#throne of glass fanficiton

[dealfea]

Rowan and Elia will always hit in a special way 😭 Rowan is been such a wonderful dad to her from day one 😭😍 thank you for this!! 😍😍😍

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

Same Time Thursday - Elia's Question

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

Rowan Week day 4: Dad Rowan @rowaelinscourt

eeee i love this oneshot so much, i hope you guys love it too

Credit to @justreadertings for her amazing headcanons that led me to this moment 🥺

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

15 years later

Elia was nearly shaking as she walked into the kitchen that evening, her hand clutching the paper tightly between her fingers. She didn’t know if she wanted to know, and yet she did. She needed to. 

Her parents had sat her down a few years ago to tell her about him, but it had been vague and just the barest of information. To be fair, she was only thirteen at that point, but it still didn’t hit at that urge to know more, to understand. 

Now she understood too much.

Nausea rose in her stomach as she saw her dad standing in the kitchen by the stove, beginning to prepare their dinner for the night. Her mom was still at the bookstore, and so were her two youngest siblings, Emmett and Emilia. Emerson and Eden were over at Uncle Lorcan’s and Aunt Elide’s with their cousins, and Eliott was sleeping over at a friend’s. 

So it was just her and her dad home. Her dad. He was still her dad.

“Hey dad?” Elia asked, her voice shaky. 

“Hey baby,” her dad said warmly, not hearing her tone nor her face. He was still facing the stove, making some sort of sauce on the stovetop. Rowan Whitethorn-Galathynius was the designated cook in the relationship, because it was common knowledge that Aelin Whitethorn-Galathynius could not cook to save her life. “How was ballet?”

Elia smiled weakly, walking slowly past the huge kitchen island to get closer to him. “It was good,” she fibbed. It’d been fine, they were working on their winter showcase and that was always fun, but her head had been so elsewhere that it had been a horrible rehearsal. 

Her dad turned to look at her then, his pale brows furrowed as he undoubtedly saw her emotions on her face. Then his gaze fell to what was in her hands and his face flattened into an expression of understanding.

“Where’d you find that?” He asked, not accusingly but lightly, like he was trying to keep the conversation comfortable. It was so him, so how he’d raised her her whole life that her eyes started watering. She sniffed to try and hide the tears, but she couldn’t, and her dad immediately turned to shut the stove off, crossing the space between them and enveloping her in a warm hug. 

Elia hadn’t meant to find the article. Maybe she had, she didn’t know. She’d been in her world history class, and they were doing a research project about big pop cultural moments in different countries in the past few decades. They’d spent the period today looking for sources and developing their research topics, and in a moment of morbid curiosity, Elia had typed his name in.

Arobynn Hamel

There’d been some basic biographical information at the top of the browser, but the link to this article had been right below. Feeling sicker and sicker, she’d read the whole thing, before shakingly asking her teacher to go to the library to print it out. 

Then she’d just stared at it until the bell rang, until she’d gone straight to dance and had to think about it for hours, until she could drive home, until now. 

“Everything’s okay,” her dad was murmuring to her, brushing her hair while she cried into his shirt. “It was a long time ago. He’s gone.” 

She wondered how often he had to say the same thing to her mom.

Elia pulled back slightly, wiping at her face and looking up at him. She was sixteen and nearly fully grown, but he still towered over her, well over six feet compared to her five feet and eight inches or so. 

She was her mom’s height, almost exactly. She had her mom’s nose, and her mom’s freckles, and her mom’s eyes. But not her mom’s hair.

“Can you tell me about him?” She asked quietly, wiping her eyes again, and her dad looked slightly surprised but nodded.

“Of course,” he said, gesturing for them to sit down at the island. Elia slid into one of the barstools, tucking her legs up under her. She’d changed into comfy clothes after getting home from rehearsal, and had taken out her tight bun, leaving her red hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. 

“What do you want to know?” Her dad asked, hooking his hands together on the kitchen counter. Their house was absurdly large, it had to be to fit six children and two full grown adults, but it always felt homey, and Elia had never appreciated that more than now.

“What was he like?” She asked, her voice trembling. Her dad loosed a heavy sigh.

“Well,” he said, “if I’m being honest, I only interacted with him once.” She was a little surprised by that, though she didn’t know why. She had no way of knowing all that had gone down in between her mom and dad meeting and his death, but she hadn’t expected that. 

“Once?” She asked, and he nodded. 

“He wasn’t exactly my biggest fan,” her dad said, smiling wryly, but Elia’s face just fell even more. He saw that and sighed again, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “I think I need to back up a little bit.” 

