#true ​daughter of terrasen

[acourtofquestions]

Never thought of this one this way (until a fan pointed it out to me today); but

Arobynn Hamel is Celaena Sardothien’s

Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve

like LITERALLY

“give me back my girlhood it was mine first”

[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part three

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again, and deal with the fall-out of your secret. 

Warnings: violence, descriptions of violence, death, minor injury, drinking

Word Count: ~5.3k

A/N: more rowaelin in the next chapter! coming late tonight/tomorrow if everything goes according to plan

series masterlist

True to their word, you didn’t see Aelin or Rowan before their departure yesterday. Fenrys came by once, letting you know they’d spoken to the future Emperor and Empress, and that they’d be keeping an eye out for you. You never saw them, but you sensed their presence. It brought a small bit of comfort. Not enough to let your guard down. 

Overwhelmed. That’s how you felt. Ceri and Ani seemed thrilled at the ‘new adventure,’ even more excited it was a secret, that they couldn’t tell anyone exactly when they were leaving and where they were going. Reya had been a mixture of contemplation and excitement but you - you were an anxious mess. 

New challenges, and more exposure you couldn't avoid. You were nervous for Ceri, above all. Nervous about how she’d be treated, about what this meant for her. At least she’d have her best friend with her. The vague plan was to visit a few different parts of Terrasen, starting with Orynth, and if the trial went well, it would be a group decision on where to settle. 

“You’re nervous.” Reya commented, you shot her a look and she held her hands up in a placating gesture. “Have you decided what to do with your home?” 

Home. A pleasant surprise in your mother’s will. A home you fully intended to keep in the family. But, Reya’s asking if you’ll rent it out or not. It would be easy to let magic seal it up, but if you rented it, you could deposit the money into a bank account and leave you with a fund if you ended up back here. 

The last week had been a gods-damned whirlwind, giving you barely a moment to rest. Liquidating your assets, downsizing, late nights finishing up projects, informing vendors you’d no longer have goods available, pulling the girls from school, and more. 

“Renting would be a good option,” you finally replied. Reya nodded, she was doing the same thing - and you trusted her sister to take care of both properties - for a fee of course. At least there was someone you could trust. 

“They’re going stir-crazy,” Reya commented. You could see it too, the frustration on their faces at being cooped up. “The park is right around the corner.” 

“It’s risky,” you hesitated. 

“We all need it.” 

You couldn’t argue with that, or with the excitement on their faces as you told them. Still, you slipped a trusted knife into a sheath under your dress. On the way, Reya reminded them to keep their ‘adventure’ secret. To answer ‘I don’t know,’ if anyone asks questions, and to inform the two of you. No chances. 

There were a few other women there you vaguely recognized, and children both Ani and Ceri sprinted towards. They climbed over the various obstacles, running around and making up different games. Ceri, of course, took the lead in organizing everyone, directing them like a general. What would Rowan think if he was here? Probably pride. And maybe alarm at just how wild his daughter ran. Her Fae heritage let run and climb faster, and it took away a certain sense of self-preservation.

“Will she be immortal as well?” Reya murmured quietly. 

“Most likely,” you admitted. Maybe in a selfish way, you really hoped she would. If you had to watch her grow old … you shoved the thought to the back of your mind. There was enough to worry about for now. 

Three hours later, the two of them exhausted enough energy to start asking for dinner, and agreed to leave. The break was good for you, the fresh air and walk in your city calming your nerves. Another chance to see it - your shelter and safe haven. 

Ceri held your hand on the twenty minute walk, chattering about the games she’d played, her enthusiasm and joy confectious. Ani was doing the same to Reya in front of you. 

Just around the corner, the hair on the back of your neck pricked. Something was wrong. 

“Reya,” you called, voice just drifting over the wind, laced with warning. Her head swirled, the whites around her eyes showing and you mouthed; act natural. Letting your senses take over, you listened in for movements, for heartbeats, for whatever the hell was out there. 

A magic you didn’t recognize was present, and probing at the wards on your home. A male, mortal, magic wielder. Across the street, but still too gods-damned close. You needed to get inside, to get into safety. 

Throwing up what you hoped was a discreet shield, you kept your pace and body language natural as you approached. First thing you learned; don’t let them know. But, Ceri had picked up on it, her hand tightening around yours, head on a swivel. Quickly, you spared a glance at her; trust me, you tried to say, and she gave you a small nod. You prayed you’d show yourself worthy of that trust in the next few minutes. Maybe some of the emperor and empresses ‘eyes’ were nearby. But, no sense in hoping or relying for something that might not be true. 

Thirty paces away, male disappeared, cloaked from your sight- but you could sense his location. Reya fell back with Ani to walk next to you.  It was Ceri they were after, and that brought lethal focus to your mind. Let those instincts rise, the instinct to protect your family and friends. 

Ten paces, Reya’s nerves were showing but she kept herself loose, putting her trust in you. 

Everything happened within a minute, but each second dragged on. You had the seconds to shove them back behind the gate, throwing the wards up. Reya knew to drag the girl’s inside - Ceri’s yells and shouts echoing in your ears. If you went in as well, there wasn’t anyone to stop him from trying to shatter the magic, and you couldn’t do shit from behind them. 

The bits of training you picked up over the years came into play, the glint of a knife in front of you, and you thanked the immortal reactions and senses you’d been born with - gifting you an advantage. A knife flew to your shoulder, you dodged, shifting again as he threw another - shallowly slicing across your cheek. You palmed your one fighting knife, the pain fading into the background, and slashed across his forearm, severing his tendons. The dagger clattered, metal echoing off the cobblestones, copper scent filling the air. 

He spat a curse, and you danced around each other, before landing another slice. Blood spurted from his arm in rivets - eerily like a fountain, and you heard the whistle. 

An archer on the opposite roof, gesturing to the side. They needed a shot that wouldn’t risk hitting you. You hoped they’d leave him alive - you had several questions for him. They got their shot a second later, and you watched as an arrow lodged through the man’s skull, his body flopping to the pavement in front of you. So much for your questions. 

You prayed Reya had shielded their view. 

A plain-clothed guard was there in seconds, and you let your back hit the wall behind you, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, and used your dress to clean the blood from your knife. It was ruined anyway, a little more blood wouldn’t make a difference. The strange sense and scent of death filled the air as slid it back into your sheath, focusing on one movement at a time, keeping yourself grounded. 

You tried, you really tried, not to hate Rowan in that moment. It’s not his fault, not his fault he’s the father. He’d mentioned the target, the risk and dangers, but it hadn’t quite set in until that moment. Stupid, you were stupid for leaving the house. If anything, it was your fault. By some miracle, none of your neighbors were peeking their nosy heads out. 

Reya’s muffled voice came from the garden. Gods, she must be screaming at the top of her lungs for you to hear her. You turned, giving her a ‘thumbs up.’ It felt childish, considering someone had just threatened your lives, but she returned with a tense smile, one arm barely holding back a furious Ceri. Ani tucked behind her, head just poking out. 

“I’m fine,” you mouthed to your daughter. She signed back - you were a bit surprised she remembered that language, it had been a while since you used it. 

You’re bleeding. 

Not my blood. I need you to keep Ani calm. 

Give her something to do, a task, and she’d focus on it. Sure enough, it worked and she tugged her friend back inside. 

The guards had multiplied, at least seven of them on the surrounding street now. And - a certain blonde haired male sprinting down the street. Fenrys stood by your side as you answered all of their questions. The magic shielding the house behind you didn’t waver, not for one second. 

“You should get that looked at,” Fenrys murmured, as the body was carted off, a small crowd dispersing, and one official-looking woman promising updates. 

“Hm?” Your eyes flicked to him. He gestured to your cheek, to the cut already healing.  

“It scarred.”  

The small sting had faded to the back of your mind. Frowning, you ran two fingers over your face, an angry raised red line. That shouldn’t be there, not unless … you crouched to the ground, snatching the same knife that cut you. 

“Iron,” you murmured. 

“Still shouldn’t leave a scar,” Fenrys took a step closer, eyeing the weapon. 

You twisted the blade in your hand, surprised the guards hadn’t already picked it up. Marks etched into the handle, marks you recognized. 

“He was a magic wielder,” you had his full attention now, “it’s not … cursed, but enchanted to leave a scar.”  

Your fist white-knuckled around the handle. He meant to mar your daughter. 

“Can you let us inside?” Fenrys requested, distracting you from the pure wrath filling every inch of your body. The guards had finished their questioning, some now obviously stationed down the street - another archer joining the previous one. 

You willed the magic to bend slightest bit, enough for the two of you to slip inside, before slamming it shut again. 

“How soon can you be ready to leave?” Fenrys’s voice was insistent. You had a feeling he’d drag you to the ship soon if he had to. 

“Aren’t we traveling with you?” 

Fenrys nodded, and paused for a moment. “Can you be ready tomorrow by dusk?” 

You’d wrapped up the last of the ‘official’ business this morning, intending to give you a week to sort things out at a leisurely pace. But, words were too much right now, everything was too gods-damned much, so you answered with a nod. By tomorrow would be stressful, but doable. 

“We’ll leave then. I’ll announce we’re leaving at dawn the day after.” Smart, giving a false departure. “Only us, the captain and the crew will know, and they won’t know who it is until we board,” Fenrys continued - maybe more to reassure himself than you. Part of you wondered why he was going through the effort but … Rowan was his bloodsworn brother, maybe he felt some kind of duty to the two of you. 

“How’d you get here so quickly?” You asked the question lingering in the back of your mind. 

“I didn’t. I was already on my way.” Fenrys’s mouth opened, and you could read the next word, 

“Say sorry and I’ll kick you in the balls.” 

He winced, and feigned sealing his mouth shut. 

The door slammed open, knocking into the wall, and Ceri sprinted out, silver hair flowing behind her. You braced yourself as she slammed into you, arms wrapping around your stomach. 

“I kept Ani calm,” she whispered, squeezing you tighter. 

“I’m proud of you,” you ran your non-bloody hand through her hair. 

After a few minutes, she released you. Her small hand reached up, and you stayed still as she ran a finger on the scar. “Why would he do that?” 

When you hesitated, Ceri turned to Fenrys, as if he might have the answer. Her green eyes nearly bore a hole through his head. 

“Sometimes people do bad things and we don’t know why,” he answered slowly, “but everyone’s safe now.” 

“What happened to him?” She turned back to you. 

“He died,” a small tension left your chest - she hadn’t seen it. 

“You killed him?” Her head tilted, no judgment - just curiosity and a desire to gather all of the facts. 

“No, I didn’t,” you anticipated the next question, “and neither did he. One of the royal guards did.” 

Ceri mumbled something suspiciously like; I wish I killed him, and grabbed your hand - dragging you back inside. You shot an alarmed glance at Fenrys, whose mouth curved up at the corners. Seven years old, and already bloodthirsty. Maybe you should’ve questioned what kind of bed-time story Rowan told. 

“Just like her father,” he murmured, quiet enough only you heard. 

An inelegant snort left you, “I was thinking the same thing.” 

Reya’s eyes scanned you from top to bottom, and you were aware of the blood staining your skin and clothes. 

“Ceri,” she called, gaining her attention, “can you help me run a bath for your mother?” She looked at you for permission, you forced a soft smile, watching her take off after your friend, Ani’s dark hair flashing as well, never one to be left out.

“Are you going to insist on spending the night?” You didn’t look at him. 

An edged chuckle, “I'm afraid I will.” 

“Males,” you muttered under your breath, but shot him a grateful smile. Another set of eyes, another person to watch out for Ceri. Not that you’d get any sleep tonight. Reya returned a minute later, shoving a bundle of clothes in your hands, ushering you off towards the bathing room. 

Ceri was proud of the rose scents she’d chosen. Once, you’d loved Lilac - but you shedded that when you left Wendlyn. It hadn’t felt right anymore, it felt like an old version of you. The female left behind. Plus, it made you nauseous during your pregnancy. 

Fenrys didn’t leave for the rest of the night, entertaining the girls as you and Reya cooked, helping with the dishes, a perfect guest. Even with a spare room available, he insisted he’d crash on the couch closest to the door. He didn’t comment as you exited your room each hour, traveling past the sitting room to peek into where Ani and Ceri slept, both sound asleep. 

You caught maybe two or three hours of sleep total, but pure adrenaline kept you going the next morning. It spurred you and Reya into near-frantic packing, listening to Fenrys’s request to stay put when he left for a few hours. One small trunk each, plus one extra for books - your personal ones and school books. Everything else ended up in the attic, sealed off by magic. The tears stayed at bay as you deactivated the wards, dropping off the keys to Reya’s sister - who was informed less than an hour before, and vowed herself to secrecy. Everything about this felt so … cloak and dagger. Ceri and Ani viewed it as some grand adventure, but you and Reya were tense, entire bodies taut with nerves. 

With twenty minutes to go, you closed the door to the bathroom, hands bracing on the counter. An angry red scar ran diagonally across your cheek, still slightly lifted from your skin. If you adjusted your hair, just a bit, it mostly cloaked it from sight. Another permanent reminder. 

A nondescript carriage, made less discreet by armed guards, picked up the five of you just after sunset and took the long way through the city. It gave you a chance to see everything gaze through the window, making out a few details by moonlight. There’s no telling how long it would be before you see it again. Maybe a year, maybe a decade, but one day you’d at least come back to visit. 

Not a permanent goodbye.

Fenrys ushered you onto the ship, joined by a few others you didn’t recognize. Soldiers, disguised as courtiers. Or maybe soldiers turned courtiers. 

“Did you send word ahead?” You murmured, the captain directing you to a spot still on deck, but out of the way. The girls bounced with excitement, barely managing to keep themselves still. 

“No sense in it,” Fenrys countered, “we’re on the fastest ship available. It would probably get there after us.” 

You learned quickly what fastest meant. Magic wielders were on board, the ‘soldier-courtiers.’

Most of the first day was spent holding back Reya and Ani’s hair, convincing them to take some of the nausea tonic you’d brought with you. 

The second day, Fenrys showed Ani and Ceri some more advanced self-defense. 

The third day, the girls had convinced the sailors to tell them stories. 

The fourth, you rolled dice and made bets - Fenrys sharing his liquor with you. 

The fifth, you thought you might lose your mind of boredom - until Fenrys dragged you out to see how much self defense you knew. According to him - better than expected. He quickly added a ‘not surprising,’ considering who your father was. That particular detail, you usually forgot about - or tried to. 

The next several days passed in similar fashion, interrupted on day eight by Ceri trying desperately to convince you to shift to your animal form - then to teach her to shift to her animal form. It’s too dangerous at sea, you told her. When it didn’t work with you - she moved to Fenrys, who repeated your words, adding that she needed to be a bit older. After that, she gave up, thank the Gods. The last thing you need is to rescue an adolescent bird from the water. 

On day twenty, you spotted land. The first look at Terrasen. Mountains, still snow-capped in the summer, green forest, a small city. Illium, according to the maps you’d acquired. Then, you’d cut into the Florine river, taking you right to Orynth. Where you’d reconnect with Rowan and Aelin, and figure out what comes next. 

According to Fenrys, it’s normally a two week journey, but they dragged it out enough that the five of you would arrive closer to the expected time, after the rest of their court did. He declined to inform you of that until a few days before. 

“Will they know we’re coming?” You asked, propped up against crates, Fenrys stretched out next to you, tan face tilted up towards the sun, Reya on your other side, Ceri and Ani a few paces away, playing a card game they learned the night before.  

A genuine friendship had formed between the three of you over the last few weeks. Fenrys could’ve easily ignored you, but instead he sought out both of your company. The girls attached to him as well, eagerly taking in all of his lessons, pestering him with questions about Terrasen, all of which he answered patiently and thoroughly.

“Depends,” he turned to shoot a lazy grin at the two of you, “on how much chaos Aelin decides to cause. It’s been a while since she surprised anyone, I wouldn’t be shocked if she convinced Rowan to keep it a secret.”

Gods, you tilted your head back this time, letting it rest against the top of the crate. There’s a chance you’d arrive to Orynth, the entire court with no fucking idea who you were, who Ceri was. It had the potential to be incredibly awkward, or hilarious. You refused to stress over it, it was out of your hands for now. 

-

Their court gathered to discuss the results of their visit to the southern continent, as planned, arriving earlier that afternoon. The scouts reported the ship carrying Fenrys and company would arrive tomorrow after dusk - perfect timing for a discreet entry. But … two days early. That unsettled both her and Rowan. There wasn’t a good reason for them to arrive early, especially without any kind of notice. Although, with the crew they had - any notice sent would likely arrive after them. Instincts told her something went wrong, and she saw it echoed in Rowan’s face. They tabled it for later. There wasn’t anything they could do until they saw them. Until they had a chance to launch questions at Fenrys. 

Aelin wouldn’t call it a fight, but she’d argued with Rowan over whether or not to tell their court about their surprise.

“At least before they arrive, Fireheart,” Rowan sounded exasperated. 

