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goddess-aelin · 1 year ago

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Feels Like Home

For @backtobl4ck for the Rowaelin Yulemas celebration/ Secret Santa. For the second year in a row, I once again had the pleasure to write something for Maria! I was so excited when I found out I had you because we both loveeeee fluff and friends to lovers. So I hope you love this little gift and have a very happy Yulemas :) @rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: none!

Her hands were everywhere. Her lips touched his softly as she breathily moaned at his ministrations between her thighs. Silky blonde locks brushed his face as he made his way down the side of her neck. He never tasted anything so sweet, so right. “Rowan. Rowan. Rowan.” Her voice got louder and louder as he laid her back on the cushions of his couch, muscles straining to reign in all the things he wanted to do to her. He had to do this right. Move slowly. This thing between them was as precious as the sun’s warmth. “Rowan. Ro.” Her voice changed cadence, suddenly closer and louder. “Ro!”

A stinging sensation against his cheek woke him. Like lighting, he shot up, catching the arm of the person who slapped him. Once he registered where he was and what was happening, the first thing he noticed were the depthless blue and gold eyes of his best friend. His best friend. Aelin. Who he was in the middle of having a sex dream about.

Rowan could feel his face flush as he became more aware of his surroundings. He silently thanked the Gods that he chose to cover himself with a blanket for this particular nap. Otherwise, it would’ve been painfully obvious just exactly what he had been dreaming about.

“Must’ve been some dream, huh? Since you didn’t wake up the first twenty times I called your name.” Aelin raised an eyebrow. “Sorry for the slap, though. I just didn’t know how else to wake you up.” Aelin gave him a devious smile.

Rowan rubbed at the still stinging area on his left cheek. The good thing was that the slap hid any blush that might’ve remained on his face. “Sure you are, Fireheart.” She pouted slightly, giving him her best “but I’m innocent” look. “Wait, how did you even get in here?”

“You gave me a key, remember?”

“Yeah, for emergencies. Not to barge into my house at…” He checked his phone. “4:35pm on a Thursday afternoon.”

“This is an emergency, Ro.”

He raised an eyebrow and silently commanded, explain.

“Well ok…you see, I have this cousin. His name is Galan. Well he’s sort of my cousin but he’s also not. Not in the sense that Aedion is my cousin. But he’s still sort of close family, ya know? And I got the invite a few weeks back and I hoped that I could find a date but I haven’t yet and I just really think that maybe it would be a fun time and there’s going to be good food-”

“Hold on. What the fuck are you talking about?” Rowan couldn’t keep the humor and huff of laughter out of his voice. Aelin tended to ramble when she was nervous. So obviously this was something she was nervous about. He gently took her hand. “Start again and take a deep breath this time.”

For once, she listened to him. After inhaling and exhaling deeply, she tried again. “My cousin, Galan. He’s getting married and I have a plus one. I can’t go alone because my mother will have a fit and that will make her and my aunts scheme like hell to set me up with one of the groomsmen. But I 100% do not want that. I know Galan’s friends and they’re all dumbasses. I love my cousin, but his groomsmen all make really stupid, idiotic decisions. So no, thank you. So I guess my question is, will you go with me? As my plus one?”

Rowan took a moment to process the information. What are the odds that he would have a sex dream about his best friend right before she asked him to be her plus one to a wedding? He was treading dangerous territory and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

He must’ve taken too long to answer because Aelin hastily said, “As friends, of course. And you’d get free food, booze, and a night of dancing. You get to dress up, which I know you hate but it’ll be fun! Plus, you’ll get to have the most beautiful, amazing, graceful date on your arm.”

That shocked him out of his stupor. Rowan let out a cackle. “Modest, aren’t you?”

“Modesty is my middle name.”

Rowan hummed in mock agreement. “Yeah, I’ll go with you. It’ll be fun. A night away, drinking, eating great food, and getting to watch the bridal party get increasingly drunk as the night goes on? I’m in.”

Aelin beamed but quickly bit her lip. He knew her too well to know that it wasn’t just a nervous tick. There was something else. Rowan narrowed his eyes.

“It’s also like five hours away in Varese so we need to rent a hotel for the night.” She looked apprehensive, as if this new information was going to make him change his mind and say no.

“O..kay? We’ve been on vacations together before, Fireheart. What’s different this time?”

She blew out a breath. “I don’t know. I just know you don’t like being the center of attention and I know that my mom and my aunts are going to be all over you like vultures. So I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into before saying yes.”

Rowan shrugged. “How bad can it be?”

- - - - -

Bad. The answer to his question from a few weeks ago was just that: it could be bad. The date of the wedding crept up steadily, he and Aelin hammering out the details of their stay in Varese. Aelin, of course, insisted on coordinating colors for their outfits, which is how he found himself standing at the base of the stairs in the grand ballroom attached to their hotel in a black tux and emerald green bowtie, talking with Aedion while waiting for the two ladies to make their grand entrance. Aelin insisted on the emerald green to match his eyes. He really didn’t care either way, he just hoped he was able to reign in his budding feelings when he saw Aelin in what just so happened to be his favorite color. And that if he somehow did accidentally let some of his feelings show, that it wouldn’t make it awkward for when they got back to their hotel room.

Oh right, that. The other predicament he was in.

Once he and Aelin arrived at the hotel that morning, they were surprised to find that not only did their room only have one bed, it also had one of the most romantic views of Varese, overlooking the river that flowed through the center of the city and its beautiful architecture. Aelin was quick to insist that she had nothing to do with this and that she ordered a double room. At the time, the wedding was only a few hours away and Aelin shoved him out of their room towards Aedion and Lysandra’s across the hall, stating that she needed to get ready and she couldn’t have his broody self in the room while she was doing so. So he and Lysandra had switched places, Aelin assuring him that they’d remedy the bed situation later.

He and Aedion took a whopping total of ten minutes to get ready in comparison to Aelin and Lysandra’s two hours. Rowan’s foot started tapping of its own accord as the time ticked closer to the ceremony. If Aelin didn’t hurry her ass up- albeit her very, very nice ass- they were going to be late.

He was cut off from his thoughts by the two sets of clacking heels on the marbled floor coming from the top of the stairs. It took one look at the thigh slit of Aelin’s dress for his mouth to dry up. Another glance at the way it hugged her hips for his body to go wholly still. And one final glance to her beautiful, glowing face for him to black out completely.

He must’ve actually blacked out since, in what felt like a single moment, Aelin was standing right in front of him. Her emerald green dress matched his bowtie perfectly, of course, the gold accent of her minimal jewelry complimenting her eyes. She didn’t need baubles and gems to make her sparkle. She, just as she was now, was an ethereal being, glowing from an internal, unseen star.

Rowan tried so hard; so, so, incredibly hard to will his mind to say something, anything. And yet, words escaped him. How could he ever put into words how beautiful she was, how much she meant to him? As saliva started making its way into the dry desert that was his mouth, all he could manage was a “Holy shit.”

Aelin’s laugh was like twinkling bells in his ear. “Back at ya, Buzzard. You look…very handsome.”

Was it just his imagination or did she sound…breathless? He couldn’t help but become aware of every place her eyes drifted to, like they were emitting invisible fire and burning him everywhere. His hand subconsciously came up to rub at the back of his hair, trying to smooth out anything that was out of place. “You’re being sarcastic, aren’t you?” He managed a small smirk. Or, he hoped he did.

Aelin’s eyes continued their unhurried perusal, mouth parting slightly and hand coming up to grab his own to stop him from messing up his hair even more. “No,” she breathed, “For once in my life, I’m not. I Promise.” Rowan could see her swallow hard.

Rowan had to take a deep gulp of air, otherwise he was sure he was going to pass out. Somewhere, deep inside of him, some air of confidence kicked in and gracefully allowed him to offer his arm for Aelin to take. Gently, she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, both of them silently making their way to the doors where the ceremony would be held. As they neared the room, Rowan purposefully slowed them down, falling behind Aedion and Lysandra. “Fireheart,” he whispered. “You look…you look stunning. It’s what I wanted to say earlier but I couldn’t find the words.”

Rowan could have sworn a blush overtook her face. But she beamed up at him, giving him a sweet, shy smile.

“Thank you.” He could feel more than see her sharp intake of breath. A breath to recenter and refocus. “Well, shall we, Buzzard?” Rowan nodded and steered them once again to the doors.

An hour later, the ceremony was over and Rowan’s stomach was rumbling. Loudly. Seated next to Aelin, he knew she could hear it and she continued to sneak glances and little smirks at him. The hunger he could deal with. The sly glances from Aelin? Not so much. She had been driving him insane since she floated down those stairs and it was slowly but surely causing him to lose his cool. That would be if he ever had it in the first place.

And as the night went on, the torture only continued. Throughout dinner, her arm would brush his as she turned to talk to Lysandra next to her, her leg would tap against his own when she told a joke, and she would find any excuse to touch him as often as she could. In normal circumstances, he wouldn’t mind. But they were here as friends. And these touches were making him want much, much more than that.

The only time he felt like he could breathe was when Aelin got up to dance with Lysandra to an upbeat pop song, leaving Rowan and Aedion sitting alone at their table to chat. Rowan had a few drinks already but he was nowhere near drunk. A nice buzz was flowing through him but he was still very much so in control of his actions.

At least, that’s what he thought until Aedion cleared his throat. Rowan broke his stare from Aelin’s sensuous dancing. Did she even know what she looked like to him? How much she was torturing him just by being herself? He wasn’t sure if she was aware. But Aedion sure as hell was.

The blonde man gave him a knowing look and raised an eyebrow. Rowan just rolled his eyes and allowed his gaze to maneuver back to Aelin. He caught the moment when she threw her head back and laughed, the sound making his bones feel like they were both on fire and also a pile of mush. It was a feeling that he was unaccustomed to, having only felt anything of the sort with his high school girlfriend. But if that feeling was a good one, this one made him feel like he was flying. Made him feel a need so deep that he wasn’t sure he would ever recover. He needed every inch of her. Not only her body, but her soul, her smiles, her laughter, her tears. He wanted everything.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

Beside him, Aedion chuckled. “You’re only now just realizing it?”

Rowan could do nothing but stare at the table, knowing that if he looked at Aedion, his secretly harbored feelings would be completely out in the open for the other man to see. And if he looked up at Aelin, the same outcome. So yeah, he was fucked.

“I know you’re having a complete crisis over being in love with her but I’m glad you finally figured it out. Took you long enough.”

That made Rowan look toward the man sitting next to him, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, we’ve all known this for ages. I feel like it was obvious to anyone with eyes, to be completely honest. Some of us even have a bet on how long it’ll take for you two to finally admit that you’re in love with each other.”

Rowan made to open his mouth with a denial but Aedion held up a hand. “Nope, dude. Save the bullshit. I know just by looking at you that you’re so far gone for her, it’s unreal. And I know that Aelin has never been as happy as when she’s with you. She never laughed this freely until she met you.” Aedion let out a small huff of breath. “You have my blessing.”

Rowan just repeated his earlier statement. “Fuck.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a breathless Aelin sitting in the seat to Aedion’s right, where she promptly picked up the half-full glass of wine and chugged it.

“So what are you boys gossiping about over here that has poor Whitethorn all red in the face?”

Internally, Rowan was panicking. Aedion opened his mouth to say something that Rowan was sure to be snarky but before he could, Rowan blurted out, “birds!”

The corners of Aelin’s mouth quirked up slightly. “Birds…?” Rowan could tell that she didn’t fully believe him but luckily, Aelin was already half drunk. He hoped she would just let it go.

The first mistake Rowan made was making eye contact with her. She always had an uncanny ability to read him like an open book, despite most people not understanding him. As she narrowed her eyes, the part of their souls that has always been intertwined translated for him, as if to say, I don’t believe you and think you’re full of shit, Buzzard.

So Rowan sent his own thoughts back, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Fireheart.

The second mistake was continuing to hold her gaze. Not because he gave anything away to her but rather because it prompted the man sitting in between them to throw his hands in the air and exclaim, “Oh no. Oh helllll no. This isn’t happening right in front of me.” Aedion quickly shoved his chair away from the table and got up to leave. Before walking away completely, he turned around and pointed right at the two of them. “I’m tired of this bullshit. You guys need to get it together and just fucking make out already. Gods.” And with his piece said, Aedion stalked away, directly to the bar where he knocked back a shot immediately.

Rowan turned back to Aelin, whose eyes were wide and brows furrowed.

“Umm, what just happened?”

The only thing Rowan could do was shrug. He sure as hell wasn’t going to lie to her but he wasn’t sure that he could outright confess his feelings, either. He was saved from deciding by the transition to a slower song, one he knew Aelin liked. As he looked back over at her, her eyes had drifted closed and her shoulders were swaying slightly, moving along to the lilting melody of the song.

Rowan shoved his chair away from the table, extending his hand toward her. Blue eyes met his own and held his gaze with an intensity that could’ve set him on fire. “Dance with me, Fireheart.”

Aelin managed a small smile and took his hand, following him to the dance floor where Lysandra and Aedion and her parents were already coupled up and swaying back and forth. He gently guided her hand to rest at his shoulder, laying his own on her waist, and cradling her other to his chest.

Looking down at her, he felt like he could do this forever. Her bright teal eyes were hazed with alcohol and something else, as if she felt content, safe. Slowly, she tilted her head so it rested on his chest. Of their own accord, Rowan’s lips gently placed a kiss to her hair, inhaling her sweet lemon verbena and lavender scent. Aelin always smelled so good. So…comforting. Like home.

Through the haze of their otherworldly bubble, Aelin murmured something.

“Hmm?” he asked.

Pulling her head back, she answered him, “I said ‘are you going to tell me what that was back there at the table? With Aedion?”

He tensed, Aelin tensing along with him. “It was nothing, Aelin.”

She raised an eyebrow in protest. He knew she was disappointed. She could tell he was lying through his teeth. “It obviously wasn’t nothing. Just tell me. Did my mom say something? She and my aunts have been watching us all night like hawks.”

“Really, Fireheart...I…It’s nothing. Everything’s good.” He gave her a tight smile, hoping she would let it go and they could go back into their bubble. But, of course, this was Aelin. She tensed even further, pulling her hand off of his shoulder and making to pull away from him completely. But before she could walk away from him, he grabbed her hand and as gently as he could, pulled her back toward him. She was caught off guard, Rowan could easily tell that much.

He slowly began to sway them back and forth again. Not caring about the eyes on them, he murmured “I’m not good at this.”

Aelin’s brows furrowed together. “At what?”

Rowan’s shoulders shrugged up and down of their own accord. “This. Talking about…about my feelings.”

Aelin’s head tilted in that way of hers that told him she was thinking. “And what about your feelings are you having a hard time with?”

“I’m not having a hard time with my feelings, I just…I can’t–” Rowan sighed. “For fuck’s sake.” It was at that moment, when Aelin was looking up at him with her eyes that could see everything, her beautiful mind that could work out any problem, that he grabbed her face. “Aelin–I love you. I’m in love with you.” Rowan felt as if his heart was going to beat out of his chest, his breathing so ragged as he waited in anticipation for what she would say back. But the answer didn’t come after a few seconds. And then it didn’t come after a few more. Aelin just stood there, wide-eyed and mouth opening and closing as if she couldn’t find the words, either. And bit-by-bit, Rowan was beginning to give up hope.

Slowly, he loosened his grip on her face, meaning to step back and give her space. But before he could pull away completely, Aelin threw her arms around his neck, dragging his head down forcefully and attaching her lips to his own. If he was being honest, it was probably the least romantic kiss he’d ever experienced but it didn’t matter one bit because it was Aelin.

The kiss was over before it started and Aelin pulled back slightly. Just enough to murmur, “I love you, too, Buzzard.”

He couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face. Properly this time, he held her face between his hands and brought her mouth back to his. This kiss was entirely different from the first. Gone was the urgency and desperation and in its place was genuine love and devotion. Would he ever get enough of this? He could’ve died in her kiss a happy man right at that moment. But he hoped that he would get many more chances to experience Aelin in all her glory.

Cheers and clapping broke them out of their reverie, startling them both back into reality. Rowan assumed it was cheering for Galan and his wife but as Rowan’s gaze roamed over the crowd, they all seemed to be watching…him. Aelin’s mother was at the head of her sisters, all five of the Ashryver sisters looking toward him and Aelin. All with smirks on their face. He could’ve sworn he heard a few swoony sighs as he and Aelin made their way back to their seats, faces aflame.

Once seated, Aelin leaned in close, putting her hand dangerously high on his thigh. “Well, I’d say it’s not such a bad thing that our room only has one bed, wouldn’t you Buzzard?”

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “Did you plan this, Fireheart?”

Aelin shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Who could ever know.” Rowan pinched her side, making her giggle. “I will say, though, that my wheels might have started turning the moment I walked in on you having a nice little smutty dream about me.”

Rowan gaped. “Wh-what?!”

Aelin shot him an answering smirk. “Oh yeah, did you think I didn’t know? You were literally moaning my name in your sleep. How else was I supposed to take that? Unless there’s another Aelin in your life, which, if that’s the case, excuse me, I’ll let you two be alone.” She feigned getting up from the table but he pulled her right back down, bringing her face close to his.

“And so what if I was, Fireheart?” He murmured in her ear. He both saw and felt the shiver that made its way down her body.

“Then, Buzzard, I’d say its a very good thing that our room has a king bed.” While his blood heated at her promise, he couldn’t help but think that this was the start of something amazing. Something that felt like home.

Tagging:

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#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #throne of glass #tog #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin au #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #my fics #my fic #rowaelin secret Santa

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highqueenofelfhame · 2 years ago

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playlist // book cover

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven

#call it what you want #ciwyw #rowaelin #tog #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #ciwyw masterlist #throne of glass fanfic #rowaelin fic #baby fic #rowaelin baby fic #accidental pregnancy au #soccer!rowan #rowaelin au #modern au #throne of glass fanfiction

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aelinschild · 1 year ago

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Season Of Forgiveness

Main Masterlist

Happy Holidays everyone!! I'm a little (Very, sorry!!) late with this post, but this is my gift for the 2023 Rowaelin Secret Santa! Big thank you to @rowaelinscourt for organizing it!! This is dedicated to the lovely @shyvioletcat , I wish you a very merry holiday season, and hopefully you enjoy this absolute monstrosity. I actually do not know what took over me during writing this, but I'm just happy its done.

SYNOPSIS: Holidays are known to be the season of joy, but when that joy is no longer Aelin's, she is forced to find peace in the unknown. WORDCOUNT: 9k GENERAL WARNINGS: Very light one bed trope, mentions of sex, angsty for no reason, swearing, alcohol, arguments, choking and CPR, happy ending dont worry

(A/N: After writing this, I realize it has the same vibe of calling Die Hard a Christmas movie. Granted, I actually didn't finish the movie, but from what I watched, how the fuck is it a Christmas movie?? This is me telling you that this fic is probably like that lol)

Hour One

Fuck.

There was really no other way to put it. Fuck is such a versatile word, situationally. Aelin can recount the times she's moaned out breathy fucks, and the times she's roared them during moronic altercations.

This type of fuck? Certainly not the cathartic type.

This fuck is the sum of all past mistakes in her life, multiplied by her best friend's scheming mind, and then raised to the power of the irrational choice to return to her old university town.

On the queen-sized bed were two plush towels. A robe. Face cloths and minimal toiletries.

Oh, and a fucking red rose.

In Lysandra’s plush apartment – a classic Victorian style, with ivy creeping up the brick fireplace, and stained glass windows at odd intervals – she was the owner of three bedrooms.

And to Aelin's luck, there happened to be two couples staying here this evening. Which meant two of the three bedrooms were now occupied. Mathematically speaking, the two other individuals would each need their own room.

It seems that math slipped Lysandra's mind when she organized her little yearly anniversary Yulemas Eve dinner. How…pleasant.

Chest rising and falling with barely contained frustration, Aelin didn't know whether to yell or cry. Her hand held her overnight bag so tight her knuckles were pressing at the whites. Nails digging into supple skin.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what Lysandra had done. But it took a lot of willpower for Aelin to not storm out of the room and choke her friend for the transgression. And just past the blood rushing in her ears, she could hear the friendly greetings of her other friends as they crossed the threshold of Lys’ little home. Welcomed into the warmth of tradition.

Oh, I'm going to kill you, Lysandra.

Aedion and Lys would – obviously – take their master bedroom. Located around a corner and at the end of that hall. Far from where Aelin was. A feature she was grateful for, given Aedion and Lysandra's… healthy love life. And Lorcan and Elide would slip into the downstairs spare room. The one the couple had claimed during the first year of this tradition.

Leaving Aelin, in this spare room with a queen-sized bed and the bloody rose, to bed with Rowan.

Oh, how she loathed her life at this moment. What foul god had she angered to be punished this way. Maybe that same god would derail Rowan’s cab en route. Shucking it into a frozen lake, or something of the like.

Gently brushing over the towels, Aelin traced the other memories this room held.

The queen-sized bed hardly fit her and Rowan, that she knew from experience. His height alone ruined the tucked edges of their duvet, which always ended up on his side of the bed by morning. The pillows would have to be mushed together in the middle so that they would not fall off. And Rowan, he at night would roll around. Restless, even in the deepest hours. He would usually end up on top of Aelin, face along her breasts and hair tickling her chin.

Her fingers moved from the towel to the rose. Plucking it up, she held it at eye level. Studying the contours of the flower, it was beautiful. But Aelin couldn't get past the fact that Lysandra had set this up. And put a godsdamned rose on the towels.

Aelin might just take the couch.

The front door opened and closed again, voices rose up from the entry through the open bedroom door. Aelin began unpacking mechanically. The drawers where she set her clothes were the same as she had for the last decade. The dent on the wall by the left corner was also the same. Seems like Aedion never got around to patching it. Aelin chuckles under her breath, the talking-to she and Rowan had received after denting the wall from a vigorous…activity, would never fail to not make her laugh.

Once the unpacking was complete, only taking a few moments as Aelin wouldn't be staying longer than the night, she took a moment to sit on her side of the bed and breathe.

This would be disastrous. And she had no way of getting out. Unless she jumped from the window to her left.

A decade ago, Aelin and Rowan had met through their friends. Their family. Aedion had bridged the gap by dating her best friend, Lysandra. Their quickly evolving and fiery romance meant that there would no longer be Aelin-Elide-Lys days. Now, they included the Ashryver cousin. Lorcan and Rowan had been over Aedion’s lovesick puppy act and had forcibly inserted themselves into the group. As her cousin rarely left Lysandra's side anymore.

This meant that Aelin and Elide were left to deal with two grumpy college guys. It was like babysitting rocks, who could probably show more emotion than the lot of them. But somehow, somewhere along the line, Elide fell for Lorcan. And when Aelin was forced to watch another friend fall in love, she turned to the only bastard left.

But Aelin and Rowan had always been…different. Difficult entirely. It started as sex. Each of them too busy with their respective degrees to foster any more of a connection.

It worked, and it worked well.

For two years, Aelin was exclusive with Rowan Whitethorn without anyone knowing the depth of their friendship. To her girlfriends, he was the hot guy whom Aelin should really give a chance. To his boys, she was the girl who could obviously help blow off a little steam.

Time stretched out, and steadiness had replaced the need for romantic connection. Post graduation, Rowan and her barely crossed paths anymore, unless the entire group got together. But there still existed an attachment built during years of intimacy – which Aelin never voiced, not wanting to ruin the entire affair by breaking the principle rule of their arrangement. And due to that principle, Rowan had also never expressed any interest above surface-level desire.

She had been left in the dark of his feelings for her, just as she had left him in the dark of hers. They were two polar magnets, separated only by the fear of shattering the fragile closeness built from tentative familiarity. Neither were any good at subtly hinting at something.

When the parallel lines of their lives crossed, ever-diligent Rowan proposed something rather different. Unpredictable.

He offered a relationship.

Looking back, it was hilariously clinical. It wouldn't surprise her if he had stored papers in her bag with a list of what their relationship could entail. Numbered – or alphabetically ordered. Probably about who did what and when hand-holding was allowed. Such a stickler for the rules.

But Rowan had shocked Aelin that night. When she had said yes, fuck it let's give it a chance, and they had gone back to his apartment, there was a bouquet of fragrant red roses placed on the counter. A box of her favourite chocolates beside it. Things she had mentioned in passing, probably after a hook-up. Maybe during a romantic comedy that they would often watch together. Where she’d point out the little things men can do that show a deeper appreciation.

They had cracked open a bottle of wine, and talked for hours under the stars and above the rushing traffic. And it was like peeling back a layer, revealing this steadfast and romantic man. The one who had refiled her glass more than once. Used his hand to cover sharp edges when she leaned around after a few too many drinks. Who had carried her to bed, gently unclasping her stiletto heels and massaging the tired soles of her feet. Who had carefully removed the maxi dress she wore, hanging it up to prevent creases. Then, with permission, undressed her further.

That night hadn't been like before. Aelin wasn't sure she had ever felt that way. Not a blinding, stretching heat or an all-consuming pressure. No, rather a connection. When Rowan had caressed her like a piece of art, she felt revered. Holy. Her skin had tingled with the unfamiliar feeling of adoration.

Breathless whispers and tight holds had conveyed words that were far too new to speak aloud.

That night had been the beginning of a long-standing understanding. The two of them weren't open about their connection. Rather, it was a pleasant slice of life, cut out to fit the shape of two lovers who aimed to navigate the crossroads of their future. And for years they existed peacefully in the space they had made for each other.

Until they couldn't anymore.

The door creaked open, its hinges never oiled. Lysandra was allergic to a chemical in WD-40.

A whoosh of breath came from the entrance, and Aelin’s spine felt the all too familiar tingle of the presence of the man she had loved.

“Aelin,” came the voice, like gravel smoothed by arctic winds. There always existed some sort of unrest under Rowan’s skin. It could be heard in his voice, worn from use. Had she still been his, she would have made him a cup of tea. Extra honey. As he liked.

Humming out a noise of acknowledgement, Aelin turned slightly. Cheeks starting to heat. “Hello, Rowan.” She said, breathlessly.

She watched his throat work. He had gotten leaner since she last saw him. His eyes less bright. Cheeks sunken. His unachievable tan had faded.

He was still the beautiful boy–man, she had always known. Pleasure and pain united, each moment in his presence stole some of her oxygen. She loved him. Loved.

A shrill squeak this time, and a crafty brunette head popped into the doorway. “Ah! Okay! Guess, how many candies are in this jar!” Lysandra asked the both of them. Their moment shattering and instead opening up to accept another's presence. Lysandra was holding a large mason jar filled with red and white peppermint swirl candies.

“Uh,” Rowan scratched the back of his neck. “Two hundred?” Lysandra just snorted and then turned to Aelin.

