#rhoe galathynius

[highqueenofelfhame]

IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME COMING. I didn't mean for this to go a whole year without an update. I'm so sorry. I hope this 4.5k chapter makes up for it somehow <3

masterlist // fafs masterlist // rowaelin

As soon as he took that first deep breath upon waking up, Rowan knew he was being watched. Maybe that was thanks to all his years as an agent for the bureau, or perhaps it had to do with the months he had spent with Aelin that had honed that instinct into a sharp blade. Regardless of what had made him develop the sixth sense, he knew that when he opened his eyes to the soft light filtering through the cracks of the curtains, there would be a golden gaze pinning him to the bed.

Instead of looking at her, he reached across the bed to rest his hand on her thigh. Rowan could tell she was sitting with her legs folded up like a pretzel, her hands in her lap while she watched him. He moved a fraction of an inch closer until he could easily press his lips to the spot just above her knee. 

"Rowan?" The tentative sound of her voice had him cracking open an eye to look up at her face. A deep crease was set between her brows while she worried her bottom lip in thought.

"What has you awake so early?" This soon after waking, the lilt of his accent was heavier, his tone deeper and more gravelly than usual. 

"It wasn't you, right?" 

"Baby–" he started, pushing himself up on his good arm to a sitting position. He shifted so they were sitting knee to knee, one of his legs dangling over the side of the bed so he could move closer to her. Aelin looked away as she licked her lips before shaking her head. "Look at me, love."

 "I know. I know you didn't; I just–" Her eyes found his again, and she huffed out a sigh. It sounded like she had been carrying it in her lungs for years. "Somebody found out. They found out, and they told her. But everyone I know is dead except for Elide and Gavriel, and they think I'm dead. Even if Gav put it together, I can't see him spilling everything to Maeve before talking to me to see what the hell happened to me all those years ago." 

Digging her palms into her eyes, she took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. Rowan counted the seconds, his thumbs brushing in soothing circles over her tan skin. It was something he had been thinking about non-stop since everything exploded in the bureau lobby. Even as the bullet pierced his shoulder, he tried to make sense of everything that had come to light. 

How had Maeve known? It definitely hadn't been Gavriel. At the very least, her uncle would have approached him before going to Maeve. It didn't make any sense for him to find his long-lost and assumed-dead niece and go straight to his boss. Rowan knew firsthand that the deaths of his sister-in-law and her husband had plagued him. He was one of the few people that Gavriel had ever talked about it with, him and Aedion never having fully given up hope that maybe she was out there somewhere. It wasn't something he voiced frequently. Those admissions came after everyone else had left the bar, and it was just the two of them sharing a beer in silence after a difficult case. No, it definitely hadn't been Gavriel. 

Who then? Aelin was right. Essentially everyone from her childhood was dead now. All her confessions had happened in places where he knew they weren't being recorded. By that time, he himself had become paranoid enough that he checked all the pens in his pockets, his cufflinks, and the buttons of his shirts, even to ensure nobody had slipped a device somewhere in his clothes. If they had been recorded, it would have been inside his apartment. But he would have known about that, too. He checked regularly and had frequency blockers hidden in every room.

If working for the bureau taught him anything, it was to always be on your guard and that a healthy dose of paranoia kept you from being surveilled. 

There was Elide, but Rowan had a strong feeling that any of her suspicions would have ended with Lorcan beating down his door in the dead of night in search of the truth. She wasn't even an option, not really. 

Who, then? Had Arobynn Hammel let the truth slip to Maeve before his heart had been ripped from his chest? Did Maeve have eyes and ears everywhere that whispered back to her, even when they were sure no one was listening? It seemed far-fetched, but he knew his boss had her moments of being ruthless. But if she'd known the truth since Arobynn, why did she wait so long to tell Aelin she knew? The window of when she found out and when she spoke with Aelin had to have been a small one. Nothing else quite made sense. 

Rowan looked back at the woman he loved, her eyes fixed on his face while he processed every bit of information they knew. All he could do was shake his head and rest his brow against hers. 

"I don't know. I wish I could give you more than that, but where it stands right now, I have no fucking idea. We will figure it out– all of it. Who told her, what kind of jeopardy it puts you in, what our next steps are. We will figure it out together."

There was a determination in her eyes that was admirable. And though he could tell she wanted to push back about something that he'd said– he had no idea which part– she nodded slightly and repeated, "Together."

 ~*~

Hours later, Aelin was sitting on the floor in front of the couch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Despite a warmer day outside, a fire flickered in the fireplace. Watching the flames dance and twine around one another was a welcome reprieve from the near-constant headache she'd had for the last few days while trying to make sense of everything. 

In the kitchen, Rowan hummed quietly while preparing dinner. The aroma of garlic, basil, and lemon was strong throughout the cabin. It felt bizarre that this felt like the most normal night she had ever experienced in her whole life. The sounds of dinner being prepared, a man she loved making everything with care. The reality was that it was the furthest from normal, considering she was on the run from the FBI. It was only a matter of time before she was found, captured, and dumped into a prison cell for the rest of her life. It made her stomach turn to know that the same thing would happen to Rowan for harboring a fugitive of her caliber and committing treason. 

"I don't understand how this has become my life," she said aloud, and Rowan ceased his movements. The water turned on, followed by the sound of him washing and drying his hands before lowering his body to the floor beside her. "I don't mean I don't understand exactly how I ended up here. I understand that part. What I don't understand is how my life got here."

"You mean how you ended up an assassin in the first place." He shifted to drop his arm around her shoulder, and Aelin quickly turned into him, resting her face against his chest. It always surprised her when he understood what she was trying to say, even if the words were twisted and confusing on their way out of her mouth.

"How did I go from living in a mansion surrounded by family and friends, my father gearing up for a presidential run, having tea parties with my very best friends, or running through bonfires on Beltane with flowers in my hair to this?"

"What do you remember about that night?" The night she'd spent so much time running from, one that her brain had blocked out almost entirely. Aelin sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes still locked on the flames as she chewed on it for a moment.

"Not much," she admitted. "I've never talked about it out loud to anyone before, either. But it really isn't much."

"Do you want to go over what you do remember with me? Maybe something will spark, and we can work backward to figure out what is happening now." Only with Rowan would she ever talk about it, the night that ruined her life. Perhaps she had emerged from the ashes like a phoenix, but everything she had wanted to be before died that night. So she had become something else entirely. Something horrible that her friends and family would be ashamed of and would judge. But he wouldn't. 

Aelin turned so she was leaning against the couch, her arm propped on the cushion with her fist against her temple. Rowan mirrored her body language, reaching out to lace the fingers of their free hands. A silent reminder that he was there, he understood her, and he would follow this path with her to whatever end it may have. The thought alone made her want to cry, but she swallowed her emotions.

"The night that my parents were murdered, I was sleeping upstairs in my bed. Every night I went to sleep snuggled in a mountain of stuffed animals. Most of them came from when my dad went on business trips. He always brought one back for me. I had to have at least twenty stacked on top of my bed, dozens more littered around my room. I rotated them out frequently so that none of them would feel lonely having to sleep by themselves." Rowan's lips had curved into the smallest of smiles, his thumb making circles on the back of her hand. He was there. He had her. She was not alone, and she would not be afraid. 

"I remember having a hard time falling asleep that night. I'd been to my parent's bedroom twice because I thought I heard things. It was a big house; it made a lot of noise. My mom repeatedly promised me that everything was okay, and she and my dad tucked me back into bed. I remember still feeling unsettled and scared. Like something was wrong, but I didn't know what. I couldn't place my tiny finger on it then, but I would hold my breath to see what I could hear in the silence. Once, I heard soft voices, which my mom said I was just hearing the two of them talking downstairs. I heard footsteps, but again, they were still up and getting ready for bed. I was just hearing them." 

 Aelin paused then, tears already filling her eyes and threatening to slip down her cheeks. Not once had she said any of this out loud. Nobody had ever heard this part. With Rowan, she could do this. She could say it aloud despite her throat burning from trying to suppress her emotions. Maybe it was time she let them out. Had she ever really grieved? Those first few weeks at the keep, maybe. But Arobynn had quickly shut down her wildfire range of emotions some months into her training when he decided she should be over it by now. With a deep breath, she found it in herself to continue. 

"I slept a little bit that night, but it was that kind of sleep where you hear everything around you. Somewhere between being awake and dreaming. At first, I thought I was dreaming. But I heard my mother begging someone. Her voice had so much raw fear; I will never forget how it cracked when she said my name. As scared as I was, you think you're invincible as a child, you know? So I snuck downstairs, tip-toeing down the hallway to their bedroom. And then I just… froze. There was enough moonlight to see my dad completely limp on the bed. Something dark was on his skin and the sheets, running down his arm and pooling on the floor. His eyes were staring at nothing. 

A man had my mom's hair gathered in his hand; her head pulled back with a gun to her temple while she begged and begged. But she wasn't begging for herself; she was pleading that he let me go. Over and over, she just kept saying let my baby live, please don't hurt her. And then she saw me standing at the door, and the last thing she said was my name before the gun went off. I have never heard anyone's voice sound so panicked and full of terror. My mom slumped against my dad, and then I turned and ran. At some point, I slipped, banged my head on the ground, and I don't know what happened after that."

Aelin only realized she had fully begun to sob when Rowan pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her tightly. While she was talking, she had registered the sounds of gasping, sharp breaths, and broken words, but it hadn't registered that it was coming from her. When she started talking, it all started pouring out. One broken word after another until her shirt was soaked with tears. On the one hand, it felt so good to finally get it out and tell someone what had really happened that night. On the other, it shattered her into a million pieces to recount those events. 

The papers had gotten it all wrong. Most of them said it had been a quick assassination. Aelin didn't know how fast it had happened for her father, but the man that killed her mother had stood there and listened to her begging for her daughter's innocent life for long enough that Aelin had made her way downstairs and heard the end of it. That she saw the end of it. That it was burned into her brain no matter how hard she tried to shut those images out. 

Aelin still had nightmares about it. 

Rowan didn't say anything for a long while, just holding her and stroking her hair while she let out every emotion she had kept locked in an iron cage in the back of her mind. Emotions she had been trained to keep a firm hold on for nearly her entire life. Arobynn used that against her, beating her down until she had become distant and cold. Only when she had met Rowan did any of it start to slip out, and she had spent months hating herself for it. Aelin had always known from the time she started to get to know him that he would be her unraveling one way or another. He would either throw her in prison or make her feel alive again. At the time, she couldn't decide which was worse. 

"I know that there were two men. I saw a second one when I turned to run. But after that, I didn't know anything else until I woke up in a bed in the keep. Arobynn never talked about how I fell under his 'care.' For a while, I thought it was just an orphanage. That I had been found and taken there while I was unwell. It didn't click until I was a few years older that it certainly wasn't the case because I would have woken up in a hospital before I got taken anywhere, and then I would have been taken to my aunt and uncle. I just remember seeing all these papers about how I was missing and presumed dead. Arobynn would show me news footage of Aerin and Gavriel begging for someone to just let them know where my body was so they could bring me home."

Her tears felt cool against her flushed cheeks, even as Rowan chased every one of them away with calloused fingertips. The memories of her aunt, uncle, and cousin standing on the porch of their home, desperately asking for her return. They hadn't known if it would be her alive and well, or if it would be her dead body. It had not mattered. Her family just wanted her back. Wanted to keep or safe or lay her to rest next to her parents. The image of Aedion's young, tear-streaked face floated to the front of her mind, followed immediately by his unseeing eyes the day she had shown up at the crime scene to find him dead. 

It was all too much. The murder of her parents, her upbringing to become the underworld's most deadly assassin, that she was now everything her parents hated about the world. All of her friends that now lay six feet under simply because they were tied to her in some way. 

The guilt had been gnawing at her bones since it all started. Aelin would give absolutely anything to trade places with them. The cost didn't matter. It would have been better if she were the one that was dead because if she had died that night, at least everyone she loved would still be breathing. 

Throughout the years, Aelin had kept tabs on each of them, knowing they would do incredible things. They all had done their best to put something good back into the world. Dorian was nothing like his father, doing what he could to speak out and back his words up with actions to pave a better way for the rest of the world. Aedion had spent countless hours working with underprivileged youth in Big Brother programs right up to his death. Even Sam was taking steps to better his life until he was killed for trying to run with her.

Nehemia… gods, the things she could have done if her life hadn't ended so shortly. She had been a beacon of hope to so many, her charity work speaking for itself. It was only about doing everything she could to help people in need, including raising money through the Lotus Foundation, one her parents had helped her create to build housing in underdeveloped parts of their home country, Eyllwe. 

Yet she was the one still living. She who had taken countless lives, that had so much blood caked onto her soul she would never be clean. It didn't matter what she did going forward; it didn't matter the circumstances of how it all happened. Aelin was the one that lived, and she had brought so much shame upon everyone in her life. 

There were no bright sides to her friends being dead. That she would never have to face them, never have to tell them the truth, though… She was too much of a coward to ever have looked any of them in the eye after the life she had been forced into.

"Do you remember anything about the men that killed your parents? What they looked like?" Rowan's voice stirred her from her thoughts, soft, deep, and lilting. His thumbs still brushed the tears that fell from her cheeks. 

"The men Maeve captured and convicted were the ones that did it. I know that for sure. I could never forget Cairn's face. His accomplice is harder for me to piece together, but he confessed after Cairn ratted him out to avoid the death penalty. I only saw him for a brief moment before I fell. If the wrong people had been convicted, I would have hunted them down and killed them myself." And she would have. Those lives would have been two of the few she held no remorse over, and it wouldn't have been quick. It would have lasted long enough until some of the grief had eased in her chest. Until she wasn't so scared to look back on her childhood memories anymore. 

"That case got her the appointment for FBI Director." Rowan lifted the bottom of his t-shirt to wipe the snot gathered in her nose and upper lip. 

"She deserved it for that. Even though I had just turned nine, I was hyper-aware of what my life was turning into by that point. And seeing justice brought down on them… it brought some relief. Not much, but enough to know they were behind bars. I would have preferred the death penalty for them both, but at least there was a confession." Aelin shrugged her shoulders. It was true. She would have killed them after her arrest if she had been in the same prison. Clearly, the gods had other plans for her, though. 

"Is there anything else you can piece together?"  

"Right now, no. But if I have any eureka moments, you'll be the first and only one to know." 

Aelin had been waiting for Rowan's apology. The one that came from a place of empathy, that made her feel like she was pitied. But it never came. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. The gesture said more than words ever could. That he understood, that he hated the shitty hand life had dealt her, that he stood with her. That he was there.

And that meant more to her than any words ever could.

~*~

Whitethorn had been right. In the days after Sardothien's arrest, he had gone on and on about how it was too convenient. It didn't make sense that she was just a whisper in the wind and suddenly became so sloppy in her work that boxes of evidence had, literally, been dropped on the steps of the FBI headquarters. 

Raking through every piece of information that they had on her, he could see that clear as day. For years their department had chased a ghost, someone quick and silent. There had never been a drop of her own blood, a single hair that fell off her head. No fingerprints, no saliva. None of her DNA packed under someone's fingernails from a struggle. They didn't even have proof that it was her at all, actually. They only knew that the legendary assassin was a woman based on one witness account, and the woman had been so old and frail and unsure of her account that it would have been inadmissible in court. 

All of her alleged crime scenes had been scoured with a fine-toothed comb. They knew it was murder; that much was clear. But Celaena Sardothien had dozens of aliases, hundreds maybe. He was sure of that. Yet the "proof" they had received in a box full of her fake passports and IDs seemed too good to be true. None of them led them anywhere; it was like she'd never touched them, never used them at any point. Anyone could pay someone to make fake identification, and what they found in those boxes was so blatantly fake that it wouldn't fool anyone. 

Her case was a puzzle that he was dying to solve. Usually, he loved cataloging evidence that led to a trial. Sure, they would have to find and capture her again before she saw her day in the courtroom, but he enjoyed this part of the work. Except for right now, when not a single loose thread took him anywhere at all. The woman simply did not exist. 

With tired eyes, he pushed away the file he'd been reading and turned to another that kept him up at night. Lorcan wasn't usually so personally invested in the cases they solved, but the look in Gavriel's eyes when he found out his son had been murdered still haunted his nightmares. The sounds of the sobs that broke free from his throat were the sounds of a soul dying. Gavriel had loved his son with everything he had, and Lorcan almost couldn't forgive himself for having to be the person that broke the news. 

Flipping open the Ashryver file, he scanned the evidence log and accompanying photos. When he got to the images of Aedion's lifeless body, he started to flip faster, not needing to see the pictures to remember them in vivid detail. 

 Just as he was about to skip the last one, a close-up shot of his face and neck, Lorcan's fingers froze against the glossy page. In the photo, Aedion's glassy eyes stared at the cloudy sky. Eyes that were a bright turquoise, his pupil rimmed with gold. They were dimmer now than they had been while he was alive, but…

But he knew those eyes. Not just because they were a strong trait of the Ashryver gene pool but because he had looked into them himself. Yes, he had met Aedion several times at various get-togethers and holiday parties. But his eyes were identical to a different pair he'd become all too familiar with for the last several months.

Then there was his face. Gavriel's son favored him strongly, but there was a softness in his features that he had spent months looking at on a different face. A woman's face. The same shade of golden hair, though in these photos, it was sticky with dried blood. 

Lorcan pulled his laptop closer to him, quickly opening a tab and sending his fingers flying across the keyboard. It was probably the fastest he had ever typed, and he had never been so impatient for the single second it took to get hundreds of images back from the search result. 

He clicked on the third photo down, one of a small family standing on a stage. The man and woman waved to the crowd while the young girl beamed where she stood between them. No older than seven, her little hands clasped her mother and father's tightly. 

Rhoe and Evalin Galathynius pictured with their daughter, Aelin, on Vice President Galathynius's presidential campaign trail in Perranth. 

A few weeks ago a conversation of Lorcan arguing with Rowan about Celaena's involvement in Elide's attack had him pushing back from his chair. Ice slithered up and down his spine, blood turning cold as he recalled one specific thing that Rowan said to him that he hadn't caught in the moment because he was so upset and worried about his fiancee's life. 

Rowan had called her Aelin. Said that Aelin didn't have anything to do with what happened to Elide. He vividly remembered feeling bothered by the conversation afterward, that there was something between the lines that Rowan hadn't been saying plainly with words, but perhaps they were there. Whitethorn had been so fiercely sure that Celaena didn't do it, didn't have it ordered, had clean hands where Elide was concerned. He might be a raging dumbass for dating a woman with multiple charges of murder to her name, but the man was not stupid. 

Lorcan's eyes snagged on another image, a group photo of two dozen or so people. Standing in the front were five children. All of them were dressed in their holiday best, standing before a towering Yulemas tree covered in glittering ornaments and twinkling lights. They appeared to be gathered in a great hall of sorts. Everyone in the picture shared wide smiles as they looked at the camera. 

In the middle of the group of children was a young girl with long dark hair wearing a red and green plaid dress. A bright red bow gathered some of her soft curls from her face. A face that Lorcan would know anywhere because not only had he seen hundreds of childhood pictures of her, but he woke up to that face every godsdamn morning. 

Elide's arms were looped through two other girls, one with long golden hair and fair skin, the other with black hair in carefully woven braids, her skin dark. The three of them wore similar dresses, the color being the only thing different about them. The blonde girl on her right had a silver and dark green dress, while the one on her right had a dress of purple and silver. 

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was on Elide's right. That was factual. Beside Aelin, Aedion Ashryver stood with his arm thrown around her shoulders. Dorian Havilliard and Chaol Westfall were on the other side of Nehemia Ytger. Behind them were their parents and friends of their parents. All of them gathered before one of the famous Galathynius family Yulemas parties. 