“At breakfast, then,” she wound her arms around his neck, tilting her head up to grin at him. Tomorrow, they’d be here, and she was looking forward to your company. Aelin thought she might feel jealous of the connection you shared with Rowan through Ceri, but she didn’t. Instead, she wanted to be your friend - there was something soothing about your company, and she saw why Rowan grew … close to you. Even before she met the two of you, he’d been upfront about how you traced the line between friends and lovers, how you both knew it was a temporary arrangement. 

Her mind tried to tell her it was wrong that she felt this comfortable with Rowan being near an ex-lover, that her Fae instincts should be rearing with territorial jealousy. Thankfully they weren’t - otherwise it could make their current situation very difficult. 

“Should I be the one to make the announcement?” Rowan pressed a kiss to her hair. 

“I’m much better at them,” Aelin gave a smile, honeyed with false innocence. 

“You’ve given us enough surprises for a lifetime,” he muttered - but she knew he’d follow her lead. As much as he denied it, Rowan didn’t mind shaking everything up once in a while. 

“Evangeline will be excited,” she pressed up on her toes, placing a kiss at the corner of his mouth. 

“She’s much older,” he murmured. 

“I imagine she’ll take them under her wing.” Aelin pulled back to watch Rowan’s face. Nervous, her mate was nervous, one of the few times she’d seen him like that. It was oddly endearing. She was nervous too, of course, but it was … refreshing to be nervous over something not quite life and death. 

She decided now was the wrong time to remind him they’d be able to explore different parts of Terrasen - to decide where they’d want to live after Ceri’s ‘trial.’ If they stayed in Terrasen. 

Rowan sensed her shift in mood, and tilted her chin up to look at her. “It’ll be fine.” Aelin forced air in and out of her lungs, and nodded. 

“Bed,” he muttered, and tugged her off towards their room. 

-

“What is it?” Aedion sat down his glass, looking between Rowan and Aelin. Rowan kept his mouth shut, sending a pointed look at Aelin. She wanted to make the announcement, she could do it. “Please tell me you’re not planning something,” Aedion groaned. 

“It wasn’t planned,” Rowan muttered before he could stop himself. 

Aelin’s foot stomped on his insole, and he pinched her thigh under the table. 

Aelin propped her forearms on the oak wood, and everyone’s attention turned to her. Their entire court was here - minus Fenrys. Ren, Aedion, Lysandra, Evangeline, Elide, and Lorcan - who wouldn’t let Elide go anywhere alone. 

“We have some guests arriving with Fenrys.”

“Who?” Lysandra asked, lifting a glass of water to her lips. 

Fuck it, Rowan could say this for himself.. 

“While we were in Antica, I ran into an old … friend,” Lorcan’s eyes dug a hole into his skull, and he avoided his former commander’s gaze. “I have a seven year old daughter.” 

Lysandra yelped and shot back as Aedion spewed water across the table, Elide’s eyes were wide, Lorcan looked contemplative, Ren and Elide blinked several times, Evangeline - as Aelin expected, looked thrilled. 

“Ceri, Rowan’s daughter, her mother - y/n, her friend Reya, and her daughter Ani will arrive this evening,” Aelin cut in. Rowan caught Lorcan’s gaze as soon as Aelin said your name. Dark eyes flashed in recognition. Interesting. 

Aelin continued to explain the deal they’d come to. His wife even asked if they’d be willing to let the group explore living in their respective lands, conveniently mentioning some of your skill sets and how you’d been open to working here. 

“Gods, Aelin.” Aedion sighed at the end. “And Rowan,” he added, ignoring his glare. “A little warning would’ve been nice.” 

Still, he had a contemplative look on his face. You’d done the same thing his mother had - to protect his daughter from Maeve. A silent understanding passed through them, that Rowan was getting the chance Gavriel didn’t, that he’d honor it. 

“How did she go … undiscovered, in Antica this long?” Ren asked cautiously. 

“Well, Sartaq suspected there was a Whitethorn relative living in the city, but as Fenrys said,” Aelin ignored the elbow he discreetly jabbed into her side, “Rowan has an army of cousins - there were plenty of possible sire’s.” That drew a few chuckles and eye rolls. 

“She wasn’t going to tell you?” Elide pushed. 

“We don’t know.” Aelin said honestly. It was luck … or fate, that he ran into you during that trip. He had a feeling your paths would’ve crossed eventually, but the timeline was pushed up. 

“I’m surprised she agreed that quickly,” Lorcan said.

“It wasn’t safe in Antica, anymore. There were already people gathering outside their home.” 

“It won’t be completely safe anywhere.” Lysandra replied, “but it’s safer here.” 

“Considering who her father was, I imagine she can handle herself,” Lorcan drawled. Aelin’s brow furrowed, and Rowan frowned. He hadn’t shared that, it hadn’t really struck him as particularly important. 

“Are you going to explain?” Elide pinned him with a look, and Lorcan - firmly on her leash, kept talking.

“Her father was a skilled warrior. He mated to a demi-Fae from Antica, met while visiting Varese, and finished out his military service not long after,” Lorcan said, adding “he declined the blood oath for centuries, eventually Maeve gave up on him,” as an afterthought. 

“Was?” Elide asked quietly. 

Lorcan looked at Rowan, almost asking for permission to share this part of your story - or giving him the chance to. He wondered how Lorcan knew, when it took him a lot of convincing to find out. 

“Her parents died when she was young,” he made a point to meet each of their eyes. “Don’t push her about it.” His warning tone was enough that nobody, even Aelin, pushed the question further. 

Rowan remembered enough to know how you locked up at any mention of their lives and deaths, how it took a decent amount of liquor to pull any personal details out of you. One night - after you’d had a good amount of particularly strong brew, you spilled.

For some reason, Rowan had a fixation on knowing your story. He wanted to know everything he could about you. A terrifying feeling, but he didn’t see the harm in learning, gathering information was a habit built over centuries. Even if this particular story wasn’t pleasant. If it involved you, he wanted to know. Learning your fathers name surprised him, and as soon as you said it - he didn’t know the story, but knew how it ended. 

“They bought me time. There must’ve been nearly three hundred of them - mortal soldiers,” one Fae warrior was as good as a hundred mortal soldiers, but against those odds, against three hundred …

“They hit them both with Iron first, and my mother made me promise to run for the hills - told me if I came back I would be dead, and then they would win.” Rowan kept his face neutral, but inside he winced. That was a harsh way to put it, but effective. “I made it to the hills, and hid in a tree. But … I could see everything. Eventually, they were overrun. I watched the whole thing. They spiked their heads on our fence posts, but left the house intact. For seven days, they waited to see if someone would come back. I still don’t know why.” 

He did, her father had built a reputation, and wiping out his entire family line would’ve been a prize to them. He didn’t tell you that. 

“After I was certain they were gone, I buried them, took what I could carry, and left. I’m still not certain what happened to the rest of the soldiers. Maybe twenty were left by the end.” 

Rowan knew. Lorcan hunted them down. Made a brutal example out of them. By the time he opened his mouth to tell you, you were already asleep. 

“We could use more women - and females, around here,” Lysandra switched the subject with a grin. 

“What’s she like?” Evangeline asked.

“We didn’t get to spend much time with her, but we’ll find out.” Aelin answered. 

Time. Rowan would take full advantage of every second he could spend with Ceri. He’d missed too much already. 

-

The ship steadily made its way up the river, your eyes glued on the surroundings. Terrasen was … absolutely beautiful and different than anywhere you’d seen before. Snow, that would be new to you. The sun was setting as you approached the city, steady but slow. 

“We’re going to arrive after dark,” Fenrys said, arms propped on the railing next to you. “More discreet.” 

You hummed in appreciation before your mood sobered. “Everything’s about to change, isn’t it?” 

“No need to be so dramatic,” he tutted, nudging you with his shoulder. “But yes, it is.” 

With three hours left, you all disappeared below decks to try and make yourself as … not stinky as possible. As you were making the final approach, Fenrys offered you a small flask. Alcohol - but the scent was barely detectable. Could easily be explained as time spent on a ship. You shot him an incredulous look. 

“Liquid courage, they won’t scent it on you.” You stared at him for a few moments, where had he gotten that? “If you don’t want it,” he reached a hand towards it, but you snatched it back - tipping a small bit down your throat. Just enough to take the edge off. You wiped the droplets off with the back of your hand. 

“Thank you,” you handed it back, and watched as he took a drink himself. 

“For solidarity,” and something else he wasn’t telling you. You decided it’s not your place to push. 

It certainly took the edge off as you pulled up to the docks - a carriage waiting to take you right to the castle. It was a comfortable fit with all of you. The two girls pressed their faces against each window, although with the sun already set - they couldn’t see too much. 

You knew they got closer, because Fenrys’s shoulders rolled back, his body tilting forward to look out the window. “A few more minutes,” he said. It felt like an hour, but it likely was less than a twenty minute ride. As you approached, each clop of the horse's feet, each turn of the wheel, each small murmur from a driver, all seemed to thunder in your ears. 

“Breathe,” Reya whispered next to you, and you forced air in and out of your lungs. You could do this, it would be fine. Ceri’s excited. For her, you reminded yourself. So she can have a father, so Rowan can be a father. For safety. Everything would work out, and you for her, it didn’t feel like a sacrifice. Since you felt her little life growing, you knew there wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for her. This is no exception, a bit of discomfort you could survive. You’d adjusted before, and you would again now. 

Reya grabbed your hand in her own, for her comfort as much as yours, and the two girls squealed as the gates groaned, the carriage passing through. “A better world for us,” she whispered - so low you barely heard it, but squeezed her hand in reply. A safer place for Fae, a place for Reya to find some peace, new things for your daughters to experience.

A hand thumped on the carriage, and Fenrys swung the door open. You breathed in through your nose, out through your mouth. You could do this. 

[mariaofdoranelle]

I saw these two ex to lovers prompt and I can't choose so if you like them you can pick one or both idk ahaahaha

- sending their ex a book a day, the first word of each title spelling out an apology.

-ten years after their breakup one receives a letter inviting them to their exes wedding with a “help me” written in a tiny font on the bottom.

You Still Would’ve Been Mine

Written for my Drabblefest

I wrote both, but with a twist (not exactly an apology and it’s ten months instead). I hope you like it 😆

PS it’s canonverse

960 words, no warnings

⨯ ⁺ ✦ ･ ｡ﾟ⨯ ﾟ♡ ✧* ･｡* ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

If Rowan listened to one more word about Terrasen or Adarlan, he was going to lose his mind.

He wasn’t even a useful prince, he had no idea what he was doing in Sellene’s Throne Room.

“The merchants won’t stop complaining ever since Adarlan made these new trade deals,” Uncle Ellys explained, “Terrasen’s goods got into the Adarlanian market like the plague.”

“Enda,” Sellene called from her throne. “send word to our spies.

After every other family member was dismissed with an assignment to do, it was just Rowan and Sellene there.

“C’mere.” She kindly requested him to come closer. “Rowan, we are losing Erliea’s biggest kingdoms. The Fae from Adarlan now have access to Terassen’s Fae liquor, magic hospitals, magic schools, every month is a new thing. And now this.” Sellene took a deep breath and rubbed a hand on her face, letting her shoulders drop for a moment. “I know you don’t talk about Terrasen, but I need you to tell me what you saw.”

“I saw nothing,” he answered with a neutral face, masking his tense body.

It was true. It was supposed to be a trip with Fenrys to visit Galan, and they ended up being guests in the Ashryver party to visit Terrasen.

Rowan’s presence wasn’t political, and the only thing he saw was walls ornate with gold, silk bedsheets and the top of pine trees when he was flying, using his hawk form to sneak in and out of the crown princess’ bedroom.

Rowan’s ground his teeth, his pulse racing. Well, that was before she not only backstabbed him, but his entire country as well.

“Okay, I got it,” Sellene said when she sensed the growing notes of rage in his smell. She bit his lip and fiddled with an envelope in her hand. “This came in for you.”

Rowan snatched it from her hands. “I thought the mail interceptions were over when Maeve died.”

Sel grimaced. “Lorcan gave me this one because he thought it was an exception, sorry. I didn’t open it, though.”

An exception indeed. Rowan opened the seal with one of his blades, wishing he could use it to stab the wedding invitation instead.

The King and Queen of Terrasen request the pleasure of your company—Rowan rolled his eyes—at the marriage of their daughter, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, to Duke Perrington, blah blah blah.

Rowan was once told it would be his name instead, but those promises were long gone.

I’m yours, she said, her smile lit through the darkness. Tell Sellene to request an official political alliance with a marriage proposal, and I’ll be officially yours.

Rowan was on a boat home the next day.

He shook his head, his heart constricting as he tried to shake off the memories too. Especially the ones of him learning, right before leaving Doranelle again, that Aelin’s hand was already promised to another.

Rowan’s eyes skimmed through the wedding invitation, until he found something that made his heart stop, the world world narrowing down to two little words in the bottom of the invitation, in a familiar handwriting.

Help me

“What?” Sellene said while snatching the invite from his hands. “Gods, I’m never talking about Terrasen with you again. Your smell gets weirder and weirder and— oh, shit.” She looked up, eyes widened and personal scent tinged with alarm. “Have you been in touch with her?”

“No.”

Sellene sent him a cut-the-bullshit look.

He crossed his arms. “She’s been sending me books. Just that.”

“Not a word? Just books?” She got up when Rowan nodded in confirmation. “Where do you keep them?”

They both shifted into their bird forms and flew out the window towards Rowan’s bedroom, where he kept a small collection of books he didn’t want to store in the Royal Library.

If Sellene heard how fast Rowan’s heart was beating, she didn’t show. His insides were quivering as he scrambled his mind for answers, but nothing came.

Sellene shifted back and frowned at the bookshelf, both hands on her hips. “Just the books, no letters attached?”

“Yes. These ones.” Rowan pointed at the books with one hand, fingers tangled in his hair with the other. “They’re in the order she sent, it stopped a couple of months ago.”

His cousin barely heard him, completely focused on the books. “Havelok the Dane, Erec and Enide, Laxdæla Saga and Piers Plowman.” Sellene’s index finger ran across these four book’s spines. “Side by side like this, as if they were in a box set, it kinda looks like they spell ‘help’.”

“What?” With his heart beating out of his chest, Rowan grabbed a piece of paper and scrabbled the titles there, in the order Aelin sent him.

Havelok the Dane

Erec and Enide

Laxdæla Saga

Piers Plowman

The Divine Comedy

Amadís de Gaula

The Decameron

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

The Owl and the Nightingale

Lancelot, the Knight of the Cart

Doon de Mayence

Le Morte d’Arthur

Egil’s Saga

His entire world halted when he put them all together, four words tearing down his walls of hurt and resentment.

Help, dad sold me.

Rowan felt dizzy, barely breathing as everything clicked together.

All the trade agreements, scholar exchange, diplomatic alliances between Terrasen and Adarlan he heard of. It was all because Rhoe sold his daughter to the highest bidder.

Over his dead body.

He ran to his room, grabbed his sword and a pouch with enough gold for three intercontinental trips—one to go, two to come back—and tucked his wedding invitation into his jacket’s pocket.

Sellene’s eyes were firm as she clutched his forearm, putting all her Fae strength into her crushing grip. “Do not. Cause. An international disaster.”

Rowan just shifted into his hawk form and flew to the nearest port.

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[morganofthewildfire]

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

Stolen Moment

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

Just wrote this in an hour lol, don’t know what to say, but I like the vibes 😊 it reminds me of Ivy

~ 1k words

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

The Terrasenian Countryside, 1839

The orchard was quiet, like it always was. The silence was only punctuated by the lilting sounds of the outdoors: the birds singing in the flowering blooms, the insects buzzing around and floating in the summery breeze, that same breeze flitting through the branches of the trees, and of course the sounds of his paintbrush darting across the canvas.

There were no words that passed between him and his muse, though her blue eyes were trained on him with the whisper of a thousand hidden secrets.

Rowan Whitethorn knew they were playing with fire, but the risk made the moment that much more charged. If anyone were to discover them… for multiple reasons it would lead to either his banishment or his death.

There was no other possible consequence should anyone happen upon them. Not that there should be; they were out at his small house in the countryside, tucked back in the corner of his sprawling acreage, the hidden garden behind the fields of farmland. It was not harvest season, there’d been no need for field hands in the recent days, no one had any reason for being in the vicinity of them.

He did most of the labor himself, saving his art for the few spare moments he could manage to wrangle for himself. It was a secret he didn’t share often; only a few people knew of it. His friend and main field hand, Lorcan, who he’d served in the war with, and Lorcan’s wife Elide both knew.

The painting had started as a way of processing after the war, and Lorcan was the only one who could really understand the horrors that had driven him to this outlet. Elide worked on the farm as well, and had stumbled across his collection of paintings when delivering some of the milk from the cows one morning.

They lived together in a cabin not far from him, and Rowan considered the farm theirs too; they felt more like the true owners than him, though he’d been the one to inherit the land from his father. He didn’t want it, it wasn’t his dream, though he preferred the solitary life it provided.