Aelin studied the jar, fighting to not break out into goosebumps with the feeling of Rowan’s eyes on her. “One hundred…and… forty-three–no! Twenty!”

“Final answer?” Lysandra taunted.

“Yes.”

“Wrong.” She cackled. Turning away and hightailing it down the hall, laughing like she was possessed. “Come downstairs, you losers!”

Hour Two

Aelin had left with no word to Rowan. She couldn't bear it. The wound still so fresh. Instead, she had sauntered by and shut the door gently on her way out. Missing the pleading look in his eyes as she walked away.

“Ae!” Elide shouted at her approach. Aelin couldn't help but smile. As awful as the next eleven hours may be, Aelin was grateful she had her best friends by her side. Lysandra's still on thin ice.

“El! Look at you!” Aelin grabbed a hold of her friend's hand, letting her do a little twirl. The sequined skirt she had on fanned out around her. Reflecting the lights in the room across the walls. “You like our own little mirrorball.”

Elide just let out a soft laugh. Grinning. “Gotta get the party started somehow.” She said. Stepping back she put her arms on Aelin's elbow, holding tight. She made a show of looking around the room, and upon it being clear, Elide looked her right in the eyes. “I'm sorry.”

“For what,” Aelin asked, perplexed.

She gave her a pointed look. “I tried to explain to Lys that she wasn't being fair. It's not fair. I offered to get a hotel room for me and Lorcan, but you know how Aedion is about traditions.” She rolled her eyes. “I realize that this isn't… you know. This was not on the healing plan–”

“Maybe, El, just being with my best friends could be healing. Maybe we switch the healing plan around for a little.” She said softly, speaking from a place of honesty.

Elide’s eyes were misty, and Aelin had to look away. This was a hurt that was deeper than her.

She took a breath, “Okay. But–no I'm serious. Don't look away. If you need anything, anything at all, I'm here. And we can have a little girl meeting with Lys after we put the boys to bed.” She gave a choked laugh.

Aelin nodded. An understanding passing through them both. Everyone knew that tension would be high this evening. Aelin herself knew it would be brutal. Facing her ex at Lys’ annual Yulemas Eve Dinner, a tradition shrouded in love and comfort. But she was eternally grateful for Elide – and Lysandra, but maybe not currently. How she found such caring women would never fail to surprise her.

Elide nodded back, smile and eyes watery. They both let out laughs. This solidarity was something Aelin needed more than she knew.

“Okay, no more tears.” Aelin sniffed, disconnecting their hand-elbow position to wipe at her waterline. Elide laughed and did the same; laughing at the growing pains. Embracing and squeezing love into each other.

Hour Three

They had all moved to the living room. It was three o'clock, and the festivities would run until midnight.

This tradition of theirs started years ago, when Lysandra had been given this apartment by her uncle, conveniently on Yulemas Eve. As a group of broke college students, they had gotten together at noon at Lys’ new abode, flocking towards the offer of free food and drinks. But, they had spent the next twelve hours renovating, each of them finding different tasks every hour to keep the boredom away. At midnight, the promised food had been delivered and all of them had pigged out and slept on the worn carpet of the living room, full of holiday spirit.

That tradition continued on, and it proved to be extremely helpful in the days when family ties were harder to save than simply forget. When the lonesomeness of the holidays overtook the youths, twelve hours at Lysandra and Aedion's home would never fail to rekindle that merriment.

And so, for the past decade, everyone would arrive at noon, and each hour would be filled with something new; usually holiday-themed, but it was truly left to Aelin’s best friend’s imagination.

So at hour three, the group found themselves in the living room, sipping on sparkling wine and snacking on appetizers. This would – apparently – be the hour of catching up.

“... And so I told him, if he wanted a maid he could hire one. I mean, the man is rolling in money. What fucking scumbag hires someone, and then lets them play servant for the rest of the office, and then drops all his work on them? I mean, truly.” Elide was saying. Aelin was nodding along, enjoying the fresh gossip about her best friend's workplace. “But then he got all on his high horse, all you can't talk to me like that and I'm your superior, you know. Stupid bullshit.”

“So what did you do?” Lysandra asked, thoroughly enthralled by the story. Lorcan let out a hearty chuckle, his arm slung across Elide lovingly.

“I fucking stole the glass plate from his microwave. Then took all the ink cartridges from his pens. And all the extra toilet paper in his washroom? Not there anymore!” Aelin snorted out her bubbly wine. Lysandra was racked with giggles, and Lorcan was trying not to laugh out loud. Aedion’s cackle joined the fray. And like she always would, Aelin picked up on Rowan's breathy laugh, it ignited flames through her veins.

“Oh my gods, El. You absolute heathen,” Aedion got out through fits of laughter. Lysandra attempted deep breaths while wiping stray tears from the corners of her eyes. Aelin stared into her drink, suppressing giggles.

“Well, it's not like he didn't deserve it,” Elide added, smiling smugly. Lorcan just kissed her temple.

“Certainly not. Where’d you get those ideas though?” Leaning for a piece of cheese, Aelin asked. Grabbing a few pieces and rolling them around in her palm. Lysandra’s giggles were waving in and out, each time Aedion whispered something in her ear, they’d begin again.

“My gigantic brain.” Elide snorted, pleased at her joke.

“Nice, El.” Came from Rowan.

“See, I thought you'd crucify me for that. Mister straight and narrow.” Oh.

Rowan didn't falter, “No, actually, if anything that gives me ideas.” He said. “Sometimes the corporate world can be a little too uptight.” He glanced at Aelin.

Aedion laughed again. “Rich! That’s rich coming from you.” He taunted.

Rowan leaned into the jest. “Maybe I want to break free.”

“Uptight life not suiting you anymore, Boyo?” Came from Lorcan.

“Maybe.” Rowan shrugged. “Maybe life is worth a little more than corporate deviances.” He pulled at the seams of his shirt. Fingers twirling the stem of his sparkling wine.

Aelin didn't think anyone else had noticed the stall in the conversation. The way the bright energy slowed and sputtered. Pausing momentarily and applying enough pressure to Aelin’s soul that she felt winded. But everyone moved on, Rowan included. Laughing and sharing stories as they might.

The conversation didn't end, and Aelin’s buried sorrow didn't dissipate. But she would keep breathing. Keep moving forward, exchanging banter all in the hopes of drawing out the sound of her heart breaking slowly.

“By the way, Lys, how many candies were in the jar?”

“None. It was the paper decoration that it came with from the store.”

Hour Four

It was cocktail hour.

This was Aelin’s favourite tradition. One she actually prepared for. And it consisted of each of them having to make a holiday-themed cocktail, completely customized. There could be no research during the competition – before was a grey area Aelin loved to exploit – and they each had ten minutes.

The order would follow; Lorcan, Lysandra, Elide, Aedion, Rowan, Aelin. And so, a silver tray had been placed in the middle of the table, and six yellowy drinks in champagne flutes sat. The colour was truly horrifying.

“So, explain.” Lysadra motioned to start.

“Right,” Lorcan grabbed a flute, examining it carefully. Like he didn't even know what was in it himself. “So, this…drink–”

“Sound a little more enthusiastic babe, or I'll be really worried about what you made.” Elide interrupted.

“I'm already worried,” Rowan whispered to Aedion, face set in a perplexed grimace.

“Hush, you goons.” He waved at the other guys. They broke apart laughing. “In here there is…Gin, uh, some Limoncello and creme de Banane. And I call it the…uh, I don't know. Yellow shot?”

“...of death,” Aelin whispered to Lysandra. Who nodded solemnly. Elide looked disgusted at her fiance’s creation, but schooled it into a look of pride when he turned to her. The moment he looked away, she made a fake gagging motion to Aelin and Lysandra.

“Sounds wonderful, my dear Lorcan. Now, my great sir, would you please bring me my beverage.” Aedion declared, hands aiming to move in a dignified manner. He looked like he was trying to swat away flies.

“No.”

“It was worth a shot,” He sighed, reaching for a drink.

Aelin grabbed a flute, “Limoncello and Gin, what the hell were you aiming for here Lorcan?” She delicately sniffed at the drink. Oh god.

Plopping himself nearly onto Elide, who let out a squeak, he just shrugged. Grabbing his flute, he threw it back in one fluid motion. Everyone paused, waiting for the reaction. He swallowed, looked around, and then quickly turned away to gag and cough.

Laughter erupted.

Once everyone had a glass, clinking them together in cheers, and shot it down like Lorcan. He watched from on the couch, eyes a little watery. There was a pause as everyone swished the drink around in their mouth, tasting the flavour.

It was fucking godsawful. Aelin had never tasted anything so evil. The hint of banana flavour nearly had her spitting the drink back into the glass, and the way the Gin nearly curdled it was almost worse. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she tried to swallow. Forcing the atrocity that was Lorcan’s drink down. Catching Elide’s eye, as the woman got up and ran for the washroom. Lysandra was the only one who seemed unbothered.

“Fuck!” Aedion shouted when he could speak again. “Holy gods man, I have never put anything worse into my mouth. Ever.”

“And that's saying somethin',” Rowan choked out. Also beyond bothered by Lorcan’s monstrosity.

“You evil, evil man,” Aelin added. A shudder racking her body.

The cocktail hour carried on. Lysandra had made a mojito with cinnamon rather than mint, and it was not nearly as bad as Lorcan’s. Elide had done a ‘Sunrise Suprise’, which was simply tequila and orange juice. The ability to make a good cocktail skipped both Elide and Lorcan. Aedion had wanted to send everyone to their death, combining four different whiskeys and a melted spoonful of ice cream. It hadn't been as bad as expected, but there were much better choices out there. Rowan had mixed pickle juice and vodka, to create a dill martini. Interestingly enough, that had been the most palatable drink of the night.

When Aelin’s turn came around, she began to pull out the individual ingredients. Lining them up in the order in which she would mix. Her focus on the drinks made her unaware that another body was present in the kitchen. Until they spoke up.

“You look well,” Rowan said from the opposite end of the room, his body leaning up against the cabinets. Jumping at the sudden sound of his voice, her head snapped up. There he was, cataloguing her every move, a familiar feeling; his eyes on her.

Startled, she stared at him. And kept staring at him, not realizing she had been ogling him for a few moments. She took in the lines of his body, the way his dress pants hugged his legs. The black leather belt, cinching in his waist. The sweater – cashmere, most likely – was elegantly draped over his upper body. The hard planes of his stomach were slightly in sight as the soft material moulded to his form. Everything about Rowan meant something. And looking at him only brought back bitter-sweet memories. Her gaze snapped away when he gave a light noise of acknowledgement.

Blushing and caught, Aelin turned back to the drinks, cracking open the bottle of vodka she had slipped mint candies in a few weeks ago. She planned to let the flavours permeate the liquor and add a nice flair to her drinks. She felt Rowan’s inquisitive eyes on her every move.

“Thank you, Rowan.” Acknowledging him, she hoped he would just walk away. She wasn't strong enough to just stand here and allow him to be there. To feel the gaping divide between their beings.

Silence.

“I– Look, I need to talk to you Aelin,” He approached from the other side of the room, slipping around the counter where she was. “I know it’s not the best–”

“Rowan.” A firm command, all blushed drained. She could be strong. She could. She was back to looking at him again. Green eyes, full lips, strong jaw. The silver strands that ghosted his brow. Gods she hated how looking at him hurt her so deeply. His smile, and laughter, earlier had been the knife to the gut. His presence here now? A twisting.

“No, Aelin. I'm serious.”

“I am too.”

“Wait.” He breathed. Gentler this time. His hand stretched out, muscle memory. She knew it would land at the curve of her waist, how the weight of it would ground her. The warmth would slip under the fabric of her dress, warming her bones.

He retracted it before it got close enough, burning the neuron pathway that made the movement instinctual.

She steadied herself, leaning towards him slightly, but not enough to communicate any more interest in where this was going. “Not now, Rowan. Not now. You had your chance, let me be.”

“What chance? The fucking run-in at a cafe? That was not a ‘chance’ Aelin.” He snapped. Letting his frustration run into his tone. She hated him when he was like this. Not frustrated, no she understood that. But…seeking. She knew what he wanted, and she knew it would break her down quicker than she could turn away. Her sanity rested on the finalization of this conversation.

Smiling politely, in a way she knew brought more frustration, she turned away and began preparing the drink.

“Not now,” She whispered. More to herself, a silent prayer of resistance. She heard more than saw Rowan turn to walk away, over the entire conversation entirely. He missed the tear that raced down her cheek, or the hitch in her breath when the door swung close.

“Peppermint Cocktails!” Aelin announced, waltzing into the room with her usual charm, all emotions wiped. She avoided Rowan’s look like the plague. Offering a drink to each friend, she was pleased to hear that her concoction was the best of the night – an unsurprising win – and the group sat around talking still. The light buzz from all the alcohol had Aelin feeling looser. The unease from moments ago slipped away like sand between her fingers.

“I saw Rowan walk into the kitchen,” Elide whispered into her ear. Everyone else had been looking at a picture on Lorcan's phone.

“Mhm.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Hour Five

Rowan likes the cold.

He liked it in a way many others didn't. He liked the way it nipped at his body slowly in the beginning, a feeling that was urgently chased away by shivers. He liked it when it froze deeper. When it slowly crawled into the heat of his body, dousing it and cutting off feeling. He liked the stiffness. The slowed movement as the cold reached his core, seizing feeling. It isolated him in a way many things did not.

Sitting on the front porch of Lysandra’s apartment, he embraced the cold.

Everyone had just finished up with a game of cards, and Aedion had rushed out, forgetting some ingredients for dinner. He had excused himself, just need a moment, and walked all of three steps before stopping. Allowing his body to freeze, his cashmere sweater not saving much heat.

As he lost feeling of some body parts, he embraced the thoughts rushing through his mind, all seemingly racing in circles around the fiery blonde. The one whose embers never burnt out, but now seemed to be slowly dying. The consistent crackle and warmth of her presence, all leaking away in a manner he knew he was responsible for.

The cold he had embraced wholeheartedly was killing his fireheart.

His thoughts spun like the twirling snowflakes as they fell to the ground. Circling gently, melting away. But all things seemed to lead him back to his bedroom. To the moment this morning, before he had slipped away into the cab to make it here tonight. His thoughts brought him to the second drawer in his nightstand, underneath a notepad and tissues. In an embroidered box, sat a diamond ring, inlaid into a gold band that had sweeping leaf designs along its curves. Two emeralds set into the inside, to rub against one's finger.

All thoughts seemed to lead him back to Aelin

Hour Six, Hour Seven, Hour Eight

“Can you pass me the salt?” Lysandra called from Aelin's right. She was before the stove, stirring the gravy and watching the vegetables as they cooked in the pan.

Handing her the salt, Aelin brushed by her to grab some butter from the fridge. Needing it for the bread that would be coming out of the oven soon, steaming hot.

They worked in a comfortable silence, only waiting for Aedion to return with some forgotten ingredients. Lorcan, Elide, and Rowan were all in the living room, having not been drawn for cooking duty this year. A method that was quickly taken up once the group realized six people in the kitchen was less of a pleasant experience. Top many bossy chefs.

Post-cocktail hour, tipsy cards had commenced. And the many, many, shots of straight liquor had reached Aelin by that time. She was feeling much better, her heart no longer aching and screaming at her mind to just look at the man across from her. Rather, she had enthusiastically played cards. Letting the feeling of her family around her and the laughter that kept escaping cocoon her. Unfortunately, that joy had meant that Lorcan had swept everyone off their asses, wiping the board clean and winning the one hundred and twenty dollars put into the pot. That had sobered her up pretty quickly, arguing that he had cheated. He had just smirked.

Then when Aedion rushed out, Aelin caught sight of Rowan walking out the front door too. She had been standing at the other end of the hallway, out of his view. She had watched his expression fall as soon as he crossed the threshold. It was like night and day, the crinkle around his eyes and the brightness of his smile, wiped away. He just stepped out, closing the door softly behind him.

She had waited a moment, arguing mentally if she should go after him, until Lysandra had called, telling Aelin she needed her help.

She wasn't ready to face him alone.

“Aelin,” A soft hand was at Aelin's wrist, pausing her chopping of vegetables. She glanced up, shocked out of her reverie. Lysandra was staring at her, looking deeply into her, her brows pulled together in confusion. She must've been calling me for a minute. When it seemed Lysandra had the other woman’s attention, she added softly, “I couldn't not invite one of you.”

Dropping the knife, “Lys.” Aelin pleaded, not wanting to have this conversation. It felt like the entire night had been her running in circles around her and Rowan. Her and Rowan. Rowan and I. “Seriously, I can't do more of this.”

Lysandra paid no mind to Aelin’s plea, pushing forward. “Listen. I love you deeply, very very deeply. Sometimes I wonder why,” at that, Aelin cracked a mirthful smile. “But I see the way you two look at each other. And while I know it's not my business, I think this is something you two seriously need to talk out.” She said solemnly.

This was the point she'd been dancing around for such a long time.

Pushing the cutting board away from her, Aelin slumped into her arms, leaning against the counter.

“Did I make a mistake? Breaking up with him?” Like a breath after being underwater, Aelin let it out, asking the question that had rattled in the back of her mind for months. Breathing in a little deeper when some new space opened up because of it.

“I have my own opinions, but whether or not you made a mistake is up to you.” Lysandra was soothingly rubbing her back.

“Some days it feels like the biggest fucking mistake I've ever made, Lys. Some days it hurts so much I can't even get out of bed.”

She hummed, letting Aelin speak.

“I just– it felt right at the time. But it doesn't feel right now. How is that fair? How could I have made a decision like that? What would have happened if I stayed?”

“You wouldn't have done well, Ae. We all saw what was happening.”

“But you can't know that.” She whispered out.

“I can, and I did. Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is let go. And that's what you did, my love. Maybe something could have gotten better, but maybe not.” Lysandra took a deep breath. “I'm proud of you regardless, that's not an easy choice to make.”

“And it clearly wasn't the fucking right one.”

Lysandra's hand stopped, she grabbed onto Aelin's shoulder, squeezing firmly.

“You can say that all you want, Aelin, but ultimately it was the right choice for you at the time. You blossomed. But now? Maybe it's different. And maybe every time I see you two lovesick fools in the same room, I am simultaneously sick and overjoyed. I see his face when he looks at you Ae, like you hung the stars.”

“What's this? Therapy hour?” A loud voice broke apart their moment, jerking both women out of their moment. It was Aedion with the groceries. He was smiling widely, but it fell when he took in the expression of the other women. “Oh. Shit, sorry.”

Aelin just groaned. “And look at me now, ruining the festivities.” Watching Aedion's smile drop was just a reminder of the emotional burden she forgot to check at the door. Bringing that cloud of gloom inside. It was not fair to everyone else, they didn't deserve to bear witness to the sorrow leaking from her.

“You're not ruining anything, Aelin. Aedion, stop being an idiot.” Lysandra amended.

Aedion, clearly understanding the situation now, came over to drop the groceries on the counter and pull his cousin into a tight hug. “Lys is right. You have nothing to be sorry for. We all love you lots and want to see you happy, and if drinking shitty cocktails and spilling your gossip helps you feel better, I'll gladly do it alongside you.” He kissed her temple.

Aelin wanted to break down. This was not how she expected to spend this evening. Granted, she has predicted being in the same vicinity as Rowan would test her. Bring those choked feelings up to the surface. It would hurt just as it had when they split, as there was truly no way to prepare for seeing him again after months of no contact. Months of isolation and heartache. Months without the half that made her whole.

“Lys, baby, is the gravy supposed to bubble like that?”

“Shit!” Exclaiming, Lysandra rushed away from Aelin's side to check on her portion of dinner. Leaving Aelin, still bent over the counter, staring at the herbs she’d have to chop to sprinkle over the potatoes.

She felt a gentle shoulder push against her side, and then her cousin was beside her, close enough she could feel the warmth radiating off his huge form. “Your parents would be so proud of you, Ae. No matter what. And I think you should do what you feel is best. Even if that's walking away. I love you, we love you.” Mumbling into her ears, lower than anyone else could hear. Aelin nodded, brushing the moisture away from her face.

“I love you too, Aedion.”

“Cheers to this year!”

Glasses chimed as they clinked together, bubbly wine spilling over, onto the feast laid up on the table. Decadent smells wafted up, making Aelin's stomach rumble. She was ready to dig into the spread, and let the food smother the churning anxiety in her stomach.

She was seated next to Elide, and Aedion on her other side. Everyone else was spread around the round table – Lysandra hated the idea of a square table. Not wanting any fighting over the head of it.

Aelin had spoken to Lysandra and Aedion for a few minutes more, opening up a little about how she had been feeling. It took some pushing, given her displeasure at possibly ruining everyone's evening with her issues, but the couple had assured her that it wasn't possible. Highly doubtful of that. But it had been…cathartic, to really speak about how she had felt. How she was dealing with her wounded heart. It meant more than Aelin would realize at the moment, for the two of them to give her a little perspective.

Then, once the timer for the roast had gone off, and the main part of dinner had been pulled out of the oven, it was dressed up in the herbs Aelin had finally finished chopping – after getting a few more hugs in from both Lys and Aedion. Lys and her had started dishing up the plates and Aedion set off to cut some of the roast. Lorcan and Rowan had joined to set the table. And Elide had popped some bottles of prosecco, pouring glasses for everyone.

Seated now, in front of a plate of aromatic food, a balm for the soul, she felt the urge to voice her appreciation. “So,” she started, drawing attention from everyone, especially Rowan. “I- I wanted to say thank you. To all of you. I think… that because of the lives we live today, I really don't have the opportunity to look at all of you and say that. To be able to sit around with each of you means more than anything, and I can't imagine being anywhere else right now. It wouldn't feel right.”

“Cheers to that,” Lorcan added, a slight smile aimed in Aelin’s direction. If that wasn't the definition of a Yulemas miracle, she didn't know what else could be.

Glancing around the table, the circle of the most important people in her life, her eyes stalled upon Rowan. She meant what she said, meant every piece of it. She loved all of them. Grumpy Lorcan, meddling Lysandra. But gods, she loved Rowan, and she lied to herself every day when he was no longer a warm presence next to her. His side of the bed uncharacteristically cold. The feeling of it cooling her.

She hadn't noticed the change in the environment, her focus being locked on Rowan. Their eyes connected, as if reading each other's minds. A choked wheezing noise almost drew her away, but she couldn't. Not when she was swimming in him, not when–

SLAM

“Elide!” A shrill scream. Ripping Aelin away, she was met with a panicked Lysandra, and a horrified Lorcan.

Elide was facedown on the table, and amid chaos, Aelin noticed her chest was not rising and falling as it should. Shouts ensued, voices yelling about get her up and call an ambulance. What had happened in the seconds Aelin wasn't present. How could this have happened that quickly? What was happening!

“She can't breathe!”

“Start CPR. Now!”

“Has someone called an ambulance?”

What is going on!

Lorcan had gently laid Elide on the floor. He had his finger down her throat. His face was panicked, but he was hiding it well, focusing on Elide. Chairs were shoved back, and Lysandra was rushing away, Aedion was on the phone, Rowan was getting on his knees by Elide. They were saying something to each other. Rowan pushed Lorcan away. Lorcan fought back before he realized what was happening. Rowan placed his hands by Elide’s middle, his fingers laced together. She looked so frail there, on the floor.

Rowan started pushing down, one two three four. One two three four. Onetwothreefouronetwothreefour– What is happening!

Aelin was frozen. Frozen in fear, in disbelief, in shock. How. That's all that was going through her mind. How. It had been going so well, how could one moment lead to this? To Elide, down on the floor, not breathing as her fiance shouted panic commands at Rowan. Equally freaked out. To Aedion, shouting instructions from paramedics. Two minutes away! To Lysandra, distraught, not knowing what to do. To Aelin, standing as her best friend couldn't breathe.

Lorcan leaned down, his ear by Elide's mouth. His hand on her neck, searching. Rowan paused, breathing heavily.

Aelin thought she knew what it was to feel her heartbreak, to feel it shatter. But she had never felt it as it fell. Dropped straight out of her chest when Lorcan looked up, eyes wide as saucers, pupils fully dilated. As he looked at Rowan and a lone tear slipped from his eye, dropping down, down, down. Down to where Elide was not breathing.

Hour …

Seated in the emergency ward of the local hospital, Aelin listened to a dull Lorcan list off what had happened. She had choked. She had something lodged in her throat for so long that she passed out. It got lodged deeper. She has two broken ribs. It's not your fault Rowan. You saved her life. She had an endoscopic surgery. To remove the food. She’ll need to stay for the night. Observation.

Struck by disbelief, Aelin couldn't do anything more than trace the lines on the floor. Her hands shook, a later symptom of the shock that had paralyzed Aelin in the moment of action. As Elide was carried out to the ambulance –still not breathing – she had only stood there. Rooted to place. Snapping out of it only when Rowan said he was going to follow them to the hospital. Aelin hadn't even said anything, snapping out of her state and running to the door to grab her boots and jump into whatever car Rowan would be taking.

Only she and Rowan were at the hospital, alongside Lorcan. Aedion had made the executive decision for Lys and him to stay back. Lys had been hysterical, shouting, but shaking just as Aelin was now. She hadn't thought of them once, only what might happen to Elide. To her lovely Elide.

“But she’ll be okay?” Rowan whispered. Agony weaved into his question. He felt guilty, this Aelin knew. Even if he had saved a life, he felt guilty he had hurt someone. She could scream.

Aelin didn't hear an answer, assuming that Lorcan had nodded when Rowan let out a great sigh. Cut short by the sob that burst out. Lorcan was there in an instant, wrapping his brother up in a tight hug. She palmed her thighs, squeezing so tightly.

Eventually, Lorcan released Rowan. The both of them were slightly breathless. Eyes red and sad. Lorcan said he was going to check on Elide, and Rowan sat down next to her. For a few quiet moments, no words were exchanged. A too-real grief hung heavy in the air. They almost lost someone, and now here they were, waiting for Elide to be here again. Because she almost wasn't. She was so close to not being here anymore.

Standing up abruptly, “I- I have to go.” Aelin walked off, not waiting for an answer from Rowan. She was walking quickly through the halls, adrenaline coursing through her so quickly she could barely breathe. And then her breath was coming too quickly. And then she was running, running for the exit. And in her haste, she didn't hear the other feet running after her.

All she could hear was her breath. Elide’s lack of.

She slammed through the front doors, flat-out sprinting now. She had no idea where to go, and it was snowing hard. The wind whipped at her dress-clad form – she hadn't grabbed her jacket. But she kept running. Tripping up on ice, pelted by the rising blizzard. She had no idea where she was, but the blood rushing in her ears, and her hyperventilating had her in a dizzying state.

