly in line with her stomach. Lifting her top and leaning forward, he left a few gentle kisses to the skin before pressing his forehead there and whispering, “Hi babies, I’m your daddy. I want you to know that your mommy and I love you very much and that you are the most precious things in the world. I can’t wait to meet you, little ones.”

Aelin’s fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck and tugged lightly until he tilted to look up at her and realisation dawned on him then. “This is why you’ve been throwing up in the mornings.”

“Yes genius, I thought you’d have figured it out by now. I had that scan about two weeks ago, secretly hoping that you wouldn’t figure it out because I was waiting for the vest to be printed. Luckily I didn’t marry you for your brains.”

He couldn’t stop smiling, it was making his cheeks hurt but fuck did it feel good. He took hold of his wife’s wrist, bringing her hand forward to kiss her palm and sighing contentedly.

“I love you, Fireheart, to whatever end.”

“To whatever end, Buzzard.”

--------

I really hoped you liked it and honestly, I sort of like this AU I’ve created, so feel free to send some other prompts set in this universe if you like!

Tags: @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @fancyclodpaintercookie @empress-sei @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @tswaney17 @queen-of-glass @thesirenwashere @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm @http-itsrebecca @eatmysandwiches @poisonous00 @flowersinvegas @julemmaes @mu-si-ca-l @spyofthenightcourt @sis-it-dont-add-up @mad-madeline-ace @df3ndyr @jesstargaryenqueen @notyournymphetish

#tog #throne of glass #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #aelin x rowan #aelin and rowan #fenrys moonbeam #connall #au #tog fic #my writing #my fic #fanfiction #fanfic #haz writes

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lesetoilesfous · 4 years

Text

Tales from the Scrap File

I was tagged by @barbex to post something from my scrap file and that’s just, delightful, so thank you

I don’t, exactly, have a scrap file but I do endlessly regale my partner @sewertwink with whatsapp fic outlines, so here’s one of those translated into bullet points. I...got carried away. I won’t be writing this out properly, so figured I could share it as it is. Here we go!

I’m tagging @fairandfatalasfair, @wanderingnork, @midnightprelude, @pinkfadespirit, @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold aaand @hollyand-writes!

Fandom: DA2

Ship: Fenris / Anders

Characters: Fenris, Anders, Marian Hawke, Bethany Hawke, Varric Tethras, Isabela

Tags: Modern AU, still magic mages and elves, Homelessness, reference to prostitution, reference to past abuse, reference to past rape/non-con (not explicit) bigotry, canon-typical violence, unsubtle references to detention centres, shitty governments and shitty police

Rating: M

Anders in a ratty t shirt and old jeans and sneakers with holes on them and a ponytail and earrings (and nipples piercings owo) and tattoos and they meet at a laundromat

Fenris black skinny jeans and band t shirts and won’t talk about Tevinter, was a refugee and got out and now works in a record store and is friends with Hawke and the gang and anyway one day this guy shows up and chats him up, this guy in a thin t shirt with bright clever eyes

Anders is just like hey that wouldn’t be so terrible

Every time Fenris goes to the laundromat this cute guy is there, yawning like a cat and pulling up his t shirt and revealing that little v and a freckles back and a ginger blonde happy trail

And Anders notices him looking and winks and grins and anyway they fuck and Fenris’ bed is tiny but so soft and Anders just wriggles into it and lets himself sleep in because it’s been so long since he slept in an actual bed

Fenris meanwhile, whilst he can have casual sex, is a considerate lover and noticed the way Anders’ ribs were sticking out and cooks him breakfast and Anders wakes up and bats his eyelashes and is like “you know for that I could be convinced to go for round two” and Fenris kinda flushes and is like “some of us have to go to work” and Anders pouts and sighs and leans back and stretches out, arching his back and noticing the way Fenris’ gaze flickers to the piercings on his nipples (rose gold) “fine fine fine”

Because Fenris goes “what do you do, anyway?” And Anders grins and his fingers spark as he drags his hand up his bare chest and he’s like “take a wild guess” but Fenris is staring at him because he suddenly feels sick because that’s a mage, in his bed, who he just - and he gets up and all but snarls “get out!” And for a second Anders flinches and Fenris almost regrets it’s but then Anders is pouting and sighing and pulling his clothes on (it’s not exactly the worst way he’s been kicked out and maybe if he’s quick this one won’t rough him up) and he’s gone

So Anders is back on the street. And at first it’s fine - Fenris doesn’t see him at the laundromat again (which sucks for Anders because that place was bright and warm and mostly safe and smelled nice) - and he just. Moves on with his life. Doesn’t tell anyone he slept with a mage, hopes he can forget it

Meanwhile the police commissioner is calling for more and more severe measures to identify and take in mages - Fenris’ friends hate commissioner Meredith and he’s had enough loud arguments with Hawke about her apostate sister that he knows not to bring it up now

People in the city are getting tense but Fenris mostly just keeps his head down and volunteers at a centre for Tevinter refugees where he helps new refugees acclimatise to Thedas and speaking common

Meanwhile Anders is back on the street and mostly trying to keep his head down. He’s high one night though and making out with some guy in an alley and kinda hoping this one will take him home because it’s been getting cold when he breathes a little magic into the air and the guy, turns out, not a big fan of mages, and Anders still high on the drugs and dizzy with it and the guys ends up kicking the shit out of him and Anders passes out in a gutter

So Fenris is at work and taking a delivery when he sees a body in the alley and he just kind of drops what he’s doing, and then he gets closer and realises it’s the blonde from the laundromat. And Fenris just states and he’s kneeling in the trash and this guy’s clothes are torn and his face is a mess and his wrists are bruised and his makeup is smeared and for half a second Fenris thinks about leaving and just pretending he hasn’t seen this. But he can’t and he wouldn’t be who he is if he did this. And despite everything it’s one thing to think about calling the police and seeing this man taken off to a mage detention centre and another to actually do it to the person who’d been blushing at him in his bed a few weeks ago

So Fenris doesn’t call the cops or an ambulance, he picks up the man and carries him ton the store room and calls Hawke and has a very quiet nervous breakdown

None of this is helped by the punters who keep trying to strike up conversation with him in the shop when they hear his accent “you’re from tevinter right? You of all people must understand why we need stricter regulation on mages” and on the one hand Fenris does and on the other hand he has an illegal mage sleeping on his sofa

Hawke’s sister Bethany knows some first aid and presumably knows Magic Stuff so she brings her round and Bethany confirms that aside from broken ribs, a sprained ankle and some nasty bruising Anders is going to be fine (though she’s hesitant to search for signs of sexual abuse without his consent). She confirms that his magic feels like healing magic though, which is a relief for Fenris because hey hopefully that means he can fix himself and Leave

Anders wakes up on a sofa and is Very Confused and then Fenris comes out and Anders kinda pulls up the blanket, realises he’s wearing different clothes (his old ones had been covered in trash and blood and infections are a problem) and kinda nervously scans Fenris’ face and is like “hey you haven’t decided I’m your one true love have you? Because things didn’t go well with the last guy who did that”

And Fenris is just confused and like “no you were injured I found you can you leave yet” and Anders immediately gets to his feet - everything hurts - and he makes it about halfway across the tiny living room before collapsing and he’s going to catch himself but Fenris is there and Anders gets real tense and is nervously chattering like “hey listen look if you’re the kind of person who’s always dreamt about have your own personal mage I get it, I really do, but we’re so much less fun in reality - we have this nasty habit of exploding into rage monsters if we get too scared and neither of us want that - so how about you just let me go and I’ll go find a different neighbourhood to sleep in and we’ll both forget this ever happened ok?”