He didn’t need the pains of social interaction, nor the struggle of trying to constantly pretend. He was fine being alone… or he had been. Until he met her.

Rowan’s eyes lifted from the canvas, landing on the feminine form sprawled on her side on the chaise he’d dragged out here for this purpose. Her head rested on her arms, one leg curled over the other to showcase the delicate curves clothed in a satin chemise, the neckline slipping down her shoulder to show miles of creamy skin. Her golden hair was smoothed in gentle waves, flowing down her back, and those blue eyes of hers remained trained on him.

Aelin Galathynius - Miss Aelin Galathynius - was forbidden to him. It was an idea he couldn’t even dare to foster, and yet here she was, half dressed and alone with him as he studied her form closer than likely anyone ever had.

The Galathynius family was one of the most esteemed families in all of Terrasen, not quite nobility but close to it. They were wealthy, and high ranking, and untouchable for someone like him.

But when it came to their only daughter, Rowan simply couldn’t stay away.

Their country estate wasn’t far from his land, a few miles or so, but it remained unoccupied most of the time. He’d known it belonged to them, but it wasn’t until a few seasons ago that he’d laid eyes on a member of the family. And it just so happened to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Miss Galathynius - Aelin - had been out for a ride on her Asterion mare nearby when an unexpected storm had struck. Her horse had spooked at the crack of thunder, throwing her rider off onto the muddy ground. Rowan had been out assessing damage to the crops when he’d come across her sprawled form.

After helping her up and checking to make sure she was okay, a conversation had struck. She’d been charming, and witty, with the widest smile he’d ever seen, and he’d fallen head over heels practically immediately.

He hadn’t realized who she was.

He learned soon enough, but that didn’t stop her from continuing to reach out to him, and he didn’t have enough self control to stop himself from reaching back out to her, so here they were. He’d confessed his love of painting not long into their acquaintance, and she’d finally convinced him to let her pose for him. He couldn’t say no, no matter the consequences.

If anyone caught them right now, she’d be ruined. If anyone ever found this painting, then he’d be dead.

Because she was to be married soon. She’d told him, though she hadn’t needed to. He’d seen the ring on her finger.

He couldn’t expect anything different. She was eighteen years of age, from a distinguished family. She was sure to have offers by the plenty. Her family had just seemingly finally found the perfect one.

At twenty one, Rowan knew he was likely closer in age to her than several of those offers, but he knew he would never have even been considered. A few decades ago, he’d be beheaded for even daring to put forward his proposal.

His heart ached as he dragged his paintbrush along the canvas, smoothing out the perfect curve of her hip, and the dip of her waist where his hand so perfectly fit. They hadn’t done anything, had never even kissed.

If Aelin were to be discovered as anything but a virgin on her wedding night, then Hellas would rain down on them both.

So Rowan ignored the aching in his chest and the urges of his hands and just enjoyed the stolen moment the best he could. This was leading to ruin, and they both knew it.

But he would savor whatever little piece of her he could get.

——-

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[goddess-aelin]

Rowaelin Month- Day 2

Prompt: Babies/pregnancy

@rowaelinscourt

Dancing to a Happy Song masterlist

Main masterlist

This is a bonus part 8 of Dancing to a Happy Song, which is set in canonverse. You don’t need to read the full pic prior but it is best to do so to get the full effect!

Part 8: Perceptions

Aelin woke up with a headache for the fourth day in a row. She told herself that it was just the stress of ruling Terrasen and raising an almost two year old daughter. But if she was being honest with herself, she just felt off.

The past two years had been wonderful. After the initial whirlwind of her daughter’s birth, Alma coming a month early and Rowan almost missing it entirely, fueled with her small bout of postpartum depression, Aelin truly had been enjoying every moment of her life. What had initially been a difficult pregnancy and post-pregnancy turned into something she would endure twenty times over if it meant she could hold her daughter in her arms.

Alma was a spitfire. It shouldn’t have been a surprise considering she was Aelin’s daughter. But her angelic features of curly blonde hair and emerald green eyes were misleading. The toddler already manifested a small amount of fire powers, at first setting fire to a small flower. Luckily, the only incidents that occurred were containable. Rowan had told Aelin that if fae children manifest their powers at this young of an age, they were usually almost non-existent. And for the moment, that had remained true. Alma had a very large, very dramatic personality, however. Considering her entrance into the world and subsequent cries to be held for the first month of her tiny life, it came as no surprise that she liked to be in charge. Though she could barely talk, saying only small words and names, she had an aura about her that demanded whoever she was talking to listen. If Alma wanted a tea party, then a tea party she would have. To Aelin’s delight, Alma’s favorite tea party guest was a certain Lorcan Salvaterre, who begrudgingly would sip out of the tiny teacups that Alma provided him, though Aelin had a sneaking suspicion that Lorcan secretly enjoyed every minute.

To say that Alma was a dainty, feminine figure because of her affinity for tea parties and pretty dresses would be an incorrect statement, however. Alma loved to catch the slimy frogs that hopped out of the pond closest to their quarters. Loved to jump into mud puddles after it rained, splashing large drops of brown onto her pristine dresses. And she especially liked to pretend she was just like her mother, kicking and punching while Rowan held up pillows.

In short, she was an absolute joy.

Aelin didn’t know it was possible to love something this much. But Alma brought unending happiness and love into her life and Aelin was so incredibly thankful for it.

Alma jumping on the bed when Aelin was trying to sleep her headache away was not the best feeling in the world at the moment, though. She luckily had the morning off, completely free of meetings until her council with the various Lords of Terrasen a little after noon. Her mate was training the new recruits for the Bane with Aedion, so Alma was with her.  

“Honey, why don’t you go get a book from your room and come back here and read nice and quietly? Hmm? Just until Mama feels a little better, okay?”

“Ok Mama.” Aelin felt Alma press a quick peck to her cheek, a habit she had probably acquired since her parents were always very affectionate with each other and with her. She heard little feet patter away and return a few seconds later, the covers rustling as Alma wiggled her way aside of Aelin.

“Mama, I read to you?”

“Sure, little bug.”  Sure enough, Alma’s sweet little voice filled the air, the surprisingly soft tone lulling Aelin into a light sleep.

A few minutes later, she felt another small kiss, this time on her forehead. Tiny hands stroked her hair as Aelin blearily opened her eyes.

“Mama you ‘mell pretty.”

Aelin let out a chuckle at that. Her daughter. Always surprising her with her sweet and sour nature. And this time a commentary on how she smelled. At least she didn’t tell her she smelled bad, Aelin supposed. “Thank you, my little love. You’re so sweet. Mama’s feeling better. Do you want to get a snack from the kitchen?”

A loud gasp erupted from the tiny body next to her and afterwards began the incessant bouncing. Aelin chuckled. So that was a yes. She slowly got up and scooped her daughter up into her arms, making their way down to the kitchens. Alma sang a song the entire way, her sweet voice filling Aelin’s heart with joy.

- - - - -

Aelin hadn’t seen Rowan all day. With her meeting in the afternoon and his training, they exchanged quick goodbyes and a small kiss. So to say that she was looking forward to crawling into bed and cuddling up to her mate was an understatement. She made her way into the bathing room to wash off quickly and change into her night clothes.

She heard giggles and Rowan’s deep laughter coming from their daughter’s adjoining room.  Aelin leaned on the doorway, taking in the scene of her mate and daughter sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing some sort of clapping game. For some reason, the sight made her want to cry. He was so patient with her. So amazing. Rowan was an incredible father, just like she knew he would be. She couldn’t help the laughter that broke out when Alma got up to run around the room and avoid Rowan’s tickling, giving her position away.  

“Fireheart.” Rowan’s eyes met hers with adoration. She gave him a small smile, making her way over to him. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and scooped Alma into her arms.

“Time for bed, little bug.” Alma crossed her arms and pouted at that. Aelin couldn’t help a small snicker at how alike they were. “Should Papa sing you a song?” Alma nodded, still pouting, but laid her head on Aelin’s shoulder. Aelin began swaying back and forth slowly when the first notes of Rowan’s lullaby started.

Quickly, almost enough to knock her head into Aelin’s teeth, Alma’s head shot up, half asleep already.

“Mama, you ‘mell pretty.”

Aelin couldn’t help a bewildered laugh from escaping. This compliment again? “Thank you, my darling. But now go to sleep.” She placed her hand on the back of Alma’s head and began her slight sway again. She met Rowan’s eyes from where she was standing, feeling just as confused as he looked. His song never faltered, though, and soon enough, it came to a gentle close. Aelin laid Alma in her crib, tucking a yellow knitted blanket around her, something she couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t, sleep without.  

Rowan took Aelin’s hand as they made their way back to their room, easing under the covers and settling in for the night.

“So what was with that comment back there?” Rowan asked.

Aelin’s brows furrowed. “She said that earlier today, too. I have no idea. At least she thinks I smell nice and not bad, I guess.”

Rowan let out a huff and pulled her close, the quiet of the evening settling around them.

“Night, Fireheart. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Buzzard.”

She felt his nose graze her neck from his position behind her, arms wrapped tightly around her middle. She was just about to fall asleep when she could feel Rowan tense behind her. Quickly, she rolled over and looked to him, finding a look of disbelief on his face.

“Fireheart.” His voice was a whisper as his hand came up to cup her cheek.

Aelin’s eyebrows furrowed and she was confused as a small smile broke out on Rowan’s face.

“Have you been feeling ok?” Aelin took a moment to process. Where did this question come from? “I guess so? I had a headache the past few days but Alma has also been waking us up fairly early. Why?” Rowan’s silence was concerning.

“Fireheart. Your scent.”

Oh. Oh. That’s what Alma was saying. Aelin had been so wrapped up the past few weeks with Queenly duties that she hadn’t even stopped to consider when her last cycle was. And somehow, her two year old daughter scented it before anyone else. The child was too smart for her own good.

Aelin started laughing, placing sloppy kisses on Rowan’s face as he just hugged her as tightly as he could in return.

As they settled, Aelin couldn’t help the bright smile that crossed her face. “We’re having another baby,” she whispered. Rowan’s answering nod and silver-lined eyes made her finally lose it. Tears, happy tears, spilled over as she laughed. She always heard stories about how difficult it was for fae to get pregnant, but apparently that wasn’t the case for her and her mate. “Well, Buzzard. It looks like you might get those five kids after all.”

His booming laugh filled the room. Slowly, they settled in. Though attempting to sleep after all this excitement would be difficult.

“It’s going to be a boy this time. I know it.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “What makes you so confident? Hmm?” “Well, I was right about Alma so obviously I’ll be right about this one, too.”

Aelin huffed a laugh and shoved his shoulder a little. Rowan just pulled her close in response.

“I love you, my Fireheart.”

“I love you, my Buzzard.”

With knowing smiles, they laid there, wrapped in each others arms until sleep finally claimed them.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed :)

Tagging: @cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @maeclin @ayaashryver @anna-swims @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @kyereads @heirofflowers @bananaanna23 @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff  @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee 

[rufousnmacska]

Only You

A manorian arranged marriage fic from an anon request -

Do you think you could write an angsty manorian drabble where political/royal pressures and such has Dorian marry someone else + Dorian being mortal has Manon encouraging him? just all that manorian heartbreak+pining. also really love your fics!

This turned into much more than a drabble, but I hope everyone enjoys it! 🤗

Many thanks to @itach-i for beta reading and helping plot things out! ❤️

*

PART ONE

*

Dorian hadn’t noticed the cold until his valet wrapped a furred robe around him. How long had he been standing out here? The sun had just broken from the horizon and his breath was pooling in front of him with each exhale. The valet, a gray-haired man named Ruben, disappeared back into the royal suite, muttering something about the foolishness of young men. Dorian smiled grimly, knowing he was indeed foolish. Worse. He was a godsdamned idiot. And he felt numb, as though his body was somewhere far from here, his mind with it. None of it was due to the winter chill. Staring off towards the hills west of Rifthold, his eyes glanced over the many red and gold banners attached to the city’s roofs, snapping in the wind. Part of him loved seeing his people so excited, so proud for the coming celebration. They’d suffered greatly during the war and had worked hard in the rebuilding effort of the last two years. But that small joy for his kingdom was overshadowed by his own despair. How many times had he stood in this spot, watching and waiting and holding his breath until he caught sight of those silvery wings and moon white hair dancing in the sky? He’d known today would be his last chance to watch for her. And since sleep was a fool’s hope, he’d come out to his balcony and stood here for hours, his gaze on the west, wondering where it had all gone wrong.

***

The rising sun shone brightly off the tops of the castle towers, giving the small group of witches their first real view of Rifthold in the distance. In the past, this sight would leave Manon breathless with anticipation, pushing Abraxos to speed up in her excitement. There had been times when her giddy desperation to reach the castle was almost humiliating, forcing her to contain her emotions before she landed. But no matter her control in those moments, Dorian would greet her on his balcony with a ferocious embrace, seeing right through her mask. He always had. Now, Manon wished that truth away, pushing it deep down, along with the nausea roiling in her gut. As they drew nearer to Rifthold, she could just barely make out the decorations hanging from the castle. It almost brought up the meager breakfast she’d eaten not long ago. With the brightening sky, she realized the entire city was decked out, covered in colorful banners and garlands. Of course, a royal wedding demanded finery. She had expected it, guarded herself against it. But her expectations were dealt a swift blow by the reality now facing her. Manon was on her way to Dorian’s wedding. Not as the bride, but as a royal guest. And she had no one but herself to blame.

*****

Six months earlier…

Manon frowned as Abraxos landed on an unusually empty balcony. Though she’d never asked for it, the space had been rebuilt to provide a large enough area to comfortably hold a wyvern. Wrapping halfway around the king’s tower, the balcony offered magnificent views of the ocean to the east and the mountains to the west. As she dismounted, Manon realized that vast western view was what gave Dorian the ability to know she was almost there. Normally, she wouldn’t notice the view because he would be there, scooping her up and taking her inside to say hello in her favorite ways. But tonight, she and Abraxos were alone.

Quietly, so as not to startle Ruben, Manon stepped through the doorway. She needn’t have bothered. The bedroom was as empty as the outside and she heard no sounds coming through the door to the other rooms. Wondering if he hadn’t received her last message telling him when to expect her, Manon sat on a sofa to wait. She lasted less than five minutes before pacing around the room, then finally deciding to go in search of Dorian.

The office was empty and as she continued through to the exterior door, Manon rolled her eyes at the messy desk. How Dorian managed to keep everything straight in the piles and stacks of papers was beyond her. She wasn’t in the corridor long before she heard angry voices echoing up the stairway. Chaol and Dorian had stopped part way up the tower.

“You can’t afford to just dismiss this threat of rebellion. Lord Frey is an ass, but he has the ear of too many other nobles to be ignored.” Chaol sounded winded. Manon didn’t think he came up here very often since his mobility was tied to his wife’s magic. That he was here now to continue this conversation was significant.

“I refuse to give into his demands,” Dorian growled. “He complains about me leaving the kingdom to Erawan, and yet he brags about how he profited from the war. Whatever gold he has in his coffers did not come from me.”

Manon inched back to the door on silent feet. She knew Dorian’s lords were causing trouble, but he’d refused to go into detail about it with her. The thought of anyone claiming Dorian had willfully abandoned Adarlan to Erawan made her blood boil. The valg king and his armies had left a path of scorched earth and devastation on his march to Terrasen. And Dorian had spent the last two years of his life dedicated to rebuilding his kingdom.

Chaol sighed. “Yes, but what he’s proposed in exchange—”

“What he’s proposed will not be considered,” Dorian interrupted. It was a voice Manon had never heard from him.

After a long pause, Chaol continued. “I know how you feel, Dorian. But we need to put emotions aside and think this through. I’m not saying we go along with it. But right now, we have to look at every option.”

“You say ‘we’ as if you would be the one marrying his daughter.”

Manon gasped, covering her mouth to remain quiet.

“It would be a political alliance,” Chaol reasoned. “You wouldn’t have to end things with—”

Again, Dorian refused to let him finish. “Stop. I’ve told you my decision. We will find some other way to placate the rebellious lords. I am not marrying her.”

Soft footsteps punctuated by the clack of a cane sounded as Chaol left his king and descended the tower. When he was gone, she heard Dorian smash his fist into the stone wall, pieces of mortar crumbling and raining down onto the floor. Manon was paralyzed, her hands balled up into tight fists, eyes wide. And that was how Dorian found her when he took the final steps up to his suite.

***

“You misunderstood. Frey doesn’t have enough clout to demand such a thing.” Dorian was frantic, spending the last two hours trying to explain away what Manon had heard. But her face had frozen into a mask, nothing he said could tease out even the slightest reaction.

“You can’t be so flippant,” she said, the stony resolve in her voice starting to scare him. “He’s offered you an out from civil war. If you care about your kingdom, you must do it.”

He was going mad. First Chaol, now Manon. Where was Yrene to talk some sense into them? He cared about his kingdom and his people. He cared so much that he had no life whatsoever beyond the endless meetings and negotiations and squabbles. His sole joy in life was standing before him now arguing that he should marry someone else.