“AELIN!” A voice roared. She couldn't tell where the sound was coming from, completely surrounded by falling snow, as it blocked out the light. Spinning wildly, she could feel the tears as they rushed down her face, freezing on her cheeks.

She was panting, barely in control, when Rowan came from her side, nearly slamming into her and knocking them both over. He was breathing heavily too. His hair was out of place and his eyes were wild.

“What were you thinking!” He yelled, grabbing onto her. “You can't fucking run like that! Aelin! What the fuck!” His tone kept increasing. His chest rose and fell rapidly. Unlike Elide. No movement, no breaths. No breaths, no breath, not breathi-

“Aelin! AELIN! Look at me!”

Her eyes were wild, nails pressing into Rowan’s biceps as she held onto him for dear life. Where was she, where was she, wherewasshe…

A chilled hand grabbed her chin, pulling her – not roughly – to look into Rowan’s frantic gaze. Her breathing wasn't slowing, and Rowan’s gaze was unbreakable. He was whispering something, his lips moving. Aelin watched as they moved, shifting up, down. The corners of his mouth pinching. Another hand came up, and her face was now being cradled between Rowan’s large hands. And she saw his lips still moving, and then the crease in his brow, the worry dancing in his eyes. And then she was pressed against his warm chest.

Her head was against his heart. The thump-thump a grounding. She felt her breathing start to ease, felt arms tighten around her. Felt as she leaned further into Rowan. The tears falling faster now, but her breaths slowing enough that her brain could finally catch up. To where she was. Where she was, here in Rowan’s arms. In Rowan’s ar–

“No!’ She shouted shoving away from him, breaking the cage that was his grasp. “No! No, no, no!”

Rowan just let his arms drop, hanging by his sides. His expression was one of worry, and confusion. Frustration and dismay. “What?” He said. His voice carried through the snowstorm.

“Dont– Dont do that!” Aelin sobbed out, hands going to her hair. Pulling at the roots and turning around aimlessly.

“Do what.” His hands clenched. His worry wiped away, a vexed expression appearing instead.

“Do that! Care for me! Stop!” She kept shouting, the snow thoroughly soaking her now. The chill seeping into her bones.

“Care for you? What?” He shouted back. “What the fuck do you mean Aelin!”

“I mean, don't come r-rushing after me! Don't fucking p-pretend you care!”

“Pretend I care?!” He took a step forward, she took one back. An undecipherable look crossed his face, before it was set back into a frown. His shoulders lined with tension, and fists opening and closing around nothing. “Aelin, what do you mean?”

“You don't care. S-so don't c-come running after m-me like you do!” The chills were shaking her body now, and she wrapped her arms around herself as tightly as possible, trying to keep in body heat. The storm was getting worse. Rowan’s image was getting blurrier, maybe it was her tears, still flowing freely. Along with her nose.

“What… Aelin– I,” His hand went to his hair, raking through the soaked strands before pulling. “I chased after you because you fucking ran away hyperventilating! Out of a hospital! Into a fucking blizzard! What do you think I’d do? Sit there like an idiot and let you freeze to death or get hit by a car?!”

“It doesn-”

“Yes it does! Yes, it fucking does!”

“Why!” She screamed, shaking and watching as Rowan stepped forward. This time she didn't step back.

“Aelin.” He said, this time it was more of a command, a telling. “Are you asking me why I’d come for you?”

She considered it for a second, then nodded.

A moment passed before Rowan's face morphed into one of genuine pain.

“Because I would always fucking follow you! And I would always make sure you are okay, no matter what.” He snapped. “And I'm sorry I can't turn my feelings off as easily as you, but watching you walk away, no matter what, it fucking kills me!”

There was a pause as the words sunk in, as Rowan’s chest rose and fell with laboured breaths, as his eyes traced her face for any hint – of anything.

“You what?” Aelin squeaked out. Not knowing if the question was swallowed up by the storm until Rowan took a tentative step forward. Then another, then they were just a few breaths apart.

“I would always follow you, Aelin,” He whispered, face drawn in sorrow. Her cheeks hurt from the frozen tears, but they warmed at his confession. “Because… because I still love you. Still so, so much. Ae, it hurts.”

“What,” She said, more to herself. But Rowan's face crumpled, and she felt the fall directly in her heart.

“Aelin,” He whispered, reaching for her hand that was tucked under her exposed bicep. Slowly freezing. She let him grab the hand, warming it between his palms, and then pulling her forward to place it on his heart. “I have missed you every day, and I- I couldn't do anything about it, ‘cause I fucked it up in the first place. I made you have to leave. And so I watched you walk away. I let you,” He took a deep breath. “I never wanted that to happen. Ever. But I did, and… gods Aelin, I’ve never regretted something more in my life.”

She just looked up at him. Not really believing the words she was hearing, because how could this be possible?

“Rowan…” Her lips were turning blue, and she could barely feel her legs. She was going to freeze out here, in the midst of a blizzard, as she heard her ex-boyfriend tell her how he messed up, how he missed her.

A tear fell on his face, and she watched it trail down. “I love you, Fireheart. I still love you. I am in love with you.” He shook his head, his hair had froze. “I'm sorry.”

“Rowan, I t-thought you wanted m-me gone. I thought it w-wasnt working.” Her teeth were clacking together so hard, she could barely get the words out. That and the weird feeling erupting from inside her.

“I never wanted you gone, Ae. I was just so… I didn't realize what I had– what we had.”

“And now y-you do?” She mumbled, her feelings dancing on the edge of a knife.

His pine-green eyes scanned her face so quickly, moving over every feature. As if he was re-memorizing them all. She watched his throat work.

“Ae… I don’t know how to– I,” He closed his eyes.

Aelin took in her hand on his chest, the tear tracks along his beautiful face. The soaked sweater. Her frozen body, and she took a chance, stepping forward, pressing up.

Rowan must have sensed a change, because his eyes snapped open, searching, before finding Aelin closer than she had been in months.

“Rowan…” She breathed, “I love you so godsdamned much.” She slung her arms around his neck, and pressed a cold kiss onto his stunned lips. He didn't react for a second, and she almost darted away, before she was pulled back.

Her lips crashed back into Rowan, into a fiery and all-consuming kiss that warmed her from head to toe. Rowan's hands moved all over, making purchase along her frozen body. Never settling, like he didn't realize she was real.

There, in the middle of a raging blizzard, Aelin got back what she had been searching for. Her other half. The man who was only everything to her, all along, and forever.

Once Rowan had realized that Aelin might actually contract hypothermia, he had rushed her back to the hospital, where she was treated for minor frostbite, and then released soon after. The pair had visited a sleeping Elide and tired Lorcan, before heading back to the house to update Lysandra and Aedion. Once they had gotten past them, Rowan had gone up to their room to run a bath for Aelin.

Lysandra had told Aelin she could take Lorcan and Elide’s room – given that they wouldn't be home that night – and when she had objected, saying she preferred her room, Aedion and Lysandra had looked at each other questioningly. But they let her go without a fuss, Lysandra already planning to get this information out of the woman.

Aelin had paid them no heed, moving lethargically upstairs, where she found Rowan sprinkling some of the petals from the rose into the bath.

She had kissed him, and then gotten distracted kissing him, before timidly inviting him into the bath as well. He agreed, and the two of them spent a gentle moment together, not initiating anything further, but Aelin sunk into the feeling of Rowan, of having him back in her life, in her heart.

When they had both pruned up, Rowan hopped out and brought the towels over, drying the both of them off. Running on the dregs of her earlier adrenaline rush, Aelin leaned heavily into Rowan as he got her ready for bed. The soft moment bringing her back to where she felt safe, where she knew she belonged. And when Rowan picked her up bridal style, gently laying her on her side of the bed, tucking her in and then crawling in behind her, she knew she was home.

“I love you, Rowan.”

“I love you, Aelin.”

Hours Later

That morning, when they went as a group to visit Elide and Lorcan in the hospital, carrying some gingerbread cookies, flowers and a present for Elide, they found the couple asleep together in bed. Lorcan's large body curled protectively around Elide, his great arms placed with a delicateness reserved only for the woman he loved. They had tried to backtrack – let them sleep – only for Elide to snap at them. Telling them to get their asses back in the room because she wants to spend Yulemas morning with her family.

Aelin could have cried happy tears, and she had. Rushing forward to hug Elide. Careful of her ribs, and the giant man behind her. She had cried into her arms. Mumbling incoherent words into the woman's skin. And soon she was joined by Lysandra, who was equally as teary. Lorcan had mumbled something about wanting to spend the morning with his fiance and had slipped off the bed with a groan, headed elsewhere. His spot was quickly replaced by the two other women. All of them snuggling up together. Rowan had snapped a quick photo.

Aedion and Rowan pulled up chairs, and Rowan grabbed an extra for Lorcan when he returned. Chattering happily, Elide was in the center of her family. And even if she had been in pain, had almost died, she was forgetting about it instantly with their arrival. And she sat with them for the entire morning, basking in the love so freely available.

And when it was time for them to leave, she didn't miss the way Rowan folded his arms around Aelin, and the beaming smile she reserved for him. The way their hands snaked together when they thought no one was looking. And the kiss Rowan dropped onto Aelin's brow as they walked off, away. Intertwined again.

Taglist: @backtobl4ck // @goddess-aelin

Thank you for reading!! Happy holidays to you all :))))

#rowaelin #throne of glass #aelinschild #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowaelin fanfiction #aelin x rowan #rowaelin au #aelin fireheart #rowan x aelin #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin galathynius

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live-the-fangirl-life · 2 years ago

Text

Timeless [Immortals]

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn

The world is large and time may be endless, but it's all an exciting adventure with the right person beside you. Inspired in part by Timeless by Taylor Swift, Immortals by Fall Out Boy, and by my own historical research fixations. Also a tiny bit of Istanbul by They Might be Giants

A/N: I will say I wanted to flesh this out a bit more and had a whole plan on how to, but I started a new job recently and I haven't had the energy to keep writing during my free time, so I edited what I had and have it here for you to enjoy. I also wanted to write for a bunch of Rowaelin month days but I think this is all I have in me for now.

Finally, I just have a fair warning: I got really into slang words in this. i had way too much fun with them, so hopefully its understandable lol

Masterlist | Rowaelin Month | Read on Ao3

6494 words

Written for Rowaelin Month 2023 - Day 1: SongFic

*******

Morning light peeked through the curtains fluttering around the open window of their living room. She could faintly hear the sounds of the neighborhood filtering through – cars cruising by, a riding lawnmower cutting clean lines into the grass, a couple of kids out riding their bicycles, and the steadily growing music of an ice cream truck.

“Rowan, have you seen the…” Aelin trailed off as she realized her husband wasn’t in the room with her anymore.

He chose to go by his given name nowadays, reminding her again of their youth and all the best parts about learning how to grow up before the reality of time set in.

She was sitting cross-legged on the plush rug, combing through a box of mementos she’d found tucked away between stacks of old books.

She must’ve been more distracted by them than she had thought because when she looked at the clock, nearly two hours had gone by and Rowan, who had been sitting in the armchair across from her, wasn’t there anymore. She did have a vague memory of a kiss being pressed to her forehead and hearing his muffled voice but she’d been too distracted.

Aelin gathered the things she’d been picking out and put all the photographs, letters, and trinkets back in their box, before getting up and carefully carrying it with her as she went looking for Rowan.

It didn’t take long. The man was out on their back porch, sitting on the wooden swing and using one leg to slowly rock himself back and forth. He wasn’t looking at her but she saw the smile on his face as she approached. He always knew she was there; he could always sense her. Aelin walked towards him and grinned against his mouth when she ducked down to kiss him, before unceremoniously dropping down onto the swing beside him. His rocking didn’t falter a second.

“Is that what’s taken your attention today?” He asked, nodding at the large, well-loved box she placed on the floor in front of them.

“Have you looked through this recently?” She let his question float away and started pulling out some of the forgotten treasures they’d accumulated.

Shrugging, Rowan leaned forward to get a better look and fondly bumped his shoulder against hers.

“Don’t think so,” he rubbed at the stubble shadowing his face as he thought about it. “Probably not since we moved in.”

Aelin hummed in answer and quickly picked through the papers. “I forgot we had all of this stuff.” She paused, thinking, and dove back into the box, this time with purpose. “Do you know where the portraits are?”

A light breeze blew a strand of blonde hair into her face and Rowan reached out to tuck it behind her ear.

“Which portraits?”

“You know,” she waved irreverently, “the ones done by…what’s his name?”

“Oh of course,” he amended seriously. “Those portraits.”

Huffing a laugh, Aelin fell back against the swing and swatted his shoulder as he chuckled. “You know who I’m talking about,” she insisted.

Truth be told, they’d had so many pictures taken and portraits painted that he didn’t know where to start with his guessing. His wife could be referring to anything.

“Leo?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Johannes?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Vincent?”

“Ugh,” she groaned, rubbing her hand down her face, “this is going to bug me all day.” A second later she popped back up and turned towards him with wide eyes, “Oh! You know what I really wish we still had?” she asked.

He wished they could have saved all their keepsakes, but that would’ve been impossible. “Not a clue.”

“Those busts we had back in Ἀθῆναι,” She said, her eyes growing distant as she fell back into a memory from their younger years.

He hummed, knowingly. “Those were nice. But I doubt they’re in Athens anymore.”

“No, I know that.” She said sitting back and leaning into him, getting closer as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I think the last time I saw them was in Constantinople.”

“Istanbul,” Rowan corrected.

“What?” she turned her face to see him from where she’d tucked herself into his side.

“It’s Istanbul.” He said again.

She blinked and then rolled her eyes as she understood what he was saying. “Well, it was Constantinople.”

“And now,” he poked her, earning himself a startled laugh, “It’s Istanbul.”

“Whatever,” Aelin snorted. “I still miss those statues.”

Rowan kicked one leg out and began rocking them again, careful not to overturn the box. “You know where they are,” he reminded her, “we could always go see them.”

She scrunched her nose up. “Yeah, but I don’t like paying an entry fee to see myself.”

The breeze picked up and the pair enjoyed a few minutes of quiet, broken only by the faint creaking of the swing and the birds and insects outside. She absentmindedly took his other hand in hers and couldn’t help but think back –

Back to when they were young and naïve and had no idea what sort of life they would have ahead of them.

Back to their beginning.

The land of their childhoods was rich, and their life a simple one. Most everyone around them were farmers or fishermen, soldiers or tradesmen. There were scholars, artists, and builders.

Aelin learned stories of gods and heroes and gave tribute to Athena, the patron goddess of her home. She learned how to weave from her mother, and waited for the day she was set to marry the son from a family her father wanted ties with.

Rowan worked and studied and then became a soldier, fighting in bloody battles across the city-states before he returned to wed.

The two had always known they would be married. Their families arranged it long before either Aelin or Rowan were old enough to offer their thoughts. But they were happy. It was well.

For a while, their life was as ordinary as any others in their Polis.

It wasn’t until the two of them had watched their families grow old that they realized their own lives were different. Unchanging. Everlasting.

They learned how to adapt.

The armor Rowan wore became stronger; the language of the orders being shouted changed; Democracy, philosophy, and art flourished. Wars raged. The land they lived on changed names and changed again.

Sometimes years passed when Aelin and Rowan were apart, separated for one reason or another. Other times, decades went by without notice, time losing the meaning it once had. But they always gravitated back to each other.

They met as Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn.

They reunited as Aeliana Galanis and Romulus Whitheia.

As Eleyn Galliano and Rowland Whitton.

As Astrid and Warin.

As Alana and Royce.

There were some names they liked better than others.

They saw empires rise and fall. A world they once called home became ancient.

And as the world became more complicated – as royalty and religion shaped the nations, conquering and separating territories, as battles waged and revolutions erupted, as explorers flung themselves to the far reaches of the earth – Aelin and Rowan found their lives drifting apart from one another until they only had their memories and a knowing sense that someday they would find each other again.

"Whiskey. Neat." He drawled, dropping his dusty hat onto the bar top. The wood was scratched up from too many glasses missing their mark. And sticky, too. Not that he'd say so. He was a smart enough man not to complain to the lady behind the bar. Even it meant swallowing back a grimace at the thought of putting that hat back on his head. "Ma'am."

The woman was already halfway finished pouring the bottle. She had known it was him before he’d opened his mouth; but she smiled when his voice hit her, having recognized the sound of him walking ‘cross those old floorboards and taking a seat at his usual stool – the one right in front of her.

She’d had lifetimes to recognize him.

Still turned away, she shelved the dark bottle of booze back where it belonged.

For a moment, it reminded him of the day he found her here.

He’d been up in Oregon near the California border, following a late wave of gold seekers when he caught whispers of a town a few days south of him, where a woman was holding down a claim to the saloon. A real Calamity Jane if there ever was one.

He knew she was somewhere out here, that she’d ventured west at the call of adventure. Hell, he’d braved across the frontier too, slowly working his way from ranch to ranch and crossing lands that didn’t exist on the maps he’d once held.

But knowing there was a chance of finding her again, and actually hitting pay dirt were two very different things. He had ridden into town knowing not to get his hopes up, but when he stepped into that saloon, heavenly shaded and cool from the high-noon sun, he knew it was her.

She’d been standing behind the bar with her hair woven into a loose braid tossed over one shoulder. Her well-worn clothes somehow suited her just as well as laced-up gowns, pirate’s trousers, or peploi of their youth. Her skirts were long but didn’t look heavy and she had pushed the sleeves of her blouse up to combat the heat. Around her waist, she wore a holster which didn’t surprise him one bit and he supposed running a saloon warranted the pistol that she’d slotted in there.

He was walking towards the bar before he knew what he was doing, and when she lifted her arm to count the bottles she’d lined up on the shelves, he caught sight of the small scar on her forearm. If he still had any doubts, seeing that blew them all to the wind. He could recall with deafening detail the day she’d gotten that scar, the spatha blade that gave it to her, and the Roman general he’d killed for it.

Her back was still turned towards him when he slowly sat down on the stool across from her.

“Aelin.”

In an instant, she went completely and utterly still.

She would know his voice anywhere. Know him anywhere. And even if she hadn’t, there was only one person who would ever call her by that name.

Lifetimes worth of memories flashed behind her eyes as her heart began pounding a thunderous beat. She felt like all the wind had been knocked from her, yet also it was the first time she could breathe in years. She wasn’t sure how that was possible. But then, she’d long since given up deciding what was possible and impossible when it came to him.

And her mind was putting in the licks like a six-shooter horse; like she was electrified.

Carefully setting the bottle in her hand back down on the countertop, slowly, so slowly, she turned to face him.

As they locked eyes a million different emotions flew across her face and he was sure as a gun his was looking the same.

She smiled, wide and bright, and her eyes lined themselves with silver.

“Linny,” she breathed, her first word to him in over half a century. “It’s Linn, actually, but everyone ‘round here calls me Linny.”

Her voice was dipped in that sweet, honeyed drawl they’d been surrounded by. And he laughed, feeling like the years just melted away because she did too. The kind of laugh that said more than words ever could.

A few men at a nearby table looked over to see what all the fuss was about, but it was a joke that only the two of them knew the punchline to.

And then, having been reminded that they had eyes on them, she was reaching across the old wood bar holding out her hand. “Linny,” she said again, still beaming at him, “Linny Gale. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” she trailed off with a knowing smirk.

He remembered every instance in which she had looked at him with those same twinkling eyes, and by the growing elation of her face, so could she. He cleared his throat and took her hand in his, smiling even broader when his roughened skin met hers. “Roe Wyatt.” Her smile softened into something special. “At your service, ma’am.”

Roe hadn’t known what came next for him, but what he did know was that she was here – staying. So, he stayed, too.

As she set the glass of whiskey in front of him, that day from almost a decade prior faded away and she brought him back with the small curve of her lips as she greeted him, “Sheriff.”

At least here, in this dusty town on the far side of the world, filled with desert rats still scrounging for that elusive gold, and where he's wearing the badge instead of running from it...at least here he gets to see her face every day.

*****

Life out here was tough, Linny knew that, but she liked it. And she liked it much more now that Roe was back in her life. Point is, she knew folks made their money any way they could, especially the women.

She’d seen enough life to know what it’s like when you don’t have the resources you need. So for every working woman who found herself under Linny’s roof, she’d be offered a spot as a barmaid, pulling in the pieces so they wouldn’t feel like they needed to work upstairs. But if they did, they wanted to - and for that, all the power to ‘em. Everyone who frequented her saloon knew that if they misbehaved themselves with those women, they’d be looking down the barrel of her shotgun.

The first - and last - unlucky man who mistook her for a painted lady didn't make it back out that door.

Linny knew her way around a broken bottle well enough that the Sheriff ordered another round and watched two of the regular old boys clean up the mess. Most of it, anyway. He knew there was still a spot near the end of the bar where the wood’s stained darker than the rest. She thanked him mighty finely for turning a blind eye, too. She was sweet on him like that.

To everyone else in town, it was a mystery why they ain't gotten hitched yet. They all saw the knowing glances and conversations with so many in-jokes it sounded like they were speaking a different language. She never accepted any other man’s courtin’ and folks from around these parts knew not to try anymore, especially when the Sheriff only ever had eyes for her.

They knew not to mess with Linny Gale, too, because if she didn’t get you first, the Sheriff would make sure you never stepped foot in town again; and if some Hay Seed thought he was quicker to the draw than Roe Wyatt, he either ended up food for the buzzards with a lead plumb between his eyes or was found crawling out the back of the saloon while the arsenic-flavored whiskey he got served hit its mark.

To everyone else, his calling on her was moving slower than molasses in January.

They didn’t know the half of it.

*****

“Howdy, Miss Linny. Sheriff.”

She half smiled at the old man taking a seat on a bar stool two over from Roe. She was already grabbing a glass and pouring as she asked, “What can I get’cha for?”

He chuckled when he saw she’d already poured his whiskey. “You know me too well.”

“And whose fault is that y’old honeysop,“ she laughed.

He’d gulped down half the drink and the skin at his eyes crinkled. “My mammy used to say that…honeysop…I ain’t heard no soul say that since ‘fore I could look over the dinner table.”

Her small smile was wistful as she wiped down the countertop and grabbed another glass, using a different rag she’d slung over her shoulder to give it a good wiping down.

“I’m an old soul.”

He chuckled; eyes distant, lost in a memory. “Yeah, m’ mammy was too.” He looked up and smiled the way he did at his little grandbabies, “A sweet thing like you is too young for that.”

Linny kept wiping down glasses sharing an automatic glance with Roe. A small smile graced her face as easily concealed mirth danced across his.

Setting the last glass down, she tossed the towel back over her shoulder and leaned closer to the older man. “Sweet talking me ain’t gonna pay off your tab, Rolph.”

“Always gotta try, ma’am,” he huffed a laugh and stood, finishing the last of the amber liquid.

Linny shook her head fondly and Roe lifted his hand in a wave. “This is the last one, ya hear?” The old coot held his hand over his heart and smiled before walking out into the blaring sun.

“How many last ones ‘ve you given him?” Roe asked, still nursing the drink she’d poured him a while ago.

A huff of air blew a stray blonde lock out of her face. “A few.”

“You’ll run this place out of business ‘f you keep doing that.”

“He’s sweet,” she rested her elbows on the bar and leaned in, “He’s been taking wildflowers up to Madam Briar’s twice a week. Sometimes I see them ambling together down by the general store.

“He don’t mean no harm. He calls me young and sweet; I like it.” She laughed and he smiled. “And don’t you be worrying about this place. She ain’t in trouble yet. I always overcharge those rowdy boys that breeze in from the next town over. Don’t know why they keep coming back, sure as hell not for my welcoming, not after one couldn’t hold his booze and was sick as a horse all over my floor.” She huffed indignantly but then shrugged. “But I’m keeping my shutters painted and bottles full ‘cause of them so they ain’t so bad.”

Most days were right as rain. Linny handled her saloon with little trouble, but if there was any left after she was done, Roe used his badge to finish it.

So, when some fella too big for his breeches moseyed on in, you could cut the tension with a knife.

The saloon fell silent, something Linny might’ve marveled at if it weren’t for the no-good Saddle Stiff who’d sauntered in looking for hell to pay. The man took one long look around the room until his eyes landed on Roe and the star-shaped badge on his chest.

“You the gunslinger ‘round these parts?” His voice was rough and hard when he stepped in front of the Sheriff.

Barely blinking, he eyed the newcomer up and down, then he took a long sip of his drink and looked him square in the eye before gesturing with his half-empty glass to Linny. “You best be taking that up with her.”

Scoffing, the man didn’t even look at her. “You that cowardly a Sheriff you’ll let some hussy take your beatin’?”

Any lingering whispers went completely quiet as Roe slowly stood from his stool. He had a few inches on the man and didn’t bother fighting off a smirk when the newcomer tried squaring his shoulders to look as big as him. The Sheriff held the man’s gaze as he finished the rest of his whiskey before stepping closer and looking down at the lunkhead.

“First off, partner,” Roe drawled in a low voice. “I don’t let her do anything. Second,” he stepped closer, forcing the other man to falter before regaining the ridiculous bravado he walked in with. “You come in here, rilin’ everybody up, hollerin’ for the man in charge, I’ll tell you this – you’re in this town, in this saloon – she’s in charge. And she don’t take well to outsiders walking in here acting like they know their ups from downs.

“Finally,” Roe took another step into the man’s space and shoved his chest with one hand before gripping the material in his fist and hauling him up. “You ever call her that again, you’ll really have to deal with me, and you don’t want to deal with me after spitting on this here lady.” He leaned closer and practically growled, “You won’t be walkin’ ‘way from that.”

Roe let the man drop back down flat-footed and watched as he stumbled but looked between the Sheriff and Linny who’d been watching the scene. He made some sort of decision and went to open his mouth trying to say shit nobody wanted to hear but before he could get two words past his gullet, Linny reached into her skirts, pulled out a loaded pistol, and aimed it straight between his eyes.

“Get your lousy ass outta my establishment.” She cocked the gun, not batting an eye. “Or I’m ‘bout to have another dead body on my premises. That ain’t gonna look so good to the Sheriff.”

Said Sheriff caught the bead of sweat finally dripping down the man’s face and shrugged. “Don’t know nothing ‘bout no body.”

Linny smirked and flashed him a wink before refocusing on the man standing on the other side of the bar. “Now, you gonna get back on that ruddy horse of yours that’s scaring all the fillies outside?” she asked. “Or are you gonna make me get my floors dirty?”

Having no sense of what he’d walked himself into, the man looked her up and down holding that pistol with a steady hand, and scoffed. “That supposed to scare me, Calico Queen?”

Roe slammed his fist on the bar and gripped the man’s shirt again, but Linny’s brows just shot up.