It wasn't just Aelin standing beside Elide, though. That thought clanged through Lorcan hard. He felt it in every nerve and bone of his body; he had never been so absolutely positive of something in his entire life.

Celaena Sardothien was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, a girl long since presumed dead to the world and everyone that loved her. 

Holy gods.

[acourtofquestions]

One summer: thick as thieves and as wild.

The next: endless pissing contests, everything from footraces through the courtyards to shoving in the stairwells to outright brawling in the Great Hall. Rhoe had tried to defuse it, but Rhoe had never been a comfortable liar. Had refused to deny to Ren's father that Aedion was the one who'd swear that oath. And by the end of that summer, even the Crown Prince had begun to look the other way when the two boys launched into yet another fight in the dirt. Not that it mattered now.

Would his own father, would Gavriel, have encouraged the rivalry? He supposed it didn't matter, either. But for a heartbeat, Aedion tried to picture it-Gavriel here, presiding over his training.

His father and Rhoe, teaching him together. And he knew that Gavriel would have found some way to calm the competition, much in the way he held the peace in the cadre. What manner of man would he have become, had the Lion been here? Gavriel likely would have been butchered with the rest of the court, but ... he would have been here.

A fool's path, to wander down that road.

Aedion was who he was, and most of the time, didn't mind that one bit. Rhoe had been his father in the ways that counted. Even if there had been times when Aedion had looked at Rhoe and Evalin and Aelin and still felt like a guest.

[nymph-of-water]

Unpopular opinion: Aelin's parents weren't that good.

[leiawritesstories]

Stunning

Rowaelin Month 2024, Day 7: All Dressed Up @rowaelinscourt

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: flirting, swearing, rich people talk, badly concealed horniness, NSFW content, a few fun little hidden jokes teehee

A/N: hi hello this is technically for tomorrow BUT it's getting posted now because i'm taking the LSAT tomorrow and i'm going to be way too mentally exhausted to function, yayyyyy 😃 also, i might disappear for a little while after the exam, bc i also just started my senior year of college and it's a bit busier than i thought lol. anyway.....enjoy!!! at your own discretion please :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If the club was fancy, its VIP lounge was a study in luxury. A pair of black-suited bouncers flanked the door, their dark-shaded eyes constantly scanning the club, scrutinizing each and every person who approached the lounge doors. Rowan handed over the thick square of embossed ivory paper from his tux jacket pocket and nodded amiably at the bouncers as they checked his invitation and waved him in. Conspicuous as he’d felt before, when he was walking through the club in a custom three-piece designer tux, he felt positively unremarkable among the sea of haute couture that thronged the VIP lounge, all of them centered around a tall, elegant woman in a fitted sheath dress of molten gold with a slit that crept dangerously high up her right leg. Her head tipped an inch sideways with the echo of her laughter, and she rested one graceful hand on the forearm of the handsome man she was talking to, crimson-tipped fingernails contrasting sharply with his black jacket. 

Aelin Galathynius. 

The only daughter of perhaps the most influential voices in Terrasen’s political scene, Aelin filled the spotlight like she was born to it. Which she was. She’d been appearing in front of press cameras and journalists practically since her birth because Evalin Ashryver, the first female secretary of state, had wanted to show the world that a woman could have both a successful high-profile career and a family. Furthermore, her father was Rhoe Galathynius, the deputy prime minister, and he had personally taught his only daughter how to handle the press. 

At twenty-nine, Aelin was one of the most recognizable faces in Terrasen, though that was mostly due to her success as a former professional volleyball player and current coach, as well as an incredibly generous philanthropist, rather than her parents’ collective renown. Rowan had known Aelin since high school, had harbored a crush for her practically as long, and since he was also a retired athlete and the head of a foundation that supported talented young athletes whose families couldn’t afford their sports, he often crossed paths with Aelin at events like this one. 

She was chatting with Dorian Havilliard, the oldest son of Prime Minister Havilliard and a childhood friend of hers, when Rowan strolled over and nodded cordially at the dark-haired man. “Good to see you again, Havilliard. Do you mind?” 

“Not at all!” Dorian air-kissed Aelin’s cheeks. “Whitethorn, good to see you as well. I’ll have my assistant reach out to yours to schedule a proper meeting, yes?” He had recently indicated his interest in sponsoring one of Rowan’s foundation events. 

“Sounds perfect.” Rowan shook Dorian’s hand and pretended not to notice as the other man stage-whispered “he’s so hot” to Aelin before he left the two of them alone. 

“Rowan.” Aelin’s crimson lips curled into a smile. “What brings you here? I thought you usually avoided these little parties like the plague.” 

“I try,” he said dryly. “Unfortunately, there are several key donors here, and my VP practically threatened to strangle me if I didn’t show up and have a drink with them.” 

She chuckled and took a delicate sip of the champagne in her hand. “I wasn’t aware I was one of your key donors, Rowan.” 

“Maybe I’m using you as a human shield,” he teased. 

“I’m afraid I’m more of a spear than a shield,” she said with a wink. “That means I’ll charge at your big scary donors with you if you can work up the balls to ask.” 

“Can you blame me for hesitating?” He swiped a glass of champagne from a passing server’s tray and locked his gaze onto Aelin as he took a deep sip. “You look stunning in that dress, Aelin, and I’m afraid that’s all anyone will see.” 

“Ah, stop it.” She swatted his arm. “I’ll get their attention, and you’ll capture it like you always do with your cute little big-old-shy-guy smile and blush.” His cheeks heated, and she grinned. “There, you see? One of your usual protests that you ‘don’t do as much as you want to do’ and you’ll have those donors eating from the palm of your hand.” 

“I’d like to eat you from the palm of my hand,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “You’re sure?” 

“Of course.” She set down her champagne and looped her arm through his. She lowered her voice to a throaty whisper. “And if you want to eat, Whitethorn, all you have to do is ask.” 

His pants tightened. He swallowed thickly, forced himself to think about the donors in order to control his traitorous body, and covertly poked Aelin in the ribs. “Quite a naughty thing to say, Aelin.” 

She winked lazily at him. “We’re at a club, Rowan. Certain things happen at clubs.” 

“Such a brazen woman.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear, and his lips just barely brushed her neck. “What kind of things are you thinking about, hmm?” 

“Schmoozing with donors, for one.” She laughed softly at his disgruntled expression and brushed a megawatt smile across her face as they approached one of the couples who were frequent donors to his foundation. “Connall, Sorscha, delighted to see you here!” 

Connall had been one of Rowan’s teammates, and he’d retired a year before Rowan so he could spend more time with his wife, Sorscha, and their family. “Surprised you made it, old man,” he joked as he clasped hands with Rowan and affectionately thumped him on the back. 

“Trust me, we both are,” Rowan deadpanned. “Sorscha, you look lovely as always. How are the little ones?” 

“Growing up too damn fast,” Connall sighed. 

Sorscha nodded in agreement. “Lyla started walking the other day; I turned around for five seconds and she made it into the other room. I almost had a heart attack.” She laughed. “And Gray has been obsessed with taking care of the garden, except that he doesn’t know the difference between the weeds and the herbs.” 

“Little guy brought his mama a fistful of ‘bad weeds’ that were actually dill,” Connall added, snickering. “Oh, and James is doing fantastic at the football camp.” 

Rowan smiled. “That’s amazing! How is it having him stay with you?” One of the projects he was trying to start involved pro athletes having orphans and foster kids stay with them when they participated in training camps for their sports. 

“We love it.” Con grinned down at his wife. “He’s still a little shy with the kids and he basically lives out of his duffle bag, but he’s a lot more talkative now.” 

“He seems more at ease,” Sorscha said. “It could be that he’s made friends at the camp, or that my son pretty much idolizes him because he’s a big boy who plays sports, but I think he’s also just more… comfortable.” 

“That’s almost exactly what we were hoping would happen.” Rowan squeezed Aelin’s hand, and she beamed up at him. “Good. Well, I hope this helps convince the board.” 

Con thumped Rowan’s shoulder. “We’re in your corner, man. I’d be happy to tell the board about our success if you need.” 

“I just might take you up on that.” Rowan shook Con’s hand and accepted Sorscha’s hug. “Thank you so much.” 

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Aelin teased as they walked away, heading for another donor that Rowan had spotted. “You’re a natural—just get them talking about how much they want to help these kids or how much they love what they’re already doing, and they’ll give you their support.” 

His hand slid to her lower back, guiding her through the throngs of people. “Wish I had half as much confidence as you have, Ae.” 

“Stop that,” she chided. “Rowan, your foundation is hugely successful because of you. That much is evident, and I’ll keep trying to convince you of that until you accept it.” 

“I know a few ways you could convince me,” he murmured, half to himself. 

Her smile melted into lazy dangerousness, and sparks kindled behind her stunning turquoise eyes. “Do you, now?” 

His hand curled possessively around her hip. “I do.” Heat raced through her blood at the weight of his touch. “Dance with me.” 

“Of course.” 

They stepped into the swirl of couples dancing in the middle of the lounge, and Aelin gasped quietly when Rowan pulled her so close that she was almost flush against him, wrapping one arm around her waist with his hand on her hip and lacing his free hand with hers. So close she could feel the thrum of his heartbeat, she draped her free arm around his neck, fingers toying with the collar of his pressed black shirt. The song changed, shifting to a deep, pounding bass and sultry vocals, and her body moved in near-perfect tandem with his as he led her through the dance. 

“All that hockey training certainly gave you good moves, Ro,” she teased, flicking her gaze up to his through her lashes. 

He smirked languidly and rotated his hips in a borderline lustful circle. “And all your volleyball training probably gave you strong legs.” He tipped his head down and purred his next words into her ear. “But how long until they start shaking?” 

“Dream on, hockey boy,” she whispered, even as desire uncoiled between her legs at the sinful rasp of his voice. 

“Every night.” Her breath caught at the admission in those words, and when he brushed a thumb across her lips, she leaned into the touch. Her nod was confirmation enough, and he replaced his thumb with his lips, kissing her softly at first and then deeper, slower, the stroke of his tongue almost too slow for the heat pounding in her blood. 

In a hazy blur, they were in the club’s bathroom, Aelin sucking in a sharp breath as Rowan yanked her dress up around her waist and planted her bare ass on the marble countertop. He chuckled, a low dark gravelly rasp that curled up her spine like smoke, as his eyes traced down her body and discovered her lack of underwear. “Dangerous move, darling,” he murmured, attaching his lips to her neck and pressing his calloused thumb directly onto her clit. “No panties? Anyone could see you, Aelin.” 

“Anyone—ahh, Rowan!—isn’t going to see,” she panted, her words broken up with gasps and hitched breaths. “Just…fuck, just you.” 

“That’s what I like to hear.” Free hand reaching down the front of her dress to tease her hardened nipples, he thrust three fingers into her, reveling in her broken moan and the way her eyes scrunched shut in pain-edged bliss. “Hold still for me, pretty girl.” Wordlessly, she nodded, bracing her hands on the countertop to stabilize herself. He smirked and kissed her hard, swallowing her moans, and pumped his fingers roughly, bringing her to her first orgasm of the night within a few minutes. He worked her through the high, teasing her sensitive clit just enough to make her whimper when he withdrew his glistening fingers and licked them clean, gaze locked on her the whole time. 

“Please, Ro.” She whispered his name, her plea a raspy breath. “Need you to fill me up.” 

“Good girl.” He pushed his trousers and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free, and her eyes went wide and dark as she stared at his size. 

“Th-that…” Her mouth went dry. “That’s not going to fit.” 

He brushed his thumb over her kiss-swollen lips. “It will, pretty girl. Trust me, it will.” He pushed one of her dress straps off her shoulder and palmed her breast. “Your pretty pussy took my fingers so well, Ae, getting all ready for my dick.” 

Her breath escaped in a shuddering groan. “How is it so hot when you say filthy things like that?” 

“Because you’re my dirty little good girl.” He smirked and tilted her chin up to brush a bare feather of a kiss over her smudged lipstick. “Can you stay quiet for me?” She nodded, and he kissed her as he dipped his fingers into her cunt again, working her in long slow strokes. When she wrapped her hand around his wrist and whispered that she was ready, he lined his cock up and pushed into her slowly, savoring the tight grip of her pussy around his dick and the muffled whimpers she made as she struggled to stay quiet while accommodating the size of his velvet steel schlong. 

“Rowan,” she choked out, near desperate. “Please!” 

“Good fucking girl,” he groaned, and he rocked into the cradle of her hips, thrusting with increasing force. Gripping her waist, he pinned her to the counter and fucked her hard, and she buried her face in his shoulder to muffle the uncontrollable moans that tore from her throat. The soap dish clattered to the floor, and he just kicked it underneath the sink and thrust harder, hurtling them both towards climax. Aelin tipped her head back and rasped out his name as she came, ecstasy written all over her features, and he groaned her name as he came inside of her. As their bodies stilled, he gently pulled out, smirking at the sight of his rowillymilk dripping down her legs. 

She trailed a finger between her thighs and lifted it to her lips, licking their cum off and humming softly in pleasure. “Delicious.” 

He growled and pulled his pants back up and lifted her off the counter, stopping to fix her dress before he laced his fingers with hers and led her out of the bathroom and back through the flashing strobe lights of the lounge and out a side door. “Your place or mine?” 

“Mine.” She flicked a heated glance at him from under her darkened lashes. “Got a few toys I like to use in my bedroom.” 

“Get in the car.” Rowan pulled the passenger door of a sleek black SUV open with more force than strictly necessary, the muscled lines of his body tense, the gleam of his eyes predatory. Aelin touched the smudged lipstick at the corner of her mouth, wiping it away as she slid gracefully into the car. He closed the door and went around to the driver’s side, and she sucked in a half-surprised, half-aroused gasp when he accelerated down the dark, empty city streets with a hand splayed on her thigh. Heat pulsed between her legs, radiating outward from the warm, firm weight of his palm atop her leg. 

She at least had enough of her wits to direct him towards her townhouse. “Turn left here,” she directed, guiding him down the familiar path to her home. “First right, then second right.” He navigated the turns with expert precision, and it was only minutes before he’d pulled into the single parking space marked out in front of her property. 

A sudden, thick silence blanketed the vehicle, and Aelin had the urge to caress Rowan’s face when she caught sight of the faint uncertainty nearly buried in his fiery gaze. So she did, gently tracing her fingertips across his cheekbones. “Welcome to my home, Ro.” She winked lazily. “Want me to show you my bedroom?” 

His lingering hesitation melted into molten, commanding desire. “That’s my good girl.” The praise flowed over her like sunlight. “Can you get out of the car, Ae, or do you need to be carried?” 

“Someone has a high opinion of himself.” She clicked her tongue and smoothly climbed out of the car. He prowled around from the driver’s side, banded one thickly muscled arm around her waist, and pressed her back against the door. 

“Still so naughty,” he murmured. “What should we do about that, hmm?” 

“Why don’t you come inside and show me?” she whispered right back. 

He kissed her, and it would have been sweet if not for the cum sticking to her thighs. “Good girl.” Hand in her hand, he followed her into her townhouse, locked the front door behind them, and waited all of twenty seconds for her to drop her small purse before he hauled her over his shoulder and stormed up the stairs. She managed to point him towards her bedroom door, and he set her onto her bed with uncharacteristic gentleness. 

And tore her dress down the middle. 

She was halfway through an outraged gasp when he yanked her hips to the edge of the mattress, dropped to his knees, and licked her dripping pussy. Her outrage kindled into lust, and she plunged her fingers into his hair, shoving him closer as his tongue drew harsh patterns on her needy clit. Through the incoherent, garbled whimpers and moans streaming from her throat, she managed to reach sideways and grab her wand vibrator from her bedside table and switch the toy on before tracing the buzzing tip around her stiff, aching nipples. 

“What,” Rowan growled, “do you think you’re doing, hmm?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just took the vibrator from her and replaced his tongue with the toy, teasing her cunt with too-light touches and biting kisses, ignoring her breasts altogether. “Did I say you could touch yourself, Ae?” 

“N–no, sir,” she whispered. Calling him sir had been impulsive, but it felt so right. 

He swore filthily and shoved his pants off, letting his massive meat pole spring free. “That’s correct. Now be a good girl and put your hands above your head.” The vibrator skimmed her throbbing pussy and dipped farther back, circling the rim of her ass, and her fists curled into the pillows above her head as words failed her. He seemed pleased with her obedience, because he kept the toy there as he returned his mouth to her cunt and devoured her, tongue spearing into her and teeth scraping her most sensitive parts. It couldn’t have been more than two minutes before stars exploded across her vision as she came so hard she shook with the force of it. 

He turned off the vibrator, threw it across the floor, stripped out of the rest of his clothes, and hauled her up the bed, kissing and nipping up her body as he went. “Don’t hold back,” she breathed, the words shaky from the last waves of her orgasm but no less confident. 

“Scream for me, pretty girl,” was all he said in response, and he flipped them over and pulled her down onto his cock. She was so wet that her cunt slid down effortlessly, and he didn’t give her any time to adjust before he lifted her hips up and down, helping her ride his dick at a frenetic pace. “Fuck, Aelin!” 

“Fuck, Rowan!” she screamed in tandem, head falling back in bliss. He sat up, deepening the angle, and fucked her relentlessly, until she was a mess of broken cries of his name. 

“Come with me,” he ordered, and he pinched her clit sharply. She screamed his name to the gods as she shattered, and he came with her, burying himself deep. He rocked his hips gently as she shook, working her through every last second of the drawn-out orgasm, milking his own pleasure. As she calmed and rolled off of him, sprawled onto her stomach, he ran his fingers through her hair, smoothing the mussed strands. “So fuckin’ good, Fireheart.” 

She turned onto her side and grinned, linking her fingers with his. “Happy anniversary, my love. Should we do that again next year?��

~~~

TAGS:

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@thegreyj

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@mariaofdoranelle

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@fauna-flora11

[alice-bad-thoughts]

Can we talk about how much of a musical family the Galathynius were?

Aelin could play the clavichord, Aedion could play the violin, they often went to the opera (and I'm pretty sure Evalin sang beautifully and Rhoe could play something too). I really like to think that sometimes they would get together and just enjoy music. I think that may have been the thing that bonded them all and partly made them family.

[mariaofdoranelle]

Masterlist: The Courtship Deception

Archaic royal duties were long since practiced, but when Aelin discovers she was suddenly thrust into marriage for a royal title, she must step in Rhoe Galathynius’ unhinged business plans in order to protect what little freedom she had.

However, Aelin is her father’s daughter, and ready to counterattack with a scheme of her own—one that includes Rowan, an unauthorized suitor who could be either the key to all her problems or an aggravator to them.

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics’ March 2024 prompts

Warnings: non-explicit depictions of sexual behavior, reference to alcoholic beverages

This story is highly unserious and written for funsies

Inspired by Auto da Compadecida (2000)

You can get notified when I update by either turning notifications on for @mariaofdoranelle-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

˜˜˜˜

Read on AO3!

Part 1: Morning

Part 2: Heirloom

Part 3: Curtain

Part 4: Wanderlust

Part 5: Hope

Part 6: Surprise

Part 7: Fight or Flight

Part 8: Bubble

Part 9: Refresh

Part 10: Conundrum

Part 11: Fracture

Part 12:

Part 13:

[mcrcki]

"were you expecting someone else?" eva raised an eyebrow as he seemed flustered, fighting the smile that was warming across her face. she needed to see him, needed to know he was alright, with the memories of their final night returning as she awoke. "do i need a reason to come visit you, rhoe? is it not enough to just want to say hello?" she was treading lightly, hoping there was some indication of his own memories, not wanting to let her hopes rise too far yet.

rhoe galathynius & evalin ashryver @mcrcki

"oh, i thought you were someone else." rhoe cleared their throat as they saw the other walk in the room. he assumed it would be sorrel walking into the room. his face betrayed him as usual, beginning to turn a shade of red. "to what do i owe the pleasure?"

[shyvioletcat]

Oh hi! Yes, This is something a little new and different, especially for @sjmcrackshipmonth. For Pirate Day my wonderful friend @sassyhobbits​ and I came up with a little idea, she came up with this wonderful artwork and I wrote a fic and we had so much fun. So, without further rabbling here is my first official Aelin x Fenrys work. 

CW: it’s smutty, like really smutty. Secondhand embarrassment 

FIND THE ACCOMPANYING ARTWORK HERE.