“If I care?” he asked. “I was prepared to die for it. On many occasions. I would gladly give my life. But I won’t give my heart.”

Manon blinked slowly, and he realized she was looking past him. “You once told me you were prepared to give up your throne for Sorscha. Then the war taught you how foolish, how childish that was. And now, as if you learned nothing, sacrificed nothing, you want to do the same thing. Your life and your heart are one in the same.” Finally, her golden eyes met his. “I am immortal. You are not. You need a human queen to give you heirs and unite your kingdom. I will not play a part in disrupting that.”

Dorian searched for any sign - an unshed tear, a twitch of her lips, a clenched jaw. But there was nothing. Nothing on her face except a cold certainty that left him feeling lost, alone. He knew this was an act, a means of protecting herself. And yet, she was right. When they’d parted ways in Orynth after the war, he’d ignored the desire to ask her for some sort of commitment beyond “We’ll see.” They both had countries to rebuild and had chosen that greater responsibility over personal wishes. Dorian told himself then that they had time. Yes, he was a mortal. But he still had a plentiful well of raw magic on which to draw upon, magic that would give him a much longer life than a normal human. And only two short years later, out of nowhere, everything was falling apart.

No, he would not let his people suffer through war again. But giving in to extortion was not an acceptable alternative. He thought of Aelin, wondering how she would handle a situation like this. With the way her people adored her, he knew she’d never reach this point. Maybe Frey and his allies were right. Maybe he’d left them to fend for themselves out of cowardice instead of prudence. Suddenly, Dorian was exhausted, tired of being king, tired of giving up everything he wanted. He rubbed his eyes until they were red

“You know it has to be this way,” she said, having watched him sort out his thoughts. “No matter what they claim, you’ve never once abandoned this kingdom. Which is why you won’t do it now.”

Dorian stared at the ground, grasping for a way out, but his mind felt like aspic, soft and muddled and useless. “I won’t be a king who takes a queen and still keeps a lover.” The ultimatum was hard to voice, but it was true. Despite his rakish history, he’d never taken a new lover without breaking things off with the old one. If ever an exception was to be made, it would be with Manon. But he would never disrespect her, a queen in her own right, by reducing her to a secret paramour and source of castle gossip.

Still stoic, she replied, “I would not expect you to.”

They had always pushed and teased each other, seeing which one would break first and admit their feelings or give in to the desire. Desperately hoping that they were playing that game now, he surrendered. “I want you, Manon. No one else.”

The slightest hitch in her breathing and a tiny flutter of her eyes sent his hope soaring. But, with a firm tone that meant she would say no more, Manon said, “Marry her, Dorian. Save your throne and keep your people from more bloodshed.”

Before he could respond, she walked out the door and climbed into the saddle still strapped to her wyvern. Manon was in the air without a look back, and Dorian sank to the ground, his head in his hands.

*****

Rumors were flying through the witch city faster than the most agile wyverns. Mere months ago, the witches had expected an announcement from their queen, happy news that their kingdom would be united with Adarlan. Some were not in favor of their queen marrying a human, king or not. Others, especially those in the queen’s council, saw it as a good match. A love match, they claimed. But now, after the royal messenger from Adarlan had arrived, the gossip was spinning out of control.

Manon stared at the thick envelope sealed with red and gold wax, the wyvern stamped into it watching her with a single mocking eye. Dorian had once laughed about how significant it was for his royal crest to include a wyvern, a connection forged between their two kingdoms before they had even met. She’d brushed the thought away at the time, rolling her eyes at his insistence that fate was at work. But now, the memory of his teasing voice sank into her chest, adding to the heaviness and pain that had been choking her since she’d left him on that balcony months ago.

“You don’t have to go. No one would fault you for it. We can send Petrah as a representative,” Glennis said, her voice stiff and formal. It was a tone usually relegated for council meetings, not a conversation with her granddaughter.

She was silent for a long moment, still looking at the envelope. Instead of answering, Manon picked it up and ripped apart the seal. The invitation was written in fanciful blue ink with a border of red berries and ivy stamped into the parchment. She frowned at the flowery words that matched the design, knowing the girl must have been behind all of it. The girl. Manon knew she was likely close to Dorian’s age, but she didn’t care. The future queen of Adarlan would forever be the girl in her mind. Even so, it was impossible to miss her name in elegant calligraphy.

Your presence is requested at the royal wedding of Lady Eveline Frey and His Majesty Dorian Havilliard II, King of Adarlan

Manon stopped reading at his name and continued to flip through the remaining pages. They contained notices of the pre-wedding events that the ‘happy couple’ hoped people would attend, despite the possibility of poor weather at that time of year.

Happy. Her eyes caught on that word and didn’t move. She knew it was a lie. And yet, her old doubts and fears flooded back into her mind. She was still heartless despite her efforts to change, he deserved someone who could sufficiently return his affections. She was immortal, he was not. Manon had reasoned that she would rather lose him like this than watch up close as he aged and died. Rather lose him now, when they could both move on to full lives, than be forced to somehow carry on after his death. A magically extended life or not, she could see no other scenario if she continued with him. And if that was truly how she felt, then she wanted to be there and show him they were both better off this way.

Glennis watched her, likely reading every thought that had gone through her head. For when Manon said she was going, her grandmother’s head dipped in resignation. “Then I will accompany you.”

Manon lost count of her attempts at crafting a reply. She began with a simple list of witches who would attend with her, which morphed into a long drawn out explanation of why she wanted to be there. Then she backtracked into a brief, two sentence response. And even then, she had to make several copies until one was legible. The anguish of what she faced kept showing itself in her shaking hand.

Her eyes keep going back to their names and she found herself wondering what the girl was like. Did she like to read? Could she fight with a sword? Would she stand up to the nobility who claimed Dorian was not worthy of his throne? How would she react to him waking up screaming in the middle of the night from a nightmare in which he’d been torturing people?

That last thought made her feel sick. Not because of the dreams that still plagued him - she was well versed in helping to comfort him, just as he knew how to ease her grief and fear after a nightmare. It was the idea that they’d be sharing a bed that turned her stomach.

Gods what was she thinking? There were two months until the wedding. Was that long enough to forget everything Dorian was to her?

Manon knew the answer. And yet, when she read over their names again, she made herself remember why things had to be this way. Adarlan could not survive another war, especially one which tore it apart from the inside out. This was for the best. His and hers. This wedding would be closure, and afterwards, she could move on, search for a suitable consort. Not to become her king. She could not bear seeing anyone else beside her in that capacity. But finding an acceptable male to produce an heir would help to stabilize her kingdom. If Dorian was forced to set aside his heart to help his people, then she would do the same.

When she gave the reply to Glennis later, her grandmother frowned. “I find myself not wanting to send this.”

“It will be us and two sentinels. That’s all,” Manon said, ignoring the witch’s reluctance. “We will arrive the day before and leave immediately after the ceremony.” As Glennis nodded in agreement, Manon noticed she held a royal envelope in her other hand. “What is that?”

Again, that frown. “It’s from Prince Fennick Whitethorn of Doranelle. A cousin of Rowan’s I believe.”

“Was he in Orynth?” She didn’t recall him being there, but her memories from those early days battling Erawan’s army were foggy.

“I don’t think he was.”

Manon took it, examining front and back. The wax seal matched that of Queen Sellene Whitethorn. “What could this be?” she wondered aloud.

Glennis was already walking away, but she turned and said sharply, “I can only imagine.”

Manon was glad she waited until she was alone to read it, for by the end of it, she was sitting motionless, the letter forgotten on the floor.

Prince Fennick Whitethorn, a cousin to both Rowan and Queen Sellene, had written to express his regards and dismay at the news that the King of Adarlan would marry a noble from his own kingdom. He’d felt compelled to write her directly, offering her his support and friendship since he’d experienced something similar a few hundred years before. As Doranelle’s representative at the festivities, he hoped they could meet in Rifthold. In not so veiled terms, he suggested they might establish an alliance of their own, one that would be amenable to both their countries.

Mere hours after speculating about taking a consort and here she was, staring at a proposal. She couldn’t decide between outrage or amazement at the audacity of the fae male. It had certainly taken balls to approach her this way. And at this time. Picking up the letter, she read it over again. From the sounds of it, Fennick had been left heartbroken in his past. A past that extended even further back than her own. Had she not used her own immortality as a reason that Dorian should wed another? Here was an immortal throwing himself at her, eager for alliance. But she wondered if his interest would wane when he was told that at best, he might become her consort. There was only one man who she’d accept as her king, and he was now outside her reach.

She decided not to send a reply. If the fae prince was there, she would meet with him, see what kind of male he was and whether he might bring anything of worth to an alliance. If not, it would be one less thing to worry about.

That night, as she tried and failed to fall asleep, Manon found herself imagining how she might say goodbye to Dorian. They never used the word, choosing instead to focus only on their hellos. It made a twisted sort of sense that this goodbye, this parting that would be permanent, would be the first and last time it was spoken between them.

***

Yrene found Dorian in his office, watching the brutal winter winds send snow whipping through the air outside his window. Judging from her expression, she knew why he’d sent for her. When her eyes went to the letter on his desk, her shoulders seemed to slump, and she sat down heavily across from him.

“She will be attending,” he said, pushing the short reply across the desk in case she wanted to read it. After immediately recognizing the handwriting as Manon’s, he’d stared at it for a long time. As if there might be some sign of hesitation on her part, he’d examined the note, his eyes running over each stroke of ink, again and again. It was flawless. Just like her, he’d thought miserably.

“I didn’t think she’d actually come. It was meant as a formality between two allies.”

“Perhaps that’s why she has agreed. Formality, nothing more,” Yrene offered.

“How do you think Eveline will handle it?” Despite a wedding date only a few weeks away, Dorian barely spoke to his future queen. Yrene had been acting as a go between, keeping Dorian from having to feign pleasantries and interest in someone who he’d claimed looked and acted like an empty doll.

“She has been trained as a courtier since birth. I’m sure she will be as polite and ladylike as she always is.” Yrene rose and came around the desk, standing in front of the window to make Dorian look at her. “She may appear timid and vapid in front of her father, but she is no fool. She knows what this arrangement is and why it’s happening. Your involvement with Manon was never much of a secret. Eveline knows she is not your choice. But like you, she is doing her duty.”

Dorian didn’t reply. He knew his opinion of her was misguided, that it was based on anger at the situation, at her father. Which was why he kept his distance. If he couldn’t keep himself in check in private or with his friends, how could he expect to refrain from unleashing his rage on her with hurtful words? At least, that’s what he told himself. It was true, but some part of him knew that if he gave in and spent time with her, it would make this all the more real.

Yrene’s eyes darkened as she said, “Lord Frey has a reputation to match Chaol’s father. With her mother gone, I suspect Eveline has not had much control over her life. This would be nothing new to her.”

Now fully ashamed of himself, Dorian only nodded. If there was anything he could understand, it was not being able to defy a bullying parent. A new sense of sympathy filled him as he wondered how desperate Eveline must be for a new life. Freedom from an abusive father would be worth the heavy responsibilities and loss of privacy that came with being a queen. Maybe it was time to make an effort. He couldn’t envision a future where he would ever develop actual feelings for Eveline. But he could at least become her friend.

“What else have you learned about her?” he asked.

Yrene shrugged. “Her education has been extensive, and she knows much about the court and how it runs. She enjoys art and music, embroidery …” She trailed off, trying to think of any other attributes worth sharing. “Horse riding. She always seems to be coming back from the stables when I see her. I’ve gotten the impression her father does not approve of that hobby, but she maintains that being a good horsewoman befits a true lady.”

“So, she does disobey him then …” Dorian smiled slightly, recalling how he used to rebel against his parents. Horse riding was much less scandalous. “Does she need any help with the wedding plans?”

The suddenness of his change in tone had Yrene blinking at him. “I don’t believe so. But I can ask her.”

Dorian stood and walked towards the door. He knew if he didn’t start now, he never would. “I will go ask. I’d like to recommend some music.”

“Wait,” Yrene cried, trailing him out into the corridor. When she caught up to him, she asked, “What are you doing?”

The fear in her eyes almost made Dorian turn around and forget his pledge of moments ago to try and accept this. Yrene had always been the biggest supporter of his relationship with Manon. Whether she was helping them arrange a short, secret escape from their duties, or using her sharp tongue to tear down any detractors of the Witch Kingdom, or giving him advice on how to help Manon recover from the loss of her coven … Yrene had always been there. And now, for the first time, it seemed to be sinking in for her that what she had dreamed for her friends – a happily ever after to rival what she had with Chaol – was impossible. It pained Dorian to see it and he pulled her into a hug.

“If there was another way, Yrene, I’d do it. You know that.”

She hugged him back fiercely, her voice shaking as she said, “I know. She is my friend too, Dorian. And I don’t want to lose her.”

Gods, Dorian thought his heart couldn’t break anymore. And here it was, cracking into even more fragments, each time becoming smaller and smaller. “I know.”

Yrene backed away and let loose a string of curses and insults about Lord Frey that left his eyes wide and mouth agape. He’d never heard her speak like that before, had never thought her capable of such filthy language.

Before she could think to apologize, he laughed. “Well said, Lady!”

Red with embarrassment, Yrene burst into laughter too. When they’d both regained their composure, she said, “Come. I’ll walk with you to Eveline’s rooms and catch you up on her wedding plans.”

“Thank you,” he said, and meant it. “She is as much a pawn in this game as anyone, and she doesn’t deserve my animosity.”

Yrene nodded. “As much as I hate to admit it, she’s a perfectly lovely young woman. It makes things worse in a way.”

When they reached her rooms, Yrene led him inside.

“Your Majesty,” Eveline said brightly. Her dark hair matched her eyes and she gave him a beaming smile. “I was not expecting you today.” She was going through a stack of replies to the invitations.

“Please, call me Dorian. I insist,” he said. “I have one more to add.” Slowly, as if not wanting to give it up, he handed her Manon’s reply. He and Yrene both watched her carefully as she read it.

With the same smile as before, Eveline said, “I’m so pleased the Witch Queen will be attending. None of your other royal friends are able to come due to the weather. Though Doranelle is sending someone.” She paused, thinking. “I can’t remember his name.”

As the two women went through the replies and spoke quietly, Dorian pretended to listen. For one terrible moment, he wondered what the word princeling might sound like from Eveline’s mouth. The thought felt blasphemous, leaving him spinning and trapped between two worlds: the reality sitting next to him, this perfectly lovely woman for whom he felt nothing, and a dream world where he’d wake up happy each morning to snow white hair and golden eyes. A dream that had slipped through his fingers, like the wind gusting wildly outside.

Perfectly lovely. Eveline was lovely, and perfect, with exquisite manners, an impeccable wardrobe, and a distinguished education. But despite that loveliness and perfection, he knew without a doubt that his feelings towards Eveline would never come close to what he felt for Manon. Manon was his mirror, his equal. If beings other than fae were able to have true mates, she would be his.

The thought struck him like a dagger, straight to whatever bits of his heart yet remained. Shaking his head, Dorian tried not to think of Manon, of how this next visit for the wedding would likely be her last. Tried not to dwell on how he would have to live the rest of his life without her, his mate in every way that counted.

Of course, he failed. And when Eveline asked him about what music he’d prefer, Dorian used every ounce of strength he had left to force a smile on his face and answer.

To be continued...

***

Thanks for reading! You can find my writing master list here or on AO3.

It’s been a while since I’ve written and I’m not sure who all is still out there. So if I missed you, or you’d like to be tagged/removed for parts two and three, let me know.

@itach-i @bookishwitchling @manontrashbeak @awesomelena555 @jimetg98 @over300books

[kissofthemuses]

LYSANDRA

FULL NAME: Lysandra Ennar SPECIES: human TITLE: Lady of Caraverre

FANDOM: Throne of Glass

             PHYSICAL

FACECLAIM: Hazal Filiz Küçükköse PRONOUNS: she/her AGE: 20+ BIRTHDATE: September 30 HAIR: brown EYES: green HEIGHT: 5'5" ORIENTATION: biromantic, demisexual

            RELATIONSHIPS

MOTHER: Alna Ennar FATHER: unknown father UNCLE: Falkan Ennar CHILDREN: Evangeline (adopted daughter) OTHER RELATIONSHIPS: Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, Gavriel, Wesley (former lover), Aedion Ashryver, Arobynn Hamel, Clarisse DuVency

          PERSONALITY

MBTI: ENFJ-T “The Protagonist” ALIGNMENT: lawful good TEMPERAMENT: sanguine ENNEAGRAM: 9 The earliest depiction we see of Lysandra is a spoiled girl who always gets what she wants, along with frequently getting in the way of her "enemy," Celaena Sardothien. As the series progresses, however, she displays a sharp mind, courage, and kindness.  

She has taken the small girl Evangeline under her wing, which makes Aelin begin to trust her again. Throughout the series, Lysandra proves herself to be a loyal and courageous member of the new court of Terrasen. She is fiercely loyal and very dedicated to creating a better world for Evangeline.