“Oh, you ain’t scared of this old thing?” she asked airily. One second the pistol was pointed at him, the next the flickering gas lamp in the corner of the saloon shattered in a rain of broken glass as a bullet lodged itself in the wood directly behind it. “That was giving me a damn headache anyway. What about this one?” she set the pistol on the bar and reached below it, pulling out a long shotgun.

The front doors came swinging in hard enough to crash against the walls as they pivoted on rusted hinges. Another man, a local who helped tend the horses, ran in breathless unaware of what he’d walked himself into.

“Sheriff!” he panted. “Need your help breaking up a brawl out front.”

Roe looked at Linny who had the situation very much in hand and let go of the scamp who wouldn’t be breathing much longer. Adjusting his hat, Roe nodded to her. “Duty calls, ma’am. For both our sakes, when you pull that here trigger, at least corral him outside will ya?”

“Fine by me, poppet. Less mess in here for me to clean up.” She smiled at him. “That’d be all yours to handle, Sheriff.”

And it was.

And they stayed in that town until they couldn’t.

And then they left. Together.

“Where do you want it, Ace?”

Annie – Ace – pulled out her deck of luckies and lit up a butt, inhaling and blowing the smoke out in a practiced ring. The alley she was standing in was blocked off from the main road and, for extra precaution, always had a protective pair of eyes on the entrance; not that anyone would notice the guards, she was too smart to orchestrate anything so obvious.

Keeping her face neutral, she surveyed the haul of smuggled liquor brought to her by one of the active bootleggers in their employ. The two men behind her stayed quiet; stoic, as she blew another smoke ring. She spotted in a second that the poorly concealed unease radiating off the man wasn’t because of the loaded weapons either of her boys was carrying. She looked the bottles over once, twice –

“You’re just the bees’ knees, Cal. Always bringing me the best.” She indulged him a bit, pulling the cigarette from her mouth, and watched the tension ease out of his shoulders.

“Anything for you,” he grinned shakily and kept fidgeting. The damn sap was sweating bullets. He tried making small talk and she let him think he was getting away with it for another minute before she stopped him from lamming off.

“One thing, you old Mug,” her voice dropped all sweetness, and as she stared him down, all the blood drained from his face.

Jerking her head at one of the trouble boys behind her, he wasted no time in pulling out a gat and pointing it at the idiot who thought he could fool her.

“Do you take me for a Dumb Dora? A patsy?” She asked steadily, smirking when she heard the trigger being cocked. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know the fucking difference between profitable giggle juice and piss-poor hooch.”

The man was shaking now but she had no patience for disrespect. Not here.

“I—I don’t, I don’t know what you’re spittin’ about, Ace.” He stammered.

“That’s Mrs. Thorne to you.” She corrected him, arching a brow. Turning on her heel she ignored Mr. Weston’s pleading and said to her trigger man, “Don’t make a mess. This damn alley smells bad enough.”

The other man who’d been standing behind her reached for the door holding it open for her without a word. She flashed him a smile and walked back into the speakeasy. Annie was immediately surrounded by raucous laughter and brassy jazz music, it was just enough to drown out the shot fired behind her and the thud of a body hitting the ground.

*****

Owen loved the sound of the big band. It never got old, no matter how many nights he spent sitting in this drum, putting down glasses of champagne. He liked even better, that no one bothered him at his table in the corner – no one he didn’t want bothering him, that is.

He especially liked it because he had a clear sight of both doors, the stage, and the bar. Not to mention he never had a problem picking his Ace out of the crowd. The club may have been bedecked in lights and gold, but his wife always shined brighter.

Tonight, he spotted her standing next to a young doll who looked scared enough just to be standing in a juice joint, let alone able to enjoy herself. But the longer he watched them, the more at ease the girl looked in Ace’s company.

“Don’t be getting the jitters, now,” Annie rubbed a comforting hand down the girl’s arm. She couldn’t have been older than twenty, and it was obvious she’d never been in a place like this before. “You see those fellas in the corner there?” she nodded towards a pair of men halfway through a bottle of gin, each with a fine damp on their laps. “Those boys are coppers.”

When the young girl looked back, startled, the blonde laughed and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Lose those heebie-jeebies. You’re safe here.”

Annie looked over the girl’s head and saw that her man was already looking at her. Like always. She gave him a subtle nod, which he immediately returned, setting down his glass and gesturing to one of the men standing to the side of his table. Ace didn’t need to hear him to know what her husband was ordering.

“No one in this joint is a danger to you, you have my word.” At the girl’s still skeptical look, Ace smiled conspiratorially at her. “Take another look around, you see that handsome guy sitting there – no don’t stare – people in here listen to him. And he listens to me.” She leaned in closer and the girl finally smiled, making Ace’s smile wider. “He is absolutely dizzy with me. Now, let's get you a delicious glass of bubbly,” She snapped at one of the nearby waiters who came by and handed the girl some champagne. “Relax here at the bar and listen to our sweet canary sing. I heard her practicing her verses earlier and she's lovely.”

Leaving the girl in good hands, Annie snagged her own glass of champagne off a passing waiter and strutted across the dancefloor towards Owen. Her dress shimmered under the lights as she flounced to her husband’s table which was now occupied with a couple familiar faces. He didn’t falter in his conversation as she gracefully draped herself across his lap and wrapped an arm around his neck, carding her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Ace,” he squeezed her hip in greeting, “you remember Lore and Fen.”

“Ain’t you a looker,” Fen winked, and Annie smirked, feeling her husband’s grip on her hip tighten.

“Down boy,” she chuckled, crossing one leg over the other and subtly leaning closer into Owen’s embrace.

“They were just telling me,” he explained to her, “that our buddy at the station got word some Dry folks want to take matters into their own hands.”

“They don’t think the coppers are doing their job,” Fen leaned back, smirking. “Not finding and shuttin’ down all those corrupted, underground joints.”

Annie snorted and turned over her shoulder to look at the two Johns drinking away with badges hidden somewhere in their jackets. “I think they’re doing a swell job.”

Her laughter was echoed by Owen and Fen, but Lore just rolled his eyes at her flippancy.

“Those damn teetotalers think they’re so high and mighty,” The man gritted out, glaring daggers at the policemen in the corner – darkly enough Annie was surprised the boys didn’t drop dead on the spot.

“Cut it out, Salterre,” Annie chastised. He redirected his glare to her and even though she felt Owen stiffen, she merely smirked at the glowering man. “If you keep up looking so sore, people are bound to notice, and then those fellas will get made. It won’t take a genius to figure out why a man sitting comfortably at this here table is looking to pop one of them off.”

“I don’t think Salterre has ever sat comfortably.”

None of them paid Fen’s comment any head, but Annie’s smirk widened just a fraction.

“Yeah?” Lore goaded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it between his teeth. “And why would that be so bad?”

Before she could answer, Owen beat her to it.

“What, you killing them? Or someone noticing you want to?”

“Both?” The dark-haired man asked, unconcerned. “Either? No one’s gonna be crying over a couple less coppers.”

“Get your head out of your ass, Salterre.” Annie snapped, staring hard at him. “You kill them? That comes back to bite us. I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re smart, but I know you have eyes.” She ignored his sneer. “Look around and tell me how many people are in the club? Tell me how many people would be able to say that they saw those boys here.”

“So? That’s bad for them, not us.” He shrugged dismissively.

Annie downed the rest of her champagne and wished for strength. “No one in here but a few of us,” she looked pointedly around the small circle, “know they’re coppers. Anyone else would just know that they recognized those two goddamn faces in here before you supposedly cut ‘em down. That leads questions coming back here, to our establishment, to you, to us. That is not what we fucking want. It's the whole fucking reason we pay those boys off in the first place – so that they won’t be bringing questions around here. We help them, they help us. That’s how this works, rattlecap.”

Annie snapped her fingers and a fresh glass of champagne found itself in her hand. She took a long sip before threatening, “If you think you’re above all that, then I’ll be handling you myself.”

Lore didn’t say anything when she raised her brows at him, he just shifted his gaze to her husband as if he would contradict or chastise her. Owen leaned back in his seat, pulling her with him as they settled into the plush cushion.

“You heard the lady,” Owen simply said, instead.

And with that, Fen started snickering and Lore stretched his arms out on the edge of the booth as he silently seethed. The band picked up the first notes of a new song that had Annie twisting on her husband's lap to listen to the music.

When she rested her head against Owen’s he squeezed her hip again and fondly muttered, “Ace.” Some days it was her sweet nickname, on others it was a curse, and sometimes, like right now and said in a way that made her turn to press a red-lipped kiss to his cheek, it was a prayer.

*****

The wind roared around them as their car sped down the road. Owen was driving with one hand on the wheel and the other half-hanging out the window. Annie smiled as the scenery flew by in a blur. Tall buildings and crowded streets gave way to green foliage and open land.

The engine purred and she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. She’d seen a lot of discoveries and creations, and she always wondered how they could ever get better, but they usually did - things always evolved and spurred the invention of new things. She remembered the journeys in horse-drawn carriages and knew that back then she wouldn’t have been able to dream of a day like today, flying down the roads in a beautiful car, the engine powering them to its limits.

Getting close to the house, Owen pulled off the main motorway and took a winding, private road that wound them beneath blooming trees, their canopies painting the pavement in shade.

The house wasn’t extravagant; in fact, it was incredibly modest. It was something her husband had built in his early days on this continent. Long before the Great War, before the Gold Rush, before the Civil War, and revolutionary battles. Back when they both were searching for something new and took those leaps, journeying across the ocean.

Their lives sometimes felt like swinging pendulums, positioned closely enough to intertwine, drawing them together indistinguishably, but angled just so and pulling them apart when they least expected.

As she reached for Owen’s hands and intertwined their fingers, squeezing once, she vowed to never let that happen again.

It wasn’t long before they’d brought their bags in and decided to take a walk along one of the trails beyond the house.

“Do you think we have to worry about Lore going rogue?” She asked quietly, leaning into Owen’s arm.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head, carding one hand through his un-slicked back hair. “He has a temper but he’s smart. Worst he’ll do is give ‘em some words, but he wouldn’t do worse than that. He knows it’ll only go bad.”

“I think you give him too much credit.”

“I think you give yourself too little,” he countered, and at her raised brow he chuckled. “He’ll put up a fight, but he won’t cross you.”

Annie hummed. “As far as he’s concerned, you’re the one he should be holding back for.”

Owen barked a laugh. “If you honestly think that he doesn’t know who is really calling the shots then you are severely underestimating him.”

“I’m not underestimating his intelligence. I’m insulting his lack of tact.” She told him as they kept walking. “You know we work together; I know we work together; they know we work together; but most of the fellas packing heat and doing the work still think you have the final word. And that works because it allows me to do things I need to do without as sharp an eye watching my moves.

“And if Salterre keeps pushing, then it won’t be long before everyone knows exactly how I can handle things – and that will be bad for both of us.” She pulled back and smirked up at his amused expression. “How do you think our supply is the best in town? Because I go out and make friends with all those grimy bootlegger’s dames; and between us ladies, things get done, arrangements get made, deals get sorted. And then, without watchful eyes on our lovely, delicate selves, we get our fellas to follow through with those deals…and the world goes round.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, agreeing. “Enough about that. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Good.”

“And, Ace?” he laughed again, “You and I both know that every son of a bitch who works with us knows damn well that you’re packing as much heat as any one of them.”

They fell into companionable silence. There was no one in the world she felt as comfortable around.

“Do you remember when we got married?” She asked him suddenly.

“Of course, I do, Ace. It wasn’t that long ago.”

Her dress brushed against her legs as the breeze picked up.

“No, not this time,” she said. “I mean the time during the revolution.”

They kept walking steadily as he thought. “Which one?”

“The European one,” she elaborated.

He glanced down at her again. “Which one?”

“Oh, stop you sap,” she nudged his rib fondly. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Yes, I know what you’re talking about.” He stopped them and turned her to face him. “I remember every wedding I’ve had with you. I remember every ceremony and every dress. Every officiant. Every wedding night. And the only – only – thing that is good about the years when we’ve been apart is that every time we were, I knew I had one thing to look forward to: finding you again and getting to learn who you’ve become.”

“Ἀγαπῶ σὲ,” Annie whispered, silver-lined eyes staring up into his deep green ones.

“Te amo.”

“Ti amo.”

“Je t’aime.”

“I love you.”

**************

Sitting on their aging porch swing, Aelin found herself sorting through faded pictures. There was one of them in a poodle skirt and leather, of flared bell bottoms and disco lights, of wild hair and rock concerts they still sing along to. There was one of them from New Year’s Eve, bedecked in glitter and tassels that had been shot off the moment that the millennium ended. And another one, taken a few seconds later – thank you Polaroid technology – of Rowan dipping Aelin, his arms wrapped around her as they both smiled too hard to really keep up their kiss, as they welcomed a new day, a new year, a new century and millennium. Giddy about what was to come.

“I think that’s enough reminiscing,” she finally whispered, reorganizing the images and replacing the lid on the box.

“Yeah?” Rowan asked, just as quietly.

Aelin smiled, pressed a kiss to his lips, intertwined their fingers so their wedding bands glinted in the fading light, and answered, “Yeah. For now.”

*******

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wordsafterhours · 2 years ago

Text

Hawk White

Author's Note: This idea started with a TikTok I saw, talking about a girl falling for her older brother's best friend, and that TikTok was based off a video clip. Anyways, the idea had been stuck in my head. Enjoying this unedited one shot.

Triggers: a little cussing never hurt anyone*

Word count: 4.5-5k?

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

Aelin should have known that when she woke up this morning with a splitting headache as though someone was trying to drill through her skull, that it was a precursor to how the day was going to go. But instead of going back to bed, like she wanted, she had drunk a large glass of water and taken two ibuprofens before getting dressed to conquer the day.

The end of senior year’s fall semester was rapidly approaching, and her professors had been laying on the material relentlessly. Between a full course load of twenty-one hours, labs, and work, there weren’t enough hours in the day. Quite frankly, it was amazing she was doing more than treading water. With the exception of one B on a paper, things had been going her way.

Had.

That was no longer the case. First it was the headache, next it was the stalled train, preventing her from getting into Orynth proper from her house, and when she finally made it to University, a lecture covering most of the content for the final, was five minutes from being over. She had pleaded with Professor Darrow to let her come by during official office hours to go over the content. He hadn’t wanted any part of it and made some off-handed remark about how he wouldn’t reward tardiness.

Aelin, for once had held her tongue, not wanting to reap any unnecessary consequences from Darrow by arguing how she’d never been late before and had the best grade in the class. No one liked a brownnoser or something like that. By staying over, she was late to her chem lab and ended up being partners with Cairn. The only thing he was good for was making arrogance his only personality trait and sleeping his way through the university’s cheerleading squad.

His ego was stifling and because he was used to women falling at his feet, he’d never forgiven Aelin for not throwing herself at him. Now, he looked for any excuse to make snide comments when she walked past in lecture or knock ingredients over on her lab table when they were doing independent study. For two hours, she’d had to endure his hovering over her shoulder as she did what was supposed to be “group work” and then had the audacity to criticize them being docked two points when she missed a plus sign on one of the chemical formulas.

When noon rolled around, she was two seconds from telling off the gods, and going home to her bed—it might have stopped the downward spiral in its tracks if she had. Alas, she had promised her boss that she’d inventory the new shipment of books that had come in. She’d spent hours organizing the books, putting them in careful stacks, and double-checking what needed to be put out on the shelves. This was something she’d done a million times, but in the monotony of it, her brain had wandered back to the events of the morning, and a stack of first editions had been the casualty of forgotten coffee.

Never in her four years of working for Emrys had anything like that transpired. When he found her crying on the floor, coffee on her pants and the books, he didn’t fire her. He didn’t even chastise her. He simply bent down and slipped his arms around her, repeating “it’s okay, it’s okay” until her shoulders stopped shaking. After the mess had been cleaned up, he told her to go home, and they’d figure out what to do with the ruined books another day.

Now, she was lying face first in the bed that she never should have left to begin with. And her head was pounding again. With a loud sniffle, she turned, cracking open a swollen lid, staring at her discarded school materials. The number of waking hours left to get assignments done were dwindling—she needed to get up and get to work. Getting shot at or runover by a car sounded more appealing than academia.

Blindly, her hand rifled through the discarded backpack, looking for her phone.

“Aha!” she declared excitedly when she found it. There were two missed texts from Lysandra, probably asking her why she was late to lecture this morning, but those were for later. Flipping through the rest of her notifications, she smiled to herself when she noticed Rowan had a new Instagram post up.

Rowan Whitethorn, her older cousin Aedion’s best friend, and her secret but not so secret friend. He was almost four years her senior, just like her cousin. He’d transferred from Doranelle his last year of high school and was a walk on for their high school’s rugby team. He was the talk of the entire school and one day, Aedion brought him over to family dinner, and he seamlessly joined in teasing her like he’d been doing it forever. Aelin had never regretted Aedion living with them until then.

Rowan was constantly hanging out with Aedion, disrupting her peace, and filling the house with loud cheering and rambunctious behavior only befitting of teenage boys. Every interaction just honed her dislike; gods was he downright arrogant and annoying. It didn’t matter looked he walked off the page of a modeling magazine with his striking silver hair, strong jaw line, defined muscles, and sinful green eyes, he was the proverbial thorn in her side. If you’d asked her then, she would have swore an oath that he went out of his way antagonize her whenever the chance presented itself.

But, as the summer between her freshman and sophomore year was fading into August, something changed. She wasn’t sure when it happened but one day, the teasing lessened and when he came to pick up Aedion, he invited her. Her cousin’s neck had about broken after, their mutual aversion to one another no secret. Weeks later, when the boys left for college south in Adarlan, Aelin thought their newfound friendship would dissipate just as quickly as it had come.

Four years later, she’d considered Rowan to be one of her best friends, and the person who knew her best.

She clicked on the notification, the app immediately opening to his story. He looked so happy standing outside one of the large, opalescent buildings in downtown Orynth, arms resting atop Aedion and Fenrys’ shoulders as they smiled widely at the camera. She snorted reading the caption: “The Boys are Back in Town”.

Their architecture firm Cadre had just opened last week but now it seemed all the more official being posted on his social media platform. Her best friend deserved all the happiness, he’d work so hard on bringing his dream to life, they all had. Her painted fingers were dialing his phone number before her brain could register what she was doing.

“Hello?” his lilting voice questioned after one ring.

“Hey.”

“Hey you,” he greeted his voice having lost its seriousness.

“I saw you’re Instagram official now,” Aelin commented excitedly.

“Yeah.” His short reply sounded sheepish, and she knew his cheeks were tinged pink. Sometimes it was silly how shy he could become with compliments. He worked hard but had this impression that it didn’t need to be recognized, at least not as often as she congradulated him.

“It’s bad ass! I’m proud of you, you’ve worked so hard. You should be putting it everywhere you can.”

“Everywhere I can, huh?” he quipped.

It was her turn to blush, the tips of her ears burning uncomfortably at the innuendo. “Rowan!”

“After all this time, you’re still so easy to tease, Ace. I can’t help it,” he laughed. She imagined his green eyes were full of mirth, lips pulled up in a wicked smirk.

“Mhmm.” She usually would poke back at him, but the day’s events had left her in a rut that she didn’t feel like subduing just now. The other end of the phone grew silent—he’d picked up on her mood.

“Ace?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, Ro?”

“What’s wrong?” He sounded worried, genuinely so. It was one of the things she loved most about him, that he always handled her with such care.

Sighing loudly, Aelin started recalling all the bad things that had happened to her since she’d woken up, making sure to highlight how she’d ruined books, including an extremely rare Terrasen history volume detailing the origins of the country itself. Aelin wasn’t sure where Emrys had found it or why it was even in the boxes of other books, but it didn’t matter now that it was covered in coffee.

“Do you have plans?” he asked loudly, sounding a little out of breath.

“Well, not really. I mean I have homework but when don’t I?”

“I’m coming to get you,” he said, his tone stern and leaving no room for disagreement.

She squeaked, surprise forcing her to her feet. “You’re what?”

“I’m coming to get you. You sound like you just need to decompress. We can go get ice cream or something.”

“Ro, I love that you want to hang out with me, but I know you’ve probably had a long day. And you’ve been so busy with the launch of Cadre. Honestly, I’ll just work on my paper and go to bed.” As much as she wanted to lay eyes on his handsome face and melt into a hug while being wrapped in the smell of pine and snow, she could do without. Aedion had looked ragged every time he dropped by the house lately, and it was likely Rowan was the same. They both didn’t have a healthy sense of self-preservation when it came to work-life balance.

“I’m already pulling out of the parking garage and heading that way. You can’t deny me after I ran down ten flights of stairs instead of waiting on the elevator; that’d be cruel even for you.” The devious half of her wanted to deny him, just a little, to see what his response would be, but she pocketed the idea instead.

“I’m only agreeing because you mentioned ice cream.”

Lie. A complete lie. The mere promise of confined, alone time with her best friend would undoubtedly soothe her frazzled nerves like salve on a burn. Witty banter over the phone had been expected, what she wanted, but in true Rowan fashion, he knew her better than she knew herself.

“I’d say I was wounded, being second to ice cream, but your penchant for sweets is unparalleled.”

“I make no apologies.”

“Naturally. I’m exiting, I’ll see you soon if people aren’t driving obnoxiously slow,” he sounded annoyed already. Pained even.

Aelin snorted. “Not everyone drives an expensive sports car.”

“They should,” he muttered before ending the call.

Rolling off the bed, she headed straight into the bathroom. Her mascara was smeared, eyes puffy and red, and what looked like dried snot to the side of her nose. “Disgusting,” she shuddered turning on the faucet. Meticulously, she washed the makeup from her face and applied a tinted moisturizer once it was dry. It wasn’t perfect but she didn’t seem as ruddy now, and Rowan had seen her on more than one occasion looking less put together.

She ran a brush through her long blonde hair and slipped into her faded Orynth University sweater. It was her favorite, its dark green coloring reminding her of Rowan’s eyes. Not that she’d ever admit that. Ever. It was one of the secrets she would take to her grave. Bounding down the stairs, she was surprised to find the house blessedly unoccupied. In the back of her brain, it seemed like she knew they wouldn’t be here. Last week, her mother had mentioned a work function but in true Aelin fashion, her attention had lapsed midway through the conversation.

At least one merciful thing was happening today—she wouldn’t have to explain to her parents where she was going. Or listen to them dote over Rowan. You would think he had been born into the family with the way they were invested in him. It was nauseating at times. Peeking through the open curtains, Aelin’s turquoise gaze caught sight of Rowan’s sportscar coming up the long driveway and she headed out the door.

He pulled up the car, putting it into park, before he got out and came around. It took every ounce of self-control to not drop her jaw. He was wearing a tailored button down, white, rolled up over his forearms, showing off part of his tattoo. Three buttons were open at the top, providing another view of black ink as it creeped up the left side of his neck. His pants hugged his muscled legs well, tight enough to show he worked out, but not enough to eclipse professionalism. They were the same color as her sweater.

He looked positively sinful and the idea of confined time with him no longer seemed like a reward, but punishment instead. “Here,” he said warmly in greeting, bending to open the door for her. Smiling tightly, afraid of what might pass her lips if they parted, she slid into the cognac-colored seat. The door didn’t shut until her seatbelt was buckled.

“What do you say we drive around first before ice cream? I don’t think you really want to get back to homework,” he speculated as he shut his own door. Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she rolled it back and forth in trepidation, hesitant to agree to his proposition. An unexpected tug of her head sideways caused her to shriek loudly in surprise.

“Don’t start!” she chastised, looking sideways at him, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“You didn’t answer me,” Rowan explained, a hint of a smile on his face.

“I was trying to decide if I could wait. You know my day has been godsdamned awful,” she defended dismally.

“You don’t always have to be perfect, Ace.” His words draped heavily across her and she dropped her head, staring intently at her fingers as she took out her anxiety on her fingernails. They’d be bloody nubs soon if she didn’t relax.

“That’s easy for you to say.”

He let out a breathy sigh, fingers drumming against the gear shift. “It is now. It took me a long time to realize I didn’t have to be perfect all the time and my life is better for it. I was in my own way for too long. Cadre almost didn’t happen because I was ready to throw in the towel when roadblocks kept happening. I felt like I wasn’t working hard enough. Making the right decisions. That I had to have all of the right answers when someone asked me a question,” he confessed quietly and full of conviction.

“It’s daunting sometimes,” Aelin whispered, choosing to look out the window and away from him before she proceeded, “to live in the shadow of Aedion and you.”

“Huh?” Without looking at him, she just knew his eyes were wide and his silver eyebrows had probably disappeared into his hairline.

“My parents are so proud of you two. They constantly talk about you guys. At dinner, to friends, the work functions. The Orynth Gazette article that came out last week when your business opened… it’s already framed and on the wall. Both of you played Rugby in college and graduated Magna Cum Laude. You had two published articles in an architecture magazine before you were even a junior. I’ve never seen my parents be disappointed about either of you.”

She cleared her throat, swallowing down the well of tears trying to crawl out. “Me? I made one B, one B, and they looked at me like confessed that I’d murdered our dog.” A loud sniffle filled the car as she continued to stare angrily at the darkening pine trees dotting the side of the road.

“Did you ever think maybe they’re disappointed for you and not at you?”

She laughed, the sound mangled, sounding more like a sob. “I still have a perfect GPA; I’m set to graduate with more hours than required of me. I’ve already submitted job applications into the city’s top scientific research lab and I’m going to be part of a published study on Ghost Leopard genetic mutations. They literally can only talk about that stupid B.”

“This is not me being on their side—" his lilting voice said hesitantly. She leaned her head against the glass but flicked her gaze to him in silent permission to continue. Her body was stiff with anticipation. “—but maybe they act like that because they know you’re capable of always achieving at or above excellence. You set that bar a long time ago Aelin and I think they’re used to it. And you’re used to it. You are your own worst critic and if you set the expectation that it’s okay to do less sometimes, I think they’ll follow suit.”

“Maybe you should tell them that,” Aelin muttered under her breath, angry that what Rowan had said made some sense.

“I will. You know I will.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to get into the middle of it. I’m grown and I do possess the capability to tell them off.” Well, she should anyways but both were in high-powered jobs and could be intimidating without trying to be. “I think.”

“Are you at least feeling better?” Rowan prodded.

“Yeah, I am. You’ve just listened to me whine and whine today, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t ever have to hid how you feel with me, okay? Friends don’t do that. Your troubles are my troubles.” His expression had become somber, green eyes darker than normal. Aelin thought he even looked a little mad but that didn’t match with the gentleness of his voice.

“I knew there was a reason we were friends.”

“And here I thought you kept me around because I buy you sweets,” he smirked.

Her agreement to his statement was caught off when an annoying dinging sounded from the dashboard. Rowan’s lips pulled into a frown as he stared at the instrument panel. “Gods, the fact that this thing was basically empty earlier slipped my fucking mind. I’m sorry Ace, ice cream will have to wait longer.”