“Maybe,” Elia said, smiling slightly, and her dad chuckled a little bit, shaking his head.

“When I first met your mom, I was a complete asshole,” he said, smiling fondly, and Elia couldn’t help but laugh. “She put me in my place pretty quickly, and then I got to meet you.” He looked at her then with so much love that her eyes started watering again. “But that was just the beginning.”

And so he began to weave the story of Rowan Whitethorn and Aelin Galathynius, and how they’d ended up here. How he’d gotten pulled into her troubles in a little bit of a whirlwind, but once he realized what was going on had done everything possible to help. 

How slowly, her mom began to open up to him, and how he began to fall for her, but how he’d fallen for Elia first. Elia had known about her dad’s own past, and the child he’d lost, but it hurt all over again to see the tears in his eyes as he’d mentioned it. No matter how long it’d been, she was sure the wound still ached.

She squeezed his hand back at that part of the story.

She had tears in her own eyes the further along he got, especially when he got to the car wreck that they’d been in together. Elia had no memories of it of course, she’d been so young, but she’d heard the story many times. At least - how her dad’s car seat had saved her life. Not necessarily how they’d gotten into a wreck, that was new.

“The only time I met Arobynn Hamel was at Mistward,” her dad said, and Elia blinked in surprise, recognizing the name of her favorite coffee shop. “You were just a little over a year old at this point,” he continued, his eyes shadowed by decades old fear. “Aelin used to leave you with Emrys, to babysit.” Elia loved Emrys. He was a lot older now, but just as warm as he’d been when she was a kid. “But after that exam, we got back to the cafe to pick you up. We were going to go on vacation, for Yulemas, but we were too late.” A pit formed in her stomach. “Arobynn was there already - holding you.” 

Her dad hesitated to say the last part, and she knew why. She couldn’t remember it, but she was sure it’d been traumatic for her parents to walk in and see that. For her mom especially, to see her daughter in the hands that had brutalized her again and again. 

“I was so scared,” her dad said quietly, shaking his head, his voice full of emotion. “And angry, that you’d been pulled in as a pawn in his sick games.” 

Elia felt nauseous. 

“I assume you read it in the article,” her dad continued, “that your mom was forced to go back with him, and take you.” He sighed heavily, and tears pricked her eyes again. “She’s the bravest person I’ve ever known, and I will forever admire her strength, but waking up that morning to you two gone was the worst day of my life.” 

“Why did she do it?” Elia whispered. She knew why, but she needed to hear it again. Her dad pressed a quick kiss to her hand. 

“Because he was going to take you away, and I think your mom would rather die herself than see that happen,” he said, and Elia nodded, absorbing the information. 

A minute passed in companionable silence. Until -

“Fourteen, dad,” she whispered, “she was fourteen.” 

“I know,” he replied, and she could hear the utter heartbreak in his voice and see it in his face too. “I know.” And Elia couldn’t stop herself from leaning in to hug him again, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He hugged her back immediately, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Why don’t you talk to her about this?” He asked after he pulled back. “If it’s bothering you.”

“I don’t want to…” she trailed off, feeling shy. Her face was probably red. But he guessed it, smiling slightly. 

“Upset her?” He asked, and she nodded, realizing how silly it was. “Sweetheart, your mom went back to a monster to protect you. I think she would actually really appreciate knowing you felt comfortable talking to her about it all.” 

“You’re right,” Elia said, nodding and tucking her hair behind her ear. But - “how is she? How does she handle it all?” 

Her dad sighed, running a hand through his hair briefly. Sometimes she forgot how young her parents were. All of her friends had parents well into their forties, well into middle age. Her dad was 37, and her mom was only 36.

“She has good days and bad days,” he said honestly, “about what you’d expect.” Elia nodded in agreement. She didn’t think you could get away from that unscathed. Even if she couldn’t even imagine it, nor did she really want to picture it happening to her mom. Her mom, the woman who’d given birth to her at the young age of twenty, who’d raised her as a single mom until Rowan came along, who’d been by her side day by day, year by year. 

She didn’t even want to think about it. She just wanted to go upstairs and cuddle with Fleetfoot, the dog her mom had gotten for her over a decade ago. Fleetfoot was getting pretty old, but she was still Elia’s favorite cuddle buddy. 

“Thanks for talking to me,” Elia said after a minute, not looking at her dad. She wiped her face and stood up off of the barstool, unable to process the emotions still swirling inside of her. She couldn’t process what was actually bothering her - what her place was in all of this. 