           OTHER

POWERS:

shapeshifting

           TAGS

Threads Headcanons Musings Inspo

           BACKSTORY

Early Life

Lysandra was kicked out of her home as a child after accidentally shifting into a hissing tabby in front of her mother. She spent days crying at her mother's door until she was threatened to be taken by the guards, forcing her to leave. Then, she spent her days surviving as different animals and begging for food as beautiful young girls. When magic was erased, she got stuck in the form of one of those beautiful young girls. Eventually, she was found by Arobynn Hamel and given to Clarisse DuVency. This meant that she was trained to become a courtesan.

Queen of Shadows

When Lysandra appears for the first time she is paying a visit to Aelin's former house in Rifthold to inform her about Arobynn Hamel's plan. The young courtesan was a the time accompanied by a young little girl named Evangeline since she knew that Aelin wouldn't kill her in front of a child. Lysandra explains to Aelin the reason for her visit. She has come to give Aelin the details of the plan to save the young queen's cousin, Aedion, who is about to be executed at the celebration for the Crown Prince's birthday. Once she explains every last detail of the plan, the young courtesan starts talking about the past, revealing to Aelin things she wasn’t aware of. At the end of the meeting, Aelin and Lysandra conclude that there is no need for them to be enemies and that they both have been manipulated by Arobynn to dislike each other. Although Aelin is still skeptical of their newly found “friendship,” she begins to trust Lysandra and also grows to love Evangeline.

After a while, Lysandra visits Aelin's apartment once again to bring clothes for Rowan Whitethorn. Rowan, being able to track her scent, reveals that she is a Shapeshifter. Lysandra explains how after magic had vanished from Erilea, she was trapped in this form, and as a result of the years that had gone by she had completely forgotten what her true form was.

Aelin gives Lysandra a note saying, 'He's all yours,' allowing her to be the one to kill Arobynn. He lets her sleep beside him, and she slits Arobynn's throat.

Empire of Storms

Lysandra becomes a member of Aelin's court and aids Aelin in the war against Erawan. Notably, she shifts into a sea dragon to destroy Erawan's fleets and Maeve's armada. It is mentioned that before Aelin was kidnapped, the Queen of Terrasen wanted Lysandra to take her (Aelin's) form amongst her army and sire heirs with Aedion should Aelin receive the fate she'd expected, implying a romantic relationship between the two (Lysandra, Aedion) and that Lysandra was one of the few Aelin trusted most.

When Aelin is captured by Maeve, Lysandra shifts into Aelin to trick the new allies into believing Aelin is still with her troops and not captured. She does this to avoid conflict breaking out between the allies or potentially losing allies.

Kingdom of Ash

Lysandra continues her ruse of being Aelin while drifting away from Aedion, who is angry at her for deceiving and lying to him. She goes out on patrols and engages in battles, slowly exhausting herself until she slips up and accidentally reveals her true self to Aelin's allies. She attempts to defend Orynth against Erawan's hordes and almost dies, after which she and Aedion reconcile. When Erawan and Maeve are defeated, Lysandra takes her place as Lady of Caraverre.

[justreadertings]

Some of my ToG Headcannons

1) if Manon and Dorian have a baby he calls their daughter little witchling, she has gold eyes, black hair, and ice powers with an asphyxiation for flying on wyvers- she is unstoppable

2) Aelin bans all whips from terrasen, and Dorian- in honor of the assassin who showed him her scars so long ago- bans whips from Adarlan too

3) Yrene is true to her word and comes to Terrasen when Aelin gives birth. Dorian and Chaol tag along for "diplomatic purposes"

4) Dorian and Chaol are uncles to Aelin's children, as she is an aunt to theirs

5) Every couple of years, again for "diplomatic purposes", Terrasen, Adarlan, the Witch Kingdom, the Wastes, Perranth, Carravere, Skulls Bay, and the Khagante Empire's rulers sit down for lunch

6) Elide has a funeral for her parents and Finnula after Perranth is rebuilt

7) Rowan still looks at the sun sometimes and thanks Mala

8)On Arybenn Hammel's birthday, Aelin and Lysandra take a day off and sit together and cry for all that happened to them at his hands, and every year after they go out and help someone who were facing the same trials in his name to piss him off from hell

9) Aelin has her "dark days" after everything (which is soooo earned) and on those days Rowan just sits and holds her and they just try to heal

10) Manon makes Dorian the little spoon, and that is a fact

11) Rowan will purposely make his and Aelin's room colder so they have to snuggle

12) Lysandra and Aedion make snowmen with Evangeline every year no matter how freezing it gets

13) At Yulemas, Aelin always holds a party with as many friends and family as she can pack into the Terrasen ballroom bc she will never spend another holiday alone

14) Rowan makes the biggest deal out of Aelin's birthday, like you know the whole kingdom is celebrating 

15) like this man goes up to random strangers and is like "uhhh it's the queens birthday soon, you gotta do something special"

16) Sam thanking Nehemia for looking out for Celeana and Nehemia thanking Gavriel for looking out for Aelin

17) Evangeline brings stones for Darrow's grave even long after he's died and she's grown up

18) Aelin makes sure to visit Sam when she can

19) Manon has two witchlings: Liv and Hope

20) Rowan and Aelin eventually do visit the mountain where Lyria was buried, and he gets the goodbye that Aelin got with Sam

[acourtofquestions]

There was nothing that could be done to fix her.

And she was ... she was ...

A whimpering noise came out of her, lips trembling so hard she had to clamp down to keep the sound inside.

But the sound was in her throat and her lungs and her mouth, and when she took a breath, it cracked out. Once she heard it, everything came spilling into the world, until her body ached with the force of it.

She vaguely felt the light shifting on the lake.

Vaguely felt the sighing wind, warm as it brushed against her damp cheeks. And heard, so soft it was as if she dreamed it, a woman's voice whispering, Why are you crying, Fireheart?

It had been ten years--ten long years since she had heard her mother's voice. But she heard it then over the force of her weeping, as clear as if she knelt beside her. Fireheart--why do you cry?

"Because I am lost," she whispered onto the earth. "And I do not know the way."

It was what she had never been able to tell Nehemia--that for ten years, she had been unsure how to find the way home, because there was no home left.

Storm winds and ice crackled against her skin before she registered Rowan sitting down beside her, legs out, palms braced behind him in the moss. She raised her head, but didn't bother to wipe her face as she stared across the glittering lake.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked.

"No." Swallowing a few times, she yanked a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose, her head clearing with each breath.

They sat in silence, no sound but the quiet lapping of the lake on the mossy bank and the wind in the leaves. Then-- "Good. Because we're going."

Bastard. She called him as much, and then asked, "Going where?" He smiled grimly. "I think l've started to figure you out, Aelin Galathynius."

[llyncooljones]

all together now - rowaelin month day twenty.

ao3 || masterlist || rowaelin month '21 masterlist

prompt: CANON WEEK: playing with magic

word count: 772

trigger warnings: language.

tag list: @live-the-fangirl-life @rowaelinismyotp @rowanaelin @surielandiareendgame @fireheartwhitethorn4ever

the castle grounds, the late afternoon.

Their children had always taken after their father more so their mother, preferring the silver of his hair, the emerald of his eyes, the ice and wind of his magic. Only two of the six children they’ve had together have Aelin’s hair colour, a different two have her turquoise eyes. Only one has the fire of her magic.

It makes for exciting dinners around their table.

Working out which of her six mischievous children has sent the platter flying with the other magic they picked up from ancestors long since lost to the history books.

Trying to find whose foot it was that kicked her shin, whose hand had tickled her toes.

Dinner times in the castle of Terrasen are never dull, and Aelin is always thankful for that. The memory of stiff, forcefully silenced dinners at the Assassin’s Keep a bad one.

Alongside making dinners fun for all, the array of magic and power within their family of eight makes for afternoons spent having fun, exploring and pushing magical limits. Afternoons of Aelin’s flames being made bigger by blasts of wind from Rowan, and the orange flames flickering out as he concentrates the wind to blow it out.

Afternoons of teaching their children to do just that.

Aelin stands outside, now, basking in the light and heat of the sun. Throwing her head back with laughter periodically, the ways of her family funny to her in a way they aren’t to her. Maybe her childhood being cut short had taken a toll on her.

She feels sometimes, that in being a parent she gets a second childhood. No one asks why she’s painting on the walls with her fingers now that she has young (and old) children the answer is already there. She’s entertaining one of her children, it’s as simple as pie.

Being a parent, for her, is simultaneously the most fun she’s ever had, and the stressful time she’s ever lived through.

She locks eyes with Rowan over the tops of their children’s heads, smiling the smiles they understand and having a conversation without saying anything, saying everything that needs to be said, without saying anything.

Ah, true love.

A burst of flame erupts before her, practically singing of her eyebrows (if fire could do that to her, that is) and she lets out a quiet and controlled yelp that has her husband laughing and laughing a little bit more. His hands brace around his abdomen as he belly laughs.

“It wasn’t that funny, Ro. Get over yourself.” Her tone is joking, her eyes brimming with laughter of their own, though her mini-me, her identical twin in most aspects doesn’t seem to understand the joking between her parents.

“Yeah, Da, get. Over. Yourself.” She clicks her fingers between each word, emphasizing her attitude towards Rowan and how she does not appreciate the way he’s laughing at her mother right now.

It does nothing but make Rowan laugh harder, his head tipping back, his stomach jumping with the shocks of his laughter. It’s pure music to Aelin’s ears, as she picks up on each note and each breath between each bout of laughter.

The rough, and yet giddy sound filling the air and travelling to the castle at speed.

She almost wants to tell him to stop, so that no one else can have the privilege of hearing this laugh, this absolute fucking melody he creates with his happiness.

“Ma, I told Da to get over himself, why hasn’t he?” The nerves on her daughter have never shocked her, with her and Rowan as the parents of the little girl, it’s no wonder she doesn’t do anything but bust the balls of everyone she crosses paths with.

Including her favourite Uncle: Uncle Lorcan. Who simply adores joining in with her and her reign of terror.

A little fire rages in the hands of her daughter, only added to by the meddlesome winds of five meddlesome children. Pushing the fire into the air, their daughter looks up with awe. With the ball of flame a safe distance from the children, Aelin and rowan share a co-conspiring look.

Adding her own flame to the ball suspended in the air while Rowan adds the force of wind behind it with more force than five young children can manage; the fire travels above their heads. Forming images and playing out scenes for their entertainment.

They stay outside, playing with fire and ice and wind and whatever else they can find, until the dark skies of the night roll in and the moon cannot be seen through the clouds.

[charincharge]

I Don’t Want To Wait, seven

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

Based on the prompt:

Sharing is caring. Now, give me the hoodie!

“I’m never drinking again,” Aelin moaned as she rolled over on Lysandra’s bed, shoving her head under the pillow. She knew Rowan had censored himself filling in the gaps of her night. Saying she was an angry drunk, though accurate, was not quite specific enough.

Apparently, she and Rowan had had a screaming match in the kitchen that he failed to mention, and Aelin had zero recollection of.

“The entire kitchen cleared out,” Lysandra explained, “Lyria included. But you were… pretty loud.”

Aelin groaned into the pillow.

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

Lysandra patted Aelin’s foot, trying to be comforting, but Aelin didn’t want to be comforted right now. She kicked Lysandra’s hand away.

“This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Lysandra snorted and poked her bare foot. “At least he thought you were talking about someone else?”

Aelin peeked out from beneath the pillow and frowned again. “That is so much worse. Now he thinks I’m mad at him for not letting me kiss NOX OWEN.”

“What else was he supposed to think? You can’t exactly blame him. You smacked his drink out of his hand and started screeching about how he ruined your kissing plans.”  

“As if I’d ever have a chance with Nox. I barely even have a chance with Rowan, and he’s been my best friend since we were eight.” Aelin sighed loudly. “Whatever. Everything is ruined now. He’s going to prom with Lyria.”

Lysandra frowned, the pity evident in her bright green eyes as she flopped down next to Aelin on her comforter. “I’m sorry, boo.”

“Tell me one more time,” Aelin sighed. “Exactly what we both said. Every word.”

“In the kitchen?”

Aelin nodded.

“You stared at Lyria’s hand for like… a full ten seconds. Then you smacked the drink out of Rowan’s hand, and screamed – Where’s my drink, bitch? And he very calmly said, What the fuck, Aelin? Because… you know. The drink spilled all over the floor. Then you screamed at the top of your lungs, I NEEDED ANOTHER DRINK, AND YOU RUINED EVERYTHING. And he did that eyebrow thing you hate and asked, What did I ruin? And then you screamed back KISSING PLANS. That’s when the kitchen started emptying out.” Aelin groaned.

“It’s so much worse hearing it again.”

Lysandra paused. “Do you want me to repeat the rest?” And Aelin nodded tentatively. It was masochistic, but she needed to hear it all again.

Lysandra sighed loudly, knowing the worst was about to happen. “You fucking raged, Aelin. You incoherently started screaming – I HAD KISSING PLANS. AMAZING REAL FIRST KISS PLANS AND YOU RUINED THEM BY GETTING DISTRACTED.” She crinkled her nose at that. “And it looked like Rowan was going to say something, but you just kept going on and on about your ruined kissing plans. You called him an idiot….” Aelin cringed. She couldn’t believe how belligerent she was. “And then you screamed, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO COME BACK WITH MY DRINK. THE DRINK WAS INTEGRAL TO MY KISSING PLAN. Which, by the way, nice SAT vocab drop while you were blackout drunk. That was impressive.”

Aelin couldn’t do anything more than flick off her friend. She was too busy berating herself for all the stupid things she didn’t remember saying when she was drunk. She’d been this close to telling Rowan she’d planned to kiss him. And she’d said FIRST KISS. It wasn’t like she hadn’t kissed anyone before – she totally had. There’d been several games of truth or dare which included kisses and a braces-filled makeout session at Camp Terrasen in eighth grade. She’d just meant their first kiss. She wanted to die.

“Then he got really mad himself and screamed back at you that you should have told him about your kissing plans, so he didn’t ruin your night. And you screamed back it didn’t matter since it was already ruined and clearly you could get your own drink.”

“I think that’s when he realized you’d had a little too much to drink that he’d clearly missed. And he sought out Nox, who explained the drink chugging, and while that happened, you literally chugged another drink and then launched yourself at Salvaterre.”

“I have to apologize,” Aelin said, but Lysandra shook her head.

“He didn’t bring it up for a reason.” Lysandra softened her eyes, running her hand through Aelin’s freshly showered hair. “I think once you punched Lorcan he chocked everything up to wasted nonsense.”

Aelin shoved her face into Lysandra’s pillow and let out a low laugh. What a nightmare. “I’m just grateful you and Elide were there to change me,” she said. “I can’t even imagine my embarrassment if Rowan had to peel me out of puke-covered clothes.”

“Yeah, you owe us for that one.”

Aelin’s mouth dropped in shock. “You left me to sleep on the bathroom floor!”

Lysandra laughed. “Only because you scissor kicked Rowan in the knee when he and Wes tried to take you up the stairs.” She looked at Aelin. “He’s not mad at you, Ace. He was going to let you sleep in his bed. Puke-covered and all.”

Aelin rolled onto her back. “But he’s going to prom with Lyria,” Aelin repeated again.

“She’s nice,” Lysandra quipped, causing Aelin to glare at her. “But she’s not you.” Aelin’s lips quirked upward at that. “He’ll figure it out eventually,” she said, letting Aelin breathe a sigh of relief. She really hoped Lysandra’s assessment was true. “Or he won’t, and you’ll spend the rest of your life pining away.”

Aelin snorted loudly. “Gee, thanks.”

“Welcome, bitch.”

Lysandra paused, her green eyes soft and nervous instead of holding their usual brash confidence as she continued. “I know you and Rowan are special best friends with, like, a special best friend song and everything.”

“We do not have a special best friend song?” Aelin interrupted, causing Lysandra to laugh and boop her nose softly.

“You do. It’s ‘Dancing In The Moonlight,’ which is adorable, but not my point.”

“And that is…?”

“I know I’ll never be Rowan, but I’m still a best friend, and if you need to talk about things… you can tell me. Especially if they’re Rowan things.”

Aelin bit her lip and breathed nervously. “I’m glad you know.”

“Oh, babe,” Lysandra laughed, rubbing Aelin’s shoulder softly. “I’ve known about your feelings for years. I’m just glad you finally told me.”

Aelin groaned and shoved her head under the pillow again.

~*~

Dear journal,

I don’t know who else to talk about this with. I know Lysandra KNOWS now, but I just need to vent to someone impartial, okay? Things with Rowan are so weird… because they’re not weird at all. After Lys told me what I screamed at him, I was sure he’d finally come out and clear the air, but it’s been a WHOLE WEEK, and he hasn’t said anythingggg. Everything is just…. normal??? He even let me keep the lacrosse sweatshirt Lys and El put me in. I tried to give it back, but he told me it was mine now. What the hell is THAT about? What does it mean?