“You’re just gripping because fuel prices make you cry.” It was her time to pick on him. Aelin had heard more about this car than she’d care to admit. She knew it’s time to go from zero to sixty, a whopping 2.8 seconds. How many horsepower the engine was, its production time, when it came off the line in Doranelle… even the name of the damn paint color, Hawk White. It was Rowan’s pride and joy and it only liked premium gas.

“I’ll never admit to it.”

“Mhmm,” she replied, tabling his denial for now.

The annoying dinging sounded twice more before he pulled into one of the city’s fancier gas stations. Aelin only ever came here when she was with him. Her reliable SUV didn’t need expensive gas or frequent maintenance. It didn’t bother her that it dragged to even get to highway speeds or needed an adapted to play her music, she loved it anyways. Besides, the garage was full of luxury cars is she felt the need for classy speed. If she had taken one today, maybe she would have made it to school on time.

Rowan rolled cracked both windows halfway before cutting the engine. The gas tank was on her side, so they could still talk while he filled the tank. Shamelessly, she stared at his back, eyes tracing the taut fabric lines over his shoulders as he swiped his car and placed the pump into the opening. Casually, he rested his forearm on the window, hand dangling just inside. It was close enough, the calluses on his hands were visible. How would his thumb feel tracing her bottom lip? How would they feel tracing the most intimate parts of her?

Subtly, Aelin shook her head, astounded at her own audacity. Rowan was her best friend, not a piece of meat, and certainly not someone to muse salacious things about. Gods, she should have never left her bed.

“Bed?” Rowan asked.

Fuck. She’d said that last part out loud. “Oh nothing, I just was talking to myself.”

“About your bed?” he prompted, green eyes sparkling in amusement.

“I happen to love my bed, it’s very comfortable.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve been in it before.” He winked before turning away to look at the pump, arm still resting on the window. Speechless. She was speechless as she stared at his back once more, noting a small shake to his shoulders. The bastard was laughing. If the gods possessed any modicum of pity for her, one would smite her here and now.

She was two seconds from rolling his arm up in the window when an unfamiliar voice sounded from outside the window.

“That’s a beautiful car.”

“Thanks, I’m pretty fond of her myself,” he admitted, giving is full attention to whoever was outside the car. Aelin tried to look in the passenger mirror, but his frame was obscuring most of her view. Craning her neck, she looked back to see a dark-haired woman standing by her car at the pump behind theirs.

“Zero to sixty in 2.8 seconds, right?” The woman flicked her dark hair behind her, showing off her lowcut shirt as she awaited his response. Was she seriously trying to show case her boobs while talking cars? Breaking her gaze from the woman, she looked over to see Rowan still giving her his full attention.

“You know your cars, that’s unusual in a woman,” he supplied playfully.

“What am I, chopped liver?” she huffed angrily. He didn’t hear her and continued talking back and forth with the mystery woman. Aelin’s neck was becoming stiff from looking over her shoulder, never one to forsake nosiness but if they kept this up, she’d have to.

Rolling her eyes, she decided to try a new tactic: staring holes into the side of his face until he remembered her presence. It was a wash. He was too busy flirting back and forth to even acknowledge the click of the pump shutting off. The woman’s overzealous laugh did her in, what he’d said wasn’t even that funny, and out of exasperation, she grabbed his fingers.

Rowan glanced down, his green eyes taking her in as he flashed a smirk full of white teeth before flicking his gaze back to where it had been. Once more, she squeezed his pointer and middle finger, trying to convey her frustration. She was ready to go. He could flirt on his own time. And she had been promised ice cream. Turning back around, she noticed the woman had moved much closer and had her phone out.

“I’d love to talk cars some more, but I have to get going. My friend is going to wonder why it took me so long to get back. Could I get your number?” Unconsciously, Aelin went from grabbing two of his fingers, to grabbing his whole hand, squeezing tight enough to cut off blood flow. Briefly, he looked down at her, adjusting his arm to be further in the car, which wasn’t what she had been trying to accomplish at all—she wanted to stop having a front row seat them blatantly flirting with one another.

With zero progress being made, she loosened her death grip on his hand, only to be shocked when he took the moment to thread his fingers through hers, preventing retreat. Tugging against him only caused him to hold tighter. “Full disclosure, if I give you my number, it’ll have to be from a friend only standpoint. My girl here might actually have something to say if I wasn’t upfront about that.”

Her stomach felt as though it was in her throat, like she’d just ridden one of the amusement park rides that drops you 100 feet in seconds, and she was too aware of the rubatosis of pure shock. Had Rowan Whitethorn, secret crush of her high school and college years, star of her late-night fantasies, just referred to her as “his girl” whilst simultaneously turning down a beautiful woman? Too caught up in her own crashing thoughts, she’d completely missed the reply and only realized that when Rowan was pulling his hand away and then getting into the driver’s seat.

The engine purred softly to life, and he shifted into gear, pulling back out onto the road. Robotically, her gaze counted the yellow stripes marking the lanes of the highway. And when they became too blurred to count, she started accounting for the mile marker signs instead. Anything was better than acknowledging whatever had just happened. Or didn’t happen.

Rowan finally breached the stifling silence. “Are we going to talk about that?”

“Talk about what?” Aelin asked, feigning ignorance.

He rolled his eyes and shifted gears, increasing the car’s speed as headed into a curve. “You know what.”

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. Despite it being dark in the car and the only illumination of features being provided by the instrument panel, she could see every little mannerism he did. His jaw clenched twice before he pushed for a different answer.

Vexed, she caved. “You mean that woman that clearly wanted in your pants? That’s the only thing to talk about and we don’t have to, I had a front row seat to it. A onetime admission was more than enough.”

Unwelcomed fingers jabbed into the side of her rib, his pitiful attempt at gaining her attention further. Aelin wasn’t having it and angrily shoved his hand away, which was exactly what he’d intended. His large hand wrapped around hers and he moved it to rest atop the gear shift, using their combined grip to shift the car into another gear. Normally, a move like that would have had her core heating and a string of dirty thoughts to accompany it, but she wanted nothing to do with him, or his hand.

She hastily tried to take back her hand, yet only worsened the situation. He let out an annoyed huff and placed her palm against his thigh, his flattened over the top. The warmth of his body was seeping into her skin and her heart was racing with awareness. In all their years of friendship, no hug, comment, touch, had ever come anywhere near this line. “Aelin,” he hounded expectantly.

“Rowan, there’s literally nothing to talk about. Gods, just give me back my hand and take me home. It’s late and I need to get my paper done.”

“Whatever you say, Aelin.” He released her hand as though it had burned him, eyes straight on the road, and his face perfectly calm, giving nothing away. She couldn’t help but continue to peak over at him, trying to decide what was going on in head. The car’s atmosphere was suffocating and getting out of this car couldn’t come soon enough.

Five minutes later, Rowan turned down her road, and pulled his car into the same spot where he’d picked her up earlier. It seemed so long ago now, even though it had been mere hours. When he didn’t put the car in park, her brow furrowed in confusion, and she looked over after him.

“We need to talk about what happened.” His tone was jarring, revealing how affected he undeniably was.

“What?” she demanded, stubborn as ever.

“What?” he parroted, gesturing quotation marks with his hands. “You know what I’m referring to. You’re much too smart to play dumb. You know it. I know it. So don’t insult yourself by doing it,” he spit icily. The lines of his jaw seemed cut from marble, clenched and unmoving, the set of his brow equally hard.

Rowan would not win this battle. Aelin didn’t owe him anything, especially after he fragrantly flirted in front of her face and then used her as an excuse to get out of the situation. Typical man. Dogged as ever, she angled her body towards the door and stared out into the night. The car slipped into park and the engine cut off. For someone so tall, Rowan had a certain quick grace about it and occasionally it took him using it, to remind her so. Now was one of those times. He was throwing open the passenger side door and undoing her seat belt before she could prevent him from doing so.

She didn’t move, choosing to glare, crossing her arms across her body. He stepped back and made a grand gesture for her to get out of the car. Giving him a saccharine smile of thanks, she shoved off the seat, intent on making a beeline for the front door. His right arm blocked her, and he pushed her back to rest against the now closed car door. Both were breathing hard, eyes narrowed in disdain.

If he thought he was going to use his body to bully her like he used to, he had another thing coming. Smirking, she lifted up a leg, aiming for the apex of his thighs. His eyes widened and he stepped back, staring in disbelief, hands covering her intended target. It was a low blow but effective. Aelin booked it for the front door—a few seconds head start was all she needed to beat him.

Shoving open the front door, she smiled to herself in success. It was far easier to ignore phone calls and door knocks than an actual living, breathing person’s presence and he couldn’t get in a locked house. “That’s not very nice,” he scolded as his boot came to be between the frame and the door, preventing it from being shut.

“Godsdamnit Ro, go away. I’m so beyond over this, I rather be fed to a pack of wolves than do whatever this is.”

He pushed his muscled frame through the door, shutting it behind him. She took a step back, he followed. Somewhere in their dance of parry and counter moves, Aelin had stopped paying attention to her surroundings until her back was flush with the door, with nowhere to go. Victoriously, he grinned a predator’s smile, “We could have been done with this in the car, but you keep pretending we have nothing to talk about.”

“Gods, stop, just stop. Quit being such a domineering ass. It was absolutely nothing. I know she was annoying you by the end, so I was just trying to get you out of the situation.” Aelin clenched and unclenched her first, trying to bury the burning temptation to throw them into his chest.

“That’s a lie and we don’t lie to one another. You’re going to tell me the truth,” he said lowly, the anger rumbling in his chest. He placed his hands flush against the wall, almost brushing her upper arm as he did so, caging her in.

“What truth are you expecting me to tell?” she inquired hostilely, the gold rings in her eyes flaring at his high-handed behavior.

“Admit it, you were jealous.” His face was serious, his green eyes piercing her with accusation.

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Wrong answer, Aelin.” Rowan adjusted his right arm, moving his hand to rest against the wall alongside her face. “You didn’t want me to give her my number, did you? It made you jealous, didn’t it?”

“You can do whatever you want, you’re a grown man. I was ready to leave, that’s it.” He was so close, his body heat was radiating, heating her already flushed skin. Could he see it, the pink tinge staining her cheeks and the column of her neck? Could he hear how loud her heart was pounding? She felt like a moth caught in a web, waiting to become its captors next meal.

Shaking his head very deliberately back and forth, his adamant disapproval skated across her nerves, “Again, wrong answer, Aelin.” She didn’t think it was possible, but Rowan moved closer, his knee forcing her legs apart, his thigh coming to rest against the apex of hers. His head dropped, leaving mere inches between their faces, warm breath fanning her face, “I’m going to ask you one more time, were you jealous?”

“I’m not doing this. I don’t know why you’re being so insistent about an answer!” Giving into her earlier desires, she pushed her palms against his chest, attempting to put some distance between them. It proved futile. Under splayed palms, she could feel the rippling muscles of his chest as he breathed in and out. All logical thought was rapidly dissipating. “If the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t have cared. Stop making it a big deal.”

“No, I wouldn’t have been.” His eyes darkened with an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher as he stared intently down at her, waiting for her to process the words.

“Huh?” Aelin asked dumfounded, her heart hammering faster than it ever had. There was no way she had heard him accurately.

It was late, she was tired. It had been a stressful day. Rowan Whitethorn had not just admitted to being jealous while having her pinned up against the door with his body.

“Every guy that touches you. Talks to you. Even so much as looks at you, makes me rage. So no, Aelin, I would not have been ‘okay”. I would be jealous, and I would have been able to tell you that if you’d asked it of me,” he growled the last part, his jaw clenching so hard it looked like it would snap under the pressure.

“I don’t understand. You can’t possibly mean that,” she weakly protested.

“Please,” he said, his left hand coming up to mirror his right, forcing her to look only at him. “Don’t act like you don’t know. So. Were. You. Jealous?”

Aelin wasn’t sure if it was the fact their noses were basically touching now or that she couldn’t look anywhere else, that there was no reprieve from his heavy gaze. Whatever it was, she could no longer lie to his face. The confession fell from her lips. “Yes.”

Rowan’s massive frame retreated a couple steps, evidently taken aback by her candidness. Her body wept at the sudden loss of warmth. Her blue eyes roved over his unmoving form, rejection starting to take root in her belly, and laying waste to the anger and attraction that had previously occupied it. What had he gained by pushing her this far? Was he mad about earlier? Had he actually wanted that girl’s number? She had been pretty, actually she had been gorgeous—and that was part of why she’d interrupted him in the first place. Grabbing his hand had seemed like the most logical distraction. He had been there, with her, for her, making her bad day better, and having to share him with a pretty stranger had not been on her bingo card.

He said nothing. Did nothing. And the bitter realization of being the punchline for whatever cruel joke this was threatened to suffocate her. It felt like a chore to breathe in and out, to even stay and hold her ground while feeling like she was being shredded.

Within one blink, the distance between them vanished. His tattooed hand splayed out of the front of her neck, tipping her head up to rest against the door. “Right answer,” he praised against her lips before capturing them in a searing kiss.

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Tag list:

@lunadorned @theresyourfireandblood @backtobl4ck @leiawritesstories @morganofthewildfire @rowaelinismyotp @jorjy-jo @theresyourfireandblood @numbers-colors-fashion @swankii-art-teacher @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @stardelia @astra-ad-mare

**** hopefully you guys don't mind being tagged outside of "Songs About You". If you do however, just shoot me a message and I won't general tag you :)

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass #rowan x aelin #aedion ashryver #Best friend #one shot #jealousy #throne of glass fic #fanfiction

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sarahjswift · 9 months ago

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Here is the third chapter of spotlight on me, baby where are you? (Originally a one shot named “emails I can’t send”)

I’m having so much fun writing this series!

Word Count: 1.7k

Enjoy! Please let me know what you think! 😚

Breathe.

Well, she couldn’t do that in the peace-killing device she wore. Aelin was pretty sure her dress was slowly suffocating her.

“At least you look hot,” Lysandra had shrugged when Aelin had mentioned this to her best friend and stylist. “And that’s all that matters at the Grammy after party, isn’t it?”

Now, Aelin blew out a breath as she stared out the tinted window to the building before her. Everywhere, celebrities were exiting their luxury vehicles and sashaying their way towards the party. She thought they looked like ants crawling over their nest.

“Ready?” Aedion, sitting on the other side of the car, asked. He was clad in sweats and a white T-shirt, hair pulled back. Lysandra leaned against him, a hand on her boyfriend’s knee, the green-eyed beauty wearing a simple black dress. For a moment, Aelin was overcome with a devastating envy; not just for her friends’ obvious bliss in their relationship, but for their life. After the Grammys performance, their job was done, and they could drive home and relax on the couch, watch Netflix, and go to sleep.

Not Aelin. No, because of the life she’d so desperately wanted, she’d squeezed into her dress and was carted off into the limo moments after the exhausting event that was the Grammys. Now, she would spend the next five hours maintaining her perfect image, avoiding the cruel paparazzi and pandering to the ones she knew her agent had paid. She’d be lucky if she got to sleep before five in the morning. That is, if she could sleep at all.

Aelin couldn’t help feeling alone. She’d never tell anyone else this, of course; complaining about her life just felt privileged and spoiled. The only person who truly understood was…

Was…

Gone. Somebody else’s to love.

Snapping back to reality, Aelin forced a smile and nodded. “Of course.”

She turned back to the window and took a final breath, closing her eyes as she let her face melt into the mask she’d perfected over the time since her break into the industry; the arrogance, the casual beauty, the always-present amusement. Looking over her shoulder, she shot her friends a wink before the door opened and she stepped out onto the street.

Instantly, she was overwhelmed by the chaos of it all; the flash of the cameras, the shouting of the paparazzi.

“Aelin, over here!”

“Aelin, how did it feel to perform at the Grammys without any nominations?”

“Here, Aelin!”

“Aelin, who are you wearing tonight?”

“Look here, Aelin!”

“How were the Grammys, Aelin?”

“One smile, Aelin!”

“Aelin, how did it feel to perform your pointed single in front of ex Whitethorn?”

A wave of cold washed over Aelin, and she swallowed and locked her spine. Plastering a smirk on her face, she moved toward the entrance, letting her hips swing with every step. She felt and saw the lightbulbs flash, and kept her eyes on the entrance. The guard at the door gave her a smile and a nod, stepping aside to let her in. Aelin walked through the threshold and sighed, shoulders slumping for one second before she forced her posture perfect again.

Here we go.

The music was too loud.

Much, much too loud - meant to drown out the chatter of the industry’s finest. Rowan wondered how much people paid to have their music played at events like these.

“Rowan?”

Rowan blinked and looked down, straight into big brown eyes. Lyria smiled softly up at him, the action lighting up her face from pretty to beautiful. She reached out, curled her fingers around Rowan’s dress shirt and tugged. Obliging her, Rowan leaned down, turning his head so she could whisper into his ear.

“Can we go find the rest of the group?” she asked, her lips grazing the shell of his ear. Rowan pulled back and nodded, offering her his arm to take as they left the room. Instantly, the chaos of the main room was muted as they stepped into a hallway. “Oh, it was agonizingly loud in there, wasn’t it?” Lyria asked.

“I don’t understand why they always crank the music up to the top volume,” Rowan grumbled, shaking his head. “I was about to lose feeling in my ears.”

Lyria giggled, a soft, breathy sound. “Good thing I saved you.”

“Good thing.”

They made their way through the crowds, craning their necks to find the rest of The Cadre. Rowan welcomed the quiet Lyria offered him, letting his mind wander. He still felt shaky, totally on edge. How could he go on through this stupid party, full of vain, vapid people, after what had happened just two hours before? He didn’t know how he’d held on so long without breaking down, honestly. Most likely thanks to Lyria’s sweet presence.

“There!” the girl in question said, pointing through the crowd. Rowan instantly saw the backs of the heads of Gavriel, Fenrys, and Lorcan, and began gently tugging Lyria towards them. He felt his spirits rise at the thought of talking to his friends, debriefing the Grammys, discussing the awards…They reached the group and his friends turned, letting him see who they were all talking to -

Oh, gods.

Oh, fucking gods.

Standing there, in all her glory. Dressed in a tight red dress that stopped mid-thigh and hugged every curve, sleeveless with a dipping neckline. A gold necklace was draped across a perfect collarbone, drawing the eyes to a delightful amount of cleavage - just enough to tease but modest enough to maintain control. Golden hair swooped back with gold clips, two perfect strands framing the face..that face. High cheekbones. A pair of full lips painted red to match the dress. Darkened eyelashes and a cat eye to accentuate those blue, fiery eyes.

At the sight, Rowan almost fell to his knees.

He thought half-hysterically that far below him, some dark god was laughing his ass off as Rowan drowned in those eyes…that perfect shade of blue, that untamable fire he’d always adored…

Rowan forced his gaze away from Aelin Galathynius, and just like that, he was in control again. His legs were once again steady and strong. His heart, on the other hand, was still hammering like he’d run a race.

“Oh, Rowan!” Gavriel stammered, looking nervous. Rightfully so. Rowan was going to kill him once they were out of here. “We - we were looking for you, but we couldn’t find you guys…” His voice trailed off, most likely thanks to the death-promise that was undoubtedly in Rowan’s eyes.

“We were in the main room,” Lyria replied for him. “It got too loud for Rowan, though. Old man.” She chuckled, patting his arm.

Old man. Rowan wondered if Lyria knew what she was doing, making that joke. He dared a glance…

Her eyes were full of flame, lips pursed. His gaze dropped to her hand, currently holding a flute of champagne, and watched her slender pointer finger tap against the glass, an almond nail clacking against the surface. Her tell, one that no amount of media training could stamp out of her. She was angry.

Rowan felt the ghost of a smile around his mouth. He loved the sight of Aelin Galathynius in a rage.

No. He tamped down on the thought before it could go any farther.

He knew why she was mad. He let the train of thought carry him away, to better times…

Old man…

—“You old man!” The fond joke he’d grown accustomed to hearing. He’d rolled his eyes and ruffled her hair, smirking at her shrieks of fake rage.

“Sorry, we’ve got to get home…this old man here needs to be in bed before eleven.” The excuse she’d give their friends whenever his hands would trace below her lower back, or when he’d press pleading kisses to the back of her neck when nobody was looking. It was his favorite insult, given that it usually led to fingernails dragging down his back, a head thrown back in ecstasy, pleasure unlike he’d ever known.

“You’re such an old man.” The words he’d beheld in her eyes after his stiff and formal introduction to her father. She hadn’t even had to say anything for him to understand. He’d thrown her a wink and pressed a kiss to her mouth, reveling in her delighted laughter, arms around his neck. He’d pulled her to him, hugging her tight, breathing in her lemon verbena shampoo. Glancing up, he’d seen her father watching them at the door and knew the sight had won the man’s approval more than any conversation would. —

Rowan pushed away the memories. The joy of those days had now turned to despair. The once-beloved words, old man, as sacred as phrases of love, felt distorted and dirty coming from Lyria’s pink lips. Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth to speak-

“Rowan can’t stay in one place for long before he leaves, can he?”

All heads whipped to the cool-faced beauty standing before them. The words were dripping with acid, but in a voice so melodic it almost didn’t pierce Rowan’s heart.

Almost.

Gavriel, Fenrys, and Lorcan shifted, all finding the floor, their drinks, the ceiling suddenly riveting. Rowan swallowed and squared his shoulders. “Aelin-” he began.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had that problem with my boyfriend,” Lyria’s soft voice floated up from next to him, edged with a steel he’d never heard before from her. “We left because I wanted to.” She turned to him, smiling, and stroked his cheek once before letting her hand fall and grasp his tightly. “He’s always so responsive to my needs,” she said sweetly. Honeyed words, meant to choke.

Aelin’s nostrils flared, and she cocked her head in a move so animalistic a distant voice in Rowan’s mind wondered if she was descended from a leopard. A terrifying smile graced her mouth, eyes frozen in rage. Part of Rowan shrank back as his gaze darted from woman to woman. One feline and dangerous, the other doe-eyed and deceptively soft.

The soft part of Lyria, he saw, had gone as quickly as her loyalty to Aelin.

Aelin took one step forward. A single step, that had the entire group bracing themselves. Her words were breathy and tinged with dark amusement.

“Let’s see how long that lasts, sweetheart.”

@aelinchocolatelover @renxzs @throneofshadows @mariaofdoranelle

#aelin throne of glass #throne of glass fic #aelin and rowan #angst #singers au #fanfic #rowaelin band au #rowaelin au #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #writers on tumblr

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justreadertings · 2 years ago

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Concept: rowaelins child drawing all over her face and arms to look like her dad

#rowaelin au #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #sarah j maas #throneofglass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #tower of dawn #kingdom of ash

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bellasbookboyfriends · 2 years ago

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Take Two

Fans are elated to see Miss Aelin Galathynius return to the public eye after three long years spent grieving the loss of her late fiancé. She began her acting career at the young age of 16 as Celaena Sardothien, opposite Mr. Dorian Havilliard, in the internationally acclaimed Throne of Glass saga. Now 28 years old, she’s stepped back into the spotlight to find love again. Miss Galathynius is opening up her heart and her home to eight of the most eligible bachelors across the country. Our network consulted relationship experts, influential Hollywood figures and the Booktok community to put together this perfect group of gentlemen that promises edge-of-your-seat drama, otherworldly sexual tension, and the ultimate second chance at happily ever after.

**Production is not responsible for the reopening of any murder investigations, the inadvertent cockblocking of any hyperactive emotional support floofs that answer to the name Fleetfoot, or the intimidation and/or inquisition of any eligible suitors by angsty 13 year olds**

#rowaelin au #throne of glass #rowaelin #manon x dorian #elide x lorcan #celebrity au #aelin galathynius #sjmaas #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #elide lochan #lord lorcan lochan #lorcan salvaterre #fenrys moonbeam #lysandra #tog fanfiction #dorian x manon

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fireheart-violet · 2 years ago

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I've just found this amazing story on Ao3 Rowaelin fans you must run and read it it's just so good! Idk if the author has an account here on Tumblr but I haven't found it 😞

Fire & Ice (Hockey) by whichdirection - Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47000707

I felt like spamming this, even if I am not and I don't know the author, because it was a while since I was reading fanfic exclusively on Tumblr and I'm really happy that I could find this story, so maybe I thought that I was not the only one who was missing it 😅

#rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #sarah j maas #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass au #rowan x aelin

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leiawritesstories · 7 months ago

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Practice

Rowaelin Month 2024, Day 19: A Day with the Kids (canon) @rowaelinscourt

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: none!!! enjoy the fluffy fluffs!

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

“Mama?” A knock pattered softly against the half-open door of Aelin’s study, and a pair of irresistibly huge emerald eyes peered into the room. “May I come in, Mama?”

Aelin set aside the stack of letters she was reading through and turned in her seat, opening her arms to her youngest daughter. “Of course you can, my little love.”

Rielle Whitethorn Galathynius, all of seven years old, came slowly into the study, looking curiously around at the shelves of leather-bound books, journals, rolled-up maps, and scattered artifacts that lined the walls of the queen’s study. After a moment, though, she raced to her mother and all but threw herself into Aelin’s lap. Aelin laughed and caught her daughter, kissing her wild silvery-blonde curls. “Hi, lovey.”

“You’re so busy, Mama,” Rielle murmured, small hands curling into the soft cotton of Aelin’s loose blouse.

“Never too busy for my family,” Aelin promised. “What’s going on?”

Her daughter’s eyes glossed over with tears. “When are Dada and Lana gonna come home?”

Oh.

Aelin pulled her youngest close, rubbing a hand up and down her back. “Well, according to the letter that Lana just sent me, they should be home in a couple of days. Definitely by the end of the week.” Gently, she brushed a stray tear off Rielle’s cheek. “I know they’ve been away for a while, lovey, and I know Dada misses you too.” Rowan and Lana, their oldest daughter, had gone to Doranelle for a few weeks to visit Sellene and give Lana the chance to train at the Academy that the Fae Queen of the East had established for all young magic-wielders.

Rielle’s lower lip quivered. “I miss Lana,” she whispered. The oldest and youngest Whitethorn children had a close bond, even though they were nearly fifteen years apart in age.

Aelin kissed her baby girl’s forehead. “I know, lovey.” She glanced out the study’s wide, arching windows, looking down into the courtyard, and an idea sparked. “Do you want to go practice with me?”

“Practice?”

Nodding, Aelin curled a ribbon of golden flame around Rielle’s head. “Practice.”

The little girl beamed and jumped off her mother’s lap, ecstatic. “Yes!”

“All right.” Aelin stood up, reshuffled the papers on her desk, and left the study hand in hand with her daughter. Rielle chattered excitedly as they came out to the courtyard, where two of her siblings were already sparring with a mix of wooden practice knives and their magic.