And Fenris is just very confused and then horrified and let’s go of him and is like “I’m not planning to - I have no intention of keeping you here against your will.” And Anders’ whole body relaxes but he’s still nervously looking at the door and he’s like “ok great so can I go now?” And then suddenly there are footsteps on the stairs and Anders flinches back and is like “you didn’t - did you call the MDC?” And Fenris scowls at him and is like “should I have?” And Anders shakes his head and the footsteps fade away and Anders is shaking now and is like “did you - have you told anyone?” And Fenris is trying not to be frightened of a clearly very out of control, very frightened mage but he backs up a bit and is reaching for a phone and Anders holds his hands out and there are scars and track marks up and down his arms and he’s like “no don’t! Ok! Ok I’ll do anything you want. Come on. There’s got to be something you want from me. Name it. Want me to do some kind of roleplay? Pretend to be a templar catching the nasty mage? We can do that, you can even rough me up a bit if you want just. Don’t. Call them.”

And Fenris is Overwhelmed but he drops the phone and Anders nearly crumples in relief and he’s like “thank you” and then he kind of takes a deep breath and shakes it off and runs a hand through his hair and is like “ok alright how do you want to do this?” And Fenris is like “I’m not going to abuse you” And Anders looks like he’s about three seconds from falling apart so Fenris clarifies, “I’m not calling the MDC either. Despite my better judgement.” (And also several loud threats from Hawke.) and Anders just stares at him and is like “ok, alright. So what do you want? I don’t do blood magic.” And Fenris nearly punches him but there’s enough space between them and he’s like “I don’t want you to do blood magic” and Anders relaxes a little more and is like “so what is it?” And Fenris is like “nothing. I just. You looked like you needed help.” And Anders scoffs and Fenris is like “what?” And Anders is like “what I’m supposed to believe the man who kicked me out of bed for being a mage three weeks ago suddenly decided to go out of his way to take me in and not report me, with no conditions attached?” And Fenris is so frustrated and so confused and is like “yes?” And Anders just kinda looks at him steadily for a moment and just goes “ok.”

Fenris has to go to work and when he gets back Anders is gone. He made himself a sandwich before he left and leaves a couple dollars on the counter for it with a note that just says “thx :) “

Except now Fenris Knows that there’s an apostate mage on the streets who’s unreported (and homeless) and possibly dangerous because of him personally

So he asks Varric to help him find him and insists that it’s just because he wants to see if the mage is alright (and maybe he is haunted by the mental image of him unconscious in the gutter and the fingerprint bruises on his neck, and maybe he has started to notice how all the people who try to him about mages are born and bred in Thedas and well fed and, well, bullies) - when he gets a lead Hawke insists on coming and Fenris can’t figure out if it’s to protect the mage from him or him from the mage

But turns out the mage runs a back alley clinic - for other mages, for refugees from Tevinter, for anyone who needs it.

It’s not a home exactly - more of a back room in a garage he gets to use but not sleep in, and the clinic has irregular hours, because it’s whenever Anders is able to get there. But whenever he is there the doors are open 24/7

And on the inside are posters, the walls are wallpapered with them, manifestos and protects and graffiti calling for the rights of mages. Behind Anders on a counter two kids are playing with magic. He’s tending to a pregnant woman from tevinter, speaking to her in Tevene. When they come in he looks up and freezes, and calmly asks his patients to leave. More than one volunteers to stay for his protection but Anders convinced them it’s alright and as soon as they’re out looks at Fenris “this is a place of healing. I don’t know how you found me, but whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. Just please leave me alone.” And Fenris frowns and feels Varric and Hawke watching him and is like “I don’t want anything. I just wanted to see whether you were ok.” And Anders spreads his arms wide and is like “ok, I am. Happy?” And Fenris sees the bruises on his wrists and arms in the shape of fingers and he’s speaking before he’s thought it through and he’s like “do you need a place to stay?” And Anders frowns and is like “we’ve been over this I neither need nor want your hospitality held over my head” and Fenris can feel Hawke and Varric watching him still and he doesn’t even know why he’s doing this but he goes “reading lessons. I could. Use some help reading in common. Healing is an academic discipline, right? Help me practice my reading and I’ll consider it your rent.” And Anders frowns and is like “I’ll consider it@ (it’s been so long since he had a hot shower) and Fenris realises he’s seeing whether he’ll take no for an answer and is like “ok. You. Know where to find me.” And they leave and Varric and Hawke are both staring at him like he’s grown a second head and Varric is like “so uh what’re your gonna do with an apostate fugitive? You’re really going to take him in for. Reading lessons?” And Fenris is like “he won’t accept if I don’t name a price.” And Hawke is like “not the most pressing part of that question” and they walk down the alley and away from the clinic and Fenris is like “I know”

So Anders finds Fenris at his store a few weeks later and is looking kind of nervous and waits till it closes and is fiddling with them hem of his shirt and is like “if we’re going to do this I need ground rules” and Fenris wonders again why he’s doing this and goes “name your terms” and Anders is like “we sleep in separate locations” and Fenris is like “obviously” and Anders just Looks at him, “I have my own keys” and Fenris kinda hesitates and Anders lifts his chin and is like “I need to be able to get in and out on my own” and Fenris figures that’s fair and goes on and then Anders goes, “no matter what, you don’t call the MDC. If you get tired of me, I’ll leave. But you don’t call them and you don’t get to hold it over my head or threaten me with it. Because if you do I’m gone and I will set fire to your underwear when I go.” And he’s kinda joking but he’s kinda serious and Fenris wonders what’s happened before and wonders what it would have been like if someone had found him fresh out of Tevinter and held it over him

fenris' rule is no magic and anders is like ok no magic In The House and Fenris is like Fine

and at first it works - turns out anders is hella smart and grew up in a detention centre and the fact that made him academic irritates fenris and makes him think anders had a Good Time but he doesn't argue it, just watches. and anders is really helping fenris and then the people at the refugee centre ask if fenris can write a course for them and fenris can't and he hasn't brought anders there because tevinter refugees and mages, and also anders is an unregistered mage, but anders just. agrees to write the course

and they've found an awkward peace and bethany and hawke and the others have been befriending anders. fenris has noticed anders staying up late now he has somewhere to sleep working on his manifesto and decides not to stop him but also doesn't know what to do about it because he Can't publish this they'll both get arrested but anyway right now it's the unaddressed unexploded bomb

anders decides to build the course around traditional tevinter texts to make it easier and does his own translations and fenris comes home one night and sees him happily translating and is real Soft for him but then he realises the book is magically floating

he's furious but then anders gets scared and for a secnd they're just, stalemate and then anders is like "ok fuck this" and he challlenges fenris to boil an egg with one hand behind his back and fenris is like "what" and anders is like "i bet you can't" so fenris does it

and he triumphs and anders just watches him and he's like "what was the point" and anders is like "you asking me not to use magic is like making me not use a limb. all the time. and demanding that i never show any feeling at all. do you have any idea what that feels like?" and fenris glares and is like "i was a slave, anders" and anders kinda gets quiet and goes, "i'm asking you, please, just give me a chance. i'll make cookies. you watch. if you think my magic is so ugly and demonic and horrifying, we'll go back to the way things were. but just give me a chance." and fenris is like. "...fine" so anders does whilst fenris watches and he realises anders is stirring and is like "wouldnt it be easier to use magic" and anders snorts and is like " i like stirring, besides i dont use magic for everything, that's a bad plan in general