I want to tell him I know about the fight, but then I’d have to explain I was screaming about kissing him, and I don’t know if he wants to hear that anymore.

All I know is that every time I look at him I feel like I’m about to explode. Not to mention I’m about to go suit shopping with him for ~PROM~ and I’m kind of freaking out. What is Rowan in a TUX going to do to my body? I might just combust there on the spot. Maybe he’s right. I should ask Lys to teach me how to … you know (masturbate). I tried to watch a video (I KNOW), but I got a million pop ups and got too nervous and shut my laptop off. Maybe I should look on my phone next time. Do phones get pop ups?

UGH OKAY. HE’S HERE. WISH ME LUCK.

Xo, Aelin

5/21/20 – age 16

Aelin slammed her journal shut and shoved it under her stack of decoy notebooks in her nightstand just before Rowan appeared in her doorway.

“Ready to go, Ace?”

She nodded and stretched her arms above her head, shaking out her hand, which was cramped from writing so neatly in her journals.

“Don’t you want to bring a jacket?” Rowan asked, looking at Aelin’s bared stomach pointedly.

“It’s almost June, Buzzard, don’t be such a prude,” she answered, her arms self-consciously crossing over the chest of her cropped t-shirt.

He rolled his eyes, leading them back downstairs, and Aelin grabbed her purse and followed. “Don’t come complaining to me when you’re too cold.”

“I would never,” she gasped, feigning shock. “And don’t forget you owe me post-shopping ice cream.”

“Oh, bring me back a pint of chocolate peanut butter,” Rhoe called out from the kitchen, his blue eyes peering out from behind the giant pages of the Orynth Times.

“Sure thing, Dad,” Aelin called out, passing by the kitchen with a wave.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Aelin doubled back and peered into the kitchen where her exhausted looking dad sat. “Rowan is taking you shopping? Has hell frozen over? Rowan, how did you get conned into this?”

Aelin looked up at Rowan, who scratched his head uncomfortably. “She’s actually taking me shopping. I need a tux for prom…” Rowan trailed off, his cheeks turning slightly pink as Rhoe returned a surprised look at the child who was practically his surrogate son.

“Ae, do you need a dress?” he asked, suddenly looking worried. Her dad would give her the moon if he could, but supporting a daughter on a firefighter’s single salary was often more than he could manage.

“Oh, no,” Aelin shook her head, carefully concealing her hurt feelings with a devilish smirk. “Rowan got asked to junior prom.”

Rhoe’s eyes widened, flickering between his daughter and Rowan rapidly, before smiling softly. “An older woman, eh?”

“It’s not like that…” Rowan grumbled, his cheeks flushing slightly as he looked down at the ground at his well-worn running sneakers. “I barely know her. I just said yes to be polite…”

“Sure, Buzzard,” Aelin said, poking Rowan’s side. He frowned at her unhappily, flicking her finger away.

Rhoe barked out a loud laugh. “Have fun, you two.” He fixed Aelin with a serious stare. “Make sure he picks out something really embarrassing, kiddo.” His stare broke as he winked, sending them off on their way, Rowan rushing out of the house as fast as his feet could carry him.

“Oh yeah,” Aelin laughed. “I’m putting him in blue ruffles first.”

“You are not!” Rowan called from outside, already starting up the jeep.

Aelin waved goodbye to her dad and hopped into the passenger seat, cranking up her mix, which was still playing in Rowan’s car.

~*~

“I look stupid,” Rowan whined, shoving his hands into the pockets of the umpteenth different styled tux the shop attendant had pulled for him. This one was black, again, but some kind of shiny material, and the pants had a stripe up the side.

Aelin couldn’t help the small frown that tugged at her lips at how picky her best friend was being. She honestly assumed the boy who mostly lived in athletic shorts and t-shirts would be fine with the first suit he tried on, but he was being finnicky and far too particular for someone who “just said yes to be polite.” And it was starting to get on her nerves. What she thought was going to be an exercise in sexual restraint was actually just trying her patience.

“Shiny, no good!” the salesman agreed, his accent curling thickly around his criticism.

Rowan sighed and turned to look at Aelin, who did her hardest to neutralize her facial expression before he saw her frown, but it was too late.

“I knew it,” Rowan grumbled, peeling the jacket off and handing it to the salesman, who cleared out the full dressing room again, and Aelin gnawed at her lip, trying to think of something comforting to say.

“It’s not bad…”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Ace.”

“Language!” the salesman snapped, and Rowan’s mood lifted for a brief second as he laughed in shock, his eyes going straight to Aelin, as if to say Can you believe this guy? She shook her head in agreement, and she was relieved to see a smile on his face for the first time in two hours.

Aelin pushed herself off the small chair in the communal dressing room space and approached Rowan. She cocked her head to the side and let her eyes shamelessly trail his form. He was right about this particular suit. It did look stupid. But none of the suits, all in differing shades and cuts of black, had looked right. As her gaze trailed back up to his face, his breath held, patiently waiting for her conclusion, Aelin had a stroke of genius.

“Black isn’t your color, Ro. It’s washing you out.” Rowan’s face scrunched at her assessment, clearly unpleased. But the stark contrast between the white and black, combined with his pale hair was doing something to his usually tanned and glowing skin, and it wasn’t good.

“I refuse to wear a light blue suit,” he said, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Not something bright. Just… subtle color,” Aelin explained, and the salesman started nodding rapidly.

“Ah, yes, the Bellissima is correct. Color. Yes, color! COLOR!”

He excitedly ran back into the shop and returned with suits in various dark shades of navy and emerald and maroon slung over his shoulder. Aelin watched in amusement as he shoved Rowan back into the dressing room, telling him to try the green first.

Aelin stood impatiently, arms crossed and leaning against one of the 360 mirrors, hoping against all hopes that her assessment was correct. She wasn’t sure she could endure another two hours of this. Another five minutes would be bad enough, to be honest.

When Rowan walked out to the small platform, she knew she’d nailed itt. Her pulse thrummed loudly, and she could feel her lips part, inhaling a large gasp into her drying mouth. Rowan looked…

“Wow,” Aelin whispered at the same time Rowan said, “Huh,” peering into the mirror.

Aelin stood up straighter, pushing herself up and getting a closer view of the striking boy in front of her. The green was so dark, it just barely contrasted with the black lapels and trim of the suit, but the color brough a warmth to his face that had been missing, the green of his irises prominent beneath his long blonde lashes. Those bright eyes peered over at Aelin, searching for her reaction, and she couldn’t help the soft blush that appeared across her skin as they locked with hers.

Rowan cleared his throat, coughing lightly as he smoothed the jacket out, pulling the lapels gently. “Uh, yeah. Good call, Ace.”

Aelin lifted her long hair into a high bun, needing something to do with herself besides stare and to allow the breeze of the store fan to cool the back of her neck.

“The one!” the salesman cooed, running his hands across Rowan’s broad shoulders proudly. “We did it!”

When Aelin looked back up, she was surprised to see Rowan’s eyes still on her, gauging her reaction with curiosity. He raised a blonde brow in her direction, and Aelin was afraid for a second that she was going to launch herself at him right there and kiss his face.

Instead swallowed loudly and clapped her hands, shaking off the intensity of his gaze and smiled broadly. “About time, Buzzard. Now, let’s go get me some ice cream.”

The moment was broken as Rowan rolled his eyes and made his way back into the changing room, slinging the suit over the door as Aelin exhaled and slumped back into the chair for a brief reprieve.

“Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream,” Aelin chanted as Rowan paid for the tux rental.

Rowan slung his arm over Aelin’s shoulders and smiled down at her. “Fine. You earned it.”

“Hell yeah, I did,” Aelin said, as the salesperson shouted, “Language!” at them again, as they ran out of the store, both giggling.

By the time they reached their favorite ice cream spot, the sun had set, and the swift down current breeze of the Staghorn Mountains had started up, cooling the temperature significantly from the balmy afternoon Aelin had dressed for.

She looked out at the dark water, shivering slightly as she took her first bite of mint chocolate chip. Rowan bit back a smile as he wrapped his hoodie around himself tighter, keeping the winds out, happily eating his cookie dough without danger of freezing to death.

On her third bite, Aelin finally broke. “Oh come on, Buzzard, sharing is caring. Now, give me the hoodie.”

“I told you to bring your jacket!” Rowan laughed just as a particularly strong gust cut against Aelin’s exposed skin, making her shudder. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” he snorted, opening up the hoodie and nodding to her. “Get in here.”

“Really?” she asked, teeth chattering.

“You’re the worst,” he joked as he unzipped his hoodie and held it open, and Aelin practically raced into it. Rowan’s smile grew as he zipped the hoodie back up, which shockingly stretched large enough to fit them both. Just barely. Aelin pressed her cheek against his chest, soaking in his warmth as his free hand rubbed her back. She shivered again, but this time having nothing to do with the cold, warmth and desire radiating through her body as she felt every twitch of his muscles, every shallow breath.

“Better?” he asked, and she nodded, smiling happily into her next bite of ice cream. She savored each bite, not wanting the moment to end too soon. Each bite tasting better than the last, surrounded in Rowan’s grasp and heat. She breathed in, his heady scent filling her head, his embrace feeling so perfect around her. Her stomach calmed, everything suddenly feeling so right.

“Thanks, Ace,” he said quietly, resting his chin on her head. “I know that’s not how you wanted to spend your Saturday.”

Aelin finished her last bite and leaned harder into his warm chest. “I don’t care how we spend our Saturdays,” Aelin admitted. “As long as we’re hanging out.”

“Cool,” Rowan said, sounding so lame that Aelin couldn’t help but laugh, and she could feel him hiding his own smile in her hair. “Okay, we have to get back into the car,” he laughed outright, his hands rubbing circles onto her back, and Aelin shook her head into his shirt. No, she wanted to stay just like this forever.

“I’ll freeze to death!” she countered instead.

“We’ll just have to make a run for it. I don’t plan on losing you tonight, Ace.” Aelin groaned, but Rowan knew he’d won. “On the count of three,” he warned her. “One… two…” On three, he unzipped the hoodie, and Aelin screeched, her voice raising to glass shattering levels as she sprinted towards the jeep, wind whipping through her thin t-shirt and cutting against her warmed skin like ice.

Rowan unlocked the jeep as they ran, and they both launched themselves into their seats simultaneously, joyful laughter bubbling up in both of them and filling the car.

Aelin watched Rowan as he turned the car on, and immediately cranked up the heat. Her stomach fluttered again, and she crossed her legs to quell the ache of desire that had begun to take over her body.

As stealthily as she could, she pulled out her phone and texted Lysandra again.

I need some help.

Her phone lit up with Lysandra’s returning message almost immediately. XYZ kind of help???

Aelin snorted at the use of Rowan’s code name. Lysandra had suggested if Aelin ever wanted to talk about Rowan in text, she probably shouldn’t use his name. Just in case he ever saw. Aelin had immediately suggested his initials, RW, but Lysandra smartly pointed out he was the only RW they knew. Lysandra cackled, suggesting XYZ – because it came right after W. And with any luck, Aelin would be coming soon.

Aelin’s cheeks flushed as she texted back. Can you teach me/instruct me/explain how to masturbate?

OMG!!!!! MY BABY BUTTERFLY, YES YES YES GIRLLLLL!!!

Aelin laughed softly, and Rowan looked at her curiously, from her cheeks to the phone lit up in her hand.

“Who could you possibly be texting right now?” he asked, and if Aelin didn’t know better she would have thought he maybe sounded slightly put out.

“Lysandra,” she answered, a little too quickly, but her heart was beating too fast at the inappropriate back and forth she and Lys were having, especially since she wanted to fantasize about the person sitting right next to her while she… learned.

“What about?” Rowan asked, curious.

Aelin bit her lip. “You were right,” she said, her face probably beet red. She was grateful he couldn’t entirely see the color in the dark.

“About what?” he asked. “I mean, I’m often right about a lot of things,” he added cheekily.

“Masturbation,” Aelin replied as confidently as she could, while feeling like her skin was going to burn her alive. The car swerved slightly as Rowan snapped his head to look in her direction.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice sounding strained and high.

“Lysandra’s going to teach me.”

Aelin could feel her best friend’s gaze puncturing holes into her flaming cheeks as he searched for something to say. But when she looked up, she couldn’t speak fast enough.

“ROWAN!” she shouted as the jeep crashed straight into the taillights of the car in front of them.

~*~*~*~

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[abraxos-is-toothless]

The Beauty That Is She

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

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

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

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

“Rowan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tomorrow, he was getting married.

--------

Let me know what you thought! I’m sorry for being so behind on things:( If you’re not in the tags but you’ve asked to be, just give me a shout and I’ll fix it asap, I don’t think my lists are updating properly<3

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[brandyovereager]

The Phoenix Effect - pt. 8

THAT’S RIGHT I FINALLY WROTE IT. YOU THOUGHT I WOULDN’T, BUT I DIIIIIDDD.

I’m not entirely in love with how this turned out, but oh well. I finished it.

On ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22195906/chapters/61475764

Summary: Evalin and Rhoe settle into the caravan and Rowan asks Evalin what she needed to warn Aelin about.

As expected, Rhoe and Evalin were well tended to by the members of royal caravan.

Rowan observed the couple while various pages brought them refreshments and made a place for them to sit in the carriage—it was intended for any royals traveling in the caravan but Aedion and Rowan both preferred to walk alongside the others. The reborn royals were far more accustomed to the niceties of royal life than Rowan was, and that fact was quite obvious just from watching them interact with the caravan members.

While Rowan would often pause in discomfort whenever a page brought him water or offered to carry his pack, Rhoe and Evalin accepted any help with grace and a smile. As a result, it seemed the caravan members already liked the reborn couple more than their Fae king. Rowan noted his reborn in-laws seemed to like the caravan members more than him as well.

Rhoe had not warmed to the Fae male after he explained his position earlier. Despite knowing Rowan was no longer pledged to Maeve and had dedicated himself entirely to Aelin, the man still didn’t seem to trust him. Rowan supposed the man could be a bit concerned about his daughter’s attachment to a strange and dangerous Fae male, but Rhoe Galathynius would learn soon enough that Aelin was a grown woman who could make that sort of choice for herself—and likely wouldn’t appreciate anyone thinking otherwise.

He should also know that if Rowan ever crossed her—as impossible as that was—Aelin was more than capable of handing him his ass.

Aedion had followed Rhoe and Evalin to the carriage—obviously happy to have his family back—but did not enter with them. He would sometimes approach the carriage door to speak with them, but mostly stayed outside directing the pages tending to his aunt and uncle.

Sam had been awfully quiet since they found Rhoe and Evalin—he never spoke much to begin with, but he was being especially quiet at the moment. One of the pages had mentioned to the couple that there was another reborn in their caravan, but Sam had not reciprocated their interest in speaking to him. Rowan supposed it might be confusing for him to see Evalin, just as it had been for him to see Aedion. He couldn’t be certain what the boy had put together yet in his head—maybe he assumed all people from Terrasen looked similar—but he had to be doing some thinking as they walked.

With every day that passed on their journey, Rowan questioned more and more his decision to hide Celaena’s true identity from Sam. It was a conversation Aelin deserved to have with the assassin herself, but Sam also deserved to know the truth and not be kept in the dark about all that was happening. With the arrival of Rhoe and Evalin, more questions about Aelin’s life were bound to come up. All three reborns wanted answers, and Rowan wasn’t sure how much longer he could avoid their questions.

This would be the last time he went somewhere without his mate. Never again. He wouldn’t have this problem if they weren't separated.

The decision of what to tell Rhoe and Evalin seemed to be out of his hands, though, as they only really spoke to Aedion and the occasional page. When they settled down to make camp for the night, the couple and their nephew sat close together chatting amicably with the other caravan members, while the Fae and assassin made themselves comfortable a fair distance away. Rowan was curious to see how Aelin reacted to her parents’ cold treatment of her mate.

Whether the in-laws loved him or not wasn’t his main concern, however. What Rowan really wanted to know was what horrible thing Evalin needed to warn Aelin about. If Evalin Ashryver herself thought something was amiss, then they were likely in for it. Deciding that whatever they had to tell Aelin they could tell to him, Rowan made his way towards the reborn royals.

Aedion was the first to notice him approach, acknowledging the other male with a nod. Evalin was next, staring at Rowan with the eyes of a detailed examiner. There was no judgement in her evaluation of him, just the desire to learn a new entity. Evalin was not openly welcoming to Rowan, but she didn’t seem to harbor the same assumptions her husband did. She was waiting, observing him to make her own conclusions. Maybe it was her significant resemblance to his beloved Aelin, but Rowan decided he liked Evalin—if nothing else, he certainly respected her.

When Rhoe finally recognized Rowan’s presence, he tensed slightly. It was nothing major, but it was no longer the relaxed posture of a man laughing with his family—even though Rowan was his family as well. He was not overtly displeased with the male, but Rhoe wasn’t comfortable around him the way he was with Aedion.

