#the first time the word Fireheart has ever hurt so much

[whimsicallyreading]

For Rowaelin Month day 17

 “A sick day”

CW- PTSD, mentions of violence

Aelin considered herself a fortunate person.

She has survived genocide, her family's murders, losing loved ones, slavery, torture, and the Great War. Now she is a queen, a mother, a beloved Mate.

Her life had changed since those bleak days where she'd wondered if she would ever escape captivity—the days when Aelin didn't know if she would ever be free or find love again. Every morning she woke up curled into Rowan's side, and while she drank her morning tea, Aelin could count on her young daughter snuggling into her lap.

Yes, she was swamped most days, but that was normal for a queen. But even the moments between boring meetings brimmed with life and laughter. Rowan's hand on her thigh beneath the table. Fenrys' theatrics when conversation spiraled off-topic. And even the hardened lords thought it was hilarious when their three-year-old princess barged into councils and demanded her mother's attention.

Her family gathered for dinners at the end of every day. Aelin's little family, Fenrys, Emrys, and Malakai were the regular attendees. Aedion, Lysandra, Elide, and Lorcan joined when they were present. It was a time reserved for family only, and it was by far Aelin's favorite part of the day.

Aelin had a good life now. Her family was growing, and her country thrived beneath her rule.

So it always took her by surprise when a bad day came.

She had woken up fine. Delly had slammed open the chamber door with a gust of wind and squirmed herself between her and Rowan in the early morning. Usually, Aelin treasured the moments when her daughter joined them, but being pregnant again had taken a toll on her sleep.

Rowan tried to stop their child before she entirely collapsed onto Aelin but was a moment too slow. Delly flopped onto her mother's chest in a disarray of wrinkled nightgown and golden curls. Soft sobs were sputtering out of the tiny figure.

I'm sorry. Rowan whispered into her thoughts. He knew how hard pregnancy was on her and took his mate's comfort very seriously. It troubled him that their toddling daughter woke Aelin so abruptly.

Aelin blinks the sleep from her eyes and sends him a happy smile to assure him everything is fine.

"What's wrong, Dell?" Aelin soothes a hand up her baby's quaking form.

Adelia sniffles harder, unable to talk through the tears. She'd started to have bad dreams in recent weeks, but never had she been so inconsolable.

Aelin shifts as Adelia's arms tighten uncomfortably around her bump. Rowan sees her discomfort and reaches around to pull Dell to him instead, but it is met with resistance.

"No," Adelia finally wails. "Mama. I want Mama."

Rowan frowns. Adelia was a daddy's girl to the bone, and this was the first time she'd ever refused to go to him. Their daughter squeezes harder and burrows her face into Aelin's torso.

"Dell," Rowan leans next to her and whispers, a cool breeze brushing against her flushed cheek. "What's wrong little love?"

Adelia lifts her head, and Aelin's heart contracts painfully. Her cheeks are red and swollen from the intensity of her crying, little sobs still stumbling from her chest as Rowan settles her down enough to speak.

"Mama was gone. She was hurt, and she couldn't see me." Dell sniffles, her green eyes glassy. "Can you see me, Mama?"

Aelin tugs her daughter in closer, unable to stand the sight of her so sad. "Yes, of course, I can. I'm right here."

"You were in a box. She wouldn't let me see you," Adelia whimpers in a small voice. "She told me she was gonna keep you. I don't want you to go, Mama."

Aelin's face blanches. It wasn't possible. Her little baby couldn't possibly have seen what was coming to her mind. She looks at Rowan, and his face is pinched with worry.

"It's not real, Dell." Rowan uses a thumb to wipe the tears off her cheek.

Adelia flinches. "Uncle Ress told me it was. He told me Mama had got stollen and put into a box by the bad lady and that she should have stayed there."

Aelin's heart stops. Nausea crawls up her throat, and Rowan tugs Adelia away just in time for her to crawl out of bed and gag into a potted plant. The sickness grips Aelin, the shudders in her arms only growing worse with her daughter's mumbled cries.

"Daddy, I want Mama to stay here." Rowan hushes her and murmurs quiet reassurances. "Don't let her get stollen."

Ress had said that? In front of her daughter? Aelin tries to close her eyes against the visions creeping into her mind. The places her scars used to be ache, and her hands pulse with the remembered pain of reconstruction.

The baby in her womb squirms under its mother's stress, and Aelin throws up again.

She should have stayed there.

Cairn brings the hammer down onto her frail knees, the ringing of cracking bone splits the air.

She should have stayed there.

Aelin opens her eyes to endless darkness. Sweet smoke wafts through invisible holes and sends her to sleep- leaving her mind vulnerable to Maeve's manipulations.

She should have stayed there.

More and more memories swarm behind her eyelids until a pair of grounding arms wrap around her shoulders.

"Fireheart, you are home. You are safe. Can you breathe with me?" Rowan sighs loudly behind her shoulder, and Aelin tries to force her own breath out.

Breathing in is harder, but Rowan's scent fills her nose and loosens the binds on her lungs. Soon, Aelin is doing the exercises independently, and Rowan nuzzles his face into her neck. His hands snake under her bump and lift some of the pressure, easing more of her tension.

"There you are," Rowan kisses her cheek as Aelin comes back around. "Are you okay?"

Aelin shakes her head and sinks into his arms. "Can you take me back to bed?"

Her legs feel like jelly, and her stomach is weak from turning. Rowan lifts her with ease. His arms are warm, and he murmurs sweet nothings into her ear as he carries his mate back to their bed.

"Adelia?" Aelin looks around for their daughter.

Rowan pulls back the duvet and reveals the sleepy from nestled right into the middle of the pillows. "She fell back asleep quickly."

"I can't believe Ress told her those things," Aelin can feel a tear slipping down her face. Ress had never forgiven her for her days as Celaena. Darrow had grown to accept her, but Ress never warmed up to having Aelin as his queen despite her efforts.

She hadn't realized the extent his hatred went.

Rowan scowls as he lays Aelin down next to their daughter. "Ress is young and foolish. I have forgiven a lot of his hostility and ignored most of his juvenile antics, but Aelin, I can't forgive this."

"He should never have said those things to Dell." Ress's words linger in her head. She tried to do right by her title and live up to her parent's legacy. Aelin took a lot of pride in listening to the demands of her people and tending to their problems personally. But the odds of Ress being the only one to feel this way are slim. Did they wish she'd never returned? Was she arrogant to take the crown just because it was her inheritance? She'd never had the formal training as ruler and relied a lot on Rowan to help manage foreign affairs. Despite the loss of her fire, many still feared her and considered her a murderer. No matter how hard she tried, Aelin's history as Adarlan's Assassin proceeded her.

Tears burn Aelin's eyes, and Rowan's scowl deepens. "He should have never spoken of you like that at all."

Aelin shakes her head, "It's his right to think what he wants. Maybe he has a point."

"No." Rowan growls, and Dell flinches in her sleep. Taking a deep breath, Rowan softens his voice. "He's wrong, Aelin. Ress was wrong to scare Dell, and he has no right to demean everything you've sacrificed. You've suffered for your people."

"I closed the lock because I had to Rowan," Aelin argues. "That doesn't automatically make me a good queen. What if I'm failing?"

Rowan pulls their duvet up to Aelin's chin, and Dell instinctively snuggles to her mother's side. Her daughter was a leach for warmth, and Aelin could feel her remaining flames writhing in her veins agitated.

"You are a wonderful ruler, Fireheart." Rowan bends down and kisses her lips reverently. "I've met my fair share of emperors, kings, and queens. None of them have given up so much to better the lives of their people. They care for you in return."

Rowan steps away from the bed, and Aelin makes a displeased noise. "Where are you going so early in the morning."

"I'm awake now. I feel like a flight through Oakwald. Go to sleep, and when you wake up, I'll bring my females breakfast," Rowan pulls on a plain white tunic. "Sleep, love. You both need your rest."

Rowan can read her too well. Aelin can feel her eyes drooping despite how much she wants to deny it. "Very well, but there better be tea and pastries."

As Aelin drifts back to sleep, she swears that a mischievous smile passes across her mate's face.

~~~

"Aelin," Maeve twirls a lock of blonde hair in her fingers. "Where are the keys?"

Cairn twists the blade in her thigh again, and Aelin screams, "screw yourself."

Aelin writhes beneath the pain and the dark queen's gaze. Her torturer goes to twist the blade again, but Maeve holds up a hand. "Wait. There is a smarter way to go about this."

"I won't tell you anything," Aelin gasps, the blood seeping from her thigh pools onto the table. "There is nothing you can do."

"Not even to spare the princess?" Maeve smiles as the cell door opens. Connall walks into the room, a squirming girl in his arms.

"Let me go," the girl screams, and the air in the room turns frigid. Her blonde hair whips around as she twists and fights. The little girl's head turns, and she freezes when she catches sight of Aelin. "Mama?"

"Adelia?" Aelin asks, confused. "You can't be here. You aren't supposed to be here." With renewed energy, Aelin thrashes against her bonds and bares her teeth at Maeve.

Maeve takes Adelia from Connall and strokes her hair. "Such a pretty one."

"This isn't real," Aelin hisses. "I wasn't pregnant when you took me. Adelia was born in Terresan."

Maeve hums a sympathetic note, "It seems you're confused." Aelin fights as the dark queen sits with a frozen Adelia in her lap. "Begin again, Cairn."

A hot iron is lain against Aelin's neck, and Adelia's screams rattle the stone chamber.

~~~

Aelin wakes with a gasp. Her chest is seizing in uncontrollable fits, and little hands cup the sides of her face.

"Mama?" Adelia's concerned face hovers over Aelin's. "Why are you crying?"

Relief washes over her at the sight of her daughter, safe and sound. She tries to take deeper breaths, but her body fights against her. The baby in her womb squirms uncomfortably. Aelin feels guilt that they are so subject to her moods. She tries to open her mouth to speak, consol her frightened daughter, but Aelin can't get any words out.

"Daddy!" Dell screams, frightened tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

Rowan bursts through the door, "Dell?"

Adelia sniffles and kisses Aelin's face sadly, "Daddy, what's wrong with Mama?"

Aelin grabs at her chest, trying to ease the tightness there. She was scaring her daughter. What kind of mother would do that? Rowan sits beside her, and a cool wind goes up her nose and fills her lungs.

"Fireheart," Rowan lifts Adelia and sits beside her. "Is this a sick day?"

It was the code they'd come up with for the days when the past came back to haunt them. When the turmoil in their mind forces their bodies to rebel, and they can't seem to put on their usual facades. It used to shame Aelin, the days she couldn't rise from bed and do her duty. But her mate's unwavering love soon cracked that lie and eased her burden. Rowan had convincing arguments. Aelin's people needed their queen at her best, and on sick days, she wasn't able to give that to them. Their court was strong. They wouldn't allow Terresan to fall while she recovered. Aelin deserved time to heal.

Rowan must have been able to tell that she wouldn't be able to settle herself this time as his winds continued their push and pull in her chest. "Yes," she rasps dejectedly.

Dell buries her face into Rowan's shoulder. Her mate rests a hand on the side of her face and soothes her cheek. "To whatever end, Aelin. We will get through this just as we do everything else."

Rowan kisses the side of Dell's face. "Little love, do you think you can go to the kitchens and have someone bring Mama tea?"

That fae instinct to fuss rears its head in their child. Adelia perks up at the opportunity to do something useful. "Yes!"

Rowan sets her on the floor, and she takes off in a blur of untamed hair and swishing skirts. They wince as a gust of wind slams the doors of their chambers against the wall.

"She's a handful," Rowan talks, aware of the soothing effect his voice has on her. "But we always knew our children would be. I can't wait to see what kind of chaos our son brings into our lives."

Aelin wraps her arms around him as the remnants of her dreams finally fade away. "You think it's a boy?"

"I know so," Rowan pinches her side, and Aelin smiles. He'd also been confident that their first child would be a girl. His smugness after Adelia's birth was unbearable.

"Rowan," Aelin whispers. "Can we just lay here today?"

"I could never deny you anything," Rowan leans against their headboard and kicks off his shoes. "You don't need to ask, Aelin. It's okay to take time for yourself."

"What if I'm just proving Ress right?" The insecurity slips from her lips before she can stop them. "What if there is someone more capable?"

"Ress won't be a problem anymore," Rowan rests a hand against her bump, and the baby withing kicks at it, bringing a smile to his face.

Aelin narrows her eyes, "What have you done?"

"Nothing that anyone will blame me for," Rowan assures. "He would be in a lot more trouble if the rest of the court learned what he said in front of Dell. Ress should be grateful I didn't do a lot worse."

Aelin sighs, "I don't understand why I can't just let it all go. Why do I allow myself to be so haunted?"

"It's not that simple," Rowan shakes his head. "I'm hundreds of years old, and no matter how many years pass, there are things from my past that haven't healed. The mind is different from the body, and sometimes it takes longer for it to recover. There is nothing wrong with that. You gave up everything for the people you loved."

"Because I had to," Aelin contradicts.

A hardness comes over Rowan, "because no one else could."

Rowan rolls over her body into a plank and looks deep into her eyes. "No one else that day would have made the same sacrifices out of love. Not even me. I was too selfish to let you go. You gave up everything, and by the strength in your soul, you came home to me. In all my decades, I have never met someone so remarkable, and I never will again. Take as many years as you need to recover, Aelin. This world owes a debt to you, and I will make sure it pays. You deserve every happiness."

His hand threads through one of hers and drags it up to rest on the bump between them.

Happiness.

Dell darts back into their room, a cup of tea sloshing in her hands as she runs. "Daddy, I put extra sugar in it. Uncle Fen is coming with more cups, but I made this one special."

Rowan pulls away from her, and the laughter on his face is contagious.  

Aelin smiles and accepts the tea from Dell's hands. She even manages a few sips without cringing from the sweetness. Fenrys follows behind her shortly and sets a fresh cup covertly on her bedside table.

There may be hard days, Aelin realizes as her family gathers around her, but the love they showed her every day made it all worth it.

[seasonofthewicth]

Rowaelin Month - Day 3

prompt: a secret relationship

extras: multiple povs

cw: one very brief mention of nsfw topics

word count: 3k

--

Fenrys knows his friends think of him as the joker of the group, and yeah he is hilarious, but there’s more to him than that. He can read the room, can pick up on the subtleties of whichever of his friends might need one of his jokes more than others on any given day. It’s a skill that makes him observant, watchful of people, and he notices things.

He’s not sure if Rowan and Aelin think they’re being subtle, and he’s not sure which of his other friends have picked up on the same things he has, but he’s pretty sure Aelin and Rowan are sleeping together.

He’s not completely sure, he doesn’t have any concrete evidence and they still act normally in the group, but he knows what he saw on the night of Elide’s birthday. He and Rowan have lived together for years and Aelin has crashed at theirs any number of times before but, until that night, she’d never emerged from Rowan’s bedroom the morning after wearing one of his t-shirts.

The material had completely drowned her. The short sleeves had hung to her elbows and the hem had been well down her thighs. She’d seemed somewhat… sneaky as she’d crept into their kitchen in search of coffee.

He knows not to read too much into things, friends share clothes all the time. He’s lost many hoodies to the collective wardrobe owned by their group of friends and he’s still pissed at Lorcan who he knows still has his The Cadre t-shirt from the gig they had attended a few years ago.

What Fenrys also knows is that friends don’t stand at the kitchen counter, holding the neckline of their friend’s shirt to their nose and grinning like an idiot.

He needs to speak to Aedion.

Elide has been friends with Aelin for years and that is more than long enough to know she’s almost always guaranteed to be late to their coffee dates. She’s not bothered, it gives her a few extra minutes to sip away at her own coffee reading her book with the general hum of the coffee shop lulling her into a comfortable rest.

It’s not long before her friend breezes into the coffee shop, the bell above the door ringing and signalling her entrance. It’s very Aelin, her entrance. The wind sweeps in fluffing her golden waves and her steps are full of purpose as she strides towards Elide.

“Sorry I’m late.” Aelin all but throws herself into the seat opposite Elide, smiling a bright smile for the relatively early morning they’re sharing.

“Don’t worry about it,” Elide says, finishing off her final swig of her first coffee. “Want me to go and get our drinks?”

“No, Ellie,” Aelin says, waving her hand. “First one’s on me. I was late, I’ll make it up to you.”

Aelin squeezes her hand before breezing back out of her seat.

She’s back only a couple of minutes later, finally relaxing into the large armchair she occupies. “So, what’s new with you?”

“Nothing much,” Elide shrugs. “Work is tough but nothing I didn’t expect.”

“I’m sure you’re smashing it,” Aelin says with a grin, then places her hand against her chest. “My little Elide, registered nurse taking the world by storm.”

Elide smiles, it feels good to hear those words, after all the sleepless nights and sweat and tears she’s finally where she wants to be.

Aelin continues, “You’re not pushing yourself too hard are you?”

“No,” she says and it’s the truth. “And even if I was, Lorcan is being wonderful.”

Aelin fake gags and Elide shoots her a mostly joking glare. “I find that hard to believe.”

“He is,” she says, thinking of the bath he had drawn her the night before and the massage he’d given her when she complained of her feet aching.

Aelin shifts in her seat as she nods along and the neck of her t-shirt slips down to reveal the ghost of a hickey on her friend’s collarbone. Elide raises an eyebrow.

Aelin looks down before grinning wickedly.

“Anything new with you?”

Aelin’s answer is interrupted by the arrival of their coffees in the hands of a handsome waiter.

“A large mocha,” he says and Elide raises a hand, “and a large cappuccino with cinnamon.”

Aelin raises her own hand. The waiter sets their drinks down, his eyes lingering on Aelin for a minute before he slowly backs away.

“Enjoy,” he says, his eyes still locked on Aelin. “Let me know if you need anything.”

He turns with a wink and Elide raises her other brow at her friend.

“Are you going to get his number?”

Aelin shakes her head. “Not today.”

Elide hums a response before leaning forward in her seat. “Why? You’d usually be all over someone like him, he’s exactly your type. Tall, muscular without being jacked, his curly brown hair, cheeky smile…”

She trails off when Aelin cracks a smile. “I guess I’m just not feeling it today.”

Elide wants to ask why again, she honestly might go over and get the guy’s number for her friend, when Aelin changes the subject rapidly.

“Are you going to Rowan and Fenrys’ later?”

Elide doesn’t process the change of topic until a little later on, once a couple more pieces have slotted into place. Eventually she’s pretty sure she’s worked out why Aelin didn’t want the cute coffee guy’s number.

She needs to speak to Lorcan.

Lorcan Salvaterre doesn’t like Aelin Galathynius.

He tolerates her at best for the sake of the rest of their friends but that said, he still probably wouldn’t want to see her hurt.

When Lysandra puts the message in the group chat-At the hospital with Aelin, dw they think it’s just a sprain-he reads it, absently thinks how he probably hopes she’s okay, and moves on with his day. He’s on his way to meet Rowan at the bar and if anything, Galathynius would want them to raise a toast in her honour.

What Lorcan doesn’t expect is the restless jittering of his best friend’s leg beneath the table, sloshing precious droplets of beer onto the table that his friend doesn’t even seem to notice.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asks as he slides onto his seat opposite the silver haired man.

“Nothing,” Rowan says quickly but his leg keeps up the restless pace.

Lorcan signals to the bartender for his own beer and turns back to Rowan. “Dude, chill out. There’s clearly something up with you and I’m not having you spill my pint.”

Rowan finally notices the state of their table and stills his leg. “Sorry,” Rowan says, using some of the beer mats scattered across their table to mop up the spill.

Now Lorcan really is confused. Usually Whitethorn would cuss him out over apologising. He doesn’t really know what to say.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he ignores it as Rowan lurches for his own phone. He reads whatever’s on the screen then scowls and locks it again, placing it face up on the table. His knee begins bouncing again.