Light as air, Charlotte danced circles around her brother Brannon, flicking ice darts against his shield of hard air even as she slashed at him with the wooden dagger in her free hand. Bran fended off each stroke, but Aelin could tell that her son was starting to flag under the constant strain of Charlotte’s offense. He broadened his shield, pushing wind behind it to propel him forward against her onslaught, lunging at her with the short wooden sword in his left hand, but she swiftly gathered her darts into a long ice sword and batted away his lunge.

“Watch your right, B!” Aelin called across the courtyard, and Bran flicked his sword sideways just barely in time to dodge the sly jab that Charlotte was sending towards his unprotected right side.

“That’s…cheating,” he panted, clenching his fist so that his shield shrank in size. He wove a breeze around one of Charlotte’s legs and tugged, yanking her off balance.

She swore at him as she wrenched out of his magic’s grasp. “Says the dirty cheat himself.” With a flick of her wrist, her ice sword shattered into tiny, bladed crystals that she shot at Bran’s shield. He grunted under the onslaught and focused hard enough on blocking that attack that he didn’t notice her swoop in with her wooden dagger and jab him hard in the thigh. He topped with a yelp, and she had her practice blade at his throat in seconds. “Do you yield?”

He grumbled in frustration and tried to wriggle free, but she pinned him with ice around his wrists and ankles. “Gods damn it! I yield.”

Charlotte retracted her ice and let Bran up. He shook out his wrists and begrudgingly gave her a short bow. “You would’ve had me if Mum hadn’t said anything,” she said graciously.

Some of Bran’s grumpiness—inherited directly from his father—ebbed away. “Yeah, I guess.”

Rielle tugged at Aelin’s hand. “I can practice too, Mama!” she declared. Aelin nodded encouragingly, and Rielle walked a few paces away, closed her eyes, and pressed her hands together in concentration. After a long moment, sparks flickered between her palms, and she carefully brought her hands apart, growing the ball of red-gold flame between them. Scrunching up her little face as she focused, she grew the flames into a sphere, then a ring, then two rings that turned in circles.

“You’re doing so good,” Aelin praised, and she spun out a ribbon of blue flame, weaving it through her daughter’s flickering flame rings. Her magic brushed up against her daughter’s power, greeting it warmly.

“Look, Mama!” Rielle’s grin was infectious as her flames fell apart into ribbons, and she wove them through the air. Her small fingers flexed with the strain of control, and she clenched her fists, trying to spool the flames back into a ball.

But the red-gold fire just winked out.

Frustrated, Rielle let out a half-sob, half-yell and slumped down to the sandy ground. Aelin snuffed out her flames and dropped down next to her daughter, tucking her fingertips under Rielle’s fallen chin and lifting her face.

“That was so good, Rielle,” she said, comforting her daughter. “Lovey, when I was your age, I could barely hold onto the fire for a few seconds, and you’re already making shapes.”

Rielle sniffled. “Really?”

“Really,” Aelin reassured her. “Can you show me again?”

Slowly, Rielle nodded, and she curled into her mother’s warm embrace as she clenched her small fist and brought forth a shuddering ball of flame. Aelin cupped her hand under her daughter’s and wrapped Rielle’s flame in her own wildfire, guiding the flames into the shape of a sword. Together, she and her daughter slowly brought the sword down as if striking a blow.

And it struck a shield of ephemeral silver flame.

Rielle’s flames flared bright and disappeared, and she shot across the courtyard in a blur of silver-blonde curls and eager shrieking. “LANA!” Indeed, her oldest sister leaned against the archway at the entrance to the courtyard, and as Rielle launched herself up, Lana caught her, hugging her tightly.

“That was so good!” Lana praised, grinning at her little sister.

“Really?” Rielle’s eyes were big and hopeful.

“Really,” Lana beamed. Unlike either her mother or her sister, the crown princess of Terrasen wielded flames of silver—moonfire, a gift that ran parallel to the Galathynius wildfire. A gift that had lain dormant until the goddess Deanna co-opted Aelin’s body that fateful day on the ship, leaving behind a remnant of her gift that had passed down to Aelin and Rowan’s firstborn.

“Lana’s right, little love.” Rowan wrapped his arms around both girls from behind.

Rielle shifted from her sister’s arms to her father’s embrace, beaming. “I missed you, Dada!”

“I missed you more, little love,” Rowan murmured. He swung her up into the air, and she shrieked with joy, a cascade of laughter echoing around the courtyard.

Lana crossed the courtyard to Aelin and wrapped her arms around her mother. Aelin smiled into her daughter’s hair, marveling at how she had grown so tall. “How was the trip?” she asked.

“It was…a lot, but in a good way.” Lana wove a thoughtful strand of sheer fire around her wrist. “Aunt Sel and the instructors at the Academy know so much, and I hardly had any time to absorb even a little bit of it.”

Aelin raised a brow. “And the rest of it?”

Pink crept into the edges of Lana’s cheeks. “The rest of it was fine.”

Aelin chuckled and took pity on her oldest. “We can chat about it later, if you want.”

“Hopefully without half the castle snooping on us,” Lana mumbled. She turned to go and greet the rest of her siblings—which meant spar with them, probably—but flashed her mother a sly wink and a little smirk. “I hope you won’t be too scandalized.”

“I believe your father and I are plenty scandalous enough already.” Aelin winked right back.

Lana groaned loudly and covered her eyes. “No!” She headed across the courtyard, seeking refuge from her mother’s naughty humor in the laughter and companionship of her siblings.

Have we not scandalized her enough already? Rowan’s amusement curled around the corners of her mind.

Never. Aelin winked slyly at her husband. One might think, though, that after twenty-two years and, perhaps a love of her own, our crown princess wouldn’t be quite so shocked.

Do not get me started on Lana’s lover—life. On her love life.

You know I heard that.

You’ll forget about it soon enough. Rowan slid his arms around Aelin’s waist, one broad hand landing squarely on her hip, his thumb moving in a languid, heated touch.

She dipped her fingers under the hem of his shirt, dragging her nails lightly across his smooth, warm skin and reveling in his tightly leashed inhale. Is that a promise, buzzard?

It is. That quickly, he turned her own game right back around at her as he brushed a teasingly light kiss against the side of her neck.

Welcome home, love. She rose onto her tiptoes to kiss him, and he cupped the back of her head, supporting her. We missed you.

Missed you more. He kissed her again.

A shower of snowflakes burst over the queen and king’s heads, abruptly yanking them apart. From the other side of the courtyard, their children were alternately catcalling or groaning with theatrical disgust, though they’d all long since grown used to their parents showing affection.

“Are you done yet?” Lana teased, snickering.

Aelin laughed. “She’s got the commanding voice, for sure.”

“She’ll be a wonderful queen one day,” Rowan agreed, his eyes soft, distant.

Naturally, Charlotte chose that moment to drop a handful of conjured snow down Bran’s shirt, and he shrieked like a small child and chased her around the courtyard and into the gardens, as if the two of them were children rather than nearly adults. Rielle, seeing the fun, hurtled after her older siblings, yelling “You’re it! You’re it!” and Lana, with a flash of a wildfire grin, followed suit.

“They’re a handful,” Rowan chuckled, pulling Aelin back against his chest.