It was then Rowan recalled that Aelin’s power was the result of two strong bloodlines mixing, and neither of her parents held such magic. Rhoe Galathynius was helpless against any Fae—even more so a warrior Fae such as himself. For the first time, it occurred to Rowan that Rhoe might actually be afraid of him.

How would he react upon seeing Aelin—his own daughter—had grown into a powerful Fae herself? Rowan recalled the stories Aelin had told him about her childhood, the internalized fear she had of her own magic back when he first trained her. Her parents hadn’t known how to handle her power back then, how would they feel seeing her now?

No matter what they thought, Rowan would not let anything make his Queen doubt herself ever again. His extraordinary mate had battled debilitating fear of her own power, and came out resilient. She was strong enough to not let herself be afraid ever again, but damn him if he didn’t come out seething at anyone who dared suggest otherwise.

Rowan opted not to sit, instead standing at his full height in front of Rhoe. A petty part of him—perhaps the affectionately named ‘territorial Fae bastard’—was quite smug knowing how much of a striking figure he posed. The Fae turned to face Evalin, and his voice might have been a bit gruffer—but his eyes softer as they gazed into Ashryver turquoise—as he spoke.

“You said you had to warn my Queen of something, what is it?”

“Us—being alive—and the others you call ‘reborns’, this should not be.” An obvious statement courtesy of Evalin Ashryver.

“No, it shouldn’t. It goes against the natural order. Why is this cause to warn Aelin, though?” It had been an alarming situation when it first started, but now that governments had a system in place there was no need for warning.

“Because powerful magic is the only thing that could have done this. Something as significant as life and death cannot be changed easily, and such a disruption indicates dark magic.” Her conclusion puzzled the male.

“Why would resurrection indicate dark magic? Life is a blessing, not a curse.” The rebirth of dead loved ones didn’t seem like the beginnings of an evil plan.

“Life is a blessing only in its intended order. It is a blessing because it is so precious. The life I was gifted is over, and I yielded my time to others, to children who will walk this land and live out their gift. While I may wish I had more time here, this land is no longer mine, and I am not meant to take it back.” While that may be how Evalin saw things, Rowan wondered if that might be something for each person to decide themselves. Philosophical musings aside, the powerful magic was the real issue here.

“You think there is a threat out there, someone we need to find and defeat?” So soon after their victory against Maeve and Erawan, Rowan really hoped there wasn’t another villain out there to fight. He was tired. Was it too much to ask that he just spend the rest of his immortal life in peace with his mate?

“The magic used may have been dark magic, but I do not think the wielder has ill intentions. After all, giving life to the dead seems like a miracle. I believe someone has come into possession of great power they do not understand, and that is dangerous in a different way.” Yes, it was. Power is difficult to control when the user is outmatched, and dark power should not be let loose.

Evalin’s words meant more than a fight against evil magic, though. It meant that the entire reborn phenomenon would be reversed. Evalin wished to send back the reborns.

“You mean to undo all this, then? We are to take all the reborns away from families who just welcomed them back? That includes you as well. Are you prepared to make your daughter mourn you once again?” Rowan wasn’t sure he could put Aelin through that again. She would have him and the rest of her court to lean on this time, but no one should lose their parents twice. It was cruel, and the Fae grit his teeth at the fact that Evalin actually wanted this.

“As I said before, this is no blessing. Someone attempted to spare the world grief, but they only gifted us more to suffer.”

@rowaelinforeverworld​

@flowersinvegas​

@aelin-queen-of-terrasen​

@camixd93​

@lord-douglas-the-third​

@montse121296​

@dank-queen7​

@slytheringalathynius​

@rhyswhitethorn​

@jesstargaryenqueen​

@trilogiesrule

[shyvioletcat]

Could you do a rowaelin angst prompt like thing where aelin dies giving birth to their second or third child and becomes a ghost that follows them around? Idk how to explain it very well at the moment... but it's obviously an angst prompt. Love you AND your writing!

Well, well, well anon… Thank you for making me cry at least three times while writing this. At one point I couldn’t see the screen. *WARNING* Major character death ahead… 

My hand was forced. But I still apologise. This is a long son of a bitch too.

~~~~~

Rowan held his new born daughter in his arms, the world quiet and still. She was so tiny, so perfect. But it did nothing to soothe the expanse of darkness within him that threatened to swallow him whole.

“Rowan.”

It was Yrene. He’d heard her approach but he didn’t look up from the squirming infant in his arms. Because if he did…

“Rowan, I just need to check her over. It will only take me a few minutes then I will bring her right back to you.” Yrene’s voice was so soft and quiet, as if speaking to him in any other manner might shatter him entirely. And it just might.

Rowan drew in a shuddering breath, feeling his will slipping. His daughter cried out her body moving involuntarily. She was minutes old, she knew nothing of the world. He envied her ignorance.

“Only a few moments,” Yrene said again.

Rowan complied, treating the request as a command, like a good soldier.

All of a sudden he wasn’t in Orynth, he was is Mistward in that dingy old room, fire roaring to help Aelin keep warm after her burnout.

I don’t want your pity she had said to him and then told him why.

Like a good soldierRowan had told her. He had meant every one of those words to her.

Rowan looked at his empty hands where his daughter had been. It was then that he saw the small crescent shaped imprints in his palms. They weren’t from his own nails, they were from hers… She had gripped his hands so hard as she made him promise her, as if the drop of healing power within knew what none of them had, she made him promise.

“You save him Rowan. If you have to save one of us, you save him.”

They had been so sure that it was a boy. The dream Rowan had had all those years ago as he searched for his mate had been right for their first two children and they had blissfully assumed he would be right again this time. And then it would be another daughter and then at least one, that would be a true surprise. They had quietly laughed about it over so many nights. Aelin had called him a seer and Rowan had flicked her nose and kissed her which only made her laugh, a wicked and joyous sound. Something he would never hear again.

Rowan turned around to face the bed where she lay, cold and unmoving. Someone had laid one of their blankets over her, just above her shoulders exposed. Rowan understood the sentiment but the blanket was useless, not when Aelin’s raging wildfire had burnt out, never to be kindled again.

Aelin was dead. Rowan’s mate, his wife, his love, was dead.

Rowan stumbled to the edge of the bed, falling to his knees beside it. He brushed Aelin’s hair away from her face, her skin already so cold and her face draining of colour. It was as if she had thrown every last part of her into saving their child. If there was one thing Aelin loved more than him it was their children. She loved them fiercely with every part of her burning heart and soul.

A broken sob cracked from his chest, the sound coming from the shreds of his broken soul, so devoid of anything now that the mating bond had been irrevocably severed. Then he said one word, so mournful and shattered that all those in the room began to weep at the sound.

“Fireheart.”

~~~~~

Fireheart…

Aelin felt warm as she slowly opened her eyes. It felt so strange after being so, so cold. Instinctively her hands went to her stomach and found it to be entirely flat. Panic gripped her and she sat up.

“Fireheart.”

Aelin’s whole body stilled. She had not heard that voice in so long.

“Mother?”

Aelin was enclosed in a warm embrace, so familiar and comforting. She’d never forget the strong arms of her Father and how they felt as they held her and kept her safe from the world.

He let her go and Aelin took in the smiling faces of her parents. They were smiling but Aelin could read the sadness in their faces, the unshed tears in their eyes.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Aelin whispered.

“I know, Aelin,” her father said, his hand reaching for hers.

It came back to her, in flashes and moments.

Pain pulled her from her sleep, or maybe it had been her essence of healing power telling her something was wrong. Very wrong. Rowan was already awake and she murmured his name as he assessed her. When he pulled back the blankets that’s when she saw the blood.

Using the same portal they had used to bring in the Wolf Tribe in the final battle Rowan brought Yrene to Orynth. They had agreed the portals were only to be used in emergencies. This was most definitely an emergency. Despite the late hour Yrene arrived clear eyed and wholly awake.

“Just so you know, you’ve interrupted our first night alone in months,” Yrene said as she rolled up her sleeves.

Aelin huffed a laugh, grateful for Yrene’s attempt to lift the mood.

“You’re not missing much,” Aelin said, her voice trembling as much as her body.

Yrene snorted at that. “Alright let’s see what is going on here.”

Hours passed and Aelin had been in constant pain, she was feeling herself grow weaker by the minute.

Her fae hearing picked up Yrene’s whispers. “There’s too much blood. I can’t stop it.”

Aelin turned to Rowan, his face was stricken. She could feel his fear as though it was her own. She took his hand, another contraction ripping at her body as she locked eyes with her mate. This was different to the births of her other two children and it scared her.

“You save him Rowan. If it comes down to it you save him.”

Aelin could feel her fingernails biting into Rowan’s palm but he didn’t flinch. He only nodded once.

I understand, his eyes said to her…

“I’m not meant to be here.” They memories blurred and Aelin shook her head. The hand that was not held by her father flew to Aelin’s chest. It felt, hollow, empty. She reached for Rowan, reached for the mating bond, but neither were there. Aelin cried out, a sound of true heartbreak. Again she reached for Rowan, hoping desperately that some thread remained to bring her back. There was nothing. Instead a scene opened before her, Rowan knelt beside their bed, whispering things she could not hear. He knelt besides her lifeless body, tears streaming down his face.

Aelin’s own cheeks were wet with tears as his voice became clearer.

“I kept my promise Aelin, our child is alive. I hope you can hear me from wherever you are because it was a little girl, not a boy like we thought it would be,” Rowan said.

Then Yrene was beside him, handing him a bundle. Instinctively Aelin moved forward, wanting to see what she had not been able to while she was living. The face of her daughter. Rowan cradled her to his chest her perfect face peeking through the blankets, her eyes were open and she saw those Ashryver eyes search her father’s face. Rowan let out a shuddering breath.

“I know I promised to find you, to rip through all the hells until we were together again. But I can’t right now, Fireheart. She needs me, Elsie and Finn. They all need me. Terrasen needs me. If I left themnow you would find me yourself and kick my ass for good measure. So I won’t leave them yet, any of them. But we will be together again. To whatever end.”

Aelin let her heavy tears fall, the pain unbearable. She felt as if she was being torn to pieces. Her children motherless. Her country without a Queen. What had she done to cause this?

“It wasn’t your fault, Fireheart,” Her mother said, reading her thoughts. “You did nothing to cause this and you could do nothing to stop it. Sometimes life is cruel.”

Aelin turned away from her husband to look at her mother and her father. They understood what it was to be taken from a child too early, they knew her pain.

“Will you come, we’ve been waiting for you?” Evalin held her hand out to her daughter, beckoning and hopeful.

Aelin turned back to Rowan weeping unabashedly, tears staining the white blanket that kept they’re newborn daughter warm. Once again Aelin felt torn, even in death she could not rest.

“I can’t,” Aelin said. “Not yet.”

Rhoe nodded. “We understand.”

Aelin’s parents walked away from her, fading away into a white light. She wasn’t sad to see them go, she would see them again. And soon.

~~~~~

It had been weeks and still Rowan hadn’t named their daughter. They had been so sure it was a boy they hadn’t come up with any names for a girl. Rowan had been in a haze since her death, barely functioning. He cared for their children and that was about it. Aelin was flattered that he grieved so deeply but she wanted to smack him on the back of the head for leaving their daughter nameless.

Elide and Aedion were effectively leading the country as Rowan kept to their, now his, private quarters. All of the court visited him, helped him, helped Elspeth and Finnian as they grieved too. Aelin watched, but most of all her new daughter. She was so small, it made Aelin’s heart ache that she couldn’t hold her, feel the smoothness of her cheeks, the softness of her hair. Aelin knew what she would call her. She would call her Alora. It was a name from a book she had read when she was younger. Aelin had loved the name, she didn’t know why, and it fit her daughter somehow. It meant light, and that’s what she was. A light in the darkness.

The babe stirred in her sleep, eyes blinking open. She’d been asleep for only minutes. Her mouth opened and she wailed and Rowan was by her side a moment later. Aelin watched as Rowan picked her up shushing her quietly.

“I have you, my little one. I have you,” Rowan murmured as he rested his daughter on his chest. Rowan paced and bounced, but still she cried. “I know. I know. I miss her too.”

Rowan hummed, a lullaby he sang to all their children. Aelin knew he wasn’t singing the words because he was too overcome with emotions right now. The baby stopped crying, soothed by that ancient melody.

“I’m sorry,” Rowan whispered. “I’m sorry I haven’t given you a name. I’m sorry your mother isn’t here, she would love you with all her heart. I’m sorry I’m not more.”

Aelin’s heart ached. Rowan was still selling himself short, always doubting his worth. If Aelin could she would contradict him, kiss him until he agreed with her. But she couldn’t.

She tried to reach for him, her chest still hollow from that severed bond, but still she tried.

“Alora, Alora, Alora,” Aelin said over and, hoping by some grace Rowan would hear her.

Alora Alora Alora.

Rowan tilted his head as though he was listening for something.

Alora…

He looked down at the baby and Aelin held her breath.

“Alora,” Rowan whispered. “I love you, Alora.”

~~~~~

The years went on and still Aelin watched.

She saw Alora take her first steps walking between Elsie and Finn as Rowan cheered, pure joy on his face.

But he scowled as she said her first word. It was Fen, as in Uncle Fenrys. Aelin had laughed but sobered when she saw tears lining Fenrys’ eyes. By far Fenrys was Alora’s favourite. Aelin loved to watch them play when he was in his wolf form. He would snarl at her and she’d snarl right back, her four teeth bared.

Her older siblings adored her. One of them always seemed to be by her side, holding her hand or carrying her. If it wasn’t one of them it was a member of her court. Initially Aelin had tensed when Lorcan had taken her into his arms after she had wandered away from her sister who was meant to be watching her. But there was a gentleness to him that calmed her anxieties. Alora had grabbed at his long hair and he had let her.

The day her powers manifested Rowan had cried. She had been playing with Lysandra and Elide, they chased her and Alora chased them back. Lysandra had evaded Alora again by she stumbled as her foot caught on the floor. Entirely encased in ice. Everyone had gaped but Alora clapped her hands excitedly, entirely too proud at herself. Rowan looked on from where he sat, a tear rolling down his cheek. Aelin wiped her own away.

Alora grew and grew and Aelin could only watch as she became more beautiful by the day. By some cruel joke, maybe lingering from the damned gods Aelin had banished, Alora was a twin to Aelin. Same hair and eyes, almost identical face. Sometimes Aelin saw the way Rowan’s heart twisted in pain. He didn’t begrudge her or love her any less for it. If anything it was a beautiful reminder of his lost love.

Aelin watched as Alora fell in love and had her heart broken, a few times. Rowan was there for her holding her as she cried, threaten to rip arms off and freeze favoured appendages of the culprits. That made Alora and Aelin laugh. Fussy fae bastard.

Elspeth came of age, and after travelling and taking time for herself she assumed the throne and Rowan stepped down. Alora went travelling as well, visiting cousins in Wendlyn and Doranelle, making friends wherever she went. Such a bright light, people couldn’t keep away. Aelin wept when she found her mate in Doranelle. A brash young boy who would grate on everyone and give Fenrys and Aedion a run for their money. But Alora loved him and he adored her, so Aelin was happy.

Years passed, families were had, friends passed. Each one Aelin would greet and usher on, telling them that she would follow soon. She had someone in particular she was waiting for.

~~~~~

Rowan started to become weary of the world, his long years finally catching up to him. His sole joy were his children and grandchildren but it was almost time. It was Alora who told him to go. She was pregnant with her third child and she was sitting quietly with Rowan in his private room. She closed her book and sighed heavily.

“Papa,” Alora said and Rowan looked at her, “I think it is time for you to go.”

Rowan straightened at her words and went to say something but Alora raised her hand to stop him.

“We are all happy and content. We are safe and you have raised us in love and kindness. But I think it is time you soul was whole again.”

Aelin’s hands were on her chest, over that emptiness that was a constant dull ache.

Rowan nodded. “I will wait for this baby and then I will make plans.”

~~~~~

Rowan kept true to his word. Alora welcomed a healthy baby girl, as Rowan took her into his arms for the first time Alora told him her name.

“Rowenna. For you, Papa,” Alora’s weary voice whispered.

Aelin couldn’t tell who was crying harder, herself or Rowan.

Soon after he packed up his things, put his affairs in order and farewelled his loved ones. He left on a ship, arriving in Wendlyn a while later. Aelin was with him every step of the way as he trekked to the ruin’s of Mala’s temple. Where he had brought her all those years ago, to help her.

Rowan laid down on the broken stones and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m coming, Fireheart.”

Aelin placed her hands on Rowan’s chest even though he could not feel them. His breathing slowed and he placed his hands over his heart where Aelin’s hands were as if he knew. Aelin watched as Rowan breathing stopped, the light going from his features. She waited, prayed. Prayed to the Sun-goddess that she had banished but had left Aelin with a kindness that gave her a life with Rowan. Aelin begged for one last kindness. For her mate to find her once more. Although she could not feel it she knew Rowan’s body had gone cold, but he still wasn’t with her. The tears she had fought to keep at bay fell as Aelin began to despair that this may be her punishment for her wickedness. To be like Elena, always banished from her mate.