“Any time,” her dad said, standing up too and looking at her fondly. “I hope I answered what you were looking for.” Elia nodded vaguely again, turning to face the hallway, like she was going to leave. Until she blurted out -

“You’re my real dad, right?” 

There was a pause, slight tension hanging in the room as she fought the turmoil inside of her. The turmoil she felt every time she looked in the mirror and saw herself, saw the mixing of her mom’s and his features. The turmoil she felt as she wondered if she was a constant reminder to her mom of the pain she’d felt. If the horror that she’d been conceived in somehow meant that something about her was fundamentally … wrong.

He still wasn’t answering, so Elia started rambling, desperate to fill in the silence. “Like, I know you are and of course you are, you’ve always been there for me and you love me, but sometimes I look at Eliott, and I look at Emerson and Eden, and Emilia and Emmett and I wonder if I’m too different.” Her vision was blurry as she looked back at her dad, his face tender and sorrowful. “If something in me is broken and still connected to that man. If somehow… I’m not good enough to be part of this family.” 

“Hey,” her dad cut her off, stepping forward and resting his hands on her shoulders. “It does not matter whatsoever if you have red hair or silver hair or blonde hair,” he shook his head. “You’re always going to be my daughter.” The words were sincere and her throat became tight with emotion. “The day you first called me dad was one of the best days of my life. This family would not be the same without you,” he insisted. “Not at all, okay?” 

Elia sniffed and nodded, feeling the words wash over her. Her dad let the words sit for a moment before leaning in and kissing her forehead once. 

“I love you, firefly,” he said, using her old nickname. “Don’t ever feel like you can’t talk to us about this stuff alright? We’re here for you.” 

“I know,” she said quietly, “I love you, too.” Silence fell, and she stayed in it for a minute, before saying, “I think I will talk to mom about it,” sniffing and nodding at the words. Her dad smiled softly. 

“I’m glad,” he said, before reaching out and ruffling her hair, making her laugh. 

Just then, the sounds of the lock in the front door jiggling hit her ears and Elia turned, seeing the door open and her mom walk through. 

“I’m very sorry you left your toy,” she was saying to Emmett, who was clutching her leg as she was trying to walk and crying. “But I’ll be back tomorrow and I’ll grab it then. We’re not going back tonight.” 

“But mama-” Emmett started whining, and her mom just huffed, maneuvering awkwardly with the weight on her as she turned to shut the door behind them. At two years old, he was still a basket case.

Seven year old Emilia was skipping around them both, giggling about something or other, and the chaotic sight was so familiar it made Elia laugh, even with her puffy eyes. 

“Daddy!” Emilia suddenly shouted, racing over to where their dad had moved back to the stovetop, turning it on again. He let out an oof as Emilia collided with the back of his legs, and paused cooking again to bend down and pick her up, setting her on the counter next to him.

After seeing that, Emmett was immediately fine, and followed his older sister’s steps, running and jumping at their dad too. He just chuckled and bent down to pick him up, holding him with one arm as he went back to cooking. 

But not before shooting a wink at her. 

“Kids,” her mom huffed jokingly, kicking off her shoes in the hallway, taking off her tote bag and hanging it up on the rack where it hung every time she was home. “Hey sweetheart,” she said, when she noticed Elia standing nearby. “How was your day?” 

In almost the same exact amount of time as her dad, her mom noticed something was off, and her brows furrowed. Elia just walked up to her, giving her a big hug. Her mom was briefly surprised, but hugged her back, kissing her cheek warmly. 

Elia was nearly crying again as she pulled back, especially as her mom tucked a piece of her red hair behind her ear. She breathed in shakily before asking “Can we talk?”

----

taglist:

@wordsafterhours

@romancinghollywood

@superspiritfestival

@wishfulimaginings

@larisssss

@punkassbookjockey26

@shyvioletcat

@aelinchocolatelover

@s-uppertime

@leiawritesstories

@elentiyawhitethorn

@backtobl4ck

@goddess-aelin

@fromthelibraryofemilyj

@justreadertings

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life

@swankii-art-teacher

@tomtenadia

@highqueenofelfhame

@firestarsandseneschals

@thegreyj

@mariamuses

@house-of-galathynius

@rowanaelinn

@llyncooljones

@story-scribbler

@charlizeed

@bookcide

@elizarikaallen

@slytherhys

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@rowaelinrambling

@courtofjurdan

@peppermint-fae

[morganofthewildfire]

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

The Best Things Always Are

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

@shyvioletcat and @house-of-galathynius you guys have put me in the baby fic mood 😂 so enjoy this little oneshot, i wrote it in like an hour

~1.7k words

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

Aelin stared at the test in front of her, not believing what was right in front of her eyes. She knew it was a possibility, knew she and Rowan had had a few times where their passion had made them a little less careful, but it was still a shock to see those two lines staring back at her.