and as he bakes, occasionally using magic to lift thing s or adjust temperatures, fenris sees him relax and relax and relax, until he's humming softly under his breath, and fenris realises how stiff and unhappy and awkward he'd been even when he'd thought he was comfortable, and realises how much he's been demanding of anders - and anders presents him with a plate of fresh cookies and his eyes are bright and he's grinning and flushed as if he's been dancing and is like, "well?" and fenris is like. fine. but only when we don't have visitors. and if you ever, ever use it to harm me or anyone i care about, you're gone

and anders kinda shrugs and is like yeah ok i mean i feel like that would apply whether or not i used magic (sees the look on fenris' face) but yes! i get it

so then anders starts using magic! and he sees the way fenris flinches and is careful and after a couple days fenris starts asking questions and anders answers them, explaining to fenris the different forms of magic and skills and schools and how they work and stuff

and at some point in this time anders tentatively suggests treating fenris' tattoos and to fenris' own amazement, he agrees

so now the assholes in the shop yelling about evil mages are seeming. much more annoying to fenris than they had before, and he's starting to see the holes in their arguments. and anders keeps staying up till 3am writing his manifesto and fenris is a little worried and tries to convince him to sleep more. one night fenris gets back from a gig with isabela and hawke to find anders asleep on the table and he hesitantly carries him to the couch and tucks him in and in the morning he makes him breakfast and is like "we should really get a sofabed"

So things continue, Anders really helps Fenris’ chronic pain and they’re. Getting along. Almost friendly. And then the prime minister is killed by the qunari, Meredith declares a state of emergency and stuff gets real scary real fast

Anders’ clinic is more busy than its ever been and Anders just, basically sleeps there

Most of the gang helps out and Fenris hates, really hates being at his shop and thinking about what the hell could be happening at the clinic

After the first wave of attacks on the city and the people who turn up at the clinic, there’s a steady trickle of folk getting attacked - police brutality and extremists, and Anders just yeah. 24/7 there whilst Fenris eats himself alive trying not to worry about him and what will happen if either these thugs find him or worse the MDC

And then extremists do find Anders clinic, and he gets the crap kicked out of him, and when it’s 3am and he still hasn’t heard from him Fenris goes to the clinic and finds Anders and Anders wakes up and is like “we’ve got to stop meeting like this” and Fenris just sort of laughs and sort of cries and holds him close and Anders gets real quiet and then folds into him and there’s just this deep gentle intimacy for a second

A week later Anders wants to go back to the clinic and Fenris just. Refuses to let him go alone and takes time off work and goes down to the clinic with him whilst he works and keeps an eye on the door

And a week after that, they get home and before they go to bed Anders is like “I need to talk to you about something” and Fenris is like “can it wait?” And Anders looks at him with this tight, exhausted expression (the people he’d treated today had been kids. They’d nearly been beaten to death) and is like “no” and Fenris stops in the door to his room and Anders gives him the manifesto and is like. “I need you to read this. Please. And if...if it moves you at all. I have something I need to ask.”

For a week Fenris doesn’t read it. But then some tevinter mages turn up at Anders clinic, and he just. Can’t keep running away. So he reads it and he takes it seriously and he makes notes and annotates and at the end he finds Anders a fortnight after that request and he’s like. “What would you ask of me?” And Anders says “I need you to help me publish it.” And Fenris stares at him and tries to figure out how the hell this happened. And then he says yes

#fenders #da2 #fenris #anders #my fic #da2 fic #fenders fic #tag meme

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the-regal-warrior · 5 years

Text

Cadre Weaponry: Part Two

Alright, so here is part two, as promised! I want to thank all of you who liked, reblogged, and commented on part one - your feedback means so much to me!

Don’t mind the bit with all the references to Supernatural - it’s one of my favorite tv shows and it just sort of happened.

Summary: Welcome to Cadre Weaponry - the shop for all your weapons needs, both antique and modern! Join the boys of the Cadre as they become friends and tackle this thing we call life. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll even find love along the way.

Warnings: Things are heating up a little bit in this update, so there’s still no actual smut. Also, there’s probably some language. If I’ve written it, you can always assume there’s going to be language.

FOUR YEARS, NINE MONTHS, AND TWENTY-SEVEN DAYS AGO

Rowan was working the till when the beautiful woman with the golden hair came through the door.

Fenrys and Vaughan were out on a pick-up - some rare swords from Gavin’s era had come up as part of an estate sale - and would probably be gone until the afternoon. Gavriel and Lorcan were back in their offices, and Connall wouldn’t be coming in until later.

Unlike the customers who stumbled into the store not knowing what to expect, she seemed to know what she was looking for, despite the fact that Rowan had never seen her before. Content to let her browse on her own for a couple minutes, he went back to the order he’d just gotten, digging through their inventory to see if they even had what the customer was looking for.

By the time he looked back up, the golden-haired woman was standing in front of the knives, studying them with an intense look on her face. Stepping out from behind the counter, Rowan watched as she picked one up and weighed it in her palm, her eyes narrowing as she tested the feeling of the knife in her hand.

As he walked up behind her, she shook her head slightly and set the knife back in its place, her gaze already moving over the others displayed on the shelf.

“Is there something I can help you with today?” Rowan inquired, walking up to the shelf next to her.

“No, thank you,” she replied, turning her head to face him. Rowan was stunned by her eyes - turquoise with a ring of gold around the pupil. “I’m just looking for a new throwing knife and I’m trying to find one that’s weighted right.”

“A new throwing knife?” Rowan questioned, even though he’d learned long ago never to judge the people who came through the door - they were constantly surprising him. “Can I suggest this one here?”

Rowan handed her a smaller knife than the first one she’d picked up. “Uh, no offense,” she responded, “but this is smaller than my other knives. I was hoping for the same size.”

“Just try it and see what you think.”

She cut him a look, but she took the blade from his hand. Rowan watched as she held it in her palm, her eyes lighting up as it balanced perfectly. With surprising ease, she flipped the knife in the air, catching it without looking away from him. She grinned as her fingers wrapped around the handle. “Okay, you were right. This knife is perfect.”

“Well, I’ve been told I know a thing or two about weapons - it’s probably why they let me be a part-owner.” He smirked at her as he said it, watching as she rolled her eyes at him.

“Well then, owner, I appreciate the help. I’ll take this one.”

Taking the knife from her, Rowan began walking over to the till, stopping when he heard her gasp from behind him. When he turned around, he found she had her gaze fixed on the swords hanging on the back wall of the store.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” He murmured, awed by the captivated look on her face.

She just nodded, transfixed. “They’re exquisite replicas - I’ve never seen any this good. Whoever made them must be very talented.”

Rowan couldn’t help it. His jaw was somewhere on the floor - no one had ever been able to tell so quickly that they were replicas. “Replicas?” he questioned, confusion lacing his voice. “How did you possibly know they were replicas from all the way over here?”

Turning back to face him, she quirked one eyebrow as she said, “because I know who has the real ones.”

Rowan figured he should have guessed that someone with an interest in weapons would know who actually owned the three most famous swords in the country. “I see you’ve done your research.”

Her brow furrowed. “No, that’s not what I meant. Damaris belongs to my best friend, and my cousin owns the Sword of Orynth.”

“Dorian Havilliard is you best friend, and Aedion Ashryver is your cousin?” When she nodded in response, Rowan continued. “And what about the other one? How do you know its owner?”