~~~~~

People told Aelin she was mad for running a tavern in a pirate port, and at times she would have to admit that they were right. Brawls were common, there had been damage to the ceilings from more gunshots than she could count, when things truly got out of hand there was an occasional stabbing. Aelin had threatened carousers here and there herself down the barrel of the pistol she kept stowed away in a dark corner of the counter. But for all its trouble the White Stag thrived under her charge. She could never be idle and a tavern in a pirate port like this was a lucrative business. And it wasn’t like she was without protection. 

Rhoe Galathynius was the most prominent merchant in Orynth, which made him a veritable king amongst men. Coin was the power in these waters, and their city on the river thrived under his watchful eye and scheming. So the fancy, looping gold lettering of her family name under the wood carved sign of the rearing white stag hanging above her door let patrons know who they were dealing with. It was an assurance for both her and her customers that serious misdeeds would be met with severe punishment, and that kept people coming to her fine establishment night after night. 

Tonight was busy, patrons filling nearly every space they could. It was good for business but it was running Aelin off her feet. Usually she was content to watch from the landing above the main floor or slip through the crowd mingling, leaving the bartending to those she hired. But tonight with a barmaid ill that’s where Aelin found herself—pouring pint after pint, the pockets of her skirts full of coin. The gossip was that a few ships had docked over the past few days, bringing an influx of commerce and bodies to the city. Aelin hadn’t caught the names of the ships, but from the energy the city hummed they must have been successful with their seaborn endeavours. 

“Lass, two more!” A man weathered by wind and salt called to her. From the way he swayed he probably didn’t need another, let alone two, she would have to cut him off after this. 

Aelin grabbed two tankards from below the bar and filled them with beer from the keg behind her. By the second the flow was slowing, a sure sign she’d need to send Ren down to the cellar for another. His main job was to provide muscle when things got out of hand as pirates and their affiliates tended to do. It was just convenient for her that his muscles were useful for other things as well. When she had a moment to breathe she’d have to track him down.

“All clean,” Luca said, setting down a clean crate of tankards. “And more to wash I see, my hands will be shrivelled as prunes by the end of the night.”

“My apologies, but I’ll be sure to compensate you accordingly,” Aelin took a handful of her green overskirt and shook it enough that the coins in her pocket jingled. 

Luca’s eyes lit up as the crate of dirty tankards was set in front of him. “I’ll get these cleaned up right away.”

Aelin smiled then started unloading the clean drinkware that would be dirty again all too soon. She didn’t bother to make the arrangement look tidy, on a night like this no one would notice. Feeling sweat gather on her brow Aelin dotted it away with on her sleeve. It wasn’t a particularly hot night but with the amount of bodies in the tavern and how busy it was, her temperature wasn’t surprising. She was glad of the stray breezes that would brush over her shoulders, bare from the way her blouse draped off them. 

“Spare a drink for a poor, weary sailor?”

The question came from behind her, smooth and sensuous, the words were nothing but a tempting caress over her skin. Aelin knew that voice and knew its full intent, even though it had been missing from her tavern for months. As pleased as she was to hear it she made sure her smile was hidden away as she turned around slowly, a hand on her hip conveying her feigned displeasure at being interrupted. This is how they would start the game, and if he played along they would both win. 

“Fenrys Moonbeam, what brings your sorry arse into my tavern,” Aelin drawled.

Fenrys’ smile was pure taunt and flirtation. “The rum and the company of course.”

“So the rum takes precedence over the company then?” Aelin said, stepping up to be just a little closer.

“Ah, Princess,” Fenrys said, leaning his elbows on the counter that was still between them and not bothering to hide the appreciative sweep his eyes did over her. “You know what the truth of it is.”

Aelin couldn’t help it, she felt the corner of her lips tilt into a crooked smile. But she also wasn’t about to concede, “Do I, though? Nary a word all these long months, for all I knew you had found a more favourable port and run off with a prettier girl.”

“Prettier than you? I think I’d be hard pressed to find someone as lovely as you, Miss Galathynius,” Fenrys said.

“You’re flattering me for a free drink,” Aelin accused.

Fenrys tipped his head back and laughed. “Is it working?”

There was a thunk as the short glass hit wood, and then Aelin was pouring out a measure of her best rum. “Yes.”

Their fingers brushed as Fenrys took the glass and he downed it. While he was occupied Aelin took the opportunity to peruse over him. First she looked for any sign of injury, pirating had its many dangers but from what she could see there were no noticeable hurts. Fenrys looked good, he always did. His golden sunkissed curls were tied back from his face showing off the perpetual smile that seemed to grace his lips. The blue coat he wore was very dashing, with the cut of it accentuating the broadness of his shoulders. Ever the flaunter he’d chosen a white shirt that dipped low, the white of it contrasting the deep bronze of his skin made deeper from the hours he spent in the sun. He’d been gods’ blessed with handsomeness that could only be dreamed of, and an ego to match. Some found him insufferable, mainly those who lacked a sense of humour or any idea of fun. For Aelin, he was an utter delight. 

She was called away before they could continue their conversation, but Fenrys didn’t go anywhere. He lingered at the bar, claiming a stool when one became available. 

“The next one will cost you,” Aelin said, wiping down the counter so it looked like she had a reason to stop.

“Always such a hard businesswoman.” Fenrys didn’t protest and dropped two coins on the worn wood. 

Aelin slid them off into her and then her pocket. “What will it be?”

“That sweet Perranth wine if you have it,” Fenrys requested. 

“You’re in luck, my supplier just brought in a delivery yesterday,” Aelin wasted no time, because she didn’t have it, and poured Fenrys a tankard of wine. Glasses were for quiet gatherings, not an overcrowded tavern where it was likely to be knocked out of an unsuspecting hand and shattered on the floor. 

“My thanks,” Fenrys tipped his drink at her.

Aelin left him to his wine and tended to the never ending flow of patrons looking for food and drink. Fenrys just stayed sitting there and making sure to catch her eye whenever she passed by. There was no question as to why he was here. 

One evening a year or two ago Fenrys had come in with the crew of the Maeve. That night had been vastly different to this, with Fenrys and his crewmates nearly the only customers for the evening. That had allowed an easier night for Aelin with more than enough opportunity for conversation with the charismatic man—not with the others because they were a sullen and broody bunch—and eventual flirting. As the night wore on, she and Fenrys ended up on a low couch by the fire. Along with his staggering handsomeness, he was also highly entertaining. His ludicrous stories had Aelin’s sides hurting with laughter and he was kind enough to ply her with enough compliments to keep her by his side. And when it was just the two of them left basking in the fire’s warmth and Fenrys leaned in, she’d let him kiss her. Which led to Aelin guiding him up the stairs and to her room where they kept each other company in other ways. 

Since then, whenever he was in port Fenrys appeared in her tavern and they spent what time they could together until he was called away to the sea again. His captain was a hard bastard and didn’t see the point to lingering on land. The first mate wasn’t much better. Aelin had more than her fair share of run-ins with Rowan Whitethorn—none of them ending well. Their arguments had become legendary. She was more than sure that she hated him and that the feeling was mutual.

Fenrys couldn’t be more different than those men, vivacious and brash, he was more than enough a match for her when it came to wit. It was hard to find a flaw in the man. With so much in his favour, Aelin was still unsure whether or not she was in love with him. He was gone too often and for too long for any real emotion to take root. But at the very least they were friends, and they had fun. Without Fenrys her life would be far more dull and the unexpectedness of his arrival always gave their trysts a thrill. If he ever gave up seafaring maybe she could love him more than she did. There was a wildness to Fenrys that only the sea could soothe. Life on land just might bore him to death. 

Despite the lack of attention, Fenrys remained, his thumb running over a loose nail that was poking out of the wooden counter. Aelin made note to fix that, she didn’t need the complaints of an unobservant patron who hurt themselves or ripped their clothing. She had to commend Fenrys for his patience, a lesser man might have run off by now. 

“How has your day been, Miss Galathynius?” Fenrys asked when Aelin stopped near him to pour out a measure of rum for another customer.

“As you can see, I’m very busy tonight,” Aelin told him, watching his eyes shine as he sipped.

He didn’t look away as the tankard lowered. “I can wait.”

Aelin wanted to sigh in self pity, but she didn’t. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“You can bet on it,” Fenrys said, his words a sensual promise. 

Aelin passed off the tankard to the patron who gave her the money in exchange, when there was a call for more beer it reminded her of the impending problem. “Make yourself useful and I might think about it.”

Fenrys’ head titled, the beaded lock of his hair swaying. “How so?”

“I need another one of these,” Aelin said and slapped the keg behind her, “brought up from the cellar.”

Finishing off his wine far quicker than it deserved Fenrys got up from his stool. “It would be my pleasure.”

Aelin pulled out the ring of keys that she tucked into the wide belt around her waist and handed them over to the pirate. “Do not cause me more trouble than you're worth down there.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Fenrys said with a wink, fingers grazing over the outside of her palm and up her fingers. Despite the heat of the room and the busy fluster Aelin had worked herself into she shivered. That was the first time they had touched and that soft caress had her craving more. 

She didn’t have long to dwell on that as she was summoned again and was more than occupied while Fenrys was gone. Drinks were poured one after the other, bowls of Emrys’ chowder went out from the kitchens, the way this was going Aelin wouldn’t be done until the sun came up. Gods knew if Fenrys would be around that long. Aelin groaned, cursing her bad luck. The one night Fenrys would be assuredly in Orynth she would be run off her feet and too busy and too tired to enjoy his company. 

Before too long the Fenrys was back, keg on his shoulder to keep it out of the way of the patron’s heads—very considerate. He stepped behind the counter, easing the fresh beer onto the empty stand and expertly fixed the tap. With his job done Fenrys grabbed himself a tankard and helped himself to the first serving. Aelin didn’t bother to stop him, she just gave him a crooked smile and a playful roll of her eyes. He stayed where he was, even though he shouldn’t. Aelin ignored his antics and grabbed two tankards for her own uses. As she leaned over to fill them with beer a broad hand rested on the small of her back, deft fingers tucking her keys back into her belt. With two tankards full, Aelin straightened, one in each hand, and found her path blocked. 

“Out of my way, please,” she huffed and then blew at a loose strand of hair. She had tied a scarf around her head in an effort to keep her hair out of her face. The flustering conditions and the humidity weren’t helping the intent. 

“Where are you going?” Fenrys asked, standing a little taller but not leaving for where he should be as a paying customer. 

Aelin took advantage of the space she could, easing through the small gap Fenrys left between his body and the counter, careful not to spill the beer. “To those people in the corner, I promised I’d bring it over once you had done your job.”

She thought she was free and clear when troublesome hands on her hips stopped her progress. “Do I get a thank you for that?”

The annoyed smirk that lacked the needed irritation was already on her face when she looked up at him. Fenrys was a good head taller than her, his face was full of mirth and all but begging for a kiss as he looked down at her. But Aelin wasn’t ready to give into him just yet. 

“Have you bathed since making port, or was the allure of my company too compelling?” She knew the answer, she had noticed the lack of braids he wore while at sea, and she was sure his hair was wet when he first walked in. 

That smile fell, an affronted look filled his face. “I’m offended that you would assume that, Aelin.”

“I’m offended that I wasn’t worth skipping a bath over,” Aelin told him. 

That was enough of a distraction and when Fenrys laughed Aelin took her chance and stepped out of his hold. Over the commotion of the tavern she swore she could still hear his amusement chasing her through the crowd. Aelin set the foaming tankards down and accepted the generous contribution to the establishment in return. Her pocket was starting to get severely weighed down, she might have to duck up to her rooms to empty it into her coffer. 

Her return to her task as barmaid was slower than anticipated, many patrons stopping her for greetings and snippets of gossip. Aelin liked to know what was going on in her city so she listened to all of it, tucking away bits of information that might be useful to herself or her father. Rumours were buzzing that the Maeve had been quite successful on its latest voyage and promised more profit. A hoard of treasure maps was cited as the reason. She might have to ask Fenrys about it. 

Eventually Aelin made it back to her post and was surprised to see a small woman with dark hair seated next to Fenrys. They chatted, and the woman laughed at something he said, even touching his forearm that rested on the bar. If Aelin didn’t recognise the woman she might have been jealous. The golden, smiling man was not the company her friend preferred to seek out.

“Elide, hello,” Aelin said, resting her elbow on the other woman’s shoulder. 

Elide was dressed in a simple lavender gown, nothing gaudy or to draw attention. She preferred an inconspicuous life where she was the one who made the rules. Her family winery in Perranth was her’s once her parents decided to retire. In the meantime she set about proving just how capable she was.

“I was just chatting to Elide about her wonderful wine,” Fenrys said. “Amongst other things.”

Aelin raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“There was a request for a barrel to be sent to the Maeve and I had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting the captain who was the only one left on the ship,” Elide explained. “Such a sullen bastard. I could barely get three words out of him before he disappeared back into his cabin. Luckily before he did he threw some coins at some boys on the dock and they carried it up the gangway.”

“I don’t know why you don’t find yourself a new captain,” Aelin directed at Fenrys.

The man just shrugged. “He’s good at what he does and I get the benefits. It’s not like I have to talk to him. I leave all that up to Whitethorn.”

“Whitethorn? Isn’t he the one who you threw a glass at that one time?” Elide asked.

Aelin huffed, the sound full of aggravation, and then went back to being behind the counter. “The very same.”

One evening for some reason beyond her, Rowan Whitethorn had graced her tavern with his insufferable presence. Nothing had been to his standards, not the beer, not the music and he had been very vocal about it. Aelin had told him to go elsewhere if the current surroundings were so offensive, he ignored her and chose to stay. When he claimed the beer was cheap and tasted like shit she had lost her temper. She had picked up a nearly empty glass of wine and threw it at him which he had effortlessly dodged, something akin to shock on his face as he watched the red liquid drip down the wall. Her demanding he pay for the damages had been the final straw and with a scowl on his sharp and handsome face he left her tavern. Aelin counted that as a win for her.

“The glass was chipped anyway, it was no loss to me.”

Fenrys looked like he was trying to keep his laughter in and like he was about to say something he’d surely regret. 

“Don’t,” Aelin said, pointing a finger at him. “You’ll not say a word if you know what’s good for you.”

Yielding to her request, Fenrys held up his hands, the gold rings on his fingers glinting in the low light. “Understood, Princess. Now if you fine ladies will excuse me.”

He was gone moments later, disappearing into the crowd, but Aelin had no doubt that he would return. Fenrys was far too eager for her company to be dissuaded so easily. There was a call further down the counter for more beer and Aelin saw to that before coming back to her friend who hadn’t left. 

“Can I get you anything? On the house of course,” Aelin offered. 

Elide gave her a knowing look, her eyebrows raised like she could have been questioning Aelin’s sanity. “What are you doing?”

Aelin felt her own brows narrow in confusion. “Working, as you can see.”

“Aelin, my dearest, most lovely friend,” Elide said leaning forward on the counter. “You have a man here, who is desperate for your company and is more than willing to give you a long night of pleasure, and you’re passing out beers instead?”

“I don’t exactly have a choice here,” Aelin said. “Essar is ill, and you can see how busy we are. I’m not exactly the shrewd business woman I claim to be if I ignore it to take Fenrys to my bed.”

As a timely reminder yet another patron asked for a pour of wine and rum, Aelin saw to it as quickly as she could. Luck was not on her side this evening, at this rate she’d be too tired to do anything once she fell into bed. 

“I won’t say that you won’t owe me for this,” Elide said, standing up from her stool, “because you will.”

“What are you…”

With quick fingers Elide braided her hair back, securing the end with a dark piece of ribbon. “Show me where everything is.”

It took Aelin a moment to catch on, her face going slack before she grinned. She showed Elide where everything she might need was, going over it twice more for her own peace of mind than her friend requiring more clarification. Aelin also made sure to inform the other’s working tonight so there wasn’t any confusion as to why Elide was behind the counter. 

“Keep the tankard tilted, helps limit the foam and unhappy customers,” Aelin explained and the amber liquid rose higher as she gave a hands-on demonstration. “And I think that’s all you need to know.”

“I think I’ve got it,” Elide said. 

“And if you have any trouble, call for Ren. He’ll sort it out,” Aelin added.

“Aye, captain.” Elide flourished that comment with a salute. 

“What’s going on here?” Fenrys’ voice cut through the conversation.

“I need to deposit some of tonight’s earnings in my room,” Aelin said, sauntering around to the other side of the counter, a hand raising to even out the collar of Fenrys’ jacket. “Care to join me?”

His dark eyes flashed as he easily read the implications of her invitation. “Lead the way.”

Aelin took his hand, leading him through the crowd to the staircase in the corner. The crowd took up the shanty that was being played. When they passed the small gathering dancing in front of the musicians Fenrys spun her and moved with the music, but still kept them heading towards their destination. Reaching the wooden stairs, Aelin gathered her skirts in her free hand to prevent herself from tripping as they hurried up the steps. On the landing they went left, the right led to a halfway with a handful of rooms she let out. Her private ones were larger and more secluded, the balcony on the outside offering beautiful views of the river port. That door painted a rich green was the last obstacle between her and what she wanted. And in just a few more steps she would be there.

Fenrys was a heavy and welcome presence behind her as she worked on unlocking the door. His hands were on her waist, his lips on the bare skin of her shoulder, it was enough of a distraction that Aelin was struggling to secure the key in the lock. That was only made worse when those godsdamned hands slipped higher, pressing over her bodice until they cupped her breasts. That had Aelin arching onto him, and in return that had Fenrys squeezing before his hands travelled downwards again—fingers catching on the neckline of her blouse. She was desperate to feel those hands on her with nothing to hinder them. 

“Fen,” Aelin whispered harshly. He just hummed his response onto her skin. “I would very much like to open the door so that we can continue this more privately.”

“My apologies,” he said, low enough that it had her skin pebbling. 

Other than that he let her be, halting his distracting journey over her body. It was a disappointing loss but the sooner Aelin got the door open, the sooner they could start again. 

Blocking out everything except the lock and key was the only way that Aelin managed to get the door open. She stepped into the dimly lit space, a single lamp barely glowing on a small table where she dropped her keys. There was a couch and an armchair set in front of a cold fireplace and there was another door that led to a private bathroom. The place could have been tidier, but Aelin hadn’t exactly been expecting guests. Fenrys closing the door redirected her attention, and he all but stalked towards her. To tease and make the trek that much easier, Aelin backed up towards her bedroom. She was caught just as they got to the entrance of it, Fenrys catching her by the waist and cupping her face. The moan at that first press of his lips was undeniable. 

For a while that’s all they did, just kiss in the dim light under the doorway. When Fenrys’ thumb dragged down the length of her neck, Aelin got impatient. She angled them so that they entered her room with tangled steps towards her bed. Her hands weren’t idle, searching out what bare skin they could. When there wasn’t much on offer Aelin slid one hand down the centre of his chest, all the way down to palm him through his trousers. Fenrys stumbled forward with enough strength to force Aelin back a couple of steps.