She’d started feeling nauseous a few days before, and had been unusually tired and snappy. She’d thought it was just her period, as she always felt it badly, but when she checked her tracker and realized she was already two weeks late, she’d gone to the convenience store nearby.

Taking a pregnancy test in a communal bathroom hadn’t been ideal, and she’d debated between staying in the stall or going back to her dorm room to wait for the results, but in the end she’d stayed there. Her roommate was due to get home at any time, and she hadn’t wanted to deal with that at the same time.

Especially with who it was. 

After moving thousands of miles away from her hometown for college, having gotten a crazy difficult acceptance to the prestigious University of Doranelle, she’d had to pick a random roommate. Leaving her with Remelle LaFleur. 

She hated the girl, and the feeling was clearly mutual. From move in day to now, their relationship had never been anything less than tense. 

In fact, Rowan had been the only good thing to come out of college so far. Sure the education was great, and she didn’t regret choosing here over the University of Terrasen, but she hadn’t exactly found her place socially yet. 

She and Rowan had met at the beginning of the summer semester. It’d been a requirement of her acceptance, that she started early in the summer instead of in the fall with everyone else. It essentially meant her academics were good, but not quite good enough for regular acceptance. Aelin just took what she could get.

Rowan Whitethorn was a sophomore already, and they’d met in one of her classes: Survey of Doranellian Literature. It was an introduction class for her major, and one for his minor, and they’d ended up sitting next to each other. It’d been a whirlwind of a summer, starting from rivals, to rivals with benefits, to weirdly friends with benefits, to finally admitting feelings by the start of the fall semester. Gods she read too much.

They’d really only been officially dating for two months. What the hell was she going to say?

Aelin let out a shaky sigh, curling her legs under herself as she sat on her bed and stared down at the test. A stray tear slipped out of her eye and she wiped it away before it fell down her cheek. Her heart was already beating fast, but the more she sat there the more panicky she began to feel.

Gods. How the hell was she supposed to do this? What the hell was she supposed to do? 

She shoved herself off her bed, pacing back and forth across the pink rug Remelle had bought. Most of the decor in the room was hers; Aelin had been confined to just her bed and her desk, which was just a tiny corner of the room. 

Whatever, she spent most of her time at Rowan’s apartment anyway. 

Rowan. 

How in Hellas was she going to tell him? She scrubbed at her face with her hands, her head aching horribly. 

The distinct sound of the door unlocking reached her ears and Aelin straightened immediately, shoving the test in the pocket of her sweatpants. Remelle sauntered into the room, throwing her bag on her bed without even acknowledging her. 

Aelin didn’t say anything either. 

She’d luckily been able to room on her own for the summer, but these two months she’d been dealing with Remelle had been pure hell. She always had a gaggle of friends with her, caring little to none about Aelin’s personal space and her input on the decorum in their room. 

There’d been multiple times already this semester that Remelle had brought guys back to the room, not caring that Aelin was there. Aelin took those opportunities to go over to Rowan’s place, which led to their own activities. Which led to now.

Remelle had pulled out her phone and was already chatting with someone on facetime, so Aelin just grabbed her keys and slid on her shoes, heading out of the dorm. 

It didn’t take long to get outside, and once she was she was glad she had on her University of Doranelle sweatshirt. Well, Rowan’s University of Doranelle sweatshirt. They were well into fall, and it was already cold outside.

The cold air made her eyes water even more, and she wiped her face with the sleeve to stop the tears from spilling once again. She barely even registered the walk before she was at the main campus plaza, tucked on a bench away from the main lawn. Crowds of people were gathered in various places, laughing and chatting, or even studying, laptops and textbooks scattered across the place.

Aelin just curled up on the bench, staring blankly until her phone rang.

She felt disconnected from her body as she reached for it, not even looking at the screen as she answered it.

“Hey baby,” Rowan’s voice came warmly, and Aelin felt tears gathering again. “I just wanted to see what you were up to, if you wanted to grab some coffee.” 

Coffee sounded wonderful, but at the sharp realization that she couldn’t even have real coffee anymore - a sob escaped her. 

She covered her mouth quickly, trying to hide the sound, but it was too late.