“You’re being weird,” Lorcan announces.

“Fuck off,” Rowan says and there’s the Whitethorn he knows and loves.

Lorcan opens his mouth to speak again but his phone buzzes and Rowan again lurches for his own. He chews at his lip as he reads whatever’s on the screen and so Lorcan bothers to dig his own phone out of his pocket.

It’s the group chat. He has a couple of unread messages, just Aedion and Elide expressing their concern for Galathynius as expected, nothing exciting. He locks his phone and places it on the table in front of him, watching Rowan for his next move. He’s definitely being weird and Lorcan has no fucking clue why.

His phone buzzes again and the screen lights up with the latest message. It’s Galathynius, he can tell from the stupid crown profile picture she has.

I’m alive, her message reads, just a sprain but I’m gutted bc I wanted a cast so you all could sign it.

Rowan is on his own phone when Lorcan looks back up, he’s tapping away but Lorcan doesn’t see any messages from him in the group chat. His knee has stilled under the table and Lorcan swears there’s something that looks like relief on his face. Relief? As if there was ever any danger of Galathynius not being fine.

Wait.

“Why the fuck are you so worried about Galathynius?”

Rowan’s eyes narrow and he carefully tucks his phone back into his pocket.

“I’m not,” he says but it sounds somewhat like a question and Lorcan isn’t convinced.

Until he decides he doesn’t give a shit enough to ask any more questions, Whitethorn seems back to normal and if Galathynius being fine is the reason for it he can think about it later.

And probably speak to Fenrys.

Aedion is drunk.

Like truly and utterly wasted.

So far a good night.

The rest of the group are somewhere dispersed around the bar but he’s happy here, tucked up in their booth, resting his head against the cushioned velvet while the room spins around him. He’s pretty sure Aelin is still in the booth with him and it might be Rowan with her but he’s too lazy to open his eyes to check.

He can hear the pounding base of a song he doesn’t recognise and he could fall asleep right here, somehow lulled to sleep by the beat and the volume of alcohol he’s consumed.

He doesn’t mean to listen to Aelin and Rowan’s conversation, even though he’s pretty sure it’s not intruding if they know he’s sat right there, but pieces of their conversation spike his attention.

“You don’t want me to stay at yours tonight?” he hears Aelin ask and Aedion is intrigued.

Lysandra is out tonight so Aelin has a safe ride home with her roommate and no need to crash at Rowan and Fenrys’ apartment.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to.” Rowan’s voice is low and hard to hear over the music. “But Fenrys is out with us and if I say I want to leave he’ll join me, then you know he’d ask questions.”

Aedion from tomorrow is screaming at him to pay attention to this conversation and so he keeps his eyes closed to try and listen in. He’s almost holding his breath to try and hear their voices over the noise of the bar.

They’re quiet for a moment and he’s so tempted to crack his eyes open.

“I know,” he finally hears Rowan say. “I’m sorry, Fireheart. We will.”

Hearing the term of endearment drop off Rowan’s lips is too much, it’s weird, he didn’t realise the two of them were close enough for Rowan to know about the nickname his cousin has. He risks opening one of his eyes to just a thin slit.

He’s not ready for what he sees.

Aelin is tucked under Rowan’s arm, resting her cheek on his chest. Rowan’s chin rests on the top of his cousin’s head before he softly presses his lips to her hair.

Aedion has many questions. He immediately closes his eye. He’s drunk, he can’t trust his eyes.

He hears rustling and then definitely his name from his cousin but it doesn’t sound like she’s talking to him.

Then, “Aedion.” Rowan’s voice has him blinking his eyes open and lifting his head from the booth.

They’re separated now, sitting with a couple of inches between them on the seat. Maybe he didn’t see them cuddled up a minute ago, he’s not sure.

“Drink this.” Rowan is holding out a glass of water, his tone leaving no room for protests.

“Hey,” he hears how slurred his voice is and catches Aelin’s laughter. “Thanks bro.”

Aelin puts her face in her hands. Rowan doesn’t crack, just waves the glass of water in front of him. He reaches out to grab it but he can see more than one of his hand reaching for the glass.

“Gods,” Aelin says, looking at Rowan. “Maybe you should take him home.”

“I will,” Rowan agrees quickly, looking at her softly and Aedion has about a million more questions. “I’ll get him to drink this first.”

Aelin nods and he finally manages to take a hold of the water and downs it in about a minute. Rowan slides out of the booth and holds a hand out to Aedion. He lets his friend tug him up and begins his stumble to the exit.

He feels Rowan pause behind him and catches the words, “meet you at yours afterwards.”

He manages to spin and see Aelin smiling as she leaves the booth too. He doesn’t bother to think about it, he probably won’t remember tomorrow.

He’ll ask Lysandra.

Aelin’s hand is clammy where she holds Rowan’s.

It’s the only sign of the nerves she feels, this conversation has been brewing for a while, and regardless of their friends’ reactions she’s happy with Rowan. Honestly, it’s only been about a month in total since that one night for Elide’s birthday that changed everything, but she thinks she might be falling for him.

She can’t believe she thought he was a dick when they first met. Well, she supposes he is a dick. One of the first things he ever said to her was that she was a spoiled brat but, in his defense, she’d just called him a stuck up bastard.

Now though she loves the thrill of his quick mind. Loves the way he can tease and taunt her until she’s trembling beneath him and about a second away from begging. She loves the soft kisses he presses to her hair when he knows she’s had a bad day, she loves when he comes back from work with a slice of chocolate hazelnut cake under his arm because he knows it will make her smile.

What she doesn’t love is keeping this a secret from all of their best friends. It started out as embarrassment, after they slept together on Elide’s birthday she didn’t know what it was, didn’t know if they’d just fucked everything up, didn’t know if their friendships were about to implode.

But then it happened again, and again and again, until it’s four am and she’s pressing her lips to his one last time so she can sneak out without Fenrys noticing and be home before Lysandra wakes up.

The sneaking around was hot at first. His hand over her mouth holding in her whimpers as he fucked her on the couch he shares with Fenrys, when he slid the pillow between her bedframe and the wall when Lysandra had texted asking if she could hear that weird banging noise, all the times they had cut it a little too close. But now, it’s exhausting.

She wants to be able to hold Rowan’s hand and kiss him without the wariness pooling in her stomach and she knows he feels the same.

“Guys,” she says loudly to the room filled with their friends. Rowan squeezes her hand where they’re hidden beneath a couch pillow. “We have something to tell you all.”

Five pairs of eves pivot to her and she swallows.

“Rowan and I are… dating,” she says slowly, as though she’s unsure of how the words will go down.

There’s a beat of silence before their friends erupt.

“I knew it!”

“I fucking told you they were.”

“Pay up you bastard.”

Lorcan scowls, pulling out his wallet and Aelin blinks. She did not expect this.

“Wait.” Lorcan holds up a hand. “Before I hand over any cash we need details. Dating or in a relationship? How long have you been dating? Who asked who? Who started this? Most importantly; when?”

She looks to Rowan who’s green eyes reflect her own bewilderment.

“Um,” he starts unsurely, “we’re in a relationship.” He punctuates this with another squeeze of her hand and she grins. The feeling of his fingers linked through her own spreads warmth up her arm before settling in her chest. “It started a few weeks ago.”

Her friends are all leaning forwards, still waiting.

“When exactly?” Lysandra asks. “Like what was the date?”

“Well, the first time was the night of Elide’s birthday.”

Fenrys launches himself out of his seat. “I fucking told all of you.” He holds his right hand out starkly in front of him. “Pay up all of you, I was right.”

There are complaints and grumbled protests but Fenrys ends up with a handful of twenties and Elide a couple of notes herself.

“Wait,” Aelin says, brushing a hand across her forehead as if this will somehow clear it up. “You guys bet on us?”

That seems to still the commotion coming from the other side of the room.

It’s Aedion who speaks. “Yeah,” he says in a way that sounds like duh. “You didn’t think you were subtle did you?”

“Kind of,” Rowan says eventually, leaning forwards to brace his elbows on his knees. “We weren’t obvious. And none of you ever seemed to let on.”

“Bro, are you serious?” Aedion laughs as Elide and Lysandra snicker.

“You seriously thought we never knew?” Lysandra sounds as baffled as Aelin feels. “All those texts I sent when I knew he was over? All the mysterious unnamed hook-ups on nights you and Rowan both disappeared together? All the times you’d think you were subtle but your lipstick would be on his neck? We have been waiting for this.”

She’s laughing and Aelin feels a bubble of laughter in her own throat. She can’t believe it. It had seemed to reach a point of obviousness but none of them had ever commented.

“I can’t believe you all knew,” she cries burying her face in her hands as Rowan slings an arm around her shoulders and pulls her in close. “Why did none of you say anything?”

“It was against the rules of the bet,” Fenrys says seriously and Rowan uses his other arm to dig his bicep, his laughter rumbling in his chest beneath her.

She smiles into the fabric of his shirt as the group erupts again, bickering over who knew first and who knew the most. Aelin doesn’t care, it’s gone better than she could have imagined and she has Rowan and her friends and she loves them.

A secret relationship no longer. It feels good.

[talkfantasytome]

Comforts of Home

Rowaelin Month Prompt: Surprise Kisses

Aelin gets home after the gala to find Rowan waiting there.

No Warnings | Word Count: 1,071

A Home to Claim | Read on AO3

a/n: This is a companion piece to 'A Home to Claim'. I'm keeping them all together on AO3, but you don't, technically, need to read the first to understand the second.

Aelin slumped against the door.

"How'd it go?" a soft, deep voice asked from the couch. Aelin had barely even realized the lights were on in her house. She definitely hadn't noticed the massive Jeep Wrangler that must clearly be parked out front.

"The gala was fine," Aelin sighed quietly, walking over and sitting on the couch next to him. And it had been, for the most part. She didn't have a bad time, exactly. Chaol was generally easy to be with, and she could enjoy it, to an extent. But it hadn't been amazing, and she hadn't laughed once like she would've if Rowan had been there. Chaol wasn't interested in making it more fun. "What are you doing here?"

Rowan chuckled beside her. "You spent the entire night texting me. And, well, based on your last one, I thought you might want to talk."

She should've known he'd be there. Of course he was. It was such a Rowan thing to do.

Exhaling loudly, she leaned her head back against the cushion. He wasn't wrong. Rowan was rarely wrong about Aelin.

Then again, this one may have been obvious.

Just ended things with Chaol. Can finally leave!

It hadn't been a difficult decision. It didn't really hurt or weigh on Aelin in any way. The only hard part was the fact that it, in the end, wasn't hard. And it didn't make any sense.

Aelin thought she was quite smitten with Chaol. He was attractive, kind, maybe a bit too ambitious, but he generally treated her well. For the few weeks they dated. It just…wasn't right. No matter how hard she tried. She had played the perfect girlfriend that evening, but by the end of it, she realized that was all she'd been doing. Playing a part. A part she didn't want.

And it was all thanks to the man currently next to her on her couch. The jerk.

She wasn't sure exactly when she fell in love with Rowan, but it had been well over three years since she figured it out. Three years of wishing and wanting and knowing that he'd never feel the same way. Three years of staring into those perfect pine green eyes, of brushing her hands through his silver hair, of secretly admiring the most amazing biceps anyone has ever had.

Three years of desperately trying to fall out of love…and of failed relationships because she just couldn't.

Really though, how could she not love him?

He was everything. Thoughtful, caring, always putting her first. Funny in a way not everyone got, which made it feel like it was just for her. And also smart and witty; once Aelin got him out of his shell, Rowan could meet her shot for shot. Yet, Aelin was also able to get under his skin in a way no one else could, and she lived for it.

Sadly, she wasn't currently in the mood for that.

Shit. I really am in a funk.

"So, do you want to talk about it?" Rowan's voice broke through all her thoughts and feelings - or lack of feelings, where Chaol was concerned.

Aelin shrugged, the sequins on her gold dress lightly scratching against her arms as they slid upward and back down.

"Fireheart, what happened?"

She could feel Rowan's eyes on her, studying her face. "Nothing," she muttered, pretending she couldn't tell that Rowan was raising an eyebrow to that response.

"Nothing? Really?"

"I just…" Aelin groaned, standing up. "It just wasn't working. I didn't like him as much as I thought I did."

"That simple?" Rowan asked, leaning his forearms on his knees.

Aelin nodded, finally turning to look at him. "Honestly, yes. I was miserable tonight. And as nice as he was to me, the event made me realize that I don't want to live my life the way I would with him…as his girlfriend."

Rowan stood up and walked over to her, resting his large, perfectly warm hands on her shoulders. "Then you did the right thing," he offered with a gentle smile.

"It's just weird." Aelin rested her head on his shoulder, savoring the feel of his arms now wrapping around her waist as she placed hers around his. "Like, it wasn't even difficult. I don't feel any different. And, honestly, I'm not sure he really cared either."

Resting his head on top of hers, Rowan chuckled. "That just proves my point more."

"I guess." Breathing in Rowan's scent, letting the pine and snow envelope her completely, Aelin allowed herself to get lost for a moment in him. Her heart was racing, her entire body tingling from each point of contact with Rowan's, and she embraced every moment of it. It was like coming home after a long trip away with a difficult journey. But all too soon, Rowan was pulling away.

"I'm glad you're okay," he said with a smile, his eyes back on hers as one hand brushed some of her golden hair behind her ears.

Comfort seeped through Aelin as they stood there, arms loosely around each other.

Suddenly, before she could even stop herself, Aelin whispered, "I love you," and pushed up onto her toes, brushing her lips to his.

Rowan froze in place, his hands falling to his sides as Aelin kissed him, and after a few seconds she finally realized what she'd just done and stepped away. Her eyes were as wide as a deer's, just as Rowan's were, and she looked him over, noticing the stiff posture and the shocked look on his face.

Gods, she was an idiot. What had she just done? Other than completely ruin the absolute best thing in her life because she was so at ease she hadn't even been thinking about her actions.

"Oh my gosh. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. The night must have affected me more than I realized. I'm just…I'm going to go to bed." She was stumbling over her words as she backed away from him. "You can let yourself out. Forget what just happened. Good night!"

A pit sinking deeper into her stomach with every millisecond Rowan remained quiet, Aelin hurried away. With every step she felt that home, that comfort slip further and further from her, and she doubted it would ever return. She rushed into her room and slammed the door shut, locking it behind her and waiting to hear Rowan leave.

a/n: There will be a third piece. 😊

[manonblaqkbeak]

The Reunion

Day 5--I had completely forgotten that I had written this lol. It’s more fluff as usual. Can’t wait to read everyone else’s later on!

Enjoy! :)

1.8k words

Rowan couldn't wait to get home. Today had been...exhausting, to say the least. He was a personal trainer, and with that came the territory that people would talk about their issues while working out. Which was fine, Rowan understood that letting out emotional issues when working out helped people to stay motivated. He himself had been known to rant about his issues when working out himself.

But today had been a lot. One of his regulars had put on weight over the Yulemas holidays and was beating himself up over it. Another regulars marriage was over and was dealing with that guilt.  Someone had lost a favourite aunt. Another one had to break off an engagement because it was a loveless relationship. And on and on the issues piled up.

Rowan was good at compartmentalizing, but after a while, he ignored his lunch break in order to go to the park to just...not think for a while.

Being at the park cheered him up a little, but his break was soon too over. And he was back to work, and that was when the skies decided to open up and pour down buckets of rain. Making a bad day into a shittier one.

His wipers were on the fastest setting and he was driving at a snails pace when he looked away for one second, one fucking second, when he heard a thump and a feminine voice yell out “what the fuck!”

Slamming on the brakes, Rowan came to a speedy conclusion.

He was at a pedestrian crossing and he just hit someone with his car.

He just hit someone with his car.

“Fucking hell!”

Pulling up the handbrake, Rowan got out, not sure what to say or do when he came across a golden haired woman, her eyes spitting out blue and gold fire.

Rowan blinked at her, because despite being covered in rain and sitting on her behind, hand rubbing at her hip, she looked familiar.

But now wasn't the time to thinking about that. He had to see if she was okay. “I'm so sorry,” he got out, “I have no idea what happened. I looked away for a second, that was all. I'm so fucking sorry. Are you okay?”

“My hip and my ass hurt, and I suspect that I'm going to have a wicked bruise, but I think I'm okay,” the stranger said. “You should really watch what you're doing, though.”

“I know. I'm sorry, again.”

The stranger sighed, and even that sounded familiar. “What a fucking day I'm having,” she mumbled.

“Bad day?” He probably made it worse, too. He should also really get her into his car, but she starting ranting before he could do anything about it.

“The fucking worst. I'm facing a deadline that I can't finish, because I'm having dreadful writers block. My landlord is a fucking creep who came to my place today saying that my underwear 'accidentally' got mixed in with his laundry. My cousin's dad recently came back into his life, so now he's angry all the damned time and it's leeching into me. And you just hit me with your car.”

Rowan nodded in understanding, but only could manage to say, “Yeah, your day definitely sucks.”

She glared at him, silently telling him that that wasn't really the best way to respond, but he was having a bad day, also.

Which wasn't an excuse he knew, but Gods, it wasn't really his day either.

Rowan helped her up, her hands warm despite the cold and took her to his passenger seat and pulled over to the side. He couldn't help but notice that she smelled like jasmine and lemon verbena. A calming scent.

“I'm not sure what the protocol is,” he admitted after handing her a hand towel from the glove box. “Do we call the police? Or my insurance? I should take you to the hospital, I know that much.” Even if all she said was that she hurt her behind and hip, it'd be best to ensure that she didn't fracture anything.

When she said nothing after a moment, Rowan turned, noting that the silence from the woman was a little concerning, scared to death that maybe she hit her head and was going into shock.

Her blue-gold eyes were wide. “Are you okay?” he asked again. He really should get her to the hospital.

“Are you...? This is...you couldn't be. Rowan? Rowan Whitethorn?”

Rowan blinked, his concern turning inward. “Yes, that's my name. How did you—?”

“I, uh, it's me. Aelin Ashryver Gala—”

“Galathynius?” He finished for her. She nodded.

They sat in silence as Rowan stared at her, taking in her blue-gold eyes, golden hair, the lemon verbena and jasmine smell of her. Recalling the familiar sigh. All of it.

Rowan wanted to bang his head on the steering wheel when all of it came crashing down on him. He had just hit his high school crush with his car.

Rowan, for whatever reason that he couldn't name, wanted to laugh. He never would have suspected that he would hit Aelin Galathynius with his car ten years after high school graduation.

He was fairly certain that high school him had been in love with her from the moment he saw her. Rowan had wanted to ask her out at least a dozen times, but he was an awkward seventeen year old that didn't know how to talk to women that weren't family members and never gained the courage to do so.

It was one of his biggest regrets from his teenage years.

The last time he had seen her was at the after party of their graduating day. She wore a daisy flower crown and was sparkling in a golden dress. He had never seen someone as beautiful as her—even to this day.

Unbeknownst to Rowan, Aelin had felt the same way. She was confident back then as she was now, but every time she wanted to go up to Rowan to talk to him, to get to know him, the butterflies in her stomach threatened to strangle her.

So she never did ask him out. And here she was now, ten years later, in his car. He was still the most handsome man she'd ever seen.

She was still pissed as hell though that he hit her with his car.

It had only taken a moment, a single moment, for her to realise who it was she was sitting next to. The moment that the hand towel touched her face and she breathed in the pine and snow scent of it, she was transported back to the past.

“How have you been?” Rowan asked her after long minutes. His green eyes still as pretty as the day Aelin saw them. She was sure that was what she loved about him the most all those years ago. Other than Lysandra's, Aelin had never seen such a stunning green.

Aelin snorted, her fond memories disappearing at the inane question. “You were listening when I was ranting, weren't you? My day has been shit.”