“Still have your sea legs?” Aelin teased through her laughter.

Huffing his own laugh, Fenrys pulled her closer so their noses brushed. “Maybe I’ll be steadier on my knees then.”

Before Aelin could even comment his lips were back on her’s, while his focus shifted to removing her clothes. The belt around her waist was the first to go, then his deft fingers had the laces and buttons of her forest green outer skirt undone and it was dropping over her hips. There was a jingling thud as the coins hit the floor, probably scattering, but that was a problem for later. Fenrys' progress was stalled when he discovered that the laces of her undershirt were hidden beneath her bodice. His groan of frustration was comical, and Aelin would have laughed if it weren’t for the way Fenrys’ hands were playing along the tops of her exposed breasts as his mouth lowered to her neck. 

Her body was tugged forward as the laces of her bodice were pulled at. Fenrys struggled, getting clumsier the more desperate he became, and even now Aelin’s patience was running thin. She needed him, now. It seemed Fenrys felt the same because one moment her floral embroidered bodice was tight against her body and the next it was falling away. Confused by the sudden development Aelin looked down to see the metallic glint of a knife and the ribbons in pieces. 

“You ruined my laces,” Aelin gasped, shoving the brute back half a step. “You bastard.”

Fenrys just smirked down at her, reaching out to slip the strap of the bodice off one shoulder, “I’ll buy you more,” then he did the same with the other. “The prettiest ribbons you can find.”

Aelin let the useless piece of clothing fall off her arms, Fenrys watching her every movement. She gave him a look that said don’t touch as she saw to the underskirt herself, her untucked blouse falling to the very top of her things. Fenrys’ gaze swept over her from head to toe, once and then twice, his eyes catching on the loose neckline that was revealing just enough to drive him wild. But he didn’t move, just waiting for Aelin to dictate what happened next. 

“The prettiest and the most expensive,” Aelin said.

Fenrys nodded, not taking his eyes off her for a second. “Whatever you say.”

She didn’t bother with the buttons of her blouse, instead she just pulled it over her head. When Fenrys reappeared in her vision his eyes were ravenous and his hands twitched at his side, no doubt warring with himself and the need to touch her. Aelin pulled out the head scarf and then she was bare except for the simple underwear at her hips. Her hand draped from her neck, drifting down between the valley of her breasts.

“Do you promise?” Aelin asked, smirking at the man in front of her who looked ready to erupt. 

She saw the exact moment his resolve snapped, had her laughing as he rushed forward and gave his breathless answer against her lips. “Yes.”

Aelin found herself seated on the edge of her bed, her senses fleeing as Fenrys kissed her. She was half aware of him shedding his jacket and starting on the buttons of his white shirt. The thought came to her that she should help him so that his hands might be better occupied, but she never got the chance to voice it in the slightest. Because Fenrys dropped to his knees in front of her, large hands inching up her thighs. Aelin shuddered and her underwear was pulled down her legs and thrown away. A single wink was all Fenrys gave before on her. 

The first brush of his tongue over Aelin’s core had her gasping, arms quaking where they braced her weight on the bed. Fenrys was one to playfully brag about the wonders for his mouth and Aelin could truly attest to every word. She buried her hand in his curls, ruining the bun he had them tied in, and gave herself over to the feeling of every nip, every press of his tongue. Aelin moaned, loud and unrestrained. It had been too long since someone had made her feel like this. The pleasure built to the point of consuming her when every ministration stopped and Fenrys pulled out of her grasp. 

“The hell… what are you doing?” Aelin asked through her laboured breaths. Her heart was pounding, her body screaming to be touched again. 

“I’ll never last,” Fenrys said, sounding a little mad at himself. That anger only became more evident as he yanked at his clothes to get them off. If Aelin had the wits she might have helped him, but for now she could only watch as everything was revealed to her. “I have to have you now.” 

With his pants gone Aelin could see how much Fenrys meant it. The sight of his cock, hard and ready, had her unconsciously arching towards him with need. Fenrys used that to his advantage, his muscled arm wrapping around her waist and hauling them up the bed. It was Aelin who pulled him in for a kiss and from there she let herself burn. 

Fenrys settled on her hips, pressing their bodies as flushed together as they could be. The feel of him was incredible, the weight and heat of his body was something Aelin had absolutely missed. His hands ran over what they could—her sides, hips and thighs—anywhere he could reach without separating them. All the while his hips drove into her’s, the length of him rubbing enough delicious friction to make Aelin dizzy with need. She writhed against him, trying her best to get him to slip inside her, even trying to distract him by biting down on his bottom lip. It didn’t work, for now Fenrys was content to touch her, not surprising considering how long he’d been at sea. Aelin knew a touched starve man when she saw, and had thrown many of them out of her establishment over the years. If this is what Fenrys needed, she would gladly give it to him and surrendered.

One hand ceased its movements on her thigh, fingers digging into her flesh to pull her open just a little wider. Aelin moaned in anticipation, feeling the head of his cock at her entrance. Fenrys continued to tease her, his unoccupied hand pressing into her side and then up, his thumb taking a moment to run hypnotising circles over the side of her breast before heading upwards again. Then he pushed her arm up and extended it above her head, his hand dragging all the way up to meet Aelin’s. It wasn’t until their hands were laced together that his hips thrusted at just the right angle he slid into her. At the feel of him seated so deep Aelin’s body bowed into the sensation instinctually, trying to draw the man above her closer, deeper. It had Fenrys groaning into the skin of her neck as they both took a moment to collect themselves before he started moving. 

Aelin had expected it to be hurried and desperate, this was anything but. Each roll of his hips was slow and thorough, enough to make Aelin’s breath catch but not take it away. Maybe Fenrys had the right idea, maybe after being apart for so long he was right to savour this first time. She was sure before morning came they would have time for more than enough rounds to make up for it.

“Talk to me, Princess. Let me know you’re here with me,” he nearly begged in between kisses.

“You feel so good, Fen,” Aelin told him. 

“I could say the same.” The thrust that followed that admission was sharper than the others, a sure sign he was slowly unravelling. 

“You know how I like it.”

“Like what?” Fenrys asked, voice edged with desperation as Aelin moaned. “How you like what, Aelin?”

He was enough of a bastard that he would taunt and take away what was currently driving her insane until she said it, and Aelin was tired of playing. “How I like to be fucked.”

At her words, the steady pace that Fenrys had set faltered, had his body shuddering. “The things you do to me.”

His hips snapped, the angle perfect. Aelin only knew she needed more. “Gods, I need you closer.”

Fenrys rolled them both, his grip on her arse keeping them intimately connected. Aelin thought he was going to stop then, but she felt one strong thigh bend behind and then he had pushed himself up so his back lent on her headboard. Aelin panted as she sat in Fenrys’ lap, savouring the feeling this position gave her. She wouldn’t last much longer, the coil in her stomach wound with each shift of their hips. 

“There you go,” Fenrys said sweetly. “I’m right where you want me.”

“Yes,” Aelin whispered. “Thank you.”

The sass that came out of near delirium earned her a rumbling laugh and lingering kiss, making Aelin’s hips roll on their own accord. That undid Fenrys and he kissed her with more urgency as the hands that hadn’t moved shifted her in his lap dragged her onto him, prompting her to move like that again. Aelin did, her hands on the headboard either side of Fenrys’ head. Once she had her rhythm Fenrys let go of her, but not for long. There was a hand on her breast, the other splayed on her pack to push her closer. The man was indeed desperate for contact, only made clearer by his next request.

“Touch me, Aelin.”

She knew he didn’t mean his cock that was still inside her, there was no way in hell Aelin would be willing to with how close she was to breaking apart. Fenrys was after something softer. Her hands left the headboard, and she touched him like he wanted. Sweet caresses over his face, sweeps over his shoulders. It urged Fenrys to move his hips faster, meeting Aelin in perfect synchronisation. His lips on her neck were not what she wanted, so she angled his face to hers, kissing him fiercely. It was his heady groan on her mouth that had Aelin breaking like a wave, pleasure rushing through every nerve of her body. She nearly screamed from the force of it, they had strung it out so long that this relief was blinding and all consuming, all Aelin could do was keep moving to drag it out as long as she could. 

“Fuck,” Fenrys moaned on her mouth, helping her move on him chasing his own pleasure. “Fuck me, Aelin.”

Her over sensitive inner walls felt his cock twitch and then Fenrys was groaning as he came. Aelin kept rocking, wanting to draw it out for the both of them as long as she could. It felt too good to let it fade just yet. The way Fenrys clung to her as he caught his breath was sweet, and as Aelin’s own body calmed she ran a soothing hand over his hair. He hummed contentedly, hugging Aelin tighter against him while his lips wandered aimlessly over her skin.

Aelin chuckled. “Feel better?”

“You are too good to me,” Fenrys murmured onto her skin. 

For a while they just sat there, touching and waiting for the other to move. In the end it was Fenrys, kissing Aelin deeply as he lay her down before pulling out. He didn’t bother with pants and Aelin took the opportunity to admire the view. When he was gone entirely she stretched out, feeling sated but willing for more. Aelin missed him while he was away, and it wasn’t just in the bedroom, it was the conversation and companionship as well. And now that they’d had such a gratifying release of tension there was nothing to say that they couldn’t do both at the same time. 

Soon enough Fenrys returned, cloth in hand, and moments later they were cleaned up and back in each other’s arms. Aelin lay on her side facing Fenrys, and he did the same, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair. She busied herself with idling tracing the scars on his chest. There were no new pale marks that marred his skin. When she ran her finger over a particularly large one low on his side Fenrys shivered. 

“So I hear the Maeve and her crew have fallen into good fortune,” Aelin said.

“That would be true,” Fenrys kissed her forehead before pulling back. “Whitethorn found some maps in an abandoned cave in the Cambrian Mountains. There used to be stories of a creature in the lake that guarded them, so who knows how many years superstition won out. We’ve been more than successful.”

“Good to hear.” It was then that she noticed the blue gem stud in his earlobe. The piercing wasn’t now, Aelin hadn’t seen this earring before. She reached out to flick it. “Is that a sapphire?”

Fenrys nodded his head. “It is. Do you like it?”

Aelin shrugged, and as if she couldn’t help but be drawn to him her body inched closer. “I prefer emeralds.”

“Well,” Fenrys said, voice straining as he used his weight and a hand on her hip to urge Aelin to lie on her back. “Next time I’ll try and bring you some back. Whitethorn usually claims them all first though.”

Aelin scoffed. “Selfish bastard.”

Fenrys’ answer to that was a soft chuckle and an upward sweep of his hand over her body. Instantly Aelin's blood heated again, craving his touch and the release that would inevitably follow. Fenrys read every sign that her body was giving, propped up on an elbow as he watched her try not to writhe. His fingers had claimed the peak of her breast, teasing and pinching until it was hard. When he flicked it Aelin gasped, a hand darting out to hold him by the back of the neck. Then his mouth was on the unattended breast and Aelin gave up fighting her composure.

“You’re not ready yet,” she panted, her body bucking as need pulsed lower. 

“Ah, Princess,” Fenrys said, but Aelin barely heard him. She was too focused on the hand that was travelling down her body. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have fun in the meantime.”

The only answer she could offer him was a deep moan as his thumb reached the apex of her thighs, drawing tight circles that were almost too much. Fenrys slowed down, and shifted so that both his hands and his mouth had something to do. When Aelin gasped as his fingers teased her entrance, Fenrys kissed her, his tongue sliding into her mouth. The sensations of his mouth, the hand on her breast and the other between her thighs had Aelin hurtling towards that peak of release. But Fenrys held her there right on the edge, forcing Aelin to open her eyes and look at him. 

Fenrys’ dark eyes were full of so many sinful promises that there was no doubt what the rest of the evening would entail. “I made you a promise, Aelin. And I intended to keep it.”

With that declaration his fingers slipped into her, finding that spot and moments later she was unravelling and moaning her pleas to the gods. Aelin was in for a long night indeed. 

Soft kisses and wandering hands woke her up the next morning. Her bedroom was barely illuminated by the morning light meaning it must be early. She usually got to sleep late into the morning due to the working hours she kept. But last night it had been Fenrys who had kept her up until the very small hours of the morning. Aelin groaned, this time not in pleasure—at least it wasn’t that way at first. When his hand brushed over her bare breast like that it was hard to maintain her indignation. 

“Why are we awake?” Aelin mumbled into her pillow. 

Fenrys kissed up her neck. “Still on ship's time.”

He was ready. She could feel the hardness and heat of him pressing into her back. It wasn’t a terrible way to be woken up and Aelin supposed she could sleep later. The White Stag wouldn’t open until after noon anyway. Aelin pushed back into him, but went pliant in his hands, a signal that she was willing to give him the lead this time. Fenrys all but growled, nipping at her shoulder and he urged her onto her stomach.

They were in a tangled mess of sheets and bedding, there was some manoeuvring on Fenrys’ part to free trapped limbs. Opening her eyes, Aelin found herself at the foot end of the bed. It seems they hadn’t bothered to put themselves to bed properly after their escapes the night before. Aelin had simply grabbed a pillow and fallen asleep where she was, the pillow she now tossed away as she was pressed into the mattress. Fenrys ran his hands over her body, stopping at her hips just to angle them how he wanted. The sleep haze fled, and want replaced it, causing a needy whimper to escape Aelin’s lips without her permission. 

Fenrys started his trek up her body, his lips leading the way as they trailed up her spine. He brushed her knotted hair over her shoulder and continued to the newly exposed skin. Aelin could feel the heat of his body as he was braced over her now, a hand sneaking its way of the sheets to lay over one of her’s. That little gesture had Aelin smiling, remembering how demanding he had been for small affections last night. This morning was no different. 

“I don’t think I’ve told you enough,” Fenrys said by her ear, making her skin pebble. “You’re stunning.”

“You don’t, I want to hear it more,” Aelin snarked back.

Fenrys snorted, making her laugh in turn. “Duly noted, Princess.”

He lined himself up, the swollen head of his cock pressing against her core. Aelin tried to push herself back to take him deeper, but Fenrys held her still, a silent demand to just wait. She did, it might have killed her a little but she did. Then Fenrys slid in with one delicious stroke. Aelin moaned the entirety of it, loving the feeling of having him inside her again.  

“You are stunning,” Fenrys whispered, accentuating his words with another thrust. “Absolutely stunning.”

“Fen,” Aelin breathed. “More.”

Fenrys dropped lower, still holding most of his weight himself, and shifted so that they moved in a steady grind. It felt so good that all Aelin could do was let herself be swept away in everything he was giving. 

“Stunning.” Fenrys’ breathing was getting harder, the word coming out nearly desperate. 

Aelin was about to demand it harder—faster—when her bedroom door was unceremoniously thrown open, hard enough it slammed on her wall. No knocking, no nothing, there was someone else in her room. Fenrys nearly collapsed on top of her, he managed to stop himself before he crushed all the air out of her lungs. Aelin looked up, glaring and ready to spit her best obscenities at the intruder. The unexpectedness of their identity had the words catching on her tongue and her cheeks heating. 

Because there, in her doorway was none other than Rowan Whitethorn.

“Shit,” Fenrys said, pushing the sheet her way so she could cover herself. He’s always been considerate like that. 

Aelin was the first to recover. “I don’t remember inviting you into my home.”

Rowan ought to be commended for how intently he kept his eyes on her face. “Should have locked your door. Time to go, Moonbeam.”

“Piss off, Whitethorn.” That may have been the first time Aelin had truly heard Fenrys sound angry. 

“I gave you orders,” Rowan said, arms crossing over his chest. 

Aelin wished she had her pistol, or maybe the dagger in her nightstand, just something to threaten the infuriating man with. “Unless you plan to join us, get out.”

Rowan raised one of eyebrows, the tattoos on his face shifting. “You two should be so lucky.”

Gods, here they were chatting and Fenrys was still inside her.

Fenrys seemed to realise the same moment she did, discreetly separating them and using some of the messy bedding to cover himself. Keeping her eyes locked on the green ones, Aelin took a handful of sheet and held it to her chest as she slowly sat up, not caring what might or might not be covered. From the way that the cold morning air nipped at her skin, Whitethorn was getting at least a little bit of a show. 

And right there, Aelin didn’t miss how his eyes finally darted down, just for one lingering moment before he spun around and marching through her living room. 

“Now, Moonbeam!” He bellowed over his shoulder as hand racked through his shoulder length silver hair, making sure to slam the other door that opened to the landing as well. 

There was a moment of charged silence and then Aelin giggled and fell back on the bed. Fenrys joined in, the intensity of their laughter increasing until they were both struggling to breathe. Fingers on her chin tilted her head to the side to see Fenrys’ dark eyes full of amusement. 

“I am so sorry, Aelin.” His voice was still shaking.

Aelin shrugged. “I don’t suppose we could finish up?”

That sobered Fenrys up very quickly. “He’s likely to come back and drag me out naked into the street.”

“That would be quite the end to the story,” Aelin mused like she was considering it. 

“You are pure trouble,” Fenrys said, tapping her nose.

Aelin laughed, taking Fenrys’ hand. “I could say the same about you.”

They both knew he had to go, but neither of them were willing to start the goodbye. In the end Fenrys got up with a heavy sigh, picked up his pants and started dressing. Aelin sat up, watching the disaster unfold in front of her. She thought they would have more time—at least today to enjoy themselves together and catch up. It wasn’t to be and it filled Aelin with a sudden feeling of loneliness.

“Hey,” Fenrys said as he tightened his belt. “I’ll be back in no time.”

Aelin nodded. “With my emerald”

With a crooked smirk Fenrys replied, “With your emerald.” 

“Even if you have to fight that bastard Whitethorn for it,” Aelin pressed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Fenrys’ hands landed either side of her hips, one last brief moment of closeness. “For you it would be my honour.” He picked up his jacket off the floor, shrugging it onto his shoulders. Fully dressed there was nothing left to delay him and with one final kiss, Fenrys finally said goodbye. “Until next time, Princess.”