She smiled, the warmth of it radiating from her face. “They’re our handful, love.”

~~~

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#my writing #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth2024 #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #rowaelin and kiddos #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass au #canon au #post canon au

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goddess-aelin · 2 years ago

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Putting Out Fires

For Rowaelin Month day 26: taking care of the littles solo

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: none!

Alma Whitethorn Galathynius, six years old and eldest of three children (so far), was a beautiful and gentle soul. That is, when she wasn’t being a little hellion. With a strong gift of fire from her mother, Alma inherited the famous Galathynius temper and penchant for “accidentally” setting things on fire. Her four-year-old younger brother, Errin, was no better. While he also had fire powers, they were thankfully much weaker than his sister’s, especially since he also inherited his father’s strong gift of ice and wind, Rowan’s twin. Errin, though, found it funny to chase his sister, hands aflame and ice covering the floors to make it more difficult to run.

And not to mention poor Leven, the newly two-year-old who tried and failed to keep up with his older siblings. Leven, unlike his siblings, had a quiet disposition, contemplative and cool headed. While he wasn’t usually easily upset, his siblings chasing each other with flames certainly put a damper on his mood.

To put it short, Rowan was absolutely, positively exhausted.

Aelin left for Adarlan two weeks ago, hoping to meet with Dorian and Chaol to forge new trade agreements. Rowan had excitedly volunteered to stay home with their children instead of taking part in the courtly bullshit. But he didn’t anticipate that not having Aelin as a buffer would tempt his two oldest into becoming creatures sent by Hellas himself. If only Lorcan could see him right now.

Carrying Leven from his quiet room where the youngster was napping into the chaos of the playroom was like walking into a warzone. Rowan swears his hair was singed by a fireball passing by his head. Putting Leven down, the boy immediately latched onto his leg, not willing to take part in his siblings’ antics. Rowan, however, needed to get this under control…and fast. Otherwise, Aelin would be coming home to nothing but a burnt crisp of a castle.

“What is going on?!” Rowan tried to use his best booming voice, the voice of a commander, but he didn’t do a very good job. His voice came out as a squeak instead since a fireball shot directly toward his head once again, which of course, made Leven clutch his leg harder and tears form in the poor boy's eyes.

Rowan cleared his voice and tried again. “WHAT IS GOING ON!?”

The room went silent except for Leven’s sniffles. Both Alma and Errin’s hands were wreathed in flame, covering their tiny hands like wraps for sparring. A quick once-over of his kids informed Rowan that, luckily, no one seemed to be injured or burned.

Both Alma and Errin just stood there for a moment before spurring back into action. It all happened so fast. One minute, they were standing in front of each other, and the next, Errin’s little hand was holding the drapes. Still on fire.

“No! Don’t set fire to the–” Rowan was cut off by a wave of water dousing the flames. Huh, he thought. That’s new. Both Alma and Errin were frozen, looking bewildered as he felt. As far as he knew, neither Alma nor Errin had water powers, which left… “Oh my Gods!”

Rowan looked to his youngest, still clutching his leg but now with an outstretched little hand. He had an adorable pout on his face and it reminded him so much of Aelin that he could help but let a cackle escape.

Picking his youngest son up, he asked him, “Was that you, buddy? Did you put the fire out?”

Still pouting, Leven nodded. “Water.”

A smile burst over Rowan’s face. “That was amazing! You’re only two and you just put that big fire out!” He tickled his son’s belly and the youngster started giggling. His two older ones made their way over, bashful and embarrassed.

“We’re sorry, Daddy. We were just playing,” his oldest stated.

Bringing his arms around all three of them, he pulled them into a tight hug. “I know, my loves. You just have to be careful, especially inside.” He could feel Alma and Errin lay their heads on his chest and shoulder, Leven still in his arms, holding onto his neck. “I think that finding out Leven has water powers calls for some cake, yes?”

All three of his children started jumping up and down eagerly, having inherited their mother’s love of cake.

Afterwards, the kids were luckily more pliant and subdued, allowing Rowan to give them baths and get them into their nightclothes. With all three of them tucked into bed, Rowan was looking forward to absolutely passing out once he reached his own.

He was almost asleep when the patter of little feet reached his ears. In the doorway was a tiny shadow with long hair: Alma. The small girl crossed the room to where Rowan was laying and crawled her way up onto the massive bed.

“Daddy,” she whispered. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

As he sat up and started rubbing her back, he replied, “Did you have a nightmare?”

The little one shook her head. “No, I just missed you.” Rowan’s heart melted at that though he couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle as he pulled his daughter into his arms.

“You just saw me five minutes ago, little bird.”

“But I miss Mommy, too. And I want to sleep in here.” She crossed her arms and pouted, Aelin through and through.

“Okay, okay. You can sleep in here. But you have to sleep, okay? No playing.”

“Okay, Daddy! I’ll sleep, don’t you worry.”

Rowan made to lay back down but instead of resting next to him, Alma hopped off the bed and padded once again toward the door. Like a tiny mother with her little ducklings following behind, three figures now walked toward his bed. One by one, his children climbed up onto the bed and tucked themselves in beside him. Leven, only two and still fairly small yet, couldn’t reach the bed himself so Rowan hauled him up.

“I don’t think I remember agreeing to having three little birds in my bed.” A chorus of giggles broke out. Soon enough, though, his children’s light snores reached his ears and lulled him to sleep.

- - - - -

Something woke Rowan the next morning, though it was still before dawn. As his bleary eyes sharpened, a familiar figure was standing by the side of the bed, taking in the scene.

“Fireheart,” he whispered. “You’re home.”

She bent down to kiss him, short and sweet though not without feeling. “I’m home.” Her gaze turned to their three little ones snuggled up against Rowan. “And why is everyone in my bed?”

Rowan let out a soft chuckle. “The little masterminds formed a plan and ganged up on me to sleep here. I didn’t know you’d be back yet. I can move them.”

Aelin shook her head. “No, leave them be. I’ll snuggle in on the other side.”

Moments later, their three children were sandwiched between the two of them.

“Soon we won’t be able to fit all of them in here.”

Rowan gave her a knowing smile. They hadn’t told the kids yet that Aelin was expecting another sibling again but he knew they’d all be overjoyed at the prospect of another baby to spoil and scheme with. Rowan reached his hand to rest on Errin’s back, sleeping in the middle. Aelin’s covered his moments later and Rowan couldn’t help but thinking he was so godsdamned lucky.

A/N: I’m slacking so hard on the prompts this past week but I’m hoping to get some out after this month is over! Hope you enjoyed!

Tagging:

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth2023 #rowaelinscourt #rowaelin au #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #my fic #my fics

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highladyof-erilea · 2 years ago

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CODENAMES: Chapter 1

Celaena Sardothien is the world’s best assassin. Of course, no one knows that. They only know a name and a reputation. And she would like to keep it that way. But when the infamous group of operatives labeled “The Cadre” prevents Celaena from completing her latest mission, everything goes to hell. As it turns out, some people know more about her than just a name.

a/n: Hey guys! This is the first chapter in my new fic CODENAMES!! It's a crossover between Throne of Glass and Agents of Shield. Not sure how long this series will be but I am hoping it to be decent sized. Enjoy!

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

Chapter 1: Adarlan's Assassin

Adarlan’s Assassin had no identity. Nothing was known about who they worked for or where they came from. Many assumed that they were a bedtime story told to keep people’s mouths shut and pockets open. The only thing that was known about them was the fact that they were one of the world’s best assassins, if not the best. They were on the top of every agency's Most Wanted list and hunted like a feral bat in a nursery. Everyone wanted them dead, not because they were a risk to their lives, but because if Adarlan’s Assassin was given your name, you would be dead. Not only your body, but your reputation and everything you had ever built, touched, or even looked at. If you wanted to stay alive in this world, you learned not to be on the wrong side of their gun.

Luckily for Celaena, she didn’t need to worry about being on the wrong side of the gun. She was the gun. The way people revered her reputation was laughable at times. Considering where she started, one would think that Adarlan’s Assassin would have a less than desirable reputation. But her old reputation was in no way even considered to be the same person as Adarlan’s Assassin. Celaena’s style and work had grown and changed so much from her first few years as a trainee that nobody suspected or even connected her offenses to being committed by the same person.

Considering that she was one of, if not the most feared assassins around, you would think that she would get her pick of assignments. However, instead of being sent on the one assignment she had ever begged to be on, Celaena was instead sent to Wendlyn. She was to kill the President’s son, Galan. President Ashryver had recently denied Arobynn some vital information in the form of locking up one of his many lap dogs and Arobynn held grudges. Hard.

To Celaena, this was nothing more than a punishment for her. She should’ve been doing other bigger, better assignments, but Arobynn had had it out for her ever since she messed up an assignment a while back. Either way, she was stuck with this assignment now, and she would deal with her anger the best way she knew; showing Arobynn just what he was missing out on by completing this mission, one way or another.

Which ultimately led her to her current state, being shacked up in the attic of a liquor shop. The attic was in a somewhat suitable state, being mostly used as storage so Celaena had to move around a few boxes in order to make space for herself. There were also a few critters scattered here and there, but Celaena didn’t mind them. When you're on your own for so long, you learn to make friends in the smallest of critters. Celaena gave them a few pieces of bread she had swiped from a stand while strolling through the market earlier today.

The liquor store’s attic window had the perfect vantage point for the route that Galan Ashryver would be taking to his family’s summer home and the store owner’s were oblivious enough that they didn’t notice someone enter their shop and never come out. Stupidly enough, Wendlyn lived in such a state of peace and ignorance that most of their government traveled light, with only one other escort and more often than not, had an open roof on their cars. Celaena may have thought it to be stupid but she wasn’t going to complain, considering it made her job ten times easier.

After adjusting her rifle and ensuring that she had the perfect viewpoint of the street, Celaena took a swig from one of the dozens of flasks she had found while arranging herself in the attic. She may be one of the best assassins around, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun on the job. After all, if she was going to do something worthless, she might as well enjoy it. Arobynn might scold her if he finds out she was drinking on the job, but the worst he would do was give her a few beatings. Nothing she couldn’t handle.

Galan wasn’t set to be arriving for another few hours, so Celaena settled under the window and opened the latest book she had been invested in. It was set in a world with a school of magic and dragons. She’d always wanted to ride a dragon. Celaena hated to admit it, but reading was her guilty pleasure. Books took her away to another world where she didn’t have to think about any of her problems in the real world and could just spend a few hours imagining she had an entirely different life. If Arobynn found out she wasted time on something as revolting as reading rather than working to “hone her craft,” he would have a fit and most likely burn every book she had in her collection. And probably her as well. She never took them out when he was around.

Over the next few hours, Celaena immersed herself into the book all the while keeping an eye on the meticulous schedule she had to keep if she wanted to come out unscathed from this assignment.

When it neared the time that Galan was scheduled to be turning onto her street, Celaena sat up and began arranging herself on the floor into a comfortable but advantageous position. She was a little woozy from all the alcohol she had consumed, but not nearly enough for it to impair her job. She could still shoot the rifle with precision. Her other senses just may not have been as strong as they usually were.

Either way Celaena was prepared to kill Galan. She may not have liked it, but eventually she would get over her guilt and move on. She always did.

Not too long after getting into position, Celaena heard the tell-tale signs of Galan’s motor parade, what with all the cheering and commotion going on. Celaena never understood what it was that people loved so much about the Ashryvers, but she couldn’t blame them. Everyone was brainwashed at some point in their life. Even her.

Taking a deep breath, Celaena centered herself and began to count down from 10.

10…

Celaena reached down and loaded a round into her rifle’s chamber.

9…

Shaking out her shoulders, she relaxed her body and leaned into the rifle.

8…

Celaena heard a creak of floor boards behind her, but paid no mind to it, making it out to be the critters she had seen roaming around earlier.

7…

Celaena closed her eyes and blocked out all outside noises and distractions, giving into Adarlan’s Assassin and letting it take the reins.

6…

Galan’s escort turned the corner and Adarlan’s Assassin centered their scope on Galan, straight through the open window.

5…

Adarlan’s Assassin felt the breeze from the open window against their neck and placed their finger against the trigger.

4…

There was the distinct sound of a glock being disengaged.

3…

The feeling of a cold, hard muzzle was pressed against the back of her head and Celaena’s whole body froze, her eyes open wide in panic.

2…

A cold, rough voice behind her spoke; “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

1…Shit.

#throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #agents of shield #tog fic #celaena sardothien #rowaelin au

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aelinschild · 1 year ago

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Paradigm; side by side

˙✧˖ March 1st: Morning

Main Masterlist | Paradigm; side by side Masterlist |

SYNOPSIS: Storms often come after the sun. WORDCOUNT: 620 WARNINGS: none!

Huge thank you to @throneofglassmicrofics for organizing! Make sure to check out other works over on their account!

There was a lulling of delayed movement, calm strokes repeated endlessly.

Just outside of the rolled-down window, wind passing by in a gentle caress. Twisting and twining her hair, braiding it together by the hand of nature. Glaring off the water and reflected in burnished irises. The sun had only begun its slow trek across the sky.

Great strokes of pinks and oranges, bright as a summer garden. Weaving in, out, around clouds heavy from a misty evening.

Her fingers tapped a unconscious beat on the steering wheel, gold heirloom rings clicking gently. Warmed from the heat of the blood pulsing under fair skin; soaking up the dregs of sunlight as it passes through her car.

Aelin was less nervous now than she was at the beginning of her trip. Setting off before her sleeping city rose, closing doors and locking them with a finality that shook her hands. Counting steps, breaths, blinks. Everything that she was, left on the cold pavement. Watching in acquiescence, cool indifference behind it.

The heat of the now rising sun warmed the piece of her she had forgotten of.

From her last stop on the great stretch of highway, she could estimate the time to her destination. Minutes, now. A map highlighted with cherished stationary sat beside her, a companion in spirit. Alongside the rest of her worldly possessions, sprawling from the small space of the boot.

Time was passing differently, like shedding the weight of a clocks hand, replacing it with a shadow. Flowing naturally, unhurried in all aspects. There was no urge to choke the seconds out, to pause the current to admire the sea. Aelin felt the change in her bones, just as the scene from her fantasies appeared.

A cottage by the sea.

Two weeks ago, there was an explicit end. She had to be out, out, out. Her small apartment in the city was no longer hers, the lease trickling away, exchanging her for someone new. She had nowhere to go. That was until she found Rowan.

The advert was… unfortunate. Lacked the geniality one would assume came with a seaside cottage. Each picture was slightly askew, just a fraction off its axis. Snapped like an afterthought. Described in clinical terms; two bedroom, two bathroom, small kitchen, and good outdoor space.

The woman – Rowan – was kind enough. The rent was shockingly economical. A deal far too good to be true, Aelin had thought. No chance this was really an opportunity that had just… appeared for her. So, she had sought out the catch.

But, there was none.

Rowan had been straightforward in her communication, expectations, and dealings. And days later Aelin had boxed her life away, tucked into a rusting car. Enough cash for the first few months of rent, and a box of pastries and some wildflowers as a thank-you gift.

Stood before the seafoam coloured front door, surrounded by a weather worn wrap-around porch, her mind wandered. Imagining herself out here, sat under the sky as it danced through its emotive number. Scribbling away in notebooks, listening to the ruffle of the grass. Living in step with a mighty beast, watching its crawl up the surf. Following its retreat.

Too good to be true.

She had knocked, had texted an hour ago that she would be on the final leg of the journey. Hand clasped soundly around the wildflowers, the smell of jam scones. The pitter-patter of footsteps rose. They sounded… heavier?

Just as Aelin had moved to peer into the open window, curtains pushed back, seafoam shifted to cotton, shifted to a man.

“Aelin,” He spoke, voice like a storm crashing on the rocks of a forsaken shore, “You’re earlier than I had expected. Come in.”

Taglist: @mariaofdoranelle , @goddess-aelin

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#throne of glass microfics #rowaelin #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #aelin x rowan #aelin galythinius #rowan x aelin #rowaelin au #throne of glass fic #sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm #aelinschild

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live-the-fangirl-life · 2 years ago

Text

Trust Me, it'll be Fun

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn

“It’s just a spooky clock chiming at the incorrect time while all the lights are off and strange footsteps are creeping up the stairs, in a house that won’t let us leave.”

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Halloween Collection

Halloween Prompts

2053 words

*****

Whoever had the brilliant idea of sneaking into the decrepit, supposedly haunted house the weekend before Halloween needed some serious help. Aelin.

Whoever forgot to give out snack instructions that resulted in no one bringing any food or drinks with them needed to get it together. Rowan

Whoever raided the cabinets and found an old bottle of Crème de Menthe and thought it would be a good idea to pass it around needed to find something better to do with their time than cause chaos. Fenrys.

Whoever complained the entire time that they needed new friends needed to suck it. Lorcan.

And somehow, that was how they ended up separated – Aedion and Lysandra off to the kitchen, Fenrys gods-know-where, and Elide and Lorcan finally joining Aelin and Rowan in the foyer, arguing about leaving or staying. The front door was open and she could see the steps leading down to the path outside.

“Fireheart, c’mon, can we just call it a night?” Rowan sighed, crossing his arms. “We’ve been here for hours now, it's just an old house. There’s nothing spooky about it other than the fact that it's falling apart.”

“Rowan, we said we would spend the night here.” She argued half-heartedly.

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “How are we supposed to stay here all night with no food or water?”

Laughing, Aelin stepped closer and rested her hands on his crossed arms. “You say that like we're stranded on some desert island.”

“At least on an island, we wouldn’t have to hear your cousin and Lysandra making out in the next room.”

“My cousin,” she scoffed, “your friend is only ‘my cousin’ he annoys you.”

The sounds from the next room came again and she winced as Rowan’s brows shot up in vindication.

“I’m with Rowan,” Elide spoke up, walking toward the couple with her fiancé a step behind her. “Let’s just go.”

“Really?” Aelin spun towards her friend who shrugged. “You too?”

“I didn’t even really want to come.”

“What? Why did you then?” the blonde asked curiously.

“Because you’re my friend,” Elide laughed and bumped her shoulder with Aelin’s. “And I thought you might die otherwise and I needed to see you in your last moments to give you a passable eulogy.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet,” Aelin smiled, ignoring the sound of Lorcan scoffing. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I did.” Elide snorted. “And you said trust me, it’ll be fun!”

“Famous last words,” Rowan muttered, rolling his eyes and leaning against the wall next to Lorcan.

“I’m sorry El,” she really did look it. “I get ramped up with Halloween.”

“I know, babes,” her friend patted her arm with a small smile, “I know.”

“Are we leaving or not?” Lorcan cut it, earning a glare form Aelin and an eyeroll for Elide.

“Fine,” Aelin huffed. “But I’m doing this for Elide, not for you Salvaterre.”

“Goody,” he deadpanned.

She went to walk out the door but paused at the top of the stairs. There was something that she couldn’t put her finger on…

“Something’s blocking the porch,” Aelin said.

Elide stared at her. “What do you mean something’s blocking the porch?”

A gust of wind blew the door shut behind her and Aelin whipped around at the sound, backing up until her back hit Rowan’s chest.

“I mean,” she explained, wrapping her arms around herself and glancing warily around the old house. “I tried to walk down the porch steps and I couldn’t.”

“What? You suddenly forgot how to walk down stairs, Galathynius?” Lorcan laughed and rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall and letting his head hit the wood.

“No, you little shit—” she whirled on him, pointing a finger.

Rowan stepped in between them before they could get any closer to each other. Aelin shook off her boyfriend’s exasperated stare and tried explaining again.

“What I mean is that I tried to leave this house, and something stopped me,” she looked around at her friends and stressed, “like I physically couldn’t get to the bottom of the stairs.”

Elide forced out a weak laugh. “Ha ha, okay, very funny. You got me. Now can we cut it out and leave?” She stepped closer to Lorcan.

Aelin met her gaze and repeated, “I’m not kidding.”

“I may be a wimp when it comes to Halloween, but I’m not an idiot.” The smaller girl huffed. “You’re really playing up the whole haunted house thing, and you know what? Props to you. You did good.” She began a slow clap that brought a smirk to Lorcan’s face. “Now drop it.”

Rowan walked past them straight for the door and pulled on the door handle. The wood creaked against the effort.

“Cut it out, Whitethorn,” Lorcan griped when the door didn’t budge.

“Uh…” Rowan tried again, this time visibly straining as he pulled on the old door. “It’s not me.”

“Fucking hell.” Lorcan gritted out, slotting Elide next to Aelin as he took Rowan’s place and pulled. And pulled. And pulled. He gripped the handle and used his entire body weight, but it didn’t move.

“What the fuck?”

*****

“’Let’s go to a haunted house’ they said, ‘It's Halloween’ they said,” Aelin began pacing around the hall. “’It’ll be fun’, they said.”

“Don’t you dare pretend like you weren’t the one saying those things,” Aedion barked at her. He and Lysandra found their way back to the front hall when they heard their friends’ yelling.

“Oh, shut up,” she waved off her cousin and tried to think.

“Has anyone tried any of the other doors?” Lysandra asked. “Or windows, or whatever?”

“Okay,” Aelin perked up. “Lys and Aedion take the second floor, Rowan and I will search this floor, and Ellie, you and your guard dog take the attic.”

“Oh fuck no!” Elide protested. “You take the creepy attic, Lorcan and I will take the ground floor.”

“Not gonna correct the guard dog thing?” Rowan smirked at his friend. All he got back was a deadpan glare.

“Fine!” Aelin threw her hands up. “You two take this floor; Rowan and I have the attic.”

“Why are we looking in the attic at all?” Rowan asked, crossing his arms. “Even if there is a window, and even if we can get it open, it would still be three stories up and way too dangerous to escape from.”

Everyone stared at him, blinking, while he tried to find someone to see his point. Finally, Aelin huffed, “This is no time for common sense, Ro.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face and grumbled, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Okay!” Elide chirped, looking a little manic. “We each take a floor, look for anything that can help, and we meet back here in twenty minutes, yeah?”

A chorus of yeahs and okays and I’m going to kill you when we get out of here, Galathynius echoed throughout the group.

“And for the love of god,” Rowan pleaded, “somebody fucking find Moonbeam.”

They all split up, taking a different section of the house. Aelin and Rowan took their time walking up the stairs to the attic, each shift in the wood sending nerves rocketing through them. When they got to the top, they shared a look before Aelin pressed her hand to the door and pushed, letting in swing in and immediately outlining the silhouette of a figure staring right at them.

Three different screams echoed in the small hallway, each higher pitched than the last.

“Stop hitting me!” Fenrys shrieked under the barrage of Aelin’s fists. At the sound of his voice, Aelin pulled back, heart racing and chest heaving, finally shining the flashlight they’d grabbed in her friend’s face.

“Fenrys?!” she hissed, “You almost gave me a heart attack! What are you doing up here?”

She could feel Rowan’s erratic heart beating from where her back met his chest, as Fenrys stared at the pair like they were the crazy ones.

“Looking for these,” he lifted his hands and she saw the two bottles he was holding. “I knew a place like this would have more booze hidden around.”

“And you thought they’d be in the attic?” Rowan asked incredulously.

“Obviously,” Fenrys rolled his eyes. “And they were, so,” he shrugged.

“Gods, whatever,” Aelin pushed passed the blond and walked further into the dark and dusty room. A single swinging light bulb illuminated the space as the three of them looked around.

“What are you two doing up here?” Fenrys shot back.

“Looking for a way out,” Rowan didn’t elaborate.

Snorting, Fenrys mimicked, “And you thought you’d find it in the attic?”

Before either of them could reply, a loud chime sounded from the dilapidated grandfather clock that was pushed against a far wall. They whirled around. Aelin ended up in front of both guys, her fists raised while Rowan reached for the closest weapon he could find and Fenrys cradled the bottle of whiskey to his chest.

They had barely had a chance to wonder how a broken clock was chiming when they heard the stairs begin to creak.

“What are you gonna do, Whitethorn?” Fenrys hissed, “Sweep a ghost to death?”

Risking a glance behind her, Aelin saw Rowan clutching a broom between his hands and gripping it like a baseball bat. She elbowed Fenrys and hissed, “A ghost is already dead, dumbass.”

“Hey,” he hissed back. “Don’t call me a dumbass what it was your dumb ass that got all of our dumb asses here in the first place, dumbass.”

“Will you please stop saying dumbass?” Rowan hissed.

Aelin shot a triumphant look at Fenrys. “Yeah, dumbass.”

“For fucks sake…”

The lone lightbulb began flickering, immediately shutting all of them up. They could still hear the stairs creaking, the sound getting closer and closer every second.

“We’re going to die,” Fenrys breathed.

“It’s fine,” Aelin’s voice came out tinny and shaking.

“The fuck you mean it's fine?!”

“It’s fine,” she said again in that same choked squeak. “It’s just a spooky clock chiming at the incorrect time while all the lights are off and strange footsteps are creeping up the stairs, in a house that won’t let us leave.”

She felt both sets of eyes land on her and knew that if she looked at either man they would be looking at her as if she had lost her mind.

“How. Are. You. So. Calm?”

She forced a laugh, but it sounded more like a strained grunt. “Oh, because, none of this is real.”

“Uh,” Rowan’s voice came from her right, “It’s very real.”

“No,” she repeated, clearing her through and drawing in a breath. “You see, if it were real then you would see a Me-shaped hole in that door. But we can’t leave this house, which means I can’t escape, which means that it isn’t real.”

There was a beat of silence before Fenrys said, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve been listening to myself speak for twenty-five years.”

Rowan breathed, “Your denial both impresses and astounds me.”

“Thank you,” she breathed just as quietly. Glancing quickly between them, she asked, “Run?”

“Run.” Rowan nodded.

Another best passed and the three of them raced down the steps, screaming at whoever was coming towards them. They made it to the main floor before realizing they hadn’t run into anyone on their way down.

*****

The twenty-four-hour diner’s fluorescent lights lit up the group of seven friends who were huddled together in a booth, silently replaying the night's events in their heads.

“So,” Elide’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before continuing, her soft voice sounding almost obscenely loud in the near-empty diner, “What did we learn tonight?”

Groans echoed around the table.

Aedion spoke up first, “Run if you ever hear Aelin say, ‘Trust me, it’ll be fun.’”

A quiet fuck you followed but was drowned out by Lysandra who added, trailing a finger down the side of her water glass following a drop of condensation as it hit the table. “Crème de Menthe and Absinthe look way too similar. Way. Too. Similar.”

“When a door won’t open it's probably a Push, and not being supernaturally barricaded by ghosts,” Rowan groaned.

“That next time we do this, we better have snacks,” Aelin mumbled, staring a hole into the table.

“Next time?!”

*******

#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fic #throne of glass #tog #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfiction #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin oneshot #halloween fics #halloween #halloween au #halloween prompts #haunted house #aelin galathynius x rowan whitethorn

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wordsafterhours · 2 years ago

Text

Songs About You - Chapter 15

Author's Note: Buckle up and enjoy this fluff fest. I worked so long on getting this chapter right and I think it still fell short. But I just love this time of year. Fall and Winter are my bread and butter, especially Christmas. I'd like to live in a Hallmark movie and make zero apologies for it. In the next few updates, we will be seeing more explanation onto what happen to her parents, more details on Arobynn's betrayal, and Gavriel and Aedion's exile from Aelin's life.

*Unedited update. I couldn't wait.

Triggers: I can't think of anything crazy that would need to be listed

Word Count: 9.8k (I haven't written college papers this long)

Masterlist

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Still quite bemused with herself, Aelin dawdled through getting dressed and making her way down the stairs. Several familiar voices deep in conversation reached her ears long before she found them in the foyer, digging through dusty boxes.

“Does she have decorations for every occasion? I’m pretty sure I’ve looked through thirty boxes and only found one with Yulemas stuff,” complained Dorian.

“Her family was big on celebrating any and everything. It was magical coming here as a kid. Trust me, the Yulemas decorations far outnumber anything here three to one,” Elide stated matter-of-factly.

The dark-haired male dramatically whined and started opening another box. Aelin decided to take pity on him, “The items in question are in the basement and carriage house.”

“Oh, hey there. I didn’t realize you’d come down.” Elide’s cheeks tinged pink with her admission, clearly flustered at having been caught unaware.

The blonde said nothing, leaning casually against the wooden banister to her left, patiently waiting for anyone to divulge an explanation for the scene at hand. Elide dusted off her hands against her jeans and smiled tensely. “I’m sorry about last night. You were right to be upset and after you left, I was such a mess trying to figure out how I was going to apologize. A little birdy told me the house wasn’t decorated and I decided that it would be the best apology I could muster.”

Her friend bounced anxiously up and down while she talked, a telltale sign of how unsure she was of herself right now. Aelin knew it had taken a lot for Elide to show up uninvited, especially given how last night had gone, and in taking such a bold move to decorate the house. Yulemas wasn’t the same since her parents passing and even less so after exiling the only family she had left. Each year, as December fell, she longed to pull out the boxes, to put up trees and wrap garlands around the columns, yet it never came to fruition.

Chaol had tried it to snap her out of it, but after one too many meltdowns, he’d just stopped. He’d always get her a gift and then head south to Adarlan, to spend it with his father, Dorian, and Dorian’s family. It was easier that way. No fake smiles, pretend happiness, or unwanted melancholy chasing away the holiday joy.

If the very idea of this holiday hadn’t been artfully avoided, the decorations’ locations would be a forgotten memory, beyond her grasp. But her mind cruelly remembered what each and every box had, where it lived, and whose job it had been to put it up. Yulemas used to be the one thing worth waiting for as a kid. Not her birthday, summer, visits from Aedion, or traveling the continents—it was and had only ever been Yulemas.

As the air cooled and the calendar marked December 1st, her mother was hiring local city folk and paying bonuses to landscapers to help put up all the decorations. It was a grand affair and the week before Yulemas, her parents would open their finished home for tours. Hot cocoa, cider, and sweet treats were offered. Carols would be sung, and she would play piano for their guests. Aelin lived for it. What she wouldn’t give for five minutes in one of those memories.

A very sharp delivery of her name brought her out the reminiscent reverie. She took a startled step backward in attempt to gather her bearings. Elide was in arms distance now, looking concerned more than anything. “Are you okay?”

Was she? Simple answer: no. Would that be shared? Also, no.

“Only trying to process all of you here, digging through my house.” She internally winced at the tone, knowing its harshness wasn’t deserved, but too aggrieved to cop to it.

“I wish all my friends groveled like these two,” Fen casually declared between bites of toast.

“Sharing my bed wasn’t enough, you’re eating my food, too?”

“I worked up an appetite,” he whined, dark eyes giving her a pleading look that would rival Fleetfoot’s.

Graciously, no one chose to run with the blond’s comment, sparing her from further humiliation and or drawn-out explanation. At least the day was giving something back to her, small as it was.

“Who else is here?”

“We all are, well minus Lorcan. He’s being a pain in my ass, and we can leave it at that.”

She gave a non-committal acknowledgement, staring too hard at one of the boxes Dorian had previously been looking through. If she granted them the okay to pull out the Yulemas decorations, could she bear it? Would the joy of it overshadow the grief that was picking her a part, one stitch popping at a time, threatening the remaining seams that were left.

A presence came to rest behind her and she unconsciously gravitated back. His warmth radiated across her, momentarily chasing away the chill that had settled. Even as upset as she was with him, as betrayed as she felt—Rowan had become a much-needed life raft.

He shouldn’t be.

Couldn’t be.

But yet, he was. There were somethings this world knew that she didn’t, but what she did know, undoubtedly, down to her very marrow, was that Rowan Whitethorn had been the very thing missing from hers. “It’s okay to be scared and sad, Ace, but you have to stop limiting your happiness. Take it back. You deserve joy. Elide told me how much the season means to you and it’s almost over, but it doesn’t mean you can’t partake in it. We’re all here for you. Just say yes.”

His appeal was low, warmed breath washing over the exposed column of her neck, words meant to only be heard by her. Resigned, her shoulders sagged as she nodded in wordless acquiescence.

“This is going to be so exciting!” cheered Elide, clapping her hands together in paramount enthusiasm.

At least someone was thrilled. All Aelin could feel was a ten-pound leaded weight sitting in the pit of her stomach. It was cruel how emotions could rule, define, own. She’d do anything to turn it all off; to be cold and unfeeling, if only to get through this day.

Her blue eyes stared intently, roving over every oak plank not covered by the foyer rug. One, two, three… one-hundred and fifty-one. All visible ones accounted for and the heaviness humanely lessened. She was alone, the sounds of her friends muffled, but it was clear they had wasted no time tackling the decorations.

“Better?”

Her breath caught in surprise. Why Aelin had assumed she was truly alone was beyond her. If her thoughts hadn’t consumed her so, his presence would have been felt. A lie was forming on her tongue, but it tasted bitter, too bitter to bring to life. “Not really, but I think you already knew that.”

“Perhaps. Not that you give me benefit of the doubt often, but I don’t know everything.”

An unladylike snort sounded between them. Her eyes widened in embarrassment, and she hid her face. Rowan laughed loudly, chasing away her self-consciousness, and warming her to the core. It was such a beautiful sound, carefree and unbound.

“I heard they found the sitting room decorations and some aged sheet music. Dorian said you play. Can you show me?”

“Gods what a gossip queen,” she muttered with rolled eyes.

“I know I don’t know him well, but he doesn’t seem like a vault by any means.”

“He would spill everyones’ secrets for a good romp in the sheets.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Rowan acknowledged dryly.

Expectance hung in the air as Aelin waffled between telling Rowan no or sucking it up and playing. She hadn’t played in years. The piano was surely out of tune, the ivory keys covered in a telltale dust film. It was a talent, a habit long forgotten, buried beneath a barrage of painful memories.

The feel of smooth keys beneath her fingers could never be forgotten and suddenly hers were itching to glide across them. To artfully construct notes into beautiful chords and drown out the world until only music remained. Nothing else mattered when she sat at the bench. Maybe, just maybe, that was what she needed.

“Just one song.”

“Just one song,” he agreed. He sounded somewhat surprised, but Aelin wasn’t too sure since her back was still to him.

She brushed around the foyer table and pushed apart the dark wood pocket doors, revealing a beautiful brown piano, nestled in the far corner, between a window and fireplace. Without much thought, Aelin raised the lid, and then sat down, flipping back the cover, revealing ivory and gold keys.

The piano had been a gift from her parents one Yulemas, after she’d shown promise with the instrument. It had been redone just for her; the traditional black keys replaced with gold. After the finished stretching her hands, she played a few notes to ascertain how out of tune it was.

It wasn’t as much as the thought and a small, pleased smile turned the corners of her mouth upwards. Out of her periphery, she watched Rowan’s large frame settle into one of the chairs that faced the piano. Her hands slightly trembled, the gravity of the moments to come setting her nervous system haywire.

Assuming proper position, Aelin moved to the edge of the bench with her back straight, arms out and relaxed in front of her. The opening chord notes tinkered through the air, harsher than they out to have been—her wrists were dropping. In the back of her mind, the severe chastisement of her former tutors reminded her that she wasn’t “grasping the keys”, thus her wrists were not lifting accordingly, the notes not soft.

Playing solely from memory, more than a few missteps occurred, but if Rowan noticed, he never gave it away. His green eyes were piercing, watching her with rapt attention. He could have been a stone statue if not for the occasional rise and fall of his shoulders.

Moving to the next piece, her fingers glided across the keys, caressing them in near reverence, like one would caress a lover after long being separated. Tendrils of blond hair slipped forward, partially obscuring her view of the man sitting opposite her. The wisp of privacy came at the perfect time—the crescendo was up.

Furiously, her fingers danced upon ivory and gold with precision, the familiar ache settling into her hands and shoulders. Uncertainty, grief, life—it ceased to exist as Aelin gave all of herself to the keys. It wasn’t until the last beautiful note filled the air with a resounding resonance that she let herself breathe.

Silence, the cliché type where you could hear a pin drop, settled heavily across the room. Rowan was still sitting there, wordless, jaw resting against a balled fist, watching her with an undecipherable gaze. Had she not played as well as she thought? Was he trying to find the words to critique it? Critique her? Vulnerability and anxiety came on swift wings, like thieves in the night, whisking away her joy.

His opinion should not matter, especially under the circumstances now encompassing their friendship, but it did. Rowan’s opinion perhaps mattered more than anyone’s and she hated he had that power over her. It was power she gave him, but the heart was a fickle, stubborn thing, particularly the one housed beneath her own twelve pairs of ribs. It did not adhere to the principles of logic, not now, not ever.