Rowan gave her a small smile, and her heart skipped a beat. He still smiled the same. She had liked that about him, too. Still did, apparently.

“No, I mean how's life been since graduation? You mentioned writers block. Are you a writer then?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I write fantasy-adventure-romance novels under the name of Celaena Sardothien.” She had liked the animosity of it all, with none of her books containing a single photograph of her.

“That's amaz—wait. You mean to tell me that you're the writer of the 'Fireheart' series?”

Aelin smiled proudly. “That's me. Have you read them?”

“I have. It's one of my favourite series.” They were his guilty pleasure, really, but it felt rude to say that out loud, as if it was shameful.

Aelin blinked, taken aback at the confession. “Really? You mean to tell me that brooding Rowan Whitethorn reads romance novels?”

Rowan frowned a little bit at that. “I don't brood. Not anymore.”

“You're brooding right now.”

Rowan grumbled. Okay, maybe he was, just a little bit, however.

“How about you, though?” Aelin asked. “How's life been?”

“Busy. And right now, it's a bit shitty. I'm sorry for hitting you with my car, truly. We should get you to a hospital, though. Just to make sure that you're okay, please,” he added, when he saw that she opened her mouth to likely protest. “I won't be able to sleep if it turns out you need a hip replacement or something and I didn't take you to get checked out.”

Aelin truly doubted she would need a hip replacement, but nodded anyway. “Okay, you can take me to the hospital. And then afterwards, I'll give you my number and you can take me out to dinner.”

Rowan blinked at that and then smiled. He had always like confidence in a person. “Okay, it's a date.”

“I've never had a date after a hospital visit.”

“Well, then, I better make it great.”

Aelin smiled, warmth filling her. The day turning out a little nicely, despite it all. “You better.”

x x x x x

As Rowan lead Aelin to the dance floor, he couldn't believe his luck. Never in a thousand years did he think that accidentally hitting Aelin with his car would lead to this.

To their first dance as husband and wife.

It had been exactly one year to the day when he saw her again after ten years. It was very much an Aelin thing to want to have their wedding anniversary to match the date.

The story had been re-told by a slightly tipsy Fenrys as part of his best man speech, about how Rowan would be the only man in the world to meet his future wife by way of a car accident. The story always made people laugh, with people saying that the universe must have wanted to get them together and was sick of them taking too long.

Because as it turned out, when Rowan and Aelin's relationship grew and they learned more about their ten years of life, they were always somehow minutes away from running into each other. From when Rowan was starting his hike in the Southern Continent, Aelin had just finished hers and was going back to her hotel—the very fact that they were staying at the same hotel, but floors apart.

When Rowan had missed out on book tickets to a signing of her third novel in the Fireheart series, and he had to turn around and leave the bookstore since it was a private function just as Aelin was moments away from going on.

From going to the same concerts, to the same festivals, from seemingly everything that they had in common, they had missed each other by minutes.

They silently thanked the universe, even if the way they ran into each other was less than ideal. But they wouldn't change it for the world.

Rowan kissed his wife and thanked his lucky stars.

[house-of-galathynius]

Only You ~ Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Ten: Unexpected 

Chapter Nine ~ Chapter Eleven 

@endlessdaydream @aflickeringsoul @tillyrubes10 @fredweasleyhasadhd @rowaelin-cressworth @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @rowaelinismyotp @rosegoldannie @maryberry @viajandosinalas @becarefuloflove @allthebooksunderthemoon @sheharahu 

The two of them had been reluctant to break apart, neither one wanting to break contact first. But when they had, Rowan didn’t move from her bed, he sat close to her, his hand drawing patterns on hers.

“Was it worth the wait?” Aelin smiled at him.

Rowan chuckled. “Gods yes.” 

She placed another chaste kiss on his lips, savouring the feel of it, the taste of it. She would never get enough of this, of him. If this was what it was like from a mere kiss she hated to think how she would feel when they took things further— because when she was healed, they would be taking things further. 

Rowan scented her arousal and coughed. “You need rest Aelin.” His words pained, like it took all his strength not to feast on her right then. Rowan returned to his chair, even with the distance she could still feel him on her lips. She brushed her fingertips along them, smiling to herself. She didn’t want to think too hard on the repercussions of what had just happened. She didn’t want to think about the bond or the future; she was just content to bask in that brief moment of utter bliss. 

A knock on the door pulled them both from their thoughts. Her mother and father were loitering in the doorway, assessing the situation. “Can we come in?” Her mother asked tentatively. 

Aelin smiled warmly at them, nodding as they stepped through the archway and into the room. Rowan took that opportunity to stand, bowing slightly to her parents and then to her. “I’ll be back later, Aelin.” She wanted nothing more than to make him stay, but she understood that he wanted to give her time with her parents. 

Neither of her parents said much as they pulled another chair to her bedside, both taking a seat. Her mother looked tired, dark circles under her eyes and her hair braided messily over her shoulder. Her father too, looked worn out, the usual glint in his eyes gone, replaced with a gloomy look. 

“I’m not dead, you know. You could look a bit happier to see me.” She attempted humour, hoping to ease the tension, to ease the worry from her parents faces. 

“The healers had no idea what you’d be like when you woke. You hit your head hard, and there was so much blood—“ her mother choked back a sob. 

“It was such a low fall, I don’t— I don’t understand what happened.” Aelin could barely remember any of it, after the fourth or fifth shot of whisky the evening had started to blur, and the carriage ride home was a complete blank in her mind. 

“You were too drunk to stop yourself, you just let yourself fall into the ground. If people hadn’t been there to help… Gods.” Her father pinched the bridge of his nose. “This could’ve been a lot worse, Aelin.” 

“I didn’t exactly do it on purpose.” She looked away from her parents, focusing on the flickering candle on the table instead. 

“That doesn’t matter. Whilst we’re obviously relieved that it wasn’t more serious, you cannot be going out and getting drunk like that. You are a member of the royal family, people look up to you.” Her father looked away from her, breathing deeply for a moment before turning back. “You have an image to maintain, and I know you don’t enjoy it, but this is the life you have, and unfortunately you cannot do what you want, despite what Lysandra might say.” HIs voice was quiet, but his tone stern as he spoke. 

“Rhoe…” Her mother placed a hand on his knee. “Not now.” Evalin shook her head lightly.

“No, continue. I’d like to hear what he has to say.” Aelin knew where this was going. Her father had had this talk with her when she was sixteen after she had broken her wrist racing horses with Aedion. He’d done it again only a year ago when she’d spent most weekends of the summer getting drunk with Lysandra and Sam— although they didn’t know about Sam at the time. 

Her father continued. “We’ve been lenient with you for a long time, letting you get away with too much. Things are changing and you have to start taking more responsibility. No more running away when things get hard or locking yourself in your room when you can’t deal with something, no more getting drunk to solve your problems— playtime is over Aelin. You need to start acting like the queen you are going to be.” 

Even in the past she had never heard her father talk to her like this, with such evident disappointment. She felt embarrassed… mostly because he was right. She had been sneaking off with Sam for years, ignoring her duties to play pretend, going out partying with Lysandra or taking days off to go riding around with Aedion. Orlon had probably let it slide because there was no rush for her to be queen, but at some point he would step down and she had to be ready for that.

“I’m sorry.” 

“And whatever is happening with Rowan… you have to sort it out. If you are not going to accept the bond then we must know so we can find other options for you.” 

She flinched. “Other options?” 

“You are expected to marry Aelin.” 

She looked to her mother who remained silent by his side. She hated the way her mother turned meek when there was confrontation. More than that, Aelin hated how she felt looking at her parents, feeling the shame and frustration rising. 

She let that frustration surface. “I know. I am well aware that I have to marry and that people are waiting for me to make a decision about Rowan; but Orlon will be on the throne for a long time before I have to step up anyway, so why is there a rush?” 

Her parents looked towards each other, their brows furrowing. “Because…” Another glance.

“Because what?” 

Her mother spoke this time. “Orlon has decided that in one year he would like to step down.” Aelin could feel the world stop. “We were going to tell you a few days ago, but with everything happening with Rowan and Sam…” She trailed off. 

Her father once again began speaking. “He has been ruling for forty years Aelin, he’s starting to get tired. He has been king since he was twenty-two and you know he doesn’t have an immortal life ahead of him. He wants to spend whatever time he does have left with Darrow, not thinking about running a kingdom.” 

She tried to feel anger at Orlon, but she couldn’t. They’d never discussed when Aelin would officially take over the throne, only that she would at some point. Her father had never wanted to be king, so he had passed the title to his child; that child being Aelin. She had assumed Orlon would rule until he physically couldn’t any longer… but one year. That was so much sooner than she ever imagined. 

“A queen is expected to be married when she takes the throne. And given your situation...” 

She stilled. “That is an antiquated tradition. Why should a woman be expected to be married when a man can take the throne and be single his entire life?” Her head had started to ache, she blinked back the black spots in her vision.

“So you’re not accepting the bond then?” 

She rubbed her temple. “That’s not what I said.” 

Rhoe stood then, frustration on his face. “Then I do not understand the issue. Why are you making this all so difficult?” Her father paced as he spoke. “You have known this was how it will work, and you have never fought it until now. Why?”

Her flame burned on her fingers, her body going hot. “Because all of a sudden I’m not getting a choice!” She tried to calm the flame that was fighting to be released. “From day one I was told that any decisions would be mine; but from where I am sitting, that isn’t happening.” 

“Taking the throne has never been negotiable, Aelin.” 

She glared at her father, who did the exact same thing back, before she finally said, “it was negotiable for you.” 

“It was different for me.” 

“How?” 

“I had a daughter to pass the title to. You do not.” 

She was silent. 

“This is about more than just taking the throne, isn’t it?” Her mother’s first words.

Aelin tore her eyes away from her father and turned to her mother. “Considering you’ve mentioned marriage multiple times, yes, this is more than just the throne.” She rubbed her temple. “Even if I officially accept the bond with Rowan I will still be forced into marriage— after knowing him for three weeks. And don’t give me the lecture about how we’re mates.” 

“That isn’t what—“ 

She cut her off. “And then if I don’t accept the bond, I’ll be forced into marriage with a stranger.” 

“So it’s about you not wanting to get married?” 

“That’s not—.” She groaned. “I want to get married; just not on someone else’s schedule.” She blew out a breath. “I just want more time to really figure out what I want.”

“Fireheart…” 

She shook her head, the aching increasing the more she argued. “It doesn’t matter. My head hurts, I want to sleep.” She turned away from her parents, trying to steady her breathing, trying to calm her fire as she did. She didn’t turn as her mother came to place a kiss on the back of her head. She stared at the empty bed at the other end of the room, willing her mind to quiet. 

She didn’t know how long she stayed that way. She didn’t stir as footsteps sounded behind her, but she relaxed as she scented Rowan. He didn’t say anything as he climbed onto the bed and brought his arm around her waist, enveloping her in his warmth. He placed a kiss on her head, just as her mother had done, and she felt herself relax at his touch. 

The two of them stayed like that for a while, long enough that Aelin had started to drift off. His arm was a steady weight over her, a blanket of protection from the world. She drifted in and out of consciousness, Rowan never moving his position. And in between those brief moments of rest, she let her mind think about the future, about what she would have to do. 

She must have fallen asleep because she woke later to Rowan talking in a low voice to someone. He was no longer behind her, the coldness he had left was enough to get her turning to see who had arrived.

Aedion was stood there, concern etching his face as he looked at Aelin. Rowan had stopped his sentence to look at her too— and she could have sworn she saw a flicker of love behind the concern. 

“How are you feeling?” Aedion asked. 

“Like I’ve said to everyone… I could be better.” She tried to lift herself up and Rowan was there in an instant, gently helping her into an upright position. He loitered by her side as Aedion spoke.

“Lysandra feels awful. She’s only just managed to stop crying.” 

“It’s not her fault I was clumsy and fell from a carriage.” A bad attempt at lightening the mood. 

“She feels like she pushed you to go out with them, that it’s her fault your parents are—“ 

She stopped him. “We don’t need to talk about my parents.” 

He looked to Rowan who was pretending to be interested in the spec of dirt on his shirt. 

“You came back then.” Aedion directed his statement at Rowan. 

“Of course.” 

“It was nice of you to let us know you were going in the first place.” Aedion’s tone was cold as he spoke. 

Rowan practically growled his response. “It was none of your business.” 

Aelin wished she could sink into the covers, or disappear completely. 

“It’s my business when my cousin is hurting and moping around the palace for two weeks, wondering why her mate left without telling her.” 

She stilled. “Aedion, it’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine. You were not fine. He should be on his knees begging for forgiveness.”

“Aedion.” 

The two males stared at each other, neither saying a word.

“Let me know when you’re back in your normal rooms, I’ll swipe some cake from the kitchen and we can talk.” He didn’t say goodbye as he left the room. 

“He seems nice.” 

She glared at Rowan. “Don’t start.” 

“How are you really feeling?” Rowan took her hand in his own. She warmed at the touch. Despite their time apart and despite not officially accepting the bond— there would have to be some sort of ceremony for that—, Rowan was the only person she could stand to be around right now. 

“I feel extremely overwhelmed.” She kissed his palm. “And I feel anxious.” 

“Do you wish to talk about it?” 

She mulled it over. There was no doubt in her mind that she could trust Rowan, but she was afraid of scaring him away; the thought of actually being queen terrified her, and she had been preparing since birth for it… Rowan had not. It scared her that everything was moving so fast.

“Nothing you say will scare me.” It was like he had heard her thoughts; or perhaps the expression on her face said everything. 

“Orlon is stepping down as king next year and when he does, I’m expected to take the throne. It’s not like I didn’t know that… it’s just—“ 

“It’s happening sooner than you thought.” 

She nodded. “I just thought I’d have a lot longer, you know?” 

“Orlon wouldn’t make this decision if he didn’t think you would be ready.” Rowan squeezed her hand. 

“Maybe he’s just trying to give me some sort of wake up call.” 

Rowan laughed. “Or that.”

Her smile fell away as she said, “I’m expected to be married before I take the throne.”

“Is that why you’re anxious?”

She shrugged. “Partly.” 

“You can talk to me Aelin.”

“I just—“ She swallowed. “Marriage is terrifying— it’s not that I don’t want to eventually get married.” She thought for a moment. “I think what is scaring me is that I’ve realised the person I want waiting for me at the end of the aisle is a male who I’ve known for less than a month of my life.” She took a deep breath. “I feel like I am going crazy… because in the time that it’s been since my father informed me of this, I’ve somehow come to the conclusion that it’s you I want to marry.” Another breath. “But I’ve been so distant from you; and we’ve spent almost two weeks apart and then suddenly I’m looking at you and none of it matters.” She finally met his eyes. “None of it matters because you came back, and we’re together.” She paused. “I look at you Rowan and… I am home. I touch you and my entire world is set ablaze. I sense the bond between us and I feel—“ She couldn’t find the words. 

“I know.” He whispered, then louder. “I know because I feel it too. The very first day I saw you, I knew.” 

She could feel it— the bond. Solid and unyielding as it flowed between the two of them. 

“I’m not scared of this Aelin. If you want me to be the one at the end of that aisle, then I accept. Because there is no one else in this universe I would want to spend the rest of my immortal life with.” He lowered his brow to hers. “I told you before that even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust, I will wait for you. That is still true.” 

She closed her eyes, savouring the closeness of Rowan. “You don’t have to wait anymore.”

Her lips touched his own and it was just as beautiful as the first time. And as Rowan deepened the kiss, she felt that bond pulse between them, she felt their souls entwining and Aelin felt herself shudder at the sheer intensity of it. 

She had absolutely fallen in love with Rowan and she would burn this world to ashes for this… for them. 

[louiseleblancdiggory]

the last great american dynasty?

Ok...... So this is a little bit different from what I usually write but this is because it’s only the very beginning. This particular Rowan and Aelin’s story fits a bunch of TS songs, so I’ll have another part explaining their relationship since the beginning!! Enjoy this little thing tho

The Last Great American Dynasty

--

“Holiday house? This place looks like a tomb.”

“It has been closed for twenty years, that’s why.”

Kiara eyed her best friend, rolling her eyes at him. She knew that the mansion had been closed since her great grandma and great grandpa had died, and that no one from her family really bothered going there. Her grandma, Aurora, had spent her whole childhood in that house and when her parents passed away, it was too hard for her to move in once she inherit half of the house.

“No one from your family wanted it?”

“Not really.” Kiara replied distractedly, looking over the old furniture and paintings. “My parents passed away when I was young, and so I was raised by my grandma, but you already know all of that. When my great grandparents passed away, she was too hurt to even come back here. Granduncle Nino usually took care of everything, but I don’t think he ever stepped inside again. He died about five years ago.”

“And last year when your grandma died…”

“The house went for the last Whitethorn-Galathynius.” Kiara smiled at Gareth. “Me.”

He snorted, taking the sheets out of some tables and chairs in the house’s library. “Sometimes I forget your family is rich rich.”

“For generations. The wealth grew significantly when my great grandpa opened the GW industries and my great grandma became a famous artist.”

“Aelin Galathynius…” Gareth whistled, looking at one of the paintings. “Aelin Galathynius was your great grandmother.”

“The talent for painting certainly didn’t come from my father’s side of the family.”

“Aelin must be turning in her grave because of you comparing your shitty drawings with her beautiful sculptures and complex paintings.” Gareth joked, a saccharine smile on his face.

Kiara laughed, knowing that he wasn’t serious. Gareth had been her best friend since the first day of her freshman year in college. Now she was a junior and he was a senior, meaning that most of his time went to studying for the LSAT. Nonetheless, when Kia was notified about inheriting the Rhode Island mansion, Gareth didn’t hesitate in saying yes when she asked him to go with her.

She walked around, sweeping her fingers over the leather-bound notebooks on the bookshelf. They looked like journals of sort, and if Kiara decided to keep the house, maybe she would skim through some of them. She didn’t really knew if she would accept it, though. Yes, the house had been in the family for generations, but she also didn’t know if she wanted to come to Rhode Island and leave Pennsylvania.

Also, the house would need a lot of attention.

“She moved here at nineteen. She and my great grandpa, Rowan, eloped at eighteen and got married in Ireland. They moved here to avoid his family who was absolutely against their son marrying a snobby, rich wannabe artist.” Kiara grinned over her shoulder at Gareth. “Very scandalous, isn’t it?”

“Honestly, it explains so much about you.” He matched her grin. “Maybe being mad is in the genes of the women in your family.”

Kiara snorted, grabbing one of the small journals while Gareth took a bigger one. It looked like a sketchpad, and his eyebrows raised as he looked through it.

“I didn’t know she also drew. I knew about the painting and sculpting, but these drawings…” He murmured, looking through them with awe. Kia only half payed attention, focused on her own journal. She skimmed through it, stopping only when a photograph fell from it.

She grabbed it from the floor, eyebrows raising as she looked at it. It was black and white, even though it looked more brown because of the time. It was a woman, a small skirt and top hugging her lithe body as she rested against an old car. Her arms were spread wide, legs crossed. Kiara was almost sure that was Aelin, but she couldn’t be sure since her face had been cut. A heart shaped cut took her face and neck out of the picture, and Kiara swept her fingers along the edges of the heart.

“Where is her face?” Gareth asked, his attention leaving the skecthbook.

“In Rowan’s grave.” A female voice came from the door, and both Kiara and Gareth yelped. A red headed old woman was sitting at a wheelchair, her smile soft but not at them. At the journal and sketchbook. “He had a locket he always wore, her face was inside it. He wore since he was twenty-one when they met, and was buried with it. And you didn’t know that Aelin could draw because she didn’t do it for the public. Whatever drawing from her you find here, will be private and portray her husband.”

Kiara stared at the woman, her face familiar. However, Kia had never met her, so it was hard to remember from where she knew this woman. “You’re Evangeline. My grandma’s best friend.”