Aelin nodded, swallowing against the tightness building in her throat. Fenrys winked then left her room. It was at the final glance of him walking out the deep green door that she finally whispered, “Until next time.”

~~~~~

I know its not the usual but I had so much fun writing these two!

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[highqueenofelfhame]

rowaelin // 5.8k words // masterlist // ciwyw masterlist let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing :) i hope you enjoy <3 i can't wait to see all your comments. y'all are kILLING me with them on this one.

As much as he knew he shouldn’t be, Rowan was drunk. Again. 

Tomorrow they had a match against Adarlan on Doranelle’s home field. While Rowan laid on his back,  staring at the ceiling fan above him with a full half-empty bottle of whiskey resting on his stomach, he knew they were going to lose. Not because Adarlan was better or because they wanted it more, but because Rowan was a selfish piece of shit and couldn’t put the bottle down. There was no way he would be in any condition to play tomorrow— at least not well. 

Burying his sorrows at the bottom of the bottle seemed like the better alternative until he could figure out how to repair what he had catastrophically obliterated. It had been a full week with no word from Aelin. Not a single one of those days had passed without him sending an apology text into the void. There had even been a few voicemails Wednesday night that went unanswered. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was erasing them without bothering to listen. He deserved that much. 

Rowan Whitethorn had never had social media. Ever. Not even in high school when it was just becoming a cool thing to do. Nobody needed to know that much about his life. At this point in his career, his agent and PR team begged him to do it because it would garner him more popularity. Even Lorcan posted on instagram from time to time and kept everyone happy. 

The thing that finally drove Rowan to making an instagram account was stalking Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. It was easier for his thumbs to scroll through her feed while nursing sips of whiskey, trying not to double tap on any pictures. He was pathetic enough— Aelin didn’t need to be aware of his sulking and pining. 

This all came after he googled her name paired with various words like ‘spouse,’ ‘husband,’ ‘wife,’ and ‘wedding.’ Nothing came back with a result, but it had been lurking in his mind when she didn’t answer his question earlier. Besides, Rhoe Galathynius very well could have been her father-in-law. As it were, she wasn’t married, and Evalin and Rhoe only had one child: their daughter. At least if she was married, there was no record of it. No photos of her in an elegant white gown standing next to the love of her life. 

Good. He could deal with that. 

What he couldn’t deal with was the photos of her in bikinis, arms wrapped around the waists of other men. She was nestled between the pair on the deck of a yacht all three of them with wide smiles and sunglasses covering their eyes. Her bathing suit looked more like lingerie and Rowan had never wished so hard for summer to come back around than he was right then. 

There were pictures of her with a stunning brunette woman, both of them dressed in finery or night-out attire depending on where they were headed. Aelin with a full face of makeup, with sultry dark eyes and a full pouty lip was enough to drive him into madness. 

He found photographs from holidays with her family, Aelin perched on a couch in comfy clothes and thick socks with Aedion Ashryver standing behind her. Further down her page he found the ones from years ago of her on Aedion’s shoulders after he won some match or another. It was captions Always my hero. 

Lower and lower he went until he finally hit her first post: a simple kingsflame flower from nine years ago with the caption Fireheart. He supposed that was where she garnered the name for her foundation. Gods above, she was incredible. A super-hero amongst ordinary women. 

Rowan scrolled back towards the top of her instagram, all the way back to the most recent one. It was from their day downtown, when they had bought a piece of chocolate hazelnut cake and sat outside the bakery. Aelin was laughing around her thumb that she held between her teeth. At that moment, he had been teasing her about getting the frosting everywhere. Behind the camera he was smiling just as brilliantly as she was. The light in her eyes, her smile, the utter joy that radiated off of her… It was enough to make him breathless all over again. 

“Fuck,” he murmured to himself, heart squeezing and soul dying at how absurdly beautiful she was. It didn’t seem fair. Everything about her was perfect. Not just outside, but inside, too.  Aelin Galathynius was the most selfless and loving person he had ever met. Inside and out, she shone with the light of a thousand suns. It made it impossible to look away and broke his heart that he had driven her away so sharply.

“M’such a bloody dobber,” he mumbled, zooming in on her face as close as it would get, until she was little more than a monochromatic cluster of pixels, none of her features distinguishable. 

The phone fumbled where he held it over his face, falling directly onto it. Rowan swore, the taste of metal blooming over his tongue where his tooth had cut through his lip. Worse than that, though, was when he noticed the giant heart that appeared in the center of the picture he’d been staring at. 

Rowan had accidentally liked it. Just as quickly, he unliked it and tossed his phone to the other end of the couch. Jail. He needed to be in phone jail. 

It had over ten thousand likes and three hundred comments. There was a chance she would never notice the notification appearing and disappearing. She might never notice. It didn’t stop the ice creeping into his veins, though. The idea that she would realize how utterly pathetic he was, as if all the texts weren’t indication enough. 

Rowan swore violently under his breath and grabbed his phone again. With bleary, bloodshot eyes he opened their text thread to send off another message. Just as his fingers started their drunken dance over the letters once again, his phone began to ring loudly. The vibration shook him to his core as he beheld the name flashing on his screen, a photo of the two of them laying on her couch flashing in front of him. The sight of it knocked the wind out of him. 

Aelin. 

Fuck. Shit. Mala fucking fry him. 

“Hello?” he said, breathless like he’d been running a marathon. 

“Hi.” Aelin’s voice was quiet. Rowan could imagine her sitting in the middle of her couch, a tv show paused. 

“I am so sorry, baby,” he began, letters and syllables stringing together with no space between. “I need to explain, to—”

“Did you just like that picture on my instagram?”

“I…” it was long and drawn out as he squinted at the ceiling, trying to find a way out of it. There wasn’t one. Heat crept up his neck and bloomed over his cheeks like rose petals. “Ye-yeah. That was me.”

“Are you drunk?” was her follow up question. On the other end of the phone it sounded like she was rolling over in bed. Gods, he would love to be wrapped up in bed with her. The expanse of her golden skin under his hands wasn’t beat out by anything, not even football. 

“No,” was his quick response. 

“You sound drunk.” It was impossible to tell what, exactly, her emotions were. Rowan swallowed thickly, setting the bottle on the coffee table and nudging it out of reach. 

“I sound like a pathetic bastard that ruined something perfect.” 

“You’re definitely drunk.” If Rowan wasn’t positive that she hated him, he might mistake her tone as amusement. 

“I miss you. And I’m sorry,” he paused to hiccup, “And I want you to tell me what to do to fix what I’ve broken.” A heavy, resigned sigh came through the phone and Rowan froze.

“Start with sobering up–” Fuck. She was going to hang up, and he had blown his only chance at making things right. Shit.

“Don’t hang up,” Rowan pleaded, lip tucking between his bottom teeth while he waited for her to respond. 

“Get some sleep and win your game tomorrow. After that… maybe we can talk.” If that was what it took, then yes. A thousand times yes he would do both of those things. Anything to get her to talk to him, anything so he could hold her, feel her lips on his skin, taste her and feel her beneath him.

“Do you promise?” A schoolyard thing to say, but he couldn’t help it. The gift of hearing her voice again after an entire week of deafening silence was the most beautiful thing he could ever imagine hearing. If he could, he’d bottle it up and get drunk off it. It was better than any alcohol, any drug. 

“I promise,” she replied, and Rowan swore he heard a hint of laughter weaving between each letter of those two, simple words. That couldn’t be right, though. Aelin was mad at him. They wouldn’t be laughing together anytime soon.

“Okay.” It felt stupid to say, but it was the only word he could find. 

“Okay.” Aelin’s voice was still soft and told him nothing of the status of his forgiveness, or if he needed to beg on his knees and worship her as penance. He would never, ever stop if that was what she required. “Goodnight, Rowan.” 

The line went dead before he could say anything else and a new zap of determination electrified his blood. If she wanted a win, she would get it. But he had to get sober first. 

With a pained groan, he pulled himself upright. A few deep breaths later the room wasn’t spinning quite so quickly and he was able to stumble to the kitchen. The smell of coffee made his nose wrinkle when he opened the bag. It quickly filled the space of the kitchen as he dumped the beans into the grinder, wincing at the shriek it made. Coffee and bread would help sober him up, and then he would focus on fluid intake to not be a useless sack of meat on the field tomorrow. 

He leaned against his counter, ignoring incoming messages from his teammates checking on him, and shoved half a piece of bread into his mouth. A cold shower would wake him up, and tons of water and painkillers before bed would help the hangover tomorrow. 

Anything Aelin wanted, he would give her. Starting tomorrow night by defeating the Adarlan Wyverns and handing it to her on a silver platter. 

When he finally drifted off to sleep, his phone screen was still illuminated in his palm: that final photo he’d taken of her at the bakery wearing a smile just for him. 

~*~

As soon as she took one step into the Neon Moon, she found Connall looking over at her with a healthy dose of surprise in his eyes. Aelin moved through the crowd that had gathered to watch the game, managing to snag a single barstool in front of the beer tap. 

“Water, please,” she half-shouted over the loud voices filling the room. As soon as it was in her hands she took a long drink before placing it down on a napkin in front of her. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” A crooked grin spread across his face and he leaned forward on his forearms. “Watching the game?” 

“Against my better judgment,” she sighed, ruffling her fingers through her hair. Now that she knew that he played for Doranelle, she just couldn’t miss it. Had she known from the get-go, there wouldn’t have been a single game that she missed. Even if it meant she’d be catching up on work during the short commercial breaks. “How much do you know?”

“Oh just… everything.” 

Aelin groaned and looked up at the ceiling. She wasn’t upset that he’d told his friends, his support system. Rowan needed that, just like she did. Though she had yet to tell her family, she was going to do it soon. Maybe tomorrow or the day after. Some of the dust had to settle with Rowan first. 

Though she was content to let him stew for a few more days, the single like she’d gotten from an account called actuallywhitethorn made her pick up the phone. A result of her doom-scrolling before bed, the notification had dropped from the top of her screen. By the time she clicked her notification icon, that particular like from that specific account was gone. It was like fate, she decided, for her to have seen it in its brevity. If he was miserable and pining enough to accidentally like an instagram picture, it wouldn’t hurt to call him. So she did.

At first, she didn’t know what to say, but as he talked it became more and more clear that he was very drunk. All his words had melded into one long syllable, and the fact that he was likely drinking away his feelings and problems had tugged at her heart. He really was adorable when he was drunk, calling her baby and trying his hardest to apologize, begging her not to hang up the phone. As much as she really did want to talk to him, it wasn’t a conversation to have while he was only half-aware. The apology she deserved needed to come from his sober lips, not drunk, loose ones.

After they hung up, Aelin had decided she would go to the bar to watch the game. It didn’t seem like a feat she could conquer at home alone on her couch. Even with Lysandra a phone call away, it felt too big to do on her own. The bar made sense.

“Congratulations?” Connall offered, and it was the first time she’d really picked up on any shyness or hesitancy from the man. 

“Thank you.” It was still so new, so foreign. The racing of her thoughts hadn’t died down about it yet, her emotions didn’t have a full grasp on the situation. “How is he?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.” Kind of. If his texts were any inclination to his mental state, he was having a rough go of things at the moment. “Feels like a piece of shite.”

“Yeah, well.” That was a little deserved after what he’d said to her. Connall didn’t seem to disagree, merely shrugging as he followed her eyes to the television.

The game had been on for fifteen minutes, and Doranelle had scored one point. Adarlan had nothing. It was a bit of a feat to score so early on in the game, showing just how skilled Rowan and his teammates were. A camera zoomed in on the players, a towering, dark-haired man with a glove tucked under his arm, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face. Aelin’s eyes widened and her head whipped toward Connall when the spitting image of him appeared on the screen. The only difference was the color of the curls: Connall’s were black, his brother’s golden. 

“You have a twin?” By way of answer, Connall merely winked and nodded back at the TV where Rowan had come into view. His uniform for home games was navy blue with white letters. Hands braced on his hips, he joined his teammates where they talked. It was only when he turned around that she saw how horrible he looked. 

Though his skin was golden brown as ever, his face was ashen. Dark circles clung beneath his eyes and his bottom lip was swollen and scabbed over. The sweat gathering at his temples didn’t do anything at all to make him look well, if anything he just looked sicker. 

“Whitethorn looks a bit… peaky,” Connall said cautiously, the corners of his lips tugging downward into a scowl.

“As drunk as he was when I called him last night, that makes perfect sense.” She was frowning, too. The most put together part of him was his hair, the single french braid down the center until it all met in a mess of a bun on the top of his head. 

As soon as the whistle blew, he inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. That was when the cameras zoomed back out to take in the entire field, all the players getting into position. Aelin watched closely, one eye on the ball and the other always aware of where Rowan was in the frame.

For a while, it was a lot of passing back and forth, working up and down the field, the ball getting stolen one way or the other. Once, Adarlan got close to scoring but the goalie for Doranelle was quick to block it and pass it back down the field. Another of Rowan’s teammates was quick to get it back toward the Adarlan goal. It was passed back and forth between a few as they worked further and further down the pitch until a pass from Connall’s twin had the ball being juggled between Rowan’s feet.

Watching Rowan play brought back the old feelings she felt watching Aedion. Her competitive temper rose in her chest as he sprinted downfield with the ball between his feet. Somehow, he never tripped or stumbled. When he passed it off to a dark-haired man, Vaughan, Connall told her, it was with tricky footwork that he made look easy. Seconds later and a single pass back toward him, Rowan lunged from behind a crimson jersey. By some grace of the gods he managed to land the perfect kick that arched beautifully through the air. Adarlan’s goalie missed it by a fingertip.

The bar became deafening– some of them rooting for Doranelle, others wanting them to lose for the sake of Varese’s team. On the TV, Rowan’s teammates pulled him off the ground and jostled him amongst them, Connall’s golden-haired brother smacking a kiss to Rowan’s sweaty forehead. 

If Aelin didn’t know any better, she would say his teammates were being a little more gentle with him than they might be otherwise. Rowan’s jaw remained clenched tightly, that muscle feathering as he nodded to the only person on the team that was taller than him where he stood down the field.

“Who is their goalie?”

“Lorcan Salvaterre. Team captain and one of Rowan’s closest friends. My twin’s name is Fenrys.” Aelin nodded and rested her chin on her hands as the next play started, polished blue nails digging into her palms. She knew of most of these names from Aedion’s soccer days and the afternoons at her parents house where her father prattled on about different team rosters.

The minutes ticked by, Rowan fiercely focused on the game. That look of sheer determination never left his eyes, even in the brief moments of reprieve he had to gather his wits. Whenever he could, Connall hovered near her for the moral support she’d come in search of. It meant more to her than she could ever put into words. Being in a new city, far away from her support system, with no one else to lean on? It was really nice to know he was there. Even if they barely knew each other. 

When Adarlan scored, Aelin had over half the pub groaned. The Doranelle players looked beyond pissed. Rowan and Lorcan shared matching expressions, both of their jaws grinding as they shook their heads before getting back into position. 

It led them into more volleying back and forth, the ball little more than a blur between feet. And then it was back in Rowan’s possession. It was like the wind sang for him, pushing him faster as he bolted down the field. Almost as soon as he made his goal, the one that would get them a point ahead though, a whistle blew and a yellow-checkered flag was waving. 

“Shit,” she murmured, closely eyeing the playback. It was a fair call, he had been offside. When the camera showed Rowan again though, he was pointed at the goal, mouth wrapping around words that looked a lot like fucking bullshit. The words weren’t more than a whisper as she said, “Rowan, you stupid idiot.”

Connall chuckled, despite the dire situation at hand. She knew he was only laughing at her, not his friend’s situation. Still, she wadded up a napkin and threw it at his head. It nailed him in the temple.

“It’s not funny,” she hissed, nibbling on the end of her straw, a sick feeling roiling in her gut.

The referee pulled a yellow card brandishing it in front of his face. A spark of anger flickered behind his eyes, mouth opening to spew something else when Fenrys grabbed him by the shoulders and made him turn away. Aelin exhaled a tight breath as Rowan shook his head on screen. Fenrys said something in Rowan’s ear and he nodded, lips thin in a stiff line.. It was enough to make him nod and hustle to his spot on the field, shaking his arms out when he came to a stop.  

Beneath the bar, Aelin’s legs were bouncing. Butterflies flitted their way through her insides enough that she braced her hands against her stomach as though it would calm them. It was impossible to look away as Adarlan took their free kick from the offside, launching the ball halfway down the field and into another frustrating back and forth between the two teams. 

This was always the part of the sport that Aelin hated. No, perhaps hated was too strong of a word. The build up always made her feel nauseous, waiting for one team to make one quick move to kick everyone into high gear to avoid a goal or make one. Being pregnant, it was worse. It felt as though her stomach was in the back of her throat.

Just before the end of the second half, disaster struck. Aelin saw it coming. She was pretty sure everyone watching at home or in the stands did, too. Connall swore filthily as Rowan ran for the ball and dove feet first to knock it away from Adarlan. Except in the process, his cleats clashed into the other player’s feet and they both went down in a heap on the field. 

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Connall asked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the screen as a ref jogged across the pitch. 

“I told him to win and maybe we would talk! I didn’t tell him to–” A yellow card appeared in the ref’s hand, followed by a red one and Aelin lost all of her words. Both were for Rowan. 

“I think he took that a little too do or die.” And so it seemed he had.

Distantly, she heard the announcer saying it was the first time he’d ever been red carded in his entire career. The patron’s of the bar murmured amongst themselves, many of them asking what the hell was wrong with Whitethorn tonight. 

The cameras zoomed in to where he walked off the field, sweat trickling down his face. Their coach followed him to the end of the field, the words he muttered only for Rowan to hear. Though he looked ready to hit anyone that was close enough, Rowan simply nodded. Fenrys caught his arm just before he walked off, mouth moving too quickly for Aelin to decipher. 

The last clear shot of him was walking into the tunnel and off the pitch, body rigid and muscles rippling while he pulled his jersey off his body. 

“I… I need to go,” Aelin said to Connall, who only nodded in response. She threw a few bills on the counter as a thank you and pushed her way out of the pub, walking as fast as her feet would carry her to her rental car down the street. 

~*~

Even though his team had another win under their belt by the time the game was over, it had been a fucking disaster. Rowan watched the second half on his phone from the comfort of his car after getting kicked out. 

It was the first time in his eleven year career he’d ever received two yellow cards, and consequently a red card, and been ejected from a game. All that anger and frustration from the week, from his hangover, had boiled to a head and exploded on the field. Next week he would have to sit out, too. 

Failing his teammates didn’t sit right with him. Lorcan was probably fuming and Rowan anticipated a less than friendly visit from him tomorrow. Coach Malakai was mad, too. The last thing he told Rowan was to get his shit together before practice on Monday. Only Fenrys, who never missed a chance to be a jokester about anything, had murmured words of encouragement before he left the field. 

By the time he pulled into his driveway, he was exhausted. His entire body ached from that last dive. There would definitely be bruises on his hips and thighs tomorrow from the way Ress Taylor landed on top of him. All he wanted to do was let his muscles thaw under a shower so hot it burned. A glass of whiskey would be great, too. Not that he deserved it after his performance on the pitch.

The game was… rough.The entire day was rough. From the time he’d woken up his mood had been in the pits of hell. Drunk Rowan hadn’t been able to piece together what Aelin said just before they hung up, but sober Rowan did as soon as his alarm sounded. 

Win your game tomorrow. 

Not win the game, like she used to say when she thought he was the coach. She didn’t ask him to wish the boys good luck like she had in the weeks prior. The words had changed. Win your game. The game he would be playing in, that belonged to him. She had given him a personal goal and though he helped his team achieve it, he still felt like he failed. Especially since he would have to sit out next week, too, because of the red card.

It had been stupid of him to think she wouldn’t find out the truth before he had the chance to tell her. Everything had just gone to such absolute shit before he had the chance. Rowan Whitethorn would be groveling at the feet of Aelin Galathynius for the duration of his life, and then some more after he crossed into whatever afterworld awaited him. 

The news of his career was just another lie he had to make right. All day it sat with him, festering like an open wound. It wasn’t that he suddenly felt bitter about his job. He didn’t. Rowan loved what he did, he loved the sport. It was his greatest passion and love in life. But Aelin deserved to hear about it from him. Not knowing how she found out only made it worse, until everything he felt was bleeding out into the astroturf beneath his feet and getting him thrown out of a game.

Upon pulling into his driveway, something white in front of his house caught his eye. His heart came to a stop as soon as his car did. Rowan didn’t even bother to pull into his garage, just parked beside the white SUV and stared at his porch. It felt like a fever dream, getting home from a hard game and seeing Aelin on his porch swing. The wind slowly moved her back and forth, but when she saw him step out of the car she stood, hands sliding into her back pockets. 

“I told you to win, not get a red card before the second half was up.” The lilting tone of her voice made his knees buckle. It forced him to gather himself before approaching, slowly walking up the stairs until he stood one below her.

“My mouth keeps getting me in trouble this week, it seems,” he said back, mouth completely dry. It was an effort to make his tongue form the words with his lips. “But it got you to my house, so I suppose there are worse things that could have happened.”

“Few things are worse than a red card.”

“Not talking to you might beat out all of them,” he said smoothly, fingers sliding along each of his keys until he found the one for his front door. He held it up between two fingers and Aelin nodded, stepping to the side and gesturing toward the door. 

She wore simple leggings and an oversized t-shirt, a pair of socks and slides on her feet. Though she wore no makeup and her hair was twisted half-hazardly onto the top of her head, she had never looked so beautiful. Lorcan would laugh himself hoarse if he heard the thoughts Rowan had about this woman, yet he didn’t care. Even in her most dressed down and casual state, she was breathtaking. 

He led her inside, locking the door behind them. It was late enough he assumed she would be staying for a while. Few people made a nearly two hour drive to turn around and leave upon arrival. Then again, he hadn’t seen last weekend going that way, either, and it’s exactly how that night ended.

“You played…”

“Shittily,” he offered, hanging his keys on a small hook by the front door.

“Brutally,” Aelin amended, slipping off her shoes and heading to the kitchen. Rowan watched as she grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and handed one off to him before heading for the couch. “Have you eaten?” 

“No. Have you?”

“Not since lunch.” Phone in hand, she curled up in the corner and pulled a blanket over her lap. “I doubt we have any notable options, but Taco Bell is open and is shockingly one of the few things not making me sick at the moment.”

Rowan watched her from where he stood in the center of the room. It didn’t feel real. None of today did, really. It could be the hangover talking, but the day felt like a horrible dream. He was scared to move, scared that if he sat on the couch with her that she would vanish into nothing and he would wake up alone in his bed. 

“Are you going to just stand there all night?” Her eyes didn’t leave her phone while presumably selecting everything she wanted to eat, eyes narrowing at the screen briefly in thought. A moment later she held it out for him. Rowan stared at her, heart thundering away in his chest. “Rowan.”