“Aelin?” her boyfriend asked, concerned. “Are you alright?” 

“No,” she croaked out, shaking her head. She couldn’t lie to him. “I’m not.” 

She could hear shuffling on his end, like he was getting up, and the distinct sound of a door opening and closing. Aelin couldn’t stop her tears.

“Hey, where are you?” He asked, his keys jingling in the background. “Are you at your dorm?” 

She sniffed, croaking out another no. “I’m at the plaza,” she answered weakly. 

“Okay, I’m on my way,” Rowan said, “I’ll be there soon.” 

Aelin hung up after that, wiping her face with both sleeves of his sweatshirt in a pointless attempt to stop the tears. Well, at this point she was just trying not to draw stares. She was in a more secluded part of the plaza, under some trees and off to the side, but she still didn’t want to draw too much attention.

She rested her hand on the front of the sweatshirt, clutching the dark blue material, as she waited for him. She didn’t know how much time passed, but soon enough Rowan was sliding onto the bench next to her, his silvery brows furrowed.

All he needed to do was look at her like that, with so much love, and she collapsed into his arms, crying a bit hysterically. She couldn’t quite catch a breath, but she tried to calm herself down, relaxing into his grip. Rowan was running a hand up and down her back soothingly, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. 

Eventually her tears slowed and she took a few deep breaths, head burrowed in Rowan’s neck. 

“What’s wrong, love?” He asked quietly, and Aelin slowly pulled back, wiping at the mascara streaks undoubtedly on her face. A quick glance around showed no one was paying attention, and with a thump of her heart she reached into her pocket, emerging with the pregnancy test.

She handed it to him and tucked her knees into her chest as she waited for him to process the revelation. All he was doing was staring down at the piece of plastic, his face unreadable. And the longer it took, the more nerves fluttered through her. 

“I took it this morning,” she said weakly. “I don’t know how long it’s been.” 

Her lips started to tremble again as he loosed a breath, nodding his head before looking up at her. 

“You’re pregnant,” Rowan said simply, and she nodded back, wiping at her face again. 

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence fell over them again and she tucked her chin onto her knees, looking at him warily. But then he smiled softly.

“There’s a little us in there,” he said, and it was so unexpected a small laugh escaped her. 

“I suppose there is,” Aelin said, sniffing. He was looking at her so lovingly that she felt warmth spread throughout her whole body, but she couldn’t fight the fear. “What are we going to do?” She whispered, and he sighed, turning to face her properly. 

He reached out a hand, grabbing hers on the bench gently.

“Whatever you choose to do,” he said softly. “I will be right there by your side.” He shrugged, looking confident and strong, and she sought out that strength. “I have savings, I’ll get a job, you can move in with me or stay in your dorm for however long you want. We can kick Remelle out and live there,” he said with a smile, making her chuckle. “But just know that I will help you through this. I’m not going to abandon either of you.” 

He gripped her hand tightly when he said that, looking at her intently, and she nodded, breathing in shakily. She believed him. 

“I’m scared,’ she admitted quietly, and he pulled her into his arms again, brushing a hand through her golden locks. 

“I am too,” he said just as quietly, and somehow the admission made her feel better. “But hey,” he said, pulling back and smiling down at her. “You’re going to be an amazing mother.” 

Aelin smiled back at him, a watery smile. But - “It’s not supposed to happen like this,” she said, shaking her head. “We’re in college, Rowan. I’m eighteen years old. I can’t be a mother. I don’t know how.” 

Rowan just grabbed her hand again, pressing a kiss to the back of it. 

“It’s certainly unexpected,” he said, and she nearly chuckled again at the sheer understatement. “But the best things always are.”

Aelin sighed heavily, resting her forehead against his. Their hands were still interlocked, but his other one went to rest on her stomach through his sweatshirt. 

“I love you,” she whispered, the words foreign yet so familiar. She’d never said them to him before. But it was true.

Rowan smiled, saying “I love you,” before leaning in to kiss her softly. “And I love our baby, too.”