“Oh, Goldryn?” She inclined her head in the direction of the sword. “Well, that was the one that I knew immediately was a replica. See, I knew it couldn’t be here because it’s hanging on my wall at home.” When Rowan’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead, she added, “my name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and Goldryn belongs to me.”

He just blinked at her for a moment, but quickly recovered himself. “Well, it’s an honor to meet you, Aelin. I’m Rowan Whitethorn.”

Aelin took the hand he offered her, smiling up at him as she shook his hand. “It’s lovely to meet you as well. You know, I’d be more than happy to bring Goldryn by for you to see, if you’d like.”

A grin lighting up his face, Rowan nodded at her as he set her knife on the counter. “That would be absolutely amazing.”

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, Aelin responded, “If you’ll be here tomorrow, I can bring it by then?”

Smiling, Rowan set about ringing up her purchase. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

FOUR YEARS, NINE MONTHS, AND TWENTY-SIX DAYS AGO

The sound of someone knocking on his office door pulled Rowan away from the new designs he was drawing up for the website. “Gavriel, what’s up?”

“Hey, man,” Gavriel smiled, a mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. “There’s a girl out here looking for you?”

“Tell her I’ll be right out,” Rowan replied, nodding in Gavriel’s direction. “And wipe that look off your face!”

Gavriel just chuckled as he walked out the door, causing Rowan to shake his head. Taking a few breaths to calm himself, he stood from his desk and made his way out into the store.

Aelin, who’d been browsing their selection of short swords, looked up as he walked into the room, and the grin that lit up her face practically took his breath away.

“Hey, Aelin,” Rowan called, walking across the store to meet her. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Anytime,” she replied, placing the sheathed sword she’d been carrying on the counter. “Well, there she is. Go ahead and take a look.”

Rowan wrapped his hand around the hilt of the sword, his fingers slipping into the crevices that had formed over years of use. Resting his other hand on the sheath, he pulled the sword free, drawing in a breath as he beheld Goldryn for the first time. His eyes traced over the blade, taking in every detail of the sword, from the finely honed edge to the beautiful etchings on the pommel.

“Aelin,” he breathed, “this sword… it’s absolutely beautiful.” He was absolutely awestruck by how beautiful it was, even after all these years. Clearly, Aelin, and those who’d had it before her, had taken very good care of it.

“I know, isn’t it?” Aelin’s fingers danced along the engraving on the hilt. “I’ve always loved this blade.”

“Thank you for bringing it in.”

“Yeah, anytime. I could probably bring Damaris and the Sword of Orynth, too. I’d just need to ask Aedion and Dorian.”

Rowan chuckled. “Name-dropping is like a normal thing for you, huh?”

She laughed in response, her grin making her eyes shine. “When you’ve lived my life, it’s kind of hard not to.”

Taking a deep breath, Rowan looked up from the sword he was still holding until he met her eyes. “Well, I’d really like to know more about that life. Would you like to get coffee sometime?”

Aelin blinked, clearly not expecting him to ask her out, but the smile that spread over her face when she recovered was so beautiful that Rowan didn’t care. “I’d love that.”

FOUR YEARS, NINE MONTHS, AND TWENTY-THREE DAYS AGO

Rowan stared at the beautiful woman across the table from him, watching as she laughed at something he’d said. He couldn’t believe Aelin had agreed to go out with him, couldn’t believe he’d been so lucky.

They’d been in the coffee shop for almost an hour, and the conversation had never once halted. Things had never gotten awkward, there had been no moments when they hadn’t had anything to say. Aelin was clever and sarcastic, and charming as hell. She was sweet and adorable - and Rowan Whitethorn was absolutely smitten.

And this was just the first date.

There was one thing he’d wanted an answer to, so he brought it up as her laughter started to die away. “So, there’s something I’ve been dying to ask you about.”

Aelin turned her mesmerizing eyes back to his, the tears from her laughter still sparkling in her eyes. “Oh, yeah?” she smirked. “What’s that?”

He grinned. “So, throwing knives, huh?” When Aelin merely raised an eyebrow at him, he added, “how exactly does one get into that?”

“It’s my dad’s fault, actually,” she smiled, her whole face lighting up. “He was in the military for years, and he introduced me to weapons - firing a gun, shooting arrows, throwing knives. We used to go to the shooting range every weekend. I could hit the center of a target faster than any of the guys there before I could drive.”

Rowan chuckled at that. “Why do I suddenly have the image of you just completely showing up some guy who was hitting on you at the shooting range?”

“Because that happened like three weeks ago.”

Rowan tipped his head back and roared with laughter, the sound of Aelin’s chuckle mixing with his own in a beautiful harmony.

Taking a deep breath to calm her laughter, Aelin studied Rowan, a thoughtful expression on her face. “So, how exactly does one become an owner of a weapons store?”

Smirking at her use of his phrase, he swallowed the last of his coffee. “Well, I met the other guys - there’s six of us - in college. We were partners for a project in a business class, and this was the business we chose. None of us expected for it to become our future, but suddenly we were graduating and it was becoming a reality. And now here I am.”

“That’s actually really amazing.”

Rowan nodded at her words, suddenly noticing how empty the coffee shop was around them. “Hey, it looks like they’re getting ready to close up for the night.”

“So it does,” she agreed, looking around them. “How would you feel about heading to the bar across the street?”

“I feel like that’s a great idea.”

~*^*~

Rowan watched as Aelin tipped her head back, a shot of tequila sliding down her throat as easy as water. She slammed the shot glass down on the table, groaning as the alcohol burned - she had no chaser in sight. He grinned before taking his own shot, the whiskey hitting as the glass hit the table.

They’d been at the bar for a couple hours, and Rowan was incredibly glad she’d thought of keeping their date going by moving across the street, because the longer he spent with her, the more convinced he was that this girl was the right one for him.

As the night wore on, they’d slowly shifted closer to one another, and the little flutter he got in his stomach whenever her shoulder brushed against his just solidified that belief.

Tilting his head down to look into her eyes, he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as she grinned at him.

“Ro,” she whispered, leaning in so he could hear her, “I’ll be right back - ladies’ room.” Aelin hopped off her chair and made for the back of the bar, her hips swinging with every step she took.

The sultry grin she shot at him over her shoulder made him chuckle, even as she winked and turned away again.

Rowan had just hailed the bartender for another round when he felt fingers trailing over his shoulders and the back of the neck. Expecting Aelin, though surprised she was back so quickly, he turned, a witty retort dying on his lips as he realized who he was staring at.

Remelle.

He’d had a brief fling with her about a year back, but he’d ended it when he realized that they really had nothing in common. Remelle had never liked that he ended things, claiming that he’d never really given them a chance. So, whenever she ran into him, it was the same. She flirted, tried to win him back over and find her way back into his bed.

“Rowan, baby,” she cooed, her fingers sliding into his hair. “How’ve you been?”

Twisting his head to pull away from her fingers, he levelled a hard stare at her. “Remelle. I’m fine, thanks.”

“That’s good, baby. That’s really good.” She wrapped her hand around his arm, her fingers digging into his bicep. “I’ve missed you, Rowan.”

Shifting away from her, Rowan did what he could to pull his arm away from her, but she just dug her fingers in harder, her other hand fisting into the bottom of his shirt.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Don’t you miss what we had?”

He’d had about as much of her simpering as he could take, and he was opening his mouth to tell her so when another hand slipped around his neck, the fingers ghosting over the small hairs at the back of his neck as it did.

“Sorry love, there was a line for the ladies’ room.” It was Aelin, come to rescue him. Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to his temple before turning to face Remelle. “Who’s this?”