Evangeline nodded, gray strands catching the light. “Nino asked me to take care of the house after Aelin and Rowan died. Your grandma Aurora and Nino were my best friends since we were young, and the Whitethorn-Galathynius were my godparents.”

Kiara nodded silently, not really knowing what to say. Like her great grandparents, Evangeline had been someone she had never met, only heard stories.

Gareth, however, didn’t seem to have lost his words.

“How were they? I mean, everyone knows Aelin’s shameless and mad woman reputation, and Rowan’s serious businessman demeanor. Everyone knows about their tasteful and yet loud parties, about the time Aelin stole the neighbor’s dog and dyed it key lime green.” Kiara stared wide eyed at Gareth. She didn’t know he knew so much about her family’s story. Noticing her stare, he simply shrugged, turning back to Evangeline. “But how were they in private? Aelin was from St. Louis and Rowan was Scottish, weren’t they? How did the difference between cultures affect them? Were they actually in love?”

Kiara was about to tell him to shut the fuck up and stop bothering the old lady, but when she heard the last question, Evangeline smiled sentimentally. “I don’t think I have ever seen someone love another person as much as Aelin loved Rowan. Or as much as Rowan loved and worshipped her back. They both started a beautiful dynasty, and it doesn’t matter what others say about them, they adored each other unconditionally until their deaths.”

Kiara smiled a little at that. Her grandma had always told her stories about how her parents had loved each other. Since her childhood, Kiara had been looking for a love like Aelin and Rowan’s. They had eloped together in their early twenties and lived together in this house until he was a hundred and one and she was ninety eight. Aelin had died five days after Rowan passed, and although the doctors had said it was unrelated, both Aurora and Nino swore that she had died because her heart actually broke.

Swore that she had wanted it.

Had wanted to go spend the rest of eternity with him somewhere else.

Their love was too big for this life, her grandma used to say. There was no Aelin without Rowan, and no Rowan without Aelin.

“Would you like for me to tell you the whole story?” Evangeline said, approaching them.

Kiara was quiet, wondering if she wanted. Her grandma had always told her everything, but some part had been so vague…

“Our train is five hours away.” She said, taking a seat. “Why not?”

“Where shall I begin?” The old woman mused.

Gareth sat down too, crossing his arms and smiling. “From the beginning, please.”

Evangeline’s smile grew, excitement radiating off of her.

“Then from the beginning I’ll begin.”

To be continued with another TS prompt

Tags:

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[theladyofdeath]

In the Bleak Midwinter {19}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

Summary: 2 years after Arobynn Hammel is killed by Rowan Whitethorn, Maeve has returned from Eyllwe with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Rowan is getting married, Lorcan is a father, and Lysandra is finally ready to give her heart away. There’s been peace in The Cadre’s Orynth for 2 years, but peace never lasts.

A/N: So, uh, next chapter is the last chapter...

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

Links & masterlists:

Fanfic Masterlist

Ask me

The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG}

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

Gavriel’s hand hit the sergeant’s desk with a thump. 

“We need to know where she is, and we need to know where she is, now.” 

“I have no information,” Sergeant Nazari said, through gritted teeth. “I’ve told you as much ten times now, I don’t know when it’ll get through your head.”

Sergeant Nazari had been on the Cadre’s payroll for the past five years. He’d been incredibly helpful through the years, had saved all of their asses a million times, but in this particular situation, Gavriel was about to lose his shit. 

He opened his mouth, prepared to scream at the man on the other side of the desk, but Vaughan’s hand gently rested on his shoulder.

Vaughan was right.

Nazari had never lied to them before. He was loyal.

If he was saying he didn’t know where Maeve was, he really didn’t know where she was. 

“Fine,” Gavriel breathed. “If you find anything out-.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Sergeant Nazari promised. 

With a nod, Gavriel and Vaughan exited the station, pulling out their cigarette cases the moment they stepped out into the street. 

“I don’t get it,” Gavriel began, shaking his head. “Someone in this damned city has to know where Maeve has holed herself up.”

He met Vaughan’s weary gaze. 

“I know,” Gavriel sighed. “We’re running out of time.”

Vaughan nodded his agreement, his shoulders slumping, but his pace remaining steady as they walked back to their horses. After they mounted their saddles, they were hurrying out of town, back toward the estate. 

When they returned, Rhoe and his men were standing outside, smoking, a worried Lysandra pacing in front of them.

“News?” Gavriel asked, before he even hopped off his horse. 

Before anyone could answer, a car came speeding up the dirt drive, and Fenrys had the door open before Lorcan had it parked. 

“They’re at the old Cartwright Manor!” he yelled, chest heaving, as if they’d been hurrying. Which, with such information, they should have been. “Since Cartwright died last year, it’s been uninhabited.” 

The Cartwright Manor was only a few miles west. 

“Let’s go,” Gavriel said, readying to mount his horse, yet again.

“We need a plan,” Lorcan said, turning off the engine.

“Like hell we do!” Gavriel yelled. “We’re running out of time!”

“And if we go in there with no plan and create chaos, we’re all going to fucking die!” Lorcan replied, slamming his door shut behind him. 

Gavriel knew that Lorcan was right, but it still pissed him off to admit it. “Then what, pray tell, is the plan?” 

Lorcan ignored Gavriel’s sarcastic comment. “I don’t fucking know, but I know we need one.” 

“Before we all start fighting, because that’s where I see this is headed,” Fenrys began, stepping between them. “I have an idea.”

All eyes landed on him. 

“I went to the Cartwright Manor, often, as a kid, Con and I,” he began. “I know the layout pretty well.”

“Why?” Gavriel asked, curiously.

“Is that information necessary right now?” Lorcan muttered. 

“Our father was good friends with Mr. Cartwright,” Fenrys answered, plainly. “The servant’s entrance is in the back. There’s this creepy, narrow old tunnel beneath the kitchens, I assume they’re probably being held there. Con and I used to joke that that’s where old Cartwright took his prisoners. Through the servant’s entrance, just to the left, there’s a door. Most mistake it as a coat closet, but it’s a staircase that will lead you downstairs.”

Lorcan nodded, slowly. “We have no idea how many of Maeve’s men are there.”

“True,” Fenrys agreed, and nodded to Rhoe and his men. “But we have them, and plenty of ammunition.” 

“So, what?” Gavriel asked. “We break through the servant’s entrance and start shooting?”

Fenrys blinked, shrugging. “Do you have a better idea?” 

Gavriel blew a puff of smoke into the air.

No.

No he didn’t.

“We’re all going to die,” Lorcan muttered. 

From there, no one said a word. Maybe Lorcan was right, maybe they’d all get shot, maybe Maeve’s men would completely overpower them and everything leading up to this point would be all for nothing. 

Elide’s death.

Connall’s death.

Every night they had laid awake, unsure of their futures. 

Every anxious day, every agonizing hour, every trip to the hospital or sighting of blood.

But they wouldn’t leave Aelin there, wouldn’t leave Rowan there.

He was their leader.