-------

taglist:

@wordsafterhours

@romancinghollywood

@superspiritfestival

@wishfulimaginings

@larisssss

@punkassbookjockey26

@shyvioletcat

@aelinchocolatelover

@s-uppertime

@leiawritesstories

@elentiyawhitethorn

@backtobl4ck

@goddess-aelin

@fromthelibraryofemilyj

@justreadertings

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life

@swankii-art-teacher

@tomtenadia

@highqueenofelfhame

@firestarsandseneschals

@thegreyj

@mariamuses

@house-of-galathynius

@rowanaelinn

@llyncooljones

@story-scribbler

@charlizeed

@bookcide

@elizarikaallen

@slytherhys

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@rowaelinrambling

@courtofjurdan

@peppermint-fae

[morganofthewildfire]

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

Same Time Thursday - Elia's Question

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

Rowan Week day 4: Dad Rowan @rowaelinscourt

eeee i love this oneshot so much, i hope you guys love it too

Credit to @justreadertings for her amazing headcanons that led me to this moment 🥺

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

15 years later

Elia was nearly shaking as she walked into the kitchen that evening, her hand clutching the paper tightly between her fingers. She didn’t know if she wanted to know, and yet she did. She needed to. 

Her parents had sat her down a few years ago to tell her about him, but it had been vague and just the barest of information. To be fair, she was only thirteen at that point, but it still didn’t hit at that urge to know more, to understand. 

Now she understood too much.

Nausea rose in her stomach as she saw her dad standing in the kitchen by the stove, beginning to prepare their dinner for the night. Her mom was still at the bookstore, and so were her two youngest siblings, Emmett and Emilia. Emerson and Eden were over at Uncle Lorcan’s and Aunt Elide’s with their cousins, and Eliott was sleeping over at a friend’s. 

So it was just her and her dad home. Her dad. He was still her dad.

“Hey dad?” Elia asked, her voice shaky. 

“Hey baby,” her dad said warmly, not hearing her tone nor her face. He was still facing the stove, making some sort of sauce on the stovetop. Rowan Whitethorn-Galathynius was the designated cook in the relationship, because it was common knowledge that Aelin Whitethorn-Galathynius could not cook to save her life. “How was ballet?”

Elia smiled weakly, walking slowly past the huge kitchen island to get closer to him. “It was good,” she fibbed. It’d been fine, they were working on their winter showcase and that was always fun, but her head had been so elsewhere that it had been a horrible rehearsal. 

Her dad turned to look at her then, his pale brows furrowed as he undoubtedly saw her emotions on her face. Then his gaze fell to what was in her hands and his face flattened into an expression of understanding.

“Where’d you find that?” He asked, not accusingly but lightly, like he was trying to keep the conversation comfortable. It was so him, so how he’d raised her her whole life that her eyes started watering. She sniffed to try and hide the tears, but she couldn’t, and her dad immediately turned to shut the stove off, crossing the space between them and enveloping her in a warm hug. 

Elia hadn’t meant to find the article. Maybe she had, she didn’t know. She’d been in her world history class, and they were doing a research project about big pop cultural moments in different countries in the past few decades. They’d spent the period today looking for sources and developing their research topics, and in a moment of morbid curiosity, Elia had typed his name in.

Arobynn Hamel

There’d been some basic biographical information at the top of the browser, but the link to this article had been right below. Feeling sicker and sicker, she’d read the whole thing, before shakingly asking her teacher to go to the library to print it out. 

Then she’d just stared at it until the bell rang, until she’d gone straight to dance and had to think about it for hours, until she could drive home, until now. 

“Everything’s okay,” her dad was murmuring to her, brushing her hair while she cried into his shirt. “It was a long time ago. He’s gone.” 

She wondered how often he had to say the same thing to her mom.

Elia pulled back slightly, wiping at her face and looking up at him. She was sixteen and nearly fully grown, but he still towered over her, well over six feet compared to her five feet and eight inches or so. 

She was her mom’s height, almost exactly. She had her mom’s nose, and her mom’s freckles, and her mom’s eyes. But not her mom’s hair.

“Can you tell me about him?” She asked quietly, wiping her eyes again, and her dad looked slightly surprised but nodded.

“Of course,” he said, gesturing for them to sit down at the island. Elia slid into one of the barstools, tucking her legs up under her. She’d changed into comfy clothes after getting home from rehearsal, and had taken out her tight bun, leaving her red hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. 

“What do you want to know?” Her dad asked, hooking his hands together on the kitchen counter. Their house was absurdly large, it had to be to fit six children and two full grown adults, but it always felt homey, and Elia had never appreciated that more than now.

“What was he like?” She asked, her voice trembling. Her dad loosed a heavy sigh.

“Well,” he said, “if I’m being honest, I only interacted with him once.” She was a little surprised by that, though she didn’t know why. She had no way of knowing all that had gone down in between her mom and dad meeting and his death, but she hadn’t expected that. 

“Once?” She asked, and he nodded. 