The statue broke from his confines, leaning forward, bracing both elbows on his knees, hands steepled. He remained quiet, his gaze still just as studious as it had been the entirety of her playing. If he didn’t say something, Aelin’s nerves were going to split apart. Vulnerability was making her it’s entire three course meal.

His warm timber reached her ears, and she stood in anticipation before he’d even said two words. He gave a faint laugh. “I think your piano needs tuning.”

Six words have never been so defeating. The small kernel of joy that had roared to life instantly snuffed out, leaving as though it had never been there in the first place. The traitorous burn along her lower lids meant tears were welling up, preparing to fall down, like water from a broken dam. Aelin prayed to the gods for the floor to split open and swallow her whole; it would be a mercy compared to this.

Angered, she roughly wiped away the moisture, pinning the silver-haired man with her gold and turquoise stare. “If you didn’t like it, you could have just lied to my face. It took every ounce of will I could muster to sit down and play for you and the only comment you can make is antagonistic? You can be a real godsdamned asshole sometimes, Ro.”

His brow furrowed and he took a step back, hitting the chair causing it to squeak sharply in protest against the oak floor. There was just enough space for her to run by him and Aelin seized the opportunity. His warm hand encircled her left bicep, stopping her before she could get out of the sitting room completely.

“Aelin, stop.”

She fought against his hold, refusing to turn and face him. His pressure became a little firmer, not enough to hurt, but enough to cease almost all of the fight. Calloused fingers twirled the errant tendrils of hair along her face and neck, and as though he had done it a thousand times prior, he tucked the hair behind her ear, tracing the shell of her ear softly.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you. I didn’t know what to say. Everything that I was thinking just seemed so trivial and underwhelming. Inadequate.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There are moments in life that define who you are. Moments that break and remake you all in the same breath. Moments that will be written on your bones for others to see long after you’re dead. Moments that you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you could revisit them because nothing will ever be as sweet.”

He was whispering now, hushed, like he didn’t want any part of the world to hear him. Secrets and words were powerful currency. Both could be used at a moment’s notice to bring someone to their knees. Aelin had learned that with the death of her parents, Arobynn’s betrayal, Aedion’s strangled pleas as she shut the door on him. If you never gave words life or shared secrets—then they could never be used against you.

“You can’t keep cutting my legs out from underneath me to protect yourself.”

“Aelin, that wasn’t my intention at all. I thought you’d call me on my bullshit with some line about how the piano wasn’t out of tune or something.”

“I showed you my underbelly. I know you could tell I was nervous. Do you really think a joke was the appropriate response?”

He snorted. “Well, now I don’t.”

Exasperation zipped up her spine and she pulled hard against his hold. If he wanted to be a prick to someone, it wasn’t going to be her. Rowan adjusted his hold before slipping his other arm around her, holding her tight to his chest. She struggled but stopped when it became apparent he wasn’t going to let up. She didn’t have to see his handsome face to know he was wearing a smug smile as he rested his chin on her head.

“I think that if I could bottle up that moment, I’d never know another sorrow for the rest of my life.”

The confession had been unexpected and brutally honest. The vulnerability in his words was profoundly tangible. A feeling all too familiar. The tension left her body as Aelin relaxed into him, taking time to process what he had said before she responded. Words, they mattered, and while he wasn’t hers, it felt like right now he was. In another life, she could turn to him and capture his lips with her own in a silent conveyance of how she felt. They were two faces of the same coin, different, beautiful apart, but whole together.

But Hellas himself would have to drag that secret out of her. No acknowledgement meant no control. This life had enough influence on her; she couldn’t afford to give it anymore. So instead of saying and doing what she wanted, she offered him a small thank you that tasted rancid on her tongue.

He continued to hold her; his strong arms wrapped comfortably tight. His shirt had moved up his arms a bit, showing off tanned skin, and the whorls of his tattoo. Later, she promised herself, she would ask him what it all said and meant. A handful of the words were known to her, but the archaic language had fallen out of favor years before her time.

“Do you think we should help with the decorations?” his question vibrated across her back.

“Why should I help with my apology gift, defeats the purpose doesn’t it?”

“Always with the smart mouth,” he declared with a pinch to her side.

“It’s part of my charm.”

“I mean if that’s what you want to call it.”

“You know what, you get to put up the 26ft tree up outside. By yourself.”

“You promise?”

He sounded too excited at the prospect. “Better yet, I’ll send Manon to help you.”

Rowan’s arms dropped from around her and he stepped into the doorway, wide-eyed.

“Snow leopard got your tongue?” Aelin’s smirk was threatening to split her face in two.

“I will take anyone else. She’s scary,” he fake whispered, looking over his shoulder while he said it.

“I know. I think it’ll be good for you.”

“I had another idea in mind.”

“Go on,” she encouraged.

“I was thinking you could help me. I won’t make you do any heavy lifting, and you can insult me the entire time.”

“It’s not enough. What else?”

“What else?” he said slightly taken aback.

“Mhmm, what else?” She thoroughly enjoyed how panicked he looked as he wracked his brain to come up with something agreeable.

“I’ll bring you an entire chocolate hazelnut cake the next time I come by the shop.”

“But you’ve already brought me some before. Try again.”

He ran a hand through his hair, displacing some of the silver locks. Her eyes followed and it was then she knew what she wanted.

“You can let me braid your hair?”

He suspiciously sounded like he was choking before falling into a small coughing fit. Aelin had got him, satisfaction rolling through her.

“One time. This is a one-time deal because I fucked up a lot recently and I’d do just about anything to make you smile.

“Well, I chose wisely then. We better go drag tree out of the carriage house. And check on everyone else, because it’s too quiet and with Dorian around, that’s never a good thing.”

Rowan gestured towards the foyer, allowing her the chance to head first into the chaos.

Surprisingly, most of the upstairs had been decorated and the bannisters had been wrapped in garlands. When Rowan and Aelin had surveyed everyones’ work, both shared a look of guilt at not having helped. Connall and Vaughn had moved the big boxes for them and hadn’t been seen since. Rowan asked if they needed any other heavy lifting done, but Lys, Manon, and Elide waved them off.

Taking the back set of stairs down, they wandered into the kitchen, to find Vaughn flipping through several cookbooks laid out on the counters, writing things down on a scratch paper. “Do you have a zester?” he asked without looking up.

“I should, in one of those drawers. What are you doing?”

“Well, someone has to make Yulemas Eve dinner, Aelin,” he replied like it should have been glaringly obvious.

“I normally just have takeout and pretend the day doesn’t exist,” she admitted quietly.

“Aelin?”

“Yeah, Con?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way but get out of the kitchen.”

She questioningly looked up at Rowan and mouthed, “Was it something I said?”

He jerked his head towards the back door and out they went. “He takes food very seriously. He loves to cook for everyone, and he eats pretty clean. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat takeout. He’ll eat at restaurants but spends twenty minutes picking apart the menu before eating. Its rather cumbersome.”

“So, it was something I said,” she chuckled.

“Can you two shut up or go somewhere else?” a displeased, muffled voice asked. Both turned and noted Dorian happily smothered beneath two dogs on the porch swing. Rowan had brought Elliot. She smiled to herself—it was sweet he loved his dog the way she loved Fleetfoot.

“I thought you were helping with decorations, not sleeping your highness.”

“I was in the way and Fen said I was too whiny. Besides, Lorcan showed up looking angry and pushed me off the ladder. I wasn’t going to get into it with that guy. He’d eat me for breakfast or use me as snow leopard bait.”

“And to think you’re supposed to be taking over running Adarlan.”

“Well, when I take it over, I can order someone to deal with unpleasantries like that man. Or manual labor. You know I was built to supervise.”

People told Aelin she was dramatic, which she was. But somehow, she knew they’d find another adjective to describe her antics if they had to put up with Dorian. He was lovable, fiercely loyal, fun, a good listener, but nauseatingly theatrical without much effort or thought.

“If you change your mind and get tired of lying with the dogs, we’ll be out front putting up the tree.” Rowan looked like he was ready to bite through his lip to keep from laughing.

It took twenty minutes for them to pull out all the tree boxes from the carriage house and drag them into the front yard. Lorcan and Fen had offered to help but Rowan had politely declined, letting them know if they were needed, he’d get them.

Aelin could tell Rowan was really trying to make up for last night. He’d followed each direction she’d given him to the T and done so without terrorizing her in the process. He didn’t even laugh when she tripped over an errant tree root poking out of the ground and knocked over several boxes, spilling shiny ornaments everywhere.

The tree was halfway done, and she was fluffing the faux branches, waiting for him to return with ladders so they could put the rest up. Once it was put together, they could plug it in, and see what lights needed replacement before deciding on ornament placement. Her mom had always taken ornaments seriously and hung them all herself. It took hours sometimes because she’d take several breaks to step back and look, moving the glass balls accordingly until they were perfect.

Inside, there was a Christmas tree for every room except the bathrooms and kitchen. All differed in size or style, each with their own set of dedicated ornaments. Each Yulemas, Rhoe had gotten both her and her mom a new ornament to be hung on the tree of their choosing. Some were wooden, others blown glass, and on occasion, metal. It had been years, but pain ferociously nipped at the heels of nostalgia made it feel like this was the first Yulemas without them.

In a way it was. The holidays that had been celebrated with Aedion, Gavriel, and Arobynn, had been spent at the latter’s house. It was easier that way. She thought that Arobynn had been doing her a kindness but really it was just to ensure he could keep an eye on everyone. If all ends of the knot were in your hand, nothing could unravel, providing all the reassurance you needed.

Not wanting to be melancholy when Rowan came back, she sidelined her thoughts, returning back to fluffing the branches, doing her best to fill in any bare spots. It was tedious, often cramping her hands, but there was comfort in monotonous activity. Most of it was done, but one particular branch was proving to be a hindrance. A few colorful words escaped as she tipped forward, catching a mouthful of synthetic tree.

“Are you trying to tip the whole thing over?” he asked playfully.

“If that what it takes to get that last branch fluffed, then yes,” she replied stubbornly looking over her shoulder at him.

He tipped his head back, a full-bodied and carefree laugh sounding from him. He looked like the picture she’d been admiring on the bar wall—young and happy. She could only watch him, a smile of her own forming. Rowan was handsome; the most striking man she’d ever seen but nothing compared to this, and Aelin vowed to never let this memory go. He continued to laugh as he walked up and reached above her, righting the troublesome branch.

“Is that better?”

“Yes. If you could have been a minute sooner, I wouldn’t have taken branches to the face.”

“If my defense, the appropriate ladder was in the back of the carriage house, buried under stuff. And it’s heavy. I also stopped to talk to the guys.”

“Uh huh. I just hear excuses.”

A loud squeal escaped her as Rowan’s strong arms picked up and tipped her upside down while tickling her ribs. “Excuses, huh?”

“Ye—.” She tried to speak but he continued his assault, making it too hard to answer.

“What was that? I can understand you. Words, Aelin. Use your words.”

Every time she tried to talk; he tickled her again. Her stomach hurt from laughing and her head felt heavy from being upside down. If she was lucky, he was ticklish, too. She grabbed above his knee and squeezed—he jerked and almost dropped her.

She screamed in half in delight, half in panic. Was tickling him back worth the possibility of being dropped? It wasn’t that far to the ground, but it was far enough. Tickling him won out and she latched onto his knee, squeezing it.

“Hey, stop that!”

“You started it.”

“Don’t make me drop you.”

“I trust you not to.” She smiled deviously. He wouldn’t drop her now, not after she’d said that. The likelihood of him dropping her before was minute, but added reassurance wasn’t bad. She hadn’t counted on him starting to spin. His grip tightened and he spun and spun and spun. Her head was swimming when he stopped. He seemed completely unphased.

Aelin was about to tease him some more when she felt the familiar vibration of a phone. Hers was inside, which meant it was Rowan’s. As though she weighed nothing more than a feather, he continued to brace her body against his with one arm and used his newly freed one to dig in his pocket. His body stiffened as he looked at the screen. Flipping her upright, he set her down and took two steps back, answering the phone.

Eaves dropping was extremely rude, but he was still so close—it was hard not to hear every word of the exchange between them. His silver brow furrowed the longer the conversation continued, and he was intermittently pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Lyria was clearly upset that he hadn’t answered her previously calls or called her back. Then she brought up how he wasn’t “here”. Aelin didn’t know where “here” was, but she did know it wasn’t hanging out with his friends.

“I’m not going to do this with you right now. You’re jumping down my throat and I understand you’re upset, but this isn’t how I want to spend my holiday. I love you and I’m sorry I had a prior commitment. You knew this when you asked me last week.”

Prior commitment? The decorating was last minute, she knew from Elide’s tenuous confession and pleading this morning. So, what had Rowan given up to be here? The mother of his child was currently ripping him a new one, he’d ignored several phone calls, and still, he was in here, instead of doing whatever he was supposed to be doing.

She startled when he said her name. She had missed him hanging up with Lyria. His guarded green gaze met hers and held steady. He was waiting for to ask him what was going on. Most of it didn’t need to be asked about because she heard it, but against her better judgement, she had to ask two questions.

“Where were you supposed to be and why aren’t you with her?”

His angular jaw tensed just enough to let her know he was uncomfortable with what she had asked of him. His left hand clenched into a fist, the tanned skin of his forearm flexing the tattooed whorls. “I’m not with her because I didn’t want to be.”

“But she’s having your baby. And it’s Yulemas tomorrow.”

“Thank you for that astute observation, Aelin.”

“I just don’t understand,” she said plainly. Quietly.

“I was supposed to go to Doranelle early this morning, on a red eye, but I didn’t. She’s mad because I wouldn’t cancel it to go spend the holiday with her and her parents. I’ve spent every Yulemas with my cousins since my parents died.” She knew he’d lost his parents, but he’d never stated is so plainly. Truly, he had said more about himself in those three sentences as he had in as many months of friendship.

“Did you tell her you didn’t go?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“And she’s livid you still didn’t go to her parents.” It should have been a question, but she said it as a statement instead. It was evident from the tense exchange just how upset the dark-haired woman was about his lack of attendance.

“Correct.”

It was apparent that any further explication on the subject was going to be like pulling teeth.

“Did you miss your plane?”

“No,” he answered flat and succinct.

“Did they ask you not to come?”

“Of course not. They were very upset when I called this morning and said I wasn’t coming.”

“Why didn’t you go?” she pushed. It was unfair he always knew what was going on in her head, soliciting more than what she wanted to comfortably give. She didn’t regret trying to give him a taste of his own medicine.

“Don’t ask me that Aelin.”

While the please wasn’t audible, she knew it was implied, as was the reason he didn’t go.

Her.

His green eyes were still upon her, narrowing slightly, as he anticipated her next move. She wanted to call him on his unsaid truth. To prod and prod and prod until one of them snapped, the consequences be damned. But she didn’t. He’d shown her the smallest glimpse inside his walls. If her inquisition backfired, he’d never let her in again.

Trust took an irrational amount of time to foster and create but could be forced to ruination in seconds. She would not bring their friendship to the battlefield today. As hard as it was to sit on her hands, it was exactly what she did.

“I think if we don’t hurry up with the tree, it’ll be dark, and we’ll have missed Connall’s cooking.”

Rowan visibly relaxed, like one of the Staghorns had been lifted off his shoulders. “You’re probably right. Fenrys and Lorcan won’t hesitate to eat our food if we’re not there when Con deems its dinner time.”

The rest of the tree took around an hour to put together, Rowan of course doing all the heavy lifting, and much to his chagrin, some branch fluffing while Aelin directed him from the ground. After she had almost fallen off the ladder reaching to fix one of them, he had refused to let her back on, using his body to block her. She was secretly glad; it gave her a chance to watch him unencumbered. His muscled frame, despite being large, moved with graceful ease, keeping him steady 20 plus feet in the air.

Aelin had only seen a small glimpse of the finished decorations and was itching to get up from the dinner table to look, but her friends kept sending judgmental looks her way. Rowan had thought it would be more special to plug in the lights outside once dinner was over, so they could ring in Yulemas as a family—she’d been pouting ever since. The need for instant gratification was on the forefront of her brain.

Now that the decorations were up and finished, the joy she used to feel before her parents’ loss was coming to life, soon to be a roaring fire. Connall had said he was putting the finishing touches on several dishes and waiting for dessert to finish, before dinner would start. It felt like later would never come.

“Would you quit bouncing your leg like a little kid who has to pee?” Lys quietly said into her ear.

“I’m starving and no one will let me look at the decorations.”

“Yes because you got out voted and we’re doing it all together. Not any one person has seen it all.”

“Quit scolding me like a child,” whined Aelin, tipping her head back against the chair. On her left, out of the corner of her eye, she could see Rowan’s mouth tip up in a lopsided grin as his gaze flicked away from Fenrys to her. Her pain was the night’s entertainment.

“You’re acting like a toddler right now,” Lysandra tried to sound stern but ended up laughing.

“Lysssssssss.”

“This is why you were an only child. Elide was she this insufferable growing up?”

“Worse. Between her and Aedion, it was constant ego, theatrics, and bad decisions. I’m pretty sure it’s why I ended up being an only child. My mom had to put up with them and then come home to me. I asked for a brother once and she started bringing me to play with them… I didn’t want one after that.”

“It wasn’t that bad, Elide,” Aelin declared indignantly.

The dark-haired woman remained silent, but raised a disbelieving eyebrow and stared her down. Aedion and Aelin had been menaces to her parents, Elide’s mother Marion, and Gavriel, but Elide had been their partner in crime too many times to count. Aelin would let the rest of the table believe Elide the angel she appeared to be, for now.

“Aelin, why don’t you go decorate the tree in your bedroom? I left a box with your name on it sitting on the bed. It was full of ornaments,” chimed in Manon as she walked in from the kitchen, a newly poured glass of red wine in hand.

“You found my tree?”

Manon snorted, the wine almost sloshing over the side of her glass when she did so. “It was hard to miss. Giant scrawl was all over the two boxes declaring it was your tree and the decorations that went with it. You guys really love Yulemas in this house.”

“Yeah we did,” she agreed, renewed nostalgia setting in. A heavy hand landed on her bouncing leg, giving her knee a brief, reassuring squeeze. Her blue eyes flicked over to Rowan’s, and he inclined his head towards the door, motioning for her to go.

She weaved out of the room and out the front dining room entrance, ending up at stairs closet to her room. Halfway up, a second set of footfalls joined in hers, and without turning, she knew it was Rowan. The outside tree and being present today, had been apology enough, but if he wanted to watch her agonize over perfect placement for her tree, then she’d let him.

The box on her bed was open, ratty cardboard flaps revealing some of her most prized possessions. Twenty-one years of her life could be found in this box. Every year, her father would present her mother and her with handpicked ornaments. It was tradition to open them on Yulemas Eve and then hang them on the tree at midnight.

Manon had set the tree to the right of her fireplace. It stood tall and naked in front of her bookshelf. Eagerly, she stuck her hand into the box of brightly colored tissue paper, pulling out a wrapped ball. Instant tears welled in her eyes as she unwrapped it. A flaming red heart sat nestled in her hand. It had been the last one her father had gotten for her and the most meaningful Yulemas gift she’d ever received.

A silent tear rolled down her cheek, dripping onto the tissue paper, darkening it. Another one followed. She knew it was in here but hadn’t expected it to be the very first one out of the box. She could feel his presence heavy at her side, probably wondering she was looking at her hands like they held the world.

She sniffed, her runny nose making very unlady like noises, “My dad got my mom and I handmade ones every year. We’d open them the night before Yulemas and hang them on the tree at midnight, signifying the start of our favorite day of the year. This one, it was the last one he got me before they died.”

“Aelin, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s what they used to call me. Fireheart.”

“Very fitting.”

“Not anymore. I don’t even know that girl.”

“I do,” he said quietly before slipping it from her hands and hanging it on a branch towards the top.

Aelin wanted to argue with him, to tell him that the girl she used to be was just as dead as her parents. She had been a force, burning brightly—unapologetically herself. There wasn’t a mountain she couldn’t conquer. She had been someone who never needed anyone, who didn’t cry at the drop of a hat, and had never doubted herself.

Now, she was nothing but a field of ash, burned and unrecognizable.

He held out his hand, waiting for her to hand him another, and she did methodically until the box was empty. It was stunning, each placed just right. The tree could have been in a magazine, reminding her of the days when Evalin had spent hours adorning the trees to the same standard.

Rowan’s tall frame dropped to the floor, and he plugged in the tree, illuminating the room. The heart at the top had been strategically placed, backlit by a bulb, giving the illusion it was actually burning. He leaned into her legs, his head resting against her hip as they stared at the tree.

“Sometimes, we all just need a little light.” The statement was weighted and required no elaboration, clearly a nod to her earlier confession. She dropped her hand to his head, idly running her fingers through the loose, silver strands. He had taken his hair out of its bun earlier, in anticipation of her braiding it, but they had never gotten around to it. It would have to be done at a later date; he would not get off scot-free.

“Dinner!” a cacophony of loud voices rang out from somewhere beyond the walls of her bedroom. Hastily, the pair separated, several feet of distance now between them. Shame felt heavy in the pit of her stomach as she stared at Rowan, who was conveniently looking at books on the shelf nearest him.

It might not have been the embrace of lovers, but the moment had been just as intimate, if not more. He was spoken for, a father-in-the-making, and situations like this, shouldn’t be happening. Aelin was to Rowan as a moth was to a flame—inexplicably drawn, despite the promise of a tragic outcome.

Moving forward, she would have to religiously remind herself that traipsing the fine line between friends and something more was not in the best interest of anyone involved. Too many cards were in play, and she did not yet possess a winning hand. With one last look, she strolled out of the room and rushed down the stairs, eagerly returning to her earlier seat.

Elide gave her a questioning look when she sat down alone. She shrugged her shoulders, reaching for whatever dish was closest to her. Later, one of her friends would corner her, demanding answers about her quality time spent with the silver-haired male. They were all a bunch of gossips, yet, if she shoe were on the other foot, she’d be acting the same. Secrets were the glue that helped bind friendships together.

Con had out done himself. The table was laden with various dishes from one side to the other. There was no way she was going to be able to try it all. She plopped a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes on the white and gold plate in front her and then followed it with carved pieces of turkey. A basket of rolls was making its way around but was rudely intercepted by Rowan’s big hand as he swiped one before sitting down.

“Looks like that was the last one, Aelin,” shared Dorian with a sympathetic look. He set the empty basket down and all she could do was stare at it, letting out a loud and dramatic sigh.

“There’s another batch baking. The rolls always go first,” called Con from the opposite end. It didn’t make it better. She had wanted one now. Instant gratification and all.

“Here,” he said warmly, his tattooed hand placing half a roll onto her plate. Melted butter glistened on the top and her ire softened, just slightly, at his gesture. Her turquoise eyes followed his hand’s retreat, a tingling, heavy sensation forming low in her stomach when he licked the butter from his fingers. Her thighs clenched together, a poor attempt at quelling the wayward response her body was having to such an innocuous act.

The gods were testing her. As if last night’s conversation or today’s Yulemas decorating had not been enough, now they were dangling a hot, hot man who she couldn’t touch right in front of her. Perhaps, she should attend Temple and pray to Kiva for atonement or to Lumas’, whose birthday was tomorrow… he was the God of Love afterall.

“I think we should go around and say one thing we’re grateful for or that we hope happens in the next year. Seems more fun than the traditional grace said at Holidays,” suggested Vaughn.

“Oh, I love this!” Dorian declared excitedly, dropping his napkin into his lap, and sitting up straight. His blue eyes were sparkling. “I’m grateful I’m spending this holiday with great friends.”

“That is so lame,” Manon declared dryly. Her unnaturally yellow eyes were pinned on Dorian, daring him refute her.

“It may be lame, but it’s true. I usually spend today and Yulemas with my family and Chaol. It’s nice to do something different with people who don’t tell me how much of a screw up I am. Or who don’t rant incessantly about mutual friends.” His gaze flicked to Aelin’s when he said the last part; apology was etched into his face.

“Well, we’re honored to be the better choice,” Fenrys said, raising his glass to Dorian before tipping it back. “I’m grateful for the beautiful life I get to live, and I hope this next year continues to bring good things to me and my.” Collective nods and smiles spread around the table.

“I’m grateful that Vaughn finally asked me out,” declared Conall with a grin so wide, it crinkled his eyes so much they almost looked shut. Vaughn leaned over, placing a sweet but chaste kiss against his lips.

“Me too, you’re the best part of my day.”

“Can we save some of the sweet for dessert? My teeth are rotting out just looking at you two.”

“She has to eat children for breakfast,” Dorian whispered, looking slightly frightened.

“I heard that,” Manon replied drolly. She took a large sip of wine from her glass, keeping the raven-haired male pinned with her glare. Aelin found it too amusing how much the woman liked to torture Dorian. He always acted as though at any second he was going to be disemboweled by her hands. Honestly, that seemed a little messy… she seemed the type to just snap someone’s neck and step over the body, unbothered.

“I’m grateful for the success of The Thirteenth.”

Lys coughed pointedly. Manon sighed, “I’m grateful for my friends. I guess you all are pretty cool.”

“Glad we rank somewhere in your life,” Lys laughed. “I’m grateful for Fleetfoot and I hope that by this time next year, I have something like Connall and Vaughn.” Despite being a top figure in the modeling world and successful in her own right, Lysandra had struggled in the romance department. It seemed to Aelin that most guys just saw a pretty face and became disinterested when they learned she actually had brains to accompany the beauty.

“I’m not doing this,” Lorcan vowed stone-faced.

“Yes you are,” argued Elide. Her dark eyes fiercely meeting his. A silent conversation passed between the pair, ending with the large, brooding male’s shoulders sagging in defeat.

“I’m grateful for my brothers and for ‘Lide.” He didn’t smile at his admission. In fact, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here at the dinner table.

Elide rested her head against Lorcan’s arm, smiling to herself. The appeal of their relationship was lost on Aelin. Lorcan seemed about as fun as running naked through thorn bushes or fighting a Ghost Leopard with only your bare hands.

“I’m grateful I twisted my ankle. I’ve never been glad to be clumsy until this year.”

There it was. Aelin had never actually asked Elide how she’d found Lorcan. Obviously, there were more details, but it seemed the angry man had a penchant for damsels in distress.

The table looked expectedly at her and Rowan, waiting for one of them to go. The food they’d plated was likely cold and the rolls were probably burning. It was worth it though, to hear all the sappy things that holidays brought to light.

“I’m fortunate to have irreplaceable friends and a proclivity for quality literature.” He didn’t bother to look at anyone else, his stormy green gaze focused on her. The conviction of his admission sent her heart skittering. A pink flush colored her cheeks, partly because it felt like he was stripping her bare and because there was an audience to his veil remark. The aforementioned line was growing finer by the minute.

Eager to redirect the focus of the table back to the task at hand, she didn’t acknowledge him. “I’m most grateful that I don’t have to sit alone at rock bottom. And for the grace you have all shown me as I try to find myself, again and again. Thank you for being the kindling that keeps my fire going.”

“Here, here,” cheered Fenrys loudly, his smile infectious. Aelin felt an answering one spread wide across her face. “Now let’s eat because there’s a whole lot of lights waiting for us.”

And eat they did; what started as a daunting amount of food, hardly seemed like it was going to be enough at the end. Aelin hadn’t kept company with men who could eat like that since her cousin and uncle. Every single one of them was fit, with hardly any body fat to their name, and likely their insatiable appetite stemmed from their active lifestyles. Dorian, for as high maintenance as he was, worked out several times a week. He blamed it on having an “image” to uphold.

Aelin was so uncomfortable, bloated like a fat tick, that she did not even have room to eat the chocolate hazelnut croissants sitting in front of her. Connall had found the recipe starred with a note declaring “Aelin’s favorite”. She’d probably have a good cry later after everyone left whilst eating one in the dark. Maybe if she was feeling terribly masochistic, she’d open the book, and run her fingers over the words written down. Would she feel the echoes of a mother’s love in the indented script? Would there be greasy fingerprints staining the pages? Would she hear the laughing chastisement of her dad as reminded her she had to wait for them to cool? What ghosts would creep in the dead of night?

“If I don’t walk around and digest this food, I’m simply going to perish right here.” Dorian was splayed out in his chair, looking pitiful, eyes pinched shut.

“Then get up. Your decomposing corpse will stain my floors.”

“Rude. You’d just let me rot right there?” he asked exasperated now staring at the floor.

Aelin shrugged, unabashed. “You’re too heavy for me to move.”

His eyes grew wide, hand flying to his chest in horror. “I know you did not just call me fat.”

“If you weren’t so vain, you wouldn’t have taken it like that.”

“That’s rich, the pot calling the kettle black.”

She laughed loudly, amusement sinking in. “I never said I wasn’t vain. Besides my dead body would be easier to move.”

“Again, with the fat jokes.”

“What cheerful Yulemas conversation: rotting bodies,” deadpanned Lorcan.

“You two are such children,” Lysandra observed. It sounded like she was trying to reprimand them, but the entertained look on her face said otherwise.

“He started it.”

“Aelin, stop,” Elide begged, dragging out the ‘p’ dramatically.

Huffing, she rolled her eyes, and closed her mouth, the rebuttal sadly dying on her tongue.

“Well, it’s almost midnight, so we better hurry through, so we can make it outside to plug the tree in when it’s officially midnight. Let the tour commence,” Elide sing-songed, clapping her hands together. One at a time, they filed out of the living room, through the kitchen, and into the living room. Both Fleetfoot and Eliot were asleep under the large Christmas tree that occupied one corner. The tree was decorated in only white ornaments, the clear lights slowly fading in and out, casting a warm glow throughout the room. It was so cliché, but perfect, nonetheless.

The exited the living room and made it back to the back stairs, the banister wrapped in frosted pine garlands with red bows. A small Christmas tree was nestled between the bathroom and closet doors. They followed Elide up the stairs, poking their heads in the decorated upstairs rooms, enjoying how each tree had its own theme.

Manon had decorated the front porch balcony, a beautiful tree in the middle, wreaths hung from the windows, and garlands with bright red, velvet bows decorated the columns. The downstairs porch carried the same décor, sans the tree. Both trees in the formal sitting room and piano room could be seen from the windows—perks of having 6ft windows in all the rooms.

They headed down the front set of stairs and took a moment to look closer at the trees in the sitting and piano room. The fireplaces were decorated with pine garlands with candied fruit slices strung along them instead of bows. It smelled liked mulled cider with a citrusy note. Aelin couldn’t have asked for a better group of friends. She knew that Elide had been the mastermind behind the decorations and today. After all, she’d really been the only one around to know how it used to be, to know how much care Evalin had put into the whole craft.

Her eyes burned with unsaid emotion. Today had been exactly what she had needed. These decorations, these friends, these new memories… they helped lessen the ache that had griped her heart mercilessly tight for almost a decade. Grief had been holding her head under water for so long, it was difficult to know how to come up for air.

Her ribcage expanded as she pulled in a deep breath and then exhaling, enjoying how it didn’t quite feel so heavy anymore to do so. “Thank you. It seems so paltry a gesture compared to this—,” she gestured to their surroundings, “but it’s the best way I know how right now.”

“Seeing your eyes light up has been all the thanks I needed. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you look like that,” Lys replied, slipping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She relaxed her head against her friend, enjoying the peaceful silence that had befallen them.

“Hate to ruin the moment, but its 11:58, and there’s a tree that needs lighting.” Thank the gods Connall was paying attention.

Hastily, they bounded out the front door, off the porch, and out into the yard. The unlit tree towered high into the night, the top barely visible. They stood together, merriment and anticipation freely flowing. The tree flickered to life with an audible buzzing sound. Aelin squinted, her eyes attempting to adjust to the bright radiance. Her and Rowan had done an amazing job. The ornaments were visible, some almost looking like they were lit themselves, the bulbs glowing against them.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed or even if it was. Truthfully, it felt like time was standing still—the moment felt infinite as they stood there, heads craned back, eyes wide with wonder. Yulemas, was a god’s birthday, but it was also a day of celebration and togetherness. A day for unbridled joy. An unspoken agreement with the universe that worries and troubles didn’t matter. No bad things could happen because just for one day, the gods hit pause on it all.

“Happy Yulemas.”

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

Aelin was wrapped in her favorite blanket, sitting on the porch, still basking in the tree’s light. She had missed its presence more than she had known and now that it was up, the idea of leaving it to sleep, caused an ache in her chest. All of her friends, except one, had left hours ago. She didn’t know the exact time, but it late, the horizon staring to lighten just barely, signaling dawn wasn’t too far off.

It was supposed to snow, but the sky was clear, not a whisp of clouds in the sky. The air was heavy and still though, the smell of frost tickling her nose. Having a white Yulemas would be wonderous, especially with the house done up in spectacular fashion. It had been years since Orynth had been graced by snow on Lumas’ birthday.

“I have something for you.” His sleepy voice startled her. When she had last looked at him, he had been sleeping peacefully, Elliot curled into his side on the wooden bench.

Her gaze flicked over to him, noting that while she had been staring off, wishing for snow, he had sat up, folded his blanket, and pulled back his hair into a bun. She really needed to work on her observation skills, if only for self-preservation.

“It’s in the truck,” he said as he stood and extended a hand to her.

As content as she was wrapped up like a burrito, she uncurled herself, and slipped her hand into his. It was warm and calloused and much larger than her own. He didn’t let go even when she was to her feet and Aelin knew she should pull her hand back, but she didn’t. For just five minutes, it would be okay to pretend that there was nothing wrong with holding his hand. No lines were being blurred or crossed or ignored. He was just a guy and she was just a girl.

Elliot faithfully trotted behind them, stuck to Rowan like glue. Her own dog, had refused to come outside, choosing to lay in front of the fire. Fleetfoot was spoiled and it showed. They did say people often picked dogs like themselves.

Rowan opened the driver side door and dug around, only dropping her hand when he had to lean further across the bench seat. He stepped out of the door, allowing for Elliot to jump up into the truck—which caused her to deflate a little inside because it meant he was leaving. She wasn’t sure if she was dreading finally being alone or dreading him leaving.

He shut the door and leaned back against it. Holding is hand up between them, a small brown box with a gold bow sat on his open palm. When she didn’t immediately grab it, he stepped closer, their bodies almost touching. If she took even half a step, angled her head just so, their lips would be flush, and that was the only thing running through her brain.

When he spoke, his breath warmed her lips, “Are you going to open it, or do you have x-ray vision and haven’t told me?”

Embarrassment and shame coursed through her veins. Kissing him was the absolute last thing she should be contemplating. Her hand quickly relieved him of the package, and she took a step back, opening it. Reaching in, she hooked a green ribbon with her finger and pulled up.

Fleetfoot. A dog had been carved out of wood, collar, and everything, and stained to appear just like her own.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed quietly. A tear streaked down her right cheek.

Before she even registered him move, his hand was cupping her jaw, and he was swiping away the tear with his thumb. A small amount of pressure applied forced her to look at him. He stared intently at her, and she suddenly didn’t know how to breathe.

“I carved it from a piece of wood I cut that day you were at my house. I almost took my thumb off a few times. It was hard to get her just right.”

“It seems like it would be hard to whittle something with so much detail.”

Rowan opened his mouth a few times but said nothing. He seemed to be struggling internally with himself, his brow furrowing quite noticeably for it being so dark and hard to see features in any great detail. Frustrated with his silence, she huffed, “What?”

“When you told me about your Yulemas tradition earlier in your bedroom, I thought to myself how fortuitous it was that I had spent weeks on this thing for you. Out of all the things, I’d carved you something to be hung on a tree.” His hand slowly down her neck, his words barely above a whisper. The drag of his hot hand against her cooled flesh sent shivers down her spine, straight to core. Aelin’s self-control was fraying like a worn rope, soon too many fibers would break, and it would snap all together, ending with her doing something incredibly rash.

Sucking in a ragged breath, she dropped her gaze, and counted to ten, a pitiful attempt to ground her thoughts. His hand remained against her neck, the tip of his thumb grazing the straight plane of her jawbone. She wondered if he could feel her pulse racing or the flushed heat of her skin against his open palm.

“I love my gift, Ro. I’ll hang it on my tree when I go inside.”

He suddenly pulled her close without hesitation, the end of her promise muffled by his muscled chest. Pine and snow deliciously filled her nose she tucked her face in a little tighter. She could feel his hands playing with the tips of her hair and the unmistakable press of lips against the crown of her head.

“Happy Yulemas, Fireheart.”

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