“I’m Remelle - Rowan and I go way back. Who the hell are you?”

Aelin widened her eyes at her words, a look of feigned surprise spreading over her face. “Oh, I don’t believe he’s ever mentioned you. And as for who I am -,” she paused there to pull herself into Rowan’s lap, his arm falling naturally around her hips as she wrapped hers around him, “I’m Rowan’s girlfriend.”

Remelle gasped and stumbled away like someone had shocked her. “His girlfriend!”

“Yes, his girlfriend. And I really don’t think he appreciates the way you keep touching him without his permission.” Aelin smirked as Remelle spluttered in rage. “Now, if you don’t mind, we’re on a date.”

Not giving Remelle time to reply, she just turned to Rowan and pressed her lips to his. He gasped into her mouth, and Aelin took the opportunity to deepen the kiss as Remelle huffed and stormed away.

Rowan felt himself come alive as Aelin moved her lips against his, her fingers twisting into his hair. He could have kept kissing her all night - he could already feel himself getting lost in it - but Aelin pulled away when she was sure Remelle was gone.

“Sorry about that,” she muttered as she jumped off his lap. “You just looked very uncomfortable and it was the easiest way to save you.”

“No, don’t apologize. Remelle’s an ex - if we can even call her that - who doesn’t know when to give up.” Rowan took a deep breath, trying to get his thoughts in order. “Besides, if that’s how you’re going to rescue me, you won’t hear me complaining.”

Aelin smiled at him, leaning in until her forehead knocked against his. “I guess I’ll have to rescue you again sometime then, since you liked it so much.”

“Actually, I have a better idea.” Pulling back enough to look into her eyes, Rowan took her hand in his. “If you would do me the honor of being my girlfriend, you wouldn’t need an excuse to do that.” He felt his smile turn sheepish, his nerves showing as he waited for her answer.

Aelin’s smile was brighter than the sun as she leaned in to kiss him once, twice, three times. “I would like that very much, my love.”

His own smile matching hers, Rowan just grabbed her by the hips and pulled her back into his lap, kissing her until he thought his lungs would give out.

FOUR YEARS, SIX MONTHS, AND NINETEEN DAYS AGO

Vaughan popped his head out of his office when the bell hanging over the door rang through the shop, alerting him to someone walking in. When he walked out to the front, he couldn’t help the nearly silent groan in the back of his throat as he took in the girl standing there.

From the dark hair piled on top of her head, to the oversized black shirt that practically hid the tiny shorts she was wearing, to the bright pink high top Chucks on her feet, she didn’t exactly look like their typical customers.

“Hi,” he called, walking further into the room. “Is there something I can do for you?”

She glanced over at him, her black eyes meeting his and allowing him to see that they were actually flecked with gold. “Yeah, I ordered a gun and I’m here to pick it up.”

Vaughan grinned, walking over to the shelf behind the till where they kept all their orders. “That’s definitely something I can help with. What’s the name?”

“It’s Sorrel. Sorrel Ferrum.” She leaned her arms on the counter, watching as Vaughan turned to find her order.

“Here it is,” he muttered, pulling a box off the shelf. He read over the papers attached it to make sure all of her background checks were in order before turning back to face her. “A Colt, huh? Are you sure your last name isn’t Winchester, and you placed an emergency order so you could hunt demons tonight?”

Sorrel laughed at that, a piece of hair falling from her messy bun as she threw her head back. “You caught me,” she got out between her giggles. “And here I was hoping you would just buy the story I was about to feed you.”

“Oh, and what was that?”

“That I collect old guns because my mom was one of the best sharpshooters the military had ever seen and I’ve always been intrigued by them.”

Vaughan chuckled, nodding once as he took in her story. “It’s a nice cover, but it’s weak. Next time, try this one: you saw me through the window and you wanted to impress me, so you ordered something you knew would do the trick.”

“Ah, is that what you think is better?” Sorrel arched a brow at him, a smirk growing on her face. “I hate to burst your bubble, but there’s one flaw with that story.”

“Oh, and what’s that?”

Her smirk grew wider, as she answered. “I wouldn’t have the first clue how to impress you - I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Vaughan Osten,” he replied, picking up the slip with her order. “Shall I ring you up?”

“Funny, I don’t recall asking for your name.” She winked, a small giggle falling from her lips. “And sure, go for it.”

Vaughan chuckled as he started punching numbers into the till, Sorrel watching him with a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Is this cash or card?”

“Card,” she replied, sliding it across the counter to him, slate gray nails clicking against the card as he picked it up.

“Okay, just sign here and the Colt is yours - but only if you promise to take out a demon or two.”

She just shook her head as she signed the receipt, her lips pulling up at the corners. Sliding the paper back across the glass, she grabbed her box off the counter and made for the door, calling “I make no guarantees, but I’ll do my best” over her shoulder. “Thank you!”

He watched as she walked through the parking lot and climbed into a giant black Expedition. Vaughan couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him - the car was somehow entirely her. Shaking his head, he looked down to put her receipt away when he caught sight of something written beneath her signature.

It was a phone number.

Pulling his phone from his back pocket, he entered the number and typed up a quick message before hitting send. Hey, I think you dropped your number before you left the store. - Vaughan.

It was only a few seconds later when his phone buzzed with a response. At least I know it’s in good hands. Maybe you can return it to me over drinks sometime?”

Vaughan grinned to himself as he answered. You’ve got yourself a date.

FOUR YEARS, FIVE MONTHS, AND TWENTY-NINE DAYS AGO

The feeling of Sorrel’s back pressed against his chest was better than Vaughan had ever imagined it. When they’d gotten to the bar, she’d ordered each of them two shots, and as soon as they’d taken both of them, she was pulling him out on the floor.

Her hips moved against his in rhythm with the pounding bass of the house music, Vaughan’s hands squeezing her hips. One of her hands was resting on his, their fingers intertwined, and the other had wrapped around his neck, pulling his head down to her neck.

Vaughan pressed his lips to her skin, her head falling back to his shoulder as his breath skittered across her skin. Arching her back, she pressed her ass harder against his crotch, and he moaned as he kissed his way up to her jaw.

Sliding his lips even further back, he pulled her earlobe between his teeth, biting down on it gently before soothing the small hurt with his tongue. Sorrel moaned in response to his actions, and Vaughan pulled her body flush against his.

Moving his hips quicker against hers, he was just getting ready to spin her around to face him when someone cleared her throat next to him.

Sorrel pulled away from him just far enough that he could turn to see who was trying to get his attention, and Vaughan felt the blood rushing to his face as he saw who it was.

Anya - a girl he’d hooked up with several times over the last year. Vaughan was known for being a bit of a player, and clearly that was coming back to haunt him tonight.

“Vaughan,” she murmured, leaning in closer so he could hear her, “it’s been a while.”

“Anya, hey,” he muttered, not liking the way Sorrel was slowly pulling away from him.

“We could fix that later, if you wanted.” Anya reached out to run her fingers across his jaw, and Vaughan jerked his head out of her reach. Her hand fell awkwardly to her side, and she gave him a confused look.

“Sorry, but I’m actually here with someone.” He pulled Sorrel back against him, listening as Anya huffed a breath before turning away, clearly irritated with the way he brushed her off.

“Who was that?” Sorrel questioned, her fingers carding through his hair.

“Just someone I used to know.”

She raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, but just pressed her body back against his as her hips started to sway to the music again.

They stayed like that for a while, their hips moving together as the music played. At some point, Vaughan shifted his leg between hers, and their dancing morphed into something a little less polite, Sorrel practically grinding her center against his leg.