“Right. Thank you,” he murmured, taking the phone and trying not to acknowledge the rush he felt when his fingertips grazed her palm. Not big on fast food most of the time, it took him a little longer to pick his dinner. “What do I owe you?”

Aelin just snorted as she submitted the order, eyes rolling slightly before placing her phone face down on the couch next to her, head tilting as she said, “Come to think of it, maybe you do. I think your twenty dollar fast food order might do me in completely. I’ll have to take out a loan.” 

“I can Venmo it,” Rowan said dumbly, reaching for the phone in his back pocket.

“I don’t need your money any more than you need mine.” Once there might have been a teasing edge to her voice. Her delivery was much drier than he was used to from her. But there it was. That stupid thing he’d said before he could stop himself, the words that brought everything they were building crashing down.

“Sit,” she told him, patting the cushion next to her. Rowan was careful to leave plenty of space between them. There were definitely lines and boundaries now. The risk of getting ensnared in one was too great and he had a lot of apologies to make. With his arms elbows braced on his knees and hands clasped loosely between them, he stared at the floor. 

“You’re actually getting a pretty sweet deal.” Aelin sighed, shifting so she was facing him full on. His green eyes didn’t leave the rug. “According to google my net worth is two-and-a-half times what yours is. Isn’t that crazy?”

“I didn’t know,” he finally said. As much as he wanted to look at her, he couldn’t. He was a fucking coward. Guilt was a disgusting, oily thing crawling beneath his skin. It threatened to consume him whole even worse now that he was talking to her than it had the rest of the week. 

Aelin sighed again, finally pulling his attention to her face. She laid her head back against the sofa and a few tendrils of hair fell down to frame her face.  Rowan’s fingers curled into fists to fight the urge to sweep them behind her ear. She must have sensed it because she did it herself. The blue of her fingernails was the same blue as his jersey. Part of him wondered if it had been on purpose. 

“I think tonight we can call a truce.” Aelin seemed to notice his gaze on her fingers because she folded her arms over her chest, curling her hands so her blue nails were hidden. “We’ll eat, sleep, and then tomorrow… Tomorrow we’ll talk.”

“Okay,” he agreed. The word was falling off his tongue as soon as she finished speaking. Her cheeks seemed to twitch with amusement, and if he had reacted differently last week she would probably be smiling. 

���I am curious, though. Did you make an instagram for the sole purpose of stalking me?” 

Rowan cringed. His eyes squeezed shut, lips rolling between his teeth as he looked away. Beside him it sounded like Aelin laughing, though it was little more than puffs of air coming out of her nose. It would have been easy to go on the defensive, to add one more lie to their crumpled house of cards. Instead, he went with the truth.

“I missed you. I just wanted to see your face.” He looked back over at her then, but it was she who looked away now. Her eyes were glassy, the dim lighting making the unshed tears in her eyes sparkle. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s these fucking hormones.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand when he started to reach for her. It stung more than he would ever let on, but he retreated and dropped his hand into his lap while she used the collar of her shirt to dry her eyes. 

It was silent after that, the two of them alternating from staring at nothing to sneaking glances at the other. Rowan only knew because he caught her staring at him more than once when he thought he could take a second to drink her in. It was only when the doorbell finally rang and he stood that she said his name, stopping him when he was halfway to the front door. Turning to look at her, eyebrows raised in question, he watched her lick her lips. 

“I missed you, too.” It was barely a whisper, spoken so softly he might have dreamed it if he was any more tired. 

Still, it was enough to get him through the rest of their silent night. Enough that it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would when he insisted she sleep in his bed without him. Enough to chase him with sweet dreams when he finally slipped into the guest room down the hall and tumbled into a deep sleep. 

@elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp  @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn  @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme  @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294  @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @backtobl4ck @shyvioletcat @mariamuses

[acourtofquestions]

"To defend, Aelin. To protect."

[witchthewriter]

𝐀𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐲𝐧𝐢𝐮𝐬

ENTJ

Gryffindor

Chaotic Good

Aries Sun, Taurus Moon, Gemini Rising

*spoilers for the throne of glass series*

Formerly known as Adarlan's greatest assassin, Celaena Sardothien, Aelin is the last surviving member of the Galathynius bloodline. Her parents, Rhoe Galathynius and Evalin Ashryver, died in their kingdom of Orynth, with Aelin in between them in bed.

As a young girl, she ran away from her home to escape the King of Adarlan as he brought her kingdom to its knees. She was found by Arobynn Hamel the king of the assassins (who had been entranced by the ghost of Elena). He gave her two choices: to train with him and become an assassin or to live on the streets.

Throughout her life, Aelin hid her true identity, from everyone.

At the age of sixteen, she was sent to Skull's Bay with Sam Cortland (another assassin and boy she grew up with) to enact a deal with the pirate lord. However, when finding out it was a slave deal, she and Sam set them free.

In retaliation, Arobynn beat her badly and sent her to train with the Silent Assassins in the Red Desert where she learnt more about herself than anything else. On her journey there, she met Yrene Towers in a run-down pub and taught her how to defend herself, as well as leaving her with a sack of coins. During her time in the Red Desert, she met Ansel of Briarcliff.

When Celaena/Aelin came back to Rifthold, she realised her feelings for Sam, and after a while, they decided to leave Arobynn's assassin's guild.

Arobynn did not like this. And within a few months, Sam was dead and Celaena was sent to Endovier's salt mines for avenging her lover's death.

That's how she came to be the king's champion. The king's son, Dorian, chose her as his champion. After surviving the trials and tribulations sent her way, she signed a contract and agreed to be in the king's survive for four years. To do his bidding.

Celaena and Aelin are the same woman but have slightly different personalities. Celaena is more sly, cunning, and willing to use whatever means necessary to achieve her goals. She's independent and seeks out trouble.

Aelin has a lot of responsibility to carry, she's a fae princess and the last of her line in succession. Although when she claims her original name, she has matured, Aelin starts to think before she acts.

This woman is one of the most powerful beings. Going head to head with gods and goddesses themselves, she's fallen through worlds and won wars.

[tomtenadia]

Detours to You - ch 14

Hello all, As promised, here we are with anew chapter and the resolution of the cliffhanger from the previous chapter. Please be ready for a lot of fussing and domestic fluff.

MASTERLIST

“There has been an accident.”

Rowan’s heart raced “What is it Ilias?”

“Aelin and Maya. We are with them now.”

“Where?” 

Ilias gave him the location and Rowan dressed quickly like a madman. 

He should have pushed harder. Stopped her from driving away. It was his fault. It was his bloody fault.

It did not take long for him to drive to the site, the blue sirens of a fire engine guiding him like a lighthouse.

As soon as he was on site he darted outside and saw the paramedics loading Aelin on the ambulance and another paramedic holding his daughter.

“Maya!” He screamed in desperation.

His daughter extended her arms to him and he took her in his embrace “I am here.”

“Mama hit a deer.”

Rowan stared at Ilias doing his job and pretended not to see the front of the car smashed against the wall of a house. It had been the owner who had alerted the firefighters after he heard the crash.

“It looks like she swerved to avoid the animal.” The captain pointed at the prints on the snow. “Paramedics say she is fine, just a concussion and likely some nasty bruises on her chest. The seatbelt did its job.”

Rowan nodded.

“You know the protocol, we need to take them to the hospital.” One of his paramedics took Maya back from his arms but the girl protested loudly and his heart broke.                

He tried to soothe Maya “Baby, I need you to go with the nice paramedic and your mum to the hospital. I am right behind.”

Maya held him tighter almost in panic.

The paramedic tried again to grab the girl “Come with me darling, your mum is asking for you.”

Rowan thanked silently the paramedic when Maya followed him inside.

The ambulance drove away and he turned to Ilias “Was she conscious when you got here?”

The captain nodded and scoffed “yes, that woman is stubborn. She was trying to get herself out of the car.”

“Go with them chief, I got the scene, and a tow on its way. This is an easy MVA.”

While on the road he had called Aelin’s parents and by the time he arrived at the hospital, they were just entering the A&E. He called Rhoe’s name.

“Rowan!” Evalin walked to him with terror etched on her face “What happened?”

“Aelin and Maya were coming to stay with you,” he confessed not hiding his shame. He hadn’t been hard enough in trying to convince her not to leave “We had a fight. I begged her not to leave so late in the evening and with all the snow.”

“Aelin did not listen.” Added Rhoe deadpanned, surprising him.

“A deer cut in front of her and she just swerved to avoid it and crashed.”

Evalin gasped in horror.

“They are fine. One of my captains called me at the scene, Aelin was awake and Maya is just scared. Aelin apparently fought the firefighters trying to get out of the car.”

“I am sorry, she inherited the stubbornness from me.” 

“Rhoe!” Added Evalin shocked at her husband jokes.

“Ev, Aelin has been pigheaded since the day she was born.”

Rowan smiled and then walked to the nurses station “Hi Sorscha, any news on Aelin and Maya?”

The woman checked “Med bay 5, the doctor is with her. Maya has been taken to paediatrics for a check up.”

He let Rhoe and Evalin go and talk with Aelin’s doctor while he rushed to Maya. The hospital was a maze and it took him a good ten minutes to reach the ward.

“Maya Galathynius?” he asked with apprehension.

“Any relation?”

“I am the father.”

The nurse let him go and in the distance he saw her on a bed holding elf in her arms. A nurse was sitting with her and was offering her a juice box.

“Dad!” She screamed as soon as she spotted him. In two quick steps Rowan was at her side and enveloped her in his arms. He then looked at the nurse.

“She is fine. We did a lot of checks but she is absolutely fine. Aren’t you Maya?”

Maya snuggled closer to her father “Is mama okay?”

He kissed her head tenderly “as soon as the doctor gives me your discharge papers I will take you to see her. Mum is fine.”

“And the deer?”

“Okay too.”

Ten minutes later a doctor came in the room and explained the checks they had done and all was was clear. Rowan grabbed the papers and lifted Maya back in his arms.

In the A&E, the Galathynius were still with Aelin. 

At the open door he walked in and then to the bed “See Maya? Mum is fine.”

Aelin extended her arms and her daughter climbed from parent to parent.

He stood behind, following the scene from his corner until Evalin pulled him closer “Go to her, Rhoe and I will take Maya for a bit. You two need space.”

Rowan stared at Evalin in shock and the woman nodded to him almost in encouragement.

Slowly he moved to the bed and as he got closer he scanned Aelin for any sign of grave injury, but all he found was a plaster on her forehead. She was sitting in bed and as soon as she spotted him, Aelin extended her hand to him.

Rowan sat at her side and accepted her hand “I am sorry,” she whispered.

Rowan was about to protest but she stopped him “no, I need to get this out,” she added quickly “I am sorry. I was mad at you for all the wrong reasons,” she confessed “What I said to you was horrible. I have been so used to be just the two of us. I made all the decisions, I provided for her and when you told me about the classes I felt as if all of a sudden I was not capable anymore to look after her.” Rowan was again ready to talk but Aelin placed a finger on his lips “And I have been so damn wrong to be jealous of you. I had a look at the courses but I could not find anything that I liked. You did and I wished it had been me.” Her hand caressed his face in a gentle touch “Rowan, in a very short time you have proved to be a great dad for her. She loves you so much,” tears started to flow on her cheeks “And I am so bloody stubborn that I put us in danger. And I am sorry,” another caress “I am sorry that I doubted you or made things hard for you. Having you back after all this time, it caught me off guard. I was so scared, Rowan.”

He moved closer, his arms sneaked behind her back and pulled Aelin to his chest “When you left tonight I felt like a failure. I was so eager to be a father that I just went ahead like a bulldozer and did not consult you.” He closed his eyes and his cheek leaned on the top of her head “I want to be worthy of being her dad and of you. I want to be so damn worthy of you both, Aelin.”

They looked at each other and their foreheads touched. Aelin’s hand cupped his cheek and something moved in her chest. Something old. A thread she thought had snapped was now floating in front of her begging to be reconnected to its other half “You are, and Maya and I are so lucky to have you.”

“How is she?”

Rowan chuckled “She already charmed the nurses and managed to get a juice box from them. Docs says she is all okay.”

Aelin shifted and leaned her head on his shoulder while he kept holding her “Can Maya and I come back home?”

“Are you sure?”

She looked up at him and nodded.

Rowan stared in her blue eyes and slowly felt as if all the messy feelings he had been experiencing lately had started to shuffle back in order. Some of the old feelings had started to resurface, but he had to keep them at bay. They had to work first on making sure Maya was okay. They had done enough damage. Their daughter had priority over their feelings.

“We love your house.”

“Okay but,” Aelin tried to protest but this time it was his turn to shush her “Tomorrow you stay at home. The concussion was very light, but you will be sore from the seat belts. Maya is home from school for the holidays and if you need help I am sure your mum will be delighted to look after you both.”

“Yes, chief.”

“I should have never let you go out.”

She kissed his cheek “You tried. I am stubborn, remember?” She then hid her face in his chest “I destroyed your car. I will find a way to pay you back.”

“Nonsense. I am glad you at least took mine. It has a very reinforced front. It’s meant for off track and other extreme road conditions. Nothing a good garage cannot fix and I also have something called insurance.” He thought about what could have happened if she had gone with her car. He kissed her head “Stay with me and that’s your way to pay me back.”

“I think I can do that.”

Aelin looked up and moved closer. So much that they were sharing their breaths. She was about to brush her lips on his when the scream of her name pulled her back.

Evalin and Rhoe entered the room with an excited Maya holding a lollipop.

“Mama!!”

Rowan helped Maya climb on the bed and gave them some space while he went to the grandparents.

Rhoe passed him some papers “Aelin’s discharge papers. I assume you are taking your two girls home?”

He nodded “Good,” added Rhoe, patting his shoulder. Rhoe went back to Aelin and Maya and Rowan remained with Evalin.

“Fight for them Rowan. Do not let an argument ruin everything. They are your family and they love you.” She gave him a hug “Rhoe and I are rooting for the three of you.”

Twenty minutes later he was walking out of the hospital with a still an achey Aelin and Maya in his hand. He was afraid that Maya might refuse to get in the car but the girl allowed him to strap her in. He passed Elf and hoped she was fine until home. 

On the passenger seat Aelin was struggling to fasten her seat belt. She was sore and movements were hard. Rowan went to her and fastened the belt “Will you be okay?”

She nodded “You are a really good driver and can deal with these roads better than me.”

He left the car park “Who wants ice cream?”

Both women screamed excited so when he was closer to home he made a stop at his local shop down in the village and bought a few types of ice cream.

Back at home Aelin made to grab her duffel bag but Rowan stopped her. “Wait on the porch while I free the hurricane.”

Aelin sat on the chair outside and stared at her daughter following happily her dad. Taking Maya away even if for just two days would have been a grave mistake and fate had punished her for that. Seeing her daughter happy with her dad was all she needed.

“Let’s go in.”

Rowan pushed Aelin on the bench inside the lobby and she protested when he kneeled to remove her shoes “If you can bend to take them off, be my guest.”

Aelin tried and gritted her teeth but gave up when her body screamed and let Rowan take her boots off.

“Dada, my shoes are off.”

He helped Aelin up “Ok, upstairs, pyjama and ice cream.”

Aelin leaned on him as they climbed to the upper floor and Maya followed. She then disappeared in her room while Rowan accompanied Aelin in hers.

“Do you have a pyjama?”

She shook her head “I have been using your t-shirts, they are cozy.”

Rowan chuckled “Oh so you are the thief.” He went to his room and came back with a big TFD 

t-shirt “This should be okay too.”

She tried to remove her clothes but every movement was causing her blinding pain “Can I?”

Aelin blushed. They had seen naked plenty of times but now it was different between them.

Between curses she managed to pull away her hoodie and then the t-shirt and that’s when Rowan gasped. Her chest sported a nasty purple bruise from left to right and a really nasty scratch on her neck that the doctors had covered with a bandage.

“Is your neck okay?”

“Stiff.”

“Okay, we need to keep an eyes for signs of whiplash.”

Maya burst in the room not long after. Elf pyjama on, and soft toys under each arms “I am ready for ice cream!”

Rowan lifted her in bed “Stay here one second while I help you mum get changed.” The girl crawled under the blankets with her friends and waited.

Once ready, Aelin shuffled under the blankets with her daughter and both waited for ice cream.

Rowan came back twenty minutes later all changed too and with a tray with the cups full of ice cream. The really chocolaty ones were for his two girls whereas he had opted for the fruity ones.

“Ae, take these, the doctor prescribed them, should help with pain.”

Obediently Aelin took her meds and then Rowan allowed them to have ice cream in bed.

He sat in the chair he had carried from Maya’s room and while they ate he told them stories of princesses and knights until they both fell asleep.

Rowan tucked both of them in bed and then sent a silent prayer to Mala to always look after them. 

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[leiawritesstories]

The Princess & The Warrior

Rowaelin Month 2024, Day 15: What if? and Day 30: Alternate Canon @rowaelinscourt

Ending Rowaelin Month with a little bit of a bang 🤭 What if...Rowan and Aelin's powers were swapped, giving Aelin ice and Rowan fire? And the alternate canon is that Rowan comes to Terrasen to train Aelin teehee

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: some swearing, sparring/fighting, big surprises ehehe

enjoy!!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dressed in her usual training uniform of fitted pants, loose belted tunic, and flexible-soled boots, Aelin tossed her braid over her shoulder and raised her arms above her head, loosening the muscles in her shoulders. She paced back and forth across the packed dirt ground of the training courtyard, trying her best not to spiral into self-doubt at the thought of this new phase of her training. 

A few weeks ago, her parents had informed her that they were in the process of bringing over a Fae tutor for her from Doranelle, where most of the immortal Fae lived. Queen Sellene Whitethorn, a longtime ally of Terrasen, was known for her dedication to training magic-wielders, and when Rhoe and Evalin had discovered that their daughter’s powers were far more vast than anticipated, their first thought had been to reach out to Doranelle. Aelin’s tutors from Rifthold, as educated as they were, only had experience training people with ordinary levels of magic. 

Not since Brannon Galathynius had there been a wielder of her caliber. 

And it terrified the shit out of her. 

Almost unconsciously, Aelin formed a razor-sharp blade of ice in her left hand, the exact same size and weight as the sword in her right hand but made of magic rather than steel. She went through the familiar motions of her warm-up movements, focusing on her breathing to feel the way that her body shifted and moved over the dirt. With the fluid swoops of her blades, she trailed a pattern of glittering snowflakes through the humid summer air. 

“Good form.” A male voice, calmly measured in a way that could only come from centuries of life experience, sounded from the far side of the courtyard. 

She turned around, dropping both swords to hang loosely at her sides, and waited as a Fae male a good seven inches taller than her with corded muscles lining the breadth of his shoulders tucked back his hood and strode—no, prowled—across the courtyard towards her. “You must be the new tutor.” 

His nostrils flared briefly, and his lips tightened into a flat line. “You can call me Rowan.” 

Her eyes widened slightly as she put together the details—the name, the green eyes and silver hair, the tattoos scrolling down half his face and the length of his arm, the handles of the hatchets strapped to his belt. “Prince Rowan Whitethorn, hmm? I wouldn’t have expected Queen Sellene to send one of her relatives all the way to Terrasen.” 

Rowan snorted softly. “Apparently, there’s a princess in Terrasen who can’t control the depth of her magic.” He ran a critical gaze up and down Aelin’s form. “That would be you, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.” 

“Just Aelin is fine.” 

“Whatever you say, princess.” Without further warning, Rowan launched a blade of blue flame at Aelin’s face. 

She whipped her ice sword out, just barely managing to deflect it. “What in the hells?!” 

Fire ignited around his left fist, a short dagger appearing in his right. “Welcome to training, princess. I thought you already had some.” Sarcasm dripped from his words. 

“Maybe I’m deliberately keeping my guard down.” She flicked her fingers, propelling a burst of tiny, sharp-edged ice crystals towards his smug face with a winter breeze. 

Bored, he cast a shield of orange flame, easily fending off her attack. “Maybe those idiot tutors of yours couldn’t teach you anything but crude basics.” 

“Hmm, I suppose modern training does seem crude to you in your old age.” Smirking, she coiled a wind around his left leg and tugged hard, throwing him off balance. 

Faster than she thought possible, faster than he had any right to be, he punched her. 

She’d barely even seen him move. 

“Asshole,” she snarled. She shook the blurriness from her eyes and hurled a fist at his thigh, engaging him in hand-to-hand combat. Rapidly melting her ice sword into a solid glove around her left hand, she kicked a knife out of her boot and swiped at Rowan, who batted off her attacks as if she were nothing more than an untrained recruit. His technique was precise and vicious and brutal, honed by centuries of training with the Fae legions of Doranelle, and Aelin felt her strength rapidly flagging as she strained to block his relentless jabs and punches and bursting bites of flame. 

“Shift, princess,” he ordered. “You have more strength and stamina as a Fae.” 

“If you’d give me a godsdamn minute, I could,” she panted. 

He shook his head and kicked the back of her knee. “In battle, you won’t have a godsdamn minute. You think an enemy is going to stop so you can fucking shift?” 

She swore angrily at him and whipped her knee up, hitting him squarely in the groin. He wheezed and doubled over, and she had just enough time to gather her depleted strength and shift into her Fae form. With her enhanced senses, she saw his knife slipping towards her, and she managed to deflect it just before the blade could nip at her skin. 

“Better,” he murmured, and he unleashed a furious barrage of punches that had her head spinning as she fought off the strikes that came from every angle. A coil of fire snaked up her leg, and she snuffed it with a breath of icy wind, only to find Rowan’s leg hooked behind her stabilizing leg, jerking in a twisting motion that sent her tumbling to the packed dirt. 

“That’s cheating,” she gasped, flinging a handful of dirt into his face. 

He hissed, and faster than she could see, he held the edge of his knife to her throat. “Yield.” 

As covertly as she could, she gathered a handful of snow above his head, and she grunted, straining to break free of his hold, as she dumped that snow down his back. 

He jerked at the shock of the cold, and the edge of the blade grazed her skin. Tiny pricks of blood welled up on the knife’s edge. “First blood is mine.” He withdrew the knife and stood up, holding out his tattooed hand to help her to her feet. She stood up reluctantly, brushing the dirt off of her clothes, and he went to wipe his knife on his tunic when he scented the blood on the blade. 

And he froze dead in his tracks. 

“No,” he whispered, shock bared on his face. “It can’t be.” 

Aelin seized the chance to slice the tip of her dagger across his fingertip, as his free hand was hanging loose, and the scent of his blood on her knife crashed into her with the force of a blizzard. 

Mate. 

This ancient, rude, insufferable male…was her mate. 

“Impossible,” she breathed, echoing his stunned silence. She was only twenty-four, and although she knew from her family’s Fae heritage that she would eventually Settle, she’d never given any thought to the idea that she might have a mate. Royalty married for prestige, not for any other reason. 

His face shuttered. “This changes nothing.” 

“Wrong.” She folded her arms across her chest, defiance blazing in her eyes. “This changes everything. I don’t care how terrified either of us are, you don’t get to use this as an excuse to leave.” 

“I wasn’t…” Rowan bit back his words. “It might not be the best idea for me to train you.” 

“Bullshit,” Aelin scoffed. “Queen Sellene clearly chose you for a reason. Certainly you can manage to teach me the control you think I lack without letting any of your damn territorial Fae instincts get in the way.” 

To her utter shock, his lips twitched upwards into something resembling a smirk. “What the hell would you know about ‘territorial Fae instincts,’ princess?” 

“I’m Fae too, you know.” Bitterness clogged her throat, the anguished screams of the one she couldn’t save echoing through her mind. “I can be incredibly protective.” 

He must have read the hollowness in her eyes. “All right. I’ll stay.” 

“Good, then you’re not a coward.” 

“One condition, though.” 

She raised a brow. “Oh?” 

He sighed, mumbling something indecipherable under his breath. “We cannot tell anyone.” 

“Why in the hells would I want to?” She tucked her knife back down the side of her boot. “You have been here for all of a day, and the last time I let someone into my heart, he died.” She whirled on her heel and left, her footfalls like thunderclaps in the suddenly silent courtyard. 

And Rowan could only stare, shell-shocked, an unidentified emotion beginning to stir in his heart.