So Gavriel tossed his cigarette into the dirt and stepped on it. “Let’s reload.”

~~~~~

Rowan had always hated Maeve.

When he was younger, he used to have nightmares of Maeve as an old witch who lived deep in the woods, eating children, like the one from Hansel and Gretel. As he grew older, he felt foolish for ever feeling such a thing, but now, he was right back to imagining her as his living nightmare. 

His head hurt, dominantly from the gash on the side of his head. His vision was blurred, blood trailing down his chin. He was fairly certain he had lost a tooth.

Or two. 

He could deal with teeth, though. It was the least of what he was about to lose. 

Although he had no idea what time it was, he had caught glimpses of the sun high in the sky as he was dragged out of his room with Aelin and brought into a different one. She had cried, screamed as they took him, but he had told her that he loved her, that he would see her soon.

Even though he had no way of knowing if that were true. 

He was tied to a chair, weak, weaponless, waiting. 

The walls around him were covered in wallpaper, although the windows had been boarded up. He was somewhere upstairs, somewhere in the main living area. There was an oil lamp on a small table not far from him, but aside from that and his chair, the room was empty.

And the old, Persian rug beneath his feet.

The rug that was splattered with his blood.

He groaned, just wanting it all to be over. Everything had gone on for too long, and he was over it, done. 

Waiting was the worst part, and all he had been doing for months now was waiting. 

He could hear her slow, steady footsteps before she appeared in the doorway. 

“Hello, nephew,” she crooned, meandering inside until she was standing only a few feet in front of him. 

“Where’s Aelin?” he asked, although his swollen lips had trouble moving. 

“Does it matter?” Maeve asked, shrugging. “Wouldn’t stop crying, though. Had to muffle those sobs before I went insane.”

She cocked her head, her eyes glowing.

She had gone insane long ago. 

“She goes home.” 

Maeve watched him for a moment in silence before a humorless laugh shook her petite frame. “Are you bargaining with me?”

“Let her go home,” Rowan repeated. “Her, and the baby. Let them go home, safely, and I’ll do whatever you want without a fight.” 

The room fell into silence, Rowan’s declaration, his promise, echoing in the minimal space. 

“I’m beginning to think you’re delusional,” Maeve said, slowly. 

“Aelin,” he repeated, a growl underlying his tone. “Gets to go, unharmed.”

“You’ve repeated that, over and over again,” Maeve said, her pretentious grin disappearing. “It’s growing old.” 

“Then agree,” Rowan snapped.

“You see, this is where you’re mistaken,” Maeve began, pacing back and forth in front of him. “You’re not in the place to make a bargain. Either way, you die, and Aelin’s safety means nothing to me.” 

“Surely you don’t hate me that much,” Rowan said, meeting her gaze. “Let Aelin go free. Please.”

Please. He was sincere when he said it, a word he had never used sincerely with his aunt before. If he wasn’t tied up to a chair, he would be down on his knees, begging, pleading. 

Maeve watched him for a long moment, the room going back into silence. Rowan could hear her men walking around downstairs, their boots heavy on the wooden floorboards. 

With every step he heard, his heart beat a little faster.

“Maeve,” he growled, when the silence became too unbearable. 

Her eyes darkened as her lips twisted into a cruel smile. “Aelin has already been….released.” 

There were a lot of different words Maeve could have chosen, but released was one that confused Rowan, pissed him off. 

It was a word that could mean so many different things, but every meaning Rowan thought of only made him feel sick to his stomach.

His jaw locked. “Where is she?” 

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

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[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

"you have no idea what it's like" for DITD, girlie🖤 (please don't hurt our babies TOO much, I love you)

Ily too wife! 💖 You're the best. 😘

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 | 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤

Rowaelin modern AU ▶ Masterlist

note: guys! I'm finally posting this even tho this may be the cringiest I've ever been. I cannot apologise enough for what you're about to see.

──────��❅✦❅✧──────

If being a loner was bad, Rowan decided having friends was worse. He didn't know how to act around Aelin. Should he hug her or kiss her cheek like her other friends do or should he wave? How long should he look at her without it becoming inappropriate? Should he have specified it's not a date everytime he paid for he food or should he let it be? What if she assumed it was a date? What if she wanted it to be a date?

No, she doesn't. Rowan may not be sure of much but this he knew for certain.

She was smitten with the waiter at their usual diner—Sam Cortland, a student from their rival school. He watched her flirt with him shamelessly over the week, batting her eyelashes or laughing out loud as if to draw his attention.

Only yesterday, when the waiter—Sam—asked what they'd like to have for dessert, Aelin had quipped, "I want you for dessert."

Poor boy turned into a flustered mess, walking away from their table at an inhuman speed. Aelin only flashed him a lazy grin from where she sat, an unabashed smile on her face. He didn't know why she didn't ask him out when he was clearly interested in her but her trips to the diner were getting frequent as her crush increased.

Rowan didn't mind hanging out with her there—just the two of them. Today, however, they weren't alone.

They bumped into Aedion and Lysandra on their way inside. Lysandra insisted that the two of them should join them for lunch and it wasn't long after that they invited the rest of the group too. Aelin repeatedly offered that they could leave but Rowan wanted to be friends with her friends. He could tell she wanted it too, though she tried not to show it much. So for both or their sakes, he endured Aedion's awkward silence and his guarded attitude as they waited for the others to arrive.

Lysandra kept them all busy, asking questions every once in a while. "So, Rowan, you're single?"

A blush rose to his cheeks. "I, uh, I suppose?" Lysandra didn't mince words. She was a lot like Aelin in that—all blunt questions and wicked smirks.

Lysandra nudged her best friend. "Aelin is single too." At the glare from her best friend, she turned to him: "and she already—" she was cut off when the bell chimed from the door, the rest of the group shuffling inside.

Dorian was the first to greet him, followed by a wave and a nod from Fenrys and Lorcan respectively.

The introductions were made and he was surprised the conversation wasn't awkward like he feared. Dorian and Fenrys did the most talking, Aelin was quieter for a change and she kept looking at him every few minutes as if to make sure he was still with her. After he assured her he was comfortable at least thrice, she slipped into the conversation too, her hand semi-consciously on top of his.

He was too focused on the warmth of her hand when Fenrys asked, "What do you think, Rowan?"

"I don't—I'm sorry, my mind was elsewhere. What about?" He tried not to look too embarrassed, though he was sure the tips of his ears turned pink. He didn't want Aelin's friends to think he was inattentive and rude.

Aelin squeezed his hand in reassurance. Fenrys shrugged. "It's alright, I was just telling Aelin she could do better than Sam." He quieted when the said waiter arrived with their order, Aelin flashing him a sweet smile. When he left, Fenrys continued, "I don't know about this, Ace. He isn't even your type—"

"You're saying that because he's on your rival team," she pouted.

Fenrys rolled his eyes, looking ready to protest but Lysandra cut in. "Look, if she wants to go for a guy, let her. She isn't stupid, and if something goes wrong, that's what we're here for, right?" At Fenrys' reluctant nod, Aelin blew a kiss towards her friend, mumbling something like 'knew I loved you for a reason' through a mouth full of food. Rowan watched her with a small smile, all his attention directed towards the blonde beside him.

For the whole hour they were there, his eyes never strayed too far from her face.

──────✧❅✦❅✧──────

"What do you want, Meave?" Rowan couldn't keep the ire off his voice.

Despite his anti-social self, he almost had fun at the diner. All of them welcomed him into the group, resolved on not making it awkward for him. He appreciated all the kindness Aelin's friends had shown him in one hour. Who would have thought he would fit right in with Terrasen's elite crowd? It was almost impossible to believe that his views on them had changed, all within one month. He felt good after returning. Which meant he had no patience for his Aunt Meave right now.

She cocked her head towards him. "Has hanging out with that troublemaker made my nephew so rude, Rowan?"

He always thought his aunt was ice cold, her face emotionless, black hair unbound and dark eyes void of feeling and warmth. Her pale, translucent skin made her look like a corpse, the cruel smirk on her face making him shudder a little as he gathered himself. She knew about his friendship with Aelin, then. He didn't even want to know how.

"Why don't you skip this and tell me what you want, dear aunt?" he said.

Meave's smirk vanished. "Stop hanging out with those troublemakers." It didn't sound like a suggestion.

"No."

"What did you say?"

Rowan surprised himself and his aunt when he repeated, "No. You won't tell me who I should befriend." He had never refused her anything before.

Meave raised an eyebrow. "Don't say things you'll regret, Rowan."

"I mean it. Leave me alone," Rowan repeated. Too much. She'd taken too much and he's always let her because what did it matter? But this he won't bend on. Meave won't take this from him. He was finally starting to fit in somewhere. He won't let his aunt destroy that.

He turned towards the doorway, almost walked out when her voice stopped him in his tracks. "You'll listen to me, Rowan, or I'll make you."

"Feel free to try," he answered.

Then Rowan Whitethorn was out of her office, heart hammering inside his chest and praying to whatever gods would listen that this won't come and bite him in the ass later.

──────✧❅✦❅✧──────

A week passed by without any consequences. Rowan started to relax. Perhaps Meave didn't mean her threats, perhaps she spoke for the sake of rattling him alone.

He hoped he was right.

Aelin wore Sam out with her constant flirting. He asked her out and she accepted. Aelin couldn't stop talking about it for the whole week that followed. He listened to her with a smile, though he didn't understand why it felt so forced. They were planning their second date.

Rowan was accepted by most of his teammates now, thanks to Aedion and Fenrys. After years of hope and resentment, he was right where he had always wanted. Him and Aelin were better friends than ever, spending whatever time they could together. She couldn't stop talking about Sam. He'd never seen her happier.

Then why did it feel so wrong?

──────✧❅✦❅✧──────

Something was wrong.

Aelin was avoiding him, he could tell. She ran the other way whenever he saw her, hiding from him the whole day. Rowan didn't know what he did wrong but when he realised she wasn't talking to any of her friends, he had a feeling it wasn't him this time.

Tomorrow, he promised himself, I'll make her talk and find out what's up.

That day in her living room, he had promised a half asleep blonde he won't leave. Rowan Whitethorn was a man of his word. He would stick by her side. Let worse come to worst, she would never be alone again.

──────✧❅✦❅✧──────

Aelin was crumpled on the floor, head leaning against her locker and her face buried in her knees when Rowan found her the next day. "Aelin, fireheart, what happened?" he asked.

She didn't look up at him, almost as if she wasn't aware of his presence.

He heard her choke a sob out, then another until her body was shaking with the force of them. Rowan crouched down beside her, pulling her towards him when she recoiled, her breaths coming out short as she pulled away. She shook her head, "Don't come near me, I can't—I can't breathe. Arobynn won't, he won't like it, I should have tried harder... my fault, I couldn't do it. I failed, oh god. I failed, I could have—I tried so hard and I still failed. Please don't—don't touch me—" another round of sobs wracked her body.

Rowan's stomach lurched as he backed off. Panic attack. She was having a panic attack.

He forced his voice to remain calm, gentle but firm. "Aelin, love, I need you to breathe. Listen to me breathe, ok? Listen and breathe with me. Can you do that, fireheart?" When she didn't quiet down, he placed her hand on his chest with the most delicate of touches. He breathed out loud, once, twice, thrice and repeated the process until she had calmed down a little.

Tears flooded down her cheeks, her face flushed. Aelin seemed a little calmer, at least. She kept shaking for a few more minutes, her small hand still on his chest, engulfed in his larger one.

"Aelin, should I—can I hold you?" He didn't know what else to do.

When his eldest cousin had panic attacks, that was what his uncle did. He had no knowledge how to deal with it beside that.

Aelin said, "I want to—I want to but I don't know—I'm not sure if I can." She was still shaking, covered in sweat.

He brushed some strands of her away from her forehead, then said, "Here's what I will do. I'll hug you and if you feel you can't, you tell me, is that fine? Can you do that, fireheart?"

She nodded.

Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her, relieved when she relaxed into his arms. He rubbed circles on her back as the shaking ebbed. He was afraid to ask what prompted the panic attack, seeing as she was still in a fragile state.

Aelin said quietly, "I failed a test." She let out a sob. "I don't—I've never failed before. I studied so hard, I don't know how! I swear I prepared for it."

She buried her face in the crook of his neck. He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head in encouragement to continue. She said, "I can't tell others. They don't understand. Lysandra said it's not a big deal, Aedion dismissed it. Arobynn is going to be so pissed, god, and if everyone finds out I'm dumb, I don't know what I'll do. What if everyone finds out my marks? God, Uncle Gavriel—he will be so disappointed and Aunt Elaine! She was so sure I'd score a hundred." The sobs started anew and Rowan soothingly rubbed her back.

"Hey, fireheart, look at me. You failed once, so what? You can do better next time, right?"

It was the wrong thing to say because she frowned, pulling back. Her eyes filled with unushed tears, already swollen from crying. The mascara smeared across her face now, hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. "You don't understand either," she said.

He tried not to wince at the accusatory tone with which she talked.

"Aelin, I don't—"

She shook her head violently, leaning back against the lockers. "You don't. No one understands. Everyone's good at something. Aedion is the football captain, Lysandra is on the dance team. Dorian's the school president, even Lorcan—he's on a gods damned scholarship. I'm the useless one. You don't know how it feels, to always be around friends knowing they're better than you. They all have their own talents, I just fail at stuff. They're all working hard for their careers. Me? I'm just the girl everyone keeps around because she is a nice accessory." Rowan's heart broke as he listened. He didn't dare stop her. She needed to let it out, all that was bothering her. She continued with a sob, "They're perfect. Everyone has their thing. Fenrys can sing, Dorian has debate, Lysandra can dance, Aedion loves football, I don't—I never fit in. I'm like that lost puppy who follows her friends around. What do I have to be proud about?" She rubbed at her eyes again.

Rowan gently moved her hands away from her face, wiping her tears. "So what if you don't know when the Caesar fell or why the sky looks blue? You've been through so much pain and you still smile. That alone makes you stronger than anyone I know. I'm proud of that and you should be too. Don't ever say you're useless. You're young, you've got years to figure out what path you want to choose for yourself, ok? Never think you're any less than your friends." When she nodded, he pulled her closer. "And if it's the test you're concerned about, we'll fix this together. I'll help you and in the next test, you'll kick ass. Ask me how I know."

Aelin gave him a blank look.

He smiled. "C'mon, ask me, fireheart."

"How?" her voice was throaty from crying but it didn't waver.

"I know because you're Aelin. When we met, I hated you but you were so determined to be friends, and look where we are. You can do anything, fireheart. With a little help, of course."

She looked up at him and blinked, the haze clearing away from her eyes. There was a small smile on her face as she poked his cheek. "So much praise for me, buzzard. Have you got more?"

"Don't push it," he told her, though he was smiling wide.

Aelin wiped the remaining tears away, rising from the ground and dusted her pants off. She turned to walk away.

"Where are you going now?"

She smirked. "Bathroom. Failed or not, I'll be damned if anyone saw me like that. I do owe it to my fanclub." He could tell she was pretending to be her normal self for his sake but the smile was genuine.

Shaking his head, Rowan followed her to the girls washroom. Gods, she was going to be the death of him.

──────✧❅✦❅✧──────

a/n: I'm sorry this was so sappy, I didn't reread it because I'm worried if I do, I'll delete the whole thing. this was the hardest to write and I can't apologise enough 😭

Tags:

@thesirenwashere // @judexcardanxgreenbriar //@fangirltrash74 // @the-dark-swan // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @rowaelinforeverworld // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass // @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @flowersinvegas // @towhateverend17 // @aelinchocolatelover // @justabunchoffandoms // @cool-ish-nerd // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @didsomeonesayviolin // @atozfantazyxx // @hizqueen4life // @the-gods-killer // @booknerdproblems // @annejulianneh111 // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @curlyredqueen06 // @moondancer-204 // @thesurielships // @witchling-leonor // @ladywitchling // @amren-courtofdreams // @ifinallygavein // @jlinez // @faequeenaelin // @df3ndyr // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @bitchy-knees // @superspiritfestival // @xx-fiona-xx // @stardelia // @maastrash

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Congrats on 300! That's really amazing! Well done! Not surprised though, because your writing is super amazing! I especially love your undercover AU for ToG! My prompt is: "Really? Are you sure?" for Rowaelin, or alternatively another ToG ship, please?

I went with Rowaelin because, I’m trash for them. I’ve accepted that. Also thank you so, so much, I’m glad you like it. I really hope I did this prompt justice for you <3 Using my Undercover taglist here too.

---------

Rowan’s day had been rough, to say the least. It was also a Monday so, it was just a given, really.

First off, Aelin had been sick for, well, he didn’t know how many mornings in a row it was now, he’d lost count. He hated not being able to help her when she was sick; not knowing what to do, but she kept telling him she was fine. Clearly she wasn’t fine or he wouldn’t be holding her hair back every morning.  Aelin had promised him today before he’d left for work that she’d get it checked out, just to be sure. He had wanted to stay home, to go with her, to be there for her just in case it was something bad. His wonderful wife had just told him he was an overbearing buzzard and ‘to got the fuck to work’. There was no arguing with her, well he could try but, there would be no winning. And so he had relented, giving her a quick kiss to the forehead and telling her he loved her and dashing out the door before he was late.

And then he’d gotten to work.

He and Lorcan owned a Private Investigator firm, mainly specialising in missing persons cases. They usually found odd trails that the police couldn’t and if it was something solid, they passed on the information. Sometimes they were lucky and other times, not so much. Fenrys and Connall were in the building when he walked in and Rowan couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. He had a new assistant, she was slim, tall, blonde and pretty he guessed. To be quite honest, ever since Aelin had walked into his life, other women weren’t even noticeable. He only saw her, only ever thought of her.  Every time he hired someone new, the twins were over at the firm in an instant, fighting to win them over. Unless it was one of the times Rowan’s assistant was a male, then it was an easy win for Connall.

“Can I help you two imbeciles, or are you just here to fawn over the latest recruit. If that’s the case, which I know it is, then please leave. Or, better yet, go up a floor and bother Lorcan.”

Fenrys simply laughed and shook his head, his hair swinging with the motion from where he’d tied it back, “But the ladies love me Ro, I mean, what’s not to love?”

Connall snorted, and then smirked when his brother turned to glare at him. “I’m the better looking twin Fen, we all know it.”

He was not about to deal with a fucking pissing match today. He sighed, deciding to get rid of them as quickly as possible, hoping it would give him the peace and quiet he needed to actually work. “Connall, Lorcan actually has someone new up there with him too.”

“Ooo, really?” The smug bastard perked up at that and Fenrys looked at him with suspicion, most likely knowing where this was going. “Yeah. Dark haired, dark eyes, glasses and he’s shorter than you. Very much your type. You didn’t see him the other week because he hides behind the filing cabinets when you come in, blushing like a schoolgirl.”

As suspected, Con moved like lightning, not even bothering to wait for an elevator and taking the stairs. He made a beeline for his office, pushing the door open as fast as he could, but just as he was closing it, a foot slipped into the little gap and he wanted nothing more than to murder Fenrys just then.

“Come on Rowan, you just set my brother up, you could at least help me out too. I thought I was your favourite?” He shoved himself through the door, walking over to sit in front of Rowan’s desk and kicking his feet up. Not that it lasted, especially when he was pushed out of the chair and onto the floor. Rowan laughed as the golden haired man rubbed his ass, staring up at him with a pout.

“You’ll do well to remember, boyo, that without me, you’d have never pushed yourself to even talk to a girl. Also my new assistant is very much off of the market.”

He sat down in his newly vacated chair and pulled out his laptop. His newest case was a woman who’d come in about two weeks ago, saying her husband had been kidnapped. She was in hysterics as she’d told him the story, saying the police wouldn’t help, and so Rowan had said he’d do what he could. He went over everything the woman had given him and then followed on from there. Phone numbers, addresses and different picture sightings. Turned out that her husband had not in fact been kidnapped but had run off with another, much younger woman. He’d known for a few days now and was currently trying to figure out how to tell his client in the easiest way possible.

Rowan was broken from his thoughts when a certain pest spoke from across the room. For fucks sake, why hadn’t he left yet?

“How’s my best bud doing Rowan?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking, now leave.”

“Har har. Ace knows I’d choose her over you, she’s so much more fun, hence why we’re besties.”

Rowan flipped him off, still not looking up from his laptop screen as he replied, “Aelin is sick.”

He flinched when Fen shouted, gripping onto the side of his desk from the sudden outburst. “What do you mean she’s sick? She’s never sick!”

“Keep your fucking voice down, fucking Christ. She keeps throwing up in the mornings but I keep getting told that she’s ��fine’. Clearly, she is not fine.”

“Oh. Oh.” Rowan watched his face turn from worried confusion into some sedated happy smile. What the fuck did he mean ‘oh’?

“What do you mean ‘Oh’? I have no idea what’s wrong with her so you possibly can’t, and stop smiling. Aelin’s sickness is not something to smile about.”

His idiot friend tipped his head back and laughed, a deep rumbling laugh and Rowan wanted nothing more than to throttle him. When he finally stopped and met Rowan’s gaze again, he seemed to realise that Rowan still hadn’t understood what was so funny. “Wait. You really don’t get it do you? How can you-”

The sound of Rowan’s phone ringing cut the man off and he was pissed off at the interruption, until he saw that it was Aelin calling him. His wife never called when he was at work, not unless he’d asked her to when he had a few minutes spare. He was pressing the answer button within seconds, heart beating wildly in his chest. “Aelin sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, I just need you to come home.”

If nothing was wrong then why did she need him to come back? It had only been a few hours since he’d left the house.

“Alright, I’m coming. Are you sure nothing is wrong?”

“Yes Buzzard, I promise. I’ll see you soon.”

He’d packed up as fast as he could, telling Fenrys that they’d talk later and to go and check that his twin wasn’t fucking the newbie in one of the bathrooms.

That was how he’d ended up here, bursting through the door of their newly purchased home. It was big of course, Aelin would have nothing less, but the interior was simple and modern. Quite tame for his very extravagant wife.

“Aelin, baby, I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!”

He ran through the halls, not even taking his shoes off which he would most certainly get reprimanded for later, and spotted his wife sitting at the bar eating a plate of pickles with a dip that looked like...peanut butter?

“You’re sick, why on earth are you eating that? Let’s get you back to bed.” His wife groaned and rolled her eyes, standing from her stool to walk over and grab a brown paper bag from the counter. She took slow steps towards him while nibbling on her lower lip, looking up at him shyly from under her lashes.

“I have a present for you.” Rowan stared at the brown bag in confusion, eyebrows furrowed as he tentatively took it from her hands. He didn’t open it yet, though he desperately wanted to.