Vaughan’s jeans had become uncomfortably tight by the time he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Think we should get out of here?”

Sorrel just nodded, too breathless and keyed up to respond, so Vaughan wrapped his hand around her shoulders to guide her through the throng of dancing people.

~*^*~

They were barely through Vaughan’s door before Sorrel had his shirt over his head, her fingers scratching over his back.

He returned the favor, unzipping her dress and watching it pool around her feet. As soon as it hit the floor, she was kicking it out of the way as Vaughan lifted her into his arms, his hands gripping her ass as he carried her into his room.

He tossed Sorrel on the bed, his laughter joining with hers as he climbed on top of her. “You’re sure about this?”

Reaching down and popping the button on his jeans, she leaned up to press her lips to his, her tongue sweeping into his mouth. Vaughan couldn’t help the moan that escaped his throat when her fingers wrapped around his cock.

“Yes,” she whispered against his lips, her fingers slowly working him as he kicked his pants off. “I’m absolutely sure about this.”

Vaughan just grinned and pressed his lips to hers again, his hands skimming the outside of her breasts as he moved to undo the clasp on her bra.

FOUR YEARS, ONE MONTH, AND TWENTY-FIVE DAYS AGO

Fenrys looked up from the display of spears he was restocking as the bell above the door jingled and footsteps sounded across the shop. Standing up, he was confronted with the sight of a blonde woman in a pair of shorts-overalls and black Nikes.

At the sound of him walking up behind her, she turned, and he was taken aback by her eyes - they were a deep piercing black with little gold flecks in them. “Is there anything I can help you find?”

“Hi,” she started, gesturing to the wall of swords behind her. “I’m looking for an Ironteeth sword - one of Blackbeak make, in particular.”

“Well, all of our Ironteeth blades are going to be over here,” he said, gesturing to the cluster of swords off to her left. “But as for them being of Blackbeak make, that’s nearly impossible to tell.”

“For you, maybe. But I’ll be fine.” She inclined her head at him once before turning to the swords he’d indicated.

Fenrys just blinked at her. “Oh you will?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I will.” Her tone was biting, and her eyes flashed in warning. “I happen to be an expert of sorts, if you will.”

“Well, so am I, so how could you possibly know the difference when I don’t, and none of the other owners do, either?”

“Because I’ve seen Wind Cleaver with my own eyes. I’ve literally held it in my hands.”

Wind Cleaver. The most well-known and renowned Blackbeak blade ever forged. That this woman had actually touched it - Fenrys couldn’t help himself as his jaw dropped open. “How did you manage that?”

“I happen to be quite close with its owner.” When Fenrys only continued to give her a questioning look, she added, “my name is Asterin Blackbeak.”

“So that means…”

“Yes, that means Manon Blackbeak is my cousin.”

Fenrys swallowed, his face heating up as he felt his expression turn a bit sheepish. “And it would explain why you know so much about Ironteeth blades.”

Asterin smirked, one eyebrow perfectly arched as she studied him. “Yeah, it would.”

“You’ll have to forgive me - it’s been my experience that people who come in here claiming to know more about weapons than all of the owners are usually talking out of their asses.”

Asterin laughed at that, her expression lightening. “It’s alright, I know I can be a bit arrogant. And I know it’s incredibly difficult to tell the three makes apart.”

Fenrys nodded at her, his eyes widening with realization. “But you know how?”

She nodded, lips quirking to one side as she realized what he was about to ask.

“Do you think you could teach me?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

~*^*~

Fenrys was completely enraptured with Asterin. She’d spent the better part of an hour teaching him not only how to distinguish the slight differences of the blades, but the history of all three Ironteeth bladesmiths: the Blackbeaks, the Bluebloods, and the Yellowlegs. As it was a part of her family heritage, she knew more than any of the other weapons experts he’d ever talked to.

Finally having found a Blackbeak sword that suited her needs, she’d handed it to Fenrys and asked him to check it out for her.

Fenrys did so happily, and he had just handed the wrapped blade over to her when he said, “Thank you again, for everything. I was wondering if maybe you’d let me take you for drinks some time, as a way of showing my thanks?”

Asterin winked at him, already reaching for the notepad on the counter next to the register. “You know, if you wanted a date, all you had to do was ask.”

Fenrys chuckled at that, though his breathing turned shallow as she met his gaze. “Well, in case, would you like to go on a date with me?”

“That’s more like it,” she laughed, scribbling her phone number on the paper. “Text me and we’ll figure out a date?”

“You can count on it, pretty girl.”

Asterin blushed at that, and Fenrys couldn’t help the flush of pride in his chest as he realized she liked the nickname. Grinning at him, she grabbed her sword and headed for the door, making the “call me” motion with her hand as she walked outside.

Fenrys winked at her and grabbed the piece of paper with her number on it, already looking forward to their date.

Tags: @highqueenofelfhame @city-of-fae @musicmaam @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @tacmc @tangledraysofsunshine @lordof-bloodshed @how-to-be-a-bad-ass-be-me @nalgenewhore @bookrebelwordwarrior @sleeping-and-books @froggy-waddles @mis-lil-red @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars

As always, if you would like to be added to my tag list, please let me know - oh, and let me know if you want to be added to my permanent tags or just my tags for this fic!

Thank you all so much for reading - part three comes out tomorrow night!

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amarabliss · 5 years

Text

Oaths and Hearts - 15 (Ignis Scientia/Reader)

So this is a crossover between FFXV and Dragon Age Inquisition.

You fell through a rift into the fade fighting the demons you swore to protect your world from. When you popped out you were no longer in the lands of Ferelden instead trapped in Insomnia. The gracious king allowed you to say recognizing power when he saw it. One thing led to another and now you were part of the procession of the prince to his wedding years later. Before the final battle, after years of fighting, losses, and love…your friend…your king…Noctis has asked you to change it all…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

“It’s really you.” You reached up, holding Hawke’s face. It felt worn and weathered as if it had been through many storms. Streaks of grey shot through his dark hair and beard that had grown longer.

“I will answer all your questions Inquisitor, but we cannot stay here. He will come back and I doubt the same tricks will work twice.” Hawke squeezed your hands before reaching for his staff and standing.

You stood up looking around seeing the pungent greens and browns of the fade, “…the Fade…”

“Yes…now come.” He held out his hand to you, “You’re not really here…but we have to find the door back to you. I’ll take you someplace safe until we can figure out where that is.”

You nodded taking his warm hand in his and followed behind him in silence. He seemed to know every path, nook, and crack to take them away. Finally, hours later when you could take the silence no more you spoke softly, “I’m so sorry…”

He stopped and looked down into your eyes. He shook his head, “Please tell me you have not held onto my memory as a burden?”

“It was an impossible choice…I would have stayed myself…” You began to tear up and fell silent when his free hand fell to your shoulder firmly.

“It was the right one. Alastair…as strong a man he is…do you really think he could have survived here?” Hawke smiled chuckling, “Sarcasm only does so much here…it had to be a mage, one who’s dealt with the fade before…and it couldn’t have been you, you held the power to close the rifts that plagued our home. It had to be me.”

“You can’t possibly be alright with it…” You asked as he turned continuing down a narrow path, “Hawke…”

“I admit…there was a time I was angry…” He nodded a little, “I gave up so much to keep you safe…My home, my life…Fenris…”

He looked at you again sighing, “Then I remember…if you hadn’t gone, I would have likely never made it back to Fenris anyways. Orlais is quite far from the Free Marches. I’m sure the world would have crumbled before I stepped foot in Ferelden. At least this way, I know he’s safe and alive.”