~~~

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[morganofthewildfire]

We miss you post 🧸

------------------------

Well here is a surprise for you then!! I miss posting a lot too trust me, this year has been insane, I'm trying to focus on my original novel I'm trying to write as well, but I definitely miss posting as much as I used to 🥺

this is probably literal nonsense lol, i wrote it in probably half an hour, but i've been reading a lot of mafia books lately hahaha and i took inspiration from those

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Rowan was watching her. 

He’d been watching her for a while, first because of orders, and the duty he knew he had to fulfill. But more recently it’d been out of his own interest. Because Aelin Galathynius was a fascinating creature, and he’d been unable to stop himself from wanting to see what she was going to do next.

As a mafia “princess,” there wasn’t much freedom she was really allowed. But the few grasps she had, she took and ran with. 

Whether it was staying outside for a little too long after being called in, trying to give her bodyguard the slip while out shopping, even foolishly attempting to steal money from her father’s account to purchase a ridiculously expensive pair of shoes. 

She had to know he probably would’ve bought them for her anyway, so Rowan assumed it was about the principle of the matter. Aelin liked to make waves, when the rest of her family would rather the boat not get rocked at all.

You could say it was out of luck that their surveillance hadn’t been discovered by now, but really, Rowan knew it never would be. Connall Moonbeam was far too good at his job, and Rhoe Galathynius’ joke of a security team was far too incompetent. He almost wished they were a little better, just to make this more satisfying. It wasn’t as exciting when there was no challenge. 

But the challenge would come later, when Galathynius realized what exactly they were up to. 

Of course, by then it would be too late, but his rage would be delicious. 

Rowan wondered what her rage would taste like, if it would be as sweet.

Narrowing his eyes, he sucked in a little more smoke from his cigar as he looked over across the water, his gaze landing on her figure immediately. Aelin was out tanning on her family’s yacht, followed by guards and not even leaving the marina, but still trying to act like she was in control. It was admirable, albeit stupid and pointless. 

She had no idea he was up here, on the second deck of the boat right next to hers. He’d swindled it away from the previous owners with a threat and a well placed stack of cash, using it as another method of his surveillance. They’d make their move soon, but for now he just wanted to watch. 

Rowan was sunning himself, stripped down to just a bathing suit as he laid back in his chair, set up to have the perfect vantage point. Maybe he should’ve felt like a creep, but he didn’t really give a fuck. 

Her blue eyes were closed and hidden behind a pair of expensive shades, her body highlighted by a tiny white bikini that was verging on obscene. That’d been a secret purchase, he supposed. Rhoe Galathynius wouldn’t have allowed it, no matter how much his princess pleaded. 

She could spend however much money she wanted, but she couldn’t wear anything that made her look like anything less than a perfect future mafia wife. Rowan wondered if she knew what was planned for her, who was planned for her, if she accepted her fate or not. He could answer that last one easily: she would never. She would get married kicking and screaming, until her parents found the right leverage, or the right incentive. Whichever would do the trick to make her willing to make the right connections.

It was the way of their world. Rowan knew it. Her parents knew it. Little Miss Princess would know it soon enough.

Movement caught his gaze, and Rowan turned his head to see a new figure joining Aelin on the back deck, watching as she sat up and smiled, moving her sunglasses so he could see those eyes of hers shining. From a quick glance, observing dark hair, blue eyes, and a million dollar grin, Rowan knew exactly who’d shown up. 

Dorian Havilliard. 

Another person of interest for The Cadre, though for different reasons. Rowan knew of their friendship, but he couldn’t stop his free hand from dancing along the edges of his gun as he considered if that was her intended. He could end that little problem easily right now. It would be a simple shot, and then he could slide off the boat and into his car before they even figured out where it came from. 

If the previous owners of the boat tried to spill who they’d sold it to, well, Rowan was sure Lorcan would send someone to take care of it. 

But he restrained himself, knowing the complications it could cause. Not for his own safety, but for their plan. It’d taken too long to get to this point already, too much death and sacrifice. Rowan wouldn’t thwart their chance at revenge for something as petty as this. Even if the thought of Havilliard dropping dead right there gave him an immense amount of satisfaction.

Still, Rowan forced his hand to relax, letting it rest back on the arm of his chaise lounge as he soaked in the sun. Havilliard wouldn’t be an obstacle for long, anyway. Nothing would.

The name - Rowan Whitethorn - wasn’t known in these circles, but his other name was. Hawk. One of the five names of the Cadre, an organization that had been causing chaos for all of the mafia families within the past year or so. All of it was very much deserved. The criminals of Rifthold were going to pay for the crimes they’d committed years ago, whether they were aware of what they’d done or not. 

They’d start with the Galathynius’ and the Havilliard’s, before moving on to the Hamel and his precious Assassin’s Keep, and then finally to the one woman they all despised. All five of them were from different backgrounds, and had different reasons for this revenge. But that woman…she deserved death by all of their hands.

But that would come later. For now - it was getting close to time to steal a certain mafia princess straight out of her castle, and welcome her straight into hell. 

-------

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@fromthelibraryofemilyj

@justreadertings

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life

@swankii-art-teacher

@tomtenadia

@highqueenofelfhame

@firestarsandseneschals

@thegreyj

@mariamuses

@house-of-galathynius

@rowanaelinn

@llyncooljones

@story-scribbler

@charlizeed

@bookcide

@elizarikaallen

@slytherhys

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@rowaelinrambling

@courtofjurdan

@peppermint-fae

[shallyne]

You're Alive In My Head

A new fic for @throneofglassmicrofics and one of my favorites I think! based on the song Marjorie by Taylor Swift.

Prompt: Memory

Words: 966

TW: pre-canon death, mourning, grief

“Never be so kind, you forget to be clever and never be so clever, you forget to be kind.” Aelin’s mother said. She had heard this alot, from teachers and her father, even Aedion, but when her mother taught her, it was special in a way Aelin couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the way Evalin Galathynius was gentle enough that she didn’t turn away out of spite but strict enough that Aelin had to listen.

Aelin wanted to ask questions but when she opened her mouth no sound came out. Clawing at her throat, she looked at her mom but when she looked up, her mother kneeled in front of her and with a shock Aelin realized she could see the wall behind her mother, through her mother,

“My brave girl,” her mother whispered as she touched Aelins’s cheek, a phantom touch she couldn’t feel, slowly dissolving into thin air. There was nothing Aelin could do to help, she couldn’t even scream for help.. She couldn’t stand up to hug her one last time, she could only watch her mother vanish.

And if I didn't know better

I'd think you were talking to me now

If I didn't know better

I'd think you were still around

What died didn't stay dead

You're alive, you're alive in my head

Aelin awoke startled in an empty bed. It was early morning, the sun just rising. Rowan was probably on one of his early morning trips, not expecting her to wake up this early.Sitting up, she touched her cheek just where her mother had in her dream and it had felt so real that her own hand was shaking. The smell of her mother’s perfume still was embedded in her. 

Breathing became difficult and before she could think twice, Aelin grabbed her cloak and a pair of boots and went out. Luckily the palace was still asleep, mostly, and she knew which corridors she had to avoid to meet anyone.

It was quick to leave and grab a horse, leaving unnoticed and as she was riding towards sunrise, she remembered another lesson many years ago.

“Never be so polite, you forget your power and never wield such power, you forget to be polite.” her mother quietly said as Aelin was cuddled against her, munching on a cookie she had stolen from the kitchen.

She looked up at her mother, meeting her eyes, the same shade as hers. “What does that mean?”

Her mother smiled, softly caressing Aelin’s golden mane of hair, “I asked the same thing when I was your age, Fireheart, and no one gave me a satisfying answer. But I’ll have to tell you the same: you will find out when you’re older.”

“I want to know now!”

“I know, Fireheart,” Evalin Galathynius replied, her thumb sliding to her face and caressing Aelin’s cheek. “I know.”

And if I didn't know better, 

Aelin reached her destination and she climbed off her horse, binding in on a nearby tree, walking down a little path she had dreaded to walk since she had entered Terrasen after ten years until she reached a gated patch amidst the trees.

“Hello,” she said the graves with a breaking voice, etched on them Evalin Ashryver Galathynius and Rhoe Galathynius. 

The wind caressing her as if in response. 

I'd think you were listening to me now.

It was the first two hours that Aelin broke down and told them everything that had happened since she woke up that dreadful night in her parents bed. Everything bad and everything good. She cried and got mad and mourned all of the fallen who had fought for a better world once more. She hasn’t told them everything of course because if she had included details she would be here for a week. Although, at this moment it felt like her parents listened and she would have stayed a week if that feeling would’ve stayed but the feeling vanished the more the world woke up around her. 

The autumn chill that wakes me up

You loved the amber skies so much

Long limbs and frozen swims

You'd always go past where our feet could touch

Aelin let herself fall on the grass, looking up at the sky. A chill crept up her spine as the autumn cold and her decision to not wear a garderobe appropriate for autumn weather caught up to her, that wouldn’t get her to leave though. Not yet.

Turning her head to the gravestones, she said, “I should have asked you more questions. Both of you. I should have asked you how to do this and…” she swallowed. “I should have asked to write it down or something. I wish I could have kept everything.” a tear rolled down her cheek.”They took everything, everything from you. Every little scrap was taken.”

The wind howled around her, mixing with the singing of the few birds that haven’t traveled south yet. 

And if I didn't know better

I'd think you were singing to me now

Aelin stayed like that, silent, for a few more minutes before she stood up groaning and knelt one last time before her parent’s graves. “Next time I’ll bring you stones. I’m sorry, I just had to talk to you.” she whispered, pressing her hands against both gravestones. “I love you so much.”

I know better

But I still feel you all around

Against the cold, Aelin pulled her cloak closer together and walked back to her horse and once settled on the mare, she looked up the pine tree at the green eyed hawk, “Let’s go home, buzzard.” she said hoarsely.

And as she rode back home, her mate was flying above her, guarding her. She didn’t mind, she was actually glad he was there.

That they were together. 

[aelinschild]

First Sight, New Ground

Valencia - Test

Main Masterlist | DART Masterlist | Team Livery

Well, well, well. This is something I'm very excited to share! I'm quite the fan of MotoGP, so this is my attempt at mashing my interest together. (And mourning Jorge Martin's loss of the '23 season 🥲). I really hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!

SYNOPSIS: Drama. Speed. Nepotism. Aelin is thrust into the everchanging spectacle that is the 2023 MotoGP season. And as the new Marketing Manager, she struggles to rein in the two riders she's responsible for, one more than the other. And Rowan Whitethorn is always up for a new challenge. WORDCOUNT: 4.7k GENERAL WARNINGS: Swearing, Alcohol and addiction, Mental health struggles, Cheating, Verbal abuse and messed up family dynamics, Crashes, Severe Injuries, Minor Character Death(s), Silly Stupid Rowan, more to be added

AN: There's a lot going on in this chapter- I apologize! It's very world-buildy, but we are diving head first into drama very soon...

Remelle: The MotoGP 2023 Season Begins; Switch up’s all across the grid are causing teams to already struggle to mesh out differences. Let’s hope this season will see less dramatics than last year…

-

Rolfe: …And Pre-Season begins! Welcome back to the track, and welcome to the very exciting – or what I'm hoping will be – 2023 MotoGP season! 

Mort: My sentiments exactly, Rolfe. And welcome back everyone. It's great to see all the spirit online and worldwide. I can feel the excitement in Valencia this weekend! But I must say, starting this year off with a bang–there’s already drama!

- 

This was certainly not Aelin's typical work environment. Or her typical job, for that matter. 

Standing at the large pane window of one of Ducati Valencia’s Offices, she looks out at the lively city. A far cry from her view two months ago at the HSBC headquarters in London. A far cry from anything relatively normal, really. Her foothold here was a new development. Since, in a matter of months, she had lost the renowned career that she had dreamed of. Had scrapped and fought for. She lost her corner office, with the view of London's city lights. She had lost her ample paycheck. And, as she thinks, she had lost her dignity along the way as well. 

By no means was this a personal decision. HSBC hadn't been doing well into its fourth quarter, and cuts had to be made. That was understandable enough. What wasn't? Aelin being cut. The clean-cut of the crisp letter on her mahogany desk on a very bitter morning. It had been clear that she wasn't even important enough to require a meeting. Not even important enough for a goodbye. 

Not only had the loss of her career brought forth the aforementioned reality, but it had drastically changed her relationship with her dear father. The one and only, Rhoe Galathynius. The oil tycoon, who had a greater love for wealth than his own kin. The man who claimed to work himself to the bone, but only came up for air after getting a papercut from counting his cash. 

After being cast off from HSBC – as if she hadn't been there for five years, running errands and fixing copiers, to being the Senior Head of Marketing for their English branch  – she was left with no job. And as an Oxford graduate, no less. 

And as if the humiliation of her new reality hadn't been enough, a local paper had picked up the story. The Galathynius golden child loses out! She could still see the sickeningly dark ink–burned into her retinas. 

But the shame didn't end there, why would it? No, of course not. Aelin’s lesson was far from being over, even if she hadn't had anything to do with her subsequent layoff. And as it happened, that paper had made it onto Rhoe’s desk one morning. The artfully woven piece, carefully balancing the general hatred for the Galathynius name and attack on Aelin’s character; there for his consumption. The paging to her father's manor in Hertfordshire shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. And the gloomy English weather punctuated her doom. Each droplet on the windshield startled her out of any possible chance to imagine other possibilities. Each drop fell solidly, slowly making its path before being swept up by the windshield wipers, cast off the rounded glass. Like an incessant insect. 