“You made me come home because you wanted to give me a present? Couldn’t this have waited until later.” She shook her head, a giddy expression on her face.

“No, it couldn’t. Now come on, open it.”

He gave an exasperated sigh, almost forgetting he’d married a woman who had a talent for theatrics.  When he opened the bag, it had some sort of fabric inside of it, which confused him even more. Reaching in, he pulled it out carefully, before dropping the bag and unfolding it. It was  a baby vest and on it were the words ‘World’s Greatest Daddy’ with a sort of blurry black and white image printed onto the fabric just below. Holy fucking gods.

“Fireheart...really? Are you sure?” When he looked back at her, her eyes were lined with silver, and she nodded at him. He let out a shocked laugh before looking at the picture on the vest more closely. Now that he was concentrating, he could see the outline of a tiny foot and then a tiny head. No not just-

“Is that two heads? Two babies. We’re having twins?” Aelin let the tears flow freely now and nodded again and he laughed, scooping her up in his arms and spinning, relishing the sound of her delighted giggles. When Rowan set her back onto her feet, he dropped to his knees, leaving his face directly in line with her stomach. Lifting her top and leaning forward, he left a few gentle kisses to the skin before pressing his forehead there and whispering, “Hi babies, I’m your daddy. I want you to know that your mommy and I love you very much and that you are the most precious things in the world. I can’t wait to meet you, little ones.”

Aelin’s fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck and tugged lightly until he tilted to look up at her and realisation dawned on him then. “This is why you’ve been throwing up in the mornings.”

“Yes genius, I thought you’d have figured it out by now. I had that scan about two weeks ago, secretly hoping that you wouldn’t figure it out because I was waiting for the vest to be printed. Luckily I didn’t marry you for your brains.”

He couldn’t stop smiling, it was making his cheeks hurt but fuck did it feel good. He took hold of his wife’s wrist, bringing her hand forward to kiss her palm and sighing contentedly.

“I love you, Fireheart, to whatever end.”

“To whatever end, Buzzard.”

--------

I really hoped you liked it and honestly, I sort of like this AU I’ve created, so feel free to send some other prompts set in this universe if you like!

Tags: @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @fancyclodpaintercookie @empress-sei @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @tswaney17 @queen-of-glass @thesirenwashere @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm @http-itsrebecca @eatmysandwiches @poisonous00 @flowersinvegas @julemmaes @mu-si-ca-l @spyofthenightcourt @sis-it-dont-add-up  @mad-madeline-ace​ @df3ndyr  @jesstargaryenqueen @notyournymphetish

[human-trash-fire]

Shot Through The Heart: Chapter 7 (part 3)

Okay my loves, thank you all for bearing with my shitty/ non-existent publishing schedule. I know I’m trash but please don’t hate meeeeeee. The following takes place both during brunch (the next day) as well as the night before. It’s, as usual HELLA NSFW so prepare yourself for that. In addition I wanna shoutout @starseternalnighttriumphant​ and @highqueenofelfhame​ for always accepting my random messages that are riddled with smut and being so motivational. Y’all the real MVP’s. 

Alright babes, let’s do this! @sjmsstuff​ I truly hope you aren’t in public again when you read this 

Elide:

Elide sat at the table, sunglasses on, wearing her black silk robe and old Uggs. Her sex-wild hair was something reminiscent of the 70’s, flowing with a life of its own down her back. Dorian looked up to her as she sat down and smirked, the bastard. By now they all knew about the trio’s “little game” and Elide was pretty sure he had money on her; though she didn’t know what for. She smirked back as she reached for an empty coffee mug… It was much too far for her reach so she simply rolled her head to the left. To Lorcan, sitting close, eyes wide and expectant.

“Salvaterre, be a dear and,” she waved to the mug, “I need caffeine, I’m worn out.”

Lorcan’s dark eyes narrowed a fraction, but he grabbed the glass from the space between them and stood, a small, proud smile finding its way onto his face.

“Sugar… or would you prefer just cream inside?” He asked with a smirk. Dorian made a thinly veiled snort from his end of the table, and Elide looked up in time to see his eyes flick to Manon, before punching a single character onto his phone. Ahh.. So this is the bet. Elide thought.

She could be charitable.

“Oh, I’ve just remembered. My trainer has me adding this new supplement for my next role. It’s so far away…” she whined.  “Salvaterre, is there any way I could convince you to grab that instead? It’s in my bag, back in my suite?” Her smile dripped sugar. Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip before capturing it between her teeth. 

“Not a problem, I left my phone in there anyways. I’ll be right back.” And he scuttled away.

Dorian  >> Your new puppy is such a good boy

Elide    << You have no idea, so many new tricks already. He sits, begs, and now retrieves. 

<< You’re welcome by the way

<< You owe me a massage when I make you rich..er today

>> You keep this up and I’ll give you anything you want

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

She was tired of playing, Lorcan had grown to confident as the evening progressed and it was time for Elide to let him know where he stood. “Salvaterre, follow me” she whispered into his ear, one had pressed firmly against his chest. She was so close she could feel the shiver run through his body at her words, she smiled knowingly then turned on her heel and began walking towards her own room down the hall… away from prying ears. 

As soon as the door closed behind him he spun to her, pinning her against the wall. Already half hard in his sweatpants, Elide simply laughed and turned her head. His lips meeting the side of her head. 

“Ah, Ah, Ahh,” she tisked and pushed him back off of her. The growl he loosed was practically comical. She walked slowly to the chair in the living area and sat, eyes locked with his. “Do you want to kiss me Lorcan?”

He nodded his head slowly, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Then you need to earn it.” She slowly spread her legs, reaching her right hand out in a point, then flicking the finger down. “On your knees soldier, don’t make me ask twice.”

The thump of knees on carpet echoed in the small room, instantly followed by large hands sliding from her ankles to her thighs. He looked back up to her, eyes so dark they were practically black. She quirked a brow, a signal to continue. 

The scratch of his face along her inner thigh sent chills through her spine. He kissed her, just outside her lips, wet and languid, before moving his mouth to hover just above her slit. He blew cold air, and she struggled to remain still. He sensed her movement and immediately placed a sinewy forearm across her stomach locking her to the chair. 

His tongue slid slowly up, parting her folds and dancing along the bundle of nerves at the top. The moan she released was low and breathy, He bit down there, no warning and then sucked the hurt away. Elide could feel her orgasm already brewing but didn’t feel he needed the satisfaction. Working her in varying strokes she was shaking before his long fingers ever slid into her. 

The moment he reached that spot she rolled her head back and screamed, his fingers drumming a rhythm deep within and his tongue and lips sucking pleasure from her clit. It didn’t take long for him to bring her to her first climax. She was shuddering around him, fingers threaded in her hair, his name on her lips.

When her breathing finally evened out, his strokes slowing to a stop she finally spoke.

“Do you think you’ve earned it?” 

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

Back from the room, phone and powder in hand, Lorcan had reclaimed his seat and began dishing up a very Bacon-heavy meal. Elide, momentarily lost trying to read Lysandra's mind, was startled by her own plate, now piled with eggs, fruit, and bacon being set in-front of her with a clink. She smiled, and looked back to Lorcan. He held his phone with his left hand, engrossed in an article while slowly sipping his own coffee. The sun played off his tan skin beautifully, the sharp lines of his jaw standing in stark contrast. He was, exquisite. She-

Dorian >> As much as I’m LIVING for you and Dr. Dark and Sexy’s game of                      eye fuck at brunch... I AM LOSING TO ASTERIN. 

>> She is KILLING us rn

>> Fix this. Please.

>> also delete these texts, no evidence

<< *middle finger emoji*

<< make it a massage and a bottle of Johnny Walker and I will

Elide reached over to rest her hand on Lorcan’s knee, while sipping her own coffee. As she slid her hand slowly up his thigh, under his shorts, she felt his whole body go taught. Her pinky drawing a small ark right beside his member, she smiled into her coffee and leaned over slightly. 

“Wanna play a game?”

His inhale was audible. 

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

Lorcan crashed into her from his position between her legs, his chin and lip still slick with her, she relished the taste. His mouth was hungry, lips near bruising and hands threading through her hair. She arched into the movement, moaning slightly as he slid his tongue against hers.

His hands travelled from her hair, down her back, and under her thighs, as he bodily lifted her from the chair to carry her to the bed. She whimpered slightly, Elide loved this. Loved feeling like she could be absolutely wrecked and taking back that control. She gave him a moment to think this was his game now. She loved his power.

He tossed her on the bed and made to crawl on top of her, but she waggled her finger back and forth before he could join.

“Lay down.” She commanded.

He did. Elide half expected a salute, and was 10% sad she wasn’t given one. 

As he lowered his body to the mattress beside her, she slid up his body to straddle him. She removed the rest of her clothing as he watched her. His large hands lightly caressing her sides, underneath her breasts, down her stomach, and finally coming to rest at her hips. His eyes crawled back up to meet hers, and in a night soft voice he murmured “Beautiful.”

The moment was terrifyingly soft. Elide grabbed his wrists and brought them above his head, eyes locked on hers. With one arm she held them there, and with the other she worked his cock free of his pants. He sighed against her neck. Elide bent forward to kiss him, slow and languid, still holding his arms aloft, her right hand brushing his head back and forth against her entrance. 

He growled and canted his hips slightly. She clicked her tongue and pulled back from him.

“What do you want?” Her voice was raspy, breathless.

“Everything.”

She slammed down onto him, and they moaned in unison. Rolling her hips forward, she worked him, each movement rubbing just the right spot inside her. Elide threw her head back, releasing his arms to place her hands on his chest, wracking her nails down it and flipping her hair in the same motion.

Lorcan grabbed her hips immediately, grip firm as he used his legs to begin fully thrusting inside of her. His rhythm: relentless. 

“That’s it baby.” He growled from beneath her. “Come all over me.”

Elide’s orgasm crested, eyes locked, hands bruising. She screamed.

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

Lorcan nodded and leaned closer, “What did you have in mind Lochan?”

“Remember our first game?” She whispered into her coffee mug. Lorcan’s eyes shot to her hand still on his thigh, then to her eyes. He looked wild. She felt his cock twitch through his gym shorts. The sound he choked down was positively strangled.

“Scared?” She asked, beginning to withdraw her hand.

“Never.” His hand shot out to grab her wrist. She smirked.

“Good. Don’t move,” she purred. “And don’t make a fucking sound.”

Godsdamnit did Elide love brunch. 

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

Tag List:

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@highqueenofelfhame​

@feyrethedarklady​

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[knittingdreams]

Fireheart - Chapter 13

Time for a new chapter of Fireheart! :)

Thanks so much for everybody that’s been reading, and remember, if you’re not up to date with the story, you can find all the chapter in the Masterlist :D

CHAPTER 13

Cheering with the squad

“I can’t believe it’s October already! Where has the first month of classes gone?” Thea said happily as Kaya lifted her onto her shoulders.

“Girls, concentrate, we can talk after practice is over,” Lysandra’s voice rose over the sound of the music. “We have 3 months until the season starts, and I want this year to be the best!”

Thea and Kaya stopped talking and concentrated as the whole team kept practicing some shapes. Celaena didn't know why she found herself drawn to the two girls, as she often watched how easily they got along despite seeming so opposite to each other. 

She had ended up joining the team as a base, trying not to call too much attention to herself. She was paired up with Ansel at the moment, who was always beaming with energy and trying to make up conversation.

“That cute guy is looking at us from the bleachers,” Ansel interrupted as they all lined up to rehearse some dance moves twenty minutes later.

Celaena looked up and noticed Sam sitting on his own, casually flipping over a magazine as he watched them practice. When their eyes met, he smirked, and she almost wanted to laugh. He would tease her about this until the end of their days, she knew it. Not because she was a bad cheerleader, but because she had always teased the kind of girls that got up to such things. 

The girls she was training with had proved to be so different from her initial impressions, and she had come to even like some of them; especially Ansel. The fire-haired girl was fierce and funny, and Celaena could see how they would've been good friends under different circumstances.

“Who is he here for?” Ansel asked the group as she lifted her brows playfully. Lysandra turned around to look at the bleachers, and Celaena watched as Sam’s smile widened.

“Sam! Stop distracting the crew!” Lysandra yelled loud enough for him to hear. Sam lifted his hands in apology and turned around to keep reading the magazine with his back to the field. “Perfect, now bees, let’s get back into it! In five, six, seven, eight!”

As the beat dropped, Celaena instinctively pulled her sweater down before she started to follow Lysandra’s lead. They practiced the same routine five times before the training concluded for the day, and everybody started to stretch on their own. Sam made his way down the bleachers slowly and approached the field.

The jocks were on the other paddock yelling loudly and bumping chests as they did every time they had a good training session. For such a small school, Celaena was still surprised they had two fields, but she guessed it was a way of showing off how much money they had.

“Hey Lys, how did it go?” Sam asked as he got next to the queen bee and casually handed her a bottle of strawberry-flavored water that he took out of his bag. 

“Would’ve been better if you weren’t there distracting my girls.” She pushed him lightly in the shoulder, and Sam staggered back, feigning pain.

“Ow, that still hurts!”

“I’m so sorry! I forgot about the shoulder!” Lysandra raised her hands to her mouth, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. If she had known Sam for longer, she would have noticed the way his eyes diverted to the side, like every time he was lying.

A second later, Sam was laughing, and Lysandra was punching him again, this time a bit harder. His shoulder had fully healed a week ago, and his bruising had finally disappeared. He was back to looking like his usual cheerful self; not like he had ever stopped being his painfully cheerful self. 

Celaena huffed and got up from the ground, her stretching all done. She was about to head back to the locker room when she spotted Aedion coming their way, and her curiosity won the battle. She stood close enough to Sam and Lys, stretching her quads again by bringing her heel to her glute.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Aedion reached Lysandra and wrapped an arm around her.

“Aw, you’re so sweaty!” She squirmed, making Aedion hold her even tighter. 

“Hey Sam, what are you doing around here?” Aedion asked once he stopped wrestling with his girlfriend.

“I had some spare time between classes and thought I’d pop and say hi. Also, I wanted to bring this magazine to Lys,” he added as he passed it over. Celaena moved to stretch her calves, trying to stick around to hear where the conversation was going. She was surprised to see the three of them seemed to be pretty close. 

“Oh my God! You found it!” The queen bee squealed happily as she let go of Aedion and wrapped her arms around Sam’s neck, still holding the magazine in one hand.

Aedion cleared his throat loudly, and Sam and Lysandra let go of each other and looked at him, big smiles still plastered on their faces. “You know, I’m still here,” Adion said in a stern voice, crossing his arms over his chest.

To Celaena’s surprise, both Sam and Lysandra laughed out loud at his words, and as both team captains hugged each other again, Sam stood there, a huge smile on his face.

“Sorry, you know how it is,” Sam said after a moment, shrugging with one shoulder. Aedion let go of Lysandra, and they stood side by side, arms around each other’s waists, and Lysandra’s head resting on Aedion’s shoulder.

“If I didn’t fully trust my girlfriend, I would think you are trying to steal her from me, Cortland.” Aedion still sounded stern, but playful at the same time.

“I would never dare,” Sam replied, making Celaena wonder what kind of game was going on between those three. Sam was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, making her even more confused. She was sure he hadn’t lied, but he still seemed oddly nervous. 

Celaena got an idea then and realized that was as good of a time to interrupt as any, so she casually strolled the few steps towards the group.

“Hey, Lyz,” she said with her biggest smile, slipping into the cool popular kid vibe in a second. “About that team meeting on Saturday... What time is that going to be again?”

“My house, at eight,” Lysandra replied, her arm still wrapped around Aedion’s waist.

“What are you meeting for?” Sam interrupted, seeming genuinely curious.

“Halloween planning, the bees are on the committee organizing a party,” Lysandra looked at Celaena with a frown. “Let me guess, you're bailing on us. You bailed on our squad tea party two weeks ago too!" She pouted dramatically, making Celaena want to roll her eyes. In the past two weeks of training with the squad, she had learned to tolerate Lysandra, but the captain could still be so insistent and annoying sometimes.

"So sorry, Lys, I have some family coming over to visit, I promised I'd make time for them," Celaena lied, knowing that she needed a plausible excuse to bail again. She could be there for a while before the fight, but she preferred to have that time to warm up and practice. She wanted to make sure she had her head on the game for the first official night of the tournament. 

Lysandra let go of Aedion and crossed her arms over her chest, looking like a little girl throwing a tantrum while Aedion moved his arm over to her shoulders, casually rubbing little circles with his thumb. She opened her mouth as if to complain, but then turned around to face Sam with a grin. "Why don't you join instead? You have really good taste, and you managed to find me a copy of that design magazine I couldn't find anywhere! You could be a helpful asset planning this party! You certainly look more fun than Celaena here," she joked as she looked at Sam with pleading eyes. 

"Sorry, I…" Sam stammered. 

"That's such a good idea, Sam can replace me!" Celaena plastered a huge smile on her face as she threw a knowing glance at Sam. 

She hadn't found anything helpful after watching the cameras she had put in Dorian's penthouse, so she thought Sam getting close to Lysandra would lead to him getting close to Aedion too. Maybe they could find some leads there. 

"Actually," Celaena added, "maybe Aedion should go too, so you have a better masculine perspective and Sam doesn't feel out of place." Aedion looked at her, almost seeming surprised that she was directly talking to him, or at least about him. In all her time in the squad, she had tried to keep her distance from her cousin. 

"That sounds like such a good idea!" Lysandra beamed as she hooked an arm around each of the boys' waists, tugging them closer to her. 

Celaena knew Sam would scold her for not allowing him to be there for the tournament, but she didn't care. She was almost starting to trust Sam, and it’d be better if they split up and covered more ground. And she didn’t want Sam knowing her aunt might be involved in the fights, not until she had more information about it, not until she was sure if Sam was fully on her side or not. 

***

When Celaena heard the front door, she stilled and waited patiently but on alert. She slid a hand under the pillow, holding the handle of the knife she kept there for emergencies, while she uncrossed her legs slowly. Even if she was convinced she knew who it was, she was always ready for a fight.

“Hey there,” Sam said as he got to her room, and Celaena let go of the knife, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You need to stop sneaking in like you live here.”

“Oh, you know, we’ve lived together for so long, I almost feel like this is my place too. And I kind of like it here, it’s cozy and fancy at the same time.” Sam walked towards the bed where she was laying and plummeted down, his arms crossed behind his head.

“But it’s not your place.” Celaena closed her laptop and stood up, looking down at Sam, with a scowl.

Sam pointed to the computer with a nod of his head. “Nothing new going on in the penthouse, I assume?” 

“Nothing ever happens up there, I’m starting to believe Dorian Sr. might be clean, he’s so boring and predictable.” Celaena stretched her arms and headed over to her dresser.

“Are you ready for today’s fight?”

“As ready as can be,” she yelled back from inside the dresser, throwing her black catsuit on the bed and coming out with her favorite lace-up fighting boots. 

Sam looked at her for a moment, as if debating whether to ask a question or not. “Spit it,” she said as she stood in front of him, arms crossed again. Their relationship had gone back to almost being a friendship as it had been before the incident, and Celaena still found it weird that she felt so comfortable around him. Sam was back to his easy-going self, playing jokes on her and smiling that annoying confident smile of his.

“Why did you not want me there? Arobynn will have my head for not being at the fights to report back to him if he ever finds out, which I hope he doesn’t. I’ve never been happier about him being out of town.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you there, is that I rather have you close to Aedion. If you’re gonna be involved, you might as well be helpful.” She was considering infiltrating her uncle’s office, but Sam didn’t need to know that. “Now, off you go, go plan that party, I need to get ready to head over to that dungeon.” She dismissed Sam with a shake of her wrist and started getting changed. 

Sam smiled widely at her before walking out, clearly content with the fact that she was letting him be a part of the game again.

Celaena always took her time to get ready, both physically and mentally. Doing her makeup for the fight was almost like a ritual that helped her get into the right mind frame. 

When she walked through the shady alley later that night, she was feeling confident and was buzzing with positivity, ready for a fight. She clenched and unclenched her fists as she got to the metal door at the dead end, and knocked three times.

Her smug smile dropped as the door opened up, and she found herself facing not the usual bulky black doorman, but none other than her guard from the first round of fights.

“We meet again,” Celaena said casually as he moved to the side and she walked past him. 

“So it seems,” he replied nonchalantly, following her in. “You’re pretty early, you’re the first one in.” 

Surprised about the chit chat, she turned around to face him at the threshold of the back room, propping an arm over the door frame.

“So, you’ve been working here for long, mate?” She used her sweet tone, the one reserved for information seeking, and battered her lashes as she smiled and waited for a response.

“That is none of your business,” he said nonchalantly, crossing his muscled arms over his chest. “And stop calling me that, I’m not your fucking mate.” 

“What should I call you, then? I don’t even know your name.” Celaena didn’t know why she was so intent on getting closer to this guy, but she told herself he could have valuable knowledge. He had seemed to know the lady in the shadows, and any information she could get would be useful. She was starting to get frustrated about the lack of information she had collected, so it was probably time to begin playing some new games.

“That is none of your business either, are you always such a busybody?” 

There was a cress between his brows that made him look older. He didn’t look that much older than her, maybe only a few years, but there was something in his expression that made him look almost ancient. Like he was carrying a huge weight on his back. Celaena ran her eyes down his broad shoulders, and she got lost for a moment staring at his tattooed arm. He had a full sleeve of black inked lines that seemed to dance across his muscles, and disappeared under the sleeve of his top. The lines continued up to his neck, tracing his jawline and getting lost behind his ear. When she made her way back to his eyes, they were still fixed on her face, his expression serious, and Celaena mindlessly fixed the laced mask before clearing her throat.   

“I guess I might be, I’m just naturally curious,” she replied finally. “I’ve been rude, I apologize,” she extended her arm forward. “You can call me Fireheart,” she said, waiting for him to give his name in response.

The guard’s arms stayed crossed over his chest as he looked at her outstretched hand, and he breathed out loudly. “I know who you are, Fireheart,” he spat her nickname as if it was an insult, and Celaena dropped her arm as well as her smile. 

He turned around and walked three steps before stopping on his tracks, and looking over his shoulder. There was doubt in his expression when his lips parted.

“I’m Rowan,” he said almost between his teeth, and then he was gone.