“…Varric…he wrote a letter…” You hung your head a little, “He wrote two actually…one to Carver and Fenris…Carver apparently responded, but Fenris…I never heard if he replied.”

“I doubt he would respond.” He kept walking as he reached back undoing a bag on his back as he stepped inside a cave of some sort. You looked around seeing how it was set up like a small home. Books lined a shelf, a fire was in the center a cauldron over it bubbling with something, nearby a cot and stool rested comfortably against the wall, “It’s not how Fenris would react. I’m sure he went out and found some of the Tevinter slavers to work out his grief.”

You watched him laugh a little setting down the bag pulling out what looked to be cheese and bread, “Hawke it’s been almost a decade…how have you survived?”

“Well…for a while it waves of demons…soon they backed off realizing I wasn’t just some helpless sleeping mage…” He looked over to you gesturing to the stool before he began slicing the bread and cheese, “I looked for a way out. There was a way in, so logically there’s a way out, haven’t been successful yet.”

“Then there are the spirits.” He looked at you, “Not always helpful, but not malicious like demons. I began visiting with them more and more. They helped me not feel alone, but it’s not the same as your own loved ones. After that it was just adapting…you begin to see things from different angles and perspectives. It’s that or you die.”

“And you were never one to quit.” You smiled a little.

“Well you’re here now, so things must be looking up.” He smirked a little bit before it faded seeing you look away quickly, “…or not…”

“I need to tell you what happened…” You met his gaze finally as he sat across from you, “Starting with…I haven’t been home in a long time…”

“Ignis! Just wait a second!” Gladio shouted at him as he rushed down the hill of debris after his friend, “You can’t just run off!”

Ignis looked around the area as the trio ran up behind him, “Look for something out of place…almost like you’re seeing double or feeling déjà vu.”

“Iggy, are you sure…” Noctis began to speak.

“Noct…” Ignis turned to him seeing his blue eyes widen as he spoke with firm authority, “I would go to the ends of the earth to protect and serve you. But for Y/N…please understand that I would traverse further into any unknown…and then one step more.”

Noct took in a deep breath nodding slowly, “I understand.”

“I don’t!” Prompto looked at them all as surprised filled all their eyes, “I mean I get we need to help Y/N, I do…she’s one of us! But I don’t understand why you think you have to go alone. We need to stick together. We’re stronger together.”

Ignis looked at the young Crownsguard before he spoke, “Prompto, you still have a lot to learn, but your loyalty is commendable. I will not be here…I will need you to make sure our king is safe and well cared for. My responsibilities will be split between you and Gladio.”

“But…wouldn’t it be faster…” He frowned hanging his head as he clenched his fist tightly, “We’ve just lost so much already…”

Gladio stepped close to him put his arm around Prompto’s shoulders, “Don’t let Iggy’s lanky appearance fool you, he’s capable of doing everything we can do together all by himself. He did all the training we did and more…one day he’s going to be General to the King, Noct’s right hand.”

“Damn straight.” Noct slapped a hand on Ignis’ back looking at him with pride, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Okay…” Prompto looked at Ignis with worried eyes, “But you have to come back, you have to promise. Come back with Y/N.”

“That I can do.” Ignis offered his hand to Prompto who took it tightly, “Now…help me find the way.”

They began scouring the area looking for any abnormality. Ignis had his journal out explaining over and over how you described the doorway to hime. Evening was setting on them as he scanned the area for the thousandth time.

“Hey Iggy?” He looked over to Noct who sat on a broken desk, “I just had a thought…Y/N has been there before…you’d think she’d be able to come back quickly.”

“Yes…what’s your point?” He shut the journal looking at the young king.

“What if it’s hard for her because he body isn’t near the door?” Noct watched Ignis stand straighter as he went on, “Libertus wouldn’t have known any better, he just wanted to get her help, but she told you that people fell into this place by falling asleep. Obviously, she knows that because they woke up.”

“She has always talked about needing anchors to come back…she could have meant herself...” Ignis took off his glasses wiping a hand over his face as he looked toward the setting sun.

That’s when he saw it. Almost indistinguishable from the sun’s glare. A soft shimmer, he took a step forward, “Noct you should follow that lead.”

“I can give Cor a call now.” Noct stood up watching Ignis carefully, “Maybe we can set up a tent nearby, once we find the way.”

“You won’t need to look much further.” Ignis told him as he kept stepping forward toward the shimmer. He could hear soft voices calling toward him. Voices he’d almost forgotten, it had been so long, “Mother?”

He blinked once and as a bright light blinded him momentarily. When he opened them again his eyes adjusted slowly seeing his old home. He stood there confused trying to get his balance back. He jumped as a warm voice washed from behind him, “Ignis, we’re going to be late.”

He turned seeing his mother smiling at him his father helped her with her jacket, “Mother?”

She tilted her head a little as she stepped toward him, “Darling is something wrong?”

He leaned into her touch as she cupped his cheek. He felt himself tearing up as your voice came to him, “The Fade gives you everything you ever wanted as it sucks the very life out of you.”

“Ignis?” His father stepped up behind his mother.

Swallowing down the painful knot in his throat he took a step away from them, “I-I know you’re not real.”

“…wha…” His mother looked to his father, “Roderick…”

“We knew this might happen, Eleanor.” Roderick put his arm around her shoulder before looking at Ignis, “Son, do you remember the accident?”

Ignis shook his head, “There was no accident…I came here to look for someone…”

He stepped around them to head for the door. His mother reached out grabbing his arm with both hands, “Ignis please…you need help…”

She felt so real to him as she tried to pull him back, “You’re not real…”

“Baby please…I’m your mother…” Tears welled up in her eyes. His eyes…he had his mother’s eyes. He had almost forgotten, “You were in an accident…it confused you.”

He pulled his arm from her with difficulty only of his have his father step in his way, “Ignis, be logical…”

“Though it pains me…I am.” He looked at his father balling his fist, “You are just…just a dream.”

“…” His father stared at him for a long time before bits and pieces of the room behind him began to fade away, “You’re not going anywhere…”

“I will find Y/N,” Ignis’ eyes narrowed on Roderick, “and I will leave with her.”

The image of his father began to shift and distort into a disgusting creature with insect like arms protruding from his back as his legs hovered over the ground. The rags it wore shifted around its skeletal frame as it clicked and hissed, “Humanssss…ck…fragile thingsss their mindsss…fear would be more appropriate it me thinkssss…”

“He has heart, but he’s too keen…” He looked back to where his mother once stood seeing a naked woman with purple skin and horns. She smirked tilting her head letting the purple flame that was in place of hair trail through the air as her tail flicked like a cat ready to pounce, “we’ll try it your way next.”

Rain began to fall thickly against his face as everything darkened around him. The two hideous creatures, who he determined were demons, disappeared from view. He spun around as the rain only got worse.

He could feel his heart beating loudly in his ears. He could hear your other reminder to him. This place could show your deepest desire, your deepest fear, and everything in between. Right now, he was inside a night that he ran from for years.

He looked around trying to steady his breathing as the road became clear under his feet. The rain was bouncing of the pavement. Each drop raising the water.

He turned again seeing the lights coming towards him. Quickly, he jumped off the road in time to see Roderick glance out the window toward him. Ignis felt a sick cold weight drop into his stomach as the car rode off down the road into the darkness.