The indignity continued when Aelin had to explain to Rhoe why she was laid off. Why it was her fault. Why the company wanted her gone. Rhoe Galathynius was loyal – to name only. Anything done on her part to convince the bastard of a man that it was simply a company-wide layoff, inevitable really, resulted in at least fifteen minutes of lecturing and berating. He took her loss as a failure on his part. His child-rearing skills were not satisfactory, and now he had to account for his twenty-six-year-old fuck-up. 

Aelin wondered if her humiliation could have been any worse had she kneeled at his feet and begged for forgiveness. 

Regardless, Aelin had nothing to say for herself. She was laid off, a disappointment to the family name, and had no prospects. Where would she go now? Back to her flat, most likely. To soothe the ache over with some expensive red wine, and maybe sob. 

Rhoe Galathynius left her with nothing but a crippling feeling of guilt. Effortless anxiety. She felt her failure weigh her down even further into the mud her four-inch heels sunk into. Her driver was sympathetic at least, solely because she had told him to wait outside, knowing it would be a short trip. And so with nothing to think about but how her ribs felt like they were pressing into her lungs, squeezing them, suffocating her from the inside out, Aelin let the rainy drive – and subsequent two months – wash over her like a balm. 

That was, until, she got a call from Rhoe again, beckoning her back to Hertfordshire. And after two months of complete silence on his part; no comments on the paper’s reaction to her job loss – which was so unnecessary, she’s glad it was now mostly forgotten. She had shown up, without a crimp in her clothes, skin looking refreshed. As if the days had been spent relaxing, not withering. Arriving at the manor, Aelin found herself nervous. Not knowing what she was walking into. 

And she could’ve known, had she just read the papers she so diligently avoided. She could’ve seen that her ever-avaricious Father had purchased the title sponsor for the Italian motorcycling team. Had – in the last two months – plastered the gaudy yellow ‘Galathynius’ name all over the cherry red bikes and helmets. All over gear and t-shirts. He had procured a job for her, and he spat that at her as if she was a burden. As if he didn't take on the cumbersome task of purchasing a world-renowned racing team.

Ducati. Ducati Galathynius Racing. Rhoe Galathynius was now the proud sponsor of his own MotoGP team, one of the most successful in recent years too. How did he do it? Had Aelin read the papers…

-

Remelle: Can Ducati Bounce Back After Sam Cortland; Recently, Ducati’s older sponsor ‘Lenovo’ pulled out. However, it only became public at the end of the 2022 season. Many have raised eyebrows, citing that their exit was because of the passing of Ducati rider Sam Cortland at the Valencia GP last year. The catastrophic crash, killing the gifted rider moments before he would have won the ‘22 title…

-

Seated on a plush leather swivel chair, Aelin picked at her cuticles. Peeling back dry skin that burned when washed with the expensive soap at the Ducati Headquarters in Valencia. The silence of the room was punctuated every few seconds when the toe of her stiletto would tap the glossy floors. A meaningless rhythm. Tap, tap-tap. Tap, tap-tap. 

The opening of the door stunned Aelin out of her reverie. Standing from her seat, she was faced with Rhoe and Rourke Farran, Team Principal for Ducati. They were mid-conversation, and though it stalled as they entered, Farran felt no need to soften his words.

“Ah, Miss Galathynius, yes, welcome. Lovely. We’ll just be waiting on the rest of management before we can get started.” He trailed off, wandering to the head seat of the long conference room table. Rhoe stood near the door, a pensive look in his eye and a familiar rigidity in his frame. Aelin took it as her cue to take a seat. 

As Farran settled himself, Rhoe picked up where they had left off, paying no heed to his daughter's presence. And if he was miffed that Farran took the head seat, he didn't show it. Aelin sat two seats away from Farran, on his left. Rhoe took the right. 

“And you can guarantee me the support of your riders? I’ve heard that they can be difficult…” Rhoe continued. His beady eyes, surrounded by weathered skin. His once luminous hair, clipped short to cover spots where it wouldn't regrow. He looked old. He looked worn down and easily breakable. But assuming that was a definite mistake. His age had nothing to do with his cunning, or viciousness. 

“Whitethorn and Westfall will give you no trouble. They want results. If you can provide that, they’ll be happy boys.” Farran scoffed. Tension palpable. 

Aelin folded her hands over each other in her lap. Sitting with her back straight and shoulders pushed back, she was the picture of poised elegance. Her hair was slicked back into a professional high bun, her makeup light. She would make no mistakes today, lest she trash her second chance. 

“Good,” Rhoe says as the door opens, and in filters other team managers and top engineers. All here for the pre-season testing. Pre-season testing, which Aelin would be studying. So as to learn how the team worked together, noting what worked and what wouldn't, because she would be managing the appearances now. Because this board room, the racetrack outside, the bright red ‘Ducati’ shirts– This was her life now. 

“Let us get started, shall we?” 

- 

Mort: Well, would you look at that! All those guys…

Rolfe: Haha, don't they look happy—the pre-season media obligations. Let me tell you, Mort, am I ever happy I’m not one of those poor guys right now…

Mort: No doubt! The theatrics this year certainly are something else. Though the fans love it. And I’m not going to lie, Rolfe, I do enjoy the candid interviews! They’re just so awkward…

Rolfe: It's almost like they’ve never made friends…

-

The noise was giving her a headache. 

The amount of people was obnoxious, and this wasn't even everyone. Ducati alone had over one hundred employees working to keep two overgrown men on bikes happy and successful. If you had asked twenty-year-old Aelin where she would be, especially when she was knee-deep in homework in Oxford's libraries, she would have never said a racetrack. Though it's funny how things work out…

After the tense meeting, where Farran practically bulldozed anyone with an opposing opinion, and Rhoe had scared the shit out of every employee who didn't have a contract, Aelin could help but wonder what she was getting herself into. Granted, she had no second option. It was this, or execution, probably. Who knows what Rhoe would have done had she said no. But, she did walk out with a collared shirt that she would be responsible for wearing whenever she was on the job. 

It was a starchy cotton, with red stripes down the sleeves and her name embroidered onto the left breast. She mourned the outfits that would never see the light of day. Somehow, though, she would make this work. 

She always did. 

She was not used to this type of… excitement. Working in an office for the past few years left a mark on her. She did not feel ready to step out in front of the entire Ducati team, much less coordinate all their actions for the next year. She had already been handed a hefty guidebook that outlined her priorities and responsibilities going forward. Press conferences, media attractions, and managing the two esteemed riders. 

The riders; Chaol Westfall and Rowan Whitethorn. Champions in their own rights. One familiar to the team, one not. Which was another slight bump in Aelin’s job. Making Rowan’s transition from Honda a smooth one. 

Rowan Whitethorn was an enigma. The four-time world champion was in dire need of something. Something that Honda hadn't been providing, hence the switch. Now the grumbly Scot is raining all over Ducati’s fine machinery. Having not won a world title since 2019, everyone in the paddock whispers about his retirement. However, the talented twenty-eight-year-old is far from retirement in Ducati’s eyes. And hopefully, he’s prepared to win this season. 

She had been briefed on him more than Choal; and that man's subsequent charm. But Rowan was quite the opposite. Determined, steadfast, and stoic. He was a legend of a rider. Loyal to the asphalt beneath him and the bike that makes him fly. With one goal in mind, one that hadn't changed in his decade of racing. 

This all made Aelin uncomfortable. She was not made to deal with people like this, so up close. She was no race enthusiast, hell, she hadn't known that motorcycle racing was this extravagant prior to her job now. The few times Rhoe had taken her to Silverstone were solely to watch the Formula One races, and those were merely background noise to the fact that she was outside of Rhoe’s manor. So navigating around this new terrain was going to be a struggle. One that most likely started with joining in on the festivities happening on the track.

-

Remelle: Ducati Debutes The New Sponsor; The bright yellow appearing on Ducati’s bikes this season isn't only a shock to the eyes, but it's a shock to the motorcycle world. It seems like the English Businessman Rhoe Galathynius was tired of oil fields and wanted his name on something new. 

-

Measured steps led Aelin to where the entirety of the paddock was accumulated. Racers, team managers, engineers and more were milling about. It was an explosion of colour, everyone suited in their team's shirts, sporting their pride. 

Aelin assumed that the riders were the ones milling further down the track. Stood under the lights, beyond where the crowd was thickest. Scanning the area, she spotted at least seven photographers. She’d have to enquire about the pictures they were taking and where they would be going. She made another mental note about that. And about setting a to-do list.

Still walking, Aelin scanned the crowd one final time before spotting Farran. He was just a little away from the greater congregation, stood next to another man. Farran had changed since she saw him in the meeting. He was in his red Ducati shirt, a large lanyard hanging from his neck. Next to him was a blonde man of similar height, who looked to be speaking very quickly to Farran. His arms flailed as he spoke, but the gestures didn't look excited. Rather, he wore a mean scowl and an orange and white Honda shirt. Ioan Jayne, she assumed. Aelin was briefed on him, head of Repsol Honda and nemesis of Farran. Or that was what she had gathered when reading Farran’s history with the man. 

The two men seemed to lean into a conversation with each other, but the animosity was visible from where Aelin stood. Staring openly, she watched as they were all but at each other's throats. Before Jayne threw his hands up and stalked away, leaving Farran. Signing, Aelin made her way over to Farran for what was sure to be an uncomfortable conversation. 

“Farran. Good to see a familiar face.” She was lying through her teeth. She had known this man for a few hours and had a weird feeling about him already. 

“Miss Galathynius-” He started, puffing his chest out a little and giving her an indecipherable look. 

“Aelin works. If you prefer.” She interrupted. 

“Aelin then.” Another smile, she felt goosebumps on her skin. There is something wrong with this man. She thought to herself, all while keeping up her artfully crafted facade of professionalism; smiling and nodding. “Right, well this will all be very new to you, but all the boys are just getting reacquainted now. There are some newcomers, not for us of course,” he laughed. “Unless we're counting Whitethorn. But he’s been around the track so they’ll all be sizing him up for this season.” 

He continued on, rambling about each of the guy’s weaknesses as if he had explored them himself. She wouldn't be surprised if he had. 

“I'll need you to organize some press things in the coming days. Photos, social media, interviews, all that bullshit that makes the fans wild.” He said more seriously. Turning to face Aelin directly. “Your father made a deal with me, and a part of that deal would be your success in this position.” Aelin was rooted to her spot, Farran’s dark eyes boring into her directly. Like he could see the part of herself that failed. “I will not have anything but excellence. Not from you, from my riders, from my team. See to it.” 

“Of course,” Aelin mumbled, twisting her hands. Taking a step back, Farran's eyes continued to follow her, still shrouded in some weird look, before a chipper voice broke the tension. 

“Farran!” A voice called out, the rough English accent undecipherable to Aelin. Both of them turned to see the newcomers. Aelin swallowed when their gazes broke.

Two men were approaching; Chaol and Rowan, she assumed. Going off the cherry red shirts each had on, and the confidence in their gaits. Something that could only be achieved by a world-class motorcycle rider. The brunette – Chaol – was walking ahead of Rowan, who didn't seem as pleased as his teammate to see their team principal. As they approached, Aelin realized that they were significantly more handsome than the pictures from online. Both of them looking more like models than the insane idiots the media made them out to be.  The blonde one was devastating. Rowan. Who’s face was set in a scowl-like look, obviously not pleased with the current state of affairs. 

“Chaol, how are you doing today mate?” Farran said as he went in for one of those man-hugs with the rider. They both slapped each other's backs a few times before releasing to stand a fair distance apart. Rowan didn't come any closer, he just nodded when Farran’s gaze swept over him. 

“Not bad. Saw Havilliards bike for this season,” He sucked on his bottom teeth, eyes roving over Aelin. “Might have to find a reason to be in their garage for something, you know?” The brunette rocked back on his heels, crossing his arms and shifting around. He’s ansty for something. 

Farran gave a contemplative noise, before gesturing to Aelin. “I want you to meet your new marketing manager. She’s your boss on all accounts for this season. Whatever Miss Aelin here says, goes.” Both Rowan and Chaol were staring at her now too, and Aelin felt a little overwhelmed under this much attention. She could see the curiosity on Chaol’s face, but Rowan didn't give anything away. If anything, she was a little miffed by his lack of response – to anything thus far. That would be something she’d have to work on. 

“Lovely to meet the two of you,” Reaching out, she held her hand out for Chaol. He grasped hers firmly, and she shook once before retracting quickly. He was handsome, that much was for sure, but he was also… peculiar. She wasn't sure. But when she leaned over to Rowan, she realized she liked Chaol significantly more. 

Rowan looked down at Aelin’s outstretched hand, a tense moment passed where she waited for him to do something. Finally, just when she was going to step back and accept defeat from the seemingly sullen man, he shook her hand. 

He had a firm hold, and the calluses on his hand scraped over hers and a way that sent shivers up her back. Pulling away abruptly, Aelin could feel Farran and Choal’s eyes on her. Rowan did not react to her retreat, and she was thankful for that because she did not want to think about how it felt to have his large hand in hers. 

Farran continued, prattling about race-related subjects, but Aelin was not focusing on him anymore. No, she was too busy trying to ignore Rowan’s green-eyed stare on her.

-

The greetings on the track had ended after what felt like far too much time, and Aelin was grateful to be able to rush off away from where she felt like she was being undressed by the Scot’s eyes. Taking a moment in a deserted hallway to practice her breathing, before she was back in the garage with the rest of the team to watch the new bikes get their lap times in. 

Standing near the back of the garage, Aelin watched as Rowan raced. The cameras around the track followed his bike as he artfully wove through corners. Screens below had engineers monitoring, and she watched as the speed went up, up, up. Hitting nearly three hundred kilometres on the straights, her eyes never left the screen. 

His lithe body was clad in the classic Ducati red. And the leather suit – that looked extremely restrictive while the riders walked – had never looked so flexible. Every movement was intentional, each millisecond that passed was a decision made. He was an expert in the sport, and the bike seemed like an extension of him. Each corner had him nearly kissing the ground, his protective knee pads made exactly for this reason. 

Everyone in the garage had their eyes either glued to the screen or a computer. These moments, testing out the Desmosedici GP23, were exceptionally imperative to the success of the team this season. Rowan’s custom bike, improved specifically for his body and riding style, was faring well. But the garage still held their breath. The bike was only a prototype, while it was modelled after last year and Ducati had the privilege of being a factory team, any issue would set the current progress back exponentially. 

As Rowan leaned into turn fourteen, Farran seemed pleased. He took his diligent stare away from the TV and moved to where Chaol stood at the mouth of the garage. Leaning in close so the other rider could hear, Farran must have instructed Chaol that it was his turn now. As the roar of Rowan’s bike grew in sound, Chaol situated himself, and some of the team members gave his bike a push, and he was off. Just in time for Rowan to park where he once was. 

The Scot turned the bike off and was quick to pull his helmet off. Revealing his sweat-mussed hair and the bandage on the bridge of his nose. 

Farran was ready with questions and was firing them at a pace that Rowan evidently wasn't fond of. He swung his leg over the bike and made his way to the dedicated corner for the riders. Ignoring Farran, he sat down on his chair and turned to where the screen was displaying Choal. 

Reaching for the Gatorade bottle and taking a long drink of whatever was in it, Rowan decided to grace the garage with his feedback. Swivelling to face Farran at his right, “Ye gonna pay attention to yer other guy?” Going back for another swig, he unzipped the top half of his suit. Leaning back and spreading his legs out, his eyes went back to the screen. 

What a team player, Aelin snorted. Drawing the attention of a dark-haired engineer. The woman studied Aelin for a moment, before making a sour face and turning away. Wonderful, She thought. Making friends already. 

Noticeably irked, Farran continued to push. “What do you think of the bike?” The room held its breath while Pretty Princess thought over the question. This was crucial. Chaol had been at Ducati for years, he knew the engines, and he knew the machinery. He knew they were winners–or had been at some point. But Rowan? He was going to be the defining factor of the teams’ success this season. 

“I could feel the engine–rumblin’. Powerful. It’s good, aye?” He nodded to himself, pleased with his response. The brunette woman next to Aelin stepped forward. 

“So no changes, right? You’ll be good to ride in Argentina on it?” She was assertive in her question. Her eyes focused directly on where Rowan was seated. She watched the rise and fall of his bare chest. Noticing the ink of a tattoo near his left pec. Shamelessly, as everyone waited for his response, Aelin traced the lines of his body. His long legs stretched out in front of him, the jawline that left her breathless, and his hair–Gods his hair. It was unfair how gorgeous men’s hair could be. The droplets of sweat collecting at his hairline, that would parade down his face to his jaw. Where they would fall the strong column of his neck. I need to get laid. Aelin looked back to where the engineer was waiting and took notice of the headphones around her neck. 

“I'll be ready to win, if that’s what yer asking.”

-

Aelin had left late. 

After four days of watching, planning, organizing, and anxiously overworking herself over upcoming media obligations, the time in Valencia was up. She had spent four days in a completely unfamiliar environment, around people who knew what they were doing. She could feel the imposter syndrome creeping up on her. But after it all, seeing the twelve guys who would be putting their lives on the line for a title and gaining no ground with either of the riders she was responsible for, she was ready for a break. She had relinquished, and gone to the inaugural party. What a mistake. 

Now, rushing from her hotel room this morning, and fighting off a killer hangover, she had quite literally thrown everything she had brought with her to Valencia in her pink suitcase before zipping it closed – catching her nice blouse on the zipper – and rushing to her Uber. It was a close call, and her driver had made sure to scold her for her tardiness before they were promptly speeding to the airport. 

In the backseat of the car, she had attempted some light makeup to try and erase the undereye bags. It didn't do much, but it was an effort. Her hair was a challenge she would not even begin to tackle. Sex-mussed and arguably better suited for a family of birds, it would remain in the worst high-bun the world had ever seen. 

All of this was fine. She was fine. 

And she was calm. Especially while hightailing it through the airport to her private gate so she wouldn't miss the jet her father had specifically arranged for her after he had left on the first day. What a committed sponsor. 

“Earth to Aeeeeee!” Lysandra sang from the other end of the phone currently glued to the side of Aelins face. They had been talking–Lys had been talking, and Aelin had been breathing so loudly she could barely hear her best friends quips about her evening and the party. The party. Aelin was so fucked. 

“I'm here- just keep… talking,” She puffed. Catching one of the screens and looking for her gate number. 

“No. I want you to talk.” She could hear Lysandra’s pout. “This party? What really happened?”

“Nothi-”

“Lies! I saw Aedion’s story, and you were definitely getting cozy in a corner with a certain somebody,” She pressed. Aelin knew it was going to be a challenge to get out of this one. “Tell me or I will find out. You know me…” She let the threat hang in the air. 

Aelin knew better than to leave Lys to her own devices. “Okay,” Huffing and puffing as her gate got closer and closer. “It was just a one-time thing! Nothing ser-”

“Ae! Tell me, godsdamn!” She interrupted. “I just want to know, pleasee!” Whining, Aelin prayed for something to prevent what would happen next. 

Sighing, “It was-”

And as if the Gods decided to give Aelin one little win this morning, the attendant was at her gate and had recognized the sprinting woman. She moved to open the door to the stairs for Aelin to get to her jet. Motioning to Aelin to hang up her call, she gave the attendant the brightest smile–probably looking insane. 

“Oh no! I'm at my gate, I have to go Lys! I call you in a few hours, okay, love you!” And she hung up. Breathing in, out, and one more for good measure. She slipped her phone into her purse and handed her carry-on to the attendant whose arm was outstretched. 

“Welcome Miss Galathynius. Let’s get you to Argentina, yes?”

Taglist: @backtobl4ck , @goddess-aelin

Thank you for reading :))))