Celaena turned around with a grunt and dropped her bag loudly over one of the wooden benches as she shook her head. “Rowan,” she hissed. “He looked more like an asshole to me.”

[starbornvalkyrie]

what we could be | part one

A/N: This is a Modern AU Rowaelin fic, loosely inspired by some major events in my own life. I’m not sure how long it will be yet, or how often I’ll be able to post, but please enjoy my first fanfic ever!

Let's just… see what happens when I get back.

Those words have been running through Aelin’s mind non-stop. The bomb that Rowan dropped before his study abroad program in Wendlyn was Hiroshima to her heart. 

“I don't want you to feel obligated to stay loyal to me,” he’d said. “I don't want to make those kinds of promises yet.”

During the drive from the airport, Aelin cried. She drove straight to Lysandra’s house and cried some more. A week later, she was finally able to eat a full meal, only to throw it back up. The same with the two meals following that.

“I just don’t understand what was wrong, Lys. I thought we were on our way to a steady relationship.” Aelin sat on Lysandra’s bathroom floor, leaning against the toilet, and looked up at Lysandra who was perched on the edge of the tub.

“Nothing really went wrong, hon. I think Rowan is just being your stereotypical college guy. He met a girl who very well could be the mother of his children, which, naturally, made him panic. I mean, you remember what happened with Aedion.”

Aelin had to snort at that. Her older cousin, Aedion, is Lysandra’s fiancé. But years ago, there was a span of time when Aedion was the biggest idiot and asshole on the planet, failing to see the perfection staring him in the face. 

They had just graduated college, and Lysandra had just been accepted to the University of Adarlan to pursue her Master’s in Fashion Design. But Aedion was off to Perranth to start Basic Training for Terrasen’s Army. Needless to say, Aedion turned into a controlling bastard and tried to convince Lysandra to stay in Terrasen.

Lysandra said no, went to Adarlan, and when Aedion’s eight weeks of BT were over, they reconnected. By no means was it easy, but they made it through. The rest is history.

Aelin had to admit, Lysandra had a point. But that still doesn’t tell her what they do now. Did he say that so he can hook up with foreign chicks without guilt? Or does he think Aelin isn’t good enough?

“I know what you’re thinking, and no, it does not mean that you aren’t good enough.” Lysandra took one of her hands. “Aelin, sweetheart. I know how hard it is for you to be rejected, but look where you are right now. Ten years ago, you were barely a preteen fighting her way through the foster system--”

Aelin closed her eyes as the memories of Arobynn and Sam flooded her mind. Aelin’s parents were victims of a drive-by shooting when she was twelve years old. Aedion’s family didn’t know she existed until she had already endured five years of playing human punching bag and hiding her most prized possessions under her pants while she slept on the floor. At that point, however, it was too late for her Uncle Gavriel to claim guardianship. She only needed to last three more months in hell before she turned 18 and could attend Terrasen University.

Growing up, Aelin was always fueled by pure hope, by her fireheart, as her mother called it. But towards the end, even on her best days, she didn't think she’d make it out of there. She was forced to watch her favorite foster brother, Sam, be beaten to a pulp while another was sent to Juvie. All of her energy was put towards getting good grades and staying on Arobynn’s good side. The former was easy, she was always good at school.

The latter… Well, let’s just say there was an incident with a matchbox, Arobynn’s favorite wrist watch, and a can opener. Aelin still has a scar on her left brow from what went down after that.

“And now,” Lysandra’s voice brought her back to the present. “Now, you are a first generation college student about to graduate with a degree in Chemical Engineering. You alone got yourself a full ride to Terrasen U, and you alone have brought yourself back from the depths of hell to make something with the life the gods gave you.”

“But--”

Lysandra cut her off with a squeeze of her hands. “But nothing, Aelin. I don’t care if this man is your mate. I don’t care if you end up growing old and dying with him. You do not need him to dictate whether or not you are worth something.”

Aelin knew when to argue with Lysandra, but after those words, now was not one of those times.

Groaning, Aelin did what she does best: she got up from the floor and went on with her life. 

When classes rolled around in the third week of January, it was easy for her to forget about Rowan. She only had two more classes and her senior thesis standing between her and her Bachelor’s degree, which hopefully comes with an acceptance into the Pharmaceutical Engineering Master’s Program at Terrasen U.

Fire had always fascinated her. The bunsen burners and hot plates and mixing of chemicals spoke to her in a way that she couldn’t really put into words. But fire, while beautiful, can also destroy. So she chose a field that would allow her to burn while creating methods of healing.

It didn't hurt that her TA, Chaol Westfall, wasn’t bad to look at. Last semester, he had asked her out on a couple dates, but she was already starting to talk to Rowan. It didn’t matter now that the man in question is probably off with some bimbo from Doranelle. His loss, right?

About a month and a half into the semester, Aelin finally worked up the courage to ask Chaol to grab coffee after class. She was packing up her books to head home and get ready when the nausea hit. She haphazardly zipped her backpack and ran to the nearest restroom. As she rinsed her mouth in the sink, she mourned the chocolate cake that was now making its way to the Avery.

Her mourning quickly morphed into panic when she thought about what day it was. As she did the mental math, she ran out the door and beelined for her car. Thank the gods no police were on the road at this time because she definitely deserved a ticket for how fast she drove to the pharmacy, then to Lysandra’s.

Aelin sprinted up the steps to her front door as fast as she could and incessantly knocked on the door.

The door opened to reveal a man with his shirt half unbuttoned, hair in disarray. Aedion scowled at her. “You better have a good fucking excuse for interrupting, cousin.” He said it playfully, but Aelin didn't have the mental capacity to roll her eyes and play along.

She pushed past him and ran to the kitchen, not stopping to think about why she knows their fetishes. Lysandra is tucking her breast back into her dress when Aelin exclaims, “I’m late.”

Lysandra, bless her soul, knew exactly what she meant, and ran to her side. “How late? Did you take a test?”

Aelin let Lysandra guide her into a seat and listened to her command to breathe. “Not yet, but I picked one up on the way here.” She looked Lysandra in the eye. “I always get my period the last week of the month, no sooner, no later. I wasn’t really thinking about it last month because I was so busy planning out my thesis, but…”

“...but it’s the end of February and you still haven’t gotten it,” Lysandra finished for her. “Not to play the Mother Hen part, but were you and Rowan always safe? I thought you were on birth control?”

Aelin shook her head. “My body doesn’t handle birth control well, but Rowan always, always, used a condom. When we didn’t have any, we didn’t do it, end of story. Our relationship was so new, we didn’t even do it that much.”

“Okay, well, condoms aren’t always 100% effective, but let’s not jump to any conclusions. Let’s take this one step at a time. First, drink some water, then pee on the stick. I’ll be with you to read it, and then we’ll figure it out from there, got it?”

Aelin nodded, eternally grateful she didn’t have to go through this with Aedion. The Army must have done something right with his brain because he made himself scarce after he answered the door.

She did the deed, opened the door for Lysandra, and they both sat on the floor holding hands for three minutes.

Aelin already knew what it would show.

Two solid pink lines.

Positive.

---

to my tag list: hello, i’m back, and currently in the process of uploading the rest of this fic! please let me know if you do not want to be on my list anymore, or if you would like to be added! love y’all!

@maddymelv​ || @lucy617​ || @tillyrubes10​ || @faerie-queen-fireheart​ || @tottenhamboys20​ || @the-third-me​ || @superspiritfestival​ || @rolltide7​ || @courtofjurdan​ || @sleeping-and-books​ || @aelinchocolatelover​

[furry-monster-trash]

What if Oakheart joined ThunderClan?

This has spoilers/information from “Crookedstar’s Promise” these parts will be bolded.

Two moons into her pregnancy, Bluefur attends a gathering to tell Oakheart that she is expecting his kits.

Oakheart tells Crookedstar (his brother) that Bluefur is having his kits. Crookedstar is not surprised.

A few days pass and Oakheart has been neglecting his warrior duties. He ultimately decides that he will attempt to join ThunderClan to help father his kits.

Crookedstar accepts his decision and says that he will go with Oakheart to ThunderClan: “I need to speak with Sunstar.”

The two arrive at the ThunderClan camp, escorted by Thistleclaw and Whitestorm.

Sunstar brings the two RiverClan cats into his den after calming his clan down.

Oakheart asks to join ThunderClan, with Sunstar interrupting his plea “You’re the father to Bluefur’s kits.”

Oakheart confirms the ThunderClan leader’s suspicions, saying that he never meant for it to happen, but that he fell in love with Bluefur and now he wants to father the kits.

Sunstar doesn’t respond and instead asks why Crookedstar came as well.

Crookedstar informs Sunstar that Thistleclaw - the next best option for deputy - has been training in the Dark Forest and has a thirst for blood that must be stopped. “It would be best to choose a stand-in deputy until Bluefur can do those duties.” During this, he also explains his connection with the Dark Forest, although not in heavy detail.

Sunstar takes Crookedstar’s words to heart and then informs Oakheart that he may join ThunderClan with only one condition: “You are to do apprentice tasks until you prove yourself to be loyal to us. You will also be trained in the ways of ThunderClan. If you join us, you are no longer a RiverClan warrior, you will be a ThunderClan one. If you ever show loyalty towards RiverClan outside of what the warrior code allows, my warriors have every right to drive you from our land.”

Oakheart accepts this condition and says his goodbyes to Crookedstar, who is sad to see his brother leave his side. Ottersplash is the new deputy of RiverClan.

When only Crookedstar leaves the ThunderClan camp, Sunstar makes the announcement that Oakheart is joining ThunderClan. He leaves out the fact that he is the father of Bluefur’s kits. 

Lionheart is tasked to look after Oakheart’s new training.

Bluefur takes Oakheart out into the forest after the clan dies down from the news and yells at him, saying that she had it covered and he didn’t have to join ThunderClan, “At the very least you should’ve talked to me about it!”

Sunstar brings in his senior warriors to discuss Thistleclaw and the deputy position. Adderfang agrees to act as deputy until Bluefur can take over: “I have no ambition to be the next leader, but I don’t want our clan to become soaked with blood due to my former apprentice.”

Thistleclaw receives no real punishment for his participation in the Dark Forest.

Lionheart takes Oakheart out to teach him how to hunt land prey that isn’t commonly found on RiverClan territory and how to stalk in the forest. Oakheart picks this up quickly.

Oakheart brings fish regularly to the fresh-kill pile much to the elders’ disgust, but the younger warriors and apprentices don’t seem too bothered by the extra prey.

When Bluefur gives birth, Oakheart lets her name all three of the kits. At this point, everyone in ThunderClan knows that he is their true father, not Thrushpelt.

For the first moon of the kits’ lives, Oakheart frets over every move they make and brings both them and Bluefur fresh-kill twice a day.

Stonekit, Mistykit, and Mosskit are loved and adored by all members of ThunderClan, with the three regularly going to the elders’ den for stories or trying to learn things from the warriors.

Oakheart is chosen by Sunstar to come to the border re-marking on Sunningrocks. Oakheart has been in ThunderClan for two moons now.

Oakheart leaves his scent as a ThunderClan warrior but stays at the border for a few moments longer than the rest of the patrol. Thistleclaw accuses him of wanting to go back to RiverClan. Oakheart ignores his accusations.

At the next gathering, RiverClan warriors spit at Oakheart and call him a traitor. “You know Sunningrocks belongs to RiverClan and yet you claim it for ThunderClan!”

Oakheart and Bluefur spend more time together as the kits finally reach the age where they can be left alone. The two go on a hunting patrol together and prove to be good partners.

White-eye agrees to look after their kits so that the two can go talk things out alone, not surrounded by anybody.

Oakheart confesses his love for Bluefur once more, a sentiment she returns. Bluefur asks if he misses RiverClan: “I miss my brother and my friends, but I’m becoming accustomed to the trees and woodland prey. Very few members of ThunderClan treat me as an outsider now.”

They spend the night out in the forest, pressed up against one another.

The kits are now three moons old and Oakheart spends every moment he can with them, trying to be as good of a father to them as Shellheart was to him. He plays with the three of them and teaches them about the warrior code.

When the kits are apprenticed, Stonepaw is given to Whitestorm, Mistypaw is given to Leopardfoot, and Mosspaw is given to Brindleface.

Oakheart teaches his kits to swim and how to fish.

At this point in Oakheart being in ThunderClan, Sunstar asks him to teach all of ThunderClan how to swim, not just his own kits.

Oakheart agrees but only to teach them at night when his former clan cannot see him.

Bluefur almost drowns and is saved by Oakheart. She thanks him for saving her life and clings to him until they get out of the river. Bluefur is the only ThunderClan warrior that almost drowns.

When Bluefur joins the warriors’ den again, her and Oakheart share a nest.

Oakheart teaches his kits how to attack from the water once they are eight moons old. Several ThunderClan warriors are also taught these moves (Sunstar, Lionheart, Bluefur, Frostfur, Patchpelt, and Goldenflower).

Bluefur is named the deputy of ThunderClan.

Thistleclaw attempts to murder Bluefur so that he can be the deputy of ThunderClan. Oakheart saves her life and kills Thistleclaw in the process.

Sunstar says that Thistleclaw always had a thirst for blood and wished him peace now that he is dead.

RiverClan attacks the ThunderClan camp after a few moons of accused prey-stealing.

Oakheart fights alongside ThunderClan and gives his former clanmates more than a few scars to remember him by. Voleclaw and him battle fiercely but Oakheart beats the RiverClan tom. This bout is seen by everyone in ThunderClan.

Sunstar honors Oakheart alongside the rest of ThunderClan for defending their camp.

At this point, there are few who distrust Oakheart as a loyal warrior of ThunderClan.

After the fight, Sunstar orders that those who know how to swim (almost everyone in the clan at this point) teach new apprentices how to swim as well and those that know water-fighting techniques teach those moves to all new apprentices as well.

Sunstar loses his last life and Bluefur earns her nine lives.

Oakheart sleeps inside the leader’s den with Bluefur. Redtail is the new deputy of ThunderClan.

Every other clan now knows that ThunderClan can swim, fish, and fight in the water after each clan sees these new techniques in their own time.

ThunderClan rarely goes hungry now because every new cat is taught how to fish.

Seasons pass and now Stonepaw, Mistypaw, and Mosspaw have earned their warrior names: Stonefur, Mistyfoot, and Mossleap.

Oakheart is the mentor to Ravenpaw instead of Tigerclaw.

When Rusty joins ThunderClan, Oakheart takes a special interest in him because he was also treated as an outsider for many moons after he joined.

Redtail dies over a fight for Sunningrocks, he fell off the edge and snapped his neck. Lionheart is named the new deputy.

Oakheart helps to mentor Firepaw alongside Ravenpaw. He notes that Firepaw has keen skills for a kittypet and could even rival some clan-born apprentices.

Firepaw’s formal mentor is Mistyfoot.

Oakheart trusts Yellowfang from the moment she steps in the ThunderClan camp.

Spottedleaf dies from wounds from Clawface. Lionheart does not die from ShadowClan.

When ShadowClan is revealed to be training kits and falling apart under Brokenstar’s rule, Oakheart is part of the raid to take back the stolen kits and he personally drives away Brokenstar.

Ravenpaw, Graypaw, and Firepaw earn their warrior names: Ravenwing, Graystripe, and Fireheart.

Oakheart disapproves of Cloudkit being brought into the camp because it was the dead of leaf-bare, not because he is a kittypet.

Tigerclaw’s ambition brings the rogues from ShadowClan into the heart of ThunderClan. During this raid, Lionheart dies from his wounds. Tigerclaw attempts to murder Fireheart because of his kittypet roots and the fact that Bluestar always favored Fireheart over him.

Oakheart leaps in to save Fireheart and the two large toms fight. Tigerclaw kills Oakheart and Fireheart beats Tigerclaw afterward.

Bluestar demands that Tigerclaw is kept prisoner for the time being while she mourns the death of her mate.

Bluestar names Fireheart the new deputy of ThunderClan.

Tigerclaw’s schemes are revealed at the gathering and he is driven from the forest.

Bluestar never loses faith in StarClan. Swiftpaw and Brightpaw are named Swiftbreeze and Brightheart, but the two still try to drive out the dogs. Swiftbreeze dies and Brightheart is maimed.

Bluestar still gives her life to save Fireheart from the dogs and Oakheart is the first one to welcome her to StarClan.

Oakheart gives Firestar a life (in place of Redtail) for always trusting your instincts and doing what is right, even if it hurts.

ThunderClan continues to teach its warriors how to fish, swim, and fight in the water. A tradition held up by Firestar.

[m1smatched-starsigns]

🌞 Whitewing or Onestar!

I like Whitewing more than Onestar, but I actually have a Onewhisker AU in my doc. Let’s go with him.

ThunderClan!Onewhisker AU

It starts immediately after Fireheart’s patrol arrives in WindClan, when Tigerstar invaded and killed Gorsepaw.

Onewhisker admits to Firestar that he doesn’t think he can stay in WindClan any longer. He loves his Clan deeply, but he’s lost so many friends in the last moons; he has no kin left, either.

He says that the camp reeks like blood and fear now, even though they’ve done their best to clean it. Everytime he passes the spot where Tigerstar held Gorsepaw down, he can still hear his screams.

In this AU, Graystripe is still in RiverClan with his kits. Fireheart misses his best friend now more than ever, so after Onewhisker’s confession, Fireheart invites him to join ThunderClan.

It is not a decision that Onewhisker makes lightly. He’s always been a proud WindClan warrior. He’s never doubted his place in the Clan before. But if something doesn’t change soon then he’s going to go insane.

He takes Fireheart up on his offer. Onewhisker’s Clanmates are furious and call him a mouse-heart and a traitor, and he leaves with his head hanging. ThunderClan aren’t sure how they feel about their new Clanmate, and most of them would like to not trust him, but he looks so pitiful that they can’t bring themselves to hate him.

Bluestar isn’t happy about Onewhisker’s decision to join the Clan, but she treats his situation very similar to Graystripe’s in canon: what difference will one more traitor make?

The WindClan warriors were all starving, so the first thing Fireheart does is pick out the fattest mouse on the fresh-kill pile for Onewhisker. He obviously isn’t used to forest prey, but he’s so hungry that he devours it in only a few bites. Despite the fact that mice are smaller than rabbits, Onewhisker is surprised when the smaller animals fills him up.

By that point it’s getting late, so Fireheart shows Onewhisker where to get the best nesting materials.

As he weaves his nest together, there is a stone of dread in Onewhisker’s chest at the thought of sleeping in a den rather than underneath the stars. He places his nest at the front of the den where the newest warriors typically sleep, so that he can at least see a piece of Silverpelt.

Brackenfur and Cloudtail also sleep at the front of the den. Brackenfur is a very compassionate tom and Cloudtail knows that Onewhisker is a loyal friend of Fireheart’s, so they smile politely at the former WindClanner and do their best to make him feel welcomed.

The night is long and sleep evades him at every turn, but Onewhisker finds slight comfort in the fact that he will be able to make friends.

The next day Fireheart leads a border patrol and assigns Onewhisker to it. As they patrol, he points out landmarks and helps him navigate the bracken and brambles.

Privately, Fireheart is worried about Onewhisker’s future as a ThunderClan warrior. He has a difficult time navigating the territory, and thorns are inexplicably drawn to his paws. After just one patrol, Onewhisker returns exhausted and heads straight to Cinderpelt.

Sandstorm echos his concerns, but when Fireheart tries to defend his friend, she retorts, “If Onewhisker would leave his birth Clan because life there was hard, what’s to stop him from leaving ThunderClan?”

Onewhisker overhears everything. Rather than discourage him, it motivates him to try his hardest to learn ThunderClan’s ways. He doesn’t want to be known as a quitter who can’t be depended on when the going gets tough.

When Fireheart is busy with his deputy duties, Onewhisker explores the territory with Brackenfur, practices his battle moves with Cloudtail, and goes hunting with Sandstorm. Slowly but surely he improves.

“We’ll make a Thundercat out of you yet,” Sandstorm praises him when he catches a mouse. He walks back to camp with his tail high.

When Tigerstar lures the dog pack into ThunderClan territory, Onewhisker demands to be apart of the line that draws them away from the Clan.

“Are you sure?” Fireheart asks. “You know you’re way around the territory now, but the undergrowth still trips you up. If you want to hide with the Clan, no one will fault you.”

Yes, they will. But Onewhisker doesn’t say that.

Instead he says, “I’ve got WindClan blood, Fireheart — I’m the fastest cat you’ve got. Besides, this is personal.” His eyes harden. “I didn’t stand a chance against Tigerstar when I was in WindClan. But here, where I can use my speed, I can actually help.”

Denying Onewhisker this right would be like denying Ashpaw and Fernpaw’s right to avenge their mother. He owes them this.

So Onewhisker will be apart of the line, then.

When his turn comes, he runs like he’s never run before. He pumps his legs as he leaps over tree roots and ducks underneath the undergrowth. He doesn’t trip once, or step on a single thorn.

He can’t help but feel very proud of himself once his turn is over. He’s never moved like that before in his life. For the first time ever — he finally feels like a ThunderClan warrior.

And when Fireheart shares the news that Bluestar is dead, he grieves like one. He grew up hearing stories of the elegant leader. She was never fond of him, but Onewhisker honors her legacy all the same.

Before Fireheart leaves to receive his nine lives, he admits to Onewhisker, “I have no clue who my deputy will be.”

Onewhisker blinks. “You’ll pick Sandstorm, won’t you? You’re very close.”

“That’s the problem,” Fireheart says quietly. “With positions of power comes great danger. If someone wanted to hurt me they would hurt Sandstorm, even though she’s just a warrior. But if she were my deputy, I feel like that would put an even bigger target on her back.”

Onewhisker considers that. “Are you sure?”

Fireheart shrugs, forlorn. “Not really. But am I willing to chance her life like that?”

“Sandstorm can defend herself,” Onewhisker meows quietly.

Sometimes, when he stands tall in the sunlight, Fireheart looks like a blaze of fire. In those moments, Onewhisker truly believes that Fireheart could do anything.

But right now he just looks tired. “I know,” he murmurs. Then he leaves for Highstones with Cinderpelt.

When Fireheart returns he is no longer Fireheart, but Firestar — leader of ThunderClan.

“I say these words before StarClan, so that the spirits of our warrior ancestors may hear and approve of my choice. The new deputy of ThunderClan is Sandstorm.”

The she-cat looks surprised for a heartbeat before she puffs out her chest and proudly accepts the position.

Firestar made the right choice. Together, they will rule the forest in a blaze of glory.

But first, Tigerstar must be dealt with. Especially now that he’s recruited Leopardstar into joining TigerClan.

Even though he doesn’t say anything, it’s clear that Firestar is worried about Graystripe. For awhile no one sees him on patrols or the latest Gathering.

Then Ravenpaw bursts into camp with news of Bonehill. Firestar quickly calls for Sandstorm and Onewhisker, and they race for the RiverClan border.

The scenario plays out very similar to canon, except Graystripe has also been lumped in with the “traitors”.

Blackfoot kills Stonefur. The ThunderClan cats manage to help Graystripe, Mistyfoot, Featherpaw and Stormpaw escape.

“Onewhisker?” Graystripe asks, when he sees the former WindClan warrior.

“Long story,” Onewhisker meows. “We’ll talk later.”

The refugees take shelter in ThunderClan until the battle with BloodClan.

When that battle arrives, Onewhisker fights with all the might of a ThunderClan warrior. He lives to tell about it, too.

Sandstorm does not.

“Scourge went for her first,” Firestar whispers, voice thick with grief. “He thought it would enable me; he was wrong. I fought even harder, for her.” He chokes up and bows his head.

Tears pool in Onewhisker’s eyes. Scourge must have known Sandstorm was special to Firestar after he made her his deputy. He can’t help but think, if it weren’t for him, Firestar would have chose another as his deputy...

But a victory is a victory. That night the Clans celebrate their freedom from Tigerstar and from BloodClan.

“What will you do?” Onewhisker asks Graystripe after the battle.