Aelin looked at Rowan’s handsome face, the face she had once hated but had come to love so fiercely.

“Find me, Buzzard,” Aelin whispered, her voice wavering. “You must come find me.”

Then Aelin heard a voice, the voice of her husband, her mate, the love who had made her want to live.

“Fireheart.”

Aelin stood and saw him there. Then they were in each other’s arms, lips pressed together in a sweet reunion they had waited life times for.

“I knew you were with me,” Rowan whispered leaning his forehead against hers. “I knew you would always be with me.”

That hollowness in her chest began to fill, the mating bond flowing freely between them once more. Aelin sighed at the feeling, she felt whole again.

“Will you come with me?” Aelin asked as she interlaced their fingers together.

“Where?” Rowan asked back.

Aelin shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I do not fear it as long as you’re with me.”

Rowan smiled and raised her hand to his lips.

“To whatever end, Aelin.”

“To whatever end.”

Then hand in hand they walked until the bright light enveloped them, caressing them like warm summer breeze and welcomed them into the beyond.

~~~~~

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[alectology-archive]

SJ/M’s plagiarism from fiction/media

I’m hoping to make a comprehensive list of all the sources SJ/M has outright ripped off from in the past. Feel free to comment down below or send an ask if you can think of anything.

SJ/M has very clearly ripped off of GRRM and JRR Tolkien’s works. Same goes for a lot of Anne Bishop’s works, too, and a lot of her favourite authors - so if anyone’s read books SJ/M has stated that she likes please let me know.

Note that this post will keep getting updated as I discover more evidences of plagiarism. Also note that there is every possibility that some resemblances are purely accidental and/or unintentional. So take it with a grain of salt.

(?) indicates a questionable addition to the post.

T/HRONE OF GLASS

- “The Queen Who Was Promised” comes from GRRM’s “The Prince who was Promised” prophecy in ASOIAF, who also goes by Azor Ahai, who wields Lightbringer, and is also known as the Son of Fire. 

- “Aelin” is probably derived from “Aelin-uial” in the Silmarillion by JRR Tolkien. Additionally, it may have been derived from Aerin Dragon-Killer/Aerin Firehair from Robin McKinley's The Hero and the Crown, as SJ/M stated it was one of her favourite novels.

- “Fireheart” is the name of Corlath’s horse in The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley, an author SJ/M admires.

- Empire of Storms, 2016, contains the infamous line ‘velvet-wrapped steel.’ And… so does Fifty Shades of Grey, in 2011: ‘Steel encased in velvet.’ 

- “Valg” comes from Terry Brooke’s The Sword of Shannara, another author SJ/M admires.

- “Hope. You cannot steal it, and you cannot break it." is awfully similar to the line from The Princess Bride about love "you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords". SJ/M has said that she loved the movie.

- The infamous “You could rattle the stars” is a ripoff of Treasure Planet’s “You’re gonna rattle the stars.”

- “To Whatever End” comes from The Two Towers where King Theoden says it just before the battle of Helm’s deep begins.

- “You bow to no one” is said by Aragorn at the end of the Return of the King after his coronation.

- Orynth has white walls and is surrounded by snow capped peaks. It has large white walls and bears an unusually striking resemblance to Minas Tirith in The Lord of the Rings.

- Aelin’s journey mirrors that of Aragorn. The lost heir to a powerful throne, spends years in the wilderness denying their claim, joins forces with the elf/faes to reclaim it and has an immortal elf/fae as consort.

- Nehemia names Aelin ‘Elentiya’, saying, “I give you this name to use with honour, to use when other names grow too heavy. I name you Elentiya, ‘Spirit That Could Not Be Broken’.” It sounds similar in tone and cadence to the way Galadriel describes the light of Earendil to Frodo. The name Elentiya even sounds Elvish, and sits discordant with the other naming conventions in Eyllwe.

- Manon gathers the witches to go to war by starting a series of beacons, lit all across Erilea, from snow-capped mountains to the woodlands - directly from the Return of the King when Pippin helps Gondor call for aid. 

- The wall defences of Orynth are completely sound, except there’s one more way in, through a grate in the water canal - another striking resemblance to a place in Lord of the Rings known as Helm’s Deep. There is even a scene where someone asks if there’s a secret passage the women and children can escape through.

- In EoS and ToD, Chaol is referred to as “Hand of the King”. In GoT the “Hand of the King” is a title given to the King’s advisor.

- The speech that Haldir gave when he arrived in Helm’s Deep, uniting the elven and human forces, is paraphrased at least three times in this book. Most notably when Manon brings the Crochan witches to fight alongside the humans. She actually says “Long ago, Crochans and humans fought side by side…”

- Kingsflame blossoms bloom only when a kingdom is at peace and the rightful monarch is on the throne. Also a very similar plot point to the White Tree of Gondor in The Lord of the Rings.

- The dam breaking in Anielle and flooding is based on the Isengard dam breaking in The Two Towers. 

- Chaol crosses the Narrow Sea to get to the southern continent. In GoT the Narrow Sea is the body of water between Westeros and Essos.

- The “Wyrdkeys” are the Silmarils. There are 3 Wyrdkeys and 3 Silmarils. They’re ancient and powerful stones forged by a being of great power (Feanor, who made the Silmarils, was the most powerful elf of all time). Everyone is fighting over them. And just like one Wyrdkey eventually ends up in the Terrasen Amulet, one of the Silmarils ends up in a necklace called the Nauglamir. They’re also all destroyed/lost at the end.

- Kingdom of Ash, page 543: “It was not arrows alone that had been fired, and now peppered the snow.But heads. Human heads, many still in their helmets.” In Return of the King, the orcs catapult severed heads (still in their helmets) over the walls of Minas Tirith.

- “What say you, Queen of Witches?”…….“I shall answer Terrasen’s call.” is a blatant rip-off of the scene where Aragorn approaches Theoden after the beacons are lit in the Return of the King.

- Rowan is referred to as, “My friend through many dangers.” which is exactly what Gandalf says about Shadowfax, his horse, in Lord of the Rings.

- The Land before Time, 1988: ‘Some things you see with your eyes. Other things you see with your heart.’

Crown of Midnight, SJM, 2011: ‘Some things you hear with your eyes. Other things you hear with your heart.’

- ‘Spirit that could not be broken’ is seen in Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron (2002) and Throne of Glass (2011).

- It’s possible that SJ/M may have plagiarised Maria V Snyder’s Poison Study(?) (published 2005). Both books begin with the heroine being released from prison and being offered the choice to be freed by working for the very rulers who’d imprisoned them. Also, Valek - Yelena’s love interest - is the greatest and most feared assassin in the country and also acts as a mentor to Yelena much like Rowan does in Heir of Fire. However, I think this is a questionable addition despite similarities because SJ/M began writing Queen of Glass in 2003 and all the aforementioned aspects that are similar were already present in the version she published online.

- S/JM has saved a pin of Connor Kenway from the Assassin's Creed series (AC3) as Rowan and Lorcan on Pinterest. Towards the end of the series they started using hatchets as weapons, which is Connor's choice of weapon, outside of swords, and is used heavily in art which features him. Aelin's assassin suit from the earlier books also had a blade built into it, which was very similar to the hidden blade the assassins in Assassin's Creed use.

Further reading: Why not everyone liked Connor’s characteristic traits being ripped off: https://dragonidk.tumblr.com/post/614614548495859712/i-went-through-sjms-tog-pinterest-board-the-other

Further reading: An article comparing EoS’s ending to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: https://thebookfinch.wordpress.com/2016/09/08/review-empire-of-storms-by-sarah-j-maas-in-which-we-discuss-plagiarism/

A/COTAR

- “Prythian”, the A/COTAR world, is taken directly from Anne Bishop’s Daughter of the Blood.

- The Archeron sisters could be based off the painting “The Acheson Sisters” by John Singer Sargent which features three women.

- The Illyrians could have been based off of the Eyriens from Anne’s Bishop’s Black Jewels series. Both are warrior races with bat wings that use a war blade to fight with. They also both completely refuse their women any right to fight and consider losing their wings to be the absolute worst thing that could happen to them. 

- Feyre tells Tamlin, “The sun was shining when I left you.” which is basically Paris saying, “The sun was shining when your wife left you.” in the movie Troy (2004)

- Rhys proclaims, “Light can be found even in the darkest of hells,” Which is really close to Dumbledore saying (in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban), “Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

- Daenerys: “We’re going to leave the world better than we found it.” 

ACOWAR: “Leave this world… a better place than how you found it.”

- “Pity those who don’t feel anything at all.” is a variation of “Pity the living and above all, those who live without love,” said by Dumbledore in the Deathly Hallows.

- A Dance of Dragons, George R.R. Martin, 2011: ‘He is fire made flesh, she thought, and so am I.’

ACOMAF, 2016: ‘Fire - he reminded her of fire made flesh.’

- SJ/M may have also plagiarised The Chronicles of Prydain for ACOTAR wherein Prythian is altered to Prydain and The Cauldron is derived from The Black Cauldron. This may be especially true considering the fact that SJ/M has expressed her love for the books and stated it on Twitter. She also went on to mention that she got the name for Prythian from those books. Similarities to the cauldron can also be seen in the fact that SJ/M’s Cauldron can transform humans into fae while Alexander's Black Cauldron is able to resurrect the dead.

!!!! Further Reading: Noticeable similarities between ACOTAR and The Chronicles of Prydain series: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Chronicles_of_Prydain

- Possible plagiarism(?) of Titanic: Rose is Feyre, Cal is Tamlin, Jack is Rhys. The story is similar - the girl is involved with a guy who seems nice enough, but turns out to be abusive etc. There are similar incidents of the table being chucked across the room/and the study being destroyed. Then you also have the girl being told the other guy isn't nice and she should stay away from him, but then it ends up being the other way round. The guy bosses her about, making her decisions for her and ends up dying for her later on.

- Rhapsody by Laura Thalassa and A/COTAR have awfully similar tropes. Both involve faeries, in both the main female lead leaves her barbaric boyfriend to go with the dark, elegant Fae boyfriend who came to collect a debt.

Further reading: A conversation in comparing The Vampire Diaries(?) to ACOTAR:  https://crescentcitysux.tumblr.com/post/618622356795064320/iolanthepeverells-pokeyfaes

Further reading: Similarities between Shatter Me and the ACOTAR trilogy: https://discountalien-pancake.tumblr.com/post/174823303683/dont-take-this-as-an-attack-im-just

C/RESCENT CITY

- Similarities between the plot of Darkfever by Karen Marie Morning (an author S/JM likes) and Crescent City’s plot: https://polysorscha.tumblr.com/post/183661492639/funny-thing-i-came-across-the-crescent-city

- The Princes of Hel might be from the Seven Princes of Hell demonology (some ancient writings trying to classify demons in christianity). [MINOR INFRACTION]

Sources:

- @sjm-exposed 

- @soartfullydone 

- @falstaffing for “My friend through many dangers.”

- https://readatmidnight.com/2018/10/27/book-rant-kingdom-of-ash/

- strangestoryteller.com

- https://camryndaytona.com/2019/08/sarah-j-maas-and-jrr-tolkien

- @rougeam for “fire made flesh”

- @sylphene for Aerin firehair 

- @sylphene and @paperbacktrash  for The Chronicles of Prydain.

- An anon for the Laura Thalassa comparison

- @hireath24 for the Crown of Midnight quote and “spirit that could not be broken.”

- @pokeyfaes and @iolanthepeverells for The Vampire Diaries comparison

- A reddit thread for the Titanic comparison 

- An anon for the Eyrians

- An anon and @dragonidk for the Assassin’s Creed addition

- @longsightmyth for Fireheart

[rhyswhitethorn]

Hate to See Your Heart Break (Lysaedion)

For all the air that's in your lungs For all the joy that is to come For all the things that you're alive to feel Just let the pain remind you hearts can heal

Oh, how were you to know?

— Hate to See Your Heart Break - Paramore

A hundred years and a half.

That was the average lifespan of a shapeshifter. 

To a Fae who had his whole life ahead. . . that wasn’t enough.

Aedion looked towards the rising sun, eyes red and puffy from crying the entire night. Who would have the power of lengthening the life of his wife? Lady Lysandra Ashryver of Caraverre’s clock was ticking down, and it would be any moment now. Aedion had scrambled to find a solution in the last decade, going so far to travel to Wendlyn and begging his cousins for a solution, but none had any to offer. He had walked away in agony, and nothing could beat the twinge of pain in his chest. 

The Wolf of the North breathed in, watching the colours of the sky turn from a mellow, deep orange to a brilliant azure blue. It reminded him so much of Lysandra, how she would shift every so often to scare him. The beginning of their life together was always filled with her pranks, but after half a century, it began to slow down, as if the magic took a toll on her life.

There were no records of how long a shapeshifter lived—most shapeshifters were killed at an earlier age in Erilea, due to the fact that they were mostly unaccepted. It wasn’t until Prince Endymion Whitethorn gave him the evidence in writing from an ancient book written in the Old Language. Rowan had personally translated it for Aedion, and it had given him some sort of comfort that she had another few decades to go.

When he watched her energy slow down over the years, he panicked. He had ran to Rowan and Fenrys, asking for advice, begging them for answers. They could only console him, and even then it wasn’t enough. Tying his life to Lysandra, like what Lorcan had done to Elide, would be selfish for him as his Queen’s only blood relative. He had thought about it through and through, but Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius needed him, even if she claimed she didn’t. She even told him to go with Lysandra, but behind the doors of their room, Lysandra had told him not to.

I’ll haunt you in the afterlife if you come with me, she had claimed. He smiled at the thought. Lysandra had never let anything deterred her, even in the darkest of times.

Aedion sighed and turned towards his bedroom, padding as quietly as he could to his bed. Underneath the sheets, Lysandra was lying stomach down, her locks splayed all over the pillow.  He watched as her back rose and fell from her steady breathing of slumber. Her scent was all over the bed, as if she couldn’t keep still when she’s asleep.

It was true. Sometimes Aedion would wake up in the middle of the night with Lysandra either on top of him, or on his other side.

He pushed the blanket down and sat on his bed, shuffling to get as close to Lysandra without waking her. Her ever-changing scent filled his nose and all he wanted to do was to get lost into it. Aedion scooted to her and wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her closer. Under the rays of the morning sun, he could clearly see some of the graying hair weaving through her dark ones, something even her shapeshifting ability could not hide. 

His wife was aging each day and he had no way to stop it.

Aedion felt the tears surge and before he knew it, he was burying his face into her hair, wanting to be as close as possible to her while he still could. She stirred a little, but made no sign of waking up. Not at all the likes of who she was sixty years ago, when a bird chirping in the morning would pull her out of her slumber. Now, it’d take more than that to get her up and running.

They had no mating bond, not as Aelin and Rowan did. Aedion never cared for the bond—he knew it was as rare as Fae offspring. The bond he made with Lysandra was enough. And don’t talk about their mischievous children. Camden and Lillian knew when to stir up trouble, but they were the reason Lysandra and Aedion grew closer together. 

Fae shapeshifters? The first of their kind in written existence. A recipe for trouble, really. 

*

Three weeks.

It took three weeks after that morning for Lysandra to finally pass.

She had asked to go to Perranth and they had arrived five days before, her wanting to see the clear blue lake that stretched behind Perranth. They had a picnic before the lake, watching the sunset together, the sky bleeding various reds and oranges, purpling at the horizon.

Aedion had known it was time. And Lysandra wanted to go before her favourite time of the day.

He had prepared Lysandra’s favourite meals with Paige Lochan, Elide and Lochan’s demi-Fae daughter. Pancakes drenched with maple syrup, and hazelnut chocolate cake, thanks to his cousin, who managed to get Lysandra hooked on it.

She was laying down on his lap, watching some deers drink from across the lake. He had stroked her hair and watched her eyes flutter shut, monitoring her breathing until there was none to monitor. 

Aedion had only smiled and kissed her forehead, holding her for a short while, and proceeded to call Aelin from the Lochan’s house.

The funeral was short and done Terrasen style, just the way Lysandra would have wanted it. Not the Adarlan way that she was born in, nothing to tie her to the life she was forced into.

Aelin had shed tears throughout the funeral, Rowan holding her tight. Manon stood in silence with Aedion—she knew the feeling of being helpless when it came to a loved one. First with the Thirteen, and then with the late King Dorian Havilliard II three decades ago.

If the Crochan Queen and Blackbeak Matron could do it, then Aedion could too.

Aedion Ashryver stood vigil throughout the night with his family. His children stood behind him, silent as well, accepting the fact that their mother is gone forever.

In his life, Aedion had no regrets. He had decided so when he married Lysandra and gave her the Ashryver name.

He looked up towards the stars on the second night of his vigil, alone now. And he silently thanked the Gods for giving Lysandra to him, no matter how short it was.

A tear rolled out of his left eye and dropped to the emerald green stones he had picked. The colour of her dynamical eyes.