“He wasn’t exactly my biggest fan,” her dad said, smiling wryly, but Elia’s face just fell even more. He saw that and sighed again, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “I think I need to back up a little bit.” 

“Maybe,” Elia said, smiling slightly, and her dad chuckled a little bit, shaking his head.

“When I first met your mom, I was a complete asshole,” he said, smiling fondly, and Elia couldn’t help but laugh. “She put me in my place pretty quickly, and then I got to meet you.” He looked at her then with so much love that her eyes started watering again. “But that was just the beginning.”

And so he began to weave the story of Rowan Whitethorn and Aelin Galathynius, and how they’d ended up here. How he’d gotten pulled into her troubles in a little bit of a whirlwind, but once he realized what was going on had done everything possible to help. 

How slowly, her mom began to open up to him, and how he began to fall for her, but how he’d fallen for Elia first. Elia had known about her dad’s own past, and the child he’d lost, but it hurt all over again to see the tears in his eyes as he’d mentioned it. No matter how long it’d been, she was sure the wound still ached.

She squeezed his hand back at that part of the story.

She had tears in her own eyes the further along he got, especially when he got to the car wreck that they’d been in together. Elia had no memories of it of course, she’d been so young, but she’d heard the story many times. At least - how her dad’s car seat had saved her life. Not necessarily how they’d gotten into a wreck, that was new.

“The only time I met Arobynn Hamel was at Mistward,” her dad said, and Elia blinked in surprise, recognizing the name of her favorite coffee shop. “You were just a little over a year old at this point,” he continued, his eyes shadowed by decades old fear. “Aelin used to leave you with Emrys, to babysit.” Elia loved Emrys. He was a lot older now, but just as warm as he’d been when she was a kid. “But after that exam, we got back to the cafe to pick you up. We were going to go on vacation, for Yulemas, but we were too late.” A pit formed in her stomach. “Arobynn was there already - holding you.” 

Her dad hesitated to say the last part, and she knew why. She couldn’t remember it, but she was sure it’d been traumatic for her parents to walk in and see that. For her mom especially, to see her daughter in the hands that had brutalized her again and again. 

“I was so scared,” her dad said quietly, shaking his head, his voice full of emotion. “And angry, that you’d been pulled in as a pawn in his sick games.” 

Elia felt nauseous. 

“I assume you read it in the article,” her dad continued, “that your mom was forced to go back with him, and take you.” He sighed heavily, and tears pricked her eyes again. “She’s the bravest person I’ve ever known, and I will forever admire her strength, but waking up that morning to you two gone was the worst day of my life.” 

“Why did she do it?” Elia whispered. She knew why, but she needed to hear it again. Her dad pressed a quick kiss to her hand. 

“Because he was going to take you away, and I think your mom would rather die herself than see that happen,” he said, and Elia nodded, absorbing the information. 

A minute passed in companionable silence. Until -

“Fourteen, dad,” she whispered, “she was fourteen.” 

“I know,” he replied, and she could hear the utter heartbreak in his voice and see it in his face too. “I know.” And Elia couldn’t stop herself from leaning in to hug him again, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He hugged her back immediately, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Why don’t you talk to her about this?” He asked after he pulled back. “If it’s bothering you.”

“I don’t want to…” she trailed off, feeling shy. Her face was probably red. But he guessed it, smiling slightly. 

“Upset her?” He asked, and she nodded, realizing how silly it was. “Sweetheart, your mom went back to a monster to protect you. I think she would actually really appreciate knowing you felt comfortable talking to her about it all.” 

“You’re right,” Elia said, nodding and tucking her hair behind her ear. But - “how is she? How does she handle it all?” 

Her dad sighed, running a hand through his hair briefly. Sometimes she forgot how young her parents were. All of her friends had parents well into their forties, well into middle age. Her dad was 37, and her mom was only 36.

“She has good days and bad days,” he said honestly, “about what you’d expect.” Elia nodded in agreement. She didn’t think you could get away from that unscathed. Even if she couldn’t even imagine it, nor did she really want to picture it happening to her mom. Her mom, the woman who’d given birth to her at the young age of twenty, who’d raised her as a single mom until Rowan came along, who’d been by her side day by day, year by year. 

She didn’t even want to think about it. She just wanted to go upstairs and cuddle with Fleetfoot, the dog her mom had gotten for her over a decade ago. Fleetfoot was getting pretty old, but she was still Elia’s favorite cuddle buddy. 

“Thanks for talking to me,” Elia said after a minute, not looking at her dad. She wiped her face and stood up off of the barstool, unable to process the emotions still swirling inside of her. She couldn’t process what was actually bothering her - what her place was in all of this. 