The warrior gestures to Mistyfoot and his kits across the camp. “Return to RiverClan,” Graystripe says. “I wish I could be here for Firestar, but he has you to keep him out of trouble. Leopardstar isn’t popular right now, and my kits need me now more than ever.” His voice softens ever so slightly. “Mistyfoot, too.”

Graystripe looks back at Onewhisker. “You’ll make sure he’s okay, though, won’t you?”

Onewhisker knows what he means. “He’ll be alright. I’ll let you know if he ever needs you.”

Graystripe nods his thanks, then goes to join his kits.

As the sun sets behind the treeline, Firestar calls a meeting. Everyone knows what it is about.

Considering he just lost his mate and deputy in battle, Onewhisker thinks that Firestar looks impressive. He stands tall in the glow of the sunset, muscles rippling, green eyes like solid emeralds.

“The new deputy is Onewhisker.”

No cat is more surprised than he is to hear his name called. The Clan cheers his name while Onewhisker can only sit there, stunned.

“You accept, don’t you?” Firestar asks, as he descends from the Highrock.

Onewhisker doesn’t know what to say, other than, “... did you just give me a death sentence?”

“I gave you an honor,” Firestar corrects him. He musters a smile. “I don’t regret making Sandstorm my deputy. She was the perfect cat for the job. Besides, the last time I didn’t give her what she deserved, she gave me the silent treatment for days.” His smile softens. “I know she would approve of her successor.”

Onewhisker was never an ambitious tom; he never dreamed of growing up and becoming deputy, much less the deputy of ThunderClan. But when Firestar words it like that...

“I’ll make her proud,” Onewhisker promises. As he speaks, a thrill shoots down his spine; one he hasn’t felt since he led the dog pack away from camp.

Firestar gazes at him like he knows the feeling. “Of course you will.”

[sunnymoon-sunshine]

Yellowfang has always been one of my absolute favorite characters. It seems that I’m not in the minority when I say that, either - Yellowfang’s grumpy demeanor and her inner strength make her a likable character. Her bond with Fireheart, in which she takes on the role of a guide and parental figure of sorts is nearly as heartwarming as the friendship she forges with Cinderpelt after the latter’s accident.

So you can imagine my surprise and delight when I learned that Yellowfang was to get her own super edition, Yellowfang’s Secret, which would be a peek into Yellowfang’s life in ShadowClan before her exile. Finally! A book about Yellowfang herself! Surely it would be good... right?

About the moment I flipped to the page where it was revealed Yellowfang had her own secret power, my disappointment was as great and bitter as if I’d bitten into a lemon. It was at this point that OotS was winding down, and we’d been promised no more powers, and yet someone - be it author or editor, decided to bestow upon Yellowfang the most useless and needless power. The ability to feel when someone was hurt. Why.

I feel as if this introduction was made solely in an attempt to capture the attention of the reader in a loud and demanding way, while also easily and lazily patching the plot. Why did Yellowfang become a medicine cat? Why, of course - ! It’s because she has to! She can’t be a warrior if she’s feeling everyone elses’ pain. That would just be silly. It also perpetuates the trend of cats being forced into the role of medicine cat, which is incredibly frustrating.

Additionally, I’ll always dislike how Raggedstar was portrayed in this. For how he was talked about in Into the Wild, he was a decent leader for ShadowClan and at least somewhat well respected. The character butchering they performed on him is disappointing.

So, if I were to rewrite Yellowfang’s Secret, I would begin with a major overhaul of well... nearly everything. I’m not sure if I would start out in her kithood or not - seems redundant. We don’t need to know what her kithood is like.

Yellowfang is a newly made ShadowClan warrior with a lot of promise. Fast, sharp with teeth made for snapping tails, she quickly makes a name for herself in ShadowClan, and outside of it. She takes not an enthusiastic approach to this, but a more solemn - if she didn’t have such a temper, she’d likely be a future candidate for deputyship. Cedarstar is far wiser than to put his clan in her paws, however. Raggedpelt, who is just a slight bit older than Yellowfang herself, seems to have the most potential for the position, not as fierce but calmer, wiser.

And the clan is endlessly amused by him and Yellowfang, their constant back and forth quips and lighthearted snaps. It’s clear to everyone that only Raggedpelt can calm the raging Yellowfang. They make good friends, despite their occasional disagreements.

Yet the faintest whisper, like a breeze in the marsh, ruffles the fur of her ears. “You will carry a secret, Yellowfang,” Comes the whisper of one - or is it many? “A secret that will haunt you for the rest of your life.”

But for all her talent, Yellowfang grows weary of the blood on her paws. Every battle has the cries of cats echoing in her ears as they weep for their loved ones. And it sickens her that she perpetuates the cycle of endless war and death. Her temper is as sharp as her claws, but her empathy is far stronger than any ShadowClan cat could imagine. She feels like a warrior through and through, but looking into the eyes of a terrified WindClan cat as they’re cornered, as they look for escape from what they must see as certain death. His eyes are wide, and the scrappy black-and-white cat looks about as terrified as the prey she corners in the marsh. He looks barely old enough to be a warrior, and she feels not the stab of rage that WindClan dared step foot on her territory, but a sinking feeling in her heart. She almost wants to comfort him. Instead, she steps aside. She allows him to leave, and he shoots off immediately - but he pauses to glance back at her. “Go!” She barks, and he nearly jumps out of his fur, pelting off into the fray.

She nearly gets in trouble for her moment of mercy. ShadowClan is not known for their acts of kindness, a reputation that Cedarstar would like to keep. His voice is stern as he tells her to fight. “He went on to nearly tear the fur off Deerleap. Your duty is to listen to orders, Yellowfang, and that order is to fight until either you, or they, cannot fight any longer.”

Yellowfang feels frustration from the tips of her claws to the tip of her tail. Cedarstar had made a decent point, yet her frustrated and stubborn side would not yield. He did not look at that small, scrappy WindClan warrior and see what she saw - he was an enemy.

She saw nothing but a scared cat.

At the gathering, she sees him again. He’s among the WindClan cats, who generally are avoiding their ShadowClan neighbors during this full moon. It’s why she’s surprised when, during the leaders’ reports, she hears a hiss in her ear. It’s so soft she barely hears it, yet she’ll remember the words for years to come.

“Thank you.”

It’s also at this gathering that she learns of Hawkheart, a warrior turned medicine cat. This piques her interest - she didn’t even know that was an option.

As the days go on and life becomes harder as the snow sets in, Yellowfang is still ever the fierce warrior. Yet she harbors a secret wish - that she didn’t have to be. She goes and helps Sagewhisker during these times, something that Sagewhisker was initially reluctant to do - until she found Yellowfang’s potential as an assistant. Curt as she may be, she begins dabbling at teaching Yellowfang herbs when she can, though it seems Cedarstar is determined to keep her out of the medicine cat den and “Not waste time on herbs when there’s mouths to feed.”

“Grumpy old-” Sagewhisker used a few good curses that would have made Yellowfang cuff her ears. “Thinks that claws and teeth are the only useful things in this clan. No respect for this den!” She snaps a twig between her teeth to vent her frustration. “If his warriors would learn what a leaf would do, maybe I wouldn’t be so busy all the time! Maybe if he didn’t preach fight first, ask questions later, I’d have an apprentice at this point!”

Yellowfang pauses, claws working in the dirt. It feels as if she’s teetering on the edge of something, yet she doesn’t know what. As if this conversation is about to decide something important. “An apprentice?” Sagewhisker is in a mood, this much is clear. “Yes, an apprentice! StarClan knows, there have been a few good candidates, yet he always shoves them along the path of a warrior.” She shoves aside a pile of moss, tail flicking irritably. “Now look at me. Old and no apprentice. StarClan has a sick sense of humor.”

“I could be your apprentice.”

Yellowfang catches flack from her old warrior peers. It is the hardest part of the year, and she’s retreated to the medicine cat den, where she’s guaranteed a meal and no longer forced to hunt or patrol for the clan’s needs. It doesn’t stop her from hunting when she has the time, but Sagewhisker demands her attention at nearly all times of the day, giving her barely a chance to rest. It feels as if her new mentor is trying to bestow seasons of training onto her in a short couple of moons. That, and Raggedpelt seems shocked, hurt, and even heartbroken. It had never really occured to her that he might have taken a fancy to her, and it’s only now that she’s under a strict code that permits no such pleasure that she feels her fur grow warm when she sees him. The clan resents her, her leader is dismayed that one of his most fierce warriors has disappeared into the healer’s den, and cold frogs are the only thing anyone is bringing home. She takes the stringiest of them.

Yet as the season goes on, it quickly becomes apparent that Yellowfang has a natural talent for medicine. She’s got a sharp memory, quick to take action, and has fixed more wounds and illnesses in a moon than Sagewhisker could do in a season (though, no one would say that aloud, for fear of inciting Sagewhisker’s wrath). She proves to be just as useful an asset to ShadowClan as a medicine cat than she was as a warrior - if not more valuable now than she was before. The clan soon respects her talents, as do the other clans. Her and Hawkheart share a friendship based off of their mutual beginnings (and frustration over their “stupid, bloody useless warriors”).

Raggedpelt, now deputy, has taken to escorting her around the territory. “You never know when one of those kittypet rogues will jump out. I have to keep our medicine cat safe.”

“I could rip the fur off your shoulders before you could flinch.”

“Remind me to stop being nice to you.”

The two become close, and Yellowfang is head over paws for him. He’s the ideal warrior, strong and couragous and loyal to a fault. He doesn’t understand Yellowfang’s desire not to fight any longer, but he sees no problem with the two of them sneaking out at night. After all, there’s no harm in a little fun. The rule medicine cats have is ridiculous, anyway. She laps up his words, finding she wanted nothing more to believe him.

And then came the day she realized she was carrying kits.

Sagewhisker covers for her solely because she has no other apprentice she could train on such short notice. They tell no one, because Cedarstar would snatch Yellowfang from her position, ignoring any protest Sagewhisker might have. ShadowClan needs a medicine cat to carry on healing and communicating with StarClan, despite what “that old fool thinks.” Sagewhisker spits. But she’s furious with Yellowfang too. “I told you that you have to drop your warrior habits. I told you that you’re a medicine cat now, and to act like it. StarClan will punish you, Yellowfang. You mark my words.”

It doesn’t really occur to her what that punishment could possibly be, until she’s alone kitting on the outskirts of the marsh. No one could help her. Sagewhisker had to stay in camp - not that it was likely she would help regardless. It’s a long, grueling process, and in the end, it was nearly for naught. Two kits gone, only a small, sad scrap who fought to get at her belly and nurse. She wasn’t sure if he would make the trip back. But he did, hours later, and she felt a sense of unease as she placed the newborn kit by the belly of Lizardstripe, arguably the most unlikeable cat in the clan.

She wanted to walk with Raggedpelt. To receive some sort of comfort after her trial. But their relationship slowly faded, as each grew busier with their jobs. And it wasn’t as if he put much effort into seeing her either way. Yet she almost prefers it this way. It’s freeing, in a sense. She can go back to being a medicine cat first and foremost for the clan, watching from afar as he helps raise their child. And she never quite stopped admiring Raggedpelt for the fantastic warrior, deputy, and eventual leader he became. Calmer, cooler headed than Cedarstar, with just enough of a soft spot for Yellowfang to get away with a lot more than Sagewhisker was ever able to. It also helped that Yellowfang’s nasty temper never swayed - she would hold warriors back from the frontlines without hesitation if she felt they shouldn’t be out there, fool-headed leader or not.

Brokenkit grew into a fine apprentice, then warrior. Not the strongest at first, but he made up for it with his craft and skill. He was a smooth talker, able to weedle his way out of any punishment, and convince anyone of anything he wanted them to believe. She felt nothing but pride - and perhaps a flicker of worry. She had nightmares of a snake, bent at the tail end, hovering above her and waiting for her to strike. She tried her best to guide him. He ignored her - she was just a medicine cat, after all. Lizardstripe’s parenting left a lot to be desired, and Raggedpelt’s habit of spoiling him and ignoring his more worrying traits led Yellowfang to pace the den. It was something Sagewhisker would have yelled at her for, yet the den was empty. Sagewhisker had been buried under her favorite tree - a spiky, gnarled tree that was just as prickly as she was. It was her last request. “Make it a pain for them to bury me there, too.” She rasped to Yellowfang. “I want them to suffer for all the headaches they’ve given me.”

The silence in the den was deafening. For the first time in a long time, she felt alone. It was as if there was a chasim between her and the warriors, her and everyone else. The path of a medicine cat was a lonely, drawn out path, she finds. Even when she walks with Raggedpelt to the moonstone, even when they laugh and joke and prod each other just like old times, it still feels as if there’s a barrier between them.

He’s long grown out of his love for Yellowfang. She still holds a sort of affection for him, warm - yet not quite romantic. A healthy respect, and admiration, yet she feels comfortable where she is without him as her mate. She cheers him on as he gains his nine lives, and they walk out of the Moonstone together with a new hope for the future of ShadowClan.

That lasts until his first deputy passes. Raggedstar, the old fool, overlooks all the other potential leaders - the hardworking Nightpelt, most insultingly of all - for his son, who had barely finished training an apprentice. He claims the timing of it all is a sign from StarClan that his son has earned the position. Yellowfang uses a few choice curses she learned from Sagewhisker when she discusses it with him later.

“Fiddle-headed fool,” She spats, the nicest thing she’s said to him that night. “Flea-bitten idiotic puddle of marsh water. Your son isn’t a leader. He’s barely a warrior, with a fool for a father.”

“He’s earned his position.” Raggedstar argues, though he’s backed against the far end of his den. Yellowfang, though a medicine cat, is still one of the most intimidating felines of the forest. “Foxheart’s passed, and he’s just finished training an apprentice.”

“Giving a warrior an apprentice is supposed to gauge if they’re ready to be deputy, not give them a free pass for the position!” Yellowfang spits. “Just look at what happened. Clawface is just as much of a fool as you. He’s a disaster. Bloodthirsty, battle-hungry. It’s a fight to keep his claws on this side of the border.”

“It’s not Brokentail’s fault how Clawface turned out. He was naturally headed in that direction. He did his best, and I’m sure his next apprentice will do better.” Raggedstar stands up straight, and marches over to her. He shoves his muzzle in her face, and whispers as quiet as a mouse’s breath, “Don’t you trust our son?”

Yellowfang takes a deep breath to steady herself, before shoving her muzzle back in his face. “No more than I trust a rat in the carrion place.”

When she leaves the den, Brokentail is sitting just outside. They make eye contact, and she realizes that he caught most of the conversation. For a horrible moment, she fears he heard Raggedstar’s words. But no, there was no confusion or hurt or any other feelings she would assume a cat finding out his true parentage would feel. Instead, there’s something cold in the pit of those amber eyes. It fills her with a sense of unease.

Yellowfang is sure she’s made an enemy of her son.

Moons go by, and it’s clear Brokentail is hungry for battle and territory. Raggedstar has a difficult time telling him no, however Yellowfang was quick to fill in the gaps. It was, in some strange, twisted way, as if they were a family. Yet Brokentail dragged them into skirmishes, started battles, lost them warriors and lost Raggedstar lives.

“You only have one life,” Raggedstar comments to his son, limping along. He’d sacrificed himself to save the idiot boy. “You ought not to be so foolish.”

Moons later, it was proven that even nine lives does not equal to eternity. Raggedstar was found in pieces, and Yellowfang could do nothing but mourn. He as a fine cat, a great warrior and a good leader for ShadowClan.

Her period of mourning was cut short when Brokentail received his nine lives, and proceeded to drive ShadowClan into the ground. She spoke out, yet it felt like her voice was the only one raised. The rest of the clan, raised on a diet of battles and violence, seemed to agree with him at first. And then, once kits were being sent out to war, unable to find their voices. It was for the greater good, after all. They drove out WindClan, after all, and got all this territory for their children. Their children, who Yellowfang pointed out with bitterness in her voice, who lay scattered and dead in WindClan camp.

She didn’t save Tallstar all those years ago, only to have him driven out of his own camp. She argued, fought, spat at Brokenstar, unwilling to let him continue any longer without fierce opposition.

“You never liked me, did you?” He interrupted her during one of her tirades.

She pauses, her mouth open. Then she shuts it. She closes her eyes, and sinks her claws into the ground, and chews on her words before she speaks them. “I did.”

“Old fool.”

She should have seen it coming. She should have realized he’d make sure she couldn’t oppose him any more.

She didn’t realize he would drive her not only from her position, but from her clan.

They had to have known that she didn’t kill those kits. Yet no one said a word, too afraid of the rogues in camp, too afraid of Brokenstar’s wrath. Too afraid of the ShadowClan they’d allowed to flourish under Brokenstar’s rule. She fled for her life, across the thunderpath where they would not follow her, into territory she’d barely ever stepped foot in. Into ThunderClan territory. Where she would meet a determined young apprentice, foolhardy enough to give her food. Who would grow into the finest warrior she’d ever seen. Even better than Raggedstar himself. A cat she could be proud to know.

StarClan was wrong. However hard her secret tried to follow her, it could not haunt her forever. As Fireheart stood over her, warmer than even the fire around her, she hurt from pride. She would have loved for him to have been her son, but this is how things were. He listened to her secret, and if he cast judgement, it did not reflect on his expression, which never shifted from panic. He would miss her. She would miss him.

But her secret was out, after all this time. And now she truly felt peace.

Judge me as you will, StarClan.

[strangely-constructed-soul]

190. “I’ll walk you home.” for Rowaelin please :)

Aelin was still crying softly as she stumbled home, high heels dangling from her fingers. It was her birthday, and she was miserable. A few blocks away from the restaurant, she slumped to the ground; her hands and feet curling in the soft summer grass.

It might have been a few minutes or a few hours when a quiet, yet rumbling masculine voice asked, “Fireheart, are you okay?” She started sobbing harder at that name that she didn’t deserve, the kindness from a man she didn’t deserve and couldn’t have.

A large, warm body plopped down beside hers. Despite the time of year, it was an unseasonably chilly night, and Aelin couldn’t stop her shiver at both the events of the night and at the cool breeze that raised goosebumps along her bare arms. The man beside her wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her so very gently to his chest.

Aelin sighed as she rested her head against the firm muscle of his shoulder. She was met with the intoxicating scent of pine and snow that embodied everything that was Rowan. Her tears began to stop falling as his hand soothingly stroked her hair.

“What happened?” He whispered lowly enough that she barely heard him.

“I can’t do this,” She muttered vaguely. He tilted his head to look at her, surprise that she had answered his question, understanding, and guilt filled his eyes.

“What do he do this time?” Rowan practically growled in reference to her boyfriend, Chaol.

Aelin sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” There it was. The line that they’d been walking for the past few months. The line that Aelin so desperately wanted to cross.

“I mean, it doesn’t matter because I broke up with him.” Rowan stilled. Aelin shifted out of his arms, instantly cold again.

“So... this has something to do with us?” He gestured between them with furrowed brows. Aelin laughed bitterly, standing up and brushing the grass off of her favorite black dress.

“There is no ‘us’, Rowan, there’s only me. And you and Lyria.” Hurt flashed through Rowan’s eyes. Aelin turned around to avoid him seeing the look of pain and longing that flashed through her own eyes, but Rowan stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“If you’ll let me explain, I’ll walk you home.” He silently pleaded with her, his placating gaze convincing Aelin with much more effectiveness than she’d care to admit.

Aelin reluctantly agreed, but she refused his jacket that he offered her. Eventually, though, Rowan wordlessly draped it over her shoulders. They walked in silence the next few blocks to her house.

When they finally got there, he handed her a card and a small box that had been wrapped with care and precision.

“These will explain everything. I’m so sorry, Aelin. I never meant to hurt you.” He took her free hand, tentatively placing a kiss to the back of it that made her shudder.

She opened the box first, knowing that the card must be some sort of apology that would subsequently wreck her. He watched with a strangely nervous expression as she gently tore the wrapping paper off of his gift. She lifted the lid of the box to find a beautiful oval-shaped golden locket. It was engraved with the words, “To whatever end.” on the front. She opened it to find a picture of him and her smiling at Christmas together last year.

“Thank you,” She whispered hoarsely. He smiled softly at her, and her heart picked up to a gallop in her chest. She couldn’t help the way that she reacted to him. Everything about him made her heart warm with longing.

With shaking hands, she opened the envelope. Inside, there was a card that Rowan had clearly made himself. Despite his creative shortcomings, the cartoon balloons and glued on confetti were surprisingly well placed and were pleasing to look at. She opened the card, expecting heartbreak at whatever kind but platonic apology he had written. She was surprised when she found that he hadn’t written anything.

“I need to explain myself, and I couldn’t do it in a card. You deserve the truth,” Rowan began, sheepishly scratching at his neck. Aelin nodded as indication for him to continue. “Six months ago, when you and Chaol started dating, I didn’t really think much about it. I was with Lyria, you were with Chaol; we were both happy. Then I slowly began to realize that I wasn’t.

“When you went to Rifthold and left for a whole month, I would have these awful nightmares that you were gone for good. Then, when you got back, you were different. You started to avoid me like the plague,” Guilt filled Aelin as she remembered how she had been horrified by her newfound attraction and feelings for Rowan. He continued, “I missed you, more than you could ever know. I would be at one of our favorite restaurants and instead of you being there with me, it was always Lyria. At first, I was confused because I didn’t want her to be there, and I thought it was just me missing my best friend. Then, I realized that I wouldn’t be happy unless it was you beside me, watching the sunset, teasing me for my ‘brutishness’, and making me feel complete and whole even on my worst of days. Anyways, I broke it off with Lyria. She knew it was because of you and had some very nasty things to say to me.”

Aelin’s eyes were filled with unshed tears. When the first year traced its way slowly down her cheekbone, Rowan’s hand reached up before jerking back. He must’ve thought that she didn’t want this, didn’t want him.

“Rowan, I- these past few months have been slowly killing me. I miss you so much every day. It only took me a few days in Rifthold of spending so much time with Chaol and not spending any with you for me to realize how I’ve always felt for you and how I always will feel about you.”

Rowan shook his head disbelievingly before taking a step back to create distance between them. “You don’t have to say that. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way that I do.” She frowned and- missing his warmth- took a step closer to him.

“It’s been killing me to see you with her, Rowan. I was going on a run and I saw you and her in our place. It hurt so bad, Rowan. I was still in denial. Seeing you then, I finally realized that I love you,” He looked shocked at that. “I’m in love with you, Rowan Whitethorn. I know you may need time, that you might not want this, but I’m always going to love you.” He went completely still at her words.

The next thing Aelin knew, their lips had collided, Rowan’s hands in her hair, her hands gripping his shoulders to pull him impossibly closer to her. They kissed like it was their last day on Earth, passionately and longing for more time to spend together. He pulled away first, staring straight into her eyes and filling her heart with the six words that she would remember until the end of time,

“I love you, to whatever end.”