The sound of screeching tires and crunching metal echoed in the space. He felt himself tense and clench his fist tightly as he shook his head, “It’s not real…”

He turned to walk away only to find himself once again on the road. He shook his head spinning around in the rain. Again the headlights in the distance came towards him. He stepped out of the way this time seeing his mother in the passenger seat.

He felt himself involuntarily reach for her. The same noises as before echoed around him. He put his hands to his head shaking it, “It’s not real…it’s not them…”

You watched Hawke putting things in a bag. Provisions, blankets, water… He had taken your story very well and had only asked to clarify a few things. The main one focusing on your child.

Your form here in the Fade wasn’t one that showed how far along you were. In fact, the more you were talking with him you found your clothes seemed to change into what you would wear around Skyhold. You asked him about it, he only smiled pointing out that I was the dreaming.

“We should head out. I don’t know how this would affect your unborn son.” Hawke threw the pack on before moving to his staff, “There’s a reason why mages in the circle terminate anything that resulted after fraternizations.”

“I’m aware…” You shook your head standing to your feet, “It wasn’t like I planned it…”

“No…but you of all people knew how to be careful. Especially you…” Hawke spoke quietly, “I never apologized by the way…”

“You needn’t…Cullen and I weren’t exactly being discreet that day.” You reflected to the moment he referred to.

“What is it all for then?!” Cullen shouted at you across the room, “What is all of this fighting for if not to have a family and preserve the future?”

“It’s different…when you’re a mage.” You crossed your arms trying to remain calm, “You wouldn’t understand…”

“Then help me to…” He stepped over to you putting his hands on your arms, “My darling, please…I love you…I want…I want to have a family with you.”

You looked into his eyes feeling tears come to your eyes, “It’s not possible…”

“What do you mean?” His brow crinkled in that particular way that always made you worry about him. You hated that you were the cause of it, “Y/N, what do you mean?”

“Cullen…” You sniffed looking away, “I…I won’t allow it.”

You watched as his face went blank as he took a step back, “You won’t allow it…”

“Cullen, you know what it’s like for a mage…you-you witnessed two circles and all of their cruelty.” You watched him turn away from you, “You can’t expect me want that for a child! Andraste’s grace, I was fourteen and privileged because of my nobility and I was still…”

You stopped letting your arms fall shaking your head, “I don’t need to defend my decision to you.”

“No?” He turned to you anger clear on his face, “Did you ever consider what I wanted? Ever?”

“Cullen…” You sighed shutting your eyes.

“I want children!” His voice raised as he stepped toward you, “I want to be a father so I can change the world and teach my children that magic is not to be feared if you’re willing to understand! So that what you went through at Ostwick will never happen to another mage!”

“I don’t!” You shouted back at him, “It’s not my responsibility to change the world! I’ve done enough as it is, and I will see it through, but I don’t want more!”

The creak of the door made you both look over and Hawke stared at the both of you for a long time. He apologized asking to speak with the Inquisitor. You kept seeing Cullen for a long while after that…but you knew that had been the end of the relationship.

“This Ignis…he must be something special for you to lose yourself.” Hawke smirked a little walking next to you down the path.

You looked at him and smiled, “He is, he really is. He’s understanding…strategic…and kind, so kind.”

“You, my friend, have a type.” Hawke nudged you, “Strong strategic blonde gentleman, no doubt easy on the eyes, and a smile that dazzles for days, right?”

“When he does smile, yes. And I never said he was blonde…” He laughed telling you he assumed simply because you had good taste as you chuckled a little before sighing. You missed Ignis so much, you could swear you heard him calling your name.

Hawke grabbed you by the arm taking you from your thoughts. He gently pulled you off the side pressing himself against the wall, “There’s a nightmare over there.”

“A nightmare demon?” You felt yourself grow cold, “Hawke…”

“No…just a nightmare…probably a lost soul trapped in memory…or a fabrication…” He pointed out the dark area, “It’s in the way…I’m certain your way out is on the other side of it.”

“We should help them.” You told him trying to peer over.

“Are you mad?” Hawke looked at you with furrowed brow, “Stepping into someone’s nightmare…it could shatter you. Make you forget who you are.”

“But that person is in danger!” You pointed over his shoulder, “If we can help-”

“There’s no time…I can’t focus on saving you if we’re saving them!” He snapped at you taking your arms in his hands, “You have to think of your unborn son.”

You stared into his eyes for a long time before you nodded. You hated that people kept using Ulric against you. You knew your condition…you knew your limits…and yet you always fell in line, “Fine…then what do we do?”

Hawke looked back at that black mass for a moment, “We go around and play it safe. You have to do exactly what I tell you. It’s going to bring us close to where I found you before…do you understand?”

“I do.” You nodded slowly before taking in a deep breath, “What about Ardyn?”

“One problem at a time.” Hawke sighed adjusting the pack on his shoulder, “If we’re lucky we don’t have to worry about him.”

“When have we ever been lucky?” You hissed at him as he started down the path again.

He didn’t answer you as you both moved down the path. Tension only seemed to rise with each passing hour. Your nerves felt on fire as you looked around the open area. Nothing seemed amiss as you moved a good distance away from the nightmare, but you knew better then to just relax.

…Y/N…

You stopped whipping around looking around the area as your heart thumped in your ears. You could hear Hawke behind you, “We need to keep moving…”

“Sh!” You held up your hand to get him to stay silent.

…Y/N!...

You took a step toward the nightmare swirling like a hurricane, “Did you hear that?”

“…yes…” Hawke stepped toward you, “It’s not him…it can’t be.”

You heard your name again calling out the distance, “Ignis…”

“Y/N, be reasonable. Logically think it out…” Hawke grabbed your arm, “What are the chances…”

“You don’t know him.” You looked at Hawke shaking your head, “Ignis would find a way…”

“Stop…” Hawke grabbed your arm, “We are so close to getting you home and the more we linger here, the more likely your other friend will show back up.”

Again you heard your name, it sounded like it was in so much pain, but you had to be sure, “I’m sorry Hawke…”

He called after you as you ripped your arm running full speed toward the swirling darkness. As soon as you entered the void you were jettisoned back in a memory from long ago. You shivered instantly drawing your arms close and across your chest.

You struggled walking forward through the thick snow as the blizzard only seemed to ramp up. You back in the ruins of Haven after meeting Corypheus for the first time.

You jaw chattered as the cold sunk deep into your bones, “No…nono…Ignis!”

You stopped looking around at the wind blew your hair around wildly. You didn’t hear a response…feeling dread sink into your gut you began to doubt your decision.

“Y/N!” Your spun looking in the dark toward the voice.

“Ignis!” You shouted again running, falling toward the voice, “Ignis!”

Snow mixed with rain. Terrain shifted under your feet as the nightmares began to overlap with one another. You could just make out a silhouette in the distance. You forced your self to move faster as his form became clearer with every step.

You rushed into his arms the nightmare ripple out away from the both of you. Rain and snow stopped in place swirling around as if a protective shield enclosed the both of you. He pulled away brushing your hair from your face before resting his forehead against yours.

“How…” You stared into his eyes as tears dripped down your face, “How…”

“You give very good instructions on what to look for.” He brushed them away with his thumbs, “I couldn’t let you stay here.”

“Ignis…” You shook your head until he took your face in his hand kissing you. He was here, he was really here.

“How…I’ve been here so long…how did you two…” Ignis moved in front of you instinctively when Hawke came upon the two of you as the void began to fade away from the area, “You should both be…not sane…”

“It’s okay, Ignis.” You put your hand on his arm looking at Hawke, “This is my friend…he’s gonna help us go home.”

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