“Any time,” her dad said, standing up too and looking at her fondly. “I hope I answered what you were looking for.” Elia nodded vaguely again, turning to face the hallway, like she was going to leave. Until she blurted out -

“You’re my real dad, right?” 

There was a pause, slight tension hanging in the room as she fought the turmoil inside of her. The turmoil she felt every time she looked in the mirror and saw herself, saw the mixing of her mom’s and his features. The turmoil she felt as she wondered if she was a constant reminder to her mom of the pain she’d felt. If the horror that she’d been conceived in somehow meant that something about her was fundamentally … wrong.

He still wasn’t answering, so Elia started rambling, desperate to fill in the silence. “Like, I know you are and of course you are, you’ve always been there for me and you love me, but sometimes I look at Eliott, and I look at Emerson and Eden, and Emilia and Emmett and I wonder if I’m too different.” Her vision was blurry as she looked back at her dad, his face tender and sorrowful. “If something in me is broken and still connected to that man. If somehow… I’m not good enough to be part of this family.” 

“Hey,” her dad cut her off, stepping forward and resting his hands on her shoulders. “It does not matter whatsoever if you have red hair or silver hair or blonde hair,” he shook his head. “You’re always going to be my daughter.” The words were sincere and her throat became tight with emotion. “The day you first called me dad was one of the best days of my life. This family would not be the same without you,” he insisted. “Not at all, okay?” 

Elia sniffed and nodded, feeling the words wash over her. Her dad let the words sit for a moment before leaning in and kissing her forehead once. 

“I love you, firefly,” he said, using her old nickname. “Don’t ever feel like you can’t talk to us about this stuff alright? We’re here for you.” 

“I know,” she said quietly, “I love you, too.” Silence fell, and she stayed in it for a minute, before saying, “I think I will talk to mom about it,” sniffing and nodding at the words. Her dad smiled softly. 

“I’m glad,” he said, before reaching out and ruffling her hair, making her laugh. 

Just then, the sounds of the lock in the front door jiggling hit her ears and Elia turned, seeing the door open and her mom walk through. 

“I’m very sorry you left your toy,” she was saying to Emmett, who was clutching her leg as she was trying to walk and crying. “But I’ll be back tomorrow and I’ll grab it then. We’re not going back tonight.” 

“But mama-” Emmett started whining, and her mom just huffed, maneuvering awkwardly with the weight on her as she turned to shut the door behind them. At two years old, he was still a basket case.

Seven year old Emilia was skipping around them both, giggling about something or other, and the chaotic sight was so familiar it made Elia laugh, even with her puffy eyes. 

“Daddy!” Emilia suddenly shouted, racing over to where their dad had moved back to the stovetop, turning it on again. He let out an oof as Emilia collided with the back of his legs, and paused cooking again to bend down and pick her up, setting her on the counter next to him.

After seeing that, Emmett was immediately fine, and followed his older sister’s steps, running and jumping at their dad too. He just chuckled and bent down to pick him up, holding him with one arm as he went back to cooking. 

But not before shooting a wink at her. 

“Kids,” her mom huffed jokingly, kicking off her shoes in the hallway, taking off her tote bag and hanging it up on the rack where it hung every time she was home. “Hey sweetheart,” she said, when she noticed Elia standing nearby. “How was your day?” 

In almost the same exact amount of time as her dad, her mom noticed something was off, and her brows furrowed. Elia just walked up to her, giving her a big hug. Her mom was briefly surprised, but hugged her back, kissing her cheek warmly. 

Elia was nearly crying again as she pulled back, especially as her mom tucked a piece of her red hair behind her ear. She breathed in shakily before asking “Can we talk?”

----

taglist:

@wordsafterhours

@romancinghollywood

@superspiritfestival

@wishfulimaginings

@larisssss

@punkassbookjockey26

@shyvioletcat

@aelinchocolatelover

@s-uppertime

@leiawritesstories

@elentiyawhitethorn

@backtobl4ck

@goddess-aelin

@fromthelibraryofemilyj

@justreadertings

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life

@swankii-art-teacher

@tomtenadia

@highqueenofelfhame

@firestarsandseneschals

@thegreyj

@mariamuses

@house-of-galathynius

@rowanaelinn

@llyncooljones

@story-scribbler

@charlizeed

@bookcide

@elizarikaallen

@slytherhys

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@rowaelinrambling

@courtofjurdan

@peppermint-fae